Veronica walks in through the door on the afternoon of the last day before summer vacation and looks at her roommate with a smile. “Happy birthday, Layla!” she calls out cheerfully.
Layla, seated at her computer glances up at her friend. “My birthsay isn’t for three more days,” she says.
“Happy early birthday!” Veronica says with a grin, without missing a beat.
“Did you get me a present?” Layla asks.
Veronica blinks, shocked. “oops,” she says. “I knew I forgot something!”
Veronica stares at her. “You thought it was my birthday, and you didn’t get me a present?” she asks, almost miserably.
“So I’ll get it tomorrow; there’s plenty of time!” Veronica says with a grin and a shrug, then turns away to grab something to drink
Veronica and Layla had about as little in common with each other as it is possible for two women to have and still be from the same city, much less best friends and roommates.
Veronica is very short with a lithe build, her skin is chocolate-brown. Her thick, straight, obsidian hair looks like black straw, framing a triangular face with nearly-nonexistent eyebrows over almond-shaped blue eyes that are like two chunks of lapis lazuli. She wears a tight brown sweater and a knee-length green pleated skirt, sneakers and knee-high socks; as she leans into the fridge to grab a bottle, the hem of her skirt drifts up, showing a flash of her dark green panties. “Hey!” she calls. “You got that awful juice again!”
“It’s fifty cents cheaper,” Layla calls back, glancing up from her compiter again. Unlike her friend, Layla has wide eyes the color of cold ashes set in a cream-colored face. Her fine, curly, cherry red hair is worn in a style that reminds you of an overused mop. She is very tall and has a plump build. She has prominent ears. She wears a frumpy pair of brown sweatpants and an orange jacket zipped shut, the words ‘NOTHING IS GOOD’ printed across it.
Veronica heaves a sigh, then grabs the cheap juice and pulls herself out of the fridge. She undoes the child-proof lock on the cabinet and takes out a glass(after Layla broke the tenth glass that week, Veronica forbade her friend from using anything but plastic cups) and pours herself a drink. “Are you texting Bill again?” she asks, walking over to Layla’s side, glancing at the computer screen.
“Yeah,” Layla says, her dark eyes glancing to the framed picture of him on her desktop.
Veronica follows her gaze, and shakes her head in wonderment at how those two ever got hooked up: Bill had always put her in mind of a lone wolf - strong, independent, while Layla was, to put it mildly. . . clingy.
Still, there he is on her desk - short silky wavy blood-red hair drifting in about his head like a halo, his thin lips curved in a smile, his round gray eyes set like two pools of mercury in his nut-brown face. Tall and lithely-built, he could easily have tried out for a college team but chose not to. In the picture he wore a screaming yellow jacket over a dark blue shirt. Veronica finds herself shaking her head again over his fashion sense.
Layla reaches over to touch the framed picture, but misses with her fingers, knocking the frame to the floor with a glass ‘crunch!’. “Oh, no!” she cries out, jumping out of thechair to catch it - too late. Her elbow grazes the computer screen, sending it careening over the other edge of the table.
With a startled yelp, Veronica drops her juice on the table and grabs at the screen, barely saving it from the same fate as all the glasses. She sets it back in place with a sigh. “Is it broken?’ she asks.
Layla clambers back into her seat, the broken frame in her hands, only shards remaining of the glass. “Yes,” she says with a sigh, setting the frame back on the table, her elbow brushing against Veronica’s glass. “I just-”
Both students look down at the smashed glass, then both look up to meet each others’ gaze, Layla’s embarrassed, Veronica’s just this side of furious. “What do I have to do?” she asks. “Tie you to the chair?!”
“Well. . .” Layla begins.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
They both glance toward the door. Then Veronica looks at Layla. “Are you expecting anyone?”
Layle silently shakes her head, careful not to move anything else.
Veronica turns back to the door with a sigh. “Don’t think we’re finished talking about this,” she says over her shoulder. “With classes done for th summer, we’ve got-”
The door swings open, and three masked men leap into the room.
“Eeek!” Veronica screams as two of them grab her; the ffeisty girl punches the first of them in the gut, but the second grabs her arms and pulls them behind her; before she can draw a breath, the first one slaps a cloth across her mouth and nose.
While Veronica was overpowered, the third masked man raced toward Layla; his long legs carry him quickly across the room.
Layla stares up at him inchock, then jumps out of her chair with a shriek, but her left ankle catches on the table leg and she falls to the ground with a thud! Knocking all the air out of her.
Her assailant crouches over her, grabbing her hands and pulling them together behind her back; holding her wrists with one hand, he forces a wet cloth over her mouth and nose with the other.
Layla gasps for air, an ugly wheeze, and immediately feels dizzy, the air coming through the cloth smelling sickly-sweet.
“Mhmph!” Veronica grunts through the cloth, kicking and struggling in her assailants’ arms, but they easily hold the small girl still, holding the cloth immovably in place. Gradually, her struggles get slower and weaker, then finally cease altogether.
Layla, still gasping for air, struggles weakluy beneath her attacker, mumbling into the drug-soaked cloth.
“Go on,” he whispers in her ear, his voice kept deliberately low and hoarse. “Go to sleep. Sleeep! Sleep. . .”
Layla heaves against him with all her strength, then collapses, her eyes fluttering, struggling to stay awake, then they close, and she lies still.
Her attacker keeps the cloth in place for a long moment more, then takes it away and stuffs it in a pocket. He glances toward the other two, who are laying Veronica out on the floor, her dark hair pooling around her head, an oddly peaceful expression on her face.
The first intruder turns back to Layla; he releases her arms, then grabs hold of her body and turns her over onto her back, and he straddles her unconscious body.
He grabs the zipper of her jacket and pulls it down; she wears no shirt underneath, just a plain black sports bra. He reaches beneath her and slips that off, baring her large round breasts; hey bob and sway as he lays her down again, the full-bodied woman ;ying as still as the dead.
While he is doing that, his two friends have stripped Veronica, first easily slipping her skirt down her lean legs, then pulling her brown shirt off over her head, leaving her in only her lacy green underwear. One of the masked men reaches down with his hands and grasps her lace-clad breasts, kneading her soft flesh between his finger
The first one glances over and sees this. “No time for playing around!” he snaps to the other two, and they hurriedly get back to business.
They unclasp Veronica’s bra and pull it away, baring her small pert breasts, her small nipples growing harder as the cool air brushes over her naked skin. Then they pull her shoes off, tossing them aside, the socks too, then grab the waistband of her panties and pull those down, too, baring her neatly-trimmed black bush.
Content that his compatriots are back on the job, the first intruder turns back to the job before him, or rather under him: Layla. He grabs the waistband of her sweatpants and pulls them down over her legs and lays them neatly aside, baring her tan panties; those too he pulls down, then cannot help but take a moment to enjoy the view: her long plump legs, Layla’s round belly, her full firm breasts, the wide curve of her hips.
Shaking his head, he brings himself back to business. He grabs hold of Layla and turns her over once more on her belly, her belly and breasts, rather, squishing her full round globes underneath her. He takes out a bundle of rope, and begins to lash her arms together behind her back.
He starts with her wrists, crossing them just above her soft round ass and wrapping one rope around them, pulling it about her crossed wrists several times, he cinches the rope, then ties it tightly.
Satisfied with the job he did on her wrists, the intruder grabs a second rope and turns to Layla’s elbows. He holds the rope by its middle, then slides it under her elbows, between her arms and her broad back. H takes on side of the rope and wraps it around Layla’s left arm just above the elbow; he wraps it around her chubby arm half-a-dozen times then ties it off, leaving a long tail hanging off. He does the same the same with her right arm.
The intruder pulls himself off of Layla, then grabs her and rolls her over onto her belly: the tight ropes around her arms have pulled her shoulders back slightly, forcing her full breasts to stand out even more than they usually do, and for a second or two, the intruder stares at them, his eyes staring unblinkingly though his mask.
Freeing himself from his daze, the intruder pulls Layla up to a sitting position with her back resting against him. He takes the two tails hanging from her upper arms and crosses them, so the tail leading from her right arm goes to the left and vice-versa, then wraps the two ropes across her chest. First pulling both ropes underneath Layla’s full breasts, then around her back again, then above her breasts; he pulls the ropes around her one more time, this time crossing them between her breasts, before pulling them tight one last time, and tying them off together behind her back, between her elbows, using the knot to tighten up the original piece of rope between her bound arms.
The tight ropes bound around her arms have pulled Layla’s shoulders back further, forcing her breasts out even more, while the tight ropes wrapped across her chest squeeze her pale flesh, supporting and binding them so her breasts stand up as well as out.
The intruder cannot help himself but reach down with his left hand, still holding Layla with her back to him, to place his hand on her soft breast, pressed firmly out by her tight bonds; he gently squeezes her breast between his fingers, kneading her soft flesh like clay; her nipples harden in the cool late afternoon air, her left breast noticeably standing out under his attentions.
Chuckling, he leaves off her breast to grab up her tan panties with his left hand; balling them up in his fingers, he slips them between her sleeping lips, packing them deep into her mouth. He reached into a pocket and pulls out a wide red ballgag; the two straps dangle from his handm his fingers not quite closing around the huge rubber ball as he leans close to Layla and kisses her softly on the lips. “Good-bye, dear,” he says with a smile. “It was great to meet you!” That said, he pulls her mouth open with his right hand, then raises the ballgag to her lips and slides it in.
Forced, rather: the huge ballgag hardly fits past her teeth, and her shoves hard on it, grunting with effort to push it even deeper into her mouth, compacting her wadded-up panties behind the thick rubber ball that fills her mouth all on its own, almost dislocating her jaw. He pushes her head forward, her chin lolling toward her bound breasts, then pulls the straps tight and buckle them shut, the produces a small padlock and closes it with a small ‘click’ through the buckle to lock the gag immovably in place.
Finally, happy with the gag, the intruder pulls Layla’s head back, and gives her another kiss, a quick peck on the cheek.
He lays Layla down on her back again, her weight pressing against her bound arms, then grabs out two more ropes and folds her legs, pressing her shins against her thighs, her feet against th smooth soft skin of her ass; taking the first rope, he wraps it around her folded left leg to bind it in place, pulling it tightly around her soft flesh until her soft flesh bulges around the tightening ropes.
He cinches the rope through her bent leg, then ties it off, careful to hide the knot between the folds of her bound leg.
His compatriots, meanwhile, had not been idle: after stripping away Veronica’s green panties, they turned her over onto her belly, crushing her small breasts beneath her, her ebony skin gleaming in the bright light that streams in through the open apartment door, wide open for anyone passing to look through and watch as her naked body is wrapped in ropes, her dark skin squeezed cruelly in their tight folds as her captors wrap her in her new bonds.
First, they pull her hands together in the small of her back, placing them palm-to-palm, and tie a rope around her wrists, wrapping it half-a-dozen times around her wrists,then cinching the rope between her wrists and tying it off.
One of them, the one Veronica punched, grabs her elbows and brings them together, forcing them to touch behind her back while his friend wraps rope around her elbows to hold them like that.
They roll Veronica over onto her back, crushing her cruelly-bound arms beaneath her, then pull her up to a sitting position, holding her up between them; the tight rope around her elbows pulls hershoulder far back, forcing the unconscious girl to to arc her back, thrusting her small breasts out further than they’ve ever been, making them look bigger than they’ve ever looked before.
Another long coil of rope is produced, and they proceed to tie it around her body, wrapping the rope around her opper arms, over her elbows, and across her chest: they pull the rope beneath her small pert breasts, then around her back again; again beneath her breasts, squeezing them up and out even further. The rope deftly goes back and forth between them, from hand to hand ,pulled around her chest above her breasts twice, then crossed between her breasts to make a tight rope harness around her breasts, squeezing them and supporting them, forcing them out obscenly, invitingly.
The first of them grabs up Veronica’s discarded panties; his fellow opens her mouth wide and he forces them into her mouth, packing the lacy green cloth behind her teeth.
One of the masked men produces a blue ball gag, not as big as the one being forced past Layla’s lips, but Veronica’s mouth is smaller; it takes both of them to force it into her mouth, sliding behind her teeth with an almost audible ‘click’; it squeezes Veronica’s discarded panties against the back of her throat, filling her mouth with a solid mass.
The straps of this ballgag are likewise pulled back behind her head, Veronica’s binders taking less care with her straight black hair than Layla’s had with her red, pulling the straps tight, then buckling them closed; a sedcond padlock glints brassly as it is closed through the buckle, locking her gag immovably in until they choose to take it off.
As the lock clicks shut, the tiny girl stirs, moaning softly into her gag, her soft moan almost inaudible through the solid mass in her mouth. But her captors are taking no chances: one whips out his cloth, pours a little more of the knock-out drug into it, and places it pver her nose: in seconds, Veronica has gone still again, her naked breasts rising and falling peacefully as she breathes deeply of the drug.
That done, they lay Veronica back down on her bound arsm, then each of them takes one of her long lean legs and folds it, pressing her small feet against her tight little ass. With any further ado, they bind her legs like that, tightly frog-tying her between them, squeezing her soft flesh in the merciless bands of ropes until her ebony skin bulges around the hemp coils.
As the three intruders gather up any bits of gear and clothing left lying around, a fourth man walks through the door, pushing a large wooden crate before him on a hand truck; unlike the other three, he is not masked, and wears the uniform of a well-known delivery service.
The first intruder stands to his feet. “Let’s go,” he says, reaching up for his mask. He whips it off, shaking out his silky hair, then slips off his dark jacket, revealing an identical uniform.
The other two likewise strip off their disguises to reveal new ones.
They grab up their frogtied captives and drop them onto their knees within the large crate: it easily accomodates them with plenty of room to spare. The leader grabs up one last rope, and quickly ties one end around Veronica’s neck, the rough hemp dragging over her soft black skn, then wraps the other end around Layla’s neck, the rope pulle tight around her pale skin, then knotted off. “Sweet dreams,” he says to them as the others lift up the top of the crat and slam it down: they hammer nails in to hold it in place, then they are off. The leader glances once around the room to see they have cleaned it up thoroughly; there is no sign they were ever here. With a grim smile, he shuts the door, then locks it behind them as they leave.
The three delivery men roll their large crate down the hall to the service lift and in; taking the lift down to the ground floor, they roll it out to the front door; there aren’t many people around, and nobody takes any notice of a few delivery men rolling a large crate out the front door and up into a van.
They salide the crate into the back of the van then slam the doors shut andpile in. The van pulls away from the curb, and they are gone, hardly noticed, and certainly not remembered.
Pain is the first thing veronica is aware of: a throbbing ache in her mouth, distant, as if far away, but it grows closer and closer, pounding harder and harder and spreading, to her shoulders andelbows, and her hands feel oddly numb. But her breasts don’t feel too bad, as if something is caressing them.
She can feel something in her mouth and tries to open her mouth to push it out, but it won’t move at all, in fact she can’t move her mouth at all.
Then she remembers; Veronica’s eyes slam open and she screams through her gag, tugging against the tight ropes that bind her. But the ropes have no give in them, all her struggling only pulls them tighter around her, digging into her sensitive skin, while her pitiful wail is barely audible even inside the wooden crate. She feels the rope tied around her neck jerk as she struggles, and hears a moan somewhere in the darkness.
Veronica goes still, exhausted, gasping for breath, her mouth-filling gag and the tight ropes wrapped across her chest constraining her breathing to shallow gasps for air. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she begins to make out Layla’s form, a shadow against darker shadows.
Veronica can see the ropes bound tightly around Layla’s body, binding her as firmly as Veronica is bound; she can see Layla’s lips straining around a huge ballgag strapped tightly into her mouth, but twin shapes loom in her sight much closer to hand; she can’t help but stare at Layla’s breasts, looming right before her, almost pressing into her face.
My God! Veronica thinks to herself, staring at Layla’s breasts. They’re bigger than my head! Suddenly, Bill’s attraction to her roommate seems a lot more plausible.
Oddly enough, Veronica had never seen her roommate nakde before, and this is not a good time for it: only a few dim lines of light slip into the crate through gaps in the wooden crate, and those widly jerk and spin as the vehicle moves and turns, but her blue eyes run over Layla’s body, so accustomed to seeing her chubby roommate in dumpy sweats and unflattering dresses, she cannot help but stare at the long lines and soft curves now on display, accentuated by the firm ropes binding her
“Fm-hm,” she tries to say her friend’s name through her gag, looking up, past the huge breasts, up at Layla’s face; Layla moans softly; they are both frog-tied, kneeling on their bound legs in the roomy crate. “Fm-lhm!” she tries again, louder.
Layla moans, then her eyes crack open. She jerks in surprise, staring about blindly into the darkness; she struggles in her ropes, lost, confused, ignorant, then she remembers the last thing she saw, of tyhe masked intruder reaching for her with the drug-soaked pad. “MHNMMMM!” she screams, shaking her head wildly,
“Nmm!” Veronica screams as Layla’s struggles tug hard on the rope joining them, and she is jerked toward her friend; she always knew Layla was bigger, but to be tossed around like this- “Mhmmph!” she mumbles as she lands with her face pressed between Layla’s huge breasts, her head almost sandwiched between them. “Mhmm. . .”
Layla looks down, her eyes finally adjusting to the darkness enough to pick out th dim form pressed so tightly against her naked body. “Fprrnnk’,” she mumbles, trying to say her friend’s name.
Bang! Bang! Bang! One of their captors knocks loudly on the top of the crate. “Go ahead and scream!” he says with a laugh. “We love to hear it!”
Veronica struggles against her ropes to draw away from Layla, her face rubbing over her best friend’s breasts as she struggles to back away on her knees.
They can feel the crate rock and move from side to side, and understand that they are in a vehicle, being driven away to wherever their kidnappers want them.
Layla stares blindly up through the top of the crats, whimpering pleadingly through her gag
Veronica leans forward, mumbling to her friend. She leans forward to put her forehead against her friend’s shoulder to reassure her, but Veronica misses in the darkness and instead her face is pressed into Layla’s right breast. “Mhmph!” she groans in idsgust, pulling her head back.
Layla glances at her. “Mhm?” she moans, confused.
It’s all going to be all right, Veronica thinks, and tries to say that aloud, the words coming out as unintelligible moans.
Without warning, the driver makes a sharp turn, and Layla and Veronica are thrown to the side; Veronica lands hard on her back and her eyes widen in fear as Layla’s bulk looms over her in the darkness. “MHMM-”
Her gagged cry cuts off as Layla lands on her, almost squishing her smaller friend beneath her bulk. It’s lucky her body is so soft, elsewise she ould certainly have broken bones, as it is, Veronica is squished beneath her, their naked skin rubbing against each other, her right breast pressed into Veronica’s face, covering her gagge mouth and covering her nose, further stifling her cries, and stifling her: the smaller girl struggles to pull her face away, but she could barely move in her rope bonds, pinned beneath Layla’s bulk, she is completely helpless. Her struggle to move her head only rubs her face into Layla’s breast, and she is completely unable to move any other part of her body.
Layla can feel her friend struggling to move beneath her, and her face turns redder as Veronica rubs her breast. “Pfmmy,” she says, struggling to enunciate anything through her own panties and around the jaw-breaking ballgag. Grunting and groaning, Layla rolls herself off of veronica.
Her friend gasps for air, breathing hard through her nose as Layla’s breast comes away from her face.
As Layla struggles to her knees,the van turns again, tossing her to the other side; she lands on her back, her bound arms pressed painfully beneath her. With a gagged scream Veronica is jerked after her, the rope leash joining them dragging her through the air to land hard with her head now between Layla’s spread-open legs, her face pressed nose-first into her naked pussy.
Veronica heaves a sob, wondering how long this trip will last. meanwhile, Layla astually is calming down a little. This is probably just another of Bill’s wild practical jokes, she thinks; kidnapping her before her birthday, and taking Veronica along for good measure.
The crate jerks wildly, flinging the two bound girls to the side again; then again. . . Layla thinks to herself . . .maybe not.
She probably won’t know either way for about three days.