Brittany Baby part 1

She gave me the queen
She gave me the king
She was wheelin’ and dealin’
She got the jack.

She´s a sexy lady with a baby. Do you have met someone like this? I think no.

This is her story.

There she goes again, Carl thought, eyeing a well-lit second-floor window of Mctrust`s house. Clearly outlined against the light was the well-developed body of Brittany Mctrust as she peeled out of her clothes to get ready for bed.
Brittany had developed quite a reputation around town. After her mother’s death two years ago, she’d seemed to lose touch with reality. She’d adopted a weird childlike way of talking and started bringing a teddy bear to school. There’d been a couple of fights in the girls’ restroom. Finally, after several students’ parents complained, Phil Mctrust had been forced to take his daughter out of Rasmussen High. Supposedly he was home-schooling her now. Nobody really knew what went on in that house, though.

Carl Pomerance and his family lived next door to the Mctrusts. Carl’s own bedroom window faced Brittany’s, giving him a perfect view when his sexy neighbor decided to undress with the curtains open.

Brittany pulled her blouse off over her head, and Carl shuddered in ecstasy. God, what a rack! Brittany didn’t bother with a bra, and didn’t need one.

She sat on her bed and kicked off her shoes, a very adult pair of high-heeled white pumps for someone with such a childish persona. She stuck one long leg out and slowly, slowly peeled off a long seamed nylon stocking, then repeated the process with the other leg.

Carl lost it, squirting helplessly in his pants as his vision dissolved in multicolored fireworks. A vague time later, when he came back to reality and looked toward Brittany’s window again, she was already in her pajamas. That does it, he decided. Tomorrow, I’m going over there and give that little cock-teaser a taste of real life.

He already had a plan, one he’d worked out months ago. He’d just never quite worked up the nerve to carry it out. After tonight, though, he just had to go through with it!

After supper the next evening, he waited until his parents were planted in front of the tube and then sneaked out of the house. He looked up at Brittany’s window—yes, it was open—then climbed up the big tree by the fence in his family’s yard. It had a thick branch that projected into Brittany’s yard, extending quite near her window. Carl worked along that branch carefully, then swung over and climbed into Brittany’s bedroom.

Brittany hadn’t seen him. She was off to one side, singing softly to herself as she teased her hair in front of a mirror on top of a dresser. The noise he made climbing in caught her attention, though, and she spun toward him with a little gasp.

“What are you doing in Brittany’s room?” she crooned. “Brittany didn’t invite you.”

“I’m Carl,” he introduced himself. “I just want to have a little fun with you, Brittany baby.”

“What kind of fun?” the girl asked, blue eyes wide in a baby-doll face under a curly mop of black hair.

“Grown-up fun, Brittany baby,” he replied smugly. He advanced on her confidently. “The kind of fun you probably don’t get to have, all shut up in the house like this.”

Brittany smiled. “Brittany has fun,” she answered. “Lots and lots of fun.”

“Not this kind,” Carl responded. “Let me show you what you’re missing.” He grabbed at her, pulling her to him roughly for a kiss.

Brittany broke loose after a moment. Carl tensed, afraid she might scream. Instead, she smiled and said, “That was nice. Now Carl, let Brittany show you something too.”

Carl grinned. “What’cha got in mind, baby?”

Reaching into her cleavage, Brittany drew forth a jeweled pendant attached to a chain around her neck, which Carl hadn’t noticed she was wearing. “This was Brittany’s mommy’s,” she said, letting the gem dangle in front of her breasts, swaying gently. “Isn’t it pretty? All shiny and sparkly, so nice to look at.”

“Very nice,” Carl murmured politely. He was more interested in her boobs than her bauble, but despite himself, his eyes began to track the shiny object as it swung slowly back and forth.

“That’s good,” Brittany crooned. “It’s nice to watch, isn’t it, as it swings back and forth? So pretty as it catches the light, shiny, sparkly. Brittany likes to watch it swing, shiny, sparkly, back and forth. You like it too, don’t you, Carl, shiny, sparkly, back and forth. Yes you do, Brittany knows, shiny, sparkly, back and forth.”

“Sh-sh-shiny,” Carl mumbled, eyes following the moving stone. Somehow, he seemed to have lost the initiative. “Sparkly. Back and forth.” He relaxed, letting his hands fall loosely to his sides, as he continued to follow the pendant with his eyes.

“Shiny, sparkly, back and forth,” Brittany cooed. “It’s a magic stone, Brittany’s magic stone.”

“Brittany’s magic stone,” agreed Carl.

“It’s hard to look away, isn’t it, Carl? So hard to look away. It’s so pretty, so shiny and sparkly. You can’t look away from the pretty stone, can’t stop following it with your eyes as it swings back and forth, shiny, sparkly, back and forth, back and forth. Try to stop following it with your eyes, shiny, sparkly, back and forth; you can’t, can you, Carl?”

Carl struggled and gasped, “Can’t stop . . . watching the pretty stone. Shiny. Sparkly. Back and . . . forth.”

“Keep watching Brittany’s magic stone,” the girl instructed. “Follow it with your eyes, your mind, your soul. It’s the most important thing in the world to watch Brittany’s magic stone and listen to Brittany’s voice, watch Brittany’s magic stone and let Brittany’s voice tell you what to do, what to think, what’s true, what’s real. Follow the stone, back and forth, back and forth, yes, that’s right, do as Brittany says, back and forth, because Brittany has the magic stone, back and forth, yes, that’s right.

“Now as you watch Brittany’s magic stone,” Brittany went on, “feel yourself being drawn to it, yes, feel yourself rising, shrinking, being pulled toward the stone, yes, rising, shrinking, being pulled toward the stone.”

“Rising. Shrinking. Being . . . pulled toward the stone,” Carl mumbled. The world seemed to drop away around him, expanding away from him as he soared, weightless, toward the gem dangling at the end of Brittany’s neck chain.
 
The stone loomed larger, larger. Huge.

“Now you are resting on the stone, a tiny little Carl, firmly held to it, completely relaxed, yes.”

“Yes,” Carl agreed. “Resting on the stone. Tiny little Carl. Firmly held. Relaxed. Yes.” And it was true. Every sense Carl owned told him he was now lying, completely relaxed, on the warm, glittering surface of Brittany’s magic stone.
Brittany passed her free hand quickly in front of Carl’s eyes. He didn’t blink. He didn’t even notice. She giggled. Carl was under her power, completely lost in the world she had made for him.

“Now,” she went on, “Brittany’s going to put the stone away, with you on it, between Brittany’s breasts. When Brittany does this, you will feel yourself enveloped by the softness of Brittany’s breasts. You will see it, smell it, taste it, and the pleasure will be overpowering. You will let yourself go, let yourself get lost in the feeling, lost in the pleasure.”

Brittany tucked the pendant back into her bosom. Carl whimpered as, in his mind, he was enveloped by vast masses of soft tit-flesh. He was suffocating, smothering, but it was wonderful, wonderful—!

Brittany brought her hands up, massaging her breasts together around the pendant. Helpless, Carl squealed and came, once, twice. Finally, Brittany brought her hands down and addressed her hypnotized visitor.

“Carl,” she said, “you know you’ll do anything Brittany says, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Carl said. “Anything Brittany says.”

“You will do anything Brittany says because Brittany’s magic stone holds your soul now.”

“I will do anything Brittany says because . . . Brittany’s magic stone . . . holds my soul now.”

“Your body obeys Brittany’s voice, does whatever Brittany says, without thought, without free will, because Brittany’s magic stone holds your soul now.”

Carl repeated Brittany’s words in a monotone.

“Now Carl,” Brittany asked playfully, “what did you come to Brittany’s room to do?”

“Have sex with Brittany,” Carl answered with mindless honesty.

Brittany laughed softly and clapped her hands. “Oh, goody! That’s just what Brittany wants too!”

“Ahem,” came a gruff cough.

Brittany turned around. “Daddy?”

“What’s happening here?” Phil Mctrust was a beefy man in his early fifties, with a shiny bald pate over a broad, usually smiling face. He wasn’t smiling now. “What’s this little creep doing in your room, baby?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he lunged at Carl and grabbed him by the throat, clenching his other hand into a fist.