Game Night.....Chapters 1-4

[anonymous]

Greetings, readers! I think I should begin by thanking you earnestly for taking time to read this story. This is my first submission to FFXXX and I hope it's not my last. I am an aspiring writer of action-based fiction, most of the time, and I have recently been inspired with many ideas with which I wanted to mingle with the subject matter of the FFXXX site. So without further ado, please read through the disclaimer and enjoy my work of fiction. P.S. Please keep an open mind, I sincerely hope you are not disappointed.

Featuring: Carmen Elektra, Michelle Trachtenberg, and Hilary Duff.
Also featuring a special cameo appearance by the Bod Squad, with the Squad Leader's permission, of course. Thanks again, Squad Leader.

If you are a fan of the Bod Squad series, you may find minor discrepancies in the series' timeline and/or characters. Please disregard any mistakes you might find and consider the Bod Squad in this story to be in an entirely different universe than as the original series described by the Squad Leader. Thanks.

Disclaimer: Okay, we're almost through all the preamble. I must finally iterate that if you are offended by sexual scenes between consenting parties, some minors, or if such materials are banned in your area, please don't get ME or YOURSELF in trouble, just leave. However, I think that if you are old enough and smart enough to find this story, you probably know what you want anyway, so read on. Some characters within this story are fictitiously displayed in scenes of a graphic and sexual nature. As far as we know, these character have in no way participated in such activities in real life.

Introduction of the Bod Squad by The Squad Leader:

The Bod Squad is a top secret team of four highly trained, sexy young women, who in the tradition of Charlie's Angels are led by their oft heard, but never seen director Jimmy. The members of the Bod Squad are Love: the oldest member of the group and their unofficial leader, Britney: the party animal with a killer body and a mean streak to match, Rachel: the British bombshell and Kirsten: the baby of the group who uses her sweetness and innocent looks to accomplish things the others can't. Their purpose is to go undercover and use any means necessary to solve crimes and protect humanity.

And now, on with the show.

Game Night - Chapter 1
By Ronin

Twelfth grader and Private Investigator Kalvin Trask woke with a groan and destroyed his fifth alarm clock in two weeks. Cursing under his breath, he rolled out of bed and began to prepare for a long day at Roosevelt High School.
He had just gotten back from Las Vegas the night before, and had come home to be greeted by two detectives with a case they wanted his assistance on. Then, he'd stayed up later than usual looking over the case file given to him by the detectives about the recent string of murders of professional cheerleaders. All of them so far had been cheerleaders who cheered for Trask's home team, the Los Angeles Tyrants. High profile cases like this were always a bitch.
"Mom! Where's my revolver?" Trask called out as he pulled on a pair of blue jeans.
She called out from down the hall, "It should be on your desk, dear. You were cleaning it last night."
"Shit! I'm gonna be late."
Hurrying, Kalvin strapped on a Bianchi hip holster and opened his roll-top desk. His Smith & Wesson .38 Special sat clean and gleaming on his cleaning pad. He loaded it and slipped it into the holster, then he shrugged on his 5.11 Tactical Vest by Royal Robbins and pocketed a speed loader with an extra six rounds. He also had a boot knife under his right pant leg, and he had snapped his cell phone onto his belt.
Normally, he would be packing something heavier, like one of his semi-auto pistols. He enjoyed his Beretta a great deal, and his compact Glock 19 was as good as they came, but he was on probation at school and could carry nothing greater than a .38 and he could have a capacity in a weapon of no more than six rounds, so the Smith & Wesson just made sense. Trask still remembered the day he had had to save Michelle Trachtenberg's life when a couple of thugs had tried to rape her behind a trash dumpster. Normally, he would have dispatched them quick with a combination of Krav Maga and Aikido, but they had been lethally armed, as well. That day, Trask had been toting his Heckler & Koch .40-caliber USP. After the incident he'd gotten his balls busted by Principal Smith.
"Damn! I'm gonna be really late."

That morning, Carmen Elektra was in the back of her boyfriend's limousine, on the way to cheerleading practice. Her boy toy was actually the Tyrants' Assistant Coach, so they were going to the same place. At the time that morning, Carmen was enjoying a light breakfast in the back of the limo, and her boyfriend was enjoying it, too.
"Oh God, yeah. Suck my cock, Carmen. Just suck it like that. I'm gonna cum all over that slutty face of yours."
Carmen popped the cock out of her mouth and looked up at him with big eyes as she jacked off his slob-coated knob. "Oh yeah, baby?" She asked. "You gonna shoot a load of jizz all over me? You gonna bust it all over my hot face?"
"Yes! Yeah, baby, you know it."
"Then cum for me, baby," she cooed. "Cum for Carmen. Shoot your big wad." And she continued to suck him off.
The limo pulled up to an intersection and stopped at the red light. Unknown to anyone in the luxury vehicle, a cadre of men strolled up casually to the sidewalk and leveled high-powered rifles at the side of the car. The faces weren't important at the moment, but the weapons were, respectfully, a Colt M-4 carbine, a Heckler & Koch G36 Compact, a Steyr AUG, and a Sig SSG Commando. All of the precision weapons were loaded with 5.56x.45 NATO ball ammunition, more than adequate for turning the expensive automobile into a piece of scrap metal.
"Oh, yes. Carmen, I'm gonna blow!"
Blow it, baby, she thought as hot streams of jizz began to shoot into her mouth.
The gunmen depressed the triggers on their firearms, and the air was instantly filled with the sound of four assault rifles discharging on full automatic at that same time. The alley burst with smoke, light, and shrapnel as the lead slugs blazed through the black metal of the limousine, shredding Carmen Elektra's jizz tank of a boyfriend as she worked his cock dry. The rush of noise had been so sudden, even she hadn't reacted to it. The Assistant Coach died the happiest guy in the world.
Carmen, however, in her hunkered down position, sustained less than lethal wounds. Her leg was torn to shit, and she took a pretty bad hit to the shoulder, but the slugs and exited quickly, and no vital organs were ruptured.
Suddenly, as soon as it began, the smoke cleared and the morning was filled with silence as the hammers fell on empty chambers.

Jennifer Love Hewitt, Love to her friends, colleagues, and lovers, limped into her kitchen that morning to brew a pot of coffee. Her cunt was still sore from being bashed by Kirsten's tongue all night, but the memory of their three hour love-making session lubricated her down south, making her feel better already.
"My lord, baby," Kirsten Dunst yawned, walking in from the bedroom without pants or panties, her pajama top a torn mess, "you fucked my pussy raw."
"I fucked your pussy raw? You should feel what you did to me. I think I have bruises on my clit."
"I'd love to feel what I did to you. Mmm, all this dirty talk is turning me on." Kirsten said, leaning against the counter and cupped her left breast.
"Yeah, well, I don't think either of us is in a position to relive last night for awhile."
"Really? Okay, how about this position?" Kirsten asked as she jumped up on the counter and spread her legs as wide as they would go.
"Goodness, that is a pretty good position, but I'm still exhausted."
"Please, Lovey Dovey. Please, just lick it a little bit. Spit on it, please baby." Kirsten had begun to tweak her sore nipples. "Just get it nice and wet so it won't feel so sore."
"Okay, honey, it's okay. Mommy will make you feel better." With this, Love stepped over and placed her tongue oh so gently onto Kirsten's cunt lips, massaging them carefully.
"Oh, mommy, you're doing me so good," Kirsten moaned as she slumped back further.
Then, the phone rang.
"Fuck!" Kirsten hissed.
"Hey, it's okay," Love calmed her, wiping off her own mouth. "You go put on some cream for that soreness, and I'll answer the phone."
With sad puppy dog eyes, Kirsten hopped down from the counter and strolled sexily into the bathroom.
"Hello." Love said as cheerfully as she could as she picked up the phone.

The morning had been one disaster after another. Kalvin Trask was beginning to think he should have died during his last shoot-out. First, his car had stalled, and then he had been forced to turn down Mrs. Elroy again. Mrs. Elroy was in charge of attendance, and she always offered to let Trask go as excused when he came in tardy, in exchange for a rough tussle in the janitor's closet, of course. This morning she was desperate, she practically begged him to let her give him a blowjob.
"Fuck you," he had answered.
"Oh, God, Kalvin. I wish you would!" She had called after him.
Walking down the hall, he had seen Michelle Trachtenberg and had slipped into a strange haze of infatuation when he bumped into one of the biggest assholes in the school.
"Hey, watch it you little faggot," the kid ordered as he pushed Trask into the lockers, a hand against Trask's throat.
"Fuck off, dip-shit." Trask answered as he reached up and broke the kid's middle finger. He then sent a knee rocketing into the jerk's groin, sending him to the ground crying. Michelle, down the hall, hadn't even turned around.
On to English Class.

"Oh, shit! Principal Smith, fuck me! God, yes! Stick me with it. Fuck my pussy harder. Stuff me full of it!"
Hilary Duff was on her back on the Principal's desk, her little plaid skirt rumpled up above her thighs, her white uniform blouse ripped open, her ample, perky tits bumping and swinging freely as the Principal pounded his cock into her tight teen cunt.
He stood above her, sweat dripping all over, his face red and contorted. She swung her head back and pinched her erect little nips. They turned an angry red and he bent over and nearly swallowed one whole.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Hilary cried.
Without warning, Smith grabbed her midsection and turned her over, making her rise up on her hands and knees. He continued to ram himself into her doggie style as she spit out a string of orders and profanities. Her tits jiggled and swung as they hung below her.
The pleasure of the man's girth was so intense that she had to bite her finger as she sucked on it.
"You love my cock, don't you, you little whore?" Smith asked, grunting.
"Oh, baby, baby, yes! You know I love it, you know I love being pumped up my cunt by such a huge prick. I'm such a little slut." She huffed and puffed.
He growled and grabbed her from behind lifting her up like she was impaled by his shaft and sat down in his big leather chair. She positioned her feet on either side of the chair and began to rise up and slide down quickly, bouncing on his dick like a Pogo-Stick. Her firm stomach glistened with sweat and her meaty tits jumped into the air every time she smashed down.
"Oh God, oh yes, please, please, fuck my pussy! Fuck my cunt hard!"
"I'm gonna blow it soon!" Smith yelled.
"No! I need it on my face. I want it all over my face!" She yelled as she rose up. His cock slipped out of her with a wet pop! She went down on her knees as he stood and jacked off. He grabbed a handful of her hair and held her smiling face close.
"Is it coming, you big dicked bastard? Are you gonna bust that big load all over my little baby face? Oh, please, cum on me, honey. Cum on my face. Cum all over my tits."
And he did, hot strings of jizzum squirted from him onto her face, into her waiting mouth. Then, he spent the last half of his load on her chest, coating her hot, pale titties, thrusting his slick dick between them.
"Oh yeah, baby. That was good." Hilary said as she rubbed Smith's ass, when in fact she was slipping his wallet out of his pocket.

"You better just take it easy, you little punk!" Mario spat into Kalvin Trask's face as his partner, Wally, pushed him into the brick wall outside of the school. It was Trask's lunch period, but he never ate.
"And you two better ease the fuck up off me, before I lose-" Trask sent a devastating punch into Wally's gut, taking the fat fuck to his knees, "my temper."
Mario pulled a .50-caliber Desert Eagle from his suit and put it to Trask's head. Trask also pulled his revolver and aimed it at the crotch of Mario's pants.
"I don't think you want to do it this way, kid. You probably got a lot to live for."
"I don't." Trask retorted. "Now you, on the other hand, you'll live if I pull this trigger, but you'll go the rest of your life without another orgasm. You'll have to live with the indignity of pissing through your stomach. Now I don't want any trouble here, I just don't like being pushed around. I know my dad owes you a great deal of money, but just ease off of me, okay?"
"…Okay, all right. I can respect a man who doesn't take any shit, for now," Mario acquiesced, lowering the weapon. "We'll leave you alone for the moment, but mark my words, if your cowardly lying fuck of a father doesn't pay Mr. Ryker his money by Superbowl Sunday, we're coming back for you, your dad, and maybe even the rest of your pathetic family. Wally, let's go, you fat little bitch."
Wally was finally able to rise from the pavement, but as he did, he delivered a meaty paw into Trask's gut, knocking the wind out of him. Luckily, Trask was against a wall, or he would have gotten a free flying lesson.
"You little fucker, don't you ever hit me like that again." Wally threatened as he turned to walk back to the car. Trask, however, had other plans. When he caught his breath, he swept his leg out in a quick, low kick and caught Wally behind the knee, taking his feet out from under him. Wally landed on the sidewalk with a loud thud.
"You fucking prick! I'll kill-" Wally screamed as he got up.
"You're not gonna do a damn thing, Wally! I said get in the car now. Get in, you fucking piece of shit!" Mario threatened Wally. He knew that if Wally didn't let up, Trask would probably kill him.
They sped out of the student parking lot, and Trask's cell phone rang.
"I'll be pissing blood tonight," Trask mumbled as he answered his phone.

"Jimmy, I don't understand why we have to bring some hot shot Private Dick into all of this. We can handle ourselves." Britney Spears pissed and moaned and she sat on the sofa by Rachel Stevens. The Squad had all met at Headquarters that day for a briefing after Love's short chat with Jimmy in the morning. After going over the files all day, they were now congregating in front of the speaker phone for a short pow-wow before their guest showed up.
"Well, if he's a cute one, we might be able to have a little fun." Rachel smiled wickedly. Britney made a face at her, and Rachel licked her lips.
"Please, girls. This mission is going to be incredibly dangerous. The L.A.P.D. has had their finest detectives on this case for weeks, two have turned up dead, and nobody has a clue as to anything that might be linking these murders. Now that they have a survivor, their going to bring in the Feds, and nobody wants that. The Feds have a habit of covering up a great deal for the sake of what they call "National Security". Plus, I fear for you girls. You have all solved a great number of investigative cases since we established this firm, but you've never been up against anything quite this violent yet."
"So," Kirsten broke in. "What's this guy got that we haven't got?"
"Kalvin Trask is a close friend of mine and he's also an elite intelligence expert. We spent time together during his year in the CIA. I instructed him in some of his counter-intelligence training and he surpassed everyone faster than I could have ever dreamed. He had a great deal of potential in the field of intelligence for someone in high school, but he majored as a Tactical Weapons Spe******t and a Defensive Close Quarters Combat Instructor. He also has high rankings in many other fields that will prove very useful to us. But be careful around him, girls. He's young, and he's on very moral ground when it pertains to…lewd behavior."
"You mean…"
"I mean that you girls are very attractive, but you shouldn't go prancing around in front of him."
Britney leaned in close to Rachel and whispered, "It means we shouldn't fuck him or in front of him."
"Aw, that's no fun." Rachel pouted.
A knock sounded on the door. Love opened it and a young but professional looking young man stepped in. Much to the girls' disappointment, he was no George Clooney.
"Hello, Ms. Hewitt."
"Kalvin Trask?" Love asked.
"Yes, ma'am. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about all of you."
"Really?" Kirsten inquired.
"When you're in the field of private investigations, you hear of fellow investigators' accomplishments. You guys are practically celebrities." As he said this, it was like there was a dim flux in the universe and a quiet settled over them all. They all looked down for a second, as if they were remembering something from a past life, but soon it all passed.
"Wow, I didn't know word got around about us." Rachel said.
As Trask's eyes settled upon her, he felt deep feelings stir within him. He'd seen Rachel Stevens's picture in the papers, and he was almost as much in love with her as he was in love with Michelle Trachtenberg, the girl at his high school.
"Well, who could forget the time you foiled the gym teacher who was making those…um…lecherous videos with her students at Roosevelt High School." Trask had no intention of telling them that he went to that school.
"Oh, well, actually, Kirsten here deserves a lot of the ****** for that bust, um, I mean…"
"Really? Congratulations, Ms. Dunst." Trask intervened, trying to steer the conversation away from such puns.
"Thank you very much. But please, call me Kirsten."
"Yes, and please do call me Rachel." At this, Trask's knees almost gave out on him.
"Yeah, we can all be on a first name basis, if it's okay that we call you Kalvin," Love said. Britney grunted.
"Of course."
"Mr. Trask, it's a pleasure to hear from you again." This came from the speaker box.
"Mr.-" Trask began.
"Jimmy, please, Investigator Trask." Jimmy interrupted.
"Uh, Jimmy. It's great to talk to you again, too." It had been Love who had been instructed to call Trask earlier in the day.
"But, if we could hold the catching up until a later date, we have business to discuss now."
"Of course," Kalvin said as he stepped close to the center table upon which the speaker box sat.
"Please have a seat," Rachel offered. Trask couldn't refuse.
"I trust you've read the case file, Investigator," Jimmy said.
"Yes, Jimmy, and please call me Kalvin, as well."
"Very well, Kalvin. So we all know what we're dealing with. But I have some late breaking news that might take us one step closer to a conclusion. I've received word that there will be cheerleading tryouts held sometime tomorrow to replace the murdered cheerleaders for the Tyrants."
"Why on earth would any sane woman try out for that? After what's happened and all." Love asked.
"My guess is because they're going to be in the Super Bowl game, if they live long enough. They'll get international coverage, many attractive women would love to have that kind of publicity." Trask answered.
"Very good, Kalvin. The good news is that we have the edge, because we have some very talented and attractive investigators here. I think one of you girls should go undercover and try to get picked for the squad. You are the only agents I know who have enough experience in the undercover field for this mission."
"He has no idea," Kirsten whispered to Love, and they both broke into giggles.
"The only problem is that we don't know where the tryouts are going to be held yet, but I'm sure you five can find out easily enough. Just watch the news tonight and look out for some flyers."
"No need," Trask cut in, remembering the flyers he'd seen earlier at school.
"Why? Do you know where they're going to be held?" Britney spoke up for the first time, a derisive sneer in her voice.
"Tomorrow at two-thirty at my high school."
They all looked at him, waiting.
"Roosevelt High."

To Be Continued…

[anonymous]

Hi again everybody. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. I also hope you liked the extra sex scenes I worked in to help you through. I have to tell you again, though, that I am more a writer of action before sex, and even though there hasn't been a great deal of action yet, I'm working up to it. Sex scenes are kind of rough for me to get through, and I bet you know why. Anyway, bare with me and keep an open mind. I sincerely hope you aren't disappointed with this effort.

When last we left our characters, Kalvin Trask and the Bod Squad had formulated a plan for Britney to try out for the L.A. Tyrants cheerleading squad to garner some information from the inside. Love was going to check up on some of the cheerleader's family, friends, and significant others to see what she could find out. Kirsten and Rachel were going to hold up their end at the headquarters. On that Monday night, Hilary Duff and Amanda Bynes got Michelle Trachtenberg to go to Hilary's house for a sleepover, where they drugged her and had some pretty hot sex with her as she urged them on in her stupor. The next day, Tuesday, Britney tried out for the cheerleading squad at Kalvin's school. Sadly, she didn't make it, but she caught up with the head of the squad, Christina Aguilera, in the locker room and…convinced her to let Britney join using some very persuasive tactics. Meanwhile, Kalvin went back to headquarters to see what Kirsten and Rachel had found out…

Featuring: Carmen Elektra and Danielle Fishel.
Also, recurring from the previous chapters, a special cameo appearance by the Bod Squad, with the Squad Leader's permission, of course. Thanks again, Squad Leader.

Disclaimer: I must reiterate that if you are offended by sexual scenes between consenting parties, some minors, or if such materials are banned in your area, please don't get ME or YOURSELF in trouble, just leave. Some characters within this story are fictitiously displayed in scenes of a graphic and sexual nature. As far as we know, these characters have in no way participated in such activities in real life.


Introduction of the Bod Squad by The Squad Leader:

The Bod Squad is a top secret team of four highly trained, sexy young women, who in the tradition of Charlie's Angels are led by their oft heard, but never seen director Jimmy. The members of the Bod Squad are Love: the oldest member of the group and their unofficial leader, Britney: the party animal with a killer body and a mean streak to match, Rachel: the British bombshell and Kirsten: the baby of the group who uses her sweetness and innocent looks to accomplish things the others can't. Their purpose is to go undercover and use any means necessary to solve crimes and protect humanity.

And now, on with the show.

Game Night - Chapter 3
By Ronin


About twenty minutes after Britney had finished munching on Christina Aguilera's snatch, Kalvin Trask walked into Bod Squad headquarters to greet Rachel Stevens as she sat at the computer, pretending to follow up leads, when in fact she'd been reading stories from the CSSA site. After he'd agreed to help them with the case, they had given him a key to get in.

"Oh, hi Kalvin," Rachel said with an award winning smile as she nervously clicked out of the website. She was only a little embarrassed to think that Kalvin had walked in on her just as she was about to put her hand down her pants. She kind of wished she had started fucking herself sooner; maybe she'd have gotten a rise out of him.

"Hi, Rachel. How's it going?"

"Great. I found out Carmen Elektra's hospital room number. Kirsten and I were just about to call Love and tell her we were going to go check it out, but you can come now, too, if you want."

"Yeah. That would be great. Thanks. Were is Kirsten, anyway?"

"Oh, she…um…she's taking a break from all the…research."

"Oh, fuck!" Came Kirsten's muffled voice from another room. Faint pounding sounds were echoing through the walls along with her moans. "Kirsten! Knock it off. Kalvin's here!" Rachel yelled.

There were more muffled curses and bumps through the walls before Kirsten came walking out of a doorway behind Trask. He turned to see her with her clothes a bit of a mess and her cheeks a bright red. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead.

"Hey, Kal. How you doing?" She spoke quickly, flustered.

A faint smile reached Kalvin's lips as he said, "Not as good as you, it seems." Then, embarrassed, he turned away."

"So, what's the plan?" Kirsten said, trying to move on. Then the phone rang and they put it on the speaker. It was Love.

"Hey, girls. Have you found anything interesting yet?"

"Yeah. We found out where Carmen Elektra is staying. Trask just got here so we thought that we'd all go to the hospital and see if we could have a little chat with her. How about you? You had any luck yet?"

"No, and it's pissing me off. Everybody is either an asshole or too afraid to talk. I've only got one more person to go see. A girlfriend of one of the cheerleaders."

Kirsten and Rachel shared wicked smiles.

"Kalvin?" Love asked through the speaker phone.

"Yeah?"

"Did everything go okay with Britney? Was she being a bitch again?"

"Everything went great, Love. We're on excellent grounds now. No more problems, I promise, and I'm still sorry about all that."

"It's no problem, Kal. Anyway, I have to go. You guys get out to the hospital and see if Elektra remembers anything."

"Okay, Love. Bye." Kirsten said, and they left.

Afterwards, Love pulled up outside the house of her last lead. She had spent the whole day giving hand-jobs and blowjobs to the husbands and boyfriends of the cheerleaders, and one of them had anything even remotely useful, other than their cocks, that is. Love was angry as hell, but she composed herself before walking up the driveway and knocking on the door. She was relieved she had a kind look on her face, because the woman who opened the door was incredibly hot, with a rack that would send a sailor to his knees.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"Hi. My name is Jennifer Hewitt. I'm a Private Investigator. Are you Danielle Fishel?"

"Yes." Fishel answered, her smile disappearing, worry crossing her face. "What's this about?"

"I've been assigned to the case involving the murdered cheerleaders. My sources tell me that you knew one of them. A Misses Sarah Gleason. Is this true?"

"Yes, it is. But look, I've already told everything I know to the police so…I can't help you." She began to close the door, but Love caught it and stuck her head in, being sure to jut out her chest as much as she could. Knowing the woman and the cheerleader were much more than just friends, Love thought she could use that to her advantage and put a pouty, luscious look on her face.

"Please, Danielle. Help me. Those cops can't do shit but sit around and play with their dicks. I can find out who did this. Please, just tell me anything you can."

Though she thought that it might not be prudent to tell Love anything, Danielle was getting wet looking at the hot bitch in her doorway, and she wanted a piece of her.

"Okay. Come in."

They sat down and talked. Danielle skipped around anything that might get her in trouble, and she changed the subject a lot, until Love finally demanded that Danielle stop edging around the truth and giver her some hard facts.

"I've got some hard facts for ya," Danielle mumbled, feeling horny as hell.

"What?" Love asked.

"Nothing. Look, it's obvious that you know that I know something, but telling you what I know could end up being dangerous for me. So what do I get for all my trouble? What do I get in exchange for my information?"

Love knew what the horny cunt had in mind, but she asked anyway. "What do you want?"

That's when Danielle sprang from her seat, rubbing up against Love and embracing her in a deep, passionate kiss. Danielle sucked Love's tongue like it was her favorite cock. She pushed Love down on the couch and forced Love's hand up her shirt. Love groped at the humongous tits beneath, savoring the smooth roundness, playing with the pink nipples. Goodness, they were huge!

"Oh, yeah baby." Danielle said, nearly breathless as she pulled away from Love's sucking mouth. "You like these big titties? Have you ever had boobs as big as these in your face? Suck 'em you slut." Danielle ripped off her top and let the soft, round tits plop right in front of Love's face.

"They're so big and round. Fuck, I love 'em." Then, with a wet slurping sound, Love suck one giant, pink nipple into her hungry whore mouth. She sucked like a Hoover, running her teeth over the hard nipple, letting the soft, salty flesh slide sexily over her roaming tongue.

"Bitch! Fucking whore! God, suck my tits. Oh yeah! That's it. Mommy likes it like that. But there's one thing that Sarah and I used to like to do that you may not know about. I take a pill to give me a…oh yes…suck 'em…a special ability."

Love sucked sensuously, looking up with her big, puppy eyes and her baby face. Her hand was busy below Danielle's zipper, shooting two fingers in and out of the hot slut's plump pussy. She pulled her mouth off and began to flick the nipple with her tongue. "Hmm, what's that?" She asked as she flicked.

"This. Aah!"

Danielle grabbed her tit and squeezed, shooting a jet of nice hot breast milk into Love's mouth like a stream of jizzum. Love caught on quick. At first, Love thought it was a little weird and maybe even gross, but she quickly grew to like it very much. She let the milky spurts stream over her face like they were coming out of a giant cock. It was warm and wet and sweet. She loved getting her little slut face covered in breast milk.

"Oh, yes, that's it, baby. Let me squirt all over your face." "Fuck! Yes, coat me with it. Oh, tastes so good."

Before the spurts could stop, Love wrapped her arms around Danielle's knees, pulling her over so her back was on the couch and Love was on top. She grabbed Danielle's feet and raised them high over her head. The big tittied girl's hot, tight slit was now open for feasting, and Love didn't waste anytime. Danielle spread her legs and Love shoved her tongue in as hard as she could, making Danielle scream in delight.

"Fuck yes! Tongue-fuck me you damn fucking dyke! Yes, yes. I'm gonna cum, baby. I'm gonna…oh…fuck me, fuck me harder. Lick my wet slit." Love licked and sucked and slurped as she brought put her two fingers back into Danielle's pussy and began to furiously pump them back and forth.

"I'm cumming…oh yes, oh god, I'm cumming. OH GOD I'M GONNA SQUIRT!!!"

Danielle arched her back as hot streams of her girl cream shot out into Love's eager mouth. At the same time, the force of her orgasm made two great jets of milk rocket out of her burning red nipples, shooting into the air and raining down on both of them. Sweaty, sticky, and feeling nice and fucked, Danielle relinquished.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you everything I know."

"After we're done. It's my turn now."


"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid no one's allowed to see Ms. Elektra under orders of the District Attorney." The receptionist informed Trask quite sternly.

"You don't understand. I've been hired by the LAPD. This is my case."

"I don't care if you were sent by the President, you're not getting into that room."

Rather than cause a scene, Trask decided it would be more prudent to find another way. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, thank you for your time." He walked away and took Kirsten and Rachel into a small waiting area to talk to them. "She won't give us clearance. So we're gonna have to find a way to get around the cop."

"I'll handle it." Kirsten said.

"You? How?" Trask questioned.

She gave him big puppy dog eyes. "With my irresistible charm, of course."

So while Rachel and Kalvin watched from behind a corner, Kirsten approached the cop and worked her magic. She walked up like a shy schoolgirl, one leg bent inward, constantly giggling, catering to the cop's ego.

"My, my, officer, that's a long, hard stick you've got there." She said. Trask and Rachel didn't hear this. "Can I maybe see it a little closer? We can duck into that closet right there, I can give it a good spit-shine, if you like."

The young cop's eyes widened and his bulging erection caught Rachel's eye, making her burst into laughter. After Kirsten got the cop away from the door and into the closet down the hall, Rachel and Kalvin snuck inside Carmen's room.

Still in denial of all that the girls were doing, Trask said, "I sure hope she's spraying him with Mace in there."

"Oh, someone's getting sprayed, alright." Rachel giggled, then immediately wished she hadn't said anything because Trask became very quiet and stern. She shut up and got serious.

As they walked in, they saw Carmen Elektra hooked up to an IV, with great bandages on her body where she'd been hit by the rifle rounds. She was pretty delirious from all the painkillers and antibiotics to fight off the effects of lead poisoning.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked as Trask shuffled through a drawer near the bed, he removed a hypodermic syringe and a bottle of clear solution. "What is that?" She asked again.

Trask filled the syringe and injected it into the IV line. "This is a little something the doctors use to bring patients up out of their hazy drug stupor when it's time to eat or do some physical therapy. It's painful and irritating as hell when you're floating in a sea of morphine, but we have to get some answers."

"I take it you know about this stuff." Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow, almost causing Trask to lose his balance.

"You could say I've been in my share of hospital rooms."

Carmen began to stir. Trask didn't give her enough to wake her fully because she would just scream for the cop, but she was just coherent enough to answer his questions.

"Ms. Elektra? Carmen? Can you hear me?" Trask answered.

"Go awaaay…it hurts."

"Oh, honey I know it hurts," Rachel cooed, "but you've got to answer just a few questions. Please help us, dear. Can you tell us who did this?"

"He…smiled. Walked up to the car…such a terrible smile. I think…he thought I was dead…I…" She was slipping in and out of consciousness. Her words were ominous, scary, and Trask looked Rachel in the eyes, signaling a mutual knowledge that the following days were going to get very rough.

"Mmm, yes, that's a big cock. Let me suck it."

"Ha, you little slut. Suck my prick you stupid bitch." The cop said as Kirsten pulled his stiff member out of his pants and slurped it into her mouth. She was on her knees in front of him, sucking away at his shaft, slobbering all over his knob.

"Hmm…I bet you've fucked a lot of cunts with a prick this big, huh?" Kirsten asked as she looked up at him with a mischievous grin on her face as she slowly stroked his glistening dick.

"Oh, none as cute as you, baby. Stroke it for papa." He breathed out heavily.

"I feel so special. It's turning me on. My pussy is dripping…it's so hot…oh, please, fuck my tight cunt. Fuck it now!"

She stood up and backed over to the sink. She pulled up her shirt and fondled her breasts as he made his way to her. She then dropped her pants and stepped out of them before jumping up on the edge of the sink and spreading her legs. Her panties were completely soaked. The cop pulled her panties aside and slid two fingers into her sweet snatch as he sucked her hot, teen tits. He bit the nipples and made her slobber and curse.

"You have to stick your cock in me. Do it! I have to come, fuck me hard." She moaned as he positioned his dick in front of her slick lips.

He thrust himself inside and began hammering away at her pink cunt. The sounds of his nuts slapping against her ass echoed throughout the room, keeping rhythm with the sounds of their panting.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, yes, fuck me! Stick in it me like a whore. Make me squirt, big boy." Kirsten yelled as he pounded into her. She grabbed his ass and bit his neck. He slowed down and pulled out of her in one long wet stroked and slapped his dick against her pussy lips. She hopped down and turned around, baring her ass for him to see. "Put it up my ass, you fucking pig. Fuck me right up my slutty ass with that cock. Fuck me." She cried as he moved up and popped his head in. She was nice and tight down there, and he road it for as long as he could as he fondled her tits and licked her back, always beating away at her back hole.

"Ah, shit, I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm cumming, oh shit." He pulled out and stroked his dick over her ass cheeks.

"That's it, baby, cum on my ass."

And he did. Stream after stream of hot jizz plopped and smeared all over her white ass as she fingered herself to a moderate orgasm. Maybe she had business on her mind.

When they were through, Kirsten hurried to get cleaned up and dressed quickly.

"Here let me help you with your belt," she said. Helping him from behind, she slid her hands back and snatched his Taser out of its holster. She pointed the plastic gun at his back and pulled the trigger, shooting the two prongs into his back and sending 800,000 volts into his system. He jerked and jived and fell to the floor writhing, but within moments he was completely blacked out and, for the most part, completely unharmed. She walked out and left him sleeping like a baby.

"So, what'd you guys find out?" Kirsten asked as she walked up to Rachel and Trask. The had all congregated back in the waiting area.

"Not a great deal, I'm afraid. She's just too weak to help." Kalvin said.

Rachel sighed. "I guess the only thing we can do now is wait on Love and Britney and hope something comes up."

"Yeah, I guess," Kirsten said. "I guess you can't win 'em all…hey, wait a minute, who the hell is that?"

"What?" Trask asked, turning around. Kirsten was pointing past his head near the door.

"Somebody just ran into Carmen's room." She said. "C'mon, let's check it out."

They ran down the hall and when they reached the room, Trask nearly shit himself. Standing over Carmen Elektra with a pillow over her face, smothering her, was none other than Mario, one of the thugs that had threatened Kalvin the day before outside his school. At the time he had been with Wally, a walking talking dump-trunk with a bad attitude, and they were fucking with him in hopes that his fuck-up man-whore of a father would pay up his gambling debts a little quicker. Trask hadn't seen his father in days.

"Mario!" Trask said.

Mario looked up, his eyes wide as saucers. "Fuck!" He cried. He flung the pillow at Trask, whose dodging fist busted the pillow open, sending shreds and feathers flying into the air. Out of the hail of feathers rushed Mario with a fist raised, his face a rictus of malice. Sidestepping, Trask deflected the blow and sent Mario crashing against the door-frame, his face making contact with the hard corner. He began to cry out but Kalvin quickly silenced him and told Rachel to close the door before shoving Mario back into the room.

"You fuck! My fuckin' nose, God!" Mario said, holding his nose.

"It's broke, you bastard!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Mario, it's not broke, okay, so just calm down." Trask said, trying to cool things down. Mario, however, was having none of it and rushed Trask again, this time coming with a front kick, but Trask caught Mario's leg and stepped in, sending a hammer punch right down on Mario's nose. Then Rachel stepped forward and executed a powerful high kick to Mario's face. A crack echoed through the room, and Mario fell to the floor, his face a bloody mess.

"Now it's broke." Rachel said. She may not have known Mario, but she knew enough to know that he was a bad guy.

"Stay out of this, bitch!" He snapped, blood flying. Then, in one final effort, Mario pulled a switchblade from his back pocket and flicked it open, letting it gleam. He came at Rachel that time, thrusting as hard as he could, but Trask caught his wrist and executed a well-known Aikido move, using Mario's momentum to turn him. Trask then manipulated the elbow to send Mario to the floor, and pushed down on his wrist and elbow until the elbow joint snapped.

"Fuck you, you fucking numb cunts! You fucking-" Mario was screaming until Trask punched him again and drug him over to set him up against the wall.

"Alright, Mario, now it's time to talk. Why are you here?" Trask asked. "Fuck you. I'm not telling you a thing you fucking faggot. We're gonna turn you and your whole fucking family into one giant casserole. We're gonna shred your ass, bitch." Mario answered.

"Hey Rachel."

"Yeah?"

"Could you please open that drawer that I opened earlier and look for a bottle labeled Sodium Pentothal?"

"Sure thing."

Rachel found the bottle, and Trask administered a large dose to Mario. He had to punch him again to get him to sit still, but the stuff took effect rather quickly.

"What was that?" Kirsten asked.

"It's what some people call the truth serum."

"So it'll make him tell us the truth?" Rachel asked.

"No, not exactly, it works a little differently than that. It's actually more of a very potent sedative, but it gives the patient unhindered access to conscious memory. It's supposed to lower his inhibitions to the point where he won't really care if he tells us the truth or not.

And he didn't. Mario ended up telling them that he was sent by his boss, Artemus Striker, to kill Carmen Elektra.

"But your boss is a guy named Ryker. And why would a bet-maker want to kill these cheerleaders?"

"No, not Ryker, dumb ass." Mario said. "Striker. He's the owner of the Miami Tigersharks. Ryker is just the name he uses to run his gambling schemes and racketeering."

It turned out that someone had made an enormous bet against the L.A. Tyrants, a bet that would break Striker if his team lost, so he began to systematically order the extermination of the Tyrants' cheerleaders in hopes that the team would be so spooked out that they wouldn't even be a challenge, or better yet, they would forfeit, and Striker would win the bet by default. The final thing they learned was that there was going to be a kidnapping of one of the new girls just chosen from the auditions sometime before Sunday, and then there would be a grand finale at the game.

"Hey, how'd you get in here? You!" The cop that Kirsten fucked said as he came in and saw her. "You're under arrest!" He cried as he came into the room. He went for his gun, but Kirsten came forward at the last moment, sending a knee into his crotch. He yelped and fell to the floor.

"C'mon, let's go." Kiki yelled as her and Rachel ran out the door. Trask didn't like the idea of leaving Mario alive, but he would never cold-bloodedly murder a human being, so he simply walked away. As he dashed past the downed cop he stopped and offered his apologies.

"Sorry about this."

"Good work today, guys. We've found out quite a bit." Love said as she sat down beside Kirsten back at the Bod Squad Headquarters that night.

"Oh really, and what did you learn." Kiki taunted, having already heard the hot story.

"Well, I found out that Carmen was seeing the Assistant Coach of the Tyrants, but she was also having a secret affair with one of the guys who plays for the Tigersharks. She was giving the Tyrants' Assistant Coach all the information on the Tigersharks that she could get: positions, plays, secrets."

"Just another reason to take her out of the picture." Rachel said. "I still can't believe the owner of the Tigersharks is into such bad stuff. He's trying to kill my father, and probably me now, as well. Not to mention this sneaky scheme to win a damn bet. Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to curse."

"Lighten up, Kal. You said that there was going to be a kidnapping this week? Britney, can you remember the names of any of the other girls who made the team at the tryouts?"

"Umm, yeah, I think…there was a girl named Bynes."

"Amanda?" Trask questioned.

"Yeah. That's her. Let's see, this one other girl, real cute blonde. Hilary. Hilary Duff. And maybe two or three more."

"Alright, then we try to keep an eye on them and see what happens." Love said. "But I'm beat, I'm just gonna crash here tonight. I don't even want to try the ride home."

"Hey, that's a good idea, let's all just sleepover, like the old days, before we could afford apartments. Hey, Kal, you should just sleep here, too. It's pretty late." Rachel offered.

"Are you sure?" Trask was very, very insecure and very embarrassed, but he was also quite happy to have friends like these girls.

"Sure," Britney said. "We have bedrooms here for those 'long nights'. We'll be fine."

"Well, I am tired, I guess I could just stay on the couch, but I want you girls to be okay with it, I don't want to intrude."

"Kalvin, stop. You're cool. In fact, you better stay up awhile and talk with us, then you're gonna get extra comfy and you're gonna feel free to help yourself to anything here. You've seen the kitchen area."

"Yeah, help yourself to 'anything' at all, Mr. Trask." Rachel said, raising a devious eyebrow. Trask nearly melted. He just nodded his head and sat down, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

To Be Continued…


On FEEDBACK: I would love to hear what you guys think so far, if you've actually sat through all my boring crap. I do have a few things to ask, though. I don't really take bad criticism very well, it makes me a little sad, so please don't e-mail me to slam my work, and I have to ask that you hold any suggestions, because I already have the whole rest of the series planned out, but if there's something you'd like to see, I might see what I can do. So please, if you read this, I'd love to hear from you.

You can reach me at dracuzac@aol.com, Thanks everone!

[anonymous]

Night Game 2-2


The next morning, Kalvin awoke with an award-winning boner the likes of which he hadn't had in a long time. His first impulse was to reach over and turn off his alarm clock, when he realized he'd never replaced it after yesterday morning. The clock's broken corpse was still lying next to his dresser. He lay there for a minute with every intention of simply skipping school, then he thought of both Michelle and his obligation to the Squad. His stiffy instantly deflated.

"Fuck!" He growled as he jumped out of bed. His mother must have left early that morning, and it was no surprise that his dad didn't wake him, seeing as the asshole had probably been out all night fucking his secretary. Grumbling, Kalvin grabbed a pair of pants and tried to put them on too fast. He lost his balance and went down. "Ah, double-fuck!" He yelled as he hit the ground. Thanks to his Aikido falling practice, however, he was up in a flash to resume dressing. It was true that he was in a hurry, but he never left the house without taking time to arm himself, so he once again donned the arsenal he'd carried on Monday, but he needed a little something extra.

He opened a secret area in his room that contained most of his formidable artillery. He wanted something a little more intimidating in case he ran into Mario and Wally again, so he grabbed a 12-gauge Mossberg 590 pump-action before he left. The shotgun was equipped with glow-in-the-dark Ghost Ring sights and a pistol-grip, it was one of Trask's favorites. Running outside, he placed it in his vehicle along with the rest of the small assortment of weapons he kept in case of an emergency. Pushing the pedal into the floorboard, Trask sped most of the way to school.

"You've fucked yourself royally this time, Trask. Congratulations." Principal Smith said, his face just a little too close to Kalvin's face than what he usually allowed. Smith had accosted Trask in the hallway as he had showed up to school a little over an hour late. Kalvin was trying his hardest to be calm and agreeable, but the son of a bitch in front of him was really starting to push it. "I understand, Principal Smith, but please-" Trask attempted. "Oh, no, you little piss-ant. You're mine this time. I hope you're ready to spend the rest of this year in detention, because that's where you're going. Now step into my office." "Why? So I can watch you fuck Hilary Duff's brains out?" Trask asked.

Smith flared with anger as his face darkened three shades. He whipped out a hand and grabbed at Trask, who hit his arm away and gripped the lapels of the jerk's suit. Trask then proceeded to run Smith all the way across the hallway and slam him into a row of lockers hard enough to rattle the whole row. The Principal's eyes opened wide, surprised that he was actually being stood up to. "Now you look here, you sick fuck!" Trask commanded, shoving Smith into the lockers even harder. "Tomorrow you can suspend me or expel me or whatever the hell you want, but I AM going to class today, and you're going to go sit behind your little desk and whack off because, I swear, if you so much as touch Hilary, or any other girl around here again, I'm gonna rip your dick off and shove it up your ass!"

Trask rammed Smith into the locker once more for emphasis, then let him drop to the floor and continued on to class. On his way, though, he ran into Michelle, quite literally. She had stumbled out of the restroom and bumped into him, dropping her English book and her folder.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out. The Ecstasy from Monday night had taken a terrible toll on her system. Trask nearly cried as he saw how horridly pale she was. She had actually just finished throwing up bile and stomach acid in the restroom.

"Hey, it's no problem, Michelle." Trask tried to calm her as he bent down to help her gather her papers.

She almost froze as she heard his voice and realized who it was. She had, in fact, resisted the urge to stay home in hopes of seeing Kalvin. She had liked him for a long time, and when he had saved her life that time, she was positive it would be like a movie and they would be together, but it didn't turn out that way. They had both been awkward and had fallen out of touch. It was terrible anticlimactic.

"Kalvin, it's you. Hi. I'm so sorry-"

"Don't worry about it, okay. You don't look so well. You feeling all right?"

"I don't really know. I just woke up this morning feeling a little-ill."

"You probably should have stayed home and rested." Trask offered, trying to be sympathetic, hoping he didn't come off sounding like a doctor.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well, look. If you end up going home early, just let me know and I'll be sure to get your assignments, okay?"

She looked up at him, slowly, and managed a smile. "Okay, thanks." What do you say to someone you're in love with? What do you say to someone who's saved your life? Jeez.

Trask escaped from his last class of the day only to see Britney Spears standing down the hall in one of the hottest little outfits he'd every seen. Her smooth, lean midsection was on display for the whole world to jack off to. Trask had expected to be greeted by a cold, hostile gaze, but to his surprise, she looked weary, tired. Her head was hung down almost like she was…embarrassed by something.

"Hello, Ms. Spears."

"Yeah, hi. C'mon, let's get this thing over with. Or would you like to stick your cock in my pussy first?" She said, raising her eyebrows and testing him with a wicked gaze."

"Huh?" Trask croaked, surprised further.

"Oh come on. Don't play stupid with me. I know guys like you. How about it? Let's duck into a classroom for a second. I'll let you be the teacher if you stick your pointer in my juicy little cunny." She backed him into a wall and slid her hand down to the crotch of his pants.

Trask sensed something sneaky going on, and he was determined to get on good terms with this girl. But he would not fuck her. "Look, I don't know what this is about, but I just want to tell you how incredibly sorry I am about yesterday. I want you to know that I have nothing but the highest respect for you."

This took Britney a bit by surprise. She had expected him to be some asshole that would fuck her the minute he got her away from the group. She had expected some kind of man-whore, like most guys were. Maybe he was gay, or maybe he just wasn't sexually attracted to her…no, that couldn't be it, he had to be gay.

"You mean you really don't wanna fuck me."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'd really rather be your friend." After a second, she eased off of him.

"You're serious about this? You just want to be friends with us?"

"Of course, but I also want to be your partner, I want to solve this case. You have no idea how big an honor it is to work with you. It's been…sort of a dream of mine for a while now. But not a dream that involved any…intercourse."

"Really?" She asked.

He was silent for a moment, then gave her a shy, joking smile. "Well, maybe just a little."

She laughed, taken back by his sincerity and kindness, then she smiled. "Okay, friends, but you have to call me Britney."

Trask smiled back. "Sure."

"Great, now let's crack this case, partner."

They decided that Trask didn't have to be there while Britney auditioned, so he gave Michelle Trachtenberg a ride home and then went over to Headquarters to see how things were going with Kirsten and Rachel.

It turned out, however, that as great looking as Britney was, she couldn't cheer worth a damn. For having such a great body, she was incredibly awkward, and her choreography was terrible. After trying out, she knew immediately that she wouldn't have a chance, so she tried to look for another angle in.

"Who do I have to fuck to get on national television around here?" She asked her reflection in a mirror as she stood in the girls' locker room. It had been cleared out for the girls who would be auditioning.

Then, she heard something around the corner. It was a light sobbing, soft and delicate. Britney poked her head around to see a hot-looking blonde sitting on one of the long bleacher-style seats in front of a row of lockers. After a moment, she realized who it was. It was the new head cheerleader for the Tyrants. She was Carmen Elektra's second in command, and her name was Christina Aguilera. Britney knew this because she had had a crush on that particular cheerleader for a long time. Britney had grown wet upon hearing that she had been put in charge of picking the new cheerleaders. Apparently she couldn't take the pain of replacing her dear friends, though. She must of put someone else in charge while she went into the locker room to collect herself.

"Hey, calm down. It's okay." Britney tried to calm the cheerleader as she walked over and placed a hand on her bare, tan shoulder. Christina looked up with her sad, tear filled eyes. A look of comfort passed over her face as she saw the incredibly hot girl in front of her. "Hi," she said. "Didn't you try out today?"

Britney straddled the seat, a leg on each side. "Yeah. I'm Britney Spears. You're Christina Aguilera, aren't you? The new head cheerleader for the Tyrants?"

"Yeah, for now. Tomorrow I'll probably be dead, though."

"Aw, because of all that's happened? You shouldn't worry about that. I'm sure that there are some very good agents working to keep you girls safe and find out what happened. So don't cry."

"It's not just that."

"Well then what is it?" Britney asked.

"It's…I miss Carmen and the others. I miss the things we used to do."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help." Britney had started rubbing Christina's shoulder, and now she ran her hand down the length of her smooth arm. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked with an insinuating look on her face.

Christina was picking up on this, and her pussy lips were growing hot. She hadn't gotten any since the murders had begun. She was horny as hell. "I don't know. What do you suggest?" Christina reached up and blatantly cupped Britney's left breast through her top.

"I can just do what you and Carmen did. But did you two, by any chance, ever kiss?"

Christina faked a shy look and giggled, "Yes."

"Like this, maybe?" Britney asked and lowered her face to Christina's. She pushed her tongue into Christina's mouth and they twirled together like dancers. They sucked and slurped and tongued until Britney pulled back.

"Mm, that was great." Christina said. "Keep going."

"Oh, well what else did Carmen do?"

Christina let a sly, embarrassed grin slide across her face, and she turned her head to the side.

"Did she ever play with your tits?"

"Oh God, yeah. She played with them all the time."

"Like this?" Britney asked as she pulled the top of Christina's uniform over her chest, letting her firm, dark titties burst free, wobbling in the air. Britney took one in each hand and gripped them, squeezed them, kneaded them and rolled the erect nipples between her fingers. "I bet she used to suck them, too."

"She did, she sucked them so good. Please, suck my tits." With that, Britney lowered her blonde head and sucked one hard, brown nipple into her mouth, savoring the salty flavor, letting roll over her tongue, nibbling on it with her teeth, sucking on it like a baby. She switched back and forth, licking and biting, pinching and rubbing.

"Oh, yes. You're so good. Suck on 'em. Suck my hot titties." Britney coated the hot nipples in her saliva, then licked up the valley between Christina's boobs, giving Christina the hottest, sluttiest look she'd ever gotten. Then Britney rose up and grabbed Christina's hips, pulling the hot slut in close to her body. Christina leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows, letting Britney dry hump her softly while slowly working her tongue over Christina's hot stomach.

"Did she ever rub your hot little box, Christina?" Britney asked as she massaged Christina's pussy lips through the fabric of her underpants.

"Yeah," Christina answered, her head swimming in pleasure.

"Yeah? Did she make it feel good?"

"Yes, baby."

"Oh, yeah. I know it felt good. Did she lick your clit?"

"Yeah."

"Did she suck your pussy lips?"

"Uh-huh."

"Did she fuck your tight cunt like you deserve?"

"Yes! Yes, fuck me! Eat my pussy. Lick my cunt, baby."

Turned on by Christina's dirty talk, Britney scooted backward until she was flat on her stomach, she pushed Christina's skirt up above her thighs and tore her black panties right off, exposing a lovely, pink, shaved snatch.

Britney licked her lips and looked up between Christina's breasts as she was tweaking her nipples. "My, my. You look so tasty." Britney said.

"Please, eat me. I have to cum. I have to blast all over that hot slut-face."

"Mm, I'll make you cum, baby." And without saying anything else, Britney shoved her tongue right into Christina's hot, juicy hole. Christina arched upward and threw her head back in ecstasy. She moaned and spit and played with her sweaty tits as Britney munched and sucked and tongue-fucked her tight, wet box.

"God, it's so fucking good! I have to pop. Eat that pussy. Mm, yeah. Fuck it with your tongue. Yes! I'm gonna squirt all over you. Please, fuck me!"

"Oh yeah, baby, I'm gonna fuck you nice and hard." Said Britney as she rose up and scooted forward, shoving her firm, perky tit right into Christina's mound. She ground her hot tit into Christina's cunt as she ran her tongue over the blonde cheerleader's smooth, glistening stomach. Her hard nipple rubbed inside Christina's hole, it teased her clit and stimulated every inch of her. She was ready to cum…hard.

"Oh yeah. I'm cumming, I'm cumming. I'm gonna fucking blow, you bitch!" Christina screamed.

"Blow, baby." Britney hissed.

Christina spasmed and convulsed and screamed as jets of her hot juice shot out around Britney's smooth breast, coating it, making it slick and wet. Then Britney pulled her tit out and lowered her mouth to the oozing flesh-fountain, licking the quivering walls of Christina's pussy, slurping up the juices.

"Oh, that was so good. Did I pick you to be on the squad?" Christina asked.

"No."

"Well, you're definitely on now."

"Mm, excellent." Britney whispered as she crawled up onto Christina and sucked one hard nipple into her mouth to savor.

To Be Continued…

[anonymous]

Hello again everyone. Ready for more? I sure hope I haven't disappointed you. If you're reading for stroke material, there is going to be more in the last chapters, but not too much more. And if you're in it for the story, well, things are about to pick up. If you've been following, you know the mystery is unfolding. I can only tell you that Kalvin and the rest of the Squad are in for some major trouble pretty soon, and I sure hope they're ready. Well, I don't want to keep you too much longer, so here we go with the preamble.

Last time we checked up on our heroes, Kalvin Trask had left Britney to take care of the Tyrant's head cheerleader and had went to the Bod Squad Headquarters to see what Kirsten and Rachel had found out. Upon his arrival, they informed him that they had discovered where Carmen Elektra was being kept in the hospital. Glad to finally have a lead, the three head out. Meanwhile, Love scores in more than one way with the attractive girlfriend of one of the murdered cheerleaders. Afterwards, Trask and the girls arrive at the hospital and are forced to resort to certain…unconventional tactics to sneak into Carmen's room. After receiving only a few disturbing words from the drugged cheerleader, they leave, hoping that something else will come up. Kirsten, however, spots someone else sneaking into Carmen's room, and it turns out to be none other than Mario, one of the thugs that had threatened Trask on the day before, and he snuck in to finish the assassination of Carmen Elektra! After a brutal fight, an incapacitated Mario is drugged by Trask and becomes more than willing to relinquish all information. The Squad learns that the hits on the cheerleaders are actually being ordered by Artemus Striker, the owner of the Miami Tigersharks and the man who's been trying to find Trask's father under the alias of a bet-maker and racketeer named Ryker. Upon learning this, the three are forced to leave the scene quickly, leaving Mario alive and a uniform cop injured. That night, the Squad assemble at Headquarters and, exhausted, decide to spend the night. Extended an invitation, Trask nervously decides to stay as well.

Featuring: Jennifer Love Hewitt, Kirsten Dunst, Britney Spears, and Rachel Stevens.

Disclaimer: I must reiterate that if you are offended by sexual scenes between consenting parties, some minors, or if such materials are banned in your area, please don't get ME or YOURSELF in trouble, just leave. Some characters within this story are fictitiously displayed in scenes of a graphic and sexual nature. As far as we know, these characters have in no way participated in such activities in real life.

Introduction of the Bod Squad by The Squad Leader:

The Bod Squad is a top secret team of four highly trained, sexy young women, who in the tradition of Charlie's Angels are led by their oft heard, but never seen director Jimmy. The members of the Bod Squad are Love: the oldest member of the group and their unofficial leader, Britney: the party animal with a killer body and a mean streak to match, Rachel: the British bombshell and Kirsten: the baby of the group who uses her sweetness and innocent looks to accomplish things the others can't. Their purpose is to go undercover and use any means necessary to solve crimes and protect humanity.

And now, on with the show.

Game Night - Chapter 4
By Ronin

On Tuesday night, Trask lay still but uncomfortable in the darkness of the Bod Squad Headquarters. It made him slightly nervous to think about the terribly attractive girls in their bedrooms. Love and Kirsten were in one room, and Britney and Rachel shared the other. Trask just told himself that everything was fine, and that he should just be cool, and sooner or later he fell into a shallow, disturbed sleep.
Then, sometime in the night, he heard it. His first instinct was to go for his gun, but he realized that it must have just been one of the girls up for a drink. He was half right. He realized this as he felt hot, smooth legs straddle him. He was naked for some reason and didn't know why, he couldn't remember undressing in the night, especially not when he was so nervous. Regardless, he felt the legs moving against him like silk, and instinctively he knew, they were dark legs, exotic legs. Not the deeply tan, muscled legs of Britney Spears, but naturally caramel legs, tone and firm, British legs. He felt her tight, t-shirt clad top move against his bare chest, and a delicious tongue snaked between his lips.
"No!" He yelped as he sat up, taking her with him, and then he felt the sensuous, unprotected cleft of her womanhood glide against his growing member.
"But I want it." Her voice sounded like silken sheets running against one another, like sweating flesh against sweating flesh. In the dark, she ripped the night-shirt from her exquisite chest and, before he could stop her, she pushed his head against her breast. He opened his mouth, thinking he wanted to scream, but instead sucked one succulent nipple into his mouth. She gasped into the blackness of the room, and shadows outside shuddered. The air was liquid and she was honey.
"Put it in." She whispered and rose up, grasping him and guiding him inside her.
Candles flickered to life throughout the room, and the supple form of her beauty was illuminated. He ripped his hungry lips from her and stared at her, her goddess-like majesty. And she rose and fell atop him, coating him with the slickness of her juices. Within seconds they're pace quickened, the rhythm transforming. Slapping was heard.
"Fuck me! Damn! Oh, that's lovely." She whispered only to him, only for him.
The candles shook, and the couch rose, and she turned, and they humped…and he was on top…and she was on top…and there was taste and sensation.
Climax was near, and only one last chance to stop.
"No!" Trask yelled, and the couch crashed. She uttered a gasp and was then put into the darkness as the candles snuffed. Her weight lifted and his clothing poured upon him like liquid snakes. He woke to the dark inner sanctum of the Headquarters, and let out a sigh. Of relief, or regret?

Wednesday was slow. They spent most of the day rethinking their plans, formulating strategy. They couldn't tell the police about their information on Striker because they had no concrete evidence. Since Trask was probably expelled from school, he decided to devote all of his time to the case now.
"So we have to catch him in the act?" Kirsten asked.
"Looks like, or at least someone who works for him." Love answered.
They spent the rest of the day scouting the homes of the girls who'd won the spots on the Tyrants' cheerleading squad. They put out some sensors to alert them in case of an illegal entry, but their equipment just wasn't sophisticated enough. By nightfall, they were back at Headquarters, downtrodden.
"We just can't sit around and wait for this shit to go down." Britney protested.
"There's not much we can do." Love explained. "Striker might as well be the President, we can't touch him."
"Not until the Superbowl." Trask said softly.
"Huh?" Britney said.
"I said that if we plan to confront him head on, maybe try to get him to say something about what he's done, we have to do it Sunday night, during the game. He'll be in one of those boxes, and it won't be impossible to get to him, as long as he's out in public. By now he's probably in seclusion."
"Seriously?" Rachel asked, looking from Trask to Love. "Actually infiltrate the Superbowl and kick some ass?"
"That sounds like the point." Kirsten said.
"It sounds like fun." Britney said, ready for anything.
Love looked to Trask and then at the Squad. "Okay," she said, "let's do it."

"Excuse me, are you Jennifer Hewitt?" A man asked Love at the supermarket on Thursday afternoon. She was there picking up some supplies for Headquarters. The Squad had been spending so much time there thinking about the case, they had gone through all the perishables.
"Maybe," she said with a grin, the guy was kind of cute. "Who are you?"
"Oh, nobody. Thanks." They guy walked away, leaving Love puzzled.
Then, when she was in the refrigerated section, when she closed one of the big glass doors to the orange juice section, she caught a reflection moving quickly from behind…too quickly. She dodged out of the way and a long, black expandable ASP baton crashed into her shopping cart, cracking the plastic on the handle and actually bending the handle.
"Fuck!" Cried Love. She saw that her attacker was none other than the cute guy who had approached her earlier.
"You better stay off this case, bitch." The guy threatened.
"Or what, you'll miss me again?" Love challenged, lowering into a defensive crouch.
The asshole grunted and lashed out again. The baton came down in a whistling arc, but Love was fast as well. She dodged and counter-attacked, sending an elbow into the guy's chin. She then ran forward and head-butted him in the nose, breaking it and making him scream in pain. He was backing up quickly, but she sent a powerful front kick into his gut, sending him crashing across the aisle and into the shelves. There was a loud racket as he slammed into the shelf, and the aisle was filled with loud clunking sounds as heavy cans of creamed corn and green beans busted his head and fell to the floor.
"I'll rip you apart!" He yelled and lunged again, but Love caught his wrist and slapped the baton out of his hand. Finally, she spun him and threw him away from her. There was a resounding crash as he broke through one of the refrigerator doors and broken glass cascaded over him.
Before he could regain his bearings and crawl out of the wrecked door, Love ran out of the store, hoping she had avoided any security cameras.

"Goddamn it, Jeff! I pay idiots who don't know how to do their jobs when I send my car in to the shop, but when I order a goddamn hit I expect a clean, thorough job from fucking professional!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ryker, I…maybe she knew I was…I…I'm sorry."
"Fuck. We've been together a long time, guys. You've always been my best enforcers, and now one job comes along involving four beautiful women and some nobody kid and you dick-heads start acting like a bunch of goddamn amateurs."
"The bitch knew how to fight, boss, what can I say?"
"Yeah, and that kid must have luck oozing out his ass." Mario said from the couch to the left of Ryker's desk.
"You shut the fuck up, Mario. You were incompetent, a trait I'm seeing more and more around here. Mark my words, gentlemen, I won't put up with it much longer."
"Yes, sir." The bruised two answered in unison.
"I'm happy we understand each other. Now we've got to get serious. This is quickly turning into a major problem. It's not just debt collecting or knocking off cheerleaders anymore. This is serious business now."
Ryker punched the button on his intercom. "Daisy!" He barked.
"Yes, Mr. Ryker."
"Get me Smiley."

At the same time, at Bod Squad Headquarters, Love was telling her story.
"Oh my God!" Kirsten gasped.
"I know, it was so intense, it happened so fast. He…he seemed so friendly at first."
Kirsten was beside Love, holding her close. Britney was sitting on the counter in the kitchen while Rachel was sitting at the computer and Trask stood close to the door…nervous habit.
"It sounds terrible. How could this happen? Trask, what the fuck did you get us into?" Kirsten said, hot with anger at the thought of Love getting hurt.
"Hey, Kiki, watch it, Kalvin didn't do anything, we took this case before we even knew him." Britney said. Trask was surprised to have been defended by her of all people.
"Yeah, Kirsten. Trask is helping us, so let's not turn on each other. Besides, Love is safe."
"Yeah," Britney broke in, "she kicked his ass."
"I'm fine, but I'm not going back to my apartment."
"Me either, I think we should all just stay here until we crack this case." Kirsten said, and then added. "And that includes Kal, too. I'm sorry to losing my cool. Forgive me?"
"Of course, I'm honored to have gotten yelled at by one of the famous Bod Squad."
Everybody laughed, grateful that the tension was broke.
Like any great sociopath, Smiley Compton treated his rifle like he treated his dick. He tried to shoot as much as he could, he always shot in the face or the chest, and he always, always cleaned up afterwards.
He had ordered the FAL model SA58-OSW from DSA, Inc. about a year ago. The FAL had soon become his favorite carbine for any use, be it long-range sniper work or an up close splatter job. Unlike many of his other rifles in 5.56 millimeter, the FAL was chambered for the bigger, heavier .308 Winchester cartridge. It was capable of taking out entire vehicles by itself up close, and with the right scope, it could take out a world leader from as far away as 300 meters. The FAL was definitely going to be brought out for Sunday night's special occasion. If Smiley was going to assassinate an entire cheerleading squad on national television, he was going to do it in style.
On Thursday evening, he sat at his tool bench in his workshop, attaching a high-powered Leupold combat sniper scope to the top of the FAL. He had not yet fired it that day, but he planned to use his private range to zero in the scope before the night was over. His range was located in his armory, which was located in his workshop, with was located in the sub-basement of Artemus Striker's agency.
He was reveling in the dry click of the metal whenever he attached a new accessory when the intercom buzzed to life.
"Mr. Smiley."
"Yes."
"Mr. Ryker wants to see you."
"Excellent." The man said, and smiled.

To Be Continued…

On FEEDBACK: I would love to hear what you guys think so far, if you've actually sat through all my boring crap. I do have a few things to ask, though. I don't really take bad criticism very well, it makes me a little sad, so please don't e-mail me to slam my work, and I have to ask that you hold any suggestions, because I already have the whole rest of the series planned out, but if there's something you'd like to see, I might see what I can do. So please, if you read this, I'd love to hear from you.

You can reach me at dracuzac@aol.com, Thanks everyone!