"I'm feeling like punk rock tonight, fuck the club bangers! Amirite?" Sadie hooks her arm into her roommate's, Charlie snorting at the eccentric femme she's been attached by the hip to ever since they each discovered the other's taste for women. Other women, that is; Sadie and Charlie are much better suited playing one another's wing-woman than attempting a messy roommate relationship and being stuck in the same dorm for a year with your ex should it not work out. 

"Heh... fuck you know about punk rock?" Charlie accepts the arm sliding into hers like she would any other friend's, despite her attraction to women just like Sadie. High femmes just set her off, typically, Charlie going from her usual aloof charming self to clamming up in the presence of pretty women. The 24 year old woman runs jewellery laden fingers through hanging ginger sidecut and flicks the loop metal on her lip with nervous tongue. Sadie insisted that she'll find Charlie a suitor by the end of the night, the latter having been noticeably restless lately on account of her relationship lull. Casual hook-ups are how Sadie stays sane, or so she says, and now has the mush of a butch convinced to try them for herself. 

Sadie turns on her high heels in a sudden motion that has Charlie wondering how she can strut so carelessly in footwear like that, her own a pair of heavy duty combat boots with harnesses fitted by the ankles. The leather has not been well treated, Sadie having joked—Charlie presumes—that they might stumble across a 'cute femme' willing to black them. Buying a new pair might be the smarter option, of course, but a captain goes down with his ship. "About as much as you do, poser!" Sadie giggles, an infectiously pretty sound that has Charlie unable to wipe off the resulting smile that coats her face. 

The louder of the pair is fragrant perfume, colourful makeup and flowing dress. It forms a nice contrast to her roommate's cropped black denim jacket, studded belt and cargo pants. Despite their differences in dykehood, the pair pine for the same variety of gay: pretty, made up femmes who need someone confident and exciting to sweep them off their feet. Charlie is still working on the confidence part, but she certainly has the upper body strength to sweep feet clean from floor and carry away her spoils. 

"Aight well, shush up now. Don't need anyone here knowing the kind of depressing shit I listen to, tonight I'm all about loud music and getting laid. 'Kay, princess sleeps-around?" The rougher woman cringes at her present lack of charm, rubbing her cheek and pulling Sadie a little closer by her side. At a glance the two could be mistaken for a couple. Fortunately this is one of the few areas in town where such a thing won't commonly end in their harassment, if not from the usual homophobes then from lecherous perverts; the worst homophobes are the ones that think they're in support of you because 'girls kissing is just hot'. 

Shit... now Charlie's thinking about kissing Sadie. They've done it before, but only ever publicly. The flushed redhead purses her lips as she glances over at a pack of men passing them by, drunken and rowdy. 

"Hey I own it, and you should too." Sadie senses the other's sudden tension and decides to steal back the butch's focus, dropping curly blonde mop onto the other's broad shoulder. "You'll be just as bad by the time I'm done with you, tonight'll be a new awakening. Take my word for it, okay, Sir Fucks-A-Lot?" 

The two giggle at their childish back and forth, passing by the intersecting group without altercation and relaxing into each other's company—and touch—once more. 

"Hmmgh..." Charlie leans her back against the bar, elbows resting on its surface as she nurses a shit lager she got suckered into buying because it was a special on draught. Naturally, Sadie has dispersed into the crowd and found her way impressively quickly into the centre of this bar's small dancefloor. There are several gay bars in town, all focused in this corner of carved tolerance and community, but this shithole is the only 'dyke bar' they have. The entire building reeks of cigarette smoke and warring fragrance, the drink prices are extortionate and the restroom is an affront to whatever god would dare peer inside. 

It is, simply put, Charlie's favourite place in the entire world. 

"You're waiting for someone to hit on you?" The barkeep scoffs, placing down the drink Charlie had to order as a replacement for this swill in her hand. "You like princesses right? They ain't gonna come to you, girl, you know that." Charlie turns towards the woman working the bar, someone she knows well even if she never bothered to exchange names. That waistcoat must drive some of the regulars here into a frenzy. 

"Blegh. Gotta neck at least two more drinks 'fore I got the balls to chat anyone up, you know that." Charlie sighs, holding both drinks now and giving a sardonic little smile at the cute straw she's been given in the second. 

"Thought they cut your balls off last year? I 'member y'all celebrating over birthday pints, bartending memory can be a bitch like that." The woman lowers her head and leans over the bar. Personal space, or privacy in general for that matter, is more of a suggestion in a place like this. Nicer the queer spaces become, the more they're overrun with straights, so Charlie learned to love the sleaze. 

"Lady you know way too much about my life, but I guess I am down here every other fuckin' night... heh, fine, I'll go hit on a lass sober and at least get her number if not uh... shit, what were the bases again?" Charlie shakes her head and downs the half finished beer she can barely stomach, washing it down with the first quarter of her usual: pale ale, with just a hint of orange. 

"Good luck, hon, pity pints aren't on discount right now so I'll be rinsing you later if you don't bag one." The seedy barkeep flashes teeth and sends Charlie off with a wink, the barely inebriated butch setting out in aimless wander to find someone she could imagine taking home with her tonight. It's not like her roommate would care about that, she's the one encouraging it. Besides, Sadie's always having girls sleep over, though the faces never seem to repeat. 

Eventually, Charlie ends up circling all the way back to her place at the bar in a walk of shame she feels embarrassed to be making. Every woman she locked eyes with averted her gaze all too quickly, and not a one of them was without company. Desperate for another drink now that the one glass in her hand is emptied, Charlie finds her usual place at the bar now filled by another. The barkeep gazes at Charlie over the newcomer's shoulder and gives a sly, crude smirk that says 'you got this'. At least, that's the read Charlie took from it.

The woman at the bar is alone, curling a finger through straight blonde hair that brushes her naked shoulders. Charlie is immediately smitten, checking to make sure she's presentable enough before sidling up to the blonde with a nervous yet cocky grin. Immediately she is hit with a waft of something fresh and floral, finding the way femmes scent themselves up to be among their most appealing factors. Animal magnetism is not something to be trifled with. 

"Hey, whatcha drinking? I uh, I'll get two. If you want some company, I mean!" So suave, Charlie thinks to herself sarcastically with some internal admonishment and a healthy dose of jittery dread. When the girl turns, Charlie meets with pink lip gloss that makes her own smile appear so dull; sapphire earrings and sparkling blue eyes to match; and eyeliner and blush that looks like it took an hour to get right. God, she's gorgeous. Charlie's fingers curl into a clenched fist against the bar's surface. Her heart is pounding like it's attempting to turn itself to pulp, freckled cheeks tinting a shamefully dark colour from so simple an exchange. Wasn't Sadie going to help her out tonight? 

"Huh? Oh, ahahaha, I don't uh... I don't swing that way?" The prettiest blonde Charlie knows—save for Sadie herself—presses those plush lips to straw, lightly upturned in bemusement. The butch's eyes lower to stare at that bright and colourful cocktail, carefully avoiding the other's gaze with a wry smirk touching upon her own cracked lips. Embarrassment she knows she should not have to feel settles on her cheeks; if they get any darker they may well turn purple. Does this cis girl think she's...

"I uh... I getcha. So I'm... I'm not a guy, actually, b-but it's okay if you—" 

Lips undock from straw and the femme cocks her head, looking annoyed for some strange reason. "Yeah no shit? I said I'm not interested, alright? Take the hint... I'm just waiting for my friends, including my boyfriend, so uh... thanks but no thanks." The woman turns away without waiting for a response and the colour drains from Charlie's previously overheating face. It's not like this is the first time she has mistakenly hit on a straight girl, even in a bar catering to fucking lesbians, but something about this encounter just made her feel that much worse. The way Charlie had thought she was being misgendered at first, and the callous attitude this straight girl showed her in the face of such vulnerability. It... fuck, Charlie would have rather just been called a dyke than whatever this was, her self-esteem bent over the knee of such dismissive and unfriendly body language. Ah, but she isn't entitled to politeness, is she? This... no, here of all places this woman should have expected to be hit on by other women!

"I... hey, just so you know it's—"

"Um, can't you take no for an answer? I've got mace in my pocket, just FYI..." The blonde glances back at her, lips returning to straw, and Charlie's chest suddenly feels heavy. With a slight scowl, and a wateriness to her diverting jade stare, Charlie glances over at the barkeep who places down the regular's usual without asking for payment. Timing and tact, what a woman. 

Trembling fingers curl around the tall pint glass as Charlie mulls over those words. Threatening to mace her over a polite interjection... fuck, she hates how sensitive that makes her feel in this moment. Fragile. Coming here, saying that... it's not right. Her eyes drift up as they begin to leak and something in the bartender's placating smile puts the waterworks on pause. She's a busy lady, this bar has two sides and there are a hell of a lot of thirsty dykes here. So why, then, has the woman not moved from her spot since placing down this drink?

"Chin up, kid. We're trying a new policy, a special just for our uh... uniquely heterosexual patrons." The woman laughs at the absurdity of her own words, Charlie suddenly glancing to the side as she realises this is definitely being spoken in earshot of this bitch to her right. The pretty, callous blonde still sucks up her cocktail without a care in the world, bright pink liquid rolling down her throat in slow and steady gulp. 

"Yeah I've ah... never seen that drink before, but y'know I don't go for the fancy shit." Charlie states bluntly, lifting her head up and straightening her back. Something in the barkeep's words, her demeanour, requires her full attention.

"We're calling it 'love potion'. Just maybe, ahaha... maybe your princess will come to you after all, eh?" The woman winks, again, and then swiftly absconds to the other side of the bar to resume serving customers. 

"Huh? Hey, lady!" Charlie places down her drink and throws her arms out in exasperated gesture, listening to that crude slurping sound coming from the straw to her left. She dare not look that way again lest she really does receive a spray of mace she doesn't deserve. If it's her word against this straight girl's though, well, Charlie's no dreamer. _{"Fuck does that mean? Weirdo... drink just for straights, great, that's totally not gonna bring more of 'em in. Ahhh..."} The redhead mutters to herself idly as her nails tap against the bar, other hand scratching against the shaved side of her head as she tries to figure out how she's feeling. What a night so far, she thinks with a self-effacing smirk, wishing that Sadie would show her some attention if the rest of the bar's a waste of breath already.

Slurrrp.

The girl to her right is drinking obnoxiously loud right now, making Charlie wonder if she's intentionally trying to get the butch's attention. Likely just a ploy to have an excuse to mace the dyke, what a wonderful fucking species this is. "Hey knock it off wouldya? Doubt your boyfriend's gonna find that shit attractive, c'mon." Charlie makes sure not to turn, staring down at the ice in her drink and scoffing. You make one disparaging remark about how ice cubes in beer has to be a cardinal sin, and your Thai barkeep takes offense. In case the woman hasn't noticed, this country is as cold as its people. 

A moment of slurping lingers before the unfortunate noise halts. Silence follows for the next few seconds before that previously dismissive voice perks up in timid intonation. "Ah... uhm. Would you?" The blonde asks, swallowing the pink substance in her mouth and loosening an oddly hollow giggle to follow up her equally confounding inquiry. 

"Hm? Would I what?" Charlie cannot help but turn now, baited by her own mounting curiosity at the other's sudden change in demeanour. When she finally lays eyes upon the girl she had tried and failed to hit on only minutes ago, Charlie's eyes begin to widen and she grips her pint glass more firmly. The pretty thing is blushing wildly, as deep a pink as the drink in her hand, spare hand playing with a lock of hair. With a sly smile, the straight girl pushes into Charlie's personal space and rests an elbow on the bar, smothering the weak butch with that cloying pheromone scent she can never seem to get enough of. 

"Would, aha... would you find me more attractive if I stopped m-making so much noise. I... I can be quiet for you, okay?" The blonde tugs at her lip with pearly whites, eyes flicking provocatively all over Charlie's toned arms, her body, that handsome face that suddenly makes her wet between the legs. Having slurped up that special cocktail, she must be oh so inebriated to be finding another woman this attractive. Hot. Not just another woman, but a drop dead gorgeous butch, hard in all the right places and soft in all the best ones. "I'd... I'd do a lot for... uhm... I mean, to please you?" Her eyes are those of a fanatic, pupils dilating wide.

"Hey, don't fuck with me." Charlie snaps, bitter as black coffee at the gall of this bitch to mock her after she'd been such a pushover. Maybe that was the problem, play too passive and they just push the goalposts back. "Look around, yeah? Not picking the best place to pick a fight with a gay chick, I'm a lot nicer than some dykes who've put up with this shit for far too long."

The blonde sighs out, breathy and lilting hum escaping with the word: "Dyke..." She takes another sip from her drink and Charlie watches those pupils grow wider, her cheeks rosier, and her body closer. "M-Maybe I'm one of those too... woah... you're just so fucking hot."

"E-Excuse me?" Charlie almost chokes on her beer, slamming it down and feeling the liquid courage run over the backs of her ringed fingers. Long nailed fingers, perfectly manicured, slip around the self ascribed dyke's wrist and pull it closer, as the blonde uses the same motion to pull herself closer. "You've... fuck, you've been spiked? Drugs... y-you're on drugs, yeah? H-Hey, that's not—"

Charlie's words—where fingers go—die inside her throat the moment those ale-soaked digits reach the femme's soft, pale pink lips. A tongue snakes out to taste them, experimentally, and before she knows it the drugged out blonde is cleaning her fingers between metal bands like she's getting off on the act. "Mmgh... yhure sho... sho hot." The woman giggles against those spit-soaked fingers still held up in front of her mouth and Charlie shudders at the feeling of breath tickling the drying digits. 

"I'm not... hm. Hey, I think we need to get you out of here." Charlie looks down to retrieve her phone and call somebody, while the spiked blonde beside her takes another obnoxious slurp of bright pink cocktail. As Charlie panics, she is oblivious to the oncoming wave of disorientation and bliss awaiting her. Hands grip her cheeks and tilt her face back in the not-so-straight girl's direction, the blonde plunging into a deep kiss that fills Charlie's mouth with 'love potion'. 

And like a dumbass, the startled butch cannot help but reflexively swallow the lot. 

"Mmfgh! Hey!" Catching her breath after pushing her new fangirl away, Charlie feels a warmth in her core as the neon liquid—overly sweet for her taste—trickles down and coats her insides with want. Wanting... oh god, what is this, she wonders. The blonde giggles and that soft hand on Charlie's face now feels like an angel's touch, making her blink slowly and see this pretty thing as luminous benevolence incarnate. A messenger from heaven, with bright and beaming eyes only on her. "Heyyy..." Charlie had already been attracted to this feminine trickster, but now she's falling over herself with sickly hot desire. 

"Hey~" The blonde laces her fingers into Charlie's and wraps her arm around her waist, their bodies pressing flat together as the two drink in one another's unbidden desires. "Can I kiss you?"

"You just did..." Charlie groans, her head feels so heavy and her eyes have begun to lose focus. It's no wonder this pretty thing was standing still and spacing out when Charlie was talking to the barkeep, it's impressive that she remained on her feet. "I... I don't feel so good, I'm going to the restroom." Excusing herself with some weight in her chest, Charlie pushes away and stumbles in the direction of the restroom. After just a single step, she feels herself pulled by a strange weight that has her staring down with sudden gulp.

Her new strange fangirl has clipped Charlie's carabiner to her own thin belt. How... how queer. "I never want to be apart from you... like I said, I'll be quiet!" The blonde exclaims with an ironic lack of volume control, immediately proving her claim unlikely. Such a quirky little thing that cannot be expected to make sense... but that's exactly what Charlie loves so much about her.

"Yeah, yeah... just don't trip..." Still in a daze, Charlie now has to navigate walking with this new crush literally attached to her hip as they slowly, clumsily, make their way over to the restroom that they find empty... well, save for the girl that's usually always curled up in the corner like that around this time. More people use this place to take drugs than they do for the facilities themselves; the mirror shows more backboard than glass, though you can still spy yourself in the few remaining fragments. Charlie does just this, meeting her own dilating eyes and noticing that candy red flush covering her face. 

"Are... are we going to have sex now?" The blonde presses her weight against Charlie's and the butch finds her back very quickly meeting tile. 

"Ugh, you sound like a fucking teenager." Charlie smirks and cups her unexpected date's cheek in coarse hand, stroking that softness she could die for. Only moments ago she felt such disdain towards this woman, and then when desire began to pool she knew it to be unnatural and wrong. By now, though, Charlie finds herself slowly succumbing to this softness in her hand. That waft of floral scent that makes her want to ravage the femme throwing itself onto her. "No... more importantly, you sound like a dyke slut. I ain't a guy, you k—"

"I know! You're handsome, and beautiful... so... so gorgeous and hot and... gosh, your hand on my cheek... I feel like a teenager again, want you to... want to..." The overheating femme rambles deliriously as she leans desperately into that hand on her cheek and presses her own hands against the object of her desire's torso. Flat, muscular abdominals that feel so exciting on a woman like Charlie. "You're everything..."

Charlie gulps, knowing all too well she does not have the strength to resist this. This feels amazing, these words tell her everything she's ever wanted to hear from such a cute princess like this. The weak thing pins her against the wall so easily, despite the difference in strength. "Well then... uhm... god... I need you." 

Their lips press together and within the next minute, Charlie's nameless princess is dropping to her knees after detaching herself from her butch prize. Dainty fingers work the buckle on Charlie's belt as that chemical continues to ravage the princess's old sensibilities. The sound of descending jeans' zipper fills the tiled restroom and the dyke princess slut finds herself practically salivating, eyes crossing, as she pulls out Charlie's stiff cock and eagerly takes it into her mouth. 

"Hmph... th-thought you'd be good at this at least, since you had a boyfriend." Charlie grins, fingers gripping a tight handful of her princess's golden blonde hair. "But I... I'll have to teach you." She gasps, that wet tongue against her shaft oh so divine despite her teasing words. That neediness is intoxicating, such sweet hot breaths tickling her sex that make her want to start thrusting—to fuck her new whore's throat until she's paid back every single one of those cruel words from earlier with rope after rope of her lesbian seed. 

"I'll train this mouth how to service dykes, okay? I... god, that's so wrong but... you like it~" Charlie's eyes fully dilate and she bucks her hips into her princess's mouth before pulling the pretty slut back by her hair. "Don't you, my... my pretty little butchaholic?"

The former straight girl's eyes shine in adoration, and her lips drip with unkempt lust. "Y-Yes... I love everything about you. I'm yours. N-Now and forever~"

"Then prove it with your fucking mouth, Miss 'I don't swing that way'." Charlie blinks away the innocence that had been holding her back, becoming just the right firmness of butch this ailing addict at her feet needs her to be. After all, she'd do anything for her princess. Just a single gulp has made it so; she can only imagine how far gone this former straight girl—former person—must be after how much of it she slurped down like a greedy slut. If the bitch needs something to suck on, Charlie's got something much better than some paper straw.

"Y-Yes Sirrrmmpphh!" Charlie's fingers were already in the passive creature's hair, already tightening, pulling. The blonde finds herself being yanked forwards until she's near-choking on her new obsession's twitching erection, eyes slowly beginning to water. You could mistake these tears for a symptom of gag reflex, and of course you'd be so wrong; these are tears of unfettered joy, a deep and resonating happiness that warms the simplified lesbian princess from head to toe in crashing, pleasurable waves. The kneeling woman nearly orgasms against her own desperately digging fingers already, burying into herself and fucking her hand like she's worthy of the pleasure. She isn't. When master tells her to stop and kicks the ruined straight woman's hand away like it belongs anywhere else, the nameless thing does not even think to protest her butch superior. As her mouth is stuffed with Charlie's perfect slab of solid, throbbing hot dykemeat, 'Princess' is born—an epiphany of euphoric identity birthed with its pretty, basic lips wrapped around the only thing in the world that matters. According to her narrowed world view—those chemically induced blinders that place her in a state of ever-present fixation—Charlie is the only thing in the world that even still exists. Hers is an apocalypse of priority, and identity, laying waste to a former life once lived by someone much sharper than she. 

"Fuck my boot... o-okay? You seem pathetic enough right now to wanna do that, and fuck if I don't wanna watch." The master commands it, and so Princess eagerly obeys. With a lift, and a hum, and a wiggle of her hips, the woman wraps her thighs around that proffered limb and squeezes down on it before figuring out a rhythm that suits her: a rutting motion. A humiliating and animalistic act, that makes her feel like the bitch in heat she presents herself as in this scene. This shameless dry-humping makes her new worldview click more firmly into place, finding uncomplicated pleasure in this enlightened degradation of the self.

Princess cannot respond with words, but gives a muffled, affirmative groan against that cock robbing her of breath. The reverberation from the drugged whore's mouth makes Charlie shudder, gripping her plaything's hair much tighter and feeling a giddy high overtaking her at holding such dominion over something so beautiful, so malleable. The drink degrades her morals, and in turn, Charlie degrades her special girl. 

The scene unfolds with neither one of them truly in the driver's seat, an automation of instinct and deep desire that burns on for a time as their lust is squeezed drop by drop; it is a price exacted by that phantom pink succubus sitting on sink counter, half-empty and grinning in satisfaction. Where barkeep got the chemical from is a mystery they'll never think to ask, because they're far too fixated on each other now to ever care why. 

Charlie buckles first, despite her being the more composed of the two even as she rides out her corruptive climax. Princess is lucky for the amount of white-hot ambrosia that floods her throat, coats her thoughts, a second lovedrug in one night that tastes nothing like her ex-boyfriend's insipid seed. She's lucky because until recently Charlie was still firing blanks, the butch making note to have her new blonde fucktoy thank her for the past couple months of zinc supplementation. 

Charlie comes down the pretty slut's throat, and Princess swallows with an empty smile. 

Her expression may be unnaturally dulled, but the blonde's body is positively begging. The way she twitches and bucks against that leg almost makes it look like she's being constantly shocked with a cattle prod, or teased with white hot poker. It's giving Charlie new thoughts, in any case, as she stares at this enthusiastic wretch that submits herself to the rule of butch. The white-knuckle grip in that tousled blonde hair lets up and Charlie pleads that this horrible dream never ends. She was a good woman at the start of the night, and a lonely one too.

Princess is pushed away and her Master's drooling cock slips free from those slick, shiny lips with a wet popping noise sure to play on an addled Charlie's mind for the rest of the evening. "Hey, girl... you close?" The redhead pets her new fanatic more affectionately now, feeling genuine gratitude and endearment after the brand new dyke toy swallowed her master's gift. Another fresh thought plays on Charlie's mind, making her softening cock grow hard again and press into the panting Princess's impossibly soft cheek. I'll do this so often... no amount of mouthwash will remove my cock from her breath. 

Shuffling closer on her knees and hiking her skirt up over that boot she just can't get enough of—an altar upon which she gladly sacrifices higher thought and finds her soul summarily cleansed—Princess rolls her hips so wantonly, whorishly, bestially, that Charlie really cannot be judged for her laughter.

And then the pretty girl begins to mewl, pressing her burning cheek into Charlie's offered hand as she rides out the most intense orgasm of her life against that poorly kept leather. That she comes through her clothes is of no concern to the howling creature that rests its chin on curling, possessive fingers and feels heaven's angels carry her off into rapturous skies overhead. 

"Good girl." Charlie says simply, the redhead barely able to hold herself back from making the breathless, whimpering slut take her cock into its mouth again right here and now. As she slowly dismounts, sliding back onto the tiled floor and watching as that slick boot lowers from its angled position... Princess blushes madly at the sight before her. 

Charlie, staring at her leg and gawking at just how soaked it is just from the lust passing through the femme's own clothing, smirks like the devil herself. 

"Oh, very good girl. Guess someone's got some cleaning up after herself to do now, hm?" 

Princess beams, tired but still just as eager to please. Orders amaze her, because it gives her a chance to please this butch she's committed her very soul to. 

With that, the femme gets to work doing as she's told—and Charlie lines her remaining inhibitions against the wall. She's made a dyke of this soft, pink creature now lapping at her boot. 

But the night is still young...

And Sadie still has an awakening of her own to discover.