Velma Dinkley’s Dirty Secret, Part One
“Jinkies,” Velma groaned wearily, fairly falling into her apartment. Her slightly stocky legs were riddled with pain, and her feet were on fire inside her black Mary Janes. Her usually bright, black, eyes stung horribly behind her square glasses. Nothing in all her years of unmasking crooks had ever worn her out like this.
She had just returned from Widow’s Peak, home of the stately Connerly Manor. Its occupants had died two years apart, of natural causes, but now, mysterious fires were appearing throughout the property. There had also been sightings of an eerie, white, figure. The Connerly estate had summoned Mysteries Inc. at once. About six months ago, Velma had published a collection of short stories chronicling the gang’s first thirty mysteries. It had sold fairly well, and earned them regional fame. It had also gotten them a bunch of higher profile jobs like this one.
The moment she’d set foot on the premises, Velma had known the fires were chemical in nature. Her well-trained nose detected notes of glycerin, but she couldn’t find the source or any residue, search as she might. So she’d enlisted the help of Shaggy and Scooby. One had a ton of energy, and the other a stellar nose. To get them to go anywhere near the manor, she’d had to bribe the pair of them with four Scooby Snacks each. Still, the moment they were inside, Scooby had the scent in mere moments. Within ten minutes, Shaggy was calling her over to investigate a secret passageway.
A mummy had attached the moment Velma stepped inside, but she’d had the presence of mind to kick it in the crotch. It had leapt back in pain and was immediately trampled by Shaggy and Scooby as they made a hasty escape. Velma had quickly followed suit, and listening carefully for Daphne’s voice, Scooby led the way. In a few moments, they’d arrived at a small room in the servants quarters. Upon entering it, Velma had sworn under her breath.
“Aww, that’s a good little slutboy,” Daphne was cooing sweetly. “Take my dick up your ass like a good little bitch. You wanna be Daphne’s good little bitch don’t you, sweetheart?” The slim, long-legged, redhead, was naked except for the rather large strapon she was shoving up Fred’s shithole.
“Oh yes, mommy, yes!” Fred had grunted in reply, humping his ass back on the invader. “Pound my fucking ass! Make me a good, little, slut for you!”
“That’s my darling, little, bitch,” Daphne had moaned, petting his head affectionately as she showed no such tenderness for his asshole.
“Er…mommy?” Velma had sniped, exasperated, “if I could borrow your darling, little, bitch for a moment, I’ve discovered the identity of the person lighting the fires. Her name’s Nurse Madeline Carver. She worked for the family here for decades. But they barely paid her a thing, and she got nothing in Jesus, Daphne! I’m talking to you! Stop fucking him this instant! She got nothing in either will,” she’d continued after Daphne reluctantly complied. “So she…oh, Shaggy, dear, please!” she’d sighed deeply, trying to master her frustration.
“I’m sorry, Velma,” he’d answered her sheepishly, fumbling to tuck his hardon back into his pants. “It’s just..well…Daphne…”
“I know,” she’d said, nodding. “Her double D’s are lovely, but this isn’t the time! Nurse Carver’s been using the fires and a mummy get up to scare our employees away while she smuggles out everything of value…”
“And you want me to set a trap for the bitch,” Fred stated, clearly nettled at being robbed of his fun.
“I’d really appreciate it, yes,” came Velma’s answer. With a sigh, Fred had sent Shaggy running for some boards.
Minutes later, the gang had stood proudly before a wall of cameras, Velma triumphantly holding Madeline’s mask above her head.
“Miss Dinkley!” an eager reporter had called out, “will this adventure feature in your next collection?”
“Yes, miss,” she’d answered with quiet politeness. “this result took three long days of very difficult sleuthing. But working together, we…”
“Fuck that four-eyed whore! I’d have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for those meddling k**s!” This diatribe had come from Madeline herself as she was forced into handcuffs. “You better pray you never end up in my prison, bitch! I promise you they’ll never fucking find your ouughff…” She’d been cut off by a cop who’d stuffed her in a squad car.
“Boy has she got a temper!” Daphne had quipped to general laughter. And after several more photographs, they’d gone back to the Mystery Machine. Fred had taken the wheel at once and begun dropping everyone off. Velma had dozed off three seperate times by the time Fred got her home. Now she was just willing her body to get her to her bedroom before she collapsed on the living room floor. She patted her chin-length, auburn, hair as a sort of encouragement, but it barely seemed to work.
At last, Velma’s muscles agreed to heed her, and she shuffled toward her room like a zombie. The young detective got about halfway to her goal before her eyes fell on the dining table and her laptop. Immediately, she felt a jolt of pleasure in her pussy.
“No, dear. I can’t,” she breathed wearily, patting her a-line skirt just beneath her slightly chubby stomach. “I said no,” she repeated, trying to sound firmer. “What’s not fair?” she asked quietly. “Oh, I know, dear, and I’m sorry. I really am. But with the mysery and all I haven’t had time to play with you. Yes, sweetheart, I’m aware you can’t play with yourself, but please! I know it’s my fault, but I can hardly stand! First thing in the morning. I promise. Just please….no no no! Don’t you dare remind me of…oh God!”
An electric wave of pleasure shot straight through her frame as she saw Daphne stroking her huge strapon in her mind. She began to pant heavily, willing the images to stop, but her cunt was betraying her with all its might. She saw the scene from earlier that had annoyed her so much. The one of Fred fucking when he should have been on the clock like she was. But this time, Fred was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, Velma was on all fours with her skirt tucked in her waist. Her orange panties had been pulled down around her sock covered ankles. Her turtleneck and bra were currently scrunched around her neck, and the 34D tits they usually hid so well were bound with several very thick rubber bands. A huge aligator clip bit into each of her nipples, and a butt plug had been shoved in her mouth and strapped in place. She wore Scooby Doo’s dog collar and Daphne was viciously yanking the leash as she jammed a solid foot of rubber balls deep into Velma’s tight ass.
“Dear God…” Velma shuddered as she watched the image playing in her mind. Raw lust was coursing from the tips of her toes to each and every one of the freckles on her face. She fell to her knees, stuck her hand through the waistband of her skirt, and forcefully pushed it into her panties. She started yanking her cunt hairs as hard as she could and viciously pinching her clit until her eyes watered. “Oh, fuck me…” she moaned softly, slapping herself hard with he free hand. “Oh, God, hurt me…that’s it. Shred my fucking little ass. In her mind, Daphne was doing exactly that, and Velma decided her friend needed a flogger. Next moment, she was watching herself howl at the top of her lungs under the pain of the strapon and the whip. “Take it, you filthy little know it all bitch,” she snarled. “Oh fuck. Show me what I’m good for! Make me a whore!” And with a wicked little smile, she adjusted her fantasy again, replacing Daphne’s strapon with a monster of a turgid cock.
“Make me your whore, you shemale bitch!” she groaned. “Shoot up my fucking…ohhhhGoddd…..” She squealed like a pig as the orgasm tore through her. “Jesus! I wanna be a brainless fucking slut! Fuck! That’s what girls are for! Oh god, yes! Pound every fucking slut on the planet into….my God! What am I saying?” she screamed. In utter horror, she clamped her hand over her mouth and prayed desperately that no one had heard her.
“You filthy, little, traitor!” she cried, slapping her cunt forcefully. “I can’t…I can never say anything like that again…Huh? Well, yes. Of course it’s just a fantasy, but it isn’t one I should stop that, you dirty bitch! Now you listen to me! You’ve had your fun, and now I really need to get to bed. Huh? What if I do what? Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I never talk in my sleep. Ever. Sure I could end up dreaming about…oh fuck, you little minx…”
A tall, muscular, Brazillian, shemale with E cup tits and an ass to match suddenly popped into Velma’s head, stroking a cock about as thick as an arm.
“Oh please choke me with it,” she pleaded at once, sitting on her knees. She looked for all the world like a puppy begging for a treat. “Please, miss. Choke this stupid, useless, whore. It’s the only thing that I should ever do with my…fuck! Alright, fine! One hour. One fucking hour. Just so I can get this nonsense out of my system. But you have to swear you’ll leave me the fuck alone after that. Swear it, Penny! That’s a good girl,” she sighed.
All tiredness forgotten, she snatched up her laptop and struggled to make peace with what she was about to do to herself. She sprinted to her room and returrned with a huge dildo. She was jjust about to give it a lick when she heard a firm knocking on her door. Arranging herself as best she could, she marched to the peephole to see who would be bothering her at this late hour. What she saw nearly made her heart stop in mid beat. It was a smartphone proudly displaying a silent version of her exploits thus far.