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Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
By the third song it was as if she had the audience in her hand, like a
little bird following every twitch of her racing mind. And after a few
more, she could tell them to whatever she wanted. It was always so simple;
she had had the gift from the very first. At each little pettyclub with a
more or less mediocre band behind her, she had showed the ability to
mesmerize the crowd in front of her. And that had, of course, led her to
stardom. One backstreet manager was all she had needed to get her face
above the surface. The rest was, as they say, history. Now she stood in
front of thousands of her most eager fans, who screamed at her that she was
best. No one could claim second place, not even third. She was the One.
Thousands of people adored like some kind of goddess, which would save
their day somehow. Any normal person would have been frightened by that,
but not she; she had always liked the feeling, even as it grew stronger by
the number of listeners. She felt it made her grow even stronger, and it
often intensified her concerts if she could feel the massive worship from
the heads in front of her. But she could also feel she wanted more; she
would like to feel – to touch – that immense sensation she now only could
sense grew from a few yards away. She stood at the very front of the
stage, doing “I’m here” from her last album, her latest hit, when she
signalled to the band behind her (which she hardly knew the members of –
except for Eric, the bass player, who had been with her all the time) to
break. The followed her move and started stretching the middle part of the
song. She liked giving the audience something more than just a re-play of
all her songs. She started waving her hands, and the audience immediately
followed. She sang something silly, like “Ooooa!” and the answer came
immediately: “OOOOA!” The sensation of power was incredible. Nothing could
harm her now, she was invincible. And then she got the idea. She had seen
Peter Gabriel do it a lifetime away, and now she knew that was what she
must do to get in touch with her worshippers. “Ok, my sweetest fans” she
said, “Now you can have me!” And with that, she laid down the mike, took a
long step over the security area for he guards, spun 180 degrees, and let
herself fall into the arms of the crowd with the back first. She knew she
had been warned about this, and that the guards wouldn’t take the
consequences, but she didn’t care. The fans loved her and would never harm
her. She wanted to feel her fans’ appreciation, and not from several meter
away, but right from their hands. And they obliged. Immediately, hands
were in the air, carrying her over the heads of the crowd away from the
stage. The sensation she felt was enormous! She was swept in an unknown
direction by a number of hands that stretched out for her, wanting to touch
her more than anything lese in the world. She could let this go on
forever, it felt. In the distant, she heard the band continuing on spare
energy, while she gave the audience the best of her (and they back). She
floated away above the heads of the crowd, on what felt like love
materialized. Hundreds of hands wanting to touch her just for a second
carried her farther. She didn’t bother to control where she went, just let
her fans carry her around. She was sure she could stop this at anytime she
wanted, just like she made them do anything for her from stage, at the
flick of a wrist. This was what she had wanted to feel; the touch of a
hundred hands built up something more than a sexual sensation within her -
it almost was religious. She now was their goddess. But the downturn came
as quick and unexpected as the sensations, and it came with such a tiny
event. Her left high-heel leather shoe must have slipped of just a little,
and when it came loose only somewhat more, an eager fan grabbed it and
removed it. Her reaction was spontaneous, she rose just a little shouting
“Hey!”, but to no avail. The shoe was nowhere to be seen. And as quickly
as the first one, the right shoe was unstrapped and removed from her foot
while she looked at her. At first, she felt anger. Why do such a petty
thing as steal a shoe (she was sure different people had done it)? But
then, she remembered her manager saying something about ‘fan-ware’
regarding her being sold for incredible amounts on internet auctions. She
had used to throw her scarves to the audience, and those were now traded
vividly. No doubt those shoes would have the same fate. She didn’t care
about them, anyway. But the crowd seemed to have gotten an idea from that,
and that scared her. Somehow, she could feel the shift in the hands
holding her. From being only love, there was now as much pure will as
love. The feeling of not being in control that just a second ago had
pleased her so much now scared her. In an instant, the hands that had
carried her now felt as they were groping her, grabbing her. And what was
worse, they were. She felt hands grabbing her precious clothing, holding
to the hem of her leather skirt and her jacket. They were more than just
souvenirs; they were material from their goddess. Everything that was a
belonging to her suddenly became something to get hold of; something to
keep worshipping after this moment. She had to hold up her arms before the
rings were removed, but by doing that, she was unable to stop another
number of hands that pulled down her pantyhose. Greed made them go on, not
for money, but simply for tokens that had belonged to her, that were
connected to her. Before she could do anything, she felt the hoses being
drawn away from her legs. She could hear a ripping sound as some of the
crowd started fighting over her precious belongings, while she floated away
in some undetermined direction. She suddenly felt frightened. Where would
this end? How could she stop it? She had no way of controlling where she
was moved. Lying on her back, she could not even perceive where she was in
the hall. Panic started to rise inside her. She needed to know, so that
she could start moving towards the stage and the security of the guards.
That was the only thing she could think of. She rolled around onto her
belly in order to see better where she was, but immediately knew the
mistake of doing that move, as she with that had given the wild audience
below her access to the buttons to her jacket and skirt. The crowd was as
smart and quick as a predator knowing its prey was within reach. Hands
grabbed the zipper to her skirt, and a second later, it was being pulled of
her legs. At the same time, the buttons of her jacket were being pulled
apart, and with that, a number of hands started pulling it over her head.
There was nothing she could do about this massive will. She faintly
remembered herself screaming, but so was the audience. She could see the
jacket float away in front of her before diving down below the heads, where
a fight for probably began this instant. At the same time, other hands
grabbed her silk blouse, prying for even more precious garment. It ripped
apart as if made of paper, split across the back as if cut. Eager hands on
both sides of her took hold of one part each and slit it from her. Her
nakedness suddenly became obvious to her, but also to the audience, it
seemed. All the hands suddenly held onto the bare skin of their object
(that was what she felt like) of worship, now only covered by underwear,
and it seemed of a split second that they by that grew more cautious. The
significance of this moment apparently got to them as it had gotten to her,
and she could feel it emanating from them. And it was not just emotional:
hands were on her breasts and inner thighs (her most erogenous parts), and
some even managed to touch her vulva. The sensuality and sexuality of the
situation that she had felt before came back, a pulsating warmth feeling
that was close to what she felt just before an orgasm. But only for a
second. Just as inevitable as that orgasm would have been was the
realization from someone in the crowd below her that there was more
invaluable garment left on her. Only dreams could tell what a pair of
panties that had belonged to her would be worth among the fans. So, only a
moment later hands grabbed her panties, and pulled them of her among her
legs. It didn’t matter how she screamed and kicked (in the air) the
massive will was unconquerable. At the same time, and for the same reason,
hands grabbed her bra, ripped the clasp open, and drew it of her. She was
now riding totally naked on the hands of a massivewilled crowd, to where
she could never guess. Hands were all over her: on her belly and her
thighs. On her breasts and straight onto her slit (she had involuntarily
spread her legs while fighting and once there, they would only leave for
being replaced by another). Hands held out her arms and legs. She tried
to break by once again turn onto her back, but that d