Slut TV
Back Down to Calving, Chapter One
CALVING WELCOME COMMITTEE OFFICIAL MEMORANDUM
Thank you for participating in the Calving Volunteer Welcome Program! This new initiative reaches out to young men and women in need of some good, country fresh air, some hard work, and a brand new outlook… on life!
6:05 a.m.
It was still dark out. Kaycee wiped condensed dew off the car window and peered through, hoping for a sign of sunrise. The street lights outside were still a dim and smoky orange over the freeway.
They had squeezed three people into a minimal, economy-sized backseat. The threesome slumbered on top of each other, heads thrown back or pressed against the windows.
Kaycee had been picked up first, and gotten the passenger seat. Next to her, Ms. Medley peered through a fogged-up window and looked for exit signs. Their Honors English teacher didn’t look pleased.
“I’ve never even heard of Calving,” she muttered. “Doesn’t even sound like a town. Sounds like a verb.”
Kaycee sat back, dialed her iPod up, and slumped back into her chair. Her body felt sluggish and cold, like a lump of girl congealed in the seat, but she was too irritated to sleep.
It was time for some non-volunteer volunteer community service.
6:40 a.m.
The sun had shown up over the horizon by the time they arrived. The three in the backseat separated from each other and slid out of Ms. Medley’s 1999 Volvo.
“We’re here, I guess,” Ms. Medley said.
She was their teacher, in her late 20’s, and starting to dry up from all the years of education. There were black bags under her eyes, and she wore a heavy green jacket with big poofy sleeves. Her blonde hair was starting to give up.
“Here” was a vacant lot. There was a concrete base, twenty feet or so on each side, and that was it. It stood next to a larger building, a whitewashed, squat one, with a big lock on the only door. A cinderblock outhouse stood beyond that, all in a weedy yellow field.
Kaycee wasn’t even sure what they were supposed to be building. Some sort of storage… playhouse… utility… building for the poor beknighted town of Calving.
The boys sorted themselves out. One was Eric, the enigma. Manky hair to his shoulders, dark eyes, and shabby t-shirts. Also the second best student in school, off to Duke on scholarship. Bobby, next to him, was more basic nerd. He had cross-cropped blonde hair and a face made out of angles. He was bound to Carnegie Mellon for comp. sci.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Farah said, looking around.
Kaycee’s stomach twisted. Words from Farah had that effect. First in her class, Stanford-accepted, early action. She had a glossy, vaguely exotic complexion that looked perfect with mascara on.
With her basic brown hair, skinny figure, and freckles, Kaycee usually dressed as pseudo-hippie just for lack of any other options.
“Does anyone even know we’re here?” Farah said.
Ms. Medley shrugged, indifferent.
They were all there because, one way or another, they had messed up Downing High’s Community Service Graduation Requirement. Kaycee had worked her fifteen hours refereeing girl’s under-10 soccer, which, it turned out, didn’t count because she got paid minimum wage. The boys hadn’t done any at all. Kaycee had no idea why Farah was there.
“Does anyone mind if I smoke?” Ms. Medley said, drawing out a pack of Lucky Strikes. She was already thumbing the lighter when Farah slowly rose her hand.
Ms. Medley shrugged. “You lose, three to one,” and lit into her cigarette. She puffed into the cold air. “Look around for a hammer,” she instructed.
CALVING WELCOME COMMITTEE OFFICIAL MEMORANDUM
First impressions count. The volunteers want to see big smiles, hearty handshakes, and our sincere gratitude that they’ve come to help our town.
So get out there -- and show them some of that famous “Calving Spirit!”
6:49 a.m.
That was when the pickup truck drove up. Out of it stepped two of the burliest, manliest men that Kaycee had ever laid eyes on. Even in the chill air they wore basic, sweat-stained t-shirts, and those showcased a rippling array of muscles. Both had biceps larger then Bobby’s head. One of them had on a pair of glasses, which looked strange against a chiseled face with a perfectly square jaw.
The girls, Ms. Medley included, blinked and drew themselves up. Even Kaycee felt… tingly… as the men approached. They looked like they had walked out of that pin-up calendar she kept deep in her drawer.
“I’m Robert, and this is Mark,” Robert announced. He smiled at Kaycee. She smiled back, shyly. Then the smile went on to Farah, and Kaycee fought an urge to strangle the other girl. “You’re today’s Building Group, huh? Ready for some hard work?”
Mark reached out to shake Kaycee’s hand. His grip was extremely gentle. He didn’t look much older then she was. Her eyes zeroed in on his wedding ring.
Robert shook Eric’s hand. Bone crackled. “Think we’ll put some hair put on your chest?” he boomed. Eric gritted his teeth and cradled a shattered hand.
“I hope not,” Eric muttered.
The big man pivoted towards their teacher. “You must be Sarah,” he said.
The students looked at each other. Ms. Medley had never indicated a first name. Kaycee had figured that it had rotted off.
“Ms… Sarah. Yes, of course,” the teacher said. Her eyes were full of big, muscular man. The air seemed warmer with them around.
Robert glanced, just for a moment, at the cigarette in her free hand. There was a glint of disdain.
Ms. Medley let the cigarette drop like she had just grasped the lit end.
The disdain turned to a satisfied nod.
Robert stood back. He let his eyes roam around, up and down, across all five of them.
“Well, welcome to Calving!” Robert said. “Lets see what we can do to… with you!”
CALVING WELCOME COMMITTEE OFFICIAL MEMORANDUM
You will be provided our standardized Calving Welcome Care Package, including:
- 2x Case: Calving Spring Water (Arousal, pheromone-enhancer, pleasure-enhancing narcotic, base for other compounds)
- 3x Case: Calving Baked Goods
- Muffins (Arousal, mild breast growth)
- Croissant (Arousal, severe breast growth)
- Danishes (Arousal, breast growth)
- Assorted Pharmaceuticals (Difficult/Concerning cases only -- use sparingly!)
Not included: enthusiasm. Make sure to bring your own!
7:25 a.m.
The sun had burned off the lingering night fog, now, and it was starting to get warm. Robert and Mark had opened up the building next door, and dragged out a collection of heavy boards with their bare hands. Next they pulled out a large toolbox from the pickup and dropped it on the dust.
“Okay, boys and girls,” they announced. “You ever use a hammer before?”
Farah, predictably, raised her hand. She was the only one. “I worked on a school when I was in Costa Rica,” she announced, and pulled a hammer out of the box.
The others, excluding Ms. Medley, picked up their own tools. Kaycee clutched hers to her chest. The metal was cold and heavy.
“Good!” Robert boomed. “Now, the very first thing about construction work is… any guesses?”
Farah raised her hand again. “Safety!” she announced.
“No!” Robert said. Farah looked crushed. “That’s the second thing. The first thing is proper hydration!”
On cue, Mark pulled a heavy cardboard box full of water bottles from the truck.
“Dehydration can lead to fatigue and muscle stress!” Robert said, severely. “I want everybody to drink at least one bottle before we get going. Two if you can. Three if you’re feeling lucky.”
Kaycee rolled her eyes once she was sure the men wouldn’t see. The water bottles were nonstandard, with a label she didn’t recognize, that read, generically, “SPRING WATER.” The entire volunteer party stood around and solemnly drank water, while Robert and Mark watched.
It was, Kaycee had to admit, refreshing. Especially after a long car ride.
“Can I have another?” Farah asked, waving her hand
Kaycee found herself nodding. The bottle seemed just a little too small for what was suddenly a powerful thirst. Long drinks of cool blue water cascaded down her throat. The men were happy to provide. Once she was done, there was a small mountain of discarded plastic on the ground, and the men looked very pleased with themselves.
Kaycee felt pleased too. Bloated, a little bulgy with water… but pleased.
8:25 a.m.
They only hammered on things for about an hour.
Which was enough time for Kaycee to start to feel… weird.
And also enough time for Ms. Medley to nearly break her thumb.
Their teacher had looked, at first, like she intended to watch her gangly teenagers mess around. But then she picked up a hammer and started to swing at nails, just like the rest of them.
Kaycee surprised herself with a burst of fevered, excited energy.
Sure, hitting nails was hard work. But something had electrified her, filled her entire body with a tingling, revitalized sensation. The girl attacked the nails, pounding them in with just a few strokes.
So did her classmates. Farah, next to her, braced an entire plank with her shoulder even as she whaled away. Bobby looked like a whirlwind of cold metal and boy.
Within twenty minutes, the entire crew had stripped down to jeans and whatever they were wearing on top. A pile of coats filled the entire backseat of Ms. Medley’s car. For Kaycee, that meant showing off an embarrassing t-shirt from Sophomore Year Debate Club.
For Ms. Medley, that meant a low-cut red tanktop that she clearly had not intended to reveal at the start of the day.
She nearly broke her thumb when Robert’s eyes lingered on the top of her exposed cleavage. The hammer landed right on top of her nail.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, flying back. Both Robert and Mark were with her immediately, surveying her wrecked thumb. And other things.
“Farah,” Kaycee whispered to Farah, enmity momentarily forgotten. “Check this out. They’re totally looking down her shirt.”
Farah looked. “I think Ms. Medley is letting them!” she whispered, horrified.
It was true. Ms. Medley was leaning forward, just enough, to give the men an eyeful of cleavage. She was starting to smile again, despite the pain.
“I think we have some aspirin in the car,” Robert said, a moment later. He nodded at Mark.
Mark hesitated. “The blue, or the red?”
Robert paused. “Two of the blue,” he said. Kaycee’s brow furrowed. That seemed enigmatic. But when Mark reappeared with two blue pills -- big ones -- Ms. Medley gladly gulped them down.
And another entire water bottle, to boot.
8:59 a.m.
The men called another Break a half-hour later.
That seemed soon to Kaycee. They had only been working on the… whatever the structure would be… for an hour and change.
“Break time,” Mark said, stopping in front of her. He was followed by a sharp cedar scent, billowing in the clean morning air. Kaycee couldn’t help but inhale deeply, letting it flood her senses. Of course it was just sweat, but when it came from Mark, it seemed like much, much more. Downright… invasive.
Farah got a whiff, too. Both girls stood, dazed, for a moment. Then they caught sight of each other, and blushed.
Ms. Medley pulled a large box of muffins out from the truck, on Robert’s orders. Ever since the injury she had trailed behind the larger man, arms crossed, while he hammered away at nails. Their sharp, acerbic teacher handed out thick, sugar-encrusted muffins with a dazed, pleased grin.
Kaycee was ravenous.
Usually she skipped breakfast, subsisting on coffee and nerves until noon. But just an hour or so of work had left her feeling entirely starved. Even so, she didn’t miss Ms. Medley giving both Eric and Bobby an eyeful of her melons when she bent over to let them pick up a pastry.
Then Kaycee bit into the muffin.
What seemed like a second later, Kaycee was checking the wrapper for crumbs. The remnants of the doughy monstrosity were halfway down her throat, and bits of what had to have been sunflower seeds were stuck in her teeth. Next to her, Farah was attacking her own in a very unladylike way, gnawing on a huge chunk of jam.
“Have more!” Robert said, hauling out another cache of muffins. “Fill up! You’re in the Country!”
The boys were just as voracious. Eric had pushed his hair back, revealing, for the first time Kaycee could remember, his eyes. They were a surprisingly bright blue. Both boys had their sleeves rolled up, now, and while there wasn’t much muscle there, it was surprisingly nice to look at.
“Orange juice?” Mark prompted, seconds later. He had already poured her a big glass, topped with pulp, and pushed it into Kaycee’s hands. She drank up, tipping it way back, and let a cool cascade of citrus pour down her throat. The cup took two hands to hold.
Mark was already refilling her cup when she lowered it. Kaycee took the chance to snag a Danish from her grinning teacher’s proffered platter. It came with a huge dollop of strawberry in the middle that she swallowed in one go. That was chased by another big dollop of orange juice.
Farah had taken up another water bottle, and as she chugged, a great deal spilled out from her open mouth, soaking the top of her t-shirt. The grey fabric brightened just enough to show the outlines of a dark black bra. Eric and Bobby’s eyes pulled away from their teacher and towards their classmate.
Kaycee snorted, through bites of dough. Boys were so predictable. Show a little skin and they’d take it as an invitation to bend her over, plug her slit, pump away…
Kaycee shook her head. Where had that come from?
The spell breakfast had cast over them broke. Kaycee realized, startled, that she had put away two glasses of orange juice, an entire tray of pastries, and was still braced with both feet as if ready for more. Mark shook an empty jug of OJ and nodded.
“Back to work!” the man announced, and the students dutifully headed back to the concrete slab.
CALVING WELCOME COMMITTEE OFFICIAL MEMORANDUM
As you work alongside the Volunteers, make sure to carefully monitor their reactions. Many are responding for the first time to new and unfamiliar feelings, and that can be scary!
Please do not make mention of the following, as calling attention to these reactions tends to focus rebellion:
MEN:
- Uncontrolled erections
- Sexual aggression
- Leaking
WOMEN:
- Breast growth
- Strong scent (pheromones)
- Sexual aggression
- Leaking (pussy)
- Leaking (breasts)
With the narcotics and hormones floating freely, both boys and girls will be strongly driven to masturbate. It is vital that they not reach sexual release on their own -- the drugs work best in a hurricane of need and lust!
9:25 a.m.
It took Kaycee some time to recognize that she was horny.
That wide-awake, eager, energized feeling at first just seemed like the result of breathing fresh air and swinging a hammer around. Plus she was distracted by the need to hammer things correctly while the two enormously attractive men stalked around.
But eventually, the itchy, wet feeling from her slit got her attention.
This had never happened before.
Sure, Kaycee had been horny, in the past. There had been some long daydreams in bed, letting her hands explore and prod. She had occasionally masturbated, more to try it out then anything else. She had let her Junior Prom date feel her up, and even through the awkwardness, there was something entrancing about his hands on her tits.
This was different. Most of all, because she was in the full light of day, surrounded by classmates, putting together a building, for crying out loud!
What was WRONG with her?
Kaycee took stock. A wet, damp feeling in her panties, squishing when she walked around. Hot, uncomfortable boobs, pressing against her t-shirt with ready-to-go nipples. Her skin felt warm, on alert, ultra-sensitive to a low breeze sweeping from the south.
She caught Bobby’s eye, just for a second, and rewarded him with a dazzling smile. What was that about? Just the sight of his eyes sent sparks through her body. And she was so achingly conscious that it was a GIRL body, with titties to suck, and a slit that could be so easily pierced when she was dripping wet…
Kaycee fought it back. She grabbed a plank with both hands, risking splinters, and started to wrestle it into place.
“Bobby might be staring at your ass,” her body told her.
And Kaycee found herself bending even farther, legs spread just a little, letting her butt rise up into the air. Giving Bobby a really good look at her charms.
“Kaycee!” she scolded herself, rising up. Bobby was, in fact, staring at her ass. And merely switched his eyes to her chest when she rose up. Up to two nubbin-nipples poking through her shirt.
He swaggered away. The itch in her pants doubled. She examined his rear end. He was nearly a man, with a big, testosterone-fueled body.
“This is weird,” Kaycee thought, through a syrup haze of arousal. After all, she had just drank half her body weight in liquids, and chased it with a baker’s dozen in muffins. By all rights, she should be in a food coma. Instead… she picked up the plank, and felt her nipples rub across the inside of her t-shirt.
Farah was apparently in the same, flirty mood. She stood on the other end of the platform, talking to Eric with a sunbeam smile. Both hands behind her back, and twisting on one foot, pointing her hooters at the boy for best effect.
In a way, Kaycee was impressed. Farah had given no signs of even realizing she had a body, or that she was a girl, in the entirety of high school. She had been a grade-grubbing robot as long as they had been competing. But there she was, big smiles, taking another step towards the surprisingly attractive boy with the blue eyes. She had large and firm boobs, when she decided to put them to work.
Kaycee discretely rubbed at the outside of her jeans. Two layers of fabric stood between her and access to a suddenly needy and insistent slit.
She groaned. Just watching Farah was adding more signals to an already overheated pussy. It overruled her more conscious thoughts, subordinated her mind to a soaking wet combination of fuck-thoughts and animal lust. Farah, the dusky girl, ran her tongue along the edges of her lips, and took a long step towards Eric.
“Hey, have I shown you two how to put in a joint brace?” Mark interrupted, out of nowhere. The two horny teenagers jumped back, put their hands behind their backs. The big man put a hand on each shoulder (making Farah shudder), and led them over to a separate corner of the construction site.
Kaycee saw her chance. She stumbled on rubber legs to the side of the nearby warehouse, one hand already squeezing at the outside of her right boob. The nipple ached with need; felt full and wet.
The other side of the warehouse was overgrown with red-green weeds, and was probably full of poison oak. Kaycee put her ass against the wall anyways, standing in deep foliage, and bent over slightly at the waist. She fumbled with her button, loosened it, unzipped her pants and let the air slide in.
“This is all insane,” she told herself. Her right hand had already climbed down the front of her pants, rubbing roughly at her panty-covered slit, jilling herself with a wet finger. In her mind’s eye she could see herself, grunting and panting, red-hot butt pushed against a dirty wall, fucking herself with a finger. But she was getting close. Just one good cum…
“Kaycee!” Robert said, from way too close. Kaycee had just enough time to snap her finger out of her pants and straighten before the big man rounded the corner.
She was so… so close!
He took in her dripping finger, the panting, the scent of overheated girl. “If you need to use the bathroom, honey, the door is over there,” he said, gently. And then waited as Kaycee, cheeks burning red, stumbled after him back to the construction site.
CALVING WELCOME COMMITTEE OFFICIAL MEMORANDUM (TROUBLESHOOTING)
WARNING!
A small number of Volunteers may have an allergic reaction to some or all of the chemicals and hormones pumped into their systems. Be alert for sudden and severe symptoms!
If a Volunteer has an allergic reaction, quickly wrap them in a towel, to mop up excess fluid. Make sure to avoid breathing through the nose, to avoid exposure to the often irresistible flood of pheromones they emit, and be careful!
9:40 a.m.
Ms. Medley could feel the intelligence flowing out of her. It felt SO good.
“Two times twelve… is…” she tried, voice silly and soft. The English teacher sat in her car, seat reclined nearly all the way. She had one hand buried casually down her pants, where it slid in and out of a greased pussy without her conscious notice.
“It’s… ummhmmm… twenties!” she announced, and giggled.
Exhausted with the effort, she let her free hand squeeze cheerfully at her suddenly-increased chest. The wash of pleasure knocked the history of the Revolutionary War right out of her.
It had happened so quickly. Just twenty minutes ago she was just pleasantly aroused, preening before boys as they salivated over her titties. Then she had needed to sit down to get over an attack of the giggles. Next the English teacher had squeezed gingerly at the outsides of her pink pussy. After that, a cycle of crashing orgasms had knocked her completely silly.
She had realized about the stupid-making when, after orgasm number one, she had pulled up a Coleridge quote about pleasure domes. Which had disappeared when another Big O rumbled through her. Completely disappeared.
She had been getting worried, until Orgasm 3 wiped that away, too.
Then it had become sort of a game.
It just felt so amazing to sit there, fucking herself dumb. Her silly girl thoughts floated in a pink fuzz made out of cotton candy. All of the fun ones, of boys and fucking and pretty things, were safe up there in the happy parts of her mind. And all the unhappy, grey, heavy thoughts, like about how government worked, sank out of sight with each squish of her slit.
“Twelve times two… is…” she managed, as she squeezed her legs together. A part of Ms. Medley was still trying to battle back against the endorphin wave that had made her so silly-pink. It was a hopeless fight. Each time her index diddled her greasy, bulging clit, whatever thoughts she had managed to dredge up were simply knocked away.
“I should… at least… wash my face,” Ms. Medley thought. It was covered in juice. She kept pulling her hand out of her sopping slit and licking her fingers clean. Before another orgasm swept that thought away, too, she cantilevered up, opened the car door, and staggered out.
A cloud of pheromones and sex-scent blew out of the car with her.
Robert, supervising three of the Volunteers, did a double take. He remembered Ms. Medley as an average-looking blonde. The grinning girl emerging from her car had a wet spot across her entire lower half, shining platinum hair, and swelling boobs that had easily doubled in size.
Fortunately, of his charges, Farah was busy letting the boys grab at her ass, and the boys were gearing up to get into a fight over her.
Time enough to deal with a Situation.
Ms. Medley couldn’t help but notice that her balance had changed. Now she was top-heavy, and kept falling forwards. Matters only slightly improved when she put both hands underneath heavy boobies and pulled herself upwards. But now nothing was touching her slit.
She squeezed her tits, and the collected works of Shakespeare were replaced by a keen, heart-felt interest in cock-sucking.
A warm, crisp sensation accompanied a new jet of heat. She looked down, where her swollen chest, barely held by a struggling red tanktop, had been christened by a white stream of milk.
She was giving milk!
“Moo!” Ms. Medley said, happily. Had she been a cow all along? It sort of made sense.
She pushed open the door to the ladies’ room, dimly wondering what the figure on the door meant.
She squeezed again, facing the mirror this time, and more heated milk squirted through her palms and into the sink. The teacher flicked up her tanktop, to reveal her melons, and examined two tremendous boobs with dark, swollen teats. Her bra had become a slight slip of fabric on the bottom of her udders.
“MMMMmm---oh, yes!” Ms. Medley said. This time, any interest in geography faded away, and a burning desire to get fucked from behind rose in its place.
Ms. Medley leaned forwards, letting her tits nearly touch the bottom of the sink, and angled her ass upwards so that anyone passing by would have easy access to her slit. Then she arched her back, squeezed a boob, and reflected that this was the happiest position there was. Except maybe someone could fuck her or something.
She was still locked in that warm, willing position when Robert burst into the bathroom, wrapped her in a massive terrycloth towel, and bundled her out the door.
Where he ran into Kaycee, who was coming in to finally get off.
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