Bimbofication Stories: FLUID by Limerick

Prologue

“Can I check you out?” the manager said.

“What?” Aline said. She was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Yes, the hotel staffer was well-built, muscular, and had a sincere jaw that ran ear to ear. And his collared shirt was tight around well-developed biceps. But his face was honest, and sincere, and smiling, and there was no way he could be making a pass at her, right?

“Check you into your room, miss?” the manager said. “Please?”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” Aline told him. He picked up both of her black, business-like suitcases. She had struggled with them, but they were like packages of feathers under his sinewy arms. “Sorry, it’s been a very long day. Twelve hours on the plane. And then more to get here. Where is here? The name of the town?”

The bellhop laughed. “It’s not really a town, honey,” he told her.

“Honey?” Aline thought.

He was familiar for a service employee. Aline chalked it up to folksy country ways. Except he turned back and searched her body with big black eyes, like he was a bull adding to the stable.

Aline would’ve thought that sexual sparks were hardly possible. She was in her late 20s, boyfriended to a very acceptable man. Her business suit had looked well pressed that morning. Now it was sweat-stained, rumpled in the back where she had sat in a polyester airplane seat, and the seam had started to creak ominously. Her curves were gentle and unobtrusive. When she wore her one red dress, and if she pushed out her chest, she could produce decent cleavage.

Nonetheless, the man’s gaze wanted to fuck her. That and his growing, lazy smile.

“New York?” he murmured, stopping at a room.

“Los Angeles,” Aline answered. He handed her the room key. His hands brushed against the inside of her wrist. They didn’t need to. This close, he drowned out the scent of airports and taxi rides. The bellhop smelled warm and wholesome, like a summer corn field just before it was mowed.

“Well, welcome to flyover country,” the manager said. “Have a nice stay. Let me know if you need anything. If you do, just pick up the phone, and say my name.”

He paused. “And yours is Aline, right?”

Aline realized she was holding her breath.

* * *

It was way too hot in the room. The windows were shut tight, and the A/C was off, and it felt like a sauna was about to break out in her quarters. Aline’s skirt stuck to her ass almost immediately, glued on with sweat and the result of traveling for way too long.

The air conditioning unit was up against the window, just beneath it, and had three dials, several buttons, as well as two toggle switches. There were no instructions at all. Aline prodded at them without hope, and couldn’t even get a breath of air out of the grate. She felt increasingly soggy in her clothes, wrapped in them like they were a damp towel. Calling the manager was out of the question—something about his direct, challenging stare… she just didn’t feel up to dealing with it.

Aline managed to crack the window open about six inches. But the air outside was a smooth country heat, redolent of nearby cow pastures, and just as balmy as the room inside. And to make matters worse, she was on the second floor, above poolside. It was getting close to midnight, but there was a busy pool party in progress. She looked down on girls her age having a great time, paddling about the water in brief bikinis.

“Geez, girls, make them work a little,” she told the pool. There were just a few boys, one of whom was the lifeguard. But they were basking in the smiles and attention of double their number of females. All of whom seemed to have very healthy, very heavy pairs of tits.

The water from the tap tasted… milky.

It came out opaque and white, and at first she figured it for air bubbles. But it was chalky and almost sweet as she chugged it, first one glass, then another, and it didn’t clear up even when she gave the water a moment.

But it tasted cool and delicious, and it took her a moment to recognize that she had spilled it over the top of her blouse. And even that was a relief in the heat, cooling her down.

Aline checked the time. 11:48. Finally no longer thirsty, she disrobed, hung her clothes up conscientiously on hangars, and climbed into bed, where she practically stuck to the sheets.

“It’s so fucking hot,” she whined to the ceiling. She should call the manager. He looked like he was handy with tools. No doubt he would come into the room, examine her half-naked body with something like lust, and something like possession, and he would eyefuck her breasts, with their wet sheen of water and perspiration…

Aline made a noise deep in her throat. Apparently it wasn’t too hot for girlish daydreams. And that wasn’t helped by the coos coming out of the pool area. She got out of bed and strode over to the window, her half-naked body hidden in the dark.

It was getting pleasant out there. The boys and girls had paired off. The lifeguard had picked up the two blondes. Rank has privileges, Aline thought. Those three sat in a line along the pool, lit from below with a cool aquamarine. The lifeguard had his lips locked on an ecstatic-looking thing with thick, plump hips, and she had her arms around his head. Her friend sat next to them, twirling her hair, looking idly at the windows. She wore a polka-dot bikini, and rubbed the guy’s leg patiently. Waiting her turn.

The other boy was still in the pool. He was sandwiched between his two fillies. The girl behind him, with full black hair, cradled him protectively. Her bra top floated on the water behind them.

Aline blinked, stepped backwards, and nearly tripped onto the bed. She nearly ran to the bathroom, and simply stuck her head underneath the faucet. She was so unbearably thirsty, all of a sudden. The water soothed her, running down her chin, cooling down her overheated breasts. She splashed some of it into her face, and it soaked her hair, that white streak slowly trickling down her back.

It wasn’t even the fact that they were young, wet, and horny that bothered Aline. It was that they were so, very, refreshingly, cool. And she was gummy-sticky in a stifling hotel room at—she checked the clock—close to 12:30.

Aline decided she was too hot to sleep.

Luckily the minibar was well-stocked. Very well stocked, with six different kinds of candy bars nestled up against each other, all chocolate, with a set of booze bottles in miniature, big bottles of water with generic labels, and even, oddly, a glass bottle of milk with a tapered top. She pulled out a trio of vodka, whiskey, and gin, and decided that they would be best of friends.

There was more squealing from outside her window. And now a soft patter of conversation from the other side of her door. A confident male voice—had she heard any other kind, out here?—talked in low but booming tones to something giggling and silly.

They’ve probably got a bucket of ice with them, Aline concluded, back in her sodden sheets. She toasted the elated sounds out of doors and kicked down the minibottle of vodka. It wasn’t like her. Drinking at all was out of character. But her water-wet throat urged the alcohol down, where it made her feel warm and toasty—and in a good way, for once.

That was good. Very good. Very very nice and good, she told herself, burping unlady-like. It was funny how her boobs and her butt were getting the worst of his heat-wave, stuck in her cotton underthings. She took off her shift, and let her titties fly free, the tips glistening with bits of sweat and milky-white in the night-light glow. Aline rubbed them, thoughtfully.

Naughty thoughts echoed in an alcohol-touched head. That manager was out there. She could call him in, half-assed and half-drunk, and have him turn her AC on. They would have to be careful not to generate too much friction, in this muggy weather. Obviously that meant doggy-style, on the floor, with her rear end poked up high in the air. Heat rose, right? So she’d be downright comfortable on the hotel floor.

Gin trickled down her throat. Aline took a look at the label for the first time. It was just labeled GIN, without a proof, or manufacturer, or anything else. Practically moonshine. But it was good, she could practically taste the juniper. The girl washed it down with a bottle of water marked WATER with black on white lettering. She tittered and giggled. No wonder they needed a marketing expert out here, if this was their local brand.

Aline thoughtfully rubbed at the outside of her underwear. It was the only thing she had left on, in case of a fire alarm or something, and she needed to rush outside with titties bouncing and body rockin’. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t slip a warm digit underneath. She was unsurprised at how wet and ready to go she was.

The brunette slipped a greasy finger well up her snatch. Her thoughts were illuminated with visions of the manager.. and, very occasionally, her boyfriend… working her body in various heat-dissipating ways. She could maybe just suck on his cock, act as a heat sink, taking his warmth into her mouth and wick it away.

Her orgasm was very noisy. She mewed to the world around her, cat-like. Her mouth was already parched, and she had to guzzle the rest of the water, before going back for more from the tap. This time Aline just up-ended the milky-white bottle over her head, letting it run in big sluices down her hair, the pink-cherry tips of her tits, the rest of her body. The scene in the mirror was intense and erotic. The businessgirl with the bitchin’ body and the melon-sized boobs, getting herself wet before a big show…

Wait, Aline told herself, melon-sized?

There was a shriek from outside the window.

Aline walked over to it, her feet unsteady, the trio of bottles making each other felt in the recesses of her mind. Had she recognized the girl in the mirror? True, it was nearly 1:30, and she was tipsy, but it looked inflated by the hot air all around her, puffed out, way too sexified. Like a Dallas cheerleader on a summer day, practically a balloon of pneumatic girlhood.

Outside, one of the girls simply laid on the poolside, her legs moving just weakly. Her eyes blinked very slowly. On her chest were two huge tits, noticeably bigger then before, and they stood straight up even as she moved one hand towards the juncture between her thighs. The other girl had her back against a poolside trash can and had her legs splayed wide, frigging herself with abandon.

The other two were getting fucked completely senseless by the two men. Their cries were sporadic and getting weaker, but they kept their mouths wide open. Two enormous cocks pistoned in and out of their well-lubricated slits, relentlessly, far too big for what Aline considered normal or advisable. These were horse-compatible, with swollen testicles underneath that swung around as the boys fucked away. The only contribution of the girls was to present large, cushy butts for plowing, and then occasionally move back and forth.

Aline stumbled backwards, onto the bed. That’s not right, she told herself. Logic and direction were supposed to respond, but she just gaped at the scene outside, feeling the friction on her own clit. It took her a moment to work out that she was two knuckles deep in her pussy.

She had a perfectly good college education, and read well-thought-of books that regularly made the New York Times bestseller lists, but somehow none of that was working right for Aline, just at that very moment. It wasn’t just that she was drunk. It was that her thoughts were everywhere, like a hummingbird, whizzing back and forth from the nice feelings seeping out her ass, to the wet stickiness attached to her tits, and, most of all, to the sure sense that a big nice orgasm was about to knock some brain cells loose. And that meant that a rigorous thought process was replaced with fluffy-cloud thoughts on boys and sex and long sequences of her on her knees, nuzzling a series of cocks of all different sizes.

But even so, eventually the sirens made it into her jellified, mellified thought sequence, breaking into a hot and heavy movie where she was the trained focus of a half-dozen dicks stroked in unison.

Aline took a muzzy look at the clock, and tried to make sense of the symbols. 3:35 a.m. her half-busted brain told her. A fuckton of spit had rolled down her chin, sometime in the past hour or so. It was milky and white, and it was coming out of her, this time. The room flashed blue and red from beyond the window.

She couldn’t seem to dislodge sticky fingers from where they pulsed inside her sex, so she kept them inside as she waddled to the window. Another hand was grasping parts of her that were new, thicker, heavier, sexier, perspiring in the soup of a country night.

There were at least three cop cars out beyond the pool. In fact, there were six, but she hadn’t counted nearly that high before there was a polite rap on the door, and it opened up.

The manager walked in. She was butt-fucking-naked, and even so, her first impulse was to just simper and smile, grateful he was there, to take over from what was obviously a dicey situation.

“Hi honey,” he told her. He reached out, affectionately ran a finger over the peak of her tits. “And you’re coming along so nicely. Oh, this is a shame, I don’t want to take you out of the oven. It’d be like half-baked cinnamon buns, a real god damn shame, that’s what it’d be.”

“Huh?” she said, and was shocked by a squeaky voice, like a barbie with a voicebox. A voice that announced drink specials at bars and pranced around car dealerships. “What’s going on? There’s… there’s all these cars outside!”

“Shhhhhhh,” the manager said. Fear was starting to penetrate her protective shell of sex and scent, but a man was here, a strong one, and that pat on her ass was reassuring. “C’mon, lets get you into the shower, and then… I guess we’ll just have to skip the TV show. Did you watch any TV shows tonight, darling?” He peered down at the thatch between her legs. “Nope, way too dry for that. You’d be gushing like a regular fountain. Oh well, we’ll get to that later, no harm done.”

A man’s hand on her ass felt good, calming, and he led her away from the sounds of radios outside. He guided her into the shower, gave her another calm nod, and then turned it on her.

Aline sputtered in the sudden deluge.

It was heavy and warm, like getting bathed in whipped cream, and it pooled anywhere she had curves to hold onto. The shock of the water was enough to give her overheated brain space to think, to panic. This is… way too hot, she said, and struggled to feel real concern. Your pussy is way too sexy and you’re getting… she looked down super-duper big titties that… um..

Aline gulped. The world of facts was beginning to contract. She was a high-level fucking executive with a hot little minx body.. no, she was a marketing bimbo with a specialization in ass-play. That wasn’t right. There was nothing about sucking dicks anywhere in there.

Your name is Aline and you are a top-notch marketing executive here on business! she reminded herself, but it was already drowned in the frosting flooding from the showerhead, rolling down her throat, coating her in a protein and sugar rich mist that clung to curves, made them bigger, less complicated, straightforward.

The door sprang open, and the manager’s smooth chin poked into the stall. She gaped at him, mouth full to the brim with water, and swallowed it down.

“You’re looking great,” he assured her, and his smile and the way he rubbed at her boobs went a very long way. “C’mon, towel off real quick, we need to get out of here.”

“What about my…” she gestured vaguely at her briefcase, her laptop, her identification. But of course she didn’t need those. She was a top-flight fucking fucker of blowjobs and buttplay, it was all like her memories told her, the same ones that identified six different ways to entice the manager into the shower with her. But instead he led her out, gently, and helped her towel down her back.

Any regrets were blown away when he showed off the clothes he had brought. Night-black shorts that could fit in the palm of his hand, plus a tank-top made out of space-age fabric, no underwear.

“Just got to be ballet flats for now,” he told her, taking them out of his pocket. “But we’ll get you in four and five inch heels soon enough. With goldfish swimming in the heels and lots of rhinestones and glitter and everything very, very sparkly.”

“Oh, okay,” Aline said, pulling on the new clothes. She was still wobbly on brand new dimensions, the gravity-defying tits, the generous hips. The air-filled head, still overheated in the darkness of the night. “Live goldfish?”

“Lets go, baby,” he said, warmly.

They went down a back way, evading the sounds of shouting men, moving in darkness. Through a pair of hallways, where there were big, cute tanks full of pulsing green and yellow liquids, and there was even an adorable moo-cow way back in the basement.

When they emerged it was from a utility door, right in front of a motorcycle. Aline’s knees practically buckled. He drove a MOTORCYCLE? That was so hot.

“Not quite yet, baby, not quite yet,” the man told her, disengaging her hands from his belt buckle.

They drove for a half-hour, in silence, away from the noise and the flashing lights. Aline hugged her new boyfriend tight, and fished for a monster cock whenever she felt daring. Her new boobs made it hard to hold on.

And, finally, they stopped, near a cow pasture in the middle of nowhere, but Aline had started to whine in his ear. It was still hot as hell, and she was thirsty, and she needed his hot, warm, maleness between her lips or her legs so very badly.

“Okay, baby,” the man said, unzipping his fly. It was everything she wanted, a rod of perfect size, utterly straight, and already dripping translucent-white from a rounded tip. “Drink up.”

Aline knelt on baked mud and, gently, took the cock between her lips. They were softer and plumper and made for welcoming dicks. And then he pushed, hard, into her mouth, and that was okay too—no gag reflex, no problems running her tongue up and down the smooth underside of a needy penis. The first jets of precum down her throat were simply delicious in every way. She needed more, buried herself down to the hilt, and breathed through her nose.

When he was done cumming, and cum ran down her chin, and into the dirt, anyone looking at Aline would think she was perfect, that there was nothing left but a wet and willing bimbo.

That was very, very nearly the case.

* * *

Three months later....

They had built the town high, to get at the ore in the sides of the cliffs. When the sun shone low to the west the metal would sparkle against the dirt. There was enough there for a town, and enough of a town for it to survive the tap out of the ore, running on inertia and a few county offices.

And still, over a hundred years in, no one had really thought through the water supply.

Jason offered over his flask. His slight smile, setting off his eyes, was the most attractive thing about him. The rest was easy to fault. Facial hair that drifted, patchy clouds of beard that escaped his razor that day. Clothes from Walmart and on a nearly-predictable two week rota. Carrie knew he had dressed up because he was wearing his chinos with the polo.

“Alright,” she said, taking the flask. She was thirsty more then anything else. At least it was bourbon. Jason’s Dad had good taste.

“It’s nice out here,” he essayed. Jason cautiously put his arm around her. That was another positive quality. He did try.

“No clouds,” Carrie said, making a face.

“My dad said...” Jason started, then stopped. He knew that Carrie noted how many sentences started with ‘my dad’. Carrie regretted mentioning it. She lived with her parents, too. “Well, he said rain is coming. Eventually. On the ten day.”

“Forecast is just clouds,” Carrie said. She knew the ten-day, of course. Everyone watched the ten-day.

“Something to look forward to,” Jason said. It was as romantic a line as he could come up with, and they both knew it. He swung towards her and she let him.

Making out with Jason was... alright. He was willing to kiss and explore and he clearly enjoyed himself, which she appreciated. He waited a reasonable amount of time before fondling her boobs, and seemed excited about what she considered pathetic deflated sandwich bags. She felt a glimmer of desire and need if she kept her eyes closed. Carrie kept her eyes open.

She saw, out of the very corner of her eye, the collapsed form on the other side of a city bench. It was something of a relief to pull away, to gasp, and point, and then to wipe her face clean of boy spit.

“Someone’s there,” she gasped. “A girl!”

Jason grunted, disappointed, but a collapsed woman on a bench just didn’t happen in town. They both climbed off the hood and hovered over the crumbled figure.

Carrie’s first impression was: pink. Pink and gold, the latter of which was a wild tangle of white-blonde hair cascading down the back of the woman’s neck, and falling through the slats of the bench. The pink was a pair of bright-magenta shorts, made out of some sort of plastic, and so tight they were suggestive even on the unconscious.

“She’s breathing... and... hot,” Jason reported. He gently took the girl’s shoulders and pushed her to a sitting position. Hair rippled. Two big boobs—Carrie’s jaw dropped slightly—slouched into a pink cutoff blouse that was tied just underneath her tits. They were big tits—and she wasn’t a tall or heavy girl.

“Look at.. uh... her..” Jason offered, tearing his eyes away. Carrie didn’t even blame him.

“She looks like a barbie doll,” Carrie marveled. Thigh gap, sexy outfit, her lips pouting open and her eyes capped by long lashes. But she was thin, and her skin was cold, and she had dark bags under her eyes.

“She’s wearing heels,” Jason said. “Bizarre. Should I call the paramedics? I should, right?”

The girl’s eyes flew open.

“Oh! No! No anything!” she gasped. Her voice was throaty, luscious. “I’m okay!”

The girl tossed her hair back, the gold mane shining in the sunset, and fixed them with doe eyes. She smiled, weakly.

“I’m fine!” she said. “Thanks! Thanks very much!”

“You were passed out,” Carrie said.

“Passed out? No... no. I fell asleep! I was just snoozing!”

She fixed Jason with her big eyes and smiled broadly at him. The woman hugged her arms underneath her tits, thrusting two ivory orbs up, and she carefully crossed and uncrossed her legs. Jason blinked. He opened his mouth to say yes to her next request, whatever it was.

Carrie gently pushed the woman on the shoulder, and she fell over. And then Carrie made sure it was her, and not Jason, who picked the woman back up.

“You’re dehydrated and you look horrible,” she told the doll. “How did you even get here? There’s no bus service.”

“It was a nice day!” the woman squeaked. She licked her lips at Carrie. It had no effect.

“You WALKED? In heels?” Jason said, in disbelief.

“What else would I wear?” the blonde said, genuinely puzzled.

The girl took a single look behind her. There was a trace of fear when she turned around again, quickly hidden behind another winsome smile.

“Miss, why don’t you come home with me, I’ll get you cleaned up,” Carrie decided. Something was telling her: running from a man. And a girl this obviously squeaky and dim didn’t just run on a whim.

“Oh, that would be so nice!” the girl brightened. “I haven’t had a shower in weeks and stuff! I’m Aline by the way! It’s very nice to meet you!”

Jason stuck out his hand, automatically. The girl looked at it, confused, and then started to guide it towards her tits. Jason snatched it back, gave Carrie an apologetic look. Carrie decided she would be the one to walk this girl back.

It was strange to touch her. Aline was so plush, her nails long and painted, hair flapping in the breeze, her boobs sticking out in front of her. And there was a... scent to her. Not fatigue and the road, like Carrie expected. It was... flowers and fragrance and something very, very sweet. Boiled sugar.

It was a very likable smell.

* * *

“I like your house,” Aline said, as they walked in.

“Thanks,” Carrie paused. It was pretty obvious Aline wasn’t the type for sarcasm, or spelling ‘sarcasm’. “it’s my parent’s house.”

Mother and Step-father. Carrie paused to listen for them. Nothing. That was a relief.

“Can I get a glass of water?” Aline asked, once they were inside. The kitchen was outfitted in dated oak paneling and chipped white countertops. Her Mom talked constantly about an update. Once Carrie had moved out of the nest.

“You can try,” Carrie said. She handed the girl a glass. Aline placed it under the tap and lifted the lever. Nothing came out.

Aline, her slender brows knitted together, craned her head around to look at the underside of the tap. “I thought water came out of here!” she said.

“Well... uh...yes. Usually.” Belatedly Carrie recognized she was toying with an injured woman. She went to the fridge and pulled out one of the few water bottles. “But we’re out of water. The entire town. Dry. The town depended on one little river and when... uh..”

She had given Aline a big jug, figuring the girl would top off her glass. Instead, Aline had locked both big, plush lips around the jug and was chugging away, sloshing water in gushing torrents down her throat, with no obvious discomfort. A deep, girlish noise of satisfaction came out of Aline, somewhere. Carrie had no idea where.

Odder still, the already well-stuffed girl seemed to be.. filling in. Carrie could’ve sworn—but no, impossible—that the girl’s tits were a bit more perky, her cheeks pulling off the cheekbones, her lips wet and fuller. Aline only put the jug down when it was half-empty. Her stomach was taut and tight. Carrie half-expected it to bulge.

“Ooo, I really needed that,” the girl said. She bounded forward, cheered, and hugged Carrie hard. Two nipples bonked Carrie’s own, less impressive chest. “Oh! Thank you so much! It’s been so long since people were nice to me!”

There was that smell again. Like melting hershey kisses, among so many other things.

“Aline, are you... running? From something? ...Someone?”

“Girls don’t run, silly!” Aline said, quickly. “It’s too hard in heels in stuff. You gotta sort of sway like really fast from side to side and you can go pretty fast but if you run you’ll trip.”

She demonstrated. Carrie had almost forgotten the heels. Had she really WALKED here...? It was uphill the entire way, ten miles to the closest town.

“Aline! Please!” Frustrated, Carrie snapped her fingers together. She felt bad for treating a fellow gi- woman like a dog, but Aline’s attention span was that of a butterfly.

“Did you, um, call the police or anything? The big cop guys?” Aline asked. She looked deeply into Carrie’s eyes and sucked gently on her index finger.

“No. I didn’t. I won’t, if you don’t want me to,” Carrie said. She wasn’t on great terms with the local police force herself.

“Then I can stay here? Oh, thank you so much!” Aline said. She grabbed Carrie for another hug before the brunette could stop her. Carrie was battered with boobs and draped with long blonde hair. “I’m gonna go take a shower! Thanks! I will make it up for you!”

* * *

There wasn’t a shower.

There was a shower stall, of course, but nothing came out of the tap. That didn’t seem to bother Aline, who waited patiently for Carrie to heat up a bucket of water. The girl occupied herself wandering around Carrie’s bedroom and examining her stuff.

“Where are your other bras?” she asked, curious.

“That’s it.”

Aline counted with her fingers, carefully. “You have TWO bras?” she said, shocked.

“It’s not like I have dirty boobs. How many do you have?” Carrie said. She had already decided to pry. It was one thing to help out a possibly-abused woman—sisterhood and all that—but a little search was certainly acceptable.

“Oh, I don’t really wear them, unless they’re all hot and stuff,” Aline said. She casually lifted up her shirt. Two big, thick, juicy tits sprung out. Aline had long nipples, and she tweaked one casually. Carrie had to admit that she didn’t need a bra. “See?”

Carrie slowly let out a breath. It was suddenly warmer in the room. Aline’s scent had followed them in. Carrie was hoping it would go away with a sponge-bath. It was too... heady. “Yeah. Well... I’d let you borrow mine... but I don’t think they’d fit.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t need them either, once they’re done growing and stuff!” Aline said. She sat on the bed, and bounced lightly.

Carrie gave her a look. “This is it. I’m 20.”

Aline stared at Carrie’s chest, shocked, with her mouth wide open. Carrie felt an urge to jam a sock into it.

“Oh my,” Aline finally said. She turned her head slightly, and that was enough to shift her attention. “Oh my goodness you have so many books!”

It was just one bookcase. “Do you read much?” Carrie asked, a little maliciously.

“Oh, I..” Aline frowned. “I... um...” she stuck her hand out, stroked the title of Wuthering Heights softly. “I think I... umm...” Aline drew her hand back suddenly, like something had burned it. “No! I’m not really a booky-wooky person!”

Of course you aren’t, Carrie thought. It was like a Hefner model had plopped into her bedroom. “I think your water is probably ready,” she said, and left the bimbo alone, looking, puzzled, at the books.

* * *

Carrie’s parents—well, her stepfather and mom—arrived while Aline was busy with the loofah. It was actually something of a relief, as Carrie felt a real urge to step away from the strange, sexy house guest and her innocently cutting comments.

Elaine carried five grocery bags in one hand and a new jug of water with the other. She was young, still on the right side of forty, albeit staring it down hard. She had married Rick some years ago, not long after he had moved to town. Rick didn’t carry anything. He walked slowly and trailed her in.

“I thought you were out,” Elaine said, briskly. She wore heavy plastic glasses, just like her husband. “Out with Jason.”

It was dispiriting that her Mom approved of Jason. She didn’t think Carrie could do any better. “Yeah, we... were out for awhile. Hey, Mom, I should...”

“Did you drink all of this?” Rick said, dismayed at the clutter of empty plastic jugs. He looked at her with bleary, tired eyes. He always looked like the thirstiest man in town, and that was saying something. “Geez, Carrie, really? I’m gonna have to put this outside. Neighbors are gonna see it. What’d you do, go for a swim? Try to refill the river?”

“That’s the thing, Rick,” Carrie called him Rick whenever she was annoyed. “There’s a...”

“You know your...” Elaine choked on “Dad” too. “...Rick was in that town hall meeting all yesterday explaining the situation and making it sound as dire as possible. Which it is!” she added, when Rick swiveled to her. He packed a lot of scowl into one face.

“They think you can just start drilling and hit an aquifer,” he said, shaking his head. “I keep telling them, we’re on a damn hill, it’s not that simple. And then they complain that I haven’t made it rain. Good god, Carrie, what’s that noise up there?”

“Oh, hi!” Aline chirped.

She descended down the stairs in just a towel, her hair damp but still long and lustrous. She practically sparkled. The towel was a large, heavy one, and Aline had wrapped it as tight as she could around her tits, and it still just barely, barely reached the tops of her thighs. Carrie couldn’t help but stare at them. They were wide, voluptuous thighs, where she had half-expected a model’s gap. Tight skirts would rip and tear. She had done a lot with one bucket of water. Aline was shiny.

Rick straightened and coughed.

“This is Aline,” Carrie said, quickly. “She’s... we found her, Jason and I. She really needed a place to stay.”

She mouthed “abuse” to Elaine, whose look turned sympathetic immediately. Elaine never talked about Carrie’s father at all.

“Oh! Of course, of course. Aline, welcome. Carrie, you’ll share your room with her? Fantastic. And you’ll have to borrow Carrie’s clothes if they...” she registered Aline’s generous proportions for the first time. “fit. Rick, it’s your house, but I’m sure that’s okay?”

Rick’s eyes had drifted down into the wet rift between Aline’s breasts. Bound together, they produced a long line of damp cleavage. A few droplets of water disappeared in between. He cinched his eyes back up. “Of course,” he breathed. “Of course. Uh. I could really go for a glass of water.”

* * *

“Use your tongue more,” the boy told Carrie.

There was a cock in her mouth, she realized. That was new. She had read about blowjobs, seen a few on youtube, but had never actually had a big, thick, dick throbbing and thrusting down her throat. She tried to follow instructions, but it was hard with a penis pushing its way in. Carrie had to remember to keep her teeth back and suck and not too much and it was just so HARD.

To listen, that is.

It didn’t help that she was on her knees and absolutely dripping wet. Even through the confused tangle around her tongue she could feel a single droplet making its way down the inside of her thighs, to splash on the ground.

It hit. There was a chuckle. A whole lot of chuckles. How many guys were even in here? And where.. what was going on?

They pressed forward, then, naked and built and casually smiling. They pushed forward, dicks first, and she reached out with both hands and remembered to lick and...

Fluid. So much fluid. Arc after arc of wet, spattering her face and throat and hair and into her mouth. She opened her mouth for more, ready to guzzle...

Carrie woke up.

She had bitten her tongue. Hard. There was a metallic taste at the back of her throat, and in the first confused moment she thought she had chomped someone’s dick off.

Carrie rose, groggy. Even a clock flashing 9 failed to jolt her. Her boss hardly cared if she showed for work, anyway. She was thick with sleep and, she gradually realized, disconcertingly damp between her legs. Had she ever had a sex dream? Definitely not one this graphic and hot and searing, the details still clinging to her like streaks of semen...

Um.. like spider webs.

The room—her room—had smelled like used bookstores and ramen and pillows and now smelled like Aline. That sweet funk had already pervaded the sheets. Carrie tossed open a window. It was clear and cool out. The skies were ice blue. Another dry day.

Downstairs, Aline was making pancakes.

“Good morning!!” she said, waving cheerfully at Carrie. She was wearing Carrie’s clothes. She had last night, too, baggy pajamas that had sort of hid her pneumatic body. This morning she had taken a white blouse and a pair of green turquoise shorts Carrie vaguely remembered from High School and squeezed her entire body into them. The fly to the shorts bulged, the teeth straining to contain a well-developed ass.

“Umm...” Carrie said, eventually. “Good morning, Aline.”

“I made pancakes! I hope you don’t mind but I love pancakes. I made like, a hundred pancakes,” Aline said. “And there’s melons!”

“There sure are,” Carrie said. She eased into a seat. There was an unexpected woodsy scent in the pleasant syrupy/carbohydrate haze. “Aline, did you polish?”

“Oh, I wanted to make myself useful!” the blonde said. Her hair had curled slightly. Aline teased it with a finger, wrapping it around and around. Carrie fought an urge to do the same. She snipped her hair shorter as soon as she felt the slightest graze on her shoulders. “So I swept and cleaned up and I know you don’t want to mop with the water whatever but I thought, I bet you have wood polish! Your Mom and Dad were very happy about it!”

There had been half-hearted discussions about Carrie making herself useful so long as she was post-High School and home. Carrie looked around guiltily at the spotless, shining room and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Wait, she thought, coffee?

“Aline, you made coffee?” she said, distressed. Carrie stared at it. It was light brown.

“Well, um, yeah, your parents liked it,” Aline said. “Oh no, is something wrong? Are you allergic to coffee smells?”

“No! It’s... coffee is my thing. It’s what I do!” She stood up, walked roughly past Aline, and picked up the gleaming canister she kept her beans in. They seemed to be all there, best she could remember. “Aline, did you grind these? These are from Ethiopia and I think each bean is a dollar.”

“Oh, no! No no no!” Aline said, distressed. “There was some old stuff in the freezer! I used that!” She put her hands on her cheeks. “Oh no! I’ll leave now, it’s okay. I will go into the mountains.”

Carrie relaxed. The cheap shit in the freezer from the supermarket. “Oh. That’s okay. I’m sorry! Coffee is sort of my main thing. It’s cool.” Aline looked so distressed that Carrie picked up the cup to humor her. “Aline! See? No problem at all.” She sipped the ancient, rancid stuff.

It was incredible.

Silken, sweet, but neatly balanced by dark, herbal notes Carrie struggled to get with her own roasts. Sugary, almost caramelized. It was so unlike the dark, deep coffee Carrie drank, and... so much more intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” Aline said. “There’s milk in it!”

Carrie put her cup down. “Aline, I think you should come to work with me,” she said, eventually.

* * *

It was an SUV in an area full of them. It was new, and nice, and the wheels were clean and the tires inky black. But even that wasn’t unusual, and certainly nothing to be worried about.

“Excuse me, miss?” the man said. Laurie slowed and stopped. The man looked friendly. Clean teeth and a hopeful smile. He wore a cheap business shirt and everything about him screamed ‘lost traveler.’ “I’m so sorry, I know you’re jogging. But can you help me with something?”

“Airport is down Highway 54, look for the planes,” Laurie said. She drifted a little closer to the open window.

The man chuckled, embarrassed. “Actually, I just came from there.” His voice was deep, low. “I am looking for a missing person. I thought, jogger, sees people. This is her. Sorry for the photo.”

The man pulled out a small glossy photo. It showed a blonde, heavily made up, smiling serenely at the camera. She was topless. No, naked entirely. There were dim figures, also naked, around the edges of the frame.

Laurie should’ve run away the second things got weird. But she had smelled something.

Something wonderful.

Like charcoal and steak and that slightly sour scent of lovemaking. It was pouring in waves from the car. Perhaps if she had not been breathing so hard, running so fast.

She took the photo, peered at it, suddenly eager to stay close to the window. “Nnnnooooo. No. I haven’t... uh. Wow.”

“No?” the man said, disappointed but polite.

“Those are, um. Big tits,” Laurie said. She inhaled. Exhaled. Her own boobs felt way too tied up in a running bra.

“Are they? My perspective is skewed. I suppose. Anyway, I appreciate your help. Can I offer you a ride anywhere?”

“Oh, yes!” Laurie said, already making for the passenger seat. She climbed in. A very small part of her beat in vain against the waves of wet pleasure riding through her body. God, that smell. “Umm.. is that... your cologne?”

“Oh, is it that bad?” the man said, concerned. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I should’ve had the windows down. Oh my, you must be marinating in it.”

She was. She really was. Laurie slumped into the chair, her eyes half-lidded. She concentrated on her breathing. Gosh, she was getting gooshy. Wet and stuff.

“That’s actually my cock,” the man said, conversationally. “Yeah, pheromones. A bit overwhelming. And you must be susceptible. You’re fertile right now, aren’t you, Laurie?”

“Yeahhhhhh...” Laurie whispered. She rarely thought of it that way. But she was so wet and ready, and what was that but the need to be seeded? Her legs crept open.

“And there’s no other man in your life,” he paused. “Do you want to see it?”

“Umm...” Laurie said. Her mouth and tongue tried to say no. Nothing happened. She slumped back again.

“It’s alright,” the man said. “Here, take a look.” He had pulled his shirt out, unbuttoned his fly, and out came the longest, biggest dick Laurie had ever seen. Heavy veins wrapped around it like ivy on a column. The smell thickened, practically solidified.

Laurie swallowed around the drool. “That’s a.. big dick...”

The man laughed. “Our perspectives are so different. Here.” He guided Laurie’s unresisting hand to the prong, placed it around the girth, and waited for her to jack it, automatically. Precum instantly sprang to the tip. “Have a taste. You’ll love this.”

“You’re drinking some dude’s cum,” Laurie’s caution screamed. She was. A large, white glob. And then she was licking her fingers and moaning. Like drinking sugar and sex. Thirsty, suddenly ravenous, she lowered her head and took as many inches as she could into her mouth. It barely registered that the dick was well down her throat. She guzzled the fluid as it came out.

“Oh, I’m glad we met,” the man said, appreciative. “Most girls aren’t as… immediate… as you.” He reached over between her legs, casually started to rub. She was slick. The man sniffed his hand. “This will be a new area for me.”

There was a sudden surge of sperm, wonderful stuff, and Laurie felt a burst of pride at swallowing all of it. She broke free, gasping for air, spit and seminal fluid running down her face. She was only vaguely aware of the man rubbing between her legs.

“You probably think I came,” the man said. He shook his head. His dick was still proud, red, and hard. “I don’t work that way. Can you bend over for me, honey? Oh. What’s your name?”

“Laurie,” she was about to say, but then his hands were on her tits, and all she had left were sperm-flecked moans. The man opened his door, casually flipped her over, and pulled down her running pants. She dripped onto his seat.

“Doesn’t really matter,” the man said, calmly. About her name or the wetness, Laurie couldn’t say. “Okay, now, don’t move as I stick this in you, honey. It’s a big thing. It won’t hurt, but you have to stay still. And just so you know, this is gonna get you pregnant. So pregnant. So say something if you don’t want it.”

God, she wanted it. Slit exposed, dripping, hands down, ass curved, Laurie wanted it more than anything. She felt a huge cockhead nestle at the very tip of her pussy.

“But screaming is okay,” the man told her, and thrust in, hard.

* * *

There was a magnificent fountain in the center of town. Of course it was dry now, but the city had kept it going for far too long, conscious of the symbol, unwilling to abandon a scene of vitality at the very heart of the town. Now, four lions faced each other with gaping, empty mouths, spewing nothing into a nothing basin. The pennies and dimes were still there. They were hardly worth collecting.

Cracks spread across the pavement away from the fountain. Carrie knew, intellectually, and because Rick had explained it, that the rents in the asphalt had nothing to do with the dry. This was just routine mismanagement, and delayed replacement in a town with enough problems. But they spread out across the street and splayed right into the sidewalk, where a handful of shops survived.

“Where’s the mall?” Aline wondered. They had walked. Aline had little to say, for once, and Carrie seethed over the coffee incident. Aline walked in her remarkably durable heels. Several times Carrie had heard cars slow, behind them, just to watch Aline’s ass move up and down. Had any cars ever slowed down for her?

“No mall,” Carrie said.

“Ummm.. where do you get.. shoes and stuff? And everything else?” Aline asked, puzzled.

“There’s a Walmart in the next town over. We used to have a big market but... didn’t quite work out,” Aline said. She pointed at the huge, empty store front. It dominated the square, dusty windows revealing empty square footage. The sun shone all the way to the back. “We’ve still got a drug store, the book store—that’s where we’re going—Ms. Prince’s clothing store—we’ll go there for you eventually. And the post office for six more months until that closes.”

“Walmart’s alright and stuff.. but what if you want to buy something... FUN?” Aline said.

“Like I said,” Carrie said. “Walmart.”

It wasn’t a very bookish town, but the bookstore had become popular somewhat by default. It was in a big space with sedate rows of old books, carefully curated and exactly cataloged by Anne, the owner. Mostly she bought in bulk from donation stores, which meant a Tom Clancy section, for example, that occupied an entire row, and at least thirty copies of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Jessica waved them over. “Hey Carrie, and, uh, Carrie’s friend. You. Hi.” She was a thickly-built Korean girl with her hair dangerously short. Unless in a ponytail it was downright boyish. “Hold on a sec, we’ll get introduced once I’m done tutoring, which will be as soon as this kid stops staring at your friend’s chest.”

The boy in question, perhaps 16, had his jaw loose and his eyes wide. Carrie was mostly irritation, but Aline WAS like internet porn stepping out of the screen. The blonde gave the boy a warm, friendly, lengthy smile. All three girls watched, impressed, as he strived to keep his eyes out of her tits.

“Go jack off, Robert,” Jessica said, faux-cheerful.

“Okay,” Robert mumbled. He started. “Um. Okay.”

“I’m Jessica,” she said, extending a hand to the blonde.

“Jake?” Aline said, shaking it wanly.

Jessica’s smile grew teeth. “Jessica.”

“Jack? Oh.. oh! Oh, hi Jessica! I’m Aline! Oh, oh, I’m so sorry!”

“That’s fine,” Jessica said, flatly. “It’s the hair.”

“Was there an accident?” Aline said, sinking into a chair.

“Apparently. Wow! Okay! Very nice to meet you, Aline!”

There was no dancing around it. “She’s on the run,” Carrie interrupted. “Probably from some guy. WE are HELPing HER.”

“Are we!” Jessica said. She softened, rolled her eyes. “Well, Aline, you didn’t see my good side. I am single-handedly going to make big butt asian girls the new norm, and no one will ever call me John ever again.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Aline said. “Can I see?”

“You want to... see my ass?” Jessica said, eventually.

Aline nodded, sincerely.

“You know that was a joke, right?”

Aline nodded, sincerely.

“Okay, I guess it’s nice that someone wants to.” Jessica stood up and lumbered in a slow circle. Carrie couldn’t help but look, too. It wasn’t, she conceded, bad. It had curves, unlike her own bony rear.

“Oh, that’s great!” Aline said. She reached out and casually grabbed Jessica’s ass. The Korean girl squeaked. “Very firm!

Carrie had rarely seen Jessica speechless. They had not been close in High School. Carrie had run with a group of girls and boys in flannels and spectacles who had goodreads accounts, Jessica in the disaffected ‘Other’ crowd. But both sets had decamped for cities with water supplies.

“Aline, why don’t you make coffee?” Carrie suggested. She checked Jessica’s expression. “Quickly.”

* * *

“Alright, this is incredible fucking coffee,” Jessica eventually conceded.

“It’s got... I don’t know... creamer in it?” Carrie hazarded. She swirled her second cup. It was chocolate-y brown. “It’s not foam or anything. It’s just... creamy.”

“Creamy,” Jessica agreed. She sank the rest of her cup in one go.

Word was getting around. Even when confused and wounded a small town manufactured gossip, and Aline was an obvious attraction. The girl had pulled on a dark green apron and tied it tightly underneath her tits. The regulars—mostly high school boys and girls—now vied with workmen ordering small coffees. Aline worked enthusiastically, constantly, and preened when a man eyed her breasts.

It was WEIRD coffee, Carrie mused. Two full cups and she should’ve been a buzzing wreck. But something about Aline’s joe was like drinking a pillow. She wanted to put her feet up. She smiled benignly at the crowd.

“Who is that? This?” a quiet, even voice said.

The foamy buzz washed away.

Anne was only ten or so years older then them, and was nearly shorter then Jessica. But she ran towards old. Thick glasses with plastic rims, hair high in a bun, severe cardigans that she cycled through. It was a Thursday, so maroon. Jessica had often described her, not in earshot, as one of nature’s librarians.

But she had opened the only new store in town in the past decade, could converse knowingly about any sort of literature, and had made a success out of a bookstore, in a small town, that carried an entire shelf of literary criticism towards the front.

“Aline,” Carrie said. Luckily, Anne had the same easy soft spot. “She drifted into town, seems to be running from some guy.”

She had never dared to ask Anne if she was a lesbian, and watched her reaction to the busty blonde closely. Anne just arched an eyebrow. They were heavily penciled, her one vanity.

“I think she’s about to get us all arrested,” Anne said.

All three girls turned. Waiting calmly in line was the chief of police, dressed in full with jacket, revolver, utility belt, and with his hat on indoors. Unlike the two teenage boys in front of him, who leered without regret at Aline’s proudly available cleavage, he ordered a small coffee to go and kept his eyes on the ceiling. When it was handed over, with a smile and a tiny curtsy, he took it over to the three of them.

“Carrie. Anne. Uh,” Officer O’Rourke said, looking at Jessica.

“Jessica,” Jessica said. Her glare bounced off the cop.

Carrie knew Officer O’Rourke very well. She was dating his son.

“And the new lady?” O’Rourke said.

“That’s Aline,” Carrie said.

“She is doing brisk business,” O’Rourke said. He looked at Anne. “Didn’t expect this kind of marketing initiative from you.”

Anne was already carved from alabaster. She turned even more white. “She’s Carrie’s friend, apparently,” she said. “I haven’t even met her yet. Even though I, again apparently, employ her.”

Both authority figures turned to look at Carrie. She gave them a weak smile. “Is there... some problem?” she ventured.

“Welllllllll. Yes. I’m going to have to turn off your water. It’s a nonessential use and Ms.. Mrs.? Lord, she’s not married, is she?” O’Rourke shrugged. “Anyway. There’s a drought on.”

“There was a drought on yesterday, when I was making coffee, and no one cared then,” Carrie said. She allowed herself to be a little annoyed. She was making out with his son, after all. That had to provide a little leeway.

O’Rourke whistled. “Yeah. About that. No one really bought much coffee from you. You took ten minutes for a small coffee.”

“It’s POUROVER,” Carrie protested.

“Yeah huh. And $4.50 for each.”

“I hand-roast small batches from ETHIOPIA. And Aline is charging,”

“Uh huh. Actually, no, she isn’t.”

Carrie stood up. “Aline!” she shouted, dashing over to the blonde, who had dipped behind the counter. “Are you seriously... what are you doing?”

Aline bolted upright. Her shirt was pulled up, exposing numerous inches of creamy skin. The bottom of her boobs were just visible. “Nothing!” she said.

“You’re not charging? How many cups of coffee have you given away?”

“All of them!” Aline said.

Carrie whirled and glared at a long line of horny boys and occasional girls. “We’re closed,” she snapped.

“I appreciate that,” Officer O’Rourke said, sauntering over. He took a sip from the milky-brown coffee, and held it up, appreciative. “Well. Now I feel a little bad. That is some damn fine coffee.”

* * *

Jessica walked home by herself. Between Carrie and Aline and Anne and everyone else the scene had turned into a bunch of white girls carrying on, and Jessica prided herself on sticking clear of that.

She sipped very slowly and carefully from a very large cup of Aline’s special brew, which she had filled up from the carafe in the confusion, and thought.

Her ass could still feel the pinch where Aline had so readily mauled her. It didn’t feel.. bad. It felt... different. And as crude and weird as it had been, Jessica couldn’t really recall anybody else ever complimenting her body in any context whatsoever. Not even a bare “you look nice today, Jessica.” Certainly not from Carrie, who tended to use her as a dump for problems.

There was a reflection on one of the empty storefront mirrors. Jessica checked an empty street, then nervously looked at her rear.

It was actually not that bad.

It was kind of okay. Sure, it was sizable, but it was firm, and curvy, and utterly unexpected on a Korean girl. It was practically unique! If she lost a little weight here.. and here...—Jessica mentally traced lines—she could strut with a sex bubble hanging behind her. If she was tarted up with a pencil skirt, in any color, and three.. no.. four inch heels...

Jessica’s fingers traced the same pinch Aline had left.

The girl rested her rear against the glass, and pulled out her phone. She selected the male acquaintance farthest away from town, on the other half of the country.

JKimPhnx:: HEY U THERE

BTeks2012:: Whoa Jessica hi

JKimPhnx:: Can u talk

BTeks2012:: i’m in class so yes ;)

JKimPhnx:: can u keep this private

BTeks2012:: no

JKimPhnx:: well fine. i want u to rate my ass.

JKimPhnx:: 1-10

JKimPhnx:: or 1-100 that’s fine.

JKimPhnx:: JUST MY ASS.

BTeks2012:: whoa what is this.

BTeks2012:: is this really jessica.

JKimPhnx:: just do it dipshit.

BTeks2012:: damn it is u. alright i am cool with this.

BTeks2012:: look the big booty not my game.

BTeks2012:: some guys at hs with us tho

BTeks2012:: u could be like, oh jessica wearing a skirt

BTeks2012:: heads on a swivel

JKimPhnx:: i never wore a skirt.

BTeks2012:: exactly girl!

BTeks2012:: so i would say like 6 for me but 10 10 10 for a very lucky guy!

BTeks2012:: okay gotta go weird talking with u.

10 10 10. Boys out there, watching her walk. And in her terrible, baggy jeans. Jessica took a long pull from her cup and ground her butt into the glass a bit harder.

* * *

Rick was asleep. It was just 7, but he usually returned from work grey-faced, stiff-backed, and ate dinner quietly. Elaine usually watched BBC dramas quietly in the living room. So Carrie sat in her room with Aline and had nothing to do but talk.

Aline was very carefully painting her nails.

She had asked for nail polish soon after dinner. Carrie had rummaged through her things and found a kit from sometime deep in adolescence. It was possibly meant for Halloween. Carrie had expected her houseguest to simply slather on lipstick red. Instead, she had spent at least two hours layering different shades of pink, red, and white, into slightly different designs on each nail. After the shittiness of the day, it was calming.

“I used to do art and stuff,” Aline said, suddenly. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been talking. Aline babbled about things more or less constantly. But this was different. She looked.. thoughtful.

“What do you mean?” Carrie said. She was on the bed, thumbing through state water use regulations on her laptop.

“I used to do like, art. Like, paintings. Of things. Like... fruit. Not moving fruit,” Aline said. She squeezed her eyes shut, and rubbed at her temples. Careful nail patterns were smudged.

“Still lifes?” Carrie said.

“I can’t... no...” Aline hesitated, and then noticed her ruined nails. “Oh, poop!”

Weird. But Carrie had bigger things to worry about. “Aline, I think I’m screwed.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“No, in a bad way,” Carrie said.

“There’s a bad way?” Aline said. The regular Aline was certainly back. She cocked her head like an inquisitive kitten. “If you just relax your butt and use like, your spit…”

“No!” But it was so damn hard to be angry at Aline. Carrie had basically lost her job over water flow, and Aline’s poor grasp of capitalism, but she was so full of creamy coffee and stuffed so full of that sweet, cloying scent... it was easier to just keep talking then to get mad. “I... look, the only thing I can think is, maybe Jason can sweet-talk his Dad to let me operate. Town morale or something. But that means I need to convince Jason to confront his really intimidating Dad.”

“But that’s your boyfriend!” Aline pointed out. She wiped the ruined nails off and started all over, unconcerned. The blonde had kicked off her shorts and lounged around in too-tight underpants. The elastic tugged and stretched at her thighs. A set of birds on the back were stretched out to look like red balloons. “he’ll help!”

“Ugh, and I didn’t even call him today,” Carrie said. “He might be mad. We were making out when I found you.”

“And you STOPPED?” Aline said, suddenly appalled.

“You were possibly dead!”

“Oh my god! I feel sooo bad!” Aline stopped to think. Carrie waited, slumped on the bed. Time passed. It was so muggy in the room, so hard to think underneath the gallon of creamy coffee in her. Weird that she hadn’t had to pee all day.

“Well just kill two birds with a blowjob!” Aline eventually said, some ten minutes later. Carrie sluggishly raised her head.

“A blowjob,” she deadpanned. “Putting a penis in my mouth will solve all these problems.”

“OF COURSE!” Aline declared, certain. “Just suck and suck and then ask for something! Oh gosh yes! And if that doesn’t work you can give him another one! And another one!”

“And swallow, of course,” Carrie said. Flashes of last night’s dream suddenly occurred to her. Jizz staining her, sustaining her. She felt a sudden, strange thirst.

“Well, YEAH!” Aline said.

“I’m gonna sleep on the blowjob plan,” Carrie said. “God, I’m tired.” The clock by her bedside read 8:03 p.m. Why was she so wiped? “Aline, I really am tired. I’m gonna get something to drink and then fall asleep.”

“Oh, I’ll get you something, never fear!” Aline said. She stomped out of the room. She left her pleasant cotton-candy scent behind. Carrie closed her eyes, breathing it in. Blow Jason senseless. Maybe if she was on her knees.. and coated her lips cherry red... and really surprised him with it. Jason would like that. Fucking her mouth, emptying out into her, letting her drink her fill until she was finally, finally not thirsty...

“Here you go!” Aline said. Carrie’s eyes popped open, and she pulled her hand from where it was creeping. Aline had poured a full glass of milk.

“Oh, I wanted wat—uh, thanks, Aline,” Carrie sipped it. It was warm. Very warm. And slightly sweet. The entire glass tipped down her throat. Boys were saltier, slimier, she had heard. And hot. Carrie tried to put the cup down, struggled with it. She was weak, already half-asleep, her thoughts stuck in a loop of imagining Jason’s cock. “I’m.. urff.. umm...” she mumbled.

“Here, I’ll help!” Aline said, cheerfully. Her hands reached up to Carrie’s jeans, unzipped her fly, undid the button. She slid them down Carrie’s unresisting legs. Carrie drowsed, eyes shutting.

“Mm, you are so irresistible!” she vaguely heard Aline say. But she was already asleep. That had to be it. She felt her underwear coming off, eyes closed, her damp snatch leaking on to the bed. And then a finger rolling along the very edge of her pussy.

“Certainly a dream,” Carrie decided.

It was Jason’s hand, albeit so feminine and soft. She spread her legs to accommodate it. The hand rubbed gently at her oh-so-wet slit. Someone giggled, and then two fingers slipped in with ease, rubbing skillfully at the very top of her pussy. Carrie practically purred, her tits burning hot, until another hand started to gently rub at her nipples.

“You are just too cute!” someone said. The fingers rubbed harder, fiercely, strumming on her clit. Carrie was elsewhere, getting face-fucked by Jason, then a dozen other men, the same dream, jets of cum streaming all over her. But she was so thirsty, so thirsty for more. She sucked and sucked on cock after cock until a spasm overtook her and she was gone, brain overloaded, shutting down with cum on the mind.

* * *

“Actually, yeah, I have seen her,” Daniel said. He glanced into the darkly shaded back windows of the SUV. Was there movement back there? Did he hear giggles? His own girlfriend... well, friend... waited impatiently.

“Hard to forget someone like that, right?” the man said, grinning. “My niece. She has, you know. Issues.” The man smiled and showed teeth. “Where was she going?”

“East,” Daniel said, promptly. He felt a strong urge not to fuck with this guy. He was large. “Towards the highway. It’s just a two lane, leads up into the mountains. She was wearing heels, so, I don’t know if she actually got there.”

“Sir, you are the first helpful person I’ve met. Well,” the man glanced backwards. “Fourth or fifth, I guess. You two lovebirds going to the movies? Enjoy.”

“We’re not lovebirds,” Karen interrupted.

The man smiled. “Sure.”

* * *

They settled into two seats near the back. The theater was nearly empty, saving a few other coup—few other boy and girl combinations, sitting discretely away from all others. The movie was in deliberate black and white and was about race relations. As soon as they lights dimmed, the other... duos... leaned into each other.

“I wonder if there’s a way to get people to NOT assume this is a date,” Karen grumbled. “Like, wear a t-shirt that says “THIS IS FOR COLLEGE” on it.”

“Wear matching outfits,” Daniel said. “Totally matching. Then they’d think we’re weirdos instead.”

“Hmmm... I like that... but no, it wouldn’t work. We’d just be creepy-but-dating. Almost everyone can get married these days. Internet.”

“Hey, that’s weird,” Daniel said. The man from the SUV filed in, with a girl to his side. It was dim in the theater, but still obvious that he had his hand on her butts. “It’s the SUV guy.”

“Do you think he followed us?” Karen said, tapping her teeth with a finger. She was a freckle-specked brunette, prone to Indie Band t-shirts. Today’s had extra holes.

“No... I think it’s ju—... ju—” the movie started. It flickered and throbbed and warped on the screen.

* * *

“...just coincide—umm.. what?” Daniel said.

The film played on. He was having trouble following the plot, to be honest. Some sort of drama. In fact, he might’ve fallen asleep. A bucket of drool stained the top of his shirt. Hopefully it would dry before Karen noticed.

He looked over to the left. He had his arm around her, which was a good sign. It had taken real work to talk Karen into this date. The top of her shirt was damp, too. Well. She noticed him staring at her shirt, took it the wrong way, and winked. “I’m having a good time,” she said, smiling, and winked once more.

The screen caught his attention—

* * *

Daniel surfaced for air. The movie played on to his right, unnoticed and uninteresting. Karen made a little whine in the back of her throat and pushed up against him again. They had been necking for... how long? Fierce, lengthy, slurpy kisses. She had really decided to let loose tonight. Cautious, Daniel put his hands under her shirt, found her boobs, and cupped them. She giggled. Something flickered—

* * *

Karen purred in his lap, grinding against him. She had lost her shirt at some point, and one bra strap hung loose. It was a little bit exhibitionist, but that was Karen for you, eager for that extra sexual frisson. He lowered his head to her tits and briefly sucked her nipples hard.

“Something is...” Daniel said, breaking off. He looked up. The other couples were going at it just as hard, necking and petting and groping. Everyone was on top of each other. On screen, another couple was rubbing at each other enthusiastically. “Wrong. Karen, something....”

* * *

“...deeper.” Daniel ordered. Karen obeyed, pushing his cock deeper down her throat. She sprawled between his legs, jeans unbuttoned, rubbing at herself with one hand. The other gripped the base.

Karen was a fantastic slampiece, if hard to talk to. She had occasionally referred to herself as his girlfriend, but really, mostly he kept her around to drain his dick. Which she was always happy to do. Daniel reminded himself to give her a hundred. Let her know where she stood. He looked up at the screen—

* * *

“What’s your name, again?” Daniel said, idly. The girl bounced on his lap, naked, milking his dick with considerable skill. On the screen behind her, a row of girls closed their eyes and got ready to be jizzed on.

“Ummm...” the girl said, drooling. Daniel laughed. She could never remember when she was on a dick. Or remember much of anything. “It’s Karen,” he told her. No, wait, that was wrong. “Clit. It’s clit.”

“Clit,” the girl agreed, her hair bouncing wildly. Her nipples were bright pink. She kept her mouth open when she fucked, which was endearingly brainless. The occasional orgasmic shriek swept the theater. “Clit.”

“Good girl,” Daniel said, and slapped her ass appreciatively.

* * *

—flicker. Daniel didn’t notice it. He was cumming, unleashing a torrent of jizz into Clit. She whimpered and bucked, deep in her own ongoing climax. The theater was a pit of screams. And then the lights came on.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking her hair. Some intelligence filtered back in, with his dick removed. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’m done.” Should he leave her a hundred? It had seemed like he was doing her a favor.

Her clothes were in a pile next to them. Strange that such a slut wore such crappy clothes. Daniel couldn’t recall if she had come in with underpants. Well, no matter.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” a man said. Daniel vaguely recalled him from... somewhere. He was large. Clit’s pimp? Apparently. He held a black leather choker with a braided lead. Clit snapped it with relief around her throat.

“Thanks,” Daniel said. “Should I…?”

“Oh, no charge,” the man said, reading his intent. A bimbo in a blue dress ambled up behind him. He laughed. “In fact, thank YOU.”

* * *

It was immediately clear to Carrie that absolutely nothing had happened between her to Aline the previous night.

The evidence was obvious. First of all, she had had sticky, sweaty, wet dreams the entire night, so one more with Aline fingering her to orgasm was just par for the course. It would be weird, she told herself, if she HADN’T had a sex dream involving her hot new semi-roommate. Second of all, she was not into girls. Third of all, her underwear was ON when she woke up.

Fortified by this belief, Carrie felt able to ignore the nail polish marks between her thighs.

Actually, it was kind of easy to ignore anything. She woken up peppy and fizzy, her attention scattered. A long, hot shower probably would’ve helped, or at least rinsed off that omnipresent sweet scent. But that wasn’t possible, so Carrie just brushed her teeth instead.

An entire day of guzzling dairy had left her bloated. Her bra was tight, and the girls ached.

Downstairs, Aline was laughing to Rick’s jokes about water management.

“And then he turns to me,” Rick said, gesturing roughly, “and says, Rick, if it has to run uphill, it can do me that favor just this once.” He grinned. Syrup dripped into his beard, and he had a tall cup of coffee in front of him. It was the most energetic Carrie had seen him in months.

“That’s so funny!” Aline said. Carrie’s consciousness avoided examining the girl’s nails. Certainly they were well-painted. They had never been between her legs. Positive.

“Carrie! Good morning!” Rick said. Elaine stood at the sink, doing dishes. “Aline is such a find! You should go back to that bus stop and check for more girls.”

Carrie nodded, half-listening. She felt a deep and sudden thirst for—“coffee. Is there any coffee?”

“Gallons! This stuff is great. All the caffeine, none of the shivers.” He downed another brown carafe in one go, for emphasis. “Alright, I am out of here. Gotta find some fluid out there. Later, girl.” He gave Elaine a casual, affectionate smack on the rear.

Carrie’s mom looked back, blushed deeply, and then returned to scrubbing dishes.

Carrie had barely noticed. The slightest hint of coffee drew all of her attention. Wordlessly, she filled a coffee mug to the brim, then a nearby water cup, and drank both. It should’ve been too hot. She should’ve waited to savor the aroma, wondered about origin, marveled at the acidity. Instead she chugged it, mindless, until both big cups were downed. Brown streaks trickled down her chin. Happy, wonderful energy pulsed through her.

Carrie burped.

“So I was gonna leave today,” Aline said. “I thought I would just walk into the mountains until I ran into dwarfs and stuff and I would live with them.”

Carrie’s brainstem said no to that, and reasoning eventually followed.

“Aline, you’re not leaving,” she said, firmly. Carrie looked Aline full in the face. Faint memories of her new housemate licking between her thighs threatened to surface. Carrie pushed them back. “We’re going to work, and we’re going to make coffee. I bet there’s already a line.”

“Good for you, honey,” Elaine mumbled. She was still dry-washing dishes and rubbing thoughtfully at her rear end.

“There’s cops and stuff,” Aline pointed out.

“We’ll go a few towns over and get some big water tubs until we can convince them otherwise,” Carrie said. She paused to drink another big cup of coffee. God, she felt good. “Then I’m gonna talk to Jason.”

“Oh!” Aline brightened. “So you’re gonna give him a big, sloppy, blo—Carrie, are you okay? Why are you waving your arms like that?”

* * *

Jessica woke up. The desk beneath her head was a pool of drool. She raised a set of bleary eyes and stared right at a big tan ass shaking in her face.

She jerked back. Memories only very slowly filtered in. That was a laptop. She was in her room. The butt was a .gif. She had spent hours last night looking at pictures and videos and EVERYTHING of sexy asian girl butts.

Honestly, all she had done was type ‘asian’ into google image search and clicked from there. More and more furiously.

In a vague way Jessica had been aware of asian female sexualization and objectification, and she had joked about it, and generally felt like it didn’t apply to her. She was somewhat pear-shaped. The SEXY ones had doll faces and gazelle legs and anime eyes. But it turned out men were willing to fuck lots of things, and there was a whole fetish... whole INDUSTRY devoted to girls like her, provided they were willing to wear swimsuits and get jizzed on.

Jessica lusted for a swimsuit, all of a sudden.

It was hard, in the bleary morning, to make sense of. She had thought she was a nobody in an old dead town, and it turned out instead that if she took a selfie in a mirror of her butt, millions of men around the world would jack off to it.

It was... well. She had two sore fingers. And a sore thumb.

Jessica scraped her body out of the chair, pulled her hair back, and scrounged on top of the bed for reasonably clean shorts and a shirt. She didn’t have a running bra. Oh well. Then into old New Balances and out the door to run. She had weight to lose.

The .gif continued to work it, in silence.

* * *

Carrie found it hard to talk seriously with Jason around a mouthful of penis. Delightful, wonderful penis. How had she never done this before?

Wait, she told herself. Back up. How did this happen, exactly?

She had showed up to Jason’s apartment certain that whatever happened, it was not going to involve her gently tonguing his dick. Definitely she was not going to feel the tip of his penis bobbing at the back of her throat. True, she had dressed up, in a white knit dress with blue stockings. And she had combed her hair out at least a hundred times and added red patches of color to her pale cheeks. And true, she had THOUGHT of Aline’s instructions to deepthroat her way to success.

Aline had elaborated during the drive down to get water bottles. At length. “You got to lick, and suck, and lick and suck and lick and suck,” she said, enthusiastic as ever. “It’s SO much harder to give a great blowie then to just get fucked! I mean your cunny is all meant for getting fucked but your mouth does a lot of other stuff too so you have to like, train it! But that just makes it more special when he jizzes!”

Carrie hadn’t said much, during the drive. She nodded a lot. And sipped from her thermos. Making her own pot of coffee had not even crossed her mind.

She had roused herself from reverie about dick sucking long enough to drop off Aline at the bookstore with the water and stern instructions about payment. There was a line, as predicted. Not just boys, this time—girlfriends in fleece and boots grumbling about the cold. The boys waited calmly.

Whatever non-blowjob plans Carrie had formulated went out the window when Jason turned up mad.

“I haven’t heard from you in over a day,” he said, point-blank. Carrie opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it again. Parts of her she usually ignored panicked: a man was upset. She had to make it better.

“I probably sent you a dozen texts. I left a voicemail,” Jason said. “I haven’t left anyone a voicemail in years. Who leaves voicemails? You disappeared with that girl and that was it! I told my Dad and he gave me a look like, you abandoned a possible victim?”

Jason wore a red flannel shirt that was well-worn and just tight enough. He chopped his own wood. He wasn’t heavily built or anything but Carrie found her eyes floating to his big, mad, biceps. She fought an urge to whimper. “Sorry!” she said, mortified. “I’m so sorry!”

“And then I guess you gave her your job and also broke the law,” Jason sighed. He turned to the side. Carrie meekly walked in. Embarrassment flooded her. Part of her said: argue back! But that part was submerged in dark black coffee.

Jason’s apartment was darkly lit, dirty. Carrie usually avoided it. But now she thought new, desperate thoughts: maybe he’ll like if I clean it, maybe I should cook, maybe I should blow his brains out.

“What if I...” and just like that Carrie found herself heading to her knees. The dress would probably get stained on the dirty carpet. The front door was still open.

They were both a little shocked that Carrie was in blowjob pose.

Jason was quick on the uptake. His anger disappeared, magically gone, as soon as she flounced onto her knees. “Aline was right,” Carrie thought. God, now she had to suck on a dick. She let Jason do the work of unbuttoning and pulling his pants down. At least she had seen his penis before. Just not floating in front of her face. She gently took her first lick.

And that took her back to the present.

ALMOST to the present. This wasn’t, actually, the FIRST blowjob. It was more like the second. The first had been a pretty quick jizz onto her face. Somehow eager for more, Carrie had lapped at him with her tongue until he was hard again. And now he had staying power, letting her experiment with her mouth, her tongue. Figure out what caused salty precum to jet onto her tongue, let him communicate with manly grunts and tugs on her hair.

Carrie had to admit that hummers were really, really kind of fun. The scent, the game of it, the control, the surprisingly fulfilling load at the end. Like salty caramel. Even keeping her teeth out of the way was.. nice. Like an ongoing favor. And it was so INTIMATE. More so then sex, the erotic charge of his most precious dangling before her. When he looked at her, there was a new adoration there.

She was very, very wet.

“I’m gonna cum, want me to pull out?” Jason said, hoarse. She answered him by speeding up, letting him loose control, confident now that she could handle a white spray of cum to top of a belly full of coffee. And Jason did not disappoint one bit.

* * *

It was very clear to Anne that she had to back that annoying, aggravating, regressive Aline girl to the hilt. Otherwise being a feminist meant nothing at all.

The bookstore owner watched the line curve into her store. Curve was certainly the word for it. Everyone young and flirty and sexy had suddenly gotten into dark—well, mostly dark—coffee. There were blondes in denim white shorts and a trio of latinas with their arms tight around boyfriends. Plenty of grabass. Tons of giggling. And at the front of it all, a whirlwind of bubbly, rounded girl pouring huge cups of joe.

Anne had drunk a few herself. They were... warming.

Being a feminist meant being pro-woman, and Aline was ALL woman. Whatever female sexuality and energy and all-around girlness was, she was it. She should be put in a dictionary, Anne told herself. Or more likely, a bunch of calendars.

“Five ready to go!” Aline shouted. She poured wildly, but flawlessly, into upturned cups. Her own upturned cups were well-displayed underneath a cute brown sweater. To her left, a display on Sylvia Plath was being used to hold the tip jar. It bristled with bills.

Anne had briefly had a sexuality in college, and it hadn’t really worked out. She was, in her own mind, 34 and shriveling. She wore black, often, and dark black glasses that were more librarian then hipster. Of course, everyone was a little androgynous next to the big, bosomy girl.

“Just put the money into the jar!” Aline said, cheerfully waving a set of bills off. And they WERE. It was all honor system and working wonderfully.

A boy and girl cleared their throats, one after the other, near the register. Anne jolted upright. “Oh! Um. What can I get for you?”

The boy nervously looked around, then slid the Good Vibrations Guide to Sex over the counter. “It’s $21, I have it right here,” the boy said. The girl giggled. She held both of their big cups of coffee. She wore boots with socks and a big coat, and had bare legs in between. “We don’t need to wrap up or anything.”

“Oh, you should always wrap it up,” Anne said, and flashed the couple a look. Horrorstruck, the two dropped a bunch of sweaty bills and marched away, naughty book between them. Anne had a bunch of sex-positive books next to the Women’s Studies. No one usually bothered. Easy enough to look up sex on the internet.

“Where did that come from?” she asked herself. Innuendo? Even arch, marmish innuendo? She sipped again from her coffee. Aline had done one of her periodic dives beneath the counter to do... something.

And then there were two cops looming over the blonde. Anne vaguely recognized them. O’Rourke’s adjutants, they generally lurked on the outskirts of town and preyed on the speeding. They were brown-haired, heavily built, and both typically wore heavy cop sunglasses. Both were sporting them now.

“Miss, I think we talked about the water situation yesterday,” one said. Anne termed him mustache, as he had one. She stood up to get involved.

“Umm... no we didn’t!” Aline said.

Officer Mustache took in the tits, the hair, the puzzled expression, and made a mental adjustment. “Office O’Rourke talked to you about it.” he clarified. Aline continued to look blank. “We’re in the same police department. So when I said, we, I meant—look, you need to stop making coffee.”

There was a hearty round of boos from the line. The other officer, Anne termed him Officer Chin, looked uneasy.

“Officer,” Anne interjected. The cops reluctantly turned away from Aline’s boobs. “We bought this water. No city water involved. The jugs are out back.”

All three of them shared the same thought, which was, the jugs are right here, and twirling her hair. “Aline, take them out back and show them,” Anne said. “I’ll handle the line in your absence.”

The bookstore owner turned to the long line of randy teenagers and took a deep breath. She could do this. It was just too bad her boobs weren’t showing.

Wait, what?

* * *

“See? There they are! Like we said!” Aline told the cops, pointing at the two stacks of water jugs.

The full water jugs.

The cops exchanged a look. “Miss, these are 100% full,” said Chin.

“Oh! Well, it was soo hard to get the water out for the coffee with everyone in line so I was just gonna... pour this back into the tap later to make up for it!” Aline explained. She beamed.

“Okay. Miss, I think what we’re gonna do here...” Mustache began.

“Are you gonna put handcuffs on me?” Aline said.

“No, look...”

Aline suddenly moved her hips to the left, and bent just a bit, and Chin’s crotch was pressed deeply into her perfect half-moon of an ass. He looked down into a fantastic slice of rear end, his cock already starting to respond. Meanwhile, Aline, cooing, had Mustache’s eyes locked down her cleavage as she poked around his belt.

“Oh I don’t mind handcuffs,” she said, and her voice grew more husky as she ground backwards. Her hands found what they were looking for. “Hm, I don’t know if this will fit! Is it okay if I pull them out?”

She tugged down his zipper.

Officer Chin could see his wedding band on his left hand, where he had gripped Aline’s ass. He tried to concentrate on it, on the fact that they were in an alley, on the insanity of his hardening cock. But there was this... smell.. that laced out of the perpetrat—the female. Like they had already been banging for hours. It made pushing back into her elastic ass.. okay.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Aline said, fishing Mustache’s cock out. It was nice, and hard, and it had been far too long since she had sucked on a good dick. The man was being disappointingly passive, though. Where were the handcuffs? At least she could hold his cock straight that much more easily. He hissed at the first lick.

Chin fumbled with her fly, unwilling to move away from her ass and break the spell. It was complex, with her bent over and already sucking on his partner, but he managed to tug her shorts and underwear off with a firm pull. He didn’t even rightly recall opening his own fly. Aline, not missing a suck, reached back and tugged him by the cock towards a pink slit already moist in the weak alley light.

It was hard to moan with a dick in her mouth, but Aline could smile.

They were not skilled lovers, but they were big men with firm cocks, and that counted for a lot. Both were panting, breathing sharply through their noses, uniforms still intact with just two cocks poking out. Her shorts were in a heap on the dirty pavement. It was nice that there was no chance of rain.

Officer Mustache had never been so hard, so firm. Each breath made him pump more frantically into her willing mouth. Whatever embarrassment there was from running a train on a girl with his partner was lost, burnt away.

Both men were sure they had the better end of her.

Officer Chin emptied out first. Some vague sense of concern made him halt, wonder about contraception, but Aline pointedly backed up, squeezed with her pussy, and then milked him dry. The warm jets of sperm in her cunny made her giggle and cum, which led to another hot spray in her mouth. It was wonderful.

The trio sagged. Aline daintily put her feet down. She patted each cop on the cheek, warmly. “Come by tomorrow!” she whispered. “It has to be both of you!” There was not a drop of cum anywhere on her. It had all disappeared up a nice, wet hole. The two police officers zipped up, stared at her longingly, and then ambled off bowlegged.

Anne, at the door, watched them go. She had walked in on the scene halfway. Her pussy screamed for attention.

She had to rethink everything about feminism, right after she spent a half-hour in the bathroom, with a number of fingers stuck up her slit.

* * *

“Delivery, sir. And room service. And uh, delivery,” Rebecca said. She had needed the trolley to carry everything. A large package in cardboard, sandwiches for ten, and most oddly, two big jugs of water.

“Thank you, Miss.....” the big man in the cheap dress shirt looked at her nametag. “Rebecca. Go ahead and bring them in, thanks.”

Rebecca inhaled something... odd. Hotels had a particular scent. Cleaning materials and endless carpets and beds. That was gone. This one was.. like leather. Still on the cow. If it was his cologne, she was impressed.

“Okay to put on the....” Rebecca trailed off. “Bed?”

There were two girls in the bed. Loosely under the sheet. Naked, obviously. With warm and dazed smiles even as they slept. Rebecca was old enough to know that look. So freshly and firmly fucked the world was brighter. “I’ll put everything on the floor,” she finished.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” the man smiled. “Thank you very much. Wherever works for you.”

* * *

“Sir, delivery,” Rebecca said. She licked her lips, then cursed herself. She’d lick off her lipstick. Why was she even wearing lipstick? This was a boring corporate hotel and she was meant to look boring. Wine-red lipstick didn’t cover that.

“Oh,” the man didn’t need to look at her nametag. It hung jauntily from a blouse with a few buttons open. “Rebecca. Come on in.”

Another big delivery. Box after box. Rebecca pushed them in. And more water bottles. The previous ones were empty on the floor. “Go ahead and put them wherever. And if you could take the empties with you? That’s a good girl.”

Good girl. She was a good girl. Rebecca nearly bit her lip. The scent swirled around her.

The man turned back to the desk. Tearouts from a Thomas Guide hung there, neatly assembled, a map of the entire region.

A naked girl ambled out of the bathroom. She was dripping wet. Water droplets clung to each of two impossibly big breasts. “Sir,” the nymph said. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Business first,” the man said, staring at the maps. He turned, relenting. “But I suppose a little pleasure. Thanks again, Rebecca.”

* * *

“Hi there!” Rebecca said, smiling. Her smile dropped a fraction when a girl opened the door. But at least the scent was still there. God, she needed to bring a towel or something. Or steal one of his shirts.

She needed the scent. It haunted her after work. She had found reasons to stand near the door, hoping it would open.

“Come in!” said the girl, a different one. She wore a garish pink tube top with bulging tits, “Is he...”

“He’s almost done with Laurie!” the girl said, cheerfully.

Rebecca pushed the cart in. From the bathroom door came wet feminine moans, and a rhythmic slapping noise. There was a rising, girlish scream. Rebecca’s knees went weak. She’d been moaning a lot herself, lately.

On the TV dresser stand what looked like a chemistry set had been erected, full of test tubes and bubbling contents. Most were clear. A few were a deep burgundy red. Over by the desk the maps had been marked and marked with a pen.

“What is...” her nipples burned. “...all this?”

“Oh, he’s working on our tits,” the girl said. She pulled them casually out of the tube top. The girl had big brown nipples. “Aren’t they great?”

“Oh, Rebecca,” the man said. He was naked. A lengthy, veiny cock dripped between his legs. He slowly wrapped a towel around himself. Rebecca’s mouth watered. “Sorry. I was busy. Hmm.”

“What.. what is this?” she said. Scent roiled off the man, making it hard to stand. It climbed up into Rebecca’s skirt, past the tawdry black panties she had bought last night, into the slit she had shaven just recently.

“Yes. Well. Rebecca, can you drink this for me?” the man snatched a tube from the chemistry set. It was somehow ice cold. It was insane to consider drinking it. Rebecca drank like a newborn.

“Wonderful,” the man said. He gripped her chin, looked in her eyes, and smiled. “You can leave the packages on the floor wherever,” he said.

* * *

“Room service,” Becky said.

The man opened the door, eyed her. Her tits had come in nicely. At least a few cup sizes. And the way she had put a bow around them was a good touch. Maybe she could stay a little smarter. “Come in, dear.”

Becky walked in, the ribbon rubbing between her thighs. She had intended to dramatically pull it off when she came in, but was distracted by the two girls energetically 69ing on the bed. They both had huge, wobbly tits.

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I asked them to entertain themselves. I wanted to be ready for you.”

The map on the wall had a big circle around a few towns up in the mountains. The man looked at it briefly, with satisfaction. He let Becky undo his fly.

“You can just get on your hands and knees on the floor wherever,” he told her.

* * *

Carrie had spent a perfectly wonderful day with her totally great boyfriend.

It was such a welcome departure from constantly watching herself from the outside, measuring reactions, wondering about the future. Overthinking everything about her life, her prospects, her boyfriend, each and every physical contact. Using her body like a puppet to achieve vague goals. No wonder she had never really gotten intimate with Jason. It hadn’t been possible. She was in the completely wrong frame of mind.

Now she was getting intimate. Jason had been intimate in her mouth twice already, the randy boy. The second time she had managed to swallow a lot of his spunk, and it had gotten them so much closer.

Her man was recovering from a vigorous mouth fuck, resting on the couch with a beer. He wore loose boxer shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He watched sports on TV. Carrie did the dishes. Well, her body did. Her mind was luxuriating in the well-etched memory of Jason’s cock thrusting into her face.

She had never felt this good, this relaxed. It was difficult to even think of problems. Carrie tried to dredge up old concerns over work future or her long-term plans. They just slid away, unable to find purchase in a mind full of cocks.

Occasionally she would giggle to herself, while working away on the dishes. There were a lot of them. Jason wasn’t much for housework. That was fine.

“Babe,” Jason said. Carrie’s pussy tingled. The perfect word. “..do you have any more of this coffee? I finished it off.”

A dark surge of dismay threatened her mood. It wouldn’t do to cut off the coffee flow. It was just as good cold. Creamier. “Oh. Oh! Oh my gosh, I completely forgot! Aline! She’s... I’m supposed to get you to help us! Your Dad is threatening the coffee shop!”

“And I’m supposed to..?” Jason said, amiable. He stood up. His cock fell out of his boxers. Carrie forced her eyes away from it. She was doing dishes like a good girl.

“I dunno,” she mumbled. What had been the plan, exactly? “Get him to lay off and stuff.”

Jason laughed. “Get my Dad to stop? He’d just push it harder. He’d be like, I’m supposed to stop enforcing the law because your girlfriend gave you a hummer that could stop time?”

“Was it really that great?” Carrie said, biting her lip.

“Oh geez, you need to ask? You missed a spot of sperm, by the way. On your hair. No, leave it,” Jason said.

Carrie’s hand froze, halfway towards her forehead. Leave sperm there, for the world to see? That she had a big strong man giving it to her?

He walked over and grabbed her by the ass, pulled her away from the kitchen counter. Carrie squealed, unresisting. God, she was wet. “Aline,” she reminded herself. “Go help Aline.”

“Leave it. You’re gonna be dirty again in a few minutes,” Jason said. He gently lowered her towards her knees. His cock was hard again. That should not have been physically possible. But Carrie knew exactly what a nice hard dick looked like, lately, and this certainly was one. She told herself that she’d make it quick, to get back to business.

But when Jason pulled out and ordered her to bend over the couch, panties down, she didn’t exactly complain.

* * *

Across town, at the exact same time, Elaine washed dishes with a very small basin and very little water. She was always the very best in the town at water use, took pride in the meter barely registering flow, took pride in the dead lawn out front. After all, every extra drop seemed to be wrung right out of her husband.

Typically he walked, exhausted, through the door at 7:00, and wordlessly ate dinner. So it was a surprise when the big, ruddy-faced man hummed as he came in through the door. And even more when he flashed her a smile.

“Looking good, darlin’.” Rick boomed. He stood straight, strong. “You dress up for me?”

“Oh, I... well...” Elaine had pulled out clothes from a decade ago, or more. A black and white striped pencil skirt and cropped top. Silly to do the dishes in. “mmmmaybe.”

He smiled, showed teeth. “And you got rid of the girls for me? Well. That’s fine by me.” He took her wet hand, spun her out, pulled her back in. His knee ended up between her legs. That was fine by Elaine.

“You’re looking... stronger,” she said, patting his cheek.

“I got out of the office. Walked around all day. Realized I needed to get away from the maps and start looking for water. Only a human would look for water in an office. Got to think like an animal.”

“Like an animal?” Elaine said. She put her hand on the front of his jeans. Oh yes, like an animal.

Rick casually picked her up, made for the kitchen table, and then stopped. “I guess we should stick to the bedroom. That’s life with kids.”

Two strong arms supported her. Elaine relaxed. She hadn’t been this randy in forever. “I’m sure we’ll be okay,” she assured him.

* * *

Jessica had run a good five miles. She wasn’t tired. It hadn’t really occurred to her that there was anything strange with going from couch to multi-miler.

And to think she was in loose, relaxed running shorts! If she was in proper spandex, shaped to her body, she could probably attract double the boys. As was, their leers and stares and adoring looks were like fuel, pushing her, urging her onwards, imagining the pounds falling off as she ran. Like she was running towards a sexier, sluttier version of herself.

Well, sexier. Not sluttier. Where had that come from?

All sorts of boys had turned to look at the perspiring asian girl laboring around town. Many even—and god, was it lubricating—walking around with girlfriends. Everyone was out of doors tonight, in the cool dry air, sipping coffee and squeezing members of the opposite sex. The best was a boy on a street corner, pressed against a wall by a leggy blonde, making out with abandon. And then seeing his eyes pop open to review her rear as Jessica legged it by.

The sound of the argument behind her had made Jessica practically cream herself.

Twice she had stopped to find bathrooms to cool down. Her thighs rubbing together, her tits bouncing up and down, the male attention... her libido was running at an unprecedented rate. If she closed her eyes Jessica could see herself before a mirror, a boy’s hands on her ass, getting gently reamed.

She tried to keep her eyes open. Already a car had nearly hit her. Another couple. From the boy’s glazed look, Jessica suspected a covert handjob was going on.

Sweating, overheated, Jessica realized that she could really go for some crisp, refreshing coffee.

* * *

It was rare for anyone to go around at night. There was no nightlife in town. People flitted about in cars searching for house parties, of which there were few, and drank at home.

But the streets, tonight, were alive. Even the streetlights seemed brighter. There were couples all around, dressed up and all over each other. Every dark corner that Jason’s battered truck illuminated seemed to reveal a randy couple pressed against each other. Half the time, the girl had the boy pinned, his hands pressed into her ass. And when the girl was pressed against the wall, she seemed likely to have her legs wrapped around her man.

There were a lot of exposed legs for a chilly mountain night. This wasn’t a very sexy town, but every girl had that pair of too-tight jean shorts or minis that belonged to a younger version of herself. Carrie wished she had dumped the stockings. But they were cute. And warm.

She felt, for the first time, a frisson of concern way deep in her stomach. A sense of abnormality, weirdness. But it was so easy to tell herself that this was moving forwards: as a girlfriend, as a woman, as a businesslady. How could riding at night with her man be anything but right? Especially with a gallon of his cum in her tummy.

It was a good thing the dress would hide the jizz stains.

“How’re we gonna find her?” Jason asked, discouraged. They had crawled through almost the entire town.

“Anne saw her leave at 9,” Carrie said. With the coffee line still waiting. The bookstore owner had been distracted, toying with a polka dot skirt. It was the first time Carrie had seen her idol’s legs. “Said she looked fine. But I don’t think she can get to the house. She’s probably still wandering around.”

“You should suck his dick,” her body told her. It was disconcerting. She tried to ignore it. Suck one cock and her libido wanted a hundred? But he smelled so good. The whole town smelled good.

“There!” Carrie said, catching a flash of gold and blonde. She clutched a payphone—Carrie hadn’t known the town had one—and looked distraught. Aline was still ravishing, nevertheless, with her mascara running and shivering in the cold.

“I can’t remember the rest of it,” she told them, distracted, as the two approached. Her scent was heady, wonderful. It made Carrie relax, even with Aline’s obvious distress. “Um, it’s so hard to remember, I get so close and then it’s like, poof!”

“Remember what?” Jason said. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the blonde. It didn’t help her anxiety.

“The number! Five-five-five, three-two-one, four-five-two..and then nothing!”

Carrie counted. One short of a phone number. Plus the phone was disconnected, had been for years. Aline was just punching buttons.

“Lets go home, okay?” she said, gently, and led Aline into the truck. Carrie sat in the back. Aline sniffled, then cheered up in the warmth of the car.

“I guess I’ll remember it eventually,” she said, as Jason drove off. “It’s just, I fucked these guys, and suddenly I remembered something, and... " she trailed off, then sighed. “I guess I’m just a silly girl.”

“There’s worse things to be,” Carrie said, sympathetically. Jason’s eyes kept edging toward’s Aline’s cleavage. She supposed she could feel jealous, but it was hard to feel anything but blissed.

“Aline, is there someone after you?” Jason said.

“Umm,” Aline said. She looked out the window. “Maybe? I dunno? But... I remember a... guy.”

“You see a single hair of his, you call me, okay?” Jason said. He gently put his hand on her leg. Now Carrie was jealous. But he was a man, and Aline was all woman, it was just—but no, he was hers. Hers.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Aline said, beaming.

* * *

Jessica didn’t see the car before it hit her.

She heard it screech, fishtail. The headlights careened back and forth, blinding her. She froze in the middle of the street.

The car nearly stopped in time. The front bumper tapped her, and she fell down, more out of reflex. It hadn’t really hurt.

A big, sexy man stared down at her, in the street. She gave him a smile, and prepared to apologize for getting in his way. Jessica slowly recognized him as Jason. Carrie, in a too-short white dress, also appeared.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Jessica said, rising to her feet. She WAS fine, especially after getting one of the last few coffees doled out before the shop closed. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Just caffeine. She was a little hungry.

Soon she was shoved in the back of the cab with Carrie, protests aside.

It was unbelievably heady in there, three girls and a boy in a small interior.

Whatever lingering leather scent there was was evaporated underneath Aline’s wet and ready scent, Jessica’s hot sweat, and Carrie, who basically smelled like Jason. It was a hot soup of horniness, and they all luxuriated in it, even Aline, who was used to being randy all the time.

Jason rode slow and lingered at stop signs. His subconscious told him that he could fuck any one of those girls at any time. It was a nice realization.

‘I... uh...” Carrie started. Thoughts moved sluggishly through her head. Forget long-term ambitions, it was hard to form actual sentences. Her hand, in the darkness of the night, had wandered between her legs. “Legs...” she trailed off, drooled.

Jessica’s mouth hung open, her eyes dull, as she inhaled and exhaled. It was a surprisingly kissable mouth, Carrie thought. Everything seemed so erogenous, so wonderfully fuckable. She could reach around the seat and grab Aline’s titties, she could put her mouth in Jason’s lap, she could put her hand between Jessica’s thighs—were they thinner?

These were strange thoughts. Carrie shook her head, tried to clear them, re-establish higher order reasoning. But it was so hard, so pointless. It was nice to be an animal, for once. She luxuriated in it.

They drifted to a stop a few blocks from Carrie’s house, just breathing in sex and waiting for the first move. Jessica felt at a disadvantage, her ass on the seat. And he was Carrie’s boyfriend, or something. Jason’s cock throbbed. He had to figure out how to fuck three girls at the same time in a small truck, and it was too hard to figure out the geometry.

“Hey, should I make some coffee for everyone?” Aline said, eventually.

The spell broke. As horny as they were, they were all ready for coffee.

* * *

“Okay, my parents are home,” Carrie said. She paused. She had peeked inside their bedroom. It was dark, but a woman-ish figure had been pretty clearly tied to the bedframe while a man-ish figure ate her out. She filed the mental image away. “Lets not go upstairs ever.”

Jessica hovered around Jason. Her chest was still heaving from an entire day of calorie-burning. She felt the first pangs of hunger. Carrie examined her, puzzled. Had she always been that thin underneath baggy pants and shirts? Jessica looked like she had dropped twenty pounds. Her stomach was practically flat.

“Just be a second,” Aline chirped. She was back to her old, cheerful tits-and-ass self. It was the first time Carrie had really seen her make coffee. The girl expected careful use of measuring cups, pre-wetting the grounds, heating the carafe.

Instead, Aline poured grounds carelessly into the hopper, with a double-dry filter, and poured in water until the reservoir was overflowing. Enough logical reasoning had come back into Carrie’s skull, freed from the overwhelming scent of sex, to predict the result. Weak, sad, water-coffee.

The three changing twenty-somethings watched a barely-brown liquid flow into the carafe.

Aline pulled the jug out and unscrewed the top. She looked at them shyly. “Umm, can I just do the milk in front of you? Is that okay? We’re all friends and stuff now?”

“Uh, sure, Aline,” Carrie said, puzzled. How long would she have to wait before drinking it? She wanted it bad. All three of them did. She could burn her mouth a little bit, that was fine.

“Oh, thanks! It’s gonna be a relief actually!”

Aline pulled her tits out. With a sigh and a practiced motion she aimed one teat at the carafe, and squeezed.

Milk jetted out of her tits and into the coffee. A long, whitish stream. The three of them watched, silently.

The second breast was emptied out the same way. Aline tucked them back in, just a bit smaller. They were creamy white, perfect, the nipples a raw brown. The blonde poured them three cups of light brown coffee. It smelled wonderful.

“You can’t drink this,” Carrie told herself. It had breast milk in it. It was insane, bizarre. It smelled so good.

She realized she was just waiting for it to cool.

* * *

The store had gotten used to the water crisis up in the mountains. The manager had put big gallons and jugs and sets of water bottles up at the front of the store, and they had hired an extra cashier for the early morning rush. He called the customers who waited at the gate for their water his ‘camels’, and meant it with affection. The store did superb business by 9 a.m.

Cheryl felt some qualms about it, but they had only raised the price a little bit, and none of the customers ever complained about gouging. She had been to their town—it was hard to imagine living there before a water crisis. But the whole thing still seemed faintly skeezy, so she typically stayed well back in apparel and got the stocking done during the rush.

So it was a surprise when a pair of busty girls in nearly matching hensleys wandered in at opening. They were both sipping coffee from big tall cups and—it was extremely obvious—not wearing bras.

“Hi!” the blonder one said. “We’re looking for your bra section?”

“I’m sure,” Cheryl thought. “Around the corner,” she actually said. She grudgingly added “do you need help measuring?”

The girls gave each other a warm look. “We’ll manage!” blonder said.

And that was just the first set.

They kept walking in, sometimes, rarely, with a Mom in tow. Bright-eyed young ladies with apparent growth spurts and happy, lazy smiles. And well-caffeinated. All of them sporting well-sized bosoms that maybe fought against an underpowered bra. It was a cold morning, but they were all in skimpy denim, tight leggings and minis with boots and shorts so tight the zipper teeth strained. A few wanted resizing.

“That can’t be right,” one told her, looking brow furrowed, at the tape. A pair of teardrop-shaped tits bobbled between them. “That’s two cup sizes up.”

“You were probably mis-measured last time,” Cheryl told her. The customer didn’t look very worried. She wore a bright yellow shirt with a scoop neck. It was ready to show off two well-formed tits.

It was so busy in lingerie that Cheryl didn’t get to women’s apparel for an hour. And even then, to the bleated cries for assistance on the intercom from an assistant manager.

There were mobs of girls. Giggling, laughing, scantily-clad girls. The full dressing rooms had bothered them not at all, stripping to overstuffed bras and underwear to try on new clothes right on the shop floor. Everything had to be tight. The store wasn’t big on sexy stuff but any girl looked pretty good in a too-tight shirt and pants painted on her ass.

“Bikini?” Cheryl finally asked the dark-haired girl with the pert nose at the front of the long line. “This time of year?”

“Titty fairy hit me,” the girl explained, crossing her arms underneath her boobs.

“It’s freezing- no,” Cheryl controlled herself with effort. “Have a nice day.”

The next customer was a couple. The boy, in baseball cap and too-large dress shirt, had his hands tucked playfully in his girlfriend’s pants. She held a big stack of nylon and polyesters. “And do you sell sparkles anywhere?” she asked, as her man’s hand dipped lower and lower. Her smile widened.

“Craft supplies,” Cheryl said, thin-lipped. In the background, a grinning girl with dusky skin shucked her t-shirt. She was bare-chested underneath. Cheryl sighed.

They were in the bathroom, too, checking and rechecking makeup. All recently purchased, Cheryl noted. Lipstick was refreshed, rouge applied. There was a long, satisfied sigh from one of the stalls, and the girls all giggled. The trash can was piled deep with empty coffee cups.

Eventually Cheryl had to bang on one of the dressing room doors, when the coos and sighs became too loud to ignore. A leggy girl in a long dress came out, along with her smirking boyfriend. They left behind a pair of underwear. It wasn’t a brand the store sold. Cheryl left it there.

The phone rang. Answering it seemed better then ringing up a half-dozen pairs of chino shorts in rainbow colors.

“This is Cheryl, how can I help you?”

It was strange, after such a girly morning, to hear a man’s voice. A very manly voice. “Ma’am,” he said. “A quick question. May seem strange. Have you been selling a lot of bras today?”

Suspicion flickered, but Cheryl was too exhausted to really care. “Tons. Everyone’s talking about the titty fairy. Well, it went too far, you ask me,” she said. “It needed to calm the hell down with the tits.”

“Ah,” the man said, with a note of deep and profound satisfaction. “Very glad to hear that.”

* * *

It was going to be a normal day in a normal town, Jessica told herself. Everything would be normal in a normal way.

The revelation that she had been guzzling titty milk all day had sent her home in a shocked, cold daze. The warm sexual haze was gone. It all had seemed so odd so quickly, so sticky and gross.

She had even given herself a stern and uncompromising orgasm before bed, so that she would wake up refreshed and non-sexy.

“What’s the first step to solving a proof?” Jessica told her student. He was a gawky High School Senior with a mix of freckles and acne. His adam’s apple bobbed around before he talked. He weighed maybe 140. He was just what she needed: a nothing.

“Umm...” the boy said. He looked down, into his deep cup of coffee. It smelled achingly good. That was more of a problem. “Use the... pythagorean theorem?”

“Check your rules toolbox,” Jessica told him, and sat back, sighing.

“Jessica?” the boy asked. His name was Chris. “Why are we at the library, anyway?”

“Bookstore is too busy,” Jessica told him. “Crowded. Not... conducive to math.” She had cruised by that morning. The line of vixens and studs had been halfway down the block. An hour before opening. The boys and girls were spending the time rubbing at each other.

God, she could use a good rubbing. Jessica grimly thought about angles.

But she couldn’t deny her own curves. Her sides had been scooped, insanely, impossibly, leaving a long parabolic curve from shoulders to waist to hips. And her rear end was absolutely bubbling. It was hard to find an angle, in the mirror, that didn’t make her a burgeoning bombshell. Even her boobs felt bloated.

She was twirling her hair. “Stop that,” Jessica told her finger.

“Sorry?” Chris asked, startled.

Had she really said that out loud? She hoped Chris didn’t give up on the math problem. Truth was, just looking at it was giving her a headache. Too much, with boob-juice detox, to also require upper level maths. Jessica hoped that stern looks and empty guidance would do the job.

“I need a drink,” she said, and reflexively reached for his coffee cup. No. Water. Which was shut off due to the drought.

Soda, then.

She walked away, and immediately felt the force of the boy’s gaze on her ass.

It should not have felt that immediately hot on her rear. And it was undeniably a juicy butt. She had spent some time staring at it that morning, at the way it bubbled out just below her waist, the soft curves in every direction. She had needed to struggle and swear into jeans, even with her immediate and strange weight loss. It was a great, highly fuckable ass.

“NOT fuckable,” she told herself, teeth gritted. Chris was in High School, for god’s sake. There was no way her body should be lubing up, practically burning, just because some adolescent boy was admiring her butt. She had only gone a few paces and was feeling increasingly wet. And shouldn’t the library kill any horny thoughts dead? Nothing sexy had ever happened in the town library. The air smelled like musty pages and ancient librarians, and just a trace of horny girl.

Jessica advanced on a panel of mirrors along a wall, certain that they would show the boy behind her playing idly with his phone, or something.

The boy in the mirror was staring, rapt, at her ass.

It would be so easy to grab and bang him. The bathrooms were single-stall and lockable. She could brace her hands on the toilet. It didn’t even occur to Jessica to fuck any other way. It was going to be doggy-style. She felt confident she would never look at a man during sex again. It was going to be walls, bedspreads, pillows, toilets, from here on.

All she could smell now was her own overheated body. Jessica forced her body to turn around. She could only think of one idea. Chris’ eyes snapped away from her butt. At least her t-shirt was oversized, what with her weight loss, and her swollen, full tits were hidden in a heavy bra.

Jessica took her seat. She kept her legs primly together and her lips shut. Her pussy drooled.

“Why don’t you start on the next problem?” she suggested. While he picked up the pen, Jessica reached under the table and unzipped his fly. Chris choked. “Concentrate,” she told him. “You’ll need to do math like this all the time in college.”

There it was. A big, wet, male penis. She pulled it free and started to jack it. Her hand was at an awkward angle, but from Chris’ expression, and the way he broke his pencil lead, she guessed it was effective.

It was all insane, but what else could she do? If not emptied out the boy would be balls-deep in her cunt within the next twenty minutes. She had to relieve him.

“Faster,” he hissed at her, and Jessica complied, jacking him hard. Her hands were getting gooey with precum.

He grunted, loudly, and wet sperm filled her cupped hand. Jessica reached under the table with her free hand and collected the rest. Chris looked at her, adoring. Then his eyes flicked up, alarmed.

“Everything alright?” said one of the librarians. Chris had the werewithal to jam his dick back into his pants. Jessica had a hand chock-full of sperm.

Her body knew what to do. She licked her hand clean in one go and then turned and smiled.

“Fine!” she said. Salty sperm mucked around her tongue. She swallowed. It tasted.. like coffee. Chris managed his own weak grin. The librarian frowned at them behind horn-rimmed glasses. Jessica deliberately turned back to the math books. “Okay, Chris, lets see you try this proof without your calculator.” She swallowed the rest down.

Jessica reached for his coffee cup. She had earned it.

* * *

Arguing with Jason was going really poorly. The trouble was, Jason had this big, wonderful, amazing dick, and Carrie hadn’t touched it all morning. It gave him incredible leverage.

Aline was busy making breakfast: hordes of towering pancakes, all their remaining bacon, and, of course, a nice morning carafe of delicious coffee. Made from ancient grinds found at the very back of the freezer. Carrie didn’t doubt that they’d taste incredible. The big blonde was simply squirting openly in them now.

“It’s all... weird, Jason,” Carrie said. It was so difficult to vocalize her worries to Jason.

“Look, babe,” he said, patiently. Jason wore a wifebeater and jeans. They sat in the living room. His legs were spread. The outline of his dick kept her attention. “We have to protect her. Here’s my theory. She had a baby recently. Thus the milk. She’s running from something so horrible she had to abandon a kid. My Dad will definitely come around if this is about protecting a new mom. And in the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with breastmilk. I googled it. It’s healthy.”

“It’s... Jason, my boobs are bigger. Super DUPER bigger. I woke up and they were monsters,” Carrie said. She squeezed her arms together. She wore a red and white striped shirt thin from too many washes. The neckline was nice and low. Her cleavage was perfect.

“Great!”

“No! No one gets overnight titties!” Carrie said. But he was so, wonderfully, totally, right. All these things were good things. Breast milk was healthy. Growing boobs was what every girl wanted. Protecting a vulnerable victim was what big strong men did. Sucking delicious cocks was what Carrie did.

“You’re drooling again, babe,” Jason said.

Carrie slurped, helpless. She felt so weak, so pliable. Like Jason’s tool for getting off. It was challenging to maintain an independent personality. She wanted to do more dishes and wear clothes he liked and make sure he was happy.

“And we smell different,” she didn’t say. “You smell... so fucking good... like a horse after a run mixed with a dozen Clooneys. I don’t know. And I’m starting to smell like strawberries, I know it. Just like Aline.”

She didn’t say any of that, she just tried to keep from drooling.

Was this LOVE? Had she fallen truly, madly, deeply for Jason, her disheveled man with a dirty apartment? It didn’t really feel like love, unless love meant an urge to nuzzle dicks until they spurted hot, wonderful cum, all over her face and hair. But maybe it did! It certainly was that sort of ecstasy, that transcendent experience, when they were both hot and gasping and leaking fluid.

Maybe it was liberation. She had kept her sexuality on such a tight leash, distrusting it, implicitly hating her body. Now it was loose, loose, loose, and making up for lost time. Only natural that her logical side was now in the backseat, letting her tits do the talking. She would remember how to do calculus eventually. Things would even out.

“Just don’t worry about it, Carrie,” he told her, smiling. He was so great. His thatch of chest hair was slick with sweat. He had gone on an early morning jog. She shivered. Apparently those were the magic words to make her suck his dick. “I’ll take care of things.”

Carrie lowered her head to his jeans. She knew his zipper so well, these days. She could sniff out his hardness, his eagerness. It was such a relief to get all his inches in her mouth.

“Pancakes are read—oh!” Aline said. She wore a white tanktop stained clear with milk, and had a massive stack of pancakes on a plate in one hand. “Okay! I’ll see you guys at the bookstore! Some cops are gonna give me a ride there!”

* * *

It was still cold out, and the sun was just new over the hills to the east. The town, nestled to the west of the mountains, typically rose late, giving the light a chance to get over the big peaks not far away. But Rick had woken her up early, and now he and Elaine were out. In the woods.

She still felt so—fucked. Highly, heavily fucked. They had practically broken the bed, ramming each other into it. It had been appalling, wonderful behavior. And Rick, broken-down, exhausted Rick, who had turned down handjobs for sleep some weeks ago, had been insatiable.

He paced ahead of her now, fueled on leftover coffee and a bagel, in a flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up. And jeans. He was intent, stalking towards some unknown destination. Elaine had simply followed him in confusion and fleece, conscious of how much she reeked of him.

“Rick,” she said, finally, in a clearing. “Where are we going?”

“I’ve been doing this all wrong,” he said, fiercely. His stubble was coming in. It was sexy as anything. “Looking for water on paper in an office. Pathetic.”

“You’re an engineer,” she told him.

“I’m the guy who is supposed to be finding water, and I sit in an office,” he told her. Rick gave her a stern look, and she quieted instantly. Her libido thumped. “Listen.”

She listened. Her heart thumped.

“What?” Carrie’s Mom said, eventually.

“Animals. So many animals. I ignored them. They haven’t fled. So where are they getting their water?”

She said nothing. Rick shook his head. “I’ve been thinking like some idiot bureaucrat when I should’ve been thinking like an animal. C’mon.”

They were deep in the forest, atop a small ridge. It had a line of sight through a sheaf of trees, all the way down to the valley floor. You could see a mile. Rick circled a fallen log next to a large rock.

“This is perfect,” he said. He turned to her. “Come over here,” he commanded. “All fours. Keep your eyes out for large animals. Fox or higher. Deer would be ideal.”

Elaine obeyed. At least it was a little warmer, the sun starting to peek out. Which was good, because it was damp on the forest floor. Her knees were instantly soaked. She squeaked, surprised, when she felt Rick nestle in behind her.

“Uh, Rick?” she said. She turned. His jeans were down. His cock hung between his legs. It looked huge. Tremendous. Her man yanked down her pants. Something in the fabric tore. The air was not as cold as it should’ve been against her suddenly exposed slit.

“We’re animals,” he told her, steadying himself on her ass. His cock slid into her. “We need to act like it. And besides, we could be here all day.”

* * *

Stephen parked his car two blocks away, and carried his box of books the rest of the way. As a writer he had to be self-aware, and so he was: he was embarrassed by his shitty old car. He had driven it in college, through the MFA program, and, now, some eight or nine years after that. Despite its longevity it had stubbornly refused to at least grow a personality to make it lovable. It was just a shit Toyota. And he didn’t really want Anne to see it.

It had been years since he had seen her, in person. But they had talked online, in a close mesh of facebook and twitter and e-mails and IMs. Respectful conversations about modern events and literary news.

He admired Anne. Really. True, somewhat in a ‘glad-this-isn’t-me’ sense, like waving to a soldier off to war. Anne had brought Simone de Beauvoir and Foucault and any number of feminist writers to her benighted mining town, and carved her space into the very middle of town. It was heroic.

Still, Stephen nearly dropped the box when he saw the crowd outside the bookstore. A CROWD. Outside a BOOKSTORE. He hadn’t seen that since working a Borders in the Harry Potter days.

And it was a... strange crowd. Young men and women, mostly, which might explain the sweet scent of sugary perfume emitting from the masses. But it was a crowd deeply into itself. Girls nipped on their boyfriends’ ears, nuzzled at necks. Every single girl ass he could see—and there were so many on display—had a protective male hand on it. There were even a matched sapphic couple making out near the front of the line, two platinum blondes in fleece jackets exchanging tongue. No one seemed to care.

The girls had some pretty great tits, on average.

The doors to the small shop opened, and the crowd filed in, and stopped. Stephen simply went around and through another door.

The line had walked several yards and stopped in front of a small coffee stand, where a blonde bombshell with some of the biggest boobs Stephen had ever seen frantically poured coffee into huge cups. The couples drank what had to be scalding hot coffee immediately. Their smiles deepened.

“Oh, Stephen!” Anne said. She was crouched around a front-of-store display. “I brain-farted! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! Oh, please, put your box down!”

“That’s... uh...” Stephen had expected some crack about male manual labor. He had already devised a rejoinder. Anne had ditched her glasses. Her hair was down, and, for the first time ever, past her shoulders. She wore a dark black jacket with big buttons, to be expected, but then a teeny-bopper plaid skirt that showed off coltish legs.

There were poems in a drawer in his apartment about those legs. Stephen had seen them a few times during MFA-class ultimate frisbee.

“Are those copies of your book? That’s so great! Oh you can put them right here!” she enthused. Those were more exclamations then Stephen ever recalled her using. Anne picked a book up from the floor and cantilevered over to place it. The skirt rode up—up—and just shy of exposing her ass entirely.

Which was when Stephen noticed the display.

It was... porn. Well, human sexuality, technically. Nothing that wasn’t discretely sold in Barnes and Nobles across the country. Sex manuals, kama sutra guides, big oversized books with titles like “YOUR PLEASURE, YOUR RULES,” and “SHE COMES FIRST, SECOND, AND THIRD.” They were GRAPHIC.

Anne picked up a copy of his self-published “Rules of All Roads” and placed one in the center, where it butted up nervously against a keenly smiling brunette on “HEAD: THE COMPLETE GUIDE”.

“There! Now, let me get you something to drink. You mind hanging out by the register? I am thinking it’s going to be a big day!” She walked over to the busy, busty blonde slinging joe for oversexed teens. Stephen blinked again. Anne was in heels, and walked with one coy step in front of the other, like she was on the runway. And then she shot him a coy smirk, which clearly communicated, ‘go ahead and look at my ass.’

* * *

“This is...” Stephen searched for the right word. He had a decade of experience writing. “Great coffee. Great fucking coffee. Wow.”

He sat in a stool next to Anne, who was on her own stool. Her little skirt kept riding up as she worked the register, and the petite storeowner was not doing a great job keeping her legs crossed. It was really, really, really... great.

“Aline is pretty special,” Anne said. She twirled her hair with her finger. Another first. “She has such a golden heart. And really forced me to think about things, you know?”

“Like dressing like a randy schoolgirl?” Stephen thought.

“A, uh, reconsideration of assumptions?” he said. Anne gave him a slightly puzzled look. Then some gears slowly churned. It was weird watching her have to work to think. Steven had his own legs crossed. He had a real hardon.

“Oh. Oh, right,” Anne said. “Yeah! Like, for me being a girl was all about being a big brain manually directing this um, female body, you know? And like,” she waved her hand vaguely “moving it around and getting it dressed and really it was just like a car to move the smarts around. And I’m like, this is what a feminist looks like. And then Aline shows up and she is twenty million times the girl anyone is and I think, I’m not being a female at all. I’m being a brain with some boobs bolted on.”

Stephen was unsure if he had just heard something brilliant or amazingly dumb. He settled for sipping his coffee and nodding.

A couple.. no, there were TWO girls... arrived at the counter. In between a red-lipped brunette wearing a tight black blouse and a well-fed blonde with melon tits was a small man with a big smile. All three of them had coffee cups, and the girls had their boobs draped on the guy. He put down a huge book simply entitled SEX.

“I’ll get this,” the brunette husked. She had a phone sex voice.

“No! No, I got it, I’ll get it,” the blonde insisted. She looked rattled.

“You told me you went broke on bras, Cheryl,” the brunette said. Stephen shifted positions. The reason for her confidence became clear. The brunette was the one with her hand down the front of the man’s pants. She withdrew it to get cash from her purse. It was sticky. Stephen watched as the cash changed hands. Anne didn’t bat an eye.

The blonde was permitted to take the bag. The man hadn’t spoken a word.

“Is everything... okay?” Stephen said, finally breaking. It took real effort. He had never been more comfortable, sitting on his stool, watching nubile young things stroke and play, while his long-time crush toyed with her too-short skirt. More coffee made him feel better.

“Oh... uh...” Anne said. Her eyes narrowed, looked around. “It’s... since you mention it.. I’ve been...” she swallowed. “...feeling... kind of odd... I’m...”

Anne’s mouth moved, soundless, but then her eyes lost focus. Her hands returned to worry her hair and skirt.

“And?” Stephen prompted.

“And what?” Anne said, confused.

* * *

Their bimbo brains had been lubed, hornified, and simplified, but all three of them still recognized that something was off.

Anxious, they kept the sexual antics to a minimum. Becky diddled herself quietly in the chair, gasping to herself with small little orgasms. The other two, Laurie and the blonde, who could never quite remember her name, licked at each other gently in the bed. They were all unusually well hydrated. The air in the hotel room was practically fresh.

Six nipples followed the man around the room, as he made preparations. His bags were packed. He wore heavy brown wool pants and shiny dress shoes, and a starchy white shirt. They were not clothes to fuck in, they could tell that. He hadn’t turned one of them over all morning, to casually plumb her depths with his big, swinging dick. He had ordered room service and a really big breakfast. “Something is off,” their scattered intellects warned. Becky, still the most with it, despite losing brain cells to hugely bigger boobs, pursed her lips and thought.

“Sir, are you leaving?” she finally said.

The man paused from his packing, and made a note to up her dosage. He had planned to fuck all three into an utterly compliant froth before breaking the news. But he was flexible. And so were they, that stunt with the door frame had proved it.

“Girls, gather round,” he said.

The bimbos all got on their knees in front of him, expectantly. Well, he should’ve predicted that.

“Girls, I will be leaving for two or three days,” he said, and put his hands up, placating. “Don’t worry, I’m coming back. You’ll just need to stay here and relax.”

Their chemistry was all off for this. The girls looked about to cry. Well, the blonde was still working through his sentences, her nose scrunched. Maybe a bit too much, there. Subliminals plus chemicals could be overwhelming.

He unzipped, took his cock out. It calmed and soothed just pulsing in front of them. He put Laurie’s mouth on it. She nuzzled.

The situation called for firmness. “Girls, here is what I want,” he said, sternly. “You are going to lick each other’s pussies. You are going to vibrate each other senseless. You are going to take your medicine. And I’ve placed takeout delivery orders for the next four days. I don’t want a single delivery boy leaving until his balls are drained dry. Okay?”

He spurted a little nectar into Laurie’s mouth, and turned to Becky. Big, oversized tits bobbled in front of the girl. She was a champion cocksucker. It worked against her, since it meant he liked to save her for last.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. Laurie, recovered, opened it. A gangly kid with three pizzas balanced on his arm gaped at them.

“Okay, girls,” the man said, zipping up. “That’s my cue. Be good.”

“You’re leaving?” said the blonde, and burst into tears.

* * *

“This was the worst idea,” Jessica muttered, to herself.

There was something wrong. A virus, or a drug, or a something. No one lost well over thirty pounds in what, a day? And GAINED weight in her boobs. There was no way her body should be this overheated, this sex-starved. And there was certainly no way she should be so dumb she would voluntarily stand in line for the milk-infused coffee definitely causing all of this.

But it turned out she was that dumb. Dumb enough to voluntarily surround herself with gyrating, horny girls and boys, drunk and rutting on coffee, their hands all over each other. Anne, watching it all with a glassy smile and a too-short skirt, was certainly not going to help. Everywhere there were boys, boys with big smiles, outsized confidence, big bulges in their jeans. And the sweet, thick scent of coffee absolutely everywhere.

She had some super vague plan about getting a coffee and then, like, doing chemistry stuff on it. Like a scientist.

It didn’t help that as one of the few non-whites Jessica drew an outsized amount of male attention. And the two hispanic girls were more then taken, literally carried away to be fucked by big men with large biceps. There was male gaze all over her ass, men brushing up against her, male confidence filling her with each breath.

Jessica stood still, and kept her eyes forward, and breathed through her mouth, and ignored the heavy petting and passionate kissing and the big-boobed brunette whose tits kept falling out of her tube top. She took longer and longer to stuff them back in. Jessica was practically staring at the ceiling when, somehow, she reached the front of the line.

Aline was there, the plague vector, smiling cheerfully. She wore her usual pink array, a sort of bustier, and had gotten matching earrings somewhere. There was a streak of cum in the blonde’s hair.

“Hi Aline,” Jessica said. “One coffee, please.” Two, her body said. One for chemistry, one to drink. No, five to drink.

“Here you go! Good to see you Jessica! Can I see your ass?”

Jessica shuffled in a circle. Aline’s expression, when she turned back, was an O of shock.

“That. Is the best ass. I have ever seen,” she said.

“I know,” Jessica sighed.

“Three dollars, please,” Aline said.

Money. Jessica had nothing on her but skintight jeans, a taut t-shirt, and soaked panties.

“I’ll pay,” a boy said. Jessica turned. Robert, her tut-ee of a few days ago. He looked like he had added twenty pounds of muscle in the past few days. And the horny grin was new.

A boy paying for her was just too much. “Please don’t,” Jessica said, softly. Her pussy ached. She wanted nothing more then to bend over. “If you do that, I’m pretty much gonna have to give you a handjob.”

“Oh?” Robert said. “What if I tip her, too?”

Certain facts about boy-girl relations were crystallizing in Jessica’s overtaxed head. “Blowjob,” she said.

“What’ll it take to fuck you raw, doggy-style?” Robert asked. Aline giggled, and took the offered five.

“Tell me I have a great ass,” Jessica said. She had little choice. It was so, so true.

“It’s a great ass,” Robert said, promptly.

Jessica’s intellect, already overstrained, shattered under the force of the male compliment. She let the younger boy guide her by the ass into the book stacks, where a few other couples were already pressed against shelving. The girls moaned and mumbled as Jessica pressed past them, their boobs getting mauled.

There was a half-empty shelf with a modicum of privacy near Study Aids. Jessica placed her hands compliantly on them, bent over. It was a nice, easy motion. She wondered why she hadn’t done it hundreds of other times. After all, it rose her ass into the air, made it very easy to fuck. With her butt up high it was a pleasant, fun struggle for the boy to pull her pants and panties down, exposing her oh-so-wet sex. And it was fun to feel him poke around for her pussy, put his hands on her generous ass.

Jessica stared at the books in front of her, and, with each thrust, forgot a bit more about how to read them.

* * *

Elaine was getting used to being an animal.

She had lost her pants awhile ago. She still wore her jacket, but hardly needed it. She was so warm, so hot. Her legs shook, bare naked, but only because of the five or ten or however many fuckings she had already received. She was like, in heat or something. Cum streamed down her thighs as they walked through the woods.

Rick strode in front of her, with a pair of pants on, and nothing else. He moved with total confidence through old woods, down into little ravines, and deeper and deeper into the back country. It was very quiet, except for the birds, or when she was cumming.

It had been at least an hour since they had last banged, up against the side of a reasonably flat rock. Elaine had wrapped her legs around him and urged him deeper, deeper, until he had rewarded his female with more gooey, wonderful cum. She wanted another batch inside of her. She hoped it was fertilizing something. Whatever nature wanted to do with her was fine.

“There. There!” Rick said, excited. It was the first time he had spoken in hours. He was communicating with grunts. If he wanted to fuck he picked her up and fucked her. Elaine could smell when he was horny. Musk poured off her man. It locked all pathetic higher-level thinking in a dense, instinctual fog.

A trail in the woods perhaps a half-foot wide. But no human had made it. Rick ran, barefoot, and Elaine jogged behind him, tits bobbling. They sped through a dense overgrowth and scattered at least a dozen deer. Laughing, Rick plunged right into the dark waters of a hidden pool of water, the top covered in leaves.

“A spring, I knew it, I knew it!” he said, swimming. She paddled in after him. There was no obvious bottom. The pool ran deep. She tasted the water. It was perfect.

There was only one way to celebrate. He was rock hard in the water. Elaine wrapped herself around him, pulled his cock inside, and they rutted in the spring.

* * *

By the time they arrived Aline had already been arrested.

The town’s cop cars were out in front of the bookstore, with their lights flashing, in a protective semi-circle. The crowd was surprisingly calm, or, perhaps, simply docile. They strolled off in pairs and trios to have sex somewhere quiet.

“Oh, we’re too late,” Carrie said. She checked her face and hair in the mirror. She was still getting used to the sense of being basically a toy, something for a man to jizz into. Every so often she would have troubling thoughts, and she would bolt upright, some incoherent sense of concern animating her. And then it would drift back down into a lazy pink fog, and she would go back to sucking dick.

“Nothing is too late,” her man said. He smelled so good. “Lets go find my Dad.”

Carrie followed Jason in. She wore dark tan shorts, straining at the hips, and a tight green tanktop with growing boobs stuffed in. She had avoided bright colors and pinks in one of her surges of intellect. That was bimbo colors. She was.. she was... being a good girlfriend.

The house had been 100% out of water, so there were still jizz squirts in her hair. They hardly stood out in this crowd. Fluids were all over. If anyone had brought a blacklight, and some luminol, they could’ve had a rave.

“What’s a rave?” Carrie asked herself, confused. The thought sank, gone forever, into the pink soup inside her head.

Two cops sat at the table inside the bookstore, drinking the leftover illicit coffee and thumbing, with interest, through a book about sex.

Someone was getting noisily fucked at the back of the store.

It was always a good bet this was Aline. Carrie followed her man to the back, where Jessica stood, on wobbly legs, utterly naked, her plump rear coated practically white. A teenage boy was energetically plumbing her, his cock flashing between her butt. There was a thick puddle of drool on the bookshelf the girl faced.

“You got next?” the boy said, noticing them. “Put your quarter on the bookshelf. I’ll just be another second.”

There was a big stack of quarters. And some dollars.

Carrie deliberated about falling to her knees, then noticed she was already on them. But there was no time—the boy was finishing up, another load splashed, wet, and ran down the back of Jessica’s legs. “Thanks for waiting,” he said, pulling up his jeans, and wandered past, nonchalant.

“Twenty-two,” Jessica said, her eyes refocusing. She smiled, weakly. “See? I can still count!”

“Where’s Aline?” Jason asked. He eyed her ass. Carrie was so proud of him for not splitting her friend in two. Such a man.

“If she’s not with those... book.. things... then I haven’t seen her..” Jessica caught her breath. “In two hours.”

“Wait a second,” Jessica said, as they turned to go. “Carrie, we’ve got to get out of here. It’s all fucked up. I’m gonna run. Just start running. Before my smarts are any more mushy.”

Jason was already leading her away. Carrie shrugged, helplessly. “I can’t,” she called out, to her naked friend. “I’m so thirsty.”

* * *

Aline was in the back alley, being put in another cop cruiser, hands shackled, by Jason’s Dad. He put her in carefully, hands on the underside of her legs. A big coffee cup sat on the top of the car.

“Dad, we need to talk about this,” Jason said.

“What, me doing my job?” O’Rourke said. He gave Carrie a long look. “Miss, you got something in your hair. A lot of... stuff.”

Carrie fished in her hair, pulled out a glob of semen. She stared at it, then licked it off her fingers. Nothing else occurred to her to do.

“Yeah, wow, okay,” O’Rourke said. “Son, you know what’s going on here? She puts breast milk in the coffee. And she disobeyed a citation to stop with the water. It’s all getting weird, and I’m calling a halt.”

“You’re still drinking it, right?” Jason pointed out. “Even knowing what’s in it?”

There was no denying the evidence. Jason’s Dad eventually nodded.

“So lets sell it,” Jason said, smacking his fist into his palm. “Think about it! It’s human... nectar! It’s good for you! We’ll put Starbucks out of business in a year! She’s the only good thing to happen to this town in... ever... and you’re arresting her!”

“Jason, I don’t think our little town is about to get into the bottling business,” Officer O’Rourke said. “There’s a drought on. No one is getting enough to drink.”

“I am,” Carrie said, to make a contribution. They both ignored her.

“Guys, I’m okay!” Aline interrupted. She smiled at them. “It’s okay! I think this is just a misunderstanding and stuff!”

Carrie leaned in, for a moment of girltalk. “Aline, really? You want this?”

“Wow, do you smell like dicks,” Aline said. She beamed. “That’s so great for you. Do I want to go with the biggest, strongest, guy in town?”

Aline winked. It took awhile, but Carrie got it.

“Oh, um, well, okay,” the brunette said, backing away.

“No, it’s not okay,” Jason said, until Carrie lightly squeezed his arm.

“Say that it’s fine, and I’ll suck you so hard you’ll cum for a week,” she whispered, to her boyfriend.

“Take good care of her, Dad,” Jason ordered.

* * *

They rode in silence for a few minutes. It was the longest time that Aline had gone without talking in some time, and she appreciated it. It was nice to ride in a big car with a big man who was armed. There was a good chance that he had the biggest dick in town.

“Aline, what’s your last name?” Officer O’Rourke said.

No one had asked her that in ages. Aline smiled at him. “I have no idea!” she said.

“Uh-huh,” the man in uniform said. He paused. “Are you running from something?”

Aline sorted through her memories. They were sparse, interspersed. She avoided them if possible, and replaced others with newer, fresher memories of new friends and fun fucks. There was a man deep in there, with intense eyes, an unforgettable smell, and the biggest dick she had ever seen. She still remembered when he went to the bathroom, leaving her gasping and cum-full on a bed, and she had run for it.

“Mr. Police Officer?” Aline said, eventually. She watched him take a deep draw from his coffee cup, and waited for him to answer.

“Call me Daniel,” he said.

“Does the number Five-five-five, three-two-one, four-five-two, mean anything? It’s not a phone number.”

He repeated it, puzzled, and his phone rang. The officer pulled over and took the call. Aline hefted her tits. They were already filling up again. She doubted it’d be hard to empty them.

“Well, that was Rick, apparently he found a new aquifer, and the town is saved, something like that. And there was a... kind of screeching in the background.. sounded like...”

Daniel put the phone down. Aline let her legs spread open. She gently squeezed one tit. A jet of milk stained her shirt. Officer O’Rourke shifted in his seat, eyed her thoughtfully in the rearview mirror. She watched him inhale and exhale.

“I think that makes this all a little pointless,” he said. He sniffed. “Do you smell something?” he asked.

“No,” Aline said, truthfully.

“Alright, I’ll take you back to Carrie’s place. I’m gonna have to talk to my kid about putting a ring on her, if he’s gonna bang her blind. Kids, right?”

“Is it okay if I stay in the town?” Aline said, in her softest voice.

O’Rourke turned around in his seat. His eyes wandered down her cleavage, in between her legs. He stared, openly. “Of course it is, Aline. Hell, I doubt anyone would let you leave. You’ve gotten real popular. I can see why.”

He grinned at her, hard, and drained the rest of his coffee. “You need help, just call me. Now, let me come back there and I’ll take off your handcuffs.”

“We can leave them on,” Aline said.

* * *

Jessica had sort of forgotten why she was running.

“Too many cocks,” she thought, from time to time. One too many dicks pounding the brains out of her. She had lost a lot of education on that bookshelf, staring at words she had to struggle to read. The only one she was sure about was “Moby Dick,” and that was for obvious reasons.

Because it was about a guy with a huge cock.

She was... running. Away. Or something. She had made it to her house, put on running clothes, listened as her Mom and Dad banged in the bedroom, and then fled.

She had no idea where. It was hard to imagine much of anything. But at least she was away, away from the town, on to somewhere new and exciting. No doubt a scantily-clad girl with a big butt and large tits could make her way in the big city. She just had to bend over. She was good at that.

It didn’t help that running was making her horny again. No matter how much weight she lost, her legs still rubbed together, making her warm as hell. And her boobs bounced and rubbed and her ass was just desperate for stimulation.

Plus she was thirsty.

A large SUV, black with black windows, came up the road. It pulled to a slow stop. Jessica approached it, panting, intent on a ride or at least a drink of water. The window rolled down, and a wave of the most intoxicating musk poured out with it. Like breathing liquid sex. All remaining non-instinctual thought processes slowed and stopped.

The man at the wheel looked her up and down. “I think you can help me with something,” he said.

* * *

“See, it’s all about the... umm... embrace of.. you know... the female body,” Anne said. She softly tugged on Stephen’s cock. Sperm oozed slowly out of the tip.

Mostly he just watched her. It was surprisingly enchanting to watch his crush slowly enunciate a sex-friendly theory punctuated with umms and you-knows, all in a high-pitched voice. And while absolutely naked in a chair.

Technically there was supposed to be a book reading going on. Instead, he had already fucked her twice in the office. Stephen’s previous fantasies, aware of the limits of the imagination, had gone no farther then sensual coupling on a bed. Instead she had urged him on with a filthy mouth, while digging her heels into his back.

“So... like... I gotta fuck you. Like, how else can we have a relationship as, you know, a girl and a boy and stuff, if I’m not fucking you super good?” Anne said, sincerely. “We’re just people talking otherwise, you know? I gotta fuck you. I just gotta.”

“Sure, Anne,” Stephen said, soothing. There was no way she had those big, perky boobs in the program. He had personally coated them with sperm. Anne had explained it all as an intentionally giving act in her halting, baby-doll voice.

“So... uh... so...” she trailed off, watching his cock twitch and begin to rise. “Oh my goodness, Stephen, you’re hard again. Do you want to put it in my butt? Because the anal... umm.. the symbolism of anal...”

He bent her over on the desk, admired her pale ass, and then waited patiently for her theorizing to turn into shrieks and moans.

* * *

Aline had been right about O’Rourke’s dick. It had been super-weird to her to feel stretched, after everything she had been through, the number of guys she had fucked. Heck, she had personally cum in pretty much all of the police vehicles in town.

They were outside of Carrie’s house, still in the cruiser. One of the handcuffs dangled from Aline’s wrist. That was as far as Office O’Rourke had gotten. The dear man had probably sucked two pints of milk out of her titties, and was snoring in the backseat.

Aline sat in her skirt and twirled her underwear around her finger and waited patiently for him to wake up.

A large SUV rolled up next to her, with the lights off.

A very familiar smell rolled out of the window.

She dropped the underwear.

“Hi, Aline,” the man said.

“If I scream, he’ll shoot you,” she said, trembling.

“Who, the cop?” the man said, disdainfully. “I heard him roar, Aline. He’s out for at least an hour. C’mon.”

Some girl was in the backseat, giggling. It was too dark to see inside.

“I’ll run. I ran last time,” Aline said.

“Yes, you did. With all the money in my wallet. But look, Aline. I’m not here to take you anywhere.”

It was so hard to not trust a man. Aline willed herself to hate, to breathe through her mouth. It was a good thing she was so freshly fucked. The man had such a wonderful, wonderful dick.

“Then go away,” she said.

“I will! I will. Aline, I’ve been through this town. Been driving around for hours now. There’s people fucking on the sidewalks. Every car is rocking. I heard shrieks every few minutes. Why would I take you? I admire you.”

It was a lot of words. Aline tried to frown. She managed a pout. The man in the large SUV chuckled. He drummed his fingers on the car door.

“I had thought about one last roll in the hay before I went,” the man said, “...but I think I’ll pass. Aline, it was nice to see you again.”

“I have a question,” the bimbo said. “What’s five-five-five, three-two-one, four-five-two?”

“I have no idea. Does it matter?” the man said.

“I guess not,” Aline said, eventually.

* * *

Months passed.

Everyone cheered. It was Aline, after all. And it was tradition.

It had started the first day of production, when the blonde had stood up at the front of the room, topless of course, and held their very first bottle of Milk Coffee with the very first label and the very first barcode up high. They had all cheered, men applauding with meaty hands, girls applauding the best they could around growing tits in the way. There had been a sense that an orgy could break out, but Jason had arched an eyebrow and sent them all back to work.

Production had started in the big empty storefront across from the bookstore, but had since expanded—much like the workforce—to dominate downtown. And, of course, clothing and shoe and hair and other stores had popped up soon after. Not to mention the big new maternity superstore.

“Two-thousand, fifty-six,” Aline took a breath. She was so proud of her reading. “...and a lot of other numbers sales!! Our best week yet!!” she beamed at all of them. Her chest was looking, if anything, even bigger. Carrie suspected a bun in the oven. Officer O’Rourke was certainly doing his best at that.

Carrie was super-proud to be in charge of coffee purchasing and brewing. Mostly she had boys do the work, of course. And the coffee was big cheap bags of preground stuff, since who-cared. But she carefully initialed the purchase order every week and gave the boys a good-job suck, and they called her “Boss” which made her pussy clench.

True, most of her time was spent milking. She was second only to Aline, jets of foamy cream practically spurting from her long, red nipples. There were more girls all the time in the creamery, many of them people she had disdained in high school. But now they were all big cow sisters.

And her Mom was there too of course.

It was the first Monday of the month, so there was something Carrie wanted to do, but first she stopped by Jason’s office. He was on the phone, as he was so often these days, filling orders and arranging shipments. He was gonna move Carrie and maybe a few other girls into a big house soon.

He nodded at her, and Carrie sank gratefully to her knees. After this many blowjobs Jason didn’t bother to hang up the phone. His voice didn’t even change as she sucked away at him, tongue carefully caressing the underside of his cock. It was a challenge now that he was so much bigger, but she never stopped until his pubic hairs tickled her nose. He stroked her hair affectionately, and she sucked extra hard.

His voice cracked just a little as he came, flooding her throat, and Carrie stifled a giggle.

There were coffee kiosks everywhere outside, and they were starting to get tourists, thirsty girls eager to keep the caffeine flowing, rubbing at their expanding assets. But Carrie always got her coffee at the bookshop. Sometimes Aline even manned the counter, although today it was some redheaded girl with a lazy smile.

Stephen was at the register. He looked relaxed. That probably meant Anne was underneath the counter. Their weekly poetry readings were quickly legendary for the sheer sexual inventiveness and depravity. Carrie’s ass was still sore from two weeks ago.

“I’ll get this, please,” Carrie said, holding up his book.

“Again?” Stephen said. Anne stuck a hand up from underneath the counter and waved a welcome. “You buy it every week.”

“Well I couldn’t really figure it out last time,” Carrie explained, earnest. “But I have a super good feeling about THIS one.”

He pretended to ring her up. Money changing hands didn’t make much sense.

Anne popped up, wiping her mouth, her body wrapped in shiny leather. There was no telling what she would wear on a daily basis.

“Did you see Jessica’s latest video?” she said.

“There’s a new one? Oh, I need to see it!” Carrie said, excited. Stephen was already turning a laptop around. And there was her friend, ass pointed at the camera, managing the biggest, longest, hardest cock Carrie had ever seen without any issues whatsoever. AND another one, somewhat smaller, was in her mouth.

“She comes at the 4:13 mark, 4:49, and then four times in a row at the 8 mark,” Stephen said. “And that’s a big time porn star, with the dick. I looked him up.”

“Go Jessica!” Carrie exclaimed, and clapped her hands together. They all watched, touching themselves, as their friend worked it on camera.

“You should go see her sometime,” Anne suggested, sinking once again beneath the counter.

“Oh,” Carrie said, thinking about it. “I can’t think of leaving town at a time like this.”

Really, she couldn’t think very much at all.

Outside, it had started to rain, and the boys and girls all got soaked.

Bimbofication Stories

Saturday, April 8, 2017

FLUID by Limerick

Prologue

Three months later....

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