Tuesday, November 11, 2014

CALVING SIGNS PART 5 OF 7 by Limerick

“He’s wearing a tie,” Anne reported, peering out the front window.
“So?”
“So…” Anne frowned. Even late at night she wore another dress, a white one, with pink flowers embroidered over her breasts. Plus heels. “So you should dress up. It’s polite.”
Terri rolled her eyes even as she tugged nervously on the hem of her shirt. A part of her agreed, wanted to rush downstairs and get changed into something a little more… feminine.
But she had seen enough of that in the Diner. Seen hordes of miniskirt-wearing, high-heeled country girls dripping over young men. There had been lots of tits on display, cooing, and a scent of a strange perfume that nearly overpowered the burgers.
Two of the patrons had even started essentially fucking each other in the booth itself, before stumbling out the door with milkshake-stained shirts. Hands pressed on each other’s privates.
The doorbell rang. Anne swung it open, and the light nearly blinded her date.
“Oh, hi Terri,” the boy said, to her Mom. Anne blushed and stepped backwards.
There was a long moment of mutual examination. The boy looked over Terri’s backswept, pony-tailed hair, then her blue jeans, and defiant college t-shirt. She had re-applied the old white makeup. If it wasn’t for her new boobs, straining at the t-shirt, and the way the jeans barely fit over her hips, she would’ve been completely back to normal.
Mark, the boy, wore his Dad’s tie, Dad’s shirt, and Dad’s blazer, all just a little too large. His face was pink where he had recently shaved.
Her Mom pushed her outside. “You kids have fun!” she said, and slammed the door. Terri was left alone with a boy she didn’t know.
“Welcome back to Calving,” Mark said. His voice strained to stay casual.
“Yeah, I’m so fucking excited,” Terri sniffed. “Did we… ever meet in High School?” she said. He looked familiar, and it hadn’t been the largest school.
“Not really. I ran with the Computer Geek crowd. We didn’t get out much.”
“Oh,” Terri said. She sort of remembered them. Pasty and white. Small boys with squeaky voices. Terri had run with a small and elite crowd of literates. All of them still at college, of course. She was the one back at home, set up on blind dates by her Mom.
Mark drove a crappy car. They pulled away from the house.
“I don’t want to do this,” Terri said. “It was my Mom’s idea. I was planning to stay home and come up with an escape plan.” Actually, she had planned to take a shower and probably get off in the hot water. But that didn’t sound right.
“Yeah, me neither,” Mark confessed. He rubbed at his face. “Dad wanted me out of the house so he could hit on Mrs. Taylor.”
What? “That is ‘Mrs.’ Taylor, right?”
“Her husband is gone for a month. I don’t know. This whole town has gotten weird, just in the past couple of months. All of a sudden my Dad is talking about me meeting more girls, and my best friend spends all his time at his Girlfriend’s… weird.”
Terri nodded. The town WAS weird. She remembered a dusty cattle town with staid, proper women. Not the drooling collections of tits and ass bustling with children.
“So,” Mark said, “What do you want to do? Diner?”
“Hell no.”
“That’s the only restaurant, outside of fast food. Uh. Movie? They’re playing Lessons of God III. I haven’t seen the first two, I’m guessing it’s just more lessons.”
“Ugh,” Terri said. She slunk into her seat.
“Cow-tipping?” Mark seemed to mean it as a joke.
“What? Cow-tipping?”
“You never did it before? In High School?”
“Not really, no.” But it was sounding pretty good. Terri felt like smacking into something heavy and pushing it over. She gave Mark another look. “Tell me a little more about it.”
* * *
It hadn’t been hard to find cows. That pasture smell trailed everywhere in Calving. Just follow your nose and listen for mooing.
They shut the door, quietly. Terri giggled. Already this was fun. She had located a target, a big brown one in the center of the field. The fence was no obstacle.
She glanced back, and nearly bit through her lip. Mark had taken off his blazer.
The former computer geek was built.
With the shirt tucked in Terri could see big, broad shoulders, along with a strong chest and trim stomach. She caught herself wondering what he would look like without the loose, baggy shirt. And if he had any chest hair.
“Something wrong?” Mark said, puzzled.
“Oh. No! Ah. Lets do this,” Terri said. She looked away, took a deep breath.
The cow didn’t move when they approached. Terri narrowed her eyes, then flipped it the bird. Cows! Only good for milk and burgers!
Mark crept near her to whisper. Terri inhaled. Had the boy worn cologne? There was something extra-intriguing about him, once she got close enough. Something manly and rugged, like a very well-chosen aftershave.
“Okay, this is easy. You hold on, I’ll push. Be careful, they kick sometimes.”
“I was born careful,” Terri promised.
She put her hands underneath the cow, grunted, and waited. The cow’s belly was warm and moist. “Hurry,” Terri whispered, “this is actually pretty gros—“
Mark shoved. The cow not only toppled, it slid, and landed with a wet thud in the loose mud of the pasture. Only then did it let loose a confused, agonized “Mooo.”
Terri was on her rear in the mud. Mark’s strength had caught her by surprise, and she had stumbled forwards, toppled into the muck of the field.
“Oh, shit!” Mark said, mortified. He helped her up, grabbing hold of a mud-covered hand. They examined Terri by moonlight. Her shirt was a total loss, and her jeans weren’t much better, glistening with mud. At least she had managed to keep her hair dirt-free. “I’m sorry, Terri.”
Terri giggled. She nearly twirled her hair with a brown finger, and only just caught herself. “Oh my god. That was amazing! That was so great! You were so strong!” She pulsed with euphoria, despite a cold coating of muck. She had caught sight of Mark’s determined face when he pushed, and it had sent such a thrill through her…
She looked down. “Oh. I guess I should clean up.” She looked up at Mark and winked at him. “Lets go back to my place. I was getting tired of this outfit, anyways.”
* * *
Her body was very aware that there was a man in her room. And that she was naked.
Terri’s nipples were flushed and pink, heated and warm, and it spread throughout the new weight of her bigger boobs. Her pussy informed her that it was lubricated and ready to go. Plus there was a pink fog of warm arousal in her head, that seemed to squish out her more logical thoughts. Right now it was gushing over how big and built Mark had turned out to be. He was strong—strong enough to push over an entire cow!—and for her!
They had sneaked back inside the house. It was such a big house that there hadn’t really been a chance of her Mom catching them, but it had been… nicely naughty to sneak.
Terri checked her reflection. Washing her face had rinsed off the white makeup. Now she was back to her usual, pink-cheeked self, with the plump lips. She tossed on some clothes and went back to the bedroom.
“Miss me?” she cooed.
Mark clearly had. He sat on her bed—her bed! Terri walked towards him slowly, to give him a chance to admire.
“Uh, you look good,” he said, startled.
“Yeah, the old outfit wasn’t right for going out,” Terri said. “I figured the heels would help if we had to stay above mud, again.” They also picked up her legs, adding inches of height and pursing out her rear. “And I thought shorts because, you know, it’s kind of warm out.” It wasn’t, but the thought of hiding her legs in jeans was disgusting.
Mark, tactfully, didn’t question why she had let her hair down, so the blonde streaks framed her face. Or the tight green t-shirt that sculpted itself around her tits. She didn’t quite have a rational answer, either.
“Shall we?” Mark said, standing up. His pants couldn’t disguise the firm outline of an erection. Warm tingles burned through Terri’s head.
“I’d love to,” she took his arm, and leaned, just slightly, against it.
* * *
“Is he wearing cologne?” Terri asked herself. All of a sudden, inside the car, she couldn’t seem to get away from his scent.
It smelled like grass and straw, and long days of working machinery in the outdoors. It flowed through her head.
“So, what do you do?” she said. Conversation had to help.
“Oh, me?” Mark said. He seemed equally distracted, and kept glancing at her legs. “I wish it was something in Computers. That’s what I wanted to do. But Dad has me working on the farm, since it’s so hard to get help, these days. That factory hired everyone.”
That explained it. “Is that where the muscles came from?” Terri said. She tried to say it neutrally.
“Huh? I guess so,” Mark flexed his right bicep. It was sculpted and bronze. “It’s weird, I was a pretty scrawny guy for so long. Dad said I’m just finally filling out.”
“I know!” Terri said. “Mom said I finally filled out, too.”
He admired the filling out. Terri beamed. “Stop it!” she told herself. She was flirting way too much for a first date, especially considering that her Mom had set them up. But that scent kept crawling up her panties, making her warm…
Mark stopped the car. He turned sideways. “Listen, Terri, I’ve got something serious to ask you.”
Terri’s legs started to slide apart, and she licked her lips.
“Have you noticed anything.. strange… going on in the town? In Calving? I know you’ve only been here for a week or so…”
Her legs snapped shut again. “Oh,” Terri said. She unrolled a window, to help herself think. They were parked in the solid end of nowhere.
Mark had intense blue eyes. “Because I’ve been noticing things. Everyone is acting… funny. Dressing up on weekdays. Lots of flirting. At first I thought it was just all the newcomers from the factory, but I’m not so sure…”
Terri forced her head back onto business. Mark had a point. “Yeah,” she said, frowning, “It does seem weird, I guess. This was such an armpit town. Now all the high heels and big-sized bras are sold out.” Partly because of her.
“Right! Exactly!” Mark said. “I didn’t want to say, but since when did the women in this town have such gigantic boobs?”
“Plus there’s the pregnancies. That’s weird, too,” Terri noted.
“I know! Seems like everyone is in hot-Mom maternity wear. Even my best friend, we used to play Counterstrike like, every night. Now he’s completely shut off with his girlfriend, and his Facebook status has said “Makin’ Babies’ for like the past week and a half!”
“What do you think it is?” Terri said. Mark, outraged and intent, was just as much of a turn-on as the other kind. Plus certain words were setting off fireworks in her head. Boobs. Babies.
“I have no clue. I even thought I was crazy,” Mark said. He turned those eyes back on her, like a lighthouse glow. “I’m really glad to hear it’s not just me.”
“Why don’t you come back over in a few days?” Terri suggested. Actually, now that her struggling logic was beating against it, that seemed like a good idea. Something in her little crappy town had changed. “We can probably figure it out if we’re both working on it.”
“Great!” Mark said, enthusiastic. “Although I’m kind of worried that… anyway, nevermind. Let me drive you home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“What?” Terri asked. She arched an eyebrow.
“It’s just… I’m a little worried that it’s affecting me, too. Whatever it is,” Mark admitted. He shifted position, and Terri’s eyes zeroed in on the outline of his cock. It was obviously big. “I’ve been… kind of horny, lately. A lot horny. I’m hoping that it’s just working outdoors all day, but what if…”
“Oh,” Terri said. She swallowed, hard. Her hands were starting to move by themselves. She struggled to rationalize it. “Actually, ah, I’ve been a little… randy… too. Since I got back to town.”
The silence crystallized. Mark’s scent was pumping into Terri’s head, now. Over and over, more insistent hormones. And, as her legs started to creak apart, the same poured out of her body, closed the distance to Mark.
“We could keep an eye on each other,” Mark suggested, at last. “That would probably work.”
“Right!” Terri seized on the idea. “And we could, you know, relieve the pressure. Keep our heads clear.”
“You think so?” Mark said.
“Yeah! Kind of… milk each other, you know? Not boyfriend or girlfriend or anything like that,” she reassured him.
Freed of lingering constraints, Terri’s hands descended on Mark’s lap. He quickly shoved the seat back, unzipped his zipper. Terri’s hand dove underneath his shorts, and drew out long, rod-sized cock.
“Holy shit,” Terri murmured. Precum leaked out of the tip and directly into her brain.
“Yeah, that’s been… bigger as well,” Mark said.
Terri started to jack up and down. She turned and leaned over, putting her head close, as Mark groaned and leaned back. Terri put both hands on it, then just the fingertips, letting the slick precum glide her tiny hands up against the monster of a cock she was jerking off.
“Just gotta… milk it…” she said, watching the tip shudder, and more creamy precum spit out the top. Mark had his eyes closed, and moaned, gripping both sides of the car seat. Now she let her fingers leap up and down, desperate to extract more dribbling fluids, feeling him buck and twitch under her fingers. Terri couldn’t help thinking that they would be that much more sexy if they were painted bright pink.
“Like that,” Mark murmured, and Terri gave it her all. She swiveled her fingers in little circles, the other hand around the base, and felt her tits swelter under her shirt.
Mark finally came. His first eruption hit the wheel of the car. The second and third weren’t much less, coating the entire driver’s side with sprays of cum. It pooled in a little white pond underneath him, and a spider web’s worth clung to her fingers.
The boy finally came down from the clouds.
“Was that okay?” Terri said, anxiously.
“Great,” Mark exhaled. “I feel… better. A little clearer.” He turned to her. “Your turn, huh?”
Terri grinned, and her pussy creamed with approval.
Mark took his time positioning her. First he just rubbed her slit from on top of her shorts, while grabbing crudely at her tits with her other hand. It felt great. But he clearly wasn’t satisfied, and had Terri pull the seat down, yank her shorts off, and expose her glistening slit to the stifling air inside the car. She let her high heels scratch against the windshield, and licked gently at her cum-stained fingers. His fingers weren’t gentle, and that was exactly what she wanted. They pressed up against her clit, pushing and prodding, and each touch felt like a better touch.
“I can’t get deep enough,” he complained, and this time Mark had her slip into the backseat. She didn’t even care that first she had to waddle outside, pussy exposed to the night, and then slide into the back. Mark leaned on top of her, breathing hard, pumping his eager fingers in and out. His other hand found her nipples, and squeezed.
Terri came. The car rocked as she moaned.
“There,” Mark said, exhausted. He walked back to the front seat, and sat down. “Better. We’ll just have to… keep doing that to each other. Feel any better.”
No. In fact, Terri’s body wanted more. More delicious stimulation, more of Mark. More of Mark’s sweaty, big body leaning over her.
“Yeah,” she lied, overruling it.
Then they drove home, covertly stroking at private parts whenever they thought the other wasn’t looking.
Terri made a mental note to pick up birth control pills as soon as she could.
* * *
Anne was waiting for her in the parlor room.
“How was your date?” she said, eyes affixed on her library copy of The Invisible Man. She hadn’t really gotten beyond the first page, and her eyebrows were crinkled with concentration.
“Eh,” Terri said, noncommittal. “I’m going to bed. Try not to set me up with any more men in the near future.”
“Fine,” Anne said. She put the book down, blinked, and picked up a Cosmopolitan that just happened to be nearby.
Terri walked, on shaky legs, downstairs. Anne examined the big wet spot on the back of her shorts, sniffed the air, and smiled to herself.
* * *
Terri took her time getting out of bed the next morning. She had ended a delicious evening with another friendly finger-fuck, giving in to her sensitive titties just one more time. Then a long night full of sex-scented dreams.
She wanted nothing more but to laze in bed, thinking happy thoughts about boys and their big, strong hands. But then her stomach churned, and she realized, abruptly, that between cow-tipping and long, hot sessions of hand-play she hadn’t actually ever gotten around to having dinner.
The air smelled of waffles.
Terri was halfway to the door, thinking about syrup, when she thought to look down at her disheveled outfit. She had fallen asleep in last night’s clothes. They were a canvas of spatter—her shirt dotted with what had to be Mark’s sprayed boy-juice, and a long smear where he wiped his fingers free ofs her own fluids.
Something about simply throwing on another pair of old jeans felt… wrong…
Terri stood in the doorway and willed herself forwards, towards the maple cloud in the kitchen.
Then she groaned and trudged into the bathroom.
* * *
“Good morning, Terri. You’re looking… nice,” Anne said. Her Mom had on a tight apron with a smiling cartoon cow written on it.
“Just waffle me,” Terri said, darkly. Her hair kept falling into her eyes, but it just hadn’t felt… right unless it was layered in two blonde sheaths around her face. She scratched at an exposed leg. The jean skirt was daringly high, and her thighs shifted around inside, inviting. The t-shirt exposed a lot of belly button and was warped by both of her heavy breasts.
Anne served her up a triple serving, along with a mound of whipped cream and two kinds of syrup. A slab of bacon was thoughtfully placed on the table, along with pulp-only orange juice. Terri put her head down, and laid into it.
Her Mom not-so-discretely put a brown paper bag next to her. Terri stopped gobbling long enough to glance inside.
The bag held a month’s worth of birth control pills. They were pink and large. Terri blushed until she was sure her hair turned pink. Anne didn’t say anything else, although the blonde thought she was turning waffles very smugly.
“What chores do you have for me?” Terri said, finally. She tried to summon some snakebite, but in truth, the humdrum exertion of chores was starting to get not only routine… but kind of nice. It was something to do, at least.
“Dishes, sweeping, scrubbing, and cleaning out the men’s rooms.”
Darrell and Ronald. Terri thought about sticking out her tongue, but stuck more waffles inside of it, instead.
* * *
Terri did the dishes in a haze of carbohydrates and steadily increasing sex drive. Her mind kept replaying last night, each hot-fire touch, each tweak on a sensitive girl part. Which seemed to be almost all of them.
So it wasn’t until she washed her hands in cold water that she remembered her promise to Mark. To keep an eye out for weirdness. It would be tough to do without a trip into town, but that had been the entire reason for their eager sex-play.
“And…” Terri’s libido coaxed “If you find something Mark will be very happy.”
Suddenly, she felt very alert.
* * *
The clinic waitroom was empty, again. Paul had done his best. He had gone out and cleaned up the pigeon crap on the “Planned Parenthood” sign. He had replaced the ancient Redbooks with somewhat up-to-date magazines.
It hadn’t mattered. Calving was apparently a wasteland of actual family planning. The only visitors were longtime clients renewing their birth control prescriptions. And even they looked increasingly uncomfortable, dashing in and out.
Ally swiveled on her chair, behind the front desk. To her left, Michelle flipped a pencil back and forth in the air. They had jointly decided to volunteer at the clinic to fulfill Calving High’s ridiculous community service requirement. Then, off to the East Coast for College. It hadn’t been the empowering, affirming choice the two friends had imagined.
“Get out,” Paul threatened, inside of his office. “Get out right now, that’s all I have to say.”
Ally and Michelle looked at each other.
Moments later Pastor Flynn walked out of Paul’s office, calm, and still smiling.
“I’m not doing any business with you, comprende?” Paul said. He was mid-30s bachelor, with the goatee and the stained and wrinkled button-down.
“I understand perfectly,” Flynn said, and shrugged. They locked stares for a moment, and then Paul disappeared back into his office.
The Pastor sighed, and ran a hand through oiled black hair. He put his arms on the counter and mildly examined the suspicious duo.
“Ally, right?” he said. “And Michelle?”
“Um, yes,” Ally said, cautiously. “How do you know our names? And weren’t you told to go? Just now?”
“Only from his office,” Flynn explained. “Plus, a Pastor makes the names of his flock his business.”
His dark black eyes noticed their Office Lump of candy. Paul kept it filled to the brim with M&Ms. It was one of the few joys Michelle and Ally had.
Flynn took a handful. Just a for a moment, it looked like something glittered out of his sleeve, came to rest on the mound of chocolates. Ally blinked.
“So, why did you get kicked out?” Michelle asked, eagerly. She was tall, with brown hair and small brown lips.
“I felt like we should discuss matters of mutual interest,” Flynn said. “I don’t feel like we should be competing. Paul disagreed, as was his right, if not in his best interest.” He finished his chocolates, then sucked on his fingers. “Competition benefits nobody. He’ll see that, soon enough. I’ll see you two some other time.”
Then he was gone.
* * *
The next time Flynn showed up, a week later, it took Paul a half-hour to kick him out.
Ally spent much of it admiring the hem of her new skirt. It was stretchy, which was nice because it really emphasized her ass. But it also meant it kept riding up when she sat down. Oh well.
She took another scoop of candy. In just the past week both her and Michelle had found a passion for chocolates. The big bowl was nearly empty.
“What do you think they’re doing in there?” Michelle said. She had visited a salon yesterday, apparently. Her hair, formerly two big clumps on either side of her face, had been pinned up and layered. It was cute. Ally was already thinking about how to destroy her boring ponytail.
“Management stuff?” Ally said.
“I guess.” Michelle put her pencil back in her mouth. She crossed her legs, and a pair of jean shorts strained around her rear. They both had great legs, but the fact was, Michelle was taller then she was. The heels barely compensated.
They used to talk about College, and Majors, and High School. But in the lazy Spring air, waiting for nobody, it had been a lot more fun to talk makeup and clothes and… boys. Lots about boys.
“Just go. Go, and don’t come back,” Paul finally announced, low and threatening.
Flynn took his time swaggering out the doors. And he zeroed in on the candies. Apparently he had as much of a sweet tooth as they did.
“Hey Pastor,” Ally said, waving. Her bracelets cracked together.
“Michelle. Ally,” Flynn said. He reached for the M&Ms once more. Paul appeared in the doorway, face lined, then left without a word.
“I swear,” Flynn said. “Did you girls get taller since I saw you last? You young ladies always surprise me.”
Ally blushed. The juncture at her legs started to warm up, too. Any sort of compliment from a guy seemed to set her off. “It’s just the heels,” she confessed.
“Notice anything else?” Michelle said. She had a deep, husky voice, and backed it up by crossing her arms underneath her chest. Both Ally and Michelle had been delighted when they had simultaneously hit a late-adolescence growth spurt. Ally was still getting used to lugging big boobs around.
“Just that your immediate superior is an impressively honorable man,” Flynn said. He took another grab for the M&Ms. “It really is too bad he can’t be more agreeable. Like you girls.”
They both flushed again. Compliments hit Ally like a burst of sweets, recently. Whenever a boy admired her skirt or her legs she had to stop and calm down.
“You’re leaving?” she said, disappointed.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Flynn said. “I’ll be back, soon enough.”
* * *
The next week, Flynn didn’t come out for a long time. Ally didn’t keep track, because she was too busy wondering if she could get away with masturbating in front of Michelle.
Her dress was bright blue, and she had gone into the City to get it. Ally had expected resistance from her Mom. It only reached mid-thigh, the upper part of mid-thigh, and she had flashed her Mom and two clerks while practicing walking in it. But the older woman had cheerfully paid for the sexy outfit.
The reason for the trip had been her bobbling boobies. Most of the girls at School had caught Tit Flu, it had seemed. But hers were titanic. They opened doors. They preceded her into rooms. And they had a mind of their own—which demanded petting and stroking at all times. So she had gotten special bras. Not that she really needed them.
She was hot today. Aroused. Horny. Most days she was hot, it seemed. The girls at School had discarded jeans for pretty, flippy things that lifted and supported. The boys had become just as randy, showing approval by caressing or stroking whoever walked by.
Michelle had on a matching green dress. It was pretty clear that she was feeling pretty horny, too. That pencil of hers kept feeling underneath her open skirt.
They liked to talk about boys at school, and who was fucking who. She was pretty sure Paul could hear them. It was fun.
“No,” Paul said, hunted. “No. I can’t. It’s madness. You’re insane.” His voice was troubled, nearly broken. “Leave.”
This time Flynn was beaming as he stepped outside. Both girls flew out of their chairs, up against the side of the desk. “Hi Pastor!” Ally sang. Her hair bounced around in gold circles.
“Hey girls,” Flynn said. “You want some candy?”
“I love candy,” Michelle said, and winked. So did Ally. Flynn produced two huge pink ovals from the sleeve of his suit.
“Go ahead,” he said, and they eagerly swallowed them.
“Kind of medicin-y,” Ally said “But, uh, I like it!”
Flynn smiled at her, and she nearly dripped into her panties. Then she actually did.
“Girls, what are you accomplishing here, exactly?” he said, serious all of a sudden.
“Huh? I don’t know… stopping babies and stuff… I guess,” Ally said. This sounded like school. And school itself had become super boring, lately. Ally hadn’t done her homework in weeks. The teachers hadn’t minded.
“Yeah,” Flynn said. “Does that seem right to you?”
Actually, now that the Pastor mentioned it… a lot of the girls at School had confided in the fun of bare-backing, letting a boy fill you with his goo. Plus there was all the sexy girls in town, parading around with big bellies. The boys nearly walked into cars when they saw them walking around.
They had been talking about it for most of the week. Those that were knocked-up High Schoolers seemed proud of it.
“I guess… it’s bad?” Michelle said, nose wrinkled.
“It is,” Flynn nodded. “I mean, you girls are young. Wouldn’t it be so nice if you were pregnant together, getting big and fat, sharing the experience?”
Ally and Michelle stared at each other. Ally imagined Michelle swelling up, her mammoth boobs getting even bigger, the two of them stroking at each other as they grew..
“Um, I got to go to the bathroom, Pastor Flynn,” Ally said. “Scuse me.”
“Me too!” Michelle squeaked.
“Then don’t let me detain you, ladies,” Pastor Flynn said, and took a parting scoop of M&Ms. “Remember, cooperation. I just wish Paul would.”
* * *
The bathroom wasn’t really big enough for two, unless they pushed up against each other. Ally had to reach up to kiss Michelle’s hungry, insistent mouth. And their tits, mashing together, made her even more hard to reach. But Ally made it happen anyways.
Their boobs rolled around, up against each other. Nipples touched and rubbed together, and fireworks kicked at her head.
With her free hand Michelle reached underneath Ally’s dress, fit her hand underneath her panties.
“You’re juicy,” she noted, eyes glazed.
Ally did the same. Michelle wasn’t even wearing panties. Ally giggled, and moved her hand around inside the hot, wet folds.
They stood there, pumping at each other, balanced impossibly on heels as they moved back and forth. It should’ve been impossible to stay steady, not to mention also rub hard against budding clits. But they managed.
“Flynn was so fucking right,” Ally hummed, into Michelle’s ear. “Oh god. You hear that Erin and Paula and Carrie got pregnant, right? All from Tom, he fucked all of them.”
“We could have babies together,” Michelle said. “You and me. Best friends and mommies together.”
They came at the same time, shivering and teetering in each other’s arms.
Later, Ally knelt between Michelle’s legs, as the brown-haired girl leaned back on the toilet seat. She sat upright.
“Ally, I think I know how we can get some cum in us,” she said. “If we work together.”
* * *
“You’re sick,” Paul groaned. Ally urged him onwards, towards the orgasm she could feel coming. Soon Paul would fill her up with his sexy, baby-making sperms, get her all pregnant and fat.
Just like Michelle, who was in the office chair, her legs up on the table. She had her hand protectively over the outside of her cunt, to keep Paul’s cum inside. Her other hand rolled her nipple around in her palm.
Flynn stood respectfully in a corner, calm in his dark black suit.
“I can see that you’re busy with your staff,” he said. “I can come back later. Maybe I’ll bring a pregnancy test with me?”
That did it. Ally squeezed again, at the shaft inside her. She was bent over the side of Paul’s desk, tits out, head bumping against his laptop. He had both hands on her ass, and kept pumping until his entire cock was inside her.
Their plan had only taken a week. Day one, they came in wearing matching pink skirts, and made a point of bending over in their halter tops when Paul was around. Day two, they did the same, only without panties. By day three Paul had been pitching a permanent tent pole, and was sweating the entire day.
At Day Five, on Ally’s suggestion, they had brought vibrators into the office, and buried them up their snatches while simply sitting around. Paul had come outside, seen their buzzing and giggling, and hadn’t said a word.
On Day Six he had finally given in, grabbing Michelle like a wild animal and, grunting, running his hands over her tittering body. But he had insisted on wearing a condom when they finally fucked, even if the plastic sheath had barely fit over his cock.
Day seven, Ally and Michelle had made their joint demand. If he wanted more tender teenage ass, it was bare or nothing. Paul hadn’t taken long to decide.
Paul came. Wonderful hot stuff filled her. Ally came too, a million images of milky tits and fat tummies overwhelming her thoughts. They had both deferred college. It seemed boring stuff anyway. Paul stayed inside her, panting.
“What did you do to us?” he said, defeated. “Some sort of chemical? Why can’t I resist this? Why aren’t I going to the police?”
“Paul,” Flynn said, smoothly. “You’re just learning to cooperate. You’ve become part of the flock. Just let it happen.”
“You mean, part of the herd,” Paul said. But he was already growing hard again. “I’ll do it. Give me those pills. Although I don’t know what more you can do to this town.”
Flynn grinned. “Oh, I think plenty,” he said.

Monday, November 10, 2014

CALVING SIGNS PART 4 OF 7 by Limerick

It wasn’t until they arrived at The Store that Terri realized she hadn’t left the house in a week and a half.
The sun revealed how her skin had already reverted to its natural milky-white tone, and she had to squint against the light.
The blonde wore a nice green blouse with a bow in the middle, along with loose khaki shorts.
“You need new underwear,” Anne said. She had picked another of her unending collection of princess-quality dresses, this one green with a light white stripe. “Come on.”
“I’m not going underwear shopping with my Moth…” she trailed off.
Just across the parking lot, balancing on two heels, was another girl. She also wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. And was blonde. But this girl was waddling with a straining new belly, hugely pregnant. She nonetheless had her hair carefully styled, with red lipstick, and wore black heels. Between her stomach and the heels she moved at a glacial pace.
Terri couldn’t turn away. Her belly button was puckered out. The blonde found herself rubbing her own stomach.
“Terri! You coming?”
“Huh?” Terri tore her eyes away. “Oh. Underwear. Right.”
* * *
“If you need a larger bra, Terri, just tell me,” her Mom said. Loudly.
Terri blushed. Once upon a time it would’ve been hidden beyond a powder cloud of white makeup. But even on her day off the thick pasty stuff just didn’t… appeal to her like it had in college. So her cheeks were red and flushed.
“Okay, fine,” she said, and shifted. “Throw one at me.”
Her bra WAS cutting into her back. The cups struggled to hold in a new wealth of boob, high-riding knockers that pushed out her t-shirt.
It was all that eating. And the ice cream. Last night was mint chocolate chip. Terri had two scoops. Afterwards the four women in the house had just basked in the afterglow, plopped in the chairs and luxuriating.
Terri and Anne stood in The Store. It hadn’t bothered with a name since 1981, when the faded and rusted swinging sign had fallen off. It hadn’t mattered. The Store was the only women’s apparel store in town. It had long racks of wire hangers and linoleum floors.
Terri had followed her Mom, only half-aware of where they were going. The hugely pregnant woman with the double-plus boobs strode around the store. Men stopped and stared when she passed. Women rubbed at their stomachs.
The larger bras had been ransacked. The old wire-frame hangars were half-empty, and a harried shop girl restocked out of a cardboard box. She had a hefty pair of boobs herself, with a name tag pinned on them. The pin was struggling.
“What size are you?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know. Bigger then I was.”
“Work with me here, honey.”
Her Mom stepped towards her, grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt, and yanked it upwards. Terri, too shocked to move, stood straight and still as her Mom displayed her bulging tits to the rest of the store.
They were spilling over the cups, and felt cool in the sudden shock of department store air.
Anne nodded and tossed a few pairs at her.
“I should be mortified,” Terri thought, ambling towards the dressing room. “My Mom just flashed me.”
Instead, she felt… calm. Cheerful. Even… docile. So she had given a peepshow to a few female shoppers. Who cared? Not worth fighting about. Besides, visions of that big-boobed cow kept popping in her head.
Why was it so distracting?
Terri wrinkled her nose. The bra was basic beige, and boring.
But it did look big enough, with deep wide cups. Maybe that would help with the oh-so-distracting sensitivity she was experiencing. Her nipples kept acting like little play toys, always ready for a kneading. In the past few days she didn’t like to go to bed without a yummy stroke session in front of the mirror.
“And then we’re getting you something for your date,” Anne called after her. Her tits glowed with approval.
“Can we stop in the shoe department?” Terri asked.
* * *
Terri wobbled down the sidewalk.
“NOW I’m mortified,” she thought, and grit her teeth. Behind her, Anne examined her unsteady stride critically.
“Let your hips sway,” she called out, from a few strides back. “Back straight, small steps.”
“They hurt!” Terri said. Her feet were bound in two heels, each with a slender black spike that tip-tapped on the old sidewalk.
“The height was your idea,” Anne said, unsympathetically. She walked easily in her own blue heels, with the leather strap.
That was true. Anne had pushed only for sensible short heels, with a broad sole. But something about the wispy black gloss on the pair in the far back just… called to her. Something about the impracticality, the very inanity of buying shoes that were terrible for walking.
“I just picked them out to mess with you,” she told her Mom. “I didn’t expect you to actually buy them.”
“If you wanted really high heels, they’re yours. And now you’re going to learn to walk in them.”
Terri took another half-dozen mincing steps and winced.
It didn’t help that Main Street was crowded with a sudden bloom of attractive young girls in very towering heels.
Terri had told herself that at least she would stand out from the dowdy, sensible-shoes crowd Calving was used to. But so far she had passed three women in leather boots with a sharp heel, two in wine-red strappy things, and two sashaying in glittering pink.
She forced herself to emulate their stride. “Back straight, chest out,” Terri told herself. Her growing boobs thrust themselves into the air. Okay. Then short, sliding steps, balancing on her hips.
“Good!” Anne said, approvingly.
Terri blushed. But the compliment gave her the confidence to finally take her eyes off her own feet.
Then she finally caught sight of the girls attached to the flashing heels. Ever since leaving the store her eyes had been resolutely on the ground.
Some of the pedestrians were the same dusty, jean-wearing Calving residents she remembered.
But the rest…
One girl wore a grey pencil skirt with a pink blouse, matched with white pearls. Her makeup—solid red lips with a layer of blush—looked like a morning-long endeavor. Three buttons fought to hold back a massive chest, and a fourth had already popped apart, just above her navel. She ambled along, a pleased smile on her lips.
Another had on a white dress with a black belt. On her lush, overripe body the skimpy material simply bulged and revealed. She wore heavy sunglasses, and clutched a brand new purse.
“Terri, that’s perfect! Just like that!” her Mom enthused.
Terri looked down. Without even thinking about it she had lapsed into a steady, swaying gait, tiny little steps down the cracked sidewalk. She had her chest held out, and her ass felt like the world could examine, but somehow the whole thing… worked.
She rubbed her belly once more. What had she been thinking about? Something about… that pregnant girl?
The knocked-up girl had just slipped into the big glass door at Henry’s Diner. Terri turned around.
“Mom, are you hungry?” she said.
* * *
“Six! That’s six in a half-hour. You owe me a milkshake,” Susan said, triumphant. She pumped her fist, thumped her head back against the ancient faux-leather seat.
“Unbelievable,” Dan said, shaking his head. But six pregnant girls had waddled through that door in just a single half-hour.
They were impossible to miss. Not just for the jiggling tits pushed up on top of a shelf, or for the convex stomach that entered the Diner well before them. Also for the identical lazy, contented smiles they wore, the surprisingly short skirts, and the eager way they showed off their expanded boobs.
“That’s weird,” Dan said.
“Yeah, well, they’re out here in the boonies. There’s nothing to do but fuck and pop out kids. I’ll bet they have their own little contests. Biggest boobs. Biggest kids.”
“They aren’t shy about it,” Dan noted. It was weird to see such raw sexuality from a pregnant woman. What few he had seen in the city wore sweatpants and well-padded bras.
His fiancée snorted. She was almost exactly his age, with styled black hair held back by pins, and effortlessly flawless skin. Susan lived in jeans and slept in pajamas; he rarely saw her naked even when they managed to have sex.
“Remind me why we’re here, again,” Susan said.
“Museum of Cow Parts!” Dan said, enthusiastically. Traversing small town museums had been his idea. So far, it hadn’t gone well. Susan had only agreed out of boredom and a keenly honed sense of irony. And the problem with the Museum of Amazing Yarn and the World’s Largest Taco was that you still had 23 hours to kill after your visit. “Says here that they have dioramas for every single part of the cow.”
“Wow, that’s great,” Susan said. She looked around the diner. The surfaces gleamed, but everything needed to be upholstered or replaced, particularly the grease-patina lighting.
“Oh, god, one of them is coming over here.”
“Them” was a man from down the horseshoe of booths, the largest one. He had been entertaining an entire crowd of men and women—young women—with apparently hilarious stories. The man had a huge grin plastered on, and his hair looked like it absorbed grease from the atmosphere. He stopped in front of their table and absorbed Susan’s dagger-glare.
“Hey, didn’t want to be unfriendly!” the man said. He stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Calving! I’m Pastor Flynn. You folks just move in?”
Dan shook it. The man gripped, tightened nearly to his breaking point, and pumped up and down. “Just passing through,” he gasped. “We’re tourists.”
“Tourists! Rare sight out here. The only tourists we get are the cows, and they don’t stay long.” Flynn grinned.
“No!” Susan said, and put her hand to her mouth. “No tourists? Is it because the entire town smells like an old rodeo?”
“Susan—“ Dan said. But Flynn just laughed.
“Calving is a town on the grow, Miss,” he said.
“Yeah, we noticed,” Susan retorted. “This whole town is a maternity ward. You should get CNN out here for a special report.”
Flynn’s smile froze, this time. “You people enjoy your stay. Hope you decide to make it a long one,” the pastor said. He stepped lightly back to his table.
“Christ, Susan, don’t be a bitch to these people,” Dan said, leaning over the table. “There’s two of us and a lot of them.”
“Yeah, well, there’s going to be a lot more of them, soon enough,” Susan said. “This sucks. Lets just go.”
A redhead appeared at the table, wearing one of those paper hats from 1956. She had two milkshakes in hand. “Pastor Flynn sent them over,” she perked.
Dan stared at his. It was chocolate, tall, and had whipped cream dripping down the side. There was a cherry on top of Susan’s.
“Now I feel like an asshole,” he said.
“I say, free milkshake,” Susan said. She took a quick sip. Her eyes got wide, very fast. “Holy shit,” she said. “They must have the cow outside the door. This is amazing.”
Dan tried some of his. It was good. Very good. The wet, creamy chocolate mixed with a swirl of syrup. He could almost feel it drip down into his stomach. “Good God,” he said.
At first Susan just used her straw. But when that wasn’t fast enough, she attacked the milkshake with a spoon, slurping down big gulps at a time. Whipped cream stained her usually-dainty chin, and strawberry adorned the tip of her nose.
“This is so fucking good,” she moaned, slurping the last of it down. Dan was just behind her, finally chugging the remainder of the glass.
They both sagged against the back of the booth.
“One more?” Dan suggested.
“Fuck yeah!” Susan said, and waved for the busty waitress.
* * *
Dan idly traced the outlines of the waitress’ tits when she bent over with another pair of milkshakes. They were heavy and large, dense, and spilled over the top of her flimsy pink blouse. His cock abruptly stiffened.
“You were just staring at her breasts,” Susan accused, after taking a long pull of strawberry milkshake.
Ordinarily Dan would’ve apologized. But he just wasn’t… feeling like it, now. “Yeah? So?”
Susan looked shocked.
“She had nice tits. So what? I’m a guy. I like to look around.” His cock gave another surge forwards. There was a heat in his head, now. When had that arrived.
“What about her ass?” Susan said, in a small voice. She kept going back to her towering pile of milkshake.
Dan considered it. “Not as good as yours,” he said, honestly.
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Hers is too meaty. You’ve got a sexy little rear end. It’s fucking hot,” Dan said. Susan gave a little wriggle, and licked her lips.
“Is it really fucking hot?”
“You heard me,” Dan assured her. He looked down. His milkshake had disappeared already. Susan was just finishing up the last of hers. A bit of strawberry had fallen onto her blouse, stained it wet. She hadn’t even noticed. Dan blinked, and a vision of him fucking her, up against the wall, invaded his head. Then it didn’t want to let go.
“Come sit next to me,” he ordered. Susan complied. “Then we’re going to have another of these god damn awesome milkshakes.”
* * *
He stared openly at the waitress’ tits. Susan didn’t seem to mind. She clung to his right arm, in the booth. The smell of her sunk into his hindbrain. Their third milkshakes slid across the table.
“All these fucking preggo women,” Susan said. She pressed up against him. “Bunch of sluts. I bet they love to just sit and fuck. That’s probably all they do, stay at home and fuck and rub at their horny little slits.”
“What, like this?” Dan said. He slid his hand over her leg, pressed hard against the mound of her jean-covered cunt. Susan’s eyes popped. Then she curled around his firmly-pressed hand, milkshake temporarily forgotten.
His cock ached. It felt like the size of a tent peg, pulsing loads of insistent demands into his head. Dan couldn’t see any reason not to give in to them.
“Y-yeah, just like that,” Susan gasped. His prim fiancée was shaking and quivering, just from his tensed fingers. Dan was only a little surprised when wetness leaked through, and stained his fingers. “These… ahhh… like baby-making bimbos.. ahh…”
She still managed to raise her milkshake, with one shaking hand, and down the entire drink in one long gulp. Dan pushed in, viciously, and she dropped the glass. It shattered on the table, and everyone turned to look.
Pastor Flynn, from far away, smiled.
Dan fumbled for his wallet and threw scads of green bills on the table. Then, one arm around his woman, he guided her shaking, fumbling legs out the door.
* * *
Their hotel room was a pit, the bed sunken in the center and the TV stuck on mute with Spanish captions. Dan didn’t notice.
Susan had stopped talking. Mostly she whimpered and sighed, thanks to his insistent hand. They had walked to their room with his hand between her thighs.
He dimly remembered something, even as he tossed his woman onto the bed. Something about a piece of rubber in his wallet… it was round… there was something he did with it…
Then Susan managed to get her pants down. Her tan, perfect thighs showcased a well-trimmed pair of pussy lips. She spread her legs as wide as they could go, until Dan stared into a pink wonderland of dripping sex. She moaned and tugged at her nipples.
Dan grunted and tugged his way out of his pants. His cock—it seemed impossibly long and hard—fit easily between her thighs. His first hard stroke ended up buried to the very hilt, and she closed her legs around him.
They were sweating, and the room was hot. Dan fucked her savagely, from tip to base, slamming up against her clit with all the force he had. It should’ve been agony for Susan, but she urged him on, feet digging into his back, kneading her tits with force.
“Fuck… fuck me,” she chanted, the first words she had spoken in some time.
Something built at the base of his cock. Dan growled, and let it go, all the way inside. Scoops of white cum spattered her pussy. That ignited her own orgasm, and she screamed into his ear, eyes wild. White bits leaked along the side, where he was still pushing and shoving his penis inside of his woman.
* * *
“Condom,” he thought, bleary-eyed, “I forgot a condom.”
Susan didn’t believe in the Pill. Too much medical uncertainty about long-term effects, or something. Dan fought against the surges of lust still leaking from his cock.
“No, Susan, we need to…”
Susan rose from the bed, her legs bowed. She walked like a dreamer to the single table in the room, white fluid dribbling down her legs. Then his proper fiancée bent herself over, legs arched up, and rested her tits on the formica top.
“Fuck me?” she suggested, and licked her lips. Dan was already hard again.
Dan grabbed the curve of her ass, spread them wider.
The scent of her slit reached his soggy brain. He inhaled. It smelled faintly like strawberries.
This time, when he fucked her, visions of Susan pregnant ruled his mind. Susan walking in heels and a short skirt, bulging and huge. Susan with big leaking tits. Susan mewing over his cock, shaven and bare, having waited for him to come home. Susan bent over for his approval, waiting eagerly for his cock.
When he came, Dan made sure to stay all the way inside her.
* * *
Dawn came up.
Susan sucked on his cock. She was covered in gouts of sperm, and they coated her body. Despite a night of feverish coupling she still hadn’t managed to get her shirt off. Cum dripped endlessly from her overflowing slit.
Whenever something like conscious thought threatened to intrude on Dan, another of Susan’s long, teasing sucks shot it away.
They had already missed breakfast, but that way okay, Dan thought, the hotel didn’t serve one, anyways.
But maybe the Diner did.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Chastity Lynn is a Cute Little Fuckdoll










CALVING SIGNS PART 3 OF 7 by Limerick

“You’re having a tea party?” Terri said, sitting at the kitchen table. She itched awkwardly at an exposed leg. Her grey sweats had been nearly destroyed by the work. At her Mom’s suggestion, she was trying out a baggy pair of shorts. After a week it felt a little strange to show any skin, but it did help with the low-level heat that filled the house.
“Book club,” Anne said. She was making canapés. And she had another one of her titillating dresses on, a green one with a white sash. It had a v-neck that plunged to the center of her chest. Two breasts poked out on either side. Terri had hesitated to ask, but they WERE bigger, weren’t they?
“Then what’s the book?”
“We didn’t actually get around to picking one,” Anne admitted. “But that’s why we’re meeting. To pick a book for next week.”
Terri rolled her eyes.
“Your eyes are going to stick like that if you’re not careful,” Anne said.
She rolled a piece of bacon around a fig. Terri nearly drooled. Why was she so hungry, all the time? Did it have anything to do with her newly irrepressible sex drive?
“Good! Then I’ll go around freaking people out with my all-white eyes. It’ll be great,” Terri said. “Who are these women?”
“Oh, you know. Ladies from the neighborhood. Mrs. Pritcher. Mrs. Scoaler. Mrs. Taylor…”
It was a nearly complete list of the prudish, busy-body women that staffed the Calving PTA and spent most of their time disapproving of things.
Terri opened her mouth to say as much, and Anne stuffed a fig in it. It was delicious. Her train of thought plunged off the rails.
“Go take a shower,” Anne directed. “I’ll give you one of my dresses to wear. You, dear daughter, will be serving the tea.”
Terri tried to fight back.
But the fig was stuffed with ricotta. And all she could do was nod.
* * *
Terri closed the bathroom door and examined herself in the mirror.
“Oh geez,” she murmured, to herself.
She was busting out in curves all over. That damn ice cream!
Already her rail-thin body was a memory. No longer could she see three bony ribs floating just underneath her boobs. Now her body was increasingly sleek and well-fed, almost glossy, rippling with a new bounty of curves.
What hadn’t gone to her hips had gone to her boobs. They had inflated like party balloons over the past week, swelling from mere bumps to the honest-to-goodness breasts she had had before college. Her hips were embarrassingly wide, back to the child-bearing country curves she had been so mortified by.
Not that she looked BAD…
“No more ice cream,” she told herself. That had to be it. That stuff was 90% fat. Whatever Reverend Flynn put in it, it was overencouraging the part of her genetic makeup that wanted to be described as “buxom.”
She eased her growing form into the shower. For the first five minutes she dully scrubbed herself.
“Okay, Terri, be honest with yourself,” she said, watching the hot water dribble down a small expanse of honest-to-goodness cleavage.
She was starting to get turned on… by pretty much anything. It wasn’t just at the end of the day, anymore. All morning Terri had caught herself day-dreaming about boys… sex… slutty little outfits she remembered from college…
A few minutes of the torrent of steaming water, and she started feeling red hot. Already her re-inflated nipples were perking up.
Terri eased a finger down to her snatch. She was starting to seriously considering shaving. Considering how much time she was spending down there, her pubic hair was just an irritation.
“No!” her mind told her, dragging her libido to the back of her head. Not now! Tonight. The tea party women would be there any minute!
Terri flipped the dial to ‘freezing’ and waited for the wet tingles to fall away.
It took a very long time.
* * *
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Mrs. Taylor said. She was in her mid-40s, with carefully crafted Mom hair that hadn’t been restyled since 1986. Terri refilled her mug to the brim. She made a face when the older woman couldn’t see.
The whole experience was mortifying. Serving tea. Acting like a… waitress… while the ‘ladies’ gabbed at each other. They all wore tasteful and boring dark-colored dresses, and had their legs crossed.
But what was most embarrassing of all was that she was wearing her Mom’s dress, and that it didn’t fit well. Too loose in the chest. Pinched horribly at the waist. Her two knobby knees stuck out of the bottom.
She had fought back against the heels. Anne had just shrugged and agreed.
Now she felt dumpy and short without them.
“How about The Road?” Anne suggested. “Cormac McCarthy. Oprah recommended it.”
“Oprah recommends lots of things,” Mrs. Pritchard said. She was a woman just starting to sag into old-lady. “It’s all depressing, I hear. End of the world, right?”
Anne looked cheerful. She wore a pattern skirt with a cinched black belt. The flower-covered tanktop was supposed to look demure.
“How about the Time Traveler’s Wife?” Anne tried. “Very romantic.”
“I don’t know. Time travel?” Mrs. Collie said. “It seems very risqué.”
Suddenly Reverend Flynn was there, in his black outfit. He moved quietly, and when he arrived, it was like he carried the church around with him.
All the ladies were very happy to see him.
“Reverend Flynn!” Mrs. Pritchard cooed. “Maybe you could help us pick a book. We’ve been agonizing over it.”
Flynn smiled. At all of them. His gaze lingered on Anne. “I hope you ladies had a chance to try my latest ice cream. With the pralines? You’d be surprised how hard it is to work with nuts.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” Mrs. Collie said, then looked around, suddenly mortified. Everyone else was still looking at Reverend Flynn.
He bit his lip. “I suppose the Bible would be a little clichéd,” he conceded. “How about the Invisible Man? Ellison? Lovely, thought-provoking book. I kept a copy with me in Korea.”
Terri nearly dropped the tea kettle. Flynn’s eyes glanced over at her. Then they noticed the poorly-fitted dress, and took a quick survey of the dark-blonde girl. Terri blushed.
There was a very awkward silence. There was no way Flynn could know that at least half the attendees had tried to remove the book from AP English. Right?
“Yeesssssss,” Mrs. Pritchard said, carefully. “I think we can do that. A change of pace. And I know we all have copies.”
Flynn beamed. “You can borrow mine if you’re missing out. I’ll see you ladies some other time.”
They all watched him go. Eyes, Terri noticed, locked on his rear end.
Mrs. Taylor snapped her fingers. “Oh! Anne. Dear. I quite forgot. You know I live next door to the Parrish family? Mr. Parrish has been having such a rough time with his son ever since Linda passed away. I heard that your daughter was back in town, and I thought she could get him out of the house.”
Terri had missed most of that, watching Flynn leap up the stairs. Had he really been… checking her out?
Anne considered this. “I think I could spare her, for a night,” she conceded. “It’ll be good to get her out, too.”
Wait, what?
They were setting her up on a… date? While she was right here? Had she just stumbled into a 19th century novel? Terri spun around.
Eight eyes looked at her. Terri opened her mouth, and shut it again, as they looked over her body and checked it for suitability. She clutched the tea kettle to her chest, and nearly burned her boobs.
“I’ll tell him Friday at 8? It’ll be a huge help. The man needs some time to himself,” Mrs. Taylor said.
“And you’ll help him have some time to himself?” Mrs. Collie said. Her eyes went wide. She snapped her fingers to her mouth. But the others just giggled. Including her own Mother.
And Mrs. Taylor.
“Terri?” Anne said, and Terri got ready to turn her down. A blind date, set up by a.. coven of meddling old women? No!
“Can you refill the tea pot, please?”
* * *
The fight hadn’t gone like Terri had expected.
She had told her Mom, flat-out, that there was no way in Hell, Heaven, and Earth that she was going on a date with some boy she didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Terri had let herself start slow, with a list of reasons why female slavery was illegal, then built up to a hissing denunciation of chores, dishes, and in general being treated like the maid.
Usually Anne gave as good as she got, until both girls were red-faced, shrieking, and panting for breath. Then Terri would run upstairs, slam the door five or six times, and sulk.
Instead, Anne had just sat at the kitchen table, radiant behind her sharp-rimmed reading glasses, and calmly tapped the surface with a pen.
All she had said was “But you look so much better, Terri.”
Terri had deflated like a popped bag of air. Even the run downstairs had felt forced and unnecessary. She hadn’t even bothered to slam the door.
Instead, she ran right to the bathroom mirror.
She DID look better. Her figure had swelled in all the right places, accentuating hips and thighs Terri hadn’t known she had. Not to mention a steadily increasing bustline, even now outlining her old High School t-shirt. But more importantly, her face was bright and healthy, and her hair had grown lustrous and bouncy once again.
Anne knocked on the door. “We’re going shopping,” she said. “Into town.”
Terri took a deep breath for the next salvo.
Instead, unbidden and unasked for, an image of a bright red dress faded through her head. It was strapless, and cut low enough to show off her new assets. She shook her head to clear it out. That just changed the color to green and cut three inches off the hemline.
“Alright,” she said, meekly. and turned back to the mirror.
For a trip to town, a t-shirt and jeans just wasn’t going to do it.
Terri licked her lips and felt them tingle.
* * *
On Monday, Colleen slammed the front door shut when she arrived home.
Neal was in the living room, sitting cross-legged and playing some video game.
“Hey,” he said, eyes locked on the screen. “Welcome home. How was your day?”
“Terrible. Very bad. We’re getting regulatory pushback from the State, and the entire factory needs… can you look at me when I’m talking?”
The petite girl wore dun-colored slacks and a sheath-like white blouse. “Did you do anything today? Besides video games?”
“Dinner’s ready,” Neal said, meekly.
He waved at the table. A chunk of white chicken and boil-in-bag rice. “I made some phone calls, but nobody needs a web designer in this town,” her husband said.
Dinner was rubbery. Afterwards, Colleen stripped off her work clothes and slid into a grey pair of pants and a tanktop.
“Dishes first,” Neal reminded her, as she picked up the remote.
“Dishes.. you’ve been home all day! I’ve been out there…”
Colleen took a deep breath.
That pastor had recommended it, Reverend something or another.
“Dishes first,” she allowed. That HAD been the deal.
Behind her, while she was up to her elbows in pans, the sounds of video games tinkled.
Colleen was ready to turn around and spit fire when the music stopped, she heard feet padding over….
And then Neal’s warm, strong hands were caressing her backside.
Colleen nearly bit her tongue.
“Thanks for all your hard work, honey,” he said, and then returned to the game.
The manager just stood there.
What had just happened?
Something about her husband’s grip had sent sparks shimmering through her rear end. Her whole body tingled with droplets of pleasure. She could still feel the heat of him, fading away.
Her snatch suddenly glowed cherry red.
* * *
On Tuesday, she did the dishes without a single word. Neal seemed pleasantly surprised.
That strange pleasure had been in the back of her mind all day long.
Twice she had lost her train of thought during a meeting. The first time, she had caught her staff—all men—watching one of the pneumatic secretaries walking out of the room. The girl had impractical heels on, and a skirt that rode up with each swaying step. Just watching the shimmering rear had caused her to simply… trail off.
The second time, she had shifted in her chair, and felt an echo of that odd, fun feeling when she put pressure on her ass.
Colleen realized, with sharp surprise, that she had been looking forward to doing the dishes all day long.
When Neal sat back on the floor she craned her head back and watched him from over the sink.
“Hey, Neal?” She called over, softly. He paused.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for everything,” she cooed.
Neal smiled and got up. Colleen stuck her butt out in eager anticipation. And—yes!—when he approached, he put those same sexy hands back on her sensitive ass.
This time they stroked up and down. Blasts of sexy fun shot through her mind. Rippling through her head, getting her hot. What was going on? Her butt had never been a big deal. But now all she could think about was getting it touched… fondled… showing it off…
Colleen moaned in the back of her throat. “Don’t stop that,” she pleaded.
“Stop what?”
“Your… butt massage. It’s… relaxing.”
“Is it?” Neal sounded surprised. But it kept those heavy hands locked on her rear end. This time they softly climbed up and down. Colleen closed her eyes.
“Yeah… I mean.. I’m under a lot of stress,” she said. God, the feelings were starting to climb up her pussy. How long had it been for them? Three weeks? Longer?
“Always happy to massage your rear end,” Neal said.
“It makes dishes a lot more fun,” Colleen said, and sighed, happily.
* * *
On Wednesday, Colleen crept off during lunch and bought a brand new skirt. It was floral yellow, and tight, with a feminine little zipper up the side. And a new bra, since the existing one was getting tight.
This time, when her colleagues watched the bouncing asses of the new secretaries, she just smiled. It was hard to blame them, after all. The girls had round, padded rear ends, pertly displayed in tight jeans or tiny skirts. Any man would admire them. And would want to come up behind, put their hands around, and rub a hard, insistent cock up against the back entrance.
It was only natural.
Colleen felt like an old woman in her usual black pants. All she could think about was the slippery new thing in her bag. She had spent over twenty minutes just looking at herself in the mirror.
This time her husband met her at the door. She gave him a burning, needy kiss and immediately disappeared into the bathroom.
“Dinner’s getting cold,” he called out, sometime later.
Colleen emerged.
She felt hot, coursing with jets of heat, barely constrained underneath a good-to-go skirt and a rippling white blouse. Neal blinked, uncertain.
“I, ah, cooked ribs,” he said.
During dinner Colleen just sat and tried to listen to her man. What he had done. How the futile job hunt was going. Anything on his mind. Underneath the table her left hand circled on the outside of a wet pair of panties.
Just sitting down was starting to get her hot, putting pressure on the warm button that had climbed into her underwear.
“Is everything okay?” Neal said, finally.
“Oh, yeah!” she said, bobbing her head. Her fingers were starting to dance, now.
“What do you want to do after dinner?” he said. “I was thinking I could maybe light some candles… or…”
“Dishes,” Colleen said, firmly. “I want to do dishes.”
Her knees felt weak even before she stood in front of the sink. Neal waited behind her, scratching his head.
“Are you sure you want to do dishes in that skirt?” he asked. “It’s brand new, right?”
“Don’t you like it?” Colleen said. Her voice dripped sweet sugar. She stuck her rear out, towards him. It outlined every crease and curve in the fabric.
“Well, yeah,” Neal said. “I thought maybe later..”
“Do you want to.. touch it?” Colleen said. “You can stroke it and touch it and have… fun with it. If you want.”
Neal shook his head. “Colleen, what…”
“Come on, Neal,” Colleen said. She couldn’t keep the whine out of her voice. She could feel herself dribbling onto her panties. “Isn’t it a nice ass? Don’t you like your wifie’s tender little butt?”
“Yeah, but..”
“So come on and touch me!”
Her guy put his warm hand on her rear. This time Colleen moaned, thickly, and leaned forwards against the sink. The new fabric caressed and kneaded her tightly toned butt, and her body shook with the sensation. She tried to work on the dish in her hand, but the way she was trembling, it would probably shatter in half.
“Come on, get the skirt out of the way,” she said, casting a hot look backwards.
Soon it was just a belt of fabric around her waist. Colleen shivered when the open air hit her ass, and again when it climbed inside her wet panties. Neal was breathing fast now, getting into the unabashed groping. His hands started to get rough, running over her soft skin.
There was someone moaning, and Colleen realized it was her.
Soon Colleen’s panties were bunched around her ankles, and she was bent over the sink. Her tits nearly hit the water, and everything smelled like soap. Her husband rubbed with one hand just outside her dripping slit, the other hand still running up and down her butt.
Then it disappeared. Colleen looked back just in time to see her man reappear with one of the kitchen chairs.
“What..?” she said, muzzily. Thinking wasn’t easy. Most of her thoughts concentrated on the needy emptiness just inside of her pussy.
“I need a better angle,” Neal explained.
Then his fingers disappeared up her cunt. They searched, found her clit, and plunged in and out.
Colleen’s feet left the floor. She balanced like a top on the side of the counter, screeching as orgasm after orgasm swept through her brain. When it was all over with she oozed down the side of the sink, ass still glowing cherry red, a dripping pile of sensitive girl parts. Her frontside was all wet and soapy.
When she came to the manager realized she was on her knees, her pussy splayed open for her husband to see, on the kitchen floor. He still sat on his chair, eyeing her with concern.
His cock was easy to reach, so Colleen swallowed it and sucked him dry.
* * *
Colleen didn’t make it to work until Thursday afternoon.
She had gone shopping again. She had blown a month’s pay on tight shorts, hip-high miniskirts, and a new array of stockings.
When Colleen could think clearly—which was increasingly rare—she thought of her bubbling ass like it was its own person. It simmered constantly, now. Too-hot breezes would set her off, and the mere thought of her husband’s experienced hands made her shiver.
Sitting down meant that a euphoric buzz of simmering heat emanated from her happy, healthy rear end. Even the slightest pressure would set her off.
Colleen spent most of the staff meeting shifting from one cheek to the next, dribbling into her chair, while around her the boys compared notes as to which secretary was the hottest. The admiring glances they slipped her didn’t hurt, either.
Afterwards the petite brunette had sashayed around the office, in her new, towering heels, and dropped her pen seven or eight times. For practice.
“What’s wrong with me?” she thought later, behind a locked door. Two fingers pumped out a needy, juicy snatch. She couldn’t sit down without igniting an eventual orgasm. Work was a joke. She spent most of her time thinking about Neal’s oozing cock.
One of the secretaries floated past, just outside. Colleen could tell because of the giggling.
Then she glanced at the clock. 3:30. Colleen bolted upright.
“I’ve got to get home!” she thought, suddenly frantic. She had to cook dinner, vacuum, dust, and… she shivered to think… do the dishes.
But she still took the way out of the office that led her past a long row of slavering men.
* * *
A few hours later, Colleen’s boobs were covered in hot, soapy water, barely suspended over the sink. She had braced herself on the side of the counter, and waited happily for Neal to finally push his glistening cockhead inside of her.
“Faster,” she urged, spreading her legs just a little bit wider. She hadn’t known she could stretch that far. Her rear gleamed in the overhead light, a bubble of fun and happiness.
Dinner had been a success. Neal had loved her pot roast. Then she had sat in his lap and cooed as he ate, feeling his rock-hard erection bump into her butt. He had liked the hot pink dress, too, especially the sheer stockings and the easy-access panties.
Neal finally got his cock between her legs. The first uncertain stroke nearly toppled Colleen into the water. Her husband had to grab her tits from behind to keep her steady.
Her husband. Just the thought sent ripples of fun hurdling through her already-fried brain. Maybe that’s why she had such a tender, inviting ass. To make her husband happy. He deserved it, after all. Some of those video games looked pretty hard.
Not only did her pussy glow with the delicious sensation, but the feel of his rough, hairy body slamming into her sensitive ass…
Colleen came. She shrieked to the world, luxuriating in the heat of her own body. She was just a quivering, shivering ass with a girl attached, trying to make her husband happy. Her heels hung off her spasming feet.
* * *
On Friday Colleen tried to stay on her feet.
She stood by the side of her desk and tapped on her laptop. Work had been piling up while she had been lost in a happy haze. E-mails were becoming increasingly urgent.
Her boss had corralled her in the hallway and demanded a little order. Colleen had just stared at him. Her ass had been pushed up against the wall, and it was all she could do not to grind it into the plaster. She wore a slinky yellow dress, beaded with turquoise, that wrapped around her hips. Plus two sexy stockings. She looked like a lost call girl, wandering around an office building.
Her tits were starting to feel heavy and hot, same as her pulsating rear. She had cupped them in the bathroom, and that warm glow had pricked through her head.
“What’s wrong with me?” she sighed, trying to make sense of the past week. So many orgasms, so much time spent dripping onto changing room carpets.
To type standing up she had to bend over. A man could come in, any man, see her wanton, shaking ass, and…
Colleen had tried google, but “sexy ass hot feels good feels fun orgasms” had not produced anything useful.
Colleen checked her watch. It was 1:36 in the afternoon. How could she have left her husband alone for so long? She ambled to the parking lot, climbed into the car.
The seat beneath her grew wet and sticky.
* * *
“More… more…” Colleen screamed.
That was another nice thing about doggy-style. She didn’t yell in her man’s ear. He had both hands braced against her beautiful, shimmering ass, and that long, thrusting dick was somewhere inside of her. He had come after about two dozen condom-less strokes, and she had squeezed everything into her snatch.
Then she had coaxed out another round.
Colleen wondered, between flashes of pleasure, how she could’ve been so blind. Her body was telling her: stay at home, get fucked, please your man. And what better way then presenting him with a baby boy or girl?
She was stuffed so full, bits of juices kept dripping onto the carpet. Her knees burned with friction burns. Colleen scarcely cared.
On the way home she had called and quit her job. Maybe she could call back and get Jennifer’s. If that’s what Neal wanted.
In her head she wondered just what she could make her husband for dinner.
And how many dishes she could use.