The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Acct No. 8384990012: $2012.23

They had gone out to dinner and paid the most attention to the prices. Jack had ordered water to drink. But Kylie had smoldered with resentment when he had thrown in calamari without consulting her opinion. It wasn’t something she liked.

“I didn’t know that,” Jack said, on the car ride home. “I figured it was one of those things everything liked. They’re crispy and they’re delicious. And it doesn’t like a date night unless you do desert or an appetizer.”

“You could’ve asked me,” Kylie said, from the passenger seat. “I’m right across the table. It’s as simple as, hey, Kylie, what would you like? Maybe something to share? And I would’ve said okay, so long as it’s not tentacle sea creatures.”

“We came in under budget,” Jack said. “We agreed, fifty bucks. Bill with tip was forty-two. We are ahead eight dollars on the night. We made a profit.”

Kylie made an honest attempt to let it go. She had wanted something romantic out of the night. But nothing outside of the window held the slightest spark of charm or wit. They had moved so far from downtown that the skyline was just a patch of white light on the far horizon. They lived in a collection of townhomes tossed up in the middle of the country.

“Just ask me first,” she said. Kylie shifted in her seat. She wore a pretty cute skirt. Knee-length, yes, but with a fun green-blue pattern cinched tightly at the waist with a nice black belt, and all thrifted. “There won’t be any problems if we consult with each other. That’s the way this should work.”

Jack gave her sidelong looks at intersections. The suburbs had untimed lights and meandering pedestrians. His girlfriend still didn’t look very happy. Her eyebrows hunched over liquid brown eyes, and her lips were sealed shut. And she had the window up. Part of him wanted to escalate the fight just so it would reach some sort of resolution.

They reached the center of town. It was not the center because it held quirky shops or a wrought-iron sign with the town name. It was the center because ten lanes intersected. Jake stopped in front of an amber glow.

A girl with an amazing ass paraded right in front of their car.

She was clearly one of the rural residents, or, at least, she looked cheap, but she oozed endowments and was curvy all the way down to three-inch heels. The girl had rough blonde hair that feathered down her back. She wore thin khaki shorts with the cuffs turned up, so high that the rear skim of her butt poked out in the air. Up top she wore a synthetic tank top, pink and sparkly, with something written on the front in rhinestones. Her tits were so big they filled the cups to overflowing.

“Oh, come on, Jack. Are you going to write a novel about her?” Kylie said. She managed to cross her legs in the cramped passenger seat.

Jack’s eyes snapped back to the road. “I’m not apologizing for that one,” he told her. “I was looking at her because I was thinking… that she looked cheap.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kylie snorted. She looked down at her own outfit. It was the most expensive set she owned. Skirt thrifted but with a designer label, shirt from Ann Taylor. It was a NICE look, and the dark green cowl on the shirt was very in. “What’s even to like? There’s cheap and then there’s recycling. She looked like the before picture on those meth ads. You know?”

“I agree,” Jack said. “Totally agree.” The light changed. “Hooker-y.”

“You wouldn’t WANT me to dress like that,” Kylie said.

“No.” Jack said, eventually.

“Oh, christ,” Kylie said. Now she crossed her arms. “Would you rather I sat in the kitchen in a tanktop that says “wow” and paraded around in heels? Watching soaps and cooking roasts?”

“I’d love to see you in sexy clothes,” Jack said. He rubbed at his head. He had straw-like black hair. He worried about going bald. “What’s wrong with that? It means I think you’re hot.”

“What’s wrong with THIS?” Kylie demanded. She indicated her outfit.

“Nothing is wrong with it,” Jack said. He tried to keep his mouth shut. They were nearly home. He could make it. “It’s fine.”

Kylie didn’t say a word for the remainder of the trip.

Acct No. 8384990012: $1970.23

Jack worked as a clerk at a Public Storage knockoff that catered to their town’s surprisingly large Korean community. He didn’t speak a word of Korean, but the job was easy enough that a bit of grunting and pointing more than adequately filled his job duties.

As usual, it was him and Amanda, all day.

“I’m thinking of having you go outside and swing one of those arrows around on the street corner,” Amanda said. Her arms were crossed, her legs were crossed. She wore a shining white blouse underneath a black tanktop, and a black skirt that didn’t quite match. His boss favored dark brown lipstick and stayed totally away from eye makeup.

“Really?” Jack said. He arched an eyebrow. “For real?”

“Lets drive a little business in,” she said. “Build the business. I would put you in an outfit but I can’t think of one that works.”

Amanda was the niece or cousin or something of the owner. She was an atheist, which had kept her out of the family mainstream. Jack had gradually realized that she was an exile. “Lets bring some more people by. You know? Business. Money.”

“We’re full up,” Jack explained. “Every bin. Every garage. Chock full of treasures from the orient, plus a lot of exercise bikes.”

Amanda freshened her lipstick. She did that a lot. “I’m going to think about this,” she promised him. “I think it’s a good idea. This is a high traffic street. There’s car accidents outside all the time. There’s probably lots of people who need to store things, wondering where to go, and they don’t look at the boring store front by the side of the road.”

She wandered out into the little store floor where they sold cardboard boxes. The air conditioning was busted, and yellowing signs papered the walls. There was a little TV with a cable hookup that Jake could sneak football on.

Jack watched her go. She was a mean person, and a bad boss, but at least she had a LITTLE style. Amanda wore heels almost every day, which meant her rear had a sway that wasn’t hard to admire.

What with how things were going with Kylie, he would take whatever he could get.

Acct No. 8384990012: $2012.23

Their apartment was nice. They had self-consciously co-signed. Yes, it was semi-rural at best, and there was a truck stop two doors down, where the big rigs blared horns through the night. Yes, they had to keep doors and windows shut tight to keep the cockroaches from foaming in. But it was THEIRS.

Or maybe not. They had never fought like that. An icy war, fought with silences.

The apartment’s floors were fakey wood, and Jack and Kylie had bought cheap rugs just to keep from slip-sliding all over the place. The apartment was dominated by a single large room with the kitchen attached. It was all parental hand me down in cedar, oak, walnut, and a few other materials.

Kylie opened her closet door and examined her shoe collection. Slippers, flats, sneakers, one pair of pumps with a tiny heel.

She bit at her lip. She didn’t LIKE wearing heels. They were uncomfortable. They made her ass undulate. She could feel the boys directing stares at her backside. Generally she was damn skinny, to the point where doctors showed her weight charts, but boys would stare at anything once they were sure it was girl.

“Fucking boys,” she muttered. And their obsession with butts. It was impossible to be a girl. You needed to have cow-sized tits, you needed to have a toned rear end, you needed to be skinny, you needed to shave your pussy and you needed to wobble around in uncomfortable shoes. “Fucking, stupid, lame, idiot, BOYS.”

Kyle decided to turn on the TV.

The first seven shows dealt with relationships. She flipped through them.

The eighth led her into cable access television.

There were a few of them way out here in the boonies, and channel 29 had something called “Cooking with Cecilia” on.

Kylie turned it on.

“I know you hate cooking,” the woman on television said, sympathetically. She was a muddy brunette. She had really big tits. They were cradled in a too-small apron and a lime-green blouse. “I used to hate it too!”

Kylie readied the clicker. She had no interest in getting lectured at by a pair of boobs.

The TV flickered. It was almost like it was sorting through the colors of the rainbow. Red, then green, then blue. Flicker flicker.

Kylie hesitated.

“Cooking is a rare art,” Cecilia continued. Every gesture sent her sizable chest jiggling up and down. “It’s practical, it’s necessary, it’s artistic, it’s sensual and yet technical. And if you’re anything like me…”

Not fucking likely, Kylie thought. But she sat down on the couch.

“…you’re looking for ways for that husband or boyfriend to appreciate you as something more then a person to stick dicks in.”

Community television was apparently very crude. The boom mic occasionally flit into view. There appeared to be only two floodlights, and the kitchen was obviously someone’s home kitchenette. The TV flickered once again. Red, green, blue.

“Today we’ll be making biscuits and gravy… with a twist.” Cecilia’s hand disappeared underneath the table. When it re-emerged, it held a bottle of Wild Turkey. “And if you have nothing on hand but a little vodka, well, I’m sure we ladies can make do!”

Two or whatever drinks had made Kylie feel a lot better. A lot. And Cecelia was a HOOT. Kylie had never giggled so hard.

She popped her head into the living room as much as she could from the kitchen. The TV flickered once more.

“I don’t know about you ladies, but I do aspire to be something more then an ambulatory pair of titties,” Cecilia said, hefting them. Her bottle of booze was half-empty. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with having a healthy set of assets. For one thing, you never have to bother with any makeup. Like they’re looking at your face!”

Kylie nodded, eagerly.

“Now, if I had a half-decent ass, and maybe I do,” Cecelia said. She wore large gold bangles. They were so fake they were flaking paint. “…I’d be the happiest girl there is. You have a good ass, you have options. Business up front, party in the back. You can get a guy to toss his girlfriend away just by walking away from him.”

Cooking was turning out to be a lot of fun. Which was weird. Kylie hated cooking as a rule. Cooking was a chore, eating was necessary. But the dash of this and that from long-sealed bags, and the sizzle of fat and everything else in the pan, it was like she was.. like she was having fun!

Drinking two tall glasses of gin didn’t hurt. It was raw stuff, it was meant for mixers, but she was loving it right now.

Between Cecilia and the booze Kylie was getting very nice and warm.

“Girls, let me give you a little advice if you’re having boy trouble,” Cecelia said. Her voice turned serious. “Look in my eyes, ladies.”

Flicker. Flicker. Kylie stared, unblinking. Red, green, blue.

“Get him nice and full and comfortable, then give him a long, lazy handjob. I call it the “argument ender.” If he’s still upset after that treatment, it’s over.”

Flicker. Red, green, blue. A hundred images, in filtered colors. A close-up view of a shaven slit, glistening with juice, dribbling onto an outstretched finger. A girl’s mouth distended with a huge, muscular cock. Girl after girl after girl bent over furniture, getting reamed and loving it.

Cecelia smiled. “This is KCOW. Thank you for joining Cooking with Cecelia. Lets pause for station identification.”

Kylie realized, fuzzily, that she was getting wet between her thighs.

Acct No. 8384990012: $2012.23

Jack had a set routine when he walked through the door. Put down the keys. Go rouse his girlfriend from the computer, go microwave something.

Not this time. The air smelled of spice and baked bread. It was warm in the apartment—the oven had been on. And Kylie was sitting in front of the TV.

It wasn’t playing anything. It was blank. But she was staring diligently at it all the same.

“Hey. Kylie? Hello?” he said. She blinked and turned towards him. Her legs had been wide open, spread on the hand-me-down coffee table. It was too bad she was dressed in a pair of white pants and a flowing silk top with blue specks. “You there?”

“Oh! Sorry, I… uh…” she looked confused.

“You cooked,” he said, almost accusing.

“Uh…” she jerked her head back, where there were two plates waiting. “I guess I did!”

Jack had rehearsed a number of arguments in his head during the tedious drive home. On the other hand, he was pretty hungry.

Everything was fantastic. “I didn’t know you could cook,” he told her. He cringed. That was verging on insult. But Kylie looked just as surprised. “I didn’t either!” she agreed. Then she got up to pour him a beer. Her hips rolled as she walked, and her boobs rubbed agreeably against the back of his head while she poured.

Jack ate like a disaster survivor. And then, to show willing, he did the dishes.

“Come sit down,” Kylie said, grinning, on the couch. Jack joined her, and didn’t protest at all when she unbelted his belt, undid his buttons, and reached gently inside of his pants to pull out his dick. It was at half-mast.

Kylie focused on the gentle rise in her boyfriend’s cock. A few gentle strokes brought it to full mast. She closed her eyes briefly. Cecilia’s smiling face and well-endowed chest shone back at her. This was what being a good girlfriend was about—greeting her man with dinner and a long, lazy handjob.

The TV was still on, tuned to Channel 29. It wasn’t on any particular show. Actually, it was nearly black, and only focusing on the subtle grey let Jack realize that it was still going.

Something flashed. It caught his attention. Then it flashed again. Red, green, blue.

She gripped the base of his cock. Jack grunted, surprised. Usually Kylie’s handjobs were half-assed. They were apologies whenever she had red wings or was tired or sore. They were designed to make him cum. But this—she seemed to enjoy just rubbing against the hot, tender skin of his dick.

He stopped watching her. Something was happening on television. If he could just see…

Kylie felt pleasantly drunk, pleasantly warm, nicely wet between her legs. A half-buzz of arousal surrounded her that she could laze in all day, just thinking of dicks and stuff. A warm and comforting fog of fucking.

She realized, delighted, that he was leaking from the tip. Kylie brought in her other hand and slathered the goo over the length of his cock. Cecilia had said that guys loved this. More friction, more fun, and most importantly, it showed that you cared.

The tip twitched and his hips spasmed. She had never noticed all these interesting things before. The way his cum was translucent, chock full of sperm wriggling their way around. The heady and masculine scent rising in waves from his dick. Each and every vein. Kylie stroked him slowly and patiently and was absolutely entranced.

It took him nearly ten minutes before Jack finally came. When he did, it was a white fountain, an explosion that covered his girlfriend’s hands overflowing and left him weak and light-headed. At some point he blinked, and the television was off. For real this time.

“What.. what was all that?” Jack said, slowly.

“Oh, we’ve been fighting so much,” Kylie told him. “I wanted to do something fun! Something we’d both enjoy, you know?”

She smiled at him and licked, kitten-like, at the cum all over her fingers.

Kylie was surprised to sort of enjoy it. Actually, it tasted pretty good. She had intended to put on a brief show and then go spit out the salty slime in the bathroom, but the jism in her hand tasted like man and sweat. She took her time licking each finger clean, and kept her eyes focused on her boyfriend. He watched her, enchanted.

“I thought that cum tasted bad,” he said, leaning back.

“It depends on your diet,” Kylie told him. Right, Cecelia had mentioned that, too. “If you’re eating right it tastes just fine. Kind of… salty. In a good way, like sea salt caramel ice cream.”

The rest of the evening was very pleasant, especially because Kylie gave up on studying and just read stupid girly books about Renaissance women who were strong of character… until the right man came by.

And that night, after they went to bed, Jack tried to sleep for an hour. Every time he about drifted off, something flashed underneath his eyelids. Something red… then maybe blue? He finally padded out in the dark to the silent television.

He turned it on. A show was just starting on Channel 29.

“My name is Paul Rider,” a muscled man in a wifebeater said. “And I’m here to teach you how to bulk up and be a MAN.”

Acct No. 8384990012: $1942.12

His name was Paul Rider, and his show was Man Plan.

“Are you a man? Probably not,” Paul Rider said. He wore cheap blue polyester running pants with an oddly long drawstring. “I doubt it. I’m betting you’re not. I’m willing to put all of my money on the bet that YOU. ARE. NOT. A. MAN.”

His show came on local access cable at midnight, channel 29. It was taped on a single camera apparently placed just outside of Rider’s garage. There was a motorcycle just visible underneath a dust cover, in the back. A bunch of naked girls shone from old calendars on the walls. Paul clearly did his own carpentry.

“Being a man means a lot of things. You can’t just get a girl pregnant, although THAT HELPS,” he said.

“That helps,” Jack repeated. He sat on the couch. The TV flashed. He was still pleasantly full from Kylie’s latest cooking escapade. Homemade onion rings.

“You got to look like a man, act like a man, and it sure as hell doesn’t hurt if you SMELL like a man,” Paul said. “I’ll bet some of you only sweat on the BUS.”

Paul leaned in close to the camera. “You disgust me,” he growled.

And then he was off to another confusing and baffling hour-long exercise routine. Except there was no routine to it. Paul would just randomly pick up weights and toss them in the air, throw them around, raise them with one leg.

Somehow that left him with a rippling set of muscles that started at his wrist and went to his ankles. The man bristled with musculature, made more shocking by a black shock of hair that clung tenaciously to his body.

“Tip number one. You are the star of your own life. You are not in it to get pushed around. You are not in it to be told what to do. If you are getting bossed around, then you are doing something WRONG.”

“Something wrong,” Jack repeated. The picture quality wasn’t great. There was a weird flicker. It messed up the colors. They went red, then green, then blue.

“You don’t need fancy gym or a YMCA. You don’t even need a barbell,” Paul told him. He wore thick glasses, with a supermarket frame. You could barely see his eyes. “You can be as cheap as you want. There are a million heavy things in this country. Go out there and PICK THEM UP.”

Acct No. 8384990012: $1799.98

Amanda had gone to Starbucks. That usually took at least a half-hour since she inevitably tossed out the first drink they gave her as ‘inadequate’. Jack made his way to the back of the complex and put his back on a low concrete wall. He had loaded up a discarded stop sign with a chunk of rebar. It was heavy.

Jack grimly worked it up and down. His body hated him. Weak, flabby arms protested and whined. He ignored it. Paul’s wild eyes examined him, and nodded. He broke out in a rich sheen of sweat.

“Fuck!” he shouted, his muscles burning.

Then, “Fuck one!”

“Fuck two!”

Eventually he realized that Amanda was staring at him. His boss wore a thick woolen skirt with a high waist, secured with four dark buttons. Her blouse was dark blue and shiny. She had her arms crossed.

“That doesn’t look work-related,” she said. She held a grande mocha in one hand

Jack nearly tossed his makeshift weights aside. “Don’t do it,” Paul counseled him, behind his eyes. “You haven’t done NEARLY enough REPS.”

“Sure it is,” Jack answered. He raised the weights up, once again. “I mean, I figured that I’ve got to be able to defend the store if necessary. This isn’t the nicest neighborhood. And there’s lots of valuables in the lockers.”

Amanda considered this. She sipped at her drink. “Are you for real?” she concluded.

“Of course I am. You handle the money and the business end. I handle the muscle. Isn’t that what I’m here for?” Jack said.

She watched him. Jack had taken his shirt off. Droplets of sweat ran down his arms. He hadn’t stopped pumping his chunk of iron up and down.

“How many have you done?” she asked.

“Lots.”

“How many can you DO?” Amanda said. She shifted her weight to her other hip.

“I’m finding out,” he told her. It WAS getting hard. He grunted. Thirty. That was respectable for a man. Jack tossed the metal aside, and examined his palms as the chunk screeched and chattered on the broken asphalt. He would have to get some gloves. His hands were bleeding.

Amanda turned and walked away. He watched her ass move underneath the skirt. The high waist really showed off her rear. She had to know that he was admiring the curves underneath the fabric, and when she turned around slightly, he just smiled at her, like a man would.

Acct No. 8384990012: $1780.11

Kylie had started to dread the routine from eight in the morning until five at night. This was new. It used to be she loved heading off to University, to the scent of well-maintained landscaping, to the daily intellectual challenge and the witty repartee from her fellow grad students.

Increasingly she was realizing that she spent ninety percent of her time locked in an interior room, typing out the work of others, like a secretary.

“Risotto is about one thing—creaminess,” Cecilia instructed.

“Okay,” Kylie whispered. She tried not to talk too loudly to the television. She had purchased a little TV for the kitchen so she wouldn’t miss a word. It had the same flicker problem as their TV, so at least it wasn’t their set.

“And patience is key. Time and patience. It simply doesn’t work if you are consumed with your job, with your little worries. Let all that go, they’re details,” Cecilia instructed. She swept around the table. The woman was dominated by her tits. They heaved when she spoke, they jostled when she moved. She wore an apron that acted like a makeshift bra, because heaven knows she wasn’t wearing one.

“Let it go,” Kylie repeated. Easier said then done, but a little bit more bourbon would help. It was Cecilia’s favorite drink, too.

“Oh, and another thing,” Cecilia said. She wore cheap plastic heels with an open toe. They were very high, and they turned her legs into endless expanses of creamy skin. “Girls, stop dressing like there’s a pajama party about to break out.”

Flicker. Flicker. Kylie gulped a big splash of liquor. It went down hot.

“Dress like you matter! You don’t need to spend a lot of money. Guys just notice the flash and the sizzle, anyways. And there’s nothing they like more then a girl always one pie away from bending over.”

Cecilia leaned back against the kitchen table. She had a very brief skirt underneath the apron. Kylie found herself craning, searching for the panties nearly visible from that angle. She had stopped cooking, stopped stirring. The TV flickered red green blue, fast and constant.

“I always cook in heels. I feel like a slave without them,” Cecilia declared. “And I can’t imagine keeping my skin cooped up in pants and LONG-SLEEVES in a hot, steamy kitchen. I’m hot enough as it is.”

So was Kylie. She had been unaccountably randy all week. Her thighs twitched and sputtered all the time.

“And another thing,” Cecilia added, sipping brown alcohol from a tall tumbler. Kylie mimicked every gesture. “Stay away from fabrics that get damaged in the steam. No cotton, no, god forbid, wool. Nylons, acrylics…” she paused, thinking. “spandex would be just fine.”

She grinned at the camera. “Oops, time to get back to our risotto, shall we?”

Kylie stood up, on shaky legs. They rubbed together with each step she took. She was going to have to do something about this bad case of hornies, and very soon.

Acct No. 8384990012: $1650.08

“This is good,” Jack said, eventually.

“Good?” Kylie persisted.

“I don’t know. Good. It’s good. I’ve cleared the plate twice, that’s the best compliment of all, right?”

That was sort of true, but Kylie persisted. She had skipped a graduate seminar for this one. Stochastic Variables, eh.

“Use descriptive words,” she told him.

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s creamy,” he reported.

Kylie squeezed her legs together. Her slit dripped into her panties. Yes! Creamy!

That wasn’t the only motivating factor. Jack had come home straight from the gym, and he was a potent combination of sweat and effort and male. The mixture had swept right into Kylie’s boozy brain. It was enchanting. She was mainlining his testosterone. He had destroyed dinner. She had just picked at it. It wasn’t really for HER, after all. It was for HIM.

She had vague plans to watch a little television and then fuck him. The wetness between her legs was too distracting to let her study. Kylie wore one of her tightest pairs of jeans, an old pair from college that squeezed her rear and loved her thighs. Plus an old grey jersey top that was half disintegrating.

Jack turned the TV to channel 29 as soon as dinner was over.

“…are the four proven things to make that butt just a little firmer. Lets toss it back to Clyde for the agricultural report!”

“Wow, the agricultural report,” Jack said, amused. “I’ve been wondering about the price of cows.” He almost hit the clicker. But it turned out that Clyde was surrounded by two supporting-role girl newscasters, and he put the remote down slowly.

The two newsgirls were a mixed pair, one platinum blonde, the other a dirty ash that showered her shoulders. They both wore miniskirts, and both were shiny and tight. Platinum’s was red with black highlighting. Ash was dark blue. The bottom of the anchor table was gone, and they both had long, beautiful legs crossed tightly.

“Whoa,” Kylie said. “That open desk is pretty blatant, huh?” She snuggled in closer, breathing his thick sweat. It was like sex fuel. “I guess ratings are down.”

“How can they possibly be down?” Jack said.

Clyde himself wore an inexpensive suit with shoulder pads from 1987. He had a dark brown mustache and curly brown hair. He recited soybean prices like they were peace treaty terms.

“That’s amazing, Clyde,” Platinum gushed. “THANK you for that! Wow!”

“Oh, really, wow,” Kylie snorted. “Look at this. They’ve set it up so the girls are fighting over him. That’s the dynamic. I bet they flirt for his attention the entire broadcast. It’s like a reality TV show. The winner gets to have sex with Mr. Soybean.”

“Do you think he chooses one?” Jack said. He examined the girls. Their legs were their best feature, but both girls also wore trim button-down shirts that nonetheless had sweeping necklines. Their tits were probably fake, which didn’t bother him at all.

“He probably just flirts indiscriminately,” Kylie felt suddenly threatened. “Anyway, try not to stare at the boobs too much,” she said.

“That’s what there is to look at. They don’t have the money for fancy computer graphics. That’s the show,” Jack said. “If I wasn’t looking at boobs I wouldn’t be watching television.”

The TV flickered red green and blue.

Clyde flipped the broadcast to Ash, who smiled smugly at her competitor. She read a long and earnest report about a new study that confirmed the health benefits of housework. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger the entire time. Once she uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She wore dark blue panties, as well.

“Maybe we should… you know… turn this off,” Kylie said. She frowned. How could she compete with those pinup barbies? They were like posable toys. They probably rushed to give blowjobs to the entire camera crew once the show was over. “We could, um, you know, go to the bedroom.”

She had never had to hit on Jack before.

Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. The TV flickered. He felt strong, confident, cool. His muscles glowed. “Do you think they’re fake, Kylie?” he asked. “Them boobs. Maybe they’re ambiguous on purpose. Maybe we’re meant to not know.”

Kylie huffed. She was wet and willing. What was the problem here? “I don’t know, they’re just, you know, some sluts. Who cares?”

She ran her finger over Jack’s chest, then dipped it over the crotch of his own jeans. He was hard. But for her or for the blowups on screen?

“Jack, stop watching the bimbos,” she whined. “They’re BIMBOS. They’re like cartoon characters.”

“This is great,” Jack said. “I never knew that I cared so much about our local community.” Platinum was giving her report now. It was an earnest comparison of household mops. Ash had taken the opportunity to lean forward and share her tits with Clyde and the camera. The cameraman kept tugging away from Platinum. Flicker.

“Jackkk…” Kylie moaned. “I’m hornyyyy.” She was so wet, so turned on.

“Yeah?” he finally tore his eyes away from the screen. He eyed her up and down. It was calculating, aggressive. A frank assessment of her tits, her body, her outfit. “Why don’t you go put on something nice and we’ll talk about it.”

Kylie wanted to choke. Rage surged behind her eyes. Put on something NICE? She had cooked dinner, she was moist, she was ready, and he was making demands? He could…

She realized, startled, that she was getting even hotter.

Something about his look, his command of the situation, the sense of power and control…. Kylie needed it more then ever. Her pussy ached. No wonder he was in control. He was the head of the household, after all.

“Okay,” she told him, teeth gritted. “I’ll be right back.”

She had to move slowly to keep from dripping down the middle of her thighs. Her body was fuel for a rich heat, a tingling that was centered in her slit and needed a fucking like it was air.

Jack grinned. It was a decent effort on short notice. A black pencil skirt that had turned out to be too tight for the job. A crew tee that was reasonably shiny. And, of course, Kylie’s fidgeting was a turn-on. “Go ahead,” he told her, complacently, noting the way her thighs rubbed together. “I mean, if you need it that bad.”

She pulled down his pants as fast as she could, and was pleased to see that at least Jack had a nice, hard dick waiting for her. And it was already dribbling precum from the tip. Kylie hiked up the length of the skirt, impatient. She had taken her underwear off already.

“Look at you,” Jack said, eyeing the wet patch of her slit. “What were you saying about sex toys?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kylie said, nearly panting. “I’m horny, okay? It happens. It’s not just a guy thing.” She started to lower herself slowly, but ended up simply impaling herself on the most delicious length she had ever experienced. It felt amazing. It was also a tremendous relief to get filled up.

“Thank GOD,” she murmured. Kylie had never felt so full, so content. She could just sit there for days, luxuriating in the feeling of a cock filling her pussy. “Ohhhh, Jack. Thank god.”

Jack got tired of playing coy. The scent of wet girl hit him. He grabbed her hips and firmly slid her up and down, raising Kylie’s body from the very top of his penis before slamming her all the way down. It was harsh and intense. Kylie wasn’t much help. She seemed drunk on sex, muttering and squealing in turn whenever he worked her clit over the entire length of his cock.

It was crude, passive, and so very hot. Kylie could hardly breathe. He was in control, using her like a glove, sending her body to new heights with each movement. Her hips were sore where he gripped her, and Kylie’s tits wobbled without a bra. She had intended to take control, to bounce up and down slowly, but it felt too good to let him take over.

“Oh… fuck!” Kylie finally screamed, an orgasm tearing through her head and pushing her to new limits. Even then Jack didn’t slow down, bouncing her ever faster, until he started to grunt and kick as a flood of wet, hot cum filled Kylie complete fullness.

They were both sticky with sweat. A drool of cum leaked out of her pussy. Kylie collapsed on his chest, unable to catch her breath. She couldn’t talk. Her mind flashed.

“And that’s our show!” Clyde said. Platinum and Ash were both squirming in their seats. Ash teased at the underside of her tits. Platinum was rapping her fingers on the top of her thighs. “Come back tomorrow, when we’ll bring you our exclusive report on why men and women… can’t be friends. Thanks everybody!”

Acct No. 8384990012: $1509.09

Kylie just didn’t go to school on Tuesday. She had plenty of papers to grade, her research was falling behind, her e-mail inbox was getting frantic with messages piled high… but none of that seemed all that important.

She had stayed home and vacuumed.

She hadn’t vacuumed in years. Usually when a carpet got too grey and musty she moved. But the big industrial vacuum vibrated in her hand and sent warm and calming tingles through her body. And it didn’t hurt that Channel 29 was on.

The girl had been having intense sexual fantasies, although they were pretty much all the same game. She lived in a nice big house with big carpets and nice pictures, and each room needed her careful attention for dusting and cleaning. She wore a pink skirt with a white apron and four-inch heels, and when her husband Jack came home he showed his appreciation with a rod about a foot long. If she messed up the bed with juice it just made her more excited…

One hand lingered around her pussy. Casual masturbation was becoming sort of a thing. It was so easy to just slip a finger up there, calm her newly insatiable appetite. Maybe she’d buy a vibrator.

Channel 29 was pretty much the only channel she and Jack watched. They had discussed getting a bigger TV, once they had more money.

The brunette stopped the appliance immediately when she realized that a commercial was on. Channel 29 never showed commercials.

“..for one day only!” the crude computer graphics proclaimed, on top of a smug masculine voice saying the same. “Come on down to 31st and West Tender for an outlet BLOWOUT! Come see all your favorite Channel 29 stars! BE THERE! YOU HAD BETTER BE THERE!”

The TV flashed. And again. And a third time. Intensely, like a strobe. Kylie blinked and pulled back. She had sat down at some point, on the couch. And her right hand was gently toying with her fly. The TV flashed, red green and blue.

Ten minutes later she was on the road.

31st and West Tender was in the real boondocks. The Country, capital C. She passed cows and goats and other animals in overgrown paddocks, and the road was grey, cracked asphalt with patches of grass.

The fair was just outside of city limits, and was a group of grimy white tents set up in a field. Kylie parked in a group of surprisingly nice cars. A few lexuses, some jeeps, all smooth and well-washed. Lingering barnyard scents wafted over from somebody’s pasture.

She clutched her purse, nervously. She had withdrawn five hundred dollars in cash. It had.. why had she done that?... well, she didn’t need to spend any of it.

Kylie bit her lip and walked inside.

The crowd looked a lot like her. Actually, they looked almost entirely like her, a vast sea of concerned and well-educated women with ponytails or sensible shoulder-length hair. They wore cardigans and jeans, just like she was, and sneakers appropriate for the trip out to the country.

And, like her, they were immediately drawn to rack after endless rack of shiny, slippery, cheap, trashy, and downright slutty clothes piled in thick heaps throughout the fair.

“Excuse me?” a girl asked. Kylie turned. “Does this look okay?”

She was a dark blonde, although a real one, and she had square rectangular glasses perched on a long, aquiline nose. She had a forehead that you could show movies on. She was endearingly awkward looking, and wrapped in a knit dress with overlapping black and red stripes that dripped sex.

Kylie had to stop to take it in. Above the neckline—and it plunged—the girl was a librarian. Beneath it, she was begging to be bent over and soundly fucked. The tall black heels just made matters worse.

“It makes you look trashy,” died in her throat and came out as “you look amazing.”

“Do you really think so?” the girl gushed. “Oh, my name is Marie. Do you watch Channel 29 too?”

Kylie smiled tentatively. “Of course I do!” she said.

“I think I could wear these for work,” Kylie said, holding up a pleated white skirt. It had bits of plastic that made the skirt flip out. “If it’s not windy or whatever… and I guess if I don’t have to bend over that day.”

“Ooh, do you have any thigh highs?” Marie asked. She reclined slightly on a chair. They had moved through the dress section and were now in skirts. “That would be amazing. Just a little piece of thigh peeking between fabric to fabric? Oh my god. Hot as hell. So fuckable.”

“You don’t think it would be…” Kylie paused. “Slutty?”

“No! No way,” Marie protested. She had added two more dresses to her own pile. One was a one shoulder white dress, the other, a black halter with a neckline that showed off Marie’s substantial tits to definite advantage. Kylie had picked up a gold-entwined bandage dress that she was officially considering but already super-wet just thinking about. “It’s a got-to-get. You can wear it to… uh… out with the girls. Dates.”

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” Kyle said. She already knew that Marie didn’t. She felt a lot smug about it.

“Perfect. He’ll tear it off. He’ll burst a blood vessel,” Marie said. “You’ll be walking bowlegged all week.”

Kylie giggled. Marie was so BAD.

“Where did my old clothes go?” Kylie asked, looking around. The fair-going crowd was getting trashier and more cheerful as the day continued. All the sensible shoes and Old Navy jeans and blouses were getting tucked away or put in bags, or, in Kylie’s case, they had just disappeared somewhere.

“Who gives a fuck?” Marie said. “Oh my god, I am in love with these shorts. It’s so hard to find something that shows off your front, you know? Designers are always too concerned with the ass.”

They had gotten matching pairs. They were dark silver and a little high-waisted, but mostly what they did was show off long, sexy legs. Kylie was super-relieved she was shaving her legs more often.

“Feels naughty when you walk in them, doesn’t it?” Kylie said. They were so tight she could feel them pull and rub against her pussy. It was nice.

“Yeah, but in the best possible way, right?”

They looked at each other, and laughed. Kylie felt euphoric, relaxed, pleased with herself. This was so much fun! And she had at least three hundred dollars left.

She squealed, clutched at Marie’s arm. The next tent had a cooking demonstration, and CECILIA HERSELF was behind the table, making an omelet as a large crowd of enchanted young women watched her.

“Oh, it’s so good to see everyone here!” Cecilia said. She was just as magnetic in person, and sparkling in a lacey blue corset. It lifted her boobs up into nearly a shelf. “It’s amazing! We never thought we’d get this kind of community support from our little cable channel!”

The crowd cheered. They were sparkling themselves, in rhinestones and glitter and short shorts and little metallic dresses. There were all kinds of girls there, and in so many sizes and colors, and so many adorable outfits Kylie simply ached to try on. A tall African-American girl wore a pair of white pleather pants that barely fit over the curve of her ass. A twosome that had to be twins in ponytails squealed, arm in arm, in matching short bolero jackets and cheap cotton minis. A blonde with big boobs absent-mindedly stroked a nipple.

It was funny, you could see little bits and pieces of a more sensible girl. The black girl still had her sensible handbag. The twins had to hold their keys because their minis had no pockets. But it was mostly fun and sexy.

A large, muscled man with a fierce expression walked around with a plate full of red cups. They were mostly full of some dark brown liquid. The girls were cheerfully sipping on them. Kylie and Marie both took one.

Marie shrugged. “Bottoms up!” she said, and downed her drink in one go. Kylie did the same. It was mostly alcohol. There was some other stuff, but alcohol was a big part of it. It was warm and wonderful.

“If you’re here, you should get my special tonic!” Cecilia called out. “My wonderful husband PAUL is handing out cups right now!”

Kylie took another free cup. Free! She would be silly not to go bottoms up. The tonic was woodsy and a little thick—it wasn’t quite water, and it wasn’t quite sludge. It burned fiercely on the way down. It smelled like fresh grown hay, marinated in booze.

Cecilia smiled and posed as the cheering crowd flashed her with any number of pictures. “I want you all to keep watching my show!” she called out, turning back to a set of omelettes. At some point a nipple had sprung free. She absently tucked it back in. “I just love the attention—and I know you girls will too!”

Marie and Kylie both bought five bottles. Dollars flowed up to the cook behind the counter. Everything was on a cash-only basis.

“Have you ever tried anal?” Anna asked.

“Oh god. No!” Kylie said. “I don’t see the point. Ugh.”

“What if your BOYFRIEND wanted you to?” Sarah asked, pointedly. “What if he got down on his knees and said, Kylie, pretty please, let me put my dick in your butt.”

They all laughed. Marie and Kylie had found a few other avid shoppers while in line for socks. Kylie had bought ten. She had the entire rainbow covered. Anna and Sarah were roommates. They both watched Cooking with Cecilia together.

“No!” Kylie insisted. “I’ve got a perfectly good pussy. He can pound it, um, pretty much all he wants. That’s what it’s there for! What does he need to put it in my butt for?”

They all stopped to consider this question. Marie had overdosed on tonic. The blonde’s eyes were half-closed, and she sprawled on the cheap folding chair with her legs splayed open. There was a damp patch in the middle of her jean shorts. It was polite not to call attention to it. Besides, Kylie understood, she was wet too.

“What if it feels really good?” Sarah persisted. She was the boisterous one. She was curvy and short, with close-cropped dark hair and heavy glasses. She had been agonizing over how to fit her figure since they met. “What if it’s AWESOME. What if a dick goes up there and it’s, I don’t know, fireworks.”

“Let it go, Sarah,” Anna said. She was a placid and willowy brunette. Her calm smile contrasted oddly with a very loud and glittery yellow dress with a flared skirt just beneath the waist. She wore dark brown boots that were full of straps. “Anal is gross.”

“Have you ever done it?” Kylie tossed back.

“Anal? Nnnnoooooo,” Sarah said. She blushed. The other two girls sensed a secret.

“Sarah, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Kylie said, intent.

“Oh god, is it written on my face?” Sarah said. She moaned. She had finally just settled on a short plaid skirt and a white tied-off blouse, figuring that “all guys like schoolgirls.”

“Just go get laid,” Kylie suggested. “Just go find some guy. Anna, you’re her roommate. Go get her laid. Hit a bar or something.”

A hint of concern passed across Anna’s face, too.

“Oh, c’mon, ladies,” Kylie burst. But she felt smug, a secret and hidden sense of satisfaction. She had a man. She had a guy with a cock. She could have anal anytime she wanted, she just had to wiggle her ass in the air. Easy… if she didn’t wear any underwear.

“Butt… buttsex,” Marie muttered, shifting in her chair. The damp patch got that much more wet.

“Okay, we’ll have a girls night out,” Kylie decided. She thrilled in the idea. A girl’s night out! Everyone agreed that that was a good idea, and so would Marie once she was done dreaming about getting her ass violated.

That familiar, honey voice sang out from loudspeakers Kylie wasn’t even aware of. “Okay, ladies! We’re going to do a special sneak preview of our VERY NEW show on Channel 29! Business Tips with Ceci and Paul!”

Kylie felt groggy, muddled. She was surrounded by bag after bag of purchases, all of them slippery and tight. There was an entire box full of babydolls. What had happened?

“C’mon, sexy,” Marie said, smiling. She pulled at Kylie’s arm. The brunette looked down at herself. Where had those tits come from? She never displayed her body, but everywhere she looked her tan form was on full display. She wore a polka-dot halter that treated her titties like objects at an auction, and little jean shorts just like those Marie had on.

“C’mon!” Marie insisted, “We don’t want to miss the show!”

Kylie fought back, a little. Something felt off, wrong. Maybe it was the empty feeling in her purse, the sense that she had just blown $500 dollars on booze and cheap slutty clothes. Maybe it was the way her pussy was so slippery and juicy and wet for no reason at all. And the way girls were streaming into the tent, glassy-eyed, aroused, arm in arm.

But Marie and Anna and Sarah were going, and she didn’t want to get left behind. She stumbled behind them on new red heels.

They gathered before a large HDTV, wheeled in for the occasion. All the clothes had been put away, or maybe everything had been purchased. Kylie took her seat in a folding chair, next to her new friends. Paul, shirtless, (so hot) turned on the TV.

It flickered and flickered and flickered. There was red, and green, and blue. It was large.

“Sorry about the interference,” Paul said. A smile flickered when he turned around, momentarily.

On the screen, Cecilia and Paul sat in low chairs in front of a dark blue curtain. Another cheap computer graphic read “Entrepreneurs! You Are!” The Paul on screen wore a white dress shirt that was already stained with sweat. Cecilia was scooped into a dark grey bolero jacket and matching skirt so short the top of her stockings showed.

She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her pussy was so pink.

“Hello, and welcome to Money-Making 101 with Cecilia and Paul!” she said. “We’re here to teach YOU, the budding young salesgirl, how to make money with what YOU have!”

The TV flashed. The girls in the room squirmed and shivered. They raised their hands to paw at their boobs, they fingered their sodden slits lightly in the dark of the tent.

Kylie tried to pull her head away. She needed to get away, back to Jack, away away from this dream of heat and fucking and sex and wet…

“There is NOTHING standing in the way of you and financial success,” Cecilia declared. Her hand strayed between her thighs. It seemed to be acting on its own. Kylie’s hand dipped down, too. She whined, deep in her throat. Her clit burned at the first gentle touch. When she looked down, her other hand was already kneading her boobs. “You are young, you are attractive, and you have the CONFIDENCE you need to bring in the bucks. And WE will teach you HOW!”

Kylie looked, weakly, from right to left. Marie had her hand buried deep in her shorts, her fly just undone, and was murmuring as she fingered herself with abandon. To Kylie’s right, Anna and Sarah were stroking each other, unbuttoning clothes and finding sensitive spots.

The TV was flickering more than ever. Her nose started to run, and Kylie had the feeling her brains were in it, just drooling out of her mind and running onto her shirt.

Her overburdened, sodden head gave up. Everything felt too divine. With her fly undone the air rushed in to her warm slit, surrounded it. Kylie moved her underwear aside with her thumb and inserted two fingers with utter ease. She had never been so wet.

The screen flickered like a strobe. The air was still but perfumed with the subtly different scents of a hundred aroused girls. Some had passed out, in a pond of their own juices.

It was a lot. Maybe it was too much, pounding the girls with strobe after strobe, their noses wet and sniffling.

But they didn’t need to do any calculus anyway, and the TV had to make room for new instructions somewhere.

On camera, Cecilia had her pussy turned to the camera. She frigged herself with professional skill. But her smile was calm and steady. “The key to financial success is KNOWING WHAT YOU DO WELL,” she emphasized. “Are you a good tailor? Do that. Do you suck dick like a vacuum? Then get on those knees! You are a hot, sexy girl with a nice, wet pussy! Do what comes naturally!”

Kylie pistoned her dripping digits back and forth. Waves of rippling heat pounded up and down her body, reworking her, molding her. She was taken over by the pleasure, by the flickering behind her eyes. She wondered, a small part of her, what it was doing to her that was permanent.

“And now, if you’ve been paying attention, you can cum,” Cecilia said, casually.

The hall shrieked, or sighed, or slumped in their seat. Kylie fell unconscious.

An hour later she gradually realized that she was driving home. There were numerous bags of purchases in the back seat. The passenger seat held bottles of dark brown Cecilia sauce. She had a dinner date with the Girls for Friday night.

It had been a perfect outing.

Kylie wondered, very mildly, why her fingers smelled like strawberries, but it frankly hurt to think too hard.

Acct No. 8384990012: $780.37

It was cold outside, and sheets of rain dropped every four or five heartbeats. Every so often a pedestrian would skitter past, often caught out in jeans and a light fall sweater.

Inside the main sales office the windows were steamed with a white pale mist. It was warm and cozy. Jack had taken liberties with the thermostat. Then he had tuned the office TV to channel 29 and pumped warm iron to the shouting and screaming of Paul and Man Plan. He had gotten serious with a cheap bench and a set of barbell weights he had gotten from Craigslist.

“Yeah, I beat my own record,” he told the grinning postal lady. Her name was Candice and she had dark chocolate skin. “I’ve got a new secret weapon. Burns like hell. It’s amazing. I feel like a superhero.”

The secret weapon was Paul’s Tonic. It was a dark brown liquid, and there was a lot of alcohol in it. Jack had ordered a dozen bottles off the infomercial. They had arrived packaged in three-year-old newspapers in a soggy cardboard box.

“Can I touch those muscles?” Candice said. The top button of her mail shirt was undone. She smiled a lot.

“Touching is a privilege,” Jack warned her. He grinned. Casual flirting was so easy, and girls just naturally slipped into that push-pull rhythm. Why had he never done this before?

“Mmm..” Candice said, rubbing a firm and rippling bicep. “That is nice.” She sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

“What?” Jack said. He studied the clear view into her bra. Candice’s tits hung heavy and full. If he didn’t already have a girlfriend, he would fuck her from behind, letting those boobs swing up and down. “I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s..” Candice inhaled the close, musky air. It was nothing but Jack. It was all Jack. “Huh… umm…”

“Is the mail here?” Amanda said. Her voice cut through the cloying air. Candice straightened, abruptly.

“See you tomorrow, Jack,” she said, her voice throaty and promising. She wriggled her ass on the way out, and it was tempting and firm.

Jack turned. Amanda squeezed her extra-large latte in both hands, and coffee pooled on the top of the lid. Her face was wrinkled and tight with fury. She slowly put the coffee down, first.

“Thinking about firing you,” she said, eventually.

A cold tendril of fear broke through Jack’s fizz of testosterone and booze. He needed this job.

“Thinking seriously about it, giving it lots of thought,” Amanda said. She was dressed in thick black tights with small roses patterned on top of the fabric. On top she wore a grey woolen skirt. “Look at this place. It’s like your GYM.”

“It’s cosy,” Jack said, slowly. “It’s comfortable. People like to stop in. They talk. Sports…”

“Oh yeah,” Amanda sneered. “That’s what the mail lady was into. What the hell was that? Flirting with the postwoman?”

“I wasn’t flirting. I have a girlfriend,” Jack said. Part of that was true, at least.

“Well, this place smells like a…” she sniffed, deeply. Amanda stopped. Something about the scent of leather and iron in the air gave her pause. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was.. attracting. “nevermind that. But you can’t even see, it’s so warm in here.”

“So take off your jacket,” Jack said, automatically. She wore a night black woolen coat. And before Amanda could really think about, she had it half unbuttoned. It was cooler and more comfy on the ground. Underneath was a simple white blouse.

Jack took the opportunity to pour a healthy dose of Tonic into her coffee. A little booze would calm her down.

The shop manager poked around the interior, noting with slight interest the cooking show winding down on TV. The girl on it had big tits and an even bigger smile. Then she found her coffee cup and took a big sip.

“MAYBE I won’t fire you,” she conceded, finally. Amanda whirled. “But some big changes are coming first,” she threatened. Her nose twitched. It was so hard to concentrate in here. It didn’t smell like business, it smelled like man and sweat. It was distracting.

“Of course they are,” Jack said.

Amanda took another drink.

It was past quitting time, and Jack was no longer getting paid for sitting in the office. But what the fuck.

An empty bottle of Paul’s Tonic twirled gently on the floor. Jack nudged it with his foot from time to time. He had his legs up on the counter, and absent-mindedly pumped a heavy dumbbell with his left arm.

“They think I’m… they think I’m fuckin’ STUPID,” Amanda complained. The top three buttons of her blouse were undone. “This is a JOKE for them.” She waved another bottle of Liniment around. Her face flared bright red. Her boobs weren’t all that big, but Jack admired them anyway.

“So.. fuckin’ show them,” Jack suggested. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was. And he appreciated the way Amanda’s skirt had ridden up. He could admire the dark black band of her thigh-highs. Her shoes were somewhere across the room, where Amanda had thrown them. “Fuckin.. bring in more business. I don’t know.”

“It’s a STORAGE BUSINESS, idiot,” Amanda said. “Dere’s… there’s.. they’re… that’s it. People put shit in boxes and then they go away. It’s NOT. SEXY.”

She took another healthy swig.

“C’mon boss,” Jack said. “No quitting. Think harder. You can show ‘em. You can seriously fuck ‘em up.”

Amanda didn’t respond. A minute passed, and Jack realized she was asleep. He snorted. Women. Couldn’t handle any booze.

Before he left he examined his body in the mirror. Clearly defined abs, well-toned biceps. An erection that could pierce steel. It was well past time to go home and fuck the screams out of his bitch.

He shook himself. Kylie. Her name was KYLIE.

Rain pattered peacefully on the store exterior. Jack had thoughtfully locked the door behind him.

“…and welcome to back to Entrepreneurs! You Are! I’m Cecilia, and today we welcome Channel 29’s news team for a very special presentation on getting your start!” Platinum and Ash sat next to each other on a ratty brown couch with mismatched pillows. They both weaved a little bit. Their tits were massive, bulging and swollen. Ash still clutched her dark brown drink.

Cecilia examined the camera. “People complain to me. They say, I don’t have any money, I don’t have any products. Girls, you have everything you need on your chest and between your legs! Sex sells! You’ve got a hundred bucks on your chest, a thousand dollars worth of heaven between your thighs, and don’t even get me started about your ass!”

Amanda picked her head up, bleary and confused. She blinked at the TV. It flickered back at her. It was an easy program to watch.

She didn’t blink for a long while, and her mouth hung open.

“…and look at the way simply bending over at the waist makes our newsgirl’s ass that much more enticing!” Cecilia said, pushing Platinum over a table. The newsgirl wriggled her rear for the camera. “With a little practice, you can get that dress to scooch up just below the pussy—or above, if you’re really hurting for dollars!”

Amanda sat up straight. She was still drooling slightly, but didn’t seem to notice.

Ash’s bright pink pussy glistened on camera. Cecilia provided a voiceover. “the shock of a bald slit drives them wild. Simply wild. It gets boys on every level—visual, the scent, the feel, the delicious shock that you’re a little bimboslut that he’s gonna fuck…”

The store manager whimpered. The TV kept flickering, harshly, over and over. “No…” she whispered, very softly, to herself, but it was muffled by the rain. Her nose started to run.

She was so wet between her legs it dribbled onto the chair.

“And a little word to the wise,” Cecilia said. “Vibrators. If you’re a sexy little minx, you need to get that ticket punched seven, eight times a day. Never be so in need of a fuck that you can’t drive a hard bargain, girls!”

Amanda whimpered and rubbed at her tits. The show lasted for two hours, and then she watched a repeat, and then stared at the static, and the occasional flashes.

When it was over she got a piece of paper and tried to do some figures. But it just made her head hurt, and eventually she just doodled penises while she fucked herself with her free hand. And then she used the pencil, too.

Acct No. 8384990012: $780.22

Jack had to roll the window down on the ride home. Part of that was the steam building on the inside of the windows. More of it was his persistent arousal. His cock hurt from sitting in his pants.

His thoughts were unusual. Usually they revolved around taking Kylie to just that next step. From a basic missionary fuck to a romp doggy-style. Or maybe she gave him a slow, lazy blowjob. Or something else, like a titty-fuck, with slightly bigger tits.

But these fantasies were raw, red, amped-up porno scenarios. He was the man with the big dick and enough power to plow any number of women into blissed-out unconsciousness. Kylie was there, but rubbing herself, needy and desperate for a deep dicking. And, why not, several other girls, cooing and wet, minds blank of anything but a thorough fucking, rubbing their soft forms all over his hard, sweating body…

By the time he got home, Jack was ready to pound Kylie into a drooling mess. He stood out in the rain for a minute, just to cool down.

She met him at the door.

“We, um..” she said, sheepish. “We kind of need to go to the store.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“We really need to go to the store. We’ve got two eggs and baking soda, and we’ve got pepper, and that’s it. I really need to go the store.”

Jack folded his arms. He drank in his girlfriend. She wore a tight short-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone, belted at the waist, and a colorful blue skirt with soft folded pleats. It outlined her body. It was nicer then he remembered.

“Please?” Kylie pleaded. She rubbed his chest. It was taut and hard. “I’ll… make it worth your while. I’ve got a new outfit I’ll wear, I think you’ll like it.” Her voice was soft, kittenish.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine.” Part of a relationship, part of him whispered, was giving in on the easy things. Because that meant you could ask so much more in return.

Acct No. 8384990012: $590.08

They started out in the alcohol aisle. Kylie eagerly picked up a large plastic bottle of vodka, a jug of bargain-brand scotch.

“You know we’re on a tight budget,” Jack reminded her, but he was distracted.

First of all by Kylie. This was a new dress. It clung to her in every particular. It never flared out or loosely bunched. Everywhere it pulled tightly against her skin, emphasizing each curve that she had. And Kylie had a lot more then Jack remembered. Her tits, especially, were full and high and pushed out against the dark red dress. It had a black floral pattern underneath, which would’ve been classy on a longer, more demure look. It looked cheap.

It showed off the top of Kylie’s thighs every time she bent for an item, which was often.

“I know we’re on a budget. I made the budget,” Kylie said. She hoped to hell he didn’t ask where she got the dress from.

“Where’d you get that dress, anyways?” Jack asked, as they wandered up the aisles.

“Um. It was a bargain,” Kylie said. “Do you like it?”

“Different look for you.”

“Yeah, I’m…” what WAS she trying to accomplish? “I’m trying new things. Like we talked about. Trying to be more open to new experiences. It’s a new hobby.”

“Sexy dresses are a new hobby?”

He did like it. Kylie relaxed. She had been so worried. Jack was such a strong man. And employed! She saw the way other girls looked at him. Admiring his body, wondering about his availability, the size of his dick…

It was a surprisingly sexy supermarket, now that she thought about it. She wasn’t the only one wrapped in something synthetic and tight. At the end of the aisle two girls wandered by, each of them prancing in high-heeled boots that went up past their knees. They both wore plunging v-neck dresses. Kylie took Jack’s arm protectively.

“Jack, don’t stare at those girls,” she whispered.

He gave her an appraising look. It was hungry.

“I’m not looking at girls, exactly” he told her, as they wandered through the store. “It’s just tits and asses. It’s a hobby. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m a little on display here too,” Kylie whined, rubbing against him. “And I’m right here. Two boobs, one ass. What’s not to like?”

“You can’t ask a guy not to look, Kylie,” Jack said. “It’s biological. We’re checking for fertility. It’s automatic. I’ll bet there are guys looking at your ass.”

“Yeah? What would you do if you caught them?” Kylie said.

“I would beat the shit out of them,” Jack said. The response was automatic.

Kylie shuddered in pleasure.

It was the asian girl in the produce aisle that finally pushed Jack over the edge. She wore dark blue jean shorts that were probably painful to squeeze into, and virginal white stockings that ended with just a strip of creamy tan skin between denim and cotton. The girl spent way too much time bent over with her ass in the air. She reminded him of Amanda.

“C’mon, lets go somewhere private,” he told Kylie.

“Jack, seriously?” Kylie said. But she squeezed her legs together. “C’mon. No. Lets go home first. We’re in a supermarket, for crying out loud.”

“Here,” Jack insisted. Why was she saying no? He glanced around. It was just him and Kylie and the asian girl. He put one hand on Kylie’s thigh, pushed her up against him.

“No! Jack, c’mon. Jack…” But her boyfriend was inching his hand up her dress, moved her between him and the overflowing cart. His hand was hot and rough. He reached her thin thong and pushed hard into her slit. They were both surprised at how wet she was. “We can’t do it here! This is messed up! There’s no… there’s no bathroom or anything!”

There wasn’t. But there was a shadowy alcove that led to the pharmacist, which was closed. It was just deep enough for Jack to pick up his lightly complaining girlfriend and straddle her across the waist. He pulled down his pants just enough for his dick to spring free. It drooled pre-cum at a steady pump.

“Jack! Jack… oohh.. Jack. You can’t.. That’s…”

Kylie ended up with her back to a locked door, her dress wrapped around her thighs, her thong glistening and dripping on one of her ankles. Her feet were spasming in low heels somewhere around Jack’s ears. Background music played in the store. It was an uncomfortable position.

“Jack, c’mon,” she kept pleading. But this was so hot, so wet, so naughty and wrong. Jack made her so horny, so hot she could barely breathe. Taking her in a public place like this, holding her up with just the weight of his body… his scent taking her over…

“Ohhh, you’ve got to fuck me with that thing,” she moaned.

The first stroke made Kylie forget everything else. And Jack somehow found the leverage to reach up and massage her tits, pushing them up towards her face.

“God, no, Jack, no, good, good, god,” Kylie said. She put her arms around him.

Jack grunted, readjusted his hold. They were both already dripping and spasming. Kylie’s cunt was warm and tight. His stroke went all the way, shoved her off, then slammed in once again. A cream of cum and juice was already drizzling onto the supermarket floor.

“Yes, yes,” she started to whisper. She pulled Jack even closer, as he frantically banged her, his feet spread wide for balance. Each inch of his cock was perfect. She had never been so filled, so pulsing with it, feeling his pubic hairs tickle at her slit. Someone could come by any minute. But that was okay, Jack could beat hell out of them.

Jack pulled at her hips, and her tits came free, bouncing out of the dress and shaking with each deep thrust. A long day’s worth of teasing and waiting was too much. He wanted his girl when he wanted her. And that meant she had to be wet and ready when he was wet and ready.

Kylie came. It burned, a new kind of orgasm, and flooded her brain with a cocktail of hormones that overwhelmed the part of her that was rational, intelligent, calm and collected. It was like a drug, and it left a deep impression.

Already she wanted more. The parts of her that wanted to sit and read a book and calmly consider math started to erode in the tidal wave of heat.

Jack flooded her with cum. He kept pressing in the entire time, shooting in ropes of jism, while Kylie spasmed and bucked around him.

“Don’t scream,” he mentioned.

That was all he said.

He turned his head. Kylie hadn’t noticed, but they had a crowd. The two booted girls from earlier watched, awe-struck. Their hands wandered around two fantastic pairs of tits. Their mouths were wide open, and their eyes were half-closed.

Jack winked at them. Kylie whimpered and spasmed and tried to cover her tits, but frankly, it was kind of hot. And part of her liked that she was the one getting fucked by her boyfriend.

Eventually they broke open a package of paper towels and stuffed Kylie’s panties with it. It was the only way to get her to stop dripping when she walked. It took her a full five minutes to remember the English language.

Kylie had shopped and shopped. Cecilia’s recipes were rich, complex, and called for a lot of heavy cream. Jack had wandered off, probably to admire more titties. She was sort of okay with that. He was spent, it was just looking.

There was only a few registers open in the mostly empty store. Hers had a pimpled teenager working it. He was clearly making an effort at getting ripped, with brand-new biceps, but that was about it.

Kylie’s eyes wandered. Two TVs were running in the supermarket bank at the back of the store. Channel 29 was on both of them. Looked like the news. She found herself watching it from a distance. Funny how it flickered on every TV…. She saw red, then green, then blue.

“Miss?” she shook back to reality.

“Miss, your card was declined?”

“Huh?” Kylie said. She stared at the boy, at her card. That wasn’t possible.

Her purse suddenly felt very light and very empty. She was wearing her bank account on her skin, after all. Part of the groggy, boozy afternoon came back to her.

“Will, you, uh, take a check?” she said. God, she could still feel Jack’s cum inside of her. Good thing she was on the pill. But with a man as virile as Jack…

“Company policy is no check after a card decline,” the boy said, stiffly.

Oh god. She couldn’t let Jack know. After all the times she had been such a TREMENDOUS BITCH over money…

The TV flickered, to her right.

“Are you SURE?” she said, smiling. Kylie leaned forwards. The dress was made to show off her boobs. They were still wet and warm from Jack’s touch, still perfumed with his odor.

The boy liked them. His eyes wandered. “You like?” she purred.

The boy smiled. She realized, suddenly, that he looked a little bit too much like Jack. That same sense of confidence.

”I do,” he admitted. “But I also like my job.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she pleaded, bending over further. “Don’t you like?”

“My girlfriend puts out,” the boy said. He paused. His eyes were greedy. They were very nice tits. “All the way out. And I get to take a picture.”

“A PICTURE? I…” she saw Jack, in the magazine aisle. He was looking increasingly bored. “Okay, fine, a picture.”

It took no effort at all to take out her tits. The dress was already strained and overtaxed where Jack had pulled on it. This time they felt cold and exposed underneath the neon lights. Lucky there was no one else around. At least the girls on local news were showing off their titties, too.

Wait… what?

But the boy was already snapping a few pictures with his phone. “Nice.”

“Don’t.. not my face, too. Just my titties,” she said, half-heartedly. If anyone at school ever found out.. about what a hot, sexy bitch she was… The camera whirred and clicked. Immortalizing her heaving, wet titties for eternity…

“Okay, deal. Miss, we will take a check.” The boy WINKED at her.

She made it out with a shaky hand. On the way home she asked Jack if they had a camera.

Acct No. 8384990012: $402.82

Sarah and Anna had picked the restaurant. Marie had had the bright idea to bring a flask of Cecilia’s Tonic, which they all liberally applied to their iced teas. As ever, it was musky, dark, and delicious.

“Okay, I got a weird question for you girls,” Kylie said. “I’m gonna just throw it out there. Have you girls noticed, um, anything different about your, you know, your bodies?”

The other three gave Kylie significant looks. In between long gulps of Tonic. It was always tasty. “Go ahead, you first,” Marie said, chewing on her straw. “Don’t be all cryptic.”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve gone up a cup size. And a half,” Kylie said. She looked down. Her boobs were riding firm, high, and prominent. “Maybe more like one and two-thirds. Anyway, at first I figured I was just eating better what with Cecilia and all, but I’m not really gaining weight anywhere else. Just. Um. Big tits.”

Kylie had found a light blue blazer in her drunken-haze purchases, and paired that with a pretty and strapless black dress, cinched at the waist with a silver belt. It was a good going out/clubbing compromise, but it certainly showed off her orbs to their best advantage.

“It’s just that you girls are looking a little top-heavy too,” Kylie said, quickly. “I was wondering if it’s.. I don’t know, the cooking or something. It’s probably the cooking.”

“Ummm…” Anna broke in, finally. “Actually, I am getting sort of bigger. In my butt.”

That explained why she was showing off her rear in cinched leather shorts. It was a pillowy and heart-shaped bubble butt, and Kylie had been super-jealous of it.

“It can’t be the cooking,” Sarah put in. “I’ve LOST weight. And that’s crazy. I’ve been a size 8 for my entire adult life. I was going to have it put on my tombstone. Here lies Sarah, she was a little heavy. But I’ve dropped like, I don’t know, two waist sizes. It’s great.” She was glowing. The short girl wore bright red lipstick and a red print tube dress with a long black racer stripe down the side.

The only half-nice restaurants in town were steakhouses. This one had sawdust on the floor, and heavy wooden tables shaped like wheels. The air was beef-scented. They had all ordered huge cuts of meat.

“My tits and my ass are bigger,” Marie said, offhand.

The other three glared at her.

“What?” the blonde said.

“Good for you,” Sarah said.

“I thought we were sharing. I thought I was just filling out.”

“Are you getting more blonde, too?” Anna said. It was the first negative thing Kylie had ever heard her say.

Marie twirled a lock of hair. “Umm… actually…”

It broke the tension. Everyone laughed.

“I am though,” Marie said. It was true, she WAS lighter. “Maybe it’s the sun.”

“Do you think maybe it’s the tonic?” Kylie asked, examining the bottle. “Maybe it’s full of… I don’t know.. alcohol vitamins or something like that. It’s helping us reach our full womanly potential. I don’t know.”

“Titty vitamins,” Marie said.

They all looked at Marie’s flask. Then they refilled their glasses.

They had all destroyed their steaks. Kylie was ravenous. All four of them were apparently starving. The scent of good country cooking with a big thick cut of steak was enough for her to throw manners aside and get serious. Anna had done things to the baked potato that were borderline risqué.

More drinks followed.

“So what’s the secret, Kylie?” Marie asked.

“Of what?”

“Of getting a boyfriend, obviously. You’re the only one here with a guy at her beck and call. I’m single. Anna is single. Sarah is a virgin, for crying out loud.”

“Thanks for bringing that up, bitch,” Sarah said. Her cheeks were flushed red.

“C’mon. Tell us the secret. Go. Do it,” Marie urged.

Kylie sipped her Tonic’d Iced Tea and deliberated. Another group of girls had come in and taken seats at bar. They all had long, bare legs, except for the one girl in pink sheer socks. They were cute. The girls had the bartender flip to Channel 29.

“It’s nothing special,” she finally said. “Just understanding and communication and, uh, an enduring partnership based on being good friends.”

The other three looked at her skeptically.

“Okay, also I make sure he fucks me raw and I make dinner and whatever,” Kylie confessed. “And I sweep up and do the dishes and all of the other chores. But it’s because I like doing all that. It’ s about cooperation.”

“I want to hear more about the raw-fucking part,” Sarah said. Anna nodded.

“Oh, it’s just about… taking care of his needs. His normal, male needs. Guys need a girl around to, you know..” she caught a glimpse of Channel 29. It relaxed her. “…bang senseless. They’ve got these balls—you know, balls?—that get all filled up with sperm and testosterone. It’s your duty as a girlfriend to drain him off or he gets unhappy. That’s what I do.”

“You’re his cum receptacle,” Sarah said.

“Well, YES, if you want to put it that way,” Kylie said. She giggled. Cum receptacle. That was kind of hot.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Sarah protested. She fidgeted with her hair. She was the darkest girl in the group and it clearly made her uncomfortable. “This is helpful stuff. It’s good to know. I mean, shoot, it’s just cum. It’s not such a big deal.”

Actually, the phrase cum receptacle made Kylie really hot. And the other girls, too. There was a circumspect silence.

“Aren’t you worried it’s all a little too… submissive?” Anna said. She was discreetly touching the undersides of her mammaries.

“No, no, it’s all about, um, specialization,” Kylie protested. “I give him care and attention and he…” her cheeks flushed. She was getting hot. Images of their supermarket fuck rippled through her mind on a minute-by-minute basis. “he makes me feel safe and… warm.”

The girls at the bar were all cooing over the bartender. One was lightly stroking his arm.

“By the way,” Anna said. “Can one of you girls cover me on the bill? I’m actually really short on money this month.”

“Actually, I’m broke too,” Marie said. All four looked at each other.

“Uh-oh,” Sarah said.

Acct No. 8384990012: $250.92

“Okay, this is going to work,” Kylie insisted. They had gone clothes-shopping. She had paid for dinner on her credit card with money she didn’t have. But whatever, the girl getting dicked on a regular basis had special responsibilities. “I’ve already tried it. You just gotta treat the guy like he’s something special.”

She coughed a little. Her voice kept catching. It sounded perky, more fluting. Actually, all four of them kept piping out in this soft, dulcet voice.

The department store was open late. The foursome had fit right in with all the other girls there. All the ladies were dressed in tall, thick heels with sharp points, and had good boobs prominently on display, and many of them looked more then a little drunk.

Anna had another bottle of tonic in her car, thank god.

“What do you mean you tried it already?” Marie said, an eyebrow arched.

“I… okay, I got cheap groceries,” Kylie confessed.

“How?”

“I, uh, I showed the cashier my tits,” Kylie said.

The other three girls just seemed to consider that. “Makes sense,” Anna concluded.

Sarah had decided that she was going to make the schoolgirl look her personal signature, “at least until I finally get rid of this hymen,” and had picked out two plaid skirts from the juniors section. She had been nearly tearful at fitting into a 2.

They had traveled over to Men’s just to find a male cashier. This one was in his mid-20s, had a short and perfunctory goatee, and looked bored.

Sarah took a final shot of tonic for luck and stomped over. The other three watched from a safe distance.

“C’mon, bend over,” Anna said, cheering her roommate on. “Show off those boobs!”

“Anna!” Kylie said.

“What? She’s got to!”

Sarah slowly and casually leaned over the counter. Her cashier’s eyes traveled down to the ripe cleavage between two bouncing boobs. Marie clapped, excited. And all three of them were cheered when Sarah slowly and carefully licked her lips.

But it was a surprise when the male escorted her off to the employee break room. With one hand casually resting on her ass.

“Huh,” Kylie said, a minute later.

“Maybe.. she’s talking to him?” Marie suggested.

“Or maybe he’s arresting her,” Anna said. She tugged on her shorts. The girl had been shameless and proud of her new ass. She walked with a wiggle a blind man could sense. And had asked a bunch of questions about anal. “Oh my god, that’s totally it. He’s getting her for shoplifting. Or soliciting!”

They stood for a moment, indecisive.

“We’ve got to bust her out,” Kylie said, finally. “It’s our fault. We’ll pay for the skirts, and she’ll go free.”

Decided, they pushed through rack after rack of clothes. The plain white door to the employee area was unlocked, and Anna was the first one through, after her roommate.

On the other side, Sarah was getting her mouth thoroughly fucked. The cashier’s long, thick cock slid steadily back and forth between her ruby red lips, and a smudge of lipstick lingered at the base. The dick was shiny with her spit and bits of precum already drooled from her mouth.

The three girls awkwardly shuffled inside, and watched, mouths open. They watched the cock intently. It was so shiny and hard. It wasn’t a big room, and it already smelled like the musky spunk of cum.

Kylie felt… strange. Something about that male scent just shut her brain down, made her wet and hot. She really should’ve done or said something, but it was easy and warm to just.. watch. Watch her new friend get her mouth fucked.

Sarah’s eyes were half-lidded and dulled, and she had one hand underneath her dress, lightly fingering herself. The twosome barely noticed their audience, except that the guy smiled even more broadly. He had one hand on the back of Sarah’s head, and was using it to lightly ram her mouth up and down over the length of his shaft. Not that Sarah needed the encouragement. She was half-moaning around his dick, taking it deep within her throat.

It was so hot. Kylie’s thighs burned. It was an impossibly sick, sexy scene. Next to her, the breathing of both girls was short and sharp. Her legs felt rubbery. Like they wanted to be on their knees.

Sarah was sucking him dry. When he started to cum, his hips trembling, Sarah glommed on to the base of his dick and made sure each ribbon of white cum shot right down her throat. It hardly fazed her. She looked drunk on, and shivered in her own little climax. The boy had to gently disengage her. And even then, it took a moment for Sarah’s intelligence to climb gently back in to the driver’s seat.

She was too horny to be embarrassed. “Uh, okay, 25% off it is,” the cashier said, finally.

Sarah smiled, pleased.

They stuffed their bags in Anna’s car and went back out into the night. Their earlier outfits were deemed frumpy and boring and had been tossed in the backseat, lightly scented with the perfume of randy girls and doused with alcohol.

“Oh, man, I messed up,” Sarah moaned, eventually. “I could’ve gotten fucked. I could’ve gotten fucked! I could’ve lost this stupid virginity once and for fucking all!”

Two passer-by boys craned their necks to watch the foursome. They nearly walked into traffic. And why not? They were four sexy ladies, dressed for skin and teetering on too-high heels, loudly talking about blowjobs. Marie winked at every guy they passed, including sixty-year-olds walking the dog.

“You lost your mouth virginity,” Kylie pointed out. “Your… second-base virginity.”

“Guys like girls who give good blowjobs. Maybe that could be your thing,” her roommate suggested. “You’re like.. the human vacuum.”

Sarah considered that. She was unconsciously putting her hair in pigtails. She was in full-on schoolgirl now, with the little white socks with cute black mary janes. Her vocabulary had changed, subtly. It was peppered with ‘likes’ and ‘ums.’

“What about you?” she asked Anna.

“Gotta be doggy-style,” Marie told them. “Gotta be. Look at that ass. It’s not even ‘that ass.’ It’s ‘dat ass.’ You look like a Kardashian. Guys won’t even remember what your face looks like.”

Anna looked thoughtful at that.

“What about you, Marie?” Kylie said.

Marie snorted. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m BLONDE! I’m a BIMBO!”

They all laughed at that.

Acct No. 8384990012: $190.10

They wandered, as far as Kylie knew, pretty much at random. And yet they still found a country-western bar tucked away in some half-shrouded alley half-blocked by garbage cans. The interior was a disguised warehouse, with aluminum tables and draped tarps to make it seem small and intimate. But the guys behind the bar had beefy biceps and square jaws, and the place was full of young, drippy girls.

Kylie recognized a lot of them from her… had there been a shopping trip, recently? At least, all the boobs and butts and exposed cleavage and tanned legs triggered something in her head.

Channel 29 played on three large TVs, old analog tubes mounted on the ceiling with cheap piping.

“Girls, maybe we should… ummm..” Kylie caught sight of the TVs. They were playing some sort of music video. Or exercise video. Anyway, a half-naked girl was gyrating on a silver, shiny pole. She was wet with sweat, and had big puffy red lips.

There were guys circulating in the crowd, all of a sudden. They were shirtless and grinning and carried trays of tonic in paper Dixie cups. The girls went wild around them, rubbing their chests and rubbing their tits shamelessly up against them. The air was musky and slick, stifling. It was impossible to breathe without inhaling someone’s wet dream.

“Girls, I..” but the other three had disappeared.

And then someone had pushed a drink into Kylie’s hand, and she was downing it, and watching the TV flicker red green and blue.

It was.. it was 1:15 in the morning? She had to get home. She had to…

Kylie looked up. The bar was packed. She had somehow found a chair near a corner and was half-sprawled in it.

There was a guy next to her. He was covered in muscles and that sly grin all the men wore.

“Oh, hey,” Kylie said, vaguely. She shouted over the beat of the music. That same girl was still pole-dancing on channel 29. She had lost her bra at some point. Her boobs bobbed up and down with each trip up the metal rod.

“Hey, thanks for coming out tonight,” the boy said.

He had his left hand between Kylie’s thighs. His fingers were casual, confident. They felt so strong, so perfect. She was already spreading her legs wider, to make it easier for him to prod her slit. She had changed into a looser pink skirt during the night. It had fluffy pink folds all the way down to mid-thigh. She liked it because it matched her thong.

“Umm…” Kylie said, through a haze of sex and drink. She inhaled a strong strawberry musk and realized that it was her own. She needed a good, hard fuck. Or at least a confident set of fingers.

But.. she had a boyfriend…

She DID have a boyfriend. Kylie steeled her will, and gently removed the boy’s hand. It was only at that point she realized that he barely cared. He had Marie between his legs. The blonde was licking and sucking his knob with a fevered passion. Her face was covered with jizz, streaks of it running through her hair, and it was pretty clear that he wasn’t the first boy that had shot a load on her face.

Marie’s tits were out. Actually her whole shirt was off.

Kylie rose, unsteadily, to her feet, and went looking for an exit.

It was a maze to move at all, a gyrating, single mass of girls and boys stroking and sighing. The floor was slippery and wet, and it was obvious that body fluids had rained down on the concrete. Anyone not getting their titties stroked or their dick felt was spaced out on a wall, sipping tonic and watching the videos.

The videos… Kylie couldn’t help but look, just for a minute. The girl on the screen had such deep, dark eyes.

When she caught herself again, she was fingering herself in the corner, nearly in a ball, just pistoning two fingers in and out.

Next to her, Anna was bent over very slightly, her hands on her knees, and she had her neck craned to watch another boy vigorously fuck her from behind. The willowy brunette hadn’t lost her placid, doe-like expression, even as a red, aggressive cock plunged in and out of her slit. Her shorts were gone, although she had kept a shirt, somehow.

“Oh, hey Kylie,” she said, calmly, as her friend got to her feet. “Have you seen Sarah anywhere?”

Kylie looked around. Her watch said 2:30 a.m. There was a knot of boys in a semi-circle, their cocks pointed at something, and Kylie caught a hint of kneesocks through the gaps in their legs.

“I think I do,” Kylie said.

Jack. She had to go. Jack. She had to FUCK. JACK.

She kept that idea in her sodden, sex-loaded head. It was only big enough for one idea at a time.

No one tried to stop her. The bar was only twenty feet on each side. It was tiny. But when she looked at her watch, shivering and outside, it was 3 in the morning.

Her resolve to throw away all her tonic bottles didn’t even make it to the car.

Acct No. 8384990012: $97.66

“Oh, hi Jack!” Amanda bubbled, when he walked into the store. It was 7:30 in the morning, which meant that she couldn’t be there. His boss never got in before at least 9:30.

“Oh. Hi,” Jack said, unexcited. He was tired. Kylie had stumbled in from her girl’s night out around 3 in the morning, drunk as shit, and mumbled something about “fukkin your brains… out” before collapsing on the couch and falling asleep. She was still sleeping when he left, curled into a tiny ball with her ass in the air.

He looked around. The storefront was.. clean.

Very clean. It HAD been littered with the forgotten detritus of decades, old notices taped to walls and forgotten flyers yellowing on the dusty plastic counters. They were all gone, and the raw lemon scent of cleanser overlaid everything. The carpet had been vacuumed. All of it. The windows were scrubbed clean, even the very tops and the corners, which meant a ladder had been involved. All the papers and notebooks and scrap behind the counter had been filed or thrown away.

Everything sparkled.

Amanda still had her coffee cup, although it reeked of tonic and she swayed a little where she stood. And that was with her trying her very best to stand upright.

“What the hell did you do?” Jack said.

Amanda giggled. She licked her lips, grinning. She wore a loose pink sweater with a light white blouse underneath, along with a brief black jean skirt and dark brown boots that went up to mid-calf. “I cleaned up, silly. Of course I did! I’m a businessgirl!” Her voice was high-pitched and oddly sing-songy

She didn’t look like a businesswoman. Amanda looked like she was scrubbed for a date. For Senior Prom. She had pulled her hair back into two little ponytails, and she rubbed her thighs together when she talked.

“Girls should dress to be welcoming and inviting,” Amanda recited. “Avoid dark blacks, except to contrast with pink and white. Smile, let him know that you’re interested.”

“Where did you get all that from?”

“Business Tips with Ceci and Paul!” Amanda chirped. She nodded at the television. It was on the Channel 29 morning show. The weathergirl was vaguely pointing at an oncoming storm front, while kneading the brief hem of her minidress with her free hand. She looked like a piece of candy.

They both looked at the screen. It flickered at them, friendly and inviting.

“I watched it all night!” Amanda chirped.

She had. It hadn’t left her with a lot of functional brain cells, but she had.

“They had all sorts of great ideas, and the best part is, you don’t have to think too hard for any of them,” Amanda explained. “You just have to relax, and be confident, and let your body do the work for you!”

Jack gave her his best skeptical look.

“No, really! Here, I’ll show you. You can be, um, a prospective customer or something. Your name will be Jack.”

“My name is already Jack.”

“Okay, whatever. Now, I used to walk customers to the storage cabinets like this,”

She twirled on a clunky, oversized heel and walked as fast as she could to the opposite wall.

“Boring, right?” she said. “I was emoting that I wanted to get away. That I wanted this conversation to end. I should’ve been doing this.”

This time, Amanda looked over her shoulder to make sure Jack’s eyes rested comfortably on the two brass buttons on her ass. Then she took mincing little steps, one heel in front of the other, and wiggled her hips with each tiny movement. Her ass bounced invitingly in the air.

“See how much better that is?”

“Uh, sure,” Jack said. His cock sure understood. It was at half-mast. Amanda noticed the rising flag in his pants, and smiled, pleased.

“And it’s perfect because I’m carrying a key,” she explained. “Watch.”

This time Amanda got halfway across the floor before daintily dropping the key in her hand. “I used to pick things up like this,” she said, and squatted to pick it up. “And that’s an ugly, ungainly position, or at least that’s what Ceci taught me. I should swivel from the hips, like this. That’s where the power is!”

This time Amanda stood with her knees locked and let her ass fly into the air. It was a great rear end, toned and firm and young, and the denim rode up just enough to give Jack a tantalizing look at something blue, underneath. By now his cock was firm and hard.

“See?” Amanda said, triumphantly. “This is the kind of stuff that really drives business.”

She paused. “Can you pick up the key?” she asked, pouting just a little. “It’s actually really hard to reach things when you bend over like that.”

It was still drizzling today. They had the shop to themselves. Amanda had turned up the heat, or something, which made the shop very warm.

“I’m thinking we make it, you know, official,” Amanda said. She had taken two more big gulps from her coffee/booze concoction, and was more then a little unsteady on her feet. “Miniskirt Mondays. And then, uh, I don’t know what Tuesday would be. Miniskirt Tuesdays, there. And then maybe just, like, swimsuits on Wednesdays, I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Jack asked. He pumped a dumbbell with one arm.

“Oh, you’ve got to show the girls that they will be safe and protected! It’s perfect. Here, lets roleplay. I’ll be a typical female customer.” Amanda pulled off her sweater. She wore a black swimsuit top underneath her white blouse. Her tits were bigger then Jack really remembered them being.

“Sir,” Amanda said, pursing her lips. “I am a simple girl who needs storage space for her thousands of swimsuits, tee hee. But I’m afraid that a burglar will steal my lacy underthings, tee hee. Can you show how strong you are by picking me up? And maybe giving me a piggy-back ride?”

Why not? Jack hauled the giggling girl up with one arm. She was warm and soft, and kicked playfully in the air. Her boobs rested against his chest. He reminded himself that he had a girlfriend already. Her name was Kylie or something.

“Oh, la, thank you sir. I am just a dumb girl! I need your assistance!” Amanda shrieked, up in the air. When he finally put her down, she staggered in a short circle before collapsing into a chair.

“That was…” her eyes were glassy. “Yes, that’ll work great. Oh, and here’s another trick I learned.”

She leaned forwards. A button or two had come loose in the ride. Her bikini top had a little white bow. “Sir, how does $10 per month, sound?”

“Sounds like double our normal price,” Jack said.

Amanda slowly uncrossed, then recrossed her legs. She was wearing blue panties. They were obviously soaked.

“Sounds a lot better now, right? Ten bucks?”

You really do have a girlfriend, Jack reminded himself.

“Okay, lets put it all together,” Amanda said. Three empty cups of coffee littered the counter. Somehow the caffeine left her able to stand. Jack’s mind was whirling, too, and his erection had never quite gone away.

“A customer walks in. I smile, I twirl my hair, I welcome them,” Amanda said. She gave a tiny half-bow, just enough to show off her boobs. They sparkled with perspiration. “I do the bow thing, I let them see my ta-tas.”

“Right,” Jack said. He was playing the customer role, again.

“I draw them over to the counter, I sit down, I play with the hem of my skirt,” Amanda recited. Channel 29 was onto some roundtable discussion show. It featured a burly bearded man and a young girl in a pantsuit. “I see what price they want, I do the leg-cross thing,” she demonstrated. The wet patch had just gotten worse over time. “I double that price.”

Jack swallowed. “Perfect,” he said.

“Okay. I get the key, I take them to see the unit.” Amanda pantomimed getting the key. Jack followed her out the door, examining the sway of her ass. She was getting good at it. The way her rear moved looked like second-nature to her. Halfway to the units, she mock-dropped the key. Her ass rose into the air.

Jack’s dick surged with blood. His head pounded.

They entered the row of lockers, corrugated metal sliding doors set into inexpensive and cheaply painted concrete. It would probably be easiest to just kick a hole in the side. “I show them the side, I thank them again, and we’re done!”

“What if they offer you $10 for a blowjob?” Jack said.

Amanda’s eyes opened wide with shock. Jack filled the doorway. He slouched against it. His cock was etched against his pants.

“I, uh, I thank them for the, uh, generous offer, and I, uh, decline,” Amanda stuttered. She licked her lips.

“What if I offer $20?” Jack said.

“That’s…” Amanda was breathing heavily. It was chill and damp in the room, or it should’ve been, but she was warming it up just by standing there. “That’s a BETTER offer, but we are in the business of storage, here, sir…”

“What if I offer that you can swallow?” Jack said.

“Swallow?”

“All of it. I’ve got like a bucket in here,” he said. He began to slowly unzip his pants. Amanda mewed and shuddered.

“How about..” she swallowed. “How about twenty-five?”

“What do I get for twenty-five?” Jack said. His dick sprang out. It was already dripping. It was aching.

“I’ll.. I’ll swallow it SUPER-deep,” Amanda promised. “Like, it’ll be sooooo good. You’ll really like it.”

She settled onto her knees. She picked his cock up with one hand, and a spatter of pre-cum dripped onto her nails. Amanda’s mouth watered.

Jack stopped her. “Twenty,” he told her. “My final offer.”

“Fine!” Amanda thought, but she was already diving for it, needing the warm head of his cock nestled inside of her mouth. It was already a great deal, a hot sexy thing like her getting a nice hot dick to nuzzle on. She had been horny all day.. and all night, too, come to think of it.

It wasn’t a businesslike blowjob. Amanda was too wet and needy, moaning and gasping around the head of Jack’s cock, licking the underside like a starving girl. Each time a drizzle of cum spattered out she swallowed it eagerly.

She reached underneath her skirt, hesitated.

“If you pay me twenty-five, I’ll let you finger yourself,” Jack promised.

Kylie danced at the edge of his thoughts. But this was too perfect, too natural. He felt strong, in control, purposeful. There was nothing wrong with a girl sucking at his cock. It was what was supposed to happen when girls were around him. He was sure of it. He had seen that on TV somewhere.

His dick was longer. He was sure of it. Something to do with the exercises, maybe. But Amanda didn’t seem to have any trouble letting it slide all the way down her throat. She was a motivated businessgirl, after all.

A businessgirl with three fingers buried up her cunt, stroking the walls and dripping juice onto the cold concrete floor. Her knees should’ve hurt and her mouth should’ve gotten sore, but it just felt too perfect and too right to be making money with her tongue.

Jack let himself cum, eventually, when her energy started to flag. He gently pulled out and aimed a few blasts at her face, her hair, streaking it white. It made perfect sense to him. She was his. Everyone had to know. He coated her liberally.

“That’ll be… that’ll be twenty dollars,” Amanda said, and creamed again when he handed her a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

And it felt even better when she gave him twenty-five.

Acct No. 8384990012: $102.66

Kylie had slept with a pillow between her legs. She sniffed it when she woke up, around noon, and was flooded with a haze of sex and wet scents and the sharp aroma of booze. It started to make her wet, so she threw it in a corner, glared at it, and walked into the shower. Her nose was running again, and she wiped at it.

She checked her phone, eventually. It was hard to remember her password. There were two voicemails and six text messages. The first voicemail was from her professor, wondering politely when she would be in to run experiments. The second voicemail was from her professor, wondering sarcastically if she was going to bother to show up.

Kylie deleted both. She chewed on a soft and red lip. She just didn’t feel like school, not after a night like that. And the experiment involved the self-esteem of fat kids. Too much of a fuckin’ hassle.

Although she did need the money. Really badly, honestly. Rent was due in a week, and she had… pretty much no money.

The girl in the bathroom mirror was a lot more of a sexy bitch then Kylie remembered.

Kylie’s self-image was full of flaws and imperfections. She thought of herself as pear-shaped, with a v-shaped notch where a curvy hourglass should go, and decent tits that were about to sag to her waist. She had a mole on her neck that had little hairs and she had stringy brown hair that was only as thick and lustrous as Panteen could make it.

The girl in the mirror was a pretty hot little number. Words drifted through Kylie’s sleepy head. Bangin’. Sexy. Foxy. Hot as fuck. A pretty little piece of ass.

Her tits had grown bigger, but mostly they had grown bouncier, springier, like she had slept through a very competent boob job. They produced a long line of deep cleavage with the slightest breath, and her nipples pricked up at the slightest bit of attention.

That wasn’t all, although boobs were the easiest to notice. She had been subtly photoshopped, imperfections smoothed out with an airbrush, and replaced with skin that was creamy and soft and pliable.

Her mole was gone. There wasn’t even a mark.

But, besides her new, wobbling titties, Kylie noticed her lips. They instantly disqualified her from the Presidency. They were ruby red, and thick, with a glossy hue that drank in the light of the room. When she smiled, they pursed together, and when she was still, they poked slightly apart, making her look stupid and eager.

It was hard to see them without imagining a cock sliding in and out between them. They were perfect pole-smoking lips. Kylie brushed her teeth, and spent minutes watching the plastic handle rub in and out.

It felt good.

She panicked in the shower.

“What the heck?” she shouted at the drain. The scent of her night outing washed away, was replaced with a cold fear in her plush new body. She was broke, she was filling out, she was apparently developing a drinking problem.

It didn’t help that body hair was just falling out in the water. The skin underneath was plush and hairless.

It was hard to concentrate on anything but scrubbing her assets and a pervasive sense of dread. She needed money. She needed to get fucked—no, what was that about? She had to concentrate on her life problems in an organized and disciplined fashion. She would call her professor RIGHT AFTER she got out of the shower.

First she stepped out of the steam and turned on Channel 29. Then she sat down on the couch, still wrapped in a towel, and picked up a pencil and a pad and paper.

She wrote “getting my life in ordure.”

A second later, giggling softly, she corrected her spelling of order. She could be such a dumbo.

Then she decided to pour herself a drink. Just one, to help her think.

A few minutes later she was sipping it and watching Cecilia sitting behind her counter, radiant and calm. The TV hostess wore a medium-blue dress with a V that ended just above her waist. Her boobs were pert but securely strapped in.

“I wanted to get to my mailbag!” the hostess announced. There were several open bottles of tonic sitting behind her. Kylie could nearly smell the intoxicating scent of wheat and alcohol. She rubbed her lips together.

“Letter one. Dear Cecilia. I love your show and I think you look really hot in that green tanktop with the lime green mini, it really shows off your ass,” Cecilia nodded at the camera. “I have a sort of a question-problem. I’ve been watching your show, and, well, my boobs have gotten bigger lately. What’s that all about? Much love, Candice.”

Cecilia smiled at the camera. Her eyes overflowed with understanding. Kylie sat up straight.

“Oh Candy,” Cecilia announced. “There’s no mystery here. You were starving your body. Starving it with stress, starving it with anxiety. And then you got some good country cooking in you and tossed away those diet sodas for something naturally fermented and bang, your body let you know how happy it is. Those are reward titties! They’re your body’s way of saying, thank you! You’ve been a good girl, so tweak that nipple and celebrate that partnership!”

That made… no, it didn’t make sense. Bodies didn’t work that way. Kylie frowned at the orbs on her chest. But they did feel good. So good. And she loved the way they rode so high and firm on her torso, she didn’t even need a bra.

The TV flashed and flashed and flashed.

“Dear Cecilia. My sex drive has gotten a little crazy since I started watching your show. A little a lot crazy. Yesterday I fucked my husband twice before he could get out of bed, the second time he pegged my ass for a half-hour. I’ve been screaming so hard I can’t do my job as a nurse because my voice is gone. Sometimes I like to sit at home and frig myself with a ten inch dildo… and the letter trails off here, okay.”

Kylie dropped the pencil. She started to leak again. She didn’t notice.

“Dear Cecilia. You’re so right about men. I always meet mine at the door with an old-fashioned, a smile, and then I suck him so dry he needs a second drink just to rehydrate. It has absolutely saved my marriage. And your advice to always do housework with a vibrator up your snatch has REALLY livened up my dishwasing…”

Gawd, she did have such great lips, Kylie thought. So what if they labeled her as a girl with an oral fixation. They were so red and exotic. Perfect vacuum pump lips.

“Dear Cecilia, I’m getting a little worried about my memory and stuff. Can tonic make you, I don’t know, dumber or something? I swear that every time I drink another bottle I lose another grade level. Plus I keep getting so juicy, I keep dripping all over the couch cushions when I finger myself.”

The flicker and flash was relentless, unceasing, unstopping. Kylie drooled, a single droplet landing on the upper slopes of her tits as she was assaulted. Synapses were rewired. Old memories gently dimmed and shut themselves off. Her libido pumped with new blood, her pleasure centers strummed and hummed. Her nose ran. It ran out of math.

All over town, girls called in sick, or didn’t even bother. Channel 29 hummed on flickering televisions throughout the local cable area. Girls whimpered with trashy, overwhelming orgasms, shook their heads and dimly tried to remember how math went about. They floated in a fog of dark brown tonic, numbed and simple, and then, when it was over, went to cook dinner for their men after putting on nice new outfits. With no underwear on at all.

Acct No. 8384990012: $10.76

“Hello, my name is Robert Sanborn,” the man on Channel 29 said. He had small white eyes with a pinprick pupil, and each time he blinked it was quite deliberate. “You may already know my sister, Cecilia. It’s a pleasure to introduce to you our new show, Debate Roundtable. With me is tonight’s representative, Miss., uh, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Lisa,” the blonde girl said. She had light blonde hair tied back and braided to the middle of her back. She wore a well-tailored suit with a hem above the knee, in light grey pinstripes.

“Lisa, of course,” Mr. Sanborn said. He smiled at her with dark yellow teeth. His own suit was flabby and over-long, the cuffs flaring over chubby wrists. It was light tan and combined the polyesters of the 1970s with the shoulder pads of the 1980s. “Lets begin. Our topic, the perennial, man and female.”

Lisa stared at him, puzzled. “What ABOUT men and women?” she asked.

“Before we answer that question, let me recommend a tall and refreshing glass of my very own Tonic, guaranteed to solve your problems in a way that only heavily fermented and distilled corn can,” Robert said, pulling a bottle out from underneath the table. He poured until the tumbler was nearly full. “Lisa, would you like a glass?”

Lisa would. Her eyes tracked it. “Well…” she temporized, her hands grasping it even as she hesitated. The blonde downed the glass in one swift go.

Robert chuckled. “Point one, girls can’t handle their alcohol.”

Lisa turned to face him, frowning. The blonde’s cheeks dimpled. “That’s.. that’s not really true, it’s about body weight and… moderation… and we can to keep up with boys!” her voice rose a half-octave, and stayed there.

“You’ll have to prove me wrong with another glass,” Robert said, pushing another full tumbler across the table.

“Aren’t… aren’t you going to drink anything?” Lisa challenged him, raising the glass to her lips.

“Oh, no!” Robert said. “I never touch the stuff. But please, indulge.”

Lisa was already sucking it down. Her legs accidentally came uncrossed.

It was a slow and lazy evening, and Jack was casually fingering his female. That is, his girlfriend. The girl that he was fingering. Kylie.

He rubbed at his eyes with the hand not lightly stroking Kylie’s clit. It was getting so hard to think slowly, calmly, and intelligently. So much of his brain was in his junk, ordering him around and pushing him to fuck curvy girls until their brains dribbled out their noses. And when he wasn’t horny, he wanted to get ripped.

He hadn’t even come home horny. After all, for several hours he had been slamming Amanda from a turned-on businessgirl into a drooling wreck, and probably pumped her so full of goo she would gargle if she burped. But just a look in the mirror, at his bronzed, sharply defined chest…

He had started fingerbanging the piece of ass as soon as they finished a five-course dinner.

Kylie. Her name was Kylie.

Lisa was three glasses deep, she kept flashing her underwear at the camera, and she was still a better debater then Mr. Robert Sanborn. Red mottled rage gathered underneath his eyes with each exchange.

“Girls are, as near as I can tell, only perfected for a few human endeavours,” Sanborn said. His rage cycled between hot and cold. “Popping out babies and being handled by men. I mean, if there was only one gender, wouldn’t it obviously be the boys?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Lisa said, slurring her words. She was only half paying attention. Her hands kept creeping down to the top of her blouse or the hem of her skirt. And she spent a lot of time admiring the flash and shine on her shoes. “And human repro—reproduce—having babies is important.”

“Please!” Sanborn scoffed. “Curvy thighs. Oversized tits that wobble when you run. Big plush rear ends. Men are made to fight, to run, to kill! Women are made primarily to attract men, to ensure that men provide for them. Women evolved so that sticking their ass in the air would lead to recurring and frequent mating!”

Lisa finished her latest drink. She waggled the glass in Robert’s direction. Scowling, he refilled it.

Lisa puzzled at why her hands were slowly unbuttoning her jacket top.

Kylie had a nice, warm orgasm. It rocked her nice and slow, and she tittered softly through it, juicing the already-wet couch with a single squirt of lubricant.

She toweled off a little in the bathroom. She wasn’t worried. She wasn’t sure how to be worried. Stress and anxiety were two little words that didn’t exist in a vocabulary that mostly centered around fucking and housework anyway.

Whenever the brunette closed her eyes, reruns ran through her mind. Cecilia’s smiling face.

She doubled up on dark red lipstick and checked to make sure she was showing off enough ass. Her dress was a burgundy tanktop that flowed into a country-gingham skirt. The allure was how short it went. She had been showing little red boyshorts off to Jack all evening.

Jack. She needed to suck his dick so badly. She had visualized it all day, in a hundred different ways. Him frantically jacking her mouth, holding onto her head with both hands, jamming his cock into her eager mouth. Jack lying back and enjoying a lingering, almost artistic display of fellatio, she worshiping his penis like it was made out of gold. Him lashing her throat with thick coats of jizz.

Kylie blew the mirror a kiss, and strode out to deliver the best blowjob of her life.

Lisa’s skirt rode up her hips, and she examined her debating partner with a concerned half-frown. It was getting hard to talk and rub her clitty at the same time.

“That… um… camera isn’t on, isn’t it?” she eventually asked.

“What?” Robert glanced backwards. “Oh. That.”

“Because I thought this was an interview for a media position?”

“And it is,” Mr. Sanborn said. He had finally pulled out some notecards and was thumbing through them, anxiously. “Right. Women as housewives. If we go back to the 1950s, what we see is a peak in gender roles that… ummm…”

Lisa closed her eyes and finally let her digits sneak up her slit. She was achingly wet and so comfortable in the cheap polyester studio chairs.

Kylie didn’t get any closer then unzipping Jack’s fly. He was watching the blonde on screen finger herself and debate at the same time. The cock she pulled out was amazingly hard and long, thicker and fuller then she remembered, with long blue veins running along its considerable girth.

Jack shook his head. “Nah,” he said.

Kylie struggled to speak around a mouthful of spit. “What?”

“I’m getting tired of these positions. I want to watch your ass while we fuck,” Jack said. He raised an eyebrow. That was enough for Kylie. She let him guide her by the rear end to the other end of the couch, where she gingerly put her ass end into the air.

She had never been in this position before. It was so weak, so submissive, like she was in heat. And so fragile, too—her butt raised up while he grunted behind her, her tits dangling over the couch. She would topple over at the slightest touch.

Kylie was suddenly scared. His cock was so impossibly long. He fitted the very tip against her slit, and she imagined every single inch behind it.

“Are you, uh, sure you don’t want a hummer, babe?” she called out, turning her head.

Jack wasn’t even paying attention. Kylie smelled like sweet strawberries, and it was fucking up the little self-control he had left. He simply put his cock at her glistening pink slit, pushing her underwear aside, and rode it all the way in.

It was like someone set off a star in Kylie’s head. The warmth and the heat jolted her from head to toe. The first fast, brutal stroke nearly pulled her backwards, but then he rammed it in again, still glistening with the juice from her pussy.

“Oh jesus christ,” she moaned, gripping the couch with both hands. She was a living sex toy, a moving receptacle, and she wasn’t sure she’d remember her name if the oncoming orgasm was half of what she could feel coming.

“You see, I’m not a bad guy,” Robert told his debating partner. “I simply think the world is better off when it’s—specialized. And when I saw my chance I knew I had to take it.”

Lisa had mostly gotten naked. What wouldn’t come off got ripped off. She had flipped her body over until her boobs were crushed into the couch, and had one finger pawing frantically between her legs.

“The military wasn’t even using any of it! The subliminals, the formula, none of it! It was just gathering dust in a storage room! And my janitor clearance was—haha—perfectly good enough to get me in!”

Robert seemed to finally notice the writhing girl on his couch. “Come over here, dear, and you can have a ride, since you’ve been so good about debating.”

Lisa tried to get up, but her legs were too shaky, and eventually she just bent over for Robert’s ease of access.

“Fuck yeah, fuck YES,” Jack said, gripping Kylie’s hips. The feeling was incredible, a velvet glove milking his cock for each bit of seed. He was working so hard Kylie’s legs actually raised off the floor, until she was bouncing around each long stroke.

Kylie was watching television. The image of the big red man fucking the little blonde girl was starting to blur, get fuzzy. Snow appeared on the edges of the television.

“Uh, Jack, something is… uh! Something is happeNING on televi—oh, god!”

When Jack finally came it was like the end of the world. For both of them. A spasm of howling and guttural, primal fucking that released surge after surge of white fluid into Kylie’s bucking slit, overflowing and messing up the top of the couch.

Right as the show finally blurred into grey snow, with a single message written in teletype on the bottom of the screen. It read “thank you for trying Channel 29! If you want to support our programming, please subscribe by sending $1000 to the address below!”

Kylie and Jack didn’t notice. Jack backed away, into a convenient chair, his dick still churning out loose strands of cum. It was too much. Even he could see it, the way his cock was bigger, thicker, shooting out heavy spurts into the floor.

His female rolled off the couch. She was on wobbly legs, her eyes dim and exhausted.

But Kylie saw her chance to finally get Jack’s dick in her mouth.

“Let me clean you off, honey,” she said, smiling, and lowered herself to it. Even exhausted it was big and long, but it wasn’t a chore when there was delicious, sticky cum to indulge in. She enjoyed each inch.

Until she made it to the very base, and smelled something she wasn’t expecting.

She carefully pulled the cock free. Kylie stood up.

“Jack, who else has been sucking your dick besides me?” she asked, calmly.

Acct No. 8384990012: $00.00

“I broke up with Jack,” Kylie blurted, at the door. She stood in the doorway in lacy white thigh-highs and a willowy blue dress with spaghetti-strap laces, teetering on matching white heels. Her tits wobbled in their cups, and her lips were still smeared with lipstick.

“Oh no,” Marie said, holding it open. “You better come in.”

It had been a very bad fight. Made worse by the growing and scary realization that they were utterly, totally broke, with no money at all and no way to get more. And Channel 29 just buzzed in the background, insistently asking for more money.

“I.. I caught Jack cheating on me,” she said, bursting through the door. “And he wasn’t even SORRY about it. He said that he didn’t see anything wrong with fucking pussies.”

Marie paused and considered the fact that Jack was now single. She shook her head. “That’s terrible,” she offered. Her hair was now platinum blonde.

Marie lived in a cheap apartment overlooking another cheap apartment, two windows nearly kissing over an alley piled high with old garbage bins. The other side looked out onto the garage and a collection of inexpensive imports. Kylie had walked the whole way there, and her feet ached.

“And the worst part is that I really just wanted to say that it was okay, that I was glad I was the best fuck in his stable, that his orgasms made me so happy I wanted to just suck and suck him all day, but a girl has to have some self-respect. She really does,” Kylie blubbered, sitting in a chair. She gradually noticed Anna and Sarah sitting on the couch, watching Channel 29. They didn’t seem to notice that she had come in.

“Oh… hi girls,” Kylie said, weakly.

The girls looked a little different. Sarah in particular. The formerly plump and spiky girl was dressed head to toe in schoolgirl fantasy, a private-school minx oversexed and radiant with horny energy. She wore cotton socks up to her knees, and had her hair in pigtails, a red pleated mini, and an innocent look. Anna was wrapped in latex from just below her neckline to just above the curve of her ass.

“Uh… what’s up?” Kylie asked. The air smelled like wet fingers and jism. It was comforting.

The four girls huddled together and ordered pizza.

“Kylie, I think I see your problem,” Marie said. She poured them all glasses of Tonic. Kylie hesitated. She was pretty sure that something in that dark-brown concoction was making her all horny and histrionic and silly. But the maple-sugar taste was too much to resist.

“What, I need to stand up for myself more?” Kylie said.

Marie snorted. “Uh, not really. You’ve got to be sexier, more fuckable, then that other girl. You’ve got to give him orgasms that will knock him to the floor. If he wants to fuck you in the ass, you say, “how hard?” And then you go even HARDER.”

Anna and Sarah both nodded, earnestly.

“Isn’t that…” Kylie swallowed. “Isn’t that a little bit… much?” she ended. “I’m not his TOY,”

She had a sinking feeling that she was worong.

“If you watched Channel 29,” Anna broke in, “you’d know that girls are really ABOUT getting on their knees. And it’s true, I’m happiest on all fours. I’d never realized how much I really enjoyed butt sex.”

“It’s true,” Marie said. She blinked, and her eyes returned glassy and far away. “Being a girl is all about your body, not your mind. Girls have erogenous zones in their butt, their tits, their slits, all over. It’s a sign that we’re only happy when we’re getting fondled.”

Kylie looked from girl to girl. They all truly believed that. They nodded to each other, dressed in fantasy outfits, sipping Tonic and squeezing their legs together. They were sexier, curvier, vapid and wet.

“Maybe I should go,” she mumbled. This was… it was too much. She was changing too fast, too quickly, her brains sodden and needy, her slit still burning with heat. “I.. I should go.”

The doorbell rang. “Oh, pizza’s here!” Sarah announced. She turned to Anna, and the two played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors that Anna won.

“Shoot… I figured rock would win,” Sarah said.

“You ALWAYS play rock, you dumb bimbo,” Anna said, and moved to the door. The pizza guy was maybe 17, with a short and ragged beard that couldn’t even get a goatee right. His eyes bugged out at the creamy display of plastic and skin in front of him.

“Hi honey,” Anna said, purring at him. “I have your money right inside.” She carefully put the pizzas on a table, then grabbed his hand and moved it to the bottom of her dress. The pizza guy reached underneath almost automatically. Anna purred.

“Why don’t you come in?” she breathed.

“Girls, I think there’s something seriously going on with us!” Kylie said, but continued shaving her pussy hair off with Marie’s electric razor.

The three of them sat on the couch, watching Channel 29. In a corner of the room the pizza guy had Anna up against a wall, her hands spread on the wallpaper, her legs spread a yard apart. She was getting a noisy and energetic butt fucking, and she was loving it.

“I feel…” Kylie searched for the words. “I don’t know. All kinds of stupid and stuff. Like I don’t have the, ummmm, vocabulary for all the stuff I’m feeling. And my voice! It’s all sexy kitty! It’s, like, not serious!”

“Cecilia explained all this yesterday,” Marie said, gently chiding her. She was painting Kylie’s toes a bright pink, matching her own. “Girls get stupid when they don’t get fucked enough. It’s all part of nature’s plan. It’s like how animals go into heat. Girls go into dumb.”

Sarah piped in, “like, it attracts guys when you don’t think too hard and stuff. I want their dick in my mouth, I don’t need to tell them about my art history masters. I don’t even care about paintings and stuff, anyway.” She was watching Anna avidly, and the red and raw cock sliding in and out of her butt. She didn’t even bother was lube. It was pretty impressive.

The warm air in the tiny shoebox apartment smelled of sex and Tonic. The musky scent of guys rode the air, and it was pretty obvious the three didn’t bother to clean up after messy rounds of blowjobs. Kylie moved the razor over the stubble on her mound. It was nice and pink and wet.

“But… but how are you girls gonna get by?” she asked, finally. “And how did you pay for Channel 29?”

“Oh, we all moved in together and pooled our money,” Marie explained. “Plus we took Cecilia’s business advice! We haven’t paid a dime out in days!”

They all looked over at Anna as she earned their discount. She had a beautiful ass, nicely rounded and toned without bubbling out into ridiculous proportions. The girl kept backing up as hard as she could into the long length of the pizza guy’s dick.

“All done,” Kylie announced, staring down at her pussy. It was so WET. She already missed Jack. He had given her soul-shattering blowjobs. She was pretty sure that their last fuck had made her forget ‘merican history or whatever it was called.

Kylie gradually noticed that Anna’s greedy moans weren’t the only sounds of carnal lovemaking echoing throughout the complex. Distant screams and loud babbling came through the paper-thing walls, all over.

“Yeah, it’s a little loud,” Marie admitted. She finished painting Kylie’s nails, moved over to inspect the work on her friend’s slit. “You did a pretty good job,” she said, and traced the engorged lips of Kylie’s pussy with her long pink fingernails. Kylie shuddered. This was all too weird, too nice.

“Mm, Jack is missing out,” she announced. “Did you tell him that you wanted him to fuck you senseless?”

“No,” Kylie admitted. She bit her sizable lips. Marie’s rubbing felt good.

“Did you wake him up with a blowjob?” Marie continued. She slipped a finger in, turned it to rub against Kylie’s clit.

“I didn’t do that. No. I guess not.”

“And you didn’t shave for him, or tell him you wanted his baby fucked into you?”

“I’m not his HAREM BIMBO,” Kylie told Marie, around shudders. Marie’s hands were expert.

“I guess there’s your problem,” Marie said, and inserted two more fingers.

They ate a gallon of ice cream and washed it down with tonic. Anna roused herself from the corner she had been fucked into, eventually.

“Ohymgod,” Kylie said, wiping her nose. “I fucked up so bad. I had him. I did! He had this big beautiful cock and he had this big body and I let him go just because he was getting some pussy on the side.”

Channel 29 still played. But the flashes were slower, less frequent. They weren’t as necessary. There was hardly a girl in town who hadn’t been overexposed to a set of branding messages that were frequent and permanent.

Marie rubbed her shoulders, sympathetically. Beneath the table, Sarah licked eagerly at Anna’s pussy.

The doorbell rang again. This time, unexpectedly. The man at the door rippled with muscle underneath a tight wifebeater. He was easily in his 60s, with a thick white mustache.

“Oh!” Marie said, surprised. “Hello, Mr. Randall. Is it time for the rental payment already?” She let one strap of her lycra pink tanktop slip off her shoulder.

“Yeah, it is,” the man said. “And it’s going to need to be real money. Like, dollar bills. Next time I take it in pink I’m going to die of a heart attack.”

Marie frowned. She tossed her blonde hair back, rubbed the back of her leg with one foot, licked her lips. It made no impression on the landlord at all.

“Seriously, you girls are at a disadvantage here on a top floor,” the man said, grimacing. “I’m sore by floor number two. I need my rent. I’ve got to eat.”

“I can get you some pizzas!” Anna said, giggling.

But that was that.

Acct No. 8384990012: $00.00

“Angry? Confused?” Paul Rider said.

They had Channel 29 on still, at the gym. It had otherwise gone out for the entire town, it looked like. The gym floor was packed with angry, muscle-thick men glaring at the television screen.

Jack had walked there in the dark and the wet. He was out of gas and there was no point to even trying the credit card. At the gym, he bested his personal dead-lift by forty pounds and benched another extra fifty without even breathing hard. He had tripled his weight since he had first ventured into the YMCA as a scrawny and awkward college grad. His chest rippled with definition, his body glowed with a radiant energy. He had no idea what to do next.

“I can’t blame you,” Paul growled, at the camera. “Lord knows I can’t blame you. This is a world that makes you want to jump up and down screaming, half the time. But THAT is NOT the PAUL RIDER WAY. When life gives you a problem, I want you to FUCK THAT PROBLEM SO HARD IT FORGETS HOW MANY CONTINENTS THERE ARE! You STAY POSITIVE and you GET OUT THERE and you ACCOMPLISH. Now, GO!”

Jack nodded to the TV screen. Paul was right, as ever. And right now, he needed gas.

“Thanks, the six-month membership will be fine,” Alanna said, hanging up. And like magic, Channel 29 flickered back on. Thank god.

Alanna was supposed to be passing through this hick town on a week’s worth of business, setting up a new cell phone store before passing on to the next assignment. Instead, she had spent most of her time drinking this amazing local drink, mostly alcohol, and buying a huge number of vibrators on the company credit card.

There were twenty of them, and she had them neatly arranged on the dining room table. They ranged in size from Honey, the 12-incher, to a trio of pink buttons that Alanna considered rather quaint, these days.

Yesterday she had finally gotten up the nerve to get Mr. Doughty up her rear end. She had cum so hard her vocal cords still ached.

The doorbell rang. She quickly tossed a sheet over the table and skipped to the door in her leather boots, tugging down her miniskirt as she walked.

It was her next door neighbor. She vaguely remembered him. Jack or something. He was breathing hard, a light haze of rain clinging to his shirt. Which was damp and stuck to a fine set of thick, well-developed muscles. He wore plain black shorts.

Pheromones poured off him in a wave, flooding her mind, driving the prim corperette deep underground.

He invited himself in. Alanna found herself pouring him a glass of Tonic without question.

“I need to borrow your car,” he said, finally. He glanced casually at her body, evaluated it without comment.

“Of course,” Alanna said. She used to know how to negotiate. Or do anything but gape. Make a counter-offer! “Can.. can I come with you!”

Jack shrugged.

Alanna automatically took the passenger side. Her neighbor had barely spoken.

“I’m a lesbian,” she finally blurted. “I don’t like cock. I’ve never liked it. It’s not something I’m into.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. He pulled out onto the street, then reached across the stick to feel between her thighs. His hands were rough, unpolished, but she eased her thighs far apart to make it simple for him. His fingers came away wet and greasy.

“I’ve not been a very GOOD lesbian recently,” she conceded, and cooed with delight when Jack’s hand buried itself up her snatch.

And, just in case things got a little weird, she had Johnny Night, her seven-incher, tucked securely away in her handbag with an extra pair of batteries.

Acct No. 8384990012: $00.00

10 p.m. at a storage facility was a stony and cold place and time. Usually. Usually everything was locked up and a heavy, leaden coldness grasped the concrete and cheap iron. But tonight there were five cars in the parking lot, nice ones, and the windows of the center building blazed with a brilliant golden light.

“What’re we doing here?” Alanna said, refocusing her eyes. She had gasped to two sticky, guilty orgasms on the drive over, and rivulets of lubricant drizzled the seat beneath her. She kept reminding herself that she didn’t like cock. It wasn’t going well. Her memory wasn’t what it used to be.

“I gotta tell a girl I’m quitting,” Jack said.

“Your job? Why?”

“Ahh, if I keep it I’ll just keep fucking the owner,” Jack said. He withdrew his fingers, looked at them, and gave them to Alanna to lick. She gratefully cleaned them with her tongue. “She doesn’t like it.”

“Why not fuck both of them?” Alanna suggested.

“That was my thinking. But if she doesn’t want that, fine. She works hard for me, you know? I don’t want to toss that way just because I’m getting some asian trim on the side. And she does give some pretty amazing blowjobs.”

He walked towards the building, and Alanna followed two steps behind him, leaking juice.

It was loud inside. Two men stood in front of the counter, both nicely dressed, older, and gesturing wildly at each other and behind the counter. Another older gentleman waited more or less patiently in a folding chair, one of a number of new folding chairs in the room.

Behind the counter, Amanda was nearly in tears, overwhelmed, with her inexpensive mascara pouring down her cheeks. She was squeezed into a light pink cheongsam, hardly a real one, a dress-up Halloween version with a hem up against the top of her thighs.

“So we’re clear that you booked both of us for ten p.m.,” the first man said. He wore a baseball cap. “I ordered a good butt-fucking, which is damn expensive, and I’m supposed to, what, share with this guy? Was that really the plan here?”

“I just want to go first,” the other man said. He had a dark leather jacket on, and wore sunglasses indoors. “It’s just a blowjob. It’s not like you’re going to kiss her, c’mon. Look at this slut. She’s been guzzling all day.”

They both radiated with hostility. Amanda took a nervous, shaking drink from her coffee cup. She brightened when she saw Jack.

“Jack! Um, can you, um, assist.”

Jack made his way behind the counter.

“Boss, what is this?” he said. Amanda was a jittery mess. She reeked of long sessions on the bed, and her hair still had a few streaks of cum in it. She still drooled white between her legs.

“I made some changes to our business model,” she admitted.

Jack looked at the waiting area. “It’s a whorehouse now.”

“No!” Amanda insisted. “It’s just.. Jack, I neeeeed your help. Whenever I try and add up all the numbers blur in my head and get all fuzzy, and I, like, I can’t do anything after I cum which is all the time, and these guys are so big and sexy and threatening…”

She looked about to burst into tears.

“I don’t even know how much money I made today!” she whispered, and gestured to a stack of bills she had stuck underneath the counter.

Jack looked at it. It was a heavy stack. Benjamin Franklin looked back at him, with lots of friends.

“Is that a lot?” Amanda whispered. Alanna looked at it with dazed interest, trying to remember how addition and subtraction worked. She had been an accountant once, she should KNOW this.

The money called to Jack. Amanda pawed at the front of his fly.

“Oh, and this guy is cutting now, great,” sunglasses said. “Listen, I want my fucking money back, and then I’m going to get my blowjob anyway.”

Jack straightened and walked back around the counter. Sunglasses found himself confronting a very large chest, and two hands balled into fists. Jack’s shirt barely fit across his body. He glowered down at the man, standing far too close.

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Jack growled.

“Sure!” the man said, quickly.

Jack pointed to Alanna. She was dressed in a memory of her business days, in a black skirt with a long cut up the side, and a tight white blouse with a lewd black bra underneath. “Any problem with her mouth?”

Alanna perked up. “Huh?” she said.

Sunglasses considered. “Ehhh. Okay.”

“What?” Alanna said.

“Just follow this guy and give him a blowjob,” Jack instructed.

“Oh, okay.”

Jack turned to baseball cap. “All set, sir?”

“Maybe I want a discount,” baseball cap suggested. Jack gave him a hard, flinty look.

“Maybe not,” he ended.

Amanda squealed, stood up, and led the man back towards the storage units. Alanna followed, grinning and excited.

Acct No. 8384990012: $120.00

“Okay, fine,” Kylie said. “Fine, I’ll come over. I’ll see you soon.”

“He wants to see me,” she reported, to the other three.

They had spent an impractical hour trying to figure out some way to make money. Marie had suggested a topless car wash, but that required soap, and Anna, who was in law school, vaguely remembered some sort of indecent exposure rule. Sarah had been all for “making money off of blowjobs or something,” but she couldn’t think of a way to take her plan into reality.

Anna had told them what they all already knew: they needed a guy around if they wanted to make any cash. Guys were smart and intelligent and knew lots of stuff about counting. Girls were just babymakers too horny to do much but put their legs in the air and smile.

Kylie had nodded at that. It was just the truth.

“He wants you back,” Marie said, delighted. “You gotta go. We’ll all go. He’s gonna see how much you mean to him.”

“Why do you girls want to come?” Kylie said, suspicious.

The other three looked at each other. “Moral support?” Sarah suggested. She was still on the floor, on her knees. She said it comforted her.

“Okay,” Kylie said.

The inside of the car smelled like sex, and it did so even more when they pulled into the parking lot at the storage facility. There were seven or eight cars there, now, and a few men loitered outside, staying out of the rain.

Marie was the first one out. She had nearly hit pedestrians, trying to drive in four-inch heels, a bubblegum pink set with a zipper up the side. The zipper reappeared on the side of a gauzy, pink dress that barely covered the curves from tits to ass. She had put her hair up for the occasion, to emphasize how blonde she was.

Sarah had stuck to her schoolgirl look, and the trace of cum in her hair didn’t hurt the horny-teenager look she favored. Anna had to withdraw her fingers from her slit when they arrived, and pulled up her tight white shorts without concern, watching the two boys with interest.

“Maybe I should’ve worn underwear,” Kylie said, nervous. She had never gone completely bare, before, and Marie had shaven her completely bald beneath her neck.

“No!” Marie insisted. “You’ve got to be the complete package. You’re already great at blowjobs, and I love the way your tits look,”

It was true, they were massive now. They wobbled and made it difficult to walk in heels.

“So you’ve got to have the fuckable pussy, too. Guys should look at you and just want to bury their cocks somewhere inside. That’s got to be your thing.”

She was glistening and perfect in a minidress, much like Marie’s, but somehow even shorter, and paired with shiny black thigh-highs that reflected the thin light from the streetlights. Kylie’s nipples bobbed out if she took too large a step.

The two guys whistled as they walked in, and all four girls shivered with delight.

Three guys waited in chairs inside. A TV had been placed up on the counter, and all three avidly watched the local news, where the two anchorgirls were licking each other as the camera switched from pussy to pussy.

Jack was behind the counter. His eyes found Kylie first, and she purred with the attention.

She gave a warning look to her three friends, all of whom were eyeing Jack with interest, and stepped over.

“Hey baby,” Jack said. She couldn’t help herself. Kylie sat down on his lap. His cock was so hard underneath.

“I missed you honey,” she said, glowing. “I hate that we got into a fight. I really hated it.”

“It’s my fault,” Jack conceded. He waited for her half-nod, then inched his fingers up the middle of her thighs. She waited for him to realize that she was completely smooth.

“Nice,” he said, eventually. “Look, if you don’t want me fucking other pussies, that’s okay. I’ll do that. You’ll be my slut.”

“No,” Kylie gushed. “It’s fine, I was being way too controlling. Of course you can fuck other girls.”

She had come to the realization in the car. How could she deny Jack fucking Marie’s blonde pussy, or pounding Sarah in the mouth, or sampling Anna’s ass? It was just.. it was wrong!

“I’ll be your number one girl though, right?” she cooed, and made sure her tits rode in his face. She stroked the big length underneath his underwear, and was rewarded with a shiver of need.

“Of course, baby,” Jack assured her. “And listen, I think I’ve found a way to fix our money problems. For good. All you’ve got to do is bend over.”

She worked his dick free. It was the perfect stress reliever. Just the sight of it made all her cares and thoughts and brains float somewhere far away.

“Hold on a second, girl,” Jack said. He barked over the counter. “Hey. Those girls aren’t free. It’s $50 for a blowjob, $100 for a hole, $150 for your choice.”

The three girls were all sidled up to the waiting customers, half-watching Channel 29, half grinding and stroking.

“They can’t help themselves,” Kylie said.

“They’ll have to. They’re part of the stable now,” Jack said, brow furrowed.

The store finally emptied when the three were led to the back by the trio of newly minted whores, all enchanted by the profit-making opportunities. Although Sarah whined about why she should get a lower price from her mouth.

Jack simply fucked Kylie on the counter, but he was nice enough to turn her so that they could both watch Channel 29. He was surprisingly tender about it, using his hips to thrust right up against her overheated clit, sending her to peaks of hot pleasure that shot starbursts into her head.

The newsgirls sprawled, senseless, onto the carpet, although the newsanchor was still busily rogering the weathergirl on top of the desk, still wearing his suit. Cecilia stepped into the screen, flanked by Paul and her brother. She was completely naked.

“Thank you for watching Channel 29,” she said, calmly. “We hope you’ve enjoyed our programming, and remember, make those checks out to cash, care of Channel 29 studios. This concludes our broadcast day, and you can now orgasm.”

“We… can now… orgasm..” Jack and Kylie repeated, and they both burst, spraying and screaming in a white haze.

The TV flickered gently, but it hardly mattered anymore. It flickered just as hard when they closed their eyes. Red green and blue.

Acct No. 8384990012: $35293.66

A month passed. They had added four large televisions and an outdoor seating area. Word had spread and men came from miles away, slinking out of the City with large erections and wads of cash.

“Take these out, Amanda,” Jack instructed, placing another full Tonic on the girl’s tray. She wore white booty shorts with a gold strap, and high white boots to match. She circulated around the crowd of excited men, laughing and giggling, and passing out drinks. Drinks were free. Drunk men spent more on the girls. “And then come back when you’re done!” he called after her.

Jack shook his head. She was frankly too dumb to be trusted as one of his moneymakers. She got confused with numbers bigger then ten. But she was a hit as a waitress and they had added a poledancing rig in the outdoor annex.

The men in the crowd drank their drinks and watched Channel 29. It flickered gently across their eyes. You could tell the regulars apart—they were already bristling with brand new muscles.

“Okay, time for the main event, ladies and gentlemen!” Jack called out. He pointed across the crowd with a walnut cane with a brass top. The girls had all chipped on in it. Apparently it was traditional in his line of work. “Sarah, come on out here!”

She sashayed out from the back, dressed in yet another pleated mini, this time with multicolored pink and blue socks and full-on mary janes. She had tied a blouse off underneath her boobs. They had only recently, finally, stopped growing.

“She’s wet, she’s ready, she is as virginal as they come!” Jack crowed. “The girl so busy giving hummers she forgot to fuck! The bidding starts at one thousand dollars!”

Hands shot into the air. Sarah helped matters by innocently touching herself while the bidders jumped for a chance at her slit. She really was still a virgin, at least for the next ten minutes.

“FIVE THOUSAND!” yelled out a bidder in a suit and a light grey beard. A new customer, too. Jack decided to check on them, later. Dragging out overexcited men was just part of the job, and the girls said that it made them super-wet when he got in a fight.

“Sold!” Jack announced, and the man strode forward, counted out in cash, and escorted Sarah out by the ass.

Amanda came back, her tonics distributed. And she had lost her shirt. “Someone gave me two hundred dollars for it,” she explained, holding out three hundred dollars.

Jack decided to let that one pass.

Out back Marie was taking a short break, changing out of one cum-soaked dress and slipping into a light blue linen skirt with a white top.

“How’s the new girl working out?” he asked, casually looking her over. Marie commanded high rates, but, really, didn’t make that much money for the team. She spent too much time with each client. But her regulars were the most loyal they had.

“Hmm, she needs some direction,” Marie said, thoughtfully. “I like that you added a new asian girl, since Amanda is out front, but she’s trying way too hard with the geisha stuff. It’s borderline offensive.”

“Maybe have her do a swimsuit theme? Oily and wet?” Jack suggested. “Totally bald?”

Marie cocked her head, considering. Jack liked bouncing business ideas off her. She was the smartest girl he had. Not that it was a high bar. Anna, there was a dumb girl. Until they opened the house 24-7 she kept coming in on Sundays, totally unaware of what day it was. On the other hand, she was by far their most profitable girl. Some guys opened the door, saw that ass in the air, and shot their nut right there.

“Want a go?” Marie suggested, gesturing at his pants. “I’ve learned a new trick. They invented it in Hong Kong. It can kill a man if the girl isn’t careful.”

Jack paused. It was worth considering. Marie eagerly turned and half-bowed, letting him admire her butt. All the girls loved to get a ride from the boss.

“Nah,” he said. Better to keep her hot for the clients. And she was getting too forward. Jack liked his bimbos a little needy.

“Jackkk…” Marie whined. She twirled her blonde curls.

But he was already moving on.

It was a proud operation. Ten girls, assuming this new one worked out. They kept ten percent, which Jack managed for them, since they otherwise just blew it on clothes. His expenses were a steady stock of Tonic, food, a lot of water, and plasticky, shiny clothes. And, of course, a $8000/month cable bill.

Nothing to complain about, really. Although sometimes he wondered if Channel 29 wasn’t getting a little steep. Oh well. He made it back in a few days.

He took a quick walk through the storage units. Letting the girls decorate their own had been a good idea. Sarah’s shrieks were a little loud, but they were certainly happy. He was planning on getting a taste of that later that day. The Twins walked by, arm and arm, in pink and blue nightgowns with lacy underwear. A fun conceit, but it was tough to price the two of them.

Back in the front of the store, his wife was managing the cash register quite well. She didn’t come to the store every day, but Kylie got a little lonely back at the apartment and they had a full-time maid, anyway. And a cook.

She had a cocktail ready for him. She always did. Jack checked his remote control to make sure her vibrator was still on.

“Jack, honey,” she cooed, “I was thinking we’d get these for all the girls.”

She passed him a novelty catalog.

“Collars?” he said.

“With the store’s name on it. It’s good branding.”

He agreed to consider it, and then took her out back to do her in the ass as a reward. It always left her extra-horny when it was obvious he had held off for her.

Ass-fucking always left her dazed and stupid, so Jack left her alone, heading back in just when his phone rang. One of his two cell phones.

“Cheap Storage Inc.,” he answered, as ever. “Ask about our private parties.”

“Jack Brydon? This is Robert Sanborn. How are you?”

Jack came to attention. “You own Channel 29,” he said, heading out to the quiet.

The voice over the line laughed.

“I do, yes. Here’s the thing, Mr. Brydon. As fun as it has been, my associates and I are moving on. To another town. The… military has been asking questions. So we’re leaving town. But we’d really hate to leave Channel 29 behind. It’s been too much fun.”

“You want me to buy it?” Jack said.

“Yes, or at least, bid on it. You aren’t the only entrepreneur. Actually, it’s been fascinating to see the growth in business in this little town. Nightclubs and whatnot. But between you and me, I think you’re the one with the business acumen to make Channel 29 a long-lasting success.”

Jack’s heart thumped.

“How much?” he asked.

The voice on the other end laughed, softly.

“Well, it won’t be cheap,” he said.

“I’m okay with that,” Jack said.