Listening to Jack
Part 28
The incident with Michelle was just fucking bizarre.
It all started after sixth period at school, when Emily, Donna, and Michelle were sitting at one of the lunch tables in the cafeteria. Lunches for the three best friends had oddly not changed all that much, even after they’d all been tricked
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privileged and, well, gosh, lucky enough to be a part of Jack’s special conditioning process. Between bites of sandwiches and sips of diet soda, they talked about how their classes that day were boring and stupid, how their teachers were boring and stupid, except for Mrs. Winter, who had started wearing more and more revealing outfits every day, which was kind of hot, and voluptuous Mrs. Jennings, the music teacher, who had taken lately to either letting her classes simply draw pornographic pictures in class, or personally posing naked for the class, usually in delightfully lewd and obscene positions. They grumbled about boys, the ones at school who were all stupid, too, not smart and sexy and handsome like Jack. They grumbled about the cafeteria food, especially the meatloaf.
In other words, they talked about
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the exact same things
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they’d always talked about, ever since freshman year.
But that one particular afternoon, Donna had casually asked Emily if Jack had ever talked about baby names with her, and Emily had said no, why, and Donna had said that she was just wondering about it, she wasn’t sure what she would name her baby if it was a girl but if it was a boy she was definitely going to name it Jack, and Emily had laughed, how funny, lately she had been thinking the exact same thing …
… and that was when Emily and Donna realized that Michelle was staring at them like they’d each suddenly sprouted a second head. Or turned into aliens. Or both.
Also, it was when Emily and Donna realized that Michelle—unlike them—wasn’t pregnant.
Oh, wait, Emily thought idly, as she’d watched Michelle’s eyes start to bulge and burn with rage, and her hands ball up into tight, white-knuckled fists, Jack … didn’t knock all of us up?
Huh.
For some reason, Emily had simply assumed that was part of Jack’s conditioning process. Get conditioned, get impregnated, usually by Jack—it was kind of like a package deal. But … apparently it wasn’t. Which meant that there was apparently some sort of method to Jack’s madness, that he specifically wanted her and Donna to get pregnant, along with certain other girls, and Emily didn’t understand it, and that had made her head start to throb and hurt, and that
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Emily shook her head, and smiled. Obviously,
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it didn’t matter. At all.
However, Michelle had gone just about ballistic when she’d learned than Emily and Donna each had a brand-new bun in the oven, so to speak … she’d shrieked and cried and pouted and complained—loudly—about just how unfair it was that Jack had knocked up all of her best friends, and not her, and how that was bullshit, and half the cafeteria had started staring at their table in disbelieving confusion, and so
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Emily had gotten super annoyed about all of Michelle’s stupid, whiny complaints.
And to be honest, it just wasn’t Michelle’s complaining. It was Donna, too. God, it was always Donna. Or it was fucking ditzy, stupid, desperate Kimmy. Or it was Dawn. Or it was Tamara, or Rebecca, or Jessie, or so many of the other cheerleaders. Fuck, it was the older women, too. Mrs. Winter, sometimes, practically begging to personally drive Emily home after cheerleading practice, just so she “could spend some magic time with Jack”. Donna’s mom Holly, who was getting to be almost as fucking annoying—and desperate—as
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her stupid slut daughter. And lately, Miss Carter, the freshman English teacher, the one who’d just gotten engaged to Mr. Washington … she’d been hunting down Emily in the hallways between Emily’s French and History classes, pleading with Emily with tears running down her eyes, begging to be fucked by Jack, in a sad, pathetic way that Emily found
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hilarious. At least Miss Carter wasn’t a total waste, as Emily had gotten the desperate slut teacher to go down on her in the girls’ bathroom being renovated in the east wing of the high school, just like
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some other skank whore used to. And, as it turned out, Miss Carter was a wonderful pussy eater. Wonderful.
As it turned out, some clouds had silver linings.
But … fuck, it was all of them. All the time. Every last fucking female that Jack conditioned. Emily, please, I want to fuck Jack, I want his cock inside me, Emily, I want him, Emily, I need him, please please please, can you say something, Emily, I’m begging you …?
Fuck.
So annoying.
And none of those stupid sluts—not one of them—ever thanked Emily for helping them. They didn’t give a shit about her. They just cared about Jack. And even worse, they never even acknowledged how
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lucky that Jack even wanted to fuck them in the first place, even once. And hey, after all, he’d fucked them. All of them. And instead of being
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grateful that they’d even gotten to be with him … they just wanted more. Always more.
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Boo-fucking-hoo.
Ungrateful cunts.
So, a wicked
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gleam had come to Emily’s eyes, as Michelle had predictably whined and complained about her predicament … and yes, Emily had merely said oh shit, sorry, Michelle. Yes, of course, silly oversight, ha ha ha. You know how busy Jack gets though, right? How hard he works? Well, he just must’ve forgotten, that’s all. Honest mistake. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll ask him … yes, right now. I promise.
… and then she’d sent Jack a flurry of quick texts. His responses had come in rapid succession, first incredibly irritated, then bemused … and then, as a wicked smile spread across Emily’s face, the texts were as diabolically gleeful as her own.
So, after those texts, Jack had graciously been more than willing to accommodate the willowy redhead’s indignant demands. And it hadn’t been more than a couple hours or so after Michelle had started whining about how much more Jack liked Emily and Donna than her, it wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair, that she’d been stark naked on Jack’s big bed in the basement, pale skinny legs happily spread wide apart, with Jack’s big, beautiful dick pumping her slutty, fertile womb full of his hot, sticky baby batter while Donna and Emily knelt naked next to her on the filthy bedsheets. And as Jack grunted and came, filling Michelle’s pussy to the brim with his potent seed, Donna noisily sucked on one of Michelle’s pale, freckled tits, while Emily eagerly started lapping up some of the thick gobs of milky jism that had already started oozing out of the whimpering teenage girl’s cock-stuffed twat, dribbling down the crack of her ass and onto the bed.
“Happy to seed and breed you whenever you want, you stupid whore,” Jack had said cheerfully, as he’d finally pulled out of the dazed, beaming girl’s glistening pink cunt. “Or, maybe not, actually. Hang on. I think I’ll just put you on the Charlotte Protocols instead … just like that annoying dimwit slut Kimmy.” He’d slipped off the bed to take a seat at one of his computer terminals, tapping away at a few keys … and Michelle hadn’t noticed at all. Not with Emily’s mouth firmly planted on the redhead’s freshly-fucked pussy, her tongue feverishly slurping some of her brother’s sperm out of it. Michelle hadn’t even noticed when Donna reluctantly picked up one of the many digital camcorders lying around, and started filming Emily going down on her …
… or when Jack had casually slipped a new, tiny, black-and-chrome device in her ear.
A new device with soft, soothing blinking violet lights … and yellow lights, too.
It was
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Michelle’s lucky day.