Parasite, A Love Story
By Helotage
CHAP 8: Is a Room Truly Soundproof if No One Is There to Eavesdrop?
The place was almost empty at that early hour. Although the gym was rather large, only a smattering of people worked the machines or were stretching on the mats. She could see a small studio space off to one side where a yoga instructor showed three older women how to improve their poses.
She worked out on the machines as best she could. She still was not totally great at this, but she was definitely reaping benefits. One of the machines, for working her arms, faced a mirror on the wall. She admired her image, her thin body, her small breasts with their nipples prominent even through the compression of the a white sports bra, her shapely legs, and her black spandex running shorts. She spread her legs and thought about how many cocks she had yesterday.
While she was lost in her revery, another woman sat at a machine diagonally from hers. The woman was probably in her thirties, which was good since she definitely had a thing for older women, such as Penny. The woman was wearing formfitting running shorts herself, red, and a red sports bra. She was athletically built, and her short, dark curls were a beautiful contrast to her light skin and framed her pretty face perfectly. She must have been there for a while because she was sweating, with beads on her face and forehead accentuating her beauty. This woman turned her on and not just because of the lascivious worms infesting her brain. The woman was hot.
She watched as the woman finished with the weights and headed to a mat to cool down and stretch. Her ass was powerfully compact, like a runner’s. She wanted to lick at the small of the woman’s back where the sweat had pooled and then slide her tongue over her asscheeks before working it deep into her crack and into her anus.
She had never fantasized about anilingus before, but there you have it.
She could not look away as the woman stretched and occasionally glanced over at her. Several times, their eyes met and lingered. When done, the woman cleaned her mat before departing toward the locker room.
She was so horny that she could not exercise any more, so she decided to follow the woman to the locker room. Just then, a young guy, very good-looking, came out of the men’s locker room opposite. Without a thought, she headed right toward him, pushed him into a nearby alcove, and, yanking his shorts down, knelt before him. He only managed to say, “what,” before she had him in her mouth and soon down her throat. Within minutes he was spurting all over her face. She wiped it on his shorts as he tried to pull them up.
What the fuck, she wondered. What the fuck was that? The compulsion was spontaneous and irresistible. As she headed again toward the women’s locker room, she knew that this is what it was to be an utter slave. To mindlessly obey your master’s imperative no matter your own wants and needs. She only hoped that she was not too late to catch the woman.
She was not. The woman was there just drying off from a shower. Their lockers were down the row from each other, and she watched while the woman toweled her naked body, facing the other way. With one eye on the woman, she stripped herself and then stood stock-still with her arms stupidly at her side. The woman was now pulling on her underwear, still facing the other way. Then, reaching into the locker, the woman turned her head over her shoulder, looked her up and down, and, smiling, said, “any time.”
She stood there, awestruck, as the woman pulled a short dress over her head, shook her hair out, slipped on some sandals, and gathered her things into a bag. Before she knew it, the woman was disappearing up the stairs, but not before looking back and giving her a warm, inviting smile. She headed toward the shower, which was empty, and masturbated alone.
How could she have been so decisive with the guy but so hesitant with the woman? Maybe it was her relative lack of experience with women. But she also could sense the destructive progress of the neuroworms and the subsequent slippage of her cognitive control. Whatever the cause, there also was something about this woman, something both engrossing and intimidating.
It had been ages since she had eaten, so she headed to a little cafe nearby.
She froze in the doorway. There was the woman, waving her over. She sat down, and the woman gave her half her bagel, which she devoured.
“I’ve never seen you at the gym before,” the woman started.
“I go early usually, but never this early.”
The woman laughed. “I always get there early so that I will have time to prepare my lesson plans.” So, the woman was a faculty member, a professor. They chit-chatted for a bit, and then the professor, who was not shy, asked, “why were you staring at me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I can explain very well.”
“Do you want to try?”
“No.”
The professor laughed again. It was one of those liquid laughs, full of playful delight but entirely capable of enveloping you and drowning you.
“My turn,” she said.
The woman raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “What did you mean when you said ‘anytime’ to me in the locker room?”
The professor pretended to be flustered. “Did I? That doesn’t sound like me.”
This was her dilemma at this moment. She had some indications that her brain was deteriorating much faster than she had anticipated—the mindless blowjob, the hesitation in the locker room, and so forth—and she was growing less sure of what was real and what was just her brain playing tricks. Maybe she only imagined the woman said something.
The professor then grinned and reconsidered, “Well, maybe it does sound like me. Just a little,” adding an immodest wink. “My office is a minute away. Do you want to continue the conversation there?”
They walked in near silence until they were in the elevator standing side-by-side against the rear wall. The professor asked idly, “why do people stand like this even in empty elevators” and then abruptly spun toward her so that their faces were only inches apart. She could feel her heart racing with anticipation as the woman whispered, “there, that’s much better.” She could feel the woman’s breath on her mouth and smell her morning coffee. The door opened, and the professor led her off and down the hall. Her office was small but private since it was tucked away by itself. It had no windows. The professor explained that it had been a maintenance closet. She said, “frankly, I don’t mind. It is just about soundproof from what I can tell.” With her eyebrows raised, the woman asked, “wanna test that theory.”
The woman grabbed her by the back of the head, and pressed their lips together. Their mouths opened, and their tongues began dancing. The professor’s tongue was unnaturally long, longer and more tapered even than the Fox News girl’s, and it wormed its way down her throat, or so it seemed. The woman was small but strong and almost picked her up to seat her on the desk where she laid back with her legs spread wide. The woman stood between her open thighs. She had never felt more objectified or more submissive, not even the day before when she allowed so many cocks to ram into her. The professor grabbed her head again and gently lifted it before kissing her more sensually than before. She was delighted when the woman’s tongue started making its way to the back of her throat again.
She wondered at the professor’s aggressiveness, and when they broke from their kiss asked, “By any chance, were you briefly paralyzed yesterday.” The professor looked at her quizzically.
“What an odd question. No. But I heard something happened down at the quad to a bunch of people.”
That settled it then. The woman was naturally sexually aggressive even without a neuroworm colony in control. She would make a superb slave.
The professor stripped quickly and then began to undress her, starting with the tiny crop top that barely concealed her breasts and then pulling down her shorts. The professor leaned down to lick and suck her tits, splaying her back across the desk, which was noticeably bare as though it was used primarily for this kind of action and not office work. The woman pivoted her around so that she was prone lengthwise on the desk, bent over to kiss and lick her stomach, and then knelt to drive that exquisite tongue deep into her pussy, which hung off the desk. She screamed with delight, and the professor laughed even as she continued licking. As her orgasm built, the professor stood up suddenly and folded her legs all the way back to her shoulders. Then, in a deft and practiced move, the woman leaned in to run her tongue along her ass crack before spiking it into her anus. With this, the professor drew a long sensuous moan from her as the tongue penetrated deeper and deeper and generated a new, almost hypnotic sensation. After a time, the professor returned to her pussy, which was just about throbbing with desire. The woman was certainly skilled at keeping her on the edge. When the professor finally drew the orgasm from her, she trusted in the soundproofing and just started yelling with pleasure. The professor was not only accomplished with the build up, she was excellent at keeping those orgasms coming. Seven cocks, however many tongues, and a pussy yesterday, and she had never felt as fulfilled as she did with this one woman. She lay there mesmerized.
The professor climbed on top of her, locked her eyes, and said with a playful twinkle in her eye, “whadja think?”
“That was amazing. Beyond amazing.” Then she got serious. “I’m sorry I screamed. Is the room really soundproof?”
The professor laughed. “Everyone screams like that after I tell them it is soundproof. Girls just want to yell. Truth is, I have no idea, but no one is around right now.” The professor kissed her affectionately and slid off her body, squeezing in next to her on the narrow desk. “Your turn.”
She slipped off the desk and positioned the professor so that her ass was supported and her pussy open. The professor’s bush was lush and dark like the hair on her head, and she wanted so badly to dive in, but she had other business. She helped the professor roll onto her stomach, bent her at the hips on the edge of the desk, and slowly kissed and licked her way down her back. When she reached the small of her back, she lowered her head to lick the globes of her ass before spreading her cheeks with her hands. She could see the professor’s pucker waiting as she first licked then penetrated the her anus with her tongue. Hers was not as long as the woman’s, but she decided to give as well as she had gotten. The woman moaned as her anus opened and started pulsating. It was so cool! Finally, the professor was shivering and shaking, her breath ragged and quick. Was this an anal orgasm, or was the professor just immensely turned on? Was there a difference? When the professor settled, she rolled her over with her ass on the edge of the desk and got on her knees to dive into that luxurious bush. Soon enough, the woman was screaming herself. When that had subsided, she got on the desk next to her. They kissed and fondled each other. She sucked the professor’s nipples, which capped her firm breasts perfectly.
“I think I want to see you again,” the professor said.
“Oh. I can do even better than that! We can be sisters forever.” She climbed down to the floor to get her bag and came back up with a pair of tweezers and a tiny worm.
“What the fuck is that?”
“I enjoyed our time together. I really did, so I want you to join the collective. Meet your new master.” With that she dropped the neuroworm on the professor’s sculpted stomach, pinning her down to the desk as best she could to keep her from falling as she convulsed. When the woman was still, she looked down on the her face, which had frozen in a look of utter terror, and adjusted her mouth and eyes so that she appeared ecstatic. “That’s better. You should be thrilled with your new destiny.” She noticed the worm was taking its typical slow crawl up the professor’s torso, so she picked it up and put it right at the entrance to her nose to expedite the process, all the while explaining what the neuroworm was and how it would now shape the professor’s destiny. As it disappeared inside, she said, “do you feel that? That little tickle in your sinuses is the last thing you will feel before it burrows into your brain and turns you into something more like me. Something superior. We will be sisters in the collective.” She gave the paralyzed and terrified professor an awkward but affectionate hug. “I can’t wait.” She made sure to lock the door on her way out.
A receptionist was just arriving, a woman in late middle age with the etchings of longterm stress evident in her face. She told the receptionist that the professor would be missing her classes for that day. “She’s really not herself and indisposed.” Again, not a lie.
“And you are?”
“I am her lover.”
The receptionist looked up and down at her revealing clothing and scoffed, her eyes rolling a bit. “Of course you are.” The professor’s reputation was solid. “Ok,” the receptionist said. “I’ll let her department chair know.”
“Thanks.”
She stood grinning as the receptionist finished placing the call to the chair. The receptionist seemed annoyed at her waiting there. “May I help you?”
“No. But I can help you.” She reached out to drop a neuroworm on the receptionist’s arm and watched the flailing commence. The receptionist had seemed so uptight. Soon enough, she would be content with her new lot in life. The rough edges would be smoothed. Her existence, short as it would now be, would have a true purpose. It was an act of mercy, really.