“Firehose”
by Limerick
Chapter 3
“What is that SMELL?” Miranda asked herself. She strode through a thickening cloud of peaceful co-eds. The girls with boys let themselves be led, like pack animals, with short nudges on the tush or gentle pulls on the arm or a knowing look.
The air smelled like a field of flowers, a cornucopia of gentle fruity flavors that made the air cloying and rich. Miranda strode through, increasingly uncertain, her mind flushed and teased with exotic perfumes from unknown areas. She was nearly overwhelmed by an intense watermelon scent, so thick she could taste it, emanating from a big group of girls in cheerleader skirts and spandex shorts.
All the girls were so WIGGLY. Every female pranced in heels, their rumps dancing in the air. Some girls wore little minis with dark black tights, some wore candy-colorful socks pulled up to various heights on the thighs, some wore skintight shorts, but all had figure-eight asses wobbling in the air. And they were all excellent butts. Curvy and round, not too much fat, not too little.
And everything was so fruity and delicious...
Miranda sagged against a handy light pole. It was so heady. Her head swam with pink and blue waves, nearly visible on the edge of her eyesight. She took another weak sip of water. Two bottles already? She would have to pee soon.
“Can I help you, sinner?” a girl’s chirpy voice said.
“Sin... sinner?” Miranda gasped, looking around, the cobwebs thick and firm in her head.
“Sister? Are you okay, sister?” a blonde said. A thick country blonde, with a tented t-shirt reshaped by heavy tits. They looked not just large and well-formed but downright weighty, hauled up by an industrious bra. The girl stood in front of a table for some organization called “Planning Parenthood,” with two similar cows seated and primping into compacts.
“Oh.. I thought you said...”
“Condom?” the girl chirped.
She held it out to Miranda, grinning. It was bubble gum pink, and in a thin wrapper.
“What... what for?”
“Oh, we want all girls to think carefully about their contraception!” the girl bubbled.
It had been... months? for Miranda. Sex just had never been as important as, well, almost anything else. Sex offered mild thrills and little more for her, and the sociopoliicalcultural implications of intercourse were so complicated.
“Um, thanks,” Miranda said.
“Oh, you’ll love that one! It’s peach-flavored. It’s my second-favorite,” the blonde said. She had a hard-to-catch twang, somewhere deep in her throat, that hinted at cornfields and county fairs. The rest of her was deeply ingrained bimbo, right down to the stupidly tall heels and the way she kept her tits too close to Miranda’s face.
She picked up a second condom, from a bag, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. She smiled. “Sooooo good!” she exclaimed.
Miranda looked at the pseudo-contraceptive in her hand. “It’s... bubble gum?”
“This one is bubble gum flavored,” the girl explained. She exhaled. A sweet smoke of absolute sugar blew right into Miranda’s soggy mind.
“So.. it’s NOT a condom.”
“Oh, it raises lack of condom awareness! You should try it,” the blonde girl said. She was so close to Miranda. The dark-haired girl could see the thin perspiration trickling down into her cleavage, smell the wet scent of pink tickling her nose...
Miranda opened the package and popped the condom into her mouth. She chewed. It was instant delicious, and filled her with a warm, tingling sense of pleasant euphoria. It was like she was smoking that first cigarette again.
“Good, right?”
“Oooh. Yes,” Miranda said. Chewing slowly. To savor it.
“Here, have a bunch more,” the girl said. She filled Miranda’s hands with eight or nine packages, all in different colors. Miranda couldn’t help but wonder what flavor was what. “Do you need any pregnancy advice?”
“What? Um. I don’t think so.”
“Oh, sure you do,” farm girl said. “Now, the best position is whatever gets you wet, that’s for sure. Honest to goodness if you’re dripping it doesn’t matter for purposes of getting seed sprayed into you. But all that being out there it is my recommendation that you use the good and old missionary position for getting all that baby batter up inside you.”
“Baby batter?” Miranda said. Euphemisms just weren’t getting through to her, all of a sudden.
“Oh, spermies, baby,” blondie tittered, and coyly pointed at some of the crotches on the chiseled males ambling by.
“I don’t..” she chewed more gum. “I... I’m not looking to... conceive. It’s how a girl, uh, loses her freedom and autonomy. Yeah.”
“I don’t know about THAT,” blond girl said, arching a sculpted eyebrow. “I’m sure I’m just here for advice. Do you need more water? You look like a thirsty little girl.”
“No.. I’m fine,” Miranda said.
Miranda went on her way. The girl got some distance before realizing that the blonde had sent her on with a friendly tap on the ass.
By the time she got to the dorm, she was already blowing bubbles. And wiggling her ass into the air. It just felt... natural.
Miranda’s dorm was co-ed, and not particularly politically aware. She had held a few meetings and approached the more serious-looking neighbors, but hadn’t gotten anywhere in particular. Which was fine, not everyone was cut out for societal change.
In her nervous preoccupation, she ordinarily would not have noticed the two guys on the couch. Bobby and Harold were always seated in the common area, video game controllers in hand, locked in an eternal battle for dominance. They were practically furniture.
Except now they both owned rugged jawlines, both fixed and firm as they tapped at buttons. And both had girls seated on their laps, legs across their chests, absently tracing figures on broad and muscular chests. Harold owned a petite asian girl in sheer black lacy tights, a bright white shoe lingering on her foot. And Bobby’s girl fidgeted on her man, a skinny redhead in a plunging sweater that put her tits right in his face.
“Come on, unpause,” the redhead whined. “hurry uppppp.” She kicked her legs like a child. “You promised we’d go up to the roof and race.”
“You know I’m gonna win,” the asian girl chirped. “It only took me three minutes last time.”
“That’s because Harry likes it when you rub his balls. Bobby doesn’t like that at all! It puts me at an, um, dis-ad-vant-age.”
Miranda moved on.
She finished the third bottle of water just before her dorm room. The door used to be decorated with faded political posters and a few rabble-rousing bumper stickers about equality. Those were gone, the wood still faded where they had been scraped off. In their place was a whiteboard. It had men’s names on it, with times. Miranda tried to connect the dots on that one, but she felt slow, fuzzy, her brain submerged in a pink soup of fruity scents.
Inside looked... sort of the same. Her side of the room was still decorated in posters and pinned-up flyers, the bed neatly made and everything sorted by category.
But Sammie’s side... well, it was organized. But the serious chemistry student had put at least ten or eleven fuzzy-wuzzy stuffed animals on her bed, a greek chorus of plushness. And the girl herself was just as plush.
“Oh, Miranda!” she said, pleased.
“Sammie, what the fuck is going on? You’re so...” what was the word? “you’re so much more... um... you’ve got all these CURVES.”
Miranda remembered a girl even skinnier then she was, with a single braid down her back and a fondness for wearing cardigan after cardigan. Not unattractive, with a striking aquiline nose and high, aristocratic cheekbones, but, really, a girl with the sexuality drained out of her.
“Oh, Miranda, it’s good to see you!” Sammie said, and enveloped her in a thick hug. Skin bounced and jiggled against Miranda all over. She wore spandex, of all things, or at least some blend of nylon and spandex and acrylic and other synthetics that was meant to cling to her skin. A wafting scent of apples rose from the generous space between her tits. “How was jail? Was it fun?”
“Sammie!” Miranda said. “What’s going on? What happened with the occupation? Did we win?”
“Oh, sure,” Sammie said. She backed away. “Of course we did. You mean you haven’t read the Agreement?”
“I haven’t read anything. Sammie, come on! You’ve.. where did all those curves come from?”
“From the Agreement! I mean, well, that was our side of the bargain. We agreed to eat right and be healthy and get lots of exercise and be the best students we could, and in exchange we got, you know, lots of stuff. Are you thirsty? You look thirsty.”
“No. I’m not.” Yes, she was. Miranda smacked her bubble gum. It made her dry and parched. Didn’t gum usually work the other way around? Sammie pranced on her heels—strapped up to her calves—and handed her yet another water bottle. Her fourth. Miranda tried to keep herself from opening it. But water was tasty.
“Okay, here’s what happened,” Sammie sat down. Outlying parts of her jiggled. “We, um, we agreed to the agreement. And all we have to do is be healthy and eat right and stay hydrated and meet our potentiality. And yeah I guess that means I got a little thicker and curvier. But oh my god Miranda I feel SO much better now that I’m paying ATTENTION to what my body wants.”
“But you’re...” gulp. Water sloshed down her throat. This one was coconut. Miranda fidgeted on her bed. She was starting to feel heavier, curvier, her bra strap digging into her shoulders, her jeans pressing into her ass. “Everyone is acting so... different...”
“Oh my goodness, Miranda, you’ve got the Seriousness Virus so bad! Here, I think you need to read the Agreement.”
She shuffled over to the desk. The chemistry books and chart and the periodic table of the elements had disappeared. In their place were more fuzzy bunnies and hedgehogs and little bears with great big smiles. The computer monitor showed... people fucking. Porno.
Sammie placed a big, spiral-bound pile of papers on her lap. The paper was pink, of course. The front read “Agreement Regarding Occupation Of Campus.”
There was a knock at the door. Sammie squealed, happily. “Miranda, do you mind if Landon comes in? He’s my ten-thirty.”
“Huh? Oh, sure.” Landon was the other chemistry geek. Except the guy at the door was like six inches taller, and wore a sweaty wifebeater and workout pants. The scent of man flooded the pink, fruity room. Landon ignored her.
Miranda tried to concentrate. The words on each page struggled to penetrate her pink and bubbling head, her fuzzy mind. She tried to hold them, examine the clauses, but they just faded away so quickly in a flood of bubbles, dislodged each time she smacked her gum.
“Miranda, do you mind if we, um, make out?” Sammie said, shyly. Not that permission was really necessary. Landon was already all over her, rubbing her ass from behind with authority, massaging her plump rear with two manly hands. “I want to be respectful but I figured we’d be cool and all. He was always gonna come over.”
“Go ahead,” Miranda said, absent-mindedly. That was cool that Sammie finally had a sexy boyfriend. She sucked down more coconut juice. So yummy. Okay, so the first four pages looked good, as far as reading comprehension could manage. They HAD gotten a lot. No classes before nine. Free vending machines. Free vibrators. More class spots.
She reached page three and felt like she had finished War and Peace. So many WORDS. And so many of them four or five syllables, forcing her to hold syllable one in her head while getting to syllables four and five! It made her brain ache.
The girl looked up. Landon wasn’t a very gentle boyfriend. And neither of them seemed shy at all about her presence. He had his hands on her expanded orbs, and mauled them without any regret. The two made out with abandon, Sammie’s eyes closed and blissed out, occasionally giggling and simpering into his ear.
Miranda crossed and re-crossed her legs. She was starting to feel disturbingly turned on. Not just the usual tingle, but a hormonal and chemical flood that was making it difficult to continue with her examination. Jeez, Landon is, like, so hot now, she thought, trying to concentrate on clause 8a. What the fuck happened to him? He’s got, um, like ALL the muscles. There’s biceps, and triceps... what other muscles were there? She was pleased when he took his shirt off, because that made it easy to watch them.
Boys smelled GOOD. Miranda relaxed into her chair. It was nice of Sammie to let her stay while she had private time.
“Girls must be agreeable, and cheerful, and friendly,” Miranda read. “and happy, and take good care of themselves” good care was underlined “and help others at all times.”
Something sounded... not quite right about all that. I mean, she couldn’t disagree with any individual word, exactly. Sure, everyone should be happy. And be cheerful, why not? And of course girls should be friendly, especially to guys like Landon, who had peeled Sammie’s dress down to expose her tits. They were several sizes larger then she remembered.
“Um, Miranda? Do you mind if I take Landon’s dick out?” Sammie asked, already unzipping it.
“Uh.” His dick? But it was already out. A new, animal musk filtered through the room. Miranda tried to stop breathing through her nose, just for a second, but it was almost... painful to stop. She took an even deeper sniff and was rewarded with a burst of chemical pleasure. Her thighs rubbed together. It was a VERY big cock, and Sammie cooed over it.
The agreement went on. And on. “Boys will, um, be firm but fair, will exercise their prerogatives as head of the household with discretion, and will—” a word escaped her. Miranda tried to panic, behind the chemical haze and wet juice clogging her thoughts. She KNEW this word. How could she forget? What was going on?
“Mmm, is it even bigger today?” Sammie said, drooling over Landon’s dick.
“Find out,” Landon instructed. Sammie didn’t need to be told twice. She leaned over and swallowed Landon’s cock. Miranda watched, shocked. The cockhead was huge. It was clearly visible against her roommate’s cheeks. But she managed it without choking or complaint. Actually, she seemed to be really enjoying herself.
“WAY bigger,” Sammie reported, white dribble on her lips. Then she returned to slowly, lazily licking the cock. Like it was an ice cream cone. Her eyes were glazed and empty.
Um, okay. Boys will.... VIR-TOU-OUS-LY” Miranda nearly whimpered at the word. It was SO LONG. apply themselves to being men.
“Miranda, is it okay if we fuck on your bed?” Sammie asked. She licked her lips, where sticky cum icing still clung to it. This was a new scent, and it really was like sugar, the musk getting Miranda wetter and wetter.
“Why..why my bed?”
“Oh, because Landon sprays it EVERYWHERE,” Sammie giggled. “And I don’t want to get my fuzzy friends all cummy and stuff. Please?”
She HAD said please. And actually, Landon didn’t care. He picked her up and positioned her with her ass in the air, her dress rolled up like a sleeve. It would’ve been easy to pull her underwear down, but the boy did it the hard way, ripping the elastic and making a hole. Both of the girls shivered.
“Yeah, uh.. that’s okay.. that’s perfectly okay,” Miranda said. No, it WASN’T okay. Something was wrong, and it was in the papers in front of her, and if she wasn’t such a silly girl she could... she could... why did all the sentences have to be so long? Some of them had twenty to thirty words! That was like, way too hard!
They started fucking about a yard from her. Miranda watched as Landon simply positioned her more firmly, like a doll, bracing her for what was obviously going to be a rough round of intercourse. He only paused long enough to make sure his dick was well-coated with spit and cum before plunging it into her.
“Sammie, Sammie... are you on the pill?” Miranda said, urgently. It had just occurred to her.
“Oh.. no.” Sammie said. She sounded a long ways away. She drooled cum and spit onto Miranda’s bedspread. “Nah. Why?”
“I mean.. he’s got all that cum. There’s so.. so much of it.” And Landon had big testicles. His dick flashed, wet and red, underneath the dorm lights. There was so much wet fluid it spattered onto the carpet. Which, now that she looked at it, was already stained with juices.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Sammie insisted, between getting her face mashed into the bed. “Um. It’s totally okay. It’s really natural. Girls are supposed to be full of cum. It’s in the agreement!”
“What?” Miranda said. She turned back to the papers. The cogs and wheels in her head grinded slowly, so slowly. But it WAS there, in the very back. “Fe-males will not im-pede the natural flow of fluids,” she read.
“Ohhhhh, right,” Sammie said, sighing. “Yeah. That’s really important. You gotta make sure guys cum everything into you. It’s, um, like a SIN or something if they have to masturbate it out or whatever. It should be in girls!”
“You’ll get pregnant!” Miranda nearly shouted.
“Oh, god, I know, I KNOW,” Sammie said, her body writhing and needy around Landon’s dick, as he slammed his cock back and forth into her slit. That set him off as well, and he slammed the first load right into her pussy, a burst of jizz that filled her all the way up.
Landon withdrew, still spurting white, hot jets of cum. It flew feet. He turned casually towards her, and a shot of skeet landed right on Miranda’s sweater.
She stared at it. It was so sticky and wet, so hot. Her own pussy was juiced up, ready to go, the musk and fruit in the air making her so very receptive. She felt so.. soggy.
“You.. you came on me,” she said, slowly. “That’s.. that’s sperm.”
She picked it up with her fingers, felt at the glob of translucent fluid. Miranda rubbed her fingers together, and the stuff disappeared into her hand, coating her in a thin sheen of reproductive juice. The heat and wetness in her pussy redoubled.
“Clear your head,” she instructed herself. Get away. Get in the shower, that would help.
She walked out of the room. Sammie tried to stuff more cum back into her hole, smiling broadly.