“Firehose”
by Limerick
Epilogue
Pastor Flynn had taken the dean’s desk on the second floor of the administration building. It overlooked the main quad through a bank of windowpanes, and the view stretched all the way to the distant dorms.
The Dean of Students wasn’t using it. Dean Wanda spent her time at a receptionist desk outside, attempting to ponder recent changes in her position, and sorting through her vibrator collection. Flynn brought her a new one each day. From her dazed screams, the latest one was up her ass.
“Fresh Farm Water seems to have done the trick, sir,” Mark reported. He wore a tie around a bull-thick neck, a piece of old defiance Flynn rather appreciated. “And the Calving girls have spread out around campus. Some girls had barricaded themselves into the Women’s Studies building, but we already left a shipment of Clitty Chocolate inside and you can hear the moaning.”
Flynn nodded. This had been a big move for the Church. Next up, the big city? Well, the lord would let him know. Just follow the scent in the air….
“Oh, look at this,” he said, chuckling. “Mark, this is great. She’s protesting.”
It was a single girl, already heavily tittified, the vacant stare and dribbling cunt practically visible from upstairs and inside. She had a protest sign, and to her credit, swung it around with vigour on the quad.
“What a trooper. So admirable. She’ll be quite the little mommy, don’t you think?”
The protester’s tits jiggled, and she looked tired. Large men had gathered around her, watching, cheering her on. Several co-eds had playfully joined in, protesting in favor of more cocks, longer ones, harder if possible.
“What are they chanting?” Flynn mused.
“Sounds like ‘titties, titties, titties, sir,” Mark said. He was starting to perspire. If he didn’t go stuff some girl soon, his brain would decompensate into a testosterone-fueled mess.
“I think I understand their political position,” Flynn told him.
The lead girl, the one with the dark black hair, let her protest sign get gently taken away. Gentle hands had surrounded her, touching her boobs, stroking her hair, pouring water down an unresisting throat. One girl knelt between her thighs, and started to lick her, to the cheers of the crowd.
“Where next?” Flynn asked the world.
“Sir?”
“Not asking you, Mark,” Flynn said.
“Yes sir.”
A Calving boy had picked up the girl and was fucking her right in the middle of the square. He had impaled her on his cock, wrapped her body around his, and was plunging in and out. Mindless cheers surrounded them. The girl was shrieking in orgasmic pleasure. The chant of “titties, titties” got louder and louder, and an orgy was breaking out.
It was a big protest march. Most of the campus came. Miranda would’ve been really proud.
Mandy certainly was.