Retail
by Limerick
EPILOGUE:
8:00 a.m. Front Doors
“Would you like to sign a petition to support environmental sustainability?” Lynn said.
The man blew right by her. To a certain extent, it was understandable. He had one arm around two girls, with matching platinum-white hair and corset-thin waists. Both had glitter highlighting their eyes. Lynn scowled anyway.
“I think it’s the phrase,” Jenny said, apologetic. They were both sensibly dressed for the outdoors, in heavy woolen sweaters with pert, dark colored jeans. And sensible ponytails. “Environmental sustainability just takes too long. It needs to be short. Save the Whales. Save the Dolphins. Save the rainforest.”
“I think it has a lot more to do with the sluts in thi--- save the rainforest?” Lynn said, to a girl in, of all things, a bikini. She had a deep-dark tan and peroxide hair, and didn’t seem at all bothered by the overcast weather.
“Oh, I love rain and forests!” the girl chirped. She didn’t even have a purse with her. “Here, I’ll sign. Is an X okay?”
“We’d... prefer your name,” Lynn said, dryly.
“Oh, I haven’t been given one yet! Here, I’ll put down ‘you.’ I heard that one.”
She scrawled it quickly and ran off. Lynn looked at her board. There was a single ‘u’ there.
“What is with this place?” she said. “Is there a convention in town? Is this where porn stars come for all the best deals?”
Jenny pursed her lips.
“Maybe we need to be more... flexible,” she suggested.
8:30 a.m., Front Doors
“Sir, wouldn’t you like to... sir?” Lynn simpered. He blew by her anyway. This one was pushing a cart. Inside the cart an overstacked blonde was perched, like a toddler.
“I’ve got THREE signatures!” Jenny said, enthused. She waved her clipboard. The brunette had taken off her sweater, and tugged her tanktop down as far as it would go. Her boobs weren’t bad. They were certainly visible and obvious.
“I’m not getting anything,” Lynn said, disgusted. “This isn’t working. It’s embarassing. I’m acting like a child.”
“Well, your approach is all wrong,” Jenny told her. “You’re all submissive. Simpering and whatever. And that’s okay, ‘cause you’re a girl, but guys aren’t going to notice it. You’ve got to be more direct.”
“Like what?” Lynn said, sarcastically. “Push your boobs out, purr at them?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Jenny said.
Lynn looked for a reason. She had read books on this. Or at least, magazine articles. Stuff about the ultimately weak and submissive posture of sexual display, of the effects of making yourself an object for men, but it was.. hard to grasp. It was slipping somewhere.
“I’ll take my sweater off,” she allowed. “But that is IT.... and maybe a little breathiness wouldn’t hurt, too.”
9:00 a.m., Front Doors
“Sir, a big, strong man like you, who obviously has it going on, must love to save sexy animals,” Lynn said, humming. A big smile wafted across her face, and she shifted position so that her tits would bounce.
Some energetic work with her bra and blouse had popped up her sweater cows to full prominence. Happily, her jeans were nice and tight, and displayed her curves in a light coat of blue denim.
The man paused briefly. This one had picked up a muscled redhead, with equally ruby-red lips.
“Sure, I’ll sign,” he said.
Lynn gave him the clipboard, nearly squealing. The man jotted down his name.
Then he patted her on the ass. Lynn’s knees nearly gave way.
“THANK you, sir,” she said, looking at him with full, doe-like eyes.
She examined the clipboard. The man’s name was... “Decent Tits.” Great.
“Jenny, is there something going on?” she asked, fighting a sudden, pat-induced glow. Was that what girls got for being good? A pat on the ass? Or was it a casual tit grope? It was hard to remember, all of a sudden.
“Huh?” Jenny said. She was looking increasingly frazzled. And curvy, come to think of it. “Oh. No, I think everything is okay.”
Everything was okay. Okay, Lynn could live with that.
“Sir, do you want to save the whales?” Jenny said, in her piping high voice.
The man entering the store paused. “Gonna make it worth my while?” he asked.
“Oh. Um. Okay,” Jenny said. She gently lifted the front of her shirt. Her tits bobbled in an overstretched bra.
Lynn blinked. But it was all okay.
9:30 a.m., Front Doors
Lynn wasn’t too sure about the situation. But there were five potential signatures in the crowd of teenage boys around her, and that was not an inconsid- incon... that was a big number, and more then four. Besides, Jenny had already said it was okay.
The boys couldn’t be any older then fifteen, and they kneaded Lynn’s tits with enthusiasm. One of them had unhooked her bra, which hung loosely from her shoulders. That was okay, it was getting in the way.
All the different hands were driving her a little crazy. Touching her nipples, touching the undersides, trailing down to knead and twist a little. Clearly they had no idea what they were doing, and clearly it shouldn’t feel as good as it did.
“Guys, time is up, I said one minute,” Lynn told them.
“I heard two,” one of the boys said.
Oh, well, that was okay. She supposed.
Jenny had exchanged her top and bra for a bikini top she had gotten from some girl. It had been covered in goo, for whatever reason, which squished on top of Jenny’s tits. It was a mistake, Lynn knew. You couldn’t just give the boobs away, you had to make the boys work for it. That was the only way to get a signature.
“Umm, Lynn? Are we letting girls sign the petition?” Jenny asked. She had a crowd of teenage girls around her. And one slightly older girl passing for seventeen.
Lynn considered. Girls had to count for, what, one half of a guy signature? Less? More? And a lot of them were just signing with an X. On the other hand, they had much more of an interest in saving the whalies. Many of them had told her how bad they felt for fat people.
“Okay, it’s been at LEAST three minutes, guys,” Lynn told her boob-fondling crowd.
“No, not it hasn’t,” they told her.
Well, okay.
10:00 a.m., Front Doors
“Um... what are we saving, again?” Jenni said. “He, um, wants to know.”
They had moved slightly away from the Front Doors, which were getting very crowded, not to mention sticky, with a stream of nearly naked girls and interested boys. Still, plenty of guys were curious about the hotties hanging around out front.
Jenny sat on a concrete bench. Her jeans were around her knees. The several guys in front of her watched her energetically masturbate.
Lynn took a breather, her ass on the ground. She felt flushed, tingly, and her brain kept trying to tell her that something wasn’t quite right with the situation. Which was silly. Jenny was masturbating very competently. And it was a good way to draw a crowd without letting her tits get cold.
“Something..” Lynn concentrated. “Uh, saving something. Whales. Dolphins. Dogs. Cats.”
“Pussies?” Jenny said, brightening. That sounded right. The blonde kept licking her lips. Each pass of her tongue seemed to add a layer of thick gloss to them. They were already plumped and shiny. “That makes sense. It’s probably pussies. We’re saving them.”
“Saving them for what?” Lynn asked. Her boobs should’ve been tender and sore. There had probably been two dozen hands assaulting each nipple. And more hands had sneaked around to feel the growing wet patch on her jeans. But she was fine. Everything was just fine.
“I don’t, uh, know. Sir, no touching. If you touch, everyone gets to touch,” Jenny said, apologetic. The man with the wandering hands got up to walk away. “Oh, poop. Okay! Come back! You can touch!”
10:30 a.m.
“Sir, I doubt your name is ‘pussy slut’,” Lynn said, craning her neck around.
They had lost the clipboards at some point. Which was just as well. Very few of the names were real, and the bottom half was a list of scores the men had left her. Mostly 8s, some 9s, a few disappointing and disconcerting 6s. But that was fine. She would just try harder.
The man chuckled and wrote on the stomach. She would’ve protested more, but he had one hand fondling the wet thatch at her slit, and that made it hard to concentrate.
Jenny kept getting dumber and dumber, to the point where she had forgotten about personal pronouns, but she had thought up getting the signatures on their bare skin. A guy had volunteered a sharpie. So they were getting magic-markered up.
Oddly, it was getting still harder to draw a crowd. Some of the girls coming out of the store were really something else. One was half-encrusted with sugar, crystalline and sweet, and had a lollipop stuck in her mouth. Still another girl, dressed in scraps of black leather, escorted a herd of big-boobed submissive girls, each dressed in cheap sweats and with a collar around their necks. Lynn idly expected them all to start mooing.
But this was wrong. All wrong. She was an intelligent girl. She was bound for college. She shouldn’t be bare-assed on the concrete, whimpering because a guy had a finger shoved up her slit so far she could feel his knuckles. And it certainly shouldn’t be bringing her to her knees with waves of will-sapping pleasure.
No. This was all fine. She had six signatures already, starting with “awesome pussy” all the way down to “thanks”. She would save all the pussies.
“Jenny, don’t drool,” she told the blonde. The girl turned into a moron when anyone put a cock in front of her. Oh well.
11:00 a.m., Front Door
Jenny was getting hard to see under the ropes of pearl white cum. That hadn’t stopped her enthusiasm, although her knees were probably getting cold on the concrete.
The attitude of the men was changing. There wasn’t any give and take anymore, even if it was a feel-up for a signature. Already there was a certain acceptance that Jenny was a bit of a receptacle. That she was one of those girls that would cheerfully suck whatever was handed to her. That was her role.
It made Lynn peevish. She was having a hard time standing out in the crowd. And the guy behind her was taking his sweet time pumping her rear end. This wasn’t a very efficient way to get signatures.
“Can you hurry up?” turned into a shuddering climax as she tried to turn. Oh well. She supposed it was fine. Maybe he would write her a really BIG signature.
And someone had to keep an eye on Jenny. The poor girl seemed to need reminding of her name. Whenever she asked the guys, they gave her a nickname. Donut. Pottery. Candy. Har har.
“My name is Lynn, you know,” she pointedly told the guy sticking a cock at her. Double-teaming was a difficult thing to do, physics-wise. She decided to do her best.
“Lynn, what’s your thing?” the guy asked. “Hm? Goo? Kitty? Sucker? Robot? Candy?”
What was this guy talking about? Lynn resolved to ignore the men from now on.
11:30 a.m., Front Door
“...Doesn’t look like the CDC has any idea what the problem is,” the man said. His name was Tyler. He kept one eye on his smartphone, the other half-heartedly plugging Lynn’s slit. Actually, his heart didn’t seem to be in to rigorously fucking her, so much as it was finding someone to talk to who could actually talk back.
Lynn accepted all of the news with complete and total equanimity. Okay, some sort of weird sex virus. That was perfectly okay. Everyone seemed to be doing okay, even if people were now slipping on the juices between the front doors and the parking lot. You could see how there were a lot of opportunities for a budding entrepreneur. Fighitng dehydration, goggles for Jenny, that kind of thing.
A scowling musclehead walked by, ripped from the covers of a fantasy novel. He only lacked the loincloth. Primeval sex slaves followed in his wake. And then a fertility goddess, all curves and dripping milk, with her own pack of milk-dependent girls.
“Listen,” Tyler said. “Why don’t you come with me? We’ll ride this thing out in my apartment. And, you know, I can keep fucking you. Sound good?”
Lynn struggled to pierce the offer together. Her head blurred, shrank from the struggle, and fixated on the closest thing in view.
The big “Readymart” sign still glowing on the side of the wall.
“It’ll... it’ll cost you, you know,” she said. “These are two great pussies.”
“Two?”
Lynn nodded at the drizzled form of Jenny. “We’re... we’re a two for one deal.”
Tyler shrugged. “Okay. How much?”
“There’s no charge,” Lynn assured him. “You just have to sign.”
She flipped over to make it easy for him.