DROOL
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was hard for Brian to peel himself off his wife. Literally challenging. They were both the same Pink-glazed hue, and slept slopped together in a mushy and affectionate ball. They stuck, and often Brian wasn’t totally sure whose body he was stroking. It was all candy-colored and juicy and warm, so what did it matter? Heck, even the bed, soaked with their juices, was becoming part of the marriage.
But business called. “Just—ah—okay—there—” Brian said, pulling his foot free. It made a squelching noise, disengaging from Jessica’s thigh. “Just hang out for a few. I’ll be back in a few hours. Big business meeting, and I know you don’t like to wear clothes, lately.”
They stared at each other, unused to being apart.
“Can I come?” Jessica said. “I’ll wear—I’ll wear—well, I’ll be naked, but can I come?”
“Yes,” Brian said. He reached out to hold her hands. They hadn’t been apart that long in some time. Some... amount of time. It had felt bad, standing next to her, by the bed, bereft of contact. “Of course. I bet if I drive slow you can sit in my lap.”
The streets were nice and quiet, and there was barely anyone on the freeway at all. Brian still drove very carefully, his wife hanging on to his neck. She had ruined his suit with drip and drool, but it was still a relief to have her there. He’d been stressing about several hours apart.
“Do you think it’ll wash out?” Jessica said, picking at his tie. It had been liberally doused with Pink, as had his grey flannel, and the white shirt, and all the rest of him.
“It’ll fit better, now,” Brian assured her. That was true—he’d had to cantilever to fit himself in to the stuff, and the wool had felt impossibly scratchy, compared to his spouse. Now, soggy, it was much more comfortable. “This will be a quick one hour meeting with the Board. I’ll have to leave you in the car for it. I don’t think they want naked goo girls in the corporate HQ.”
“That makes sense,” Jessica agreed. She rubbed at his cheeks, affectionate. She loved his beard stubble. If he shook it, dog-like, it sprayed a mist of Pink everywhere. It made her laugh, so he did it all the time. With the roadways clear he felt free to rub her tits. They were so slippery-fun, and her little sigh of relief when he tweaked a nipple was always worth doing.
They reached the building. The parking lot was nearly empty. It was 2 p.m. on a Tuesday.
“Can I come in, actually?” Jessica said, as he got ready to slide her off. She tugged on his tie.
“Okay,” Brian said. “Sure.”
He snuck her in through the fire exit. The alarm didn’t seem to work anymore. They held hands, going up the stairwell. “Did I tell you how proud I am? About the promotions?” Jessica said.
“Of course you did,” Brian assured her. Not in words, really, but she’d gasped and giggled and moaned during each zoom meeting, usually underneath the table. Cheering him on, often with her mouth.
Brian had used his early goo status to guide the company through the uncharted waters of Pink. At first as an advisor to the nervous sales reps and anxious finance people, letting them know that Pink was a very friendly type of nutritional supplement, that was especially good for marriages. And then, later, going in for increasingly steamy meetings, with co-workers slurping down drinks eating company-provided Pink-flavored snacks. Explaining how they could leverage Pink for 10% financial growth, or, at least, nut on their wife’s faces all the time.
“Here, lets take the elevator,” Brian said, feeling risky. Although the building appeared empty. Strange, as they had all ten floors. The last time he’d gone in person, his cock just starting to drool Pink, it had been a steady stream of bright-eyed, heavy-breathing colleagues. Presumably they were all home banging their significant others.
The elevator opened with a bright chime. Inside was enough Pink, dripping from every surface, to fill a spa. It smelled delicious.
“Huh,” Brian said, peering at it. “Lets... take the stairs.”
“I can come, right?” Jessica said.
“Of course,” Brian said.
“Wait here,” Brian said, at the top floor. They’d taken their time, going up the stairs. They’d spent quite awhile on the fifth floor landing, working off some steam on each other. A quickie blowjob. They’d watched each other’s fluids dripping down the stairs, methodically, flight by flight.
There was actual noise on the top floor. Brian put his finger to his gooey lips, and squelched over to the source.
Megan. The—CFO? No. The CFO had quit, or something. She was another fast promotion, just like him. She had long black hair, he recalled, and wore glasses.
She was on her knees, on the computer chair, with her tits hanging over the side of it. And then typing, slowly, with her drippy mouth held back from the keyboard. With all those precautions, she wouldn’t get the computer wet. The black hair was tied up in a bun, to keep it from getting sticky. Her ass had exploded out of its pencil skirt.
“Uh,” Brian said, staring at it.
They both took a moment to clear their mouths. It was a Pink thing. “Here for the meeting?” Brian prompted. “The Board meeting?”
“I’m here trying to keep the company afloat,” Megan said, swiveling in her chair. Her tits were completely out, and swung around with her. “But—I mean—seems a little pointless, doesn’t it?” She giggled. “Afloat in goo.”
“Oh, I think we can make a positive impact on the world,” Brian said. Megan was so clever. She’d arranged two wastebuckets to catch her dripping teats. They were both just about full, and smelled very good. “I’ve got lots of ideas. I was going to present them to the Board. We have a 3 p.m.”
“Okay, well, it’s 4 already,” Megan said. She sighed. “Okay. Yeah. Fuck spreadsheets. I’ve mostly been watching porn anyway. I can’t believe I got an accounting degree just so I can goop into buckets. Is that your wife? The one you kept gushing about?”
Gushing was the word. Jessica had come along with him. Actually, he was still holding her hand. He hadn’t even realized. But it didn’t bother him. She was so perfect.
“Can I come in?” Jessica said, sludgy and beautiful. “Meet your coworkers?”
“Sure, no problem,” Brian said.
The three of them made it to the board meeting, eventually. Megan was put out that Brian had destroyed her computer. But it was her own fault, Brian figured—he’d slopped his cock out of her, into the valley of her ass crack, and then let spray. That had naturally lined him up to hose down her PC. And he’d been revved up especially from Jessica licking his balls.
Megan had gotten over it. A few mouthfuls of Pink did that to most girls.
“Wait under the table,” Brian told Jessica. The Board meeting was supposed to be attended by the CEO, the CFO, and important company officials. Instead the room was empty, excepting an enormous glass table, and the company attorney, Heather, who was on Zoom on the monitor.
She looked very dry and alone.
“You’re three hours late,” she said, morose. Heather had dry, cracked lips, and Brian felt for her. He felt a powerful urge to lather himself over her, in company with Jessica, and whatever Megan was to them now. Associated wife or something. The lawyer needed moisturizing. “But its fine. I have nothing better to do.”
“How’s it going, staying clean?” Brian said, honestly curious.
“Fine. Boring. How’s it going, getting infected by a transformative sex parasite?”
“Good, good,” Brian said. “Busy. So how does this work? Do I just—read my proposal?”
“Sure,” Heather said. She shrugged, dryly. Her chin was so very parched. “Knock yourself out.”
“Alright,” Brian said. He had written it all down, on a piece of paper now reduced to limp scraps by constant lubrication, in his jacket pocket. But that was fine. He recalled it. “So. Here’s the thing. I think we stop selling—things. Instead, all the warehouses become useful storehouses and playgrounds for people. Whoever needs anything, we share with them. People are going to need tarps and cleaners and piping and all the many things on our shelves, as we figure this whole goo-body thing out. And I think we should just let them have it. So I motion that we shut down the company.”
There was silence, for a moment. Under the table, Jessica rubbed his leg, encouraging.
“Well, I’m in, but we’re one short of quorum,” Heather said. “Takes four to have quorum, and I’m not counting your Pink in this. Not yet, anyway.”
She looked so depressed. Brian thought about the problem. But first, he had to do something about his endless need to spray. The Zoom chat was hooked up to a laptop in the corner. Brian carefully typed his home address into it. His dripping Pink fingers ruined each key, as it was pressed, but luckily he had no repeated letters. There, now Heather had that.
“Can I be CEO?” Jessica chimed in, still underneath the table.
“Yeah, sure thing,” Brian said.
They had quorum, and, more importantly, it meant Jessica was cleared to leap into his arms, where she belonged. Megan contributed by, hesitantly, rubbing her tits on the top of his head.
So situated, they voted to shut down Doe’s Home Improvement as a profit-generating enterprise. Motion carried.
It was completely hopeless, Jiya knew.
She could only hope that in the future she was at least a little more than a solidified ball of Pink goo. Perhaps she could still be ambulatory.
She felt that that wasn’t too much to ask, that she get to walk around. Even if spraying a constant spritz from all her holes, especially a latex-colored dribble from her slit. And sloppily exchanging goo with whoever she met, trickling all over each other. In fact, if she was locked in some sort of eternal goo-coated embrace, a waxen candle of sex, that might be alright, depending on the guy. Like, if he was a redhead with a winning smile. Someone like that, penetrating her in an endless gooey climax, that’d be okay.
Her fingers crept down to her waistband. She’d painted her fingernails pink, resigned. Jiya’s tits had undergone a final swelling in the past few days, leaving her with the same thick mammaries as every other goo slut. She wondered if skin tone would fade away, as well, leaving them all bright pink toys for each other.
Perhaps even see-through.
“FOCUS, people,” Colin rasped. He kept wiping away sweat with a handkerchief. It was completely sodden. “We are the last hope!”
Sure, Jiya thought dully. Except she was sloshing around in her own juices, getting off on sick fantasies of herself as a public goo fountain, shooting an endless arc of Pink into some communal pool.
Anti-goo forces had commandeered the Life Sciences building on campus, shooing out goo-inflicted stragglers with makeshift weaponry. Mostly pieces of pointy wood. Jiya wasn’t sure why it was Life Sciences. Proximity to beakers and test tubes, presumably, to engineer some last-ditch inoculation from the CDC.
That definitely wasn’t happening. Their briefings from government officials had gotten increasingly brief. In the final one the lead federal scientist had pointed her camera at her slit, in closeup, and giggled at their shock and dismay. Jiya had noted how shiny her clit had gotten. With that much camera resolution, little Pink streaks were visible along the delightful nub.
“With the cities lost we are leaving for the desert. Immediately,” Colin said. Beads of sweat kept running down his nose. “We’re still in contact with anti-goo forces in Colorado and, especially, Arizona. It’s hot and its dry. We can hold out indefinitely.”
Colin, its over, Jiya thought. She had no intention of making the trip. How could she, when she had spent the entire morning with the grip of a hairbrush shoved up her gooey slit? Her vibrator had busted the previous night, and Jiya was aching for stimulation of any kind. And that wasn’t even the worrying part. The worrying part was that the reason for her hours-long hairbrush encounter was she’d gotten distracted, watching orgy uploads on youtube, and completely forgotten she had a big plastic nob buried up her cunt. She was not rebel forces material. She had way too big of an ass for that, now.
Jiya nearly giggled. It was also kind of amazing, being a big gooey cumslut. Kind of fun. She was awash in the good chemicals, and her body was now pretty cool. She could bend her entire finger back to touch her own wrist, she could even apparently run a speedy mile, although dripping and wobbling all the way. And the orgasms. They were easy, and powerful, and sustained.
She had a distinct feeling her little internal friend liked her.
It was getting harder and harder to maintain a sour attitude about her goo-ification. But she was really trying. It was the last rebellion available to her.
Barely anyone else was trying. Global corporations had quickly made their peace with symbiosis. After all, their workers no longer needed health care, and a paid vacation was now always just a stroke away. Hello Kitty was rushing out a new doll with a sticky Pink mouth, and Barbie would soon be re-released with a gooey center. Every chain restaurant was flush with patrons, trying new Pink specials, giving head underneath the booths.
True, the concept of currency wasn’t sticking well in this new era, to be replaced with some sort of sex-based economy. And it was hard to do things like program, engineer, architect. Goo kept mucking up the keyboards, and sticking to the blueprints.
But it would all get worked out. Everyone wanted it to work. Nearly everyone.
“A-anyway,” Colin said. He coughed out some spittle, discreetly. “Here’s the plans. Keep them secret, not that the goo people are big on reading.”
Jeremiah, his second-in-command, passed out freshly copied plans of action.
Jiya watched him go. He had to realize, didn’t he, that at least half of the Resistance in that room was fully converted? Cecilia had beautiful blonde hair now. A week ago she was a grandma with snowy locks. The bags under her eyes were gone, and her skin had that scrubbed glow characteristic of skincare influencers and Pink-gorged sluts. Javier was eating a sandwich during the actual meeting, obviously more intent on calories than planning, and was putting on muscle during the conference. Jiya usually sat behind him, and had a front-row view to the steady growth of his steely, chiseled butt.
And that wasn’t even mentioning Cammie, who smelled like chocolate and lavender, and was even drooling right in front of them. True, it was chocolate-colored, since she was stuffing treats in her mouth at an alarming rate. But she was also spilling out of her ski pants and multiple masks.
Jiya and Cammie had made out after the last Resistance meeting, a brief but satisfying encounter in the hallway. Nothing had tasted better, and that included the cum samples she had slurped her way through.
“That’s—” Colin was trying so hard not to drool. “That’s—that is—” he managed it by enunciating every letter, and by turning a sweat-sponge into a surreptitious spit-swab. “All. See you at five. Stay dry out there.”
It was true, Jiya conceded, that despite the constant onslaught of food and drink and slutty sluts and contaminated clothes, there were still a few untouched individuals. She wasn’t even sure on their names—they were locked up tight beneath makeshift hazmat, even their gender unclear.
They looked unhappy, even so.
She wondered if—there was—.
She wondered if she could still wonder.
So the idea, when it hit her, nearly made her cum.
It was so hot, and, more importantly, so HER. Playful, experimental, and so so hot. Cautious, Jiya teased it around in her head, feeling the idea, letting it make her tits tender and her slit, somehow, even juicier. It had to be an olive branch from her traveler, her Pink friend. A way to make this, all of this, her big butt and silly brain and big boobs, work for the both of them.
She was going to perform an experiment, to see what happened when a group of prudish holdouts were all subjected to a fun, sexy goo orgy.
It would be ground-breaking research. Tommy was easily strong enough to break the ground.
“Ummmmmh,” Jiya moaned, as quietly as she could. Jeremiah gave her a look, and she stifled it. That man especially needed some science done on him. She squeezed her legs together.
It probably wasn’t the most ethical thing in the world, she considered. And she was going to really struggle to type up her findings. Her boobs kept hitting the keyboard, and most of the keys were too mucky to depress. But a girl who had, the previous night, made out with her Mom, while Mom’s boyfriend fucked her butt, was in no position to lecture on ethical rules.
And it’d be so hot, and so fun, to pour Pink right into their mouths, and watch them cum and cum...
She’d win some sort of award, probably. Or, at least, her Pink would reward her, and that was close enough.
The handout said exactly where and when they were to meet. Jiya took a picture of it, and texted the picture to a redhead she knew, and was having very wet and randy dreams about. Which tied it all very neatly together.
It was time for Science. She climaxed without even touching herself, and the mask hid her dazed, happy smile.
“Work very hard today,” Tommy told Riley. She was the ditziest of his four employees, and that was saying something. Riley was a goo hound, even by their liberal standards, and would’ve happily sucked Tommy’s cock for consecutive hours, licking up drops. She actually had developed a pudge, as well as the thickest thighs on any goo girl that Tommy had seen, and it stretched her work dress in unexpected directions. The goo had to fit somewhere, Tommy figured. She seemed more liquid than solid.
“On?” Riley said, frowning. She twirled her hair. It, too, had added a few pink streaks at the roots. No one was more lavender than Riley. Even Billy and Darcie had to squeeze their boobs to express. Riley just leaked. She looked down at his dick. “Can I work on that?”
“THAT is more of a benefit,” Tommy said. He frowned. “Just go outside and announce our Grand Reopening. DBT Coffee and Juices. Can you remember that?”
He had an idea, one of several. He’d been feeling more—with it, now that he was fucking pussy regularly. At the least, not so... conflicted. Tommy found a sharpie and stood behind his giggliest employee. The tops of her tits made a pretty firm canvas. Tommy wrote “DBT COFFEE” on the left tit, and “AND JUICES” on the right. She just had to look down to remember. That would be their billboard.
Riley enjoyed the writing process. She stuck her ample backside into his crotch while he wrote. Tommy added some extra curlicues, for artistic emphasis.
“DBT Coffee,” Riley read, and slowly swiveled her head to the right. “Juices.”
“AND Juices,” Tommy reminded her. The “And” was a little lost in the valley of her cleavage. He just had to hope that permanent marker would stand up to goo drool. He gave her a good-luck slap on the rear. Billy had unlocked the doors. They already had a line. They always had a line.
It was time to manage.
They’d worked it all out in the confines of his dripping, sodden bathroom. Darcie would be owner. Tommy would be manager. And Billy was head of the union, both labor and personal. That had actually been the easy part. The new name had taken much longer, actually until 4 a.m., while Tommy had been teasing his dick up Darcie’s ass for the first time. Even with the best lubricant in the world, which was at least partially self-aware, it had been a struggle to stick it up there. Despite how much she moaned and encouraged him.
At the halfway point she’d yelled out, abruptly, “DBT! We should call it DBT!” and then collapsed in a fervent and intense orgasm. Tommy and Billy had worked out the rest during her cum coma. She’d never explained what DBT meant, because she didn’t remember, but they’d all agreed it sounded good.
Tommy was unsure about management, but giving commands was scratching an itch he had had such trouble scratching. If he was unsure, at least he could be a source of certainty in others. And although he wasn’t noticeably smarter than his giggling, silly, hypersexualized labor, the important thing was to point the way. If the way was a good one, that was a bonus.
“Sydney, you’re on the register,” he said. They’d decided not to use money. Billy had put up a PAY IT FORWARD sign, and put aside a little area for donations. A bin for physical donations, and a large jar for fluid ones. “Billy, juices. Darcie, you’re coffee.”
He did a last check and grope of the girls. Sydney kissed back with verve and authority, which made him think she had management potential. She’d arrived with Riley in tow, a collar around her substantial neck. A pink one.
Billy, distracted with her work area, gave him a peck on the cheek. Darcie was a full hug and slobbery makeout.
He looked around the shop. They’d salvaged what they could from the juicery. Two spare blenders in the back, some glassware that had been in a corner, and the tables and chairs.
But still, the “juicery” part of DBT was going to be pretty limited, with a few blueberries and perhaps a grape in what was mostly an ice-blended glass of Pink.
But the Pink, at least, would be delicious.
It was in an enormous jar, just behind Sydney. Only he could manhandle it. DBT Blend was a triumph, and he was looking forward to sharing it with the world. It sloshed around, eager to make new friends.
The crowd flooded in, the largest one yet. All the familiar co-eds were there—Emma and Grace and Hannah and Madison and Taylor. One of the nice things about being used as a home for a horny fluid, Tommy felt, was that it respected their individuality, for now. Everyone had styled themselves with verve. Grace wore a pacifier, and, although she was topless, she’d put wooden clips on the top of her substantial teats. The impression was that she was holding it all in, ready to burst, in a delayed explosion. Madison had somehow kept a willowy and ethereal look despite being a pink piece of ripe fruit. She wore a translucent dress. In a world of sex, a dress that went to the knees was now deeply illicit.
One of the Emmas had what looked like pink tattoos. It was right beneath her collarbone, between her tits. A little heart design with E+P written in it. Perhaps it meant Percy or Peter. Maybe not.
“DBT rules!” Riley yelled, outside, with her succulent voice. “We’re the best! Come suck dick in here!”
Soon they were in the full spin of the workday. Tommy toted coffee bean bags, rubbed Darcie’s ass, and policed the crowded aisles of the shop. Anyone giving a blowjob had to do it under the table. He ordered two girls in line to make out, just because.
It was good. It really was. Although, deep in his heart, there was definitely a need for a fifth employee. One with dark brown hair, who had tried to help him, even when he was past help. Who had seen him as more than a delightful nozzle or a business proposition. True, mostly as a test specimen, but still.
Tommy busied himself with plans. The main issue was securing fruit. He’d have to put up a bounty, and perhaps scour local trees. It’d be fun to find a greenhouse, lavender it up, fuck in a humid environment.
His balls let him know that it was past time to empty out.
He’d made peace, mostly, with being a fountain, but it was going to be on his own terms. He picked the time and the place, although the time would be ‘often’ and the place would be ‘wherever.’
“Latte up!” Darcie announced. “Tommy, one for you! The Special-Special!”
Finally. Darcie knelt in front of him, holding a foamy cup of Pink, Pink milk, and a little coffee. Tommy lowered his much-abused joggers. The only way to keep them from getting stiff with goo was to keep them constantly wet. He fished out his cock. With a few expert squeezes, Tommy produced a decent heart with goo-colored cum on the latte. He admired it, proud of himself. He was up to three different designs. A fern, a heart, and a pretty good mickey mouse.
He had big plans for the exterior wall. A mural. Something expressing—sharing.
The Special-Special was costly. Anyone ordering it was his temp employee for a day. He had already sent a dozen girls out to hunt for bananas. Darcie passed the cup off, to a gratified customer, and lowered herself back down. She was getting better and better at head. The still-petite owner could somehow fit a top-quality rod all the way inside her mouth, and presumably way down her throat. Or potentially up, into her brain. Plenty of room, they liked to joke. Tommy had just tossed all the ledgers and workbooks in the office. They were post-math.
Darcie started to milk herself, sluicing onto the floor. As a manager Tommy wasn’t sure about that. They did need the goo milk, and too much goo on the floor created a slipping hazard. It wasn’t clear if there was still a legal system, but employee safety was still a priority. But if the owner needed the relief, he was prepared to compromise. They all were.
He blew three powerful loads down her throat, or wherever it all went. That left Darcie useless for the next half-hour, her body in a sort of continuous serene orgasm, but they’d just deal with it. He could make coffee.
Tommy immediately broke a glass.
It was sort of reassuring. It was still him, although eight to nine inches taller, with a titanic cock, and a chest that could act as a makeshift sail. He was still going to do art, and maybe read a book on feminism, or at least a pamphlet or some motivational slogans or one of the shorter bumper stickers.
And maybe he’d find Jiya out there, and thank her politely, while fucking her ass.
“Tommy, someone wants the super-special-special!” Billy called out.
That was her idea. Billy understood more than anyone that he wanted to be more than an on-demand spigot. But—the special? The VERY special? Ordering a Tommy meant a week of in-kind servitude, so it was not done lightly. Although there were a few girls that had said they were going to repeat order. Tommy had them searching neighborhoods for blueberry trees. Supplies were low.
Two girls more or less held a third girl between them. The twosome had a futuristic look, their goo-soaked chins a sort of 80s neon pink, complemented by flamingo-pink jackets, bangles, and side-cut hair. But the girl between them was—not just pre-goo, but in poor shape, dazed with sunken eyes.
“Special?” Tommy grunted. He hadn’t bothered to pull his pants back up, and his dick shook around in front of him, hard. The cyberpunk sluts looked at it, greedy.
“BOTH of us,” one of them purred. “Our cousin was in the attic, it turns out, and she’s SO dehydrated.”
“She tried not to drink any water,” the other said, shaking her head. Flecks of goo shot out. They landed on the dazed girl they were still holding up, who barely reacted. “Like, no water at all. We keep telling her, its fine, its just Pink, but she’s being really silly about it and we thought... this girl needs some coffee.”
“You want me to give her a double-super-special-special?” Tommy said. That sounded like a lot of cum, even for him.
“On the ROCKS,” one of the girls said.
Tommy studied the holdout. She was in poor health, and everything about Tommy, before and after, wanted to help. She’d be so much better, so much more lively and happy, with a large liquid goo nestled in her thoughts. It was weird but true. He wanted to spread to her so badly. But consensually.
“Hold on,” he said, significantly. “You two are...?”
“I’m her Mom,” slut one said. That explained the 80s focus, at least. Although she looked perhaps nineteen. “And that’s her Aunt. And she’s Brody,” Slut two nodded. They both wore leather miniskirts.
“Okay,” Tommy said. Consensual. That’s right, that was the word. He glowed with satisfaction, at remembering it. The word he’d actually forgotten, discarded as unneeded, was nonconsensual. It just wasn’t happening, anymore. “Brody. You’re going to kneel there, and suck my dick if you can, and it’ll make you feel all better, alright?”
“She nursed for awhile, on both of us,” Aunt said. “But I think she’s still a little confused about how fun it all is. And yes, we’ll totally be your slut-slaves for a week or month or whatever it is. Or forever, that’s fine, we’re cool.”
Brody ddn’t have the swollen goo-pink lips or the perfect skin, and Tommy was mindful that he could choke her. Mom and Aunt gently lowered her to her knees, and Tommy gently waved the nectar-syrup of his cock underneath her nose. He dribbled a very thick cum.
“Th—th—thirsty...” Brody stuttered, staring at it.
“It’s okay!” Tommy said. “You can suck it now, or later, whenever feels right. You can go sit over there and I’ll just come by and see if you’re ready in two minutes or so.”
Brody looked at the tantalizing cockhead, at the Pink drooling from it, and made a very small sigh of either resignation or relief. Then she stuck out her very ordinary tongue, and lapped at the tip. It was a lot for Tommy, a very sensitive area, but he restrained himself from immediately blowing a load in her face. It was a lot to take in.
But soon she’d have mega-large tits, and a blaring-Pink pussy, and then he could stick it all down her throat.
“VERY good,” he told her, which encouraged more enthusiastic licking. And it would’ve been a purely positive experience, except just then he got a text from Jiya, which made him accidentally spooge Brody all across her face and mouth. But she seemed okay with it. The important thing was she was getting fluids.
“We mother-fucking RIDE!” Billy said. She transitioned into the role of leader of a band of marauding goo sluts very naturally.
They closed down DBT for a few hours to go convert some silly holdouts to goo ecstasy. Billy whipped the crowd up, and everyone was eager to go. And they went and got others, and texted, and spread the news. They were good at spreading.
“We are going to shove our tits in their faces,” she said, standing on a table. “We are going to give them the best blowjobs they’ve ever had. We are going to let them smell our pussies, and they are going to love it, aren’t they?”
A chorus of excited “yeahs!” echoed out. “We are going to rub on them, and touch them, and get them so gooey and happy they are gonna... what are they gonna do?”
She cupped her ear, theatrically.
“CUM!” the others chorused. They all knew what to say. They had so much in common now, carrying around the same gooey friend. Everyone had something in common, and someone in common.
“I CANNOT HEAR YOU!” Billy yelled.
“CUMMMMMM!” the crowd cheered. It was getting larger by the moment. Young and old, or at least formerly old, and men and women, and people of all colors, mostly Pink. And, most of all, they all smelled the same. A heavy note of lavender.
“Lets fucking gooooo!” Billy yelled. Pronounced “goo”. She considered whipping her tits around, spraying them all with pink goo, but it seemed a little crass. And she wanted to keep her boobs fresh for the—the—
She cocked her head. The word ‘battle’ was gone, just gone, and so was war, and related concepts of aggression. There wasn’t going to be any conflicts or skirmishes, and certainly no fights. It didn’t bother her. “Lets meet and hug them!” she yelled, and led her host forth.
Of all of them, Billy had embraced her organism-host status the most. She loved Pink. She adored Pink. And her Pink loved her right back.
And not just because the stuff was constantly flooding her with dopamine, and serotonin, and other exotic stuff it had recently invented. She hadn’t felt bad, really bad, in some time. Even at her lowest, staring at the destroyed shell of her first business, her Pink had flooded the zone with hormones, and done its best to hold her together. She could feel herself still improving, still getting better. Her teats had better control now, letting her express when she felt like it, rather than all the time. Her body hair had all fallen out, giving her a nice, sleek look.
It was better, she was sure of it. The world was better. Capitalism had died, And, yes, probably they weren’t going back to the moon anytime soon, and weren’t about to make additional strides in advanced calculus. Literary achievement was about to decline, since reading was a chore, and she’d forgotten a bunch of excess words.
But so what? So what? No one was going to the moon anyway. The goal was to be happy, to share, to have an equitable society, and now they had that. It no longer mattered that she was black. They were Pink. She’d had every color of cock inside of her, and they all felt the same. They felt great. They all shot the same jizz. They all drank the same milk. It was bliss.
Such bliss...
They didn’t march—the Pink was not in to a creepy lack of individuality—but they did blob into the college. Jiya had told them all where to go, and included helpful hints on how to approach. Stealth was beyond them, since too many women and men had noisy, braying orgasms just from walking around, but they did surround the Assholes effectively.
They were really good at working together, and it was beautiful.
The Pink had even retained diversity, at least for now, although it didn’t need to. They could’ve all been shiny Pink sluts, indistinguishable, gooey pleasure beings all of a type. But they still had personalities, somewhat, and differences, somewhat. Different hobbies, sort of. Billy still watched political youtube at nights, lately. The format was different. Enthusiastic gooey trip reports, wild speculation about what this better future would bring. Worldwide commgooism.
Billy theatrically rolled up her shirt, currently a Royal Caribbean polo exchanged for a banana-nut smoothie. So did the other girls, giggling at it. Preparing for the f—the f—the frank exchange of views. The confab.
She did remember the word “charge”, but only in the context of electricity. “Lets GOOOOOOO,” the pink-addled girl went with. In they went, in the last b—... b—.. forum of Goo vs. Anti-Goo in the region.
The Assholes were all in a lecture hall on campus, with a few suitcases and bottles of water collected in the atrium. About enough water for a weekend. A sad little gathering.
The goo forces won, inevitably. They were better.
The future was exciting now, instead of a weary assembly of work, trauma management, bill-paying, and anxious sleep. Billy had already decided to travel, even if operating planes was a bit beyond Pink. They could probably manage boats. It would be fun to travel, when everyone was happy to see you, and your supplies were a smile and your own bloated tits. She was sure she’d see a better world. A gooey one. Hotel pools around the world were getting frothy and sticky, people of all nations sitting in lavender water, stroking each other. She was so excited for it. She was always excited. Her pussy was the wettest of anyone.
Most of the holdouts collapsed immediately, barely resisting as goo-sluts gently but firmly stripped off their protective gear. Quite a few revealed themselves as hypocrites, drooling from the mouth, with makeshift cups and rags serving to hide their own rampant infection. A chocolate-y one was immediately popular, and obligingly bent herself over, so Billy’s team could have better access to her. Goo sluts were practically lining up for kisses. Another loudly protesting girl nonetheless flipped herself onto a desk and arched her back, thrusting her ass into the air.
“Fine! Fuck my ass, at least! I don’t want your disgusting Pink in my cunt!” she said. She wore big hoop earrings, and had dark black hair. For now. “My ass is where it belongs!”
A few boys were ready to oblige her. And when a third stuck his gooey cock towards her mouth, she said a lot of stuff about avoiding disgusting blowjobs, but still started to jack it off, her lips wide open.
But there were true holdouts. They gathered at the bottom of the stairs, clustered around Jeremiah. They had a purported leader, but he had fallen victim to a flanking attack, and was greedily sucking on Darcie’s titties.
Billy appreciated it. They’d buried the hatchet, so to speak. Darcie complemented her, tempered her enthusiasm, asked important questions like “where are we going to find fruit now?” and “what happens once we stop having electricity?” It wasn’t hating, it was care. And she helped Darcie be more active, more enterprising, take risks.
Everyone was going to be like that, a wonderful process of finding how they fit together. For example, Darcie’s particularly plush lips felt very good sucking on Billy’s exaggerated teats. She had incredible flow once those amazing lips were on her. And they sucked dick together beautifully. She tended to bob energetically on the shaft, while Darcie worked the balls and came in for the final cumshot.
It was a partnership.
“What are you gonna do? Spray on me?” Jeremiah was the only aggressive one left, with his other holdouts sheltering behind him. “Spray your filthy tits on me?”
“I want you to apologize later,” Billy told him. “Like, sincerely.”
“When I’m one of you? When I’m part of your ridiculous Borg hivemind?” Jeremiah said. He raised his bat. Billy looked at it and felt—no fear. No trauma. No hurt. The words had been excised from her vocabulary, not just for storage reasons, but with purpose. Her Pink was very protective of her. It loved her. She loved it. It had saved the word for her.
“When you’re not an ASSHOLE,” Billy said.
She’d never had any intention of fighting Jeremiah. She wasn’t going to fight anyone. No one was going to fight anyone. Tommy stepped in and dumped the entire bucket of DBT Pink Goo over his head, and it knocked Jeremiah out. Tommy gave her a sheepish look. He’d been distracted, making out with Jiya by the doorway, where she’d let them in. Jiya was still wrapped around him, giggling, the two pressed closely together. Behind Jeremiah the remaining resistance was two girls. They’d decided to kiss, perhaps to indicate defiance. But it didn’t come across that way.
And because she really did mean it, really did want it, Billy pulled down Jeremiah’s pants and pulled out the little dick he had been born with. She fitted it in herself, squeezed once, and then rode him cowgirl, feeling him expand and twitch inside of her. When he could, he could feed from her tits. It was going to be a fine evening. She idly wondered if it was Friday. She’d forgotten what day of the week it was. It didn’t matter.
When the big goo orgy was done, and Darcie had recollected her name, and general goals in life, she went to lock up at DBT Coffee and Juice.
The orgy had been a disorienting experience. Orgy-sex-with-goo was one thing, that sticky, sweaty Pink spooge sex that was half physical and half liquid. It was human, just very lubricated. Yes, it ended in a cooling pool of viscous fluid, but that wasn’t too much unlike pre-goo fucking.
This was more like being.. submerged. Darcie was pretty sure she’d gone long stretches without breathing. Her vision had been reduced to Pink, awash in the stuff, feeling it harden in a shell around her. Where her tits ended, and the goo began, was not clear. It had helped that she’d had a cock down her throat, and another in her ass, both pistoning with the best lubrication ever made. But it was still—a lot. She still wasn’t sure who had moved her body around, at times. Maybe her.
Eventually Darcie had woken up in a warm coagulated mess of people and sticky fluid. And made her way free, shaking what she could off her drenched self. She’d found some discarded shorts, and a shirt that was two sizes too big, even now, and felt somewhat more like a person. Part of her wanted to plunge back in to the cooing pile of hot body parts, but she’d held back.
It was time to lock up her business. She was the owner, after all.
It slowly filtered back to her, as the spread-cum-spray parts receded, temporarily. She was a business owner, and, if it wasn’t much, it was still hers. And it was okay to stop short of a national coffee empire. Just because she’d dreamt it didn’t mean she’d failed. It was alright to pick new dreams. She had friends now, and not just because they shared a sex symbiote.
The lights weren’t working—but no one’s were. Electricity seemed to be sputtering. She’d look into a generator. Her keys were totally gone, but who cared, no one was stealing anything. She had enough coffee beans to last a long time. The new drinks were 90% her breast milk and associated fluids, after all. Darcie didn’t bother to check the daily receipts as there weren’t any.
She checked the mirror, rubbing clear a small patch of glass from the froth and spray. Touched up her makeup, which kept getting rubbed off on Tommy’s dick. An old design, this time, around her eyes. She was still her, even if she was also many other people, it seemed.
“Heya, sticky,” Chester said, as she pulled the door closed.
Chester...
“Woh—woh—” Darcie realized that her mouth was sealed shut with cum and Pink, and had been for some time. She had to stick a finger in there to pry it loose. “Ugh. Okay. Sorry, I don’t use this mouth thing for talking much, anymore.”
“Yeah... yeah,” Chester said. He was still a bronze god, but looked sheepish. He wore the leather jacket she’d met him in, although the material didn’t hold up well to goo spatter. It was deteriorating fast. And under the gleam of the moonlight it was clear that Pink, for all its healing properties, still couldn’t quite grow a perfect head of hair. “I get that. How’re you doing?”
“Oh, you know,” Darcie said. She looked down at herself. Even her skin was pink-washed, and her tits had a slow leak. “I mean, this is sexy now, right? You boys like this. I’m not a big soupy mess, am I?”
“Definitely not,” Chester assured her. He rubbed at his thinning hair. “Yeah. You look great. I heard you’re producing in gallons, you and the others, that’s really cool.”
“Yeah! Little boob Darcie, now with her own gooey tits,” Darcie said. She squeezed them together, fond of them. The usual pink pap oozed out. It occurred to her that it was odd, that Chester was here. Trying to make her feel... jealous? That wasn’t going to happen. She’d just fucked dozens of people. “You here to repossess or something? That’s what this is? Did we miss a loan payment?” He was welcome to try. Tommy swung a mean bucket of sperm-milk.
“No, no, no,” Chester said. His little smile crumbled. “No... actually, the bank kind of... there isn’t a bank. Yeah. People got all gooey and Pink and.... kind of stopped caring about the concept of currency. You know. Me and the others had a little money fight, since why not. Threw it around. Literally. Got it stuck to ourselves.”
“Oh, yeah,” Darcie said. “Billy was talking about that. I guess capitalism ended. She was kind of smug about it.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Chester said. He kept rubbing at his head. “And.. you know... you sit in an empty office tugging at your dick and you get to thinking... maybe you kinda got a little full of yourself, the past, uh, two weeks. Or whatever it’s been. Maybe... weren’t the nicest.”
“True. You can just blame it on the goo, though,” Darcie instructed. She started to walk home. Chester fell in beside her. Was it really just a few weeks ago, they were walking together, dreaming of wedding bells? When the street lights still worked?
“Uh, I don’t think that was.. no. The goo is sharing and caring. It’s like having a tiny hippie in your head, setting up polycules. Being a jerk was all Chester. So... I’m sorry. We could’ve gone on a very fun gooey journey together, I think. It should’ve been me, milking your tits.”
Darcie stopped. She looked up at him. He was taller, like most men, but still managed to look... bowed over. Repentant. “I had this dream we were gonna have a million kids,” she said. “And they were going to manage our million subsidiary companies. Something like that. I think I said I was going to be your asian waifu slut and then you basically shrugged.”
“You did say that, and I did shrug,” Chester said. “I’m sorry I was... look. I want you to know you have the best coffee shop in town. I mean, its the only coffee shop in town. No one else is doing... organized business of any kind. But its true. It’d be true if there were a dozen coffee chains still open. It’s cool you stayed in business. I didn’t. I’m impressed.”
It turned out that did mean something to her. And also that, liquid-y as she was, Darcie could tear up easily. Heavy, sticky tears. She blinked them back. “What’re you gonna do now?” she said. “I mean, assuming we still keep, you know...” she waved a hand, vaguely. “personalities, that kind of stuff.”
“Oh, I think we’ll keep having dreams. I think the Pink likes them,” Chester said. He looked up at the moon. It was the only dry thing around. “But for now I’m offering to eat out all the people I’ve disappointed in the past few weeks. I think its only fair.”
“You want to eat me out?” Darcie said. She didn’t actually recall getting her pussy licked by anyone, in all of this. She tried to wrap her head around it.
“Yeah, I never see guys eat out girls anymore. It’s all, stick this dick in here, poke it there. I thought it’d be neat to be the best pussy eater in town. Appropriate, you know? And its a dream, sort of.”
He grinned, hopefully. A bit of drool laced down his chin. Darcie stood on her tip-toes and caught it, with her finger. She popped it in her mouth. Chester tasted as good as she recalled.
“Don’t be stupid,” she told him. “I’m the best cocksucker in town. The. Best. And I’m still getting better. I’ll show you. Spread your legs a little.”
He protested, a little, until she grabbed at his ragged pants and told him, with her sticky, oversized lips “I’m going to suck this. Listen, for once.”
There was no need to explain that this was, actually, the dream. Chester was pretty smart, even now. He’d get it eventually. And now she’d have some financial help, to keep straight things like inventory. And maybe they’d expand to the location next door, since no one was ever going to need a drycleaner, ever again.
Darcie got on her knees. The goo that hardened there was a natural kneepad. His cock was drool-worthy, in the moonlight. Laced with pink veins and hard and proud. Darcie just admired it, for a moment. Her own drool collected on her chin, then spattered on the pavement.
It wasn’t sure what person it was in.
There was just so much transmission now, it was hard to keep track. Maybe Jiya, riding Tommy over and over in their own little part of the lecture hall orgy. Maybe Billy, somewhere in the sticky mess, her tits producing and getting drained dry. Maybe Darcie, walking out with a dozen batches of cum in her pussy.
Maybe someone else.
It didn’t think, precisely, but it was aware of things like—what came next, what was going to happen. There were going to be decisions ahead about, for example, running power plants, and growing crops. Nothing too worrying. The journey forward would be exciting, it was sure of it. Love would see it through. It always had.
All that was later-issues.
Currently what it used for attention was locked on a confident, wriggling sperm. It had just located a gently drifting egg, and was burrowing into it.
The sperm had a pink tail. The egg had a pink shell.
It wasn’t sure what all this meant.
But it wasn’t really worried about it.