“How is this the fucking LAUNDRY ROOM?” Justine marveled.
It was enormous. The girls had been exploring for much of the morning. The shaft had at its base a tremendously large complex of well-lit and air-conditioned rooms, many of which were apparently far underground. The elevator had a 3B and there were a few other buttons, unlabeled, that didn’t work when the girls pushed them. The fourth floor didn’t work in its entirety. They had roamed throughout unlabeled and unmarked corridors, laughing nervously, before stumbling on what was apparently the laundry room.
“How much laundry do they think we’ll do?” Chloe said. There were several rows of washers, just as many dryers, stainless steel basins and drying racks. It was all brand new and state of the art.
“None. I don’t do any,” Justine said. “That’s a him job.”
“How do you two divvy up?” Amanda said, curious. She could feel this tension creeping up in her own marriage. Joseph hadn’t said “where’s dinner?” last night, especially after she had fucked his balls dry, but she had thought it about him saying it.
“Big list on the refrigerator, and we have an auction system,” Justine said.
Chloe and Amanda shared a look. Sure, okay. Auction system.
There were big dispensers on the cinderblock wall that, when Chloe touched one, dispensed a soapy white goo into her hand.
“Ewwwww, it came on you,” Justine said. Chloe got slightly more red.
“I wish that stuff cleaned. It should be more useful,” Amanda said. She felt a little perturbed at the joke. There’d been a lot of cum in her life since she’d arrived in Calving. It had been a relief to get Joseph out the door without feeling the need to have him poke her pussy. But she could still feel a low-simmering heat that just would not go away.
“How come they can put all this stuff together, and can’t get cell reception?” Chloe said.
“Matt said they’re gonna complain,” Justine said. She seemed wholly confident that Matt did her bidding. “Until then we’re marooned.”
The exercise room wasn’t far away. It had the same clean, unused, state of the art look. Just a little cardio, a large number of lifting racks and a ton of heavy weights. There were a number of sleek flat panel TVs around, and all of them picked up nothing but—
“The fucking FARM REPORT.” Justine said, disgusted.
“I thought it was kind of soothing,” Chloe volunteered. “They’re so excited about it! The announcer guys. I guess the crops are doing really well!”
“Great,” Amanda said. She stepped onto a treadmill. It didn’t seem to work. That was going to be a problem. Her boobs already felt full of pastries and buttercream, and she’d inhaled another half-gallon of milk that morning. Eating was getting way too emotionally intense. Afterwards she felt a weird sense of lazy euphoria, and only Justine banging on her door had gotten her off the couch. And got her hands out of her own pants.
“How does this turn on?” Amanda said, searching for a button. She put her hands on the odd, high metal bar at the front of the machine. That seemed to do something. Squeezing it made the treadmill move a little faster. It was less than comfortable. The TV popped on right in front of her face. The two farm boys grinned at her. They both had large brown eyes. “Jesus.”
“Careful,” Justine said. “This is not a lord’s-name-in-vain town.” She tried to pick up a 40 pounder, failed. “This is a lot of free weights. I’ve been to big gyms with less metal than this. I guess everyone needs to be big to lift cows.”
Amanda released the bar. The TV flipped off. The image of the big brown eyes lingered. She’d have to start running around the edges of the building, or something. Or maybe just run blindly into the fields of grain or corn or whatever was out there.
“We should do a book club. Or something,” Chloe volunteered. “Maybe some of the other ladies would want in?”
“They’re all at the pool,” Justine said. “And I mean, they’re constantly at the pool. I don’t think they’re big on reading.”
“I like to swim, and I read,” Chloe said. They made their way out.
“I’m getting mean girl vibes from them. Lets pass. But I like the book club idea. Where does this door go?”
It was at the end of a corridor, and didn’t have any signs on it. It wasn’t even clear it could open—there was no handle on it, or a big shiny steel press plate. Amanda was about to say something like “are we supposed to be in here?” when Justine pushed hard to reveal a large dark room. Groping around for a light switch revealed nothing. They flipped on cell phone flashlights and shone them around. The room was cool, sterile, and filled with oddly jumbled vending machines.
“What the hell is this?” Justine said.
Not just vending machines but full ones, the metal coils fully stocked with more of the underbranded goodies Amanda had stocked up on. Apparently they had a shelf life of startling length. There were candies as well, bags of uncertain sweets that said “chocolate’” on them somewhere. These were at least stamped with a small insignia—a lamb.
“How long have these been here?” Amanda said. They were all powered up. There weren’t any ways to put in dollar bills or coins, either. Just tap in a number, she figured?
“Have you girls… been in town?” Chloe said. Amanda turned the flashlight around. Her new friend was blushing. So she had gotten into the baked goods as well. “Good, right?”
“I haven’t,” Justine said. “Worth it? This must be some oddball perk. Or maybe the boys are out there making vending machine machines.” She tapped three numbers at random. The coil whirred, and a very large honey bun in plastic wrapping spilled out. It slammed against the bottom of the machine. Amanda flinched. That sounded heavy. And she had eaten two of those. Her butt was going to feel it.
They watched Justine try it. Amanda was unsurprised when her friend’s face turned eager, then intense. A slab of butter sugar goo went into Justine. She felt a keen desire for her own.
“Maybe just a little?” Chloe said, brightly.
On the bright side, Amanda rationalized, they had very much bonded over what she was already thinking of as the Vending Machine Incident. She felt extremely close to both Chloe and Justine. They had shared an Experience. Heck, they were even lazing all over each other, the three of them in a row along what they had dubbed the King Machine. At some point the one with all the the most creamy and sugary and gooey concoctions had gotten named that. They had found a light switch, eventually—and regretted it. It was easier not to see what they were up to.
They were all snuggled up against each other. It had just happened. It wasn’t easy to tell where Amanda ended and Chloe began—they were both basically slim white girls in black tights, comfortable flats. Amanda had even flashed minor irritation at it—it never felt great to be revealed as a fashion follower. Chloe even wore a nicer shirt, a flowy white tunic thing that somehow matched atheleisure. Amanda was just in a wrinkled tanktop.
Justine was easier to pick out. She wore another faded, well-worn t-shirt, but, for reasons known only to her, was quite made up, with both mascara and red lipstick. All that and jeans that were obviously old favorites and currently resting on top of Amanda’s knees.
Amanda felt barely able to move. Her body was a pool of pleased contentment, with just a trace of energy between her legs. Swiveling her head took real effort, but she could see that both Justine and Chloe had the same look of dull-eyed satisfaction. Actually Chloe was still eating—she was the dynamo of the session, methodically making her way through every one of the danishes and cookies and cakes packaged in blank wrappers in each of the machines.
“Woof,” Chloe said, eventually. She seemed to be struggling to make her lips move. “Wow. Gosh.” She rested her head against Amanda. It felt sticky. The three of them might, Amanda thought, need to shower together to get unstuck. She giggled at the idea.
“Dang,” Amanda suggested, as a contribution.
“I have to go… how many calories was that?” Justine said. A cloud of sweetness came from her direction. They were surrounded by wrappers. Amanda resolved dedication in the future. Coming to consciousness, surrounded by plastic baggies, was a bad look.
“Like, in numbers?” Chloe said. She sounded genuinely bothered. “Math numbers?”
“It might’ve been,” Justine pondered the question. “Like ten million.”
“There’s the… the exercise room,” Amanda said. She tried to stand up, and giggled at the effort. How could she not stand up? It was hilarious. “We could… maybe we could do exercises. Like jumping jacks!”
She was vaguely aware of sounding extremely stupid. But the other two just nodded, like she was some sort of brain genius. They all kept fidgeting. Amanda dimly wondered if the other girls felt this same… nervous…warm... energy between their legs. She’d washed down all the cream with off-branded cola from the other big vending machine. It was real good.
“Do you girls hear something?” Chloe said, after they had sat there, companionably silent, for another few minutes. They all had their hands on each other. Chloe’s sugary hand was in Amanda’s lap. And why not leave it there? They smelled each other, happily. Both girls on either side were like big puffs of sugar.
Amanda fought through the haze.
“Moans?” she hazarded. It was just audible and seemed to be coming through the pipes. She half-figured it for her own overwhelmed, hot body, hoping to hear sexy sounds. “Is that what you two hear?”
The three of them stood up, unsteadily, using each other’s bodies to pull up. Was it Amanda’s imagination, or were the bras on the other two looking taut and tight? Or maybe she was just looking for it. Hers certainly felt snug.
“Yeah, that’s a moan,” Justine said. She rubbed her face. “What time is it?”
“Sex moan?” Chloe suggested.
“Mmmm,” Amanda tried. She made it as sultry as possible. All three girls giggled. But it wasn’t a bad facsimile.
They staggered out, following a thin moan throughout the interminable basement. They didn’t say anything, walking sleepily, still overpadded and dazed from sugar rush. It still smelled like sweet whenever Amanda took a deep breath, and her teeth had small deposits of calcified cream stuck between them. The hallways blended together. The girls didn’t seem capable of questioning why they were so intent on finding a distant, moaning girl. When the voice hushed, just for a moment, they waited around, uncertain. And then it started again. It called to her.
Amanda was right behind Chloe. Her tights had a bright sheen to them, and her loose white shirt had gotten somehow tucked into her butt. That left Amanda free to watch it waggle. It was surprisingly enticing.
“There,” Justine whispered. They were right outside another unmarked door. The moans were thick and fast inside. Amanda only briefly thought—this is crazy, this is none of our business, why would we voluntarily walk in on some anonymous person having crazy wonderful sex?
Justine quietly opened the door. Just a crack.
They had a perfect view of it. A large, hairy man was fucking the hell out of a well-padded and shrieking blonde on top of a workbench. They were in some sort of machine room, iron tools hung up with care on pegs all around. Piping extended from pieces of machinery and ran into the walls, which explained the moans.
Both of them were all-together naked. Although it didn’t look like the girl was the type to ever wear clothes, not really. She was bursting with curves, her tits squashed underneath her on a dirty workbench. She had both hands clenched on the wood. Her ass was the real show. It was wonderfully spherical, glistening under the usual LED recessed lights, and perfectly swallowed the enormous dick plunging in and out of it. Despite getting seriously fucked, and moaning appreciatively, the blonde was still occasionally twirling a lock of her long hair with one hand.
They were pointed away from the door. The man was hairy and roughly hewn. The girls could only see a bit of his dick, from that angle, but there was obviously a lot of it. Two swollen testicles bounced around. But even his heavy hands were nearly lost in a very plush butt.
None of the girls said anything. Their mouths hung open. Amanda couldn’t remember seeing sex like that. Even porn stars weren’t built that way. The little porn she had ever watched was, yes, surgically enhanced girls in far too much makeup, and guys with pretty big dicks. But these people were—it wasn’t the same kind of human.
The man reached back and slapped his partner on the ass. Parts of Amanda’s brain somehow knew—that meant he was going to cum. And the blonde obligingly backed up, sinking to the hilt, just as he started to grunt into her.
Cum spattered loudly onto the cement floor. That broke the trance. The girls bolted, and the door slammed shut behind them.
Marshall rolled his eyes. New girls, all the same.
“What brought this on? Not that I’m complaining,” Joseph said.
Amanda wasn’t sure how to answer that. She knelt between her husband’s legs. His cock stuck out at her.
There wasn’t a good answer, so she went with the obvious one. “Don’t you want it?” she said, reaching out to his penis. It felt unfair, comparing it to the mammoth one that had been running on repeat through her mind. Still, touching it, stroking it, was comforting. Yes, it wasn’t a true behemoth, but it was HERS. She could do anything she wanted to it, and it was always ready for her, and that was important. And she loved it.
Although… she kept thinking about that shaft, sinking into that girl...
Amanda was wife enough to know that you never, ever admitted that you wanted to give head. That would let down the entire female side of humanity. Blowjobs were a reward or a favor or a precursor. To tell your husband you wanted to put his dick in your mouth, to suck it, to be face-fucked and cum on, that was too much. You’d never live it down.
But she did want it. She’d been wanting it all afternoon, thinking about it. The girls had found the elevator and exchanged shaky nervous laughs and promised to get together soon, and after that Amanda had been thinking penises until Joseph got in.
She licked the underside. It took longer then she remembered. How long ago was the last hummer she’d delivered? Awhile. She’d probably only blown Joseph four or five times total, and honestly, mostly just blowjobs of the “lick then fuck” variety. Foreplay. Was she just closer to it, more comfortable with it, to accurately say how big it was? It WAS a very nice cock. Joseph murmured appreciative comments. Amanda impulsively took all of him into her mouth.
It was all hers. That was the best part.
There was a lot of penis. She expected to gag right away, but it was just warm and nice in her mouth, and it wasn’t a challenge to start to work it. Amanda inhaled through her nose, not that she had much choice, and was rewarded with a pleasant male musk. It was very Joseph, and it made her toes flex. This was a good decision, she could tell. Joseph certainly felt that way. Maybe eating all the baked goods had trained her jaw muscles, because she felt no discomfort at all, despite how much dick there was.
“Oh, damn,” Joseph said. He had his eyes wide open, and Amanda looked up into them. Her husband stared down at her, smiling faintly, while she sucked his cock. It felt very right. Her pussy was definitely warm and wet. Amanda had jacked off just once, waiting for him to come home, and had propositioned him right after dinner. She’d tried to work off the horny energy by making an involved dinner, and spent all of it squeezing her thighs together. Although involved, for Amanda, meant “boiling pasta”. And she’d somehow messed up dumping in tomato sauce. She’d need to work on that.
But back to his penis. Amanda reprimanded herself. It deserved her attention. How could she make a better home for it? Yes, she was fucking and sucking it a lot more in their new home. What else?
“Getting close,” Joseph warned her. She had trouble focusing on the comment. Yes? Of course he was about to come, she was sucking on it like a starving lady. Certainly a bunch of cum was about to spurt out, it’d be weird if it didn’t.
“Amanda. I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t do something,” Joseph said. His voice was urgent. It broke through. Right, cum in her mouth was… wrong. She vaguely recalled that. She didn’t like it for some reason. Amanda broke free, and then just had to give it one little last kiss on the tip of the bulbous, bright red thing. That led to her face getting soaked with sperm.
“Ugh. God I’m… I’m sorry,” he gasped, painting her white. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut just in time. Warm ejaculate splashed all over her. She giggled into it, and a bit of spooge fell right into her mouth. She surprised herself, again, by swishing it around calmly in her mouth. Not bad, really. Salty.
“No trouble,” she said, beaming. What a good wife she was being. And if she was thinking of a slightly different dick, that was something she could fix, over time.
“So what do you think of everything?” Joseph said, over beers and the farm report. The boys on the tube were discussing carrots. It wasn’t clear carrots were grown anywhere nearby, but the conversation was heated. “I know its a lot. The town and the apartment and the… everything. Are you getting city mouse vibes?”
“A bit,” Amanda said. She was NOT going to fuck him again that night, she had told herself. She was a lady of standards. While washing his cum off her face. But they were half-entangled on the couch and her temperature was still warm. “I had a weird thing at the bookstore. I ran into the Town Pastor.”
“Flynn?” Joseph said.
“So you know the guy.”
“He was at the facility today. He blessed it. In his shorts and a buttondown,” Joseph said. He shrugged. “The engineers already there acted like he was a big deal. They’re weird… have you seen the people in this town?”
“Yeah, they’re all…” Amanda searched for the right phrase. That wasn’t insulting. “They’re so GENDER. You know? Manly men, girly girls, baby babies.”
“Yeah! Yeah,” Joseph took a long pull from his beer bottle. He smelled like machinery, and it didn’t smell bad at all. A nice change after a day of sugar. “Anyway. Flynn seemed okay.”
“Yeah, well, I should’ve told him he was Lithgow in Footloose. Should’ve said it right to his face. You, sir, mister, are the PAST,” she gestured vaguely with a beer. It was some local brew, and it was getting her really drunk, really fast. “And I am the FUTURE.”
“Uh huh. So you’re not bored or anything? Make any friends?” Joseph said. He started to stroke her upper thigh. Amanda wore one of her old pairs of shorts, and was very aware of how taut they felt. She had to do something about her caloric intake.
“A few girls and I are hanging out,” she watched him rub her legs. This was going in the wrong direction. She had a to-do list she hadn’t touched, and ‘fuck your husband AGAIN’ wasn’t on it. “What are you boys doing out there, anyway?”
That made him stop. Joseph looked uncomfortable. He hadn’t shaved, and he had a delicious full black stubble. “Can’t really say, you know that,” he reprimanded her.
“We’re MARRIED,” she said. “You can tell me. Who am I gonna tell? I still can’t get cell reception.” She vaguely remembered resolving to do something about that. “You came on my face! What does that get me?”
“A sincere thank you,” Joseph said. She gave him a few playful kicks. Suddenly his hands were on her legs again. Oh, fuck it. She explored his waistband with her foot. How was it possible he was hard already? He’d spooged a pint on her face not an hour ago.
“I can make it worth your while,” she said, stroking as best she could.
Joseph seemed really conflicted. “You haven’t cum in wifey’s pussy tonight yet,” she crooned, softly. Where did that come from? She guided his fingers down towards her. Let him feel how wet she was. It was crazy. He didn’t resist at all.
At least her ploy worked. Her husband grinned. “Alright. I’ll tell you this much. I’ve never seen the kind of stuff they’re doing out there. It’s absolutely top of the line. Companies around the world are flying in. It’s crazy.”
Which told her.. What? But his fingers had already dug in between her legs, where she was wet and needy and wanting, and it was enough for now.
Amanda had found all the other girls. They were all of them at the pool. And as far as she could tell, they had no plans of ever leaving.
She didn’t really blame them. It was an extraordinarily nice pool, for an apartment complex. The water was an icy blue, and long, and deep. The far end held not one but two spas with fizzy water jets that seemed to be always on. There were two long rows of pool recliners, made out of some sort of warm wood, and nearly half were occupied by drowsy, lazy girls. Including her.
Amanda had woken up with big plans. True, she had given Joseph his good-morning fuck, but it had been brisk and enjoyable and reasonably quick. She had restrained her breakfast to just a few bowls of unbranded cheerios, coffee, a few growing-stale store donuts, and a few eggs. One banana. And then it was hardly nine and she was ready to get to work. A hearty morning of reading journals, responding to a backlog of e-mails, followed by a photography trip under the amber mid-morning sun.
By 11:00 she was exhausted at her desk. Her limbs felt wooden, and her jaw kept drooping open. Moving the mouse around on the computer desktop was a slog.
Most of the difficulty was getting the internet connection set up. The landline didn’t do anything at all. Her cellphone miraculously dialed support for the local provider, and she had spent an obnoxious hour dully following pointless instructions from a cornfed boy reading off a script. They’d managed to get a troubleshooting program downloaded and installed, and it had just made her screen spaz out and flicker. The phone connection hummed and buzzed away, until Amanda had realized she wasn’t even responding to the tech boy anymore. Just staring at her useless screen.
“Miss? Miss? Miss?” he kept repeating it with exemplary patience. She realized she’d been simply watching the screen for a good fifteen minutes.
“I gotta… I gotta go,” she had said, and hung up on him. So that was it for internet.
Amanda had gotten as far as the pool with her camera before collapsing, gratefully, onto a deck chair. The sun soothed her, as did the complimentary water bottles. She was way overdressed for the scene, in a light grey dress tied around her waist with a dark blue bow. Most of the girls were in bikinis, and the remainder tanned in very short shorts. They glowed under the sunlight, already a little more tan, their hair a bright burnished blonde.
She examined the other spouses. All of those in bikinis strutted around in total confidence that they were basically intended for a life of mid-day pool lingering. There was even one girl notably pregnant, nonetheless wearing a too-tiny bikini brief and way too small bra cups. A lot of the women were in need of larger bras—the bottoms of the cups were overflowing with boob. The ones in the pool serenely paddled away. They looked blissed out. The water was just slightly too blue, and Amanda frowned at it. Why was it… blue?
“Popcorn, miss?” a man said.
“Miss, miss, miss,” Amanda sighed. “I’m a miss to everyone in this town.” She reached for it anyway. She was ravenous. Her hand froze just before taking it.
She was being handed a bag of popcorn by a bulky man with a luxurious, dark beard. She’d seen his dick just recently, ruthlessly fucking the hell out of a large blonde.
Amanda dropped the popcorn. Cheese-dusted kernels scattered.
“I’ll get that,” the man said. He wore a polo with a nametag that read “Marshall”. Marshall. So the penis belonged to Marshall. Marshall’s dick had gotten into her dreams, last night.
“Thanks for the… uh… popcorn,” Amanda managed. She crossed her legs even more tightly. Marshall pushed around a cart overflowing with various goodies. Popcorn on top, cookies latched to the side in bags, water bottles on the bottom.
“Cookies as well? Gum? What does your heart desire?” Marshall said. He smiled at her.
Her heart desired? “Water. My heart desires water,” Amanda said, tightly. She conceded. “And more popcorn. I’m sorry about that.”
“We’re supposed to have the vending machines up here, but someone messed up,” Marshall said, handing her another bag. Of course the popcorn was very good. There was some sort of spice she couldn’t ID on top.
“Thanks..?” Amanda fished, looking at the goodie cart.
“Building management,” Marshall said.
“Thanks, building management,” Amanda said. Did midwestern building owners typically drown occupants in sweets? Did they all employ staff with big staffs?
“No trouble, Amanda,” Marshall said.
So he knew her name? Had he…? Amanda didn’t want to investigate it. The popcorn called to her. Hell, even the water wasn’t half bad. It was kinda sweet.
“We’re having a service at one, if you’d care to come,” Marshall said. “In the lobby.”
Ah-ha. In a way it was a relief. This was just a church thing, playing on a church’s greatest weapon, guilt. Amanda was extremely immune to that.
“Maybe,” she said, settling back. “I was thinking of going swimming.” Her eyes wandered down to Marshall’s pants. How did he hide the monster in there? It was the biggest cock she’d ever seen, and it had been even bigger in her dreams. Something to mention to Chloe and Justine. They were going to meet up for dinner in town.
“Swimming,” Marshall said. He looked at the pool. A momentary frown crossed his face. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
He moved along, nodding politely. The other girls called out to him, even the ones bobbing in the water. His cart was quickly stripped of nearly everything. Soon all the girls were simply sitting reclined in chairs, drying off, and staring at nothing, while they ate.
When she woke up the sun had started to go down. It shone full in her face. Amanda only slowly came back to her senses. She had the idea she could’ve lazed there, bathed in sunlight, until it was full dark. She felt sun-groggy, overly warm, and chugged a full water bottle that someone had thoughtfully put right next to her. She’d woken up because the girls were back in the pool and playing a spirited game of keep away with someone’s bikini top. Another blonde was in the middle, giggling, her bare boobs wobbling in the water. And she wasn’t the only one topless.
Amanda walked back upstairs, recriminating herself, through a sun haze she couldn’t shake. She had to pee fiercely. So an entire day more or less spent napping in the sun and failing with tech support, while her husband energetically bolted things together and was covered in manful grime.
It was already past four, and she had promised to meet the girls for dinner. She felt gross, inside and out, her body overtaxed from slumber and eating. It didn’t make a lot of sense. Even her lips felt swollen and thick.
Amanda walked into the bathroom to pee a river. She froze. The girl in the mirror had blonde streaks in her usually prim and reliable brown hair.