“I like the hair,” Justine said.
Amanda flushed. She was still a brunette, but not a very good one. The sunlight had done fast work bleaching her. She shrugged off the compliment and turned back to the menu.
“So the vegetarian option is… bread,” Chloe said, examining it.
“And butter,” the waiter said, helpfully. “And we have all kinds of vegetables on the side, which should be perfect for a vege—what you are. The thing you said that you are.”
“She makes a good point,” Justine said, tapping at the menu thoughtfully. “If you’re a vegetarian and they have carrots and brussel sprouts and asparagus AND broccoli, I don’t know if you can complain about the selection. That’s plenty of veggies. And a salad to start.”
“No salads, actually! Sorry!” the waiter said. Her nametag read “STACEY!!!” She wore a white tanktop that had steak juice on it, which might’ve been the idea. Most of her was given over to tits, which were the standard creamy white, excepting one little mole on top of the right boob.
“Bread it is,” Chloe said, resigned.
“I’ll have the Triple American American Burger,” Amanda said. How could she be starving again? The burger sounded like a joke from some novelty restaurant. Meat and cheese compounded with more meat and cheese. And why was she ordering it?
“Steak,” Justine ordered.
“What kind?” the waitress said. She wasn’t writing anything down, which worried Amanda. She didn’t even have a pad.
“Steak,” Justine reiterated. “Is that a problem?”
Stacey!!! shrugged. “Steak. And fries… and baked potatoes.. and more fries...… and butter… for the table. And our famous barbeque sauce. Wine?”
Chloe brightened. “What kind?”
“Oh. Well, okay. Wine. Wait, is there meat in it?”
Stacey thought about it. “Ummmmmmmmm. No. Pretty sure no.” Amanda searched her expression for a hint of kidding. Nothing came up.
They handed over their menus. Justine had found the place for them. She had gone up to a resident, in her words the “biggest fucker I could find,” and asked him for the nicest restaurant in town, and here they were.
“I’m kinda curious about the least nice restaurant,” Chloe said. She looked tired. Her curls kept falling into her face.
Once again Chloe and her had dressed a bit too alike, in low-cut button-ups with mild prints. Amanda wondered if Chloe’s shirt was as tight as hers. The top button felt stiff and strained. She’d worn a grey skirt, afraid to even try to put on taut jeans. And even Justine was looking more put-together—she’d shown up, surprisingly, in a grey tube top that was just as kind to her chest. All of them were showing cleavage.
“The Trough. Carbs. The Meat Bucket,” Justine mused.
“I would go to the Meat Bucket,” Amanda said. They were kind of in the Meat Bucket, except that the lights were dim, and there were candles on the tables. That was it for ambiance. It SMELLED like meat. Not dry-aged steakhouse wealth but just—meaty. Her mouth watered. She was so hungry.
Chloe sighed. “I’m sure the bread at the Meat Bucket is also good,” she said. She shook her hand at the restaurant, irritated. “This town is… hard.”
The other diners were the same big boys and big girls. This seemed to be the date night spot. It was hard to deny the romance in the air. It was all couples, dressed awkwardly in their church clothes, and with their faces up into each other’s eyes, if not tearing into large steaks. Boobs were being worn outwardly.
“The baked goods in town are excellent,” Chloe conceded. “I might’ve… gone back down to Vending Hall Valhalla. Vendhalla. Much of the afternoon. I might as well find ways to enjoy myself.”
Their glasses of wine appeared. They were some sort of rose, or at least, they were not white and not red.
“Girls, can we get real?” Justine swirled her glass.
Oh shit, here it was. Amanda knew what was coming. She kept catching herself twisting her bleached hair, and knew without looking she was catching the blonde locks. Her bra was tight on her chest.
“Matt has been…” Justine made a gesture with her fork that Amanda and Chloe both knew, immediately, stood for “extremely horny.” “Ever since we arrived. I just… it’s like he’s trying to push me into the bed. And it’s out of character for him. Not that we didn’t bang before. We had HOT sex. Pretty often. But c’mon. Like he’s trying to outdo all the bulls outside. Same with you two?“
Chloe and Amanda nodded, rapt. Oh yes.
“Me and Thomas have been… making love… like a LOT,” Chloe offered. “If that’s what you mean. Ever since we got here. Its been kinda.. animal-y, you know?”
“Is it a PROBLEM, Chloe?” Amanda said. She leaned forwards. Her new friend’s cheeks got extremely red.
“Well, I mean, actually…… no,” Chloe admitted. She looked at the cheap wooden table. “It’s just, I don’t know. I feel a little object-y. Thomas gets home and he just wants to bend me over before I can even ask how his day went. Like, what am I even doing here? Being his holes? We’re like, barely talking. We used to play music together and lately its just like… I’m his trumpet. His bimbo.”
It was a sexy word, and Amanda felt a little glow at it. There was something to that, deep inside of her. Her husband, hard at work, off in his world of machinery and men, and day-dreaming about his wet, ready wifey…
“I get that,” Amanda said. They paused while the waitress brought the wine glasses over. They had fingerprint smudges both inside and out, and the wine inside was a true pink. It was sweet like bubblegum.
“Oh, c’mon, look at us complaining about our loving husbands and the mysterious case of the too-much-sex,” Justine said. She downed her glass in one gulp. “We’re stretching our legs. This is what people do when they’re happy. They fuck. Steady income, steady work, fresh clean air, nothing else to do. Just remember about the birth control.”
Chloe’s eyes somehow drooped even lower. “Yeah… see… that’s the problem because... “ they both had to lean across the table to hear her. “He’s been hinting about… doing it in the.. anal region of the body.”
The girls considered this gravely. They had reached a crucial point in their friendship. Once you talked about ass-fucking you were basically each other’s besties forever.
“You can just say no,” Amanda suggested.
“But… I don’t… really…. Want to. Say no.”
Ah, well, there it was.
“Chloe, I am a veteran of ass sex and I am here to help,” Justine said. “Although it’s not really my thing. Lube up and go slow, there’s really nothing to it. Ass-fucking is 90% mental, 10% lubricant. And 10% a long shower afterwards.”
“That’s... the math is...“ the girls considered it. They were interrupted when a couple not too far away started to make out, somehow leaning all the way across the table to do it. The girl’s tits supported her as she craned her neck up.
“It’s just, girls, I get here and I settle in and I’m supposed to be looking into yoga classes and instead I’m giving serious thought to getting my butt plumbed out,” Chloe said, haplessly. “And I don’t think he means just once. I think he wants to get really involved with it. I kinda feel like it’s… bad.”
“I get it,” Amanda said. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been… spending a lot of time on my knees.”
“It’s a religious town,” Justine said, sipping wine. It was basically a juice box with alcohol in it. But very good.
“Yeah, thanks Justine, thanks. I’ve been getting a lot of protein, that’s what I mean. Like it was a reward thing before we got here. STRICTLY reward. Birthday and Anniversary. Twice a year.”
“So it really is religion,” Justine interrupted.
“Because of Easter and Christmas. Twice a year churchgoer.”
“Yes, I got the joke,” Amanda said. She paused. What had she been talking about? Cocksucking. “I’ve been blowing him at least once a day. Two is not out of… consideration. I brush my teeth and I think, can this cause cavities? Should I be flossing sperm out of my gums?”
“Yuck,” Chloe chimed in.
“THANKS, Chloe. I’m just starting to wonder if…” and Amanda was really about to complete an important thought, something that had bothered her, at the very back of her mind, for days, when a steak the size of a newspaper was plonked down in front of her. It had clearly been cooked entirely in rich butter, a pat of which was still slowly dissolving on top. The smell of char hit her in the face, with a meaty bomb after that. She stared at it. She had figured she hated steak. Amanda knew she hadn’t ordered one. Tubs of barbeque sauce of some earthy brown followed it. Chloe’s eyes were wide. She’d gotten one too.
“I didn’t… order… this…. steak.” she managed to finish. Her hand had already picked up her knife. Amanda judged it until she realized she was already sawing at her own. Primal, pre-civilized instincts appealed to her. She needed every ounce of that rich chunk of protein. Some man had gone out and killed it for her. The least she could do was get sleek and curvy on it. She took a bite. It had gotten slathered in barbeque at some point in the last thirty seconds. The first bite was a wave of salt and fat and meat. Justine had lowered her head, to get closer to the meat.
They ate in uncaring, savage silence. Neither of them even quite noticed the couple making out a few tables down, even when the girl climbed underneath the table to add to her proteins.
Amanda only came to with the check. It plonked down in the middle of the three of them. “When you’re ready!” the cheerful waitress said.
The city girls examined each other. Amanda’s blouse was spattered red. They all looked like lionesses at a kill. Justine had apparently given up on fork and knife and just ate steak with her hands.
“Well, geez,” Chloe said. She examined her empty plate with a dazed horror. “What time is it?”
“Oh, FUCK!” Amanda swore. Her phone was only useful as a clock, lately, and the time was late as hell. She opened her purse and tossed twenty dollar bills on the table. “I’ve got to go. I’m so sorry. Thanks for a good time doing whatever the hell that was.”
“Where the heck do you have to be?” Justine said. Her hair had come undone. Usually it resided in a claw behind her. Let loose, it tumbled to just above her boobs.
“I gotta go!” She’d noticed the closing time last time. Amanda strode outside, past the date night girl licking her lips, pleased, and outside.
The stars twinkled up overhead. She could always see them, out here in the country. The restaurant was only a block away from the bookstore. The Church was lit up with any number of floodlights, and there seemed to be music pumping from inside of it. The crowd out front was laughing and pressing back and forth, dressed in what looked for all the world like a farm town interpretation of club clothes. There was latex in it. Amanda rushed by, opened the door—thankfully open—and closed it behind her.
Beth was behind the counter. She had both hands between her legs, and her cheeks were bright pink. She snatched them up onto the wood as Amanda approached.
“Amanda?” she managed, in her squeak.
“Here,” Amanda whispered. She reached into her purse and handed over her own, personal, paperback copy of Sense and Sensibility. Beth looked at it, her eyes half-focused, and tried to get both eyes on it.
“Jane Austen,” she managed, eventually. It smelled very warm in the book store. Amanda wondered, guiltily, if she reeked of steaks. “I’ve heard of her!”
“I’ll come back soon to discuss. We’re starting the first book club in town,” Amanda said. She gave the flustered girl a big, conspiratorial wink, and slipped outside. Her pussy burned, but in a good, accomplished way. She was full of meat, had made new friends, and helped break the intellectual stranglehold on the town.
The only problem now was the I’m-Sorry blowjob she’d have to give her husband for spending the night out.
But that wasn’t really a problem. She’d skipped out on dessert, after all.
They spent most of Saturday having sex. It was the best day of Amanda’s life.
Amanda had woken up with more thorough plans, not that they were urgent enough to chase her out of bed. She was getting very used to lazy, slow awakenings. Back in the city she rose to the alarm clock, before dawn. She’d have breakfast where she knew, nearly to the exact amount, how many calories were involved. And then out the door before 7:30, to sit in a car.
In Calving she woke up and felt the sunlight beat on her. She could roll over and see the big, shaggy, supine figure of her husband, and admire every inch of his body. The thick tuft of his back hair, the shadows cast by the sun on his nice, big chest. Smell the linger scent of last night’s sex. She could look as long as she liked, savoring the warm feeling between her legs. Amanda was getting very in to him, in to having this amazing person that made her howl with pleasure so reliably. She knew how he tasted, how liked his eggs, how he moved his hips in just the right way when she was oh-so-close. Her man.
She’d had a very wild and intense dream, where they’d fucked in amazing ways, but all she could really recall of it was the fact he’d fucked her after building the crib.
Eventually she had quietly climbed out of bed, paddling into the bathroom, and faced up to her fear. A torrent of steaks and pastries and milk and wild caloric binges had flooded into her tits. They were very swollen. And not just her boobs, at least those were meant to absorb poor eating habits. Her hips had flared out, and as hard as her ass was trying, it was still meaningfully larger.
Her stomach dropped. It didn’t help that she was gnawing hungry yet again. Was this nesting? Some sort of evolutionary urge to take the happiness in life and grow sleek and chubby on it? Maybe even—her thighs quivered—think about maybe considering to start a... family?
Joseph clinched the day of sex when he slipped in behind her and cupped her tits. His hardon pressed into her butt.
“You look AMAZING,” he told her.
“I gained a little weight,” she told him. He was getting rougher with her tits, since they had arrived. She didn’t have to tell him how much she loved it. His dick poked at her ass.
“What? You look great,” he said, kissing her neck. “Look, I’ll tell you what, whatever calories you put in, I’ll fuck out of you.”
That earned him a blowjob right there in the bathroom. It wasn’t taking much, Amanda thought, to earn a hummer out of her. Minor compliments were doing it. Winks. Smiles. She sucked him with an eagerness that still surprised her. His cum was getting to be kind of a reward.
“You suck amazing too,” he said, and came in her mouth. There was no question of that part of it. She kept her lips wrapped around him as he squirted in her. It turned out there was a whole art to swallowing jizz. The key was to be entirely, totally, extremely passive.
After that the day was pretty much shot. After a quick breakfast of buttered toast, eggs two ways, three packets of blueberry muffins, coffee, and three cups of milk, Amanda found herself back in bed, watching his dick disappear between her legs. It was already, somehow, ten thirty in the morning. Every so often she could hear the distant scream of some other resident getting plugged. The weather was warm.
She could feel herself dissolving into a mildly brainless, time-free state, where the day would slide away. Her mind aloft on pretty pink clouds, punctuated by occasional orgasms. All she had to do was let Joseph handle her body, and push back against his dick. Amanda slid in and out of awareness to the rhythm of his cock, her body awash in his heat, the sun hot against her bigger tits.
She’d need new bras, for sure. That wouldn’t be a problem, given the tits in town. They probably had special stores, all the best in breast-lifting technology. She could go with Chloe and Justine, a lingerie trip with the girls, and exchange tips on anal play and cock-sucking. And why not see what other hot clothes she could find? Something shiny and tight to surprise Joseph with, show him she was more than a jeans-bound flat-ass city girl. A pink chemise, maybe some tight camis to highlight her assets.
Joseph grunted, bringing her mildly back to reality. He was about to cum. Amanda doubled her efforts and was rewarded with a happy salty squirt inside of her. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were in the shower, and he was riding her from behind. It was all very warm and comfortable. She exerted herself with lunch, sandwiches five different ways, if you counted different ways of cutting them, and then a post-lunch pre-nap blowjob.
She came to around 4:00. They were on the couch. Joseph had his feet up on a chair, casually playing with her pussy while he fiddled with the remote.
“What did you say?” Amanda managed. She wore one of his polo shirts, and nothing else. His fingers were in her up to the palm. It was hard to concentrate, but she had heard... something.
“That it’s fine if this is it, babe,” Joseph said.
“If…” why wasn’t her brain working? She fought to get it into gear. “What is it?”
“Ah, you know,” he gestured with his free hand to the one currently fingering her. “This. This is nice. And I’m making plenty of money. Plenty. So if this is what you want to do, you know, housewife it up. Condowife. That’s fine.”
Amanda drew herself up. A note of indignation cut through the sex haze. “What, me just sitting around waiting for you to come home?”
“Is that not the plan?” Joseph said, mildly. “That’s what it’s been so far, right? I’m saying you don’t need to, you know, get a job you don’t like or something like that.”
“I’m a PHOTOGRAPHER,” Amanda said. She knew she should get his hand out of her slit if they were really going to argue. But it felt so nice. “Do you think my goal is to sit around and get fat and drain your balls?”
Joseph looked at her carefully, his face composed. He hadn’t shaved, and his face was thick with whiskers. Finally he made a decision to have an argument. “So far.” he said.
Amanda pulled back until his wonderful, searching fingers were out of her. Her body groaned at it. Why was she doing this? They were having such a nice lazy couple day. Another part of her was starting to wonder… what was going on with her? She didn’t even remember Joseph putting his fingers up her cunt. She should’ve remembered that. A note of fear broke through. What was going on?
“I quit my job to come here, with you, to nowhere, and we’ve been here what, three days?”
Six? “And now you want me to be your apron-wearing balls-drainer? You think that’s what I WANT?”
“You’re doing a great job of it.” he said, still mildly. He scratched at his chin. He wore boxer shorts and one of his polo shirts, and it was taut-tight over the arc of his chest. He looked like a man who hit the gym. “That’s all I mean. I was just saying—I support whatever you want.”
“I’m sure you support me sucking you dry all the time,” Amanda said. She stood up. Her legs were wobbly. She was aware of how many parts of her were sticky. “There’s nothing else to DO here but YOU. Where’s the cell service? Internet? I’m BORED.”
“Are you?” Joseph sat backwards on a chair. It smelled like sex fug wherever Amanda walked. Her pussy felt hot, aroused, and her anger wasn’t making it go away. It was getting dark out. Where the hell had the day gone? Her tits felt heavy. All of her felt heavy. “Maybe you can start actually cooking dinner, then. And cleaning. Or go out and get a job. Why are you mad? I’m telling you you can do whatever you want.”
Why WAS she mad? So much of Amanda wanted to just go back to the couch, get her pussy played with. She tried to hold on to the indignation. And it was hard to meet her husband’s eyes, especially with that stubble and with those big manly arms crossed. She wanted to apologize, right away, apology blowjob inevitable.
“I’m just… I’m going to do some photography tomorrow. And go get a job. I met someone at the book store.” It didn’t seem likely Beth needed help, but why not?
“Fine,” Joseph said. “Great.”
“I just don’t want you throwing me being so nice to you in my face.”
“And I want you to get me cell service!”
“Fine. We’re working on it. What do you want to do for dinner? You unwrap something or you microwave something?”
Oh, that was it. Amanda stalked into the bathroom. She ignored the ripped pair of panties in the corner, apparently torn apart at some point. Her thighs were still wet. Didn’t it fucking figure with all men. Give them a blowjob and they’d expect one at the same time, every day. Open your legs and they wanted your ass. What they wanted, more than anything else, was holes to stick it in.
Her holes were telling her that that was okay.
Amanda struggled with a bra. It didn’t fit even a little. Could she really have gotten THAT much bigger? Her boobs were squishing out on all sides, and she couldn’t get the straps done. The t-shirt she put on pooched and tented around her cleavage. Her hair was unabashedly lighter, bleached by the sun, and she suspected she had jizz in it. The fly on her jeans would not close, and she had to hop around the bathroom to even get her comfy pair up over her ass. Panic was setting in. How had she gotten so much curvier in three—no, six days? How the hell was it six days?
Joseph appeared in the doorway. He examined her. “Amanda, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what we’re fighting about but I’m sorry.”
“You just want make-up sex,” Amanda said. Hot, angry make up sex. She could picture it—fierce, passionate. She’d probably rake his back with her nails. No, he’d fuck her from behind, not even looking at each other, just two sets of bodies using each other. She shook her head. Why wouldn’t her fucking FLY close?
“Lets just leave,” she said, abruptly. She put her arms around him. He immediately went to cup her ass. He smelled like boy musk, and it was starting to cloud her again. “We’ll go. Get out of here. I don’t like this town, right? It’s just.. It’s just getting to me. We’ll run down to the car right now and we’ll get in and we’ll drive and then we’ll be back where we belong and we’ll have sex twice a week at most and it’ll be just okay and…” she was babbling.
“Is that really what you want?” Joseph said. He had deep, bushy eyebrows. His cock pushed at her. She started to force her lips to say “yes” when there was a knock at the door.
“Did you two have a delivery?” someone shouted, from behind it.
Joseph released her butt, went to answer it. Marshall stood there, in a work shirt and a cap, holding up a heavy plastic bag full to bursting with packed styrofoam. “Chinese? It looks like? Delivery guy wasn’t quite sure.”
“Uhhh,” Joseph said. The tang of soy sauce hit them both. Amanda was so hungry. Starving. Angry hungry. It didn’t occur to her to cover up. Marshall appraised her body. That was fine. They could leave after they ate. “Right. It’s for us. Thanks.”
“No problem” Marshall said. Joseph took the bag. It was so heavy with salt, barbeque, everything. It filled the entire room, neatly complimenting the reek of sex. The hungry couple circled around it, on the table. It failed to occur to her they hadn’t paid for anything. Joseph must’ve ordered it. Maybe she did need to cook more. That explained her taut pants, after all.
Halfway through dinner, heads down, slurping and chomping, Joseph’s foot found its way between Amanda’s legs, and started to grind. She couldn’t think why not to let it. Both of the fortune cookies read “and baby makes three, to start,” but they were too busy fucking to do any reading.
Calving had an entire street dedicated entirely to girl clothes, and it was amazing. The girls had filled Justine’s car with outfits.
It was also very comforting, hanging out with the ladies.
First, because, despite her expanded cup size and bigger butt, it was clear that Amanda had nothing on what was happening to Chloe. Chloe had broke out in severe curves. She seemed to be actually off balance, the new weights all over her chest making her teeter as she walked. Although that might’ve been the heels they’d talked her into buying.
Apparently she had previously rarely needed a bra at all, and now had filled in two teardrops that reached to mid-chest. Her thighs had gone from slender runner’s legs to substantial, her butt adding a noticeable waggle. She walked around with a confused expression, a slender girl transported, in just a week, to thicc.
They had made it into a gag, Chloe’s tits telling her what to do, what to buy, how to act. “Chloe, your boobs need these,” Justine said, holding up a cami with rhinestones on it. Chloe had shrugged, mock-helpless. “If they say so,” she had said. She blushed continuously. “Okay, boobs.”
Chloe had even brought snacks with her, unabashedly snacking on beef jerky. “I don’t think it’s possible to be a vegetarian in this town,” she had explained. “I think it makes the local god angry. Like the food chain is super powerful here. You gotta be at the top, it’s just how things work?” She mentioned maybe going back for steaks. “I went with my husband last night,” she explained. She had a healthy glow about her.
Second, because, despite her revved-up sex drive, it was clear Amanda had nothing on Justine. Justine and Matt had evidently fucked their way through the condo, then out into the hallway, down through the lobby complex and the basement.
“I swear to god his dick is bigger,” Justine had told them. She mimed a truly monster cock with her hands, like a sculptor. “Its like… primal. I feel like there’s my husband, Matthew, and then there’s this thing he’s attached to that frankly I can’t get enough of. The dick might end up bigger then him when its all done. I might put the wedding ring on the dick. Or some sort of ring.” They’d done it, per Justine, more or less all the time. “I was thirsty and I didn’t feel like, you know, NOT having sex. So I had him carry me into the bathroom, I drank some water, and then he carried me back to the bed. That’s efficient. I think if I shook my pussy a gallon of STUFF would flood out.”
It was naughty, fun, exciting. Amanda held back on a few things, anxiety still somewhere deep inside of her. It just seemed… wrong… to share that she’d waited patiently by the side of the bed, on her knees, for a good twenty minutes while Joseph slept, so she could blow him right away. The way she’d spent that morning watching Farm Report mostly naked, diddling herself, eating frosted donuts.
But the girls seemed so PLEASED that she just didn’t feel like sharing any nagging worries. Like, “Chloe, isn’t it weird you’ve doubled in size in like a week?” “Justine, shouldn’t you be a teensy-bit sore?” Shouldn’t all of them feel odd about shaking sizable new asses down the sidewalk? But why wipe the smiles off her new friend’s faces?
“Cowboy hats?” Justine suggested. “We gotta do it, right? We gotta have matching cowboy hats.”
“Pass,” Amanda said.
“They’re PINK,” Justine said. “PINK COWBOY HATS! It’s like this place in a NUTSHELL!”
“We’re all out of here once the project is over,” Amanda said. She had consoled herself with that, the next morning. Guiltily confronting the evidence of an entire lost weekend. She’d filled three trash bags with empty food containers and bras that didn’t fit right anymore. Somehow she’d burst apart four pairs of panties. They were all sodden with sex fluids. “Joseph says it’ll be a month, tops.”
“I mean… we’ve talked about staying a bit afterwards,” Chloe said. She coughed, embarrassed to concede it. “We’re making really good money.”
“I’m leaving as soon as the project wraps,” Justine said, “along with my awesome NEW pink cowboy hat that I ALONE will have.”
“What are the boys up to, anyway?” Amanda said. It was an ongoing irritant that Joseph wouldn’t say. She was only able to extract tantalizing tidbits by vigorously sucking on his penis, and they were still weirdly nonspecific. “Some really revolutionary stuff” or “it’s pretty unusual, believe me.”
“Laying pipe,” Chloe said. It was a very non-Chloe remark, and they all laughed at it. She had switched to a bag of potato chips, unbranded per usual, and was shoving fist fulls into her mouth. Her mouth even looked a little bigger. Or maybe just her lips.
“Putting up poles,” Justine tried. “No. Uh… Pumps. Putting in new pumps! There. I made a good joke.”
“Making new prototypes,” Amanda said. That got a mild cringe. “What? I hope you girls are taking your birth control, because you better.”
“I skipped a day by accident,” Chloe said. She blushed, again. “Probably shouldn’t do that.”
“You’re putting everything else in your mouth, you can’t manage a pill?” Justine said. Amanda tensed, but Chloe just giggled. It was hard to be mean to each other. Everything was just so giggle.
They were in one of the many boutiques, all of which seemed to sell basically the same gear. Ample material at cheap prices, more or less shiny, with plenty of room in the seat or the chest. Roughly divided into faux-yoga gear on one side, faux-western on the other, with a very few dedicated to minis and short skirts and little dresses. There was a massive shoe store overlooking all of it that they were nerving up for. It was going to be a massacre.
The other girls in town helped with the cheerful mood. Everyone was so happy. Blonde, chesty, and positive. It was all smiles and boy-free. Lots of the girls were simply trying on new stuff on the shop floor, their oversized mounds bouncing around. Strollers abounded. Amanda caught herself making note of the brands.
“Lets take a break, girls,” Chloe said. “I kinda… I’m almost over on my allowance.”
“Allowance? Really?” Amanda said. She giggled. Chloe was frowning. So she was serious. “Oh.”
“I mean… I’m not bringing in any money… and I know its not very feminist of me but… if he makes the money he should say how to spend it. We had a… we had a talk.” Chloe looked at the ground.
Amanda opened her mouth, then didn’t say anything. That was getting to be a real habit.
“Lets get some more snacks,” she said, instead.
She’d never, ever, ever worn these kinds of clothes before. Short cutoff jean shorts, real short. She could feel the denim working its way around the bottom curve of her butt. Amanda could sense it was going to be a long-term battle. She’d have to start doing some crunches or risk spillage. The top wasn’t full cowgirl but it wasn’t far away, a white ruffled blouse with short sleeves. Justine had worn her pink hat out of the store, pure and unabashed short asian girl western, packed into a red gingham shirt. Chloe was sticking with lycra. It made sense—they all felt like she still had plenty of growing still to do.
“I’m grabbing a cart,” Amanda said. They were at the supermarket. No one had said anything. They were just girls who liked to eat. “I kinda need to start getting serious about cooking.” She’d been chewing on Joseph’s complaints and had come to an uneasy feeling that he was right. There was gonna have to be a little housewife in her, if she could be found. The plan was to start with meat and potatoes and see how that went. Boys liked steaks, she felt sure of that.
All three of them grabbed carts. They cruised down the aisles, silent, all types of high-carb items tumbling in. The largest boxes of cereal. Chloe simply destroyed the snack aisle. The other two walked behind her, letting her have first dibs on the most delicious puffs and popcorns and chips. She deserved it.
Hiram was there, the boy from… however many days ago it had been. Still adorable and young and solemn. He gave her a nod. When all three girls appeared at the front, carts piled high with sweets, he simply started to scan them without comment.
“Chloe, I can help you with your allowance,” Justine stage-whispered.
“What? How?” Chloe hadn’t been able to stop herself, and was already eating almond bear claws.
“Flash him what?” Chloe said.
Justine rolled her eyes. “Your boobs, sweetie. Girl discount. Easily fifteen percent off. Maybe even twenty, since its YOU.”
“Uh, I don’t…” Amanda started. She was first in line. The price register was starting to rack up precipitously. Steaks turned out to be expensive. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Here, I’ll help.” Justine sidled up behind Chloe and flipped her shirt up. Two plump tits fell out. They were creamy, fresh, and new.
Hiram blinked at them. He didn’t seem particularly impressed. Chloe gave a quick gasp and then didn’t say anything. They all watched the boy looking at her boobs. “Those are her husbands,” Amanda thought, automatically.
“Was that for the discount?” Hiram said, eventually, evenly.
Even Justine seemed unsure at the lack of reaction. “Uhhhhhh. Yes. The discount.”
“Three percent!” Justine was offended on behalf of Chloe, who was pure crimson embarrassment. “Did you see them?”
“Store policy, miss. Three percent for tits, five for pussy, ten for a blowjob, except that’s only once a week. And honestly I’m married so I’m not accepting blowjobs at this time.”
He said all that with perfect sincerity. The girls were speechless.
“You’re married?” Amanda said, eventually, for the sake of saying something. “You’re… you’re like seventeen.”
“Eighteen,” Hiram said, mildly reproving. She flushed even redder. His control of the situation, and total unflappability, was having an effect on her. Or maybe it was the way her shorts dug into her pussy. “My wife is Beth? She met you I think? She mentioned you came by the store that sells books?”
‘Oh! Beth!” Beth was married? Beth, also, had to be maybe eighteen. Farm country. “Beth is great, she’s coming to our Book Club.”
Hiram looked concerned for the first time. “Yeah…. I’d appreciate you keeping that quiet. I mean I support her and all that. It’s just... “ he trailed off, shook his head, and returned to scanning groceries.
“Justine, you can put my shirt down now,” Chloe whispered. “I got the discount, thanks.”