Mayflower Foods
Day Two
When Jane woke up sunlight spilled through open blinds as fingers still twitched inside her. She felt truly calm in the new space. She drifted to the bathroom, naked and stretching through a yawn. A place of my own!
She hadn’t cum in ages she reasoned. With all the worry and stress of looking for a job, going through a recent breakup, bills. She had a little security now, and a place that was all hers. She was... adjusting. The body’s response to a months-long flood of cortisol finally evaporating.
Sometimes you don’t know how tense you are until you can actually relax. Pink static surfaced again as she hopped in the shower, warm water spilling over her body. She scrubbed every part of herself, fingers brushing against her nipples and her hard, needy clit. It was nestled in a thickened batch of soft hair. Huh, I just trimmed yesterday. But there it was, inch-long curly hairs plastered against her thighs in the hot water.
She got off again without even trying, and then went back to scrubbing with a light giggle. They had thrown in complimentary shampoo and body wash. Even some makeup samples! What gems!
She’d never been a lipstick kinda girl. She always felt like an imposter playing dress up whenever she wore makeup. But thoughts of Suzy kept surfacing in her head. Just how…together she looked. Those ruby red lips that never fully closed… Jane uncapped the sample lipstick. Bright red. Just like Suzy. She applied it, then did it again. But it didn’t look right on her thin lips- two awkward red lines in the middle of an ordinary face. Maybe look up some tutorials later? You work in a damn warehouse Jane. She wiped it off with a slight pout.
Not one bra seemed to fit her. She lifted up her right breast to inspect it more clinically than she had during her little self-pleasure sessions. Lightly tanned skin spilled over her cupped palm with dark red nipples poking out, eraser thick. Breasts that had been B Cups just yesterday jutted outward on her slim frame. “Oof. Ok, we’ll put a pin in that.”
Her jeans were conspiring against her too, taking several yanks and tugs to finally fit over her thighs and butt. Her straight fits looked practically painted on. There was that tendril of fear again. She took in her surroundings for the first time, really. All of her blinds were open in her first floor apartment, and she was standing there half-naked for anyone who passed by to see.
Jane rushed back to the bathroom to examine herself. The pinkish haze was gone, and the girl in the mirror was just a bit… fuller than she was used to. Fuller breasts, fuller nipples, fuller thighs, fuller… were her lips a little swollen too? What the fuck. She leaned in to inspect, terror swelling, before an insistent knock rang out from her front door.
“Heya Jane! It’s Elle! Still wanna grab some breakfast? We have a few hours before shift.”
Jane rushed back to the bedroom, regarding her bras briefly before throwing on a t-shirt and an unbuttoned flannel over it. It’d do in a pinch. She looked at those glossy red and blues all hanging in her closet, calling to her.
She opened the door. Elle. Her mind settled a little. The dormant pink-red sparkles percolated again. “Hey Elle! Yeah I’m down! Where you wanna go?”
“Haha, the only place there is to go? Wanna check out that podunk diner? Paul’s sleeping in I guess, so it’s just us. ”
Jane’s heart sank and fluttered at the same time. She was starving.
Elle examined the greasy spoon diner behind a scratched pair of aviators. All Jane could focus on were the smells coming out of the kitchen. She didn’t register the dirty floor or all the faded Americana on display. Digby’s (Under New Management!) was decked out with things like road signs for Route 66, even though they were nowhere near it. A wooden statue of a Native American man stood watch outside, glaring at empty storefronts with “Coming soon, from Mayflower!” signs posted in the windows.
A waitress, Carrie, blonde and cleavage bulging out of a mock 50’s waitress uniform, put her hand on one hip and waved with the other. “Oh howdy y’all, welcome to Digby’s! Newcomers I see! Just the two of ya?”
Elle choked a little. “Uh, yeah y’all. Just two.”
Carrie seated them in a high-walled corner booth, dropped two dusty tomes in front of them and called them menus. Jane’s stomach gurgled, daunted by the 20+ pages of food items. “Uhm, excuse me miss? Can you recommend anything?”
“Well what’re ya in the mood for darlin’?”
The woman was so nice, with her kind blue eyes. Her cleavage formed a chasm as she bent over to talk to the girl. Something about her was comforting. Smelled like… Jane sniffed. Whipped Cream and Cherries.
“Uhm.” Her stomach gurgled again. She smelled bacon too. “Meat. Lots of it?” Her eyes caught a glimmering, vintage milkshake-maker behind the counter. “And a vanilla shake?”
“Meat Lover’s Platter and a Vanilla Shake! Got it, sweetie. And you, dear?” Elle was staring mouth agape at the waitress’s cleavage, and at her new friend.
“Couple eggs, sunny side up, and some hash browns. Black coffee, thanks.” Flat syllables from thin lips.
The waitress frowned a little before shrugging. “You got it, sug’.”
Elle turned back to Jane as the waitress left. “Holy cow. Literally. She looks like she stepped off the set of a porno.”
“What, she seemed nice? Don’t get all slut-shamey on me now!” Jane winked sarcastically in her In Rainbows t-shirt.
Elle studied her, pulling off her sunglasses and revealing dark bags under her eyes. “Hey so… you ok? Are you picking up on some weird vibes here or is it just me?”
That cold fear again, doing battle with the grease and sugar colliding in the air. “I mean. I guess? I don’t know how to explain it but—” Jane leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’ve been like, really… randy. Ever since I got here. Everything just feels extra, you know?”
“Yeah I do know. You kinda kept me up last night. Sorta thin walls I think...”
“Oh fuck, I’m sorry Eliie.”
“It’s Elle—”
“I honestly don’t know what came over me. I’m not like that… ever. Sex drive is pretty low, usually. Jesus, I hardly know you and I’m telling you about—” Jane sighed. She felt scattered. The cook was frying sausage. “I… went through a lot before I came here. Bad breakup, racked up debt, couldn’t find work. I think it just… sent my stress levels into overdrive, ya know? Got to be the new normal. And now I can kinda…”
“Breathe a little?” Elle leaned in closer.
“Yeah.” Jane smiled at the girl, relieved. She remembered how their thighs had touched. “What about you? Noticing anything… weird?”
“Haha, all of it Jane. Just… all of it. I’ve been especially… swoony too. My libido feels all—” She stopped herself. “I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ve worked jobs like this before, but yesterday is like a total blur? That orientation? I can’t quite place any of it.” She let the words spill out in measured, hushed tones. “But I need this fucking job. I guess we both do. Kind of a last chance for me and Paul.”
“Same for me.“ Jane reached across the table and took her hand. Their eyes met. “I say we just… take it as it comes. We’re in the same boat. New weirdo town, new weirdo company. Really glad I met you guys though. Makes all of this a little less strange.” There was a small charge in that moment, and for the first time since she’d met her Elle smiled instead of giving her standard mirthless chuckle. Was she always this prett-
Carrie placed down two mammoth milkshakes in front of each of the girls in tall, frosted glasses. Janey had practically dove for it and shook off her flannel. Elle just grimaced.
“Uh hey, I didn’t ask for this. Just black coffee, thanks.” She slid the glass back over to the waitress.
“Dear, it’s complimentary! Just the Garrison way!” Carrie roughly slid the glass right under Elle’s nose, the whipped cream swirl centimeters away. “Enjoy you two!”
“Ugh, well it does smell good. Whoa, Jane! No bra for you either huh? I can see your uh—”
Turgid nipples poked against the band t-shirt. She just arched an eyebrow, shrugged, and went back to demolishing the milkshake. Elle watched her, cheeks turning red, and bent down to do the same. It was the best milkshake either of them had ever tasted.
Jane had inhaled 5 strips of bacon, 3 sausage patties, 2 eggs, hashbrowns and a tri-tip steak before returning to her second milkshake. Something about the dirtiness of it thrilled her-letting herself enjoy something she’d long denied herself. Why had she denied herself anything? She felt so good. SO powerful and hot. She savored the way her teeth tore at the meat.
Elle was destroying a meat platter herself; one she’d never ordered. “It’s the Garrison way!” Carrie had said. Elle hadn’t protested, and just silently began to chew and swallow.
Carrie brought over another round of milkshakes, cherry this time, that the two hadn’t asked for. Elle grabbed it and began drinking, half-lidded. God, she’s so… beautiful. Familiar. That was when Jane had started to get really wet. She drip, drip, dripped all over the seat, and lowered her mouth to the straw. Her eyes took in Elle’s features: her chin, her long neck, her black hair that swept over porcelain skin.
Cherry red static buzzed in her head and swam on her palate, urging her forward. She gently guided her foot up Elle’s thin alabaster thigh until it landed at her zipper. Elle’s eyes popped open wide for a moment, and then she just softly moaned and chewed, rocking her hips against it. “Mmm, that’s… fuck.” Elle’s gaze met hers with undisguised need, fattening lips parting to snarl and moan.
“You’re like, so pretty Ellie.” Jane shoved her hand into her own soaked jeans, shuddering in time with her new dance partner. Carrie walked by and smiled at the pair, lifted Jane’s shirt then casually squeezed one of her breasts, thumbing at silver dollar nipples she didn’t have an hour ago. Mmm she’s like, so pretty too. Static and sparkles. Whipped cream and cherries. Pussy and cock. That’s all she could think about. All there was was this.
“Aw sug’ you’re gonna fit right in here. Just need ta find you a nice bull and get bred. Wouldn’t you like that hon’? Your hips are comin’ in real nice.” Janey let out a whimper with her fingers still deep in her gushing sex. Carrie let go of her breast and moved to lift Elle’s shirt, but the girl summoned the wherewithal to turn away with a whine of dissent.
Carrie frowned again at the rebellious Elle. “But your friend has a lotta work to do.” She leaned into Janey’s ear and whispered. “Darlin’ you’re welcome here any ’ole time. This one’s on the house.” And then left. The two gritted their teeth through woozy orgasms together, eye contact never breaking.
If either of them had been conscious enough they would have heard the cook. “Damn Carrie, a little brazen, don’t ya think?”
“Aw those two were so far under that they won’t remember this in 10 minutes. Just givin’ em a head start.”
The girls exited the diner after an hour, miraculously. Elle grumbled as Janey hung on her arm, dazed, the flannel forgotten. Two heavier breasts swayed unrestrained, lifting her shirt enough that a couple inches of midriff showed. They made it to her car and sat in silence, breathing each other in.
“Fuck I think I needed that. Wanna like, do that again sometime?” Janey’s voice was higher, escaping with a breathy, musical resonance. She regarded Elle, who was frowning behind her aviators.
“Jane, I don’t even know- did we? You mean breakfast?” Elle turned to her, greeted with two bright, hungry eyes. It relaxed her, being around Janey. She wasn’t sure why.
Janey stroked her arm. “It’s good to just let loose sometimes huh Ellie?”
“It’s just Ell—”
Janey put a finger to the girl’s lips and ran it back and forth. Elle really thought about closing her lips around it, then did. “Just like, treat yourself? Mmm. You deserve it. We both do.” Elle had her hand on Janey’s thigh, kneading at soft flesh. All of her was soft. Safe. Warm. A radiating heat stirred in both of them; a primal connection explored in soft, shallow breaths.
“Jane, I’d never uh, with a girl, uhm—” Their faces moved closer.
“Me neither. But with you it-mmm- feels so—” Closer.
“Fucking right.”
A blonde, pregnant trio walked by the car in matching blue tie-top shirts right as their lips were about to meet, bellies exposed to the country air. They giggled and mock-pouted at the skinny girls in the car, and kept moving. The two just stopped and stared, watching impossible asses bounce under too-short skirts until they disappeared around the corner.
Mayflower Foods had positive vibes to spare on the second day. Half the women were braless, struggling with underwear that just didn’t fit. The men were practically saran-wrapped in tightening t-shirts. Happy workers filed out of the break room with bright smiles. Except for Paul.
Elle and Janey found him standing in the breakroom haunted and drenched in sweat. Janey could smell him before she saw him. His tingly musk had notes of pine and frustration that drew her closer, like a tractor beam. The soaked shirt was clinging to new pecs and delts that hadn’t been there yesterday. I wonder if he could like, lift me up suuuper easy.
“Fuck, Elle. Did you forget? I had to run here. It’s like 90 degrees outside.”
Janey looked at Elle while she stammered, biting her lip. She was softer looking. The hem on her shorts was leaving red indentations on white thighs. Gosh, she’s so cute. The both of them are. She decided to help.
“Heyyy Paul, sorry that was my fault. I um, had an emergency and Ellie offered to help me out!”
“Ellie? Sorry what’s going on? Why do you two look so…” Paul’s eyes finally settled on Janey’s chest, and she tilted it towards him, before placing her hand on his back and gently escorting him away.
“C’mon Paul, we gotta get to Ship Dock. Wanna walk with me?” She flashed him a smile, and leaned just a little closer. She was wet again. Just a wet girl these days. She waved goodbye to Elle.
Diane Caldwell rested her hands on the back of an empty swivel chair in the Pit, clean lines and a short bob glowering in a pantsuit. The receptivity of the new hires was promising: the grid of screens showed new muscles, heightened arousal, and steadily ramping productivity. All on schedule. The women wouldn’t realize it until later, but they were all sporting hair a few shades more sunkissed than yesterday. Denny poked his head in the door, as he did multiple times a day, to shout “Woo! Go Team!” before making a quick exit.
“Denny, hold on.” He frowned at the woman. She’d been instrumental in making his stupid dream workable, but her voice always carried a mild shred of dismissive contempt when she said his name. He was technically her boss, right?
“Yeah Diane, what is it? Heyyy Lonnyyy! Wassup!” His attention scattered around the room like a cat following a laser pointer.
“I’m still Reynold, sir.”
Diane snapped her fingers. “Denny, been meaning to ask. Why is your ex-wife’s picture hanging on the wall?” An 18″×24″ blonde glared at them all with dim blue eyes, grinning while the flow of A/C warped her face.
Denny’s eyes darted to it, pretending to act dumbfounded. “Whoaaa, haha which one of you jokers put that up?”
Reynold swiveled to face him. “You did sir. You tacked it up weeks ago and shouted ‘This is the benchmark!’ then walked away.”
“Oh Denny. C’mon. You modeled the end goal on your ex? I was wondering why they were all turning out blonde and blue-eyed.” Diane turned to him. “I get the Southern accent. It tests well and people find it trustworthy. The breasts, the hips, the pheromone overdrive? All helps the females get bred so the men can get back to work. But the hair and the eyes? Because you miss your trophy wife? That’s really creepy Denny.”
Denny moved to straighten out a tie that wasn’t there, puffing out his chest like an overgrown rooster. “Uh, firstly Diane, that’s just guy shit. You wouldn’t understand the subtle inner-workings of the male libido. Secondly, and I hate to break it to ya, but we passed the rubicon on creepy the minute we decided to create a literal new breed of worker and mutated a whole town. You should know. Your sciencey shit made it happen.”
He’d almost accidentally made a good point near the end there, but still. “Yeah, they all signed contracts, though. Your wife divorced you and moved to Palo Alto.” They were really pushing the limits on legal gray areas, even for a conglomerate. All kinds of horrifying things were in that employment agreement, which none of the new hires read. They never did. “ Reynold, take the poster down and keep it down, please.”
On one of the screens a mousy girl howled out an orgasm behind an industrial trash bin. “Fuck, we’re all going to get fired, aren’t we?” Diane muttered it to herself while Denny pouted out the door.
Paul was hard as hell almost all day. Janey kept eyeing the thick rod trapped behind those skinny jeans. Swelling quads and calves were testing the denim.
She felt his eyes on her. On her tits, on her ass- now firm and getting rounder- everywhere. She found herself bending over, or leaning in. It was a different smell than the girls had. Sharper, muskier, more urgent. A deep want unfurled in her every time she got a hit of it, and then she would close her eyes and let out little pleased gasps. Chris called the boy away eventually, leaving Janey in a haze, brow pinched. Fuck I need to cum.
Another aroma, like subtle lavender. “Looks like we’re gonna be work buddies today”, Lucinda drawled. Her dirty blonde hair was laid out in neat curls against a cute red flannel top that she’d tied under her bust, lips and blush expertly applied. They both watched Paul saunter off, muscling heavy boxes off of a pallet while Chris cheered him on, fist pumping in the air.
“So you fuckin’ that guy or what?”
Janey sighed, longingly. “God, I wanna.” She put her hand to her mouth, then started laughing. “Oof, that’s the second time I overshared today!”
Paul unloaded the heavy pallet with extraordinary speed, and let out a celebratory “FUCK YEAH!” while flexing. Him and Chris hi-fived. Pumped triceps glistened.
“Hey girl, nothin’ wrong with it. It’s natural! He’s quite a specimen isn’t he? Hell, they all are.”
Janey regarded the other men for the first time, divorced from her proximity to Paul. They were all giving it off. Even Greg, the kid, was looking bigger; his medium sized t-shirt was painted on. And Chris. How had she never noticed? He towered over all of them. Every bearded, jumped-up inch of him. Both girls sighed.
“But that Paul? Mmm. I’d lock him down fast, girly. There’s… a lot of competition. You’re lucky ya have the biggest tits here.”
Janey looked down, suddenly aware of the new mass on her chest. She hefted a tit and gasped looking at the other girls. I’m the biggest one. “Well, you’d best stay away from him then.” She said it with a directness that surprised her, staring Lucinda down. Angry, territorial heat prickled on her skin, and the other girl lowered her eyes and dripped.
Where’d that come from?
Polly Nguyen was cumming in the middle of the warehouse floor. She knelt in the middle of shift on that second day, taking cover behind a large cardboard container where plastic packaging and corrugate spilled out over the top, and braced herself as an orgasm burst deep inside of her. It sent shockwaves through her spine, making her appendages clench and quiver, and undid every effort to at least keep it discreet.
She howled and moaned, louder for having tried to suppress it, a feminine clarion call of pleasure that surfaced above the racing conveyor belts and whir of box crushers. She hadn’t touched herself. Just knelt down and came. Her vision was bleary in the afterglow, forming a tunnel that stretched before her displaying only concrete, painted lines, and high ceilings laced with a gutwork of pipes and vents.
Polly had been here on assignment covering the corporate abuses beat for an online leftist outlet. Every source she had told her to stay away from the new building offering employee housing and free food. All of that coming from a company that rated low in worker satisfaction, high in union busting, and downright dubious in its environmental record. Her nose told her there was a story there; a pricking instinct that prodded her to apply and slip undercover in the new state of the art facility. She had determined to find the truth about Mayflower, whatever the cost.
And now, on the second day, she’d just bellowed out a loud cum in full view of the overhead cameras. She had seen a boy use a single beefy arm to jack a pallet, felt a demanding, consuming heat, and darted to the nearest hideout she could find. She hadn’t taken notes on that first day. Instead she took 3rd and 4th helpings of cafeteria food she knew to be unethically manufactured, and shoved it all into her mouth rapturously.
On Day 2 her pants didn’t fit. It had all gone to her ass. A single day of overeating and her butt swelled up and out in a curvy bell shape. In the mirror she gasped, running fingers over the silky soft half-moon of each cheek, transfixed by how it jiggled and bounced with each tiny step she took. She sat on new padding now, legs splayed out, while a small pool of her juices began to collect on concrete. So there is a story here. The story is Polly needs to see a fucking doctor because this is starting to feel like a medical condition.
A man some 100 feet away flexed while thick girls in booty shorts cheered, and Polly creamed herself all over again on the floor, hands running all up and down her body now. What was I thinkin’ about again?
Paul chugged a protein shake while Kati sucked his dick.
She’d come in again and said half-heartedly, “uhm-my TV doesn’t work. Can I, like, use yours?” She left the top 3 buttons undone on her shirt, tonguing wet, glossy lips. That cross dangled over a soft shadow of cleavage. Paul just stared, watching her squirm through the question.
It wasn’t long before they were both on the couch, his hand fumbling with the buttons on her jeans. She was practically slurping on his neck, so he yanked and ripped them half open, sending buttons ricocheting off of his forgotten bass. The TV flickered. It was a little scary, even then. His dick had never been this hard before, furious that it wasn’t already thrusting into something warm and tight.
Kati froze at one point, brow wrinkled in concentration. “Uhm, I don’t think like- Jesus would be uh. I’m saving myself for—”
Silly fuckin’ girl. Doesn’t she see how hard I am? “I uh, talked to Jesus, babe. He said we’re all good.”
She was relief itself, and pulled off all of her clothes. When he unleashed a dick inches longer than he’d remembered it, he had all of a few moments to feel weird about it before she was teasing his glans with her tongue, taking little slurps at the precum. She looked at him with big, eager eyes while she started to work at him like an ice cream cone, cross bouncing in mid-air. “Fffuck Kati. Deeper.”
She pulled off of him for a moment. Again that little frown, gaze unfocused. “A-are you sure you know Jesus?” It cut through. What am I doing? Fuck. She’s so dumb. He looked at the swell of her hanging breasts and pink nipples; her parted lips; her freckles.
“Y-yeah, Kati. Totally. We’re buds.” She smiled and went back to it. He came down her throat and stayed hard.
“Wow, you taste sooo good. Like… taffy.”
On TV a musclebound man was yanking on some bimbo’s pigtails while they fucked, his large dick pumping between child-bearing hips. “Yeah take it slut. Take that big dick.” Paul looked down at Kati as she worked him, fingers desperately grasping at his legs.
He grabbed the base of her head and urged her down further. “Hurry up, slut. Gotta get in my reps.” Then he opened another shake, and started chugging.