G.M. Foods

Friday

Suits and Geeks

Adrian Cromwell stared at the strangest damn thing he’d ever seen in his life and, given some of the other stuff he’d already seen touring this madhouse, that was saying something. “Why is that watermelon . . .?”

“Uh . . . stress test, sir,” replied the nameless, lab-coated geek.

Dr. Baines’ assistant was tall, taller than Adrian’s six-three, but, despite the height, the kid had no stature. Kid needs to hit the gym more. Kid needs to hit the gym, period. With his size, he ought to be able to throw me around the room, but, with the shape he’s in, I could use him for a Baseball bat.

It was an unfair comparison. Even though he was approaching fifty from the wrong side, Adrian didn’t look it. In a cheaper suit, he looked more like the sort of guy that you didn’t mess with. Adrian took a certain amount of pride in that fact, because he could still hold his own against most men twenty years his junior in a variety of sports.

“Stress test.” Adrian shook his head. “Right. Care to explain why the hell I’m paying for stress tests . . . on a watermelon?”

The geek started to speak, but all he managed was a squeak before stopping, rethinking and passing the buck. “Dr Baines can answer that better than I can, sir. This way.”

“Kurt, what the hell did you get us involved in here?” Adrian wondered aloud, as he was led through a jumble of intersecting corridors. He found himself feeling in his jacket for a pen so he could start marking the walls of the labyrinth, just to see if he was being led in circles, when the lab geek ushered him into a room.

Adrian had an analyst on staff that once described a room as, “lacking the karma to make a business deal.” That same analyst would probably collapse, the life sucked right out of him, should he ever walk into the converted lab being used here. Dead, sterile, and dull politely described the room well enough for Adrian, so he stopped trying to find a better metaphor.

Amateurs. Obviously the eggheads that run the place can’t see the need to inspire interest in potential investors.

As he picked up a pair of oranges from the one concession to life, other than the attendees, in the room, a large bowl of fruits, something else occurred to him.

 The geeks don’t have to sell anything, Adrian silently fumed. I do. C.I.I. already owns Biomed Enterprises. We own the whole place lock stock and barrel. A quarter billion dollars bought us this nut house and this is the first time I’ve even seen it. C.I.I. is getting too big, but, still, Kurt’s got some explaining on why he pushed this place so hard.

Greetings were exchanged, hands were shaken, and faces were matched to names he’d read on various memos, as Kurt Hamner, C.I.I.’s scientific exploration director, handled the introductions before turning the show over to The chief scientist, Dr. Oliver Baines.

God damn, this guy is a bad speaker, Adrian caught himself thinking a few minutes in. Sometimes you needed to use the egghead in a sales pitch, for appearances sake, but you never, ever let him run the meeting. Kurt knows that, or at least he should. 

Adrian would have had Baines at the meeting to explain technical details, but only to other members of Baines’ trade and seeing as Adrian’s aides had no more an idea of what the doctor was saying that Adrian did himself, Baines was a deal killer from the get-go. Adrian juggled the fruit to stay awake. It was unprofessional, but then so was Baines.

Just give me a damn line summary, so I know what we’re selling here, was Adrian’s unspoken request. The request hovered on the verge verbal until the point became moot: Baines killed the deal, dead.

 “. . . Unusual side effects in rats,” droned Dr. Baines. “The subjects went into a simulation of heat and engaged in bouts of frantic mating. We suspect this is a side effect of the enhanced reproduction mechanisms we are using to accelerate the production cycle. Disturbing, but the biological changes to the hosts are far more worrisome.”

Click. “For example, this is SU1104-Male, four hours after consumption.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” erupted Adrian at the slide. An orange hit the floor with a dull thump. “Banana test subject?”

“No, Mr. Cromwell,” said Dr. Baines, looking with interest at the depiction of a desiccated lab rat with an erection almost half as large as its body. “This was just a tomato test case. We have no bananas under development. The effects were just as pronounced in the female subjects,” a click gave to Adrian his first, and unwanted, look at rat tits, “and even more pronounced in the chimps.”

Click. A dozen massively endowed chimpanzees, the females looked more balloon than monkey, were engaged in explicit sex acts. The ooking and eeking coming out of the video of the simian orgy would have been funny if it did not signal the loss of a quarter billion dollars. Adrian buried his head in his hands.

“Shut it down,” he mumbled.

“Adrian?” Kurt looked shocked. “I didn’t catch that.”

Adrian lifted his head up out of the palm of his hand. “Shut it down.”

“What?” Kurt burst.

“Shut it down. Close off the project and destroy all the materials.”

“Hmmm. This is unfortunate.” Dr. Baines hardly batted an eye over the possibility of his work being lost. “We’re on the verge of making a breakthrough. The affects on our one, quite accidental, human test subject,” click, “have been unfortunate, but we are making great strides—”

Adrian looked at the photo of a mousey, young woman with an astoundingly overdeveloped chest and a not so mousey gleam in her eye. The plainly visible hunger, magnified by her elegant glasses and her enormous bust, had Adrian’s dick contemplating adultery. “You . . . I don’t believe this. I can’t believe you didn’t already shut this down, Kurt. What the hell were you thinking?”

Calmly, as rationally as possible, Adrian explained his objections to the fellow review members and the scientists. It didn’t take long. He summed it all up with, “You are on the verge of every animal rights, environmental, genetic purity, and religious group in the world shoving their feet up our collective asses! You think the government won’t get involved? Think again.”

“Adrian, the money . . . we have billions invested in this. We have to recoup—”

“A quarter billion in the initial investment,” interrupted Adrian. “Three hundred fifty million, at this point. Kurt, you’re a doctor. Think of this in medical terms. Think of this as amputating a limb. It hurts like hell. It causes permanent damage, but the patient lives. There is no way the company could afford the consequences if this became public. Crate everything up and haul it to an incinerator.”

“Shouldn’t we put it in toxics?” asked the generic lab tech, finally breaking the seen-and-not-heard rule.

“No!” Adrian yelled back. “Risk someone digging it up? Burn it all. Keep the development team working on this stuff, but simulation only! No live testing. We slowly roll the budget back and transfer the people to new positions. I don’t want any disgruntled employee going public. And, hell, you never know, your people may come up with something useful yet.

“Jesus Christ people, this is supposed to be fast growing, larger crops. It’s making something grow large and fast all right. Something the religious right would gladly rake us over the coals for, even without the genetic tampering charge.”

“Mr. Cromwell, you are being emotional,” said doctor Baines. “May I offer a compromise? We continue with computer simulation and scale back the testing. Even if the product is unmarketable, it would greatly advance the cause of science to find out where I went wrong. We will be very much more careful in the future, but sometimes you need to take a few risks—”

“Exactly doctor,” interjected Adrian. “Taking risks is my job. Taking risks for the board and stockholders of C.I.I.. I weigh risks, balance them, and attempt to mitigate them. This is no risk. This is certain disaster . . .”

After ranting, fielding more questions, and ignoring more explanations and complaints, Adrian stomped out of the room with Kurt trailing as the second man frantically tried to talk sense, nonsense, into Adrian.

Dr. Baines and his henchman looked at each other. The doctor spoke first.

“This is why I hate corporate work. Back in the old days, with the Red Menace, we could do all the research we wanted.” The otherwise emotionally dead genius looked almost misty eyed. “Damn, dad had it good.”

He sighed, and then, looking at the nervous lab assistant, Dr. Baines cocked an eyebrow. “You are about to tell me something else has gone wrong, yes?”

“Dr. Baines, we’re missing some of the samples from the table.”

“Mr. Cromwell was juggling the some of the fruit earlier. He probably dropped them.” He gave his assistant an almost fatherly pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll find them. They’re fruit. Fruit doesn’t just walk off.”

Like Father, Like Son.

“An orange, dad?” Paul looked at the fruit his dad had just tossed to him.

“It’s for your girlfriend, Eve. Happy birthday, Paul. Oh, take these too.” Adrian fished a small packet from his jacket pocket and tossed it to his son.

Paul snatched it from the air and looked at it, confused. “Condoms?”

“Don’t let me catch you not using them.”

“What’s in the other bag?”

“An apple for your mom.” Adrian pulled the apple from the bag, gave it a quick toss and let it drop back into the bag. Still have it. Should have gone pro after university. A life time of baseball might not have made me as much money, but at least I wouldn’t have to put up with freaks like Baines. Damn. Forgot to ask Baines about the about the stress-test watermelon.

He looked over at his still confused son. “Have a fun night and don’t wake me up when you get in.”

Large and Round, Like An Orange

“An orange, Paul?” Eve looked at the fruit Paul had just tossed to her, and then she looked at him and his black hair with the goofy cowlick (hopefully) beaten into submission.

Paul also hoped she liked what she saw. Sometimes it was hard to tell; a lot of girls tried to attach themselves back in high school just because his dad was rich. Eve’s different though. When I started dating her, she had no idea who my dad was, and I was driving the junk-mobile because . . . because the beamer just caused too much trouble.

Eve bit lightly into the orange to break the peel. Her nails could have carved the orange up nicely, but why risk the manicure?

“It’s from my dad. I think a business deal went sour, he always gets a bit weird when that happens.”

“Ya, but an orange?” she asked, discarding a piece of peel into the flower bed beside the driveway.

“Hey, he got my mom an apple.”

“You know what I think . . . ,” Eve popped a slice of orange into her mouth and chewed slowly. “Your dad’s gone fruity.” Giggle.

The blond-tinted-brown locks that fell in a curved bob around her cute, button-nosed face waved at Paul as she laughed, while her eyes, tinted more blue than green by her contact lenses, glittered. “Mmmmm,” she practically moaned after downing the first slice. “Good orange.”

She lifted another piece to her sparkly pink coated lips and toyed with it a moment, sliding it back and forth before sucking it in between her lips. Combined with the “wet” look from the lip gloss, she looked hotter than hell just teasing a fruit. The way she teased it, though, broadcast a promise of sorts that the night would only get better. Maybe, just maybe, before he went home, she’d fellate more than the orange slice.

Not that he expected her to put out. Eve was hot just to have around. Sure, she was a little on the short side, but managed to stay slim so her proportion wasn’t off. Oh no, she had no problem with proportions, the only places she was a little plump was where it really counted: A fabulous ass and pair of religiously guarded breasts.

“And you look like you’re turning into a banana,” she giggled, and then she bit the tip off the orange slice and slowly sucked the juices out. “Ooooooo. Have I got a birthday present for you later.”

Oh God, prayed Paul, as Eve readied more orange. Oh God. Please don’t let her be kidding.

With it pinned between her teeth, Eve fed him a piece of the orange. She slid back and forth, giggling periodically, as she teased his lips. Finally Paul bit down, flooding both their mouths with the sweet juices, before getting further involved. Lips pressed firmly for a moment, and then tongues went to work, licking up pulp and toying with each other.

Eve pressed all the way into him and backed Paul into the swinging seat by the pool. Whoever happened to have the orange occasionally interrupted their necking with a slice, but neither minded the breaks. Every time the orange came into play, the action got hotter.

Once the orange was gone, Paul’s hands worked their way towards something else round, firm, and waiting to be peeled. His thumbs brushed the sides of her lacy little party bra under her shirt, but got no further because Eve had wrapped herself around him to tightly to actually get a good handful.

Holy cow, dad. You pegged it. Eve’s hands clutched the side of his head while she ground into him, her lovely breasts running hard nipples against his chest and just begging for his touch.

Suddenly, with a moan, Eve rocked backwards and gave Paul a chance at his beautiful targets, but she pushed away before he could get more than a glancing stroke.

Crud, thought Paul, holding a mental pair of fingers a half inch apart. I was this close. She was totally into it.

He leaned back to give her room. No sense pushing things too soon.

“What’s wrong, Eve?”

“Dunno.” She sat up straight, and her breasts shoved out nicely. “Just feel . . . tight all of a sudden. Ow!”

She dropped back into a slouch, discomfort plain on her face over the flush and glassy eyes. Paul guessed he wasn’t too much better off, his cock strained his pants to the limit, and the pack of condoms felt like it was trying to burn through his pocket.

“You ok?” he asked.

 “Boobs are kinda sore. Were you sneaking some gropes that I missed while we were busy?” she asked coyly, and then she flashed a wickedly seductive smile. “Back in a sec.”

She bounced up and dashed into her house, leaving Paul to twiddle his fingers and throb almost painfully. She wasn’t gone long, and, when she returned, she wore a tiny bikini that looked stretched to its limits; a suit designed more for showing off her perky tits than for covering anything.

And they looked really perky today. Especially the nipples: they poked out, almost cutting through the swimsuit, and proving that the look of raw lust on her face was not an act. Since it was pushing eighty degrees, there was no way she could have felt cold, but, regardless of the temperature, Eve looked hot!

Eve posed, making sure that Paul had a good look at everything, before asking, “How’s this? Good birthday present?”

“Best ever baby. Geeze, what’ve you been eating lately? I know that suit covered more—I bought it for your birthday.”

“Just an orange, remember? We shared a few pieces.” She looked down at the increasingly undersized top, shrugged and then loosened off the knot that held it up. “I like this birthday suit. It’s not illegal in public, but it’s close. You bought it for my birthday, but it looks like I’m wearing it for yours.”

Her eyes floated down to his groin and she smirked. “Looks like you like it as much as I do.” Her rounded bottom sat down side-saddle on his lap, but he hardly noticed because she turned part way and pressed her left breast into him.

“How much longer are you going to be wearing it, baby?” Paul asked ogling her seemingly swelling tits. The last time he’d seen her in a bikini she had a nice set, but now, only a week and a half later . . . grape fruits never looked so tasty.

“Not too much.” Eve loosened the knot again. “Something funny’s happening.”

“I’ll say. I swear you’re getting bigger, uh, up top.”

“I am, and, God, it’s wild! You have to feel these! I’m on fire!”

Paul reached out with a finger and stroked lightly. Eve was hot to the touch, he could feel her heart pumping through her firm breast, and she cooed happily and twitched as he ran the finger along the exposed skin around the suit. He gave a more serious caress and Eve went nuts, pushing into his hands and gasping for breath around the moans and pleas for more. She jerked spasmodically as Paul toyed with an immensely swollen nipple. His eyes went wide as he watched the bikini digging further and further into her swelling breasts.

“Holy . . . Eve, you are getting bigger!”

“Bigger! Yesss! On fire. Circles. Keep doing that.”

She barely noticed Paul pushing the now-insignificant bit of stretchy fabric aside, but she did notice his lips wrapping around the exposed nipple. Her whole body jolted. Licks, caresses, and carefully applied suction built the twitches into a steady wave. Endearments, cooed acknowledgements, and nonsensical demands for acts that may not have even been physically possible leaked out her lips until—

“PAUL!” she screamed, just as the bikini strap snapped. “Oh, God! Paul!”

She called his name, begged him to stop, and begged him for more over and over while her body convulsed and her legs kicked. Paul didn’t stop. He’d probably never have a chance like this ever again, so he wasn’t going to waste a moment of it. He kept on licking and sucking as Eve’s body shook and bounced from orgasm to orgasm, each shudder ripping a howl or a cry for more until she finally stilled. She lay partly in his lap, eyes closed and making happy sounds, as her body slowly relaxed and Paul played with her breasts. His cock throbbed so hard that it hurt.

“That was wonderful, Paul. Oh, I’ve been missing out. Actual sex must be . . . Ooooooo. Stop that for a second. I’m going to try and stand. I have to see what I look like with these . . . these are pleasure pillows, pure and simple.” Her eyes cracked open and she sat up, swinging her legs out and to the ground.

She was unsteady on her feet after the breast-fed orgasm, but the managed to straighten up. She looked funny, swaying softly, but really sexy too. Gravity tore into her new chest, but that is to be expected when your girlfriend goes from thirty two inches around the bust to about fifty five. All the same they looked fantastic and totally out of place on her slender frame. Her face and legs (and her lovely ass) were still Eve, but her chest made her a walking, talking sex goddess.

Eve made a few experimental steps, nodded to herself, and then began walking a walk that said, “Hey Paul, lets screw like bunnies!”

Paul missed the walk, because the bounce and sway of her breasts said something more primal; something that cannot be described in words, but easily in terms of racing blood, swelling erectile tissue, and premature ejaculation. She tried to cup a breast, failed utterly when it overflowed her palm, and instead satisfied herself by flicking the nipple. Paul watched as a moan rolled out of her lips, her head snapped back, and she toppled into the pool.

Paul leapt up and almost pulled his groin. He’d gone as erect, no kidding, as possible down his left pant leg. Normally this was not much of a problem, but the throbbing monster running more than two thirds of the way down his thigh was not his statistically correct six inches. As he hobbled to his feet Eve was treading water, boobs floating as magnificent spheres, laughing.

“I think we better take care of that . . .” giggled Eve as she bobbed up, grabbed the front of his pants, and pulled him into the pool.

“D’you think he knew what would happen with that orange?” asked Eve as she lay beside a naked Paul. They had dried out after a wild session in the pool, but Eve knew she was still wet where it counted

“What?”

“Don’t act stupid. You’re a crappy actor, that’s how I know you didn’t know what would happen, but your dad . . . he knew right?”

“Yeah, probably. He gave me the condoms too. I thought he was just planning ahead. I didn’t expect that we’d use them all.”

“Yeah, good thing I’m on the pill otherwise we’d have to stop and get more.”

“More?”

“Silly, look at me. Do I look done?” She slid down the bed to his retreating cock, peeled off the spent condom, and fired it across her bedroom like a rubber band. Then she smirked, licked up the shaft, across the head, and then spread what little of her pink lipstick remained over as much of it as she could. Paul gurgled happily as his penis reformed its battle lines and advanced once again. When her lips vanished off his cock, Paul was only vaguely disappointed because of what was coming next: Eve’s uncontrolled moaning while her tight pussy enveloped his now supersized erection.

But Eve surprised him and wrapped him with soft tit-flesh instead. It felt . . . interesting. Definitely not bad, but nothing compared to what it seemed to be doing to Eve. Her breasts must have been at least as sensitive as his dick, because she went wild and lost her concentration almost immediately. Rolling her over and straddling her torso helped, but he wound up doing most of the work. He was also more than a little unnerved—like this had to be rubbing them both raw—and that kept him from enjoying things to Eve’s extent. The guy was supposed to get off, not the girl, but Eve howled for more, and Paul gave it. Finally, his balls screaming for release, Eve froze, spat out a deafening scream and lay twitching.

“Sorry,” she said when she recovered. “That was supposed to be for you, but, God . . . that was wonderful.”

They lay there for a while softly playing with one another until Eve wound up back on top of him.

“Aw, I went off and played while you were left like this.” Eve gave a light squeeze before she lifted up and settled herself down on his upper eight inches. She clenched her lips and slid forward, relaxed and slid down, capturing a bit more, but not much more. She leaned back, sitting on him, and tried to drive all of him inside.

“Paul, this isn’t going to work.” Up “Dammit, I wanted to be on top and feel all of it this time.” Down. “Anyway, tomorrow we go talk to your dad about this orange thing.” Up.

“Uhu.” Down. “Whu-Works for me.” Up. “I guhhss, you’re a little pissed rhiiight now.” Down.

“Hey, I’m getting the hang of this.” Up. “Be a great thigh work out.” Down. “Why would I be pissed?” Up. “God, I love this!” Down. “I want to thank him.” Up.

“UUuhhhhh!” Down.

“Shsss. I won’t,” up, “be able,” down, “to keep,” up, “this up,” down, “too much,” up, “longer.” Down.

“Maybe he can get something that will make you fit better. I really like this.” Eve was really moving now, her words garbled by her own gasps and moans. “Uhm, if the apple does anything like this to your mom, your dad might not even be alive tomorrow. I actually think I’m getting hornier! God!”

Saturday

Lovable Idiots

Ed should have just gone around it, but he had to stop and see if he could help. It was the Christian thing to do. So he stopped, got out, asked if the stranded motorists needed any help, and now Sawyer Brown was lying his head off in the cab of his truck while a gun tickled Ed’s ear. Six days on the road? Nope, about three hours. Gonna make it home tonight? No chance in hell, not now.

I should have stayed in the service, thought Ed. At least there if someone pointed a gun at you they had a better reason than a refer truck full of vegetables. Maybe not better, but it’d sure be less stupid. Hauling a truck full of perfectly good food to an incinerator’s pretty damn stupid to,o though. After some of the stuff I saw in the Army, I know there are people who’d kill for the contents of this truck, but at home in the United States?

“I got’em,” said the gunman, tossing Ed’s keys to the third man. “Bernie, start the truck.”

“Jake! You idiot, no names!”

The second hijacker just sucked on a cigar and walked back to the old station wagon. Ed laughed when it wouldn’t start and kept laughing until the gun pressed harder into his chest.

“Shuddup, you.” The idiot called Jake had a bandana over his face and the most god awful pair of glasses Ed had ever seen. What just about had Ed rolling in the dust, laughing, was that a guy who was five foot eight should never be allowed to wear a cowboy hat that big.

He probably thinks it makes him look taller, but maybe, just maybe, I’m smarter than Jake is. Hell, maybe the fruit in the trailer is smarter than Jake is.

The guy, Bernie, starting Ed’s truck back up wore a bandana and a ball cap. The smoker just wore a cheap suit with the collar pulled up and a pair of sunglasses. It took smoker another minute, but he got the car going. Ed’s truck started right away.

Of course it started right away, Ed thought. Time is money after all.

“All right,” called Jake, oblivious to Ed having carved the station wagon’s licence plate number into the roadside dirt. The gun was pointed away for a moment and Ed was about to make his move when Jake’s next statement left Ed doubled over, laughing.

“Let’s get these cigarettes out of here! What the hell are you laughing about?” The gun was covering him again, and Ed was starting to wish that he’d sprung for the GPRS tracker. As soon as I get my truck back from these yokels, I’m dropping a couple hundred bucks.

“Nothing,” Ed choked out. “Just you just grabbed the wrong truck. I’m carrying vegetables.”

“Nice try,” scoffed Jake, over the roar of the truck engine. Bernie must have been trying to burn it out. That or he was an idiot too. “Sorry buddy, but the Marlboro truck always comes by right about now. You guys are regular like clockwork. You ought to mix it up a bit to stop smart guys like us.”

Five minutes later, Ed had been picked up by the Marlboro truck and was reporting the hijacking on the CB. The police were called in immediately, but it was three days before the theft drifted up to the attention of any of the staff who knew what was really on that truck.

Opening the Truck

“Not only do we have enough cigs for the rest of our lives,” said Jake as the trio walked to the back of the truck, “but once we find someone who’ll buy the leftovers, we’ll be rollin’ in cash. Enough for you to send that boy o’ yours to a big school ina city.”

“Yep,” said the smoker. “‘s why I’m here. Timmy’s not a country boy, ‘s for sure. Takes after his Ma.”

“No he don’t,” needled Jake. “He isn’t nowhere near good lookin’ enough. He’s one o’ them nerds.”

“Yep. But nerds get rich these days. Lookit that Gates feller. He got more money that the whole town put together.”

“We’ll soon put him in his place,” mumbled Bernie. “What with all the money from the cigarettes.”

Jake and the Smoker looked at him for a moment, wondering how come an idiot like Bernie was the only guy they could find who could drive a rig, and then Jake opened up the back of the truck. The doors swung open majestically. The lives of Jake and his buddies were about to change. They were going to be rich.

If they could move all of the vegetables in the truck at impossible prices.

“Well son of a bitch,” muttered Jake. “The driver wasn’t lying.”

“What’d you mean? Wasn’t lying?” asked the smoker.

“He tole me we got the wrong truck. I figured he was trying to pull a fast one. Son of a bitch. Vegetables.”

“Naw,” said Bernie. “These’re fruits.”

“Who cares?” asked the smoker.

“Fruits got seeds,” Bernie explained. “Vegetables don’t.”

“Where’d you come up with this crap, Bernie?” smoker laughed. “Tomatoes got seeds.”

“Tomatoes are fruits. Looked it up once on the internet.”

“You got the internet?” asked the smoker, incredulous that Bernie could actually turn on a computer without help.

“Sure. Use it to look at pictures of neked women. It’s cheaper than the magazines these days. What’re we gonna do with a truck of fruits?”

“Same thing we usually do, I guess.” Jake looked shattered. All that trouble for nothing and they still might get arrested. “Take ‘em into the city and sell’em at the farmer’s market.”

The Three Hundred, Fifty Million Dollar Apple

“That asshole!” yelled Amy Cromwell, as Adrian threw together an overnight bag. “I told you he’d get you into trouble sooner or later.”

“You really don’t like Kurt, do you, Amy?”

“Oh, I like him just fine. I just don’t trust him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got chased out of real medicine because he couldn’t figure out ethics.”

“Well, that’s pretty useful in big business.”

“Bull. You’ve done just fine without screwing over people who didn’t ask for it. And don’t let me catch you covering up for the idiot again. I wouldn’t be surprised if he set up this whole B.E. thing to poison you with the board.”

“Three hundred fifty million dollars is a hell of an expensive way to get rid of a rival, Amy.”

“Three hundred and fifty million dollars of other people’s money. A lot of it yours. Kurt probably sees this as a hell of a good deal.”

“He stands to lose a lot over this as well, Amy. He talked the board into buying the place, not me. And like you said it comes down to trust. The board trusts me. They trust my judgement.”

“But they don’t trust you enough to let you phone this in.”

“Three hundred and fifty million dollars, Amy,” protested Adrian. “At the very least they’ll send out some of their own experts. I may be overruled, but I doubt it. At least I stopped them long enough for a solid inspection team to go in and check out what else they’re cooking up. As for Kurt . . . just in case, I’ll sic Washington and his PI firm on Kurt. No sense going unarmed to a corporate fight.”

“What were they cooking up that got you so pissed off, anyway?”

Adrian’s eyes drifted guiltily to the shiny red apple on the side table. I’m the trustworthy one, huh? Well, at least Paul enjoyed it. He finally got to spend the night with that girl of his, and she really turned out fantastic. Maybe a little too top heavy, but that’s just more to love. “Don’t you like apples?”

“You shut them down over apples?” Amy picked up the apple and looked at it. “A three hundred and fifty million dollar apple.” She kissed it and mock-polished it on her blouse before noticing that Adrian had closed his briefcase and was changing into travelling clothes.

 “Adrian,” she cooed, as she put the apple back down. “You know I like to eat healthy, but I prefer the banana. When’s the flight?  Do I have time for a big snack before you go away?”

No, Amy doesn’t need much on the libido front, thought Adrian as they fell onto the bed. Or the front front, come to think of it. Probably a good thing she didn’t eat it.

Mom Goes Shopping

I can’t believe they’re so cheap at this time of year, thought Ellen, as she picked through the oranges. And they look so good. By now, and especially at these prices, I should be fishing through the dregs.

“Jerk was wrong ‘bout one thing though,” muttered one of the farmers, as he and a partner carried a new crate of cantaloupes out of their trailer. “These’re fruits, not vegetables.”

“Shut up, Bernie. You already told us a dozen times.”

The three farmers bickered on and off and took turns manning a scale and calculator. Currently it was the short man with the very large hat’s turn. He dressed something like a cowboy, complete with bandana, and looked very angry about something. Him and his pals getting to the market so late, probably. They couldn’t have been here long, because, at these prices, their truck should have been picked clean by now. As it was, it seemed that half the town was descending on their merchandise.

“Is Kari going on Carrie’s picnic tomorrow?” Ellen asked her fellow shopper Cassie Llewellen.

“Not that I’ve heard,” replied Cassie. “I know that she has something planned, though.”

“Good. I don’t like being a stick in the mud, but . . .”

“But you don’t want your daughter alone for any length of time with Kasey. Don’t worry about it. Kasey’s a good kid.”

“Kasey is a good kid, but he’s also a teenager. I’m more worried about my daughter. Not only do I doubt she’d say no if he asked, but she encourages him to say yes something awful.”

“She’s just having fun. Things are a bit different these days.”

“It’s been less than twenty years since we were the same age. Things haven’t changed that much.”

“Speak for yourself, you’re thirty six and I’m six years older, so that makes me thirty nine.”

And you don’t even look that, Ellen silently fumed over her svelte and fit neighbour. I was a heartbreaker like my daughter, once . . ..

“Some things really have changed, like it or not,” Cassie continued. “Just look at my daughter. Witches looked like Wendy, back when we were kids. And Kari spends more on clothes than I do. All of it black. Yuck.”

“Whatever,” Ellen dismissed the conversation, not liking the direction it was headed. “I’m going back for one of those cantaloupes. If Carrie wants to go on a picnic tomorrow, there is going to be something good for her to eat in that basket.”

My daughter’s not going to get fat and fall apart like I did. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Sunday

Carrie, Kari, Kasey and the Cantaloupe

Kasey didn’t like Kari because she hated him. She had to hate him. The way she looked at him, the way she treated him, the way she kept his girlfriend away from him, and they way she always came along on trips like this so that he and Carrie couldn’t have any fun. It’s not like she was a bitch or anything, she was just always there getting in the way.

Normally Kasey didn’t mind having Kari around; she was very easy on the eyes. Easier, he had to admit, than Carrie, but not by much. The two complimented each other in a Betty/Veronica sort of way—one light and soft and the other a dark unknown.

Carrie was a blonde and maybe some people would call her a bit fat, but as far as Kasey was concerned, she was voluptuous. That extra bit of curve inducing heft also provided her with the biggest tits in the eleventh grade (Except for Howler Hamilton, but that’s because she should have been in grade thirteen already). Carrie was fun to be around and party with. Sometimes they even went a little further than they probably should, but only when they were alone.

Kari was a black enchantress, a raven-locked denizen of the gothic night who wrote poetry where everyone died and idolized vampires. Actually she didn’t do the vampire thing; even she thought that was pretty silly. Right now she was dressed entirely in a depressing black, but what Kasey always found himself remembering was the red diamond-cut bikini. That day at the beach was only time she’d really looked like a girl, with tits and all that. Carrie was soft, pneumatic, and friendlier. Kari looked like a junior Amazon swimsuit model.

So, while Kasey dated Carrie, he made sweet love to Kari in his dreams, and that really bugged him because he really didn’t like Kari that much. She was all attitude and, to get into her good books, you had to like her writing—stupid poems and the stories where he was always the guy who lost. Sure, she never really named him, but you had to be really stupid to miss the similarities. Worst was the way she always positioned herself in the way of Carrie. It wasn’t fair that the girl his body wanted and his mind disliked so intensely always stood between him and the girl his mind wanted and his body could get. Always between, but not close enough to him for his body to get the thrill it wanted.

Why couldn’t his parts just get along and concentrate on Carrie? For example, right now Carrie was making him laugh his head off with a Cantaloupe rind puffing her normal grin out into a ridiculous smile, while Kari just sat there frowning and nibbling on an apple.

How can such a hot girl be so boring?

Carrie was making a fool of herself trying to get Kasey’s attention again, Kari noted. Why? Kasey was no good for her. No way, not with the way he looks at me. It’s obvious that he’s only dating Carrie to get closer to me, and maybe I would go out with him if he was honest about it. Maybe, but only if he stopped playing with Carrie’s feelings.

It’s hot out here today. Kari thought, as she adjusted her top. Remind me again, stupid, why am I wearing black?

“It’s hot out here,” Carrie verbally agreed. She looked like she felt a different kind of hot, though; Kari could see her friend’s swollen nipples poking through her shirt.

Didn’t she wear a bra today? Ohmigod. They were expecting to go together—alone. That’s why Kasey was so surprised when I turned up. Oops. Kari eased her eyes away from the tempting protrusion, even though she refused to admit to herself that it was tempting. The closest she got to self-realization was, I wish I had boobs like those.

Almost unconsciously, and only to let the heat that was getting too annoying out, she untied a fastener and unlaced part of her frilly black top. The feeling of the silk sliding across her tightening nipples as her breasts subtly expanded was appreciated, but ignored.

Why-oh-why am I wearing black on a day like today? Because I always wear black. Because I’m stupid, but also because it really bugs Kasey. And my mom.

Oh, it was really bugging Kasey today, she could plainly see that, but not the way she’d wanted. She was definitely not wanted here today, Carrie had something special planned and, Kari was ruining it.

Good. Carrie’s too good to lose her virginity to a guy who doesn’t really love her. The interplay between the two is pretty sexy though. What interplay? She’s just giggling and he’s just staring at her boobs. God, she’s really nipping out. Whatever they’re up to, something’s going on—even I’m getting horny.

Carrie looked over at Kari and winked. Was that a signal? Am I supposed to excuse myself and sneak off?

Kari opened her mouth to do that when Carrie started.

“‘Scuse me. Kasey, washroom was what way?”

“Uhm . . . I’ll walk you?”

Giggle! “No, just point.”

Oh god, she giggled. Kari moaned internally. “You ok, Carrie? You look kinda . . . funny.” Kinda funny was an understatement; when she stood, Carrie danced like she was about to burst, and then ran a few steps in the direction Kasey pointed.

“Don’t you two do anything I wouldn’t do! Before I get back, anyway!” she sang as she dashed off.

Kari and Kasey looked at each other.

“Why would we?” Kari mumbled, and loosened the lacings holding her too-tight top together. Imagine that. I have a top that’s too tight. Way to emphasize the flatlands for Kasey, Kari, you slut.

“Uhm. So, you two have something planned?” asked Kasey, a few minutes of dead silence later.

“Nnnno.”

“Then why are you like . . . .” Kasey pointed at her chest.

“Holy cow!” Kari looked down. Down at cleavage. I’ve got breasts! They had begun pulling out even more lacing, and her nipples jutted out worse than Carrie’s. I look like a porn star playing a teenager. I look . . . fabulous!

The sensation of nipples on silk burned her mind as another loop was unlaced by the spreading material. A bit more and my top will . . ..

Kari raised her hands to cover what was now inevitable, but the rapid movement ended itself as it triggered a shock of bliss. Oh God that feels . . . too late. Her top slid down and dropped off behind her when the pleasurable friction caused her back to arch, prying a moan from her lips.

I look . . . amazing! She looked down at the breasts slowly pushing out further of her chest. I’m huge and they look real, not the monstrous globes like on the internet. God, I wish I had a mirror . . .. Kari dug through her purse looking for her makeup kit. Finding it, she flipped it open and ogled herself. How do you describe these? Giant teardrops? Swelling doves? They’re not round enough to call them baseballs . . . they’re just . . . really big tits! My god, I look so sexy. Look at those nipples, I must be totally horny!

Now that she saw what she looked like, Kari noticed the way she was sitting: Leaned forward, cross legged with her legs spread like she was trying to show herself off. Trying? I am showing myself off. To Kasey and I’m getting totally wet doing it. Look at him! He’s enjoying it as much as I am, and he’s huge too! How does he hide that when we go swimming?

Somehow she had unconsciously hiked her black skirt right up, showing panties that were definitely damp and pulled tight, and her boobs were growing. She had to be almost as big as Carrie by now and Carrie wore a D. Kari had asked one time and regretted it because Carrie was a little sensitive about being too big.

That’s total BS, Kari quickly realized, watching her chest softly swelling. There’s no such thing as too big.

Kasey was staring. His cock was sticking up out the top of his pants and, while she liked the look of the bulging before, Kari wanted it the moment she saw it start poking out. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it, it was beautiful, was he ever this huge before? No way. Impossible. Totally impossible. I have to try that. I’ll find a way to make it fit.

Kasey gave her a glassy eyed stare. Her new boobs totally had him. He was totally hers now, and she was going to get that cock. Then his eyes jerked up suddenly as a cry echoed across the field.

“Kariiiii!” yelled Carrie.

Oh God! If I grew to Colorado from Iowa she must be . . ..

She was. Carrie could barely run, her boobs jolting her whole body back and forth. She was being pulled forward by the jiggling mass on her chest as much as she was by her pumping legs.

Carrie stumbled and was pulled off her feet as the bouncing got out of her control. Before she went down, she went up a bit following the arc path set by her tits. Her fall was marked with a moist bounce, and both Kari and Kasey were on their feet, charging over to help. Kari sort of enjoyed her own new bouncing, but, Bouncing leads to stretching, stretching leads to sagging, sagging leads to, well, ick. Got to get a bra that’ll fit as soon as possible, but it’s got to be really reavealing. No point to having tits like these if you don’t show them off. As soon as I stop growing, I’ll see what I can find, but until then . . .. God, it feels so good!

She tried to cup her breasts to restrain the jiggling, but, the moment her palm rubbed up against a nipple, she forgot what she was doing. Rather than fall over right there, she managed to slow to a halt and kept feeling herself. Her hands felt so good. Someone else’s hands would be so much better, though. She could probably cum just from fondling. Why not? She was ruining her panties right now; it wouldn’t take too much more work.

Another pair of hands joined hers, Kasey. Kasey was feeling her up, that jerk’s hands felt so good. So hot. Her panties, sopping wet, were being tugged down her legs. Looking down, between her beautiful tits, a blonde head extended a tongue and a shock, every bit as good as the new hands kneading and stroking her breasts, blasted through her body. Kasey held her up while Carrie ate her out.

“No. Stop,” she moaned. “This is wrong. Guys do girls!”

Kasey’s hard, huge cock should be between her legs, not her best friend’s tongue and fingers. She shouldn’t spread her legs to let a girl she’s known since grade two make her orgasm. Her hands shouldn’t grip her friend’s head and pull it in closer. Twisting part way around and kissing Kasey, that was ok—actually it was amazing—and the things he did with her breasts—her nipples—felt out of this world. But the Carrie thing going on bellow, that was just plain wrong. So Kari forced herself to come to the conclusion that what Kasey’s hands were doing made her press her pussy into Carrie’s face, writhe, and scream for more. It’s all his fault, the creep.

“Yessss! Do that again! Carriiieeee! Again! No fair Kasey, Making me dooooooh this! You jerk! Ha! Nnnngh! Oh God!”

She couldn’t be so horny that she didn’t ever want to stop, but she was. After Kasey’s hands, with a little bit of help from her life long friend’s tongue, brought her off, she knew it was wrong to keep going, but she did anyway. Not stopping was just way too much fun.

A few minutes later, she shouldn’t have been kissing Carrie while being ploughed from behind by Kasey. Being screwed by Kasey was more right, but still wrong. She didn’t even really like him, but he felt so good sliding in and out of her. Too good; she really needed to scream into Carrie’s mouth, so she did.

She shouldn’t be sharing Carrie with Kasey, one nipple each, but she enjoyed it herself way too much to not want to share the feeling with Carrie.

I could really get to like this, especially since Carrie is packing around a pair of basketballs for boobs. They look so cute, so big, spilling over her chest and onto the grass.

The real shock was when Kasey some how made her eat out Carrie while her friend sucked Kasey off. There was no way he could be making her do this and Carrie just looked so beautiful from down there, between her legs. Oh my god, I’m Bi.

Realizing that she’d been wrong, not what she’d been doing, Kari just went with it.

After several hours of blissful enjoyment Kari noticed something. “Shoot, Carrie, it doesn’t look like we are growing anymore.”

“Good. Help me up.”

“Nuh-uh.” Lick, longer lick, suck. “I’m going to take advantage while you can’t move.”

Kari looked over at the wilted and sleeping Kasey while stroking a finger slowly up and down Carrie’s slit. “Think he’ll live?”

“Mmmmm. God I hope so. Be a shame to waste that cock. Keep doing that.”

What was going on and what had happened suddenly hit Kari like a train. She paled and stammered, “O-o-o-oh god. I d-did your boyfriend! I’m s-sooo sorry.”

“Ohhhh.” Carrie was stammering for a completely different reason: Kari’s hands were still working at full speed despite the girl’s metal distraction. “N-no you aren’t. Y-you wouldn’t have s-screwed him eight times if you were sorrrry. It’s f-fine.”

“Only seven times,” Kari didn’t feel at all ashamed at the memory, she felt horny. “Once he tried to do me in the butt, but we couldn’t make it fit right, so that time doesn’t really count.”

Shocked, Carrie tried to sit up, but only managed to lift her legs. “You took him up your . . . was it good?”

“Sort of. It was all tight and it stuck, but it was kinda different. You can try it later, when he wakes up and we can get some oil or something. You really not mad?”

“Why do you think I was dating him? I saw the way you two kept looking at each other. At first I wanted to play matchmaker since he didn’t have the balls to ask you himself—sorry Kasey, but it’s true. You have no balls, but that cock . . . Oh wow! Anyway after a while I wanted a threesome even more.”

“I don’t like him! I was looking at him because I didn’t think he was good enough for you and I couldn’t figure what you saw in him.” Kari glanced wistfully at Kasey. He was having a nice dream now, from the looks of things. She wanted to go over and mount him, ride him until she lost coherent thought, but he needed his sleep. They would be able to make out more, and better, if he got some rest. “Sure can now. Wanna bet he’s dreaming of us?”

“Nope, I can see him sticking up from over here. How did you fit that in your ass?”

“I didn’t get all of it. You’ll figure it out.” Lick, lick, stroke, kiss. “So, how long have you been hot for me?”

“Since that sleep-over when we were fourteen. What’d you think? Was I good?”

“Oh yeah!” Kari blurted. “But don’t you think this is kind of funny? I never dreamed of doing it with a girl before and I’m twice as big as you were and you, giggle, you can’t even sit up by yourself anymore.”

“Don’t remind me. If it didn’t feel so good, I’d be real pissed off right now. I always wanted to try ‘sixty nine’-ing with you, but that isn’t going to happen now, my tongue didn’t grow at all. Let’s do it one more time, then get some help. Gawd, I hope we don’t wind up in some government lab.”

Break-up on The Floor

“No Eve,” Paul almost shouted at his clingy girlfriend. “Not here.”

Paul was by no means not turned on, but Eve took horny to a whole new level. Friday night and well into Saturday morning, she kept going until she passed out. Saturday evening was a sexual haze and Sunday went on until Paul insisted that they go to The Floor because his pal Barry was throwing a party for Paul’s birthday.

“But my boobs, they keep rubbing against my top and it’s making me sooooo horny. Just a quickie Paul! Play with my tits until I cum!”

“Sssshh. Eve, I want it as much as you do, but keep it down. We can’t make out in a club. But yeah, this is more Trudy’s party than mine. How was I supposed to know Bruce’s that cheap a bastard? Let me say bye to the guys, go to the can, and then we’re out of here. We’ll take a quick drive and then I’ll have you cumming like never before. Just wait over here, out of the way.”

“Heeey, lil’ brother . . .” Trudy said, sidling up to the massive mountain of muscle that was her brother. To meet his eyes she looked up. Way up. “That girl you’ve been eyeing all night’s all alone.”

“I wish, but no can do. That’s Paul’s girl, Eve.”

“Eve?” Trudy blurted, as she looked over the porn star body packed into the girl’s flashy evening gown. “That’s Eve Hamilton? Holy crap! Her folks spring for implants as a graduation present? She was already pretty stacked. Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

“Are you kidding? She looks HOT!”

Trudy looked over the chesty girl. The glassy expression on her face and the way she stood there, constantly in motion, told a tale. Her hands would slide down her stomach and press her skirt in for a stroke then she’d look around and pull the hand away. “I’ll say. She looks so hot that I bet she’d go off like a rocket if you went over there and just touched her, Bruce.”

“Tell me about it. I’d kill for a shot at her.”

“How about you just ask her? That way everybody lives.”

“I couldn’t—”

“But I could.” Trudy grabbed her brother’s hand and hauled him over to the object of his desires.

“What about Paul?”

“I’ll take care of Paul,” Trudy said, fingering the clip that held her shiny, blond hair in place. “I promise he won’t miss a thing.”

Other than about four inches of height and something like fifty pounds of boobs, Trudy silently added. “You didn’t get a good look at him earlier, did you? If you’d introduced us before, I swear . . . I wouldn’t be here solo tonight.”

Or maybe I still would, she thought as they approached the dazed and increasingly horny looking girl. There is nothing hotter than screwing a guy who’s already in a relationship. And prying a guy off of that, even if it’s just for one night . . . oh Mama!

“Eve!” Trudy called out to grab the attention of the obviously horny girl.

“Hello . . . ,” Eve’s eyes slid from some other dimension to Trudy’s face and from there to Bruce’s crotch. She licked her lips. “Bruce, is this your sister?”

“Yeah,” said Bruce, staring at her boobs with similar intensity as Eve’s visual consumption of his rampant and jean covered cock. “Trudy.”

“Hi, Trudy.” Eve mumbled, her eyes not losing their lock.

“How about you two go off alone to talk?”

“Paul’s coming back. Then we, uh, have to leave . . ..” Eve licked her lips again.

“I’ll take care of Paul,” Trudy said, a huge smile on her face. “I’ll keep him busy ‘til you two are done talking.”

Bruce reached out with a tentative finger and put it on Eve’s hip. She sighed, stepped forward, and gurgled as her huge tits, with their jutting nipples, pressed into Bruce. Her belly slid against the denim over his swollen cock, and Bruce’s hand drifted up closer to what it really wanted to feel. A thumb slid along the side of Eve’s weighty but firm left breast.

Trudy blinked when Eve jolted. Did she just . . .. No. No way. She’s gotta be faking. Either she’s been dating Paul to get at my brother, or, Jesus, it looks like I have some serious competition in the boyfriend stealing bitch market.

Eve’s eye’s flashed as she quivered, and then she grabbed Barry’s arm and tugged. “C’mon. Let’s talk. Paul deserves it. He’s an asshole for leaving me like this . . ..”

“Hey Paul, the girl you were with bailed with my brother,” Trudy said, not wasting her time with coy flirting. “But I’m game for a little fun.”

With a click, she popped the clip and her hair tumbled down around her pretty face. She wasn’t blessed with a chest like a herd of cows, or parents who could afford to pack her full of plastic, so she made do with what she had: An elfin face, a slim body, and wave upon wave of awesome hair. And my ass isn’t bad, either. I’m just too short to ever be more than cute.

“What?” Paul looked horny, but slightly confused as she teased her hair with her fingers. Doing this to guys always brought a smile to her face, and sometimes the smile sealed the deal.

“Bruce and Eve are having a chat, so I’m here to keep you company. Personally, I think they’ll take it a bit further than talking. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.”

“Oh shit!” Paul’s eyes went wide. “I have to find them. Eve’s a mess right now, and I don’t know . . . do you mind?”

Trudy had slowly moved in closer. Closer than his girl could ever get, that’s for sure. I hope she’s flexible or she’ll never be able to tie her shoes again.

She tilted her head back, her heels giving a few inches of grace, and unleashed her most seductive gaze on him. Her green eyes peered out from under the curve of her arching blonde bangs, and, when he bent his neck to look down, she bushed his lips—lightly so that she wouldn’t smudge her glossy pink coating—with her own. She couldn’t do much more than that because she practically had to jump to get that close.

Trudy’s eyes widened as Paul’s dick swelled up against her body and pressed into her. He’s enormous! He’s got to be pushing a foot long. No idea how I’m going to fit all that much, Ted was a tight fit, and I could still wrap my hands around his. Do I want to try this out? Hell yeah! We could make our own porno.

“Not a bit,” she answered eventually. “Nothing I like more than a good, hard cock. Besides . . ..” Her prey backed up and Trudy looked at the few inches of cock that jutted up out of his pants. “It’s my birthday today too, and I really like the present you brought for me. I can’t wait to taste it.”

Paul felt his boner start to rage as Bruce’s sister licked her lips. “Trudy, believe me, I’m in no shape for this right now. I have to get Eve and get—”

“Oh,” sighed the blonde around the finger in her mouth. She slid the finger out through pursed lips and pressed it into his chest as her hand slipped towards the exposed helmet. “I think you’re in fine, wonderful, shape. You’ve got enough here to keep two, three girls very, very happy.”

Trudy’s fingers floated across the tip, lightly scratching with her nails, and he sucked in a short, deep breath. She felt the pulse as she wrapped her tiny hand around it and—

Wham! Trudy lay across one of the small round tables, her skirt wrapped her waist, and Paul had her panties down at her knees.

“Jesus, Paul, you ever heard of taking it slow?” Trudy laughed, her green eyes flickering with amusement, as Paul struggled to regain control. While it looked like most of his body was again slave to his mind, his penis throbbed and fought for freedom from the confines of his pants. I rule it completely, and when you have their cock, their hearts and minds follow. I am going to be so thoroughly laid tonight. That thing is a monster and it’s gonna be all mine!

Paul let go of her panties and backed up. “Trudy, don’t do that again.”

“Why not?” She sat up, lifted her knees, and slipped the panties off the rest of the way, making sure that he got a good, long look at her carefully trimmed pussy as she did it. “I kind of liked it. I’ve never been stripped and screwed in a dance club before. Sounds kinky.”

She left her legs slightly wide to trap his eyes. I don’t have fake, fat tits like Eve, but I bet I know what I’m doing better than she does.

And Paul did stare. In lust or incredulously, it didn’t matter. She’d have him at raw, mindless lust in a few moments, but first Trudy took stock of where she was. If I push him into a chair like this, Trudy slid forward onto her knees—praying the table wouldn’t fall over—planted her fingers in his belly and pushed back a bit.

And if I go low like this, she slid off the table and into him, forcing him back into a seat, before dropping into a squat.

“Hey,” Paul squawked.

No one will see me do this! Her hands attacked Paul’s zipper.

“Push your hips forward a bit and spread so I can get in between your legs,” she whispered loudly, trying to be heard over the music. Heard or not, she eased him forward by teasing his cock.

The beauty of a dick is, if you use it right, it’s like a remote control. A little lick here and a kiss there and you always get what you want.

“But . . . Eve—” Paul protested before a combination lick-kiss silenced him.

“She’s probably getting her brains screwed out by Bruce right now. Trust me, she wanted it. So do you, and . . . so . . . do . . . I.” Trudy didn’t allow her fingers to let up on the pressure even when her mouth was busy. Christ, I need both hands, and it actually does taste . . . good. Smells wonderful too. What is it with this guy? Maybe I should have started screwing Bruce’s friends years ago.

“She looked like she needed it almost as bad as I do, so don’t worry about her. This is about you,” lick, “and me,” lick, “and our big friend here.” Nibble. Paul’s head dropped back and his hips jerked rhythmically.

“Good. Now lift up a bit so I can . . . there, that’s good.” She sucked softly at the tip, savouring the unusual taste. “I like a guy with no underwear; it means they’re ready to do business.” She rubbed the shaft and lowered her mouth, opening wide and pushing him to the back of her throat. Oh my god. This is bigger than I thought!

 “Do the business,” she said, lifting off and looking up into Paul’s empty eyes. Raw, mindless lust was what she’d gone after and gotten. He couldn’t talk if he’d wanted to, as her lips played over, her tongue flitted around, and her fingers caressed this biggest, most erect dick she’d ever seen. She spent longer than she planned, running her tongue over every part of his cock because she wanted, almost needed, to taste all of it. I have to stop. Have to do him soon or he’ll pop and I’ll miss out. Do him? I can’t do him here. I have to get him out. Take a short drive, park, and do him in his car or something.

“Do me!” she gasped out a minute later. “Do me here and now.”

Thanks to her now-proven Remote Control Theory of penis manipulation, Paul didn’t raise any sort of fuss. He just sort of sat there, his head lolled over, twitching.

Trudy looked around, weighed the odds of getting caught against how much she wanted—needed—to do this, and sat on him, sinking the cock deep with more than a little work. He’d never have fit if she hadn’t been working her self up left handed while she went down on him, and there was something about that cock. It really grabbed the vaginal imagination and had her practically gushing in a way her best finger work, or any lover she’d had, never managed. Still, he didn’t go all of the way in, but, by sitting partly on her legs rather than completely straddling him, she felt pretty damn full.

Once he started to move in her, he really got into it. His hands caressed her hair, and his lips devoured hers before seeking lower. She wasn’t ridiculously huge like Eve, but Paul had no problem finding her rack when they disposed of her blouse.

As an added bonus it gave her great leverage and the added height made his work at her breasts much easier for both of them. Usually it sucked to be short the way she was. As she began to move her body and Paul started thrusting, Trudy felt herself really getting into it, more than just the usual rush from screwing a guy who was supposed to be off limits.

This is something more than just doing some other taboo guy, the way he fills me so completely and the strobe lights! The strobes make it really look cool. Flash, flash, lift, flash, flash, drop, it just looks more erratic and erotic than it reeaaly is. God, that feels good! I’ve never been this full! I might actually even cum.

“Come on, Paaaaul. Fast-ahhh,” she moaned. I never moan! Oh god!

“Gimme a big birthday orgasm. Come—ah gawd—on! Aaaahhhhlmost!” Yes! My birthday! Getting what he had planned for his big-titted girlfriend on my birthday! Going to cum on my birthday!

“My present. Mine—”

And that’s when the spotlight hit them. The music had halted.

“There’s our birthday girl!” called the DJ. He paused and took a double take. “And uh our birthday . . . guy. It, uh . . . It looks like they’re really enjoying the party!”

Her obscenity filled scream filled the club before being cut off by an even more shocked yell as Paul’s intensified pounding made up for her sudden lack of motion and pushed her the rest of the way thought the gates of Heaven.

Kari Sneaks Home

Kari did a quick circuit around her house to see where everyone was before she went in the garage door. Dad was watching TV, mom in the bathtub and her sister was doing homework on the kitchen table. In the garage, zip past the living room and Kari was home free. Then she just had to pretend to go home early, not that it would be hard, Kari felt wiped out.

The reason for her paranoia was simple: Carrie’s mom went completely mental when she saw her daughter, and Kari didn’t want a repeat with her own mom. Kari and Kasey did what they could to calm Mrs. Rambaugh down, but it wasn’t enough, obviously. Kari and Kasey snuck out when Mrs. Rambaugh called for an ambulance, went back to Kasey’s place, and made out in his bedroom until his folks got home. To avoid a repeat freak out, Kari and Kasey dressed faster than possible—they left stuff like underwear out—and Kari ran for it. That really sucked, having to stop, dress, and jump out a window when she was, like, five strokes from cumming.

She waited for a loud car to drive by and then . . . Snap!

The deadbolt was loud, as usual. Dad probably has it tuned so Sarah and I can’t sneak around with boys. Like that’s going to stop me now.

Don’t let dad notice. Please don’t let dad see me, Kari prayed, as she closed the garage door and slipped past the living room.

“Kari?” He noticed, but he didn’t turn. “You’re back late. You’d better not have any homework left.”

“Carrie and I took care of it dad. That’s part of why I’m late,” lied Kari, making full stealth speed to her bedroom. “I’m beat, dad. Going to bed. Night night!”

Safe in her room, Kari opened up her closet doors and pushed the clothes out of the way to get at the almost forgotten mirror behind them. She had to see herself, what she looked like now.

What’s all the fuss about? Carrie looks hot with big boobs. Sure, she needs help sitting up, but really . . . I’d kill for a set like that! Any girl would! I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe just to show these babies off.

“Oh. My. GAHOD!” erupted Sarah’s voice. Kari turned around in time to see the math book drop from her sister’s stunned fingers and land with a thud.

Kari felt herself turn on again. Wonder if she’s bi? No way. No way. Not with my sister. But wow. Look at her face; she’s staring at my boobs! Feels soooo good to be watched, to be wanted . . . .

“Shhhh! Sarah! Don’t shout. Don’t tell anyone! Mom and dad would freak!”

“What happened? Your breasts . . . they’re huge! What happened?”

“I don’t know. Could have been magic, I guess, but who cares? They’re amazing! You can’t believe how good they feel.” Kari began to not so subtly massage a breast. “How good it feels to finally have a real chest.”

Sarah kept staring, her mouth moving long before it started to say stuff. “But you’re huge! You always hated girls like that.”

Sarah’s stare is getting me wet. Wow, my whole body is tingling again, it’s better than sex. No it’s not, but it sure makes me want sex again. Kari shivered and grabbed a bath robe. “Now I am a ‘girl like that,’ so I can stop being so jealous. You have no idea what this is like. It’s like I’m finally a real woman!”

The touch of the robe on her nipples sent a shock through her body and Kari smiled as her mind wandered. “Sarah, you’d look sooo hot with a set like this too. God, the two of us . . . we could have anyone we wanted.”

Sarah blinked and looked at her sister. It was more than just the breasts; this was like having a whole new sister. “Are you serious? How about Jamie?”

“Jamie’s a leg man, but I think,” Kari tried to cup her breasts, “these could convince him otherwise. Besides, you’ve got nice legs. Wrap those around him and he’d do anything for you.”

Obviously Kari would too, based on the way she drank in Sarah’s jean covered legs. From that start, Sarah and Kari discussed the unthinkable. Yesterday, talking to Kari about boys would have been a waste of time, but today Kari was all for it, and she was very willing to discuss details about sleeping with boys.

And about making out with girls.

No wonder she’s always been so weird, thought Sarah as Kari detailed things Sarah had only heard about in meagre details. She was totally bi-confused. It always sounded kind of icky, but the way Kari’s going on . . . it sounds kind of cool. I’d love it if someone made me feel like that, guy or not, but it’s like she’s describing it more as an invitation to try it out. No way! Well maybe, but not with my sister. Serious ick.

Kari kept getting more animate and agitated, the robe fell open and Kari openly felt herself, her voice breaking with little sobs. Finally, her body flushed and her eyes completely wild, she chased Sarah out of the room.

Sarah knocked on the door. “Need my math book, Kari.”

The door opened a crack a few moments later, and the math book shoved through.

“Here! Nnng! Take it! Oh!”

Sarah snatched the book and stood back, as the door drifted open a bit further and groans and moans crept through. She listened a while longer, tempted to take a peek, before heading back to her homework. Kari hadn’t been much help there; that was for sure. My mind isn’t on math anymore.

Leaving her sister to sleep—masturbate all night is probably more likely—she went back to the kitchen, ate an orange while she did the last few math questions, and went to bed. She had some incredible dreams about a couple of the guys at school, and a few about her sister, while her night shirt got tighter.

Monday

I Love Mondays

“Mmmmmm. What a lovely way to meet a new day,” Kari said as her soft sheets slid across her nipples. She replaced them with her palms and made slow circles. “I’m really going to get to like having these, like I don’t already. Only thing better would be to wake up with something thrusting between my legs.”

A hand shortly fulfilled that wish with a pair of fingers first drifting back and forth through her raven fur (Wonder if I should shave that off?) before diving in.

“Mmmmm. NNno!  No time,” she moaned as she stoked the fires. “Got to get moving b-before Mom sees. Just maybe time for one. Just one.”

She’d started with biting her free hand to keep her cries in, but quickly found herself moaning anyway as she slid her index finger in and out of her mouth. Despite her distraction, she did manage to muffle, somewhat, the barks of pleasure that erupted from her lips as she came. Then, after she drifted back to herself, she threw off her covers, swung a long leg out of her bed, admired it for a moment and looked at herself spread and ready for more.

I’m just too hot now. The breasts make all the difference. I can’t even resist myself anymore, but I’m going to have to try. And I’m going to have to come up with an explanation. I can’t put it off forever. Sooner or later, mom or dad will find out. Maybe I can bribe dad thou—what the hell am I thinking? Get moving girl! Shower, grab lunch and go. No time to waste daydreaming.

Kari opened the door a crack and looked out. She grabbed her bath robe and dashed across to the bathroom, locked the door, started running water for the shower got in and lost herself as water splashed over her body. Water, followed by her soapy hands ran over her body, teased her breasts, dripped down her abdomen, and she lost track somewhere between her legs.

Leaning up against the ceramic wall of the shower a few minutes later, Kari sighed to herself. I tried at least. I really did. Shampoo. Where’s the shampoo? I can’t get into much trouble with that, can I?

She washed, rinsed, repeated, and carefully washed her body off as her temperature rose again. Rose and had her in such a state that she almost didn’t notice when the hot water cut out. While her body howled in anguish, her mind sang with joy about its little victory. She’d made it out of the shower without masturbating any more than necessary and put her body to carefully drying itself. That proved to be an experience and test all to itself, as the fluffy material teased her nipples more than the water did. The towel felt so good when slid back and forth between her legs, but it was still too rough to do that long. Mostly dry, she put on her bathrobe and slipped back across the hall to her room.

The closet was no help because of the mirror. The way her breasts swelled under the robe teased her eyes, and she could barely keep her mind on finding clothes. She finally grabbed a pair of black jeans and looked around for a top. She had absolutely nothing that would fit. Maybe mom does. If I’m really quiet . . .

She slunk in and, by the light that cut through the drapes, found a white dress blouse that would do, if she didn’t button it up all the way. Quietly she closed the door behind her and tip toed her way back to her room and the mirror.

“Geeze,” she muttered. I look like a slut. No wonder girls with boobs like mine are always sluts. There’s no way you can hide them, and everyone just assumes if you’re sticking out like this, you’re a slut. She stared at herself and smiled happily as her nipples stiffened again, becoming plainly visible through the thin shirt.

“And why would you want to hide them, anyway? Might as well be a slut, huh? Way more fun than not being one.”

Kari walked out to the kitchen, pulled a bowl out of the cabinet, poured some cereal and then looked at a clock. Mom’s alarm would be going off any second. Abandoning the idea of breakfast, Kari grabbed her mom-packed lunch, scribbled a note about wanting to work on some homework before classes and ran out of the house. She quickly stopped running because the bouncing threatened to compromise her shirt. And that would be a complete waste without an audience. I’ll have to go shopping later. Buy some stuff that’ll really show the new me off.

The investigators

“What the hell?” said the rookie agent, Norton, as he looked at the blond in the examination room. “That girl looks like she’s a triple X cup.”

“Humm,” replied his partner, Julian “Yogi” Beresford. “Looks like it could be a Master PC job.”

“You’re kidding.” Norton pried his eyes off of the stacked blonde. “I always thought Master PC was an urban legend.”

“Oh, it's real. Just ask Natalie Portman.” Beresford wasn’t really paying attention; he was going over a lab report. The girl seemed normal, but something had radically altered her DNA recently. Some of the old her was still trying to fight back, but losing dramatically. No surprise, the replacement genes were vicious competitors. Not an MPC job after all. MPC didn’t leave much in the way of traces, just the big boobs.

“Natalie Por . . . the porn star? What'd she have to do with it?”

“It’s in the archives. Look it up. Humph. Traces of something unusual in her bloodstream. Not MPC, the fist is wrong for magic and the rad count is too low for a BE ray. Howard! What have we got on the SoT?”

“Sot?” asked Norton.

“Ess oh tee. Salve of Transformation. Apply it to the right body part and make a wish. Better make it a good one or things are likely to get real ugly. Ripped through Hollywood a while back and we had a bitch of a time cleaning up afterwards”

“Not SoT, Yogi,” Howard hollered back. “Trace compounds are wrong.”

“Girl claims that she and her friends were out on a picnic,” said Norton, reading over the report again. “Pre-cooked Roast chicken from Safeway; potato salad, also from Safeway; home baked cookies; apples; oranges; half a cantaloupe, and some nacho chips. Barring the nachos, it’s good to see the kids eating healthy.”

“Oranges. Crap! That’s what this reminds me of. Baker, check with the SRU department. I want to know about any recent sightings of the ‘Fruit of the Loom’.”

“FotL?” asked Norton.

“Nah, we just call it The Fruit. Reality altering, sapient oranges from another frame of existence. They literally reweave the fabric of existence around them. The results were similar to SoT, but tended towards transgender alterations”

“Sounds instantaneous, sir. The girl reports a slow transformation. And there’s the residue.”

“Something new then. I hate new stuff. Pick up the other girl, her friend,” Yogi poked a thumb in the direction of the girl on the examination table, “the ‘goth chick,’ and . . .”

He paused for a moment before, knowing he’d regret it later, Yogi Beresford finished his orders. “And find me that picnic basket!”

Looking Good

“Looking good!” said one ogling boy as Kari posed with her chest thrust out. She moved carefully to let them wiggle and sway, but not blow out any more buttons on her borrowed shirt.

“Holy cow, Kari!” another one moaned, knocking the wetness and heat between Kari’s legs up another notch.

“Cow is right. You look ridiculous with that much padding.”

“’s not padding, Leyna,” Kari protested. Never really noticed how good Leyna looks before. God, I’d do her in an instant.  “I’m not stupid. You think I’d pad this much? Duh. No one would ever believe it.”

Leyna cocked her head to one side in disbelief and rolled her eyes. “No one believes it anyway, Kari.”

“I do!” yelled Leyna’s brother, Terry. “I believe in Karis! Every time someone says they don’t believe in Karis, one drops dead! Everybody clap your hands. It’s the only way to save a Kari! Clap! Everybody Claaaap!”

When Terry and his nerd herd started jumping up and down, cheering, and clapping, Kari responded by spinning towards them and blowing a kiss. She straightened up to make sure they all got a really good look.

“I think this Kari will live,” Kari cooed, her voice full of promise. “Thank you, Terry.”

“I hate you, Terry,” barked Leyna.

“Cock-a-doodle-dooo!” crowed Terry.

“I’ve got cock for youuuu!” bellowed another wit.

“Think so, do you?” Kari teased, crossing her arms beneath her breasts in mock anger. Lifted up and pressed together, the breasts allowed a peek through the collar at internet-bimbo-class cleavage.

“Think you’d be able to handle these?” She cupped as much as she could and lifted. The shirt did the rest.

“I dunno, but I’d sure like to try,” said a boy beside Leyna. She elbowed him in the ribs and stormed off as Kari broke out giggling and jiggling.

With no one left to mock, the crowd of boys resumed drooling, and Kari mentally noted down Terry as a possible for later, even if he was a mental case.

Maybe a quickie at lunch? She took a breath and giggled as the button right at the peak of her mounds popped off. If I last that long.

Phone Call

“Paul! Don’t hang up! Please! I’m sorry about last night, really! I was going to seduce you, sure, but I didn’t mean to do you in the club. You think I wanted to get busted doing that?”

“No, but you totally ruined my chances with Eve and got us both kicked out of our birthday party”

“Hello. Eve? Baby, you just hit the jackpot: me! I’ve never felt like that with anyone. I mean, wa ha haow! What a birthday present. If you’re game, I’m totally yours. And I never once heard you complaining. No means no, but ‘Oh god! More, baby! Oh! Oh! Oh!’ doesn’t sound much like ‘No!’ to me.

“But that’s not why I called. Paul, have you seen Barry? He never came home yesterday and Allie says he didn't show for psych today. I haven’t seen him since he went off with Eve.”

“I haven’t seen either of them. I don’t think she’ll want to see me after what we did.”

“Oh, give it a rest Paul. She went off with Bruce long before we got started. We didn’t tie her up and drag her away, and she wasn’t wasted or anything, so it was all her.”

“It was my fault. I gave her the orange.”

A rush of air from a confused laugh blew static across the phone. “What? I’m serious, Paul. Mom’s freaking out, and I had to trash Bruce’s room just to find your number. Did you know he’s got Mandy’s number in his phone pad? I can’t believe she’d give him the time of day.”

“Bruce and Amanda? They were pretty serious . . . for about a week.”

“Yeah. That’s Mandy. Must have been bored with the football team and wanted to try out baseball. Probably slept her way through the whole team.”

On his end, Paul went red. That would certainly explain a bit, but damn Amanda was good. Better than Eve before or after the orange. Maybe as good as Trudy. Paul stopped going red because at the thought of sleeping with Trudy, the blood raced elsewhere.

“Ok, Trudy,” said Paul, his voice thick. “I’ll call Eve and see if she knows anything.”

“Great. I owe you one, and I know exactly how to pay. Mwwah!”

That was a pretty good incentive, but not if he managed to make up with Eve again. Should I make up with her? Sure I owe her, it was my orange, but how was I supposed to know? Dad probably knew, but he got called away on business before Eve let me out of bed. And I didn’t go wandering off with the first interested guy.

No, I went screwed the brains out of the first interested girl. Paul punched Eve’s hard won number into the phone. We didn’t even go anywhere. Trudy just touched it and I completely lost it. I’m better today, I think, but no one walked up to me and offered to suck me off. Not until a minute ago with Trudy on the phone. She just hinted and I’m harder than a rock.

Answering service. Nuts. Paul waited for the beep and then started talking. “Hey, Trudy. Just wondering what you’re up to. Call mmmm . . . Nuts.”

He deleted the message and got his girlfriend’s name right on the second try.

Another Phone Call

“A hijacking of one of our trucks is hardly routine, Henning,” Kurt Hamner told his assistant. “B.E. is one of my babies, so I’ll look into it and pass it up.”

Henning stood there, looking unsure of something. Years ago, his first boss, Mr. Abrams, taught him something. Always keep a record to cover your ass, kid. Always.

Clicking on the small voice recorder he carried for these sorts of occasions, Henning made a feeble protest. “Sir . . . we don’t even know what was on the hijacked truck.”

“Waste materials from the facility being taken to be incinerated. Nothing that can be used against the company and nothing for you to worry about.”

“The security department—”

“Thank you Henning. Your attention to detail is noted. I’ll take care of security personally.”

Trying to look unsatisfied, the very satisfied Mr. Henning slunk out of the office. Shortly after, Kurt left as well. He walked a few blocks from the office, dropped a quarter into a payphone, and made a call.

“Ajax laundry, Philips speaking.”

 “Mr. Philips, excellent work. I just got word of the truck hijacking.”

“It wasn’t us, boss. The truck never reached us

“What? And you didn’t notify me?”

“How? How do we contact you? You call us. What did you want us to do? Take out advertising in the Times? You should have called sooner.”

Kurt wanted to scream at someone so he did. All things considered, Philips took it well, but through his ranting kurt kept wondering, Who would know. Who would know and want to take the truck. Who . . .

“Philips, I’m going to need your services again. It looks like my pet mad scientist is going into business for himself. I want you to talk to Doctor Oliver Baines for me. Find out where my fruits are. And from now on, you report personally.”

The Bondage Orange

Eve had the top floor of a house built sometime in the seventies, but didn’t look it anymore. The frame of the two storey house still screamed seventies, but at some point, probably in the nineties, the exterior had been redone and the basement suit added. When Paul first met Eve, she lived in the basement suit, but she swapped to the upper level when Mrs. Kent damaged her hip and couldn’t manage the stairs anymore. The Kents must have still been on vacation because their car was still out front, but no one had looked in on the voice calling for help.

“Trudy, gonna need a hand here. Mr. Kent has a ladder behind the pool shed.”

“Ha! See? You did need me to come along. ‘Oh you don’t care about your brother. You just want to wreck things between me and Eve,’” Trudy mocked. “If things are so good between you and Eve, how come you don’t have a key?”

“Eve and I haven’t been together that long.”

“Good.” She walked along side him, probably too close Paul figured, but his why complain? “When I get my own place, you get the second key, so you can drop in and surprise me with morning wakeup oral sex. Just so you won’t feel like you’re being used for the sex, I’m willing to alternate who gives the wakeup calls.”

Paul tried to frown and ignore the swelling in his pants caused by her statement and the impish smile that accompanied it. “Trudy, there is no us. I am going to patch things up with Eve. Somehow.”

“I can change your mind,” Trudy said, her smile becoming an aggressive grin. “I know what you like, and I love it too.”

“Just grab the ladder.”

After positioning the ladder and a quick climb, a single glance through Eve’s bedroom window told a story. A confused story that was going to need explanation, but Paul had no problem piecing together some of it. The floor was littered with orange peels and apple slices. A shattered bowl had taken a chunk out of the gyprock wall before being destroyed by the impact. Ceramic bowl fragments lay around the floor mixed with more orange and clothing.

The figure on the bed, Barry, looked at the window and went white. He lurched up, and then Paul saw that his girlfriend-stealing buddy had been tied, arms and legs, to the metal bedposts with pieces of a plastic rope Eve and Paul used on the camping trip a month back. Paul slid back down the ladder.

“Need a rock.”

“Ha-what?” Trudy laughed.

“I’ve got to get in there. Eve’s got Barry tied to her bed.”

Trudy laughed so hard she almost fell over. As he grabbed a fist sized rock, Paul couldn’t help but ogle the five-foot bundle of giggling girl. Eve never looked like that when she laughed. Actually Eve even looked sort of serious when she laughed. She never showed such raw joy, except that night when she was riding him and cumming like crazy. Pushing that line of thought as far away as a stiff cock would let him, Paul went back up the ladder and added some glass to the mess on the floor.

“Paul! Eve . . . I’m sorry man,” Barry blurted almost immediately after the window broke. “I-I was drunk. I didn’t mean to, but you gotta help me, man. She went psycho. We did it for hours, man! She wouldn’t stop, and I just couldn’t keep up. I woke up tied to the bed when she started going nuts with apples and oranges. She’s totally freaked out, man.”

“Where is she Barry?” asked Paul as he reached through the broken window, lifted the lock, slid the window open so he wouldn’t have to go in through jagged splinters of glass, and pulled himself up and in.

“I don’t know. She was screaming and kicking at me when I couldn’t get it up anymore, and then she just ran off.” Barry cringed as much as the ropes would let him. “Probably to get more oranges or something.”

“Hi Barry!” called Trudy her eyes peeked over the stood on the box for a look. “Yuck. It reeks in here.

“Trudy you bitch! This is your fault!”

“Her fault?” asked Paul as he helped Trudy through the window. Squished up against him, he wanted to rip her clothes off and pick up where they left off at the club.

“This? No. Hooking up Bruce and Eve, yeah, of course it was. Like I was going to get a chance at you with her watching. What did you do to her to get her so screwed up, Paul?”

“I gave her an orange. Looks like she was trying to do the same thing to Barry.”

“What?” both Trudy and Bruce shouted.

“Dad gave me this . . . orange and I gave it to Eve. We shared it, her breasts grew big as handballs and she became a nympho.”

“Hmmm. What did it do to you I wonder?” Trudy slid her body against him again and pressed her hand against his cock.

“Trudy?” mumbled Bruce, looking incredulous.

“N-no deal, Trudy,” said Paul as his heart began to rampage.

“Oh,” Her hand brushed up and down. “Try and stop me.”

“. . .” said Paul, his arms wrapping around her.

“Told you I could change your mind,” she said standing up on her toes and kissing the bottom of his cheek.

“Hello, Paul? Trudy? I don’t care what you do later, but . . . I’m tied up here right? My hands feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“What? You aren’t going to defend your sweet, innocent little sister from this horny brute?”

“Give it a rest. Untie me and I’ll defend Paul. He needs the help more than you do.”

“Trudy . . .” groaned Paul. “Later.”

“Better later than never,” Trudy quipped as she separated from Paul. She looked at her naked and stiffening brother. “You know . . . this is kind of sick. Getting a hard-on for your sister. Eeeew.”

“I’m going to get a knife.” Paul turned to leave.

“Don’t bother,” Trudy called at Paul’s departing back. “Eve wasn’t a Girl Scout, that’s for sure. These knots suck. Barry, you sissy, you could have kicked your way out of these.”

“Hello? Lemme tie you up with this plastic junk. It cuts right into you.”

“Yeah. Eve doesn’t know anything,” she said, getting to work on the first knot. “You’re supposed to use silk or leather straps for stuff like this.”

“Paul,” yelled Barry. “What the hell did you do to my sister?”

“Me?” Paul shouted back from somewhere down the hall. “Must have been some other guy.”

“Oh please. Who said it was a guy who got me into bondage?

“Just kidding, Barry,” she lied after seeing the look on her brother’s face. “There. Don’t wriggle so much and the next one’ll be easier. Then, when I’m done, go for a walk for a while. I want to do Paul in his ex’s bed.”

The knife clattered on the floor when Paul dropped it.

“Hey,” said Trudy as she slipped the knot on Barry’s other leg loose. “Be careful. That’s a hardwood floor.”

The snap of a deadbolt being drawn back followed by voices prematurely ended Paul’s strangled reply.

“Eve’s back,” said Paul, racing to the front door. Barry cringed again.

Paul got to the foyer just in time to see Eve kick the door shut and drop to her knees. Some guy he didn’t know held her shirt in his hands. Two other guys hung back, one taking off his shirt and the other removing his shoes.

“Eve!” shouted Paul to his topless girlfriend. All four stared back, Eve looking surprised and horny and the guy about to be blown looking like Paul was going to die in another few moments. Holy crap. Any of these guys could tear me apart. If it came down to it, I could take one of them in a fair fight, maybe, but these guys don’t look like they’d fight all that fair. More the “stick a knife in him and see if he’s done” type.

“Oh! Paul! I-I . . . how did you . . .?”

“I, uh, just came by to get Barry.”

“Barry, omigod! I forgot all about him! Is he alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” Paul said, trying not to wilt under the stares of three angry, and expectantly horny, looking large men. “We’ll just go out the back way, OK? I’ll talk to you later when you’re not . . . busy.”

“What was that about?” asked one of the strangers as Paul slunk back down the hall. “He your brother or something?”

“He’s nothing . . . oooh. That’s a big one. Mhhmmph!”

“Lets go,” Paul muttered to Trudy and her brother. “Think you can do the ladder, Barry? I don’t want to go back out there.”

“Sorry,” groaned Barry, grimacing as he tried to stand. His ankles were a complete mess from a day’s worth of unprofessional bondage.

“Crap. We’ll have to use the back door.”

“Well, we could wait them out,” said Trudy. “I’ve got some ideas how.”

“Come on, Trudy. Not in front of Barry.”

“Oh, he’s no angel. Barry likes to watch, don’t you, brother?”

“Yes and no.” Barry limped to the doorway. “End of the hall and turn left? I’ll wait in the car.” He took three short steps and fell over.

“Good thing too,” mumbled Trudy. “He’s still naked, the idiot.”

“Hey! What are you doing up there?” yelled one of the strangers.

“You want to do anything this afternoon?” asked Trudy a few minutes later after they deposited Barry in the back of Paul’s car. “Don’t look at me like that. I meant grab a bite to eat.”

“Sure.” Paul opened and held the passenger door. “Might as well. I don’t think Eve’s interested in a monogamous relationship anymore.”

He slammed the door and marched around to the other side of the car and got in. “I’m a little depressed now and could use some cheering up.”

“No kidding? So am I, I really wanted to try you out tied to that bed. I guess I’ll have to settle for doing you in another club tonight.”

“Don’t you dare,” groaned Barry from the back seat. “Or I will have to beat you up, Paul. Wait a sec. Another?”

More Data Cums Available

“We have some interesting test results on subject Male 3-B, sir.”

“Care to define interesting, Norton?” asked Yogi as he read through another case report. Fourteen. We’re up to fourteen already and have no idea what’s causing it.

“He produces a chemical that stimulates female arousal and greatly increases sensitivity to, er, sexual pleasure.”

“What, like pheromones?”

“Ah, no, sir. It’s a contact aphrodisiac. Really powerful stuff. Contact through skin is effective, but the test subjects went wild when the substance was ingested. Some of it does go airborne, it’s relatively insignificant.”

“So bodily contact is required.”

“A fairly tight subset of bodily contact sir, the victim needs to make contact with the subject’s genitals.”

“So lemme get this straight.” Yogi put down incident report number thirteen and fixed his assistant with a bored stare. “Some woman goes gown on the guy, touches the stuff, and becomes a sex-crazed slut.”

“Yes sir, but only for a few hours.”

“OK. So what’s the problem? This isn’t dangerous, considering the test subject is already thinking of doing the nasty if she’s playing around down there . . . wait. Back up a bit. Where the hell did we find test subjects for this?”

“The lab boys, uh, extracted some of the substance for examination and, uh, it found its way into the coffee machine by the, uhm, secretarial pool.”

Yogi’s emotionally dead expression didn’t change. “Trace it. Run the surveillance tapes and do a sweep for prints. I’m going to hang someone by their balls for this. Then check his girlfriend for similar effects. I don’t want a repeat of the ‘Lact-Aid’ incident.”

“Lact-Aid?”

“Look it up. That’s one case I don’t even like talking about.”

The Semi-Professional

Kari had totally BSed the guys at the strip club’s amateur night. Or maybe she hadn’t and they just were hot to see her G-cups exposed as she was to expose them. Yeah, she giggled to herself, G-cups. From sub A to G and she’d never felt better. She still dressed sort of goth, but with lacy, cleavage-emphasizing tops. She didn’t look much like the little vampire maiden anymore, but she wasn’t a maiden anymore so who cares? The annoying part was finding bras, but that was quickly solved. Vampirella never wore bras, and she was more Kari’s type now.

Where her need to show off came from, she didn’t know. She didn’t care either. Knowing men were rock hard over her body just made her wet. It was almost as good as a hard cock in her pussy. School had been so hard today; surrounded by guys staring at her all day, teachers staring at her, some of the girls staring at her. Her brains were still in place, she aced the math quiz, but sex was the only thing on her mind when she wasn’t working on something else.

She’d barely even looked at her poems today, which was unusual. She didn’t even go home right away from school. Heck, she cut last block to go shopping and, loaded up on revealing, black, and lacy stuff, spotted the strip club on her way home. She had the fake ID she’d gotten to attend adults-only erotic poetry readings and figured, what the hell. If you want to be ogled by guys, was there a better place than a strip club? Not likely.

So now she was waiting in line behind a leggy redhead calling herself Brenna who clearly seemed brainless, but she did like to talk about Kari’s new favourite topic.

“You should have seen them when they were growing.”

“I’ll bet. You must have been wearing a D when you were thirteen.”

“Nope. Just yesterday. Took about an hour.”

“Ha! I wish,” said Brenna, going along with what she obviously thought was a joke. “I was a mess for days after I got mine done.”

“Done? Oh. You’re a professional?”

“Nah. Just a wannabe, so far. Sometimes I get work, but nothing regular. Damn Canadians steal all the jobs.”

Kari opened up her schoolbag and pulled out what was left of her lunch: two apples and some sort of pressed meat sandwich. She’d been too busy at lunch to eat much and too hungry for something else, but not only had Mr Campbell refused to put out, he also ran away. She munched on the sandwich, the realized that her competitor was looking at the books in her bag. Kari went red and zipped up fast.

“You’re a little young to be here aren’t you?” asked the redhead.

“What? No.” Kari protested.

“Oh come on. What about the text books?”

“I go to college.”

Snort. “Bull. I remember the grade eleven math book. And that was a mom-made lunch. Nobody brings an apple to a club. Don’t worry, with those you don’t look sixteen and I promise not to tell anyone if you’ll give me the apple. I didn’t bring a snack.”

Kari looked over at the older girl, met her eye and failed to get a read. She handed over the apple anyway. This wasn’t about any sort of prize for Kari; this was all about showing off. The redhead could rat her out later, but by then it would be too late. She’d have a room full of rock hard guys to fantasize about all night. All being found out would mean is next time I do this, it’ll have to be at a different club. And I’ll drop her books off at home first.

Kari stared as Brenna devoured the apple. “You eaten recently?”

“I had breakfast. That was a good apple.”

Ten minutes later, Brenna was on stage strutting her stuff. Despite having a body that was, as far as she could tell, a gift from the gods, Kari knew she had no chance of winning anything or even placing tonight. Brenna, despite the body deficiency, could out dance and out arouse Kari any day of the week. Chalking it up as a learning experience, and hotter than ever to experience the rush of showing off her body, Kari just watched.

Brenna’s not so far behind on the breast front after all. She must have kept those things strapped in pretty tight. Man, how can she stand such a small bra?

Brenna’s face, when Kari got a glimpse, said the wanna-be pro stripper was asking the same question. In a wave of flying hair she snapped the clasp holding her boobs in check and, where any one else would have slid the straps down slowly and seductively, Brenna’s bra practically shot off her arms when they came back forwards again. Her boobs bounced and jiggled at the release and a look of relief flashed across her face before being replaced by raw pleasure and intense lust.

That was a cool trick, but, my god, that must have hurt. Those are some implants. Brenna was really getting in to it, strutting and flaunting her stupendous breasts. Wait . . . I swear her breasts just got . . . No way! Her too? I can’t be carrying some big boob virus or school would have been . . .

The fruit! That’s why Carrie got so big! She had, like, half a melon and I only had a few bites of an apple. Brenna ate the whole thing!

Even from the side, Kari could tell that the apple was working its magic on Brenna. Her body was flushed, her enormous nipples erect, she looked like she practically getting off

The rush of incredible horniness that came with that apple . . . Kari felt herself turning on just from watching. That and Brenna’s breasts looked so amazing. Sucking on them would be heaven. The two of them could make out on the stage, find a couple of hard volunteer cocks in the audience, and then they could go totally wild.

Her cell rang. It was Kasey, so Kari pulled her eyes off of the dancing handballs on the stage. “Hey Kasey. You looking for more fun, lover?”

“Kari? Where are you? No, don’t say anything. They could be listening. Some government people picked up Carrie this afternoon. They were just at your house too. They . . . holy fu—” Kasey disappeared in a wail of static.

“Uh oh.” Brenna had lost it and was pulling some guy onto the stage. In a shot, a bouncer grabbed her, but Brenna, not being too discriminatory in her state, wrapped around him and started to peel his shirt off.

“Stop fighting,” she shrieked over the music. “Get it out and take me! I know you’re hard! I can feel it! I want it!”

The bouncer and some other guy carried the screaming stripper off; hopefully one of them would see to her. Kari knew what Brenna must have felt like right about then, and without Kasey to do while she grew, she would have gone completely nuts.

“You ok, kid?” asked one of the girls who worked at the club. “You’ve, like, gone all pale.”

“She gonna be all right?”

“Yeah. Someone probably slipped her something. She was on drugs for sure. Like, I can’t believe she packed those into her bra. Talk about going totally overboard on the implants! You up next?”

The waitress was ogling her. Her. She was getting the eye from a hot waitress probably ten years older. Kari wanted to do her right there and then, but she had to get moving.

“Uhm. I better not. I lied about my age to get in here.”

“Come on.” A finger traced up her lacy top and detonated firecrackers in her brain as it rolled around her nipple. “With a body like yours, no one would ever know, and even if they did, who could say no?”

Pop! The horny switch went all the way on in her brain as the inhibitions switch snapped off. She pushed into the probing hand and freaked out strippers, magic apples, and government men didn’t matter anymore. The burning in her body mattered, the emptiness between her legs mattered, and there were all sorts of people who would be willing to help her out with both once they saw what she had to offer.

Kari did her best on the stage, and won the best prize of all: a night of screaming bliss with the waitress and her boyfriend.

Tuesday

Terry and Kari

Terry stopped dead in awe as his dick stiffened. It was definitely the hot-but-silly goth girl, but she wasn’t all that gothed out anymore. She had on a pair of black pants and a tight black shirt that bounced and rolled with her breasts as she walked. On Friday, she had been all curves and lace, immediately recognizable even to a hyperactive nerd who’d been exposed to the school’s hottest pieces of ass in a non-stop parade orchestrated by his sister. But Kari wasn’t stacked like that on Friday. She didn’t flaunt her curves like that on Friday, but yesterday was something else on so many different levels.

And this morning wasn't half bad either. Waking up with morning wood was nothing new, but waking up with almost a foot of it on a hair trigger was another something else. Hearing his sister say, “Eeeeww. Get that sock out of your pants.” and have it not be a sock was just too cool for words. Now maybe girls would take him seriously.

But first things first.

His eyes took Kari very, very seriously and she looked back with a similar level of interest. It didn’t take much to give him a boner at the best of times. Little Miss Kari-the-goth-witch treaded the line before he was changed, but big Miss Kari-the-black-seductress was way past his endurance now. Having her stalk right up to him, press her glorious boobs into his chest, and slide up as she raised herself the few inches she needed to meet his lips for a quick kiss . . . that was too much for anyone. Even though he’d just left the washroom after whacking off thinking about one of his sister’s friends, the monster in his pants rose from the dead.

Oh my god. Next trip to the john’s got a whole new mammary . . . er, memory, to work off. She stepped back as he watched her, her eyes focused on his, he said the only intelligent thing he could think of. “Uh, hi?”

“Hey Terry. Thanks for yesterday. I meant to catch up with you later and thank you more personally, but I got busty. Uh . . . busy. Sorry.” She looked Terry over, lingering on the overloading pants and snickered as the bulge pushed up under his shirt. “Let me guess: You had a banana yesterday before you went to bed.”

“Uh. No. Had an apple though. Hey, do you know what’s—”

“No, not really,” she slid her hand up his massive erection to as if she wanted to prove her eyes weren’t lying. It was real and it was hungry. Terry twitched. “Something to do with fruit. It has a really nice effect on people. You have no idea how hard it was to haul myself out of bed this morning. Not everybody has our iron will, huh? ”

“This morning? It’s halfway through lunch and you’re just . . . .” Huge breasts pressed into him as she slid her hand under his shirt and squeezed the few inches of hard-on that overflowed his pants. “Uhm do you mind not doing that? At least not in the hall.”

Kari withdrew her hands, as her horniness spiked suddenly. “Sorry. I just can’t believe the girls are letting you walk around unguarded. God, if I could get a guy built like that I’d never let him go.” Her arm snaked around his waist as she pressed into Terry. Looking down on the smile on her upturned, lustful face, Terry had the feeling that she had found what she wanted and wasn’t going to let him go. At least not without trying him out first.

Hell, I already know this story. I wrote and posted a couple. I could deal with the attention, but not right here. At lunchtime nowhere in the school was safe. “You mind heading to the Cafeteria? I need some lunch. Can’t, uh, you know on an empty stomach.”

“Oh, sure you can! I’ll do it anytime, but I didn’t get to pack a lunch this morning, and I’m not touching the fruit.” Still attached to his side she walked with him, casually rubbing and occasionally exaggerating the slide of her right breast against him. She shuddered against him and Terry noticed that his arm had come to rest across her shoulder and his fingers had been stoking her left breast.

“Sorry!” they both said as Terry pulled his exploring fingers away.

“I didn’t mean to jump like that; they’re just a bit too sensitive sometimes. Keep doing it, it felt good.” When he didn’t immediately comply, she glared at him. Then she turned slightly to press her breast into him more explicitly and ran her left hand down his chest and under his shirt. Finding the tip of his cock slick with precum, she wet her finger and ran it over and around the head.

“Hu-Hey! S-stop it!” A pair of younger girls saw what was going on and one pointed while the other giggled.

“Why? We both like this, but you’re right. I don’t want to waste it.” Looking at the giggling juniors, Kari called out, “Eat your vegetables, girls, and one day you can get one like this.”

Both girls burst out laughing. Everybody knew Terry. Guys wanted to date his sister, Leyna, girls wanted to be Leyna, and Terry, caught in the crossfire, did what he did best: Act really weird to upset his sister and maybe get a little attention himself. It worked, but it wasn’t the kind of attention that roped in the chicks.

“You know,” said Kari. “I don’t think I like their attitude. Just a sec.”

Kari unwrapped from Terry and took her backpack off. She pulled out her remaining apple from yesterday. “Hey! Blondie!” She tossed the apple underhanded. “Catch!”

The blonde shied away and the redhead snatched the apple out of the air. The girl looked at the apple and then at Kari questioningly.

“Builds strong teeth and bones.” Kari laughed. “And really, really big boobs. You wanna be flat forever?”

“Shyeah right,” said red. “When a witch gives you an apple, you have to watch out.”

“Yeah,” said blondie, “but at least you get a kiss from Prince Charming afterwards.”

Kari looked at the two little idiots. “I dunno about Prince Charming, but I made out with Princess Charming after I ate one last time.”

“Oh! So these ones don’t put you to sleep, they just make you Bi. Okay, that’s okay. Bi is cool.” Red kissed the apple and took a bite. “Angie, would you like to be Bi?”

 “Ooooo!” blondie cooed. “Gimme a bite of the magic apple! I want some boobs too, so I can get a big, sexy boyfriend like witchie girl. I think I could handle being Bi. Guys think Bi girls are hot.”

Terry looked on, shocked, as the blonde and the redhead went at the apple in a cheap parody of passionate necking. “You didn’t . . .!”

“Yup.” Kari latched back on and started Terry walking again. “Bet they have a different outlook after lunch. I’d pick ’em up so we could have a foursome, but I don’t want to waste this,” her hand snuck back under his shirt, “on them.”

The cafeteria was always loud at lunch, but today, as they approached it, it was almost deafening. Terry opened the door and Kari detached from his hip to step in but stopped when she saw the orgy raging out of control. On the floor right in front of the door, one senior girl rode a frantically thrusting fellow student and moaned as her breasts quite visibly expanded into and around her partner’s hands.

“Tuesday,” laughed Kari. “Fruit salad day. Oh God, I want some of that, but I think we better get out of here, fast. There’s a good sandwich place on 104^th, and I think we really don’t want to be here when the cops arrive.”

She flicked a hard nipple and giggled as the attached breast jiggled. The door closed as Becky Vander Mullen erupted in a sonorous cry and shuddered into a very bouncy orgasm. There would definitely be more chess club cock in her future.

Baines Has a Bad Day

“Doctor Baines,” said the brute who had just stormed into Dr. Baines’ house when he opened the door. “I would like to know where you rerouted the vegetables to.”

“What? What vegetables?” Baines was neither afraid nor angry. He was confused and, for a man like Dr. Baines, this is a far, far worse experience. “You won’t find any drugs here. I’m not that sort of doctor.”

“Last Friday a truck left Biomed Enterprises containing a cargo of vegetables being taken to be incinerated. They never arrived. Where did you send them?”

“What Vegetables? We didn’t modify any vegetables.” Realization flashed across the doctor’s face before it went blank again. “Ah! You mean the fruit.”

“Same difference. Where are they, doctor?”

“No, no. Not the same. Not the same at all. Fruit have seeds. Vegetables don’t. It is a very important distinction.”

“Look closely, doctor,” said Mr. Philips, leaning forward. “This is not the face of a man who cares what was in the truck anywhere near as much as he cares where it went.”

“I don’t know where it went and why would I care? Why would I steal my own fruits? I can always make more. If you want to know what happened to the scraps that were shipped out, you should talk to the gentlemen who shut down my project.” He paused for a moment before adding, “When I was so close to success.”

Angie and Katie in Lit Class

“Wow,” said Katie, the redheaded teen who desperately wanted to be a vixen, as she looked around at the half empty class. Less than half—a quick count gave only twelve people out of the thirty they usually had. “Class is empty today.”

Jen looked out from under her ball cap at Katie with incredulity on her face. “Didn’t you hear what happened in the cafeteria at lunch? Like, there was this massive orgy! Practically everyone got sent home early. Lucky, huh? ”

Jen’s birthday was the beginning of January making her seventeen already, but she was also an early bloomer and hung out with the older crowd. She was also a complete skank, she even smoked, and so she got along really well with the guys. Rumour said that she was sleeping with a college guy. As far as Katie was concerned, Jen was a perfect example of what was wrong with the world: The sluts got everything.

But Jen did usually know what was going on around the school before anyone else, and if there really was an orgy in the cafeteria, Katie felt pretty stupid for not hearing about it. What she couldn’t figure out, though, was why Jen hadn’t been busted for being front and center and getting down and dirty like the slut she was.

Mr. Campbell, the most sought after English teacher in the school, looked into the classroom, shrugged and walked in. He looked back to his normal self. Yesterday he’d been in some sort of state of shock and barely able to enunciate.

“Well, since there are still a few of us still here, let’s see how much we can get done before the school gets closed down for the day.”

“Closed?” asked Angie. “Wow, we should have orgies at lunch more often!”

Still young enough to be allowed to grin at a comment like that, Mr. Campbell grinned, and then began discussing the importance of setting and symbols in establishing the tone of a literary piece. He was in the process of giving examples when Katie first noticed the stupidly small bra her mom made her wear for appearances getting tighter. She looked down and her eyes widened. She definitely had more than just bumps now, and those bumps were being headlined by some very large, very happy nipples.

“Angie,” Katie whispered, “I think my boobs are growing.”

“I know! So are mine! Isn’t this cool?” Angie didn’t quite whisper as her eyes locked onto her friend’s increasingly prominent nipples.

“Angie . . . you look. Nnngh. Too tight. You look hot!”

“I feel hot. You look amazing.” She giggled quietly and leaned closer. Closer. Close enough for—

Omigod. I just kissed another girl, thought Katie. Angie looked like she was thinking the same thing and enjoying it just about as much. As lips mashed again and tongues began to play, Katie started to do something about Angie’s bra, hoping Angie would take the hint.

Jen turned to listen in to the whispering just in time for the two girls to start kissing.

“Hello, Katie? Angie? Uhm . . . class?”

“Hey Jen,” sighed Katie, breaking the kiss and smiling in bliss. Angie had released the catch in back, so now all Katie had to do was get the straps off her arms and she’d be . . .

Snap! One strap was no longer a problem and a button popped off of her blouse. Freedom! Katie’s mind exulted.

“C’mon over, Jen. Got ‘nuff for three.”

“No!”

Katie and Angie looked at one another meaningfully and stole a quick kiss. “Well,” said Angie. “If Jen won’t come to the mountains . . .”

“Then the mountains will come to Jen,” finished Katie, giggling and jiggling as she got up from her seat. “And cum. I can’t wait for that part.”

Ping. Another button launched and bounced off of the window.

Eyes wide, Jen pushed her seat back too fast and toppled over with a whump. To the rest of the class it might have looked like Katie and Angie were going to help her up, but Jen could see the whole picture. The two wannabe airheads were some sort of sex zombies. Just like what happened in the cafeteria. Jen scrambled backwards away from them and to her feet.

“Girls . . . ,” cautioned Mr. Campbell, without turning around.

Jen had seen 28 Days Later with some of her older friends—under protest, she hated those stupid zombie movies—and no way was she getting infected with some sort of zombie disease. To Jen’s thinking, horror movie people were too stupid to be allowed to live. Since they were always totally impractical, none of them would ever do what Jen was about to do.

“Sorry Tom.” Jen grabbed Thomas Blaine, jerked him to his feet, pushed the guy into the zombies, and fled out the door.

“Wha—” managed the confused sixteen-and-a-bit year old before Angie’s lips and tongue shut him up.

“Forget about Jen,” said Katie. “She’s a slut anyway.” Tock. Another flying button ricocheted off the blackboard and all eyes, excepting the teacher, were on the two girls and their victim.

“Girls, I warned you once already—” Mr. Campbell turned around to see two of his better students attempting to pull the clothes off of a struggling boy. One of them looked up, giving Mr. Campbell a very good look at her lust-filled face and extraordinarily large bosom. The other nuzzled the crotch of the classmate they had pulled to the floor.

“Ladies? What do you think you are doing?” asked Mr. Campbell, struggling to remember if there was any sort of protocol for a situation like this. The redhead, Katie, jerked her blouse open, launching the few remaining buttons. The blouse dropped to the floor along with the tattered remains of a bra.

“Take care of Tom, Angie.” Katie let go of the no longer frantically struggling—trying to squirm away, sure, but all he was really accomplishing was giving Angie a hand with his zipper—fellow teen and leaned back to make sure her teacher got the best possible look at her now exposed and still swelling breasts.

“Why?” asked Angie, as Tom’s zipper came undone. She started on the button.

“’Cuz I’m gonna do Mr. Campbell!”

For the second time in two days, Mr. Campbell fled his classroom to protect his career.

Lunch, With Paul and Trudy

“Let me get this straight,” said Trudy. “It really was the fruit?”

“Yeah,” Paul said around bits of hamburger. He paused long enough to gulp the rest of the mouthful down. “Dad brought some home from a company he owns, runs really. I shared some with Eve and you’ve seen the results.”

“Lemme guess. You had a Banana and she had a cantaloupe.”

“No. We shared an orange.”

“That’s right. That’s what you said when we found Barry, and it explains all of the orange peels. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on one of those oranges.”

“What? Are you nuts? You saw what half an orange did to Eve. She’s a complete nymphomaniac. She could have killed your brother, and then she would have just brought home another guy to screw to death.”

“I’d just take enough to get maybe another cup, and as you’ve noticed, a little nymphomania is nothing new for me. I admit it.” Trudy gave a cheeky smile and raised her hands in surrender. “I’m a slut.”

“Your breasts are fine, really. I don’t know how well the dosage can be controlled.”

“You’re just saying that to get in my pants.” She looked down at her chest. “Yeah. Ok, they look pretty good on my frame, but that’s just ‘cuz I’m short. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to be a bit bigger though.”

“Well, dad had an apple for mom, and I don’t think she ever ate it, but we’d have to be really careful with it. I’m talking crush it to juice and administer it drop by drop very slowly.”

“Even that might not work,” replied Trudy. “There could be a threshold and it could affect different people differently. You had half of the same orange as Eve, and you’re not completely sex-crazed. The way I see it, we need to find your dad. He knows what’s going on.”

“Yeah, but he got called away on business. He won’t be back until Friday.” Paul’s eyes shot wide open.

“Oh man, I have to hide that apple somewhere safe before someone eats it by mistake.”

“Like the French Maid, Rich boy? Better finish wolfing that down then . . ..”

When she paused, Paul trailed Trudy’s eyes to a long haired blonde who’d ducked into a booth and pulled her ball cap low.

“Jen!” Trudy half stood and waved. “Yo! Over here!”

Blondie’s head snapped in their direction. She looked like she’d bolt for a moment before getting up and walking towards them. Her eyes fixed on the door and only took rare glances in the direction she moved.

“Trudy!” Jen said, sliding into the bench seat beside Trudy. “Oh my god. You have to help me hide. There’s men, like men in black type stuff, chasing me. I barely made it out of the school and there was the orgy and . . . hey. Who’s the muffin?”

“Paul, meet Jen. She’s practically my little sister. I met her at church camp and neither of us really belonged there so we got on fine.”

“You were at a church camp?”

“She was a counsellor, can you believe it?”

“Hey. I was a good counsellor.”

“You were the best. The other counsellors were dull. Nothing but bible reading and baseball. But Trudy here taught me a lot about dealing with real people. Like guys.”

“I’ll bet,” Paul said with a smirk. “But what about these guys chasing you? You can tell me all about Trudy later.”

“And what’s this about an orgy?” added Trudy.

“I think I lost them, but I know lost them a couple of times before that and they keep finding me. I don’t know how. Maybe they bugged me. You done eating? We gotta go. I’ll tell you all about the orgy when we’re safe somewhere. Whenever I stop for too long, they seem to find me.”

“My place?” Trudy asked Paul.

“No.” he replied. “My place. We can’t afford to leave that apple lying around.”

Home Again

The note on the kitchen door said that she was grounded forever and that Sarah was in the hospital. It didn’t say why, but Kari could guess easily enough from looking at the pile of apples and oranges in the fruit bowl. Mom and dad definitely had to have one, or maybe two in the case of mom. They were way too uptight.

“Wow,” said Terry after reading the note. “I think your folks are pissed.”

“Which is why we’re getting out of here before they get home. If I’m getting grounded, I want to have some fun first.”

“You don’t call what we just did in your living room fun?”

“I call that a start. Last night I got introduced to all sorts of new stuff.” And some of it needs two girls.

“Let’s go to your place,” she continued, picking up a pair of oranges.

Three Teens and an Apple

“Here, take this,” Paul said, tossing the apple to Jen. He pointed out the window to wards what looked like an army tent farm. “What do you suppose they’re up to? Manoeuvres?”

“Thanks,” said Jen, catching the apple. “I’m starved.”

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

“I think they’re,” crunch, “after the sex zombies,” munch, munch, munch, “at the,” gulp, “school.”

Paul asked, still watching the flurry of activity in the park. “What sex zombies?”

Crunch. “Like, the orgy I was,” munch, munch, “talking about?” Gulp. “All of a sudden the Cafeteria went nuts. Half the people started stripping and just started screwing like crazy. Clothes were flying everywhere and . . . like everybody’s tits were huge.” Crunch.

“The fruit!” blurted Paul.

“Oh my god.” whispered Trudy. “There was more of it?”

Munch, munch. “What fruit?” asked Jen. Then she swallowed.

Paul looked at the half eaten apple in her hand.

“Paul!” screamed Trudy. “You gave her the apple?”

“I didn’t think she’d eat it!”

“Why? What’s . . . omigod. The apple. It was fruit salad day. Omigod . . . omigod . . . omigod. I just ate that apple. It’s the apples isn’t it? Why did you give it to me? Why the fuh—” Jen clutched her chest and ran for the en-suite bathroom.

“You stupid idiot, Paul.” Trudy eyed the apple. One bite couldn’t hurt, could it?

“I just wanted her to hold onto the damn thing! Keep an eye on her. I’m going to go see if mom knows how to get in touch with Dad.”

Her train of though continued exploring the idea of just a small bite, Just enough to get above average, until Jen stopped retching in her attempts to evict the apple before she turned into, in her own words, a Sex Zombie. Eve hadn’t been a Zombie, but she had definitely been into having too much of a good thing.

Is there such a thing as too horny? Trudy asked herself as she held the half eaten apple. Eve was willing to kidnap my brother to get laid, and Paul’s a total slave to his dick sometimes. But those guys were just touching Eve’s breasts and . . . and she was in heaven. Cumming all over. Is it worth it to feel like that?

Five minutes later, willpower had won out over bigger boobs and Trudy stood in the kitchen about to drop the apple into the sink. Nothing had happened to Jen, yet, and Paul, unable to find his mother, was now running around looking for a book he’d scrawled his dad’s cell number in. Trudy stared at the half eaten apple, glanced around, thought a while longer, glanced around some more, and took a little nibble. Well, two little nibbles; just two couldn’t possibly have much down side, and then the jammed the apple into the garberator and flipped the switch.

“Am I changing, Trudy?” asked Jen over the rumble of the spinning blades.

Trudy spun around. She looks like hell. Her face is all red like she’s been crying and . . . and she might have just seen me take that bite. Two bites. Oh crap.

“Jen, relax. According to Paul, the first thing you’ll notice is your bra won’t fit, and then screwing my boyfriend will suddenly seem like a good idea even though you know I’ll kill you if you try it.”

“Getting serious about a guy? You?”

“I think it’s fate. We have the same birthday and he makes me so hot that when I decided to try him out, I wound up raping him in a dance club.” Her eyes rolled up and her smile spread at the memory. “Best birthday present, ever.”

“Wow. So you’re saying that screwing your boyfriend is a good idea even though you’ll kill me. He have any brothers?

“What are those guys doing out there?” asked Jen, her attention drawn to the window. “Those,” she pointed, “are hazmat trucks, and it looks like a mobile hospital over there. This is just like in . . . oh no.”

“What’s ‘Oh No,’ Jen?”

“I think they’re going to quarantine the town. This really is a bad time to be out of smokes . . . oh no.”

“You shouldn’t smoke anyway,” Trudy started. “What’s ‘oh no’ this time?”

“Smoking’s the least of my worries,” moaned Jen, rubbing her chest. “I think my bra’s getting tight. We gotta get out of here. Being a big titted slut’s one thing, but I don’t want to be locked up for it.”

“Let’s go find Paul,” Trudy said calmly. “I think it is time to get out of here.”

Despite the size of the house, almost a mansion, Paul was easy to find because he found them first.

“Got dad’s cell number, but it was turned off.”

“You leave a message?”

“Uh . . . no. Guess I should have, huh?”

“Later,” said Jen. “We gotta get out of here. More army guys are arriving every minute, and if we wait too long, it’s gonna get ugly. Omigod. I think my boobs just got bigger.”

Losing It

This is too weird, thought Leyna. MSN was totally dead this afternoon. Not even Becky’s on, and she’d promised to fill me in on what happened in the classes I skipped.

Something soft pushed against the back of her head as a glass of orange juice was set beside her.

“Huh. What’s this?” asked Leyna, spinning around in the office chair and looking up from her seat at Kari. She had to look way up because the firm pressure on the back of her head had been an enormous breast, and when Leyna turned, before Kari backed up, it was right in her face. ‘Kay, she’s definitely not wearing padding, and those aren’t some sort of strap-on fake boobs. At this range, I’d totally be able to see the seams. Gotta be implants or something, but that’s just sad. Who’d want tits the size of their head?

“Orange juice. I wanted to apologize for being a jerk yesterday. I figure that if I'm going to date your brother, we should at least try to get along.”

“Right. Why bother? It’s not like I get along with him.” Regardless, and with the sense of immortality that comes from being an exceptionally pretty girl, she took the juice and raised it to her lips.

Then she saw the smile on Kari’s face and remembered just who Kari was . . . dating. It has to be a joke. No one with a body like hers, fake boobs or not, could ever take my brother seriously. She’s not using him to try to get back at me, is she? No. I haven’t been that mean to her.

The glass when back down on the desk beside the mouse pad. “This is full of Cayenne pepper, right?”

Kari just stared at her, shocked but confident. “Smell it. Does it smell funny?”

“No . . . looks pulpy though.” Something has to be wrong. She’s waiting for something, and her face . . . She looks like Andrew does when he’s trying to get me to put out. Terry’s not dating a Lez, is he? That would be so his luck.

This probably has vodka or something in it, but if she’s trying to get me drunk, she’s in for a surprise.

“Duh,” sang Kari with a goofy look on her face. “Freshly squeezed. I’m just going to leave it with you, and you can drink it or not drink it. But you really should. Those are the best oranges, ever. And the vitamin C is great for the body.”

Kari hugged herself, pushing her ridiculously oversized tits practically into Leyna’s face before continuing. “Sure was for me”

“Right.” Does she have any idea how fake she looks? Not one to be upstaged, Leyna took a large gulp. Wow! This is good!

But to maintain her position, “It’s OK, thanks Kari.”

“You didn’t see what happened at school today, did you?”

“No. Something happened? I must have been busy working on something.”

“You missed the social event of the year: an Orgy broke out in the cafeteria.”

“Oh. Well I never eat in the caf anyway . . .. Whoa. Back up a sec. An Orgy? Like people making out? Name names.”

“Names? How about, like, everybody? Police got called and the school even got closed down early.”

“You’re kidding. So why were you and Terry back so . . .” Kari’s grin said it all. “Oh.”

She took a swig of her orange juice. No way someone’s going to sleep with Terry just to get at me.

“So who started it?” Leyna asked enthusiastically, her body beginning to quicken.

“I don’t know. It was already well underway when Terry and I walked in on it, but Becky Vander Mullen was screwing Oliver Summers, I think it was Oliver anyway, right in the doorway. We didn’t stop to check; Terry and I took off before the cops showed up. You Ok?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” mumbled Leyna, trying to still the squirming. An orgy. God, just talking about it has me totally fired up. Kari too, she’s nipping right out. She was nipping before, but now she’s really . . .. Where’s Andrew when I really need him?

“You look a little hot. Bet you’re used to that. Parading around all the time in your skimpy little outfits and giving the boys hard-ons. That wasn’t really fair, was it? One of you and so many of them and you never put out.”

“Speak for yourself, Kari. Always doing the lacy witch thing. You don’t think you had your admirers?”

“Oh, I know I did. I just didn’t lead them on and shoot them down.” She paused in thought for a moment. “OK, maybe a couple, but at least we aren’t cheerleaders.”

“No,” Leyna said bitterly. “We aren’t.”

Then she grimaced, reached back, and tugged on her bra strap to free up a bit more room.

“You know,” said Kari, leaning in closer. Was she being friendly or something else? “We should have sat down and worked out our differences a while ago. We have more in common than I thought.”

The flush on her cheeks, the huge pupils . . . Kari is on drugs or something. She has to be messed up somehow. No one would get implants like that if they weren’t.

The rounded, barely contained breasts pushed invitingly at Kari’s tight, black top. Those are pretty nice actually. A bit big, a lot big, but she has the body for them. They go nicely with her long legs, and, if she had longer hair, she’d be a total dream . . .!

“Kari,” Leyna moaned in a shaky, borderline fear. She shifted again and her hands pulled her shirt and bra forward in an attempt to get air. “What was in the orange juice, really?”

“Nothing but oranges.” Kari leaned the rest of the way in. Their lips touched. “Special oranges. Becky probably loved hers.”

Leyna tried to push back and away, but Kari’s hands . . . felt too good to resist. She let her shirt be pulled up, over her head, and off. Leyna helped by raising her arms the way she did when she and Andrew played around. She could barely breathe. Partly it was the constriction of her bra—her breasts were bulging out the top and the room they had forced at the bottom—but the rest was caused by her pounding heart and her extreme need for oxygen. Oxygen and an orgasm. I’ll die if I don’t get both really soon.

Kari’s lips left hers again, trailing saliva and abandoning a willing tongue. “I think it works a lot faster pulped though. It took me five minutes to realize what was going on, but then I had an apple. Maybe apples are slower.”

Kari’s huge boobs mashed into Leyna’s tightly bound, growing ones as the witch reached around and unhooked Leyna’s bra.

“This is impossible,” Leyna gasped out after heaving in the first swallows of air. Freedom! But this is impossible! “What did you do to meEeeiii!”

Pop went her brain, and Kari’s tongue slid over a nipple, as the bra slid down Leyna’s arms. Kari’d pressed Leyna back against her desk and snuck a hand up her skirt. It easily worked around the panty wall and fired a ripple-burst of pleasure simply by making a soft circle around the top of Leyna’s slit. She was being masturbated by another girl, practically being raped, but the fingers teasing her clitoris were nothing when compared to the lips on her swelling boobs.

“Nggggh! Kari! Don’t. Not . . . please.”

“Want a guy to get you off?” Kari asked between lashes of her tongue. “Terry’s home. He can do it!”

“Teeerry? No!”

“God you look hot with big boobs. I can’t wait to see them bouncing as Terry and I blow your mind. You’ll love his cock. It’s huge.”

“Huge . . .” moaned the sexually overloaded girl as visions of hands running all over her breasts and the biggest cock she’d ever seen rodding her out played on the backs of her eyelids. “No. Not Terry.”

“Definitely not Terry!” shouted Terry, watching from the door. “Jesus, Kari, What’s wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing!” Kari protested while Leyna let out a long, low moan and slid out of her chair. Her eyes were locked closed, her mouth jammed open, and her hips moved in an automatic circular motion while her hands kneaded her breasts. “You have to admit she’s hot with bigger boobs.”

“Oh! Oh my God! Terry, you have to!” Leyna moaned before spitting out a howl of raw, excited, bliss. Her mind wasn’t hers anymore. It wanted her brother to look. It knew that she was too hot for him not to look, sister or not. It knew that with a bit more writhing, a bit more orgasming, a bit more arching and bit more begging, he’s never be able to stop looking. Then it would be no problem getting what she wanted. “I need it so bad!”

As she barked out cries of pleasure and demands to be filled, her eyes snapped open, looking around wildly until . . .. She could see it, throbbing in his pants, the tip poking up and tenting out even his tee-shirt. Kari was right. The little goth-bimbo had it dead-on: Terry was huge. He could fill her up and then some. Terry could fill her up and have enough left over for another girl, but Layna knew she’d take it all. She’d find a way.

Through her delighted haze, Leyna watched as Terry and Kari argued for a moment before Kari won the argument by dropping to her knees and then licking up, over, and around the head of his cock. Kari sure knew how to get what she wanted and seemed like she was into sharing. The orange juice was delicious and, from the way Kari was moaning, so was Terry.

Her machinegun orgasms finally winding down, Leyna looked at the large, bowl-like boobs sticking out of her chest. Even laying on her back, they were massive, jutting mountains. And they felt so good. She just couldn’t stop squeezing and caressing them. Touching the rigid peaks was like drinking fire, and she ignited again even as Kari pushed Terry down and mounted him. Leyna could see her new best friend’s pussy spread around the tight fit of her brother’s enormous and tasty looking cock.

I can’t believe I’m really thinking about screwing my brother, was her first rational thought in at least five minutes and it went away very quickly as her fingers teased her nipples. Disbelief and denial got lost in the waves of pleasure brought on by her self manipulation.

Wednesday

The Great Roundup

“Everything ready?” Julian “Yogi” Beresford sat on a folding aluminium chair behind a pile of paperwork on a folding aluminium table in the command tent. From all around, the noise of the camp poured in. Fortunately it wasn’t mosquito season.

“Yessir, agent Beresford,” replied agent Norton. “Checkpoints are in place and anyone over a D cup is being diverted to the hospital for study. How they can tell cup size at a glance, I don’t know, but it seems to be working so far.”

Yogi reviewed his notes. Everything seemed satisfactory, except . . . “What about the girl who escaped the roundup at the school?”

“Still on the loose, sir. The tail we had on her thinks she got a ride from someone and got out of range of the tracker.”

“Useless piece of alien garbage. What’s the point of a tracking device that can only find someone on the run if they’re within a mile and half and standing still?”

“Not much, but I don’t think she’ll be a problem.

“And why is that, Norton?”

The young agent dropped the ring bound document he carried onto the table. “The preliminary results of the lab’s investigation. None of the affected are smokers. Apparently the escapee, Jennifer Fairborn, consumes half a pack a day.”

“This doesn’t mean that she’s a carrier.”

“She also brought her own lunch. It looks like you were right to want the picnic basket, sir. The eggheads are pretty sure that the cause is something in the food. Head office wants more samples to isolate which foods are affected; should we send out a truckload?”

“Yes, but fly it. I want the root cause, pronto. Infected or not, bring Fairborn in. Incident subject three, Kari Llewellen, any line on her yet?”

“Attended classes yesterday morning, but departed at lunch with one Terry Summers. Two of the girls at the hospital claim that, before she left, Miss Llewellen gave them a magic apple that, I’ll quote, ‘Transformed us into bisexual bimbos.”

Norton grimaced for a moment before saying, “‘Giggle.’ I have agents out looking for her because she seems to be part of the source.”

“She won’t be. She was just one of the first reported cases, but she is a willing plague rat. She might have a better idea of what is going on and what the root cause is, but it sprung up to fast all over the town. She and her friends couldn’t have been in contact with so many. Not with,” Yogi check his memory against the report’s abstract, “an average onset time of ten minutes. Magic apples. At least it isn’t the God damn oranges this time.

“Everybody, this situation is sending up the standard ‘blow up in our faces’ warnings, and a few new ones besides, so here’s what we do. We play dumb and stick to the book: No one in, no one out, and give the damn media the mushroom treatment. If it all goes FUBAR, we might lose careers, but we should avoid jail time. Bring in the public, call it a virus quarantine and lock the place down, but only if we have to. I don’t want panicked people taking to the streets with guns, like that Memphis screw-up. But . . . I want this town gone from the map.”

Muttered “Roger,” “You got it, Cheif,” and one very brave, “OK, Yogi,” bubbled out from the assembled agents.

“Right. Norton, take Carter from the ESP division and bring in those girls. Quietly.”

There Is No Escape

Paul woke up to a feminine body rubbing against him. Lips played with his neck, small breasts pushed into his side, and he was quickly becoming enormously erect as a thigh stroked up and down across his groin. This was a pretty good way to wake up: Soft and pleasant, not up to the pure power of waking up with Eve shuddering to an orgasm on his cock, but, in a way, this was much nicer.

I feel like less of a toy, but . . . “Trudy . . . what about Jen? What if she sees us?”

“She went out to get some smokes,” Trudy said, as she slithered in tighter. “Actually, I told her that now was a perfect time for her to go out and get some smokes. She’s smart.” Trudy’s leg slipped off of him, and a probing hand tried to close around the shaft ruining the waistband of his shorts. Paul jerked.

Maybe it’s because she’s so good at this. Maybe it’s because, ever since the orange, I’ve been constantly horny, but, “Nnngh! Trudy! I-I thought we were getting an early start this morning.”

“We are,” She replied, leaning back to give him a good look at the rock-hard nipples mounted on the tips of her tee-shirt straining breasts. It was probably just presentation, but she looked fuller this morning. His mouth began to water.

“OK,” Trudy relented. “We were, but the big guy here, he tried to get started on something else without us, and I’d hate to waste all of that effort.”

With no small amount of extra effort, she freed his member and giggled as it bounced. Rather than grabbing hold and stroking, she simply teased the head with her nails.

No time for this now, thought Paul, his mind getting up off the bed. His body just lay there and let Trudy play. The mind can’t do too much without the body, so Paul just gave up.

 “You know, I have this theory about guys and their dicks.” Stroke, caress. “They’re like remote controls. You can get a guy to do anything you want, if you’re nice to it.”

She leaned in and licked about half way up the shaft before she shivered and moaned. “Kind of wish I had huge boobs like Eve so I could give this monster what it deserves, but . . ..” Trudy spun around and straddled Paul, her pussy right in his face and her lips in position to suck and kiss while her hands stroked.

But they didn’t right away. “What are you waiting for Paul? I’ve finally got a guy big enough to try this out. I’ve wanted to do this for years, but the only guys short enough to for me to try this on were still in junior high. Start licking.”

Paul delayed for a moment and then Trudy pushed play on the remote control.

And that’s when the three men and one woman, all wearing well tailored black business suits, burst in.

Kari on the Run

One thing Kari realized as she was chased was that it was both hard and painful to sprint with her G-Cups bouncing all over the place. Next time she had to flee, she’d make sure she had a bra, or at least a tight top, but the federal agents hadn’t even given her a chance to dress. The had to be federal agents—Men in black type guys—who else would all dress the same and burst in, waving badges and guns, on a bunch of kids having fun?

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Running naked sucked, but compared to Carrie . . . Compared to Carrie I’ve got it good. Her boobs pulled her all over the place when she tried running. I wonder . . . are these are the same government guys that took her from the hospital and probably grabbed Kasey?

Kari gave up and tried to pin her breasts in her arms. It made her run sort of lopsided since she couldn’t balance herself with her arms, but it was better than having her chest rip itself off. And, as it turned out, it did help a lot, but why weren’t they chasing

“Aw shoot.” They had a car chasing her now. It wasn’t a big, boxy, black thing, but it was definitely one of them. The driver had the same suit and glasses.

With a squeal of tires and a tight turn, the car cut her off, but Kari was well padded for head on collisions these days and just wound up sprawled on the hood, looking up through the windscreen. The driver was cute. Really cute and no more than twenty five. And the slender blonde in the passenger seat was passably hot, too. I’d do them both, she thought as, she pushed herself off the car’s hood. Bet he knows more about pleasing a girl than Terry did. He just got by on size. That waitress’s boyfriend, whatever his name was, he really knew how to take care of a girl. He didn’t taste anywhere near as good as Terry though, so once he’s got more practice, Terry’s going to be awesome.

Kari finished turning around (bounce, bounce, sway) and found that the car had slowed her down enough. A hand grabbed her arm.

“Uhm. Hi guys. Can I, uh.” The man who held her pushed her towards the rear of the car. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Miss?” asked the car’s driver. “My name is Norton. For your safety, we need to take you into custody. The sooner we can find out exactly what has happened to you, the sooner we can put it right.”

“No way! No hospitals! I’m not getting changed back, and you can’t make me!” The man in black’s grip didn’t slip no matter how hard she struggled. Even the tricks that she’d learned in a rape prevention class didn’t work on this guy, so she changed tactics.

Smiling at the guy in the car, Kari turned up the heat a little. “How about you let me go? We can all have some fun if you let me go.”

“Thanks for the offer, miss, but no,” said the agent in the car, sunglasses hid his eyes, but the angle of his head said he wasn’t taking his eyes off of her swollen nipples.

“Aw. It’s going to be a long ride in the car. Maybe we can, like, park somewhere?”

“No,” said the blonde woman in the passenger seat. “You will get in the car. You will not attempt to seduce agent Norton, or,” she said with disgust, “me.”

Her mind all foggy for some reason, Kari opened the rear driver side door of the car and got in. beside a pair of sleepers not much older than her. “Do I have to put the seatbelt on? It’ll chaff.”

“Er. Yeah. Parker!” Norton called to the agent walking back to Terry’s house. “There’s a thermal blanket in the trunk. Could you get it for the girl?

“Yeah,” mumbled Kari, as her brain swam in a happy haze. “I better get covered up; otherwise, you might get ideas.”

Sex Cells

“No you assholes!” yelled Paul, as he walked into a cell-like examination room. Trudy, almost equally zombified, followed close behind.

He’d been fighting it the whole way back into town, but whatever the blonde drugged him with, it still had him stupidly following all of her instructions. Trudy, you want remote control? That bitch is your remote control.

“My dad’s people invented this stuff,” Paul shouted for the millionth time. “Find my dad, Adrian Cromwell! He can help figure all of this out! Trudy and I were going to the city to find him.”

“Yup,” replied Norton. “You were really searching hard when we found you.” To the disgust of Carter, he wore a huge grin at the memory. Trudy had a huge set for a girl not even five feet tall, and that, along with her elfin looks and naked body, couldn’t help but give a guy good memories.

 “You sure it’s safe to leave those two together?” asked the leggy and sleek agent Carter.

“Why not?” replied Norton. “If she was under the influence of the fruit, she would have expanded on the drive over here.”

“Oh come on, Norton. Five-foot-even with a D-cup rack? She probably just got off lucky. I’d take a better look, but the girl’s surface streams are all non-stop sex, and digging through that sort of thinking leaves me a headache. The guy definitely ate some of the contaminated food, though. Probably a banana.”

“Why agent Carter,” Norton drawled. “You aren’t completely sexless. What about his claim that his dad is responsible for this mess?”

“He’s certain his dad’s company provided the fruits, but he has no proof. It’s worth looking into anyway.”

“Well. Fruits. That ties in with the rest of our information. Apples, oranges, and a couple of cantaloupes. The only exception to the fruit theory is the family that was affected by their salad.”

“The salad contained tomatoes, and tomatoes are fruits, Norton. It’s a matter of seeds.”

The door shut, the talking faded down the hall, and the brain-fog lifted slowly.

“You OK, Trudy?” Paul asked. “Think Jen got away OK?”

“I’m OK,” sighed Trudy. Her brain, finally noticing her body’s excitement level after an hour and a half of mental domination blanking her libido, caught on fire. “Really OK. I dunno, Paul, maybe being manhandled makes me horny, but right now I really need it, bad. Oooo! The only time I’ve ever felt this hot is that night in the club when I did you the first time. Our only time, so far, but I’m going to fix that right now.”

“Whoa! Wait! No.” He pointed at a shiny half globe on the ceiling. “They have cameras.”

“Cool. I’ll get a tape to masturbate to when you aren’t there to do it for me. Get those pants off.” Trudy’s fingers hooked underneath the bottom of her tee-shirt and peeled upwards. The tee-shirt, designed to hug and display a much smaller bust, got stuck, and Paul, thinking clearly for what was probably the first time all day, finally noticed that small and cute Trudy now sported a chest that matched her porn star mind.

“Trudy! You didn’t eat any of that apple, did you?” Paul asked, knowing full well that she had.

“Just a bite. Wanted bigger boobs. Not Eve biiiig! Nothing happened to Jen, so I thought maybe . . ..” With a jerk, she finally wrenched her top up over the compressed boobs. They literally bounced outwards before dropping slightly when freed.

“Trudy, no. You know what’ll happen now. You’ll become completely sex crazed like Eve.”

“Oh please. I’m a boyfriend stealing bitch, not a slut. I don’t just suck off everybody. Speaking of which . . .” Trudy smiled and started to lower herself into position.

Paul knew from experience what to do next. The longer he kept her distracted, the longer he’d be able to keep his wits about him and figure out what the hell was going on. As soon as she started playing with his dick, that window of rational thought would close. Paul launched a pre-emptive strike: He cupped a breast and began to play with a stiffening nipple.

Her response was explosive.

“Oh God! Do that again!” Trudy rocked back, taking her mouth and hands well away from his zipper, and let out a happy cry.

OK. That’s got her under control for a while, Paul thought while he laid Trudy’s squirming body on the floor and began to apply Mouth-to-Nipple Resuscitation. Those were soldiers outside and everyone spoke without much of an accent, so either we’ve been invaded by Canada overnight or they really did quarantine the town. Jesus. Jen was right! We’re probably better off here, at least for now. Dad’ll get things sorted out pretty quick. He just has to show them the lab. Trudy bucked and let out a soft shriek and she shuddered into orgasm. Do I really want to be anywhere else?

His teeth bit down lightly and Trudy jolted again. “Mmmnnn. Don’t stop. Just wanted to be bigger for you. Like, Ds or something. Yes. Suck on my big breasts. Suck on them while they grow for you. Oh, yes! Maybe big like that Kari-girl from the ride over. Oh! Oh! Yessss!”

“Looks like You’ve got a remote control too, Trudy. Two of them.” She gurgled and writhed, as he did what she asked—sucked on an engorged nipple rising up out of one breast and softly stroked the other. Who exactly was being controlled was up for grabs, because, shortly after, Paul and Trudy were tangled in one another, picking up where they’d left off that morning.

For Paul and Trudy, the rest of the day was quite a lot of fun, but Trudy was doomed to disappointment. The security tapes disappeared before she could get a copy.

Thursday

Here’s what we have,

Norton and Carter sat opposite Yogi at the table in the command tent. Together, they pieced together a possible chain of events.

“So . . . Saturday afternoon at a farmer’s market a tractor-trailer pulls in late, sells fruit off the back of the truck for three hours before cutting a deal with a local high school and offloading the rest at the cafeteria. No one found this unusual?”

“No, sir,” responded Norton. “A lot of the local farms pool together their shipping budget. The only thing anyone commented on was that the truck was just unusually large, and the fruits were out of season. I’d say our robbers made a killing.”

Yogi picked up where he left off and worked backwards. “Around ten-thirty, a Marlboro truck picked up the driver of the hijacked truck and radioed the theft in to the police. Nothing unusual there, other than the police missing the obvious farmer’s market connection.”

“Can’t fault them on that, sir. The truck’s owners were very tight lipped about the actual contents of the truck other than to call them ‘harmless waste materials.’ Not the sort of thing you’d think of selling at a market.”

“Last Saturday, at about seven AM, a truck full of, as you say, ‘harmless waste materials’ left Benson Engineering—”

“Biomed Enterprises,” corrected Carter.

“Ah. Thank you Carter. That fills in a hole. I was thinking Benson Engineering and Manufacturing. B.E.M., the guys who had the nut-job that built the Psi-Ray. What do we have on them?”

“Apparently,” said Norton, “they are on the cutting edge of genetically modified foods. Up until a year ago, the company was privately held by a group of the founding researchers, but they sold out to Crystal Investments Inc, run by Adrian Cromwell. We have his son and some girl locked up in the portable lab.

“This is the kid who swears that his dad invented the stuff?”

“Close, sir. He says his dad’s company invented the stuff. Yesterday evening we tried to drop in on Mr. Cromwell and the head of the project, doctor Oliver Baines. Cromwell is in New York on business and Baines was found murdered in his townhouse.”

“Lovely. So far we’d avoided a body count on this one, but sooner or later a corpse always seems to show up. How’d he die?”

“Someone beat him very carefully,” answered Norton. “Preliminary investigation shoes blows calculated for maximum pain and minimum incapacitation, and a broken hand, but there are no other markings. Probably poison, but we’re waiting on an autopsy.”

“I’ll have it expedited,” muttered Yogi, jotting a note down in his logbook. “You don’t beat a guy half to death and then poison him. What else do we know about him?”

“Graduated from university with a doctorate in genetics at twenty eight, bachelor, no pet, and apparently had an eye for tall and slender brunettes. A big boob plague doesn’t fit his profile.”

“OK. Mark this for further exploration, but back to the timeline. Where are we?”

Norton looked up from his notes. “Last Saturday, at about seven AM, a refrigerator truck full of experimental, gene-tailored fruit left Biomedical Enterprises on its way to an incinerator. Bit of a long trip, and why use a refrigerator truck if the contents were being taken to be destroyed?”

“Here’s another question,’ added Carter. “The truck’s destination was a medical waste incinerator. There are several facilities closer, including a large one owned under the C.I.I umbrella about a half hour drive away form the B.E. lab.”

 “Someone wanted to intercept the truck,” replied Norton.

“Likely, but transparent. I want to talk to Cromwell. Norton, you want to go to New York and pick him up?”

“Not really, sir. There’s a good trout lake not far from here.”

“Glad to hear it. Enjoy the flight. Drop by the office while you’re in town and have Mary ship out my messages. I’d like to know what other nasty stuff I’m missing out on while I’m stuck out here.”

“Oh. Carter, go with him and bring those kids. If Cromwell is responsible for this, we might be able to use his son as leverage.”

Dropping the Hamner

Adrian went over the PI’s preliminary report, comparing it to his own notes and remembrances, while the TV droned in the background. Ha! I was right. Kurt’s not after my job, but I don’t know what’s worse—What’s that?

Adrian looked up and focussed on the news. On the TV, a plucky reporter talked to a blonde-haired teenager who had apparently escaped from somewhere. I could have sworn . . .

“Like, I it started in the cafeteria at Oakridge High, but I didn’t know what was really going on until English class. Two of the girls started making out in class and one stood up suddenly, ripped off her shirt, and, like, her boobs got huge, and then they started, you know, having sex and then I figured it might be spreading and took off. Some people told me it was the fruit, but government guys grabbed them and took them away and now the army’s surrounded the town and . . . and it’s a really bad time to be out of smokes.”

“So it is some sort of . . . sex plague spread by fruit? Good thing I had the salad at lunch,” quipped the reporter as she gave a sexy smile.

“Yeah. I had an apple, but it must have been a safe one because I’m still me, but . . .. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The reporter—having gone from a pleasant, but sexy, smile to one of outright invitation—shook her head. A something shot off her blouse and bounced off of the camera.

“Oh my god,” screamed the blonde. There was a ripping sound, a flash of  cleavage on the screen, and the news coverage switched to a helicopter shot of the military outpost beside Adrian’s house and talking heads.

Adrian paid closer attention to the broadcast, read through his hired investigator’s findings, particularly part about the missing truck, and seethed. Finally he ran out of patience and called a cab to take him to the office.

“Kurt, you have no idea how damn lucky you are.” It was the showy way to have a confrontation, but that was just fine with Adrian. He enjoyed putting on a good show, and that was a helpful trait in business. “You’ve got a chance to pick up some goodwill by coming clean. Play it right and we, not just you, might come out of this with only a few years behind bars.”

“This isn’t a TV show Adrian. I’m not going to break out blubbering and spill the whole plot or pull a gun and shoot it out. Go ahead and waste your time, Adrian, but it’s not going to happen. Let’em arrest us both, and let the courts work it out.”

“For Christ’s sake, Kurt!” Adrian yelled, stomping into the soon-to-be-former Scientific Development Advisor’s office.

“You touch me, and I sue, Adrian,” replied Kurt, from the far side of his desk.

“Least of my worries. Watch the news. Your god damn magic fruits got out. My town is under quarantine, the guy who invented this stuff is dead, an—”

“Ollie’s dead?”

“I had some of my own people digging into you and B.E. One of the first things they found was Doctor Baines’ body. Somebody tortured what they needed out of him and left him dead.

“I had nothing to do with that . . . I’ve known Ollie for fifteen years . . . why the hell would I have him killed? Hell, you’ve known me longer than that, so what are you digging into me for?”

“Amy had some convincing arguments about what you were really setting up with B.E. She figured you set this up to screw me over with the board so you could step in, but no way. You knew about this stuff. You knew what they were doing there. You knew what Baines was up to. This wasn’t about better, faster food. This was you and Baines playing god, and then when I shut you down, you tried to steal the truck. Why?”

“I didn’t steal it! You were the guy who wanted the stuff taken off site.”

“I know you didn’t steal it, but I think you tried. There were a half dozen places that could have done the job within an hour and a half of B.E., but you had them ship the stuff to a site over five hundred miles away. It got picked off by a bunch of hick farmers who thought they were boosting a truck full of god damn cigarettes. How it got into a high school, I don’t know. They probably sold the stuff.”

“Adrian, believe me, I didn’t even know the stuff was stolen.”

 “That won’t wash, Kurt,” said Adrian. “Obermann, from security, and I had a long talk with Henning last night, and your assistant handed over a couple tape’s worth of conversations. Just to cover his own ass, of course. Come clean, Kurt. What was this all about?”

“Originally Ollie and I cooked the idea up in university and got his dad to fund it through B.E. Think about it, nearly instantaneous genetic reconstruction. You have a gene defect? Gone. Lose a limb in an accident? Grow it back. Going bald? No need. We could fix anything, but it was slow, and usually fatal, when we proved the concept on fruit flies back in the eighties. Ollie wanted something big to show his dad that he wasn’t a screw-up, but it was taking too long to perfect and we got cut off. Ollie wanted the Nobel Prize, but for me it was the math.”

“What math?”

“There are one point three billion Chinese and one point one billion Indians. Don’t get me started about the rest of Asia. People down south are freaking out over a few Mexicans and completely missing the bigger picture: We are screwed.”

“Bigger, untapped markets. So what?”

“So what? Adrian, we are at war. Who’s going to win? Three hundred million Americans or three billion Chinese, Blacks and towel-headed fanatics? If were lucky we get sixty million Brits and another thirty million Canadians. We’re screwed and our population is dwindling. The only reason the country is growing is because we are sucking in immigrants like crazy. And there’s no way we can trust them when it comes to war. We needed tougher, smarter people or more people! American population, two or three generations deep and preferably white.”

“You’re kidding me, right, Kurt?”

“It was just supposed to be a tripling of male and female libidos within a tight population grouping, but Ollie just had to push it and take off with the truck, the bastard.”

A smile spread across Kurt’s face. “Mr. Philips? What are you . . . never mind. Excellent timing. If you would be so good as to keep an eye on Adrian—”

The Return of the Three Hundred, Fifty Million Dollar Apple

“—Holy sh—” A loud, electric pop followed by a gunshot drowned out the rest of Kurt’s profanity and left him looking blankly forward. Adrian, looking at the not-so-neat hole in the head-rest of Kurt’s office chair, jerked forwards as the man, Philips presumably, that had been behind Adrian dove into the room and into Adrian.

“Dad!” yelled Paul. “Look out!”

Thanks, kid, thought Adrian, not bothering to look around. Like I didn’t know. Close quarters brawling like this is more Hockey than Baseball, but, heck, I played that, too. He couldn’t pull the man’s jacket up over his head the way he would have with an opponent’s jersey, but he could still sock the guy in the gut.

Philips was fast; however, he wasn’t quite so quick with a bloody chunk missing from his arm. Still, he blocked the first of Adrian’s blows at the cost of his pistol and didn’t quite give up when the second landed. Instead, Philips proved that he had a very hard head; harder than Adrian’s nose at least. Philips’ head was even almost the match of Kurt’s desk lamp’s stand, but one weak and three solid blows put the man down.

After Philips hit the floor and stayed, Adrian finally looked to the door. Paul and some guy pulling his best Man In Black—As in Fed, not Johnny Cash, thought Adrian. Cash used a guitar, not a Buck Rogers ray gun—stood just inside the room. Taking a few deep breaths and checking his nose, Adrian looked back to Kurt.

Kurt had wound up with the loose gun and hadn’t had any problem figuring out which end you had to point at the enemy.

“It’s as easy to use as a knife in the back, Kurt. But, like you said, don’t waste your time. Just put it down.”

“You all know the drill. Do anything and . . . Holy Toledo!”

Trudy walked through the door behind Paul, swaying majestically. Before what people noticed about the diminutive girl was either her strong, often described as bitchy, personality, her perfectly tamed hair, or her stellar ass, depending on what side they were looking at. Now from behind, her ass had competition peeking around the sides of her arms and her attitude and hair both dropped completely out of competition from the front.

Kurt first saw her from a profile. A girl standing five feet tall shouldn’t have breasts like that. Genetically, no one should have breasts like that. Trudy didn’t. She had breasts like that! The bounce and sway as she turned had the remaining vestiges of frustrated geek in Kurt Hamner demanding a cheerleader-sex-fantasy-back-in-high-school-class erection.

Paul wound up and pitched. At ten feet, it didn’t take much aim nor did he lose much speed. An explosion of apple pulp and juice attempted to maintain ninety two miles an hour as it raced across the side of Kurt’s face, pushing him back and over. He tipped and then followed the pulverized apple to the floor, his chair dropped with him.

“The kid takes after his old man,” said Adrian with approval as he checked out Kurt. He was out like a light and maybe had a neck injury, but otherwise looked alive.

“The kid’s better than his old man.”

“We can test that later. Who’s the lady?”

“Hi,” said Trudy.

“This is Trudy. Oh. And the guy on the phone is Agent Norton. He’s with, uh, the government.”

Going Public

“Has anyone seen agent Carter?” the man identified as Agent Norton asked, looking at one of his fellow Agents. These were Agents with a capital A as if Agent was their first name and as much a part of them as the black suits and sunglasses.

Norton had taken off his sunglasses, something Adrian silently thanked him for. He didn’t like it when people tried to intimidate him. Generally it didn’t work and just made negotiations very slow going, but this was definitely a time Adrian could be intimidated and wanted, needed, things to run smoothly.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been pulled off the street by men in uniform, but the last time was some thirty years ago and had more to do with an anti-war demonstration at the campus than anything that had to do with him. But this time . . .

The remembrance cut short as a blonde woman, attractive to the bob-cut-excruciatingly-slim-and-may-be-carrying-a-gun crowd entered the room, put down a coffee and took a seat beside Norton. Not a woman that met Adrian’s tastes, but even he had to admit that Amy spoiled him and his tastes. Plus she was a real firecracker in bed, whereas blondie here looked like she could fall asleep half way through an orgasm.

“Care to recap slightly for my associate?” asked Norton.

There were a number of way this could go, almost all of them wrong, so Adrian fell back on his long standing belief: Honesty is the best policy.

 “Certainly. It’s the fruit,” Adrian told the G-man. “The fruit was genetically engineered to enhance yields and decrease growing time. The idea was to pack two seasons in one on the same land base. The research checked out fine, as far as we could tell, and Biomed Enterprises had some well-respected third-party researchers saying very nice things about the work. And the price was right. Sooner or later, it always comes down to the price.”

“So you were taken?” asked agent Norton.

“Betrayed is more like it. I believe, and I have documentation and test results to back me up, that when C.I.I purchased B.E., B.E.’s research was on track. In five years, maybe eight on the outside, B.E. would be producing fruits that out produced nature by almost two to one. Within ten years we’d be able to market them safely, other than some job loss at our competitors.

“This,” he continued, holding up an apple, “on the other hand, is what happens when all of the safety concerns are thrown away. All of the rapid growth and resiliency requirements were met with in a bit over a year with a small cost of unforeseen genetic modifications to the consumer.”

“That doesn’t wash,” said Norton. “The effects are too well targeted. Statistically, these can’t be unforeseen”

“I tend to agree. I saw my son’s girl after she had a bite of an apple. Whoo-ee! She can kiss a dancing career good bye. Unless she uses a pole.”

Adrian looked over at agent Carter, as she took in a rapid breath. “Mmm. Sorry,” he mumbled. “That wasn’t very P.C. Anyway, the side effects are too rapid and too extreme to be accidental.”

“They aren’t,” replied Carter, professionally swallowing any retort and adjusting her suit. “I have some people running MPC analysis and computer simulation on a cantaloupe, but, based on the prelim work, there is no way the breast growth is accidental.”

“So . . .” said Norton. “Who changed the thrust of the experimentation? Dr. Baines?”

“No. Baines was an egghead. Well, he might have been behind the breasts thing. When I shut the project down, he barely noticed. He just wanted to know what went wrong. I don’t think he quite got why screwing with people’s bodies was wrong, either. C.I.I.’s CTO, Kurt . . . now he freaked out.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Kurt Hamner. The guy Paul laid out. An old friend of mine. I know he was at the bottom of some of it, he admitted as much, but I’m not quite sure why he did it. He says it was to help fight some racist’s upcoming war, but I don’t think even he really believes that. My wife thinks it was probably to discredit me with the board in an attempt to get the top spot, but Kurt’s not that dumb. He knows that if I go, he goes, and the board brings in someone new.”

Adrian took a drink, looked up at agent Norton, and then over to the uncomfortable-looking agent Carter, obviously she took sexism a bit too seriously, before continuing. “I took my wife’s advice, finally, and hired a PI to look into Kurt.

“I drafted Kurt to look after the stuff I didn’t know, just like back in high school. Kurt was the nerd; the brainy guy who helped us jocks get through the tougher courses. Some of us needed his help more than others. Some didn’t need much help at all, but Kurt was a vital member of the sports program. He kept teams together and gave us the time to focus on becoming winning teams. In return we helped him out where we could: We introduced him to girls, put down the bullies that were too stupid to understand that Kurt was protected, and generally greased his path through high school however we could. I mean, he was always such a nice guy that you wanted to see him win, even though he always managed to screw it up whenever he got close.”

“So . . . this is just a revenge of the nerds scenario.”

“Not really. In the grand scheme of things, Kurt is sort of middle tier. At the bottom—or the top, depending on how you look at things—was Baines.”

“The late Dr. Oliver Baines.”

“Yeah. The PI I hired is the guy who found the body. In university, Kurt met Baines, and Baines was Kurt’s nerd. Kurt always had these weird gaps in what he knew and, in hindsight, they were filled by Baines. But in university, Kurt met some other people who I thought straightened him out. From the report, those new friends made him feel less useless by giving him a whole lot of people that he could think of as more useless—”

A moan from across the table pulled Adrian’s eyes back to agent Carter. No amount of furtive adjustment could save her blazer this time, as the once lightly endowed woman’s now large, but not yet enormous, breasts overloaded her carefully tailored top. The look in her eyes was not one of dismay or fear, either. She looked like she was sizing up Adrian and wondering if the table would break if they went at each other on it.

“Damn it, Carter!” yelled Norton. “You had to try it out, didn’t you? Couldn’t believe the written reports? Jesus!”

“Doug,” she whispered seductively, shifting her lust-filled gaze to her boss. “Would you have believed it? Oh hell, would you be able to pass up having a set like this? I always wanted to be a bit bigger, always thought it was just a little bit, but I never knew!”

Her eyes . . . went away for a moment and her voice went funny. It sounded like she had an echo in Adrian’s head. “I’m going to be perfect soon. Absolutely perfect, and then we can go somewhere quiet and make a lot of noise.”

“Perfect,” droned Norton, his pupils expanding and his face flushing. “Absolutely perfect.”

Carter had a well made suit. The buttons actually held, but, with soft tearing noise, the back of the suit split as she spoke. With the added support from the blazer gone, her blouse exploded. With muscle, the effect would have been akin to a transformation scene from the Incredible Hulk. This wasn’t muscle, so it was like nothing Adrian had ever seen before. He tried to reel his eyes back in, as Carter stood and tore the remains of her blazer and blouse off like Christmas wrapping. Even Norton looked impressed. A living zombie like Dr. Baines probably would have been impressed.

“Mmmmm! God! I left nothing to chance,” Carter yelled as she dropped the remains of her top on the floor, planted herself in Norton’s lap and started on his jacket buttons. “I ate a whole cantaloupe, and you are going to screw me until I can’t walk anymore.”

A happy fuzzy feeling washed over Adrian along with the echo, as he lifted himself out of his seat.

Amy. He stopped for a moment, confused. The two agents went at each other with almost demoniac passion, with Norton moving somewhat uncertainly. It wasn’t easy going, Carter stripping Norton, because she was having a harder and harder time reaching around her swelling chest, but fortunately for her, Norton seemed to have become very interested in helping her out.

His jacket was off, and Norton feasted on one of his partner’s massively erect nipples while her nails cut into the white shirt. Adrian watched numbly as the rapidly expanding breasts pushed Carter back. She wanted to go back anyway; she keened and rocked her hips while Norton played. Then she arched backwards, her huge breasts threatening to snap her in two, when the tazer hit. She dropped back onto the table and thrashed. Boobs, at least twice the size of her head and still growing, jiggled madly as she twitched under the influence of several thousand volts.

“Right,” said Adrian, breaking the silence that rose in the aftermath. “Can I see my son now?”

Friday

The Old Folks

“What was that all about, honey?” Alan asked his wife of fifty three years.

“Marines on some sort of food drive, I think,” Suzette replied. “If it was for charity, they were a bit pushy. They took all of our fruits. And the tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes are fruit’s, dear, but that’s Marines for you. Back when I was in the navy they never gave us sailors an even break. Damn shame. Those were fine oranges.”

“That they were,” said Suzette, dropping her dressing robe and climbing onto her husband’s lap. Her recently firmed, but larger, breasts bounced a little. “Now, where did we leave off? Oral or anal? I swear, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t sewn on.”

Yogi

“Yogi? A half a cantaloupe?” asked his wife, looking at the fruit. “This better not be like some of the other stuff you’ve brought home. That cat-girl, for instance. She was nice enough, but she hadn’t the morals of a, er, a cat.”

“Nope. This is for that idiot son of ours. He couldn’t learn to listen to his old man and leave the god damn magic oranges alone, but a few bites of this and he’ll at least look like a decent woman. And maybe we’ll get those grandkids you want.”

Paul

“Wait a second. What do you mean, ‘You’re off the team?’” yelled Paul.

“Just what I said,” the coach replied. “I’m going to miss you, Paul, and the team’s gonna suffer, but the governors say genetic alteration’s no different from steroids. I can’t let you play anymore.”

“And goodbye to my scholarship.”

“Like you need it, Paul.”

“I do need it, coach. All of Dad’s assets are frozen and his company’s probably toast. We’re broke.”

“You’re good enough to try going pro. Why don’t you do that?”

“I can’t travel with a minor league team and still finish my degree. This sucks!” It did, but Trudy made him forget about it for a while later that afternoon by sucking even more.

Trudy

“Barry, are you sure you want to do this? You know she’s . . .” Trudy trailed off, trying to keep the conversation polite.

Barry finished with his tie, glanced at his sister’s reflection in the mirror, and then checked his teeth. “Eve’s calmed down a lot, Tru, really. And she’s seeing a shrink.”

“But you do remember last time, don’t you?”

“Best sex, ever!” he said with a grin.

“Right.” Trudy tried to cross her arms and failed, so she settled for a saucy hands-on-hips pose instead. “What about what happened after?”

“Worth it,” he said, with an even bigger grin.

“You’re hopeless, Barry.”

Kari

Getting fake ID for Sarah so the two could do twins shows, despite still being a year below legal, had been easy and rewarding. They guy that made them showed Kari a few new tricks when she paid him off.

“It’s a shame that they won’t let Brenna in here again after the last time,” Sarah said as she put on her virginal whites. “She was great”

“She doesn’t need it anymore,” replied Kari, already dressed up in her traditional black frills and now just toying with her hair. “I miss her and all, but I really miss Terry. I can’t believe he ran off with his sister.”

“No,” Sarah sighed, not wanting to touch the Terry situation. “Not with the film deal. I can’t believe Brenna went for that. I mean stripping is one thing—we keep clean, sort of—but porn? Yuck.”

“Ya. If you want sex, you might as well have it, so why bother watching it? Besides, I like the direct feedback you get from a good audience. This is so much more fun than reading poetry to an audience. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t make a movie, but I couldn’t be exclusive. Plus they’re much more careful about ages. Not that we look seventeen, but the movie people really check them out carefully.”

“Say, Kari, you up for cock tonight? There’s a couple guys over on the left that I wouldn’t mind trying out after the show.”

“Coool, but we’ll have to keep it down then when we perform. I don’t want to risk getting blacklisted from here too.”

Ed

Not the first time I’ve spent a couple days locked up, thought Ed, as he looked at his bruised knuckles. But this time it was worth it.

Bernie

“So, yer name’s really Brenna?” Bernie asked the starlet who’d graced his computer’s desktop for the past three months. “I’m Bernie, The guy they have playing the farm town hick. You sure were hot in Debbie Does Damn Near Everybody.”

“I thought I was getting Jake,” she replied, looking disappointed. “The short guy with the huge schlong.”

“Nah. Jake’s in the hospital. Got in a bit of a scrap with some trucker.”

The redheaded goddess covered her mouth. “What happened?”

Oh yeah she is definitely disappointed. Yew lucky dog, Jake, thought Bernie. “Don’t know for sure, but I guess the guy laughed at Jake’s hat. He’s real sensitive about his height. You’d think that the eighteen incher would have made up for it some, but he’s still real touchy.”

“That sucks. Think he’ll mind if I go by and see him? I was really looking forward to today. He really knows how to use that thing. Most guys his size just get by with the size, but he’s wonderful.”

“Oh,” mumbled Bernie. Now it’s my turn to be disappointed. “That’s probably because he didn’t believe me about the tomato. His dick useta be just as short as the rest of him.”

“The tomato?” That cute face pursed into a sexy, confused pout.

“You heard about the fruit thing a way back out east, right?”

“Heard about it? That’s how I got these!” Pink tipped fingers played over the best rack in the business.

Bernie almost started his usual tomatoes are fruit spiel, but stalled and stammered out, “Yer kidding me. Yew mean we usta be neighbours?”

“Sounds like,” said Brenna, her eyes gleaming. “I haven’t done a guy from back home for a while; except for Jake I guess. Wanna get some practice in before we start the shoot?”

Her breasts launched her trademark too-small bra into Bernie’s face when she popped the special side clasps.

Ed wasn’t disappointed.

Norton

“So you knew that psycho, sir?”

Sir. Norton pondered that for a moment before answering. Promotions come fast in this line of work. Eight months on the job and one major case, and now I’ve got a rookie to look after.

Norton looked at the new kid. “Worked with her a couple of years back. Right around when I got started with the agency, Carter ran a good-sized chunk of Psy Ops. And then there was the GM Foods thing. Dated for a while after that, but things didn’t work out.”

“Whoa. She was one of us, and we took her out?”

“Didn’t have too much choice, kid, she mentally enslaved the Raiders. You let some one get away with that sort of thing, turning a pro football team into sex slaves, and it sends the wrong kind of message.”

“Right. Uhm, if you don’t mind me asking . . . what was this GM Foods thing?”

Norton kept himself from grinning. “It’s in the archives. Look it up.”

The End?

“What you have there Carmen?”

“Just a tomato.”

“It’s rotting Carmen.”

“That’s ok, I only want the seeds.”

“Starting up the garden again? Why bother? Racoons ate the last batch.”

“Well, I’m not letting them near these ones. These are for me and you. Maybe Sally, if I can interest her.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing,” she said mysteriously. “Just something I got off the back of a truck.”