The Long Pull Wankin In A Winter Wonderland

The Long Pull: Wankin' In A Winter Wonderland

An XXX-Mas Carol by D.

(Thanks to a helpful German reader for correcting my German!)

*

Cindy didn't think anything could get her out of her bed right now.

Her last final had just wrapped up less than an hour ago. She was nearly late to it because she had to turn in a ten-page paper to a different professor before it started. Her arms ached from all the typing, all the time reading in bed, holding the book open with her thumb, struggling to stay awake.

Her phone buzzed against her desk, slightly muffled with the pile of papers and other crap that had accumulated from days of having no time to be as neat as she would like. Rather than let it buzz away pointlessly like a fly trapped under a plastic cup, Cindy rolled to the end of the bed and looked at her phone.

"Can we talk? I'm outside." The text read.

It was from someone in her contacts list named "Meg." If she hadn't managed to bring her phone back to life after dropping it in a puddle when chasing a shuttle a few weeks ago, she might have lost her contacts and not even known who had sent this text.

Suddenly, she remembered. Meg was a common enough name, but the only one she ever gave her number to was Meg Knochenmus. She once was Cindy's partner in Human Sexuality, which was not a euphemism for anything fun.

Cindy stood up and grabbed her coat.

Meg was waiting for her just outside the entrance to her dorm. She had very light blonde hair tucked into a plush knitted hat. She wore a black overcoat and thick leggings under a skirt. When she saw Cindy emerge from the entrance, she pocketed her phone and replaced her glove.

"Hey." Meg smiled her shockingly white teeth at her, framed by her red lips. "How are the finals?"

"Ask me when the grades come in." Cindy shivered, holding her arms close to her. "What brings you out here?"

"I... wanted to talk to you about something." Meg explained. Her English was nearly perfect, as was the English of every German student Cindy had ever met. The only noteworthy difference was Meg's W's sounding slightly more like V's.

"Can we do it inside? It's freezing out here."

"Of course." Meg pointed a single finger up and bent down to grab something from the nearby grass, now dead from the absence of Persephone. It was a cardboard tray with two cusp tucked into the precut slots.

"Oh, that's just what I fancy right now." Cindy reached for one of them. "Are they any different?"

"One's coffee, one's cocoa. I'll drink whatever one you don't want." Meg pointed to each cup in turn.

An important choice sat before her. If Cindy drank the coffee, she might find herself moderately productive for the rest of the day. Or perhaps she'd be spread out on her bed, waiting for her heart to stop beating so fast so she could grab a nap.

Cindy accepted the cocoa.

Back in the warmth of Cindy's dorm room, Meg started drinking the coffee. She sat on the naked mattress across from Cindy's bed. That entire side of the room was almost entirely vacant, but for posters left on the wall.

"Where is your roommate?"

"Back home, I assume. Her last final was days ago." Cindy answered. "I'm supposed to start moving into temp housing in another dorm." She looked around to all her stuff, thinking about how much of it she could do without for the next three weeks. Other than the leftover books and the bed, she could think of very little.

"You're not going home for the holidays?"

"I can't afford to fly home."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Meg sipped the coffee. "I can't either. But my family's on the other side of the planet."

"You live off-campus, right?" Cindy asked. "That's why you were late to half the Human Sexuality classes."

"I was not sleeping in. I just could never find parking." Meg said. "That professor... at least she didn't flunk me for being late like the syllabus had threatened. I still remember that class, when you went in front of everyone and came out as a futanari."

"Yeah, that was when all the guys stopped sitting near me because they were no longer trying to flirt with me." Meg looked away. "I think I preferred living in stealth. Nobody out here knew until I said something. Even in other classes, it felt like people start to give me a wide berth, like I had a disease or something."

"Being a futa isn't considered as... unusual as it once was. Have you heard of those coffee shops where there are futa waitresses who walk around naked and you can get them to jerk off into your coffee?" Meg asked.

"I've heard of them, but they don't really exist in Virginia." Cindy said, suddenly looking down at her sweet cocoa with alarm. "Why? That's not where this is from, is it?"

"No, of course not." Meg said. "This is just regular coffee. The closest one of those shops is in Denver. I would not drive that far for coffee, but I would drive that far to avoid drinking Starbucks."

The suspicious eye Cindy had given her coffee now went to Meg herself. "Why do you bring this up?"

"Well... I am a business major, and I have been trying to... what's the word? Schmoooze? Schmooze my way around and make contacts in the area. One of them is a contracting firm that is having trouble finding someone to work a client's Christmas Eve corporate party."

"What kind of work?"

Meg paused. "Making drinks."

"Is that a euphemism?" Cindy didn't look amused.

"They need two futa to make eggnog. They have these implants, like they use at the coffee shops. They will make everything taste like eggnog, and when someone wants one, they will..."

Meg hesitated. To say all this out loud, it really did seem ridiculous.

She gestured with one hand closed into an O-shape and moved it up and down, the official sign language for 'wank.'

"They will whip it up it for them."

Cindy looked off to either side of her. "OK... where are we going to find another futa?"

Meg looked away. She wore a tight, embarrassed smile.

"Really?!" Cindy shouted. "You're a futa?"

She nodded.

"You're a futa and you just sat there while everyone eyed me like I was a freak in that class?"

"I'm sorry..." Meg's hands went together in her lap, tugging at her scarf. "I really thought I had the courage to tell everyone. I'm not ashamed at all of who I am, but I... lost my nerve that day when I saw how everyone else reacted."

Cindy growled unhappily. "I don't think I want to do this."

"I haven't even told you how much we'll be paid."

"I don't think it'll make a--"

Meg said a number out loud.

Cindy leaned back.

"That's for all night?"

"That's the WAGE. That's per hour."

"That hour is more than I make in two weeks."

"Now you see why I came here."

"Because I'm the only other futa that you know."

"Yes." Meg admitted. "We can go there, work for four hours, jerk off in front of people we've never met and will never see again, and have a lovely windfall for post-Christmas shopping."

Cindy's free hand went to her heart, to the key of the zipper of her hooded sweatshirt. As much as her first act coming out as a futanari was unpleasant... how nice would it be to live in a world where it didn't have to be such a secret? Living in 'stealth' just condemned her futa sisters and those that would follow them to the same burden. And there was something undoubtedly intriguing of being so exposed in front of people she'd never see again. They might judge her, they might be disgusted... they might be aroused.

Cindy took hold of her left arm by the wrist, covered by the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She took in a sharp breath. "I think I can do this."

Meg grinned. "Wonderful! They want to sign the contracts in a few days. Then they'll do some tests to make sure we can actually... make the drinks. In fact, if you don't want to move into temp housing... you could live at my apartment in the city for the winter. Then you wouldn't have to move anything but your clothes and whatever else you need."

That was a proposal Cindy found much less difficult to comprehend. She wondered why Meg hadn't started with that one. "That would help me a ton, actually, but... do you have two beds?"

"No, but we can switch between the couch and the bed on alternating nights if you want. Trust me, the amount of money I'd earn for this party is much more than my rent for one month, so I wouldn't mind having you around if it helps you, no matter how loud you snore."

Cindy suddenly felt relaxed for the first time since the start of finals. Maybe it was the cocoa. Maybe it was Meg graciously relieving her of the latest problem that was stressing her out.

"Let's do this." Cindy smiled. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"I don't necessarily believe that you ARE a futa." Cindy stated.

She had more to say than that, to walk Meg down the garden path of how she might prove such a thing, but Meg jumped forward in her script. She stood from the bed, set her coffee down on the empty desk, pulled her skirt up, dug her hand into her leggings and pulled herself out over the waistband.

A trace of crimson came to Cindy's cheeks, and not from the blustery cold wind they'd endured outside. That... certainly proved it.

"How about you?" Meg said, allowing herself to hang out of her leggings. "If you can't have it out in front of me, you'll never be ready to be in front of strangers."

Cindy put down her cocoa on her desk, stood up, hooked both thumbs into her pants... and pulled them down until she was free of them.

Meg chuckled. "Nice." She said.

Cindy pulled up her pants.

Meg kept them down a little longer.

---

Christmas Eve. The night of the big event. The punch table was decorated with gold garland and red satin. One side of the table was filled with racks of clean cappuccino cups. This would be where Cindy and Meg would be spending the next four hours or so, using the euphemism that everyone else did: 'making drinks.'

Their contact for this gig was present to get them started. His name was Gabriel, a perpetually smiling man who was shorter than both of them, with dark hair flattened down with so much gel, it looked like it had been shellacked in place. He wore a blue suit with broad shoulders, giving him the appearance that he'd gotten into his father's wardrobe. If he had vertical lines running below the corners of his mouth, he'd look like a ventriloquist dummy.

"Ladies, good to see you again." He shook their hands in turn. "I'm so glad you made it here alright. I've got your costumes right here."

They took the small tote of clothing into the lavatory. The 'costumes' were two bikini tops, one red and one green, and two red micro-mini skirts with fur trim. They stuffed all their clothes, their purses and everything else into the tote.

Meg and Cindy exited the bathroom and hustled through the hall, not sure if there anyone walking by who would not understand the purpose of their nudity. They returned to the punch table.

Gabriel smiled at first glance, but something evidently alarmed him. "What's all this?" He pointed.

"These are penises, Gabriel. That's why we're here." Meg said flatly.

"No, THIS." He pointed to Cindy. On her left arm, she had an incomplete sleeve tattoo that ran most of the way down her forearm. It was not Christmas-themed.

"You didn't know about this?"

"No, I'm afraid not." He shook his head, as if that would make it go away. "It's not really... IN with the vibe we're going for here."

"We're not losing this gig because of that, are we?" Meg protested.

Gabriel held up both pointer fingers. "Give me a second." He ran out of the room, through the double doors, as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Suddenly, the two of them were half-nude and alone in this strange place, watching the other workers rush around to get stuff done... all of them fully dressed.

"I really like your tattoo." Meg assured her.

"I hate having it unfinished." Cindy said, rubbing part of it with her finger. "That's why I usually hide it. That's actually the reason I took this, so I could have some extra money to have it finished over the winter break."

"Is the artist local or are they back home?"

"He's from here. I want them to finish it before I graduate next year."

Gabriel reappeared. From somewhere, he had found a Santa coat. He had cut almost everything off the coat but the sleeves, leaving a garment too short to even be called a bolero. It was just the red sleeves and white fut trim, connected at the shoulders. Maybe the rest of the coat had been turned into their skirts.

"Here. Wear this." Gabriel threw the garment at Cindy. She slipped it over her arms. Her tattoo was now covered. She was back on the Christmas brand.

"If that is good enough for you, let's just get ready to serve these lovely people." Meg said diplomatically.

"Let us." He put his briefcase on the table and flicked it open. Inside where two white bulbs about the size of old-fashioned Christmas lights, attached to cushioned belt arranged into an X, with brass loops at all ends.

"I will have to help you get strapped in, but I think you can install the implant yourselves."

Both of them took an implant, the straps hanging down from their hands like the tentacles of an octopus. This was something both of them would rather do in private.

Then again, so was... making the drinks.

When Cindy explained that the futa in the coffee shops 'wore implants,' Meg did not know it meant putting things in her butt. One of the tests they went through at the office was to make sure that they responded to the implants. Very few futas cannot produce flavored semen with the implant properly installed, but they had to be sure before allowing them to sign the contract. Cindy had barely ever been so horny as she had been when she'd tried the test implant. It was described as 'less intense' than the standard implant.

Meg and Cindy looked away from each other as they slid the implants up the chimney.

Cindy was not at all sure she could endure this sensation for four hours. But she would try. She would not let her new friend down.

Once both implants were in place, Gabriel asked the ladies to reach between their legs and pull up two of the straps depending from the base of the implant. Gabriel approached them from the side, as to not get their powerful erections directly in the face.

From his pocket, he pulled out a tiny brass padlock, closing it between the two rings on the harness around the thigh, locking them together.

"Is this really necessary?" Cindy suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. "I swear we won't take them out."

"Whether it's necessary or not, it's in the contract." He said shortly. "You're paid by how long you're wearing the implant. If the harness is removed by someone other than me or a member of our firm, that will void the contract. But these harnesses are designed to be comfortable. Most of the pre-built harnesses for this purpose are S&M gear, and also include a ring that goes around the..."

Gabriel pointed downward to their cocks in turn.

"Needless to say, that wouldn't do. These shouldn't cause you any discomfort over the course of the night." He snapped the remaining three locks in place, each lock on the side of their hips. Only now did Cindy notice there was a single bell looped into the shackle of the lock, jingling against the lock as she moved.

The belts were now in place, at three minutes before six. The pair now looked like they were wearing strap-on harnesses with VERY realistic dildos. Gabriel looked over his work, expressing neither arousal nor disgust at the half-nude and fully erect futas stood before him. It was as neutral of a sight to him as if he'd just given them a haircut.

"I think we're all set here. Do you have any questions for me?"

Meg and Cindy looked over to each other. Meg spoke up first. "I think we are good."

"Excellent. I will have to take your cell phones and other stuff. You can't have that stuff while you're out on the floor."

"You're taking our phones?" Meg repeated what she'd just heard.

"It's not like we got a place to hide them." Cindy shrugged.

Gabriel took the tote with all their stuff and held it in the same hand that held the briefcase. "Oh!" He suddenly said. "One more thing." He pulled something small out of his coat pocket, removed a paper backing from it, and slapped it against Cindy's hip. For a moment, Meg thought he had just slapped her ass, but he quickly did it to her as well, slapping her hip right below the line of the harness.

"Have fun, ladies. Merry Christmas!" Gabriel darted off.

Unable to see what Gabriel had done, the pair turned in place like the two automatons on a cuckoo clock. Meg looked down at the tag-shaped sticker that Gabriel had planted on Cindy's hip, right below the lock.

It read: Do Not Open Until Xmas.

"...der Scherzkeks." Meg growled.

"Excuse me?"

"I said he thinks that he is funny." Meg took in a deep breath, watching the other workers running around like ants, trying to get ready. "Maybe he'd be funny after twenty or so beers."

A waiter walked past them. Meg got his attention before she rose her hand. He started at the sight of her nudity, and her large appendage. He looked to both sides of him, hoping she would start talking to someone else.

"Excuse me, sir. Please bring me your crappiest American beer."

"You can't do that." Cindy objected.

"It's no big deal. I won't be driving. We will take taxi home."

"No, the contract says you can't drink."

The shocked expression on Meg's face gave the waiter a sample of how he looked upon gazing at her member. Meg spun in place and faced Cindy. The waiter silently excused himself.

"You cannot be serious." She groaned.

"The contract said specifically, 'the consumption of alcohol while wearing the implant will void the contract.'" Cindy explained. Her brow lowered as she continued, "Did you even read that thing?"

"I skimmed it..."

"You're the business major!"

"Can't believe I have to spend Christmas Eve sober..."

"Don't sound too bummed about it."

Meg pulled her in closer, leaning her nose against her cheek. "I am so glad I get to spend it with you, though. This last week has been a lot of fun. And tomorrow... we get a great present."

Cindy smiled, stepping away from her. They snapped to attention as the first customer walked in. "Walked" being the operative word, as he was the first person in this room who wasn't running around trying to get something ready. Thus, he must have been a customer. He was an older gentleman of about fifty-five with a mustache, dressed in a tuxedo.

The man nearly jumped at the sight of them. He didn't wear a monocle to pop off his face and into someone's champagne, but if he had worn one, that would have definitely happened. "What on Earth is this?" He asked.

A dark blush crawled over Cindy's face. She smiled and said nothing, pulling her hands behind her back to avoid the instinct to cover up.

Meg piped up. "Complimentary eggnog?"

The old man looked to the empty table before them. "Where's the eggnog?" He asked.

Meg gestured down the length of her member, from top to bottom.

The man's eyes widened. "No, thank you." He smiled politely, and hustled away from the table, presumably to find some other kind of beverage that didn't come out of a person's body.

"Aw." Cindy sighed. "That actually kind of hurt my feelings."

"I thought the customers would be younger than THAT guy." Meg rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "Well, hopefully, he will be the only rejection we get tonight."

---

"Complimentary eggnog?" Cindy asked a young blond man in a blue suit.

This man was young enough to be familiar with the other coffee shops and restaurants where this sort of serving was enlisted. Nevertheless, he shook his hand at them.

"No thanks. I don't like eggnog."