Under New Management (Friday Night, Continued)
Once Candy returned to tie up the mad Doctor and his assistant
who, together, were responsible for vulcanizing us, I tried to focus on what to do next. We had some major stuff to nail down. Here we were, seven girls thrown together by chance, our bodies transformed into shapes that were (in my newly found opinion) super sexy ... but not exactly human. What now? Were the changes permanent? And was this constant craving for sex permanent, too? Not that I minded, of course - as long as I could get me some.
Which brought up the biggest question. I'd proposed that we feed our needs by taking over the Club. But how, exactly, were we going to make this operation work for us?
Fuck it,
I thought.
Time for another round with April, right now
.
April (now officially 'Pril' - she decided it sounded tougher) was obviously in the same space, because we were suddenly in a standing lip-lock, our tongues
literally
tied together, with enough lingua left over to side down each other's throats.
Hey,
I thought
- no gag reflex. I gotta try this out on Clyde's prong. And Demi's tail.
We must have been at it for a while, 'cause bye and bye and by I felt something squeeze between our legs. It was Candy, joining in our game. She'd come over all lusty, like us. I shivered with delight as her proboscis worked its knobbly way into my ever-ready cunt. Once she was solidly ensconced, things got even better - Pril straddled her crouching ex-pet's neck and then started humping the back of her smooth noggin from behind.
As Pril ground her sex into Candy (and so drove Candy deeper into me), she - Pril, that is - sort of snickered into my throat, and then finally broke off that glorious kiss to ask, "Does this count as giving head?"
It was kind of dopey, but it got Candy going. I'm here to tell you that when somebody's cock laughs inside you ... well! It's probably sort of a reverse hummer. Not to be missed.
After our mini-orgy concluded, I sent Pril into a side-room to check out the inventory; but I figured most of the answers were right there with me. The Doctor knew plenty, except he was presently hanging upside-down in the corner, wrapped up in duct tape like a fly in a web and glaring daggers. Then there was Molly, who was artistically suspended about three feet off the floor, stretched out on her back with heavy ribbons of tape leading from her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the room. Candy may have accepted her new body, preferred it even, but I think she still held a grudge. And she seemed to have found a whole lot of tape.
Molly seemed the best bet. We could hardly trust her but, unlike the Doctor, she was more or less sane. And as I say, she was hanging spread-eagle and naked in the middle of the room. I walked around her, thoughtfully, and observed that my trusty dildo was still projecting from her bald pussy. Cool - we're gonna have us an interrogation. I reached between her thighs, and hesitated a moment before I rotated the rubber wang inside her (I had discovered a love for antici...pation, as Dr. Frank-N-Furter would have it). When I twisted the toy, I finally noticed a recessed button. That brute was a deluxe vibrator - big enough it must have held three 'D' cells, easy. I switched it on, and Molly gasped and rolled her head as her first (or rather most recent) orgasm swept through her. This was going to be fun.
"So, Molly. First question. Are we gonna look like this for good?"
The woman shook in her bonds, and caught her breath. "Yeah ...absolutely. We can't ... reverse ... only add things. Like, Doc was gonna ... add tails to ... the ones you call Clyde and Blackie."
How'd she know that? Oh, right, I'd sent the girls out to the club floor using the names I'd made up. Barring Candy, of course. And Patches, who had turned back and solemnly said, "Not 'Patches'. I shall be Mistress P
antoufle." After she'd left, Pril said, "I don't think that means what she thinks it means." I'd shrugged and said, "Madame Slippers? Probably not." Shortly after that, we were locked in that major three-way suck-face I mentioned. But I digress.
"They're with the rest in the back ... Oh My God! ... if you want me to ... finish them up," Molly continued, trembling.
"Maybe later," I said, and then persuaded her to explain more about the costumes.
"Ah, right ... adding things. ... Oh, Yeah! ... Umm, we tried to put a girl ... in a second suit ... once. A different one. It went ... horribly wrong. Got full price for her, though. ... No accounting for taste."
Well, ugh. "You've been doing this - rubberizing girls - in other towns?"
"Mmmm. Sure." And then, bizarrely enough, she closed her eyes and began to sing in a surprisingly strong, if occasionally ragged, alto:
"I travel the world and the seven seas.
Everybody's looking for something.
Some of them want to use you;
some of them want to get used by you.
... Fucking Christ! ...
Some of them want to abuse you;
some of them want to be abused..."
Okay, so she was a loonie, after all. Who was I to judge?
Molly echoed my thoughts, singing, "Who am I to disagree?"
I broke in. "Right, I'll take that as a yes." It looked like it was about time to turn off the vibrator for a bit. Molly whimpered when I did. Next question: "And what did your ... customers make of the weird shit?"
She took a deep breath, and seemed to focus. "If you mean the, um, unusual modifications ... Doc's only recently started experimenting with that stuff. Up to now, we've pretty much stuck to the basic model Submissive. You know - any colour you like, as long as it's black."