The Flesh Project

LIGHTS OUT

At first, there was nothing. She was conscious of nothing but her own existence- and barely that. Memories seemed to dance on the outskirts of her awareness, but they were twisted and dark, and she was vaguely thankful for the distance, the gulf, between herself and full lucidity. Then, other things. A softness and warmth about her body…sheets fresh from the dryer. That scent of fabric softener and fresh laundry. Wrapped around her like a cocoon.

She became conscious of her own eyelids, and their closed position. A horizontal feeling. She was suddenly sure that, if she were to open her eyes, she would see the corner of a large and crumpled pillow upon which her head now lay, sideways and sluggish. Tactile sensation returned further, and she became aware of a hand at rubbing softly at the small of her back. She controlled her fear with difficulty. It was not a questing hand, there no digits scrabbling to gain purchase on her little behind, or reaching around underneath her to tweak at her budding chest. This was an hand uninterested in the delta of her sexuality, that place that had so recently been violated.

The mattress of the bed upon which she lay was strangely shaped- weighed down by sitting figures. A quick wriggle of her tiny, sock-clad toes old her there were two of them, one slightly larger than the other. Acting as if in the stirrings of deep sleep, the girl moved one experimental hand down to her belly, rubbing the soft, smooth skin there, barely admitting to herself that she was feeling for the telltale swelling that might accompany some sort of strange, chemically-induced hyper-pregnancy. Would there be a bulge at the terminus, when her hand completed the sacred journey from shoulder to navel? Would she feel the kicking of an already-horny dickgirl baby?

Of course not. Of course not. That was stupid. She knew it was stupid. People didn’t get pregnant in one day. That was just dumb. Kid talk. And yet, she moved her hand. It was not her brain that willed it, but the chill in her tiny spine.

Flat. Smooth. Warm. No baby. Nor was the skin flecked and sticky with urine and ejaculate, as it had been. The girl moved her tongue in her mouth and tasted only the dullness of a mouth long-closed by sleep. There was no remnant taste of the incestuous sperm and piss that had filled her mouth so recently.

Now fully awake, April Wilder opened one sparkling blue eye and rolled it over to examine the room she was in, inhaling minutely at the pain the action caused- her eye was irritated, perhaps due to their being taped open for hours, perhaps because she had taken a fat stream of her twin brother’s scalding piss directly to her horrified, unclosable corneas. Nonetheless she could identify the room- it was Miss Mikura’s bedroom, the site of some of her favorite orgasmic moments. Spotlessly clean, with fresh sheets on the bed. And sitting there on the mattress, with a hand against the small of her back, was Miss Mikura herself. April allowed herself a relieved sigh.

“She’s awake,” whispered Mikura, rubbing gently at April’s back.

The other shape on the bed shifted with a rock of wide, sensual hips. “Good,” came the voice of Liz Wilder, April’s mother. “Good.”

April turned under the sheets, placing her head flat on the pillow to look up at the two women who were now standing over her. Her blue eyes were wide and cute as always- but forlorn with recent sleep and general fatigue.

“You were sleeping nearly all day, honey,” chided Liz, sitting down next to Mikura on the bed.

“Miss April, how are you feeling?” asked Mikura. Her stormy blue eyes were filled with concern. April squirmed slightly underneath the covers, rubbing her smooth legs together silently. She would not tell them, nor admit to herself, that she was checking to see if there was slickness between her thighs…if the massive load that Lorelai had raped into her womb was still leaking out of her. The friction of her movement told her this wasn’t the case.

“I hurt…all over,” moaned April. It was true. Her body ached, her youthful muscles overworked and reeling from hours of thrashing, bound, on cold bathroom tile. “My shoulders…owww….”. She closed her eyes with pain from even an experimental twitch of her rotator cuff.
“You’re safe now,” soothed Mikura. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

April focused in on Mikura more clearly. The woman had large discoloration on her cheek that was covered with makeup- but still obviously a bruise, despite what looked to be a careful application of the stuff.

“What happened to your cheek?” whispered April, snug under the covers.

Mikura looked embarrassed. “Oh dear- I’m afraid…when I found you…you frightened me quite a bit. I fainted, Miss April. I hit my head on the floor. You gave me quite a scare.”

“You should have seen it a few hours ago,” remarked Liz. “Mikura is a magician with makeup.”

Mikura blushed. “Well, maybe so. But…I’m not worried about my cheek just now. Miss April, I just want you to know…”

“It was water,” blurted out Liz. April narrowed her eyes. Mikura nodded.

“You were crying, I could barely understand a word you said, Miss April,” continued the super-busty brunette. “You kept saying, ‘she injected me and she made me pregnant!’…you were crying so hard…I didn’t know what to do.”

“When we were drying you off, we got the story out of you,” said Liz. “Baby… it was just water she injected you with. Or saline. Something harmless. I checked with the Doctor- there is no such thing as an anti-contraceptive that is effective within two hours. He says she probably stole the syringe from the lab during her tests…”

Liz rubbed her forehead and looked at April with concern as the girl’s expression remained sullen and tired. “Well, it’s not really important, honey. Just…know that you’re not going to get pregnant.”

The girl’s relief at the news was great- but her despair at being so easily fooled- at putting herself through the mental wringer like a child hiding from a fairy-tale boogeyman- was more than enough to replace it. She had been so stupid- so naïve and stupid. Suddenly, April felt like crying more than ever…but soldiered on in the conversation, holding back whatever tears might have tried to come.

“Did we take a shower?” asked April, voice weak. “I barely remember, mom. I don’t remember anything after…it happened.” She cast her eyes down to the sheet, as if ashamed.

“Yes, we helped you get clean,” said Mikura. “You felt much better afterward. You didn’t talk…but I think you felt better.” Mikura looked down at the sheet as well, and her face took on a look of sadness. “I’m so upset, Miss April. I feel so helpless. I wish I could have done something.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” said Liz. “If I’d been home…”

“It’s ok, mom,” said April, her voice weak. “Don’t worry.”

Liz looked at her uncertainly. As if unsure whether or not to accept her daughter’s forgiveness…as she had so many other times…or to continue to scold herself. The blonde eventually said nothing at all. In her green nurse’s scrubs, utilitarian and baggy, she was a far cry from her usual sexpot self. Liz looked like a woman of thirty-five years, not twenty-seven. Part of it was the subdued uniform, sure (she had been helping Dr. Hardman with actual procedures of late- as opposed to helping him get off)…but most of it was her confusion. Her complete bewilderment at the situation, having no idea what to do next. In the old days…the money days…the California days…she would never have let anything like this happen to April. Every appointment had been carefully surveilled. But now…these were the Flesh Project days. Liz was still hustling…still working an angle- but she had left her children to explore a new sexual Wonderland. Now, disaster had struck. This was no Wonderland. It was…dangerous.

Mikura spoke up. “We aren’t going to let things go on like this, Miss April. Miss Setsume was yelling at Doctor Hardman for almost an hour. She was so angry about what happened to you.” Mikura hesitated. “We all were. I knew better than anyone, perhaps. What Miss Lorelai was like. I should have warned you. If I’d only known…”

“It’s ok, Miss Mikura,” said April. “Don’t be sad.” The young girl closed her eyes. It hurt to keep them open. “I’m trying not to be. Even though it still hurts.”

Mikura rubbed softly at her hip. “You’re very brave,” said the woman. “Very brave.”

“Miss Setsume was screaming at the Doctor?” asked April, eyes still closed.

“Yes,” answered Mikura, still caressing April’s hip with motherly gentleness. “She marched up and slapped him right in the face!”
April opened her eyes in spite of the pain. “Really?”

Mikura nodded. “The whole night and morning had me so frazzled, Miss April. Setsume was yelling at the Doctor…and after that was over, we could hear the Doctor yelling at the security guards from all the way around the corner of the monitor room. He was so loud!”

Liz looked down at the floor. “I wish I could understand what happened. The doctor…he has so many things to worry about…and something went wrong.”
There was a silence, thick and hot, with a thousand questions in the air at once like hurtful ghosts. None asked aloud.

How close are you to him?

Why did you have to be so foolish? Didn’t you know that woman was bad news? Didn’t I teach you better than that?

Do you even love me? I think maybe you didn’t want me. You were only 14. Do you love me? Do you really truly love me?

This woman is a stranger- and you treat her like a mother…why? Didn’t I raise you- give you the best life I could? I never asked you to do anything I wouldn’t do. Why do I feel like I don’t even know you?

How close are you to him? Are you hustling, or do you love him? And…were you hustling me? Always, all this time…hustling me?. I made you more money than you ever made for yourself. But now that life is over. Gone…and you’ve been gone too. On to the next thing.

Why are you being so unfair to me? This woman- she hasn’t had the life I’ve had. I could never have learned to be a mother like she has. I could only do what I knew. Why can’t you see that?

Why were you so unfair to Ashley? He didn’t make you any money…and you drifted away. Now you’re doing it again.

I love you…but I don’t know what to do.

I love you…but I don’t know what to do.

“Goodness!” sighed Mikura, breaking the silence. She folded her hands over her lap nervously. “I need to go to the dispensary, Miss April. I’ll be back shortly.” She rose, a mountain of female flesh undulating underneath a white blouse and a blue, knee-length skirt. April could see the outline of Mikura’s large, overworked bra through the material of her top. The woman made her way to the door and exited.

Liz slid over on the bed. “I’m going to tell the doctor I won’t be in to help him today,” she said. April made no reply. Only snuggled deeper under the covers. Liz touched her cheek hesitantly…but affectionately. Then, she too was gone. April was left alone, battling against memories she did not want to recall- but against which she had no defense. No defense but sleep. And even then…

“Nightmares…please…no nightmares,” she whispered, voice as high as a church mouse. She snuggled deeper, every muscle aching...hoping for sleep to take her quickly, and without malice.


=============================================


Elsewhere, Setsume rubbed at her eyes. She had been awake since three in the morning- and it was already noon. Time had flown since the discovery of April by Mikura, and subsequent raising of the alarm via echoing screams. All the Project subjects had flown from their rooms to investigate the commotion, and the pack of them had converged in the hall on a grisly scene- April defiled, Mikura fainted and sporting a nasty abrasion besides.
It was Hardman’s bleary-eyed suggestion that “everyone calm down- this happens, it’s not as bad as it looks- things just got a little out of hand…” that had set Setsume off. She had slapped him across the face with an open hand, and then the tirade had begun in earnest. The teenage dickgirl could not remember he exact words…but there was one phrase in particular that she had kept repeating, with tears forming in her eyes.

How can you say that?
How can you fucking say that?
How can you fucking say that, you bastard. You asshole. You fucking piece of shit.
How can you say that to us…when this girl, our friend, has been so badly hurt?
How can you say that? When you promised us something better? A place to belong. A place to finally have a rest of being chased and teased and treated like dirt, like meat.
This is your better place?
How can you say that?

The guards had held Setsume back…but she had not been hurt. April, though…she had been hurt enough for all of them. Almost all of the females had burst into tears. Sarah, Setsume remembered, had covered her mouth as if she were about to puke. This, more than anything else, had told Setsume that it wasn’t the extremity of the sex, the fluids, the harshness of the penetration that had enraged them all. All of them were past such things. Sarah was a sperm-freak of the highest order, she wouldn’t have flinched if she’d found April lodged in a ten gallon tank of the stuff. It was the pain on April’s face, and hurtfulness of the act, that had driven the subjects to revulsion.

It had been hours before all was calm. Mikura had insisted on taking April back to her room- and no one had objected. Mikura was the only one of them, after all, who stayed by herself. The only one who had extra room- and more importantly, the inclination to soothe and care for a traumatized child. Setsume had visited briefly…but the last thing the girl had wanted was visitors…she seemed, in fact, to flinch from every pair of eyes that might gaze upon her violated form. Setsume shuddered. To see that beautiful creature…that tiny, vivacious little nymph who so wanted to be the center of attention on any normal day, wanted people to look at her and see a budding beauty queen or a soon-to-be seductress...to see her cringing and crying at the thought of being seen…it was a terrible sight.

Setsume had been glad to leave. Lola had been with her, and though they didn’t speak at length about what they had seen, Setsume had tossed her a knowing glance as the two of them returned, exhausted, to Setsume’s room.

I told you, the look had said. This place is poison. They lied to us…we have to find some way out. Or some way to make things change.
Lola had cried for April, softly…and hugged Setsume tighter and more desperately than the norm as they lay in bed. Despite everything, though- Lola had been up early the next morning in time for hew next scheduled round of tests. Setsume had tried to make her raven-haired girlfriend forego the day’s activities…to stay home, show Hardman that he needed to change things if he wanted co-operation…but Lola had not agreed.

“These tests…they’re for real,” she had said, rubbing Setsume’s cheek gently as they stood face-to-face at the door. “All the blood work, scans…psychiatric bullshit…maybe they can finally fix…it. Fix me.” She had kissed Setsume on the lips. It was a smooch that had lasted longer than scheduled…Setsume had sucked Lola’s full bottom lip firmly, not wanting to let her go. Her cock, two feet of bobbing meat, was pressing urgent upward, as if trying to snag Lola and keep her from leaving.

“I like you just the way you are,” Setsume had said.

“I know,” Lola had said. And she had gone.

So Setsume was left with Noah, who had come over to further brainstorm the frustrating “SHE KNOWS WHO RUNS IT” puzzle that had so far eluded them.
Quite the code-cracking team, thought Setsume grumpily. A 16-year-old with one year of high school, and some random ex-lab assistant. We’re not exactly the fucking CIA.

And yet…both of them were naturally bright. So maybe, with time…and effort…

“Come up with anything?” Noah asked, jolting her out of her deep thoughts. Setsume, who was wearing a pair of silver silk pajama pants and a silk pajama top, nearly slid off of her chair in surprise.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking.”

Noah took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The deep brown of his eyes was even more striking with the lenses out of the way- though Noah never went without his glasses for long. “I hope you’ve been having better luck than I have,” he offered.
Setsume looked at the three messages, jotted on a napkin-edge underneath one of the kitchen-table coasters, too small and inconspicuous for the prying eyes of the surveillance cameras.

BUT
I’M
NOT
DUMB

WOMAN
MAN

UNDERSTAND
I
CAN’T
TALKED

To these cryptic sorta-poems, Noah had added a fourth phrase:

SHE
WALKED
WELL

This had been Sarah’s message. Noah had fished her wrapping paper out of the trash in his quarters.

“Well, I have no idea about Sarah’s message,” said Setsume, voice low so as to remain below the volume of the droning radio. “’She walked well’? What the hell does that mean?” She slouched further in her chair, plowing her bangs out of her eyes with a frustrated exhalation of breath.

“Let’s take these clues at face value,” suggested Noah. “We’re looking for someone to whom each phrase applies.” He paused. “We’re looking for someone who…isn’t dumb…possibly someone who has trouble talking about the past…someone to whom the phrase ‘woman-man’ has some meaning….and who walks well.”
Setsume laughed in spite of herself. “Honestly…I don’t think knowing how to walk well has anything to do with anything. Who does that disqualify?”
Noah shrugged. “Well, Mikura falls over a lot.” They both chuckled. Noah slumped his forehead down to the table and looked at Setsume sideways, smiling a little, the smile of someone who understands the absurdity of a situation and is sharing a joke. They laughed again.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, burying his face in between crossed arms so that only the back of his head and neck, partially obscured by his scholarly ponytail, was visible. “I know it seems pointless…”

“It’s ok,” replied Setsume, leaning back in her chair like an inattentive student. “I’ve got nothing but time without Lola here. She’s been away so much, it’s driving me crazy.”

“Sarah’s been gone too,” said Noah through his table-slouching fort of crossed arms. His voice was muffled and reflective.

“You don’t understand,” lamented Setsume, fiddling with the drawstring of her sink pajama bottoms. Under the table, she was aware of a rush of blood to her nether regions…and hoped that Noah wouldn’t notice the subtle rise of her pajama-leg-resting organ. “She’s been away all day…for five whole days! I didn’t realize how much I’d come to depend on having her around.”

Noah turned his head sideways on top of his folded arms and looked at Setsume. “I understand. Sarah has been away for even longer. She’s been spending more time in the lab than anyone else- I’ve barely seen her in a week and a half.”

Setsume sat upright with surprise. “Really?” she asked, grey eyes questioning.

Noah nodded sideways, half-sad. But his eyes were bright and curious. “I assumed Sarah would get the most testing of anyone, once it started. And maybe Mikura and Lola would be second. The other people who wanted cures. Maybe Lorelai and yourself after that- the medical…I don’t know…curiosities.” He raised a shapely brown eyebrow. “No offense.”

“None taken,” grinned Setsume, playfully lifting her middle finger. But she was listening with rapt attention.

“In any case, I was almost right,” Noah continued. “I haven’t even been in for tests. I don’t think I ever will be. They couldn’t give a fuck about me.” He smiled ruefully. “Old Noah isn’t worth a hill of beans in this crazy place. I’m just the boyfriend...”

He hesitated, then decided the word was fine.

“…of their meal ticket. You had one day of tests. Same probably with Lorelai. Maybe one day of tests for Liz, Ashley and April.”

Setsume sneered. “Lorelai doesn’t need a day of tests, she needs about five years of fucking counseling.” The teen crossed her arms over her pert chest. The thought of Lorelai had made her pendulous girlcock go as flaccid as an unblown flag.

Noah nodded. “No disagreement there.”

Setsume rose from the table. “Want something to drink?” she asked, looking back over one toned shoulder as she peered into the fridge. Noah couldn’t help but turn, and was greeted by the sight of Setsume’s shapely behind as she leaned forward and poked around amidst cartons of orange juice and half-eaten cafeteria portions. The shiny silk of her pajama bottom was like a clingy curtain around her athletic bubble of her teenage butt, and the way the fabric wrapped itself softly between her buns was quite enticing. Of course- one of the silken legs was bulging out slightly- home to two feet of thick, dormant girlmeat.

It was actually physically impossible to look at Setsume’s ass and not get hard- and Noah found himself doing just that. “Orange juice would be great,” he said, hurriedly. Setsume began to pour him a glass, and one for herself.
Christ, she’s tall, he thought. All other, naughtier thoughts, such as what her endless, toned, teenage legs might feel like wrapped around him, he pushed out of his head. Plus- there was the large matter of her massive cock to think about. Noah couldn’t conceive of how he might deal with such a thing in the bedroom- not that it would ever come to that…


“What are you looking at?” Setsume asked, amused. She was leaning against the counter, holding a glass of orange juice in each hand. The bulge in her pant-leg seemed more conspicuous than ever. He willed himself to avoid letting his gaze fall to it- and managed the feat, with difficulty.
“Nothing,” he said, trying to look unconcerned.

“Ok,” she replied, bemused, and marched back to her seat, bare feet on tile floor. She plunked the two glasses on the table. Noah worked quickly to put his thoughts back in some semblance of order, disqualifying such synaptic winners as “I wonder what it would feel like to rub all the way up and down those legs” out of the running in favor of more appropriate conversation. The drinking of orange juice bought him some time.
“The thing is,” he continued (with Setsume’s unparalleled stems now hidden beneath the table and causing no further distraction), “Mikura hasn’t been to the lab at all. I asked Sarah, and she told me. She said it’s mostly been her and Lola.”
“What does that prove?” Setsume replied.

“By itself, nothing. But I have a theory. I knew from the beginning that Sarah would be tested the most extensively…”
“You keep saying that,” interrupted Setsume. “But what I don’t know is…why? What about Sarah would make her the focus?” Setsume suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I don’t mean to pry…I mean…”

Noah shook his head. “It’s ok. I’ve wanted to tell someone…and since you and I have a common desire to improve these conditions or escape them, I think it’ll be ok.” He seemed to take a mental breath- the pause of a man about to unburden himself of a great secret.

“Sarah- she had almost no control over her sexual behavior,” he began. “Even prior to puberty. She managed to keep it a secret for a while- trying her best, like she always has…but once she hit puberty, things went into overdrive. She would find men…anyone would do…and perform oral sex on them. Several times a day. Needless to say…she got a reputation. Her parents basically disowned her- so she would shack up with whatever man would have her. This was before I knew her- she spent most of her time either on her knees or at the library, if you can believe that.”

Setsume could believe it. She had had her own education cut short by an inability to blend in, and had kept her mind active reading whatever recycled classic literature she could pick up in the seedier bookshops of Thailand. She could remember forking over a fistful of baht for a dog-eared copy of “The Merchant Of Venice”. This was not something she was going to discuss with Noah, though. Maybe she would tell Lola about her last few years someday. When they were safe. And far, far away from here.

“She eventually wound up with this guy named Tyson,” Noah continued. “Tyson…Smith…or Simms…I just remember he had a name that sounded like an NFL quarterback’s name. This guy was a real piece of trash- he was a small time pimp and hustler who gave her a place to stay and some cab fare now and then as long as she would keep pleasing his customers. And trust me- the customers loved her. I don’t know from experience…but I imagine it’s hard to convincingly beg for a load of cum on the face.”

Noah blushed a little. Setsume did as well. “I wouldn’t know from experience either,” she offered, shrugging. Her shining grey eyes, bottomless in the sensuality, seemed to avoid his. There was a moment of silence while each wondered what the other was thinking.
Noah soldiered on. “In any case, when it comes to begging for…it…Sarah is a genius. So you can see the allure.”

“Where did this happen, anyway?”

“New York. Queens. Why? Where did you grow up?”

Setsume hesitated, and then sighed. “New Hampshire, if you can believe that. But it was never home.” She suddenly looked ill. “’Live free or die’, my ass.”

The two shared a sad look. “So…she was with this Tyson guy…and I ended up meeting her right after I took a course in psychology that touched on the sexual. Now…at the time, I was eighteen, and pretty sexually inexperienced.”
Setsume burst out laughing. Her eyes lightning up. “Bullshit!” she said, stretching the word out over two syllables. “I mean…look at you! You should have been beating off the girls with a stick!”

Noah shrugged. “Things change.”


* * *


Lola stepped into the cafeteria to get something to eat. There had been no cook for weeks- all the meals were pre-heated, vended and shrink-wrapped. They tasted about the same. In similar fashion, the cleaning crews had been done away with. Now, the guards cleaned up most of the sexual messes in the main activity area (not that there had been any lately) and the Flesh Project subjects were responsible for their own quarters.

“Three months in, and already downsizing,” Noah had joked. Lola had found it very odd…but perhaps that had been the plan all along. She knew in her heart that the Flesh Project was illegal- even if it had brought her into contact with the sexiest, most wonderful person she could ever imagine being with. And things that are illegal, she reasoned, are more likely to get found out if a greater number of people know about them.

The end result had been some grumpier guards, resentful of their new roles as peepshow-moppers (Setsume’s phrase) and food that was now served up hot at the push of a button. Lola was about to push #2 (Chicken Teriyaki…again…) when she heard a snore and turned around with a start. There was a guard dozing one of the tables nearest the door- right behind it, in fact. She had walked right past him, and not noticed. Her joy at being excused from lab work (Dr. Hardman had been too tired, stressed-out and hungover to proceed) had been great enough to distract her from all else.

Lola was slightly alarmed until she saw that the guard in question was Kyle- the blonde-haired guard who had come to her rescue during a close call in the laundry room. Lola giggled slightly at the sawing-log snores coming from his sputtering mouth. Ecstatic that he should be the one caught unawares, she walked up to Kyle and gave him an experimental poke. He started awake at once.

“Yagh!” he said, and looked around. Lola, who was wearing a tight black T-shirt and flimsy black shorts over her black panties, giggled again.

“Oh,” he said. “Hi. I was just…uh…I’m off duty.”

“No you’re not,” she teased. “I know your duty shift. That’s the only time I’m not afraid to wander around.”

“Oh,” said Kyle again. He seemed dumbstruck by the beautiful 19-year-old standing beside him, nipples poking visibly against the fabric of her shirt, which was emblazoned with picture of a monk bursting into flames above the words “RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE”.

Fuck, if I were pressed up against her tits like that, I’d burst into flames too, thought Kyle. The shirt wasn’t large enough to cover Lola’s entire midriff, leaving a tantalizing, pale hint of belly exposed…and her black shorts were as flimsy as tissue paper, by the look- translucent enough to show a ghost of tight-fitting underwear beneath. The leg holes of the shorts were loose and high, and Lola’s thighs seemed to pour out of them in a duo of shapely white waves, leading down to feet clad in cute black socks. Her ass was most impressive of all. Lola’s butt curved out thickly beneath the cotton pajama shorts, creating an inviting target that any man on earth would have loved to knead and grab. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull her onto his lap- to feel her body jiggle and press against his own.

Shaking his head, Kyle moved to get up. “No sleep last night, and now I’m getting poked,” he said, jovial but businesslike. “Today just isn’t my day.”
“Guess not,” winked Lola. And then they were plunged into darkness.


* * *


The sound was like a great machine powering down…a tremendous force coming to a final rest. An engine rolling to a stop. It was the sound of electricity ceasing to flow, of large air circulation fans ceasing to activate. Dr. Hardman and Liz, who had been flirting and chatting in the lab, were suddenly lit only by the ghostly, phosphoric glow of the battery-powered monitoring equipment. Everything operating off of direct current was out, including the overhead lights. She asked him hurriedly what the matter was…and he had no answer for her. A power outage, he thought…and his conjecture seemed to calm her down.

Mikura had been returning from the supply area with a basket of toiletries…and yelped when the entire hallway went as black as an abyss, totally without light. She dropped her basket with a clatter and reached out to find the nearest wall. It was not far. Still…she’d had enough excitement for one day. More than enough.

“Goodness,” she muttered, holding one nervous hand between her breasts to hear the beating of her heart. She became confused and disoriented in the darkness, forgetting the direction to her room. She contented herself with standing still, one hand against the landmark wall…hoping for a quick return of power and light.

April was awakened not by light but by the lack of it- by a blackness deeper than any her eyelids could ever produce, a lack of light comparable to what one might see at the very centre of the earth. She stirred in bed, then rose, knowing it was barely noon, knowing the Flesh Project lights were on a timer. Moving gingerly, the girl began to feel her way around Mikura’s semi-familiar apartment, remembering those few times in her youth when the power had been knocked out and she and her brother would burn candles in their rooms…candles decorated with gay pink and blue stripes- and his mother had always encouraged Ashley to take the pink rather than the blue…and April slowly walked her way toward the kitchen, where she knew Mikura kept some birthday candles from her own collection…all the while wondering why the memory should make her cry.

Setsume and Noah were taken by blackness just as Noah was telling Setsume about how he had found Sarah, working helplessly and compulsively as a cum-crazy whore, had known instinctively that something was wrong, that what he was witnessing was more than an act but actual compulsive behavior. The 16-year-old had been listening with rapt attention as Noah detailed how he had talked with Tyson, Sarah’s pimp, offering to buy her, offering anything to take her away…and then finally, when all other options were exhausted, doing what needed to be done to steal Sarah away from him- leaving his home, his school, his job in the hope of taking her away and being happy with her…and maybe finding a way to cure her obsession. Setsume had listened intently…her heart aching, wishing she could tell him she understood…and more than that…wishing, above all and beyond all, that someone could have been there to do the same thing for her- to take her away and take care of her. To love her, if it came to that.

Before the hitchhiking…the scraping from place to place in unspeakable ways. Before Thailand, where the sun came up each morning like a yellow sex god peering over crumpled spires, illuminating filthy Bangkok outskirts better forgotten.

As the darkness came, she loved Noah for what he had done, and though there was not a speck of light, not so much as one mote of the spectrum, alive in that room…Noah thought he could see her eyes- those grey, gleaming eyes…staring at him in the dark. He, in turn, was able to open his own eyes, without guilt…and imagine her, naked and slick- and ready for him to take her in whatever way they both wanted. He scolded himself for the feeling…but did nothing to deny it. His imagination began with estimations of how her breath might feel washing over his lips…and went from there. More than any other people in the Flesh Project…subject, guard, or otherwise…the reaction of Setsume and Noah was silent.

Ashley and Lorelai had been holding each other when the lights went out, and they paused only a moment as they did. He craned his neck in minor panic, unaccustomed to such total and complete darkness, and then she guided his youthful hardness inside her and took back his attention. “The power is out…” came the cobra voice in his ear, hot breath carrying the promise of fangs. “No cameras. Love me in the dark. Keep me warm.”

He did…enjoying her gentleness while it lasted. And trying to ignore the obstruction he imaged he felt just beyond the top of his rigid penis as it penetrated her slick and sexy gash.

Only Sarah remained unaware of the darkness. She lay asleep, exhausted from her tenth day or scans, transfusions and tests. She had lost weight, and had been more and more tired recently…but as always, she had only one gear- forward. To whatever end might come for her and her unique mind.
It was Dr. Hardman who first discovered that the doors were locked, and the magnetized latches wouldn’t release without current to the bolts. He swore loudly, and not for the first time that day. Turning back to face Liz under the green glow of the battery-fueled diagnostic equipment, he relayed the grim news. “Liz,” he said. “This might take a while to get resolved. We have a tech guy…but he’s off-site. In fact, he’s about as off-site as it gets. And he’s more of an executive than a tech-guy. Once he figures out what’s happened, I have no doubt he’ll take care of it…but until then, I think we’re fucked.”

Liz also swore. “I promised April I’d be back,” she said, looking worried. Her perfect features were slightly lined, and her hair shone green.
He gave her a look that was as close to genuine compassion as she’d ever seen from him. “Sorry,” he said. “Shit happens.” He offered her a weary grin. And in spite of herself, Liz laughed. Their embrace was made ghostly in the monitor glow.


* * *


Noah and Setsume had made their way to the door, hand in hand like elephants traveling a long distance…but Setsume had discovered the door was locked. She raised her voice for some experimental shouts, but there was no response.
“Soundproofed?” she had wondered aloud.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Noah had said. The darkness was total. Even with some time for their eyes to adjust- there was no light in the room. All was black. In the minutes that followed, they had wondered about the cause of the problem, and the possible effects, before getting an update in the form of rough banging on the door.

“Yes?” yelled Setsume.

“Stay calm. There’s been an outage of power. Maybe three hours to fix, maybe six. Is anyone injured?” It was a voice that Setsume didn’t recognize- accented and authoritative…a weathered voice.

“No!” they chorused. “Who is this?” added Setsume.

“I am Edri. You know me maybe as the guard who smokes cigarettes, yes?”

“Ok. Please, go check on everyone else!” yelled Setsume.

“I will,” came the reply. And then silence for a moment. Then the voice spoke up again.

“The cameras are down,” came the voice. Then silence.

“Yeah?” called Setsume.

“I want you to know…I’m sorry about the girl, what happened to her. I want you to know…” and again the voice seemed to hesitate. “Surveillance is down. If you have maybe anything to say to each other now about certain matters…this is the time.”

“What do you mean?” called Setsume. Sweat was forming on her brow.

“I’ve been watching. I notice you’re hiding something…but so far maybe I’m the only one who sees. Just be careful.”

“Edri!” called Noah. “Where are we?”

“The others are coming,” hissed the voice. It was barely audible through the door, now. “Just know, what happens here- stays here.”

“Edri!” called Setsume. But there was no response. She felt Noah’s hand tighten around her own.

“Vegas,” he said, mouth close to her ear. “I bet you a million dollars we’re under the desert out in Las-fucking-Vegas.”

* * *

“Come in, this is Kyle…over.”

A crackle of static. Then, silence. There was no response. Kyle had pulled the mic clean out of his helmet and as fiddling with it, trying to get a better signal. He and Lola were hunched over a blue chemical glow-stick that he and the other guards carried in case of just such an emergency. It lit the centre of the room like a patch of luminescent cave moss. Lola poked Kyle in the wrist.

“You’re not going to get anything on that,” Lola opined. “You had more success yelling through the door to your buddy out there.”

Kyle chuckled. “That prick is no buddy of mine. That was Murray. You remember him, don’t you?”

Lola made a gagging noise. Kyle chuckled again. “Well put,” he said.

Lola brought her arms together around her knees and hugged them to her bountiful chest. Though Kyle had not expressly been looking, this position gave him an aneurysm-causing view of her panties through the loose leg-holes of her black shorts. Lola’s puffy vaginal mound was readily discernable beneath the black fabric.

“I can’t thank you enough for that,” she said. “You know. Saving me that day.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Shucks ma’am,” he said, in a parody cowboy drawl. “T’weren’t nuthin.”

Lola laughed. “Dork,” she accused.

“Class clown,” he corrected. Lola punched him playfully in the shoulder- a swipe that couldn’t have dented a tin can, much less the bicep of a Kevlar-covered ex-marine. He leaned back thoughtfully from his seated position on the floor.

“How’d a guy like you get this job, anyway?” she asked.

Kyle sighed. “I don’t know. Bad luck? They needed a grunt with no family, no past, and no future.” He sighed again, sounding more forlorn. “It’s not like I thought it would be.”

Lola made a joking scowl, trying to lighten the mood. “I bet it’s a lot of fun for you guys. You get to see some wild stuff on those cameras.” She tipped Kyle a playful wink.

“I don’t watch them too often. The other guys…some of them can’t take their eyes away. They all have their favorite girls.”
Lola smirked. “Who’s your favorite?”

Kyle looked at the ceiling, falling back to a laydown position on his back, tucking his hands behind his head. “No comment.”

Lola inched closer, scooting her bouncy, cotton-wrapped butt across the smooth floor. “Is it Mikura? Do you like those big tits?”
“She’s a bit too…ditzy for me,” said Kyle.

“Sarah? I know you guys love a girl who has no limits.”

Kyle shuddered. “She’s too…I don’t even know what word to use, here. But no, she’s not the one.”

Lola put a ponderous finger to her lips. “Is it…April? I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Too young.”

Lola inched closer, still smiling a flirtatious smile. “Is it…Setsume? I wouldn’t blame you for a second! I think she’s the sexiest girl here!”
Kyle coughed. “That’s debatable. And…uh…no. She’s a little too…well, you know. Cocky.”

Lola was poised right over Kyle. With his hands behind his head, the man’s dirty-blonde hair fell ruggedly over his wrist armor in dirty swathes. There was a hint of a scar on his chin- the remnant of some long-ago conflict…and his eyes were deep and brown. Five o’clock shadow had set in hours ago.

“So who is it?” asked Lola at last. Her voice was trembling. “Your favorite girl?”

“I don’t think I should answer,” came the reply. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

She leaned over him then, moving her face into range of his. In the dim blue light he could see endless emerald refractions in her eyes. Her weighty breasts were thick and inviting, hanging pendulously in her shirt as she hovered inches from his face, on all fours. Her mouth came closer to his…and their eyes locked.

“That day when you held out your hand to me…you burned yourself into my memory,” she whispered. “Couldn’t you see that?”

Kyle found himself breathing hard- his heartbeat seeming to come at machine-gun speed. And the front of his fatigues felt far too small for what he was, thanks to quick and disobedient blood flow, suddenly packing.

“Don’t you…,” he whispered, mouth mere millimeters from hers. Her lips were poised to pounce. Her breath was as sweet as sugar, the smell of her was intoxicating. “I mean…why would you do this, if you’re already happy?”

Lola pressed her forehead to his. Her nose slid softly to the right of his, pressing against his cheek, and when she replied, Kyle could feel her lips moving against the corner of his mouth…could almost taste them.

“I’ve asked myself the same thing, when I would think of you at night. And the answer I came up with was…I had no one to love for so long…no one at all. Now I’ve found more than one person.” Though her dark and sinful voice never rose above the barest whisper, the words seemed to echo in the dark. As she lifted one lifted one leg to straddle him, Kyle let out a gasp. She seemed to be an idol of warmth…with the texture and heat of a large and voluptuous hot-water bottle. Every swell of her body was an enticing teaser, beckoning him to explore the folds, thicknesses and orifices that lay just below the surface. “It’s not fair to make me love just one person. Not after all this time. Love is infinite.”

Her lips moved directly against his as she finished, “Let me love you.” She kissed him then, grinding her centre of gravity overtop of his midriff. Kyle let her do it, and even kissed her back, eagerly, letting her experience things she hadn’t felt in a long time- like the roughness of his stubble, the cool smell of his aftershave, and a taste that was distinctly male. As the kiss grew in intensity, so did their mutual desire to shed their clothes- and Kyle had a lot of clothes to shed, as he was wearing not only the Flesh Project equivalent of SWAT fatigues, but was also strapped up with a radio, gun holster, taser, and any number of other things, with some sections made from bulky Kevlar.

“Mmmmmmh!” gasped Lola as they mashed their mouths together. Using hands that were trembling with anticipation, she helped him burn through snaps and clasps as fast as humanly possible. After thirty jingling, spit-swapping seconds, Kyle was down to his undershirt, and Lola could see for the first time how powerful his upper body was…not necessarily thick and bulky- but with toned and muscular shoulders and pectorals that formed an alluring triangle with his waist. While running her soft hands over the PE-chiseled hardness of his body, she estimated that Kyle was taller than Setsume by five inches or more…and probably outweighed her by close to 100 pounds. She felt tiny against him, and liked that feeling. Still straddling Kyle at the waist, Lola crossed her arms and did some undressing of her own, pulling her black T-Shirt over her head. Her generous white breasts rolled free, nipples erect and engorged, executing a bounce-and-rebound as they dropped from the cradle of her garment.

Kyle flipped her over, then- rolling to a dominant position with effortless grace…but taking care not to jostle her body against the floor. Lola squealed slightly at the slight coldness of the tile floor…but all was forgotten when Kyle began to handle her pliable breasts with two powerful hands, rotating thumbs on her nipples even as he pushed each fleshy bulge upward with measured force. His hands were much larger than Setsume’s and the strength of his arms was something Lola would delicious. She looped interlocked hands over the back of his neck, kneading fingers about in his cascade of hair. Kyle went to work with his mouth, first on one nipple and then the other, sucking and nibbling with expert attention.

“Mmmm!” gasped Lola, biting her upper lip. “That feels so good!” Kyle’s tongue seemed to be as strong as the rest of him. She ran her hands shamelessly over his bare arms, starting from their emergence from his muscle-shirt, ending with their current location of mauling her chest- loving the feel of lean, steel-spring muscles working within. The man was a real thoroughbred. The tips of Lola’s tits were now shiny with spit, and her nipples were as erect as they had ever been- poking upward with painful hardness that would trigger an explosion of ecstasy at every jostle and nibble of Kyle’s tongue.

“Oooh! Aagh!” Lola gasped, seething out exclamations through clenched teeth. When he finally dared to move one hand down her midriff and beneath the waistband of her flimsy shorts, she encouraged him by drawing him close and chewing his ear in carnal bliss. He put first one agile, large finger inside her, then two, scraping the top of her love canal in a G-Spot-flicking tour de force while simultaneously jamming a thumb, down on her engorged clitoris. Lola howled with pure release and arched her back below him, moving his considerable weight upward slightly.

“God…you make me feel…so good…” she wheezed, licking his earlobe. She crushed her fleshy thighs together around his hand, wrapping his digits in a box of puffy, slick flesh. Wetness began to trickle down Kyle’s right hand- and as he felt the first drop move lazily across his palm to slip against the band of his watch, he took a plump nipple between his teeth and pulled back away from her Lola’s body, stretching the attached breast out into a conical shape, and causing Lola to howl in ecstasy again as he tissues resonated orgasmically with the aggressive treatment.

“Fuck…oooh! Yeah!” hissed Lola. Using a free hand, she clutched desperately at her own breast, pressing deep furrows into the plump flesh. Suddenly, she placed a hand on Kyle’s chest and pushed him back. It wasn’t enough force to move him- but he followed her signal and rose to a kneeling position. Lola quickly moved opposite him, balancing on her own knees and shins, legs spread. With one hand on each side of Kyle’s chest, she looked down at the large, erectile tent that was straining in his navy blue fatigues. Her hands moved to his belt and zipper…and it wasn’t long before the 19-year-old girl, with her black hair washing over he shoulder as she worked, had managed to produce a smooth, thick, uncut length of cock from his pants. Lola cooed appreciatively as she wrapped first one hand and then another around the length of it. It wasn’t even half as large as Setsume’s massive dick- nor as long as the brutal boner she had been forced to attack during her “Interview” with Dr. Hardman. But Kyle’s cock was still quite big- especially in the width department…and Lola couldn’t wait to play tongue-games with the sexy, smooth foreskin.

“So, is it the biggest you’ve ever seen?” asked Kyle.

Lola hesitated, then saw the barely-contained laughter on his face and burst out laughing herself, dropping the cock in question as she giggled. “You’re such a doofus,” she gasped, breath hitching with chortles she was powerless to stop. Her smile was electric. Kyle hugged her to him with long and muscular arms that were like a boxer’s. “I know,” he sighed, blowing a strand of her hair afloat on top of her head. “I can’t help it.” Lola nuzzled his neck.

“I’m glad this is happening,” he whispered in her ear. “The last thing I wanted to do was make things harder for you. But I still wanted this to happen.”

Lola moved one hand slowly on his cock, stroking the erect length, as she rested her head sideways against his chest, nuzzling into the hollow of his neck. “Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know where we go from here. I just know…I’m glad.”

She dropped her face to his penis then, and began to suck gently at the tip, driving her tongue in between the foreskin and the head as she licked all the way around, savoring the taste of him- the manly taste of sex, and sweat, and pure male pheromones. Lola used her tongue to guide the cock in her mouth into the hollow of her cheek, stretching it out in a bulge as she dove down on the first three inches of what looked to be an eight or nine-inch journey.

“Mmmgh…mmm. Mmmgh. Mmmmgh,” she breathed, letting the head of Kyle’s cock nestle in her cheek as her tongue slurped up and down his length. “Mmmmmmmaagh!” She let his cock slip from her mouth and then fixed Kyle with a burning gaze as she used her long tongue to make a long, spit-swabbing lick all the way from base to tip. Plunging his cock back into her mouth, she kept her eyes on him, shattering his senses with her wanton eyes as she devoured his thick, throbbing bone with wet sucks and slurps. As his cock became wetter with her saliva, she allowed it to go deeper into her mouth, eventually swallowing the whole thing.

Lola closed her eyes as the cock lodged all the way into the back of her throat. She could feel the tickle of pubic hair in her nostrils and inhaled through her nose, loving the smell of dick, the smell of crotch, the smell of sex. It was not a nasty smell to her- but a carnal one, the scent of sweaty sex and leaking sperm. Of flesh. It was a smell that always drove her wild.

“Oh god,” gasped Kyle, enjoying the feel of his entire cock being massaged by Lola’s mouth. “That’s…amazing!” She let his cock emerge wetly, and when it was out in the open air again, coated with her juices, she exhaled mightily, bathing the length of it in her hot breath, and slapped the impossible hardness of it on her face, as if testing it.

“Mmmm, yeah…” she seethed, eyes burning. Again she plunged the dick into her mouth, letting the head punch into her cheek and stretch it outward.
“Gllgh…glggh…mlggh…glch!” The sounds of her oral ministrations were wet and shameless. Her eyes were locked into a “look at how dirty I am!” scowl. At length, she let the cock pop from her plump lips again, and wracked it repeatedly on her lips and tongue, causing bridges of sticky saliva and pre-cum to stretch and break as the distance from her mouth made rapid fluctuations. All the while, she let her hot, sinful breath bathe the dick, wrapping it in a wreath of hotness from inside her body.

“You were a marine,” hissed Lola, sounding like a bitch in heat. “That means you can take orders, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” gasped Kyle, knees weak.

Suddenly, she dropped his dick and grabbed him furiously by the front of his shirt, drawing herself up to his face, letting her lips hover an inch from his, crushing the warmth and softness of her breasts against his chest.

“I want you to fuck the *shit* out of me,” she seethed, a begging, urgent whisper. “And that’s a fucking order.”

There was the slightest of pauses. Only a fraction of a second.

“Yes ma’am!” Kyle was galvanized into action. He rose, grabbing Lola like a sack of potatoes. As he carried her to the nearest cafeteria table, unable to resist the urge to knead the flesh of her amazing ass with is hands now that it was within easy reach, he couldn’t help but check to see on the location of his gun. Still on the floor, still holstered, safety still on. It would be the last non-sexual thought he would think until the end of the proceedings.

“You’re strong!” cooed Lola, squealing as she was hefted effortlessly by the much-larger man. “Wheee!” She was almost sorry when he plunked her down gently on the sturdy tabletop. As Kyle pressed a hand against her ample chest, bidding her lay back, he used his other hand to strip her shorts and panties from her legs and guide his throbbing erection into her wet and waiting slit. She was beautiful down there, like a lotus blossom, pink turning into red in the deepest reaches, surrounded by pale and perfect skin in folds and undulations that were enough to make his mouth water. He could not help but notice, as he prepared himself to enter her, how her teenage bubble butt was piled in fleshy half-moons against the tabletop, supporting her like a fleshy shelf. He longed to play endlessly with her perfect ass, to jiggle it in his hands, squeeze the cheeks together around his cock…but the time for such foreplay had passed. He might get another chance…but he might not…and there was no turning back now.

With a forward thrust, he entered her, moving deliberately until he was all the way in, encountering the resistance of feminine tightness with increasing pressure as he approached full insertion. When the first stroke was complete, and he felt his balls brush against her asshole, he allowed himself a moment to experience the perfection of her- the wet, sizzling, cock-crushing perfection. Then, Kyle began to thrust into her, flexing an ass tightened by endless morning jogs and merciless marches with full field equipment. He withdrew and powered forward, feeling himself drag along her insides, vaginal walls that seemed to grasp at him. The look on her face was one of bliss- her green eyes were sparkling and wide, visible even in the dim and waning glowlight. Lola kneaded her own tits together, tweaking her nipples as she enjoyed the sensation of his Kyle’s dick drilling into her pussy. The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping on flesh, of fierce exhalations of breath- and the jingling of dog-tags on Kyle’s chest.
“Fuck me,” hissed Lola, biting her lower lip as she sprayed hot breath out of her nose. “Fuck me! Fuck me!” She reveled in the sensations coming from her pussy- and the sticky, naughty feeling of Kyle’s prickly ballsack bouncing off her twitching asshole with each hard thrust of his cock. Her lower body was partway off the table, suspended in mid-air, giving the large blonde man a perfect target for his ministrations- and the leverage to achieve deep and fulfilling penetration of her lube-dripping slit.

“Fuck that pussy! Do it harder!” she ordered, and he obeyed, redoubling his efforts, using every ounce of power in his lengthy, sexy core to explode into her with massive thrusts that caused the table to creak and caused his dangling nutsack to ricochet off the cheeks of her ass like a speedbag. Though Kyle didn’t know it, Lola was carefully searching her own feelings, watching for any signs of anxiety or worry, trying to ward off the onset of a condition she knew would often manifest in times of relentless power-fucking.

She was alarmed when she felt the first twinges in her head only a minute after he had picked up speed, and though he was ripping into her pussy with dick-drilling prowess that was sure to make her explode with an incredible orgasm, Lola knew she had to change the direction of the proceedings- lest she ruin everything by transforming before his eyes into a boundless, limitless slut who would beg to be destroyed.
“Slow down,” she gasped. “Just…take your time…” and he immediately switched gears, leaning over her and squeezing her beneath more of his weight…grinding into her with strokes that were agonizing and wonderful, slow and sensual thrusts that seemed to drag her insides along for the ride.
“Are you ok?” he whispered in her ear, pumping slowly. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” assured Lola, kissing his forehead gently. “You’re wonderful. But…I felt …it… coming on. You know?”

Kyle nodded. “Should I stop?” came his whispered question, as he slowed even more.

Lola let her eyes meet his. “No,” she replied, and kissed him gently on the lips. “Just…be gentle. I need to feel safe.”

Kyle did as he was told, switching from a gonzo style of fucking to a more sensual mode, seeming to seep into her with each thick and slippery movement, filling her and tantalizing her with his thickness, all the while peppering her with soft kisses. It turned what might have been a four minute, apocalyptic quickie into a fifteen minute affair, and Lola’s moans of enjoyment were almost constant throughout as she shuddered to small but satisfying orgasms. Near the end, they seemed to make a game of it- smearing the table with their sweat- until Kyle could take no more.

“I’m close…” gasped Kyle, sweat dripping from his brow. Lola had been enjoying the way his dampening hair would sometimes brush over her face. “Been close for a while…”

Lola rubbed his cheek, fixing him with a smoldering emerald gaze. “I’m…on the edge of a big one. Just…go a bit faster when you finish. I know I’ll cum with you.”

“Then let’s go together.”

“First…tell me I’m safe,” gasped Lola.

“You’re safe.”

“Tell me nothing can hurt me when I’m with you.”

“Nothing can hurt you when I’m with you.”

“Tell me you’ll always be sweet.”

“I’ll always be sweet.”

“Tell me you’ll never harm me,” she croaked, voice barely a whisper. Her eyes were filling with tears.

He kissed her on the lips. “I’d never harm you. Never. Ever.”

She started to thrust her hips into him with more urgency, working against his inertia, causing friction to increase. The orgasm that had been waiting just out of her reach, the precipice of which they had both been upon, seemed to consume them. After the period of increased action became too much for his body to maintain without popping off, Kyle buried himself inside her with all of his strength, feeling their bodies interlock like an inseperable joint. She cried his name, and he cried hers. Her cunt spasmed with earth-shattering orgasm around his buried cock, squeezing it like a vise, milking every drop of cum from balls that were swabbing wetly overtop of her asshole. He grunted lightly with each spurt he felt himself unload into her depths. The length of foreplay and the special nature of the rendezvous had brewed a tremendous load within him, and he bathed her tightness with more than a dozen powerful jets of sperm. It was the hardest he had ever cum in his life.

He rolled off of her and sat himself on the table bench. Lola lay flat on the table, asscheeks pent up in fleshy drifts beneath her hips. She spread her legs slightly, and turned to face him with an amorous, enticing gaze as she moved a weary hand to her crotch. The area beneath her pussy and asshole was positively slimy with smears of sweat and lube.

“Thank you,” breathed Lola. “For saving me that day. Nobody ever saved me before.”

Kyle leaned back against the table, cock dangling fat and slick against his thigh. “Is that all this was about?” he asked, hesitantly. “Or do we…I mean…”

His voice trailed off to nothingness in the low light.

Lola brought her knees together above her body, placing her feet flat on the table just below her ass. A rivulet of sperm had begun to trickle from her satisfied slit. “That’s all I know about you,” she whispered, eyes shining. “That you saved me. And it’s enough.”

She turned on her side, toward him, and began to speak in earnest. “Maybe that was your greatest moment. Maybe you’ll never be that noble again in your life, and maybe you’re actually an asshole. Perhaps you turn a cold shoulder to beggars on the street, and maybe you talk about people behind their backs and undermine them. Maybe you hurt people just because you can- and maybe you abuse power when you have it, instead of using that power to help. I don’t know. Maybe if I see more of you I might find out that our first moment was the exception rather than the rule. Either way…it doesn’t matter. All I know is…in that moment…you were all I ever wanted.”

She moved a hand out from her side and he took it. “What are you going to tell Setsume?” he asked. The question seemed to hang over them like a crow at the gallows. At first, Kyle thought she might not answer- but eventually Lola spoke up.

“I’m not going to tell her,” she whispered. “I love her more than anything in the world…but I don’t know if she would understand.”


* * *


April had found the candles- small birthday candles that were suitable for cake decoration- in Mikura’s kitchen drawer- but was startled and pleased when she encountered something better- a battery-powered flashlight. April was amazed at how much Mikura’s kitchen reminded her of living in an actual house- the woman had brought extension cords, light bulbs- all sorts of things that were unnecessary at the Flesh Project compound but sensible for a family of four.

April flicked on the flashlight. It lit the kitchen with an oblong beam, and she made her way to the door. After trying to open it with no success, she pressed an ear up against the dense surface and squeaked out a call as well as her hoarse throat could muster. “Miss Mikura, are you out there? The door won’t open!”

There was no response…but then a rapping came at the door, and April nearly dropped the flashlight with alarm.

“Is that you, little girl?” came an accented voice from the other side of the door. April could not recognize it.

“I am Edri, one of the guards. The one who smokes cigarettes so much, you remember? The power has gone out- maybe for three hours, maybe as many as six. Are you…”

The voice trailed off. April realized the guard had been about to ask her if she was hurt. Which he very well knew she had been. Brutally hurt. And just recently.

“I’m sorry,” came the voice. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” she squeaked. “My throat hurts.”

“I want you to know,” said Edri through the door, “I am ashamed. About what happened to you, I’m so sorry. I trusted someone I should not have trusted, and that is something I never do.”

April said nothing. But the gentleness and genuine nature of the voice intrigued her- it was gruff and weathered- deep…but it had kindness in it. She had expected the Marlboro-smoking guard to be a jerk.

“I had a daughter,” came the voice, more subdued now. April had to struggle, ear against the door, to hear. “And if I should ever let anything like that happen to her, I would be sick. Heartsick. I have one man I trust- this blonde man- also a guard. We will be making sure nothing so bad happens again. Ok?”

April said nothing for a moment. “How old is your daughter?” she asked.

“She was younger than you,” came the muffled reply. Past tense. April nodded.

“Was she pretty?” she asked. It was all she could think of to say.

There was silence for a time. At first, April thought the guard had left. But then, came an unsteady voice.

“Yes,” said the man on the other side of the door. April thought she heard pain in his tone that was deeper than any other. “She was just about the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Again, there was silence.

“Three hours…maybe six,” came the voice, back to gruff-but-gentle. And then he was gone.

April turned back and made her way to Mikura’s bedroom, taking the flashlight with her. As she turned back the covers, the beam flashed crazily on the ceiling and wall. She slid first one shapely little leg under the warmth of the bedspread, then another…and as she settled in and moved to turn the flashlight off, the beam went below bed-level and flashed across the front of the dresser. In that fleeting moment, April saw the momentary illumination of a shape beneath.

There was something under the dresser. With some pain, the girl slid her legs out of bed and walked over to crouch, peering beneath the bureau drawers. There was a box there- long and flat- and pushed back against the wall. It was weathered and dotted with abrasions- an old and time-worn storage space for…what?

April knew that Mikura had a large collection of sex toys (some of them impossibly large- but then again, hers was a body that could accommodate such items), but the gentle woman had made little effort to hide them. This was different. This was a purposefully hidden box.
April looked around with some guilt- and of course she couldn’t see a thing. She reached under with one tiny arm and gave the box a nudge. It was heavy- and the sound that came from it was the shuffling of papers.

Pictures?

Unable to resist the urge to get a chance to see what Mikura had looked like at age 19…or even age 13, the same age that she was now (April secretly hoped that Mikura had been as flat-chested as she at that age, tangible proof that she had a chance to because just as busty), April hauled out the box. She expected to see old high school photos, term papers…snapshots of family and friends.
She found none of those things. Instead, she found the truth.