The Flesh Project

THOSE WHO WATCH AND THOSE WHO GUARD

As the days passed in the aftermath of the FLESH PROJECT’s first climactic group activity, the participants started to become more aware of the patterns that surrounded them. Gradually, the girls were able to reach a certain level of awareness about their mysterious home, and their reactions to this broadening knowledge were as varied as their personalities. Some grew more at ease, and others began to feel exactly the opposite- a steadily mounting feeling of anxiety.

Setsume Roya was one of the latter, and reflected on this gradual change as she walked through her bathroom door on the morning of the second day following the cum-bath of Sarah Marks. Wiping sleep from her beautiful, storm-grey eyes, Setsume steadily felt the cloudy haze of morning dissolve into sharper thought. This was a harsh jump to make, too- because there was a lot on her mind. Absently, she leaned into the glass-paneled shower stall and gave the tap a brisk turn, starting up the water. That done, she returned to the wash basin and looked in the mirror, her danging dick brushing lazily against the length of her leg, making a snake-like bulge in her loose-fitting pajama bottoms.

Setsume turned on the sink faucet as well, and gathered two handfuls of water with which to wash her sexy, angular face. Hard-eyed, tanned, but otherwise innocent, it was a true sight to behold- the face of a princess. Experimentally, she darted her tongue out, and noticed that the hole left by her tongue stud had almost healed over. She had asked that Lola remove hers after receiving a minor scratch in a sensitive spot, and when Lola agreed, Setsume had decided to remove her own tongue-trinket as a show of moral support. Sighing, she remembered that both pieces of tongue jewelry, Lola’s Skull N’ Crossbones and her own sparkling silver bar, were probably still sitting in a soap tray in Lola’s bathroom.

As she went through her morning routine, she knew that even in these early hours, activity was likely afoot elsewhere. On any given day, the many long corridors of the FLESH PROJECT compound were never silent for long. Even when “special” residents like Setsume weren’t moving about, making trips to the pool, cafeteria, medical centre, or the main room, there were always guards around- standing at intersections and entryways, walking the featureless, hospital-like structure in pairs.

They’re always so careful not to interact with the others in the compound, Setsume thought, raising her long arms to pull her T-shirt off over her head. Her tight, perky tits flopped down to hang free on her chest- but even with gravity tugging hard, they didn’t droop much.

Always careful not to interact, always carrying a GLOCK 23 and a tazer. But why?

Setsume dried her face with the T-shirt and tossed it haphazardly to the floor. Then she bent at the waist, and her fingers went to her pants and tugged them down. She leaned down, almost touching her toes to slip the legholes of her soft jimmies over her angular feet. There was no one else in the room to see the way Setsume’s ass, as perfect as that of any gymnast or fitness model, was thrust into the air, golden and tight, cheeks parting ever so slightly. She wore no underwear.

Below the sexy, light-brown ring of her asshole and were her dangling balls, bobbing baseball-like in her smooth scrotum. Though her nutsack didn’t hang down overly far from her body, it was more than capable of swinging a little from side to side, if the situation happened to warrant. Travelling further down still, between the orgasm-inducing perfection of her long legs, was the sexy, nasty sight of her long and arm-thick cock, 24 soulfucking inches from base to tip. Even in its morning dormancy, it hung enormous, a fat tube of hot flesh, pendulous in the still air of the bathroom.

Setsume finished removing her pants after a minimum of fiddling with the legs (like many tall, long-legged girls, her feet were thin and shapely) and stood up, tossing her shorn leggings down on top of the discarded T-shirt. Again, she looked back in the mirror. As she checked the skin around the tiny, unraised diamond stud just above her left nostril, searching for signs of inflammation, she thought again of the FLESH PROJECT security personnel.

They all wore opaque, visored headgear. Sometimes, if Setsume were to look closely in passing, the dull ghost of a moving face could been seen through the tinted glass of the faceguards, but mostly the men were featureless- recognizable only by minute differences in body type and the buzzing sound of their various radio callsigns. They did not speak aloud- only to each other, and whatever sounds did emanate from their facemasks were made all but intelligible through the sturdy material of their navy-colored helmets.

They must be ordered not to talk to us, Setsume thought as she grabbed her toothbrush. And then another thought, too: I wonder if they even know the value of what they’re protecting? The bidding on the video of that jizz-lotto will probably start with private collectors at around $1,000,000.

She squeezed a thick line of white toothpaste onto the brush. For a moment, crazily, her mind turned back to the day of the lottery. She remembered the final, thick line of sperm that Ashley had shot out of his little cock as he came on Sarah’s face- it had almost seemed like the strength of his orgasm had somehow produced a blast of compressed cum. Her own cock jumped a little at the recollection, jostling the loose cupboard doors beneath the sink. She chuckled and raised the brush to her teeth. Her mind returned to the security staff as the unmistakable sound of brushing serenaded the room.

Who the fuck *are* these guards, anyway?

Setsume had no idea. Without any other way to distinguish the security staff from one another, the girls had gravitated naturally to the use of nicknames. The short one was “Shorty”, the heavy-set guard, “Fatso”. The one who was always hanging around the kitchen became “Scraps”- Setsume could always recognize him by the way he stood guard near the cooking area, while every other guard was content to stand at the door.

A fourth guard, the only one to sport a visible cigarette pack in the front pocket of his combat vest, was quickly christened “The Marlboro Man”. There were two other guards as well- “Blondie”, who was so-named because April had observed the tail end of his dirty-blonde hair protruding from the back of his helmet…and the last remaining guard. They called him “The Starer”.

Setsume spat a mouthful of white toothpaste into the basin and paused.

Yes, The Starer. He was a little disconcerting.

Setsume craned down to drink directly from the tap, and then gargled. The sight of her smooth, pretty back bend to the side as she turned her pretty face sideways, lowering it down into the basin to lap at the tapwater, was one of statuesque beauty. Then, just as gracefully as she had bent, she rose, grabbing a fresh Lady Gilette razor and a canister of shaving cream as she walked over to the shower, cock swinging between her legs, unrolling sexily outward from the spot where a more conventional teen girl would have had a cute little vagina. Of course, a conventional teen girl also would have been up to a foot shorter than her.

She held out an experimental hand. The water had achieved the perfect temperature, and she slipped in, putting the shaving gear on a small ledge below the nozzle. Before stepping under the jetting spray of the showerhead, she quickly removed the tight hair elastics that held her stereo pigtails at attention. Her hair cascaded down her back, and at last, she stepped into the path of falling water. It began to wash over her. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of warmth that instantly coated her long and smooth body. She felt water spiraling down the hanging meat of her cock, eventually running off the tip in a vertical pour to land on the slick shower tile.

The Starer. The girls had had many other names for him at first, but it was “The Starer” that stuck, perhaps because Lola had used the term in describing her first encounter with the creepy, ever-present guard. “The rest of them tend to ignore you,” Lola had said, “but this guy…he seems to just…stare.” When asked how she could tell, considering the guard was wearing an opaque faceplate, Lola couldn’t quite articulate the feeling. It was, it seemed, a hunch. A certainty from down in her gut, that venerable and storied home of all human intuition.

“I just know,” she had said. “He’s always looking. He brushes against me when I pass, sometimes. It’s made to seem accidental, but it’s not. He does the same thing to April.” Then, she had told Setsume the most chilling of her suspicions about The Starer. “He’s a guard,” Lola said, “but he wants to be part of the show.”

If he ever touches you, Lola, I’ll take his gun and put a bullet in his fucking head. I’ll do it even though I’ve never fired a real gun in my life.

In the shower, Setsume looked down at her right hand experimentally. The long fingers, pink-painted nails…could she really do it? She extended her index finger and then curled it rapidly, as if pulling a trigger.

“Boom,” she whispered amidst the falling water, eyes shut. “Headshot.” The word dissipated in the steamy glass box of her shower, but her resolve did not. Neither did her doubts about the staring man in the Kevlar vest and opaque headgear.

The rest of the girls had come to recognize the Starer’s strange behavior as well. The guard would seem to take up a post close to them whenever he was on duty in a section where one of the girls happened to be. It seemed as if he would slowly move closer as the day went on. More than once, April had emerged from the pool to see The Starer standing just inside the door, reflective helmet turned in her direction. She had reflexively covered herself in those situations. When she had to slip past a door he was guarding, his gloved hands would always seem to find some way to clandestinely brush against the barely-pubescent girl’s tiny hips.

Setsume grabbed a nearby bar of soap and began to lather up her upper body. White foam washed down between her slick breasts, standing out in contrast to her richly tanned skin- like melting ice cream down the side of the cone. She hefted each firm flesh sack with one hand, running her palm over it with the other, pushing her teenage tits this way and that as she scrubbed lightly. She exhaled slightly as she ran a cleansing thumb over and around each nipple. White film dripped down the underside of each slick tit when she finally turned her chest back into the spray.

She scrubbed up and down her toned arms, lathering white swirls over her biceps, wrists and elbows, one arm washing the other. She lifted one arm, and soaped up the seldom-seen-by-others hollow of her armpit, then repeated the process for the other, moving with confidence and grace. The white soap that had washed from her tits was starting to coil its way down her cock. As Setsume ran her soap-coated hands in and around her armpits, extending herself in beautiful ways that articulated the stunning, mouth-watering length of her body, she wondered idly whether they had installed cameras in the showers. It was likely. There were many rules in place that had been little-discussed at the interview and subsequent tryout.

Perhaps most surprisingly, it was a requirement of each participant they not attempt to leave the compound, ever, until the conclusion of the project. The reasons given for this isolation varied from insurance against injury, to the supposed “fact” that the project, in order to gather accurate data, had to be executed in a completely self-contained and sterile atmosphere, with no introduction of outside organisms and germs.

Fuck, most of us would be all too happy not to see the outside world again, Setsume thought. People can be cruel, cruel fuckers when they see things they don’t understand, especially in a realm where even the status quo is taboo, a lights-out secret.

She thought of Mikura and shook her head, sadly.

She’s too different, and too nice. They must have been so cruel to her. To think of her trying to smile her sweet smile in the face of hurled insults, people calling her a slut and a whore and a freak…

Too much to ponder.

Setsume turned, laid both hands on the tile wall, and allowed the water to splash on her back. Then, spreading her gorgeous, soap-dripping legs, she allowed the showerhead to splash down on her ass. Using first one hand, and then the other, keeping her balance with the alternate arm, she spread soap on her taut, perky ass, oiling up her buttflesh with a bubbling layer of squishy whiteness.

Without fanfare, she ran a soap-covered hand down the middle of her wide-open crack, firmly lathering her tight, teenage asshole and all the way around to the underside of her heavy balls. Drops of water burst continuously in her most sacred of places as she held her ass open with two hands, allowing water to detonate firmly up all up and down her soak-caked crevice. Leaning forward against the wall, legs extended to the sides, ass thrust upward, hair long and wet and clingy on her back, skin slick, and with her fat, foam-wrapped cock swaying down…she was a vision. A valkyrie. Though still Setsume when outside of the steamy glass panels, she stood for a brief time in her shower as nothing less than a goddess, a physically perfect creature. Any man or woman, gay or straight, would have helplessly fallen to their knees at the sight of her.

And yet, Setsume was unaware of her own beauty in this pose, just as any person who cleans their intimate parts in the shower is unaware of how lewd the act might look to any onlooker. She was already on to the next thought- and it was a scary one. What might happen if, tired of the broken promises and seedy dealings of the project, one of the girls decided to leave?

Setsume couldn’t be sure, but she suspected that anyone approaching those seldom-used exit doors would find the way blocked.

Probably by the very guards who had supposedly been assigned to protect them.

Because that isn’t all they’re doing, the anxious voice inside her head seemed to say. They’re here to protect us…but they’re also here to keep us in line.

With her nether regions clean as a whistle, Setsume slid down the wall of the shower to a seated position, leaning her back against the wet tile opposite the shower head and spreading her unparalleled legs wide- it was an image akin to seeing long and lean mantis unfold her regal forelegs. From this position, she would go about the most time-consuming part of her personal hygiene- dealing with her cock.

In a process she had undertaken perhaps thousands of times, she hefted her long, bloated cock and began to rub soap down the length, taking care to cover every fat, beautiful inch of her meat. She swept two nimble fingers up and down the distended underside. Satisfied, she spread her pisshole slightly and, taking care not to allow any stinging soap to drool in, allowed some high velocity drops from the showerhead to detonate in and around her dickhole. She could feel a thin stream of water actually running down the inside of her cock. Deftly, she applied light pressure to her urethra and strained the water out again. In this way, she cleaned the length of her cock, inside and outside.

Then, she grabbed the razor. Setsume wasn’t even sure she would need it this time around, but that did not stop her from performing her routine check of the area just above the top of her water-slick sex hammer. Light, downy pubic hair had started to sprout there when she was just thirteen, and she had shaved it regularly since. More importantly than the trimming and care of those hairs, though, was the possibility that she might grow more, and thicker, hair. Possibly around her balls. She knew that almost all men eventually sported veritable forests of pubic hair on their balls and in their asscracks.

As yet, Setsume did not know if her pubic hair would start to grow in as a man’s, or stay in the manner of a woman’s. She suspected the latter, but when you have something as male as a cock, there are no guarantees. In the interests of keeping a tight leash on pubic events, she had been inspecting her entire pubic area in the shower regularly for as long as she could remember.

As it turned out, on this occasion, her sack remained smooth as could be. She placed the razor back on the shelf, slid even further to the floor, and gazed up at the showerhead, which was raining water down on her and her cock, which now fatly between her tits. It was a nice feeling, to be rained upon. Especially when she hadn’t seen the sky in weeks.

Oh, Lola, she thought. What are we going to do? What have we gotten ourselves into?

And to that question, no answer. No answer at all.


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


Noah and Mikura ran into each other just outside of the medical ward. Literally. Noah, who was wandering over to the cafeteria, didn’t see the older woman coming as she walked down the hall carrying a cool glass of lemonade. The resulting jostle caused the lemonade to spill all over the front of Noah’s brown pants.

“Oh dear!” said Mikura, clasping her hands in the deep, cleavage valley of her chest. Her eyes were comically wide with regret. She was wearing a tight-fitting turtleneck. Her huge boobs were large, bulbous masses of flesh pressing against the material. Noah, who was wearing a red shirt with black-inked portrait of Che Guevara on the front, brushed at his crotch furiously…but the damage was done. He could feel the coolness of the liquid soaking in around his balls, and wondered sarcastically to himself if Che had ever done something as revolutionary as immersing his nut hammock in a flood of beverage.

”It’s ok,” he assured her. He looked around for the nearest bathroom. Mikura, perhaps sensing his intent to retreat to the safety of the men’s lavatory, grabbed him by the hand.

“No, no,” she said. “Come with me. I know how to get stains out!” And so, he was pulled along down the hall to her room, moving at a half jog.

“Really, Miss Mikura- I should get back to tending to Miss Sarah. She’s still quite worn out,” he said. It was his last attempt to avoid what he knew would probably turn into a sexually charged situation.

Mikura had no such foresight. She honestly believed there were no sexual overtones to what was about to happen. She was thinking only of the stain. They arrived at her door quickly. Noah noticed that the older woman had tacked a fluffy, knitted sign to it.

*** "WELCOME!" ***

Noah's mind was whirling.

I’ve looked after Sarah for so long, he thought, crazily. But is she my girlfriend? We've never even talked about it.

Before he could answer himself, he crossed the threshold, and the door was shut behind him.


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


Dr. Hardman was again seated in the main room, as he had been many times before. As usual, he was wearing his trademark combination of lab coat and saggy-seated boxers, with his big cock hanging forlornly out the front. Also as usual, he was in a sour mood. He’d received a phone call very early in the morning, ordering him to be here- and he was still hungover as could be. He’d spent most of the night after the lottery holed up in his room with Liz Wilder, with whom he had conducted his own version of the game. She had won first prize- a pearl necklace. Repeatedly. Then, he’d gotten wrecked out of his mind on uppers, Jack Daniels and absinthe.

“Fuck, when is this bitch going to get here?” he said to himself, more for the benefit of the folks taping the encounter than for his own comfort.

When his guest did arrive, though, he privately thought it was well worth the wait.

She was a platinum blonde wearing a light blue bikini that was stretched obscenely over her fleshy tits. She had the body of a runway model, a thin, sexy core that was just starting to blossom into adulthood. At first, Hardman assumed there was no way her breasts could be real- not on a girl as thin as she was, but the meaty boobs hanging from her breathtaking chest seemed, to his trained eye, to exhibit all the signs of being real. He would get a closer look once that bikini was gone. And he intended to make getting rid of it his first order of business.

Her ass was another near-impossibility. According to her information sheet, she was 17 years old, which could only have been a typo. She had an ass that, as they said at the strip joints he frequented, went *POP*. Rare for a stripper, nearly unheard-of for a girl as thin as she was. Her skin was perfect and unmarked. Her hair was a cascade of white light. Her eyelashes, long and alluring. Her neck was the graceful arc of a swan. Her nose, a plastic surgeon’s dream- thin, with tiny, porcelain doll nostrils. Her lips were smooth, pink, and flawless, punctuating a mouthful of perfectly even, white teeth. And her eyes! Bright indigo. A special motherfucking delivery from god.

Dick Hardman was not one to give compliments easily, especially to a woman. But he thought that this girl might be the most beautiful creature he had ever encountered. Anywhere. She had assets to rival any of the girls in the complex- her legs were nearly as long and sexy as Setsume’s. Her bubble-ass was probably the equal of Lola’s. She was put together like no other girl he has seen. A masterpiece.

Nonetheless, he soldiered on with his tough-guy routine.

“You’re late, you twat,” he complained. She walked over to the chair opposite him, and sat down, her legs spread sexily. He could see the tempting outline of her teenage fuckmound through the light blue fabric of her tiny bikini. “You must not want this opportunity that badly.”

She said nothing. Only stared at him with those eyes. He felt fit to burst into flames.

“I got a call from some big shot, telling me to come here and see you. This better be worth it. Why don’t you take off that bikini and show me your puffy little jailbait crotch?”

She laughed then, and Hardman felt a chill go up his spine. Her laugh, like her ass, her tits, and her long legs, didn’t seem to belong on a teenage girl. It was the laugh of a confident businesswoman.

Hardman raised his voice. “Don’t laugh at me, sister! If you want in that badly, you need to demonstrate you’ve got something we need. So why don’t you start by sucking my cock?”

He let his big dick flop out of his boxer shorts, but noticed with annoyance that nobody was manning the climate controls for the main room. It was still at a normal temperature. Hardman looked at the information sheet for a name to call her by, this ice-blonde...and found none.

She rose and walked slowly over to him. His dick was a steel bar emerging from his pants…she was so beautiful, it hurt. She knelt beside his jutting member.

“So, you want me to suck this? To put it in my hot little mouth?” Her voice was low, nasty, sultry.

“Damn right.”

She rose, abruptly. Seeing her peerless ass made it difficult for Hardman to get mad, but he managed nonetheless.

“Get your little ass back here, honey. You’ve got until the count of 5.”

She crossed her arms, still turned away from him. “Oh, really?” She replied. She favored him with a smirk, showing a flash of white teeth.

That was when the door of the room unlocked, and two security officers, dressed in their usual S.W.A.T-reminiscent gear, strode through. Their faces were blanks behind reflective glass.

“What the fuck is this?!” asked Hardman, indignantly. His usually reliable dick was drooping at the intrusion. He rose and walked toward the guards. “You assholes get out of here, now!”

He heard the teenage girl behind him say “Shut him up, gentlemen.” and could barely register what was happening before he felt a rock-hard fist loop into his face, flooring him.

Hardman saw stars for a good four seconds, but then stumbled to his feet. The guard who had hit him, a heavyset bastard with fists like hams, stared impassively through his faceguard. The other guard stood motionless. He had a package of cigarettes tucked in the front pocket of his vest.

“I’m going to have you both-“ he started to say, but then his feet we swept out from under him by a vicious low kick, and he hit the ground hard. This time, the big guard came down on top of him. When he heard the buzz of electricity, he tried to struggle out from under the man…but it was too late.

A crackling tazer was planted in the small of his back, and discharged. His mind exploded with pain. He could vaguely feel his dick, completely flaccid now, being pressed against the floor of the room by the weight of his own body. His nose was mashed roughly downward. He could smell sweat. Before he muster a word from his twitching diaphragm, his ankles and hands were trussed up with high-grade plastic restraints.

Unable to see much but the floor, he heard the flick of a Zippo lighter. The creak of a helmet faceplate. Then the unmistakable sound of a man tapping ash off the end of his cigarette. A few dying embers floated down before his eyes.

“Nothing personal, doc,” said a deep male voice from above. “We all have our orders.” And with that, two sets of footfalls, the opening and closing of the door…and silence. He craned his neck up to see that the young woman was sitting in his chair. She tipped him a wink.

“My name is Lorelai," she said. “And you'd better be more careful about who you call twat." He licked her lips seductively. "Still, since you asked so nicely, I’ll show you what I’ve got.

She stripped off her bikini top then. Her perfect tits tumbled free, revealing large, flawless nipples. She slowly raised one of them to her mouth and trailed her tongue around the edge.

“Mmm…” she breathed. She pinched her other nipple with agile fingers. Her succulent titflesh piled up in ripples between her long fingers as she lifted upward on her awesome breast.

Then, her hand well to her bikini bottom. She turned around on the chair and untied it, stripping it off. Hardman saw that her asshole was a perfect pink bud between ivory-white, powerful asscheeks. She ran a teasing finger across her own asshole, then turned around, spreading her legs to reveal a bubblegum pink cunt and a perfectly round, slick clit bursting from beneath an engorged hood. She diddled it between her fingers, and reached one arm behind her to finger her asshole as well…giving it to herself from both directions.

With a gasp, she gritted her teeth. Hardman heard a churning sound from within her cunt- the sound of movement. And then…revelation. Her bright pink pussy dilated slightly, pushing aside pale-white vaginal lips to give birth to…the fat head of a cock!

“Uuuuuuuuuugh!”

She looked like a woman giving birth. Inch by inch, a slimy, fat cock began to emerge from her cunt, getting slightly wider all the way. As the flesh escaped from her steaming insides, white, thick discharge poured from between the edges of the newborn cock and the lips of her cunt. The cock continued to climb until it reached the bottom of her tits. It was rock hard, slick with seminal fluid and cunt lube, and an almost continuous trail of gooey semen was emerging from the tip.

Lorelai groaned and seemed to push, as if giving birth. Hardman could see her asshole puckering as if she was trying to take a shit, and guessed her prostate muscles must be working very hard to birth the mammoth dick inside of her womb- it was still growing. As the hot, thick head of her fuckstick passed between her tits, she gleefully pushed her own tits together around the shaft, burying the greasy length in a hot tunnel of teen tit.

“Yes!” she screamed. “Jesus, it feels so good to let my cock come out!” She gave one last contractive thrust, pistoning her hips, and the final couple of inches emerged from her stretched slit. Hardman saw that she had no balls- just a long, thick, throbbing, cum-drooling dick that reached all the way up to her mouth.

“Let’s see if there’s a treat waiting for me inside!” she cooed, playfully. Looking Hardman straight in the eye, she she bobbed her head forward and pried a long, pink tongue into her own burbling piss-slit. She pushed it deep, and it emerged coated in a sheen of thick, paste-like cum. “Mmm!” she said again. Her voice was the sloppy goo-call of someone with a mouthful of peanut butter.

She began to slide her bulging jugs up and down on her own shaft while thrusting her hips upward in order to achieve the effect of a solitary titfuck. The squelching sound of her slimey cock bursting in and out of the flat, beautiful tunnel between her tits was nasty and wet. Even nastier were the sounds of her gurgling mouth as she jammed her face down on the head of her dick every time it rose through the peaks of her dickgirl titflesh.

“I’m going to come so hard,” she breathed, heavily. Her eyes were pools of liquid sex as she bored her gaze into Hardman’s prone, throbbing soul. “Have you ever seen a hot teenage girl with a big cock swallow her own sperm? Go ahead and watch, scumbag. I’m going to cream all over myself. My god, it’s been too long. My cum is so thick and backed up…I can feel it building!”

She fucked her hot little face down onto her own cock then, slobbering over herself in big, syrupy gasps. “Fuck!” she yelled, “I can feel myself…COMING!”

Suddenly, her piss-slit flared open and a stream of coagulated, burbling girlsperm erupted from her mutant dick. It bathed her mouth, cascading down between her fleshy tits and around her spasming shaft. Then, she screamed in pleasure again and a blob of yellowish-white, glue-like colloidal sperm splurted onto her close-eyed, angelic face. It was the thickest, nastiest cum that Hardman had ever seen. He felt his dick harden painfully, pressing against his will into the cold floor of the room. Lorelai lowered her head onto her cock, and her body hitched as another splat of gooey, mucus-like sperm, yellowish white and studded with irregular bubbles and lumps, sprayed into her hungry throat. It clogged her sinuses, and lines of it drooped lazily out of her perfect nose.

Her eyes had gone glassy. Her dick continued to spasm, but now the sperm coming out of it was translucent white. Her orgasming cock fell from her loaded mouth and plopped fatly onto her slime-stained chest, where it burbled out streams of semen onto her tits and neck. Lorelai slid back into her chair as these began to subside. Her perfect body was crisscrossed and stained with her own ejaculate. Her hair had become home to several dropping strands of cum.

Again, she turned her indigo eyes on Hardman. “Now you,” she said, “need to learn your place.” Her voice was wet, throaty. One cheek was bulged slightly out by a deposit of her own thick semen. He could see her long tongue working it, digging it out the side of her mouth.

She slipped off the chair to a kneeling position, and leaned her head down to make eye contact with him. The doctor’s muscles were still twitching and burning from the tazer. Fiercely, she spat out a fat wad of her own thick jizz. It splattered to the floor next to Hardman's face.

“You don’t fuck with me,” she said, eyes blazing. “Ever.”

She had put the fear of God into him, that was for sure. She had yellowish sperm blocking one nostril. Her eyelashes were a spiderweb of thin cumstrands. Abruptly, she coughed. Hardman watched, wide eyed, as a thick plug of sludge-like cock discharge slid nastily out of her cum-packed throat to stain the floor. Yet, the blonde's eyes were still fearless. Hardman felt a chill. She had come in her own face with more force than he had ever seen, and it had only seemed to make her stronger.

"You can keep on doing what you're doing with the FLESH PROJECT," she finished. "I don't care. But stay the fuck out of my way."

Her piece said, Lorelai lay back on her thick, sexy ass, and seemed to tense her muscles. The perfect madcap finale was put on an already unbelieveable day when Hardman watched her saliva-slick pussycock slowly withdraw back into her stretched fuckhole. The friction of her tight little cunt against the outside of the retreating dick caused thick runners of sperm to squelch off of the veinous surface and patter to the floor.

After a moment, her cock was gone, leaving no trace it had ever been there. Lorelai slid a hand up and down the front of her dripping sex, and then raised it to her face. The palm was slick with cum. Smiling her ice-goddess smile, she peered down at Hardman.

"Have a good day," she said in a cruel register, beginning to walk from the room. As she reached the door, she turned to spit a final word at him.

"Twat."

Then, she too was gone.