Although his slacks still didn’t go slack at all… that is, if he’d been wearing slacks, which he wasn’t.
“Amazing recovery, Peter,” Fanny said. “Although not surprising.” Chastity packed a sexual punch strong enough to bring pretty much anyone to his or her knees, including Fanny, which sounded like a good idea about now.
“Milo. Congratulations!” Chastity threw her arms around Milo in a big hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks, babe.” Milo grinned and kissed her back. “The planets are in optimal alignment for me today.”
Wait, what?
Fanny narrowed her eyes on Milo. Why wasn’t he going glassy-eyed? Why wasn’t his jaw dropping? Knees buckling? It happened to everyone who encountered Chastity until they’d been exposed to her sexual super powers enough times to build up immunity. And here she’d touched Milo, kissed him, and he was barely breaking a sweat.
Suspicious.
“You can start today, Milo.” Peter said. “We’ll match you with someone who needs your particular set of strengths.”
“Or we can add another training session right here, right now, if you’re ready. I’ll volunteer to teach it.” Fanny said, only wanting the new recruit to be extra prepared, of course.
“All right!” He started to unzip his fly, grinning. “Can’t wait to get going on this. Feeling like it’s gonna be a good career move for me. Better than my job at McTaco Bucket for sure. It’s people, you know.”
“Excuse me?” Fanny asked.
“McTaco Bucket is people. They serve people.”
“They serve… people?”
“You know, in line. Just like we serve people here at the institute.”
Fanny laughed. “I thought you meant their tacos are made of people.”
“If so, they’d sell much better,” Milo said. “You earthlings are delicious.”
Everyone stared at him. Milo laughed.
“I’m kidding, of course. Humor is a social mechanism used to fit in with the group.”
“Of course,” Fanny said.
“Pork is much more delicious,” Milo said. “Not as much connective tissue to render.”
Yes. Fanny would have to keep an eye on Milo.
“I wish you’d been there to help me with this last couple, Milo.” Chastity looked exasperated. “The woman married a British guy. In the bedroom he says things like, ’Mr. Winky’s ready for a spot of sport in your snatch, what say you, lovey?’ and she just can’t handle it.”
“Mr. Winky?” Peter was suitably disgusted. “Poor woman.”
Milo sucked in air through his teeth. “The dude is not cool, man.”
“Milo.” Fanny turned to him. “How would you have handled that situation?”
“Me?” He pointed with two fingers like a flight attendant indicating exit doors. “I’d send that bad-boy Brit down the hall to Room 639, Language of Lust and Love. Pronto.”
“That’s exactly what I did!” Chastity beamed at Milo. “And what would you do for his wife?”
“No-brainer.” He sent Chastity a thumbs-up. “For the sorely-used missus, Room 1298 and Men: Why Bother?”
“Yes!” She hung on his arm and straightened his collar, her fingers resting lightly on his chest. “You’re going to do so great here, Milo.”
“I sure hope so. McTaco Bucket didn’t teach me much about humanity, except for your willingness to wait in long lines for the opportunity to overeat unhealthful foods. I hope this job will reveal more about your species.”
“Our species?” Fanny asked.
“Did I say that? I’m sure I said something else. Hey, everyone look at my large erection.”
Fanny snuck a glance at Milo’s half undone pants and was pleased to find at least he had a nice, plump summer sausage straining against his boxers. She promptly forgot about all the weird—almost alien—things he’d been saying, and instead thought about another technique she’d like to give a test run.
Right now. Science waited for no one.
“Fanny.” B.J. Hevvin’s voice came over Fanny’s iSet. “New client call, line four.”
Fanny bit her lip. “Can it wait, BJ? I need to give Milo a final training session.”
“I think you’re going to want to take this.”
“But I really need to give Milo a final training session.”
“Didn’t he complete his training?”
“Yes. But I really, really need to—”
“This is a serious one, Fanny.”
Fanny sighed, quickly dressed, and grabbed her iPhone 486. “I guess I need to take this. Peter, you brief Milo on his orientation and area of practice.”
In her office, Fanny closed the door and connected to line four. It was important to her that she take as many new-client calls as possible herself, in order to stay in touch with the needs of the people the Institute served. “Hello, how can I help you?”
“Is this Fanny Loober?”
“It’s pronounced Loy-ber.” Fanny sighed. If she and Peter ever decided to get married, she would definitely be taking his name. “What can I do for you?”
“I need… help.” The voice was low, female, and oddly strained, the words sounding as if they came from between clenched teeth.
“Of course.” Fanny plunked into her iCliner, deciding not to turn on the i-Stim feature even though she was incredibly horny from blowing Peter. This was business, after all. She’d wait until after she hung up. “Can you speak up a little?”
“This is… Susie Jones.”
“Susie Jones?” Fanny scratched her head. Where was the pun in that name? Fanny was much more used to names like Izzy Hard or Amanda Blow. Perhaps the author had run out of ideas.
“Tell me what we can do for you, Susie.”
“I don’t like intercourse. Or… anything else like that.”
Poor girl. “I assume you’d like to like sex and that’s why you’re calling the institute?”
Susie took in a sharp breath. “Actually someone else would like me to call the institute.”
“And you’d likely like to please this person?”
“Like… yes.”
Fanny frowned. If clients came to the Institute unwillingly, treating them could be a huge waste of everyone’s time, including theirs. But she couldn’t resist offering anyone who called the chance to open their lives to the rich fulfillment of a life including copious amounts of uninhibited-animalistic sex. If the usual education and therapy didn’t work, they could always refer Susie to Dr. Gail, their resident psychiatrist.
“Why don’t you and your partner come in for a consultation and we can talk?”
“I don’t have a partner.”
“Ah. So… if you don’t mind me asking, who is pressuring you to call?”
“It’s Mother.”
Fanny had spent ten years plus at the Institute, and that was a new one. “Susie, you have taken exactly the right first step by making this call. We can make an enormous and very pleasurable difference in your life. Many people come in with your same feelings and leave enjoying not only the intercourse they didn’t care for before, but other activities, like oral stimulation of the genit—”
A shriek, then the line went dead.
Oh, poor Susie Jones. BJ was right to call Fanny to the phone.
Fanny summoned BJ back on the line. “Hey, I just lost Susie. Can you call back and schedule her with me ASAP? If she doesn’t answer put a tracer on the address. Peter and I can go pick her up in the Vulvo. “
“Might be a forcer, huh?”
“Could be. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and was striding back toward her office, when an idea struck her. Usually she’d wait months or years before having a new hire interact with a complicated case like Susie. Generally Siemann Institute policy was to start employees off with easy stuff, like anorgasmia, premature ejaculation, or pharyngeal reflex of seminal fluid. But maybe this would be a good way to check out Fanny’s instinctive reservations about Milo Toole. Throw the newbie t
o the wolves, baptize him by fire, let him sink or swim, cliché cliché cliché, then get him cock-deep before he knew what hit him.
And check in on his progress relentlessly.
Because science was relentless.
Well, actually, maybe it wasn’t, but it should be. All joking aside, all excuses aside, few things were more important than healthy sexual interactions between (or among) consenting adults. Fanny liked her salary, liked her coworkers, and liked the orgasms she had on a daily basis at the Siemann Institute, but most of all she liked helping others.
And the daily orgasms.
And who was she kidding? The money was obscene.
But the helping others part was important too, probably.
Yes, Fanny was going to have Milo work on, er…with, Susie Jones.
The decision made, Fanny settled back into the iCliner and opened the control panel for the iStim functions. She selected the Thunderstorm speed and waited for the vibrator to kick on.
It didn’t.
She tried Thrusting Stallion, Pussylanche, and Poonami.
Nothing.
Frustrated, Fanny called B.J. on her iSet. “My iCliner is broken.”
“I can send maintenance over, but they’re working in the Break Room. The Cyber Doll is on the fritz.”
The Break Room was where Institute employees could masturbate as needed. It had many more features and devices than the iCliner.
Fanny sighed. “Do they have an idea of how long it will take?”
“Horny much? Why don’t you call up an intern, have him do an oral exam on you?”
Not a bad idea. “Are any interns free?”
“No.”
“Is anyone free right now?”
“It’s lunchtime, Fanny. I shouldn’t even be here but…”
B.J. moaned loudly. Her iCliner was apparently working.
Fanny hung up, irritated.
Well, sometimes the old fashioned ways were the best.
Lying back, Fanny slid her hand inside her panties and began to touch herself. She imagined Peter pushing his delicious length into her mouth, the taste of him still on her tongue. Her fingers worked faster, sliding over her slick sex, the pressure mounting and building and—
“Fanny?”
She froze, opening her eyes to see Hoyt Siemann, her boss, standing in her doorway. Fanny immediately sat up.
“Yes, sir?”
“If you’re busy, I can come back. But we’d had a lunchtime meeting scheduled to go over the restructuring committee plans, and you didn’t come by my office so I thought I’d pop in here. I assumed you’d been distracted by work.”
“I had, sir. I mean, I am. I was doing a fellatio study with Peter, and then I took on a new client.”
“I figured as much. May I come in? I really could use your advice on these plans.”
Without a doubt, there was nothing less sexy on earth than restructuring committee plans.
“Of course.” She crossed her legs, then invited the CEO to sit down so they could spend a pointless, boring, mind-numbing lunch hour talking about restructuring, whatever the hell that even meant.
Her orgasm would have to wait.
Chapter 3
Dwanna stood at the gates of Hades, also known as the entrance to the Siemann Institute. Behind those huge shining chrome doors lurked creatures capable of doing things she’d only heard hinted at, all of which would disgust any decent, Purity-loving person beyond measure. Orifices that were never meant to be penetrated, positions the human body was not meant to take, fluids exchanged in manners so horrifying she couldn’t believe she and they were part of the same species.
Maybe they weren’t. Maybe the creatures behind these doors were aliens, sent from another planet to take over their world.
She wouldn’t be surprised.
Wait. Maybe she had something there. She’d learned at the Foundation that rage, hatred, and intolerance were the only way to approach people different from you. Otherwise, you risked your Purity. If Dwanna could just think of these people as aliens, disgusting and inhuman, maybe she could do Mother and the foundation proud.
Determined, Dwanna threw her shoulders back.
Of course, all that did was thrust out her chest and make her breasts look gigantic.
She slumped, her hand finding the dignified and proper necklace she wore around her neck, tiny cameras and microphones feeding straight to the Purity Foundation embedded in the pearls providing a view from multiple angles.
They would see and hear everything.
Dwanna almost turned around. She would never last! Mother and the entire Foundation would know how depraved she was!
The door swung open so suddenly, Dwanna screamed and flung up her hands in front of her face.
“Um. Hello?” A woman’s voice. Musical. Quite beautiful actually. “Can I help you?”
“No.” Dwanna’s knees felt as if they were about to buckle. “No!”
“Okay. But see, we were wondering, because you’ve been standing at our front door for half an hour.”
“No, I wasn’t.” She was still shielding her eyes from the sight of this demon spawn, trying to imagine an alien without human features. “Not for half an hour. That would be weird.”
“Yes. Well. I was thinking maybe you’d like to come in?”
“No!” The word jumped out without her permission. Dwanna clenched her teeth. She was messing up already. As scared as she was, she couldn’t complete her mission if she didn’t go inside. “I mean yes. Okay.”
“It will be much easier for you to enter if you take your hands from your eyes.”
Dwanna lowered her hands, slowly, in case the creature shot some beam of poison sex-gas at her.
Dwanna gasped.
As much as she’d tried to envision the inhabitants of the institute as aliens, this one looked much more like an angel. Blond hair hung in soft curls around her face. Dark lashes surrounded her wide blue eyes. Her skin was pale, features delicate except for her lips, which were rosy and full.
Her body—
No! Dwanna did not notice women’s bodies. Especially this one, and how it was stunningly proportioned, with curving hips, narrow waist and generous, round breasts. Not as big as hers, but close. She wondered if the woman hated them as much as Dwanna hated hers.
“Oh my gosh.” The woman reached out and touched Dwanna’s face with gentle fingers. Everything that was good and true and Pure in Deanna wanted to leap away from that soft, sinful hand touching her face, but her body didn’t seem to want to move, and her jaw had come unhinged or something because it was hanging open.
“You are so beautiful!” the woman whispered. “You look like a cross between Katherine Zeta-Jones and Megan Fox.”
Dwanna’s jaw snapped back up. Angels didn’t lie. She was no more beautiful than a poop slug suckling on a dingleberry. Plus she was hugely fat and clumsy, a fact which Mother liked to remind her of every day.
The woman put a hand to her ample chest. “I’m Chastity.”
Chastity?! The name was an outrage! She looked as if she wanted Man-Things in her Sacred Place all the time. Maybe even once a week!
“Are you Susie Jones?”
“Um, yes.”
“Well, Susie Jones… come on inside.” Chastity took Dwanna’s hand and drew her up the building’s front steps: Delilah beckoning Samson, snake beckoning Eve, chocolate cake beckoning dieter. “We’re so glad to have you here.”
Dwanna sighed a little then caught herself. But of course Chastity was glad to have her here. She and the other depraved individuals in this place thought they were about to score another convert. Well Dwanna would show them that not all people could be manipulated into slobbering lust-bags.
She’d show them.
Really, really, she would!
She and the Foundation had a much higher and infinitely more Pure purpose: To discredit them all! And she would prove she was worthy of the cause!
Dwanna squared her shoulders and march
ed into the sleek black and white modern lobby of marble and chrome, with a large portrait on the wall of a handsome gray-haired man in a black suit, smiling serenely, arms open in a gesture of welcome.
“That’s Hoyt Siemann, the Institute’s founder and CEO.” Chastity’s eyes softened as she gazed at the painting. “He’s made happiness and fulfillment possible for so many people who’d otherwise have spent the rest of their lives angry and frustrated. I’m so proud to know him.”
Happiness? Fulfillment? Here? That couldn’t be right. It had to be a lie. And like any foundation member, lies made her so angry! And frustrated!
Wait…
“Plus.” Chastity’s eyes grew even softer. A dreamy smile curved her lips. “He has the biggest schlong the world has ever seen.”
“Schlong?”
“Yes.” Chastity cleared her throat and gestured to a spot half way down Seimann’s pant leg.
Now that Dwanna looked at the portrait again, there did seem to be a bulge in the pants of Siemann’s suit that stretched nearly to his knee. She felt a strange heat in her lower abdomen.
“Oh… my.”
“Isn’t the sight of it, just that vague outline, absolutely gripping?” Chastity grabbed onto Dwanna’s forearm and sighed wistfully. “It makes me all quivery just thinking about that much man-meat in one place!”
Dwanna had to breathe steady and slow. How could Chastity think a man thing big enough to play baseball with was arousing? This whole place was disgusting. And that was why Dwanna was feeling so tense and hot and tingly and… disgusted!
“Come this way.” Chastity led her across the entryway, down a long, curving, warm hall. They passed dozens of people—it was discouraging to see this place so busy!— but none of them looked anything like the horrible lust-crazed individuals Dwanna had expected. Everyone was wearing clothes. No one was doing unspeakable things in public spaces. Everyone was smiling cordially, stopping to chat now and then.
These evil people looked so nice. While the people at the Foundation were so grim and forbidding. She could only conclude that the niceness must be part of the Institute’s entrenched embrace of evil.
They stopped at a door halfway down one hall and Chastity escorted her into a cozy space painted a peaceful sea-green, carpeted in a complementary aqua shade, furnished with a rosy pink iCliner, and a yellow counter with cabinets and drawers, like you’d see in a doctor’s office. On the wall hung a large white screen. The pastel effect was childlike, surreal, yet somehow peaceful, very different from the bustling chrome and black lobby outside. And a world away from the elegant creams, grays and beiges at the mostly hushed Purity Foundation.
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