Back to the gloryhole

Jill needed her next fix now.

Her body ached with a hunger that no normal meal could satisfy. The hospital was too far, and she was certain Meg’s boyfriend had nothing left to give. There was only one place close enough, one place where she could get what she craved without questions.

The anonymous sex shop sat, dark and foreboding. Jill had been here before undercover, back when she was different, more innocent.

(ED note for more see https://chyoa.com/chapter/Going-undercover.1687082 )

Now? Now she was something else entirely.

The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of cheap lubricant and sweat. Behind the counter, the hard faced redhead with a cigarette dangling from her lips looked up. Recognition flashed in her eyes, followed by disdain.

"Knew you’d be back," the woman sneered. "They always come back."

Jill ignored her. "Send them through. I’ll be ready."

The gloryhole booth was just as she remembered, sticky floors, peeling wallpaper, the stench of dried cum and desperation. She stripped quickly, her skin prickling with anticipation. The first cock appeared through the hole before she even had time to think.

She took it into her mouth without hesitation, sucking hard, her body moving on instinct.

"Jesus, bitch! Easy!" a man’s voice grunted from the other side.

She didn’t slow down. She needed this needed the rush, the power, the life that only this could give her.

A trickle of warmth slid down her throat. Not enough.

Another cock replaced the first. Then another. Hours blurred together, her body working mechanically, her mind floating somewhere far away. She was a machine, a predator, a creature of pure hunger.

And then something different.

A thick, black shaft pushed through the hole, veins prominent, the head glistening with pre-cum. Her mouth watered, but this time, she wanted more.

She turned, pressing her dripping cunt against it, guiding it inside with a gasp. The stretch was perfect, the friction electric. She rode it hard, her hips slamming against the partition, her nails digging into the cheap plywood.

"Fuck—!" the man on the other side groaned.

She felt him pulse inside her, filling her, but she wasn’t done. Her pussy clenched, refusing to let go, milking him for every drop. A wave of pleasure crashed over her, so intense she saw stars. She screamed, her body convulsing, her thighs shaking.

For the first time in days, she felt alive.

The high faded too quickly.

As she collapsed onto the sticky floor, panting, she heard voices on the other side of the wall.

"Fuck, Trevor, that bitch nearly ripped my dick off!"

A weaker voice chuckled. "Good. Hope she does that to me too."

Jill’s blood turned to ice.

She knew those voices.

In an instant, she was on her feet, slamming the door open so hard the lock shattered. On the other side stood two men Trevor and Terry. The bastards who had done this to her. The ones who had turned her into this… thing.

Terry, the larger of the two, was stuffing his spent cock back into his jeans when he saw her. His smirk died instantly.

"Well, well," Jill growled, her voice dripping with venom. "Looks like I finally found you."

Trevor, scrawny and pale, took a step back. "Shit, man it’s the cop!"

Terry recovered fast, his eyes glinting with malice. "Nah, bitch. You ain’t a cop no more. And you ain’t leavin’ here. You’re gonna make us a shit ton of money."

He lunged for her.

Big mistake.

Jill moved like lightning. Her fist connected with his nose in a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed as he staggered back, howling.

"I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP!" Terry screamed, swinging wildly.

Jill grabbed his arm and slammed his face into the gloryhole, grinding it into the grime. He came up sputtering, his face smeared with the remnants of other men’s pleasure.

A kick to his knee. A pop. A scream.

Terry hit the ground, writhing.

Trevor tried to run past and Jill lashed out with an open hand slap, the creep wasn't worthy of a punch, the smaller man hit the ground ****.

Jill didn’t even break a sweat.

She dressed slowly, methodically, as if putting on her old self along with her clothes. The redhead behind the counter stared at her, wide-eyed.

Jill didn’t look at her. "Cops’ll be here in five. You didn’t see me."

Outside, the night air was cold against her skin. Sirens wailed in the distance, blue lights painting the sky.

It was over.

She had won.

But as she slid into the driver’s seat, her hands steady on the wheel, she knew one thing for certain:

She wasn’t the same woman and she never would be again.