Chapter Ten: Home Cummings

"I love the way it bucks like a bull when I play with it." Bernie observed, crouching over to slap his sticky crown against her cum-stained cheeks. “It’s so… responsive. Like you are constantly ready and raring to go.”

"Take it easy down there." Terry groaned, crammed uncomfortably up against the passenger side door to make room for the bubbly blonde’s ever-increasing largess. “It's not a toy, you know.”

"Yeah, but I'm about to use it like one." Bernie teased, running her tongue up his skyscraper length to gather up the constant flow of dribbling juices. “Don’t pretend like you have any complaints.”

“I have a complaint.” Miss Gwendoline interjected from the driver's seat. “Why am I playing chauffeur while the two of you fool around in the back?”

To be fair, they had taken her much nicer car–a spacious BMW hybrid sedan–instead of Terry’s old beater for the return trip. The added room was practically a necessity after the dramatic effects of direct insemination had been made clear to Terry and his eternally horny suck-buddy.

The Ezy-Way Electronics had thankfully been a ghost-town by the time it was over. Customers and employees alike fleeing the pornographic panopticon that was Gwen’s glass-walled office set high above the sales floor in view of the entire store.

Terry had pumped a frankly unholy amount of cum into his imperious employer's greedy cunt, to the point where he had been **** to withdraw and spray down her phenomenal ass, brilliantly bowed back, and even her tousled toffee-colored hair with his hosing spend.

The strangest part was the way her already spectacular gym-fit body absorbed it all into her toned flesh like rain on parched sun-baked soil. That was a new development, much to his surprise and Bernie’s pouting disappointment.

She had been looking forward to licking a “top up”, as she called it, off her ex-boss and was only mollified after calling shotgun on Terry’s trouser-cannon for the ride home.

“Either way, the whole plan was a bust.” He spoke over Miss Gwendoline before the inevitable squabble over his hyperactive loins could begin over again… again. “There were no signs of strange glowing meteors, suspicious vats of toxic slime, radioactive spanish flies or–what was it you suggested, Bernie?”

“Mlurp~! Prototype dick-o-matic ray gun.” The merrily slurping blonde burbled through ropy strings of gooey white. “Or a mutagenic gas leak.”

“None of which seem realistic in the slightest,” Their envious driver chided from the front seat, “... And mind your manners, Bernie! Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

“I mean, it wasn’t a total waste of time if you count adding everyone’s favorite new Mom here to your harem, Stud.”

Terry carefully considered Gwen as Bernie milked another improbably voluminous expulsion out of him with a wet gargle of gastronomic glee. The mature auburn-haired beauty did have a certain maternal sex appeal now all the cold edges had been worn down (or fucked completely off, however you wanted to look at it), if that same motherly allure was blown up to over eight bombastic feet of flexible pilates-honed muscles and enough soft womanly curves to get lost in forever.

She needed to push the driver’s seat all the way back to comfortably work the pedals and still had to crouch over the dashboard to see out through the windshield…

“Wait… Harem?! He squawked, “Nonono, that isn’t what we are calling… whatever this is. I’m marrying Amy–”

“–and you’re going fuck her to **** on your gorgeous donkey dick?” Bernie asked, pausing in her amorous attentions to look him squarely in the eye. That uncommon act of restraint alone lent her words an ominous weight. “Listen up, Stud. It’s pretty obvious that you have grown into too much man for any one woman to handle.”

I’ve been stuck on your gorgeous dick like a jizz-nozzle all morning and even I am reaching a limit. My sexual appetite and stamina was already pretty wild before all this started but I'm gonna need a break soon or fall into a cum-hazed coma. What are you going to do then, keep churning out those prize-winning money shots and wasting all that magical creamy goodness? Think again.”

Terry frowned, not sure what to make of his blonde co-workers' unusually coherent observation.

“I think what Bernice is trying to say is that you have a one-of-a-kind value now, Terrence. Besides that of your prowess as a lover.” Miss Gwendoline said calmly, smiling gently back at him through the rear vision mirror. The way her perfect, thickened tits pushed and swayed against the steering wheel made it look like they were driving the car rather than her hands. “Whatever the cause, you have the means to make women bigger, stronger, more vibrant. I haven’t felt so healthy and alive since I was a teenager. From a business perspective; you have a unique commodity that would be a sin to squander.”

While being called valued and unique was very flattering, the word ‘commodity’ was far less so and gave Terry the creeping chills.

“Is it the terminology that’s the problem?” Bernie asked, thoughtfully tapping her chin with his gloopy crown. “You and Amy are a couple. Add me and that’s a thruple, I’ve done those before. With Gwen here we could be… a quad? But that sounds short-sighted, like we could stop there and keep you all to ourselves. Sounds selfish even.”

“I would be far more comfortable if Amy were part of this conversation.” Terry groaned as the mischievous blonde coed grinned and began pumping his preposterous prick rapidly in both hands, using his abundant spend as lubricant. “She’s the smart one and–oh shit, Bernie, I’m going to blow again if you–”

The warning came not a moment too soon, as Bernie leaned back to let a hose-worthy blast of molten manseed fountain into the air and blot out the vehicle’s sunroof.

"Now that's what I call a money shot!" She giggled, sticking out her tongue to catch the resultant downpour like gloopy snowflakes. “I rest my case, Stud.”

"I could do without the running commentary, please and thank you." Terry sighed wearily, slumping back into his cramped corner. “Just take us home. I need to talk to my fiance.”

The neighborhood was thankfully quiet as they parked in front of Terry’s small duplex apartment. Most folks would be at their normal nine to five day jobs, or engaged in other mundane activities rather than living in the sex-fueled madness his life had become.

Terry climbed out of the luxury sedan. His dress shirt was a ripped, splattered mess. His sweat pants were nonexistent. Miss Gwendoline had produced a brown picnic blanket from the trunk which was now wrapped around his waist, but with the way his jutting third leg propped the fleece fabric straight out in front of him, Terry looked like the topless front half of a pantomime horse wearing his costume backwards.

The girls' outfits had fared only marginally better.

Bernie’s constant consumption of Terry’s copious cum had continued to swell her already dynamic physique to excessive new heights and breadths. The borrowed lemon-drop leggings and baggy hockey jersey were coming apart at the seams in a valiant, if fruitless, attempt to contain all her burgeoning feminine bounty. She had the appearance of a super-heroine from a comic book whose skimpy uniform had shrunk in the wash.

Every line of sporty muscle on her shapely hips, thighs and calves were starkly outlined under overstretched yellow spandex. The plump contours of her bubble butt and moist camel toe were hard to miss under the hip-brushing swish of her long blonde curls. The points of her bullet-like nipples threatened to poke through the straining blue and white jersey that was pulled taut across two heavy, gravity-defying spheres of squeezable titflesh that turned the loose-fitting teamwear into a paper-thin crop top.

Miss Gwendoline's frisky office getup was even more scandalous since nobody–her least of all–had been expecting the abrupt eight-foot-and-change surge in her physical proportions.

Her high-waisted leopard print miniskirt hugged her phenomenal hips but ended just above her three-inch thigh-gap, proffering glimpses of her glistening snatch with each incredibly leggy step she took up the front path in her strappy platform heels. Her black mesh open front top hung in loose tatters over her doubly expanded bosom, which bounced and clapped freely with her strutting gait, almost flashing her fat nipples to the midday sun as she hugged Terry’s side as they approached the front door.

“Should we knock?” She asked quietly, her usually brusk nature now mellowed by nervous uncertainty. “I don’t want to barge in.”

“Let’s see if I can’t get Terry lined up to ding the doorbell.” Bernie smirked playfully, her pink tongue sticking out cutely in concentration as she tried to angle his caparisoned cockhead towards the buzzer with both hands. “I bet I can get it on the first try if–”

“It’s unlocked and I’m in here.'' A knowing female voice called from inside. “You better have not bogarted my man, Bernie. Are you there, Tiger?”

“Oh, thank gawd. I’m here, Baby!” He called back, gasping in relief when the buxom blonde Amazon opened the door for him. He would have needed to bend nearly double to reach the handle over his obstructive, extended length. “Some really weird shit has happened. Please let me explain, it’s not what it looks like and…”

It sounded terribly cliche even to himself as Terry hustled to get ahead of the other two women, hurrying into the living room where the rush of lame excuses died on his lips.

“...Whaaat?”

Amy stood in the middle of the lounge room dressed only in a small pair of green running shorts and a gray sports bra that was working double time. All the furniture had been pushed back against the walls as she loomed in the center of the carpet with their next door neighbor Fiona kneeling at her bare feet.

She smiled when she saw Terry, her sparkling eyes devouring him with a predatory hunger as she held the sexy yoga junky’s head back by her ginger ponytail and waved a large plastic milk bottle at him in greeting.

“I don’t know about you, Tiger but I’ve had a very intriguing morning.”

“A–Amy, what are you doing?” He rasped, stumbling into the room, glancing down at the moaning young redhead then up at his future wife. “Why is Fiona here?”

It wasn’t until he finally rambled to a halt before her that Terry realized just how far up he had to look. Amy had grown a full head and shoulders above his six foot frame, with her perfect buoyant breasts at eye level and her thick chestnut curls brushing the ceiling fixtures.

“The little minx came poking her nose around after you left, so I invited her in.” Amy smirked, then took a long pull from the memory-tickling milk jug. “Mmmnff~... so good. Anyway, she's been helping me run some basic tests and we’ve made some fascinating discoveries together.”

“My turn, Amy, you said it would be my turn next.” Fiona whined, stretching her limber form as high as she could from her kneeling position, piteously attempting to reach the upraised jug with her pleading lips. “Please give me another taste. Just a splash…”

Staring down at the cheeky girl-next-door Terry recognized the signs immediately.

Her tight daisy dukes looked even smaller than that morning, riding up the the crack of her taut butt like a denim bikini. The flimsy white singlet was stretched across a jiggling chest that was far fuller but no less perky than earlier, and riding up to expose a lot of flat midriff as her swelling braless breasts pushed up and out of its sheer cotton confines.

Her firm yoga sculpted body was growing longer and sleeker. The honed muscles of her core were a drool-worthy rumble strip leading down to her svelte pelvis, athletic hips and long, mouth watering legs. Even on her knees the once-little hottie nearly came up to Terry’s shoulder height as he turned sideways to avoid prodding her with his curtained meat-rod.

She was also sporting a cute milk mustache on her puckered upper lip… then recognition bloomed in Terry like a rising mushroom cloud.

“Baby, you didn’t!” He squeaked in a less than manly fashion before clearing his throat and trying again. “That milk jug. MY milk jug… from this morning?”

The last he had seen the one gallon bottle, it had been almost full and only fractionally with milk. Now the plastic container sloshed lightly, almost empty as Amy tugged back Fiona’s gorgeous head by the ponytail and carefully poured a small measure into her lustily moaning mouth.

“Of course I did and… to quote Jonas Salk; it was nothing I wasn’t all too willing to test on myself also. The shoulders of giants and all that jazz.” Amy explained fondly, stroking a ginger strand of their sexy young neighbors' hair between her fingertips. “Besides, this little tease likes to sniff around things that don’t belong to her, so I simply gave her what she was asking for.”

The both stared at Fiona who was rubbing her silky thighs together and groaning as she swilled the creamy concoction about her mouth before swallowing with an audible gulp.

“Wow, but it’s sooo~ scrummy and warm in my tummy.” The barely-legal brat sighed in obvious pleasure, leaning against one of Amy’s incredibly long, shapely legs. “I feel amazing. It’s like getting high but without the dizziness or munchies.”

Terry was about to object some more–perhaps raise some moralistic point about getting possessive and treating nosy neighbors like guinea pigs–but then heavy footsteps came down the hall behind him.

“You trying to ditch us or something–Whoa!” Bernie did a double-take as she ducked under the lounge room doorway. “Um… okay. So now there appears to be five of us, I think the collective noun is either ‘a harem’ or ‘an orgy’. How about it, Stud?”

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