Her First Lesson

Like a captive before a firing squad, Scarlett eyed the four men directly above her and the crowd gathering behind them. Her legs and arms strained against the bonds, trying to protect herself from the hungry stares. She could feel her heart racing. A man directly in front of her had opened his fly and was stroking his long—unbelievably long, actually—he couldn't possibly expect her to—someone was giggling—

"When were you decanted, honey?" Someone asked, in a surprisingly gentle voice.

She turned toward the voice; the man on her left. She couldn't remember if he had spoken earlier or not.

He leaned down closer to her. "When did you wake up?"

"I...I...today, I think…" she managed, as her skittering mind tried to focus.

He smiled at her; a kind smile. "You must be terrified."

He reached down and released her left hand from whatever was holding it, and motioned for her other limbs to be released as well. To her surprise, the others in the booth did as suggested, and she quickly sat up and brought her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible.

If she had looked to her right, she would have seen the loudest and coarsest of her neighbors with an excited smirk, putting his fingers to his lips and quietly calming the crowd. But the man on her left spoke to her again, just to her.

"You're scared, and you're lost, and you're confused. Of course you are. It's okay. You're going to be okay." He stroked her hair, and she instinctively shuffled closer to him. "This is a different world than the one you grew up in."

She nodded, and looked up at him.

"How's your brain feeling?" He asked. "Can you remember how many States are in the US?"

"Um, 50?" Why was he asking her this?

"Good. That's not true anymore, but it was true yesterday, for you. What's 7 times 12?"

"...well, uh. Seven times twelve is...um…seven times 10 is seventy, and ten times...wait, I mean...two times seven is fourteen, and two plus ten is twelve, and fourteen is...ah, I can't remember!"

She should be able to do that. That wasn't a hard question. Yesterday she could've answered that.

"See, it's already happening to you," the man on her left said sadly, "Your brain is already degrading. When was your last dose?"

"My last dose of…..oh."

Oh.

"Just yesterday, I saw a poor woman lying in the gutter, just starting vacantly into the sky. She couldn't remember how to speak, how to eat, how to walk. She was probably about a day away from forgetting how to breathe. It happens all the time." He shook his head sadly, then turned his eyes back to hers. "I don't want that to happen to you."

There was a silence.

"I...what do I need to do?"

"You need cum, darling."

A single tear tracked down Scarlett's face.

"Can...can I have yours?"

"Yes, certainly. But it won't be enough. You need to learn how to survive. Would you like me to help you?"

"Yes, please." Scarlett whispered.

"Good, pet. To survive, you need to convince men to feed you. Now look at you, you're lucky! You have a whole group of potential donors here! By the end of this bus ride you might be smarter than you were at the start!" He patted her head, "Lucky doll."

She looked away, briefly, to the crowd. There were more exposed dicks and the same hungry stares. She gulped, and turned back.

"They don't look like they need convincing."

The man to her left laughed.

"You have a lot to learn, pet. These men are ready to fuck you, it's true. But as much as you may want to get fucked, it's the cum, not the fucking, that you need. If there were some other slut here, eagerly asking for donations, you wouldn't get a second look! They'd see you here, huddled in the corner, and they'd stick their cocks down the other sleeve's throat, because she would be asking nicely. And in a week, you'd be gibbering in an alley, and a week after that..."

He paused, and let the implication sink in.

"But you can learn to ask nicely, too."

"I…I don't want..."

She didn't want to spend her life **** down cum from countless anonymous men! That didn't align well with the goals she'd laid out with her guidance counselor and parents. She was going to go to college, and move to Hollywood….

She didn't want to die, either, though. And she was on her way to college, of a sort?

"The first thing to remember is to always say please and thank you. Men don't have to donate to you. Make sure you acknowledge their kindness.

"The next rule is to always say yes. Some men might agree to just masturbate into your mouth, but they'll be few and far between. Most will want to fuck you in some way, or want you to do something else. If you say no, they'll just find someone else. Now, you don't have a dose extractor yet, so you'll have to work even harder to get them to feed you directly—"

"Oh, I think I have that." Scarlett reached down and pulled the extractor from her vagina. "Pep gave it to me."

"That's great. That will make things much easier. You can collect cum from anywhere with that." He sounded almost disappointed.

"Are you ready to practice?"

"Practice?"

"Yes, doll, I can talk at you until we're both bored to tears, but if you want to survive, eventually you're going to have to ask for your medicine. Why don't you start with Hyatt, here."

She looked where he gestured, at the man to her right who had grabbed her hair and talked so loudly earlier. He had his cock out now, too, and was slowly stroking it as he watched her.

She looked down at her knees, covered by the transparent gel, at her right hand holding the dildo-shaped extractor, at her left still clutching at the dollar fifty left over from the bus fare, at her bare breasts pressed against her thighs. She wanted to cry, and to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"What do I say?"

"What you say is important, but how you say it is more important. Men like to see you available, with your legs spread and your tits out. And you should start with your face as close to your goal as possible, so it's important to be on your knees."

She looked for somewhere to put her paltry belongings, and settled on the floor by the wall. The change immediately slipped through the holes in the floor, and clattered away. No one offered to help.

Scarlett hugged herself close for a second, then put knees on the floor and sat back on her heels.

"Like this?" She asked weakly.

"Knees further apart. Sit up straighter, arch your back a bit. Put your hands under your tits. No, not over them, under—put them on display. Good girl. Now do that but face the man whose cum you're begging for."

She followed his instructions mechanically, and shuffled so she was facing Hyatt.

"Excuse me, could, um, could, would you—"

"Spit it out, slut, I don't have all day."

She winced at his tone.

"May I have some cum, please?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Now let's see. You're a pretty common model."

As he spoke, he reached out and grabbed her breasts, roughly feeling her up.

"You're pretty new, though, which is kinda hot. You have any cool mods?"

Scarlett looked confused. "Um...I don’t...what?"

“Hahahaha! You are a brand new cumdump, aren't you?"

She looked at the ground, her face red as the names he used for her grew cruder.

“I guess so…,” she answered, her voice near a whisper.

The man coaching her spoke from behind her. “Sir. Show respect, pet. I guess so, sir.”

"Oh. Yes, sir."

Hyatt leaned forward and took his hand off his cock. "Tell you what: sure, I'll give you a donation. But I feel like fucking your ass, so turn around."

Scarlett didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't that.

"Come on, slut! Ass up!"

She turned her head back to the man behind her.

"Practice saying yes, pet," he said.

"I've never...won't it hurt?"