Make a House Call

He had finally called her back. Dr. Beshy had at first made a number of nervous schoolgirl calls at odd times during the day. Finally she had listened to herself stammering, her voice pitched artificially high, and had asserted a small bit of self-respect. Now she only called once a day, at two. True, her messages had nothing to do with bloodwork, and were just wistful pleas for a boy to reach her, but there was only one of them a day.

Although she had been very bad and done a few on weekends, whispering into the phone. “Cary. I’m calling about your big dick. It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen. Call me. It’s your doctor!”

“Hi Doctor!” He’d called her at work, which meant that the sudden burst of heat, the immediate dampness between her legs, was very unprofessional. Dr. Beshy closed the office door. “Sorry I haven’t called you back. I’ve been really busy.”

“Yes, of course, I wanted to—” professional, professional. “I’m calling about your test results. They’re all normal.”

“Even testosterone?” Cary didn’t seem surprised, or all that interested. But that made sense – he had a twelve-inch dick. Problems were things that happened to other people. Those with smaller cocks, or without a nice firm cock to fill them up.

“Yes. Normal. All normal. I guess… that means… we have nothing else to talk about,” Dr. Beshy cursed herself.

The past month had been very confusing. She’d expected to put the strange incident of the boy cumming huge loads in her exam room out of her head. Laugh about it with other doctors. In the distant future.

Instead she had found herself rewinding the hot spurt against her fingers over and over through her mind. And also licking her fingers. And, by the end of the day, when everyone else was gone, going back to the exam room, sticking her fingers down her pants, and cumming so hard she had to muffle herself against a labcoat sleeve.

After that, she’d realized – she’d kept a sperm sample.

The scent had mostly faded. She kept the vial on a chain around her neck now. It was crude and gross, and she’d been rubbing one out every several hours for a long time. It was difficult to keep her mind on doctoring. At her apartment she had big dick porno on repeat. She’d purchased an enormous dildo. Maybe that was the conversation starter she needed, with Cary.

“Hey, so, strange question,” Cary said, “but do you want to come to my – to our house? House call? Fair warning, you come over, you’re basically a sex toy for the rest of your life. It’s a big decision. Like, that’s it, you’re just a hole for me to fuck. Take your time, I know its a big one.”

“What?” the Doctor said. “Sorry? What?”

—

The house was very nice, and in a beautiful, brightly colored neighborhood. Out front a few Dads were ostentatiously hosing down their lawns, eyes covertly set to check in on the house at the address Dr. Beshy had been given. It was two stories, and the girl who answered the door had huge, incredible tits. They were held up by a stretchy elastic band, and even jiggled when the girl talked.

“Hi Doctor!” she said, cheerful. Dr. Beshy hardly noticed. The scent wafted out of the front door. It was an animal’s den, wild and untamed. “Can you strap this on real quick?”

Big-boobed girl held up a heavy-duty respirator, with actual filters on the side. It looked ready for a nuclear meltdown. “Sorry, I know it’s ugly, but nothing else works!” the girl said. “Oh by the way I’m…” she paused, uncertain.

“Clara,” a male voice said, from deep within the house.

“I’m trying to get him to change it to Tits,” said Clara, helping Dr. Beshy with the various elastic straps. “And Evelyn is Pussy. Isn’t that neat? But Cary doesn’t like it. Come on in!”

The respirator was heavy. Dr. Beshy had worn sedate doctor clothing for what she assured herself was a routine house call, albeit the first one she’d ever made. True, she’d slipped into a pair of very expensive lacey pink underthings. They’d arrived at great expense that morning.

“Let me give you a quick tour!” Clara said, chipper. Immediately inside the well-appointed foyer was an inexpensive particle board table, with a fully naked girl on it. “That’s Helen! She’s kinda new so she’s on relief duty.”

Gobs of sticky cum were slowly oozing down the back of the girl’s legs, and there was more on the top of her ass. She had a nice one, too, a pert rear that was a little red from an obvious pounding. She had very dark black hair. Dr. Beshy walked carefully around the table. Helen’s head was cushioned on a small soft pillow, and she was smiling, apparently asleep or passed out.

“Yes! Yes, I can see that,” Dr. Beshy said, nodding vigorously. “Relief duty, of course.”

“For when Mister Cary needs to just stick it in someone, he knows there’ll always be a hole for him,” Clara said. “She’s like a– a thing. A thing with a hole.”

“Safety valve,” said the manly voice, from deeper in.

“BEST job on the schedule,” Clara said. “I’m on maid duty, which is second best. Poor Jane and Maria are on detox, which is no fun, and Evelyn is on kitchen duty.”

“How many girls are… here? You all live here?” Dr. Beshy said. The scent was finding its way even inside the rubber seals of the respirator. Or was she just imagining it? Wanting it? Her legs, hidden under loose khakis, were starting to quiver.

“Oh, we are very budget friendly!” Clara said, proudly. “Just one streaming service, and we’re stealing it from Jane’s ex-husband! The mortgage is all paid and we’re mostly entertaining ourselves without our holes so it’s all very affordable! Look!” In the next room, the kitchen, a petite asian woman was dressed in an apron and nothing else. Her butt was well-rounded and stuck out both sides of the oversized white apron bow. Two equally fat tits stuck out either side. She was also bent over a table, but apparently chopping up vegetables.

Dr. Beshy watched the girl absently reach down and finger at her exposed pussy.

“Does she wash her hands a lot?” Dr. Beshy said.

“It’s probably nutritious,” Clara said, waving the concerns away. She gave the cook a welcome slap on the butt and passed to the backyard. A large tent was set up in the far end. Presumably the air was clean, but Dr. Beshy kept the respirator on. It helped, to have something covering her face. She felt – weak. Wet and weak.

“The detox tent,” Clara said. “Too much Cary turns girls a little too silly. Evelyn doesn’t have to ever detox because she was first and got a LOT of him. Lucky girl.” A hammock was strung up between two large trees, and Dr. Beshy could see four feet peeking out, two on both ends. It all looked very complicated. The hammock swung gently.

“Okay, and now lets go see Master!” Clara concluded. She gave Dr. Beshy a big wink. “You excited? You getting pretty excited?”

“I’m here—” Dr. Beshy tried to take a deep breath, failed. “I’m here on a housecall. To check on. Cary.”

“Mmm, sure,” Clara said. She took a quick step in, gently lifted Dr. Beshy’s tits. “This is more clothes then I think we all own combined! Look, it’s okay. Cary’s a really nice guy. I mean, yeah, you get kinda dumb, but do you ever wonder what it’s like to be happy, all the time?”

“No,” Dr. Beshy said. “That sounds— monot— monoton— that sounds super boring and I wouldn’t want that.” This girl was rubbing her boobs. She reached up and planted a big fat kiss on the respirator canister. She had her hands between Dr. Beshy’s legs, expertly rubbing the damp in to the khakis.

“Clara!” A male, commanding voice. Dr. Beshy turned.

“You’re bigger,” she croaked.

He was six feet something, and still very much Cary. Fresh-faced cheeks that burned an embarrassed red. A pudgy dad-stomach, and a haircut he hadn’t changed since age 13. Also he had a horse cock bouncing around in a pair of grey joggers.

“Not really, I stopped at twelve and three quarters of an inch,” Cary said. “Come inside.”

He turned and walked in, then upstairs. Dr. Beshy found herself following him. It was funny– it had all been quizzical, bashful Cary – until the steel of an order at the very end. The scent of a man followed them in, laughing at the attempt at respiratory protection. Dr. Beshy could feel herself juicing up, her nipples still painfully hard where Clara had rubbed them. She really shouldn’t go up those stairs. She had a career. She was a doctor, not a sex toy. She was not a plaything, joining five other needy pussies. She was walking up the stairs.

Cary sat on the bed – a good bed, a bed worthy of him. King-sized with room for many. His legs were bent, and the mattress sagged under his weight. His cock stuck nearly straight out.

“I kind of need your help,” he said, apologetic.

“Another… another massage?” Dr. Beshy managed. Cary laughed.

“No! No… no, not really. Fiscal help. Money. I’ve been doing the math, you know?”

He’d brought her up here to talk finance. No wonder she had to wear a heavy, humid facemask.

Dr. Beshy wrenched it off and tossed it on to the bed. She took a deep, glorious breath. It was everything she had hoped it would be – a musky stench, like an entire forest in rut. She lost herself in a long, happy moan. It smelled so damn good. And there was dick for dessert.

“I should stop bothering with the masks,” Cary said. “I mean, sure, that’s your choice, Doctor,” He took a long, deep breath of his own, apparently to center himself. With a practiced gesture he eased his cock out of his pants. He didn’t seem all that surprised that Dr. Beshy had tossed away her medical degree, and probably most of her undergrad as well, to abruptly get a brief whiff of him. “I was going to do this whole presentation and give you a big choice on– anyway, that’s fine. Why don’t you go ahead and suck on it.”

Dr. Beshy– she caught herself. All these girls were exhibiting such advanced intellectual degradation, along with all the other degradation. “It’s Diya,” she said.

She’d only gotten to touch it before. Now she could get her mouth involved. Her brain stopped processing scent as she got close enough, trying to preserve whatever it could. Instead it was all experienced as a complete and total tunnel vision, a world that existed wholly around Cary’s cock. The veins around it, both an icy purple-blue and red-hot. It shook as she got close, and she had just enough self-possession to put a tiny kiss on the cockhead. Then she started slobbering on it.

“Anyway, I think we’re making progress on sustainability,” Cary said. “We just need more income. The girls want to just go fucking but I just don’t feel right as a pimp.” He looked out the window, thoughtful. “Maybe as a team? A strike team of sluts? Four-scorts? Here, let me hold on to you, girls tend to pass out with the first load.” He reached out to gently hold an arm, and then sprayed jizz all over her face.

Diya floated, at peace.

It was such a positive, self-actualizing moment. She was a whore for cum. What she wanted was dick. Her Maslow pyramid of needs, collapsed into a cube.

“Okay, your eyes haven’t rolled back, that’s great,” Cary said. “Anyway, the obvious way to make money is me. My scent, my sperm. You’d do anything for it, right? I mean, you have, you know? You’re just a toy for me now.”

“Your toy,” Diya murmured. There were parts of her protesting that. She’d worked very hard for her medical degree. She’d enjoyed reading books and having intellectual conversations. But all that was sinking into a pink bath, and not swimming very hard…

“Don’t worry, I take good care of my toys. And if you detox we’re pretty sure you can at least do some math. I mean, arithmetic, but still. That’s math. Diya, I need you to make connections for me. You know people who sell ****. You know women with money. I bet you even know hospital administrators who need a team of budget analysts. Ones that wear little skirts. I bet you– oh, you passed out.”

She was gone, and didn’t even feel Cary gently picking her up and putting her into the bed. Next he crossed his arms and looked out through the window, at all the houses with all the girls in them. “Well, that’s fine,” he said, to no one. “Six girls. I think we can make this work.”

A neighbor jogged by. A redhead in brief purple shorts.

His cock twitched.

[The End For Now --Limerick]