Good gardeners are hard to find

You definitely have questions. A whole shitload of them to be exact. But now that you have someone who’ll answer you have no idea what to ask. You open your mouth to rattle off the first question that pops into your head so as not to waste the time, and are cut off by one of those long fingers covering your lips. “I’ll give you two answers. Make it good boy.”

Well that makes it a little more difficult. Good questions. Ok... “Where can I find the rest of my sisters.”

“Nice. But no dice kid. That would be three answers for one question, but since you have balls” -she grips the portion of your anatomy in question and tickles them a little- “I’ll give you enough to find the youngest. Dahlberg. Devon Marie and Codie Ann. The rest is up to you.”

“Wow. Ok that helps.” Names will get you everywhere. Looks like you’re in for more social engineering.

She kisses your chin teasingly, “Next? And you need a shave.”

“Um...” you’re stumped. Almost any question you have is probably going to lead to something vague or only ask more questions. Well... time to fuck the elephant in the living room. “What is the history of the Affection Multiplier?”

“Damn, boy. Do you think we have all night? Well we do, but still... “ She mock-glares up at you. “But you do ask the right questions. Ok. Lemme get a drink. Talking is thirsty work.”

She’s gone in a flash of light and a plume of smoke, causing you to check the sheets for burn marks. She’s back just as fast, and the two of you are now sitting in an overstuffed recliner. She’s draped across your lap, something tall and cold that smells like battery acid in her hands. She takes a sip of the concoction and starts. “Once upon a time, to whom it may concern, y’all motherfuckers ain’t never gonna believe this shit, no shit, there I was... Either about four and a half billion or nine thousand years ago, depending on whether or not you have a brain, or possibly a week ago Tuesday, the Judeo Christian creator god, and lemme tell ya, he’s just as pretentious as Prince was, put together the first garden center and staffed it with a couple hairless monkeys. Then he put a tree in the middle of it, told them not to touch, and hid in some bushes until they did so he could jump out and scream ‘GOTCHA!’ Well, since gods survive on worship the pretentious old bastard put that tree together so that it would act as a kind of belief antenna, strengthening the signal so that he could get all his sustenance from those two hairless apes.”

She sips her drink and snuggles up close to you. “Anyway, he made a serious design error in those monkeys and gave them curiosity. Bad template maybe. I dunno. One of his earlier experiments got a little jealous and decided to exploit that and got the monkeys to eat the fruit from the transmitter tree. The old fart chalked it up as a failed experiment, kicked the monkeys out of his greenhouse, and they started fucking like rabbits.

“A little while later in the grand scheme of things I and a couple of my fellow divine entities got ahold of the last handful of that fruit and we started experimenting with it. The end result is that thing you have on your phone.” She takes a deep breath, causing her ample bosoms to press against you. “That’s the quick and dirty version. You’ve figured out most of the rest of what it does.”

You’re back in the bed, Eris once more snuggled up to your chest, her hand idly clutching your cock. “Up for another round?”

Before you can answer, she’s below the sheets, your cock in her mouth, and you’re receiving the best head of your life. Her hot, wet mouth and her tight throat envelope your manhood and she begins to bob her head like a chicken pecking for corn. You close your eyes, unable to do anything but feel the vast pleasure sweeping over you, and relax.

You’re just about to go off when you sense something has changed. Her movements aren’t quite as fluid and you can feel warmth on your face. Your eyes flicker open just as you explode in Chrissy’s mouth, the morning sun shining on your face.