The Customer Is Always Right

“She’s all set,” Trey said. “Quality tested, ready to go.”

“Great, that’s great,” Austin said. He didn’t sound very happy.

Austin?

Meghan tried to swivel her head around. She was, after all, a highly educated and well-trained woman of the world. She would fight through the pink puffy clouds of sex. Just not yet.

“Everything good, then?” Trey said.

“Sure, yeah…. Well….”

Well?

“...is it too late to change the package?”

Meghan managed to open her eyes. Her conviction, her certainty, that she was an important girl with lots of smarts immediately started to fade. For one thing, she had her legs spread far too wide.

Trey sat next to her with his phone in front of him. He looked tired. Seeing her slowly, slowly opening her eyes, he gave her what grin he could manage. It wasn’t much.

“Change the package?” he said, very professionally.

“I don’t know. 50s housewife. I guess I thought it made sense but I think I was just– part of me wanted the chores, part of me thought it’d be ironic. I don’t know. I was looking at old Betty Crocker stuff on youtube. Is that really what I’m getting?” Her husband said.

“That’s half of it,” Trey said. “It’s a mix of housewife and slut. It’s a good choice, the interplay between the two has a lot of variety. Brings you a gin martini, then sucks you off. It’s VERY popular.”

“Okay,” Austin said, “Sure. But its not like I drink martinis. And… so I got a three-day slut spray for the trip, you know? And that was really fun? So.. I was thinking about just going with Bimbo Slut?”

“Bimbo slut,” Trey said, heavily. He rubbed Meghan’s leg. She was doing her best to follow the conversation, but it wasn’t making much sense. Probably because she was just a silly girl. Meghan sucked on a sticky finger. She should probably start getting dinner ready, but the conversation seemed important.

“Can you do that? I mean, I know I– I’ll certainly pay.”

“I can do Bimbo Slut in– its very simple. I mean, it makes her very simple. You read the brochure? It’s really basic, mostly a blowjob and fuck toy. Really, a toy with a name. That’s what you want?” Trey said. There was a strong hint of “you don’t want this.”

Pause on the line. “Yeah, I think I do,” Austin said. “Again…”

Trey hung up.

He regarded her. She gave him her most warm, willing smile. “Everything okay?” she said.

“Yeah. I guess,” Trey said. He stood up and paced. “I don’t know. Never had to— I wonder if—” he broke off. “I mean, I know what Dad would say.”

“What’s that?” Meghan said. She tried to stand up. It didn’t go really well. She was still wearing the rubber dress, with most of it wrapped around her stomach. Her big boobs were slick and heavy. Back down she went.

“The customer is always right.”

“That’s so… ummmm… what’s the word?,” Meghan said. The TV was on, as usual, but something was different. It was just a black screen. No porno, no captions, no anything.

It was just too much darn trouble to recall all the other stuff Meghan was trying to come up with. Her education and stuff. No doubt it’d occur to her. Instead she could easily lie back and enjoy another wonderful day. Wake up, blow her husband, make breakfast. Or reverse that order, for a nice change. Spend hours just sitting in the sunlight, working on her tan, something buzzing away between her legs.

It sounded so nice. And Trey– he had made it happen, hadn’t he? Something about her plumbing? Whatever it was, she felt very grateful. She smiled at him, sincerely. Something emerged from the scabbed over remnants of her vocabulary. “Professional! That’s what you are! Wow! That’s such a long word!”

“Yeah. It is.”

He looked out the window.

“Alright,” Trey looked up. “Dad, this one is for you. After this… we’ll see. Meghan… it was very nice to meet you.”

He stood up and looked around for the remote. When he found it he squeezed his eyes shut, and then plugged in a number. The TV flashed. Meghan had to look.

It was– hardcore.

Sex. Just straight sex, the camera as close as it could nearly be. Everything glistened under harsh overhead porno lights. An enormous cock was pushing as hard as it could, back and forth, into a dribbly overstuffed pussy. It already had a load or two in it, judging by how much cum was already soaking it. Meghan expected the camera to pan away, or cut to at least some faces, tense and hot. But no, it was just – that. The dick, the cunt. Pounding into each other.

Over and over. She stared at it.

It was pretty hot.

—

“Six hour timer… and done,” Trey said. He risked a glance at the subject. She had already started to drool. “Make that a four hour timer.”

Could he…?

No.

Trey rubbed at his face. He squinted with one half-eye open at the screen. The spiral was working correctly. The closed captioning just reiterated “YOU ARE A TOY”. It would phase out pretty quickly. Bimbo Sluts couldn’t read.

He located her well-worn hump pillow and put it next to her, along with the vibrator. And a glass of water.

Maybe he’d drive by in a few weeks to check in. Customer care, that’s what it was.

It was done, and all by himself. Trey brought in the mail, swept up, and checked the pulse of the showerhead brain blaster one last time. He let himself out through the back door. On the way out to the truck, on the side path in the backyard, he found his missing green cable.

THE END