The Head Waitress

Lois turned to see one other waitresses clapping softly...a tall, thin woman, her blonde hair tied up in a bun, topless as the rest of rest of them. Her breasts were small, but pert and well-shaped, with soft pink inverted nipples that rode high on her chest. A golden chain wrapped around her neck, ending at a strange golden charm that hung between her breasts. Lois couldn't quite make it out, but the shape of the golden trinket seemed almost...obscene.

"That's impressive," the head waitress' voice had a bit of a Southern lilt, although very faint. "But the owner wants to know if you're up for a challenge."

Nearby, two other waitresses stood holding...something between them. It was like a great viking horn, but as big as a Thanksgiving cornucopia, and cut from crystal glass in a long, elaborate spiral. The capacity must have been at least two gallons, and Lois didn't wonder that it took two women to hold it steady...because it was filled to the brim with a familiar grey-white ooze.

Lois licked the cream off her lips, the heavy liquid meal settling in her stomach.

The reporter licked salty cream from her lips, already feeling full from the literal pitcher of jizz she had just drank...but her instincts told her that she needed to rise to this particular challenge.

"I'm still thirsty," she said, loud and clear...and a hush went through the bar, all eyes on her.

"Then go right ahead," the blonde said. "If you finish it all, there's a prize—but be careful." The waitress pressed a finger to Lois' face and scraped a stray bit of cum toward her lips. Almost without thinking about it, the reporter opened her mouth and let the blonde press the last blob of jism onto her tongue, then closed her lips on the intruder and gently sucked it clean.

The blonde smiled as she withdrew her finger. "Wouldn't want to waste a drop."

Lois approached the great glass horn in trepidation. She had never consumed anything like thias amount of...anything...in her entire life. The reporter could feel her heart beat faster in trepidation, palms suddenly sweaty.

Don't think about it, Lane. She told herself. Stomachs can stretch, and it's all mostly liquid anyway. College students drink more beer than this every day. Her stomach fluttered. Albeit, not usually all at once.

Standing before the two waitresses, Lois bowed her head. Lips touched the liquid surface, surprisingly warm...Fresh, she thought, though she knew that was impossible. The aroma of seed was almost overwhelming. She closed her eyes and began to drink.

Long wet slurps, mouthfuls coming and going down in silent gulps, trachea bobbing with each swallow. Lois could taste it all, but her focus was on her gut, the uncomfortable fullness which was already starting—and the reporter knew if she stopped, even to take a breath of air, that would be it. Her body and mind would revolt on her. Now she was locked in the struggle, and determined to win.

So she drank. She could feel the new liquid pushing down, moving through her system. Lois already felt full, at least by normal standards. The fullness of a heavy meal, or eating a pint of ice cream all in one setting. But as the bearers began ever so gently to tilt the horn, the reporter knew she had a very long way to go.