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“So it is quite simple, really,” Croften said. The manager’s Windsor glasses shone like jewels, his mop-top hairdo framing pale features. His Austin Powers wardrobe and dated slang made him resemble a John Lennon lost in the wrong decade, strengthened by the fact that they both professionally made women sing.

Jaenelle folded her arms across her expansive bust, nose piercing shifting as her nostrils flared. Panya tucked her hands between her boisterous thighs, apprehension bubbling in her stomach.

“Revenue’s been up this last couple of months, so a pay raise is due.”

Croften’s serpentine smile was the same that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden “…for one of you.”

Jaenelle perked up. “I can finally afford to go to the Semen Demen’s concert!”

“And I can renovate my apartment!” Panya added.

Croften wagged a finger, smoke trail drooling from the cigar.

“For one of you, babes. Just one.”

Jaenelle smirked. “I said what I said.”

Croften continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Tonight’s 9PM venue will be starring our best.” He snapped a finger in Jaenelle’s direction. “The famed Rasuptina, feared and lusted after for her mystical talents, with breasts fit to enchant the Tsar himself! A mouth so voracious it makes your pants explode like a personal Chernobyl.”

The tip of his cigar swung Panya’s way. “And who can forget Queen Cleopatra, the shining jewel of Egypt herself? A boisterous backside like the twin suns of Tattooeen, so hypnotising it makes the kitty say Ra,” he curled his fingers into claws and made naughty hiss. Panya blushed.

“Darlings, the trick is simple. The two of you have a three hour shift in the Silk House, walk-in venue. Whoever waddles out with the most spunk guzzling in their guts takes the raise.”

Jaenelle rose to her feet. A golden, upside-down cross swung from a thin necklace between her bouncing breasts. She aimed a thumb at her smirking face. “Sorry, Panny. But you’re looking at the record Belt Breaker for most cocks sucked in one night. I necked six gallons of jizz like it was nothing in my first month on the job. This’ll be a joyride.”

Panya jumped to her feet, rising to the challenge. “Well I’ve scored the highest customer satisfaction rate on our hyper clients, so whilst you scrounge around for every litre at a time, I’ll be draining my clients by the gallon.”

“You’ve got a chair stuck to your ass, numbnuts.”

Panya eep’d! and wriggled her hips, shimmying out of the perverted seat. It was sandwiched between her torso-sized cheeks, clinging on like a climber on a mountain.

The metal chair thunked onto the ground. Panya nursed her bronze backside with a tender hand, pride more bruised than her bottom.

“That’s the spirit, babes,” Croften said. He pulled back a sleeve and peered over his ringed glasses. “Shift starts in fifteen. Suit up, dolls. I expect them ruined when I see you at midnight.”

* ? * ? * ? *

Jaenelle Bell pulled the straps of the corset closed, wincing at it tried to squeeze the breath out of her. “Fucking thing,” she hissed.

“You should really go easier on that,” Panya Taha Ismail, AKA ‘Cleopatra’ said. “Especially when the goal is to burst out of it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jaenelle grunted, adjusting her breasts. The prostitute had to work hard to cram her melon-dwarfing mounds inside the low-cut garment, hissing when they refused to push down. “I don’t see you struggling to fit inside that bath towel.”

“Nope!” Panya gleamed. She twirled on her toes, white linen skirt blooming in a starburst, titanic rear wobbling like jelly. She patted her exposed tummy, squeezing a layer bursa escort of healthy pudge. “This baby’s gonna be packed fuller than a church on Sunday. And I’m going to look good doing it.”

Jaenelle slipped into her priest’s cassock. The long black robe was split open down the front and buttoned around the waist, allowing her breasts to spill out and thighs to see some action. Unlike Panya’s outfit that showed the merchandise on all sides, Rasputina was cloaked in a sheet of darkness, her best assets tastefully covered and exposed. In the economy of skin and visibility, Jaenelle concluded hers was more valuable. Supply and demand, or whatever.

“Ready to lose, Cleo?”

Panya extended a hand. Jaenelle shook it.

“May the best slut win.”

* ? * ? * ? *

The Silk House was an open longue drenched in red, pink, and velvet. Soft cushions lined the sides of the room, adorned with heart-shaped pillows and symbols of Cupid’s Arrow. The low lighting and thick, ghostly air provided a shield of intimacy, even when a stranger was getting railed not two meters away. Croften was a master of making tacky seem luxurious.

The clients were both futas. The older of the pair dragged the other by her wrist, a 16″ erection tenting her sweatpants. Both futas had silky black hair and Asian features; if Panya guessed correctly, there were twenty years between them. Uh oh…

“Mom!” The younger one whined. “I know how to freakin walk, let go!”

“Hello!” the Asian MILF gleamed, firmly gripping her daughter. “My name’s Serah. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Hiya,” Panya said, cocking a hip. A naughty smirk pulled at her lips. “My name’s Cleo. Which one of you can I help first?”

Serah wheeled her daughter forward, catching her by the shoulder. She presented her to the sex worker as if she were a prized pig. “This is Emily. Say hi, Emily!”

“H-Hey,” she said, blushing. Her eyes were glued firmly to the floor, a lump of nerves blocking her throat.

“Nice to meet you, Emily,” Panya said delicately. She sensed the girl’s apprehension and adopted a more gentle persona. “You can stare all you like, Emily. I love it when people look~.”

Jaenelle thrust herself into the conversation, bumping her hip against Serah’s massive bulge. “You look like you can raise a girl well,”—she stroked the base of her cock, purring her words—”I can raise things pretty well, too. Come with me and I can show you~.”

Ugh, Panya thought, forcing her face to remain passive. Does she really think that’s sexy?

“Mnph!” the MILF hummed. “I like you, honey.”

I stand corrected. Apparently.

As Jaenelle led Serah away, she dipped close to Panya’s ear and whispered. “Have fun with the twink~.”

Panya hid a snarl—

And in a swish of hair shot Emily a pleasant smile.

Cleopatra smoothed her hands across the girl’s shoulders. “You don’t have to be shy with me,” she whispered, voice like honey. “Is this your first time? It’s okay if you’re inexperienced, I’ll go slow.”

She was partly upset at how swiftly Jaenelle stole away the bigger dick in the family, but it was, she reminded herself, only the first of many. She was an optimist; the night was young and plenty of time remained! Starting small and easy wasn’t such a bad thing. As long as she—

RiiiiIIIIIIPPPPP!

The girl’s leggings shredded into a spray of ribbons and a resounding smack! bounced off Panya’s butt. She yelped in fright and clutched Emily’s shoulders. A fat, soda bottle hog protruded from her crotch, the girth so great Panya doubted she could fit her hands around. She looked over her shoulder; a furious cockhead larger than her fist görükle escort throbbed between her dumptruck ass, glazing her buns with drooling pre.

“S-Sorry,” Emily said. “I should have warned you—oof!”

Panya knocked her onto a rose-scented couch and pounced upon her turgid shaft, taking the 2′ member in one fell swoop.

* ? * ? * ? *

“Well that was a let down,” Raenelle huffed, poking her food baby. “She didn’t even snap a single strap!”

“Ouugh, uh, yeah that sucks,” Panya breathed, cradling her bronze butterball; she looked to be in her third trimester. She released a peaceful sigh, sloshing the contents of her belly. “My ass is a bit puckered, but I’d say this was an excellent start.”

“Yeah, well, my next girl better be packing some heavy duty equipment,” Jaenelle huffed. “Fucking moms.”

A pack of schoolgirls burst into the suite, giggling and chattering amongst themselves. Based on the contours of their skirts, they were all packing a decent buck. Nowhere close to the size of Emily, but the sheer number of cocks and balls would surely produce a good helping of spunk.

Not five minutes later, Jaenelle was on her knees, a cock in her mouth, and dick between her fingers.

“Mmmnph,” she moaned, pacing her head up and down the girl’s shaft. The futa’s eyes crossed in bliss, cheeks flushed with colour.

“Aaaahhaaa, I’m gonna cum!” She squealed.

“Me too!” cried the futa receiving the handjob.

Oh, no you don’t, she thought, and then squeezed the futa’s dick in an iron clamp grip. She squeaked like a blow horn, eyes rolling as her cumshot was blocked by Jaenelle’s ruthless fingers. The other futa painted her throat white, firing rope after rope of hot, steamy wax that she eagerly swallowed down. Rasputina bobbed along the shaft, neck undulating with wet guk-guk-guk’s as she guzzled the girl’s considerable payload.

She sucked until there was nothing but a cough of dry dust, then kindly returned the schlong to its owner with a pop, who promptly collapsed. The other futa was a twitching mess, knees shaking, sweat sheening on her forehead, begging for sweet release; Jaenelle made her wish cum true.

The girl collapsed onto a growing pile of spent teenagers.

“How you holding up, Cleo?” She shouted across the room, drunk on a gut full of white jelly.

The Pharaoh was dumped on a table like a slap of hot meat, head lolled back with a hog choking her throat, ankles held sunwards as a futa clapped her cheeks from behind. Her pregnant breadbasket bobbed and wobbled as the horny futas savagely rocked the table, panting and sweating like animals in heat.

Panya touched her thumbs and fingers together, drawing a ‘?’ of appraisal.

* ? * ? * ? *

“Umph, you’re so heavyyyy,” Panya complained. The Egyptian saddled her swollen guts like a mechanical bull, knees touching hard wood, ass raised in a feline position. Jaenelle lay on top of her in the mirror position, back pressed against back, skull resting on skull. Her belly full of nut butter was an oppressive weight on Panya’s spine. Together they resembled a stuffed turkey served on a silver platter.

“Oh, that’s so hot,” the futa said from behind. The beast was built like a shit brick house and rocked a pair of double wangers, each hose slightly bigger than Emily’s two-footer. She jacked each one off in both hands, rousing them to life. “Keep talking, girls. I’m getting so hard right now.”

“M-Maybe this was a bad idea,” Panya whined.

“That’s the first correct thing you’ve said all night,” Jaenelle agreed.

Panya’s toes curled as a melon of hard, hot flesh pressed escort bayan against her back door,

anxiety bubbling in her cummy tummy.

“You know, I usually have to use bathtubs for the boys,” the futa said, rubbing her cocks affectionately. Jaenelle whimpered as one of the 3′ shafts kissed her cherry. “But I kept overflowing it, so I figured, ‘why not dump it someplace warm instead?’ Oh, and just so you know, I need to cum at least four times to work out all the pent-up juice.”

“Jane.”

“Yes, Panya.”

“Help me kill Croften tomorrow night?”

“I’ve love nothing more, babe.”

Their screams were heard two blocks from the brothel.

* ? * ? * ? *

Midnight rolled around. The girls were rolled into Crofen’s office.

They were situated exactly as they were three hours prior, sitting one-hundred times angier and five-hundred pounds heavier.

Jaenelle’s belly surged through her corset like a flood through a dam, tearing the garment to pieces. Panya’s bronze ball sagged beyond the lip of the seat, gurgling and churning audibly. Both women burped and hicked and groaned, every laboured breath a struggle.

“Oouughhh,” Panya moaned, clutching her cum bubble. “I—urp!—ah, I think that last futa blew me a new stomach.” Her belly Rrrwwwllll’d deeply, a low whine of a sleeping beast. She nursed her poor belly with careful hands, kneading and massaging the taut dough. “Oooohhhh…”

Jaenelle hiccuped. Her eyes were blurred, mind groggy. A bubble of cum grew from her nostril, inflating like a balloon before splattering down her cheek. She didn’t notice.

Croften cleared his throat.

“Well. I’d hoped for a more enthusiastic entourage, but I see you’ve taken all the enthusiasm one can handle.”
Jaenelle burped a glob of cream onto her chest. Panya’s stomach roared with digestive juices, processing the gallons of waxy goo in her bloated breadbasket. She looked sick.

“Would you like to know who won?”

Jaenelle blinked, then perked up. She burped and sighed. “Me, obviously.” Then she added, quite considerately: “Borp.”

“Nuh-uh. Look at all this,” Panya valiantly scooped her tummy up, but her arms were too scrawny for the task. She tried her best; that counted for something. “I’m way bigger than you.”

“If by ‘big’ you mean like a hippo, sure. In that case I’ve got a fucking whale right here.” She slapped her side and chuckled. “Heh. Sperm whale. Borp.”

“More like… sperm… fail. Bitch.”

“You wanna fuckin’ go? Borp.”

“Come at be, bitch. I’ll, like… sit on you or something.”

“I’ll beat your stomach like the car in Street Fighter. Borp. Ugh.”

“Babes, babes,” Croften said, injecting his voice with sarcasm. “Please, for the love of the Lord keep these abrasive threats outside of my office! My poor heart can’t bear such vile intent.”

“Urp! Just tell us who fucking won,” Jaenelle moaned.

“Yeaaahhh… I just wanna go home.”

“Panya won.”

In an instant, Jaenelle’s fatigue evaporated. She leapt to her feet, knocking over her chair and bashing against the table with her belly. Everything on the surface toppled over, Croften included.

“WHAT?!”

“A-And you too!” Croften said, hands pulled up defensively. Words rushed out his spout like a coke and mentos. “I was about to say ‘Panya won’ and wait for your reaction, then reveal you both got the raise but I didn’t think you’d go and fucking kill me, woman! Jesus!”

“Oh.”

Jaenelle’s shoulders slumped, energy vanished. “Borp.”

“I’m going home,” Panya said.

“Word.”
Croften straightened his hair and cleared his throat.

“You know… I am considering increasing our top performing staff’s pay. If you’re interested, there’s a reservation for a group of hypers on Friday who—”

“Fuck,” Jaenelle said.

“You.” Panya finished.

Fin.

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