Chapter 9: The Neighbourhood (Part One)

“So how was your flight from Copenhagen?” Lauren asked her sister as she sipped her Long Island ice tea on the patio at the rear of the mansion while methodically pumping the shaft in front of her.

“Pretty straightforward,” Alexandria Richfield answered, pouring herself another glass from the pitcher. “We had a 30 minute stopover in La Guardia before landing in DFW. It’s good that you folks have a place near the airport for times like this.”

“Well, the flight got in just before eight,” Charlotte sympathized pulling her cheeks apart a bit more and hunkering down further. “No one wants to add a two and a half hour drive to that after going through customs. Mmmmm,” she murmured, her eyes glazing slightly as more of her shit oozed into the open mouth that had formed a seal on her sphincter.

“The driver, Belinda Wellington, she’s really grown up nicely,” the tall blonde complimented. “And the daughter-”

“Bellamy? Yes, she’s really turned out well,” the Carlylse woman agreed. “She is the first generation of our tank born. Up until this year all of our new additions have been coming from Libereco as you know. There is one other, you might meet her later when you meet your Sissy Grandaughter.”

“Only two?” she pondered taking in the figure of a newly arrived futamute about the same age as her youngest. Far shorter than Rita Rae, shorter than even the Wellington girl, her beige body was almost as curvy as the first. Her face, framed by a caramel brown bob, was dotted with a pair of blue eyes and her cock looked to be of a fairly healthy size. With a nod of her head, she beckoned her over, then pushing down slightly on her shoulders, watched her sink slowly to her knees in front of her thick 10 inches.

“Yes, same with next year,” the professor detailed before peering down at the thrusting hips which were reacting to the deliberate stroking of her fingers. “One of them is actually mine.”

“Oh really?” the 39 year old queried with interest as she began evenly fucking the face of young futamute. “Who was the Seed Mother?”

“Silke Heinrich, a wonderful woman,” the brunette revealed spotting the tell-a-tale beading on the crown of the cock she was wanking. “Older sister to the co-author of the study we’re doing that Daniela took part in. They’ll be at the mansion as well.”

Charlotte looked back over her shoulder and smiled down at her younger sibling riding her willing mouth while her long tube of slimy sustenance slid down the redhead’s throat. “I’ve missed this,” she sighed, a mild euphoria playing across her face. “I’ve missed this so much. The last time I fed Rita was when I was home in August, she was still a sophomore then. Now she is 16, all growed up. Is she still going to attend SWS when she graduates Mom?”

“I think so,” Alexandria speculated as her right hand set the pace of the bobbing young head on the nine inch girth of her pipe. “The hot rumour out is that they are opening a new chapter of Optimis Utriusque Mundi in Utrecht for the next school year. I’m

sure that will be an attractive destination for some of the girls, just like Berlin was for us when that sorority was first opened.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” her sister concurred, her hand disapassionately travelling up and down the eight inch length of her younger niece’s tool. “But I think she’d enjoy living in our little conclave here. Because we own everything on the street, we can afford to be a little less circumspect than the sororities. And who knows, if she does well at school, maybe she gets her own little girl like Charlotte here.”

Once more she glanced downwards at the leaking cock, then leaned to her left a bit and watched the fluttering blue eyes of Rita Rae Richfield as she devoured mouthful after mouthful of her sister’s fudge. “Cum Rita Baby,” she cooed. “Cum now for your Aunt Lauren. Cum while you eat Charlotte’s tasty shit Sweetie, Cum now.”

Rita Rae Richfield’s esophagus flexed at a regulated pace as blooming assflower forcing her lips apart continued piling more filth into her mouth and her stiff member was pumped at a slow building rhythm. She was so close now, so, so close and she could feel herself starting to round in her middle. Charlie had a lot to give her this morning which was good because she had completely emptied herself into the young Wellington girl at breakfast. Such a beauty she was, even at 14. She and her mother had lithe figures but the wheat blonde hair, the violet eyes, also features that were apparently strong in their genetics and the slight Asian tinge in her facial structure courtesy of her other parent made her something to truly behold. And she had sat upon that lovely visage and filled her full of her slimy sludge.

Now as she herself lay beneath the spread cheeks to serve as another’s toilet, the soft voice of her aunt urging her climb to quicken, the picture in her mind’s eye of the pale haired freshman beneath her dreamily devouring her shit, these things pushed her lust into a frenzied loop. More and more of her sister’s mud poured in, more and more her hips arched trying desperately to urge the hand that milked her to further her arousal. A bit more, a bit more, a bit more, and then yes, yes, YES! YES!! YES!!! Over the edge of her ecstasy she careened. She could feel her seed rocketing up her length to blissful freedom as she was filled up was waste. So bitter, so sweet, over and over and over she spurted, her eyes closed, her hands holding tight her place deep in the furrow. She’d missed this. She’d missed this so much.

Though all seven of the homes on Cranston Close were impressive in their own right, there was little doubt that the one at the very end stood alone in this regard. Regal in grey brick and columns, it’s 12 foot high windows curtained in dark blue velvet, it’s front garden thick and luscious with growth, it was built on a slight rise giving on the impression that in some way it stood over and protected the rest of the buildings on the street. In some respects, this wasn’t too far off as this was the residence of the community’s founder, Bianca Wellington.

At 59 years old the former English woman had been bundled out of town to live with Canadian relatives when she was high-school aged, uprooting her from her Cambridge childhood. After receiving her doctorate from the University of Toronto in Finance, she jumped from bubble to bubble on the market with her inheritance eventually amassing enough to buy out her brother’s shipping interests in Manila on her 32^nd birthday. By that time Belinda, a product an ill advised one night stand, was two years old. It was clear given their similarities in physical endowments that, as a girl with a cock, she would face many of the same difficulties in life her mother did.

She had heard of Libereco and looked up their policies on immigration but found they had a hard and fast law against allowing residency to anyone under the age of 14 on the island. Nonetheless she made arrangements to visit the community arriving in Aarhus, Denmark on the Thursday. To their credit, her contact there, Demetrea Lockhart, arranged for a certified nurse as well as nursing students to act as nannies. Apparently, they had a sorority house in town for those wishing a university education in one of the port town’s post secondary institutions. It was agreed that while she was away they would put together a room for the two year old Belinda and watch over her. After spending a night there, she caught the ferry to begin her three day visit.

But three days turned into a week, and then two, then finally a month. During that time, she was given the procedure she had come to find out everyone underwent once they set foot on the island. Her six inch cock, only two inches thick before, grew and thickened. It now measured nine inches and length and eight inches in girth when hard. She now pissed exclusively through a small hole between her balls and ass that had been created for this purpose. Her reproductive organs had been removed but kept alive. Her ovaries would still produce eggs they had explained though at a slower pace of roughly three or four a year. It had become a necessity once the unique properties of the drinking water had taken hold in her body the doctors had divulged. Over the next month they kept her restrained, whittling down her resistance, and then training her to be a willing toilet for others. Again and again she was made to arch her seed into the air while devouring the slimy mud of others only to shit it out afterwards so they could massage it into her writhing body. Initially it was a small circle of medical professionals that dealt with her initial reluctance. But as slid deeper and deeper into the muddy depravity she noticed new faces smiling down upon her, new fleshy flowers forcing her lips to part before pushing their slime down her throat, new hands and fingers sensually urging forth her lust. Her waking hours melded together into one long orgy of servitude and bliss as she began to eagerly offer herself up to any in need.

Finally satisfied that her conditioning was permanent, they granted her freedom from her bondage and a compromise was reached. While they would not allow her to immigrate with Belinda to their community, they were open to an expansion overseas so long as the ‘Law of 14’, as they called it, would be respected. A financial alliance was drawn up then. Her shipping interests while not overly large, had a lot of growth potential. At the end of it all the two parties had agreed to fold it into the holding company Libereco Industries. In return they would create a concern named simply Diaspora that they would fund from their coffers. The goal of the last was to search out a suitable location for a second full fledged futamute community off island and build it. And Bianca Wellington would be at it’s head. Several candidates were promising and files were kept on all, but in the end they settled on a upper class cul-de-sac in a small west Texas university town.

The blonde woman spent the rest of the summer at the sorority house in Aarhus with the redheaded Demetrea and a few others. Naturally, with the holidays, it was not as full as it might have been, but there had been enough students there to feed her developing appetite. One of them had been young Cynthia Jin, a freshman from Australia whose father had been Mandarin Chinese. Much like herself, she had recently undergone her futamutation and although she was 14 years her junior, each had an instant attraction to the other. The three of them, Bianca, Cynthia, and Demetrea, along with baby Belinda flew out of Copenhagen that September, and within the week were the first residents of the recently purchased mansions of Cranston Close.