Chapter 8

“Are you sure it’s gonna be okay?” asked Alison. She was sitting in the back of a black London taxi, sandwiched between her parents.

“Yes, honeypot,” replied her mother, “Professor Cuntslicker has sorted it all out. The black boy has left the country – isn’t that right, Bill? – and he knows not to come back. His sister now knows that it wasn’t your fault, and is really sorry for hurting you. She wants to make it up to you – isn’t that good?”

Alison wasn’t so sure. It sounded good in theory. But how come Eva had suddenly changed her mind? And how exactly was she going to make it up? What the fuck was actually going on? Alison furrowed her brow suspiciously.

It was two weeks since Eva had sunk her teeth into Alison’s breast. Thanks to the tender fucking care of Nurse Buns and Dr Taylor, who had taken Alison under their wing, you could barely see the scars any more. And last night Buns, Cat and Claire had all come round to the Titz to give Alison her first full-on double-tit-sucking slut-fuck in a fortnight – and, as Alison had put it, “it was fucking!”

The taxi driver had his radio on – playing an old classic with a modern five-four twist:

Strangers in the fucking night
exchanging fucking glances,
wondering in the fucking night
what were the fucking chances
we’d be fucking sharing cum
before the fucking night was through.

“Ah, I remember this song from my childhood!” reminisced Alison’s father dreamily. “You know, Jill, it originally just went...”

“Mommy,” interrupted Alison, ignoring her father, “I’ve been wondering: why did Rob admit fault? He could just have sided with Eva. That way I’d have been the one in trouble, and he wouldn’t have needed to leave the country.”

“I don’t know, sweet cunt. But isn’t it good that he did?”

Alison looked pensively out of the window. Something didn’t quite add up, and she felt sure that her parents were concealing something. But she soon forgot about it, lost in the sights of London: the billboards, the theatres, the parks, and all the people fucking, fucking everywhere. This was a wonderful city: free, carefree, and full of lust and pleasure.

Something in your fucking cunt
was so in-fucking-viting,
something in your fucking ass
was so ex-fucking-citing,
something in my fucking balls
told me I fucking must fuck you.

Alison cast her mind back over the past two weeks – the strangest ever in her life. She remembered Eva’s attack: the agonising pain in her breast which shot outwards all over her body; the dizziness, the clamminess, the shock; the blood which coursed down her chest and abdomen. She remembered Anna rushing her to the medical centre, Buns injecting her wounded breast, binding it tight, and rushing her in an ambulance to Farts, where Dr Taylor put her immediately on Medical Regeneration (“MR”). She remembered Claire and Bradley and Harriet visiting her in hospital that evening, bringing her her favourite dildo – “to make you feel better,” Claire had said. Alison’s parents had arrived from Cunthorpe later that night as she lay in hospital having her cunt licked by Nurse Cat. (“Therapussy®! Nothing quite like it!” Cat had said, grinning as her long tongue delved deep, her own cat-flaps dripping and dangling behind her.)

Healing Alison’s tit had been the most straightforward part. It was the incessant questioning which had upset her the most. Cunts had visited the next morning: “Could it possibly have been an accident?” – “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to provoke it?”

Then, that afternoon, Dick-Dick had visited twice: “How well do you know Rob Daniels?” – and later: “Did you ever give him any reason to believe – forgive me, Alison, if this is upsetting, but I have to ask this – that you were in any way in love with him?” The next morning it had been: “Alison, you have been accused of declaring love to a black man. What do you have to say to that?”

At least on Wednesday Alison had been allowed to come off MR, and could go and join her parents at their suite in the Titz, to convalescence. Her parents had pampered her for the rest of the week, even treating her, upon Buns’ recommendation, to daily Therapussy® sessions from the in-house fuck-therapist. Claire had visited every evening after lectures, and, on the therapist’s instructions, had limited her attentions to gently licking Alison’s clit and dildoing her cunt. “No tit-play, and no weird positions – there must be no pressure on that tit for at least another week!”

But the next week, for some reason, things had changed. Her parents, who had until then seemed grave and serious, had suddenly announced, with some relief, that Rob had left the country, and that he had admitted that he had been the one to have declared love. Eva, apparently, now knowing this, regretted her actions, and was being readmitted to the Academy. “But it’s strange,” Claire had said as she and Alison shared an ice-cream cone one afternoon by the pool at the Titz, “Eva’s really quiet now, and is keeping herself to herself. No wonder, after what she did to you: everyone knows it was her fault. But she’s even avoiding Chad. The first morning she got back, Chad was there trying to shove his dick down her throat, and she told him to fuck off!”

“Fucking!” Alison replied with a broad grin, holding the cone out so Claire could have a lick. Claire twirled her tongue seductively around the top of the cone, letting some ice cream smear gently across her lips.

“But another thing,” Claire continued, as ice cream dribbled down her chin, “Cunts is not looking good. It’s almost like she’s ‘aged’! She’s been really grumpy – no, I mean, really grumpy, not just the normal strict. She’s been suddenly bursting out with things like, ‘This is the age of Pleasure!’” Claire proceeded to imitate Cunts’ voice at its most strident, pushing out her flattish chest and sticking her balled fists under her blouse to give an impression of Cunts’ huge tits – thereby inducing a fit of giggles in Alison. “‘Pleasure is what makes society function and cohere. Don’t let anyone deceive you with talk of “love” or any other such bullshit...!’ Something’s really rattled her: she’s been taking days off for illness, and Dick-Dick has been covering for her at the last minute. Sometimes she even looks like she’s been crying – either that, or she’s being throatfucked by a horse!” Claire laughed uproariously; Alison held back from giggling, for fear of causing pain to her still-tender right tit.

Claire took a deep lick from the cone and then stuck out her ice cream-coated tongue so that her friend could share her mouthful. Alison reciprocated, entangling tongues with Claire and slurping softly at her lips. Some ice cream accidentally dripped onto her tits.

“Owwww!” squealed Alison, feeling the cold bite into her still-tender right breast.

“Ooh, sorry sorry sorry!” said Claire. “My fault for being too frisky. Shall I lick it off?”

“Nooooo!” replied Alison. “Too sensitive still. Just let me wipe it off with my fingers...” Then, with a cheeky grin on her face, she grabbed the ice cream cone and, in one swift mischievous movement, reached down to squelch the ice cream end into Claire’s pussy.

Alison expected Claire to squeal from the cold – but instead her eyes rolled upwards in ecstasy. “Oh fuck, Al, that’s so good. I love vanilla in my cunt.”

“Can I lick it out?”

“Fuck yeah!”

The taxi was now driving up Charing Cock Road, and Alison enjoyed looking at what shows were playing in the West End: Fleshlight Express, The Lion Cunt, Fucker on the Roof... “Help me with my butt-plug, sweet cunt,” said Alison’s mother, interrupting her reverie, “I think it needs a bit more lube.” She shuffled her bottom upwards, removing a bright purple, slightly fluorescent, slowly pulsating plug from her asshole and brandishing it in front of Alison’s face.

“Fucking! “exclaimed Alison in admiration. “Is this a new model, dad?” she asked as she sucked it into her mouth, savouring the taste of her mother’s ass.

“Not yet released! Bates Auto Plus Plug 2051” replied her father. “Your mommy’s testing it out for us. But we’re still having some trouble with the self-lube technology. Lube it up for your mom, will you?”

Alison did as instructed, sticking the plug into her own asshole with a gentle squelch and then returning it, coated with a thick layer of her ass-slime, to her mother, who slid it back up her rectum with a sigh of relief. “Oh Bill, isn’t it good that we have a daughter with a GM asshole?”

“But Dad,” interrupted Alison, “now that more and more people are getting GM asses, won’t it be bad for business? I mean, girls with total gape control don’t need plugs to stretch them out.”

“Well, we’re developing new ranges all the time. This one, once we’ve perfected it, will be totally auto-programming. Not just self-lubing, but it adapts itself to any asshole shape and size, auto-cleans the rectum so there’s no poop accidents, intelligently induces maximum gape in the wearer by stimulating the rectal walls and automatically sensing gape-width. It will even pulsate rhythmically in tandem with whether you’re being fucked in the cunt, or even just rubbing your clit. Oh, and it beeps when you need a poop! But hey – another golden oldie! Remember this one, Jill? We used to fuck to this at uni...” From the radio Alison could now hear:

When I grew up and fell in lust
I asked my fucker, “What lies ahead?
Will we have assfucks day after day?”
Here’s what my fucker said:
“Que sera, sera...”

And soon they were on Maryleboner Road, and pulling up outside the Royal Academy of Fucking. Surprisingly, though, neither Andy nor Anna was at the reception desk. Instead there was a skinny red-headed girl with freckles and huge GM tits bulging under her tank-top, chewing a large wad of gum and blowing bubbles as she worked. As Alison and her parents approached, the girl was blowing a bubble larger than her head, which suddenly popped all over her face and hair, making her look – Alison thought – as if she had just taken a massive pink facial.

“Hi,” said Alison tentatively, “lick my pussy. I’m ... Alison Bates. I think Professor Cuntslicker is expecting us in her office...”

“Oh yes, Alison!” said the girl as she peeled gum off her face and stuffed it back into her mouth. “Eat my cunt, I’m Angie.” Angie stood up and shook Alison’s hand warmly, leaving a little dribble of saliva on her fingers. “Cunts is expecting you. Go right on up.”

“New receptionist,” commented Alison to her parents, licking Angie’s sweet bubblegum-flavoured spit off her hand as they started up the stairs. “I wonder where Anna and Andy are...” Alison’s parents looked at each other nervously, but said nothing.

It wasn’t Cunts in Cunts’ office after all, but Dick-Dick, leaning against the desk and smiling broadly, though looking slightly nervous as he welcomed the Bates family with the usual formalities: “Cock”... “Pussy”... “Bitch” ... And standing next to Dick-Dick, wearing a pair of short daisy dukes and a tight blue bikini top which showed off the distinctive shape of her bulging GM tits and pierced nipples – was Eva.

Alison stopped in her tracks, her heart suddenly pounding hard as a terrifying cocktail of emotions washed over her. There was silence in the room, as the two girls eyed each other up nervously, and the adults watched with apprehension. Instinctively, part of Alison was terrified, and her fists tightened, ready to defend herself. Another part of her wanted revenge, and she imagined sinking her own teeth into Eva’s body, making the bitch scream and writhe in pain as she had done to her. But instead Alison stood still, the emotions swirling around in her head, her body trembling, her heart pounding, and her breath coming in short fast pants.

Eva did not attack. She looked scared herself, her eyes moist as if she had been struggling to control tears. Then she slowly stepped forward, her head bowed, her hands clasped together nervously. “Alison,” she said, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a fucking bitch. Please forgive me.”

Alison stood still. Out of her peripheral vision she vaguely noticed the three adults smiling encouragingly, while her lips trembled, her heart pounded, and the tears welled up behind her eyes. The silence seemed to go forever, as Eva waited trembling, and the adults watched in nervous anticipation. “Why should I forgive her?” thought Alison to herself. “I could make her suffer now. I could turn her into an outcast, I could humiliate her, I could get her thrown in jail – maybe even culled! And – Jesus fucking Christ – wouldn’t that be good...!” But she caught sight of her mother’s nervous smile, and some of her wisest words, taught to her from earliest childhood, came to mind: “Remember, true fuckers want nothing more than to give pleasure. In this Enlightened world we live in, there is to be no more jealousy, or possessiveness, or revenge, or love. Only Pleasure.”

Alison took a deep breath, then said, awkwardly: “Eva ... Can I eat your cunt?”

“Oh, yes please!” replied Eva, her voice tinkling with relief. A grin broke out across her face, happy tears leaking from her pretty eyes. The three adults applauded and whooped. Suddenly, Alison thought, Eva looked more beautiful than ever before, her fine-featured face framed by her loose brown afro, which waved and bounced gently as she approached, kissing Alison on the lips. Slowly Alison knelt and pulled Eva’s shorts down, smelling the gentle perfume of fresh morning pussy. Alison looked up, raising her eyebrows just to check whether it was still okay; Eva nodded encouragingly. “I remember when you asked me if you could eat my cunt at the Freshers’ Fuck. I was such a bitch then, I’m sorry.”