Chapter 28

Ron Parker waited up. When his son came through the door with Miriam on his heels, he rasped, "What did I tell you about bringing that porky little bitch over here? If she's gonna parade around here naked, I'm gonna expect..." his voice trailed off. "What the fuck?"

"I brought you a little something, Pa," Frank replied, maintaining a straight face.

"A little something is right," Ron grunted, eyeing Abigail. "Where'd you get her -- a concentration camp?"

Abigail was unperturbed. "Frank says you're hard on women. Well, I might not look like much, but men have been hard on me all my adult life and I'm still here."

Ron eyed her. "They could've fuckin' fed you. And that STILL don't explain why you're here..."

Abigail looked away. "I miss taking somebody's shit, I guess."

"You wanna run that by me again?" Ron asked, confused.

"I was watching Frank put Miriam through her paces and, I dunno, something attracted me about it," Abigail murmured. "It's hard to explain. It's attention, even if it isn't pleasant."

"They're probably gonna yak all night," Frank growled at Miriam. "Get naked and get me a beer."

"Yes, Sir." Miriam started coming out of her clothes. She wasn't smiling, visibly -- but Frank could sense her attitude.

Ron eyed Abigail. "So what the fuck am I supposed to do with you?"

"You'll think of something."

Ron stood there, ruminating. He could ask stupid questions like, 'Do you fuck?' but she'd pretty much answered that just by being there. He could put her scrawny ass on the doorstep, but he would be cutting off his nose to spite his face since he needed to get laid. And Frank would take his porky little slip upstairs and fuck the dog shit out of her -- loudly -- and if he pissed and moaned about it Frank would point out that he'd TRIED to take care of it...

"Get naked," he erupted.

"Here?" There was no surprise in her voice -- she was just asking.

"Yeah, that way if I don't like what I see I can just toss you and your shit out the door," Ron replied -- but Abigail was already undressing, there in the doorway.

She was painfully thin, bony, and bowed, and had titties that looked like someone had shoved a pair of jelly donuts under the skin on her chest and stuck a mini marshmallow in the center of each -- but they had slid some. They came away from her chest when she leaned forward to get out of her shoes -- which were all she was wearing besides the baggy housedress she'd thrown over her head.

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" Ron grunted.

"No." Abigail knew what to say. Tom had trained her to such things long ago.

"Get in here. Find Porky and get her to show you the refrigerator..."

"That's Slut, Pa!" Frank yelled from the den. "Get it right!"

Miriam was padding through the living room at that point with a beer in her hand. Her lips quirked at the yell, but when Ron turned his attention to her, she schooled her features before he could take them in. Abigail saw it, but she was an old hand at such things, so she gave no sign she'd seen anything.

"Miriam, could you show me the kitchen?" Abigail asked.

"Master?" Miriam called, knowing Frank was listening.

"Do it!" Frank called back, "Then hustle your ass in here!"

Miriam waved Abigail forward and led her off to the kitchen. "Well?"

"Thus far? This is nothing," Abigail replied. "It's attention. Tom didn't want to be around me -- and if he had to be, he wanted me to pay for it. If Frank's father just wants me around to abuse, it's an improvement."

"I get that," Miriam replied, nodding. "Gotta go!" She hustled out of the room, grinning. Abigail reached into the refrigerator, removed a beer and was closing the door when Frank erupted, "It's about time!" The rest of the comment was a mumble, so she couldn't make it out as she rushed to follow the younger woman.

Entering the den, she took in Miriam and Frank -- Miriam was knelt up before him where he sat on the couch, presenting an open beer, her head down. Tom hadn't gone this far, but Frank was looking at Abigail, not Miriam, and Abigail got the hint. Circling in front of the recliner Ron was sitting in, she went to her knees, cracked the seal on the beer can and presented it as Miriam was doing it for Frank.

Ron grunted, took the beer, and crossed his ankles behind Abigail's spare butt, forcing her up onto her knees further. He took the cold beer and pressed it against the side of her left breast, then watched her shiver and her nipple pop. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry, S-sir..." Shivering evoked a stammer.

Ron removed the beer, switched hands, and started toying with the erected nipple. "So what's your sad story?" 'What the fuck would induce you to come here and let me fuck with you like this?' he added mentally.

"I lost my virginity and became pregnant in one act," Abigail related. "To him, I was a stupid bitch that provided a one-night stand with some unwelcome consequences -- but my father is influential and he made the guy marry me, although he didn't require my husband to be faithful. Daddy just wanted his ugly daughter to have a father for her baby -- and he got that -- but we hated each other, of course. He resented me and wanted as little contact as possible, but he wanted something for his trouble, so he got service. I cooked and I cleaned and when he couldn't find anyone to take care of his needs, he reluctantly used me to masturbate him with whatever hole seemed most tempting -- and of course, he wasn't nice about it."

Ron grunted. "Where is this guy?"

Abigail shrugged. "Home. Or out drinking and hunting for something to sink his dick into, since it's Friday. We're not divorced -- the papers have barely been served. I moved out early in the week."

"So you're looking for a new sucker to hang off of..." Ron hazarded.

"No. I have a place to live and a job and they seem to agree with me. I don't see me getting tied down again soon."

"Then why ARE you here?" Ron queried.

Abigail glanced over at Frank and Miriam. She was stretched out on the couch with her head in his lap and his cock in her mouth and he was playing with her right nipple. "I was watching them at the party and some of it was familiar and some of it is what I'm looking for and I thought, 'I can do that to get that... ' Frank mentioned that he needed someone to distract you and I volunteered."

"What is 'that'?" Ron asked.

"Attention, I think. I wouldn't know what to do with love or anything..." Abigail looked away.

Ron uncrossed his ankles and waved her back, then stood. "Undress me." Abigail went straight to his shoes and worked her way up, socks, jeans, underwear, T-shirt. She didn't stop at his cock -- that wasn't what he'd instructed him to do. When she was done, they were both standing, inches from one another, Ron looking down at her. "What's your name?"

"Abigail."

"Abby."

"Yes." This wasn't the time to go into whether it was formal or not.

"Turn around, slowly." Abigail did so. Objectively, she was homely, and looked like she'd seen hard use, but nothing really stood out for Ron as being physically unacceptable. "Fine. Are you wet?" Ron reached out to check for himself. Abigail spread her stance and let him rub her pussy, looking back at him calmly. She WAS wet, but not dripping -- it probably wasn't enough for easy penetration. He settled back into the recliner. "If there's any truth in that tale, you can suck dick. Get me good and hard and crawl on it." Ron was regretting the six-pack he'd had to drink; alcohol might have been an advantage in abusing Miriam while getting a blowjob, making him last longer -- but now that he had his own piece, it meant he wasn't at his best.

Abigail had been choked by an expert -- and Ron wasn't bothering to try -- so she gave him a serious effort. Ron started out lank, but in no time at all, Abigail was shoving a stiff cock past the opening in her throat. Ron had just a touch more length to him than Tom, but was a bit narrower -- except for the head, which was a bulbous plum atop his hard stalk. It was a challenge, but Abigail approached it with relish.

'This bitch is seriously fucking talented, ' Ron thought, awash with pleasure. 'She's a serious knob-polisher.' "Better get up here," he directed, "I want to nut in your twat, not your mouth -- this time, anyway."

Abigail climbed carefully into the chair and squatted over Ron's cock. It was wet with her spit, and she'd gotten wetter inside, so all was more or less in readiness as she rubbed his fat glans along her gash and seated it at her opening. Pressing down, she forced it through the ring at her opening and then adjusted her stance to make sure she could post on it properly, then slowly impaled herself, allowing his probe to open her vagina inch by inch. When he was in to the root, she put her hands on her bony thighs and began to post.

Ron reached up and collected both of her nipples, watching her face. It was composed, watching him -- except for her nostrils which were open wide, pulling in air. Her eyes started out calm, but after a few strokes, they began to glow. She was enjoying herself, no doubt about it -- which Ron didn't have a problem with, because he was enjoying himself, too! Abigail shifted her grip to the chair arms, but that didn't seem to be getting it, either, so Ron released her nipples and held out his hands and she laced her fingers in his and continued to pump. She kept her mouth shut, panting through her nose, but Ron watched her eyes get wilder and wilder until she started to jerk and shake -- and her eyes popped and Ron could see the wash of pleasure in them and feel her cunt clamping down rhythmically on his cock. He got through that orgasm, thanks to the level of alcohol in his blood, he figured -- but it wouldn't happen again.

Abigail didn't have a whole lot of endurance, though. Watching her, Ron realized when rising and falling on his cock began to be a struggle and arousal began losing the battle with exhaustion. Since Ron wasn't finished, this was a problem... 'Time to quit fucking around, ' Ron thought and sat up. "Hang on!" He wrapped his arms around Abigail's slight body, scooted to the edge of the chair, got his legs under him and stood. He wasn't Superman; only the fact that Abigail weighed maybe a hundred ten pounds soaking wet made it possible, but it was. Abigail wrapped her legs around him as he stood there, and he got thoughtful, then directed, "Lean back some." Abigail did and Ron used the grip of his hands on her back to slide her up and down the length of his cock a few times, then turned to Frank and Miriam, who were watching in surprise, and said, "Go ahead -- I dare ya!" Then, grinning, he pulled Abigail back in and headed for his bedroom.

Somehow, he managed to get Abigail onto her back on his bed without having to disconnect from her, an effort that made him proud of himself. Draped above her with her lags over the insides of his elbows, he announced, "NOW we're gonna fuck!" -- and started pouring the meat to Abigail at an urgent pace, his hips snapping as he drove himself deep into her.

If Tom had ever fucked Abigail like this, it had been very early in their relationship -- that first night, perhaps. Tom would have been looking for a way to hurt her -- and Ron seemed to have forgotten to bother. Ron was just fucking -- a command performance, certainly, and one that established his dominance, but there was no underlying layer of menace. Looked at another way, it wasn't 'just fucking' -- it was more like 'seriously fucking' -- Ron wasn't just masturbating himself with her pussy, either. No, he was watching her eyes, gauging her responses, looking for signs of that next impending orgasm.

That recognition was enough to bring on the orgasm he was looking to create in her -- it flashed through her like an electromagnetic pulse, causing her to undulate under him. Ron grinned tightly and continued to stroke, his urgency temporarily attenuated by the trip to the bedroom just enough that she didn't bring him off this time, either, when her cunt started clutching on its own.

He was an animal -- and she loved it! She gazed back into his predatory eyes, acknowledging his superiority, feeding his ego with her willing submission. Already, he had provided more than enough reason for her to allow him to plunder her body any way he chose. She rubbed his flanks and urged him on non-verbally, wanting his seed, wanting to watch as the cataclysm of his release overcame him. She got tunnel vision and sparks began to flicker around the edges, and she realized that she was going to implode again -- and Ron grinned above her and seemed to find another gear and she knew the race was on...

She was on the cusp -- only one more stroke and she would peak -- but he beat her to it and set her off simultaneously by jamming himself deep and firing a jet of semen dead on target at the center of her cervix! Abigail screamed, breaking her silence shockingly -- and seemed to grow tentacles, clutching Ron to her as he erupted inside her again and again! Ron succumbed to the rolling clutch of Abigail's vagina and pumped semen long after he would normally have stopped, then continued to pulse even after he had nothing left to deliver!

Ron got control and grunted, "Hang on, I'm rolling us over," and did so, putting Abigail on top and himself on his back. Then he dragged at the bedclothes until they were half-covered, at least, and said, "I'm going to fucking sleep. You just stay where you are." Abigail nodded into his neck -- she had no interest in letting go of him, anyway.

Frank eyed Miriam, who was posting on his cock in a manner similar to what Abigail had been doing with Ron in the chair, and said, "I think Pa is handled for tonight." Miriam smiled back and went on chasing the mutual orgasm they were working their way toward. After a moment, Frank started hunching up from below -- this wasn't going to take long...

It was late -- VERY late -- four a.m. Amy couldn't sleep. <I'm worried... >

Toby knew why; they were cuddled together, so he had the full gestalt. <Do you know where they are?>

<Yes.>

<Let's get dressed.> They did so and went out and got into Toby's car, hand in hand, and Amy navigated them to Tyrone's -- a location she'd pulled from his mind earlier in the evening unconsciously as a bit of data on the fringes of the main stream. They pulled into the driveway and shut off the car, knowing that they were perfectly safe there. <Cindy and Beverly are asleep, > Toby related, <So is Mrs. Baker.>

<Otis is -- but Tyrone isn't.> Amy linked Toby to the turmoil in Tyrone's mind.

It had started an hour or so before, when a stray tendril of Cindy's blonde hair tickled Tyrone's nose, awakening him. Instead of being a momentary thing to be batted away and forgotten as sleep reclaimed him, it was a trigger for his mind to go into overdrive. Things had changed, radically, and he would have to change with them if the future that had opened before him was going to be attainable.

Ghetto black wasn't going to cut it anymore -- not if he was going to keep Cindy -- and he WAS going to keep Cindy! Tyrone could do what needed to be done -- but Otis? That wasn't clear...

<Hmmm. Do we help him?> Toby asked.

<We used him. We used Otis. I think it is only fair. I don't think we can afford to shut him down totally as planned, either. He has a plan -- but he'll need his powers... >

<We can't have him just wandering around, suborning people!> Toby protested.

<He won't. Take a look... > Amy showed him the depths; Tyrone was maturing and realizing that he couldn't afford to be heavy-handed. Cindy and Beverly were done, but he could soften that, even. At this point, they were better off with Tyrone and Otis, anyway -- some deep cravings had been triggered in both girls and papering them over wouldn't work -- or wouldn't last. They'd become women at a basic level -- the one that existed in the bad old days before society became enlightened -- the one that didn't require higher thought. They were female animals, and they responded to alpha males instinctively now, and were thoroughly imprinted with himself and Otis as those alpha males -- and they would present themselves to be sexed -- even impregnated. Tyrone would have to talk to Otis about that. It was the easy, obvious way to deal with the girls' parents -- but it wasn't the SMART way...