Rent Party! Written by Throne (Patreon)

 RENT PARTY!

by Throne

© 2019-2050 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]

 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

**DEVIN DICKIE NOTE**

All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real. The acts in the following written work are only consensual sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.

Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please alert the authorities.

 RENT PARTY! by Throne

"Let's have a look at you, Tulip," said Mara.

"Please, dear," came Tommy's uncertain voice from the hallway. "If I could just change into some of my old clothes."

"That's not going to happen," she told him firmly. "Now get your pansy ass out here."

He entered the living room reluctantly. His wife was standing there with her hands on her hips. Mara was a hot blond with an exceptionally big bust. At that moment, her pretty face was made over by an expression of stern rebuke. When she saw her spouse, however, her look was remade with a sadistic grin. She laughed openly at his appearance.

"Honey," he said, his voice a strained whisper. "Please don't laugh at me."

"Are you kidding? I can't help it, seeing what you're wearing." "But darling, this is what you left out for me to put on."

 "I know." She stifled her laughter while she looked him up and down.

Tommy was a sight to see. The short and slightly built man had on a top made of flimsy see-through material. It was like a vest and there wasn't enough of it to close in the front. Instead, it had ties which drew the sides toward each other, while still leaving the center of his unmanly chest bare. It also ended in the region of his bottom rib. It's limited coverage made it clear that he had no body hair, which his wife had gotten removed via treatments that assured it would never return. Along with the top, and in matching pink, were a pair of panties that had only a narrow strip in the back, what is sometimes called 'butt floss'. His brief outfit was completed by color-coordinated stockings with elastic tops. He stood there, thighs pressed together, arms wrapped around his inadequate torso.

She told him, "All you need now is some make-up and a little work done on your hair, and you'll be ready to go out."

"But you can't take me anywhere," he protested. "Not like this."

"Of course I can," she said firmly. "What's the point of getting you all prettied up, if no one else gets to see it?"

"Where are you going to take me?" he wanted to know.

"All in good time. First, I have to decide on what face I want to give you. How about... Hmmm... something slutty?"

"I don't understand why..."

 She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Remember how I got you to introduce your buddy Paul to my friend Gem?"

"Well... yes."

"She had him move in with her a few months ago, and they've developed a relationship like ours."

"You mean...?"

Mara chuckled. "Yep. She turned him into a wimpy sissy, like I did to you."

"That's terrible. I never meant for that to happen."

"Of course you didn't, you dimwit. It was my idea. And Gem thought it was wonderful. Now, it's time to get the two of you candy-asses together."

"He'll blame me for what she did to him."

"I hope so. I will be amusing to hear you apologize about it."

Before he could say more, she sat him at her vanity table and turned on the lights that surrounded the mirror. Mara went to work, with him watching his reflection. He had to witness the transformation as she used foundation, eyebrow pencil, shadow, mascara, blush, and especially lipstick – a shade called Magenta Madness – to give him a new image. He had to watch his limited maleness being erased by the generous application of cosmetics.

 By the end, he barely recognized himself, instead seeing a trashy girl staring back at him. Mara back-combed his hair, teased it some, and then used spray to keep it as full and wild as she had made it. Now he not only appeared whorish, but with a touch of punk rocker as well. Tommy sobbed with self-pity.

Mara said, "All dressed up and somewhere to go." "Please, let me stay here."

"Nonsense. I won't let all my efforts remain unseen. You and Paul are going to get to see each other for the first time as your sissy selves."

"Are we going to his place? Or Gem's?"

"Neither," Mara said. "Where you two are being taken is a surprise. All I'm going to say is that there'll be a Saturday night party when we get there."

"Are you telling me that other people will see me like this?" "For sure. They'll see you and your faggot friend."

"But I'm not gay. He isn't, either."

"Not yet, you aren't," she said enigmatically. "Let's get you into

the car."

Tommy sniffled. This was all happening too swiftly. She gave him tiny ruby slippers and hustled him out the back door and along

 the breezeway that led to the garage. He soon found himself in the front of the car, with his wife buckling his seatbelt. She used the electric garage-door opener and backed out. Her husband shuddered. People in other cars would be able to see him, that fluffed hair, his made-up face, and bare shoulders with the pink spaghetti straps of his abbreviated top over them. Every time they stopped at a red light, he cringed down further into his seat, and each time she told him to straighten up. He was sure she was halting at intersections even before the traffic signal had fully changed. Curious eyes focused on him as he sat there in deep and deepening shame. At last they reached their destination. It was deep in the city, in a disreputable neighborhood. He saw several Black youths lounging around, paying attention to the car after it pulled up to the curb. Mara got out and made him do the same.

"Hey," said a dangerous looking young man. "Welcome to the hood. Garret said to watch for you. Don't worry, pretty lady. On this street, nobody messes with Garret's friends, and he said you're his newest friend."

"Thank you," she said easily. "I'm looking forward to his party." "And you brought the entertainment," said the dark-skinned local. Mara chortled. "I certainly did."

Tommy was in a dither from everything that had happened already. He feared worse was yet to come. The youthful resident pointed to the door of the apartment building in front of which he stood, and asked if she wanted an escort. Her husband wished the other gang-types would stop eyeing him with unnatural interest.

 He was relieved when she said she was fine on her own and proceeded into the building, with himself trailing along. Once they were in, she took a rickety elevator to the third floor and went to the door where the gathering was. When it was opened, Tommy was unsettled to see the place full of more Black folks, along with several white girls who resembled strippers in both their builds and skimpy clothing.

A tall Black male opened his arms to Mara and said, "There's my new bitch. How you doing, girl?"

"I'm fine, Garret. It's about time my husband met the real man I've been seeing while he was at work."

"Word. Time for the truth to come out." He peered at Tommy. "What you doing, being married to this fine piece of flesh?"

"I'm just..." Tommy was having trouble speaking. "She only..."

"Whatever," said Garret. He told Tommy, "You can just call me Big G. Or else Sir."

"Yes." Tommy nodded. "Of course, Sir. Um... Mr. G."

Mara wanted to know, "Did Gem get here yet, with her loser husband?"

"She called. Be here soon." He cupped Tommy's chin in his wide hand and spoke to him. "This here is a rent party. We raising some money to help a brother pay what he owes. You be doing

 your part later. Right now, head over to the kitchen and see what you can do for Sister."

"Your sister?" Tommy asked.

"No, you stupid Tootsie. That's her name. Sister." "Oh. Right. I see."

Garret pointed him toward the kitchen and sent him on his way with a slap on his panty-covered rear. Tommy yelped and scampered away. He found the kitchen, where a full-figured Black gal was obviously running things. He froze where he stood and gaped at her voluminous yet shapely form, which was contained in a red dress of some stretchy material that was strained to its limits.

"Uh, excuse me," he said cautiously. "Are you Sister?"

"Damn right I am. You must be that party favor the white girl was bringing. Ha! What's your name, princess? Not your boy name. Your fairy name."

"I'm... err... my wife calls me Tulip."

"Whoa. A pretty name for a pretty sissy. Well, Two-lips, here's a tray of snacks. You can take it around and offer them to all them fine folks."

"Oh." She put the tray in his hands. "I can do that."

 What he said and what he was thinking were two different things. Tommy didn't want to circulate among the party-goers. He was intimidated by them. Someone put on music, loud and with an insistent rhythm. He went numbly to the crowded living room and approached a knot of guest who were smoking and drinking.

"Hello," he said nervously. "Would you like an hors d'oeuvre?"

A short, broadly built, Black guy glared at Tommy. "A what? A whore-dirt? Are you talking down to us, boy?"

"No, Sir."

"It sure sounded like you were. What you got there?" "Some... snacks."

"That's different." He took one off the tray. His companions each

helped themselves.

From behind, someone put their hand on Tommy's shoulder. He didn't know if it was a man or a woman. The fingers trailed down his back and settled on his bottom, before giving it a squeeze. Whoever it was let go. The thought that it might have been a male touching him so intimately made Tommy shudder. He moved on, offering the edibles to more of the attendees. Crumpled dollar bills accumulated alongside the food. There was a heavyset Black guy with a white date. She clung to him and nuzzled his neck. The sight disturbed Tommy. Was his wife doing something like that with Big G? What was that she had said about seeing him when Tommy was at his office job? Had Mara possibly been –

 cheating? Tommy didn't have time to think about it because the tray was soon empty. He returned to the kitchen to find out what Sister wanted him to do.

She glowered at him as she gathered up the collected cash. "What the freak you think I want you to do? Get them crackers, cracker, and that cheese and other crap, and make more snacks. We got to keep them people happy, so they help out with the rent. Ain't that right?"

"I suppose." When she didn't act happy about that answer, he said, "Correct. More snacks."

Just as he returned to the living room with a refilled tray, the door opened. In came Mara's friend Gem, in a tube-top that showed off her titanic tits and slacks that fit like skin. She was accompanied by Tommy's old buddy, Paul. Tommy stared. His friend was barely recognizable. He had been feminized, too. All he had on was a tiny pink nightie that only reached to his belly button, panties of the same hue, and peach-colored stockings, with ballet slippers on his feet. His face and hair were similar to Tommy's, though his lips were painted candy-apple red. He heard Gem referring to him as Posey. Tommy felt sick. If he hadn't introduced his pal to Gem, the poor guy might not be in this fix. Of course, it had been Mara's idea for him to help those two get together. Paul was steered to the center of the room. Tommy was prodded over to the same area, until they were face-to-face. Sister showed up and took the emptied tray. The music was turned down and conversation dimmed.

 Sister said, "Looks like we got two sissies right here. They going to put on a floorshow for you all." She leaned toward Tommy and Paul. "Ain't that right, you faggots?"

Tommy choked out a 'yes' and Paul echoed him. Sister loudly announced that, because they were sissies, the two of them should kiss. She put a hand on the back of each of their heads and pushed them toward each other.

Gem said, "Pucker up, Posey."

Mara was suddenly there, with Garret. She said, "Let's see some lip-lock, Tulip."

The encircling watchers added their own words of encouragement. A guy who looked like a basketball player put his arm around Gem's shoulders. She called him Base. He bent down and kissed her hard on the mouth. He squeezed one of her big boobs, which was not restrained by a bra.

Sister snapped, "Get to it, you fags. Showtime. I ain't putting up with no games. You get busy with them lips or I get busy with my knee slamming your balls. I can see you ain't got nothing no girl would want in them panties, so it makes sense that you go for each other. Get kissing or get hurt." She moved their heads closer together.

Threatened by the heavy woman, Tommy pushed out his lips. Paul saw that and did the same. Sister let go of them. On their own, they brought their mouths together. From the crowd came sounds of approval. One voice told them to part their lips.

 Another said they had better show some tongue action. The helpless husbands obeyed. The shared a sloppy wet kiss with a strong French accent.

Mara said, "Touch each other, you idiots."

Gem amplified that with, "Do it like you mean it, swisher-style."

Trembling hands touched twitching shoulders before moving lower. The involuntary performers embraced. As if on some silent command, they clutched each others' asses. Garret told them to grind their crotches together. Base said they should lick each others' necks.

Then Mara decided, "We need to see some nipple play." "For sure," Gem reinforced. "Get those fingers working."

The guys bent back enough to give them better access. The reached for the offered chests and began to diddle the circular erogenous zones. Both of them gasped. They weren't accustomed to being touched there and were surprised by how stimulating it was. Their wives exchanged secret smiles. This had been part of their plan. Against their wills, both dolled-up dupes got erections.

In case the onlookers didn't see it, Mara exclaimed, "Whoops! Take a look at those itty-bitty stiffies."

Gem added, "They're so small you can hardly see them. Like a couple of pocket whistles."

 Some of the watchers joined in the small penis humiliation. "Puppy peckers." "Diaper dicks." "Junior jerkies." "Baby beef sticks."

Soon the harried husbands were using their mouths on those chest hot-spots, which amped up their arousal. Strong dark hands pushed Tommy to his knees. Paul was told to get down there with him and he obeyed. The ring of voyeurs tightened around them. Someone tilted Tommy over, so that he ended up on his back. A strong Black man hoisted the other sissy up and draped him over his unwilling partner. What followed was an abandoned make-out session, with the two of them losing control over their heightened libidos.

Garret grinned sadistically. He told them, "Slide on down, you fairies. Get your faces lined up with those miniature pricks."

In a tizzy, the husbands did as they were told, assuming a 69 position. Only when they had their faces against each others' undersized, rigid tools did they realize how far they had gone. When they tried to separate, stern words of warning from Base made them stay as they were.

The Black stud who had a hand on Gem's butt told them, "Kiss those snack-size sweets through them panties."

Tommy moaned. Paul whimpered. Lips were pressed against penises, though the thin material of shameful panties.

"Holy crap!" someone said. "They really are dick-smooching pansies."

 A woman told the defeated duo, "Get your tongues on them bite-size Turkish taffies. Add some spit. Get them wet."

Even that they did, despite knowing that so many eyes were on them. It was utterly disgraceful. Tommy wanted to formulate some way to apologize to his friend, for contributing to getting him into this mess, but he couldn't think clearly, it was all happening so swiftly, and his system was overloading with the need for fulfillment. He was getting close to finishing. To their audience, that would be proof positive that he liked what was going on. His wife would have him branded as a homo. Paul would gain the same stigma from Gem. Even knowing that, he couldn't halt his runaway momentum. His little balls were drawn up tight. He was on the precipice. Tommy sensed that Paul was at the same brink, soon to reach the point of no turning back. They sucked each other through their panties, creating weird sensations to dicks and mouths. All at once, they simultaneously spurted into their lingerie. A cheer went up from the crowd. The spasming couple on the floor didn't stop until they had peaked and were beginning to come down from the pinnacle of desire. That was when they were hit hard by the reality of what they had just done.

"Couple of cocksuckers," a voice declared.

"Bet they'd rather have something bigger to play with." "Bigger and darker."

"We got plenty of that for them."

 Garret announced, "We going to move these pinkies to the bedroom. Imma take care of Tulip's wife and then both twisted sisters will be available, with their mouths opened wide."

A male voice said, "I ain't had no sissy sucking since I was in the slammer."

Another stated, "Can't nobody make me bust my nut like a lady-boy, special when he slobber all over my Johnson."

Tommy was paralyzed. Paul's arms and legs went limp. The two of them were horrified by what had been declared. Base said everybody who used them could leave a tip, to help the rent party reach its goal. Sister held up a gallon plastic jar, which she said they could try to fill before the end of the evening, which everyone knew meant the early hours of morning. Garret hooked his arms through Mara's and walked her to the bedroom, a small space with a bed in the middle. They embraced and he ran his hands all over her. Sister herded the husbands in after them. Tommy had suspected his wife was capable of infidelity but never seen her with her lover. Now he had to watch them undressing each other. Once her stupendous tits were bared, Big G freely fondled them and sucked their big nipples, leaving them erect and wet. She got him out of his pants. When his cock was revealed, Tommy gaped at it. That sausage should have been hanging in a butcher shop. His own depleted dick, covered with cum, was nestled in his damp panties, an emblem of shame. Compared to Garret, he had nothing to offer. The Black man had made him a cuckold and was going to repeat the act in front of the husband's eyes.

 "Yo," Garret said to Tommy. "Lemme show you how to do it right."

Mara chimed in with, "And let you see why you're never going to get your pathetic pecker anywhere near my snatch, ever again, Tulip."

"I been educating this pussy," the Black stud went on. "Teaching it what the real thing feel like. She been ruined for that little white mouse you got instead of a cock."

Tommy's lips quivered. His wife stretched out on her back, on the bed, legs spread invitingly. Garret got between her thighs, with his massive rod aimed at the center of her womanhood. She purred with need. He eased into her, inch after ebony inch vanishing into her pink cleft. She moaned as he sank in, all the way to his balls. Tommy clasped his hands under his chin, not realizing what a feminine gesture it was. He was too rattled to know what he was doing. Garret set up a steady rhythm, much to Mara's delight. His enviable shaft vanished and reappeared. No wonder he was called Big G. Tommy's wife writhed with pleasure. The Black man accelerated his pace. She let out a strangled cry, eyelids fluttering. Moments later she was seized by an quaking orgasm.

The defeated husband had to view a second round of liberated rutting. This time, after Mara had another violent climax, her lover let himself finish. Their bodies were joined in extreme ecstasy. The air was redolent of sex. Tommy sank deep into self-pity.

 "Hey, flower-boy," called Garret. "Tulip. Get over here and give your wife a kiss." He rolled off her and lay alongside his conquest. "Give her a big smooch on that messy pussy."

"What?" Tommy couldn't believe what was expected of him.

Like a man in a trance, the panty-wearing loser knelt in the 'V' of his wife's thighs. Her nether lips were parted, with another man's spend oozing from between them. Tommy gagged as he lowered his head. He stuck out his tongue and got his first taste of spunk. It sickened him but he lapped up a heavy dollop of it and forced himself to swallow.

Mara giggled. "You look like you're where you belong, Tulip. No real man would do that. It feels kind of nice. Keep going. Do a good clean-up and maybe I'll even finish again."

Garret kissed her, gently this time. She accepted it happily. Her hips twitched. The cuckold's efforts were having the desired effect. Black fingers toyed with her nipples. She moaned. More of her sexual juices joined the semen that Tommy was consuming. With Garret whispering filthy suggestions into her ear, she rose toward another crescendo. It arrived, less intense than what that BBC had caused, but longer lasting. She crossed her ankles behind Tommy, as if she needed to hold him there. He licked her though a lengthy afterglow.

She told him, "Keep on like that. Nice and slow. Give me a few more minutes. I hope you enjoyed it, because that's going to be your love life from now on."

 Sister stepped further into the room. "Sorry to break up this honeymoon scene, but I need the bed so we can make the bread. That sissy and the other one have a bunch of cocks to suck."

"Ohhh." Mara was enthused. "I'll help my Tulip do her part."

Soon Paul was nudged forward. Tommy sat on the side of the bed and his buddy knelt on the floor nearby. They exchanged worried glances. A few words of mumbled apology came from the seated one. Gem gave her boyfriend's ear a yank and told him to focus on his upcoming job. Two Black men came in and each dropped a five dollar bill into Sister's jar. Out came their cocks, which were considerably above average size. They took up positions in front of the guys' lipstick-covered mouths. Tommy's lower face was glossy from a coating of mixed fluids. The sissies handled those penises gingerly, repulsed by even having to touch them. In no time, they were each facing a hard dark member. Though they were nauseated, they ran their tongues over the swollen knobs. Then they engulfed them and sucked. Their significant others offered advice.

"Swirl your tongue around the wide part of the head, Tulip." "Massage those big balls while you're taking another inch, Posey."

Sister urged, "Don't be all night. There's a line outside the door. Every one you sucks earns another five bucks."

The guy with Tommy said, "If this fag licks my balls, I'll put another dollar in the jar."

 Paul's partner declared, "When the fruit swallows me all the way, I'll throw in two more bucks."

"You heard them," Sister declared. "The customer is always right. Make it happen."

"Yeah," said Mara. "Keep that money coming."

Gem told Paul, "Stop gagging. I want to see those balls on your chin."

All too soon, the guys who were being mouthed were about to finish. The two who had gotten them to that point didn't want to be fed their loads of spunk. The thought of it was utterly repugnant to them. Still, their fear of stopping and what it might cost them was stronger. They kept up their forced fellating until the standing Black men were about to spurt. At the same time, both of them grunted and let their seed fly. There was so much that the sissies had to struggle to gulp it all down. Even so, some escaped, ran down their chins, and landed on their outfits. After another few minutes, the satisfied customers pulled out. As soon as they did, Sister gestured for the next two to enter. Then she had an additional thought and summoned two more.

"You boy-bitches can handle more than one at a time. The first between your lips and the second in your hand. HA! It's what they call multitasking. A knob job and a hand job at the same time. Then switch around. Back and forth. Let's fill this money jar, and load you jizz jars too."

 She motioned for Tommy to get on the floor like Paul. Sister made sure the white guys could see each other as their heterosexuality continued to be abused. What they each saw was their friend having to swing between sucking two oversized black cocks, while stroking the one that wasn't choking them. The wives got into the fun, scolding their spouses for not working harder.

"Lick that one all over. Pump the other one faster."

"Change up. Don't be afraid to gobble that monster, just because it's so much bigger than your midget manhood."

The gals grabbed their husbands by the hair, so they could add painful incentives. Heads were pushed and pulled. The guys gag reflexes were repeatedly triggered. They made retching sounds. The wives twisted their ears. Sister howled with laughter and slapped a tempo on the side of her money container, to pace their bobbing. Fresh warm cream was spewed into them, with the overflow dripping onto their bare thighs and the tops of their stockings. The smell of semen was inescapable.

"Hey," said one of the dudes who had just emptied his balls. "I'll pay another two bucks to see them kiss with they mouths full."

"I'll throw in three more if they swap that slop back and forth between them."

"Sure thing," Mara assured the men, as she took their money and deposited it in the jar.

 "You heard it," snapped Gem. "These gentlemen want to see you faggots swap more than spit."

The victims weren't quite sure how to do it. They locked lips and pushed the spunk back and forth with their tongues. Then Tommy crouched down, tilted back his head, and opened his mouth wide. Paul positioned himself over him and let a disgusting mix of scum and saliva drool from between his lips and into the waiting orifice. Then they traded postures so it could flow the other direction. The men who had paid for that freaky act agreed that they'd gotten their money's worth and left. They could be heard, outside the room, telling those in line that 'them perverts will do any damn thing for a extra couple dollars'. Tommy and Paul trembled at hearing that.

The next guy wanted his balls not just licked, but then held inside Tommy's mouth. That was a problem because they were supersize testicles. After some maneuvering, the submissive spouse got them both in, and they gave him chipmunk cheeks. The customer's cock was against his face, pointing straight up. He had to work his tongue around, covering every bit of the unwashed scrotum.

While he was still struggling with that, the other customer who wanted customized treatment said he need to be deep-throated. That didn't sound too awful, at least not until he freed his member. It was ginormous. Paul goggled at the sight of it. As the humiliated husband worked on it with both hands, the thing swelled and lengthened into a monstrosity. He managed to get his lips stretched around the end but then stalled out.

 "Keep going," his wife urged him. "This fine man isn't paying extra just to have you fail. He expects you to take his rod in, balls deep, Posey."

Paul took more of it, little by little. His esophagus could barely accommodate that girth. It kept vanishing into his face, further and further. To everyone's amazement, he was able to swallow the entire length. His face was discoloring, because he couldn't breath. He backed off it but then had to take it in again. That happened several more times before he was allowed to just suck the head, while massaging the shaft, until a fresh load was launched into his gullet.

Then the sex workers had to return to each taking two men at a time. They could hear the voices of many others who were awaiting their turns. The jar that Sister held was filling up with cash. The cocksuckers gulped down more cream. It ran down their chins and continued to mess up what little they wore. The men they serviced laughed at their helpless plight. In went on for hours, until they at last reached their final two eager payers. That pair agreed that they should finish all over the wimps' faces, as a sort of parting gift to them.

"I know you fairies like that," said one.

"Leave you with something to remember us by," offered the other.

The exhausted cum dumps had to get them hard with their mouths. Then, with those impressive weapons aimed at their eyes, noses and mouths, they had to jerk them off. There were simultaneous blasts of spunk that coated their features. For a

 finale they had to share messy kisses and even rub their faces together.

Seeing their slimed visages, Mara remarked, "You look like a couple of glazed donuts."

Gem rocked with laughter and used her phone to take several pictures.

At last they were given ratty blankets to wrap themselves in and allowed to follow their wives and the women's lovers back to their cars. Tucking the blankets under themselves, to avoid soiling the seats, they each huddled in the back of the car in which they had arrived. Everyone went to Mara and Tommy's home. Once inside, the wretched sex slaves had to shed their blankets and cower together on the living room floor, while the others sat around the room and enjoyed wine.

"That was a trip," Garret declared.

"For sure," agreed Base. "We got our homies' rent paid real good."

Mara said to the guys on the carpet, "I guess you're glad that's over."

Gem finished the thought for her with, "And you can't wait until we do it all over again, next weekend, at a different address."

"What?" Tommy asked, his mouth feeling like it had been permanently stretched out of shape.

 "You can't be serious," objected Paul, wondering if he would ever stop tasting semen.

"Hey," Garret told them, "we got a good thing going. Imma get you hooked up to do your thing every Saturday night."

"But don't worry about your ladies," Base reassured them. "You'll be too tired to take care of them, so me and Big G will do that for you."

"Welcome to your new life, Tulip," said Mara.

"You're going to get really tight with your fellow fairy, Posey," Gem told her live-in boyfriend.

The thoroughly trashed twosome could only shudder and accept that their awful ordeal would be repeated every weekend, indefinitely. They hugged each other for comfort, looking like the defenseless sissies which they had become.