C. Nymphitus

She covered her mouth. "Oh my god, he's so young. What happened?" Fuck.

"Nothing official, yet. Investigation is ongoing. Tell me, when's the last time you saw each other?"

No hesitation. "Thursday, here at work."

"Not Friday?"

"I overslept on Friday--my whole shift."

"Hate that. Nothing Saturday or Sunday?"

"No. I lounged at home."

"Did you two know each other well?"

"Not really. I mean--we were in the middle of his training here at the bank. I don't know much about him."

"Hey," he said, sticking his hand out. "Thank you for the time."

"Absolutely, Detective Johnson." She held his hand longer than she had liked, but it paid off.

"That's a beautiful fragrance you have there." He let go and saw himself out. "Have a good day."

"Thank you. Same to you."

Rebecca's blood erupted like a volcano. The letter opener just next to her was just begging to be jammed into her carotid artery. She had cleaned his apartment while he slept peacefully in his bed, but what about the smell? She kicked the desk. Did she really just murder someone? The hairs on her neck stood up. She gazed across the way with angry confusion. Her boss motioned her over through his blinds.

His hands rubbed his balding dome, no more hair to yank. "Close the fuckin' door."

"Oh, shut up. I am."

That disappointed look pierced her chest. She leaned back against the wall and sighed.

"What the fuck did you do, Stevens?" That was the angriest whisper she had ever heard.

"It wasn't me, Richard. C'mon. I'm not a killer."

He stormed around the desk and put his finger through her cleavage. "You were fuckin' him, though--shit--they'll get you." He shoved off.

"You think he was only fucking me?" She laughed. "They'll be going through dozens of women."

"Dumb slut," he blurted out.

Rebecca smirked and shook her head. "Watch your mouth, you bald fuck."

"You fucking did this," he spat.

She threw up her arms. "Why would I give up dick that good! Use your goddamn brain. We don't know what happened, yet."

Papers flew from the desk and he sat atop of it. "Put your tits away. I can't concentrate."

Rebecca glanced down. The frilly blouse barely held them in. "You want me to put on a coat or what?

"And you smell fucking good," he mumbled, staring off at a wall.

Oh, shit.

"Anything else you need from me? I have things to do," she said, eyeing him for movement. This wasn't good.

"Maybe you should stay awhile, so we can figure this out." Dick's voice got low. He hooked his hands together and undressed her with his old, cataract laden eyes.

She shook her head. "I think you have some phone calls to make, don't you?"

He stood up and she reached for the door handle. For a man of that much mass, he beat her to it.

"Now hold on," he said with a smile.

"Move--the fuck--away, Dick."

Hands filled his pockets and his red tie tickled her belly through her blouse. He stood up tall and pushed the bulk against her. That wretched breath cascaded down. Fuck, he was nasty.

"Since you know so much about dicks, maybe it's my turn."

Rebecca poked his belly. "I am a size queen, baby. Not for cheeseburger guts, though."

"Oh, I love when you talk dirty," he sneered.

"You smell dirty. I wouldn't fuck you if FDNY hosed you for an hour."

Dick pulled his ugly mitts out to caress her round bottom through the tight pencil skirt. "You could get a pay raise."

"I'm not one of your bottom feeder bitches," she said with a smile. "Besides, you fondling my ass just cost you an extra ten grand a year. Either that, or HR." She thought he would drool with his gullet open so wide.

"I love me a spunky brunette," he blathered on, the perpetual aroma putting his brain into tunnel vision. His strong embrace traveled up her backside until cupping her bra. The view of smushing them together put his slacks into her inner thigh. "Let me see those perfect titties, Becky. You owe me--I wanna see them."

She rolled her eyes. "You're spending money you don't have, you broke slob. I don't owe you shit."

"Lemme see," he whispered, begging. "I run a bank."

"I personally manage your accounts. You're out of your league," she insulted again.

A swipe of the tongue had his dry lips dragging together like two pepperoni. "Whatever you want."

Rebecca let loose the first two buttons, before pulling the frills to expose a pink, floral covered push up. His eyes lit up like she had cured his bad vision. She stalled on the clasp just under her cleavage, but popped it to reveal her heavy chest. His dumb gaze made her turn away while he gawked. Perfect opportunity to put more green into her wallet.

"Oh, those are nice--so, so nice. I've thought about this for so long." He started to breathe heavily. "Thirty four double-d. Look at those fucking titties."

"Seventeen thousand a year for each one until I retire. You done?"

A death grip swirled behind her. Rebecca gasped what air she had left, anger billowing like gasoline being dumped on a fire. Dick's wrinkled, disgusting face wrestled between the ultimate softness until he could lay a fat smooch on her sternum. Rebecca palm clapped both of his ears without restraint, blowing his eardrums into the ether. Like a magnet to metal, her knee separated his nuts and lodged up into his shaft. Every bit of air he thought he owned blew onto her chest, followed by an inevitable cough that spewed a barrage of hot froth. She unloaded on him two more times.

She pushed at his shoulders, grabbed the wall and put a stiletto into his gut until he plunged back into the desk. On top of him, she slapped his face rapidly, knocking his coke-bottle glasses into two pieces. Four, five, six wallops. Finally, she huffed and whipped her hair back before pointing down at the broken heap.

"Don't ever fucking touch me," she barked with clenched teeth and a foot to his side. "Told you--a fucking decade ago--you touch me and I'd kill you."

Quickly, she fastened her bra, fixed her shirt--the best she could--and straightened her wild hair. She rearranged her skirt and fixed her glasses. The door closed on the bloody mess and she stomped to her office, grabbing her belongings and high-tailing it to a crowded street. Adrenaline slammed through her for four or five blocks and finally, she realized one man was dead and another possibly seriously injured. All because of the plant--no--all because of her.

****

She needed more time with it.

Every man and woman within six feet had eyes on her busty stroll back to the apartment. Understanding how to use it without murdering someone would be preferred, obviously; attention didn't bother her. She loved that.

The universe was unveiled to her--while simultaneously giving her multiple orgasms--in a shower. Maybe it was similar to a drug or narcotic. Mushrooms? It looked like one, but nothing she researched fit the bill.

An idea popped into her head to escape to the log cabin in Montana, but that would put a bullseye on her. Undoubtedly, the detectives would pull phone records and find her on camera. The neighbors all heard the way he fucked her, either jealous or envious. Lots of beans would be spilled. How to sway the interrogation without anyone touching her--the thought scared her.

Rain slapped the window. Almost midnight and instead of avoiding it, the plant had been placed on the coffee table. The apartment smelled like sweet bliss. Nothing else like it. As usual, she laid clad in panties only, sprawled out over the couch with only her thoughts. High or intoxicated--whatever--the constant proximity for hours had her more relaxed; possibly more relaxed than she ever had been.

Putting her boss to the ground replayed in her mind over and over. Her brother's self-defense training paid off, sorta; it was meant for thugs and assholes in the New York streets, not her boss; but, he was a bastard who deserved it. Maybe he could help her now if he weren't dead. Being implicated for murder as the sister of a decorated NYPD officer would put a knife in her heart until she was with him in the afterlife.

She opened her drowsy eyes, quietly watching the plant dribble from the crown to the soil. The way this thing released energy, she figured more than just water would be required, but it had only grown larger since she brought it home. The thought crossed her mind that physical stimulation played a part, but was unsure. Did the old lady resist like she couldn't? Is that why she got rid of it because she was in the same predicament?

"I want you," she whispered with a smile. "I just don't know what you will do to me."

A palm took to her silk panties. The fabric felt fantastic on her sensitive skin.

"How can you show a girl the stars, but I still don't know what you are?"

Lightning flashed the darkened room. Thunder fluttered into a massive boom as Rebecca's knees slid onto the table. Looming over, she captured it between her warm chest and smeared the fluids all over. The sky exploded again, her cheeks now collapsed with it in her throat. She pulled away with a slow, juicy squelch until pursed lips let it go, coating her in a gooey layer.

"I love the way you taste." Her voice was soft, almost inaudible. "You wanna taste me?" She palmed the edge and slid the pot until the mushy top pushed into her panties. "I think you'll enjoy it."

The moment the fluid slathered across her folds, she slumped downward onto her cheek. Floaty eyelids and a slack jaw, the thunder rocked her windows while she trembled at the knees. Their mingling became gooey and messy, a thick squish each time it slid between the lips.

"C'mon, baby. I'm yours..."

****

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Thumping bass beat on the door from the inside. They knocked again, but harder. Fists doubled teamed the wood until they heard the dead bolt and two chains rattle off. The music softened.

Rebecca appeared and tipped back red wine. Both detectives locked in to the obvious bait, cautious but enamored: the curly brown hair, silky pink robe, a subtle shine on her exposed flesh and most notably, the lack of a bra and her substantial, hefty chest just barely covered. A gust of wind could have pulled the slacked sash, if it wanted. They knew she knew they were coming. Bold of her to put on a show while claiming innocence. This would be easy for them.

"Detectives," she said smoothly. "Time for more questioning?"

Like twins, they shoved hands into slacks and stood up straight. "Miss Stevens, we do in fact need a moment of your time. Hallway or may we come inside?"

She stepped aside and closed the door behind them. "Something to drink?" Both quickly turned her down politely and took a seat on the couch. Rebecca scooped up her potted plant of love and placed it on her vinyl record deck player.

"Interesting plant, that is," Johnson's partner piped up.

"Paid next to nothing for it and I love it."

Behind her back, Johnson motioned to his partner about how it looked like a big dick, sarcastically jerking off. The man chuckled silently and they straightened up as she turned and had a seat.

"How can I help, detectives?"

The miniature notepad was out and flipped through.

"Where did you go after making a call from the pay phone on Meredith Avenue?"

"Straight to my intern's apartment."

"The kid had a name--ya know, show some kinda respect," the partner popped off."

"Had, yes," she frowned.

"No detours?"

"No."

"What happened at the apartment?"

Rebecca sipped at her glass. "You already know."

"Are you gonna cooperate or should we pack it up and head to the station?"

"What's your name, detective?"

"Reeves."

"Reeves, I've done nothing but cooperate."

"Now hold on--you said you were lounging at home all weekend," Johnson stepped in.

"I lied," she said with another sip.

"That complicates things, now doesn't it? What happened at the apartment, Rebecca?"

"Oh, first name basis now,"--there was a nice, sarcastic smile--"You really don't want those details."

He sat up close and pointed. "Don't fuck with me. Start talking."

"We fucked, detective. That's all."

"Bullshit!" He slapped magazines and personal items from the table. "What happened?"

"Spill it," Reeves blurted out.

"What is this bad cop, bad cop?"--a sweet smirk towards Reeves--"Leash your mutt."

Johnson sprang up, table sliding away before he put hands around her neck. Anger exploded inside her and Reeves grabbed her arms behind the wood chair. He slid around her wrists, smearing some sort of liquid. Johnson whipped out cuffs and handled her feet, one at a time.

"I don't even like brunettes, but your dead brother had a big, big debt. I'm here to fuckin' collect." She was free and glanced at his monstrous tent pointed at her face. The belt buckle flung out, hands groping the heap.

"You're going to regret this," she said with an eerie chuckle. "I'm going to enjoy it, baby."

He yanked his suit jacket away and shoved on his slacks. The behemoth sprang out, angry and leaking. Johnson sliced his calloused mitt top to bottom and nudged her mouth with the slimy tip. One palm covered her skull, flattening her curls.

"Smack those fuckin' lips on my dick, bitch," he said slowly. He tightened the grip, plopping through the plump red and into a moist puddle. Without fail, he swiftly put on real girth, her jaw at its breaking point. He didn't know or care and smashed her tonsils aside to bury the trunk into her chest. Bloated nuts dangled below her chin and he slid into her hair with both hands, securing the fuck hole; just making sure he stayed balls deep; just making sure her face stayed buried in his thick bush. "You dumb slut," he sighed.

Reeves had cuffed her wrists and unknowingly sealed his fate with slippery strokes upon his cock. The five inch piece filled his grip, throbbing with extra mass with each tug. "Fuck, this broad has me gettin' big. This coconut oil or what?"

Johnson bucked, determined to keep her esophagus plugged. "Augh. Yeah, that's tight," he mumbled. Finally, her airwave popped open and a gurgling tsunami of spit swirled his veins, bursting through her lips before he corked her throat with strong pumps. "Swallow that meat. Swallow that fuckin' meat, baby."

"Can't describe that smell," Reeves said with a sustained sniff. "But I love it."

Johnson's belt buckle clinked, the feet of the chair thumped the floor and his manipulated sack beat on her neck like a bass drum. The incessant, deep sloshing in her plugged tunnel flourished between the two men. "Music to my ears, bitch," Johnson smirked. "Make some noise, Reeves."

A swathe of accumulation doused her chest, rolling from the mounds and into her lap. The heaving for air suddenly stopped and Reeves silenced her with a nine inch; she wanted to silence him with a nine millimeter. Youngin', cockier than Johnson, wouldn't last long, she figured.

"Looks like we're getting what we need. Ain't that right, Becky?" Johnson smirked. "Case closed on your fuck buddy intern." The plant had different effects, apparently. He seemed fine after using her body; she needed to make him finish.

Boof! Doof! Doof! Reeves clinched her skull, sheathing it to his hips. Johnson freed her arms and legs and motioned his partner. Hauled to her feet with it lodged in her chest, Johnson swiped the chair with a kick.

"Now," he pondered, "I haven't seen an ass like that in a minute." Wham! The palm print reddened. Slowly, he massaged it, curling his fingers in and out of her flimsy panties. "I'm changing my mind on brunette bitches if they have big ol' pound cakes like this." He slithered into the crease of her thighs and hoisted her up, knees straight and crack full of raging cock. "Keep that shit in the air."

Rebecca growled through ten inches and massive girth. Reeves doubled down on her writhing head as Johnson stuffed her backside. "Gimme that fuckin' colon." It popped in, guts conforming around the rooted mass. "You're a fuckin' Brooklyn whore through and through." Fwap! Cheeks jiggled blow after blow; back hands, two hands, rapid full power spanks until he was satisfied and buried in her slimy tunnel.

Suddenly, Reeves' head fell back. One. Two. Three. He nearly broke her neck with the violent slams, pushing it near her sternum and erupting. "Aughh, bitch!" Sploosh! Spunk clung to her esophagus before the next barrage spewed to her belly. Her flat tummy started to round. Her chest expanded to accommodate every bit until he was done. He wiped the sweat from his brow and laughed. "Couple pints for ya, sweetie. Go fuck yourself and get off my dick." With a yank, she gasped, fluids dripping everywhere. Before he could insult her again, he collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

"Dropped my partner like I dropped your intern," the last man standing said. "Except I used a bullet."

One powerful hand snatched her by the hair until her back was against his chest. "And when I'm done pumping philly cream cheese into this sweet vanilla slut..."

She turned to face a killer and took his tongue to the back of her throat. He jerked back with a squish from her coated lips.

"She's next."

Rugged palms cupped her huge tits, kneading at them, shoving them together.

"God damn shame. Could use a bitch like you."

"You couldn't handle a bitch like m--"

All air was cut off. His bicep wrenched around her neck, lifting her to her toes. She grabbed at his cuff frantically. Thuds thundered out from vicious slams. He felt her rounded pooch and held her tight, fucking her into a panic induced haze. "Uuggh," he bellowed. She left the floor, struggling for a breath while hot white pumped up into her guts. "Empty my fuckin' nuts, slut," he grumbled. Multiple pulses riddled her innards until the room started to spin as he fell. There was a sudden rush and she landed on top. A gooey splurt erupted and the thick splooge started to gush the immediate area.

She laughed, coughing frantically. "Was it as good for you as it was for me, bastard?"

Rebecca attempted to catch her breath, one hand massaging her belly as it returned to normal. Straddling his chest, his remnants trickled down to his neck. With what little hair he had intertwined with her fingers, she balled a fist and made sure at least two teeth disappeared.

She struggled to her feet. A loud smack rang out and Reeves' cock and balls jostled brutally with each kick. Silently, she glanced at her best friend and smoothed her hair back. There was a still moment followed by a blown kiss and the thwack of Johnson's pistol on her forehead. She stumbled and hit herself again until the blood came.

****

Another goddamn storm. Big, cold buckets busted into the cement, threatening to tear her umbrella. Outside of the precinct, she fought with herself on going in and reporting them. People walking by caught her scent, offering up long stares, wide smiles and some unwanted cat calls. She shivered, angry and freezing.

Just the thought of those two killing an unarmed man that she put to sleep made her want to throw a can of gasoline into her own apartment; it wouldn't take long. The investigation wouldn't take long, either. It was nothing but dead end thoughts. All she had to do was shamble in there with her sob story and they would go down. But the heat swirled around her insides.

Crooked, murderous thugs needed to be under the city.

Her mind was made up.

****

Time ticked away and not in her favor. She hid her watch from the potential thieves lurking about and jogged through the downpour. CityWide Storage's gate struggled to open after her code was accepted but she slipped through. Luckily, she had the right keychain and tossed the door up. She needed to deal with them on the move and the roar of her pristine V-8 IROC Camaro didn't let her down on its first start up in a few months. The battery was iffy, but it held. She dropped the clutch and hit the street.