Free Universal Carnal Knowledge Pt. 32

XXXII

Operation Saturday

Saturday was to be a big day. All week, I had been organising it like a military campaign. And the objectives of Operation Saturday were twofold: (a) to clear up Albert's house, and (b) to get me laid as much as possible.

The former task had been outstanding for over a fortnight now. At first I had procrastinated because it looked like such hard, dirty work; then the increasingly dramatic effects of FUCK had given me other things to worry about. But now, I was looking forward to the job I had originally regarded with such distaste. Let me confess frankly that this was because I should no longer have to do it myself.

As for the second objective, getting laid, partly I saw it as useful practice for the following weekend (an undress rehearsal, as it were), but mainly it just seemed like a good idea.

Let me say at once that thanks to meticulous planning Operation Saturday was an unqualified success.

The previous night I had restored Wendy to her rightful place in the main bedroom so Alicia had her room to herself while Florence, who had returned as instructed to her college during the day to attend to her studies and notify her big boyfriend that his services would no longer be required, slept downstairs on the sofa as befitted her lowly station. I myself gravitated between all three but made sure I started and finished with Wendy.

Florence served Wendy and Alicia their breakfasts downstairs and brought me mine in bed; then the three of them left for Albert's house in the car. There they would find Fran, who had let herself in at seven o'clock so she could take delivery of the new mattress I had ordered. The four of them then set to the first task of the day, which was to get Albert's disgusting bedroom into usable condition with the cleaning materials Wendy had bought the previous evening. The bed itself, a solid metal structure, would be fine after a good clean but the horrible old mattress and bedding all had to go and the room itself needed a thorough scrubbing before the new mattress came out of its cover and the bed could be made up with the new linen that Wendy had also bought. It took the four of them over two hours of very hard work but at the end of it the room, although a bit bare, was thoroughly clean and the bed looked very inviting.

By this time Connie and Gabby had arrived and Wendy had assigned them the unpleasant task of getting the bathroom and shower into a condition in which a civilised person might be willing to use them.

It must not be thought that I was idle while all this was going on. On the contrary, I had been fulfilling my duties to Kylie, whom I had shamefully neglected all week. I rang her just as Wendy and the girls left and she was knocking at the door almost before I had replaced the phone. I fucked her senseless, then read the paper while she recuperated and showered. While she was towelling off and getting dressed I called a cab and we joined the others at Albert's house.

It was a heartening sight that met my eyes. It is my considered opinion that there are few spectacles more truly satisfying than that of other people working hard. With the twins, who had driven down from Cambridge and got there just before I did, plus Kylie, there were nine labourers in all. I had warned them it would be arduous and dirty work so they should dress down, and they were duly attired in a variety of torn or frayed old clothes. With nothing but my own viewing pleasure in mind, I had also specified "no underwear, and not too much overwear" so there was plenty of sweaty, dusty flesh on display. Florence, in some old teeshirt that was far too tight about the chest but absurdly loose everywhere else, particularly caught the eye. Not only mine, in fact; several times I saw girls watching fascinated by the extraordinary undulations as she performed so simple an act as bending down and picking something up.

Wendy alone was exempt from the requirement for skimpy attire. The work was being carried on under her overall direction and she marshalled her labour force expertly. Everywhere I looked there was a beautiful woman clearing away this or scrubbing that. In the front room the piles of dirty books were rapidly disappearing, while all scientific periodicals were handed to Fran, who had the relatively congenial task of sorting them and filing them by date and subject matter. The revolting mess that had been Albert's house was being rapidly restored to order and cleanliness and all I had to do was watch.

Well, maybe there was one other thing I could do. That newly prepared bed was for use, not for show. Gabby looked so indescribably sexy in trainers and a large male shirt and absolutely nothing else that she had to be first, and after that I took one of the twins. They were wearing some old schoolgirl-type outfits topped by baseball caps so it was not until I got my selection to the bedroom and saw her bareheaded that I knew it was Vicky on whom my choice had fallen.

When I emerged from fucking her I had a look round the house. I was most impressed by the girls' progress so I sent Fran and Connie out to buy soft drinks and sandwiches and on their return I ordered a break. Eight girls and I (the ninth, Vicky, was still floating blissfully in the bedroom) sat in the front room, chatting happily, munching sandwiches, drinking juice, and generally recovering from our labours. After a while I ordered Florence to stand up and remove her shirt. There was a collective intake of breath as the incredible tits were exposed. I then instructed her to progress very slowly about the room and exhibit her chest to the other girls, each of whom should be allowed a close inspection, and a good feel if she wished. Then I told Florence to replace her shirt and sit down. "Right," I said. "We've all had a good look. Now, can we focus on the task in hand and not on Florence's tits? Back to work, ladies, all except--" I looked round at the sea of hopeful faces. "Fran, I think."

Several hours later I was able to congratulate all concerned on an arduous job well done. Albert's house looked rather stark, because his carpets and soft furnishings had all gone the same way as his dirty books, old clothes and discarded food packaging, but it was spotlessly clean and was at last in a state that would allow me to get an estate agent to market it. Vicky and Simone had left to spend the night at George's before seeing him and Sue off to New York tomorrow, but the rest of us sat in a big circle in the front room passing a bottle of wine back and forth and relaxing after our exertions. Even I was tired, and not just from the shagging; some faint residue of chivalry had obliged me to insist that it was my task to carry endless rubbish-stuffed binliners outside to await the refuse collectors.

The girls basked in my approval, their faces shiny with honest sweat and wreathed in blissful well-fucked smiles. As they gazed adoringly at me I almost burst with pride. How could it be wrong, I asked myself smugly, to be the instrument that generated so much pleasure? Fran seemed to speak for them all: "Hard work," she said, "but well rewarded. Thank you, darling."

Wendy I had left until I got her home, but I had taken all the other eight, four of them twice. Added to my efforts in the morning before leaving home, this meant fifteen copulations in the day, which was something like the rate I should have to maintain at George's next weekend. This makes it sound a bit clinical, like a production line, but what also pleased me as I drifted off to sleep after a long day was that my final fuck with Wendy had been just as satisfying and the spunk had flowed just as freely as when I had started the day with the same woman all those hours before.

I reflected on this next day as I took stock of the situation between fucks with Wendy, Alicia, Kylie, and Florence. It seemed that both my desire and my capacity for sex were still increasing nearly three weeks after that fatal night when I had swallowed Albert's potion. In particular, I was spunking in quantities that were truly copious, and I drank pint after pint of milk to replenish my fluids.

I had found nothing on Albert's computer or elsewhere at his house to cast light on what his "further refinements" might be. One of them had become obvious, however; for the past several days I had noticed occasional comments from my girls about the sudden thinness and wispiness of their body hair and Wendy, who must have had a bigger dosage of seminally-administered FUCK than anyone, was now virtually bald everywhere except for her eyelashes, eyebrows and head. She had also been complaining for at least a week about pains in her legs, or more specifically her calves, if she was on her feet for any length of time. I had examined her calves a few days previously and they looked and felt the same as usual so I had thought no more about it until I heard Connie say the same thing when she was helping clear Albert's house.

I had also noticed that the increase in my girls' libido seemed to be boosting their sexual confidence in other ways. Alicia was the outstanding example. When I had first noticed her in pre-FUCK days she had been at pains to hide her bosom as well as she could, and usually wore tops that went right up to the neck and completely covered the shoulders and arms. But she had gone shopping a couple of lunchtimes during the last week and had proudly shown off to Wendy and me the far more revealing attire she had bought. During the first fashion show on Tuesday, Wendy had admired a sleeveless number with a wide halter neck but had cautioned her to be careful about arm-holes, which if they were too big allowed altogether too clear a view inside the shirt. So the next day Alicia went shopping again and that evening displayed sleeveless garments apparently chosen for having the largest arm-holes she could find. Nor was that all; she bought some frighteningly short skirts and asked Wendy, always a dab hand with a needle and thread, to help her raise the hems even further. In short our innocent little Alicia was becoming a brazen show-off.

I thought in Alicia's case this might be because I had told her that I enjoyed it when she attracted male attention, but she was not the only one affected. Gabby had taken to accentuating her long legs by wearing very short skirts with vents at the sides, Connie had acquired tight white trousers of some stretchy and not-quite-opaque material that displayed her handsome ass to great advantage, and even Fran had come to work in a skirt well above the knee and a short top showing plenty of midriff. In a way I welcomed the trend, since I had always been a fan of skimpy summer clothing, but I thought I might have to call a halt before someone (probably Alicia) got herself arrested.

That evening I asked Wendy and Alicia whether they had noticed any trends. They immediately volunteered that the sex was getting better and better. "These orgasms," said Wendy, "are like nothing else. It's like a huge explosion of absolute pleasure in my brain, and then I feel I'm swaddled up in a soft pink cloud."

"All floaty and tingly," suggested Alicia.

"That's right," agreed Wendy. "I know I'm sounding like a lovestruck teenager, James darling, not that there's anything wrong with being a lovestruck teenager," she added with a gracious nod to Alicia, "but I don't know how else I can describe it. It's just lovely."

I turned to Alicia. "What about you? I notice you're taking less and less time to recover."

She pondered this. "That's true. But the sex itself is getting even better, like Wendy says. And although I get over it faster, I feel good all the time, not just after we've had sex. I just love life, even when I'm at work. I'm always bright, confident, happy --"

"-- and randy," added Wendy. "I'm the same."

When I asked them about the physical symptoms, they confirmed the continued loss of body hair, and Wendy repeated her complaint about painful calves. "They ache when I'm walking or standing a lot," she explained. "Yesterday at Albert's I was on my feet for hours and I was pretty uncomfortable by the time we finished. I don't know if it's a side-effect or just a coincidence. Have you noticed anything, Alicia dear?"

"It's funny," Alicia answered. "I'm on my feet a lot at work, but I've been fine until yesterday at James's uncle's, but then my legs started to hurt too. It was like a muscle pain, but it's gone now."

"It isn't a coincidence," I said. "I heard Connie say the same."

"It can't just be the extra weight we're carrying, can it, darling?" asked Wendy. "I've put on another four pounds since last week. I'm going to have to buy new clothes." She sighed resignedly. "It's goodbye to my schoolgirl figure. I just can't stop eating."

Florence had been present throughout the conversation, her head bowed a little, the picture of silent deference. It astonished me how easily and readily she had adjusted to her subordination. She seldom spoke, I had noticed, unless addressed directly. But at the words "extra weight" she had looked up with an expression of some concern.

Wendy and Alicia paid her no attention and carried on with the conversation. "Me too," Alicia agreed. "And it's mostly going on my chest. These new bras I got were big on me in the shop on Monday, but I tried one on today and I'm definitely filling it better. Good news for you, James," she concluded, thrusting her chest toward me.

Florence's eyes widened in horror, but she could have been invisible for all the notice Wendy and Alicia took of her. It was remarkable, and not a little scary, how quickly they had got used to the idea that she was some kind of inferior being they could ignore without compunction.

"And did you see Kylie?" Wendy asked. "She's piling on weight like there's no tomorrow. Betty told me when she goes to the takeaway she gets a meal that's meant for three people and demolishes the lot by herself. I asked her about it yesterday and she said it was 'brill' because James likes it. And you do, don't you darling?" she added. "I saw how you looked at her. Do you want us all to get as roly-poly as Kylie?"

"No," I said. "Kylie looks fantastic, but that sort of weight wouldn't suit everyone. But I admit I like some nice curves on a girl, and it's lucky I do, because that's the way Albert designed the stuff. More weight, especially on the bust."

This time Florence got everyone's attention with a gasp of dismay. Aghast, she stared down at her own vast breasts. As she saw we were all looking at her she humbly murmured, "Sorry, Master," and lowered her head into the submissive position.

"Florence," I said sternly, "it was for your body that your Master captured you. Your breasts are for your Master's pleasure, not your own. Their further growth will please him even more."

"Yes Master. Then it will please me too, Master."

The frightening thing about FUCK is that it was transparently obvious that she meant it. I had just notified her that she was to be transformed for my pleasure into an even more dramatic parody of the female form than she was already, and suddenly she wanted the same.

"Good," I said. "Go to the kitchen and eat. Eat whenever you can, as much as you can. Eat rich, fatty and sugary foods. Grow your breasts for your Master."

As she left for the kitchen Wendy and Alicia stared at me wide-eyed. There was no trace of disapproval on their faces; the look was almost one of awe. I knew how they felt; I could not believe how arrogant I was with Florence, and her meek and unquestioning acceptance of my authority seemed only to encourage me.

The day ended with good news from Simone, who rang from Heathrow to confirm that George and Sue were safely on their way to New York; and bad news for Florence, whom I reluctantly sent back to her digs for fear she would be noticed if she were constantly around the house -- she was, after all, a hard girl to overlook. I told her she must apply herself to her studies and keep everything secret, especially concerning me and the nature of our relationship, while I worked out some long-term arrangement. But, as I confessed to Wendy that night, I had no idea what such an arrangement might be.