Hucow in Tommy Town - Week 01: Friday 02

Taking a moment to undress, Vodka lifted her beige floral gown up and over her crimson head. In discarding clothing, she proceeded to step out of her lacey, black panties tossing them on the nest that was her disrobed gown that had fallen to rest on the soft landscape that is her bed. Then with a little frustration, blue-coated nails swung to the barkeep's back to fiddle with the latch that bound the cups which held her soft mothering globes hostage. Successful in unlocking through supporting braces, Vodka peeled her panty-matching brassier from her ample white bosom. Then to complete her lack of cosmetic support, Vodka removed the pins that held her crimson locks in place, letting the flowing red hair cascade down to her pale shoulders.

The pitter-patter of pale blue lacquered feet beat the wooden floor as Vodka made her way to the bathroom cup her large pregnant belly in the clasp of her soft hands. Once in the bathroom under the glow of the fluorescent lights, she is presented with an image of herself.

Her ripened visage was looking back at her in the full floor-length mirror mounted beside the bathroom's sink cabinet. Vodka's thoughts became hazy looking at her body, her hair covering half of her face.

"Why, even though I'm still in the prime of my life. Pregnant again with a child, do I feel so empty?" Vodka whispered to herself.

Patting her protruding belly, Vodka sighed, "I didn't even want to be pregnant again; I was just masturbating while Goal was out fishing with that plastic thing Pin gave me, and now...hah."

A blue nail tapped the bubbled navel of Vodka's pregnant belly as her mind slipped into a melancholy haze, "I wonder if I would be better off if things were like they were back in the old days. When I was younger, I was such a wonderful girl; I didn't have the sinful bodies that my daughters bloomed into. Thinking back, I didn't even start developing until I met Goal. I was a late bloomer, but I was innocent and carefree. Now I'm a lewd old maid, predisposed to weird happenstances like this...." Vodka sighed, flicking her protruding navel.

Hanging her head, Vodka began to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom to get dressed and return to her bartending duties. However, she felt a cold breeze wash over her body when she took a step.

"What was that?" Vodka questioned, stunned that a cold breeze could reach her with no windows.

"Maybe there's a draft?" Said Vodka taking another step, only to be met with the return of the same feeling.

Vodka, in total, made six quick steps to reach the bed from where she once stood in the adjacent bathroom. However, after each step was made, a previous version of herself was left behind, frozen in time as if she was making an age progression chart with each progressing step forward. She became a forty-two-year-old woman whose belly was heavy with child; once she took a step, this version of her seemed to freeze in place at the moment of motion. Who stepped forward was a thirty-six-year-old version of Vodka, with her breasts still having the heft of a voluptuous mother. However, her face radiated with a glow of a woman who had just entered into the experience. Entering what it felt like to be a competent and well-functioning adult. In the next step, the confident adult was frozen in time, much like her older maternal self before giving was to a woman who was four years her junior.

The thirty-two-year-old Vodka rubbed her bulging belly with care in the split second that she felt the chill mentioned earlier imbued with the power of time that struck her body. She was much like her former thirty-six-year-old self, her body still blessed with maternal heft; however, her dark soft eyes now reflect a hint of insecurity, as if one or a great number of things were out of her control due to a lacking in one area of skill or another. The hesitant woman took a step, freezing herself in time to give junctural birth to the woman who made her advance. This Vodka was nearing the dawn of what was thought to be Vodka's late blossoming into womanhood, as her maternal heft was lighter than her past selves. However, much like her previous self, this Vodka too was unsure, as the weight of adulthood was just showing signs of becoming stale in her mind, and at twenty-five, she was in the beginning stages of a mental transition.

The next step forward left this beginning stage behind, the budding flower of maturity regressing into the stem of ignorant adolescence as three years were lost with a soft footfall. Vodka was a twenty-two-year-old girl; her soft dark eyes were shiny but didn't seem to have the spark of experience her past selves did. She only seemed to know what she could do with help, but in no way could she accomplish much on her own. The last step snuffed out the spark of adulthood; Vodka was an eighteen-year-old girl, leaving the embers of experience behind her in her twenty-two-year-old self; she was devoid of experience now. She was now younger than her former youngest child Valia, though as she wished, all of the feminine heft she accumulated throughout her adulthood was now gone. Her body was sleek and wholesome now; the budding life within her womb had now taken refuge inside her ovaries, the record of growth and consummation stored elsewhere. Now, if an onlooker were to behold the goings-on of this room, they would see the frozen phantom-like forms of Vodka, dating her growth from a budding woman into a full adult.

Two sound-minded business owners, two women who were coming into their own filling with pride as they have accomplished more than they dreamed. Two versions of the same woman were becoming comfortable with their new responsibilities, followed by a young woman who was starting to understand the power she could have in her community. And what remains, an empty-headed young woman, lacking much in a stern foundation or much physical or mental maturity.

"Hmm?" Vodka peeped, blinking her big doe eyes to look behind herself, thinking someone was there.

Before Vodka's feet was a blue pearl necklace, the essence of what she once was being saved into this trinket; now it lays on the floor like an item of little importance.

"Oh, big sis Valia must have dropped this!" squeaked Vodka as she picked up the marvelous item.

Hearing a knock at the door, Vodka clutched the necklace to her soft chest before stuttering out, "W-who, who is it?"

A feminine voice answered back," It's Laura; your sister says you need to get back to waiting tables."

"Oh coming, sorry!" Shouted the young woman as she scrambled to get dressed, tossing the necklace on the nightstand near the bed before grabbing her clothes.

Vodka lifted her beige floral gown up and over her crimson head; the maternity dress hung lower on her shorter frame, coming down to her ankles. Her recent reduction in height and maternal girth left the dress looking rather silly on her now sleek body. The dress was left wanting to be filled out, but alas, its confine hung empty around the chest of this young girl. Her former massive bust left the housing bustline of the garment stretched, allowing a perverse patron to gain a peek at this younger Vodka's diminutive yet soft chest if they were struck the inclination to do so.

Now dressed, Vodka rushes out of the room, her bare blue lacquered feet pitter-pattering against the wood floor. Bursting out of the door, she passed Laura before running downstairs.

"Hehe, she's always so eager to work." Smiled Laura as she watched the small woman from the balcony of the stairs as she broke into her role of waiting for the patrons.

Glancing over to the room, Lura wondered, "Now, what was she doing in her sister's private room?" Laura asked herself before spotting something peculiar on the nightstand.

Walking over, Laura scoffed, "Hey! This is the necklace I loaned Valia a while ago; Vodka must have been playing dress-up with it. Well, I'm sure they won't mind me taking it back; if they want to borrow it again, they can just ask." Laura giggled to herself as she fastened the blue pearl necklace around her neck.

Once the necklace was fastened, Laura was overcome with a sudden wooziness that knocked her on her big chocolate ass, straight onto the bed.

"Wah, woo, I guess walking up the stair took the wind out of my sails." Said Laura fanning herself with both of her polished pink hands in an attempt to cool herself off.

Within seconds, the fifty-four-year-old GILF felt a cool breeze wash over her thick chocolate body as the necklace bestowed its contents upon her. She felt lighter all of a sudden as if her body mass was being lifted from the shackles of age. Her skin and muscles were restored to their youth. Her stomach saggy, stuffed with cellulite, and covered with stretch marks, tightened; her stretch marks remained, but the amount of cellulite lessened, her belly becoming chubby and round. The silver peppering's in the luscious bush of curls atop her head, colorized becoming a rich black. Unlike Vodka before her, Laura though becoming younger, did not lose any wisdom; on the contrary, she gained the experience lost by Vodka, adjusting to the thought processes of being a leader and business owner. Remember that the name of the bar was now in memory of a lost friend who named her daughter after herself. The Vodka who was had now passed on in the minds of the people of the island, and the Vodka that remained was her youngest daughter who barred her name, a junior. Laura had always been a mother-figure and sister to the daughters of Vodka. She treated the young Vodka Jr. as a daughter while treating Vaila the middle child and the oldest Goalma as more youthful sisters, as she was more than a decade senior. Even though she was still considered a younger woman herself, she now regressed age of thirty-seven.

***

Dime entered the library. The building seemed empty with the attendant, nowhere to be seen. Walking through the grey carpeted halls of the small building down its tall standing legions of path-making shelves, Dime looked for a book of interest. Further into the library, Dime spotted a curious cyan-colored spine of a rather thick book with the golden letters entitled 'I Told You I Was King Walrus.' Encased between two golden stripes lined the top and bottom sections of the book's body. Dust escaped from its slot on the shelf upon being pulled from its home, wedged between two other books of less attractive titles, 'Island of Comedian' and 'Property of Allen Short.'

Cracking the book open, Dime began to read.

'" So here we are at the end of it, huh?"

"Well, did you think the end would come this quick?"

"I didn't know, but you could have warned me when all hope seemed finite, dwindling ever faster."

"Why would I, would you have listened?"

"Probably not as at the time, such a conclusion would have seemed foolish."

"True, though, on the bright side, we have this beach all to ourselves now."

"Yes, a heap of black sand and milky waters, what a bounty of good fortune!"

"Despite your sarcasm, I think it's grand; it's so quiet now, so ever quiet."

"Say, do you think she got out? She would have fancied this perpetual night under this forever-full moon."

"Do I look like I would know?"

"Why wouldn't you know?"

"Well, if I had to guess, I would think she was the moon."

"What a beautiful yet somber thought."

"If she was, then her time would be with us is never-ending."

"That would be the case."

"Are you sure that's even possible?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you're a liar."

"I'm not a lair; my tongue is as pure as ivory."

"Ivory has no stake in truth, only in slaughter."

"That may be true, but in the time that we're in now, slaughter doesn't exist anymore now does it?"

"No, wounds, even those of the mortal type, just go away now, it seems."

"Yes, don't you feel that our payout might be better than anyone else's?"

"No, as I am still in servitude to you."

"Ah, so you haven't forgotten, that's good."

"Yes, I recall your title though what it means now is questionable."

"However, it's all there is now, don't you think?"

"I suppose so."

"Would you like me to repeat it for the one reading our plight?"

"You're asking for permission from me? And what are you talking about? Shouting out to the waves isn't going to help anyone."

"But you forget."

"I'm not forgetting all our conversations end up with you madly shouting this out to no one but me."

"I was King Walrus"

The book repeats the conversation over and over again. For what seems to go on for hundreds upon hundreds of pages.

"The fuck is this?" Dime asks herself, confused.

"Well, if you like it so much, you can take it home." Said a calm voice.

"Thanks, wait... Wah!" Dime replied before being spooked by the realization of another person standing before her.

The shock was so strong that it ended up knocking the wispy buxom woman off her feet to the carpeted floor below.

"Oh, I'm sorry, here, let me help you up." Giggled the woman as she offered a pale black lacquered hand to Dime.