Out, For A Spin

But then when would she see Michelle? The charming, affable and hung megababe that she had so recently been chasing?

"Wow, we're skewing the average today. Not that many below eleven..." Michelle said. "I never knew how many futa were bigger than me before I started this class. I hope it's still enough for you."

Yes, mistress, the attractive, hung and likely wealthy fitness celebrity would be a fine catch. Maybe that was the race they were all involved in. Not just an audition where they slipped their huge cocks into a surreptitious pocket pussy and measuring device, but one where the most fit would get to bed her. Simone had no chance of winning, but she definitely couldn't win if she didn't... keep... pedaling.

Maybe Michelle was a sorceress who could enchant and hypnotize her viewers with her mighty wand. She would almost have to be to get this couch potato so enthusiastic about exercise. This was the sort of exercise program Simone could get into, every day... and night, if she was lucky. This was a much better full-body exercise than the bike. Even her arms were getting a good workout from pulling her onto the bike's hole. She even spanked a curvier part of the bike's chassis, but that just hurt her hand a bit. It was like slapping her fridge.

Simone kept thrusting into her bike, having an orgasm every few minutes or so. At first, Michelle and Simone's orgasms were far apart, but Simone kept going, trying to catch up. The gap between them narrowed more and more until they finally both had one huge orgasm at the same time. Hearing Michelle moan so sweetly as she came made her feel like she was the one responsible. Maybe she was. God, how she would love to feel her in real life... maybe she hosted a live class where they could all run a train on her... or she could do it all by herself... she had to keep coming... this was an area where she might get first and be allowed to impregnate her host... just keep on coming...

Before long, the class came to an end. Simone didn't check her place in the standings. It was her first time back after a long absence, both from exercise and sex. It'd hardly be fair to compare herself to the others... also, Simone's head was resting on the bike and she wasn't even looking at it anymore. The thumping music had stopped, and the only thing she could hear was Michelle's soft, exhausted panting.

Simone glanced up at the screen just as Michelle started to talk again. Michelle was also spread out on her machine, still docked within. She lifted her head and engaged the camera, looking like a mermaid resting atop some rocks.

"I guess that's the end of the show." She said breathlessly, as if she'd like nothing more than to keep the show going forever. "Looks like we all hit some good numbers today..."

Michelle pushed off the device, her jizz-streaked cock slowly emerging from the device until it hung loose between her legs. She rolled her head around her shoulders as she brought the seat back up on her bike to sit down. She unlaced her shoes and pulled them and her socks off her feet, throwing them off-camera.

The assistant tossed Michelle a white towel, possibly as a trade for the shoes. Michelle turned away from the camera, possibly to give a nice long shot of her fantastic, naked rear end. She pulled her sports top up over her head and off her body, a slight curve of sideboob present before she she put the towel on her shoulders and held the ends down over her breasts.

She turned back around. Michelle was there, as an old person might say, in the altogether. Her hair was wet and loose, her abs and thigh muscles were highlighted with the shimmering light from the studio. Her cock hung loose, finally flaccid but no less perfect and lovely than the rest of her.

But that towel... Michelle held the towel in place with both hands, covering her breasts. It was the only part of her the audience hadn't seen. It seemed silly to keep them hidden with everything else presented. Maybe this was to keep everyone coming back. We'd seen everything else, but everyone made sure to tune in every episode to be sure that they didn't miss the one where she finally flashed her baps. Even taking the shoes off was probably to appeal to the surprisingly robust number of foot fetishists out there. The camera never lingered on them deliberately, but it was probably enough.

"Thank you all for riding with me today." She said softly, her chest heaving with deep breaths. "I know most exercise routines have you do a cool-down at the end, but... who does that when you're making love? Nobody. You just ride until you collapse. I think it'll be fine. But drink some water, or some FlexGulp why not? The link is down below." She pointed downward. Maybe people were looking down there, but it wasn't at any link.

"I think it's about time to hit the showers." Michelle took a deep breath. "See you on the next ride." She said with immovable confidence. She turned in place and walked off, slinging the white towel that was over her breasts away as she strutted away from the camera, out of focus and out a nearby exit. Credits rolled by to her left, a large list of invisible people who made this program possible.

Simone stared at Michelle's shrinking image on the screen until she was gone, and stared at the space she was until the broadcast finally cut and suggested some other broadcast to watch instead. Instead, she looked to turn the device off. She wondered how hard her heart was beating now. It felt really strong and fast, though it was decreasing as she had stopped her workout.

A number at the bottom of the screen said ninety-eight again. Well, that couldn't be. That was where she started! It couldn't be...

She looked closer. Ninety-eight wasn't her pulse rate, that was the percent of oxygen in her blood. The 'percent' sign was stylishly miniature and looked almost like a decimal point. Her heart rate was 122 beats per minutes and slowly dropping.

Simone pulled the ECG pads from her skin by the device that connected them. Despite being saturated in sweat, they hurt a bit when she finally freed them from her skin. She looked at her new 'bike,' now that she had shared more intimacy with it than any other device in her house... except maybe the shower drain. Simone almost expected there to be a huge puddle of semen leaking out from within.

She pulled herself out from within the device. The portal immediately vanished and the bike returned to its former inconspicuous shape.

Simone figured that she should drink something. Water... coffee, maybe. She could probably use a cigarette. She didn't smoke, but wasn't that what most people did after incredible orgasms? Instead, she was on her couch, staring deliriously at the noontime news without any comprehension. She certainly didn't feel like sleeping, as her heart was still pounding in her ears. It sounded so loud to her that she barely noticed when there was knocking at her front door.

Dragging her sweat-soaked body off the couch, she stood by the door and looked through the peephole. She couldn't see anything through it. Maybe someone was covering it on the other side. She opened her door a crack.

In burst two people, both in green-and-white jumpsuits. They also wore hats and mustaches. The shorter one was carrying an enormous backpack

"Ello, love. Is this 531??" The taller one said in a ridiculous Cockney accent. "I'm Beverly and 'at's Mabel. We're 'ere to service that there bike!"

Simone wasn't tired enough to be fooled by this. "You're the same two women who delivered that machine this morning! You just have hats and fake mustaches!"

"That's not possible, guvnor." She insisted. "Without that large clock to wake me an' all o' London up, I was sound asleep until we got the buzz to come 'ere! Ain't that right, Mabel?"

'Mabel' looked up from her kneeling position near the bike. "Uh... yeah, totally. We were taking a siesta." Her accent was somehow worse, sounding more Australian or Brooklyn. She pulled out a specialty key from her chain and inserted it into a tiny opening on the back of the device. There was a sudden snap as the back of the device fell down, revealing four large cylinders... and that unmistakable smell of ejaculate.

From within the machines, Mabel pulled out four custom-made screw-on lids and spun them onto the containers. She hoisted each cylinder out of the device, wiping down the inside with a baby wipe.

"Should I be doing this instead?" Simone asked. "Do you want a glove or something?"

"Ohh, at's OK." Beverly waved her hand dismissively. "Back in good old Great Britian, we call that the 'angel's share."

"If you were really British, I don't think you'd say you were 'from' Great Britian. Wouldn't you just say England?"

As Simone weakly tried to convince the ladies to end the charade, they had replaced all the cylinders with the empty ones and snapped the device closed again.

"OK, you're all plummed up for the next ride! 'Ave a good day!" Mabel and Beverly made haste as they hoisted the four heavy cylinders out the door.

Simone went to her balcony to see if she could see them leave. She saw them parked below her building...

In an old-fashioned milk truck.

Simone blinked, feeling a chill run up her spine. What had she just gotten herself into?

She felt a chill on a few other places, too. Up her back and across her balls...

Simone looked down. In all the confusion, she had completely forgotten that she was naked, and had just walked out onto her balcony. An appreciative passerby alerted her to this with a short wolf whistle. Maybe it was one of those damn construction workers.

She scrambled back inside. At least any neighbors who noticed her would have seen her at her lightest weight since college.

---

The mysterious milk truck traveled down the street, with the shorter worker hanging off the back of the truck like a garbage man. It passed a location appropriately called the Milk Bar...

And drove right past it.

Two women were outside the door, getting a bit of fresh air as the milk truck rolled by.

"Do we have competition now?" Asked Casey.

"Looks that way." Said Tess.

"Is that good... or bad?"

Tess shook her head. "Unknown."

Casey stretched her arms over her head. "Welp! No need to twist my arm." She moved to go back inside. "Looks like I need to up my game."

Tess didn't immediately follow. She worried for the future of her little shop, wondering if she'd be pushed out of this 'market' the way Blockbuster had taken over local video rental shops... and then getting ruined themselves by an even larger juggernaut... that ITSELF was crumbling as other behemoths spent untold billions to gain the attention of the masses.

It was enough to make someone think that the future was hopeless.

But Tess would not allow anyone entering her shop to think that she believed any such thing. With a deep breath of clean air, she walked back into the funk of her Milk Bar.