The Brash Hen

"Put him in his place, Missy!"

"The little perv deserves it for getting hard around us," said another.

The weight of her breasts forced my face to smoosh harder into her flaccid cock, dimpling the stretched fabric of the jean shorts until my forehead pushed into her muscular thighs. Her scent forced its way into my nose and lungs, and I could feel my hips wiggling, feet dancing on the ground, as I wasn't sure whether to try to resist or not.

"Ha ha ha, Vanessa found a good one, huh?"

I could feel sharp, long fingernails dig into my backside, clenching around my skinny hips.

"Not enough meat on the bone," one of them said.

"There will be once we're through with him."

The huge cock jerked, rumbling, growling like a caged animal as I unintentionally massaged it from one end to another with my face. Her huge tits settled around my head, pinning me mercilessly and, for her part, effortlessly. Gravity was a bitch.

"I think he likes it down there - he's really going to town," the one whose lap I was investigating said. I think her name was Missy.

"What's his grade, Missy?"

Yup. She was Missy. And her cock was growing frighteningly fat against my eyes and cheek.

"I'd give him a B for foreplay, and reserve any future judgements until later."

"I bet he's a slut to the core."

"Probably a real nasty little piggy."

A chorus of giggles as I felt a hand dig into my hair and drag me out, sweaty and panting, into the relatively cool air of the bar.

"Enjoy your time, slut?" Missy asked. Her lean, tense arm just about lifted me off my feet as she dismissively set me aside. "Make yourself useful now and get us our second round, and maybe you'll get another sniff of what a real cock is like later. Good boy."

I was harder than I'd ever been in my life. In a daze, unable to really understand what I'd just gone through, I stumbled back to the bar where a beaming Ericka met me. Such big tits... and big dicks? The smell remained.

"Aren't they fun?" Ericka said. "Better hurry with those drinks!"

In a daze, I splashed a good amount of vodka over ice, used the soda dispenser to fill the glasses to the rim, and copied what I saw Ericka do earlier to fill a large glass beer mug from a tap. Tottering my way back to the booth, I realized that several more customers arrived in the meantime. I cast my glistening eyes around, watching as huge tits, fat asses, and bulging cocks made themselves at home in the dark, smoky bar.

Two of the women, including Missy, were smoking long cigarettes when I set the tray down on the table. I coughed when Missy blew smoke in my face to the amusement of the others.

"This little slut still hasn't gone down!" Missy said as she twisted her hand around in my shorts, at once depositing another bill while simultaneously rubbing her long and slender fingers over my throbbing dick. "Ha! Little bitch is drippy as hell."

More comments followed as she pulled and twisted on my penis. I whined and tried to clamp my lips shut when she tugged sharply on my small balls.

"Pathetic little male," she grunted.

Another hand joined in, this one grinding down between my sweaty and thin ass cheeks.

"No meat on the bone," the woman sitting across from Missy said. Between her spread legs, I could see a pair of white panties stretching nearly to her knees with a thick, heavy, fat length of powerful cock. Above, her fabulous, bouncing tits swayed in her tight, frilly halter top, which exposed more cleavage than it hid. Her fingers grabbed my ass rough, hard, tugging it before releasing suddenly, disinterested. I moaned.

"We'll just have to fatten this little piggy up," Missy said, pinching the tip of my penis until I bit my lip and tried not to cry out. "Let me show you what a real pair of balls looks like, you worthless little bitch."

She released my cock, which immediately released a thin wad of pre-cum in my shorts, and grabbed my wrist instead. I was forced to bend over the table, eye level with her tremendous breasts, as she guided my hand down around her meaty cock to the fat, heavy balls below. My palm spread as I groped at her fat, heavy sac, panting hard, eyes wide, not really believing such a huge pair of meaty, productive orbs like this could really be within my grasp.

"Look at him. His slutty mind is breaking just from touching your balls, Missy," someone said. "Be careful or you'll have to keep him as damaged goods! Ha!"

More comments followed addressing my size, height, maleness, and more, but they were water on a duck's back. Her huge nipples bounced in front of my eyes, inches away, as my hand squeezed into her huge and heavy balls. They were almost as big as my head, I was sure of it. Large, even. Fuck. I wasn't gay, but who wasn't at least a little curious, right? And from the scratchy bills she shoved down my shorts earlier, I could look forward to some good tips, hopefully.

After a while, Missy got bored of me and seemed to forget I was there. I could feel her huge log throb against my arm, hardening up, thickening wider and fatter until my arm was a toothpick versus her tree trunk. I didn't stop squeezing and rubbing as my throbbing little dick dripped away in my shorts. I must have been bent over for fifteen minutes at least, while a cavalcade of hands passing behind took time to grope, prod, or poke at my proffered backside.

"Alright, that's enough," Missy said eventually. She grinned, grabbed my wrist, and forced my own open palm flat to my own face. I gagged and almost came at the exotic, dense, lustful scent of her fat balls and stumbled away as she pushed on my arm. "Look at this bitch, can't even handle my balls. Imagine what he'd do if I fucked him."

Fucked me? With that monster? No way. It'd kill me. My cock twitched, frantic, throbbing, dripping, as I stared slackjawed, gawking at the table, unable to even consider the idea of her mounting me, pounding me, opening me up, owning me with such a huge, fat dick while her plump, juicy tits held me down, pinning me as she ravaged me, ravished me, ate me up and spit me out...

"Fuuuuuuuck..."

I came. Hard. Obvious, as well, and the table laughed uproariously as I blushed and covered myself with the tray that I snagged off the table. Their laughter echoed, and I saw them milling around a few minutes later spreading the story of the slutty server who came just being talked down to, leading to many more tables that night having their way both physically and verbally with me.

Fuck.

A few hours later, after I tottered my way through the busy tables full of tall, well-endowed ladies, several of whom by now were showing noticeable bulge, I saw Ericka heading up the stairs through a door at the far corner of the bar. Three women, whose breasts put together easily could triple or quadruple Ericka's weight, fat rump and all, practically carried him through the door and up the stairs, drunkenly pawing him until the door swung closed and I lost sight of him.

As I got back to the bar, Vanessa waved me over. I was, by now, a bit used to seeing her in full profile and I wondered, for a moment, if I would have taken the job had I seen her from the hips down before I started this crazy shift.

Vanessa's impressive chest tried to, as always, drag my greedy gaze to it. I watched as she spoke to a customer, half-shouting across the bar as she simultaneously shook a cocktail mixer. Her chest wobbled, bouncing ludicrously, straining the stitching on the white polo shirt. I could see the bumps of her nipples scraping along the fabric as though watching it through one of those 1,000-frame-a-second cameras, each wobble and jiggle as her taut, lean arms jostled the canister of booze.

But my gaze, inevitably, dropped lower, past her smooth stomach, past the pleasing width of her hips and thighs, to the unmistakably giant bulge of cock shoved down the leg of her skinny jeans. A few inches of skin showed between the hem of her shirt and the waist of the pants, which were so low that they revealed the upper few inches of ass cheek and the tattoos across the small of her back, but also so low in the front that I could see the girth of her enormous cock. It put me to shame, it really did - thicker than my wrist, even when I could tell it was completely flaccid. It was so long that it stretched to her knee, kept tight against the inside of her left thigh, with the fabric of the pants clinging so tight around it that I could even see the veins when the swinging spotlights above passed over at the right angle.

Noticing me, she turned and, facing forward, my dick sprang to life at the size of her heavy, swollen balls. The obscene orbs forced the zipper outwards, packed in so tight that the upper inch or two of her cock was forced past the waist of her jeans. How had I missed it earlier? Did I really care one way or another? I was drooling at the sight of those meaty nuts squeezed down into Vanessa's ultra tight skinny jeans, and I felt like a man in a desert who'd never eat again.

"Hey! Matt... or Mark! Uh... Max! That's it!" she said, snapping the silver drink mixer down onto the bar top before spinning off the cap with a practiced twist. "Max! Move your ass! I can see table five looking for drinks from here! They're on the tray - get going!"

She poured as she spoke, lifting the mixer a few feet into the air above the martini glass with a rising flourish before depositing an unopened umbrella squarely in the middle of the icy slush.

"You know I fucking hate making these," she said, pushing the stem across the bar towards the patron on the other side.

The red-haired patron was muscular, far more than the willowy Vanessa, with beefy arms and a clear six-pack etched in her exposed belly. Yoga pants wrapped around her muscular calves, thighs, hips, encasing every inch of her in flexible, breathable fabric that just so happened to perfectly outline the ridiculous thickness inside. It was curled over - I could see the tip dive over and push back under the swollen balls below, making the whole thing sag downwards from her hips like its own little cocoon offshoot. The yoga pants stretched so tight they lost color, turning from a lavender purple to a semi-translucent white around the outermost stretch.

She leaned against the bar on her side, leaving her weight on the inside, so that she could remain half-turned towards the bar floor. Her head turned, shifting from focusing on Vanessa and instead swinging around to focus on me, catching me in the act of focusing on her. I felt my eyes go wide, and I quickly turned and fast-walked away. I glanced over my shoulder, checking if she was angry or anything, and instead accidentally locked eyes with her. In the moment, she winked, and her hand slipped down, giving her cock a good squeeze, forcing the yoga fabric to stretch and bulge further down the line.

Fuuuuuuuck.

I turned away quickly and used the tray to quickly hide my damp shorts (Vanessa gave me no time to change), and headed out for another round with another new bill scratching deep down my inner thigh, along with a smarting backside from the open-palmed ass-smack. Considering the tips, though... shame doesn't pay the rent. And besides, I wasn't really thinking properly. I knew that. A bar full of gorgeous women, massive tits, makeup, dolled up, but rocking incredible cocks like I'd never even dreamt of? Cocks big enough to make me a sandpile to their mountains? My brain wasn't working at all. For hours now I'd been teased, groped, and verbally abused, and I'd been loving every moment of it. Was it something in the air? Why was everyone so casual about it?

I watched the door across the bar open and the three women who earlier escorted Ericka upstairs emerged full of smirks and satisfied expressions, as well as noticeably relaxed arousals from before. One of them was still pulling her shirt up around her fat, plump nipples as the door closed behind them.

After a dozen or so tables, maybe another thirty minutes later, the door opened again. This time, Ericka emerged. It was clear he attempted to clean himself up, but there were hints of smeared mascara and lipstick across his face. His gait was a bit funny, too, and he winced once in a while. But most apparent was the sagging bulge in his formerly trim, soft stomach. He now looked like he swallowed a cantaloupe whole, and his bliss clearly outweighed whatever lasting discomfort after his upstairs encounter.

"Max! Sorry, but I had to dip, the offer was too good to ignore," Ericka said to me behind the bar. "Check it out! Vanessa's gonna love it!"

Ericka fanned out some twenties, a not wholly inconsiderate amount, especially considering my own dire circumstances. Something else caught my eye, though - the thick, continuous, rolling dribbles of what was clearly cum going down the inside of his thigh.

"Talk to you later! Bye!"

So that's what the upstairs was. And Ericka was a part-time pro, or something. I wasn't sure what, exactly, but I found myself caring little as I reported a new order to Vanessa, handed a wad of cash to her, and dutifully picked up the next tray, all with my eyes locked on either her enormous chest or the ass-destroyer between her legs. I may have even given her the last twenty or so bucks I had in cash of my own money by accident at some point.

As I walked back to the bar, I saw Vanessa leaning over the bar engaged in low conversation with the muscular red-haired woman from earlier. Once in a while, one or both of them would turn to shoot me a glance. I clutched the tray in my fingers in front of my crotch with one hand while the other fished the payment for the last round of drinks from somewhere under my balls.

Vanessa motioned me over. The bar was emptying out. Was it that late already? It seemed so - as I walked behind the bar, Vanessa leaned back, cupped her hands over her mouth, and bellowed, "Last call!" so loud the DJ's record needle skipped for a beat.

Turning towards me, she stepped in close and leaned forward. I stared up at her face, not daring let my attention get distracted now as she studied my flushed, flustered face.

"Yeah, fuck it, why not. I know she's good for it," Vanessa said. She poured a few last mugs of beer that Ericka delivered before waving off everyone else at the bar. "Ain't ya, Philomena, ya bitch?"

The last was directed at the muscular woman from before, who stared at me with the passion of a collector discovering a rare treasure in a thrift shop.

"You fuckin' know it, you fat ass slut," the red-haired woman replied. "Besides, if I don't do it, someone else is gonna. Might as well be me."

Down the length of her yoga pants, a tremendous wave of motion rippled from the base of the trunk to the tip, accompanied by a flexing of muscles in various pleasing places as she stretched her arms over her head.

"Anyways, I always like to get a good nut in before bed, and my date no-showed me, so I'm blue-balled otherwise," she grunted, standing up from the bar stool. "Top me off before I go, huh? We both know pouring drinks is all you're good at."

Vanessa smirked. "What, no points for dick sucking?"

"Oh, well, you're a natural at that."

"Fucking know it. Tip me well, brick house, maybe I'll let you see my tits later."

"Ha! I'll give you a tip, but first..."

I felt an eager dread grow inside me as the two women turned and focused their combined gazes on me. My rock hard little dick jerked against my shorts, the only movement as I ceased breathing under the weight of their looks.

Vanessa grinned as she glanced from the jostling motion caused by the weight of Philomena's thick, flaccid dick inside the stretchy yoga fabric, then towards me, then shrugged.

"Have fun, Max. I'll have your tips waiting here in the morning. Remember," she said, leaning down in front of me until her stern face was mere inches from my flushed cheeks and lips, "the customer is aaaalways right."

Her finger tapped me on the nose, then she leaned back and draped her arm around Ericka, who appeared nearby at some point in the preceding moments. Cash box in one hand, the thick-hipped waiter in the other, Vanessa didn't look back as she walked with Ericka around the bar and out the door to the back rooms, presumably to settle the till and cash out the tips.

A hand draped over my shoulders. A strong, powerful hand. A squeeze, then a slow tug, until I was turned around and facing my doom.

She was at least a foot taller than me. Other than Ericka, I was the shortest one in the bar all night. But she was especially big, and especially muscular. I could see the tendons in her legs flexed against her skin through the taut fabric as she leaned forward, forcing her flaccid member to poke downwards, past her knees, drawing my attention whether I wanted to pay attention to the other parts of her - like the part speaking to me - or not.

"...helpless little cockslut, aincha? Probably wanna suck my tits and motorboat until you cum, huh?"

I snapped my attention up to Philomena's face. She was grinning, but her brows were furrowed, and her hand tightened around my shoulder.

"Well, good, makes it easier for me to stretch a useless little male like you open nice and wide, doesn't it? Bet you'll even push back when I'm filling that belly of yours. Fuck, I love breaking in the new employees... Vanessa charges a pretty penny for it, but it's worth it to see the cute little cum gut hanging off your skinny little bitch hips."

Philomena's hand reached down between my legs and gripped my cock and balls in one, then clenched. I cried out, wriggling, as she grinned and tugged me forward into her chest. I faceplanted her cleavage and everything went black. Hot, warm, smooth, I squished forward in between them as her clenching fist made me dance. Her deep cleavage silenced my cries before her hands both landed on my ass, groping and clenching and squeezing and pulling my cheeks apart all while muttering filth, pure and vile filth, about how she was going to fuck me stupid, fuck me raw, fuck me until I'm too fucked to fuck...

I came in my shorts at least twice before she even grabbed me by the neck and drag-walked me across the bar to the door to the stairs. Hauling me along, I was little more than stumbling dead weight as she made her way through what were assuredly to her familiar hallways. To me, it was a confusing maze. These weren't regular apartment rooms, but rather subdivided into tiny and temporary single or possibly double occupancy rooms rented by the hour rather than by the day. I could hear high pitched moans, groans, and cries coming through the thin walls as we paced down the hallway.

Once inside, she tossed me across the rubber mattress and closed the door behind. She left the lights off as she descended hips first towards my head, smothering and pinning me down into the rubber as she clambered over my chest, eventually kneeling around my head with my arms pinned under her muscular thighs. Her bulging yoga pants sagged over my face, so she'd drag them back over my mouth and nose, but the weight of her huge, sagging sac would drag her shaft off again, so she'd drag them back over... I could taste her through the yoga pants as her arousal grew. Her legs clenched, driving the breath from me once in a while as she plopped her fat sac down over my face or smeared her growing arousal around my lips or nose.

"That's it, such a good boy," she moaned. Her thumbs hooked over her yoga pants, then pulled them out and down, around the tip of her flexing erection, which flopped out and splattered clear pre-cum across my face and forehead while her hands pulled down lower, getting her massive balls out. The waistband pulled in tight behind, keeping them propped forward, a proper source of seed for such a magnificently thick and hard, long cock. My fingers clenched into my palms as my arms wriggled against her thighs, but they squeezed harder around me, trapping me, not letting me do what I wanted, which was to feel the weight and heft of that magnificent dick in my own hands. I wanted it. Bad.