The Depraved Dykes of FIT - Book 08

"Never you mind," Terri said, staring at Alice. Turning to Sandy, "How about it?"

"I'd love it," Sandy responded, as Michelle opened her legs. It was then that she recognized the white string sticking out of the girl's swollen and red slit. Michelle stared into Sandy's eyes as she slowly pulled the bloody tampon out.

"Go ahead baby," she cooed.

Without a word, Sandy leaned down and pressed her mouth against Michelle's crimson opening, licking and lapping, the young girl moaning and cumming immediately and happily.

As she licked the intensely flavorful cunt before her, Sandy felt something being pushed into her own wet pussy, then realized that it was Michelle's tampon. She shivered with pleasure at having such an intimate part of Michelle inside her own body, and moaned as she came, over and over, massively, her ass wriggling and the women around her giggling and caressing her body.

As though a dam burst, the other three women joined in, forming a tangled mass of randy femininity and lust, five women forming nearly every combination and permutation that their fevered imaginations could conceive, until hours later they finally lay back, exhausted.

Chapter 5

"I'm worn out," Sandy finally sighed. "I've got to get something to drink, would anyone like anything from the kitchen?"

"Just bring me a nice, juicy pussy...I think yours will do nicely," Alice giggled.

"I'd like that," Sandy smiled. "Just the thought of your tongue deep inside my wet hole, makes me wet. Well, wetter!" Sandy slunk out naked, fully aware and appreciative that the four other women were staring at her ass all the way.

It was a few minutes later that the women on the bed heard what sounded like multiple gun shots from the direction of the kitchen, followed by glass breaking and Sandy screaming. They looked at each other and made tentative moves towards the door, when Sandy came running into the room, arms flailing.

"Masked men, carrying guns, they shot at me! What can we do?" Her face was flushed and contorted.

"Are you hit?" asked Terri, already moving.

"No, I don't think so," replied Sandy, breathing heavily.

"We've got to get to the panic room," Terri yelled. "Now!"

The other women, at first paralyzed by indecision at the unexpected alarm, and perhaps in fear, began reacting, heading toward the door just behind Terri. Only Sandy hung back slightly, letting the others reach the panic room before her.

As she reached the door, Terri was standing inside gesturing to her. "Get in here, close the door!" Terri shouted, waving Sandy in with her hands.

Instead of entering, though, Sandy reached down and picked up a familiar looking object from the living room that was, for some reason, on the floor outside the panic room. Out of nowhere a lighter appeared in Sandy's hand, and she lit the object, the base of a decorative hurricane lamp filled with scented oil. She lightly tossed the bottle high up into the center of the room, all the way up to the ceiling, then pulled the door closed on the four women.

She could hear their screams, panicked at first, as the improvised Molotov cocktail broke on the floor, splashing flaming oil all around. That was followed by screaming and panicked wailing, then Terri's voice rising over the others.

"Stop! Just stop, everybody grab an extinguisher, it's not that bad!"

As Sandy listened, the women quieted, though still moaning in fear and after several seconds she heard the whoosh of high pressure release of the extinguishing agent running for long seconds until all the extinguishers were apparently emptied.

Then she heard choking noises from within, and held firm to the door as fumbling, increasingly panicked efforts were made by the four women inside to open the door. Sandy held tight to the door latch, her athletic physique would probably have won that tug of war with the four women anyway, but the greasy skin lotion she had put on the knob on the inside of the door earlier made it no contest at all.

The fumbling efforts to gain a hold on the door knob by the women inside eventually slowed, then ceased as the women were overcome by hypoxia, suffocated by carbon dioxide from the cheap fire extinguishers filling the room, and collapsed.

Sandy waited an additional five minutes, then let go of the doorknob and began removing all evidence that she'd ever been in the house, replacing the bed sheets which were irrevocably contaminated with her DNA with fresh sheets from the linen closet. She then took a leisurely shower, again cleaning up after herself.

She made a short phone call, a woman appearing ten minutes later and driving off with her.

When she was dropped off at the diner - now closed for the day - she got in her own car, drove home, made herself a sandwich and opened a beer, then went to bed and slept very well indeed.

Chapter 6

"Like some more wine, Cyn?" Sandy asked the girl.

"Yes, please," she said, holding her glass under the bottle. "Oops," she said, her hand jerking, drops of red wine splashing onto the sheet as she attempted to move the top sheet back over her bare breasts.

"No, I like it better down," Sandy laughed. "I like looking at your tits."

"Well, I like yours too, sweetheart, perhaps we can work something out."

"Before we fuck - again - you're all clear on how it went, right?" Sandy asked, then took a sip of the wine, the couple's favorite ever since they'd been converted to FIT and met while working to convert a sorority at Central Florida University with the FIT virus.

"Yeah, I think so," Cynthia Warren said. "You found the misfires and eliminated them."

"Pretty much," Sandy said. "Apparently it was the Terri woman who was infected by the FIT virus and somehow never got her indoctrination. As a result, she had all the desire for women and hatred for men that we all have, but had no training in how to use it. She was a loose cannon, as they say, as were the women that she had converted."

"She figured out that her bodily fluids contained the virus and that it was infective. So she'd pick out a woman that she was attracted to, slip some of her spit into her drink and wait. Eventually the woman, another misfire, would easily succumb to Terri's attentions and there'd be another disciple. They used their hatred of men to rob and kill them-"

"Well, we couldn't fault them for that," Cynthia interrupted.

"No, of course not," replied Sandy. "That was the one good thing they did. But they were clumsy, directionless and would have been caught eventually. The men might have started to get wise to the fact that women all around them are being converted to lesbianism. FIT couldn't allow that to happen."

"So, just as you planned it, I hung around the diner long enough for her disciple Alice to get hungry for me, and Alice dosed me, which had no effect since I'm already converted. Then it was just a matter of finding the circumstances where I could eliminate them."

"When I saw the air tight panic room, complete with CO2 extinguishers, it all fell into place. I greased the inner doorknob of the panic room, and pre-staged the hurricane lamp near the door, along with a lighter. After the 5 of us fucked all night, I left the bedroom, went to the kitchen, picking up my service revolver from my purse, fired it through the window a couple of times, then ran into the bedroom screaming, and predictably they bolted for the panic room."

"Then they all suffocated," Cynthia said. Sandy looked a little sad.

"I almost think I could have saved Michelle. She'd only been turned a few days, and honestly she was an amazing fuck, and really pretty filthy - you know how I like that. But I couldn't pull her out of the herd of stampeding dykes. C'est la guerre, I guess."

"As long as you're fine, that's all I care about," said Cynthia. "And no one in the sheriff's department suspects you, right?"

"Not a clue. My cover is still good, and I'll be converting Janice Goodbody, the new evidence clerk in a couple of days. That'll make it very easy for us to get whatever we need to finance things down here and cover up our own murders."

"Goodbody?" said Cynthia. "Seriously?"

"Yes," laughed Sandy. "And it is, too. She's my partner's cute niece - you know, that gross, fat old guy - and that'll make it even sweeter."

Chapter 7

"We're not really sure at this point what might have happened," the lieutenant told the assembled squad. "We're not even sure if it was murder, an accident or a group suicide."

Sam came into the squad room, late as usual. "What did I miss?" he asked.

Sandy shrugged. "A group of 4 women were found dead in a house in an Orlando suburb, looks like they'd been dead maybe 5 or 6 days. Kind of a locked room mystery, except the room wasn't even locked."

"Guns? Drugs?" Sam suggested, the two ingredients usually found in scenes like that.

"I guess we'll find out," Sandy said. "Say, Sam, I hope you don't mind, I'm going to take your niece out to lunch, kind of welcome her to the department."

"You women are all alike," she heard Sam mutter. "Y'all always have to become each other's BFFs, don't you?"

"Only when we're not trying to kill each other, Sam," Sandy said with a smile.

"Yeah, right," Sam said, heading over to the tarnished office coffeemaker. Sandy looked at him and sighed.

"The office coffee is such crap," she thought. She really wished that someone would make a Starbucks run.

Chapter 8

"How do you like your lemonade, Janice?" asked Sandy. "I think you'll like the little special touch that a good friend showed me, it's just a little taste of peach."

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