The Depraved Dykes of FIT - Book 09

"Ahh, yeah, fuck into me sweetheart," Emily cooed. "Fuck me with your strong, slim fingers!. While you finger fuck me, I'm picturing you forcing me to lick your cunt. I fight you, I don't want to be forced into perversion, but you sit your pussy on my face until I can't breathe, then I have to - I just have to - eat your pussy, and we both cum together, and I discover it's the most exciting and pleasurable experience of my life."

Belle said nothing, but pulled out the dildo. "Okay Emily, I'm going to push the cum deeper inside you with this 8" dildo, it should push it deep enough that those little fucks swim to your egg...hopefully. And once they do, you can get started on your daughter."

"What if it's a boy?" Emily asked.

"The FIT virus changes our chemistry enough to discourage male embryos from attaching, and the ones that do succeed are sickly enough that they die...or we just eliminate them in utero. Our birth selections are at about 94% chance you'll have a beautiful little girl-"

"-who will grow up just like her mother," Emily finished, smiling. "A smart, beautiful girl who will grow up to prefer women, and work to kill men. It warms my heart, it really does," said Emily.

"Now, fuck me long and hard, I haven't cum in minutes and I'm getting anxious!"

Belle inserted the long and thick dildo inside Emily's dripping and hot vagina, fucking in slowly at first, then faster, using her thumb and fingers as she did to stroke Emily's smooth labia and around her glowing clitoris, her external caresses doing more to excite the widow than the actual fucking did.

"Stupid men have no clue that female orgasms start on the outside, not when they thrust their ugly pencil dicks inside," she thought, but dismissed getting angry about it because she knew that no man was ever going to be inside of her, and certainly not ever again inside of Emily, since she'd discovered the abundant pleasures of girl on girl fucking after her accidental infection by the FIT virus.

She fucked Emily for about five minutes, leisurely and patiently, the dildo flowing inside Emily, her hips responding and rotating as she thrilled to the expert handling by a woman. "Okay, that's enough of that, now you need some real orgasms to help draw the sperm further in."

"Oh, thank goodness," Emily whined. "You're so much better than my idiot husband."

Belle lay next to her, their bodies slowly tangling as they sought out each other's warm and feminine touch, breasts rubbing together, legs entangling, bringing wet pussy dangerously close to excited cunt, their hands caressing soft, smooth feminine flesh, seeking out tight openings in which to play and gather interesting scents on a finger.

"Unnh," Emily moaned. "I'm cumming baby, I adore your touch, I want to feel your pussy, hot and wet, on mine and on my mouth, both...come fuck me, darling." As though in a practiced motion, which in a sense it was - since FIT women rarely went more than a few hours without another naked female by their side - Belle inserted a muscular thigh between Emily's legs, pressing her slick and slimy pussy along Emily's thigh, then sitting up so that her cunt slipped onto Emily's, the two, wet centers of their sex kissing intimately.

"Ahh," Emily gasped, the pleasure of feeling a woman's hot vulva on her own filling her and bringing on an orgasm, satisfying creamy delight. Then Belle began rocking into her, really thrusting her cunt wetly against Emily, who thrust back just as hard, each thrust blowing hot embers of pleasure and passion across their sensitive clits.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Belle repeated mindlessly as she fell headfirst into her own set of climaxes, dreaming as she did of one day returning home to her family's home in Minneapolis, and there converting her two younger sisters and her mother to FIT, and the closeness and intimacy of their family would be forever insured...once they'd done away with her father, of course.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of voices in the hallway outside the bedroom. Emily yelped.

Chapter 6

"They're in here," one voice said, either a man or a throaty female.

"Good, we've got a lot to do. The others will be along in a few minutes." This a lilting voice of a teenage girl, the patois of Jamaica in her tone.

"Hello cuties," the deep voiced one - a woman, of course - said as they entered. "We're the first team of cleaners."

She was a black-haired woman, early thirties, muscular but not heavy set, a classical butch but with fine features and certainly cute enough. The other was a tall island girl with a café au lait complexion, maybe 18 years old, and quite beautiful, with violet eyes. Emily thought she was falling in lust with that one, at first sight.

"I wish our duties included fucking in a beautiful mansion," the island girl teen said, grinning.

"You really can't wait until this job is finished?" the black-haired woman said, incredulous. "Maybe I'll fuck you in the truck, how's that?"

"Okay," the teen replied, shrugging, showing that, while not overly muscular she was quite athletic. "But we've got ourselves a little swim first." The two ignored Emily and Belle as they contemplated the male corpse.

"Where do ya keep his swim trunks?" the tanned girl asked in the direction of the two naked women.

"Uh, over there...third drawer down, on the right side," Emily responded, pointing, then giggling as Belle kissed her sweaty underarm.

"Mmm," Belle hummed.

"Slut," Emily responded, grinning.

Belle was about to respond when the older of the two additions said, "You need to get out, Belle, we're going to clean around Emily and dick head here, but we want to try to remove every trace you were here. It just complicates things."

"Okay," Belle responded, kissing Emily. "See ya around, kid."

"Kid?" thought Emily. "I'm more than ten years older than her." She gazed fondly at Belle as she dressed, the act of a woman putting on or taking off clothes nowadays one of the most interesting acts that Emily could think of. Plus, there was the fact that they'd murdered Emily's husband together, something that they could cherish in their future encounters together.

With a small wave to Emily, Belle exited the room. Others downstairs would take her home.

Chapter 7

As she exited, two more women entered. One was in her late twenties, medium in height and build, with long, curly dark brown hair, the other looked to be as young as Belle and the island girl, about 18, with close cut copper-colored hair and elfin features, blue eyes and a perfectly lovely set of curves, improbably large breasts and a sweet, rounded ass. These apparently were the two who would be setting up the bedroom and any other parts of the house that needed to be staged in case of a possible police investigation.

Meanwhile, the first two - the black-haired older woman and the Jamaican teen, were bagging up James for his long, cold journey out into the Atlantic in the dark of night. They had a fold up gurney brought up, and then took him downstairs, the last that Emily would see of her husband until he wound up on a cold slab at the county medical examiner's office.

"I hope he doesn't look too gross by that point," Emily thought. It was probably the most caring thought that she'd had about him in the last month, ever since her infection by the FIT virus had taken hold. She'd had to do an awful lot of acting in that time period, and shuddered at the thought of having been forced to let him fuck her a few times.

"God, it was awful," she thought. Becoming a FIT woman had brought her immense pleasure, but that certainly wasn't a part of it.

"Hi, you're Emily?" said the woman with the long, curly hair. "I'm Amy and this is my sister Chloe," waving at the redhead. "We're going to be making sure nothing is left here that would contradict the story we want the police to believe, got it?" Emily was watching the teenage stunner.

"Hmm?" she responded. "Sorry, I was looking at...um, she's your sister?"

"Yeah," responded Amy. "Look, I know you're kind of new to this, but I need you to concentrate, and then you can fuck, okay?" Emily shivered, throwing back her head and closing her eyes, her body visibly shaking.

"Oh god, it's so good," Emily moaned. "And it will always be like this."

"Until you're dead, which might be sooner than you think," Amy said, an angry expression on her face. "Look, there are three parties who want you to get caught. No, four."

"First, there's the cops. It's their job to figure out that you just murdered your husband. They're not stupid, they get paid to find out where you slipped up."

"Second, there's that group of degenerate sluts from Pax Terra. I know you were told about them - they're lesbians, just like us, but different, and they want to kill us. They'll kill you if they suspect you're FIT."

"Third, there are actually some men who have figured out that we want them dead, and that we're more than willing and capable of erasing them from the world. There don't seem to be that many of them - yet - and they're not much of a threat, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then, got it?" She glared at Emily until Emily nodded, a little chastened, but also turned on by Amy's stern ways.

"And who are the fourth group?" asked Emily, anxious to get into Amy's good graces.

"Not a group, an individual - you," Amy said.

"Me?" replied Emily, shocked. "I don't want to get caught."

"We find that a small percentage of FIT women who have killed a male subconsciously try to get caught - by the cops, of course, not the others," said Amy.

"Why? Because they feel guilty?" replied Emily.

"And want to get punished to alleviate their guilt?" responded Amy. "No, not that. Never that. It's because they come to realize that once convicted of murder they'll end up in prison." She paused, wanting to see if this one was run of the mill, or at least a little bit thoughtful.

Emily stared at her, and then she broke into a big grin. "A women's prison! Hundreds of pussies looking for satisfaction from another woman!" She looked at Amy. "That's it, isn't it."

"Yes, it's that simple. That's why you need to know that we have agents in pretty much every women's prison - some guards, some convicts, who will shank you if you go to prison. That's if we don't get to you first before you even get there. We don't need women confessing to murdering their husbands or boyfriends and giving away the large numbers, growing every year, of FIT members."

"Got it?" Amy asked.

Emily nodded, a submissive expression on her face. Amy smiled and held Emily's head gently in her hands.

"I know you're putting on that submissive act because you want to get fucked, just remember what I said, okay?"

"Okay," Emily replied.

"Are you done with the cunt catechism class, Sis?" asked the young redhead, leaning against the wall. "Can we debrief her now?"

"Yeah," replied Amy.

The two sisters and Emily sat on the bed and as the sisters asked Emily questions, the evening - from Belle's meeting with James, through dinner and the subsequent events - became crystal clear to the two sisters. To Emily, as the two sisters held hands with her, it seemed as though they had a psychic connection and could actually visualize events - not as told to them, but as they actually occurred.

"Your husband removed his watch himself," Amy said. "Then he put it in the bedside drawer before letting himself be tied up by your lover, Belle. But it's waterproof, it's a Rolex Men's Submariner, and he always wears it while he's swimming. We'll have to get that on him before he's taken out."

Emily looked surprised and checked inside the bedside drawer. Her eyes widened.

"Yes, there it is! How did you know?" She took it out and gave it to the older sister, who ignored the question and handed the expensive watch to her copper-tressed sister.

"Get that downstairs, quick, and put it on the corpse - his left arm, correct?" she said, looking at Emily, who affirmed the arm choice.

Amy walked around the bedroom, looking at the furnishings, absently touching things with her nitrile-gloved hands, until her sister returned.

For an hour, the two sisters arranged the bedroom, moving small things here or there, sometimes just a few inches, removing some things entirely, and then they embraced, their heads together, cheeks touching. Finally, Amy pulled away.

"You're satisfied?" she asked her sister. Chloe nodded, then Amy smiled.

"Good," she breathed.

"How do you know you caught everything?" Emily asked, curious.

"Chloe has a gift," Amy said. "I have some of it, but Chloe's the dynamo that drives both of us."

"Has she ever made a mistake in cleaning up?" Emily asked.

"No," Amy answered. "From our first murder scene we cleaned up, she's been perfect, and that first one was a really tough one."

"Oh?" replied Emily conversationally. "What was that?'

"Our parents, victims of an axe murderer," Amy said, looking unblinkingly into Emily's eyes. "Or rather, an axe murderess."

"And after it was done, she woke me up in my bedroom, bringing me a glass of milk, it smelled so, so strongly of peaches, and after a little while I understood everything she did...and loved her for it."

"We've been inseparable ever since. And as you can see, neither of us are in prison."

Perhaps Emily should have been horrified, but she didn't feel as though she had any capacity for that anymore. She only felt elation, and a strong desire to go to bed with both Chloe and Amy, and fuck their brains out.

But neither of them would turn out to be her most ardent lover, the one who would be with her to the end.

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