The Depraved Dykes of FIT - Book 10

(Aka Emily's Killing Time, Part 2 of 2)

Copyright 2016, 2021 Lisa Summers

All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters in this story are aged 18 or older. This story depicts extreme savagery, depravity and eroticism - the reader is warned!

Sometimes Evil doesn't get punished.

Sometimes Evil takes over the world.

And FIT is oh, so Good at being Evil!

Chapter 1

(5 weeks before the events of Part 1)

"It's really great to see you again, Emily," said the black-haired woman to the thirty something woman sitting across from her. The happiness in her voice was clear. If you disregarded the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes, the darker shade of her short cut hair, and her decidedly less expensive, though still tasteful outfit, she could be Emily Adams' sister.

Which, of course, she was.

"Anna, it's been too long," Emily said to her sister, Anna Belton, older than her by two years. "I hope that we can let bygones be bygones."

Anna looked thoughtful. "Why did we ignore each other for so long?" she asked rhetorically. "A stolen boyfriend, wasn't it?"

Emily blushed. "Yes...and I was a boy chasing idiot and too young."

"And then he turned out to be gay, anyway," she finished, smiling. Afraid yet to laugh - the wound might still hurt her sister.

"And thank you for that," Anna replied ruefully. "Or I might have married that moron."

Emily did laugh this time. "Should I take credit for the good man you did marry?" she asked teasingly now. "David is a very considerate husband, I hear...as well as very sexy."

"Don't push your luck, Sis," Anna answered her, but softening her words with her own smile. "Besides, you did very well for yourself - James is an amazing success."

"Well, I apologize, and I hope that we can be sisters again, good sisters. I missed you, I really did," Emily said truthfully.

"Me too," Anna responded simply, reaching across the sun dappled restaurant table to pat her sister's hand. "Now, what else shall we talk about?" she laughed.

"Well, what have you been up to?" asked Emily. "I've been reading all about you in the papers - County Attorney, and they say that you'll be Florida's next Attorney General! It's so exciting! You've got to update me, please."

"Before that happens, we should have something to drink. Do you know what you want?" Anna looked at her younger sister.

"Oh, you could order for me," Emily said offhandedly.

Anna skimmed over the restaurant's drink menu. "Something light, I think," she murmured to herself.

"One Shaken Lemonade for my sister and one Volstead for me," Anna then said to the waitress, a cute college student. The girl hurried off, and Anna looked at Emily.

"I thought an uncomplicated drink might be a good choice for you, since I haven't kept up with you very well. I'll have to become reacquainted with your tastes in alcohol - I would imagine no more Boone's Farm?" Both women laughed.

"These vodka drinks ought to go well on a warm day like this," Anna finished.

"Please, let's drink to new beginnings," Emily replied. Her mood had been considerably lightened by their rapprochement. Since their parents had died, and with no other siblings, the two were all that was left of the Miller family line - Miller being their maiden name.

A few minutes later, the server brought the drinks and set them before each woman. After clinking their glasses together, each sister took a sip.

"That's a funny after taste," Emily remarked. "I thought it would just be lemonade and vodka...what else is in it?"

"I don't know," Anna replied. "Let me ask the server." When the girl approached the table, Anna asked her what was in the Lemonade. The girl departed, and then returned.

"The bartender says that it's pretty basic - lemon, sugar, water and vodka. Oh, and syrup made from rosemary leaves." She looked enquiringly at both women.

"Is there something wrong? I could replace your drink, or bring you something else..."

"No, it's fine," Emily said. "Thank you." The girl left to attend to other tables.

"What's the matter, Em?" asked Anna.

"Well, it's just...oh, never mind, it's nothing."

"Oh, well now you have to tell me," Anna said, unsure if a smile or a distressed look was appropriate, so instead she just placed her hand on her sister's.

"You were gone away to school, so you didn't hear about it, but Mom made chicken with rosemary one time, and I had an allergic reaction. It turned out that I'm allergic to rosemary."

"Oh!" responded Anna, now certain that distressed was the best choice. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"How could you know?" Emily responded, smiling. "About either thing - my allergy or what was in the drink. Who puts rosemary in a drink?"

"Apparently Buzutto's Cafe," said Anna wryly. "Let me order something else - and we can ask what's in it, since they might have a rosemary fetish here."

"No, it's fine," Emily replied, afraid that the whole thing was getting out of hand.

"Well, how about we just switch drinks then?" suggested Anna. "I only took one sip of the Volstead, it's definitely just vodka and strawberries. And you can't possibly get any cooties that you don't already have, seeing as you're my sister."

"Well, okay, that would be fine," Emily said, "you're sure it's not too much trouble?"

Anna shook her head, and they simultaneously switched drinks from one side to the other, with all the finesse and polish of Soviet and American spymasters trading captured spies on a deserted street in postwar Berlin.

They returned to their long-delayed conversation and catching up on events, and couldn't possibly see the alarmed look on the face of the female server.

Chapter 2

(5 weeks before the events of Part 1)

"One more time, Cherry," the older woman said to the server, now seated in an uncomfortable chair in a darkened room, several hours after the two sisters' reunion and miles away.

"I served the Volstead to the target. It had been reinforced with a super potent dose of the virus, enough to convert her within a day. Her companion, her sister I think, had a Lemonade drink that was definitely not treated with the virus."

"Why would it be?" asked the older woman rhetorically. "We have no use for her."

"Yes, well, they asked what was in the Lemonade and I found out, and then told them. For some reason, that didn't sit well with them but they refused my offer to replace the drink."

"And?" asked the older woman impatiently.

"And I went back to my other tables and when I looked back a few minutes later, they'd switched drinks and the target was drinking the Lemonade-"

"Which would not turn her into one of us, while her sister was drinking the Volstead..." the older woman mused.

"...which would definitely turn her into a FIT woman," the cute college girl confirmed.

The older woman sighed. "You're certain that the target took one sip, though?"

"Yes, I watched her. I got excited at the thought of fucking her in the restaurant bathroom."

The young girl's face was a mixture of excitement and disappointment, much like a dog in a Pavlovian experiment who discovers that unexpectedly the rules were changed, robbing it of its treat.

"Very well, then. It's going to take the target longer to convert, and obviously her sister is already well on the way. We'll have to watch them both, and guide them as necessary. We don't want any misfires - women who become randy dykes and then start murdering men for no reason are really a pain in the ass for us."

She looked thoughtfully at the server. "You're new here, aren't you," she said.

"Yes ma'am, I was converted six months ago when my mother-"

"I don't need to hear your story, hon," the woman said. "But get out of the chair, there's something I want you to do for me." She lifted up her skirt and pulled her panties down as she sat in the recently vacated seat.

The young girl licked her lips, and got on her knees between the woman's bare thighs.

Chapter 3

(4 weeks and 5 days before the events in Part 1)

Emily looked out the exercise room window to see someone working around the pool. Something about the scene looked funny, but then pretty much everything around Emily had seemed a little "funny," ever since her lunch with Anna two days before..

"I wonder if there was something wrong with my Salad Nicoise," she thought, though her feelings weren't at all related to vomiting or, god forbid, diarrhea, but rather she had been experiencing flushing of her skin, and hot flashes and most memorable of all, strange dreams, dreams that she could barely recall but which somehow left her with the idea that she might have orgasmed from them, and whatever occurred during those dreams, it was something that was other than conventional.

James hadn't remarked on her sleep, there was no mention of thrashing around, sweating or making sounds of distress, and she didn't really want to call them nightmares. If anything, she was more refreshed upon awakening than she could ever recall. He had left for a business trip earlier that day, and Emily was slipping back into her role as "matron of the manor," though at age 33 and in exquisite physical shape - thanks to a trainer - there was nothing matronly at all about Emily.

Medium height, long, lustrous brown hair, full figure with trophy wife breasts and ass - though she was James' first, and hopefully final wife.

It suddenly struck her what was different about the pool boy. Their usual pool cleaner and all-around pool fixer was an Hispanic man, in his fifties, who invariably wore a wrinkled khaki shirt and pants outfit - at least, that's who the pool maintenance company always sent.

But the person working out there today looked like a boy, maybe 18. Perhaps the regular, Silvio, she thought she remembered as his name, had sent his son or grandson in his place for some reason.

"I suppose I'd better check," Emily thought. She put on a robe over her gym shorts and tee shirt, partially for modesty and partially for vanity. She'd been sweating a bit more over the last two days, and it would hardly do to display her perspiration marks under her arms and along her back.

Closing the french doors behind her, she called to the boy.

"Hello, um, hola," she ventured. "Are you a new pool boy? Where's um, Silvio?"

The pool boy, wearing very short frayed denim cutoffs that barely reached the bottom of his butt, and a flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and a shapeless, much worn red baseball cap turned backwards, was using a long pole with a screen on the end, apparently fishing out stray leaves, and turned toward Emily's voice. Emily was at first confused, expecting to see a teen boy with black hair and latino features.

Instead, she was gazing into the deep green eyes of a young blonde girl, her hair cut as short as a boy's. She was lanky and coltish, barely different in shape from a teen boy, her chest nearly flat and her ass small, but round. She was wearing a garishly colored, cheap bikini top over her tiny breasts, her stomach and midriff below it lightly tanned.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed in a surprised voice, sounding deeper and older than Emily had first thought. "I thought I was alone...I let myself into the pool area with the key you gave us..."

She stopped, waiting for Emily to respond, her look slightly frightened as though she expected to be accused of doing something wrong.

Emily took a few steps closer to the girl. She had fine features, definitely female even if not appearing quite done with adolescence.

"She really is rather pretty," Emily thought, believing her opinion to be strictly the product of her eye for fine art, jewelry and things. Still, though, she felt an unexpected trickle of sweat roll down from her brow and another between her breasts.

She wiped away the irritating perspiration at her eyes. "Are you old enough to be working out here?" she asked, not unkindly, but frankly curious. "What happened to the regular man, is he on vacation?"

Emily thought that she saw a very fleeting nanosecond of contempt flash across the girl's pretty face, her blonde bangs matted to her forehead by her own sweat.

Yet the girl smiled, a warm look spreading across her cute face. "Oh, I'm 18 if that's what you're worried about. And as for the man" - here the girl looked as though she'd bitten into something foul - "No," the girl said forcefully, her eyes widening at the tale she would be relating, and relishing the fact that she was the source of news. "Silvio was electrocuted when he was repairing a pool pump at a house in West Palm Beach. He's dead." She paused.

"Um, the boss asked me to cover Silvio's route for a while, at least handle the routine stuff. But I don't do pump repairs!" Emily supposed that the girl wished to remove herself from activities that had so recently injured her predecessor.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that." After waiting a few beats, Emily offered, "I'm Mrs. Adams, Emily."

"Oh, I'm Belle, Belle Erickson," responded the young girl, looking more and more lovely to Emily, and when the girl brashly offered her hand, Emily flashed to a vision of one of her mysterious dreams of the last few nights, seeing this girl, or one very much like her in this setting, but little more. Emily recovered from her shock in time to take the girl's hand, finding the blonde teen's grip surprisingly strong, but her skin smooth and soft.

The two females stood staring at each other for a heartbeat, then Emily said, "Well, I've got to go back in."

"Yes, ma'am," the girl responded, her lovely green eyes holding Emily's. Emily felt a small pang at being called 'ma'am,' as she, like most people, saw herself as younger than others would. Emily turned and walked to the french doors to the pool area, fumbling a little clumsily at the knob, then turning to see the girl still looking at her, the girl then fixing a polite smile when Emily paused.

Emily reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the girl's, finding them hypnotic, and entered the shade of the house. "She really is beautiful," Emily thought, then dismissed - or tried to anyway - the notion.

"Are you developing a crush on someone, or just admiring a work of art?" she asked herself soundlessly, ignoring the fact that it was a female - no matter how androgynous - that was catching her eye. She walked over to the window, certain that the girl standing in the glare of the Florida sun wouldn't be able to make out her shape, hidden by the shadows inside the house.

The girl stared at the door that Emily had passed through for a few seconds, then returned to her task, her rhythmic dipping of the net into the pool and the subsequent dumping of a few sodden and folded maple leaves onto the pool deck, over and over again without variation or hesitation, seeming to Emily to be a beautiful tone poem celebrating the artistry of the common worker, missing only the music.

Emily sighed, and then experienced a shock as she felt something stroking her vulva from outside her gym shorts, but inside the robe. She looked down to see her own right hand, for the time being an independent contractor, stroking her french cut nails along her labia, and pressing into the camel toe of her panties, wetting the fabric.

She allowed her fingers to continue their stroking, and she was surprised how rapidly her first orgasm overtook her. "Ohh," she moaned, biting her lip, her knees almost buckling.

She had orgasmed with James of course - more in the early years of their marriage, but still occasionally - but never as powerfully as this. She felt a wetness on her chin and using her left hand, found a thread of spittle there.

"Oh my," she marveled, a little concerned at her loss of control, but also a little pleased with herself. "I'm still a wild young woman," she thought. "Make that a wild young girl."

It was perhaps ten minutes later that it struck Emily that this would be a perfect time to use the pool - being recently cleaned, of course. She hurried to the bedroom and picked out her sexiest swim suit, a dark green Heavy Crystal posing bikini from Pink Label Bikinis. She hurried downstairs, bringing with her not one, but two oversized and thick Harbour Island beach towels.

She opened the door and was happy to see that Belle was still out working.

"Belle, um," she said. "It's so terribly hot...would you like to use the pool? I was just going to take a dip myself..." her heart was beating harder than it had when Jamie Barrows had asked her to her senior prom in high school back in Pensacola.

Belle turned and made a show of wiping sweat off her forehead. "Do you think it would be alright?' she asked in response.

"I don't see why not, it's my pool," Emily laughed, feeling almost girlish.

"Okay," the girl laughed. "I won't turn down that invitation." She immediately set down the net tool on the deck, and then stretched, her body looking slim and sinuous as she threw her arms back and above her head. Her hat fell to the deck and Emily saw that the girl's very short hair was thick and shiny, surprising to see in someone who you would expect to be in chlorinated or salt water so much.

Then Belle began peeling the flannel shirt off her shoulders, her muscles there thick like those of a tennis player.

"I suppose constantly using that pole thing would give you muscles," Emily thought, as she admired the girl's slim, svelte and muscular yet feminine body. Belle shrugged her arms out of the wrinkled long flannel sleeves, the shirt dropping to her waist, caught on the belt loops of the cutoffs, and then to the deck.

Belle's upper body was respectably tan, but nothing like you would expect from someone who worked in the sun all day. Still, Emily wasn't complaining - the cute young girl could easily be a model for young athletic femininity, and Emily could feel a tingle in her vulva. "How odd," she thought. Emily couldn't stop staring at the girl's chest, so boyish and nearly flat.

"I wonder what her nipples look like," Emily briefly mused, but dismissed the thought as "strange."

Then Belle unhooked the brass rivet at the top of her tiny cutoffs, and Emily first gasped as the fabric slipped down revealing more flesh. To Emily's consternation - and excitement - a thin pair of small, worn white panties came into view. Belle noticed Emily looking at her, and shrugged.

"I wasn't planning on going swimming, is it okay if I just wear my panties?"

"You look very lovely," Emily responded, which gave her the excuse to continue looking at Belle's slim, almost skinny thighs and shapely calves, lightly muscled. The panties barely concealed Belle's body, in fact, they made her look almost seductive, and when Belle turned, Emily appreciated how the fabric framed the girl's small, round buns.

"What's happening to me?" Emily thought, her clit itself now tingling as though she were building to an orgasm. She stepped into the pool, making her way deeper into the warm water, until it was lapping at her knees.

She turned to watch Belle enter, but instead of walking in, Belle just dove in, her slim body describing a perfect arc as she executed a dive nearly worthy of the Olympics. Emily's mind's eye recorded the arc of flashing pink female body, and she knew with certainty that she'd be replaying the moment later, when she was alone.

Belle came up for air, snorting and sneezing comically to clear her nose, as Emily laughed, then submerged again to swim over to the stairs close to Emily. Belle stood in the blue-tinged crystal clear water, just a few feet from Emily and facing her, clear water rushing off her cream in coffee body, and to Emily's shock, the young girl's sheer panties were now completely transparent, the girl's completely smooth and shaved pussy quite clear to see.