The Long Pull: Spread Your Wings

"That's weird. What if someone couldn't reach back there?"

"That happened to me. I dislocated my shoulder a few years ago and couldn't reach as well with my left hand, so I'd get help doing it. None of us are squeamish about it. But OSHA didn't like having a hook that touched things that had... been where it had been. They get really skittish about that. We can have them in all day, but once one comes out... the main rule is.. don't take the implant out on the floor, where a customer can see you. Step behind the bar if you have to hot-swap it."

Belle turned the implant curiously in her hand.

"You may as well get it loaded." Carol said. "You can load and unload as much as you want before we're open. But you might want to see how you deal with it before then."

Belle shrugged, taking the oblong thing behind her back, wincing a bit as it slid inside. Her hand appeared in front of her again, empty.

The reaction dawned on her slowly. It wasn't as intense as the one for the hot wings, but any first-timer would find the sensation quite powerful. Belle's hands trembled, her mouth dropped open and her eyelids lowered. And of course, her cock stirred and got hard, growing substantially from its already impressive flaccid hang.

Carol felt her heart start to race, too. And her implant wasn't even in yet. Belle's cock reached up to her breasts. Carol couldn't blame it for wanting to reach up and touch them... she hooked her thumbs into her waistband to keep her hands down.

Belle's shaking slowly stopped, and her breath became very deep, but slow. She still had her eyes held closed, chin raised, like she was at the end of the diving board and didn't want to look down. The shock of inserting the implant had passed.

"You feeling OK, honey?" Carol asked.

Belle opened her eyes, giving Carol a look that most of the waitstaff had seen from each other. The intense influence of the implant had made her flushed, her mouth hanging open a bit. Carol was excited when any woman looked at her that way, though the looks of unrestrained lust was most often directed at her cock.

With a shiver and shuddering moan, Belle seemed to return to her senses as the feelings equalized. Her cock twitched with every heartbeat, as if to somehow attract more attention.

"Did I suddenly get more attractive, once you put that implant in?" Carol asked.

Belle leaned in close. "Oh, you couldn't get more attractive."

Carol grinned. "I like you already."

Belle looked around apprehensively. "How... long until we open up?"

Carol pulled her phone out of her little waitressing pouch, something she only really did if she had to check the time. "About ten minutes."

It had been a very long time since ten minutes could feel like such an eternity. Somehow, Belle would have to find the strength she needed to endure this.

---

While they waited, Carol withdrew a single rolled trash bag and set it into an empty waste basket. When she rose, she felt a few eyes on her. Belle had checked her out when she bent over to put that bag in the trash can.

"What's on your mind, Belle?" Carol asked with a small grin.

"You're not loaded yet." Belle observed.

"No, I ain't." Carol confirmed, wondering just how close Belle was looking.

"Then why are you hard?" She asked with a smirk.

Belle knew the answer, but Carol had her own answer. "Because I'm always ready to make some wings."

"They wouldn't be very... hot, would they?"

"I think they'd be steaming hot."

"Is this job nothing but innuendo?"

"No, sometimes, we talk about sports." Carol said. "So long as it's not the high school football teams. I couldn't give the smallest crap about that, but, you know... Texas. Apparently, Netflix hasn't made it out here yet."

"So, is there a reason you aren't... 'loaded' yet?" Belle asked.

Carol sighed quietly. This was the part of the job that wasn't described accurately in the interviews to avoid scaring people off, the way a listing for a veterinarian wouldn't talk about dealing with wounded animals or the varieties of fluids.

"Because the implants that are actually hot... they weigh on you after a while." Carol said. "We sort of explain it by talking about building heat. If you have the wing sauce implant in, even at the minimum level... eventually, that's going to start making you feel backed up and hot. The only way to solve that is to... sauce some wings. But now you're briefly hot... up front."

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Belle looked apprehensive.

"No more than a spanking." Carol said. "In that... yes, sometimes it can be a bit hot, but it also feels really good. But that's the balance we deal with every day. Usually, if it starts getting real hot, you can spray down with the ice water, cooling wipes, rub some ice on yourself, fan yourself... all the stuff the customers love to watch us do. But if it's TOO hot, we've got a special single-use mint pellet implant. Fire one off and you'll be nice and chilled."

"So it does burn... down there." Belle said with some apprehension.

"Like I said, it's a balance. Wearing the implant and never ejaculating is uncomfortable because the heat's all back there. So you make up some wings, and now, the heat's up here. And on a busy day.. you just get hot all over. If you're struggling, just let one of us know and we'll help out."

Belle nodded. "I think I'll be all right. But... what sort of help are you proposin' here?" Belle moved in closer, hands together. "Would you... kiss it better?"

Carol chuckled. It was like Belle was reading her mind. "Maybe." She grinned.

Belle shook it off, suddenly cognizant of what she was proposing. "Gosh, what's in these things?"

"We haven't had a new hire in a long time, so I forgot how newbies react to it the first time." Carol said. "You'll get used to it. You'll still be horny, but you'll be propositioning less strangers... maybe."

Carol went behind the bar and reached into a drawer near a cash register, pulling out a small all-in-one camera. "One more thing we should do before we open..."

Belle saw the camera and lit up. "Ooh! Are we doing naughty selfies?"

"Not quite, though you can take as many of those as you like, so long as you tag our social media accounts when you do. Live your dreams of being an Instathot."

"Oh, I don't have any social media accounts."

Carol raised her eyebrows at that declaration. Someone of Belle's approximate age having NO social media... maybe that was how she stayed so cheery and upbeat.

She brought Belle against the sole square white pillar that existed in the interior of Pythons. Some oversight had left this behind when everything else got covered in faux-wood and other decorative junk. Thus, this was now where everyone stood when getting their name tag picture taken, the way post offices and pharmacies had the little white screen for taking passport photos.

Preparing for her closeup, Belle raked her hands through her hair, throwing it back over her shoulder. "How do I look?" She said.

Carol looked at her through the dim LCD screen. "Perfect." She said, without really meaning to.

Belle giggled and smiled, a moment captured forever on the camera and preserved.

Carol pressed the print button on the side of the camera. The camera dispensed a tiny version of the picture, perfect for sticking to the surface of the name tag. She broke out a label maker that was stored right beside the camera.

"Do you need to know my last name?" Belle asked, peeking over Carol's shoulder to look at the little LCD screen.

"We don't put surnames on the name tags so we don't get stalked." Carol answered. "It's really rare, and you can usually see the problem customers coming from a mile out and we just send them away, but it's not impossible. In fact, if you want to just go by some kind of nickname, now's the time to choose one."

"Nah." Belle said. "I like my name. I'm not afraid."

Carol glanced back at Belle's member. She could definitely understand her lack of fear, based on the size of those balls. "It's up to you. Like I said, I think the girls at the other wing places are more likely to get... pestered." Carol peeled the paper backing from the tiny picture and put it on the blank name tag in the upper-left corner.

"What other information do we need on there?" Belle asked. "Favorite wing style?" She leaned in to look at Carol's name tag to find a space for a number... that listed the size of her erection in inches.

"Oh!" Belle looked shocked. "I didn't know that would be on there."

"You clearly aren't shy, right?" Carol said. "Besides, they're going to see it. They might as well know the real number."

Anne was ready for this part. She had been relegated to getting supplies behind the bar ready. This was a task that she would take on with much greater enthusiasm. The first day of a new waitress was always fun, and she had summoned the appropriate tool: a custom-made fifteen-inch plastic ruler with the old Pythons logo molded into it. There were only a few of these left, so they were only broken out for 'official' business. Or to show off. They were not permitted for any 'extracurricular' use because the old plastic could shatter with any force sufficient for a spanking. That was probably how most of them broke in the first place.

Belle took a seat at one of the booths, her legs sticking out the side into the aisle. She gasped at the sensation of some of her weight pushing on the implant. Maybe people took them out when they went on break before sitting down. Or maybe they stood around the break room like loiterers around a shopping mall.

Anne got down on one knee before Belle, her face very close to Belle's enormous erection. She was feeling that sense of almost aching lust as she brought the plastic ruler up against Belle's organ. It almost felt like wearing the implant, right down to her rock hard erection... and she hadn't put one in yet.

She put her forehead into her palm, almost dazed with what she was seeing. "She's bigger than the ruler." Anne claimed.

"That's impossible!" Carol said in a moment of impatience. "Stop screwing around."

Anne wasn't screwing around, and it wasn't actually impossible. Belle's erection really was bigger than the ruler. They had to summon the measuring tape from the office's meagerly-appointed toolbox to get the real measurement: fifteen and a half inches.

Belle spoke up quietly. "At home, I used to come out at fifteen and three-quarters, but... that might be me rounding up an eighth-inch rather than down."

Carol looked back to the label maker. "I'll put down whatever you want. It's sort of like the billed heights of wrestlers. Some people exaggerate."

"Fifteen-and-a-half sounds fine." Belle said. "Let another praise you, and not your own mouth."

Carol typed that into the label maker, scrolling through the special keys to find the one-half fraction that was a single character. She affixed the little number in the appropriate place. Belle picked up the name tag, almost not believing the number herself.

"Before you put that on, there's one more thing before it's complete."

Carol opened a book of custom stickers that adorned the lower half of the name tags. One colorful caught Belle's eye. It was a thumb-up image surrounded by a vertical rainbow spectrum. It represented "down for anything,' though the thumb was pointing up in approval.

"I'll take that one." She said.

Carol stared back. "Nobody... actually picks that one, especially not trainees. It's in the menus as a joke."

"If someone goes too far, do I still get to say no?"

"Well, sure."

"Then I'll be fine."

Carol peeled the backing from the rainbow sticker and affixed it to the first blank square at the bottom.

"Do I get to pick any others?" Belle said.

In a workplace where nudity was so commonplace, Carol felt ridiculous even saying this. "That one... pretty much covers everything."

Belle took her name tag and pinned it in place over her left breast, right above the snake's head. She looked at Carol's name tag. There was a little talking balloon with a question mark in it on a blue backdrop. "What does that one mean?"

"It just means 'ask me.' I'm willing to do stuff, so long as someone asks nicely. Nobody's shocked me with a request for a long time."

The pair stood across from each other, sizing each other up. Carol had been through this dance many times. It barely seemed like that long ago that she trained Anne... and now she was a veteran herself.

Carol stood beside Belle as she unwrapped her wing sauce-flavored implant. "You ready for your first day?" Carol asked.

Belle nodded and smiled. "You bet your butt I am."

Carol gave the high sign for someone to unlock the front doors.

Nobody was waiting in the parking lot, so... they kept standing there, the implants gently sizzling silently away behind them.

---

"Medium, Table 5!"

There was no need for a bell to indicate that an order of wings had arrived. They all came to the end of the kitchen in one of Python's innumerable stainless steel bowls. They made quite a noise as they were slammed down onto the counter. Pablo's voice also carried well through almost the entire restaurant, or at least far enough that the waitresses almost always heard if their table was called.

Carol dropped her phone into her handy pouch. "Come on, Belle. I'll show you how it's done."

The pair walked to the back, where the stainless steel bowl was sitting next to a number drawn on a coaster, in case someone forgot. There was also a long rectangular plate with several stalks of celery at one side. She picked up the bowl with her left hand and headed towards Table 5.

"I didn't mean to say, 'I'll show you how it's done,' like you don't know how to masturbate or something. We all know how to do that."

"Yes, but if you're from the church, I'll deny it." Belle said.

Carol's hand went to her behind and clicked her implant to Medium. Belle glanced over at the motion.

"Might as well get ready before I get there." She said as the room suddenly got a little hotter.

The pair walked over to Table 5. There was no visible label on any of the tables, but one could start counting from the bar entrance counterclockwise, with odd numbers on the inside and even numbers on the right. This was something she'd have to explain to Belle at some point. They were all written down on that wipe-away sheet at the lectern near the entrance.

The customer at Table 5 was a man, probably about six feet tall, wearing a flannel shirt, sunglasses and cowboy hat roughly patterened after the American flag. If he was sitting in the front seat of his truck, he could be the Twitter profile picture of scores of men complaining about Democrats. Sitting in a wing bar, he just looked ungentlemanly for not taking his damn hat off when sitting down at a restaurant. (Maybe over a decade of food service had left Carol a little cynical...)

"Hey, there, honey." Carol said to the customer. "You were lookin' for a plate of Medium wings?"

The customer tipped down his sunglasses, his eyes darting between the pair of waitresses. In a smooth baritone, he said, "I did order Medium wings, but it looks like you've brought me Large and Extra Large."

"Well, allow me to introduce the newest member of the nest. This is Carol, and I'll be training her today."

"Sounds like fun." He said.

Carol set down the plate with the celery in front of the customer. Belle immediately got nervous, like she'd set the cauliflower in front of the hungry tiger. Most men of this customer's disposition certainly weren't vegetarians...

"Could you hold the bowl for me?" She passed the metal tossing bowl to Belle. She held it at a slight angle, not letting any of the wings get near the edge of the bowl. Carol began tugging at herself, her cock close enough to the wings to feel the heat coming off them on her tip.

Through his sunglasses, the customer watched the show... but Belle was also there watching... feeling a bit left out. She was holding the stainless steel bowl against herself, which was partially very hot, and partially cold. She'd much rather touch something pleasantly warm...

"Would you like some help?" Belle said with an impish smirk.

"Only if you're offering." Carol smirked back.

Belle reached out across the bowl and started tugging on Carol's cock. It felt a little weird getting a handjob with the hand in the other direction, but Belle's hand was as soft as velvet. Her grip was strong without being constrictive or uncomfortable. Like most futa... she had plenty of practice.

With Belle holding both the bowl and her... Carol's hand were free to stretch over her head, her hand folding behind the back of her neck. The customers smiled as they watched the spectacle...

And Belle and Carol made eye contact. Belle gave Carol a look that made her heart skip. That heavy-lidded breathy look with the wide O-shaped mouth pulled in to bite one half of her plump lips... without meaning to, Carol's eyes closed and she leaned forward, lips coming together.

Before they could reach each other, Carol bucked her head back as she sprayed her seed into the bowl, scattering white sauce all over the wings in several thick ropes. Before either could cool down, she took the bowl back and tossed the wings with some skillful flicks of her wrist. Her 'sauce' started to turn orange, and the wings began to look like traditional hot wings. When they were sufficiently coated, she poured the wings out onto the rectangular serving tray, dribbling the remnants of the sauce across them until the bowl had given all it had.

Before Carol set the bowl down, Belle stuck her finger in the dregs of sauce inside the bowl, gathering some sauce, and licked it. She hummed with obvious pleasure, staring at Carol as she did it. Her moan changed to a squeal as her eyes widened.

"Ooh, that's really hot." Carol coughed into the back of her hand, pointing away from the others.

The customer's eyebrows curled a bit above his sunglasses, wondering if these would be hotter than the regulation hot wing standard.

"That's not Hot, that's Medium." Carol insisted, feeling the bumps on the exterior of the flange where the dial was pointed. There were two dots, which meant Medium. Carol was experienced enough to know what setting she was on by 'feel,' but she had to be sure.

"I know, but that's really spicy for me."

"I might not even try the mango habanero if Medium is making you sweat."

"Thank you very much for this, ladies." The man said, as he unrolled his napkin filled with silverware. He tucked the napkin's corner into his collar, rolled up his sleeves...

And picked up his knife and fork and began slicing at the first wing.

Belle's mouth fell open at the affront to decency. Before she could say something, Carol pulled her by her hand and spun her in place.

"I hope you enjoy those wings!" Carol said. "If you have any problems or need a refill on your water, just ring the bell! And you know where the bell is!"

Carol's free hand reared back and slapped Belle on the left buttock.

Belle yipped.

The man looked up from his utensils. "I'll probably get your attention in a more traditional manner, but thank you for your vigilance."

The pair hustled off to some unoccupied stalls to talk.

"Eating wings? With UTENSILS?" Belle whispered. "Who DOES that? What, is he from BOSTON?"

"People do that when they don't want to eat with their hands like a bear." Carol said. "I see people do that sometimes. But you can't just blurt that out to the customers like that."

"I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't think I'd see such a thing here."

"Not everyone wants to eat here, so we can't drive someone away by mocking them." Carol said. "It's not like we're at a gas station on a deserted road where nobody got a choice."