The Long Pull: Spread Your Wings

"We don't sell well-done steaks, do we?"

"Better that than medium-rare wings..."

"OK, yeah, you got a point..." Belle looked away.

A moment of silence. "What's on your mind, Belle?"

She looked back to Carol, a little bashful. "You said making the sauce doesn't hurt any more than a spanking."

"That's how I described it, yes."

"But..." Belle put her fingernail between her teeth as she grinned. "That slap felt so good."

"So does making the sauce. You'll see."

"I knew working here would be fun..." Belle said. "But I didn't think I'd just... get spanked and give a handjob to someone I met less than an hour ago... and enjoy it so much."

"The implant plays with your mind a bit, don't it?" Carol grinned. "It's fine. Customers love that stuff. He might give us a really nice tip."

"I'll be honest. I was afraid he might get mad when you gave him a plate of celery."

"Hey, don't knock the celery. It's really good here. You gotta try our Bloody Mary. Best hangover cure ever."

"Oh, I don't drink."

"I don't really drink anymore." Carol said. "Once I start, it's hard to want to stop."

Belle shrank a bit, though not where it counted. "No, I mean... I'm not old enough to drink."

Carol looked at her. "HOW old are you?"

"Well, I'm old enough to work here, and I'm NOT old enough to drink, so that really only leaves three options." Belle coughed at the end of her sentence and fanned her tongue with her hand.

"Is that still bothering you?" Carol asked.

"Maybe it'll be easier to make than it is to eat."

---

A few more wing lovers came in. Nobody was currently looking for any exotic flavors, so Belle's large erection was there purely for moral support. That and the Pythons tradition of getting pictures with the waitresses while the customer holds their hands out at a size approximating their server's cock. They privately called this the 'fish' pose, as in 'I caught one THIS BIG.' Most customers made stupefied expressions in their pictures. Even Carol didn't remember when this trend started, but it certainly seemed to be making a comeback with Belle's presence.

After watching Carol make up a few more orders of wings, Belle asked a question when they were waiting for a new order at the bar.

"What turned the wing sauce orange?" Belle looked down to herself with some concern.

One of the waitresses, Jeanette, walked by with a cast-iron skillet on a wooden tray atop her more traditional stainless steel tray. She had another plate with pico de gallo and freshly made flour tortillas.

"You ever get a fajita?" Carol pointed as the wonderful smell of charred beef and seasoning got further away.

"I love fajitas." Belle said.

Carol doubted her, but only because of how perfectly flat her stomach was. Any self-respecting Texan girl probably loves fajitas. "You know how they're all sizzling when they get to the table?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you hear it right now?"

Belle brought a hand to her ear. She couldn't.

A moment later, Jeanette took a container the size of a shot glass and poured something into an empty corner of the cast-iron pan. Suddenly, that appetizing sizzling sound appeared.

Belle turned her head to Carol, as if to ask how the card she had chosen appeared in that hat. "It's a tiny little bit of oil." Carol explained. "It sizzles once it hits that hot pan. This ain't like an Applebee's microwave thing or anything. The fajitas are really cooked in that skillet, but by the end, the 'sizzle' has settled down a lot. It's just a bit of pageantry."

They looked into the distance as the customer, a man in a foam trucker hat and overalls, tucked into his fajitas. He didn't necessarily look like the kind of Texan who would appreciate cross-cultural cuisine.

"I guess that little lie doesn't make them any less tasty..." Belle said.

The customer delicately applied the pico onto his fajitas with his spoon, folded it up, and took a big bite.

"Wait." Belle said. Jeanette had presented the meal and left without touching her large erection once. "When does she... give him some sauce?"

"There's not really a 'sauce' for the fajitas. Looks like he got them plain."

"...you can do that?"

"Sure. You can get the wings with normal wing sauce instead. But our wings aren't that much different from anyone else's. Some people ask for 'sweet cream' which is a nickname for unflavored. We just grab a spare dipping ramekin and do it table-side. It's the closest thing we have to ranch or blue cheese."

Belle took mental note of everything Carol was saying. "So... what turns the wing sauce orange?"

"Oh yeah." Carol said. "I was showing you how the 'sizzle' is sort of fake and got distracted with the metaphor. Let's go back and watch the next batch come out."

They went into the kitchen to find Pablo, the head chef, extracting a fresh set of boneless wings from the deep fat fryer. Unlike other people with the title 'head chef,' Pablo always wore nothing but black. Some days he wore the double-buttoned chef jacket, but most times he was in the black polo with the embroidered logo on the breast, where golf shirts had a tiny crocodile.

"Hola, Carol, Belle" Pablo said over his shoulder as he gently picked up each wing from the drain pan into the bowl with stainless steel tongs. Carol brought Belle in closer, showing her that Pablo was placing the wings over a little pile of orange powder.

"That down there..." She pointed to the pile just before Pablo covered it with more wings. "That's natural food coloring. It's made from dehydrated orange peppers."

"Why?" Belle asked.

"Do you think the customer wants to see something orange come out of here?" She pointed to her cock. "Or something RED?"

Belle pulled her lips back and sucked in air through her teeth. "Ahh... that makes sense."

"Don't worry. That stuff is only for the color. WE'RE the ones who make it hot." She found the large jar where the coloring was stored. "You can taste a little if you like. It's not hot at all."

Belle took a disposable spoon and took a small sample, a little more than a pinch, and ate it. She smacked her lips. "It feels a bit like eating confetti. Or like ice cream sprinkles."

"It'll dissolve. Don't worry about it. The point is, it's not adding any heat. That's all us. But wings sauced in white wouldn't look as appetizing."

A few minutes later, after serving up another platter of wings, Carol looked to see Belle's bright, enormous smile. It was just as white and perfect as before.

Darn. Carol remembered when someone pulled that prank on her first day and her teeth were orange all day. Maybe Belle has veneers... maybe the food coloring was replaced with a different kind that didn't stain the teeth when eaten directly...

Oh, well. One more thing that Carol remembered from back in the day that the younger generation wouldn't get to appreciate.

---

Carol and Belle welcomed a party of four, three gents and one lady, all in their mid-twenties. They were dressed smartly in the slightly formal look of office wear. Two of the taller men had taken off their ties, but the smallest one with glasses had left his on. Carol had never worked in an office or worn a tie. Nevertheless, she would think she'd rather not get a drop of hot sauce on an expensive tie, but would tolerate it on the center of her shirt that the tie would normally cover.

Carol took down their order with her faithful little notepad, but Belle insisted that she didn't need to write everything down. Carol persisted, but quizzed Belle when they returned to the kitchen to enter the order in.

Belle got it exactly right, even the beverages. She even remembered who ordered which drink! Evidently, Belle had a very good memory. Carol felt like the parts of her brain that remembered what customers wanted was worn out so long ago from continuous change, the way a paper clip breaks after getting bent too many times. She always wrote it down the second the customer said it. She could not hold onto the information any longer than if she had to bring her customer's drinks in her cupped hands instead of in a cup.

They brought out four big metal bowls of chicken. Carol started working on a set of Medium wings, and Belle looked at her own bowl, recalling what flavor the shy gentleman had asked for.

"Lemon pepper..." Belle turned the dial on her implant to the appropriate temperature. The 'heat' felt different suddenly, the distinction between the pungent heat of garlic and the tingle of citric acid. She took hold of herself.

"Wait, stop." The meek man said. "I thought the lemon pepper would just be... like normal lemon pepper wings."

"Oh, come on, Daniel!" One of the cooler co-workers said suddenly. "I want to see that thing go off!"

"Well, I don't... actually want to eat any of that. I only came here because I got outvoted. I was really hoping there was something normal on the menu."

"That's no problem." Carol took the bowl from Belle. "I'll take this back to the kitchen and the chef will make them up normally."

"She's just going to jizz on them in the kitchen." Said the second gentleman. "We may as well get a show."

"I don't got the right implant to make lemon pepper, so I can't even do that." Carol set the bowl of wings back down in front of the customer. "I'll be right back, Belle."

Even on her first day, Carol didn't mind leaving Belle out there by herself. If she minded standing there alone while four people stared at her erection... then this really wasn't the job for her.

Carol returned from the kitchen with Pablo waddling in tow. He was holding a small cutting board with a tapered handle in one hand and a knife in the other.

"Hola, my friends." Pablo said, saluting with the cutting board. "You want lemon pepper?" He reached into the pocket of his apron and pulled out a lemon. He sliced it down the middle, wrung out the juice into the bowl, delicately cut the yellow zest from the exterior, cut it into ribbons and sprinkled it into the bowl. He added salt and pepper from the tableside grinders, tossed them all together and set them out onto his plate.

Meanwhile, Carol made the two bro-ish customers hot wings the more traditional way... or at least the more common way for Pythons.

"There we go." He said. "Lemon pepper wings, table-side.. á la Pablo."

The shy man nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"It is no trouble at all." Pablo made his way back towards the kitchen. "If you need anything else, you let us now."

"I'm glad he knows how to cook," Carol pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "Because I can't cook worth a darn."

"I love cooking." Belle said. "I don't even mind washing dishes. It's relaxing."

Carol sighed quietly. Of COURSE the shockingly beautiful and hung woman also cooked and cleaned. She's what they used to call a 'keeper.' She was going to start attracting suitors who might not even like futa, but would just deal with it for her other advantages.

"Well, maybe someday, you can move up in this job and be a dishwasher." Said one of the office dudes, with an unclear amount of intended disrespect.

"And hide this beautiful thing back there, away from our eyes and mouth?" The woman in the group finally spoke up. "No way! I'll have whatever she's got brewing." She reached out from her seat and hefted one of Belle's balls in one hand. "Ooh, it's as heavy as a mango, and I'll bet just as sweet." She leaned way in and kissed the ball in her hand before releasing it.

Belle giggled.

"Finally, you got someone with a REALLY big cock working here." The customer continued. "Not like her." She waved both hands at Carol dismissively. "That's just not big enough for me anymore. I need more than twelve inches to even bother spitting at it. Not even sure why you brought that little thing out here anyway."

For the first time today, Belle didn't look happy. She put her hands to her side for a second, about to say something in protest. Before she even breathed in to speak, Carol reached behind her and turned her implant all the way up. Belle was suddenly distracted with the intense, warm sensation entering her nethers.

"You like mangoes? Well how about some nice mango habanero wings?" Carol took the bowl of bare wings. She asked Belle, "Do you want to hold the bowl, or do the fun part?"

Belle was still trying to maintain her composure, so she reached out for the bowl with trembling hands and allowed Carol to assist her. Carol slid up behind her to use her right arm at the proper angle, taking grasp of Belle's cock and tugging it into the bowl.

This was the closest she'd ever been to Belle. Her head was just past her shoulder, so she could watch what she was doing, which meant her cock was now pressed up against her Belle's rear. Carol could feel her warm body on her, and smell the fruity scent of Belle's shampoo.

Belle's cock was something else. She'd heard that cocks over twelve inches sometimes didn't get as intensely hard as smaller ones, but Belle didn't have any trouble with that. Maybe it was the implant, or maybe it was not being as used to the implant's effects as she was, but Belle was as hard and hot as she'd ever felt. It was like jerking off a runner's thigh.

Belle squeaked as her cock sprayed a huge amount of jizz into the bowl. She staggered off, a bit lightheaded, taking a seat at an empty booth as Carol tossed the wings. The wings had been given the normal orange food coloring... but it was coming up lighter than normal. Belle had literally come so hard that it was throwing off the ratio for the food coloring. They'd have to make note of that for Belle's future orders... or maybe Carol was just really good at handjobs. She certainly had a lot of on-the-job experience.

Carol plated the woman's wings. She rubbed her hands together, but didn't reach for them right away. With all the meals prepared, Carol brought Belle away to a semi-private corner of the restaurant.

"Don't worry about what that woman was saying about my cock, OK?" Carol started.

"She was being awful rude about that. This ain't like the guy and the flatware. I didn't want to just stand there and leave you hanging."

"Didn't you see how her co-workers reacted to that?"

Belle paused. "I... I didn't notice, I guess."

"If you were a man, how do you think you'd react to your attractive female co-worker talking about how the fifteen-inch cock was the perfect size for you?"

Belle's face scrunched up a bit in thought. "...guys don't have cocks that big?"

"FUTA don't normally have cocks that big, much less guys." Carol said. "She was just trying to scare them off from pursuing her."

"Oh." Belle said with a look of sudden clarity. "Did she... talk to you ahead of time or anything?"

"No, but I've been around this place long enough to pick up her vibe. She didn't say anything like 'you're old, you're fat--'"

Belle didn't let her finish. "You ain't old OR fat!"

"I'm a teeny bit fat." Carol said. "The point is... she wasn't actually trying to hurt my feelings. She didn't even say I was SMALL, she just said I 'wasn't enough for her.' It was about her greed rather than my inadequacy."

"Has this happened before?" Belle asked.

"Not directly, but I've seen women praising our cocks before in front of men. I thought it was to show their disinterest in them."

"Maybe. Or maybe they're..." Belle giggled as she thought of the word.

"They're what?"

"Maybe they're cucks."

Carol snickered. "Well, you can't tell the customer that, either. Anyway, Mr. Lemon Pepper shouldn't feel threatened. At least he didn't puss out and get boneless wings."

Belle looked at Carol. "You really have seen a lot here, haven't you?"

"Working in this job is sometimes about taking abuse from customers. At least this time, she was doing it on purpose and not because she's a jerk."

"It's not like normal retail work, is it?" Belle asked. "Where we're a big sponge to absorb the abuse from corporate policies we can't control?"

"Not here, it ain't." Carol said. "We get drunk people, grabby people, but we get less jerks in here than a supermarket. Besides... whatever they say or do, they can't steal an inch from our cock."

That familiar sound of a stainless steel bowl hitting the bar. "Hot, Table 13!"

Belle looked over to Carol. "Is that us?"

"That's Jeanette's section, but... we can go watch."

They walked towards Table 13.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Á la Pablo..." Belle repeated. "That's French, not Spanish."

"Yeah, Pablo's French."

Belle stared at her. "Shut up."

"No, he's not. He's totally Mexican."

Belle scoffed.

Later on, when Belle was on her OSHA-mandated break, Anne finally got to catch up with Carol briefly.

"How's the new girl working out?" She asked.

"She's really good." Carol answered. "A little green, but that'll change with time."

"Just like a jalapeno..." Anne said. "She might be green, but she's still hot!"

---

Belle had only started about a week ago. But she had already become the clientele's new favorite. Many customers asked for her by name, or at least asked who the 'new girl' was, and sometimes asking for her phone number. Sometimes, the term 'new girl' was followed by other adjectives like 'pretty,' 'hot,' 'busty,' or 'that one with the really big dick. No, no, the really REALLY really big dick.'

If this was one of those workplace movies about professional envy, this would be where Belle's picture would replace hers on the wall for the Employee of the Week. But that sort of overstated drama was for scripts with the emotional depth of that scene in Toy Story where the bedroom changes from cowboy-themed to space-themed.

Even so... Carol couldn't help but feel a little cold with the enormous enthusiasm that the customers had engaged their new employee. Maybe she'd been so reliable for so long, she had become almost invisible, like a piece of furniture that would always be there.

"I really wish she hadn't put the rainbow on her name tag." Carol said, watching her from a small distance as she waited for an order. "I'm afraid someone's going to take it too far."

"I'm not worried." Anne said. "Almost all the bad stuff involves a customer pulling out their stuff."

"Yeah."

Anne leaned in closer. "Do you think ANY man is going to do that to her... and compare it to what she's got?"

Carol snorted. "Alright, you might have a point."

Some whistles and hoots appeared from the booth from which Belle was taking an order. Carol and Anne looked over to see her pull her shirt back over her breasts.

"Dammit!" Anne quietly cursed. "I always miss it."

Carol didn't say anything in response... but she was also sad that she'd missed it. It had been a long, LONG time since anyone had asked for a flash. What was the point? Boobs are everywhere, but giant dicks were harder to find. She barely ever flashed anyone since they stopped letting the baristas drink beer while working, and that was almost ten years ago. (She'd given it up even before then. The fun of being buzzed at work wasn't equal to the misery of being hung over at work. Especially when making the hot sauce for the customers dehydrated her even more...)

Later on that day, Belle added to her list of skills by demonstrating that she was also rather flexible. She got up on the bar and held her ankles apart with her extended arms. She barely need any flexibility to get the tip of her cock into her mouth. She could just stretch her lips across the whole tip, dragging it up to the very apex, and back down again.

The crowd got so loud, Carol had assumed that either a fight had broken out, or someone in a sports game had won or something. Lucky for her, she moved over towards the bar and didn't miss the shot after all.

A streak of white oozed out of the corner of Belle's mouth. She pulled her head back and pointed her cock back down towards the bowl and sauced the wings. She swallowed the little mouthful, moaning with pleasure before huffing and blowing out to cool her mouth.