The Long Pull: Spread Your Wings

She was still reasonably satisfied with her body, even enough for the occasional dick-out selfie with a customer. She wasn't really as sure she wanted every inch of her nudity recorded at such fidelity.

Someone snuck up on Carol from behind and put a hand on her bare shoulder. "Hey, Carol! How are you tonight?" Belle said brightly.

"Oh, you know..." Carol said weakly. "Laundry day, am I right?"

Belle spoke directly to the camera. "This is Carol. She taught me everything I know here. She's the best, and her wings come out the hottest."

"And this... is Belle." Carol put one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "The biggest cock to ever walk in here AND a real beauty. I said to myself when she showed up, 'What is she doing here? Why isn't she a model?'"

"My cock was too big." Belle shrugged. "Couldn't fit in those Wranglers."

There was rhythmic clapping coming from the kitchen, where a single cupcake without frosting had a solitary striped candle in the center. Some of the waitresses started singing a copyright-free variant of a happy birthday song. (When the spurious copyright claim for Happy Birthday was declared invalid, Pythons did not abandon their version of the song.)

The woman presented with the cake took three attempts to blow the candle, but it re-ignited after each attempt. She shrugged her shoulders and allowed all the nearby waitresses to extinguish the candle with whatever they had loaded, as five futa jerked off onto the cupcake simultaneously. All of this was the traditional Pythons birthday cake ceremony, where all nearby futa were obliged to help 'put out the fire.'

This happened at a really opportune time, as the camera crew immediately turned their attention to this act, capturing it from three different cameras. Belle had never seen this before, but took the camera's momentary disinterest in them to shuffle Carol away and ask, "Are you OK? Did you forget about the show?"

"I... thought this was next week." Carol confessed.

"Then why are you naked, if not for the cameras?"

"Cuz... cuz..."

Carol didn't want to admit the real answer was because she resented how her younger and more beautiful co-worker was stealing away all the attention and making her feel old. That was not an ennobling reason.

"Cuz I wanted some excitement tonight."

"I think tonight's plenty exciting." Belle said. "I've never seen anything like this."

"It's been a while, but this is about as busy as it gets. Even on the Super Bowl, once it gets to SRO, it stabilizes. This is nuts."

Belle reached out and touched Carol's shoulder, as she often did when ensuring that someone was as 'fine' as they claimed to be. "You sure you're all right? You can go change if you want."

"Nah, what's the point?" Carol shrugged. "It's all out there. But if... you wanted to join in..." She reached out a hooked finger, resting the digit in Belle's decolletage.

"My boobs look better in the bra."

"I'll bet they look good either way."

"Well, if you ever decide to cover up, I'll lend you my hands."

"Yeah, like that Rolling Stone cover..."

Belle smiled and returned to her work.

Carol sighed. That was definitely a 'I don't get your 90's reference' smile. At least she felt young for a LITTLE bit today.

---

A few minutes later, Anne finally saw Carol's new uniform. Anne was the only worker who'd already seen her wearing this a few times, though not at work.

Anne's reaction was just to laugh out once, in her somewhat boisterous way. "Awesome."

"You can join me if you want." Carol offered.

She really thought Anne would strip off her shirt right then and there, but she relented. "Nah. One of us has to keep dressed or else we'll get no work done."

Anne turned to her side. There was a camera operator pointing their camera at both of them, possibly recording what they were saying for later use on television. She tapped Carol on her shoulder and whispered, "If you need a break from the cameras, tell me. I'll do something crazy to distract them."

"Crazy like what? Strip naked?"

"I don't know. I'll come up with something original."

---

Carol made some rounds around the restaurants. Some customers normalized to her nudity, some stared and elbowed their friend at every round, and some ogled her anew, apparently having had their noses buried in their phones on their first pass.

She marched around with an enthusiasm she hadn't had for this job in years. She danced and shook about as she made her rounds. She made some mango habanero wings for one gentleman who asked if he could get some milk, with his eyes directly trained on her breasts.

Not quite willing to dispel his hope that she could provide that herself, Carol asked if the wings were really SO spicy that he needed milk. He settled for a Dr. Pepper instead.

Carol was having so much fun, and the restaurant was such a barrel of fun right now... she couldn't help be drawn to a woman sitting at one of the single-seater tables off near the bar. She was in a black hooded sweatshirt with the hood up. She had had head down, as if ignoring the television above her head. She had a glass of water in front of her, but no food.

Carol walked over. "Hey, are you all set, honey?" She shouted over the crowd.

The woman in black looked up, jumping a bit when she saw Carol's casual nudity. What Carol hadn't noticed until now were her huge headphones hidden under her hood. She waved her off with a short gesture, ending it with a thumbs-up.

"OK, but if you need anything, feel free to talk to any of us. We're happy to help."

The woman nodded and put her head back down. Maybe she was listening to a book on fast-forward so she could discuss it on her podcast. But what an unbearably loud place to be right now...

Carol was happy that she'd come over this way, because if she had just kept running around the circle, she would have missed running into one of the regulars.

She didn't know the man's name, but he always came in on Friday nights. He was a man who was a little older than Carol, and in less good shape. Maybe his job didn't have him walking around all day. This regular was entirely unprepared for the chaos that he had entered. He normally got whatever seat he wanted, arriving around 4:30, before the place got busy. But this crowd had got there first. They had shuffled him into one of the intimate two-person booths. He barely squeezed his gut between the immovable table affixed to the dividing wall and the immovable bench.

His face brightened a bit as he saw Carol move. They made eye contact. "Hey, Carol." He said, looking across his half-finished plate, a little pyramid of neatly cleaned bones at one end.

"Hey, there!" She greeted him, moving back over to the table. "Bet you didn't expect a crowd like this."

He had the face of someone who hadn't expected a few things that he was currently seeing. This guy always paid cash, so she couldn't think of his damn name. "Yeah, I've never had to wait for a seat in here, but I wasn't changing my routine."

"Well, we're happy to have you here." She smiled, pulling her legs together involuntarily. He was unabashedly staring at her... but not at her penis. Well, mostly not, though he'd definitely watch her sauce his wings if she had him that night. But he always ordered normal Hot wings, nothing that Carol could currently produce.

"Before you go... could I get some extra napkins?" He stuttered.

"Sure thing." Carol spun off. She returned a minute later with a handful of napkins...

And a glass of ice water.

"Thought you might like this, too." Carol set the glass down. "Those wings have never made you sweat before. Don't see why you've started now."

"Well, it IS hotter in here, but..." He looked off, wiping his forehead with one napkin. "Yeah, I saw you walking by a few times and... jeez, I sure do like the new uniform you got."

His other hand went under the table and adjusted something.

"Remember when I first came in here? You were the first waitress I had, and I was trying not to stare..."

"I actually don't remember the first time, sadly." She said. "Kinda feels like you've always been coming around on Fridays."

"If I watched sports, I could tell you what happened in sports on that day, but... I don't."

"I don't watch them either, except when they're on the TV here."

"Well, I bet you're glad the crowd didn't scare you away now, huh?"

The customer nodded silently. His hand went under the table again, but this time pulled something out that she was surprised, yet still delighted, to see.

His phone. One of those brand-new ones with more front-facing lenses than spots on a riverboat die. He held it at the end of his shaky hand.

In a moment of exuberance, Carol took a number of poses. Arms above her head with back arched, standing with one leg raised, the classic hand-bra pose... even a few of her bent over, presenting bits of her that were usually tucked away in some booty shorts. Even in those wild days of working with a buzz, she'd never been so... outgoing.

Once he was satisfied, Carol scrolled through the images. Some people in the surrounding seats probably took a few, too, but Carol was only concerned with his. This phone took really nice pictures, even in the low-light conditions. The intense detail showed off some of her physical imperfections, but that one thing about her most potential mates would consider an imperfection... she considered a cash cow.

Carol handed the phone back to the customer. "I hope now that you've gotten everything you could ever want from me... that you don't forget about us and stop coming in on Fridays."

The customer was deeply flushed. "There are... more things that I could want, but I know those won't happen."

"Well, I thank you for understanding." Carol said. "If you promise to keep those pictures to yourself, I'll do something I think you'll like."

"What's that?" He asked.

She leaned onto the table, took hold of the bendy straw and wrapped her lips around it. She looked up at him as she eased the bend of the straw into her mouth, like especially small fellatio, before leaving a lip print on the straw with a loud kiss sound.

"If you need more cold water, just wave any of us down. We'll put out that fire."

The customer stared at the straw as she left.

No amount of ice water could quench the fire inside him right now.

Carol felt the same way. She walked away with a renewed spring in her step and a jiggle in her naked buttocks. It was nice to be wanted. She was only thirty-three. That's not old. Thirty-three is the new thirty-two.

She was going to absolutely slather that next set of wings. Those wings would be floating in wing sauce like marshmallows in cereal. They'd need to wear raincoats to stay safe. That mustached man from the detergent commercials would scream at all the stained clothing... if he ever talked.

In opposition to that reference to even more nineties pop culture... Carol had scarcely ever felt so young. How much more fun could this night get?

---

Carol found herself up on the little mini-stage at the back of Pythons. But it wasn't to sing any of her old standards. Not even I Don't Want To Miss A Thing.

She was standing at a folding table set up on the stage, posed across from the evident star of this eating challenge program... a woman. A petite woman named Georgia with a tank-top, aviator sunglasses and colorful boa. She was the one who 'ordered' the birthday cupcake that was extinguished bukakke-style.

Eating that little cake was no struggle, but that was not the challenge she was tackling today. The order came in: Georgia was going to attempt to eat one hundred hot wings. That already sounded like a feat, but the order went further. They would be one hundred Ghost Pepper wings.

While the bhut jolokia was superseded as the world's hottest pepper by the Carolina Reaper in 2011, it was still the hottest wing that Pythons offered. Carol hadn't made any in a long time. The first time she wore the implant, she wondered if this thing was made out of plutonium. However intense the implants could be, these were significantly stronger. Even the minty one-use implants that had the lower melting temperature for quicker absorption weren't as potent as the ghost pepper implants.

One ejaculation covered eight to ten wings. Making one hundred wings in any reasonable amount of time would be quite a challenge. Thus... they had assigned Carol a partner.

That's how Belle and Carol wound up standing on one side of the table, and Georgia sat at the other, holding her knife and fork expectantly. Not that she used them to eat wings. The three camera operators were all capturing footage of her sitting there, licking her colorful lips. B-roll. That's what they called it. At least she wasn't scraping the utensils together like she'd seen in old cartoons. Even in a loud restaurant, that shrill sound never failed to make Carol's skin crawl.

Carol was a little surprised they picked her. Belle's inclusion made perfect sense. She was the prettiest and had a cock like a fire hydrant, in more ways than one. But surely there was another younger barista whom the audience would appreciate more than Carol? Nope, they wanted her, the woman who had decided to strut around nude in a moment of indiscretion, and was now paying for it.

To get ready for prime-time cable, a few production assistants had tickled her body with some foundation or something else to make her nudity look less... sweaty. They didn't have to do anything to Belle, perfect and lovely as always.

The producer announced to the audience that each of them would be responsible for saucing fifty wings, ten per bowl. This was also technically a race, with some unnamed prize for whoever got all their wings sauced first. The producer said they'd ADR what the prize was later once this year's sponsor was lined up.

This uncertainty didn't put Carol in the competitive spirit. She stretched her shoulder by pushing it in towards her body with her other arm. She didn't know if this did anything at all, but she learned it in gym class. Belle just had her hands folded together obediently in front of her, as she waited for the contest to begin.

Someone got behind them with the two new implants. Carol was momentarily thrown off when it wasn't one of her fellow co-workers about to install the new ones, but that same producer who was the de facto master of ceremonies. He wasn't even wearing gloves, though that would probably be more for his own comfort.

Only now did Carol realize that she had never explained to Belle how the ghost pepper implants worked at Pythons. They were similar to the normal implants, with the single and intensely hot flavor through the entire implant. A shroud covered half the implant, so turning the dial only turned the shroud. All this did was relieve what half of Carol's 'insides' were touching the implant, the way a sunbather would turn frequently for an even tan.

On a cue from one of the camera operators, he shoved both implants in rather forcefully, as if forgetting that these devices weren't entering a passive opening like a mail slot. But that discomfort was quickly forgotten as the implant took effect.

Carol had forgotten just how intense these implants really were. The implant always got the heart racing a bit, but this felt like a shot of espresso. No, like a CUP of espresso that someone gave you instead of coffee. She swore she could hear the thing vibrating, but that was just the rush of blood moving through her ears as her blood pressure went up. The cameras all observed as their cocks got redder and harder, a few veins growing more visible on them. They almost looked like they'd been clasped into cock rings.

Carol lurched forward and clutched the edge of the table, waiting for the heat to equalize through her. She badly wanted to release all this right now, but she didn't want to burn through the table like the xenomorph's blood. She looked over to Belle, who held her hands in front of her as she did, shaking a bit. Her cock was engorged and reddened, probably earning her that one-quarter inch she'd denied herself on her name tag.

At the same moment, two bowls of wings were set before them. Someone somewhere blew a referee's whistle.

Time to make the wings.

---

The first set of wings were sauced quite easily. Both of them were charged up on the small wait time before they could start. Beneath each stack of wings was some dark red natural food coloring, possibly extracted from beets, that made the sauce quite red when tossed around. But if her ejaculate had come out a luminescent yellow like hot extruded steel... that wouldn't surprise her.

It didn't hurt... much. It was just a little tingly... OK, a lot tingly. Actually, these ghost wings were pretty darn hot. It felt a bit like sitting on a hot rivet...

Belle cried out at her second rapid orgasm, spraying her hot seed across the wings. But her cries were not the sweet, melodic squeaks of a lovely and intense orgasm. These were harsh, pained, much worse than the first one. Carol couldn't help but feel distressed when hearing this.

Before she'd even finished fully ejaculating for the second set of wings, Belle squeaked, "I'm sorry!" She backed away from the table and ran off, pulling the implant out of her as she did.

The cameras all focused on Belle as she fled. One that tried to follow her into the kitchen was stopped by the large human roadblock that was Pablo.

"Employees only. Give her some space." He held his hand out like a traffic cop.

That camera returned to see Carol standing there on stage, alone, naked and now deeply confused. It had all happened in a split second. Georgia didn't stop her eating, maintaining an even, almost robotic pace. Someone set Belle's last set of wings onto a plate and Georgia immediately started to eat them. Another bowl of freshly fried wings was set at Belle's empty station.

This was worse than that nightmare where you're on stage and never learned your lines. Carol never had that one, as she never wanted to be an actor. (That nightmare about going out in public naked never seemed to be a nightmare to her fellow futa.) Carol had assumed that she could get five bowls down in quick succession, especially with the extra-hot implant. Now, she needed to do eight.

Anne walked past with some food, barely able to squeeze behind all the cameras. She saw Carol on the stage, by herself.

"Where's Belle?" She cried to Carol.

Carol was working up another order of ghost pepper sauce. "She ran off. It was too hot for her!" She cried.

"Need my help?" Anne offered.

"She ran off with the implant! I don't know where it got to."

Anne looked around the restaurant, hardly able to see anything in the awful contrast between the large television lights and the rest of the dimly lit seats. Carol had never seen Anne look so lost in all the time they'd worked together.

"It's OK!" Carol cried out. "I... I can do this!"

Anne nodded uncertainly, blew Carol a quick kiss, and went off to her table to make wings for the other customers.

"I can do this." Carol repeated to herself, almost silent.

---

Carol had never had six orgasms in a row before. Six in a day was no struggle at all with the implant... or maybe even not, if she and someone she really liked were having a very relaxing day off. But none of those were one right after the other, with hardly any time to rest.

The seventh one was really fighting her. She was flushed and damp, feeling like she'd sweat off all that makeup those PA's had put all over her. Carol had switched to a two-handed grip to give her right arm a bit of a rest, but her left arm wasn't strong enough to do it on its own, so her right arm was still tight and aching as it assisted. The friction on her cock was starting to bother her, and she swore those bright lights were giving her a sunburn.