Work Out Wind Down

Troy calls out that dinner's going to be fifteen minutes, and that's a perfect amount of time. I'm back out of hard, tight pants where everything is shoved and packed and into something more comfortable. Nothing fancy or done up, but comfortable. Louise joins me in the bedroom and has decided to slip on her onesie again. Its frog eyes are gawking at my chest. Her regular eyes are fixed to my crotch. I stretch and she watches. She takes a few of the buttons down and I don't hide my growing hunger.

It's beaten into me by this point. It's beaten into all of us. Two of us in a room and we are almost back to feral pawing and petting.

"Rachel," Troy calls, "come here for a sec."

Louise makes a very, very good case for me to stay here and ignore him. She's kneading the bulging fabric. I'm worked up. She knows I'm worked up. She takes the hand away and smiles innocently. I'm even more worked up now and that is just going to make her little treat at the end of all this so much better for all of us.

"Ok," Troy says, "I have a favor. But you have to promise not to be a dick about it."

"I make no promises, but I will try," I say as I snake around him. Everyone I know is fun to touch and hold and press against. I grind a bit and make sure he knows everything I have ready for him.

"Stop that. I'm already going kind of insane. Had to deal with your little lunch present all day."

"Good. I expect something of yours in mine next week."

"Don't you worry. Now, favor. I need you to open this jar for me."

He sheepishly puts forward a small jar of sun-dried tomatoes for me. Its tiny and innocent and its indominable might has apparently conquered my big strong man. I will avenge him and everything he stands for. To my credit, I am not a dick about any of it as I take the adorable little glass jar that couldn't hurt a fly.

And I am soundly defeated. It's all slick and tight and I strain against the little jar. It is so devious. It is so terrible and bad, and I want to smash it.

"No smashing," he sighs, "I thought about it too. I don't want to run the risk of broken glass in my pasta."

I hate that. I can smash it. Little shards of shattered glass everything but the jar would be open and we'd have these stupid little tomatoes for our wonderful dinner. I try again. And I fail. I set it down and crack my knuckles. It will die at my hand, decimated and defeated. And I can't. I just can't do it.

There's a hand on my shoulder and it's Troy's. He takes it again and it defeated him. I hate this jar. I hate all jars. We never should have invented glassware because it is just humanity flying too close to the sun. Never should have figured out how to preserve anything. Anything killed should be eaten in the moment, raw and bloody. Jars just get in the way. A door opens and Saoirse emerges from her little den.

"I hate you so much Troy," she sighs, "And hi, Rachel. What the hell are you two doing?"

"Hush," he says, "We need to concentrate."

She's in her panda costume and I imagine the internet liked that. Our little struggle goes on and on, different angles and attack vectors. I think a feint or two mixed in could really help us in our tag team. Saoirse holds out her cute little panda hand and we go for the tag in. She turns on the faucet.

"That stupid game you lent me was a hit and more importantly, I think I like it," she sighs.

"How does that make you hate me?"

"I don't know. Cause the first few hours were embarrassing. I don't think I've ever been that frustrated before ever. Everything killed me in like one hit, but then I killed the wolf and then the big wolf and then the werewolf. And that's how my day went."

The water's hot and the jar's under and I never thought this method actually worked. I thought it was just a stupid trick my mom would play on me and my dad when we couldn't figure a simple jar. It's back in the rightful hands and we're all amazed at the simplicity of the world. She lets me hug her and pick her up and Troy finds his own little pocket to spread into. But once again, he has to let go and deal with the food. I have a Saoirse to carry, and I think she wants to go to the table. Louise has already set everything and that's what we all need right now.

---

Troy's my favorite. He made me food. Then, Saoirse moves my hand to play with her chest and she's my favorite. Then, Louise grinds her hips in my lap and she's my favorite. Then, we all loop back to Troy and his wonderfully corded arms. Someone nestles into my neck and gives me a soft trailing of kisses. I think it's Louise. I'm not sure. I don't really care. We're all spread out and connected and flowing together. I am straining and hard and something is pressing into me and rolling it and I am going to break something soon. Good. I love the feeling of the walls coming down around me. So many things to break and strain and I hope I need new sweatpants. I love breaking things. I love breaking things so much.

"What was in the thing you ordered Louise," Saoirse asks, "It showed up this morning."

There's currently a Troy playing with her chest and that takes a moment to break through. And she breaks away to our collective depression. All of us together, forever and ever and Troy's playing with me so it's not so bad.

"One sec," she says, "Kind of forgot about it after dinner. Well, one of the things, at least."

She wobbles a bit, but she's going, going, going and she's gone. That's terrible. I hate that. I turn to Troy and he makes me feel better by taking a hand to my bulge and working his palm over it. Louise taught him that trick and he gets the same in return. Poor thing, all tucked away in tight slacks and choking boxers. It should be let free to bounce and stand and fill and I am going to break something if something doesn't break into me first. Louise comes back and that's amazing. Part of me thought she left forever. Always a worry whenever something I like is out of sight.

"So, Troy," she announces with the appropriate level of pomp and/or circumstance, "Since you joined this little warren of horny bunnies after the fact, you never received the dress uniform both Saoirse and I have decided to don. Rachel, that's two demerits for being out of uniform."

"Oh no," I sigh, "Will I be expelled? I'll do anything, professor."

"None of that cheek, or I'll take you across my knee."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Anyway, Troy, I present you with this. It should fit, more or less. We got Rachel into one, so I think it'll work."

She unfurls the mass of rags until it takes the form of a lion with a soft mane. Troy takes his hand off of me and starts laughing. He's pulling away and disappearing forever. Saoirse's still here, still letting me grope and squeeze and roll. She seems to like it, with the choked little noises she's giving me. Kind of improper for a swearing in ceremony, but well, I'm already the bad apple. Someone should probably just kick me out already, but screwing the teachers is always a good idea.

Troy likes his gift. He likes it a lot. It's fun and stupid and inclusive and he should get naked in front of all of us so he can try it on. Then I'll well and truly be the outlier and they'll have to punish me. How unfortunate.

And he does shred his last thread of decency. Down to his boxers in an instant and I watch his back move and shift, his broad shoulders slip under the fuzzy fabric. Those are gone now and they are never coming back.

"Okay," he says, "I really appreciate this, and I love you all, but I kind of hate this."

"Boo," Louise says, "You're no fun."

"I love it because it's a gift and its adorable and I think it works good on my legs, but I'm already overheating."

"I know right," I sigh, "It gets so hot. You should take it off again."

"That might be the smartest thing I've heard all day. Tell you what, I have a compromise."

He works his shoulders free and the top hangs around his waist. I get his back and his shoulders and his chest and everything he is open and free. And I like the tease of the shape on his hips. Noce and big and round and that should be open and free unseat of laying across his lap. I want to see it throb and pulse and why aren't we fucking. We're parading round and shaking and dancing around the issue because of some asinine reason. Even Louise, she's just swaying her hips back and forth, pleading with all of us to comment on some secret little trick she's managed to pull over all of us.

"Oh, fuck you," says Saoirse, "you didn't."

Louise just shrugs and keeps rocking back and forth. There's an odd little ripple down her thigh and it's my turn to laugh.

"Really," I chuckle, "Were you really that jealous?"

"Absolutely," she says, "And I gotta tell you, this is pretty terrific. Yeah."

Troy's the last to put all the pieces together while she giggles and dances. A bolt of trepidation overcomes him but it settles. He's in good company and there's something in his eyes. It's smothered. He's safe. He's calm. He's back on me and playing himself and myself and some other self.

"Well go on then," he says, "whip it out. I want to see what you're working with, stud."

She likes that word a bit too much for my liking, but it's not my word. Louise likes the attention, but any sort of intimidation is kind of lost on the googly frog eyes trying to peer into my soul. It is a nice shape though, I'll give it that. It works on her. Kind of hard to gauge it under the cloth, but it's sort of impressive.

And it's exactly what I think it is. She's strapped now, packing a silicon dong that's nice and thick with a fun vein snaking down the top. The weird rainbow sherbet color is a bit off putting, but it's better than most skin tones. Those always look so off to me. It hangs a good way down her thigh. Although, considering her rather petite stature, it's hard to guess the objective size.

"Now you two," she says with a sugar rush high creeping in, "I want to compare."

"Only if I get to snap you with a towel after the game," says Troy, "Cause we are officially in locker room territory."

She does not consent to the terms, but Troy is already moving once more. He's angling and jostling, regretting the odd position of the couch. He gets a bite and slowly starts reeling himself in.

Saoirse makes a little noise in the back of her throat, and I give a slightly exaggerated sigh as he is exposed. Thick and long and hard and eager, all of him poured into that one wonderful length of flesh. It's eager. He's eager. He's also smug and leaning back and gesturing to me.

I, fortunately, don't have that much difficulty. I'm not the one in an animal costume. I just have a waistband to pull down until my head hits my stomach. A small spot of preseed leaves a thin trail behind. That's one thing her new toy can't do. So that's a point in our column. She shuffles over and lines us all up. Troy chuckles.

"Okay, fine," Louise huffs, "I figure. I hoped, but sure. You win Rachel."

I say nothing because there is nothing to say. Of course, I win. I'm me and I win. Saoirse leans into me as I grab her breast possessively. Troy shuffles a bit and presents himself and I still love that show. He loves mine. We all love each other's.

"Fuck you both," Louise pouts.

And now Troy sits back all smug and proud in the fact that he no longer has the smallest dick in the household. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, really. I know that firsthand. And considering Louise's new toy, I think I know what type of mood I'm in.

"Shut up," Saoirse sighs, "Its fucking monstrous. You could beat someone to death with that thing."

"But I got the biggest one they had," whines Louise, "It looked really intimidating."

"I mean," Troy says, "I'm intimidated. Really. I am. I'm terrified. Please don't come near me. Rachel, protect me."

He leans into my chest and an arm encircles him. He's chuckling and laughing and completely safe behind my wall. Louise is out in the cold, and I think that's a good cue to bring her in. She's cold and alone and it's raining outside. That's the perfect cue for her to fall into use. Her new toy hits me and that does feel good. I hump against it. It's a bit cold and dry, but I'm making it warm and slick. Louise moves back. She likes the motion, I think. It suits her well.

I hum and sigh and I'm finally getting something close to what I've needed all week. It's motion and pressure. I'm lighting up and sparking through my skin. I am burning up as she fans the flame. And that's what Louise wants, really. She wants something to burn to the ground and turn to ash. I understand. It's all I've ever wanted too.

Saoirse and Troy pair off and start their own play. We all take a moment to watch her undo the buttons and free her chest. It's heavy and big and bouncy and Troy gets that to himself right now. That's terrible. Those should be all of ours, but there are terrible limitations to our presence. Louise takes her hands to my chest, and she gets her version of Saoirse. And they are rather fetching. They send their own little sparks into my body, just the same as below, but different. They collide and roll together. I move my hips. I want more. I want so much more. I want everything right here for me.

I press into Louise, and she tries to press back. It's new and she lacks the experience with it. Even if she did, there's something to be said for the natural talent. She'll learn though. We circle and parry and go through the motions of combat. Her hips are so loose and flowing now. I'm not sure what all she's learned, but it suits her. She needs movement and dance and endless dizzying spins because that's what she is. Even as I move to crush and stop and halt, she dances through it all with a giggle and a sparkle and there's a pull in my core that I have to keep giving into.

"Really," she whines, "Don't be like. Play nice. I want to use it on something."

"Fuck it," Troy says through Saoirse's cleavage, "I'll be on the chopping block."

That sends a neat little wave of stillness through the collective. Not unwelcome, but certainly unexpected."

"I mean," he continues, never pulling away, "I'm the only one who hasn't taken something at some point. It just seems fair."

"Troy," Louise sighs, "You're the favorite now. And it's not so bad. We've taken both of you, so you have nothing to worry about."

"You passed out twice the first time we were together," I say, "And Saoirse, you almost did. Pulled some weird judo move out at the end, but that was kind of a death throw."

"Shut up," she says, protecting Troy, "It wasn't that bad. And I've gotten better at it."

Louise is ignoring me, squirming and wriggling and slipping out until she's free. I let her run away like the coward she is. I'm left with a Troy and a Saoirse and that's alright, I guess. Not the full set, so the value has dipped a bit, but it's fine. It's all fine. Troy's trying to put on a brave face, I assume. I want to trade places, but I settle on her nipple with fun bites and tweaks and pulls that keep her occupied. There's shuffling out in the other room, but I don't care about that right now.

Troy's nervous, I think. The words he said a moment ago are hitting him and now he has to make them a reality. He does not back down, to his credit. He's just refusing to move forward, and that's fine. There's nothing else he can do. Louise is prepping whatever terrible thing she has planned. I assume it involves lubes and lotions and copious amounts of slippery things. Troy makes his slippery things in little bursts and shots. Scared little guy that's reaching past his navel easily. I put my hand on it and suddenly he's not so worried anymore.

I have to shove Saoirse out of the way for a bit, but she doesn't mind. I line us both up and start sliding again, up and down, circling and sideways and gripping us both with a hand. I can't reach all the way and I love the way I have to stretch my hand. He joins me and we get most of it done.

This is simple and easy. He knows this. I know this. Back in the locker room, maybe, with steamy showers and weak deodorant, firm open palm slaps on the behind with mutters of no homo that probably don't do anything. Two words can't undo an act, just like 'I'm sorry.' It still happened and everyone involved has to take into account what just transpired. More of my slick preseed flows from me and I need this every day. I roll over and there he is, prepping us both for one of the others. I finally pull him from Saoirse's cleavage and he is in mine. Not quite as impressive, but I think there's something to it. Definitely more muscle tone and I will lord that over everyone I know forever. Saoirse's bored, so I find her lips and wrestle her tongue and she wrestles back. That's one fight I don't mind losing.

"Troy, get your ass over here," Louise says with a manic laugh creeping in, "Oh, that feels good to say."

The poor thing whimpers, but he must know our shared painful sin. He'll live. He might not walk, but he's getting the smallest thing possible. Not that it does much to soothe his panic, but he pulls from us, and I have Saoirse all to myself. Shame. I want all of them. I'm apparently a very greedy person.

And there is something intimidating about Louise, I have to admit. She's shed her dress uniform, stark naked and proud and still the shortest out of all of us. The strap does a good job of converting the distance, but it still gets a chuckle out of me. She's too happy about this, and that's what gets me off kilter. Manic and dangerous and just a little insane. All the size gap and weaponry can't really compensate for insanity. She wants this and she'll do anything we can think of to get it. Then she'll go outside our pitiable little constraints of thought to get it. Still, she barely comes up to his chest. The strap glistens and shines and drips with whatever fluid came with the box. It's still all bright and pastel. Kind of ruins the mood. If it was that intimidating jet black, then I bet he would just bolt.

Just to feel like a man again, he picks her up, despite her protests. She likes it. I like it. Everyone likes it. Saoirse's halfhearted on me now, but I don't blame her. There is a wonderful show going on right now with a dance and a spin and soon they are both back into our confused tangle of limbs. Louise rests on my stomach with Troy over her.

"I know this is kind of the standard for you," she sighs, "But do you really want to go full cowboy on your first rodeo?"

"Do I get a hat?" he asks.

"No, but it's on the list. Cowboy hat for you, one of those ear flappy ones for Rachel. Saoirse, what fun hat do you want?"

"Would a fez be out of the question?" she says. Louise just shrugs and falls back into the whirlwind as Troy turns them all sorts of around. And now his head is on my stomach, very close to my pulsing head and he doesn't think about that. He just looks into my eyes because I will protect him from everything scary. Like Louise with her new horse cock.

"I should probably ask," Saoirse says, "Have you like done anything back there? I know you said there was a college thing, but still. Cause at least the three of us have the excuse of being designed to take something like that. In theory."

"Promise not the laugh," he mewls. I lie and nod my head.

"Kind of played with it when I masturbated about Rachel before all this."

I kiss him. I lean over him and cast my terrible shadow and kiss him hard and deep and strong. I was in his thoughts and in his mind and all of that made him so incredibly excited that he lost control and did terrible things to his body. It's all so wonderful. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me deeper. My spine is going to crack underneath the power and I don't care.

He stops and freezes and goes terribly still. Louise, the little rascal, decided that it was a good time to start, since he was all distracted. I don't blame her. It's rather smart.