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[[yes|Introduction]]
[[no]]
Sunday, 10am
'Oh, for fuck's sake, there is no god!' - this was Kirsten's first thought when she saw the envelope on the floor under her door. The bright pink, A3-size envelope seemed to be mocking her with its cheerful colour. It had her name, address and the city council's return address printed on it in a somber, simple font, but it might just as well have said 'TOUGH SHIT!' in Comic Sans, for it spelled the destruction of her plans for the next week. And of her dignity. Of her comfort. Of her best clothes. Of her friendships. Of her sanity. Of everything precious to her, save for the knowledge that she did her part in maintaining a peaceful, cohesive society and that once she was done, she would be struck from the list of potential candidates for Service Week for the next five years.
The contents of the envelope were well-known to everyone, especially to women found to be of 'acceptable external standards of feminine beauty' at the age of 18, as the Ministry of Internal Affairs phrased it, when what they meant was 'hot enough and old enough to be fucked'.
Still, once she retrieved it from the corner of the living room where she threw it in impotent rage, Kirsten put the envelope on her coffee table, opened it, pulled out the letter from inside and read it start to finish.
'Dear Miss Cameron,
As per the process laid out in the Social Cohesion and Male Carnal Relief Act of 2025, you have been randomly selected from within the pool of female citizens of acceptable external standards of feminine beauty to serve as Free Relief Female for week commencing 7th August 2030. Your service starts at 12am 11/08 and concludes at 12pm 17/08. Please note that no appeals can be made to this time window, except for cases of medical urgency (this does not include cases of medical urgency of third parties or bereavement, both of which are considered unsatisfactory grounds for appeal).
The terms of your role as Free Relief Female are as follows:
*Any adult citizen is permitted to engage in sexual behaviour with you at any time during your service.
*Sexual behaviour includes - but is not restricted to - vaginal insertion, anal insertion, oral insertion, disrobing, acts involving saliva, semen and urine (excrement and blood are NOT permitted), filming without consent and publishing said material and restricting movement via bondage (as long as this act does not keep you from fulfilling your role to an acceptable degree).
*The use of condoms or any other ad-hoc preventative measures by either party is STRICTLY PROHIBITED. Any potential consequences will be treated by the Health Service free of charge once your service concludes and also throughout its duration.
*You are not required to give verbal consent and can not be coerced by any of the males using your service to act as if you were an enthusiastic participant. Please note, however, that any attempts to avoid contact with your fellow citizens are illegal and carry a punishment of 25 years' imprisonment.
*No citizens are allowed to engage in behaviour that causes lasting physical injury or disfigurement to you but bruising of the skin and the genitalia is permitted.
*Inflicting pain upon you is permitted, but punching, kicking and burning are forbidden. Hair pulling is permitted, providing hair is not detached from your skull.
*In regards to the points above, the National Police Service's FRF Division will both monitor your adherence to all rules and ensure your safety throughout your service. *Should you lose consciousness at any point, their medical specialists will tend to you. *Should any of your fellow citizens attempt to perform any forbidden acts with you, the NPS will intervene.
*Due to the nature of your service, there might not be an NPS officer present during every encounter. Please make sure you wear your vitals monitor (enclosed with this letter) at all times. Removing the monitor triggers a silent alarm and NPS will attend immediately.
*You are allowed 3 relief periods every 24 hours. Please press the right-hand button on your vitals monitor and say 'relief' in a loud, clear voice to start the timer for your relief period. This lasts 30 minutes, during which your monitor will glow red. No fellow citizen is allowed to engage you in any of the acts defined above for the duration of your relief period. Please note that this includes your morning and evening ablutions, so make sure you trigger a relief period for these, otherwise you remain available to your fellow citizens for their duration. Any act already underway must be ended by the citizen(s) taking advantage of your service within five minutes of you triggering the relief period. This does not extend your relief period. Your sleep is not considered a protected period. Should exhaustion affect you during the daytime hours, NPS medics will administer the appropriate medication to allow you to carry on with your day and service.
*Your name, telephone number, social media profile, recent picture and home address will be published online on frf.gov.cl 12 hours before commencement of your service. Your home alarm system and locks will be deactivated at the moment of commencement of your service. You may not take actions to prevent your fellow citizens from entering your home or interacting with any of your belongings throughout the service period, but no items can be removed by your fellow citizens without your consent. Electronics may not be damaged beyond repair, unless the damage is caused by bodily fluids.
*Family members enjoy the same access rights to your body, home and belongings as other members of the public.
*As per subsection C of the Social Cohesion and Male Carnal Relief Act of 2025, grooming standards apply. No body hair is allowed to be present on your body apart from the hair on your head and your eyebrows. Your eyebrows and hair must be groomed appropriately. Makeup and perfume must be worn at all times, apart from when you are sleeping. No clothes intended to make you look unappealing are allowed. No excessive clothing is permitted. You MUST make an effort to appear hygienic at all times. If any acts carried out on you reduce your appearance and/or hygiene to unacceptable levels, NPS will ensure you are able to return to acceptable levels as soon as possible. Please note that this is at the discretion of NPS officers present.
*Apart from excrement, blood and any substance that might be hazardous to your long-term health, you are required to ingest anything your fellow citizens instruct you to ingest. However, no drugs, alcohol or any other substances affecting your central nervous system are to be ingested by you, whether by choice or via the instruction of your fellow citizens, unless mandated by NPS medics.
*Your employment status is fully protected under the Act. No employer can subject you to dismissal, disciplinary or any other action due to the events occurring during Service Week. This also applies after your service has concluded. You are entitled to free legal aid in any subsequent legal proceedings, should they arise. You are also exempt from any local decency laws and ordinances, as are your fellow citizens interacting with you.
*No individual or group of individuals are allowed to take advantage of your service to the extent that it seriously interferes with your duties towards individuals outside of that group (also known as 'hogging'). Please rest assured that the NPS FRF Division will not tolerate such behaviour.
*Once your service has concluded, you are entitled to free counselling by care providers working in partnership with the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
*In the envelope you will find your vitals monitor (please attach it to your wrist at any point before the start of your service period. The monitor will be activated remotely as your service commences.) and three FRF badges. You are required by law to wear all three badges on your clothes whenever you leave your home: one on the front, one at the back and one on the shoulder of your choice. Removing these badges will put you in contempt of the Act
The Ministry of Internal Affairs would like to thank you for your participation in Service Week and congratulate you for contributing to the more than 80% drop in violent crime in our society in the last five years. Your sacrifice is noted and all your fellow citizens owe you a debt of gratitude.
Yours,
Richard Head, Minister of Internal Affairs'
'Ooh-aah, what a compliment from a guy whose name is basically Dickhead' thought Kirsten and sniggered to herself. Maybe it was the drowsiness of just having woken up, but at least she found a moment of levity in what was objectively a horrendous turn of events.
She shook the envelope and out popped the promised paraphernalia: the vitals monitor that looked like a wristwatch with an off-grey nylon strap ('How considerate, they think of people with allergies' - she thought to herself, sarcastically), its face somewhat large for a female wrist. Insteas of dials, it sported a large 'S', that would start pulsating in any colour that would stand out in the given light conditions, so that it could be spotted from a mile away. The 'relief period' button was on its right hand side, and an 'alarm' button on the left. One could press it and it would sound an alarm, in case someone was crossing the very few boundaries in place while she was a Free Relief Female. Of course, using it without good reason carried a hefty fine and getting one's name put back in the pool of potential FRF-s right after the week was over. You did NOT want to press the button without a very, very good reason.
The 'watch' was followed by the three badges: the size of a large coin, each badge had the letters 'FRF' emlazoned on it, and was made of material that reflected light like a cat's eye sticker for cyclists. In daylight, it just looked like shiny silver. The back had velcro glued to it and also had a safety pin dangling from the small strip of material just above the velcro strap. It made attaching the badges to any clothing straightforward.
Kirsten stared at the letter and the accompanying gadgets for a good five minutes without a single thought forming in her head.
[[she will start preparing for an unusual week...|page1]]Thanks for being honest buddy but maybe try DisneySunday, 11am
Kirsten shook herself out of her reverie and noticed her hands were shaking. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty and her breathing was shallow. Never in her life has she been so scared.
For reasons unknown to her, her first instinct was to go over to the full-body mirror in her bedroom. She stood in front of it and took a good look at herself (there was something sickeningly complimentary about being found fit for Service Week, and she hated herself for the realisation).
She was 36, a full-figured white woman, 5'4" in height, with long blonde hair, green eyes, a pretty but serious face. Her skin was perfect save for a speckling of freckles above her cleavage. Her breasts were huge, making her wear 36EE bras. Her legs were shorter than she would have preferred, but everyone always told her they were just right for her height. Her ass was her favourite asset, sticking out cheekily and making her maddeningly noticeable whenever she wore pencil skirts, her favourite attire.
[img[gif/gif1.gif]]
Now, though, her best physical features felt like a death sentence.
She lowered her sweatpants and looked at her short landing strip of blonde pubic hair. 'This will need to go', she mused. She wasn't sure why the rules were so strict, but figured it helped keep instructions simple and easy to follow.
She took of her comfortable indoors clothes, stepped in the shower and made sure she shaved everything off from her neck down. She never considered herself a rebel and read plenty of stories about on-the-spot fines for women who deviated from the grooming standards mandated by the government. No point throwing money out the window in a futile act of protest against the single most popular piece of legislation the country has ever seen.
She towelled herself off, the weight of her enormous breasts pulling at her back muscles as she straightened up after drying her legs. She checked out her aerolas in the mirror, small in size for breasts this large and heavy. She always impressed her men by sucking on her nipples while she was riding them, then letting the boob go and drop with a jiggle. Not much of a party trick, but she loved how men's eyes got fixated on the performance and how they got even harder just by watching it happen, while she grinded her hips on their cocks. It will be less fun when ordered to do it, which will inevitably happen dozens of times in the next seven days.
She put on her bathrobe and sat in front of the laptop in the living room. She googled 'FRF preparedness', and browsed through the hints posted by women calling themselves 'survivors'. Nothing new: put pictured of loved ones away, don't leave too much stuff lying around in the house (there was a fine line to thread, though, as reducing your dwelling to 'unreasonable primitivity' was a no-no according to the Act), try not to tense your muscles when getting dragged, lest you get a sprain, drink plenty of water (cum by the gallon can be surprisingly dehydrating), and, of course, think happy thoughts. It's only a week. It won't fly by, though. All posters agreed it feels much longer than that, and the pictures and videos will come back to haunt you. The only silver lining is that it happens to so many women for a week every month, that you are likely to get lost in a sea of recordings of humiliation and women getting bukkaked on the way to work (or while at work).
Apart from the few lines of advice and ecouragement, there wasn't anything else of value to be found online. As peaceful and thriving the nation was, censorship was strict and all-encompassing. The morsels of information she did find were probably left there by the authorities on purpose: relevant enough to make research seem like it's not a pointless exercise, but scarce enough to be of very little use.
Nobody likes to speak of their experiences as a Free Relief Female publicly, so she didn't have any contacts she could turn to for pointers. The only woman she knew and was sure served her Week was Amy, but she always avoided the topic when it came up, and, when pressed, said it was 'enlightening' and 'challenging', then just refused to elaborate, saying it was pointless to do so. No one in their circle of friends was sure if this was just bravado masking trauma or if Amy was genuinely unfazed by the experience (she was a bit slutty, after all).
Still, 'enlightening' seemed like a phrase that was so out-of-place that one couldn't help but wonder what there was about being an FRF that was hidden until you experienced it yourself. How was getting fucked by strangers in broad daylight enlightening? Did Amy experience some sort of religious epiphany? Did she 'find herself'? She certainly didn't seem much different after her Week was over and she started seeing her friends again (after the Week she took a fortnight off from both work and friends, though). The only change was how she flinched a little every time a male approached her, be it a waiter or a guy wanting to buy her a drink. It's been a year now and the effect did not seem to be wearing off.
Kirsten never got any useful info from neither her acquaintances in the past, nor from the Net on the day the news dropped. Before, she was not curious enough. Now, it became apparent curiosity got you nowhere, anyway.
'Gotta see it to believe it, I guess.'
Walking through her flat, she took stock of what needed to be done before midnight comes.
Her home wasn't a mansion, so it didn't take too long. She lived in a ground-floor flat, with her door opening onto the pavement. As one entered, her bedroom with an en-suite was on the right, the guest bedroom on the left. Past her bedroom a door led to the main bathroom and the living room/kitchen was straight across the corridor from the main door. It was modern and spacious, but because she didn't share a stairwell with the surrounding flats, it felt exposed, especially now.
She removed some beloved trinkets and pictures from their places in the flat, put them in a safe box, ordered some cleaning products for 'stubborn stains', smoked a joint that was way too strong for the time of day, and went back to bed for a nap, feeling like staying awake was a waste of time.
Sunday 8pm
Kirsten woke up with a drumming in her chest she last felt before her job interview years ago. Her mouth was dry and her skin was wet. She sweated through her t-shirt so bad as if she had a brutal workout in the gym (where she went regularly with Amy, who stayed in the back row if the trainer leading the spin class that day was a guy).
Reality came back in waves, first her surroundings, then the realisation some framed pictures and decorations were missing, then the reason why they were. She walked to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, looked out the window and her eyes fixated on her car parked outside.
Her mind started racing.
Maybe she should go for it. It's not like everyone is a supporter of FRF Week. Most people (mainly women) would symphatise with her plight and let a poor FRF get the fuck away without reporting her to the authorities.
Surely.
Probably.
Maybe.
Maybe. Maybe it's worth a shot.
[[She tries to escape|page2.1]]
[[There’s no point trying|page2.2]]
Kirsten moved unthinking, not bothering to translate instinctive reactions to coherent thoughts. The only word flashing up in her mind was 'GO!', a simple order to follow.
She dashed into the bedroom and ripped the closet door open. Her gym bag was at the bottom, everything prepared for tomorrow's spin class. She thanked her good luck she packed all black clothes for it.
She quickly pulled her clothes off and changed into her gym getup. Black socks, black cotton panties, black spandex pants, a black sports bra - it took her a minute to force her considerable breasts into it, especially with her hands shaking - and a black hoodie. She then threw a couple of pairs of socks and panties in the gym bag.
She paused and looked around. She had to take her phone in order to operate the car, even though having it on her person made her traceable. Whatever. She'll figure that shit out later. After throwing her handbag in there, she put her black pumps on and bolted for the door.
Once she was out on the street she tried looking inconspicuous, even though there wasn't a single soul out there. It probably wasn't working, anyway. Her knees didn't bend properly, her thighs were shaking with all the adrenaline coursing through her veins, every time she tried to look around casually, she was sure she was jerking her head around like a cat burglar in an old cartoon.
The car was where she left it - 'where else would it be?', she asked herself -and the streets were still empty.
It was warm, the sky was filled with stars, the air was still with no wind. A beautiful night, promising a beautiful day. Annoying in its contrast to her predicament.
Kirsten pulled out her phone, loaded up the car app and pressed the 'unlock' icon.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Something happened this time. The phone's screen went red, its speakers started shrieking and the word 'SURRENDER' showed up on the screen, blinking blinding white.
She dropped the damn thing and stomped on it. Pain shot up her leg - she was wearing what amounted to a thin layer of faux cotton and plastic, not her proper shoes - and she screamed out.
'Fucking bastard! You fucking...'
Red and blue lights flashed up as a cop car took the corner and sped towards her.
She got caught.
THE ENDKirsten turned away from the window and leaned against the wall. It would be pointless to try and dodge this. They'll shut down her engine if she drives too far - some control measures get put in place before the Week starts - and then she would be facing the consequences of trying to run away. The public vilification and the possible prison sentence mean it's just not worth it.
Focusing on one task at a time, she did everything she thought would be good to get sorted out before the Week starts.
She called her mom and did her best to be concise and collected. She ended the conversation quickly. With her mother's sobbing still audible as she hung up, she locked the phone and put it away. With no boyfriend, her father dead and her brother in a mental care institution, she didn't have any more calls to make. Her friends will find out soon enough, and probably avoid her the whole week.
She emailed all her contacts that she would be unavailable for meetings for the next week and sent a message to her boss to let him know she is to start an FRF Week. Not much poor Will can do about it, since giving employees time off for the Week's duration was frowned upon by the authorities.
Her info was already online on the FRF site, and she sighed when she saw which of her photos they chose for the landing page.
She liked this pic. It provided a great angle to look deep down her cleavage. She was wearing her second-favourite dress, black, with a deep neckline. First place was taken by a red body-hugging cocktail dress that emphasized her ass instead of her breasts.
[img[img/img1.jpg]]
Both hung in her wardrobe and she had a feeling both would get their fifteen minutes of fame in the coming week.
Sunday 10pm
Kirsten smoked a joint in front of the TV, focusing on the smoke curling between her fingers instead of the news channel playing on the screen. She overheard mentions of Service Week, the second of the three spaced out throughout the year. Some crime stats were brought up, then a panel discussion where every participant agreed as to what a blessing the scheme was, especially when it came to rehabilitated criminals, who could get it out of their system thanks to the world outside of their former cells becoming such a playground three times a year.
Feeling suitably high, she switched off the TV and walked towards the bedroom. She hoped the weed will help her sleep, even though a part of her wanted to stay vigiliant - but what good would that do?
As she entered the hall and turned to open the bedroom door, there was a polite knock at the door. It startled her, then she remembered that the Week is not starting for another 90 minutes, and her locks won't work past midnight, so no 'fellow citizen' would have bothered to knock, anyway.
Looking through the peephole, she saw a thirty-something man standing outside in a dark suit. He seemed to be alone.
She opened the door and the visitor beamed a smile at her.
'Hi, how are you, Kirsten? My name is Eric and I'll be your coordinator for Service Week. May I come in?'
'Su...sure', she stammered as she stepped back from the door and let Eric step inside. 'Coordinator?', she asked, confused.
Eric flashed an empathetic smile. 'I just KNEW they would send you the old version of the letter! I'm so sorry about that!'
Kirsten motioned towards the living room, but Eric raised his arm with an open palm - 'I will only bother you for a second, Kirsten, no need to make me comfortable! Plus, I know it's super late and I won't have keeping you up on my conscience!' - he paused for moment, flashing another big smile. 'The letter obviously didn't mention it, but I'm going to be working with you for the week. They call me a co-ordinator, and my job is to keep the Week running smoothly for both you and your fellow citizens. Think of me as an M.C., a civilian liaison, a project manager for Project Kirsten, if you will. While the police will make sure you survive, I will have for a job making sure that your Service Week doesn't get derailed by some of the knuckleheads and gangs that take advantage of this great institution. Some organising here, some planning there, I'll be the thread that holds this whole adventure together!'
'You're being very vague, Eric', Kirsten replied.
'I know, and I'm sorry. You see, we're a new addition to the whole concept, us coordinators. Government wants to exercise a little more control over the process starting this year, so we're piloting this role to help that happen. I can boss around you, the guys who show up, even the police assigned to you. I'll do my best not to micromanage, but I pretty much represent the Minister and his vision for the FRF program. Tell you what, let me get out of your hair and you'll see me around at some point tomorrow, eh? I'm never too far away, but I won't be in your face all the time, promise!'
With this he grinned again, and left through the still-open door.
As Kirsten closed the door behind Eric, she could see him walk across the street to two policemen who were standing on the corner, and who seemed to have showed up while Eric was talking to her. He shook hands with the officers, exchanged a few words with them (constantly smiling), pointed in her direction, then waved goodbye and got into a black car, parked a few metres further up the road. The car didn't move - clearly Eric was staying there for the night, on his own Minister-approved stakeout.
The two policemen stayed in their spot. Clearly, they were from the FRF Division, here to keep her safe while she performed her Service Week. Kirsten thought about how paradoxical it was that she was glad they were there for her, while supervising her rape and humiliation and letting all the disgusting stuff carry on.
Jailers and angels rolled into one.
She went to the bedroom, took a shower in the en-suite, put on new panties and a tank top, and went to bed. As she buried her face in the pillow, a thought came to her. She reached over to her phone and set an alarm for 23:55. She wanted to be awake when the doors - the floodgates - opened.
[[With a home inavsion|page3]]
Setting the alarm was pointless. As high as she was, Kirsten couldn't fall asleep, and, when the alarm sounded five minutes before her Service Week started, she just reached over and killed it, then went back to staring at the ceiling.
She heard voices outside her window, men chatting just outside. It sounded like at least five people, if not more. They must have been gathering outside before midnight comes, like fans camping out to pick up the new iPhone.
She had her vitals monitor on her left wrist and the FRF badges were on the bedside table, waiting to be affixed to whatever she was wearing to work that day.
Midnight came. She knew that not because she was looking at her phone, but because there was a loud 'click' as the lock to her front door lock got deactivated and a split-second later a cheer went up from the men gathered just outside her flat.
She kept staring at the ceiling. She curled her palms into fists. She took a deep breath.
The front door opened and she could hear footsteps in the halllway. A giggle. Something that sounded like a slap but was most likely a high-five.
With a slight creak, the door to the bedroom opened. Kirsten raised her head from the pillow and saw seven figures enter. They were enveloped by the dark, but when the last one entered the room - her very own bedroom - he turned on the flashlight on his phone, blinding her.
'As we agreed, troops, no hogging, but let's respect a guy's pace, ok?' - the figure who entered first announced.
The lights came on as the last one to enter found and flicked the switch. Kirsten saw seven men standing around her bed, surrounding her. Three each on both sides and Eric -M.C., coordinator-at-large, standing at the foot of her bed.
Zip-zip-zip: the six men standing on the sides unzipped their trousers, but Eric stood still. He was holding a black folder in his arms, a pen in his right hand, like an apprentice ready to take notes
Kirsten lay on her back in her bed. Her hair was in pigtails, one neatly tied up on each side, the knot close to the base, letting the rest spread out on the pillow. Her lips shone with lip gloss - putting it on was part of her nightly routine and now she wished she hadn't done it. She had the duvet (a pattern of smiling emojis, a gift from Mom) covering her up to her chin. Her breasts, being as huge as they were, formed two big hills under it, even though all she had on was the tank top, without a bra. Her arms were outside the cover, resting on her stomach. The vitals monitor was pulsating in green, casting a soft light on her hands and the duvet, bouncing off the zippers and buttons of the seven pairs of jeans surrounding her bed.
They queued up outside her house, walked through the door, waltzed into her own bedroom, lined up around her, and were taking their cocks out as she lay in bed. It felt horrific to experience that vulnerability, that defenseless state where she could no longer assert herself against another person and expect society and authority to take her side.
No-one will take her side. As revolting as seeing women across the country get violated is at first, society got used to it unexpectedly quickly. Because of a law passed by horny parliamentarians, all males, of course, gang-rape got elevated into the role of a highly-regulated government program to rehabilitate offenders by promising windows of opportunity of satisfying their aggressive urges. After the first few years, the program got expanded, providing one FRF for every 10.000 male citizens. There were high hopes that using this policy would not only calm down ex-cons, but also act as a preventative measure for other males at risk of offending.
Only a year later the ratio was changed to one for 5000 males and the policy morphed into an encouragement of a free-for-all. See an FRF? Walk over and piss in her face while she's waiting for her date in the restaurant. It will take the edge off your day.
And it worked. Every expansion was met with a sharp decline in violent crime nationwide. The figures quoted in Kirsten's letter were true. It became clear that by preventing all straight males from ever building up sexual tension, the policy also stopped the majority of anti-social behaviour and the ratio was now one FRF for every 500 males. The sacrifice of society's females was recognised, but the pros were found to outweigh the cons and the Relief Week became national policy..
Policy that resulted in six dicks dangling around her, lined up on both sides of her bed.
Suddenly in panic, she moved her right hand to press the relief button on her watch.
'Ah-ah! Are you sure, Kirsten?' - Eric exclaimed, raising his right hand while still clutching his pen. 'Wouldn't it make more sense to use up a precious relief period AFTER these gentlemen are done? Otherwise you're just keeping them around with nothing to do and end up with one relief gone and just two left until midnight.' Eric smiled at her with goodwill in his eyes. He might have been on board with the FRF concept, but it seemed like he actually cared about how she got through the week and wanted to give genuinely helpful advice.
'You're right', Kirsten said in a soft voice and let her right hand drop back down.
'Woah, gentlemen, we almost got stuck for a half hour! Thanks Eric!', the man closest to her on the left said, giving Eric a thumbs-up. 'Bitch almost fucked up my schedule.'
He was an overweight man wearing blue jeans and a polo shirt with some kind of aircon-repair company's logo and slogan on it. He seemed like a regular joe, but it also looked like he was the leader of the group, as he barked his instructions.
'So, as I said before, gents! I take the top, you start at the bottom, we'll make sure everyone had a chance to check out both spots, then we let our newbie here - he pointed at the youngest man in the group, a thin, bald twentysomething with a hungry look in his eyes - decide on our finishing touch. Make it a good one, Jimmy, and don't overcomplicate it, we'll be back for more shenanigans, anyway!'
'Sure, sure, boss, I'll keep it simple' - Jimmy replied, not looking 'boss' in the eyes, but instead glaring at the two mounds Kirsten's breasts created under the duvet.
Eric took a step back and leaned against the wall, folder in hand, and started taking some notes, looking up occasionally.
'Right, let's do this!' - Boss shouted. Kirsten felt like the blood in her veins has frozen solid. She felt very cold, even under the covers.
One of the men at the end of the bed grabbed the duvet and yanked it off the bed, onto the floor. Kirsten yelped and instinctively crossed her arms over her tank top to protect her modesty. She crossed her legs at the same time, but another guy grabbed her ankles immediately and pulled them apart.
Boss took his jeans off. His huge belly was hairy and it hung so low from its own weight that she couldn't see his cock at first. He grabbed her tank top and yanked it up, freeing her breasts and scrunching up her top just underneath her chin.
'Niiiice', the group said in unison as Kirsten's tits got pulled upwards at first as the top was ripped off them, then let go of the fabric and settled again on her ribcage. The moment instantly doubled the number of men in the universe who had seen her topless.
[img[gif/gif2.gif]]
After taking off his polo shirt, Boss lifted his left leg, stepped over Kirsten and sat on her chest, with his thighs pressed against the bottom of her tits. His dick was peeping out from under his large pot belly, pointed straight at her face. At the same time, hands grabbed and pulled off her panties. Instantly, ten palms started exploring her legs, stomach and of course her pussy. A finger ran up and down her slit. She was as dry as ever.
With her head propped up against the pillow, all she could see was Boss's disgusting belly and his disgusting cock.
'Girl, I'm a grower, not a shower, you'll see in a sec', Boss said, leering down at her. His eyes looked crazed, hungry, like he spent years in celibacy, just waiting for it to be Kirsten's turn.
He grabbed her ponytails, lifted his weight off her ribcage, past her breasts, and settled down again, his cock hitting her forehead and his balls pressing against her tightly closed mouth. She could feel the warmth of the blood filling his member and the gradual growth of the strange penis.
'Bitch, you will start licking my balls right now', Boss said in a matter-of-fact way and started pressing his pelvis harder against her face, now completely buried under the 'fellow citizen's' flesh.
She reluctantly opened her mouth, let her tongue slide out and started licking Boss's ballsack.
[img[gif/gif3.gif]]
It tasted salty and the skin was sticking to her lips and face. At the same time, someone else climbed on the bed and positioned himself between her wide-spread legs. She squeaked when a cold, lube-covered finger grabbed her pussy and worked the jelly onto and into it. Once the hand was removed, not more than a second went by and a cock pressed against her slit. Its owner clearly didn't feel like waiting, and as soon as he found the right angle, pushed hard and deep into her.
She screamed, but it was cut short - the moment Boss saw her opening her mouth wider, he raised himself a little, pointed his dick downwards, and with a very aggressive thrust slammed his cock right down her throat. No waiting, no exploring her mouth a little, no gradual movement deeper and deeper. Just an erect cock jammed right in her mouth, going past her teeth and tongue, hitting the back of her throat and immediately trying to force itself past the tonsils. He didn't even gyrate or move back and forth - clearly all he wanted was to get as deep as possible, as quick as possible.
[img[gif/gif4.gif]]
It was such a violent act, such a disgusting experience, that for a split-second she forgot that she was being raped by a dick in the usual spot, and with a wet sound splurted out a huge amount of spit around Boss's penis. The man wasn't joking, though: he grew immensely from her ball-licking and even more from finally making it into her mouth cavity. This left precious little space for her spit to leave through her mouth and so some of it found its way through the roof of her mouth into her nose and out her nostrils, flooding out onto her upper lip, then down the side of her cheeks onto the pillow, where it pooled between her skin and the cotton fabric.
[img[gif/gif5.gif]]
The bed started creaking as both rapists got their hips working. The unknown fellow down there was jackhammering away at her pussy, while Boss worked her throat. He managed to get even deeper and she could feel him at the top of her throat. Every time he pushed forward, her stomach lurched and after a few minutes spit was joined by bile. She could smell and feel her vomit travelling up into her mouth and seeping out around Boss's cock and out her nose. It burned the inside of her mouth and nose.
[img[gif/gif6.gif]]
Boss was grunting heavily, his belly pressing against her nose, cheeks and forehead, giving her very little chance to breathe. 'Oh, you dirty fucking whore, you like getting filled with cock, don't you? You're getting thirsty, aren't you? You want some cum in your belly, don't you?'
Her only reply was the retching, heaving, wet sounds of her stomach and throat contracting and her body's desperate attempts to get some air in her lungs. 'Hnnnff-gaaaah-hnnnnff-hrrrrt-ah-gnnnnn' - she heaved and choked and wanted to die, more with every passing second, each of which felt like an hour.
Her fellow citizen pumping away between her legs let out a relieved sigh and she could feel her pussy getting filled with warm cum. He stayed as deep as he could, pushing slightly with each splurt. His cum must have started flowing out as he pulled out and lifted himself off her, as she could feel warm moisture starting to gather under her ass.
[img[gif/gif7.gif]]
'Whoooore!' - Boss shouted as he put the full weight of his upper body against her face and came down her throat. She could feel it sliding down her gullet and realised there was no way she could catch a breath, as his belly was fast against her nostrils now. Her hands, up to now curled into fists next to her, shot up and tried pushing him away, but she never stood a chance.
Red mist spread behind her eyelids. Her inner ear went crazy and she felt like she was falling. A ringing sound filled her head.
With the thick cock of a stranger deep in her mouth, Kirsten passed out.
[img[gif/gif8.gif]]
[[wakey wakey|page4]]
Monday, 2am
'I know, but we need her awake for this next part!'
'Let me try something, then, gentlemen.'
Kirsten could hear a conversation going on above her. The voices sounded tinny, as if listened to through cheap earphones. She struggled to open her eyes. Her head was spinning and weird shapes were dancing behind her eyelids.
Someone grabbed her right arm and straightened it, palms up. She felt a couple of gentle slaps on the crook of her elbow, then a sharp but short-lived sensation of pain.
Her eyes snapped open and her dizziness was gone immediately. She saw Eric kneeling next to her, holding her arm, a syringe in his hands. He must have just given her a jab of stimulant, to get her back to work.
Eric put the syringe into a plastic ziploc bag, grabbed a piece of gauze from his briefcase and dabbed the spot on her arm where he injected her. There was only a drop of blood, and no other sign of the needle piercing her skin. He clearly knew what he was doing - maybe Eric worked in the medical field before becoming Coordinator.
The stimulant - she read about it before - was a potent concoction, meant to remove faintness and fatigue without overly revving up the heart rate. It brought you back into the real world, but did not give you a high.
Eric stood up, suitcase in hand, took a few steps back, then leaned against her chest of drawers, grabbed his notepad and went back to taking notes. He glanced up at her and gave her a reassuring nod, his kind smile never leaving his face.
Kirsten, thanks to the chemical boost she just received, felt completely alert. She took in her position: she was sitting at the foot of her bed on the floor, back propped against the bed. Her legs were half-bent, with her pussy on show. She could feel the puddle of cum gathered underneath it. It kept dripping out of her hole, the cold drops against her inner thighs giving her goosebumps. Her pussy was sore, but the pain was manageable. Must have been the stimulant also acting as a painkiller. Her tank top was scrunched up on the floor in front of her. It glistened with sperm. They must have used it as a rag after they came in her.
Her breasts were stinging slightly and as she took a glance down, she saw they were raw with red marks. They were being manhandled by six pairs of hands for however long it took her visitors to all get a turn at fucking her unconscious body.
The six guests were towering above her, cocks up and and ready for more. They were all jerking off, but not very fast, as if they were on standby.
[img[gif/gif9.gif]]
There were pills available to men in every shop that allowed them to not only keep their erections after several rounds of sex, but also supercharged sperm production. As long as the user kept hydrated, they could produce ungodly amounts of spunk for hours and hours. The pills often came bundled with a lubricant gel, because chafing could become a real problem if one kept tugging and fucking for too long for the skin on their dick to handle it.
'Ok, Jimmy, your moment is here!', bellowed Boss, and his young coworker looked up for a second from Kirsten's breast to look at him.
'I'm ready, Boss!'
'So, what's it gonna be?'
Kirsten just kept looking at each of her rapists, moving her eyes from face to face. She didn't want to say anything and didn't feel like it, either. Whatever Jimmy had in mind, this visit was almost over. If she annoyed them with any comments, they might slap her around to teach her a lesson before finally fucking off, so best to avoid any communication.
'O...ok! Erm, b...bitch, look up and open your mouth!'
She did so and stared at the ceiling.
'Now, let's all blast into her mouth, but she's...you're not going to swallow, ok? Just keep your mouth open and let it gather. No swallowing, no spitting it out!'
Kirsten nodded slightly, still looking up. At least she didn't have to look at any of them this way.
'And then?' - she heard Boss ask.
'You'll see, let's just do this bit first.'
With that, Jimmy's figure appeared in her line of vision. He was jerking off violently now, his eyes darting between her rack and her eyes, his mouth half open, panting. His cock was right above her wide-open mouth.
Grunting with pleasure, Jimmy shot his load right into Kirsten's mouth. The sticky liquid landed on her tongue and slid towards her closed throat. She felt like gagging for a second, but it went away. Her eyes startes watering from the disgusting taste.
'One!', Boss exclaimed. 'Next!'
Jimmy disappeared from sight and another, older man took his place. He also took only a few seconds before cumming. His aim was worse than Jimmy's and some of his sperm went right up her left nostril. This made her push the air out through her nose, making the glob seep out, down her upper lip, and into her mouth.
[img[gif/gif10.gif]]
'Two! Next!'
The third man put one hand on her forehead while aiming his dick at her mouth, then came with a sigh. The puddle in her mouth cavity grew bigger. Thankfully she could still breathe through her nose.
[img[gif/gif11.gif]]
'Three! Next!'
This one was grinning as he approached. 'Keep looking at me, you piece of cumrag!', he hissed through gritted teeth. He also managed to get all his cum right in, without firing any on her face. She felt like her mouth was already full, but there must have been some space left, as nothing spilled out at the sides of her mouth. If it had, she probably would have been punished for her disobedience.
[img[gif/gif12.gif]]
'Four! Your turn, Marco!'
Marco's dick, upper body and grinning face showed up where the ceiling was a second ago. He took a moment, because he bent his knees slightly, so that his free hand could reach her left breast. He gave it an almighty squeeze that felt like her tit was set on fire, just as he finished off. He was another poor marksman, and the first splurt went right past her face and planted itself in one of her pigtails. She could feel it drip down onto her shoulder, quickly cooling. The rest made it to its destination, adding to the stinking soup she was nursing in her mouth.
[img[gif/gif13.gif]]
'Five! Next! Hurry up, we don't wanna be late!'
The fifth guy listened to his boss, so he just appeared in front of her, tugged a couple of times and shot a load that hit her throat with force. He couldn't resist and rubbed his cock against her cheeks just before he stepped back.
'My turn!'
Boss showed up, grinning ear-to-ear. He grabbed her left pigtail and held onto it while his other hand was milking his cock. When he came, it was like all previous blasts combined. It took him a good minute to finish shooting string after string of cum on top of the pool already built up. When he was done, he hawked and spat a huge green glob right into her left eye as a thank-you. It stuck to her eyelashes and obscured her vision. It was so revolting she felt her gag reflex kicking in but fought it and kept her composure.
[img[gif/gif14.gif]]
Flashes of light came and went. Most of the men were probably taking pictures of her, sitting there naked, with her huge, mistreated breasts covered in sweat and goosebumps, her mouth filled to the brim with cum, her pussy ravaged and leaking white liquid, her hair dishevelled and glistening from errand shots.
[img[img/img2.jpg]]
'I found her mom on Facebook, guys! I just sent her the pic! How awesome is that?'
'Fuckin' add it to her timeline, don't want her friends to miss out, eh!'
'Done!'
Boss's voice rang out once again: 'Okay Jimmy, fucking tic-toc! What now?'
Jimmy addressed her directly: 'Close your mouth but don't swallow, plea...bitch!'
She almost chuckled at his near miss with politeness. She fought the reaction and just closed her mouth, her cheeks bulging. She had a ridiculous amount pooled up in her mouth. She could feel it slosh around as her tongue moved around involuntarily.
'Now get back on the bed!'
Kirsten lifted her arms and pushed herself onto the bed, with her ass landing on it first, then got an all fours and crawled into the centre. What now?
'Now spit it out onto the pillow! Guys, make sure you record this!' Jimmy got his confidence back. Seeing a beautiful woman in such a state obeying him must have given him a boost.
She did as she was told. She put her head above her pillow, opened her mouth slightly and let the torrent of cum out onto the pillow, where most of it pooled, some of it spread, darkening the cotton fabric. There was so much that by the time she got rid of it all, the wet stain was more like a puddle, and it was as big as two palms.
'Ok, lie in it.'
Her eyes closed, she still registered the camera flashes going off.
[img[img/img3.jpg]]
As Kirsten forced down an urge to vomit, she lowered her head and lay with her left cheek pressing against the sticky, stinky puddle of six different men's sperm. The pictures will make the rounds amongst strangers, friends and relatives, no doubt.
'Cool, you can go sleep now.'
Boss's voice again: 'Nice one, Jimmy, I'm getting your lunch-beer today. You did well. Now let's get to the vans, if we don't get going, we'll be late.'
She heard the men walk out the room, through the hall, then through her front door, and it was quiet again. Quiet, except for the sound of Eric's pen scratching against the paper in his notepad.
[[The sun will always rise|page5]]
Kirsten, lying on her side, pulled her knees to her chest. Her beautifully shaped legs were shaking a little, making her toes twitch. Her ass cheeks glistened with sweat. From between them, a rivulet of sperm was making its way down, touching the bedsheet, and gathering under her skin. From the front, her loin was encrusted with cum, the surface of the dried blotches cracking as she shook and heaved. Her torso sparkled with similar patches, continents and islands of semen, but it carried a lot of red marks - mainly hand prints.
[img[gif/gif16.gif]]
Her giant breasts were similarly stained and manhandled. Red and white shapes covered them and her nipples were almost purple from being roughly twisted between keen fingertips. The two beautiful globes - each one easily bigger than her head - rested stacked one on top of the other.
Someone - or all the visitors - must have been choking her while she was out of it and being fucked by one cock after the other, as she felt a tightness around her throat and moving her head hurt her neck muscles. She couldn't see them, but there were purple marks on both sides.
In her shocked state, she never wiped the snotty spit from her left eye, and it dried, gluing her eyelid down. The green goo was gathered on and under her eyelashes, a drop traveling from the outer corner of her eye onto her pillow. The rest of her face also had a couple of cum-marks, especially around her lips. Her left pigtail still had some seed in it, sticking a clump of hair together.
She noticed she was crying. Not a loud, heaving show of despair, only a soft whimper. She probably hasn't made this sound since childhood. Her whole body shook slightly and she felt a terrible cold, but couldn't gather enough willpower to get her blanket.
She just wanted to lie there. Lie there and die. Even that would be better than having to continue with this slavish existence for the whole week.
She heard rustling, which sent her heart fluttering in panic again, but then felt her blanket being pulled over her body and tucked under her chin, so that she was fully covered by it.
'The readings say you're in mild shock, but there is no internal bleeding. Nonetheless, I don't think you'll be able to sleep this way.' Eric must have helped her with the blanket right after scanning her with his diagnostic array.
'I'm going to use some tranquilising mist. I'll deliver it through your nose. Start slowly exhaling and when I say 'now', inhale through your nose as hard as you can. Understand?'
'Mmm' is all she could manage in reply.
She started pushing the air out through her nostrils and felt a presence near her face.
'Now.'
Kirsten inhaled sharply, and felt something moist traveling up her nose. It smelled a little like lavender. Five seconds later the shaking was gone, she didn't feel like a pile of discarded cum-covered tissues, and her crying fizzled out. All she felt like was sleeping, even though she was aware of how filthy she was.
Eric's voice sounded like it was coming from some distance away, but he must have been standing right above her. He was still cheerful, but put on a calming, confidential tone. 'You have a good chance of catching some sleep now. I get info on movement in the area, and there's only one FRF being put to use around here just now. No groups moving around. Gosh, I love this tech they gave me! Infrared readings from drones, fed live into my tablet! It's amazing what money they put into...oh, forgive me, I'm rambling and stealing your time.'
'I should wash...'
'Don't bother. Get some shut-eye and start your first relief period just as you wake up. Then you can get cleaned up and ready for a productive day! I'll go and do the same. I won't be far away and the officers are still around, so you're not alone. Well, you kinda are, but you know what I mean.'
She heard Eric leave the room. There was silence and sweet solitude and then there was black, dreamless sleep.
[[Bliss can only last so long|lock]]By King Kobra
Written By Talkie
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</a>Monday, 7am
A sudden jolt of cold woke up Kirsten. She couldn't quite focus for a second, but the drugs Eric so kindly gave her were not the type that made you drowsy. She felt alert almost immediately and her brain gave her a quick status report:
She was still in bed and under her blanket. She was still filthy with dried cum. The gang that raped her was not present, as far as she could tell.
She wasn't alone, though. It felt like she had been sleeping with her face under a running tap that just got turned off as she woke up. Her face felt wet. Her left eye wasn't glued shut with a loogie any more and she opened both eyes without trouble.
What she saw was surprising and revolting at the same time. It was Mr Cromer, the pleasant and polite older gentleman from upstairs. He was wearing his usual suit, old-fashioned but in good taste. The only thing wrong with the picture was that his fly was undone and his penis was out. He was just tucking it back in his pants as their eyes met.
'Morning, Kirsten! Thanks for this, I always dreamed about pissing on your face. And to think I was planning to spend this week in the cottage. I'm telling you, even if I had been away, I'd have come back after finding out about your FRF week.'
He pissed on her face while she was sleeping! Mr Cromer, widow, pigeon-fancier, all-around pleasant pensioner! What the fuck is wrong with men? - Kirsten felt furious, but she stopped herself before she would have started screaming at the old pig, in case he fights back by revealing some other disgusting kink of his.
'Are you done?'
'Gosh, yes! The old snake doesn't behave any more, if you know what I mean, so that's me good and sorted. Anyway, I better be on my way. My bridge club is meeting today.' With that, he pulled up his fly and without glancing back at her, left the apartment.
'Fuck. Fucking pig. Fucking asshole' -Kirsten said to herself through gritted teeth. The smell of piss was overwhelming and made her stomach turn.
She remembered her monitor and quickly pressed the relief button, while saying 'relief' in a 'loud, clear voice', as the letter instructed. The face of the monitor started emitting a bright red light, blinking every two seconds. There was no timer on it, so she figured it would just go off after 30 minutes.
As she inhaled again, with her elbow propping her up and Mr Cromer's piss dripping down her face and matting her hair, the smell and the shock proved too much for her stomach, and she got the telltale tingling in her mouth. She was about to throw up.
She jumped out of bed and dashed for the en-suite bathroom.
Her cheeks were bulging as she reached the toilet, lifted the seat and and stuck her head above the hole, opening her mouth and vomiting violently. She dry-heaved a little afterwards, but she tried to be done as quickly as possible, painfully aware that the half hour her relief period granted her was running down. Once it's over, once again she will be anyone and everyone's toy, with only two more periods left until midnight.
She jumped in the shower and started scrubbing herself manically. She loved long, hot showers, but time was precious. When she was done, she threw the sponge away in the small bin next to the sink, and took a mental note to pick up a bunch of sponges at some point. They would all end up being single-use, because she couldn't bear touching them against her skin once all the cum, spit and piss was pressed into them.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face and managed to put on decent, if basic make-up before the vitals monitor started blinking rapidly and went dark.
Time was up and she was back in service.
[[Relax… for now|page7]]Please enter the code from our Buy me a coffee page to continue with this story.
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<</button>>She somehow expected men to barge in the moment the vitals monitor went dark, but nobody opened the bathroom door. With a sigh of relief she left the en-suite wrapped in a black, fluffy bathrobe. Even with it tied up tightly around her waist and pulled closed, her breasts were clearly visible, pushing against the material and forming a tantalizing cleavage between the folds.
She glanced at her bed, sheets covered in bodily fluids, and left the bedroom before the smell of piss and semen would make her puke again. She would need to speak to Eric about this - how can she stay clean and attractive if her home gets turned into a landfill every day? Even these soulless men invading her home should be turned off by the smells and sights. Some of them, at least. Sexual excitement diminishes feelings of disgust, and by god was she hot enough to turn these animals on! They'd probably fuck her even if she had an open fracture.
Shaking the morbid thoughts out of her head, she turned right and stepped into her open plan kitchen/living room.
What she saw made her realize she won't be able to continue with her morning routine as normal.
A forty-something man was in there. He must have come in while she was showering, hence she couldn't hear him enter. He had his back to her as she entered, setting up a tripod by the window. There were already three placed in various spots, each with an autonomous camera installed on top. The cameras must have been pre-programmed to look for her, as all turned towards Kirsten and adjusted their focus, whirring softly. The gear looked expensive.
The man didn't seem to hear anything, as he didn't turn around, and continued fiddling with his setup. There was a large backpack next to him and a couple of black cases which must have held the tripods and cameras.
Kirsten couldn't help but glance at the kitchen counter, specifically the knife rack. She had a brief flash of thought - grabbing one of the bigger knives and sinking it in the fucking fellow citizen's back - but she shooed it away.
As she stepped further into the room, the man finished setting up the fourth camera and turned it on. Immediately it focused its lens on her, which made him turn around.
He looked at her and smiled. 'Hi Kirsten, I'm glad you're up - and nice and fresh, too! I got stuck in traffic on the way here, so I expected to walk in on you getting spit-roasted, but here you are, clean and - I hope - about to grab some breakfast before work!'
'Uhm, yeah', she managed, looking at each camera in turn.
She normally had some cereal, then a cup of tea before getting dressed in the morning. She wondered what would change with Camera Guy in her flat. He clearly was keen on documenting whatever he had planned.
She walked to the cupboard and grabbed the cereal box. She poured some in a bowl and went over to the fridge. The man didn't say anything, but stood there with an expectant look on his face. The cameras kept following her movements.
She opened the fridge. The milk was gone. In its place were two large plastic bottles. One filled with cloudy, off-white liquid, the other one with transparent yellow.
[img[img/img4.jpg]]
She wasn't as surprised as she thought she should be.
'Let me guess, cum and piss, right?', she said, turning around.
The man was standing closer to her, grinning and holding his phone in his hand, the screen pointed at her.
'Correct, but it gets better, Miss! You see…’ instead of finishing his sentence, he tapped the screen on his phone, and a video started playing.
It was a short recording of a blue bucket sitting on the floor of a restroom. A large man pulling out his gigantic cock and pissing into the bucket, before he could finish another man came in and joined.
Kirsten stared at the phone, and when the clip ended, she looked at the man's relaxed face with her mouth slightly agape.
'I don't have a vid of getting the cum, it's a bit convoluted. I could have had my camera kicked with all that stuff going on. My wife was nice enough to record the pissing for us, though. She says hello, by the way.'
'Your...wife?'
'Yes, her name is Viola and she had her...I'm Rod, by the way...she had her Service Week last year! We were so disappointed, because we live out in the sticks so not many managed to visit us and use her. I ended up taking her to the nearest truck stop on the highway, chained next to the urinal in the toilets. That's when I got these cameras, we have her whole week recorded. God, she loved it! We both did! But let me tell you, that whole medical attention thing with the jabs and such? Very handy. The treatment she got from those guys was rough as hell, if I may say so. Five surgeries over five months. But she's back to her old self now. Physically.'
'Ok, Rod.'
'Have your breakfast now.'
'I don't think I'm hungry any more.'
'That's fine, you will still have your breakfast, because you're FRF, and because I'M TELLING YOU TO!'
Rod's face transformed in an instant, rage rising and showing in his features, his forehead going red. He curled his fist as he screamed out and punched Kirsten in the stomach with tremendous force.
This caught her by surprise. All air escaped her lungs instantly and she collapsed onto her knees, letting out a 'haaah' and grabbing her stomach. She hung her head, but fingers soon grabbed her hair, wrapping around the ponytail she put her hair in after the shower and pulling it so that she was forced to look at Rod's gnarling face.
[[Time to eat|page8]]Rod's face looked a bit blurred through the tears in Kirsten's eyes. The shock from the punch also made her ears ring, but she heard him clearly enough.
'That sure sent a message, eh? Now, I don't want to send any more, so why don't you carry on as you should? You know what to do.' With that he let go of her hair and stood next to the kitchen counter, arms crossed.
Kirsten grabbed the counter and pulled herself up. Sniffling a little, she slid the bowl over to where the fridge stood.
'More cereal. You need to eat properly.', Rod's voice was calm, but had a threatening ring to it. Kirsten tipped the box of corn flakes again, until the bowl was half full. Then she reached into the fridge and took out the bottle of cum. Rod was smiling as she opened the bottle and started pouring the smelly grey goo into the bowl. It was much thicker than milk, pouring out slowly and covering the cereal. Some flakes floated to the top. Knowing Rod would want her to, she filled the bowl almost to the brim.
[img[img/img5.jpg]]
The autonomous cameras kept making soft sounds as they pivoted on their tripods and adjusted their focus, capturing the perversion of her morning routine from different angles. As she picked up the bowl and took it to the dining table, Rod took the TV remote, accessed the online streaming channels and flicked through live feeds until the screen showed Kirsten, in her kitchen, sitting on a stool, spoon in hand, cum-cereal in front of her. The viewing angle changed every so often, as the cameras constructed the live feed.
There was a counter in the bottom right corner, showing the number of spectators who tuned in to watch the show. It was in the dozens, but was climbing steadily.
'You're getting good numbers, Special K, but I know how to give them a little boost!' Rod said and walked over to her. He stopped behind her, reached down and undid the belt holding her gown together. He grabbed the collars and pulled the gown apart, freeing her breasts and exposing them for everyone watching the stream. Not stopping there, he grabbed one humongous globe in each hand, lifted them, and put them on the table, so they rested on the tabletop right in front of the bowl. Kirsten didn't bother looking, but the viewer count started rising faster and was now passing 600. Little hearts started floating upwards in the bottom left corner, one for each 'like'. They were building up to a flurry, the icons touching and overlapping each other.
She sunk the spoon into the ungodly concoction and lifted it to her mouth. The smell hit her harder and made her gag. She fought the feeling and opened her mouth. Some cum overflowed and, forming strings, dripped back from the spoon into the bowl. You could barely see the flakes swimming in it.
Steeling herself, she put the spoon in her mouth, then pulled it out empty. Her gag reflex kicked in again and made her burp a little. Some semen escaped through the corners of her mouth, dripped down her chin, landed on her tits and started gathering in her cleavage. Internally, she counted to three, then swallowed. The taste was revolting. She barely bothered chewing on the cereal itself, instead she forced it all down her gullet, choking hazard be damned. 'This needs to fucking end, and soon', she thought to herself.
1000 viewers and counting. Hearts and eggplant icons floating on the left, crowding each other out.
'You can practically taste nature, can't you? At least, that's what Viola says', commented Rod. He was standing a little away from the table, making sure not to obscure either camera's view.
Kirsten looked up at him and nodded, still smarting a little where he punched her stomach. She wanted to appease the guy since he clearly had some issues.
Or did all people have them? Did the FRF program merely bring to fore an innate cruelty and desire to exploit that was sitting suppressed before? Did it even matter? If everyone is a deviant, then no-one is. Humanity is just trash, and its dominant gender used technology and social engineering to fully express that fact.
'Gulp'. 4000 viewers.
She was nearing the bottom of the bowl, quicker than she expected.
'Tea next, right?', Rod asked and walked back to the kitchen counter, where he filled the kettle with the bottle of piss and turned it on. Kirsten didn't bother replying.
The acrid smell of urine filled the room as the kettle boiled, and there was clanking coming from where Rod picked up a mug, a tea bag and sugar. She could hear him making 'tea' and opening the fridge, surely to add some 'milk'.
With one final spoonful, the bowl was empty.
Kirsten had tears drying in rivulets underneath her eyes. The corners of her mouth produced small cum bubbles as she breathed in and out through them. Semen caked her chin and her cleavage. Her breasts had a few drops drying here and there.
[img[img/img6.jpg]]
12,000 viewers. Hearts, eggplants, exclamation marks, smileys.
Rod appeared on her right and put the mug down in front of her, but made sure he showed it up close to one of the cameras first - she could see that on the TV. He also took the bowl and put it in the sink. How thoughtful.
The tea smelled worse than the cereal. It was much lighter in color than an actual brew, and the cum-milk didn't dissolve properly, forming big, amorphous globs instead.
20,000 viewers.
As she lifted the mug to her mouth, she heard the front door open. She didn't turn around, but as the cameras kept cycling through angles, through the TV she saw Eric enter the room . She felt a wave of relief, completely unjustified. He's not here to save her from this. He's here to keep her in line.
'Morning! Are you almost ready for work?' - he asked in his usual cheerful manner.
Kirsten let out a 'mhm' while sipping the disgusting horsepiss-soup, fighting wave after wave of stomach contractions. Her body wanted to empty it all at any cost. She kept fighting it at any cost. It was a mixture of wanting to be over and done with this torture and of wanting to seem compliant to Eric. She didn't know why, but she wanted to impress him.
'Yes, once she downs that mug she's good to go, as far as I'm concerned.', said Rod. 'I need to get back to the farm, anyway. I left Viola tied up in the pigsty, covered in jam. I wonder how many of my hogs got to her in all these hours.'
'Uhmm, sure', Eric replied, raising one eyebrow slightly. 'I'll take care of her, you take care of your camera setup. It's pretty impressive, if I may add. I'm still saving up for one of these little beauties, let alone four! Don't leave them lying around here, others might think they belong to her, and then you know what could happen to them.'
'Sure, sure.'
Kirsten took one last gulp of the mug, swallowed, shivered, and slammed it back down on the table. The last boiled glob of cum wiggled its way down her throat.
By now, she knew how to fight the urge to vomit it all out.
The counter in the bottom left of the TV screen was showing 35,000 when Rod switched it off.
[[Stepping outside for the first time|page9]]
Monday, 8am
Eric looked her up and down while rummaging in his suitcase.
'Time to go to work. Here, wipe yourself off.' He handed her some moist tissues and, while she wiped her chest and chin, he pulled out a small vaporiser, and held it up.
'Are you feeling queasy? I have something for it. It's similar to the spray I gave you last night, but this one won't make you sleepy.'
As Kirsten nodded, a burp escaped her lips and her mouth tasted even worse for a second, cum and piss in gaseous form swirling around inside.
'Here. It will kill the taste, calm your stomach and fix your breath. I really hope they put this stuff on the market soon, it's miraculous! I guess they want to experiment on you girls, first.'
A lot of money went into R&D, with government grants handed out to develop technologies that made the FRF program more efficient. Chemicals to kill smells, improve stamina (for both FRFs and fellow citizens), reduce bruising, increase sperm production and so on were being introduced constantly. Even though women's on-duty well-being was not even an afterthought, they did end up helping them get through their service somewhat easier. Kirsten read about the amazing mood-improving pills post-service FRFs were given access to. They were not available during Service Week, as making women get through it too smoothly would have been a turn-off for violent sexual offenders, with whom in mind the policy was introduced initially.
When Eric held the vaporiser up to her nose and gave her the signal, she inhaled and he sprayed it in her nostrils. He wasn't lying. Within seconds, the sick feeling went away and her mouth cavity felt fresh, as if she had just brushed her teeth.
She went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Eric followed her in. 24 hours earlier she would have found it weird, but the thought of him seeing her naked didn't even phase her anymore. She was pretty much public property, anyway, plus he was the kindest human being in her world right now. Also, he wouldn't be taking advantage of her - a very lonely position this week, discounting the cops.
A black dress cover was lying flat on her bed.
'A gift from the Ministry', Eric said as he stepped into the room. 'They use fetish surveys in every area amongst men and it helps them get you in clothes that would be the most enticing to your fellow citizens. Obviously, we have all your measurements, so they should fit perfectly - well, as far as the survey results are concerned, anyway. Bras almost always end up a tad too small, unsurprisingly. You're free to keep all the outfits after your Week, but chances are you won't want to. No guesses why. Please do your makeup, and then we'll unwrap the present, okay? Oh, and you're being asked to keep it light, nothing elaborate.'
'Yeah, we don't want people to think I'm a slut, do we?'
Eric chuckled at that, but gently gestured towards the bathroom.
She went with a natural look, close to her skin tone, with a bit of blusher and no lipstick, putting on shiny lip balm instead. Once done, she returned to the bedroom.
Kirsten pulled the bag's zipper down, and pulled out the contents. A plastic bag contained the underwear: black lace panties, with a crotch hole for easy access. Low-denier thigh-high black stockings, with a red floral pattern on the top. A black balcony bra, mostly lace, so that it would keep her nipples visible. It did seem too small in the cup, but the straps were adjustable and long enough, so they wouldn't eat into her back.
She looked at its tag: 36E. Yep, too small.
She pulled out the hanger that held the rest of her designated clothes. She sighed. 'Fuckin' of course', she muttered.
It was a schoolgirl outfit. A red-and-black chequered plaid skirt, way too short for an actual schoolgirl, and a white, sailor-style blouse, made of very thin cotton, guaranteeing that the black bra will be perfectly visible underneath.
She got dressed and even once she was finished, she felt naked. She looked at herself in the mirror.
[img[img/img7.jpg]]
The top fit perfectly, and, as she expected, not only was her bra easily visible underneath it, but due to the lacey material, you could make out her nipples pushing through both layers.
Because of the bra's size, there was a slight overflow on the top edge, with her huge breasts half-spilling out and pressing against the material under the balcony on the lower half. It didn't hurt her, at least not yet. She would have to see how it felt after a couple of hours, unless she ended up having it taken off at some point, which was definitely a possibility.
The skirt was so short that her ass cheeks were just about showing, and probably the slightest gust of wind would expose her panties to everyone who cared to look.
'You look amazing!' Eric said, with a tone that was pure appreciation, zero lust. Kirsten started to think he might be gay. It would make perfect sense, considering his job.
'I don't feel 'amazing', Eric. I feel like a stripper. In some fucked-up Japanese night club.' she replied.
'I can imagine, but that's not exactly on top of our priority list, I'm sure you understand.'
Kirsten said nothing and grabbed her handbag, then threw in her essentials: phone, lip balm, chewing gum, ID, tissues, a small makeup kit, panty liners (she figured she wouldn't need them, but they didn't take up much space, anyway), a pen and her diary. She loved using her journal, even though such an analogue way of keeping record of things was very rare. She used it for work-related notes, to-do lists and to capture any thoughts and feelings. She did not intend to write in it this week. This week was for forgetting, revolutionary new government-issued pills permitting. She put it in anyway. It gave her a feeling of comfort, of normalcy.
She appended the FRF badges to each shoulder and chose to stick the third one onto her handbag.
'Ready?'
'Ready.'
'Let's go, then.'
Eric held the door for her as she stepped out into a sunny, pleasant morning.
[[Enjoy the sunlight|page10]]
There were two officers from the FRF Division standing just outside her front door.
'Good morning, Ma'am, and thank you for your service', they both said, almost in unison. 'We'll be here to keep an eye on your home.'
'Tha-thank you', she managed, one hand holding the strap of her handbag, the other gripping the hem of her ridiculously short schoolgirl skirt.
'Ma'am, I'm afraid I have to ask you not to do that', one of the cops said, pointing at the hand she used to hold her skirt down. 'It could be construed as avoidance.'
'I'm sorry, but that is correct, Kirsten. Just walk normally. Imagine you're wearing a pantsuit, if that helps.', Eric chimed in.
'I'm sorry.' She let go of the skirt and tried to visualize something conservative on her body, as her Co-ordinator suggested. As they walked on, she found it to actually work, and her hand kept clear, swinging by her side with every step.
Kirsten, with Eric by her side, walked to the corner where her car was parked. As she got close, she pulled out her phone, loaded up the car app and pressed the 'unlock' icon.
Nothing happened.
'I'm sorry, I totally forgot!' Eric shouted out, 'Your car is disabled for the week. You're expected to take public transport.'
'Fuck's sake, Eric, really?'
'Mhm.' Eric seemed embarrassed, which made him look a tiny bit cute in Kirsten's eyes.
He added: 'I can't accompany you, but I'll be in the office's vicinity. You know I have my eyes on your vitals and eyes in the sky, right?', with that he pointed upwards.
She looked up instinctively, but, of course, couldn't see anything. These machines circled way too high up for the naked eye to spot.
A car pulled up, empty, and stopped next to Eric. After scanning him with its sensors, the driver's side door opened and Eric got in. 'I'll see you soon, and remember: I'm watching!' he said, then got in and the car sped away.
'Remember, I'm watching'. From anyone else's mouth, the statement would have sounded ominous, but, Eric being the source, it was pleasant reassurance for Kirsten. She shrugged and started walking towards the monorail stop, two corners away. She kept surprising herself. Imagining these scenarios growing up, she thought she would be a quivering mess, balled up in the fetal position while random men sprayed cum and worse on her defenseless body. Instead, she felt wary, but confident enough to keep walking. She barely had to remind herself to not touch her stupidly short skirt.
She passed a couple of men, but none approached her. Some missed the FRF badges completely, some obviously did notice them and gave her a longer look, but no-one even touched her. It used to be worse in previous years - she had seen it with her own eyes. Either they were ones that swore off taking advantage, or they emptied their ballsack into - or onto - some other FRF not long ago.
Expanding the program made it more manageable for the women called up for duty, just through better dispersion, she figured.
As she turned the corner and got to the steps leading up to the monorail station, Kirsten noticed a trio by the foot of the steps.
One sitting on the bottom step - a woman - and two policemen in FRF Division uniforms standing above her. She slowed down slightly as she got closer and listened in to their conversation.
'They took them all!', the woman, trying to fight back tears, exclaimed.
She was barely a woman, at second glance. The girl must have been between 18 and 20. She was obviously an FRF, because she was completely naked. She had her hair in pigtails, just like Kirsten.
Her chest heaved, moving her tiny breasts forwards and back. She was very short, even for her young age. Her black hair glistened with liquid. She had her knees pulled up and crossed her arms over them. She seemed to be sitting in a large puddle, the steps darker around her than elsewhere. There was a faint smell of piss, getting stronger as Kirsten got closer.
'That's why I don't have the damn badges on! They took it all! My purse, too!'
'I understand, Ma'am. Don't worry. We got it covered.' one of the cops said, calmly.
The poor girl looked up at the officer with hope in her eyes.
'Really?'
'Yes, of course, Miss.'
With that, the cop pulled out three FRF badges from his satchel and dangled them in front of the FRF. 'These have straps on, so you can just put them on your arms and...I guess your ankle or your neck, and you're good to go. Carry on, I'm sure you're already late for class.'
'Oh...' the glimmer of hope disappeared from the girl's eyes as her expression sunk and she held out a shaking hand to take the badges.
Kirsten walked past them and started climbing the stairs. Her hand moved towards her skirt again, but she stopped herself.
Getting to the platform, she glanced at the timer above the walkway. The next train was due in five minutes. She sat down on one of the benches facing the rail. As she looked down, she fancied how her enormous breasts obscured her vision, so that she could only see her thighs, but not her skirt. From this angle she looked naked from the waist down, spare the stockings and the black flats she put on.
A pair of brown leather shoes entered her field of vision. She looked up.
There was a middle-aged man, wearing a suit, looking down at her in silence. He had a tense look in his eyes and a hint of recognition - maybe one of the tens of thousands that watched her drink horse cum and piss just an hour ago.
As they were looking into each other's eyes, Kirsten opened her mouth to speak, even though she didn't really know what she would say. 'Blowjob, fellow citizen?' How ridiculous.
Before she could make a single sound, the man lifted his left index finger to his lips. Clearly, he didn't want her to speak. Fine.
He used his right hand to pull his fly down and fished out his cock.
Kirsten looked around. There were about ten other people on the platform. Men, women, a mother with a pram, a couple of schoolboys.
She noticed a shiny badge on Pram Mom's shoulder. 'No way!' Their gazes met. The woman had resignation in her eyes. A man stepped up to her from behind and put his hands up her blouse, starting to massage her breasts.
Kirsten would have kept staring, but her new companion's palm cradled her chin and moved her face back to look up at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes bore into hers. Then it all got eclipsed by the dark form of his penis, now dangling just above her forehead. He started slapping it against her face. It was half-limp, but with every smack against her cheeks, nose and lips, it got harder and bigger.
[img[gif/gif17.gif]]
He dug his fingers into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. He then slowly sunk his member into her mouth, hand still holding it, and started jerking off.
Kirsten just kept staring into his eyes, lips quivering as the shaft vibrated between them.
The man's grip on her face strengthened and started hurting a little. His girth grew and there was no space left between her lips where air could pass. She started breathing through her nose.
[img[gif/gif18.gif]]
He started sweating at the forehead and his pace increased. Kirsten was bracing herself for him to cum right down her throat or at least into her mouth.
Instead, the stranger pulled his cock out of her mouth with a 'pop', reached for her left breast, grabbed it violently, and started spraying his cum right on her schoolgirl blouse.
[img[gif/gif20.gif]]
The fabric soaked through immediately and stuck to her skin, which made her shiver. A large drop hit her cleavage and started sliding down between her breasts.
He still had some in him, so he lowered his member and shook the remaining cum onto her skirt and stockings. As a goodbye, he dragged the tip across her face, leaving a snail trail of semen across her right cheek.
[img[gif/gif21.gif]]
As her user zipped his pants up and turned away without saying a word, a chime sounded, and the train pulled up to the platform, gliding quietly and opening its doors. Kirsten stood up and walked to the nearest door, while digging in her bag for some tissues.
She glanced towards the mom with the pram. The woman tried to get on the train, but as she stepped forward, pushing the pram in front of her, the man who was still fondling her breasts grunted and grabbed her long blonde hair, pulling violently and forcing her head back and her face upwards. She let out a pained scream. He started dragging her by the hair towards the nearest bench. She lost her grip on the pram as she was roughly guided to the bench and made to rest her hands on it, her ass sticking out.
Someone walked up to the pram and helpfully pushed it to the bench next to her. The FRF mother reached up with one hand and started gently rocking the pram back and forth, to keep her baby from waking up, as the strange man hiked up her skirt, pulled down her blue panties and got ready to fuck her from behind.
[img[gif/gif19.gif]]
Looking away in disgust, Kirsten stepped into the carriage.
[[Not a smooth trip|page11]]
That's it for now folks. I plan on releasing the next update sometime this week along with hopefully another game. Stay tuned and thank you for your support!