Sunday with the Baileys

A couple hours before dawn.

It turned out fifty bladders held quite a lot of piss, especially when everyone there had enjoyed multiple sessions. Megan’s belly was so distended she could have passed for nine months pregnant, and the girl was sweating and moaning in distress. Red watched in fascination as her stomach heaved and tried to vomit out its contents yet again, only to be stymied once more by the cock plugging her throat.

“Not just yet, piss trough,” mocked its owner. “I bet you got room for one more deposit.”

He turned out to be right, though he had to pinch her nose to keep all of it from bubbling out. Megan’s throat worked as she forced her latest cum and piss cocktail to join all the others.

Despite her exhaustion, the man’s cock was spotless when it popped out from her lips. That wasn’t technically necessary anymore; she’d already cleaned him and everyone else several times over. But she didn’t know that, and they certainly weren’t going to tell her.

Her stomach heaved again mere moments later, but the others were already grabbing her head and pulling it back to hover over the large oil drum they’d positioned. Several liters of piss, cum, and stomach acid erupted from her mouth and rained down into the waiting barrel to join what she’d already regurgitated into it. They’d done this more than ten times now, and the drum was practically half full.

Red eyed its contents and nodded. “Gentlemen, it’s been a very fun day, but I think it’s time to wrap up.” Some of the men began to groan and object, but they quieted when he raised his hands. “Come on, let’s be civilized about this. We’ll have her set up back home by the end of the week, and I think you’ve all got private sessions with her scheduled already. Also, since this party turned out so well, we’re thinking of making it a monthly thing. We’ll expand the roster to one hundred so some folks who missed out on this one get a chance, and make it a twenty four hour affair, maybe even forty eight, where you can all go hog wild on her again. Sound good?”

There was a general chorus of agreement. “Alright, you animals,” Red said affectionately. “Get lost before the sun comes up!”

As the crowd began to shuffle out, talking and laughing amongst themselves, Red lowered Megan to the floor, though he left her arms cuffed. “You did good today, champ,” he told her. “Real good.”

Her only response was to whimper and cough out more piss.

Red picked her up in his arms. Trembling and weak, she stared up at him silently. ‘You know, I really am taken with you, Megan Bailey,” he told her. “I don’t often do this, but I think I might schedule some time with you myself. Try out some pain play, see what those lower fuckholes of yours are like, and plenty of bullying, of course. How’s that sound?”

She whimpered again.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. We gotta wrap things up with your mom before we hit the road, but I’m gonna go ahead and get you packed for the trip now. It’s not gonna be very comfortable, but maybe it’ll help to keep this in mind: things are only going to get worse from here.”

Then he dropped her into the oil drum.

The shock of being plunged into lukewarm piss seemed to revive her a little, and she rose to the surface sputtering. Now that she was in there, the regurgitated fluids went up nearly to the brim. “What? Why?” she asked breathlessly.

Red didn’t see any point in answering. Instead, he grabbed the lid and popped it on. He had to push her head down into the sewage to fit, but her nose was still above the surface. Perfect. “Gonna be a few days before we can let you out,” he said as he began screwing the lid shut. There was a thump as her head banged against the underside of it, trying to move it, but the lid didn’t budge even with only one screw in place, and he had seven more to go. “Surprising amount of prep work needed to set up a mass use fucktoy. But that’s why I’ve left you with plenty of refreshment in there. If I were you, I’d spend this vacation guzzling that piss puke and savoring every drop. You may think it tastes bad, but once you get started on the fucktoy chow diet, you’ll be having fond dreams of it.”

Once the last screw was in place, he double checked the air holes, and then patted the lid. “Gonna go kill your mom now, Megan. You just keep reminding yourself of what I told you: it only gets worse from here.”

Joe wasn’t in the kitchen anymore; they’d sent the man off to bed a couple hours ago. He’d seemed relieved at the suggestion, muttering that it was going to be so good to finally wake up.

If he’d been anyone else, Red might’ve worried that the man would try to slip out of the house or call the police. There was, barely, still time for him to do the right thing and save both his wife and daughter. But if Joe Bailey was capable of that, they wouldn’t have come here in the first place.

The creature that had been Eileen Bailey didn’t even glance at him as he entered the kitchen. All her attention was on Blue, who had her on the kitchen table, slowly fucking her ass for the final time. The other forty three rides had all been rough and violent, but now, for number forty four, he was finally fulfilling her dream of making slow sweet love to her guts.

“You love this, don’t you, bitch?” he breathed into what little remained of her only ear as he languidly pumped his full length in and out of her. “You love getting buttfucked by me.”

“Yethh thuhh” she moaned in response, and she even sounded sincere. “Luhhv ihh. Luhhv yuuu…”

There wasn’t a whole lot of Eileen Bailey left anymore, physically (mentally, Red suspected there was even less). What was left, the bits Blue hadn’t convinced her to chop or tear or chew off for the sake of his erection, was a grotesque sight even to Red, and he felt his cock twitch in response. If her pussy hadn’t already been sewn shut, its contents squishing noisily as she was ridden, he might’ve considered joining in. “Megan’s all set,” he said instead. “Snug as a bug and ready for a road trip. You make a decision about Ellie?”

“Yeah,” Blue said happily, savoring every slow thrust into his toy’s well trained hole. “…You were right all along, man. I just can’t do it. I can’t say goodbye to such a good anal fucktoy.” The thing he was fucking glowed with what could almost be called pride. “Think we can find a place for her back home?”

“Absolutely,” Red agreed. “We can set her up in the penthouse suite. Wanna schedule her for plastic surgery and prosthetics, get her looking good again?” She perked up at that.

“Of course,” Blue said. He ran an affectionate hand over her scarred, mutilated flesh. “Dentist too, to fix her teeth. Can’t treat my new wife like she’s just some disposable cum dump.” Eileen twitched in surprise at the word ‘wife’, and her face twisted into what was probably meant to be a smile.

Red beamed back at her. “Ellie, what do you think you’d like to do first when we get home? I could run you a hot bath, get you some painkillers to relax? Or would you rather have something to eat? I know your mouth’s been tasting yucky all day, and I bet some soft, creamy yogurt would go down great, or maybe some soup? Personally I like ice cream when I’m recovering, but your gums might be a lot too sensitive for that right now.”

Blue’s fucktoy drooled freely as she considered the possibilities. “Cuuuud I… cuud I theeep firth?” she said after a moment. “Ihh ihh alll thoundth tho wonduhfuhh buhh… I’m juthh so so tiiiyahd…”

Red nodded in understanding. “Of course you can sleep first! The penthouse suite has the best mattresses in the whole place.“

“And the pillows are the softest I’ve ever felt,” Blue added. “The secret is pegasus feathers instead of goose.”

“Should we give her some of the anti-aging serum while we’re at it?” Red suggested. Eileen gave him a confused look.

“Absolutely. Like I’d marry some old lady. She’ll be even sexier when she’s 18 again.”

“Ehhnti…?” Eileen asked, her smile fading.

Red made a face. “Straight to 18 is kinda gauche. How about 20 to match her daughter?”

“Fine, fine,” Blue agreed. “As long as we’re giving her the immortality drugs too. I want to spend at least the next century on our honeymoon.”

“Ohhh, you should visit Mars while you’re at it!” Red suggested. “I hear it’s lovely this time of century.”

“Wha… wha uhh yuhh…?” Eileen asked slowly, her body quivering with tension.

“We’re just planning your future, of course,” Blue said cheerfully. “The one where we don’t torture you to death right here in your own kitchen. Would you like a pet unicorn too? You can have anything and everything you want, after all. Only the perfect fantasy for my beautiful wife.”

“Nohhhh…” she whined, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. “Nohhh, peaaaash…”

“Should I go grab the toolbox from the truck?” Red asked his friend.

“Yeah, I should be done fucking her and ready to begin by the time you’re back,” Blue said. “Grab the car battery while you’re at it, I had some ideas I want to try.”

Red gave him a thumbs up and left.

“Buhhh…” Eileen whispered as she sobbed. “Buhhh I…”

Blue groaned as he finished in his latest cum dump for the very last time. As he grew soft and slipped out of her, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back to look at him.

Wide, tear filled eyes stared up at him, silently pleading for the tiniest shred of mercy.

He laughed in her face. “Stupid bitch.”

Epilogue

As the sun began to rise, a truck made its way through the countryside, heading for its destination several hundred miles away. The journey had taken six hours in the other direction, and it would take twice as long on these winding backroads, but they would be seen by almost no one, much less any curious police patrols. Besides, neither man in the truck minded taking the scenic route.

A nondescript oil drum was secured by chain in the back. These country roads were hardly in good condition, and the drum thumped and shook in a near constant state of motion as the vehicle made its way across the uneven terrain. Its contents sloshed violently as it was jostled by every bump in the road.

The route was isolated but not completely barren, and more than once over the long journey another car would drive behind the truck for a time, their drivers idly watching the drum dance back and forth. But none of them would pay enough attention to notice that it kept shaking even during those rare moments where the road was flat.

Just as no one would pay enough attention to notice the additional sound coming from it. The sound, soft, pitiful, and ALMOST too quiet to be heard at all over the truck, of Megan screaming and screaming and screaming for rescue.

It would be an uneventful trip home.