Every character in this story is 18+. It contains EXTREME, gross, and unrealistic cum drinking. Our protagonist probably swallows more cum in this story than every other story you've read combined, and she's not thrilled about it.
We did it! We found a cheap, renewal, eco-friendly power source and saved the planet! And almost nobody is saying things like ‘But at what cost...’
Mollie wasn’t saying it, but she was thinking it pretty hard. Of all the potential fuels to run the world, semen would have ranked last on her list. With masturbation stations in every home and at every street corner, the Earth wasn’t burning anymore, but a nauseating smell like a dirty boot full of salty seaweeds tainted its atmosphere. Perhaps it was harder to tolerate the smell when it triggered memories of the taste; Mollie experienced the concentrated flavor in its full gag-inducing glory whenever she got down on her official JizzTech knee pads and put her mouth to the pipeline tap.
The world’s old oil transportation system had been repurposed to carry the sewage of every man’s dirty deed, but the pipes weren’t designed to handle something as sticky and lumpy as testicle batter. When pressure rose during the day’s various peak hours, someone had to circumvent the new and old environmental spill laws and orally siphon some of it out without drooling a drop. As the daughter of a disgraced Shell executive, that was Mollie’s job. She was paying for the crimes of a man that never wanted anything to do with her (and vice versa). To him, she had always been too moody, too bitchy, too goth, her black Egyptian eye makeup contrasting the pale porcelain face, a farce, the laced mini-dresses, piercings, and ‘satanic’ jewelry, an embarrassment. She protested his evil ways as hard as everyone else, but blood is thicker than water... and cum is much thicker than both, especially the off-white, lukewarm tar from the DNA of millions of men that passed through her assigned pipe.
“Pressure rising, Mollie.”
“Yes, I can see the gauge, thank you.” No matter how much attitude Mollie put into the replies, the woman voice on the speaker never failed to offer redundant advice. At least no one was physically there to complain about the Gothic dress she was wearing like in her days of working for her father.
The pressure was rising more often these days as more folks were getting used to the idea of masturbating for money. She had heard of women letting the love-making byproduct ooze out of their orifices and into the Jizztech receptacle after sex and tried not to think too much about how much of the cum she drank came dripping out of some slut’s asshole. She knew for a fact that people were throwing tissues and old condoms down the cum drain. Users only got paid for what the sensor considered cum, but there was no penalty for laziness. Nobody wanted to touch their own gross discharge, yet here she was about to drink gallons of it.
“Pressure still rising, Mollie”
“Fuck! Off! I’m working myself up to it!”
Mollie put her mouth to the valve. It was facing upward like a water fountain at the park. Even the spit-shined metal nozzle gave her tongue a shiver-inducing flashback and preview of the taste to come. One last deep breath, a turn of the wrist, and her mouth instantly became a toilet that thousands of men were masturbating into. Actually, that would have been a quality of life improvement; thousands of men masturbating in her mouth would mean fresher cum. She was stuck with a mixed bag of seminal refuse. Clearly, some guys accumulated weeks’ worth of ball juice in jars before dumping them in the JizzTech disposal.
After a hundred swallows, it became impossible, even for an expert like Mollie, to keep up with the flow. This toilet was filling up faster than she could flush. That’s when Mollie usually tightened up her lips’ grip on the faucet and let the flood of discarded ball juice rape her throat, ignoring the violent gags not nearly strong enough to eject their liquid scream against the current. Whatever made it out of her nostrils was promptly snorted right back in as she struggled to maintain a minimum oxygen intake.
Eventually, her stomach inflated to the point where she felt it was about to burst and Mollie turned off the valve for a short, well-deserved (in her opinion) break.
“Pressure’s still high, Mollie.”
“And what about my internal pressure, huh?! Do you have a fucking gauge for that?!”
“It’s only going to get worse the longer you wait. Lunch-time peaks usually last about 45 minutes.”
Mollie didn’t know how long she had been swallowing but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Her stomach was going to have to stretch a bit more. She licked her lips to rid them of the accumulated white gloss. Sniffed, to clear her cum-drenched nostrils, put her mouth back on the tap, and went for round two. Stopping too often was antithetical to her just-get-the-stupid-thing-over-with work ethic.
Always looking for small ways to be defiant, Mollie hoped that it was impossible for The Voice to turn off her screen and speakers. That she was forced to stare into Molly's eyes while eating her own lunch and losing her appetite over the disgustingly wet throat cacophony. Lunch..., Mollie thought, I barely remember what that tastes like. You know guzzling cum all day long is bad when you miss being hungry.
With pressure restored to an acceptable level, a bloated Mollie was sitting in the dirt, caring little about her poofy dress flashing her panties at The Voice’s camera. Pinched between two fingers like the tail of a dead rat was a spent condom she had fished out of her throat. What difference would it make if I chucked it behind my shoulder this one time? She knew that this very mentally had almost wiped out the human race but if anyone deserved to litter a little bit it should be the girl who spent the last hour drinking humanity’s filth.
“You’re not thinking of throwing that away are you?” Everything The Voice said was begging for a sarcastic reply.
“No,” Mollie lied. “I was admiring how tasty it looks.” She finished one last sigh before dipping the thing in her mouth and slurping it down like a spaghetti noodle. “Don’t bother me unless pressure is critical! This is the only part of the day I enjoy...” Nap time.
“Hello, Mollie.”
“Holy fuck!” A rude awakening. Mollie never had a visitor before, and the girl in cum-stained overalls standing over her with a wrench in her hand was the owner of The Voice in the flesh.
“If you’re here to shit on me, it’s your speaker that needs fixing I always wake up...”
“Pressure is fine, as stable as it can get. We isolated your entire section.”
“Sperm’s... not flowing?” The desert was indeed more peaceful without the turbulent rush of a gazillion spermatozoa flailing their tails. A dread she carried for months fled Mollie’s body like an exorcised ghost at the calming image of a sperm lake replacing the raging sperm river. There had to be a catch.
“Nope, this section is shut off and we need you to drain the whole pipe; siphon out everything in there so we can start on maintenance.”
And what a catch it was. “Isn’t my section like... all this?” Mollie pointed at both sides of a metal tube that went on past the horizon. “It’s like asking me to drain a dozen of tanker trunks. It’s going to take months!”
“Three months, we estimate, if you drink at a good pace for 18 hours a day each day. But here’s something that might motivate you: keep us on schedule and we won’t need you to monitor the pressure anymore.”
“No way...” It was such good news that Mollie had to stop herself from hugging the cunt delivering it.
“We’re replacing all manual pressure valves with organic self-regulators. 16 feet of flexible piping with multiple internal valves and overflow tanks....”
“Shut up... Gulp. Drinking... Gulp.” Mollie was already on the faucet, swallowing with more gusto than ever even though she controlled the pace. “See you in three months... Gulp. Then I never want to hear your voice again... Gulp.”
“It’s wide enough but it’s too thin, we need the full girth of this big pipe before we have a chance to stuff it in deep enough so it doesn’t leak.”
“That tight ass will be so stretched, I’m not worried about leaks at all.”
“Keep pulling the sides. I’ll straddle her waist and pull from the top. I need someone to go under her body and do the same.”
Even before opening her eyes and with a body too numb to feel the full extent of the damage, Mollie knew something terribly wrong was happening to her anus. For one, there should not be four pairs of hands stretching it in every direction. The last thing she remembered was passing out from salt poisoning after siphoning the last mouthful of semen from the pipe. In itself, that was a pretty common occurrence, but waking up naked with the hangover of a girl who was drugged and anally date-raped by a particularly hung elephant was not.
Forcing her eyelids to cooperate only added more confusion for an inch away from her own, two panicky, tear-drowned eyes were staring right back. Mollie wouldn’t have recognized the girl she met at the siphoning orientation had they not been so strikingly blue. The two girls had their button noses squished against one another and when Mollie tried to ask why she was standing so close, the disturbing answer became obvious. Two girls, two tongues, one stud. Their tongue piercings were forcing them to exchange saliva in a sealed-lips French Kiss. Attempts at screaming only pushed air into the other girl’s throat.
A tube as thick as her waist was penetrating her stretched asshole, which she could feel more and more each second thanks to the fading analgesics. The final horror came when she tried to stop the people shoving a pipeline up her butt by reaching... by kicking... with limbs she no longer had.
“Hello.” The Voice made both mouth-mates flinch, inadvertently playing tug-of-war with the linked tongues. It was just a voice once again since all the girls could see were each other’s eyes.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” Mollie asked, not with her mouth but by shaking her nubs in a very what-did-you-do-to-me? manner.
“Calm down, I have good news again: you’ll never hear my voice again. I’m going to supervise the conversion of more coupling valves. And nobody is going to order you around, this new process runs more or less unsupervised. So yeah, it was nice working together.”
Blue’s eyes began to tell a story. A story of cum, a powerful jet of endless seminal guck filling up a colon in an instant, being funneled in expanding guts, ballooning a stomach until it was ready to projectile vomit through the firehose esophagus. It was a horror story and Mollie knew how the second half would go. Being nose to nose, the smell escaping from the girl’s nostrils came first. Mollie braced herself for the liquid punch.
It was a heavyweight punch. Blue was regurgitating a city’s worth of sperm tainted by her own gut culture into Mollie’s mouth who had no choice but to swallow to save her chipmunk cheeks from exploding. Her stomach was getting a day’s worth of her usual workload every passing second, filtering the cream from crop through the narrow exit.
Mollie’s just-get-the-stupid-thing-over-with philosophy had no place in her new role. The foul cum inundated her tongue, choked her airways, and filled every cubic inch of her digestive tract before exploding out of her stretched-out rectum like the result of a pressurized cum enema. When is nap time? After a few days of her body filtering cum while in a forced sensual kiss with a girl she had never even talked to, Mollie came to the conclusion that her nap time privileges had been permanently revoked. She did get a short break after a week of interning. Someone pressed a button to stop the flow and her cum-buoyant organs lurched forward like a race car driver slamming their brakes.
“OK girls, I need to decouple you.” Thankfully not The Voice. Just some guy. “Swallow what’s in your mouth and keep it down.”
The two girls were happy to swallow a comparatively insignificant amount of cum with their throats if it meant finally being detached and... freed? Maybe? Probably not. They accidentally threw up in each other’s mouths a few times but eventually reached an equilibrium in their packed stomachs.
No offense to Blue’s beautiful eyes, but it was so good to see the world again, to finally be able to take a deep... gluck... The man stuck his arm inside Mollie’s esophagus. He had a long thick glove like the ones they use up a cow’s ass. He dug deep in there, way past the elbow using one of her bare, dangling breasts as leverage with his other hand, and eventually pulled out with a fistful of old condoms extracted from the stomach filter.
The tongues were promptly reattached. A press of a button later, the cum flowed once again, and more smoothly than before. It had happened so gradually that Mollie failed to notice the build-up of spent rubbers. It was a relief to feel them gone until she noticed the man was not leaving with them. She rolled her eyes at Blue, fishing for compassion, but the girl was focused on her own full-body cum douche problems as usual while the man shoved the condoms one by one up Mollie’s nose for her to snort. The wild current of cum took the slippery things along for a tubing ride with fewer of them getting stuck in the stomach this time around. With The Voice gone, people dumping used condoms in JizzTech dispensers were Mollie's new faceless nemeses.