Sunday morning, Ken looked at the calendar. Darlene had been gone, what was it, six days? Either way she wouldn't be back until tomorrow at the earliest, no hospitals release patients on a Sunday. He looked out the rear window of the house into the backyard next door.
There she was. Betty. Stretched out on a towel soaking in the sun. Superb. Her slender body and swollen breasts hardly covered by the scandalous excuse for a bikini. His little fawn, nymphet, baby-doll, all toasty warm in the sun, a little wet with delicious perspiration, cooking her meat so it would melt like tender filets in his mouth.
He heard the car in their driveway and rushed to a front window. By peeking through the blinds he could see Betty's parents and younger brother driving off. On their way to church, then a drive in the country, he figured. Left Betty behind because she gave them some silly excuse about homework or something.
His kids were asleep because he didn't want to bother with feeding them. They'd be good for hours yet. Ken ran to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then hurried to the back door. He went straight for the fence and looked over. There she was, still stretched out like a roasting quail waiting for him to sink his teeth into.
"Pssssst, Betty?" he whispered.
Half asleep in the warm sun Betty rolled onto her side but didn't wake up. She had undone the straps of her tiny bikini top and a bare breast rolled free like a mountain of baker's dough. Ken's hands automatically made a squeezing movement, his cock felt the electric charge of excitement as the pinkish nipple glared brightly.
He licked his lips and whispered a little louder, "Betty? Betty, wake up."
She stretched and the top fell away completely to lay each pointed tit into his sun-drenched sight. Magnificent, he breathed, perfection. They wobbled slightly as she sat up and blinked, looked around, wondered what had caused her to wake up. She was dreaming, dreaming of sex on a surfboard with the cutest guy she saw at the beach last week, a lonely-looking, blond young man.
"Betty?" Ken called again.
She looked over and saw his face peering at her. Suddenly she realized her breasts were bare and became embarrassed. With both hands she tried to cover them but did a poor job because they were so large. The impressions of her fingers in the soft flesh made them distort. Ken's cock made a lurching lift to complete erection.
"Can you come over for a few minutes? I have a little problem," he said.
Betty attached her halter and walked to the fence. She didn't appear totally enthusiastic, as eager as the morning before. "Gee, Mr. Williams, I don't know if I should. I've been thinking about the things we were doing and… "
"Wait!" Ken could tell the brush-off when he heard it and wasn't about to stand for it from a young kid, 'no way. "I said I have a problem and need you to help. Now, are you going to refuse me?"
She was taken aback by his firm manner and didn't really know how to handle it. She nodded unwillingly and strolled to the end of the fence. Ken could hardly wait, she wanted to play coy, dump him now that he taught her everything… like hell she would, this was too good of a deal to let out of his grasp. He would make sure she never refused him by threatening to tell her parents, expose her disgraceful antics publicly, say she was masturbating on his couch and tried to keep him quiet by offering sex. That would do it but that could be taken care of at a later time.
He couldn't hold back and his hands grabbed her shoulders while they crossed the patio. He spun her nimble body around and drew her near to plant his lips fully on her mouth. She seemed to resist, then fret, finally her tongue lashed into his and twisted.
He pulled her down to the chaise lounge and unfastened the bikini top. The breasts rolled back into his vision, into the firm squeeze of his hands and licks of his mouth. She was silent as his face burrowed between the white tits and sucked at the succulent fullness. But she felt warm, it was nice, it would be good to get in some more practice before meeting her dream-man on the beach.
When he felt her hands gently stroking the side of his head Ken knew her will to resist was smashed. She couldn't help it after feeling his talented tongue wash across those sugar-cone nipples. Well, he had a big sugar cane for her, a raw one as sweet as candy.
He pulled the brief bottoms of the bikini down from the cheeks of her tender ass and worked it off her feet. She was nude, bare, the quail was prepared for eating and his mouth watered freely as he shrugged away his shirt and pants. The patio was semi-private, not ideal, but Ken had no thoughts about security running through his boiling brain.
She spread open the limber legs and exposed the ripe health of her blonde-capped cunt. Ken gritted his teeth, the plump slit reminded him of the crease in a fresh apricot, a ripe, mouth-watering apricot begging to be bit. He didn't feel a thing as he leaned over to press his mouth into the succulent deliciousness.
Neither did Betty.
In the office of Doctor August, Agent Twenty-Four said, "He's delivered to the empty room. Number 107. I captured him on the patio with the girl next door. I replaced her garments and carried her back to her own yard where she was sleeping just minutes before. She'll think it was all a dream."
"Excellent," replied August. "How drugged is he?"
"Not bad. He should be recovered any minute."
August pressed the intercom and said, "Begin therapy for 107 as planned." He didn't have to bother with preliminary discussions with the mate this time, that was all taken care of.
Ken Williams blinked his eyes open and stared blankly for several moments. He thought he was blind but couldn't remember any accidents. Was he still in bed? What time was it? He looked for his watch and noticed he had nothing on but a white linen smock, a smock which didn't even come to his hips. His bare cock was exposed. A hospital gown? Was he in a hospital?
He looked down again and realized he had an erection. A very stiff, rather numb erection. Did he have to piss? No, he didn't feel any urge… why in God's name was his cock as hard as a board? He shrugged, why worry, it'll go down soon enough. His attention went back to the room and he tried to remember entering it. Blank.
Then he crawled on all fours like a sniffing dog, his bare rump jutting behind him. He followed the walls until noticing the shadowed crack, the indication of a door. He could tell it was some sort of sliding door and dug into the crevice with his fingernails. Not a budge, nothing as much as quivered, he was locked in.
The padded white floor was strange, the walls weren't padded so he knew he wasn't in a nut house. He crawled to the center of the room and sat with his legs outstretched before him. There was a slight pain in the right cheek of his ass, nothing, irritation from his wallet. His wallet? That was gone too! His pants! His clothes! What clothes? He couldn't remember the last place he had been and how he was dressed.
"Where am I?" he howled at the top of his voice.
There was no answer. He dropped onto his back and stretched to ease the soreness of his rump. "What am I doing here?" he called out.
Suddenly he couldn't move, his hands and feet felt heavy. He craned his head back to see his wrists and saw the clamps firmly holding him down. His ankles were also trapped. He was stretched out like a crucified man on the floor and struggled to break free.
"Hey? What the hell is going on here?" he yelled with the first trace of panic.
The quiet whoosh made him crane his head up and stare at the panel door. At least someone was coming, someone who could answer questions. What he saw seemed somewhat familiar, he had seen those legs somewhere before… varicose veins, loose, wiggling fatty tissue, grotesque feet…
It was a woman, an old woman dressed in a drab, dirty, gray coat with those disgusting legs showing from the knees on down. She faced the wall as the panel door closed and seemed to inspect it. Then a gnarled hand reached into one coat pocket and pulled out a filthy rag, she rubbed the rag across the smudged fingerprints he left there.
Then she turned and opened the coat all in one move. Ken wanted to vomit. Gross, deflated tits hung like wet tissue paper from her pimpled chest. An inflated pot-belly with over-sized navel and absolutely abundant patches of hair bulged out above the lumpy, bowed legs.
"What the hell?" Ken hissed.
As she approached he could see her crotch. A loose-skinned collection of wrinkles which had lost any hint of firmness years ago. Images of apricots and prunes ran through his mind for some unexplainable reason. She must have had pubic hair at some time but now all that was left were a few sparse wisps of gray stringing out from between the folds of decay.
"What are you doing?" he cried as she straddled his pinned body with the knobby-kneed legs.
She started to lower slowly down toward his numb erection, reached ahead of her advancing twat and grabbed it with her hand to hold it upright like a tiny arrow.
"Oh, my God, no!" Ken screeched as he looked up to her face to-beg for pity.
He started to choke, then gasp in horror as he saw the immobile, cherub-like face of Betty grinning down at him.
"Nooooooooo!" he cried as the slobbering tissues of the antique cunt collapsed loosely around his cock. He had to look away and stared at the ceiling. The lights dimmed and suddenly words appeared up there:
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."