A Treat Turns Tricks Ch. 11

Sondra woke up feeling slightly muzzy and possibly just a bit hungover. As she surfaced into consciousness she became aware of an arm wrapped gently around her and a warm body against her back. That brought her up with a start!

Oh crap! I must have gotten drunk and had sex with someone. I don't remember drinking that much. Damn, it's a good thing I've got some Plan B at home.

She carefully looked down at the possessive arm and was amazed to see that it was thickly covered in blond hair clear down to the second knuckles. She didn't know anyone that hairy so she'd gotten drunk and gone to bed with a complete stranger. Crap again! Supposedly this was a frequently occurring part of the college experience but she'd tried to be so careful . . .

Possibly she could ease out from under him, find her clothes and make a quick getaway? But when she tried, the arm tightened and drew her close to its chest.

"Good morning, sunshine," said a voice in her ear, "would you like some breakfast or shall we take up where we left off?"

Thinking fast, Sondra replied, "Uh—breakfast, please. And I really need get home and take a Plan B."

"No problem, Sondra," came the answer, "but I've got some here. The sooner you take it the better it works so I'll leave the bottle next to the shower. You can get washed up while I start the pancakes."

Whoever it was rolled away and out of bed. Taking a quick look, Sondra saw that it wasn't just his arms that were hairy. From the nape of his neck to his heels, her one-night-stand could have been a blond Sasquatch. Whatever attracted me to a man like that? I'd better get clean and get out of here.

As promised there was a bottle of birth controls on the sink and extra towels on the rack. Sondra gulped the pill and turned to locate her clothing but the idea of a hot shower overruled her distress. Hot water. Such a delightful concept. Stepping into the enclosure, she saw a bar of French milled soap and a big loofa. Overcome with the idea of such luxury, her shower took longer than intended. And when she returned to the bedroom to hunt for her clothes, there was a fluffy terrycloth robe with a rosebud pinned to it lying across the blankets. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen. Swallowing, the girl wrapped herself up and mentally girding her loins marched out to demand 1) her clothes and 2) the promised breakfast.

"Well, you look much refreshed. By the way, my name is Orlando, Orly to friends and lovers. And since you're no doubt wondering, your clothes are in the washer on gentle cycle. They'll be clean and dry in an hour or so."

Orly slipped the pancake flipper under a stack of hot whole-wheat cakes, slid them onto a plate, poured melted butter over the whole thing and handed it to Sondra.

"There's maple syrup, assorted jams and apple syrup on the table. Dig in, girl. I know you're famished."

Surprisingly, she was. And this was unusual for a woman to whom the idea of food before ten in the morning was slightly nauseating. But the cakes smelled divine and tasted better. Soon she'd finished off the stack and was about to ask if she could have just a little more when Orly dropped another half dozen on her plate.

"You're going to be eating more for the next month or so," Orlando stated calmly, "Once you begin to change, you burn calories like a teenager. It passes."

Sondra was about to indignantly yell something about "What change?" when it hit her. Orly was a satyr. That's why he was so hairy and no doubt why she'd had sex with him. She'd heard rumors about men like that. They broadcast weird pheromones that made you helpless to resist. And there was something about them causing changes in the women they slept with, too, though she couldn't remember the exact details. There'd been quite a bit of alcohol involved in the telling of that tale as well.

"You're a satyr," she stated flatly.

"I am. And you're on your way to becoming a nymph. That, as I implied, is why you're so hungry."

"And if I don't want to be a nymph?"

"Why wouldn't you? It's great fun, you can't catch any STD's and you get total control over your fertility."

"Well, I was planning on other things in my life besides sex!" Sondra began to get flushed in the face. She was not happy.

"Well, of course," Orlando replied, completely at ease, "I'm a biomimetic engineering student. I can happily spend days and hours during the week researching, designing and building mechanisms. Sex is for weekends."

That kind of took the wind out of Sondra's sails. "I—I thought satyrs and nymphs spent all their waking hours fucking."

"Nah, we're pretty potent but all day and night? Not a chance. I mean it; look at the advantages you get. In a month or so you'll be built like Sophia Loren in her prime, have an immune system with serious teeth and only ovulate when you feel like it. Besides, think of all the cute guys you'll be able to seduce with a silent puff of pheromones. Why would you not want to be a nymph?"

Having it put that way left Sondra less angry than perplexed. She'd gone to bed with him of her own (drunken) free will and as her mother always harped, 'actions have consequences'. Still . . .

"Yeah, right! Are you honest enough to tell me the down side?"

Orly stuck another forkful of pancakes in his mouth and chewed reflectively. "I guess that kind of depends on what you mean by 'down'. For us, it makes buying underwear a bit of a challenge. The manufacturers are starting to make skivvies with expanded pouches so it isn't as bad as it was but tight trousers of any kind are simply out of the question. For you? Well, don't bother buying any bras when yours stop fitting in a couple of weeks, you'll just have to do it again when you're done. Unless you think that happily agreeing to sex whenever a man asks and you don't have anything more pressing to do?"

Sondra seized on that. "Damned straight! Any man? And just what does something 'more pressing' mean?"

"Whatever you want it to. If the guy is a positive creep, you just say 'I'm busy' and he'll go away. That's satyrs, I'm talking about. Basic men might try to push the issue if they're ill-mannered enough but if there's a satyr in the room he'll put a stop to it, fast. The whole thing about being 'mythic' is people behaving the way we all know we should—with added sex, of course. Have you seen the latest FBI stats? Violent crime is plummeting worldwide. The more of us there are the less crime there is."

"Yeah, well just in case you're thinking about it, I've a pressing need to go home. Are my clothes dry, yet?"

Orly grinned, walked over to the dryer and removed her outfit. "Yup, here you are. And feel free to use the bedroom to change. I'm sure you'd rather change in private."

Sondra glowered at him. "Yes, I would!"

*****

Back at their apartment, roommate Merriam was not the least sympathetic. "So you drank too much and had sex with this guy—a guy considerate enough to make sure you had birth control, fed you breakfast and did your laundry? Why are you sitting here whining when you could be back in bed with him?"

Sondra rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Merriam, weren't you listening to me? I said he's a satyr! I'm gonna turn into a nymph!"

Merriam shrugged. "Then maybe I should get his name and address. Mom's been encouraging me to take the plunge and get changed. Was he cute?"

That took the wind out of Sondra's sails but quick. "Wait. I must have missed something." She twisted her fingers in both ears, smacked the side of her head and shook it. "I thought you said your mom, your actual mother wants you to turn into a sex-crazed nymph?"

"Mm-hm," Merriam replied laconically, "She got seduced at one of dad's company parties about six years ago and says that after marrying Daddy and having us kids it was the best thing that ever happened to her. She's not even sure she and Dad would still be married if they both hadn't metamorphosed, but they're having the time of their lives now. I think you're missing the point. Nymphs love the way they are. Satyrs don't have many complaints, either, from what she says about Daddy."

"But don't men get—grotesquely large when they change?"

"Mom doesn't think it's grotesque. Even when Dad slips it up her butt. 'Course that's 'cause nymphs lubricate behind as well as in front. She says that whenever my aunt and uncle come to visit, Dad and Uncle Harold let her have it front and back while Aunt Ginnie watches. Then the women trade places. Mom says the feeling of fullness is almost indescribable. She really likes having Dad's brother and SIL come stay with them."

Sondra was aghast. She clapped both palms over her ears muttering, "Too much information; too much information!"

"Oh, knock it off, Sondra. If my mother wasn't a sexual being, I wouldn't exist. She started me off with the birds-and-bees story when I was small and then brought me up to speed as I matured. Unlike some of our friends, I've always had someone to talk to about sex. Now, what are you going to do next?"

*****

'Next' consisted of a lot of online research about the growing phenomenon of Mythic Humans. It seemed that the changing from basic human to mythic involved a Trematoda fluke. DNA mapping indicated that it was a Genetically Modified Organism but who would or even could have done such a thing left the Centers for Disease Control floundering. Then there were the questions of why it was done and what the CDC should do about it, if anything. Obviously, it was sexually transmitted but whether it was a disease or not proved quite the puzzler.

The problem was that there was no identifiable pathology. Lives weren't shortened, physical capacity wasn't reduced. Periodically some moral guardian of society would voice a complaint but for reasons unexplained, never repeated it. On the contrary, as Orly had pointed out to Sondra, crime (especially violent crime) was plummeting around the globe. Even the volatile inhabitants of the Middle East showed less and less inclination to bomb, launch rockets, shoot or assault each other. Why even the obesity epidemic was lessening.

So, lack of complaint led to lack of funding which frustrated any desire for further research. The Surgeon General refused to comment and as far as Sondra could find out, the government had completely lost interest.

"That's bizarre!" Sondra was still irritated by the prospect of her impending metamorphosis, "It's a damned fluke, for gawdsake, there are medications you can take for them."

Merriam looked up from her laptop whose screen showed endless images of healthy, well-muscled (and very hairy) men. She'd been doing research of her own! "There may be. But they're highly toxic and no one's tested them on this particular organism. The medicine might make you really sick and you'd still have the flukes. And there isn't a doctor in the city who'd risk prescribing a treatment for something that hasn't been declared a disease. I keep telling you, girl, you're really barking up a wrong tree with this. Just go with the flow and learn to enjoy life a little more."

Sondra stomped around the room. "I don't want to become a nymph without my having chosen to do so, Merriam. This is a moral question. Orly had no right to—to infect me without my permission. If I'm going to be a nymph I want it to by my call, not some hairy troglodyte's!"

Merriam sighed the sigh of the put-upon and exasperated. "Sondra, you admit you'd been drinking. So you weren't coerced. Yes, it's common knowledge that satyrs, and nymphs, can utilize pheromones for seduction. However, you have no reason to believe that he used any on you. You'd been drinking. Women have gone to bed with men for hundreds of years because they'd been drinking. They've caught really nasty diseases and gotten pregnant because they'd been drinking. Your moral outrage is a sham, Sondra. Besides, he was about as decent a seducer as you could want to find. Climb down off the high horse. And while you're at it, tell me where he lives."

"Tell. You. Where. He. Lives! So you've decided to do this? Stabile, logical, matter-of-fact Merriam wants to become a nymph? You're actually choosing a life of libidinous debauchery on purpose?"

"Sondra, my mother is a financial advisor in one of the biggest offices in the city. My father is a very prominent attorney. They work hard for long hours taking care of other people's affairs. Just how is it 'debauched' for them to have fun in their off hours? You are being a prig!"

That, Sondra had to admit, hurt. After moping about it for a while she did what any intelligent college student in need of advice does. She called home.

It took a while of hemming and hawing around but she finally got to the point. "Mom, I had too much to drink and had sex with a satyr."

There she'd said it. Now for the whirlwind . . .

"Sondra, honey. It's about time! Your father and I have been mythic since October and I tell you it's the greatest thing. We'd been talking about it for some time and when Daddy took a look at Sophie Cellentani across the street and realized that she'd changed he said that we just had to get into that. We went over that Friday evening and a month later? Wow! Really, the whole neighborhood has gone mythic, even the Sorensons and you know how stuffy they used to be. So, congratulations, baby. Enjoy your new life."

*****

The most confusing weekend of her life finally ended with Sondra back in class on Monday and more or less forgetting about her impending evolution until Friday afternoon. The coming three-day weekend found her in the Student Union cafeteria carrying a heavily laden tray. She looked down at the double bacon avocado cheeseburger in great anticipation when Merriam joined her to go looking for someplace to sit.

Orlando Givens was in full engineering student mode, chewing a ham and pineapple pizza while working at his laptop when he heard, "Hi, Orly, mind if we join you?"

He looked up. "Sondra! Please sit down. Just give me a second to shut down here."

"Orly, this is my roommate Merriam. She thinks she wants to meet you." Sondra's face showed mischief and there was a vengeful glint in her eye.

Pleasantries were exchanged, mostly between Merriam and Orly since Sondra's mouth was full, until Merriam asked, "So, what are your plans for the holiday?"

Orlando took a sip from his cola. "I've decided I could use a few days in the peace and quiet so I'm driving up to the family cabin. It's about two hours out of town up a dirt road. The place is totally off the grid. Fireplace, wood burning stove, kerosene lanterns, composting toilet—the nearest cell phone availability is two miles down the canyon and there isn't any WiFi at all. It will be great."

"Merriam would like to join you, if it isn't too much trouble," Sondra said looking at her roommate out of the corner of her eye.

"No trouble at all!" Orlando exclaimed.

"What a pity," Merriam returned Sondra's glance with one that could kill, "because Sondra just loves trouble! I'll go only if she does."

Sondra was about to come up with a deadly rejoinder when a faint scent similar to cinnamon, apple and something unidentifiable reached her nostrils. Three days with Orly in a threesome with Merriam? Let's give this some consideration . . .

"Does the cabin have hot water?"

"Well, it does take a bit to get things going," Orly replied happily, "but the bath house right outside the cabin has both a shower and a hot tub. They're just both wood-fired so you have to start about twenty minutes before you want to bathe. But once you're in? Luxury!"

Merriam smelled the pheromones, too, but having been schooled by her mother in things of that sort she knew exactly what was going on. She watched Sondra hesitate and internally grinned. The kid doesn't recognize the scent! Okay, Mom, you win. I'm going for it and I'm getting Sondra into the lifestyle on the way. You can't resist, girl. Even if he hadn't already slipped it to you, you wouldn't have any choice. Come on, Sondra, say 'okay', say it.

"Okay, if Merriam goes, I'll go."

"You're on! Orly, how warmly should we pack?" Merriam was gleeful.

"Well, even with tire chains I can't get the Jeep closer than about a half mile to the cabin. It's been snowing pretty good lately and even though the road department plows the street, the driveway is long so I'd recommend sweaters, snow pants, boots and stocking caps. You know, the usual mid-winter stuff. I'm pretty well packed so how about if I meet you in front of the residence halls in—say half an hour?"

"Make it three-quarters," Merriam said with a grin, "Sondra still has this giant-burger to finish off."

*****

The drive to the cabin in Orly's Rubicon was warm and comfortable until the pavement ended. He got out and put chains on all four wheels, shifted into 4X4 and after that it was still warm but definitely bumpy. Rowlf and Fwuffy, the Malamutes, lay calmly in the back as the girls were jostled back and forth. They'd done this before and were biding their time until the fun started. Once the Jeep had gone as far as it could, Orly pulled the sled off the roof rack, emptied the Yakima carrier onto the sled and hitched up the dogs.

"Door!" he commanded and the pair dashed off, pulling several weekend's worth of supplies right to the cabin's front door. By the time the three humans arrived, both dogs were lying in the snow with big, canine grins on their faces. Pulling was fun!

Orly started fires in the fireplace, the wood stove and the bath hut and pretty soon the cabin was warm enough that coats and hats could come off. He started opening cans and combined beef stew, pinto beans, chopped carrots and diced tomatoes into a dutch oven and set it on the hearth. Then he started making biscuits and by the time the fire had burned down enough to bake them, the stew was bubbling, a bottle of red wine was open and the dogs had been fed and let out to sleep in the snow. They were Malamutes, after all.

Night fell and the total lack of electrical light allowed the heavens to show their true glory in the moonless sky. Well-fed and showered, the three lounged in the hot tub looking up through the skylights.

"You know," Sondra mused, "I may just let you leave me here. Right now, a career in financial planning is becoming a lot less attractive than it was at the beginning of the semester."

"Nah," Orly drawled, "you gotta save moments like this as the herbs and spices of life, not the main course. They need to be savored. You wouldn't want to get too used to them."

"I know something else that needs savoring," Sondra murmured looking across at her roommate floating naked in the steaming water, "why don't you go to work on Merriam? I'll watch for a while and then join you later on."

"The Hell!" Merriam replied hotly, "If I go, you go. That's what you said and that's what it's going to be. Come on, stud, let's see how many ways three bodies can fit together."

"You'd be amazed," Orly said with a leer as he pulled both girls tight to his body, "Let's get dried off."

*****

The scene was the most erotic she'd ever seen, Sondra thought while fondling her breast with one hand and fingering her pussy with the other. Orlando had Merriam bent over the side of the king-sized bed, his hairy, muscular body driving an enormous cock into the girl's smooth, slender body. He'd started out by grabbing the girl by the hair and pushing her head down to his crotch. Eagerly she'd taken the swelling tool in both hands to lick and kiss it into full, priapic proportions. It would be a while before she mastered the task of taking him deep throat but for now she pleasured him as best as she could. He growled in happy satisfaction until she succeeded in making him climax into her mouth.

"Swallow!" he'd command and she complied.