Bears, Beets, Butt Stuff

Pam and Jim were lying almost uncomfortably close together in the Irrigation room's not-quite-twin-sized bed, his arm falling asleep under her shoulder in a way he didn't really mind all that much with his face nestled into the curve of her neck. Despite the bedtime story they'd cajoled out of Dwight - a chapter of The Deathly Hallows - and the fact that Mose had hidden all the wires in the house, plunging it into darkness around 8pm, they were having trouble sleeping. In the eerie silence of what they'd taken to calling The Beets Motel, the only sound was a low moaning that sent chills up Pam's spine.

"Your turn," she whispered in the dark, and Jim got reluctantly out of bed.

The documentary crew - always at the ready - followed behind Jim as he walked barefoot down the hall, past the American room and the Night-Time room, both unoccupied this weekend. He knocked on the door at the far end of the hall, and the moans stopped abruptly. Dwight's voice was ever so slightly tremulous as he called, "Come in. Did you have another nightmare?"

Jim opened the door. "Hey, Dwight."

"Oh, Jim. I thought you were Mose," he said, snapping back into the role of agritourism host. "Is everything satisfactory with your stay?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "Just thought that I heard crying, moaning, or something in here."

"Oh," Dwight said briskly, "We'll look into that in the morning. Thank you for bringing that to the attention of the staff."

"Goodnight, Dwight," Jim said, and as soon as he closed the door, the moaning started up again.

He was walking back to the Irrigation room and mentally preparing himself for a very long night at The Beets Motel when he noticed a framed, sepia-toned photograph hanging on the wall. It showed several generations of Schrute men with their signature chinstrap beards, a few women in long, Pennsylvania Dutch dresses, and a row of small children. The one in the center, his bowl cut parted severely down the center, was unmistakably Dwight, and Jim had to take a step closer to look at the woman who rested her hand on his shoulder.

She bore a striking resemblance to Pam, if Pam wore a bonnet and was from the last century. Jim shot a conspiratorial grin at the camera crew and took the frame off the wall before dashing back to the Irrigation room with it.

When he opened the door, he found Pam standing at the foot of the bed and holding a long swath of tan fabric, a matching grin on her face. At her feet was a large trunk, its lid flung open. Jim looked at her quizzically and she said, "I was cold and I thought there might be blankets in here."

She held up what was in her hands - it was a floor-length plain dress with a white apron layered over it.

"I think this might have been his mother's room," Pam said, laying the dress on the bed and pulling a bonnet and a few more aprons out of the trunk.

"Do you believe in fate, Beesly?" Jim's eyes were alight in a way that rarely happened within the walls of Dunder Mifflin, and Pam was excited to find out why. He handed her the photograph and pointed at the woman. "Dwight's mom. Remind you of anyone?"

"No way."

"We have to do it," Jim said, picking up the dress. "It's a gift from the beet farm gods."

A little while later, after explaining his plan to her, Jim stood outside the only bathroom in the house and waited for Pam to get dressed. She emerged a vision in plain clothes, her hair drawn back and covered in a simple white bonnet to match the apron. Jim held up the photograph beside her for the camera crew - the spitting image of Dwight's mother.

Then they went back to the door at the end of the hall, where the low moaning continued. It sent another shiver through Pam despite the layers of heavy fabric, and she paused. "I don't know Jim, isn't this bordering on cruel?"

"He's heartbroken," Jim replied in a whisper. "He just needs somebody to tell him that losing Angela isn't the end of the world. Now get in there and be the best Dwight's mom you can be."

Pam opened the door without knocking, and Dwight looked up from his hunched position on the bed, his cheeks wet with tears. His eyes widened when he saw her and he stood. "Mutter?"

Jim crouched just on the other side of the door, stifling a giggle and gesturing for Pam to go in. With a little uncertainty, she stepped forward and said, "Yes, it's mutter, Dwight. I came-"

"From beyond the grave?" Dwight asked, his tone serious.

"Uh, yeah," Pam replied with a pang of guilt over impersonating a dead woman. But Dwight seemed unfazed - if anything, he was beaming at her, so she went on. "I came from beyond the grave to tell you that... uh... that I've seen your future, and you're really happy. You find love with someone new and-"

But she didn't get to finish her thought, because Dwight rushed across the room and caught her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the floor. Just before his lips met hers in a passionate kiss, he let out one final sob and said, "Thank you, mama."

Pam's eyes went wide and Jim stood in the doorway, crying with laughter as he watched her trying to break Dwight's embrace, planting her hands on his biceps and trying to push herself out of his arms. And then something happened.

Pam stopped struggling and wrapped her arms around Dwight's broad, horse grave-digging shoulders. She opened her mouth wider to permit his tongue to dance over hers, and the earthy flavor of the beet wine they'd all had at dinner was still on his lips. It was the strongest aphrodisiac she'd never known about, and she felt her body go limp in his arms, completely submitting to his desires.

Jim stood in the doorway, the smile slowly dripping off his face as he realized that the prank had failed and now he was just a man watching a beet farmer have a go at his girlfriend in the middle of the night at an agritourist bed and breakfast. He launched himself into the room, driving his hands between the two writhing bodies as they pressed themselves urgently together.

"Dwight, stop," he begged.

"Go back to your room, Jim," Dwight replied, wrapping his arms even more tightly around his lover. "If you need a night light I'll send Mose with a torch."

"Dwight! It's Pam - you're kissing Pam," Jim said desperately.

"Pam?" Dwight asked, reluctantly loosening his grip on her waist. "Pam, I had no idea you were so plain and matronly beneath all those inappropriate outfits you wear at work."

Another wave of desire ran through Pam at this, which she perceived against all odds to be a compliment, but before she could unpack the implications of Dwight's statement, Jim shouted at him. "What the hell?"

"The Schrutes have a long history of Oedipal complexes," Dwight replied, puffing out his chest with pride. "At first they were a means to avoid mixing our bloodlines with the mongrel English, and later it developed into, well, I guess you could call it a fetish."

Jim turned to the cameramen watching eagerly from the corner of the room and mouthed the word 'wow' at them before taking Pam's hand. "Come on, we have clearly overstayed our welcome."

"False," Dwight said. "You are at a bed and breakfast and Mose doesn't serve breakfast until 6 a.m. It is currently 1 a.m., therefore it is not possible that you have overstayed your welcome. Idiot."

"Okay, Dwight," Jim said, rolling his eyes and trying to lead Pam to the door.

"Actually," she said, remaining at Dwight's side, "I think I'm going to stay for a bit."

She slid her free hand into Dwight's, twining her fingers between his and waiting with apprehension to see whether he would reject this advance now that he knew she was not his mother. There was just something about the way he'd marched across the room and planted his lips on hers. Jim was sweet and patient - it had taken him years to seduce her - but Dwight just took what he wanted.

He looked at her hand in his and warned her, "don't fall in love with me, kid."

"I'll try my best," she said then looked at Jim for approval. He was still holding her hand, and he felt helpless to stop the events which he'd unwittingly set in motion. He shrugged a half-hearted confirmation to Pam, and thought at least he could include all this in the scathing Trip Advisor review he was formulating in his head. Then he watched as Dwight pulled her close again, pressing the length of his body against Pam in his mother's dress and kissing her passionately.

Jim thought about going back to the Irrigation room and trying to block out the moaning with one of Dwight's custom-sewn irregular pillows, but Pam held his hand tightly and she kept trying to pull him in. Reluctantly he joined them, wrapping his hands around Pam's waist from behind and trying to kiss her neck without wandering into Dwight's air space.

Then a strong hand was on his hip, kneading and squeezing, and it wasn't Pam's.

Jim stepped back abruptly, but before he could protest Pam took his hand again and pulled him back in. She gave him a comforting look, and he in turn gave the camera men still filming in the corner a worried one, and then he resumed his place behind her, nibbling on her ear the way she liked. She was moaning happily and he was just beginning to grow hard against her when he felt a hand caressing his ass.

"Dwight!" Jim snapped, picking up his hand and removing it from his buttocks, but rather than return his attentions to Pam, Dwight tangled his fingers through Jim's unruly hair.

"Let me make love to you," he said, his wild eyes boring into Jim's, and then he leaned over Pam's shoulder and licked the side of Jim's face from chin to temple.

Jim opened his mouth to say something - maybe to protest again - but that primal act had an unexpected effect on him. He was suddenly harder than he'd ever been, and hungry to find out what else Dwight could unlock within him. He understood what happened to Pam during that first kiss, when she'd melted in Dwight's arms - there was something feral in him, something closer to animal than man which they'd caught glimpses of over the years in the office, but which was revealing itself entirely to them now.

He leaned forward and closed his eyes, letting his lips find Dwight's. As they kissed, their tongues intermingling and their breaths heavy with beet wine, Pam slipped out from between them and got down on her knees. She pulled down Jim's pajama pants first, massaging his cock with one hand while with the other she manipulated the buttons and suspenders of Dwight's trousers. He wore nothing beneath his pants, and his cock sprang to attention as soon as it was freed - Pam and Jim both stifled a gasp at the size, then she opened her mouth wide to take it in.

While the two men kissed and stripped each other's shirts off, Pam took turns sucking and pulling at their cocks, lapping up the little jewels of pre-cum that formed at their tips and rolling her tongue in a figure eight over both heads at once. When she had them both hunched over and legs quivering on the verge of orgasm, Dwight pulled her to her feet and brought her over to the almost-twin-sized bed.

She still wore the floor-length, traditional Pennsylvania Dutch dress as they stood naked and erect before her, and Jim began undressing her.

"Leave the bonnet on," Dwight said with a lascivious glance at Pam, then he went over to his night stand and opened the drawer. He came back with a beet a little larger than a golf ball, leaves still attached, and a bottle of lube.

"What's that for?" Jim asked.

"Have you ever heard of figging?"

"No..." Jim replied cautiously.

"It is the act of inserting a peeled ginger root into the anus of a partner. This," Dwight said, gesturing to the produce in his hand, "is a beet root. All the same pleasure, none of the burning sensation, and many people find that it dyes the anus a pleasing maroon color."

"Is that what they say on your Trip Advisor reviews?" Jim asked with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood as he took a nervous step away from Dwight.

"No, beeting off is an add-on service and it's not very popular - Mose and I can't figure out why."

"Well, I think we'll pass-"

"Jim, come on," Pam said, looking at him with the same grin she always wore just before she dared him to do something stupid or encouraged one of his pranks. "I always thought your anus would look good in maroon."

Jim sighed heavily and bent over the mattress, his fists closed tightly around the bedposts, and he held a strained eye contact with the camera as Dwight stepped behind him and lubed up, then spread Jim's cheeks with the root. It was smoother than he expected, and taking a deep breath, he relaxed and allowed it inside himself. It stretched and hurt, then he felt full, and then it felt... surprisingly good. Dwight reached around to stroke Jim's cock and his anus tightened around the beet, sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

After a few more strokes, Dwight released his hand and sat down on the bed, pulling Pam into his lap and taking each of her nipples into his mouth, biting them gently and making her whole body vibrate with desire. In one strong, fluid movement, he picked her up by the waist and lowered her dripping cunt down on his cock, then he wrapped his arms around her and brought her with him as he laid back on the bed.

Dwight's cock thrust slowly into her and he motioned for Jim to join them. Eager for more of that delicious tightening sensation, Jim happily took his place behind them, inserting his cock slowly into Pam's ass until she was full of both men at once and she went momentarily limp with pleasure.

Then they started thrusting inside her, alternating their strokes to keep her full and moaning loudly. It didn't take long at all before her eyes rolled back in her head and she screamed as she came, and Jim and Dwight kept pumping their cocks inside her, the tips rubbing against each other from within with each stroke as Pam's orgasm continued to ripple through her body.

Before the final spasm had died away, they heard footsteps in the hall, and then the door opened and Mose burst in. "I heard screaming."

"Pam was having a nightmare and we're comforting her," Dwight said, but Mose ignored him, squinting through the low light at the beet leaves in Jim's ass.

"Hey, is that my beet plug?"

Dwight slapped Mose's hand away when he tried to make a grab for it. "Aren't you supposed to be preparing the breakfast ham?"

"I already did it," Mose said, holding up his hands, and for the first time Jim and Pam noticed that his palms and the front of his shirt were streaked with blood.

"Oh my god," Pam gasped. Jim stepped aside, looking ready to fight if necessary, and Dwight only sighed.

"You're killing the vibe - you always do this," he said, irritation in his voice as he pointed at the door. "Go before you cost us a Trip Advisor dot!"

Mose obeyed this time, and when he'd gone Dwight turned to Jim and Pam, his tone reverting to its formal business register. "Please excuse the interruption - some of our staff are still in training."

"It's fine-" Pam started to say, but Jim interrupted her.

"Do you think we could get a comp on that beeting off? For the inconvenience?"

"Very well," Dwight said, sitting up and lifting the still-weak Pam off his chest. He laid her down on the bed and stood. "Now get over here and bend over."

Jim knelt in front of the bed and Dwight slowly extracted the beet, then threw it into the corner where the cameramen jumped out of the way with exaggerated expressions of disgust. Jim felt something warm and soft pressing against him where the root had been - the head of Dwight's large cock - and then it was sliding into him, replicating that tight, exquisite sensation he'd felt with the beet.

Only this time, it didn't stop two inches in. It filled him, drilling deeper and deeper, until Dwight's hips met Jim's ass and his cock was fully buried. The feeling brought Jim literally to his knees, and it was almost enough to make him explode right then and there.

Instead, he spread Pam's legs in front of him and looped his arms under her thighs, focusing as much of his attention as he could manage on lapping up the mingled taste of all three of them from her tender flesh. He ate her pussy, thrusting his fingers inside her slickness, while Dwight fucked his ass, sending wave after wave of a welcome new sensation coursing through his body.

When he couldn't take it any more - each time Dwight rammed his cock home, Jim had to dig his fingers into the flesh of Pam's thighs to remain in control - his head collapsed against her leg and he cried breathlessly, "I'm gonna cum."

Dwight pumped harder, ferociously, a low growl building in the room filled with nothing but their breath sounds and the slapping of sweaty flesh. Jim fingered Pam faster, pistoning his hand between her legs as she panted, and then one by one, they all collapsed.

Jim came first, shooting his load all over Pam's feet and gasping to catch his raggedy breath. Then Pam came again, her whole body shaking on the bed and her legs jerking beneath Jim as she cried out. Then finally, last and longest, Dwight came, the growl that had been growing turning into a howl that filled the room. He thrust himself as deep as he could go inside Jim's ass, sending a second shockwave of pleasure through Jim, then filled him up with shot after shot of semen. He doubled over, his hand landing on Jim's shoulder for support as his cock continued to pump cum deep inside of his cubicle mate, and it wasn't until white, sticky jizz began leaking out of Jim's maroon anus that Dwight's orgasm finally abated. He pulled out and collapsed to the floor, leaning against the bed and panting.

Jim and Pam went back to the Irrigation room not long after, weak and satisfied, and they woke up a few hours later to the tantalizing aroma of bacon cooking. Downstairs, they found Mose at a table piled high with every type of breakfast pork product imaginable, and a pitcher of fresh-squeezed beet juice.

"Where's Dwight?" Jim asked.

"Gone."

"Where'd he go?" Pam pressed, looking at the meats and then making a subtle puking gesture to the cameras.

"His day place," Mose replied, picking up a ham hock with his hands and putting it on his plate. Jim and Pam looked disappointed, and turned to leave. "Don't you want breakfast?"

"Oh," Pam answered, "no, we just ate yesterday."

"Okay," Mose said, unfazed. As Jim and Pam walked away, the cameras preceding them out of the dining room, he called, "Dwight said to tell you 'come back any time.'"

The cameras caught the two of them smiling bashfully as they walked out of the farmhouse into the still mostly dark morning, and headed for the middle of the field where Mose had valet parked their car.