If he wants another blow job today, he can find someone else.
I gulp down the rest of my coffee, then stretch my back. “Gonna go shower and head to work. You gonna come see me?”
“Yeah, I’ll stop by for lunch. Best friend discount!” he calls after me.
“Freeloader,” I shout back as I grab my uniform and step into the bathroom.
The lights flicker above me, reminding me of the room yesterday as a pierced tongue moved up and down, vibrating against my dick.
I push that thought away and scrub myself clean. I don’t have time to get off. And I’m not getting off on thoughts of the monster.
So, I hop out—still hard—dry off, and pull on my red and yellow uniform. I snag my hat off the hook by the door, then head out without saying goodbye to Zane.
The walk to the mall isn’t long, thank god. It’s just enough time to shove memories of the monster and his talented mouth out of my head before I see the parking lot come into view.
By the time I’m walking in, I feel like myself again.
Mostly.
The Frankly Delicious kiosk is in the middle of the mall, right in front of a clothing store and a candle shop. My coworker, Sai, is waiting for me, wearing the same ugly-ass uniform as I am.
His has a stain on the front, of course, and his hat is a little more tattered. He also looks hungover as shit.
“Rough day?” I ask as we start our opening work.
He snorts as he fills the cup rack, and I turn on the hot dog rotator. “Yeah. I got wasted last night—might have gone a little hard on the tequila.”
I nudge him when he sighs. “Well, you made it here, man. That’s commendable.”
“It’s a fucking hot dog stand in the middle of a dying mall,” he says like I need reminding. “But I need the money, so I can’t complain.”
“I mean, it’s not a retirement plan, but it pays the bills.” It’s something I’ve been telling myself for a while now, though I know I need to start planning something more with my life.
But it’s not like I have a mind for college, and football didn’t take me pro. I don’t know what else I’m good at except, apparently, producing cum that Vyastil commanders are thirsty for.
But I don’t think that’s a lucrative career.
“I think I need a side gig,” he says as he starts a batch of buns in the warmer. “I was thinking of maybe selling my cum for money.”
My eyes widen, and I nearly drop a fresh pack of frozen hot dogs. “Are you serious? How much does cum go for?”
“Fifty a pop. I mean, that’s not bad, right?”
My eyes are wide. “No, but…how does that even work? Do you, like, put it in a bag and deliver it somewhere? Is this actually legit?”
He pulls out a rumpled pamphlet from his pocket and holds it up to me. “It’s totally legit. There’s a service you can sign up for. Like a cum factory? It’s for monsters who need more than their weekly stipend, or whatever they call it.”
He says this a little too loudly, and someone turns to look at us as they walk by. I flip them off for good measure, then turn back to Sai, who’s holding in a laugh.
“Anyway, I guess you go get pumped and dumped there. Like a dairy farm.”
“Shit. And it’s fifty a piece?”
“Yeah. I mean, how bad can it be? We already do it for free in service of our country, or whatever, but if we can get paid for it…”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
“Sounds like the monsters are cum sluts who need more than the men will provide for free,” Sai counters.
