The Grande Futapest Hotel
Written by D.
Based on a Suggestion by Anon
Thanks to a different Anon for the better title!

	Caitlyn sat on her couch, lazily flipping through the channels, finding nothing interesting to watch. Somehow, her husband had activated the long-dormant V-chip in her television to block all the sexy channels. What a joke! As if he really cared if she played with herself. Every night, when he came home from his job as president of his own beef jerky factory, he was too tired to give her the sweet loving she craved. He just took off his suit and went straight to sleep, as if undoing his tie deflated him like a punching bag struck with darts. Whenever she woke up, no matter how early, he was already gone.
	At her side, still pleasingly warm, was a pizza. She nibbled at a single slice, but… she didn't like pizza that much. She only ordered it to bring a hopefully handsome pizza delivery man to her house. She dressed in her smallest nightgown to entice the delivery boy into giving her the extra sausage… but to no avail. Since when were there ever GAY pizza delivery boys? Who let that happen? She didn't remember voting for that.
	But perhaps there was salvation awaiting her, as she heard a repair van pull up to the front of her house. She distantly saw the denim-plad delivery of dick marching up her front walk through an open window. They knocked twice on the door, and Caitlyn sprung from the couch like a frog.
	Quickly checking her appearance in the mirror near the door and finding it satisfyingly alluring, Caitlyn threw open the door with her best pout and low-lidded stare of barely restrained desire.
	And then she saw the plumber. A curvy woman in a jumpsuit, the zipper apparently unable to rise high enough to cover her cleavage, her wavy blonde hair hidden under an orange cap. She had a few smudges of dark grease on her cheeks that looked like someone had deliberately placed them there. She carried a large red adjustable wrench over her shoulders.
	“You called for a plumber?” Asked the plumber.
	Caitlyn groaned loudly, rolling her eyes, and she closed the door in her face. Gay pizza boys, lady plumbers… what's next? A dog playing basketball? She got a few steps away from the door before the plumber knocked again. Caitlyn turned around and opened it again. The plumber was still there.
	 “Well, don't just stand there, come in!” Caitlyn shouted. The plumber stepped in after wiping their feet on the welcome mat, though they didn’t feel very welcome. “What's your name?”
	“Selena, miss.” The plumber introduced herself.
	“Well, it's nice to meet you, Selena. The problem is over here.” Caitlyn brought her into the kitchen, where the faucet was running nearly full-blast into an empty sink, directly into the drain.
	Selena looked at the faucet and gently cocked her head. Working on her first hypothesis of what might be wrong,  she turned the cold water knob with her finger. The water flow slowed and then ceased.
	“Oh, was that all I needed? What a donkey I am.” Caitlyn said insincerely. “Well, here's four hundred dollars. Now get out of my house.”
	“If I didn't know better...” Selena removed her hat and held it in both hands. “I would think you only called a plumber to see if you could score an old-fashioned, consequence-deprived banging from a big, strong plumber with a hairy chest and a giant dick.”
	“I don't like hairy chests.” Caitlyn pouted. “And what do you care? You got your money.”
	“Well... I'm free for the next hour.” Selena advanced on Caitlyn, closing the gap between them and gently caressing Caitlyn's breast with her knuckle. Caitlyn didn't back away, the light bulb going off in her head a moment later.
	“Oh!” Caitlyn gasped. “Well... you're very pretty. Maybe pretty enough that I should be jealous. But… I'm not into women.”
	Selena was undeterred, pressing forward until their breasts touched, and then their stomachs. “Are you sure?”
	Caitlyn felt something pressing against her thigh, something hard building in the leg of her jumpsuit. She looked up to Selena, who was wearing a growing smile.
	“You can touch it.” The plumber suggested. Caitlyn gently rubbed the warm shaft through the fabric, reaching the tip as it slowly advanced further down her leg until it edged just past her knee.
	“No way.” Caitlyn whispered. Selena stepped back.
	“Pardon me, but I need to get out of this jumpsuit.” Selena slid her shoulders out of the jumpsuit, freeing her breasts and sliding them down her wide hips. As she lowered the jumpsuit, she revealed her cock pinned against her left leg, revealing it inch-by-inch until it finally came free as the leg of her jumpsuit passed her knee. The rest of the jumpsuit fell to a pile at her feet.
	Caitlyn stared at the newly free member. It really was as long as Selena's thigh. The head was now poised between Selena's breasts. Far below the head, her balls were perfectly smooth and of similar enormous size.
	Once she reckoned what she was seeing, Caitlyn jumped to her knees and quickly made the sign of the cross before raking her tongue on the underside of Selena's cock. Rolling her head back on her shoulders, Selena dropped the wrench to the carpet. Caitlyn continued to lick the huge hot cock until it was shiny with spit. She clutched it by the base and brought it down just a bit so she could get the head into her mouth.
	Sadly, Caitlyn had never had a dick like this to practice deep-throat on, so she only got about a third of the magnificent cock in her mouth before she ran out of mouth. The rest of it, still enough dick to leave her plenty satisfied, she wrapped her hand around and rubbed up and down, her fingers not able to reach fully around its girth. Her other hand gently fondled her balls, those two heavy orbs surely filled with something wonderful.
	Selena pushed Caitlyn off her knob, a strand of aroused slobber connecting the tip and her mouth like a strand of spider web. “Don't you want to have some fun?” Selena smiled.
	“This IS fun.” Caitlyn said, keeping one hand on the base of Selena's cock, afraid it might escape if she released it.
	“Let's try something else.” Selena said. “But first, I need to get my boots off, because I can't get this jumpsuit off with them on.” Selena scooted to a nearby chair with the lack of grace of anyone who'd run out of toilet paper. She forced her boots off and removed the jumpsuit.
	Finally seeing Selena fully nude, Caitlyn was even more impressed with the size of the thing. It was longer than her forearm. She didn't know if she could take the whole thing, but… just as they rearranged furniture in her living room to make room for her surround sound system, she would somehow make it work.
	Selena stepped in closer and gently brushed the spaghetti straps of Caitlyn's negligee off her shoulders, the tiny garment dropping to the floor. Caitlyn's big breasts heaved deeply, her stiff nipples free to be pinched gently in Selena's hands. Caitlyn shuddered and bit her lower lip as Selena's soft lips delicately teased the soft flesh of her breasts, ending with a single kiss on each nipple.
	Selena led Caitlyn to the island in the center of the kitchen. It was lower than the average counter top, but that made it perfect for what she was planning. Caitlyn climbed onto the counter and spread out, her head hanging off the edge, where Selena stood. She took a step back and poised the tip of her cock at Caitlyn's mouth. Selena inched forward and pressed her cock down Caitlyn's awaiting throat. With nothing more distressing than a bulging throat and a wide-eyed expression, Caitlyn was now a deep-throat champion. All she needed was a change in position.
	Withdrawing herself gently from Caitlyn's throat and pressing in, Caitlyn felt like the sword swallower who decided to use a burning sword… of hot meat. She was happy as could be, feeling the hot stiff appendage plunge into her throat, making little gently gagging noises as Selena sped up. Selena's balls repeatedly jostled against Caitlyn's eyes, where they were as welcome as cucumber slices.
	Selena pulled herself out of Caitlyn's mouth and walked around into the kitchen. Somehow, even though it wasn't her kitchen, she immediately found the skinny bottle of extra-virgin olive oil with the stainless steel pouring spout. She poured a line of it along the top of her cock and rubbed it delicately along the skin until the entire thing was coated.
	Caitlyn bent down before Selena, presenting the target. Selena gently pushed the tip of her cock up Caitlyn's ass, to her very vocal pleasure. She helpfully repeated, “Yes, fuck my ass, fuck my ass,” as if Selena would forget what she was doing. With both slightly oily hands on Caitlyn's buttocks, she pumped her cock into Caitlyn's ass and out as far as she could without relinquishing her handhold.
	Her legs bucking and hands trying to clutch handfuls of carpet that refused to move off the floor, Caitlyn howled in ecstasy, leaving a gentle pattern of the rug fibers on her cheek. Selena again pulled out, still as stiff and large as ever. Caitlyn looked at it dizzily.
	They made it to the bedroom, Caitlyn stumbling a bit before grabbing Selena suddenly and throwing her down onto the bed. She climbed atop her, nearly standing at full height to lower herself on Selena's cock, it sliding effortlessly into her hot wet pussy. Caitlyn rode it happily, her breasts bouncing and her thighs slapping against her calves with every hump.
	Arriving twitching and screaming into another orgasm, Caitlyn fell limp atop Selena's cock. They turned in bed, Caitlyn now below. Selena put her arms over Caitlyn's shoulders and looked her deep in her eyes. She was inside her again, pounding her pussy mercilessly. Caitlyn groaned and moaned dramatically, grabbing the pillow behind her and whatever else might steady her. Selena humped away until sweat appeared on her skin, both their bodies shimmering like jewels.
	When Caitlyn had finally been brought to her third or fourth orgasm, Selena pulled out suddenly and pointed her cock at Caitlyn's face. Finally, Selena would hold back no longer.
	A thick stream of come burst from the tip of Selena's cock, immediately coating Caitlyn's face. She pointed lower, dumping long ribbons of come over Caitlyn's tits and stomach before slathering more in her face, with the last few bursts delivered right back into Caitlyn's exhausted pussy, still filling it to capacity and leaving a long white trail dribbling out as she pulled her cock out again.
	Unspeakably satisfied, Caitlyn wiped the come from her eyes just in time to see Selena plant her lips on her pussy. A few gentle sucks later and Selena came up to Caitlyn's mouth, gently gobbing a small trickle of come into Caitlyn's mouth. She licked it up, gathering some more onto her fingertips and eating it luxuriously before succumbing to post-sex fatigue and drifting off to sleep.
	And from a few feet away, a man yelled “CUT!”
	The bell rang, and Caitlyn sprang to life again. Selena was there, offering a hand to help her out of the bed. “We got everything?” Asked Caitlyn.
	“We got it! Great work, both of you.” Called the director.
	“Don't thank me.” Caitlyn said. “She did all the work.”
	Selena brought Caitlyn, still covered in come, off set and into the showers.

	Caitlyn stood in the showers, scrubbing up with her favorite body wash, washing the come and sweat off her body. There was no curtain, so she could watch as Selena washed the 'grease' makeup off her face. She had already taken a quick shower, as the production had not left her nearly as messy.
	“Hey, what was that bottle actually full of?” Caitlyn asked. “It didn't move like olive oil.”
	“It's just green-colored lube.” Selena said, rubbing her face with a paper towel. “I think Props made it.”
	“I wondered what it was, because... it definitely worked.” Caitlyn said, letting the warm water cascade down her body. “Don't you hate those gagging noises they make me do when I'm blowing you?”
	“It's all psychological.” Selena balled up the paper towel and threw it into the nearby bin without turning away from the mirror. “That's the sort of noise guys like to hear during fellatio so they feel big.”
	“Can't believe they make me pretend like I can't deep-throat you without gagging.” Caitlyn sneered. “Makes me look unprofessional.” Caitlyn turned off the water, all the soap going down the drain. Selena was applying makeup in the mirror, bending just a bit off the sink to give her curvy ass just a bit more curve. “Speaking of professional, your ass is looking great.”
	Selena turned in place. The bedroom might not be real, and the wrench might have been plastic, and the sound of the knocking was just a production assistant saying “ding-dong” that would be changed into a knock when an eagle-eyed editor noticed the house that stood in for the exterior had no doorbell.
	There was a lot of fakery in the world of pornography. But that ding-dong, hanging low between Selena's legs… that was completely real. And so was all the come that Caitlyn had washed down the drain. And of course, so were all Caitlyn's orgasms. In a real sex situation, she might not instruct her lover to 'fuck her ass,' but that's Hollywood. Or at least… that was porn.
	They moved closer, Caitlyn's arms slithering around Selena's shoulders until they were embracing. Caitlyn moved in for a kiss, which Selena welcomed. The directors seldom let Selena have long kissing scenes, for some reason. But nobody would stop them here.
	Caitlyn snickered, looking down at Selena's engorged member. “Really?” She smiled.
	“Maybe I didn't completely empty myself…” Selena confessed.
	“That was your biggest load yet, in a career filled with big loads.” Caitlyn reassured her. “Unless I wasn't there for it.”
	“That one was pretty good.”
	“You want to go again?”
	A pause. Selena pulled away. “I can't. I need to save it for next time.”
	Caitlyn put on a fake frown. “Aw. We don't have any more movies together for the next few weeks. I don't know if I can go that long.”
	“I'll give you the orgasms you want.” Selena promised. “But I need to hold onto mine for the camera.”
	They kissed again, dressed, arranged a lunch date for whenever in the future their schedules would allow, and then left the showers. Selena waited at the payroll desk like everyone else and received her paycheck for the day’s work. She put it in her purse and was about to walk out the door when she heard something in the distance.
	At the seats against the far wall of the lobby… there was a young woman crying her little eyes out.

	Vyronica lay on her bed in her dorm room, copying down equations from her study book to her notebook. She was glad this was the only math class she had to take for her degree in Human Sexuality. If her math partner would get here already, maybe then she'd understand what the symbol with the two dots and the horizontal line meant.
	Someone behind the door knocked. “It's open.” Called Vyronica.
	The door swung open and someone came through. It was her math partner, Layla, a brunette who might have been pretty if she didn't have those silly thick-framed glasses. How could anyone be expected to see her slender frame with soft curves behind THOSE? She was dressed in a pleated plaid skirt, a white button-up blouse with a loose tie, and thigh-high socks under her sneakers.
	“Gosh, Vyronica.” Said Layla as she entered. “I can't believe you keep the door--”
	Off in the distance, someone said something. Layla looked towards the noise, waiting. A moment later, she exited through the door, waited a three-count, and walked back in.
	“Gosh, Abigail, I can't believe you keep your door unlocked.” Said Layla. “I mean, anyone could just walk right in here.”
	“Like that would ever happen, Samantha.” Vyronica said. “And if they did, so long as they were some big handsome football player, I wouldn't mind.”
	“They might need help with math, too.” Layla took a seat on the bed near Vyronica. They read a few math problems and solved one or two before Vyronica complained she was hot. She took off her shirt and leaned back over her book, leaving Layla a perfect view of her plunging cleavage held in place with her lacy semisheer bra.
	Layla started to look uncomfortable. Vyronica looked up and saw Layla pressing her math textbook into her lap.
	“I didn't know you liked math... that much.” Vyronica said. “What's going on?”
	“Nothing!” Layla tried to move back, tipping her head forward. Her thick glasses fell off her face and onto the comforter. Before Layla could replace them, Vyronica gasped.
	“Wait a minute...” She said, pointing. “I knew you looked familiar. You're that futa who's been streaming herself.”
	“What are you talking about?” Layla denied.
	“I recognized the background of one of the dorms. You live in the dorms down the hill, right? There's a futa streaming herself jacking off in a dorm that looks like those... but SHE doesn't wear glasses.”
	“Well, it can't be me, then, because I'm blind without these things.”
	“Then give me back the book.” Vyronica pawed for the textbook over Layla’s groin.
	“This is my book.” Layla insisted, but Vyronica's stronger hands prevailed. Her pleated skirt was being pushed up by a mighty big cock, as big as she'd ever seen, but most importantly, about the same size as the one wielded by the mysterious camgirl.
	“I didn't think anyone on campus would be watching it...” Layla frowned, delicately pulling the skirt back off the tip, stuck there with a little precum soaked into the hem.
	Vyronica touched the cock with her hand, gently stroking it. Layla cried out. Vyronica came face to face with Layla and kissed her once, and then slid her tongue gently into Layla's mouth. She slipped back down and planted her mouth on the tip of her cock, gradually sucking it further and further down the shaft.
	“I've sucked all the dicks on the football team...” Vyronica said between sucks. “And the basketball team. Home and away.” She took a longer suck, humming contently with this hot thing in between her teeth. “Let me tell you, none of them were as big as you.” She brought her lips all the way down to the base of her cock. Layla was trembling and vocalizing louder than you'd expect so early into the procedure.
	Vyronica pulled Layla's cock out of her mouth. Layla panted with obvious relief. Vyronica waited a moment, looked off for a second, and said, “Doesn't that make you feel more confident?”
	“Yeah, yeah…” Layla said breathlessly.
	From somewhere in the distance, a voice instructed, “Keep going!” in a tight whisper. Vyronica started running her tongue on the underside of her shaft, licking it very gently up and down.
	“Mmmmm...” She moaned. “So much cock... and it's all mine.” She took a long stroke from balls to tip and brought it up to Layla's open mouth. They kissed, and Layla pushed Vyronica over until Layla was atop her. They kissed more aggressively, Layla leading the charge.
	Vyronica broke away and held a finger at Layla's lips. “I can't wait any longer.” She slid off her pajama bottoms, revealing her perfect little pussy, with a tiny brown triangle of pubic hair that did not match her blonde locks.
	Layla pressed the tip of her cock against the opening of Vyronica's gash. Once the tip disappeared, the rest followed quickly as she pushed it in hard.
	“Oh, fuck!” Vyronica cried out. “Ohh, yes! Do it! Fuck me hard! Ohhh, you're so big!” Layla continued plowing Vyronica, rapidly gaining speed.
	“Slow down, slow down!” Cried a voice from somewhere, drowned out by Layla's cries. She pulled out of Vyronica and pointed her cock at her tits, spraying come on them in twelve or thirteen ropey bursts. Vyronica moaned musically, rubbing the jizz into her skin with her fingertips and crying out every time a new hot wad touched her skin. Layla collapsed to the bed, aside Vyronica, gasping for breath.
	Vyronica looked right at the camera for a moment, then returned her gaze to Layla. “You rest, Samantha.” She said, patting her on the shoulder. “We got that exam tomorrow.” She put her arm around her, looking at the lovely mess she'd made for her on her breasts.
	“CUT!”
	Vyronica looked over to Layla. She expected her to get up when the director called 'cut.' Instead, she just sat there, face half-buried in the pillow, breathing deeply.
	“You OK, champ?” Vyronica said, rubbing Layla's shoulders. A production assistant came over with a towel and wiped up the jizz from Vyronica's cleavage without asking. He must have drawn the long straw to get this job.
	Wearily, Layla sat up. She looked at Vyronica. “Sorry.”
	“You did fine, honey.” Vyronica insisted. “That was fun.”
	The director got up from his chair and engaged the two ladies. “So... that was good. That ending was really great. But... we might need to shoot some coverage.”
	“Did I come too early?” Layla asked, a nervous quaver in her voice.
	“No, no. No way. We just need some other shots we can splice in.” The director put his chin in his hand, an indication that his creative mind was hard at work. “So... you two start kissing again, and then you--” He pointed to Layla. “--bury your face in her tits and motorboat them.”
	“Should I take off my bra?” Asked Vyronica.
	“No, because you still have it on at the end, so don't do that.”
	The director walked off set. A man walked out with a clapboard. Layla still wasn't sure it the clapboard was a joke or not. “Everyone ready?” Someone called out.
	Vyronica leaned forward and whispered something to her co-star before they began again. “At least we get to kiss some more.”
	Layla looked at her a little funny, and Vyronica just winked.
	“Action!”
	They got back to business.

	The director asked them to perform four new scenes to splice into the scene at a later date, the edits likely covered with some closeups of their orgasmic faces the B-camera managed to grab the first time. The first was the kissing and motorboating, which they both enjoyed. The second was a ball-sucking scene to be cut in as part of the earlier fellatio. Despite Vyronica's vigorous sucking of Layla's smooth balls, Layla had come too recently to get hard again, so she had to hold her cock out of shot while the camera zoomed in very close. Those who would watch this in HD would hopefully appreciate the pendulous orbs bobbing gently as Vyronica sucked and tickled them with her tongue.
	The same closeup technique wasn't necessary when they turned the tables, and Layla was asked to eat Vyronica out. Layla had never been fond of that term, but she didn't expect anyone to call it 'cunnilingus' in the context of a real porn set. Layla gave it her best shot, but Vyronica had to helpfully clue her in to focus further up and massage her clitoris with her tongue.
	Between each scene, the pair would kiss for at least a few seconds, connecting the scenes into a whole like the grout in tilework. Finally, the director asked for Layla to mount Vyronica again. Layla shook her cock about, but... it was still too soon. She bashfully asked for more time, but the director said he had a “whole 'nother movie to shoot this evening,” so he instructed them to fake it.
	Poised belly-to-belly, Layla pumped her hips the same way she did previously, but her soft penis bumped against Vyronica's mound like an empty glove. Vyronica turned on the dramatics, thrashing her arms, grabbing the bedsheet, declaring Layla's cock the best she'd ever had... exactly as she had when she was really fucking her.
	Eventually, the director decided they had enough B-roll, so he called cut again and dismissed Layla, and told her she did a great job, that she was very beautiful and that they would call her.
	And every other person on set that she crossed before reaching the dressing room told her she did a great job. Everyone used the word “great” except the guy holding the boom mic, who said she did “excellent.”
	Layla went to the dressing room and returned the costume. She had not worn a condom, but she wore her flip-flops in the provided showers… just in case. The water was warm, but she couldn't shake this gentle tremor that had appeared in her hand.
	She dressed herself in her short-sleeved top, yoga pants and sweatshirt tied fashionably around her waist. She put her sneakers on and went to the payroll desk, which she located by it being the only desk with a line in front of it. She waited for her turn, holding her hands together to suppress that shiver that wouldn't leave her.
	When it was her turn, she signed for her check and was congratulated by the clerk for her first performance at this agency, hopefully, the first of many.
	Layla walked to the lobby and looked again at the number on the check. It was twice what she expected it to be. It was enough money to pay off half her credit card bill… or maybe even get a car. Not a nice car, but then she wouldn't be stuck here, waiting for the bus.
	The tremor in her hands became an earthquake, as she stuffed the check back in her purse. There would be no next time. She had blown it. Literally. She came way too fast and couldn't get hard again. She messed everything up. This was her one opportunity, and she threw it away.
	Layla had been a casual camgirl for almost a year and a half, streaming from her apartment most nights to a growing audience of eager donating fans. They adored her, worshiping her cock and everything else. Her camgirl channel was successful enough that she had given her chat moderators Amazon giftcards this past Christmas. Sure, they were only for twenty bucks, but she had to buy ten of them. Moderators were essential to keeping the chat clean and usable. Without the chat, she would have no channel.
	Somehow, the opportunity to make a mainstream porn had fallen into her lap, and at the same studio her futa porn idol worked. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and she'd taken two different buses from her apartment in Glendale to the studios in the San Fernando Valley.
	This was her shot. And she blew it.
	And that's when the tears started to flow. Everyone was eager to tell her what a great job she did when she had so clearly failed. She would have rather everyone had been honest to her and tell her she would never make it in this industry. But they weren't even cynical about her chances. They'd worked in this town enough to know how many starry-eyed sexually obsessed weirdos walk through those doors, hoping to make it big. They couldn't even be bothered to perform her the mercy of crushing her dreams like the insignificant squeaking ant she was. They’d probably done that so many times that it had ceased to be amusing.
	Here she was, looking for validation in the world's most disgusting industry, outside of searching the sewers for vomit-encrusted drug dealers. And she couldn't even find it. Called a freak all her life, she may have carved a tiny niche out of the Internet's surfeit of porn-guzzling perverts with extensive lists of paraphilias, but that was about as hard as getting a cat to chase the red dot from a laser pointer.
	The Internet really was the only place she would find validation, the broad reach of world wide web the only net large enough to catch enough fans to sustain herself. Masturbating chatters telling her how special and hot she was... and all because she happened to be born with a big cock.
	What a fool she was, she thought as she gnashed her teeth and wept. What was the point of even coming out here?
	“Excuse me? Are you all right?” Asked someone standing near her.
	Layla didn't want to say anything. She was definitely 'ugly-crying.' She'd rather just say nothing and wait for them to leave. Nevertheless, she looked up, tears blurring her vision, sniffling snot, face contorted with despair.
	And Layla nearly fell out of her chair.


	In 1992, on December 8th through the 10th, the comet formerly known as 1992f reached its perihelion, appearing in the sky as a slowly moving light twice as bright as Sirius, approximately five million miles from Earth. 1992f was eventually renamed for its modern discoverer, Japanese astronomer Dr. Yuuji, thus the new name Yuuji-FT0. Dr. Yuuji calculated that his comet would not return for over two hundred years, and would almost certainly never arrive again during a full moon.
	The effect of this comet's passage was not immediately realized. On December 11, 1992, one girl in Mexico, who had been monitored thoroughly throughout her mother's high-risk pregnancy, was born with both sets of genitals. The most recent ultrasound was three weeks prior, which showed the unborn daughter as a completely standard and healthy baby girl.
	Margarita Rosa Hernandez, as she would be named, escaped worldwide scrutiny at the moment of her birth. The doctors couldn't explain it, but Margarita's mother defied the doctor's wishes to 'assign' her to one of the two genders. They left the hospital with their daughter and never sought nor found the attention of the rest of the world. A single picture of Margarita's face at one day old with a black bar over her eyes, taken by a nurse, is currently in every book on post-comet sexuality. The child is identified only as Child X, the first verified intersex birth after Yuuji-FT0.
	Dr. Yuuji's namesake on 1992f did not persist. The events of December of 1992 are almost universally called simply “the Comet.”
	Following this, there was an explosion of births described as a previously unseen intersex condition, several every day. Japanese commentators, noting their historical beliefs in those who change their gender based on the cycles of the moon, started to call these births 'futanari,' a word that meant 'to be of two kinds.' At that time, no Japanese commentator was brave enough to admit the word stemmed from the increasing popularity of 'women with penises' in drawn pornography like manga and hentai.
	The word 'futanari' was eventually folded into most languages that accepted this new sexual phenotype. The initial shock of their appearance led to roughly half of futanari that year being 'reassigned' to either male of female. The death of an infant during reassignment surgery brought international outrage, and most countries banned any futanari reassignment before the futanari herself was old enough to consent to the procedure as an adult. Other countries essentially condemned the existence of the futanari, as they were ‘abominations' and 'inherently homosexual in their nature.”
	Statistics on futanari births have proven difficult to track. During the initial years of prejudice and scorn, most lived as women as they grew up. Depending on the doctor, the birth certificates might say F for female or N for ‘futanari.’ This categorization has lead to some saying the N stands for “neither,” so some doctors now use the letter U. This served to confuse the statistics even further.
	While determining who is futanari is a simple procedure, standardizing this on legal documents have been slow. Neither the 2000 nor the 2010 American Decennial Census had a space to identify sex as ‘futanari.’ The best guess of experts is that, as of the 2010 Census, one in every eight to ten thousand births are futanari.
	Pregnancies carrying female fetuses occasionally, and rather spontaneously, turn to futanari during gestation, but the vast majority develop their sexual characteristics at the same time as any other developing fetus. Male fetuses are not similarly affected. It's unclear if the spontaneous futanari births are the reason that the statistics seem to indicate the futanari population is increasing, or if their growth is parallel to population growth in general and the futanari simply have greater visibility as prejudices give way towards acceptance.
	Studies continued as the futanari population reached adulthood, though futanari volunteering to be examined have been rare. It appears futanari are incapable of getting pregnant, nor do not have 'periods.' It's not clear if a futanari can impregnate a non-futanari woman. Some futanari ejaculate does contain motile sperm, and some does not. As of 2017, there are no confirmed cases. If it has happened since the Comet... the mothers have not come forward. No one, it seems, is thrilled with the prospect of being the first and having their child's face pasted in textbooks like Child X.
	The data that seems to be most elusive, now that there is a substantial population of futanari adults, is how their penises measure up to the average male penis. The only study that has seriously taken place was from an anonymous doctor who kept measurements of patients. He solicited volunteers to come forward to be measured and attempt to set a baseline for what the average futanari penis was.
	This doctor apparently measured thousands of adult futanari penises, both flaccid and erect. The results showed the average adult futanari penis measured eight and a half inches when erect, with outliers growing much larger. There seemed to be little difference in length between futanari of different heights or races. The scientific community has not generally accepted the findings of the anonymous doctor. The counterpoint is that the sort of futanari who would subject themselves to such measurements are simply more likely to be hung.
	In 2011, as the firstborn generation of futanari reached adulthood, one broke out into the scene of mainstream pornography, only a few months after her eighteenth birthday. Her stage name was Selena Grande, a naturally beautiful and charming futanari who was swept into the spotlight in her first solo scene. In this scene, she revealed her massive foot-long cock from under her skirt, masturbated for the camera and came ferociously, covering the nearby floor with come, shooting well past the plastic sheet prepared for her. The director of this scene was standing twelve feet back, and he felt a drop of ejaculate hit him in the neck, just above his collar. The story may be apocryphal; maybe she didn't actually reach him from that distance, or maybe it was a speck of dust or drop of condensation from the ceiling. Nevertheless, the director believed it so strongly, he got a tattoo of a target on that spot on his neck, the bulls-eye at where she hit it.
	The website that released this scene was discouraged when the scene was pirated over BitTorrent. At the end of that year, they learned that that Selena's solo scene had been downloaded six million times. That single scene was downloaded more than Breaking Bad and Dexter combined.
	By that time, Selena was a household name that all decent company pretended not to know. But she quickly became the most recognized actress in pornography. Piracy of her scenes and films continued, but they also sold legitimate copies in equally great volumes.
	Over a six-year career, Selena became the richest porn star in the world. Not 'richest futanari porn star,' the richest porn star of any gender. Nevertheless, Selena spent modestly, saving most of her money, quietly donating some to worthy causes, and subsisting on an allowance from royalties and product deals. Selena Grande was also the first porn star to get royalties on her performances in pornography without having joined a union first.
	In the early days of Selena's career, her favorite hobby was to be cast as an extra in movies and television shows. According to an interview posted to the internet by the infamous hacker 4chan, Selena “loved imagining her poor fans jumping at the sight of her, and their girlfriends or mothers next to them asking what had startled them.”
	Selena had a cameo in an episode of the fantasy crime drama Forever, where she was permitted to suggestively eat a large sausage behind the oblivious Ioan Gruffudd. But by 2014, Selena was the most popular porn star to ever live. She was only slightly less well-known than Santa Claus.
	In 2017, everyone knew Selena Grande. And here was Layla, looking her dead in the eye.
	Layla had never experienced such deep emotional whiplash in her life.  She quickly wiped her eyes and sniffled, feeling herself hyperventilate. “Oh my God, you're Selena Grande.”
	“Yes, I am.” She sat next to Layla. “What's wrong? What's got you so upset?”
	“I uh...” Layla said, her hands falling into her lap. “I came too fast.”
	“You're a porn star?” Selena asked. Layla nodded. “You're a... futa?”
	Layla pulled her hands away from her lap. She'd grown hard, her cock standing up within her yoga pants like a tent pole. If only it could've happened earlier! “Yeah.” She smiled bashfully, tucking it behind her sweatshirt.
	“I guess you're a fan.” Selena said.
	“Isn't everyone?”
	“Maybe, but few actually admit to it in public, even after so long.” Selena put her arm around Layla's shoulder. “So, what happened specifically?”
	“I was inside my costar for less than a minute before I couldn't help but come.” Layla said. “We had to fake the rest of it and shoot stuff out of order… it was humiliating.” Layla looked into Selena's blue eyes hopefully. “You always last a long time in your movies. Do you guys shoot it over different days, or cut it out if you accidentally come too fast?”
	“I wish I could tell you yes to make you feel better but… I'm afraid not.” Selena shook her head. “We usually shoot them in order. But you shouldn't compare yourself to me. I've done this for years. I'm very good at staying in control.”
	“Do you have any pointers or advice for me? So I don't... come so fast?”
	Selena looked at Layla, then out towards the door. “Are you waiting for a ride?”
	“I took the bus.” Layla said sheepishly.
	From her purse, Selena held her car keys between two fingers. “Want a lift?”
	Layla didn't say anything, still in shock that she was even talking to the legend herself. It was like taking to the President. No, it was more like talking to a fictional character. 
	As Layla hesitated, Selena playfully walked off, saying “I guess not,” leaving Layla to chase after her into the parking lot.

	“I'm surprised it's not a convertible.” Layla said from the passenger's seat. She was in the passenger seat of Selena's car, Selena in the driver's seat. They drove at a reasonable pace, obeying all traffic laws. This might have made her the only person on the highway doing so.
	“Everyone in California has a convertible.” Selena said. “They're all trying to stand out.”
	“Did you buy this one to stand out among the convertibles?”
	“I stand out no matter what I do.” Selena said. “When I'm in my car, finally people can't see me. That's the reason I don't have a vanity plate, either. People use their cars as advertisements for themselves. I don't need that. Everyone already knows who I am. If I'm driving, I'm not attracting attention; I'm just trying to get somewhere.”
	A short silence as Selena merged. “I don't even have a car.” Layla said, unsure what else to say. She was still trying not to geek out at Selena. She had so many questions. But she didn't want to give the impression that she was a dork.
	Ten more seconds of uncomfortable silence. Layla went for it. “I have some questions, if you don't mind.”
	“Of course.” Selena said.
	“OK, so...” Layla said. “It's obviously not your real name, but… did you really take your name from Selena Gomez and Ariana Grande?”
	Selena glanced at her for a moment. “Well... duh.”
	“Was that so you could get people stumbling across you on the Internet when they're looking for music?”
	“No, it doesn't work that way.” Selena said. “The only people who find you that way are confused grandmas who would buy Mega Bloks for their kids instead of LEGO.” She imitated an old woman. “Ohh, let's look up that there Selena Grande and... oh, my word!” She mimed holding reading glasses, presumably on a beaded chain around her neck. “Is this really what kids are into these days? Why can't they do what I did when I was young and use video games and cocaine?” 
	Layla tittered. “Well, I mean, aren't you afraid of them suing you?”
	“Not at all. My name is legally distinct.” Selena said. “There's no case there. Did you hear about the porn star named Cindy Crawford? And the model Cindy Crawford tried to sue her, but the porn star Cindy Crawford's legal name was actually 'Cindy Crawford,' spelled the exact same way? So she had a legal right to do whatever she wanted under that name.
	“See... nowadays, the porn name isn't to make you Google-able, and it's not anonymity. I actually skipped senior picture day explicitly so my picture wouldn't be in my high school yearbook, because at that point, I knew I would be going into porn. But I'm sure my real name is out there somewhere. I think some dudes look for it so they know I'm... a real futa. And not a dude.”
	Layla sucked her teeth and sighed. “I thought our existence would put an end to that sort of thinking.”
	“Sadly not. So my name, and any porn name, is just branding. Trying to find something catchy. And Grande... I'm not Spanish, but I am... grande.”
	Another moment of silence. “So what's your full porn name again?”
	“Layla Boyd.”
	“Oh, I get it.” Selena said. “Layla from the song by Eric Clapton, which itself came from Layla and Majnun, about a man whose unrequited love drives him mad, chosen by Clapton because he'd fallen in love with George Harrison's then-wife Pattie Boyd.”
	Layla stared at her, heart thumping. “You're the first person whose ever got that without me explaining it first. I mean, they get the 'Layla' part, but not the 'Boyd' part.”
	“I was already thinking of making Layla your ringtone in my phone, but now I am absolutely doing that.” Selena pulled off down an exit that Layla didn't recognize. “Once we stop, of course.”
	“Where are we going?” Layla asked, trying not to sound alarmed.
	“To my home in Tarzana.” She answered. “Why? I said I'd give you a ride. You didn't tell me where to go, so I figured you wanted me to take you to my home. If you got something else to do today, we can turn around.”
	“No, that's OK.” Layla said quickly. “I didn't have anything else planned today, except to maybe eat some ice cream, but... I'm in a much better mood than I was earlier.”
	Selena brought the car to a slow stop as she reached a new vein of highway utterly impacted with stationary traffic, the occasional distant car honk serving no purpose like the H in “ghost.”
	“Aaaaaand my good mood is gone.” Layla sputtered a weary breath out her puckered lips, leaning against the window. She jumped when she felt Selena reach into Layla's pocket. She didn't grab what she thought she might, instead pulling out Layla's phone.
	Selena dialed her number into Layla's phone. Selena's phone rang, the default ringtone for the first and only time, surely. She hung up Layla's phone and handed it back to her. Selena used her phone to text Layla's number.
	“Hello” was the text.
	Layla sent back, “Got it.”
	Selena's response, through text: “new phone, who dis”
	Layla giggled. She looked out the window briefly, looking at the dense trees and hills in the distance. Her phone vibrated again, and she looked down at the chat window. Selena had snapped a picture of her cock, hanging between her legs in all its considerable glory.
	“I'm keeping that.” Layla tapped her phone to save the picture.
	“No, you can't.” Selena said insincerely. “I can't let a picture of my dick get on the Internet... oh no...” She glanced over at Layla, watching her fuss in her seat, adjusting herself and straining under the seat belt. “Did that get you hard?”
	“I just got a sext from Selena Grande.” Layla said. “Of course it did.”
	“Feel free to send one back.” Selena said. “We need to pass the time somehow.”

	What should have been a half-hour journey took almost an hour, in which Selena and Layla got acquainted. Layla described her streams, a very simple affair where she conversed with chat while undressing and playing with herself until she came, which always marked the end of the stream. Sometimes, she'd just close the laptop and go right to sleep. Layla said she'd streamed almost every evening before bed, streaming right from bed. It got to the point where she was so used to whacking off late at night, a recent night where she didn't stream was followed by a day walking around, almost deliriously horny.
	Layla told Selena how she'd watched pretty much all the videos of her she could find, and had been a huge fan for years. This led Selena to mockingly scold Layla for accessing naughty websites before she was eighteen, as she was born in 1997. There was that portal that asked for your birthday and everything!
	They discussed their times in school, focusing on their mutual horrid high school experiences. Both were spared any huge humiliations that would make it into a bad comedy film. But going to school with essentially the same people for twelve years while bearing a secret means that it only takes one mistake or one person to undo years of hiding. The only friend Layla lost the day someone found out was the one who blabbed the secret to everyone. All her other friends had no problem with it, so long as she 'didn't make a move or something.’
	And thus the other secret, Layla's long-burgeoning attraction to women, was chilled and forced back inside. She never dated in school, and watched lots of ‘videos’ after homework.
	Layla moved away from home at eighteen, not long after graduation, and defied her parents’ wishes for her to go to college. She had enough of school, and moved to California, where she worked at a coffee shop before breaking into her current job.
	Streaming kept her up late, and the coffee shop got her up early, so Layla lived those few months in a state of perpetual exhaustion. It was nothing compared to the labor she did while living on her parent’s meager little farm, though. When her streaming revenue grew to the point where it could support her lifestyle by itself, she happily quit the coffee shop… though she didn't have the nerve to tell them why.
	Layla thought she knew a lot about Selena, but she didn't know she wasn't even allowed to attend school when she wanted to enter kindergarten. She was home-schooled until high school, when attitudes about futa students had moved along considerably since Selena had tried to attend kindergarten in 1997, the year of Layla's birth, Selena hastened to add, as if the difference was a hundred years.
	Selena tried for exactly one day to try to keep her futahood secret. It did not work. Her efforts to hide it failed, and then everyone was talking about the 'futa foreign exchange student.' She and the school were firmly rooted in Illinois, so she never figured out where the 'foreign exchange' part came from.
	After that, she never attempted to hide it again. Nobody ever commented on her wearing a skirt so tight, you could see a bulge. After all, what did she have to hide? It was the biggest one in the whole school. As a result, she might have scared off other futa students who were currently hiding their conditions, and Selena's high school experience was still very lonely.
	Selena dropped out four months before the last day of her senior year, dodging picture day, prom, graduation and finals. She took the GED test and passed, rather than spend another damn second in that miserable concrete dungeon. The only plus side to being a lonely futa in her school was being excused from gym class for not having anything appropriate to wear. Even the loosest sweatpants would be too uncomfortable.
	Selena's story of success in mainstream porn started just like Layla's, except hers didn't involve a laptop, but cold e-mailing porn studios to get an audition. When she advertised her twelve-inch cock, most didn't even bother to respond with a denial. A few demanded pictures, to which she said her big fat performer would only appear live. The only studio that wrote back agreed to the private meeting to see the proof.
	She came to this producer's office and showed off her goods. He was thrilled that she was telling the truth, and then asked how badly she wanted the job, gently gesturing to the 'casting couch' nearby. Layla was horrified to hear this, but Selena still admired her eighteen-year-old self's reaction.
	Selena said she'd be totally down for sex…  if they were filming it. She was not 'gay-for-pay,' as they say. She was 'hetero for the cheddar-o.' She would gladly have sex with this possibly formerly attractive porn producer with his greasy thinning hair and his sandals, and she would act like it was the best she'd ever had it or ever would. But she wasn't going to do it unless it was part of the production of a real porno. If he brought in the cameras and everything else, she would do whatever he wanted.
	The producer wasn't interested in this idea, but he wasn't about to let this foot-long cock walk out the door. They shot her first solo scene on a couch with just her, a cameraman and him. No boom operator meant her first scene had noticeably poor sound quality, with an inescapable hiss that always bothered Selena. But as the director said to her while she was naked: “if you can find a place to clip a lav mic, I'll clip it!”
	The scene was a huge hit, the modest studio grew substantially, Selena became a star, and the rest is history. Dirty, dirty history.
	The long trip down memory lane was peppered with people cutting Selena off and her shouting at them, a little bit of singing along to classic radio, and Layla finally getting the nerve to sneak a snap of her cock and text it to Selena. She checked the phone number she was sending the obscene picture to about six times before finally having the nerve to send it.
	Finally, after all that time, Selena pulled off of the highway and drove down a few side streets and approached her home.
	A mansion. A modern art styled building of blocks of white-gray concrete, rectangular windows, glass walls, sloped roofs at many angles, a curved section of wall for some reason, possibly to support those curved televisions that are all the rage these days. It was surrounded by beautiful mountains, with a gentle cobblestone path leading up to the house, with a few trees and shrubs ornamenting the path. Without the driveway and garage entrance, it would look more like a modern art museum than a house.
	No fountain, though. The house wasn't quite on that level. It was huge, but not so ostentatious as to be obnoxious. It was still the coolest looking house Layla had ever seen outside of the movies.
	“You live here?!” Layla asked.
	“Yeah. I love this place.” She pulled into her garage, the door opening at her car's approach without her pressing any buttons. “I wanted a place by the water, but they were much more expensive, or not modern enough for me. So instead, it's by these hills, which are all wildlife preserves, so nobody's ever going to build anything there, so the view from the back is mine forever.”
	“How big is this place?”
	“It's sixteen thousand square feet.”
	“Does anyone else live here?”
	“Just me.”
	“How many bedrooms?”
	“Seven, but... some of them I’ve made into other rooms, like my office.” They left the garage and walked through a hallway set under a staircase made of nothing but unsupported slabs suspended off the wall. They entered the kitchen, a massive room with fourteen foot high ceilings, hanging lamps, an island, and everything else a kitchen needed. Through a small doorway, it came to the TV room, with a big couch and even bigger television.
	There were other rooms to see, but this is where the tour stopped for now. “Wow, it's like six-thirty.” Selena said. “You hungry?”
	“Yeah.” Layla said, still looking around at this impressive house. “You have like a chef or something?”
	“Well, I have a traveling chef.” Selena explained. “She comes on Wednesdays, brings groceries and cooks me something awesome that night. She does that for other people on other nights.”
	“You don't have a personal assistant?”
	“I have a phone with scheduling software.”
	“A butler?”
	“Nope.”
	“A gardener?”
	“Not in the winter. And he would come Sundays.”
	“Maid?”
	“Tuesdays.”
	“Pets?”
	“I might have a Tamagotchi somewhere. But now that you've reminded me of it, the battery's probably dead and corroded by now. I'm a bad mommy.”
	“You really live here completely alone?”
	“Yeah.” As they had spoken, Selena has brought them back to the kitchen. She opened the freezer, withdrawing two plastic-wrapped discs. “You want pepperoni or sausage?”
	Layla resisted breaking out into incredulous laughter. The most famous futa porn star just asked her if she wanted sausage, and without a hint of irony. “I'm good with either.” She shrugged.
	Pizza came quicker than she expected, when Selena revealed a rotating countertop pizza cooker. Layla was impressed with this piece of technology, and Selena helpfully explained that it was about fifty bucks from that exclusive California boutique called Target.
	And no, Selena explained, there were no pizza places that delivered near her. Her traveling chef would buy two small parcooked pizzas from a place near her house, wrap and freeze them and bring them to her every week.
	Selena cut the pizzas on the surface of her island. It was half quartz, half maple butcher block. A dim asterisk-like pattern was faintly visible where she had sliced many pizzas before that. Selena insisted she only had pizza after filming.
	They went to the TV room with their pizzas. Evidently, they were just in time for Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Layla kept trying to guess the Wheel puzzles, but would always miss a certain letter that had already been guessed that made the answer impossible. The final puzzle was solved by the mousy mid-forties woman, and she was rewarded with that sweet-ass car spinning on its own wheel.
	That was the only time the whole half-hour that Selena left Layla's arms, when she jumped up in excitement at a stranger winning a car not even as nice as hers. Layla just smiled, and they cuddled again, Layla still not entirely sure any of this was real. She hadn't watched Jeopardy since her great-grandmother died.
	“I'm surprised you're not watching... like, Entertainment Tonight or something.” Layla said.
	“Oh, no way.” Selena said. “I can't stand that stuff. Besides, it's not on tonight.”
	Layla looked at Selena sideways. “I had completely forgotten it was Sunday.”
	“Yeah.”
	“Wheel or Fortune and Jeopardy don't air on the weekends.”
	“This is taped.”
	“We've been sitting through the commercials.”
	“The remote's way over there...” She reached out to the end table, several feet out of reach.
	“Do you... not watch entertainment news because they talk about you?”
	“I'm flattered you think I'm mainstream enough to get on there.” Selena said. “They might have mentioned me once somewhere, but... I'm only actually famous among futas and perverts, and both.” Selena booped Layla's nose with her finger. “Like you.”
	Layla giggled. “Someday, you'll be famous enough to have your name as a question on Jeopardy. After all, you'll always be the first futa porn star.”
	“We might be waiting a while before Jeopardy asks questions about porn.”
	“That's too bad. That's the only one I would win.”
	They watched until Final Jeopardy. They both had a guess. Both turned out wrong. The winner was too far ahead for anyone to catch him, so he wagered zero dollars, the pussy.
	Selena checked her phone. “It's been an hour.” Layla looked up at her. “That means we can finally go swimming.”
	After putting Layla's remaining slices of pizza in the refrigerator, Selena brought Layla to the pool. It was technically indoors, but surrounded by windows on three sides that Selena assured her could be opened in the summertime. The floor was a smooth marble or quartz surface with enough grip to prevent slipping when it was wet. The pool itself was about forty feet by twelve of beautifully clear water whipped into a gentle roil by the filter, activated as they entered.
	Layla turned around, about to ask if she had a swimsuit she could borrow, or even a big T-shirt. Somehow, looking into Selena's blue eyes, she didn't quite have the nerve to ask for one. Layla pulled her shirt over her head and left it over a nearby chair. She undid her bra and unwound the sweater around her waist. She sat, removed her shoes and socks, and was left with only her yoga pants.
	There was a moment's hesitation. Then again, she had just been mostly naked in front of several strangers earlier that afternoon. This wasn't nervousness making her heart beat. It was exhilaration. Layla turned to face Selena directly, hooked her thumbs into her yoga pants, pushed them down to her ankles and stepped out of them. Her boner was snapped out of her pants with the firm snap of a taut diving board.
	Selena smiled. Layla shrunk in a bit as she felt her looking at her, jumping into the pool to escape the direct scrutiny. She tried to catch her breath as she floated in the wonderfully warm water. She couldn't believe she just did that.
	In that time she caught her breath, Selena had stripped and jumped in herself. Layla's heart pounded harder, wondering if this skinny-dipping session was a pretext for… something else.
	As it turned out, no. Selena started swimming energetic laps, back and forth the distance of the pool in a variety of styles. Layla tagged along, swimming at her own pace. Her only swimming experience was school and the occasional trip to the ocean, so her technique wasn't as polished and graceful as Selena. Even Selena’s dong, flopping softly as the water flowed past it… was somehow graceful.
	After forty minutes of swimming, in which both their heads were seldom above water enough to ever talk, Selena came back to the edge of the pool and put her elbows on the edge. She slowly took in breath.
	Layla swam up behind her. “When you said we would swim... I didn't think we'd actually swim. I thought we'd float around and…”
	Selena turned her head towards her. “And what?”
	Under her gaze, Layla found her tongue frozen. Selena chuckled once and moved to the pool ladder and stepped out. The water pouring off her curvaceous body, her ass bouncing and her cock bobbing as she walked, her body painted with a million dots of water... that was an image Layla would never forget. She'd seen every inch of Selena in video, some of it high-definition, but if she were ever alone and the Internet was out... this mental image could summon lustful thoughts in an instant.
	Layla followed her, a little embarrassed that she was already hard again. Selena had summoned a shower head from a hidden alcove in the wall and started washing herself off with warm water. She sprayed Layla as well, washing the chlorine off their bodies.
	Selena walked through her house, entirely undressed and uninhibited, as Layla imagined she had done many times before. They reached one of the bathrooms and pulled out two white robes, softer than any brand-new robe Layla had ever felt. She put it on, slightly reluctantly, and Selena pulled out a hair dryer and started doing the obvious thing with it.
	She turned it off for a moment as she saw Layla patiently watching her dry her hair. “I don't own a second one of these, I'm sorry.”
	“I'm fine.” She insisted.
	Once Selena's hair was dry, she passed it to Layla, saying she'd ‘warmed her up for ya.’ Layla dried her hair as Selena went off to some other room. She expected her to come back with some nightwear, bunny slippers, perhaps two glasses of wine, or... could she even dare be so brave as to think it? A condom! The very thought of it caused her heart to pound.
	What Selena did bring back was much more intimidating: a twelve-inch ruler. Selena walked up to Layla, still sat on the edge of the bathtub, and knelt in front of her.
	“Open up.” She requested.
	Layla hesitated again, but the moment she realized how silly she was being, she opened up her robe. Selena placed the ruler against Layla's erect cock.
	Selena inspected it closely. Having Selena's head so close to her cock, feeling her breath against it... Layla was blushing furiously. Her heart still pounding mightily, her cock had as much blood as it could take, so the rest rushed to brighten her cheeks.
	Dr. Selena gave her measurement. “Nine.” She said simply. “It's right between nine and nine-and-a-quarter, but using eighths of an inch to measure cocks like measuring a pool in tablespoons.”
	“I know...” Layla pouted. “It's pretty small.”
	Selena almost fell over at that line. “What are you talking about?” She cried. “This is plenty big.”
	“Not for a futa. The average is eight and three-quarters. So it's about average, and in porn, average is small.”
	“Comparing yourself to other people, no matter who it is, just leads to misery.” Selena sat next to Layla. “If you're going to compare yourself to someone, why not do it in a way that actually make you feel better? You know what the average male penis size is?”
	Layla shook her head.
	Selena silently pointed to a number on the ruler.
	“No!” Layla cried. “That can't be right.”
	“They've been around longer than we have. The data is much more robust. Trust me on this one.” Selena assured her. “Does that make you feel better?”
	“Yeah, sort of.” Layla said, closing her robe up. “I wish I was twelve inches like you.”
	“Can I tell you a secret?” Selena asked. Before Layla responded, Selena opened her robe and unleashed her long snake. She put the ruler against the very base of her cock....
	And her cock extended about an inch past it.
	“You're bigger than twelve inches?!”
	“Yeah.” Selena said. “I'm thirteen-and-a-quarter.”
	“Why do do you say you're twelve, then?”
	“Because people just don't believe I'm really that big!” Selena said. “When I called it thirteen, people thought it was fake! They're fine with twelve, but thirteen is apparently impossible.”
	Selena put her arm around Layla. “See, you wanted to be twelve like me, and I'm not twelve, either! The real truth is... nobody knows anything about dick size... except me.” A pause for effect. “And now you.”
	They looked in each other's eyes for a few seconds, and Selena took Layla's hand gently. Selena moved in. Layla was ready. She closed her eyes and pulled her lips together.
	And Selena brought Layla closer for a warm, sisterly hug. Of course. Of course. Just a hug, that's all. Wishful thinking.
	They returned to the kitchen to have a small cup of absolutely smashing hot cocoa. Selena insisted there wasn't anything special about it except making it with actual milk instead of water. Their bellies warmed, they went back to the bathroom to brush their teeth. It wasn't the same bathroom where they had measured their cocks. With six or seven baths, it seemed like a waste not to use them all.
	Selena happened to have a brand new toothbrush, still in its package, waiting for Layla to use. They brushed their teeth, stood shoulder to shoulder, rinsed and set their toothbrushes in the mounted wall fixture. Layla pointed the bristles at each other and pretended the brushes were kissing.
	It was the dumbest thing she'd done all day, but... Selena laughed.
	Selena took Layla to her bedroom. A simply decorated room with a queen-sized bed with shiny purple sheets, two doors on each side that almost certainly went to the walk-in closet and yet another bathroom. There was another television suspended against the wall facing the bed.
	“We could have been watching Jeopardy in bed?”
	“7:30 is too early to go to bed.” Selena said. “But now...” She patted the pockets of her robe. “What time is it?”
	Layla pulled her phone out and checked the time. “It's a little after nine...”
	The last word trailed off as Selena removed her robe and slipped along the sheets like a drop of rain across a car hood, coming to rest among the pillows, cock standing up out of her lap like a flagpole.
	“Come to bed.” Selena cooed, resting atop the plum-colored silk sheets.
	“You don't have a spare room?” Layla asked.
	“I do.” Selena said, gently running her hands down her sides. “But I'm not in them.”
	At the start of the day, when she went into the studio to shoot her first real porno, she knew she'd be in bed with a woman she'd never met before. She did not think it would be Selena Grande.
	Dropping her robe to the floor, her cock pulsing achingly, she climbed into bed and walked on her hands and knees until she was on top of Selena. Their faces close, their breaths hot, their cocks gently rubbing on one another.
	“What do you want to do, Layla?” Selena whispered.
	A pause. Layla's heart was pounding so hard, she could barely hear Selena. “I want to kiss you.” Layla blurted out.
	Selena just smiled. And waited.
	Layla pushed her head forward and kissed Selena on the lips, who quickly reciprocated. They took each other's heads, gathering their hair, and rubbing against each other. Layla broke away briefly, whispering 'oh my God' over and over.
	Selena chuckled a bit. Layla hadn't even tried slipping her the tongue. How innocent her kissing was, she thought to herself. Layla then dropped down just a bit and pressed her cock into Selena's pussy. She gasped. It seemed that the tables had turned.
	“Wow, you're just going for it, huh?” Selena said, her voice quavering with every thrust.
	“Oh, my God, your pussy is so tight!” Layla cried, arching her back as she pounded.
	“You know, I don't talk like that when I'm not making porn.” Selena said. “But yes, it is.”
	For a short while, Selena relaxed and let Layla give it to her, rolling her head on her shoulders, gently humming and moaning.
	Sadly, “a short while” was an accurate description. About a minute after Layla had started her vigorous humping, she cried out suddenly, bucking her head back. Selena shuddered as she felt warm jizz fill her up. Layla pulled out, jerking her cock and pointing it at Selena's stomach. Layla made a disorganized Z-shape with her come like Futanari Zorro before Selena slipped her legs out from under Layla, got on all fours, and presented her extended tongue to Layla to spray the rest of her seed onto. Selena allowed herself one swallow, then another, before collecting the rest in her mouth.
	Rising to her knees, just barely higher than Layla, Selena opened her mouth and released her collected come into Layla's mouth.
	Finally, Layla stuck out her tongue. The come had all been passed along, but they continued their kisses for longer than the lovemaking. They fell back to the bed, their kisses slowly petering out.
	When Layla finally got her senses back, she remembered where she was… and what she had just done.
	“Oh, my God.” She repeated. “I just came inside you.”
	“Yes, you did.” Selena smiled. “It was nice.”
	Layla looked down between them. Selena's cock was still as hard as an equal piece of cedar, while her cock had grown limp, spread across Selena's cock like a lazy salamander on a log. “You're still hard.” Selena just nodded. “You didn't come? Did I go too fast again?”
	“I told you. I hold back unless I'm filming.” Selena said. “You could have gone forever and I would have held back. That's why my cumshots are legendary.” She scraped a little of the now illegible Z of jizz from her belly and licked her fingertips. She hummed. “I've got to hand it to you. Your come is very nice and sweet.”
	Layla felt her cheeks starting to glow. “Thanks.” She said. “I really want to taste yours.”
	“No can do.”
	“You really only orgasm during porn? That doesn't sound like fun.”
	“No, I love it. It makes it that much more intense and wonderful.”
	Layla sighed, bringing her head down onto Selena's shoulder. “I wish I had that kind of stamina.”
	“That's why I brought you here.”
	Layla looked up. Selena continued, “I'll show you my techniques, what I do to keep in control. In return, you help me out around here with whatever I need.”
	 “That doesn't include orgasms, does it?”
	“No, it doesn't.”
	“When's your next filming session?”
	“Sunday?”
	“NEXT Sunday?”
	“No, today. I forgot to tell you, we're being recorded by hidden cameras. Yes, next Sunday.”
	“That's a long time.”
	“Do you think you can make it?”
	Layla looked Selena in the eye. “I think I'd have trouble not coming for a week... even if I wasn't here with the sexiest person to ever walk on this unworthy earth.”
	Selena kissed her again. “You're sweet.” She whispered, almost inaudibly soft. They kept kissing, and Layla moved to mount Selena again.
	“Can we do it once more and start fresh tomorrow?”
	“If you can't go ten minutes, you're never going to last a whole week.”
	Layla whimpered, and Selena kissed her before it could end. They kissed for a long time, Layla still keeping her tongue to herself, until she backed away, clutching her groin.
	“Ugghh...” She groaned deeply.
	Selena was on her immediately, holding her from behind, putting a hand over her heart and one on her forehead. “It'll be OK.”
	“Is this that... 'blue balls' thing guys talk about?” Layla asked between groans.
	“Almost certainly.”
	“That's real?!”
	“Yes.”
	“I thought that was just an excuse.”
	“It is an excuse, but it is also real.”
	“But I just came.”
	“You got yourself worked up again.”
	Layla groaned even louder, folding herself together like a closed stapler. Selena put her hand on Layla's shoulder and rubbed it. “I'm going to throw up.”
	“No, you won't. It'll pass in a minute or two. Just breathe.” Selena started taking deep breaths for Layla to match. Layla slowed her breathing down to be in time with Selena's,  and slowly, the pain dissipated as her erection subsided.
	Selena gave Layla a gentle peck on her cheek before bringing her head back down on the pillow and going off to sleep herself. Layla was up a little longer, still reeling from what had happened this day.
	Today, Layla left her crappy two-room apartment, blew what she thought was the most important opportunity of her life... and now, she was in a five million dollar mansion, sleeping next to the most famous porn star alive… after having just fucked her. This was her wildest fantasy come to life. In fact, it was wilder than she dared ever fantasize.
	I came in Selena Grande's pussy, Layla thought. In all the videos I've seen of Selena, I'd never seen her take a dick. Maybe I was the first. Maybe I deflowered her. I felt her moist hole sucking eagerly with every thrust of my hard cock. She even ate my come. She said it was sweet. All I can think about is doing it again, and her returning the favor. I want her plunging her humongous dick in me, filling me to my core until we both come. I want to taste her come. I want her to bathe me in syrupy sweet jizz and lick it off myself--
	Selena's hand came across Layla's body and took hold of Layla's hand. Layla had started jerking it. She barely realized she was doing it, so deep in her fantasy. Selena took Layla's hand off her crotch and wove her fingers together with hers.
	Layla's heart still pounding, her cock still hard, it would be a little longer before she could get to sleep. Her last thought before then: Somebody pinch me.

MONDAY

	Layla woke up. She was alone in bed, unless you counted her morning wood. Like most of her dreams, her bedside companion was gone once she awoke. Then again… she was still in Selena's house. It didn't seem likely that she had dreamed up her previous encounter with Selena Grande, yet still woke up in her house. That would push the limits of even the most dedicated sleepwalker.
	Layla yawned, scratched her scalp and rolled to the edge of the bed. The side where Selena had slept was cold, though there was a wrinkled dimple in the bed where she had been. Layla pulled the robe from the floor and threw it on. She walked out the bedroom door and heard a grinding noise in the distance. The sound took her in the direction of the kitchen.
	She found the source of the noise, and Selena sitting beside it. She was operating a blender filled with a swirling green tornado. Selena turned, those golden locks tumbling about her shoulders like a shampoo commercial. It was whatever-o'clock in the morning, and Selena looked absolutely fabulous. Long lashes, clear skin, beautiful blue eyes, dressed immaculately in a black-and-white dress that was fashionable yet casual. To tie it all together... there was that gentle bulge between her legs where the dress was just tight enough to show the base of her cock.
	“Good morning.” Selena waved, giving the mixture in the blender another spin.
	Still processing the intense beauty of Selena, Layla ran back to the bedroom. She threw off her robe and entered the shower.
	Selena had followed her, and spoke up just before Layla figured out how to turn on the water with the weird one-knob contraption this shower was equipped with. “What's up, Layla?” She called through the slightly open door.
	“I'm just...” There was the sound of a bar of soap being scrubbed vigorously against skin. “I just want to shower.”
	“Layla, I looked just like you did when I rolled out of bed, OK?” Selena said, through the shower curtain. “No need to be self-conscious about it.”
	“How can I not be self-conscious when you look like you're ready for a photo shoot or something?”
	“I've been up for an hour. You just woke up.”
	“That only took you an hour?”
	“What can I say? I'm a busy woman. I know what works, and what's fast.”
	Selena stood there a little while longer, watching the white plume of steam emerge from above the doorway and spread across the ceiling. Selena entered the bathroom and put her hand behind the shower curtain. Layla cried out, but all the invading hand did was turn the water temperature down.
	“You don't want to do hot showers.” Selena said as her hand vanished back behind the curtain.
	Layla was in Selena's shower, and her hand reached in… and she just pulled the Dad move of turning down the thermostat. Selena continued to defy her expectations. She was too surprised to even ask why.
	Layla showered quickly, dried her hair and returned to the kitchen, considerably more presentable... but still in her bathrobe. Selena was drinking the green concoction she had blended.
	“Is that seaweed?” Layla asked.
	Selena pulled the glass away from her mouth. “Try it.” She said, offering it to Layla.
	She accepted it, but looked at it uneasily. “Avocado?”
	“Just give it a try.”
	She took a sip. The smoothie moved slowly, like partially melted ice cream. Layla only got a little taste. The flavor was familiar, though she couldn't immediately identify it. “I don't know what that is.”
	“Everyone's eaten this.” Selena hinted. “Maybe with some peanut butter.”
	The light bulb went on over Layla's head. “Celery!”
	Selena snapped her finger at the correct answer, taking the glass back and drinking the rest of the cold mixture in two long sips, a big breath separating the two.
	“Is that your breakfast?” Layla asked, looking at the now empty and lightly-streaked glass.
	“Most days.” Selena exhaled. “A cold smoothie might not be what others would want for breakfast in January, but that’s me. If I'm really peckish, I'll have a bagel or wheat toast or an egg white omelet. But I'm low on egg whites.”
	“Why…” Layla stopped herself from asking what now appeared to be an obvious question. An article she read a long time ago popped back into her mind like a groundhog. “Wait.” She pointed one finger upwards. “I think this is starting to make sense. Celery, no hot showers... by chance, do you drink pineapple juice?”
	Selena pointed to the fridge. “Help yourself.” Layla opened the stainless steel refrigerator covered in travel magnets and found about forty cans of pineapple juice in varying sizes, mostly one-serving cans. Selena continued, “I wish they made them in twenty-ounce bottles, because they only seem to come in ten ounces or forty ounces. Forty ounces would be an awful lot to drink all at once.”
	Layla accepted one of the many cans, taking one from the door. She opened it and took a sip. “So... we all know the urban legend that eating or drinking pineapple makes come taste better.”
	“Excuse me.” Selena interrupted. “Bigfoot is an urban legend. The pineapple thing is absolutely, definitely, verifiably true.”
	“Well, OK. I hadn't done the research on that.” Layla sat at the island near Selena. “So the pineapple is for flavor, but celery is mostly for increasing... volume.”
	“The volume is the main concern, obviously.” Selena said. “Staying hydrated, zinc supplements, lecithin... it's all perfectly safe, and it increases how much I can come.”
	Layla finished her can, gesturing with it to ask where she should put the recycling. Selena pointed to a lower drawer that opened to reveal a plastic bin half-filled with cans. Layla released the can into the bin.
	“Rinse it?” Selena said the moment before the can clattered against the others in the bin. “Ah, whatever. It goes out tomorrow anyway. In the summer, I have to rinse them all or I'll have fruit flies. Awful disgusting little things.”
	“So... are you saying I should start taking pills or whatever to come harder?” Layla asked.
	“You shouldn't take ANYTHING without talking to a doctor first. Even vitamins can be harmful if you take them when your body doesn't need it.”
	“Well...” Layla trailed off.
	“You don't have health insurance?”
	“I might still be on my mom's plan.”
	A gentle pause. “If you don't have it, get it. Your body is how you make money. It is your musical instrument. Take good care of it.”
	“Is everything you do to make your cumshots as big as possible?”
	“Everything I do, outside of some leisure activities, is to make sure I perform my job as best I can.” Selena explained. “It's not that I'm obsessed, or that I can't miss a dose of my pills or I have to do everything a certain way. I try to adhere to my diet and routine as much as I can, considering my job takes me all over the place at random days.”
	“Are you going to feed me smoothies?”
	“The volume of your ejaculate doesn't matter if you can't control it. We're going to focus on controlling that. It's like learning to play acoustic guitar before electric. So... once you’ve had breakfast, we'll head back to your place and get whatever you need to stay here for a while. And I'll see if I can teach you how to hold back.”
	“Sure.” A small silence. “If there's no smoothie for me, then I'm just going to eat my leftover pizza.”
	“Go for it.” She gestured to the fridge again. “That’s a perfectly fine breakfast in my book.”
	Layla retrieved her leftovers and munched gently at one cold piece of pizza. She looked at the base of the blender as Selena loaded the blender jar into her dishwasher. The brand name jumped out at her.
	“This is a BlendTec?” She asked, in a way that made her feel silly right afterwards. The name was right there.
	“Yes, it is.” Selena smiled broadly, evidently prouder of this purchase than her car. It really looked like she wanted to find a roof on this thing to slap. “I tried blending the crowbar like they didn't have the balls to do for real.”
	“You certainly have big balls.” Layla said. Selena let the silence hang, knowing Layla would ask, “What happened?”
	“I broke it. I'm actually lucky I wasn't hurt or killed.” She ran her finger along a gouge in the marble countertop. “That's what this mark is from. Not sure what actually hit it, if it was the crowbar or some piece of metal off the blender when it... exploded. Anyway, when I bought the second one on the same day the first one was delivered, they asked me, 'was it defective?' and I said, 'no, I broke it trying to blend the crowbar.' And the woman on the phone very nicely said, 'If we send you another one, please don't do that again. We do say on the videos not to try it at home.' I guess they didn't want any deaths actually attributed to it.”
	“Did you at least film it?”
	“Actually, no.” Selena said. “Not even on my phone. I was just curious. I really should've, but I don't own a camera. I'm more of an in-front-of-the-camera kind of woman.”
	 Layla nibbled a little more of her pizza. Selena put her hands on her hips. “Well, I'm ready to go when you are.”
	Layla started running back to the bedroom, pizza clenched between her teeth. “I'll get dressed.” She said.
	A few seconds later, she left the bedroom. “My clothes aren't in there. They're by the pool.”
	Later still, she returned to the kitchen, fully dressed, the pizza gone but for a few slightly greasy fingertips that she wiped on her sweatshirt. Her phone was in her less greasy hand. “I just watched the crowbar thing again. They didn't say 'don't try it at home' in the video.”
	“They don't?!”
	Selena and Layla watched the whole video together, shoulder-to-shoulder, hovering over Layla's phone.
	“They don't!” Selena cried.
	“Did you know this video is ten years old?”
	“Is it really?” Selena looked at the date it was posted. “It doesn't feel like Youtube's been around for ten years at all.”
	“Sometimes, it feels like you've been around forever, too.” Layla said. “I feel like I've been watching for as long as I've... been watching that kind of video.”
	Selena wore a simple smile. They walked towards the garage. “It's still nice to have someone who will completely own up to masturbating to videos of me.”
	“I know for a fact that I jerked off to your videos on stream before.”
	“Now, THAT I want to see.”
	“Well, you can't see your video in MY video, since I record from my laptop's camera. And my streaming service doesn't save anything automatically. If the video still exists, it's on Xvideos or whatever because someone recorded their screen while I was broadcasting.”
	“You're lucky.” Selena said. “You're making a product that cannot be replicated: the live interaction. Someone pirates one of my movies and I'm out of luck. But then again, the people releasing the DVDs or videos just have to make buying the porn as convenient as possible so they don't bother going through the hoops of pirating it.” She opened her car door and Layla hustled around to the other side.
	Layla looked away as she was buckling her seat belt. “As a reasonably tech-savvy futa pervert... I should confess that I have pirated a lot of your videos.”
	“That's fine.” Selena waved her hand. “You don't owe me a thing.” She backed out of her garage. “Unless I'm pregnant from last night. In which case... I totally expect you to pay child support.”
	The car was silent as she pulled out of her driveway. Selena glanced over Layla, who was blushing and fidgeting a bit. “Did THAT make you hard? You impregnating me somehow?”
	“No.” Layla denied. “Just... I honestly wasn't sure if I dreamed that or not. I'm still sort of starry-eyed about this whole thing.”
	“It's definitely not a dream.” Selena assured her. “But if hanging out with me is your idea of a dream come true... I don't know if I've ever been so flattered in my whole life.”

	Since it was now half-past-ten, traffic on the highway was significantly less crowded than the last time they drove this particular stretch of road. This is one of the reasons Selena didn’t mind driving back to Glendale after having just made the trek back to Tarzana. The drive was definitely faster and breezier.
	“So, we've spend the better part of an entire day together.” Selena said as they drove. “If you're starting to feel like you need a break, we can just put on some music rather than talk. But if you still have questions for me, you can feel free to ask.”
	“Well, I asked most of the polite ones on the long ride in yesterday.” Layla confessed. “I've got more, but…”
	“You can ask anything you want.” Selena said. “I'd like to think I'm pretty transparent. But there is a difference between asking me about my porn life and my real life.”
	“I wouldn't never ask you about anything too personal, like how you lost your virginity or something.” Layla said. “Or your real name. I honestly don't care about your real name at all. I'm perfectly happy to call you Selena.”
	“Well, as far as questions about my non-porno sex life… you pretty much know by now that I don't really have that much sex outside of work, so… no sense asking about that.”
	“So you're... single, then?” Layla asked.
	“You ask me this after you come inside me?”
	“I'm sorry! I was overwhelmed.”
	“Don't be sorry. It was lovely. I told you.” Selena looked at her briefly. “So... yes. I'm currently unattached.”
	There was a brief silence. “And now my question for you is...” Selena asked. “Does my being single make me more attractive?”
	“I don't know, since I can't really imagine you being any sexier.” Layla chuckled. “And either way... if I'm being good like I'm supposed to, I can't... make a move or anything.”
	“Are you hard again?”
	“Yeah. It's going to happen a lot.” Layla smiled. “No sense in asking me that. If I'm sitting next to you, I'm either hard or half-hard.”
	“I've scarcely ever met anyone who's as… into me as you seem to be.” Selena said. “Would you call yourself my biggest fan?”
	“I'm sure there are bigger fans out there, but maybe I’m the biggest fan who isn't actually obsessed or crazy.”
	“You're the biggest fan who I'd actually want in my car.”
	“Sure.”
	There was a break in the conversation. Layla asked another question she didn't have the nerve to ask earlier. “Do you have breast implants?”
	“No, I do not.” Selena answered flatly. “I am a natural 36DD.”
	“Lucky you.” Layla pouted softly.
	“I have to be honest... most people aren't big fans of my breasts.” Selena observed.
	“You can't be serious.”
	“I am.” Selena nodded ruefully. “Very few fans comment or email me about my body, and even fewer anything but compliments, and fewer still about anything but my penis.
	“I know for a fact that my breasts are very perky and nice for how big they are. But in porn, people want breasts that are literal hemispheres, breasts that stand out like a shelf. It's just because most of the large breasts they see in porn ARE implants, and thus that's what people get used to seeing, what they associate with being aroused. I’m convinced that’s why some men are aroused when a woman looks disinterested. Like the Blurred Lines music video, where the girls are actually topless and looking completely bored and neutral. I’m almost positive they had them do that because that’s the reaction men get from women that they encounter in strip clubs.”
	“I… have never been in a strip club, but I can picture what you mean.”
	“Of course not. You’re not old enough, since most of them serve beer.”
	“I am old enough to… look up this video on my phone.”
	“Do you like that song?”
	“No, I’m keeping the sound off.”
	“Thank God.” Selena said with obvious relief. “I have no idea why that song took off.”
	“Are you opposed to plastic surgery?” Layla asked.
	“Not at all. But that decision is more practical than anything else. In order to make my breasts substantially bigger, I'd have to graduate to a G-cup or H-cup. But then my ass would look tiny... and it would even make my dick look smaller! I like my proportions just the way they are, and I never needed the orb-shaped boulder breasts to be popular, so... I never bothered.”
	A small silence. “Do people only like big cocks because they see lots of big cocks in porn?”
	“No. That's completely natural.” Selena reasoned. “But if those guys who inject silicone into their dicks became the mainstream... yeah, big, lumpy, stretched-out cannoli-looking dicks might become what people would want.” She paused to use her indicator. “Have you ever seen those videos?”
	“I've seen a few...”
	A longer pause. “You ever masturbate to them?”
	“Once or twice.” Layla shrugged. “There was one where the guy's thing was all purple.”
	“That wasn't from silicone injections.” Selena said. “In fact... if it's the guy I'm thinking of... he did that with cock pumps. He's almost certainly impotent now from doing it, and has to use cock rings and stuff like that to get hard at all. I think that guy's a complete idiot. He took what was probably a decent cock and made it horrible and useless. And I'm still bigger.”
	“Yeah. I couldn't bring myself to jack it to that guy.”
	The last word in that sentence brought a question to Selena's mind. “So… are you bisexual?”
	“I've never liked that word.” Layla almost winced at hearing it. “I feel like 'bisexual' could be a stupid way to describe a futa.”
	“It's the word we've got. And everyone knows what it means. I've never once, not even a single time have I met a futa who wasn't attracted to other futa. So that's never really in question. I guess in this context, what I’m asking is…  are you attracted to men?”
	Layla seemed to take a long time with that question.
	Selena jumped back in. “You don't have to answer.”
	“No, I will.” Layla said. “The truth is... I might be pansexual. I like men, and I like women, but they're both missing stuff that I like. So I can be attracted to anyone, but not half as much as other futa.”
	“Have you ever done a scene with a man?”
	Layla looked across at her. “I've only done solo scenes.”
	“Oh!” Selena piped. “So Sunday was your first time doing a scene with a partner?”
	“Yeah.” Layla said. “That's why I screwed it up.”
	“I'm sure you did fine.” Selena said. “I really want to see it.”
	“It won't be anything special.” Layla shrugged. “So earlier, you said that you're hetero for the cheddar-o.”
	“I should trademark that. Six years later, I'm still really proud of that phrase.”
	“So... you're not attracted to men?”
	“Other than the dicks? No, not really.” Selena said. “Especially the ones I work with who want futadom, like futa domination... those guys are all insane.”
	“If it's insane to want you to fuck my ass, then lock me up.”
	“No, I mean... I did one scene, and he's like, 'I want more!'” Selena opened up with sudden passion, undoubtedly remembering a particular conversation. “What do you mean 'more?!' I've got the biggest dick in porn, one of the biggest in the world! What the hell do you mean 'more?!' I tell you what, I'd never say that to someone pounding my ass. I'd act like it was more than I could take, even if he's got half a Tic-Tac down there, because that's what you do!”
	Selena caught her breath. “I'm sorry. That just really bothered me.”
	“Why would a guy with half a Tic-Tac be in porn?”
	“Some guys with little dicks make a living in humiliation porn.” Selena said. “They wanted me to star with some other futa and do some humiliation, but... they couldn't find a futa who was small enough to make it work.”
	“What about me?”
	“Don't be silly, Layla.”
	Selena kept driving.
	“You enjoying the video?”
	“I can’t believe this is on Youtube. It’s not even age-restricted!”
	Selena glanced to her side for a moment, seeing the beige room where the disinterested models danced without their shirts. On another day, this room might contain Justin Long hawking an overpriced computer, or an Internet comedian in a red tie yelling about a cartoon from the eighties.
	“The video where three women walk around in thongs and shake their tits around… isn’t age-restricted.”
	“I’m not logged in on my phone, so… it seems that way.”
	Selena shook her head softly. “Friggin’ Youtube...”

	When they pulled off the highway and into Glendale, they encountered that ever-bothersome obstacle that they were deprived of on the interstate: the stoplight. While they were stopped, Layla noticed Selena was clenching her teeth a bit, barely visible through her cheeks.
	“Are you all right?” Layla asked.
	“Yeah, I'm just doing kegels.”
	“Here? Now?”
	“You can do them anywhere. If I'm just sitting around, like at a stoplight, I'll try to do a hundred before the light changes.”
	“What are the benefits?”
	“They say it helps women achieve orgasms more easily, and it helps men have bigger, more intense erections and stops premature ejaculations.” Selena explained, a gentle clipping in her voice betraying that she hadn't stopped, even as she kept driving. “My erections were always pretty big and intense, and my orgasms were pretty easy, so…”
	“I guess I should start doing that, then.” Layla said.
	“Yes, but it'll take a long time before notice a difference.” Selena said. “Like months. If it's the cure to your premature ejaculations, it'll be a while before you notice. And you have to stick with it, like any exercise regimen.”
	Layla typed her address into Selena's phone and the electronic voice directed them to Layla's apartment. She parked in the parking lot in Layla’s assigned parking space, the first time Layla had ever used it. Some thoughtless jerks had parked in her spot before. If it was temporary, or just for a guest of someone else living there, she wouldn't mind. She didn't have much use of it. One car was parked there for days, as she had placed a piece of chalk under one of the tires, where it would have been crushed if it had ever been driven away. The building manager eventually had that guy towed. He didn't even live in the building; his girlfriend did.
	Layla and Selena walked up the three flights of stairs to Layla's apartment. It was quite small, the living area-slash-kitchen leading into a single bedroom and a tiny bathroom. Layla didn't seem to own a lot of stuff. Her furniture all appeared to be second-hand. There was no carpet or rugs, with everything on the hardwood. The scuffs the coffee table might make on those floors would certainly eat up her security deposit.
	“So what do you want to bring with you?” Selena asked. “Other than some new clothing, of course.”
	“Probably just my laptop and stuff.” Layla went to her bedroom and started to strip off yesterday's clothing. Selena followed, but not noisily enough to not startle Layla as she turned around. She covered her breasts with her hands. Selena just laughed, putting her forehead in her hand momentarily.
	Layla relaxed, stripping off the rest of yesterday's clothing, walking around in just her socks. Selena watched as Layla slowly got hard.
	“Do you want me to wait out there?” Selena asked.
	“No way.” Layla said, still blushing a bit as she went through her clothing. She threw a few T-shirts into her backpack, and retrieved a few rolled pairs of yoga pants.
	“Wait a second.” Selena interjected. “I didn't say anything before, but... you probably shouldn't wear tight pants like those yoga pants.”
	Layla looked at her. “Why not?”
	“You might restrict blood flow to your cock.”
	“They're not that tight.” Layla defended. “I never feel restricted by them. And besides, they make my ass look great.”
	“Your great ass makes your ass look great.” Selena said. “But yeah, they do.”
	In defiance of Selena, Layla stepped into a pair of gray yoga pants, pulling them up to her waist. The curves of Layla's slender ass were perfectly accented, and her boner was silhouetted at her side. “See? It's not that tight? It'll stretch a lot... You see why I wear sweatshirts around my waist...”
	“But that also covers the ass...” Selena said. “Which is the whole point of yoga pants, right?”
	Rather than answer, Layla looked around for something. Not a piece of clothing, but a pair of scissors. She pulled her waistband and lowered the scissors into them, a move that alarmed Selena. Layla poked one blade of the scissors through the fabric of the pants and proceeded to cut a small circle directly in the crotch of the pants.
	“There we go!” Layla said, setting the scissors down on her dresser, proudly presenting her erection, the small gray circle of lycra resting on the head like a tablecloth thrown across the caldera of a volcano. “How did we not invent this years ago?”
	“See, that's why I almost always wear skirts.” Selena shook her hips back and forth, and her hanging cock swung from behind it, brushing it around like a dog wagging his tail while hiding beneath a tablecloth. “They have to be a certain length to keep everything hidden, but I don't tuck and I don't squish anything. No panties, either, ever.  Not even on set. I actually got an auction shut down on Ebay where someone was claiming to sell an ‘authentic screen-used’ pair of my panties, and I asked the seller, ‘where did you get them? Because I don't wear panties.’ So yeah, skirts, robes and sometimes very loose pajama bottoms if I'm really feeling lazy.”
	“Someone should manufacture yoga pants with a skirt part in the front, so you could hang unencumbered and still have an ass shrink-wrapped like a music CD.”
	“As if you ever bought a music CD.”
	“I…” Layla hesitated. “No, you're right. I never did.” Layla inspected Selena's rear, unflatteringly covered with a skirt. Skirts were nice for showing off long legs, but nothing was so pleasant as a rear packed into the delicate spandex-like material of the yoga pants.
	“I want to see what your ass looks like in these.” Layla pointed.
	“I don't mind trying those on, if they already have the hole in them.”
	Layla slipped the altered pair off and passed them to Selena. With the unsnapping of a fastener, Selena's skirt fell off, as if it was held in place with a single thread. Her cock hung mightily between her legs. Comparisons to horses and elephant's trunks seemed insufficient.
	Selena removed her shoes and stepped into the yoga pants, pulling them up her shapely legs like pantyhose. They seemed to fit OK, stretching more than they did when Layla wore them. She brought them up to her hips, slipping them past her cock and over her ass. Rather than constricting her ass, it spread over them like liquid, the gray material growing semi-translucent as the material stretched over Selena's larger rear.
	“Oh, that's not so bad.” Selena said, spinning in place, presenting the beautifully defined rear to Layla. “It's like wearing a sock over your butt or something. I wouldn't want to force my cock to live in here, but--”
	She was cut off as Layla wrapped her arms around Selena's stomach. Layla rubbed her bare cock in between Selena's buttocks. Selena didn't back away, letting Layla grind against her ass as she stood firm. Layla’s turgid cock rubbed against the soft fabric and firm yet yielding flesh of Selena’s rear. Layla's hands slipped into Selena's shirt and grabbed her breasts, dense and heavy, but standing shapely without a bra.
	“I really should be discouraging you from doing this...” Selena said, rolling her head a bit, feeling Layla's hot breath against her shoulder. Layla gently nibbled on Selena's left earlobe. Her cock slowly engorged. “But... this is really nice.”
	“God, how do you not wear a bra?” Layla huffed.
	“You're not wearing a bra, either.”
	“I have small titties.”
	“No, you don't. I think they're perfect.”
	“No, they're not.”
	Selena spun around, pushing Layla into her bed. “Take off your shirt.” Selena commanded gently.
	Layla took off her T-shirt, exposing her breasts. Selena straddled her, sitting on Layla's stomach and resting her cock between Layla's tits.
	“See?” Layla said. “I have to press them together just to give you a titjob.” Layla demonstrated this by doing exactly what she said. Her tits didn't completely encircle Selena's dong, rather making her breasts into the bun for Selena's huge hot dog.
	“Layla, everyone has to do that.” Selena said. “It's just gravity.” She pumped her cock a few times, feeling her soft titty flesh against her cock. She moaned. “This totally works.”
	“Don't stop.” Layla cooed, rubbing her own cock. “Please spray your come all over me.”
	Selena inched forward, bringing the head of her cock up to Layla's mouth. Selena used one finger to hold Layla's head down against the pillow in case she would leap up and start sucking it. With the other hand, stating at the base, she pressed down on the underside of her cock and ran it up to the head, gathering a big drop of crystal clear precum, just big enough to fall from the tip under its own weight.
	Layla ate the drop like it was ambrosia, swirling it around her mouth with her tongue, luxuriating in the subtle flavor. She stuck out her tongue for another morsel. Instead, Selena slid forward and let her weight settle on Layla's face. Selena smothered Layla with her crotch, and Layla grabbed Selena's buttocks. Layla rubbed her head back and forth, teasing Selena's pussy with her nose before probing it through the yoga pants with her tongue. Selena's balls came to rest on Layla's eyes.
	The lyrca of the yoga pants grew wet, much quicker than Layla's tongue could be responsible for. Layla could feel the lips of her gash through the thin material, sucking and teasing it back and forth with her tongue.
	Selena's body started to shake a bit, and she dismounted Layla's face. Once free, Layla pounced up and got Selena back down on the bed. They rolled around together, kissing passionately, but going no further, the thin moist wall of lycra still guarding Selena's pussy from Layla's teasing thrust. They slowed, Selena stroking the hair out of Layla's face with the back of her hand.
	“You’re quite bold, aren’t you?” Selena purred from beneath Layla.
	Layla started to giggle. “I swear I’m not normally like this. I just can’t resist you.”
	“In theory, I’m trying to teach you to do just that. To hold back, to stay in control.”
	“It doesn’t sound as fun as jumping on you.”
	“It’s not.”
	Layla dipped in and took a few kisses from Selena’s willing lips.
	“So...” Selena hummed suggestively, walking her fingers up Layla's bare side. How often had Layla wished Selena had done just that? “What's good to eat for lunch around here?”
	Layla just laughed. “Give me a minute to calm down.”
	“I'll get dressed, if that will help.” Selena stepped out of the yoga pants and put her skirt back on. The front hem of the skirt was held aloft by her erection, giving it the appearance of a raised drawbridge under a curtain.
	Somehow, that image was equally as alluring as the sight of her naked erection. Layla's heart fluttered, and she looked away.
	“Try this.” Selena suggested. “Breathe in on an eight count, and out on a ten count. Eventually, it'll subside.”
	Layla inhaled too fast to count to eight, but breathed out slower, and did so a few more times. She tried to clear her head of intrusive thoughts, pretending the paragon of human sexuality and the object of her deepest fantasies wasn't standing in her bedroom with a huge boner.
	In a minute, Layla was mostly flaccid. She picked up the altered yoga pants, put them back on, and wore the sweater around her waist backwards, with the body of the shirt hanging over her crotch like a loincloth. The hole wasn't visible, and her rear wasn't covered by the sleeves.
	“This seems like a good compromise.”
	“Wear the yoga pants if you want, even without the alteration. I'm just telling you how I do it.” Selena said. “Do you own an outfit that’s more professional? In case I have to take you someplace a little more formal?”
	Layla found a gray button-up top and pencil mini-skirt among her clothing. She put them on top of the rest of her clothes, along with her assortment of lingerie and other nightwear. Layla found her laptop, put it in the bag, along with the charging cord, and one electronic device that Selena definitely recognized: a vibrator.
	“You don't have to bring that.” Selena said. “I've got sex toys.”
	Layla showed her the non-phallic end. Selena looked closer. On the back of the device, there was a micro-USB port. “That thing is powered by USB?” Selena asked.
	“Powered AND controlled.” Layla smiled. “I got the electronics from China, but I replaced the actual dildo part because there was a recall. Something about lead.”
	“Ew.” Selena groaned. Layla put the dildo away in her laptop bag rather than with her clothing in her backpack. She threw the backpack around her back and the laptop bag across her shoulders, anf they left Layla's apartment.
	“For lunch... do you have any dietary restrictions?” Layla said. “Are you allergic to anything? Was that a vegan pizza we had last night and you didn’t tell me?”
	“Nothing like that.” Selena said. “I eat mostly fruits and vegetables if I'm by myself, but if I'm with someone, I'm perfectly fine eating whatever. Again, it's not about being perfectly rigid about diet or self-control. It's about keeping on track as much as is practical while running my business and living my life.”
	“OK.” Layla said. “Fast food hamburgers it is.”
	“I think we could perhaps do a little better than that.”
	“We had frozen pizza last night.”
	“Really GOOD frozen pizza. Fast food hamburgers are lousy hamburgers.” They reached the bottom of one flight of stairs. “If that's what you want, then I'll do it. But... there's no local flavor you partake in?”
	“I usually order in from a Chinese place.” Layla said as they descended another flight. “I know the phone number, but not the address. Actually, I don't know the phone number, but it's in my phone.”
	“Well, there must be something nearby.” Selena looked out the window at the landing between two flights of stairs. “What's that place?”
	Across the street was a restaurant decorated with colored faux-stones and lanterns. The sign said, “Wajba.”
	“Oh, that's a Moroccan restaurant.” Layla said, continuing down the stairs. “Never been there.”
	“It's right there, and you've never been?” Selena took Layla's hand and they finished the last set of stairs much faster. “Let's get some lunch.”
	After crossing the street in a potentially dangerous maneuver, dragging Layla behind her by the hand, Selena was a little disappointed to learn that the restaurant was open for dinner only, and would begin its work day at 6PM. She still took a picture of the door to remind herself to try it the next time she was in Glendale.
	They crossed the street again and returned to Selena's car, this time using the crosswalk at Layla's insistence.
	Selena and Layla got lunch at a nearby place that apparently couldn't decide if it was a coffee shop or a diner. Selena got a cranberry scone and a chicken sandwich, the lettuce on this thing the closest thing to a salad they had. Layla got a corn muffin and a cup of surprisingly good strawberry yogurt. The muffin was way too sweet for her, another victim in the slow march of all muffins transforming inexorably into unfrosted cupcakes.
	Layla noticed Selena glance towards the door every time she heard the bell at the top jingle as someone either entered or left. It seemed like she was waiting for someone to recognize her, and wasn't exactly eager for that to happen, either.
	“How often do you get recognized in public?” Layla whispered to Selena.
	“Not that often.” Selena said. “Sometimes, people see me, but can't work up the nerve to talk to me. After all, they're in public, too. Basically, the brave are those who can bear to talk to me, assuming that nobody else in the vicinity knows who I am. If they just sit and look at me from afar... I usually just do this.” She puckered her lips at Layla and smacked them gently, like blowing a kiss without using her hands.
	Selena had only used it from a distance, but with Layla sitting in such close proximity... it was very powerful indeed. She blushed a bit and shifted in her seat.
	“You hard again?” Selena grinned.
	“I'm just going to eat my muffin...” Layla pinched a little crumb off what remained of the top. “Very... very slowly.”

	After lunch, they began the drive back to Selena's home, again avoiding the traffic that would undoubtedly turn the highway into a parking lot in the early evening. When conversations slowed, Selena tapped a few buttons on her phone, probably in violation of some law about using your phone while driving. Her phone broadcast to her car stereo through Bluetooth and began playing.
	“Chapter 5.” Said a slightly husky female voice. “My Littlest Friend.”
	The voice proceeded to narrate. “My meeting with Annie having concluded, I was finally free to engage myself in activities I much prefer. This meant a stop to the drive-through ice cream parlor to get a cup of cookie dough ice cream for me, myself and I.”
	“What is this?” Layla asked.
	“It's an audiobook.” Selena said quickly, inside the narrator's pause.
	The narrator continued, “I've said it before, and I'll say it again. The best things in life... have calories. Except sex. Sex burns calories. Those are the yin and yang of my life. The two things I do for pleasure, sex and ice cream, in equal measures to balance each other other in perfect synchronicity.”
	“Is this supposed to be sexy?”
	“These books always put filler in there somewhere.” Selena was now talking over the narrator, knowing she wasn't going to say anything interesting just yet. “By the end of the chapter, she's usually having sex with someone.”
	“I could call up Jason, but he's starting to get a bit of a gut on him. He calls it his fuel tank for the love machine, but--”
	“Is that the best she could come up with?” Layla sneered. “I've seen that written on greeting cards.”
	“I'm not actually sure if the author's a man or woman.” Selena said. “Whoever it is, they're too old to be a futa. I know that.” Selena paused the audiobook with a button on her steering wheel. “Did you know that once the first futa reached adulthood, there was a humongous explosion of interest in MILFs?”
	“Why?”
	“Because MILFs were too old to be futa. They were what they called... 'safe.' As in, a woman born before The Comet wouldn't surprise you with a dick.”
	“I've never heard that.”
	“I saw it mostly on the Internet, so maybe it was one of those ideas that can only survive there, like having a sexual fetish for bar stools or flat-earthers. But yeah, it was discouraging.”
	Selena unpaused the audiobook. “Lucky for me,” Selena added. “The 'safe' thing seems to be a trend exclusively populated by men, so... no great loss for me.”
	The narrator in the audiobook continued, “A voice to my right said, 'don't you think you're neglecting me?' I turned to the passenger's seat. Perhaps this was my imagination, but there she was, holding my plastic takeout spoon, that little lump of flesh from which all pleasure comes: my clitoris.”
	Layla held her breath for just a moment before erupting into hard, incredulous laughter.
	“OK, the rest of the book wasn't like this.” Selena defended, actually feeling a little embarrassed. “The sex scenes were actually hot.”
	Layla eventually regained control of herself, wiping a tear away from her eye. “Oh, wow. I was afraid you were testing me to see if I could control myself while listening to some sexy woman describe all the fucking she's doing.”
	“That was the idea.” Selena said. “But this one apparently gets very silly. Who does that? What sense does it make to combine silliness and erotica? Humor is... like, the antithesis of desire.”
	The car was now silent, but for the gentle purr of the engine.
	“It's funny.” Selena continued. “She's talking about neglecting her clitoris. Well... at least she doesn't have a big ball sack hanging in front of hers. Nobody ever pays any attention to mine at all.”
	“They say there's more nerve endings in the clit than in the cock head.” Layla said, forgetting what website had told her that. “But I think you've probably got more nerves in your cock than some people have in their whole bodies.”
	“That might prove to be your biggest hurdle in learning to control it.” Selena said. “If you had a smaller cock, maybe it would be easier to stay in control.”
	Layla blew a raspberry. “Hell no. I already wish I was in the double digits, at least. I'm not going backwards.”
	“Then I guess no more Mountain Dew for you.”
	“That's an urban legend, isn't it?”
	“Maybe. In fact, quite probably. I just don't take chances with things like that.”

	Once they arrived at the mansion, Selena took a long phone call in her office, which left Layla free to mess around on her phone and accomplish nothing. For dinner, Selena made two egg white omelets flavored with a salsa that was, as Layla helpfully described, 'absolutely rocking.' Even when making an omelet, Selena moved with precision and confidence, having surely made hundreds of omelets before this one.
	Selena asked if Layla wouldn't mind doing the dishes while she returned to her work. Layla agreed, and filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. She washed the plates, forks, and a few other dishes that had been there since the night before. This included the pizza cutter from yesterday, on which flecks of cheese and sauce had congealed. She blasted it with the hot water directly from the faucet until most of the crud was gone, as she had done with many a dirty coffee cup in her previous career. Layla wished she’d just done this last night.
	She dried the plates and cups with a dish towel and put them back. Layla couldn't find the drawer from which the pizza slicer had originated. There seemed to be several drawers filled with kitchen implements, but none of them had an obvious space for the cutter. She left it on the towel to be shepherded to its proper home by Selena at a later date.
	It was only then that Layla noticed another stainless steel appliance near the sink. Like the fridge, it was a shiny and featureless rectangle. Feeling her hand around the top led her to find the latch, and down slid the front door to a state-of-the-art dishwasher.
	Having gone from a modest farm in Oregon to a crappy apartment in California, Layla had never used a dishwasher. Had Selena meant for her to just load the dishwasher?
	Layla walked to Selena's bedroom, or rather the bedroom they'd shared the night before. She wasn't there. Layla explored the house, finding a few locked rooms of unknown use. Why would a woman who lives alone have locked rooms in her house? She could think of places where Selena wouldn't want guests to go, but Layla's mind went to one of two possibilities: sex dungeon... or regular dungeon.
	As she kept exploring, Layla finally found a door with a light on inside it. She knocked gently.
	“Come on in.” Called Selena from the other side.
	Layla entered and saw two things. Firstly, this was evidently Selena's office, or at least a mostly empty room with a computer desk. Second, Selena was looking at naked pictures and playing with herself at her computer.
	“Oh, my God, I'm sorry.” Layla backed out of the room.
	“Layla?” Selena spun her chair to face the door. Layla reappeared in the doorway. “I said 'come on in.' I knew what I was doing. I'm not doing anything you haven't watched me do on the Internet.”
	“That's why I ran.” Layla said, walking back into the room, the sweatshirt around her waist standing up from her erection. “Are you just... edging?”
	“I'm actually reviewing a photo set to pick which ones I want to go out.” She scrolled back up to the top of the folder containing about three hundred pictures. She opened the first one. “Like we're not going to use this one, because my eyes are half-open.” She dragged it to a different folder. “And this one... it's not a flattering angle there. I look sort of fat.”
	“You don't Photoshop anything, do you?”
	“No, nothing like that.” Selena said. “Or at least, they're not supposed to. They make the colors more dynamic and make my skin pop out a bit, make my eyes that almost supernatural blue, but it's all just what's in the RAW image. It's not making something totally fake, like distorting the picture to make me look thinner or anything.”
	Selena took hold of herself again, this time clenching it with a soft microfiche towel.
	“Is that a jizz rag?” Layla asked.
	“It's just a soft towel.” Selena said. “If I'm at my desk, I try to edge with this to reduce the friction on my cock. I'm already being pretty gentle, but this is very soft.” She browsed through a few more pictures of herself.
	“You edge to images of yourself?” Layla asked.
	“I edge all the time. I've edged to Jeopardy, too, but that doesn't mean I'm filled with lust at Alex Trebek's sturdy biceps, or whatever it is straight people like about men other than the dicks.” Selena set her towel down and turned the chair towards her. “Anyway, did you need something, or do you want to help me pick out some of these pictures?”
	“Oh yeah.” Layla hadn't needed a reason to enter a room to look at Selena play with her huge erection, but this time, she had one prepared. “The whole thing about me washing the dishes...”
	“Yes?”
	“You have a dishwasher.”
	“Yes.”
	“So... why did you ask me to wash the dishes?” Layla asked. “Was it some kind of test? To see if I would be patient enough to do something instead of finding a secluded room to masturbate in?”
	“I think I was testing to see if you'd do it.” Selena said. “If you did it, I can see that you're willing to do stuff you might not like just to get the job done. If you asked why we weren't using the dishwasher, I could assume you valued your time and wanted to do things efficiently.”
	“So... this was a test? Could I have failed it?”
	“The only way you could have failed it is if you said, 'no, I'm not washing dishes, that's stupid.' There’s many, many disaffected Californian youths who would just say no because washing dishes isn’t on brand or some crap. But I already knew you weren't going to just shoot me down. Because you're cool like that.”
	Layla bit her lip, holding her hand to her heart. “Y-you think I'm cool?”
	“You are cool.” Selena said, looking down at the bulge appearing in the sweater around her waist. “And sexy, too.”
	Layla moved in and kissed Selena, nearly jumping into Selena's lap. They kissed until Layla bucked her head away at the new sensation of rubbing her cock against Selena's. She rolled her hips, rubbing her cock along Selena's.
	“I never get to do this...” Selena said. “I don't get futa costars often enough.”
	“MmMMmm... it's so hot and big...”
	“I think that should be 'big and hot.' But yes, it is. So is yours.”
	“Look how much shorter mine is.”
	“Who cares? You could make anyone squeal with that.”
	“Not you.”
	“I have to hold back. If you want to fill me up again, that's your choice, but... you need to ask yourself: do you want me because you want me, or is it because you can't control yourself?”
	Layla whimpered, resting her head on Selena's shoulder. “Discipline sucks.”
	“You want to help me pick some pictures, or are you going to sit on my shoulder like a parrot?”
	Layla turned around in place, staying in Selena's lap, and looked through some pictures of Selena's amazing cock… as she felt it rubbing against her back.

	After the pictures were sorted, Layla decided she would stream tonight to make up for not streaming the night before. If she had told her chat what precisely she had been doing the night before that caused her to miss her stream... they would not have believed it. She could hardly believe it herself.
	Layla opened her broadcasting software and went live. Not long after, the chat room began to fill. About four hundred eager porn fans arrived within a few minutes, and she took down her standby graphics and revealed herself.
	The astute chatters noticed she wasn't in her bedroom, but in a bathroom. She'd never streamed from the bathroom before, they noted. The laptop was resting on the sink, facing the bathtub and shower.
	“Hey, everyone.” Layla said softly, leaning into the camera. She was dressed in a white bathrobe. “It's Layla. How is everyone?” She waited a few seconds for the chat to respond. The chat filled with salutations. “I'm starting a bit early tonight, because I'm… at a friend’s house. But I had a long day, so I decided what better way to relax than with a nice shower?”
	Layla dropped her bathrobe to the floor, nude and fully erect underneath. The chat commented on how fast she was going today. She usually wasn't already hard when she started, many fans enjoying watching it grow and stiffen as the chat worked her up. Layla was plenty worked up tonight.
	“So... why don't we chat while I shower up?” She pressed a few buttons to magnify the chat window, so she could read it while standing in the shower. She turned on the water, making it just warm enough that it would be bearable without steaming up the room. Layla still shivered; the water was colder than she was. Her cock was so hard and hot right now, she wondered if the water would evaporate off it like a hot pan.
	“I did a lot of moving around today,” Layla began. “So this feels really good.” She found Selena's loofah and body wash. She squirted a little into the loofah and stepped back from the water, so she could scrub herself and cover herself in sexy suds. “Ooh, the water is so nice.”
	Layla prided herself on being honest with her chat as much as she could without revealing information that could reveal her identity or where she lived. Saying this cold water was 'nice' was the closest she came. It was nice to get clean, but the water was unpleasantly cold. This wasn't a place where it was important to be honest. Talking about her libido and what gets her off... she could say any filthy thing her perverted little mind could think of and the chat gobbled it up.
	She turned towards the camera, the white foam trickling down her body, parting past her cock like water divided by a mighty peninsula. She finally read the chat. “Oh. You can't hear me?” She said, leaning in. “The water's too loud?”
	Chat confirmed this, by and large. She pointed a finger, signifying ‘one minute, please.’ She went back into the shower and quickly scrubbed the rest of her body with the soapy loofah. She rinsed herself, but her soapy hand fell to her cock and started to jack it off, straight out from her body. Her body wobbled as she did this, her other hand coming to support her against the front wall of the shower. She switched to her left hand so she wouldn't block her face from the camera.
	Layla stopped herself from going too far, releasing her cock and rinsing herself off the rest of the way. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
	“Sorry, everyone.” She apologized. “I didn't think the water running would be so loud… now I’m cold…” She pinched her left nipple, rendered stiff with her pent-up desire. Maybe the cold water was responsible, but like many things, it was probably a combination of factors.
	The gentle pinch sent waves of pleasure through her. Her other hand came in to tease the other. She moaned. “My nipples don't get enough attention...” She released them and gathered her breasts in her hands, holding them gently aloft to make them look bigger. Her cock wasn't even in shot, for once. “Everyone, I'm going to put a poll in chat... once I dry off my hands.”
	She wiped her hands quickly on a hand towel hung from a ring near the mirror. “OK, everyone, I want you to be honest.” She typed out the poll. “Would you like it if I had a tattoo? While you answer that, I'm going to dry off, because it really is cold in here, standing here soaking wet.”
	Layla grabbed a towel and dried herself off. Her hair wasn't very wet, so there was no need to break out the hair dryer. If the shower was too loud for her to be heard, the hair dryer would definitely not do.
	She did as much of the drying on camera, to avoid the dreaded 'dead air' most streamers feared. The poll ended automatically after one minute, and the results were in. Most didn't really care if she had a tattoo, while an equal number would be either repulsed or enthused to see her get one.
	“OK, it seems most of you don't care.” Layla said. “Don't worry. I'm not going to go all SuicideGirls on you. I was just thinking about it.” She moved the laptop and took a seat on the floor, rather than on the toilet. If sitting on the toilet would be seen as erotic, it would not be attracting the clientele she wanted.
	“So, here's a tougher one...” Layla sat with legs folded into a pretzel, laptop on her thighs, cock dead center on screen like Nat King Cole's microphone. “What if I got breast implants?” She added a few extra answers to this quiz and let it run the sixty seconds, gently stroking her cock to keep it hard.
	The results came back: 35% said, “I like you with natural breasts.” 29% said, “I thought you already had breast implants.” 22% said, “I think you would look good with slightly larger breasts.” and 14% said, “The bigger, the better!”
	Layla looked over the results. “Well, I'm very flattered at you all who thought I already had breast implants, but it seems like that means more than half of you are perfectly satisfied with me the way I am.”
	Layla took hold of her cock again. “I don't think there's anyone out there who is so greedy that my cock isn't enough, huh?” She rubbed it up and down. “Nobody out there is going to say this isn't big, are they?”
	A few honest hedonists wished that it was bigger. In general, the chat was filled with 'no's.'
	One chat denizen posted a small animation of a burst of white stuff, spraying from left to right. Somehow, when Layla had become popular enough to allow her channel to add custom emote pictures, it became trendy to post this picture to signify the moment that viewer had reached their climax. The image was meant to be posted next to the emoticon image that was jizzing, but some posted it first so it appeared next to their chat name. Posting the picture several times was meant to magnify the intensity of the orgasm represented.
	To make the image appear, the chatter would type the word 'splut' surrounded by colons, perhaps too tricky an act to pull off in the moment of climax. Apparently, this word came from the comic strip Garfield, where “Splut!” was the onomatopoeia of a pie or other moist food being thrown into someone's face... usually on a Monday. Layla had never once read a Garfield comic in her life, outside of that Dadaist website where an algorithm scrambles three panels from random Garfield strips to generate a new comic.
	“Aw, someone already popped one.” Layla cooed, sticking her tongue out to the camera. “Let me catch it.” She lapped her tongue at the camera. Several other chatters posted the jizz emoticon image, maybe to show they'd blown it or maybe just to play along.
	Layla pulled back her tongue and tasted the imaginary seed. “So good...” She whispered. “I just wish you could have held back, because my big cock is still so horny... I wish I could fuck myself with it. How sad. The only cock big enough to make me come, and I'm stuck with it.” She moaned as she jerked it harder.
	“Unless there's someone out there with a big one. Anyone out there got a bigger one than mine?” She purred, pressing her cock closer into the camera. With one or two exceptions, everyone in chat said no. “Ooh, saberforge1991, if you really are bigger than me, I wish you were here. I could use something big and hot.” Layla slid the laptop to the floor and spread her legs apart. She hoisted her balls up with the underside of her thumb and probed two fingers into her pussy while her other hand kept gently jacking off. Her toes curled, unseen by the chat, and she bit her lower lip. That… the chat could easily see.
	“Actually...” Layla stopped abruptly, neck craning about. “I wonder if my friend has any lotion...” Layla hopped out of view for a second. She searched the drawers near the sink and found a tin of light green salve. It smelled like coconut and something else vaguely fruity. Perhaps aloe? She brought the tin back to screen, sitting back down. She took a big fingerful of the cream and started to rub it on her stomach, spreading it across her whole body, giving her a beautiful wet sheen that captured the dim light of the bathroom.
	She read the chat as she put more cream on, seeing a familiar name go by. “Someone thinks I'm bigger than Selena Grande?” She laughed. “No, sorry. She's still the queen. I'm smaller than her, and I'm still pretty big. She's got the full twelve inches. I don't.”
	Layla started to apply the salve to her member, spreading it evenly. “This is good stuff...” She said. “I need to ask her where she got it. Don't tell anyone I used it without asking first.” Something else in chat caught her eye. “Excuse me, megadethfan666... am I reading this right? You wish I didn't have balls?” She stammered, trying to parse that. “Can you clarify that, please?”
	A few seconds later, megadethfan666 wrote into chat: “i like my futa without balls,” with no punctuation.
	“You mean like… hentai and whatever? You'd rather the futas don't have balls?” Layla asked. “Well, that's fine. I've jacked it to hentai with ball-less futa before. It doesn't bother me. But in the real world, there's only one flavor of futa, and… we got balls. Maybe another comet will come and new futa will appear who won't have balls, or they'll have them on the inside or something.”
	megadethfan666 wrote again: “i like when you keep them out of shot”
	Layla wiped her hands on the nearby towel. She grunted. “Hey, everyone, it's time for another poll.” The poll was regarding a subject she never thought she'd have to write about: Do you like my balls?
	The poll concluded with what election officials would call a landslide, 82% of watchers liked her balls, 18% did not.
	“OK, megadethfan, you're not as alone in that opinion as I thought you might be.” Layla said. “But this isn't like the breast implant thing. The balls are staying, whether you like them or not, so…” Layla got her feet under her. “Feel free to look away for a bit. Everyone else…”
	Layla stood and squatted near her laptop, hanging her balls within a few inches of the camera. It was the only part of her visible. “Here you go.” She shook her legs a bit, her balls jiggling a bit. “Give them a lick. Stick out your tongues.” Layla moaned. “Feel how heavy they are on your tongue. They're so full of come...”
	With one foot on the corner of screen and one foot on the body of the laptop, Layla pushed her laptop screen down until it was flat against the floor. The camera was now pointing straight up. She stood over it, her legs spread, her pussy visible behind her balls and hard cock.
	Layla squatted, bringing her balls within a few inches of the camera, and rose again. “There we go.” She dipped her balls repeatedly against the camera, obscuring the view as the orbs covered it completely. “Yeah, you like this? Yeah, suck on them real good.”
	Chat was filled with little splut emoticons. Megadethfan666 wasn't among them.
	Layla sat back down with relief and brought the screen back to a right angle. “Oh, that was actually a decent leg workout, doing those squats. I know that people who play games say that tea-bagging is meant to be a sign of disrespect, but I never saw it that way.” She sighed. “Well, let's get--”
	She noticed the time, displayed in the bottom right corner of her laptop. “Oh, no! I'm sorry, everyone! I had something I have to do!” She picked up the laptop and put it back on the counter next to the sink. “Sorry to end this so suddenly, but I need to go. Maybe I'll pick this up later. OK, thanks for watching, and thanks for your donations! Love you!” She kissed her hand and blew it at the camera before disconnecting and closing the laptop.
	Layla dashed out of the bathroom, almost slipping into the opposite wall. Maybe she shouldn't have put the cream on the soles of her feet, but every time she showed her feet on cam, a handful of the audience went nuts. Layla ran through the hall, trying to remember which one of the doorless entrances lead to the TV room. Nearby, Layla heard a single word chanted by a crowd.
	“WHEEL!”
	She ran towards the sound, seeing the room in the distance, a bit of light spilling into the hall. She found Selena sitting on the couch, watching TV.
	“Did I miss anything?” Layla asked, panting.
	Selena turned and saw Layla, standing in the doorway, evidently oblivious to her nudity and her pulsing erection, her body shiny with moisture, as if she'd jumped out of the shower to get here.
	The television audience cried out “FORTUNE!”
	Selena smiled widely, shamelessly checking Layla out. “No, it's just started.”
	“Awesome.” Layla strode in and took a seat net to Selena, placing her head on Selena's shoulders just as she had last night. Selena put her arm around Layla and brought her closer.
	“You smell like coconut.” Selena said softly. “Did you use my cream?”
	“Yeah.” Layla said. “Is that OK?”
	“Well, I only use that cream on my cock.” Selena explained. “It's very expensive.”
	“I'm sorry. I used a lot of it.”
	“Don't worry about it.” Selena pulled her tighter. “How is it? I've never used that much.”
	“I feel kind of greasy.” Layla said. “This isn't one of those numbing creams, is it?”
	Selena scoffed. “As if I need something like that. That stuff sees some use in mainstream porn from losers who can't keep in control. They put the cream on, get a blowjob, and then the actress mumbles all her lines like she's at the dentist!” Selena put on a deep voice. “Where's Dick Tracy?!” She started mumbling, shaking her face back and forth to enhance the lack of elocution.
	Layla laughed. “I love that movie.”
	“It's not just a movie.” Selena said. “But yeah. I do, too.”
	
	After Final Jeopardy, Selena wanted to take a swim. Layla didn't feel up to it, having already both showered and moisturized. Selena told Layla to go watch TV downstairs.
	Layla's response, as she watched Selena walk off. “There's a downstairs?”
	There WAS a downstairs. Layla hadn't even ever been upstairs, and suddenly, there's a new floor to explore. This must have been the theater room all these huge mansions had to have by law, like handicapped parking at supermarkets. Rather than traditional theater seats, there was one big leather couch with stowable arm rests, chilled drink holders and electronically adjustable footrests.
	The couch was placed facing the biggest television yet. It was probably one hundred inches across diagonally, or however it was manufactures measured televisions. Why hadn't they watched Jeopardy on this one? You could see every bristle in Alex Trebek's mustache... if he still had it. Speakers were built unobtrusively into the floor and ceiling, with dim accent lights leading to the two exits of the room like in a dimly lit movie theater. Layla found the single remote control and hit the power button.
	The TV was evidently tuned to CBS. Rather than Alex Trebek's knowing but nonthreatening smirk, Layla was presented with the giant face of Kat Dennings in immense high definition. 2 Broke Girls wasn't a sophisticated show, but Kat Denning's beauty and huge rack was very inspiring to Layla for several years. If things had worked out differently, perhaps it would be Kat Dennings' luxurious mansion that Layla would currently be masturbating in while watching 2 Broke Girls.
	Layla was a connoisseur of porn, even bad porn and filthy porn. It all depended on her mood. But just like starting with Dad's Sports Illustrated, there was some enjoyment to whacking it to something so decidedly... PG. The new swimsuit issue would be out soon, Layla thought. She should get one and see if she can still get off to it. It's like originally playing through a game abusing all the cheat codes, and then finally deciding to play it legitimately.
	But that was a fap for later. For now, Kat Dennings was making a silly double entendre about cupcakes or something while cocking her eyebrow knowingly. When Layla had still worked for that coffee shop, she had styled herself after Kat Denning's character almost entirely by accident, with the open collar and bright red lipstick. Layla almost chose the porn name “Max Cock” after Kat's character Max Black, but she decided against it for obvious reasons. What was Max short for anyway? Maxine?
	In her mind's television studio, she pictured herself in the place of Max, turning to camera and flipping her red apron up, revealing a huge erection. Kat Dennings may have been ‘safe,’ but Layla Boyd definitely wasn’t safe.
	She wasn’t even work-safe as she would jack off her mighty cock from behind the counter.  Maybe the real Max watched from a booth while chewing the temple of her glasses. Max didn't wear glasses in the show, but Kat Dennings did in Thor 2, and it was super fucking hot, so now her headcanon Max Black wears them, too. Max Black as played by Layla Boyd certainly does, most likely from sitting too close to the television or watching too much porn. It turns out masturbating does make you blind! 
	With a deep grunt, Layla unleashed herself into several coffees, lined up on saucers in a row like the notes on a xylophone. The last one she filled higher than the others, making it a latte.
	Of course, that one was for herself. Layla imagined slurping down the coffee, the bitter coffee more like melted coffee ice cream with this batch of sweet mix-ins. Layla could show those dopes at Starbucks a thing or two.
	Without warning, the television turned off and started to sink into the floor like a tombstone resting on soft earth. Layla jumped. Was she not supposed to be masturbating? Did the somewhat family-friendly CBS object to this treatment of their intellectual property within her mind and had sent her television to Hell? They hadn't stopped her any other time she'd dropped a batch to 2 Broke Girls. Or NCIS, for that matter.
	As it descended, what previously seemed to be a solid wall behind the television pulled back to reveal it was a curtain, splitting at the middle and disappearing into a hidden compartment behind the speakers. Behind the television was a fifteen foot glass window leading to... an aquarium? There didn't seem to be any fish.
	The still water was broken up by Selena diving into the water, the sound of the splash muffled, but still audible. Her naked form slithered the length of the window like an eel, millions of bubbles scattering past her as she moved.
	Layla looked at her seat, and under her couch cushion. Was there another remote control that had slipped somewhere and accidentally activated? She didn't see any switches or hidden buttons on the couch armrests or anywhere else. Normally, you'd have to pull a fake book in a bookcase or pull a torch to activate something like this.
	There was the deeply resonant, yet dull sound of a hand rapping against glass, that thing they always told you not to do at the zoo because it bothered the animals or made the fish deaf, whichever excuse those particular parents were equipped with. Layla turned around. Selena was floating in the water, a few bubbles of air inching out of her nose and drifting up like the carbonation in soda. Her hair floated freely like a mermaid's, and her cock floated weightlessly between her legs.
	Layla walked up to the window. Selena waved silently, and swam off to the part of the pool not visible from the viewing room.  She swam past again, just as gracefully and shamelessly as she had last night. It was as if Selena didn't know the wall wasn't still opaque... or that she wanted Layla to watch.
	Sorry, Kat Dennings. You might be the sexiest woman on CBS, but that's only until Selena gets her own sitcom. Layla could see it in the theater of her mind. Tune in Tuesdays for Cock of the Walk!
	Layla sat on the couch and watched as Selena swam past repeatedly, occasionally turning her body to face the glass and watch Layla play with herself. It was sort of like watching television, a piece of glass still blocking Layla from the object of her desire. Then again, the responses from Selena made it feel more like watching a stream, except they could both see each other instead of communicating through chat.
	Layla's other hand kneaded her balls delicately, stretching her sack a bit to give her balls some more room as they swelled with anxious semen waiting to be delivered. Maybe the swelling was her imagination, but she hadn't come once today, not even when streaming. She was pretty excited about finally unloading today.
	Selena saw Layla giving her cock a good pounding, and she tapped on the glass to get Layla's attention. Layla stopped. Selena waved both hands, palms facing outwards, in what was the closest approximation to 'slow down' she could express while underwater.
	Layla looked about uneasily until she saw Selena's erect cock. She had started slowly masturbating. Layla began again, matching Selena's pace. After all... holding one's breath can help one reach orgasm. They both continued to play with themselves, Selena's breasts wobbling weightlessly in the water, Layla's balls swaying back and forth as she jerked.
	Layla stood, walking up to the glass. They were inches apart, staring not at their bodies, even though Selena's tits were pressed pleasingly against the glass. Instead, they were staring into each other's eyes, moving closer until they kissed through the glass. 
	The glass here was built to support the weight of thirty thousand gallons of water. It was over an inch thick. And yet, both Layla and Selena swore they could feel the heat of each other's lips through it.
	When Layla opened her eyes, Selena was gone. Nothing of her remaining in the pool, not even a mark on the glass or a string of gracious and spontaneously released come.
	Layla stood there for a moment, before there was a gentle buzzing alarm. She was standing on the portal where the television would emerge from the floor, and it could not rise back up with her atop it. She stepped off, and soon after, the TV was back in place, the curtain wall was closed and the ending credits to 2 Broke Girls was playing, squashed into a tiny corner of the screen to show a preview of whatever show they were limping to 9PM with.
	And Selena came downstairs in a bathrobe. With the gentle glimmer of sweat on Layla's body... she looked just as wet as Selena. Selena didn't get a word in before Layla ran over to her and kissed her.  Layla almost pulled Selena off the floor and towards the big couch, throwing them both down onto the leather with a slap, Selena's moist hair scattered about like thin strands of seaweed.
	Selena eventually coaxed Layla off her and encouraged them to find a real bed. Selena brought her back upstairs and to a completely different bedroom, decorated similarly to the bedroom they'd shared the night before.
	“Do you sleep in a different bed every night just to use all six bedrooms?” Layla asked. “Or do you rotate them the way some people wear shoes on alternate days to keep from wearing them out?”
	“I sleep wherever.” Selena answered. “Unless someone jizzed all over my bed last night.”
	Layla flushed deeply. “Sorry.” She answered meekly.
	“How many times I have to tell you how much I loved it?” They kissed before falling into the wonderfully silky bedsheets. Layla fought her way to the top and moved to mount Selena again.
	“If you think you can do this without coming, then you're welcome to try.” Selena warned her. “In fact, if you think you can't and you just want to bang me again, you're welcome to do that, too. But you've done very well today, and I think you can hang on for longer. You're just high on the emotion right now.”
	She looked down at Selena, hair scattered about, blue eyes filled with nothing but desire, breasts resting against her ribs, cock standing tall against her belly. This is what she wanted. This was everything she wanted. She was definitely high on emotions right now.
	Layla limited herself to kisses, though she didn't limit how many kisses they could share. Once their lips were exhausted, Layla rolled off her. They were both harder than granite, and here they were, kissing like it was the only base they were familiar with.
	“You should mount a mirror on the ceiling so we can see ourselves in bed.” Layla suggested.
	“I've thought about that.” Selena said. “But not only do I not actually have that much sex in here... I'd be terrified of it dropping from the ceiling and killing me. No matter how much I trust the carpenters, I just wouldn't feel safe under the sword of Damocles.”
	“What else are we supposed to do?” Layla asked. “I'm too hard to sleep, and you've got TVs everywhere but in here.”
	“Just do what I do.” Selena pawed at her balls, massaging them and gently pulling on the scrotal skin. It was a move Layla was familiar with, and joined along enthusiastically. There really was a lot of stimulation to be had palpating the balls; it was just frequently overshadowed by their sturdier and more obviously useful partner.
	Soon after, without even having to ask, their hands crossed and started to grope each other's balls, fondling them and rubbing them like Chinese music balls... and with much the same effect. They both rolled a bit in bed, shifting and gently sighing with pleasure.
	Just before the pair drifted peacefully into sleep, Selena whispered, “You made it the whole day. I'm proud of you.”
	Layla whispered back, “If you wake up and there's a puddle of come in the bed, I didn't do it on purpose.”
	In lieu of a response, Selena just kissed her.


TUESDAY

	Waking up in a different bedroom every day was not really helping Layla's disillusion at what had occurred over the last few days. Had she really been invited into the home of Selena Grande, the world's most famous porn star, allowed to strut around her house nude, their dicks wagging together like eager puppy tails? Had she really fucked her in her own bed? Had their coitus really been just as two friends-with-benefits and not in the production of porn, no cameraman or craft service table in sight? Had she really fucked her just to fuck her?
	Layla was alone again. As deep as her knowledge of porn stars went, never had Layla learned that Selena was such an early riser. Nevertheless, it did seem to match her professional and thoughtful attitude about every part of her life. Layla wanted to check the time, but could not find her phone. She'd been walking around completely naked since about seven o'clock last night. This was probably the longest she'd gone without touching her phone in years.
	Layla worked her way to the edge of the bed. She looked down. Her cock was as hard as a bundle of pencils tied with string. It throbbed angrily, with the resentful attitude of someone you'd promised to pick up at the airport and then didn't. She wasn't just hard; her cock was demanding an explanation for the lack of release.
	She left the bed and walked into the en suite bathroom. She inched the water from pleasantly warm to the very edge of what could be called 'cold.' She stood with arms apart, letting the cooler water pound against her cock. Never had she ever had to 'calm herself' with a cold shower before. Whacking it every night before bed for a cavalcade of jizz-hungry perverts had that advantage, at least.
	Gradually, under the cold and unremitting torrent, Layla's cock softened and shrunk like a boulder eroded by a million years of water tricking against its surface. Of course, her condition was only temporary, until the first time she thought about Selena's huge cock, or that great ass. Dammit, Layla had gotten herself hard again.
	As she bathed, watching the suds twirl down the drain... the thought occurred to her of something else white running down the drain. In truth, last night was the closest Layla had ever come to masturbating in the shower. Layla had never once masturbated to ejaculation in a shower. It was not only because she was sure she'd somehow be caught, even when living alone. Much more importantly… there was no porn in the shower.
	Her thoughts sufficiently chaste enough to grow soft again, Layla finished her shower. She dried herself off with the towels, scattering her hair wetly against her back, no hair dryer to be found in this bathroom. She dried her hair the old-fashioned way.
	She was about to wrap the towel around herself before catching a glance of herself in the mirror. Her thin, lean body, cock hanging from it like a third leg. What was the point of wearing the towel? Selena had seen everything already. Getting dressed would be to pretend she had anything to hide, or that she wasn't entirely comfortable in this house.
	Layla left the towel behind. She wouldn't even wrap her hair in it. She would air-dry eventually… unless Selena could not resist her bold new technique, in which case… then they'd both definitely be wet. Layla strutted towards the kitchen, wondering if she could find a box of cereal, or if that wasn't Selena's style.
	As she turned the corner, so did someone else, and they stood face-to-face at the same moment.
	The black dress with poofy shoulders, the white apron, the lacy headpiece and thigh-high stocking and garter, the curly red-orange hair... it definitely wasn't Selena. It was the maid.
	Layla gasped loudly and slapped her hands over her crotch. Evidently, she still had something to hide. But after a whole day of abstinence, her cock would not be denied. It grew stiff very quickly, like a modeling balloon being inflated. It obtained its fully erect size in a few seconds, and Layla's hands proved too small to hide it, the head popping out between her hands like a bird hatching from an egg.
	Unsure what else to do, Layla spun in place and faced the wall, mooning the maid. To her left, she saw Selena emerge from the same corner Layla had passed earlier. Like Layla, Selena was completely naked. Unlike her, Selena was flaccid.
	“Morning, Layla.” Selena said. “What's wrong?” She saw the maid standing there, grinning at Layla. “Oh, yes. This is Merri. She's my maid. I told you she comes Tuesdays. Merri, this is my friend Layla.”
	“You... eh...” Merri said with difficulty, through a very thick French accent. “You don't need to be... shy. My country... topless beaches... everywhere.”
	“What are you doing, Merri?” Selena asked.
	“Aww, you couldn't play along for one minute?” Merri moaned in a perfect American accent, probably that of a local Californian.
	Layla turned around, holding her arms together to try to hide her erection. Her face was still as red as marinara. “I didn't realize you'd be here so early.”
	“It's ten o'clock.” Selena said. “You sleep a lot.”
	“Sorry, I'm lazy.” Layla shrugged.
	“I'm not judging. All I said was you sleep a lot. I sleep less, but I also abuse amphetamines and diet pills.”
	“What?!” Layla shouted. She considered herself a repository of Selena Grande trivia, and that one had escaped her somehow.
	“I'm kidding, Layla. Relax.”
	“Can I just say...” Merri raised a finger, and pointed it at Layla's covered groin. “Are all you futa hung like rhinos? Because damn.”
	“See, I told you.” Selena reassured Layla. “You've got nothing to be embarrassed about.”
	Taking her advice, Selena moved her hands away from her crotch. Merri stared unabashedly at Layla's pulsing member. Layla resisted covering it again; after all, being seen naked by strangers was her full-time job.
	“Nope.” Layla said, blushing as hard as ever. “It's still embarrassing.”

	After a quick breakfast consisting of another very nice omelet made by Selena, she asked if Layla wouldn't mind helping Merri with her cleaning duties for the morning. Layla agreed, leaving Selena to whatever business she had. Layla continued to walk around nude, having never been given express permission to get dressed. Most of the embarrassment had left her; her cheeks could only burn bright for so long before she adjusted to this. Her erection remained unfazed.
	Merri walked a route through the different bedrooms and bathrooms of the house, picking up wet bath towels and clothing in a hamper under her arm. Some of the clothes went over her opposite shoulder. Layla offered to carry those, and Merri passed them to her, draping them over her the same way, contrasting her nudity like the sling Michaelangelo's David's had over his shoulder.
	Of course... hers was bigger. It was probably bigger even considering the seventeen-foot height of the classical masterpiece.
	Layla saw four of seven bedrooms that were still actually bedrooms. Two of them they'd slept in before, and two were entirely new to her. They were distinct in that they all had different colored sheets, but they all incorporated the king-sized bed, two nightstands with lamps atop them and remarkably... no television.
	When they came to the bedroom where Selena and Layla had 'relations' on their first night... Layla tried to hustle the sheets into a bundle without showing the stain she'd thoughtlessly let sit for a few days. Underneath, there was a stain on the mattress cover, nearly the same size. Merri removed the cover, making no comment on it, but checking to see if the stain had seeped through to the mattress. It didn't seem so.
	Now, Layla wondered why Merri wasn't surprised to see come in Selena's bed. Did anyone outside the industry know she didn't orgasm unless she was filming? As far as Layla knew, she never filmed in her own house, either. She surely would have recognized the house if she had.
	Once all the laundry was collected, they walked downstairs, past the magic disappearing television and into a laundry room about half the size of Layla's entire apartment. There was a large stainless steel washer and dryer at the back wall, a table for folding and racks for hanging or drying articles.
	“I used to fantasize about rummaging through Selena Grande's laundry...” Layla said, separating a few garments. “But... there are no panties, so... what's the point?”
	“I'm surprised Selena's letting you go through those anyway.” Merri noted. “Most people are embarrassed to have anyone going through their laundry.”
	“Most of us porn stars have a deeply reduced capacity for embarrassment.”
	“What about you?” Merri asked. “You were pretty embarrassed this morning.”
	Layla's cheeks grew a little red, though not as bright as before. “That's different. I wasn't expecting you. And when I say I'm a porn star... I'm more of a camgirl. It combines the lack of shame of the porn star with... doing all the depraved stuff in the privacy in your home.”
	“It means not really ever being naked with someone else actually in the same room as you.” Merri said.
	Layla pulled something out of the laundry pile that she recognized, but was nevertheless surprised. It was a strapless bra. “I thought Selena didn't wear bras.”
	“I'm sure she only wears them when it's necessary.” Merri inspected it. “I think that bra goes with a strapless dress. That one.” She pointed to a black dress in a dry-cleaning bag. “Actually, that shouldn't be in there. It'll get musty.” Merri ripped the bag off the hangar without disturbing the dress underneath. For Layla, it was like watching someone pull a tablecloth out from under the dishes while everyone was still eating.
	Merri crumpled the bag up and threw it in a nearby bin. “So... do you work for Selena, or are you just friends?”
	Describing their relationship as 'just friends' after Layla had come so enthusiastically in Selena's pussy…that somehow felt incorrect. Then again, saying she 'worked' for her, when Selena hadn't given anything to her but generosity and pizza… that didn't seem right, either. Moreso, Layla was still strutting around naked as if that was her work uniform, designed to match Selena's.
	“I think we're trying stuff out, seeing if I can be a help to her.” Layla said, dropping a few more things in the washer. “And she's helping me... learn to control myself better.”
	“What, you mean like anger issues?”
	“No, I... I sometimes come too fast. I'm working on holding back.”
	“Oh.” said Merri softly. After a small pause, she asked, “So if I asked you if you wanted to mess around, you’d say no?”
	If Layla had started to soften a bit with the growing comfort in her nudity, this set her right back to full-mast. She looked down into the washing machine as if it were a wishing well. “That sort of comment could be easily misconstrued.”
	“I’m asking if you’d like to have casual sex on this dryer.” Merri smiled, still looking at Layla's cock with the deep fascination as if it kept changing or otherwise was different from the first time she saw it.
	“Until I met Selena, I didn't think of myself as a sex-on-first-date kind of girl, much less sex-at-first-sight, but...” Layla loaded the washer with more cotton t-shirts and socks. “I can't anyway. Selena's showing me how not to come so easily, so I really can't.”
	“So you don't actually work for her?” Merri asked.
	“It's a new thing. I'm helping her out with stuff, and she's training me to be more disciplined. She's not paying me, if that's what you're asking.”
	“So you're just another unpaid intern?”
	That phrase struck Layla as unusual. “What do you mean 'another?'”
	Merri was disarmed. “I mean... there are lots of unpaid internships around Cali. I didn't mean that Selena has had an intern before. I've never seen her take in any other futa chick in and training them, if that's what you thought. I've worked for her for a few years, and I've never seen another futa over here. Or at least... I never knew they were, because they weren't strutting around with their big erection out.”
	A short pause. “Is 'Merri' short for something?” Layla asked.
	“Meredith, but I really hate that name, so everyone calls me Merri.”
	“And you're a maid... like--”
	Merri cut her off. “Like Maid Marian from Robin Hood. Yeah, I've heard it before.”
	A pause. “I was going to say Merry Maids, the... franchise of maid services.”
	Merri chuckled. “You ever read Robin Hood?”
	Layla shook her head. “How much of this should I put in?”
	Merri took the bottle of detergent from Layla. “Not even the Disney version?”
	“That was like a million years ago.”
	“So? I still saw it on DVD as a kid. I'm not that much older than you.” Merri turned on the water. “I admit, I identified with Maid Marian from the Disney version when I was a kid. I started to think of my crazy red hair as my fox fur.”
	Merri turned the dials on the washing machine at the same time. She turned to face Layla and hiked up her skirt with her right hand. “Selena's not the only one who doesn't wear underwear.” She said.
	Unlike almost every other mons pubis in California, hers was decorated with a thick topiary of red pubic hair, almost perfectly triangular. It stopped just before the opening of her slit. Merri was evidently waxed on every surface facing down, but the forward-facing patch of hair was perfectly shaped and combed like the hair covering the forehead of a male news anchor.
	“What do you think?” Merri asked.
	Layla had very little exposure to pubic hair, having never grown any herself. Evidently, futanari don't grow hair anywhere below the neck. That was surely what gave Selena enough free time to run her business as a one-futa operation. So far, Layla just used the free time to masturbate.
	Layla stared at the triangle of lush red fur. “I love Doritos.”
	Merri burst out laughing. She stepped closer and moved in for a kiss.
	And Layla dodged it.
	Merri looked at her suspiciously. “What? What's wrong?”
	“We just met.”
	“How long was it before you kissed Selena?”
	Layla flushed deeply. She and Selena had jumped first base to 'home run' in a matter of seconds, an act that was probably less likely to happen in real life than it was on the baseball diamond. “It was a few hours after we met.”
	Merri kept eyeing her sideways, then gasped gently with a realization.
	“What?” Asked Layla, parroting what Merri had said before.
	“Nothing.” Merri insisted. “None of my business.”
	They left the laundry room, looking as if Layla had run completely herself out of clothing and Merri had been left to wear her Halloween costume.
	“So what was up with that French accent?”
	“Oh.” Merri shrugged. “You know... failed actress and all. I need to use my skills somewhere.”
	“You wanted to be an actress?”
	“I guess I still do, but I had to make money somehow. I definitely make more money doing this, so...” Merri shrugged. “I guess I gave up on that dream.”
	“You can't give up so early. You're not even thirty.” Layla said. “I mean, I think I lucked out that... I seem to be living my dream at nineteen.”
	“Don't get me wrong.” Merri said. “I own my own business and I'm doing pretty well. If I have to stick with this, I can do it. Maybe I'll go back to trying to break into acting if I have a nest egg and I get sick of scrubbing toilets. But then... I'll be an actress approaching thirty trying to get her start, so... that boat may have sailed.”
	They went up the stairs. “Well...” Layla put her hand on their chin. “There's always MILF porn.”
	Merri blew a raspberry. “Have you seen much MILF lesbian porn? They're all younger than me. It's bullshit.”

	Layla spent a peaceful hour watching videos while resting on the couch. How millennial of her to be watching stuff on her phone while there was a humongous television to one side.  After all, TVs were only as big as how close you sat to them.
	Selena told her the WiFi password, so she could watch Youtube to her heart’s content without using up data. Eventually, she stopped watching Youtube celebrities playing bad video games, a variety of video she enjoyed despite never playing video games herself. She found herself growing bored of watching a bunch of similar looking men talk about the E.T. game for the Atari.
	Layla was always a little paranoid about watching videos on her data, as she wondered if anyone at her phone company could know what she was watching. She didn't dare ever watch anything remotely sexy at work or out in public; her cock had a hair trigger that would quickly take it from “soft and concealable” to “I am smuggling a can of Pringles in my yoga pants.”
	But here... she wasn't even wearing pants.
	So Layla started to flip around adult video sites and look for something to stimulate her. She had her favorite websites of such videos, but... some of them she only knew by typing two letters into her web address bar and having the computer remember the rest. How great it was to not have to worry about clearing the history anymore! Of course, her phone didn't have any of these websites listed, so she typed in one that she remembered.
	Sometimes, she would sit, wondering what kind of porn she should watch until her boner faded away, the way other people can't choose something to watch on Netflix. She used to start with lesbian videos, but even bleach blonde lesbians with inflated breasts eventually became tedious. She loved squirting videos, but she was just so tired of reading people argue in the comments about whether it was real or whether it was piss... she just started watching videos where the women were definitely pissing.
	Of course, she could squirt quite a bit when she was in the mood, which was most of the time. Nobody could argue whether that was real, or what the white stuff really was.
	She occasionally watched videos of women walking around naked in very similar looking cities. She pictured a city in Germany where all the local businessmen knew to expect a commotion around 2PM on Tuesdays when the people from that website would film nearby.
	Then again, wouldn't it be grand to walk around nude as a futa, her mighty dick hanging and flopping about, but not for long as the feeling of all those jealous eyeballs falling on her got her harder than the cobblestones this old European street evidently still had.
	Sometimes, she watched JOI videos, or jerk-off instructions. Of course, she needed no instructions to know how to do that. Watching women act so dominant, usually wearing a strapon or holding a dildo to their crotch, secretly wishing they had what Layla had, and yet not knowing quite how to wield it...
	Fuck, what video was this? She tapped it and the video started of a closeup of a humongous penis being jacked off by soft, delicate hands with long white nails. Layla turned onto her back and held her phone above her face, jerking herself off with her other hand.
	One thing Layla got good at was checking for painted or manicured nails or other telltale signs to make sure it wasn't a guy's penis. Layla didn't have anything against men or their penises, but cutting to the man's O-face was an immediate turn-off where the term 'screeching halt' wasn't sufficient. If the nails weren't a giveaway, one could make an educated guess on who owned the penis based on ab definition or the presence of hideous tattoos. The size was less of an indicator than one might think, but this specimen was definitely a size only seen connected to her fellow futa.
	The video cut suddenly to the actress' face… and it was Selena.
	And Layla dropped her phone in shock, smacking herself in the nose.
	She looked around. Nobody had seen that. It really felt for a moment like Selena had just surprised her by walking in and catching her masturbating. Startling as it might have been in the moment, it was the dropping her phone in her face that was causing all the embarrassment.
	Layla turned to her side, holding the phone against the cushion, resting on her right side. She kept tugging it, as mini-Selena did on her three-inch screen. It was hard to make a cock look huge on such a small screen, but Selena had the magic.
	But now Layla was masturbating with her left hand, and her right arm was pinched under her body. She turned around in place to get her right arm free, but now the tip of her cock was touching the cushion of the couch.
	She sat up suddenly. What the fuck was she doing any of this for? Surely, somewhere in this huge house, the real Selena Grande was doing something. She might even be, as they say, DTF.
	Layla left her phone on the couch and explored the house. She wasn’t in the kitchen, despite the fact that it was past noon. Seeing the time made Layla realize that, despite her love of game shows, Selena didn't seem to watch The Price is Right. That show was a mainstay for her on those days she stayed home sick from school. Then again, Layla had been self-employed for a year and hadn’t watched it, either. Some days, she wouldn't even be awake until after eleven, anyway.
	Layla kept looking, but turned her head towards a shout. She went to the first bedroom and heard rustling, grunts... and the telltale sound of hips slapping together.
	She listened through the door. She couldn't tell who was moaning, Selena or Merri. Digging deep into her memory banks, recalling the hours and hours of moans she'd joyfully listened to like a choir of church bells. In her expert opinion... it wasn't Selena.
	“Ohh! Ohh, Selena! Fuck me, Selena Grande!” Cried the vocal participant through the door.
	That new evidence left little doubt to the accuracy of her initial hypothesis.
	Also, Layla had started masturbating again and barely realized she was even doing it. She could hear the slapping of the coitus, the squeak of the mattress, the thump of the bed being shoved against the wall, and Merri's musical noises... all slowly drowned out by her own heartbeat and the shuffling of her pounding her cock.
	She stopped herself. Had she really held back from orgasming for two days just to crack one out in the hallway of a million dollar mansion of the most famous porn star in the world? That was like driving to a strip club and playing hopscotch in the parking lot.
	Layla somehow drew up the strength to pull her hand off her knob. Still pulled into a tight fist, she used it to knock three times. The sounds of fucking behind the door stopped. A few seconds later, Selena called through the door.
	“Come in.”
	And the sounds of sex resumed anew.
	Perplexed, Layla entered.
	Selena and Merri were indeed fucking in here. Merri was spread out naked on the bare mattress, resting on a dark blue towel. Selena stood at the end of the bed, plowing her huge cock into Merri's pussy repeatedly, pulling out as far as she could before slamming it all back in.
	“Hey, Layla.” Selena huffed, talking over her shoulder. “I just had to make sure Merri was OK with you being in here.”
	Layla was silent, staring at them. She had literally walked in on the object of her fantasies... fucking the maid.
	“You want in?” Merri's voice quavered with every thrust. “You could turn me into the spit roast.”
	Layla's body shook with desire. She looked to Selena, apparently looking for permission.
	Selena looked back. “It's up to you, but... the two day mark is the hardest part of holding back. After that, it gets a little easier. This could be the big test.”
	Layla leaned up against the closet door, her face contorted into an uncontrolled grimace. She was rubbing her cock with one hand and teasing her pussy with the other. She reached in front of her and tickled the clit with her finger and rubbed her balls a bit with the base of her thumb.
	“Yes, edge.” Selena said. “That's good.” Layla's hand picked up speed as Selena started going faster. “That's not edging, that's just jerking off.”
	Layla could hardly stop herself. Selena was obviously beautiful and sexually powerful, but Merri... Merri was even more lovely than she'd realized. Large breasts with little pencil-eraser nipples, a reasonably thin waist, and shoulders, arms, chest and feet dotted with a million freckles. Freckles! That most rare thing in porn! She'd seen more interracial pregnant lesbian porn than any actresses with freckles.
	(On a rather horny and deviant day, Layla sought and found an interracial pregnant lesbian porn scene. She immediately started looking for another, which she also found... and it took place in the same bed with different pregnant actresses. It was evidently from the same movie. Maybe there was only one person who'd ever made interracial pregnant lesbian porn.)
	Somehow, Layla dug deep and slowed her hand to about two strokes a second, significantly slower than her own heartbeat... and she wasn't even the one fucking her.
	Merri's moans grew louder. Her arms reached to each side to grip the bare mattress, unable to reach across the king-sized bed. She shouted, her whole body quaking as Selena slowed her pounding, eventually pulling herself out and letting Merri curl up onto the bed, panting deeply, pulling her legs inward, holding one hand over her groin and biting her thumbnail on her other hand.
	Selena sighed, a job well done. She'd delivered Merri an orgasm without coming herself, her specialty. Layla hustled over and licked Merri's nectar from Selena's still-hard cock. Selena gasped, watching Layla lick and suck the tip of her cock. Selena brought her hands down to below Layla's chin and delicately brought Layla back to her feet. Layla swung her mouth about and sucked on Selena's thumbs one at a time, as if they would spray delicious come into her mouth.
	Selena looked Layla dead in her eyes. Those dark brown eyes, those cheekbones tinted with a rosy blush, that shy smile that showed how much she couldn't help herself...
	“You're the real deal, aren't you?” Selena whispered. “You really are just a super horny futa like me.”
	Layla grinned. They brought their arms around each other, sharing a kiss so long that Merri might have gotten jealous... if she weren't taking a much-needed rest.

	Once Merri had sufficiently recovered, she got dressed again and finished putting the sheets on all the beds again before leaving for the day with a kiss from each of them.
	Selena checked the time. The day was getting away from them, as the sun was lowering in the sky, soon to give the interior of the house a gently yellow haze that would break for orange and red later as dusk approached.
	Selena found her keys in her purse, sitting atop a dresser in one of the bedrooms. She used the keys to open one of the locked rooms on the main hallway that Layla hadn't been in yet. Inside, there was rugged carpeting evidently designed for heavy traffic. One wall was entirely lined with mirrors, and two ceiling fans hung from above. In the middle of the room, there was a stationary bike, a treadmill, an elliptical machine and against the back wall, a weight set near a bench with rolled-up yoga mats on it.
	“Let's work up an appetite for dinner.” Selena said. She immediately went to the exercise bike. “I usually do three sets of about thirty minutes apiece, depending what I feel like.”
	“You don't have workout clothes?” Layla asked.
	“I do.” Selena asked. “But that will just make more laundry for poor Merri to wash later. No reason to make her work any harder than she already does.”
	Layla didn't have the nerve to ask how she was going to ride the bike without workout clothes. Selena did sit on the bicycle seat, but once she got up to a decent pedaling speed, she sort of 'hovered' above it the way one would do when forced to use a restroom in a dirty bus station. Selena pedaled fast, but not so fast as to tire herself out quickly. This was not a sprint, but an extended ride.
	As they couldn't both ride the stationary bike at the same time, and owning two would be opulence too great for Selena, Layla jogged next to her on the treadmill.
	“You don't have to match pace with me.” Selena huffed. “If this is your first workout in a while, you're going to tire before me. Just take it at your own pace.”
	Through their workout, Selena explained she usually did three half-hour exercises of cycling, treadmill, elliptical, weights, aerobics or yoga, depending on her mood. Today, she stopped her cycling after only fifteen minutes because she wanted to cut back on the leg exercises.
	Selena noted that her thighs were already pretty big. Not fat or 'ripped,' but merely large-looking. Layla complimented her shapely legs, and wished her own stick-like legs were curvier, but Selena's concern was overworking her thighs would make them bigger, and would thus make her dick look smaller by comparison.
	Suddenly, Layla felt perfectly fine about her skinny toothpick legs.
	“Do you always work out with a boner?” Layla asked, still jogging on the treadmill.
	“No.” Selena said. “Even though I've definitely masturbated to pictures and video of myself... not normally. It's definitely because of you. You're just that sexy.”
	Selena went to the weights and picked up some heavy looking dumbbells. As opposed to curling them or whatever it was that men did with their weights, Selena took them and held them out at her side and held as still as possible. She breathed in and counted to thirty, and slowly lowered them down. Layla spent this time doing some crunches, one of the only workouts she knew how to do other than jogging.
	Moving into the center of the room, Selena started doing some yoga poses. Bridge, Garland, Full Boat, Cobra, Plank, Tree... Selena knew the English names, but not the Sanskrit ones. Layla mimicked the poses as close as she could, watching Selena in the mirror. She didn't know any of the English names.
	Well... she was certainly familiar with Downward-Facing Dog.	
	Selena eventually called the workout early after Layla started to visibly slow down on the elliptical. She rubbed her hamstrings.
	Layla said, “If I tell my friends I hung out with Selena Grande... and hurt my hamstrings... they're not going to think it was during exercise.”
	Selena brought Layla to the nearest bathroom and they bathed in the same shower. It was nice and romantic, kissing and caressing each other's soft bodies and rubbing their soapy cocks together... but it wasn't the most effective way to bathe, especially with many other bathrooms to use.
	But why ruin Merri's hard work cleaning those other bathrooms and deprive each other of more quality time together?
	They dried off and returned to the kitchen. Selena opened a low cabinet and withdrew a large stock pot that she filled halfway with water from the sink. Layla said that much water would take forever to come to a boil, but Selena gestured to her powerful gas stove that would evidently heat that water very quickly.
	It still took ten minutes. Layla asked why they hadn't done this first and let it boil while they were in the shower. Selena wisely intoned, “You never leave a gas stove unattended. And besides... I didn't know how long we'd be in there.”
	She dumped a box of spaghetti in the pot and stirred it with a long wooden spoon. There was plenty of room in this pot to let the pasta swirl around and cook. Layla had never felt so jealous about a pot as she had right now. Then again, her little pot worked fine when cooking for one. As it boiled, she took a mason jar out of the fridge and upturned it into a smaller saucepan, just allowing it to bubble before turning it down to low.
	Nine minutes later, Selena withdrew a single noodle from the large pot with a long wooden fork. She held it between both fingers and pulled it gently, then bit the section between her fingers. She nodded to herself, and offered one half of the noodle to Layla. “How do you like it?”
	Layla ate the noodle. It was about what she expected. “I believe this is what they call al dente.”
	“No, it isn't.” Selena corrected. “This is softer than that. But I did once work with a director who called himself Al Dente.”
	“No way.” Layla said. “What a dumb stage name.”
	“He's not the only one, either.” Selena grabbed both handles of the pot with potholders and dumped the water into the metal colander in the sink. Layla was terrified that Selena would burn herself on the bottom of the large pot as she tipped it, but she didn't. Like most things in Selena's daily life, she had done this a million times before.
	Selena slung most of the water out of the standing noodles and tossed them back into the large stock pot, and the warmed sauce after it. She stirred it with a haste and impatience that could only come from hunger.
	Selena pulled two large plates out from the cupboard and used the fork to dump the pasta into roughly equal portions onto the plates. She set the both sauce-lined pots in the sink to deal with later.
	Finally, she put both plates across each other at the stools at Selena's kitchen island, the closest thing she had to a dining table. She swept her arm across her forehead and moved a blonde lock away from her eyes and sat.
	“There.” Selena sighed. “You've now seen the only thing I know how to make.”
	“What about pizza?”
	“I didn't make it. I heated it up. That's like saying I 'cooked' two Pop-Tarts.” Selena presented Layla with a fork. They both twirled a mouthful of spaghetti around the fork's tines and brought it to their mouths.
	Layla's reaction was significantly more pronounced than Selena's. Layla swallowed before crying out, “This is fucking awesome.”
	“It's all the sauce.” Selena said, mouth slightly full. “My chef makes this stuff and it's absolutely amazing. Have no idea what she does. Maybe she just takes Newman's Own and puts it in a mason jar.”
	“I've had Newman's Own. It IS good, too, but it's...” Layla paused.
	“Supermarket good?” Selena asked.
	Layla pointed at Selena rather than respond with her mouth full.
	They continued to eat, and Selena looked up suddenly. “Sometimes we have meatballs, too, but... this is plenty good enough without them.”
	“We?”
	A pause. “Me, I guess. Sometimes it's me and someone else.”
	They both ate happily, very little talking going on between them. When Selena was down to maybe one or two mouthfuls, Selena made her fork inch across the island and towards Layla's pasta.
	“What? You still have some left.” Layla said, with the same tone someone uses to talk to a cat who refuses to eat the 'old food' sitting in the bowl.
	Selena's fork entered Layla's pasta and swirled a bit onto her fork, Layla's fork still down in the pasta. Selena pulled up a small bundle of pasta and brought it back over to her side.
	“Dammit, I didn't get yours.” She tapped her fork on her plate to free the tangle of noodles from the tines. She reached back and tried again.
	“Are we really doing this?” Layla smiled in disbelief. “Are we really…”
	“Got one.” Selena got a noodle that was wound into Layla's fork. She brought it to her mouth, the noodle extending out of her mouth like a power line, leading to Layla's fork.
	Layla laughed and put her noodles in her mouth. They both slowly sucked in gently, as to not break the tender noodle, until their lips came together a long kiss.
	Layla backed off, blushing. “This is gross.”
	“Yeah, my tits just fell into my spaghetti. That must be why they were sharing one plate.”
	“I don't think that's why.”
	A pause. They stared at each other. Selena hadn't even wiped the spaghetti from herself yet.
	“So you're a Disney fan, too?”
	“If it's on Blu-ray, I've got it.”
	“We should watch something.”
	“We can't. We’ll miss Wheel.”

	They went back to the bathroom to brush their teeth, and Selena cleaned her breasts of the delicious homemade sauce. Layla shuddered as she watched Selena lick a little sauce from her finger, imagining a creamy sauce of Layla's own creation being wiped off her tits so nicely.
	The first time they watched Wheel together, they were both dressed. The second time, Layla was nude and Selena was dressed. This time, they were both completely nude. Where it would proceed from here... Layla could only hope.
	During the commercial breaks, they would turn to each other and make out, tongues sliding all over each other, but once the show came back, Selena would immediately turn back to the TV to watch. Layla watched, but decided to see how many kisses she could give Selena before she'd stop watching. Selena endured this with some tickled giggles and her continuously throbbing erection.
	By the time Jeopardy started, Layla was sprawled out atop Selena, who still watched whenever she turned her head to the side. During the first commercial break, Selena sat up and suckled Layla's nipples. Layla had dreamed of this happening, and here she was. How much longer could she really hold back before she cracked?
	At the end of the commercial break, Layla whispered to Selena. “I don't know how much longer I can hold back.”
	Selena kissed her gently... too gently. Was she teasing Layla on purpose?
	“If you want it, go for it.” Selena whispered. Layla's eyes bulged for a moment, but Selena continued. “But if you're this horny... how long are you going to last?”
	Layla groaned. “Less than last time, definitely.”
	“It's up to you.” Selena said. “Trust me, the forty-eight hour mark is the hardest.” Selena slipped from underneath Layla and sat up. “So... why don't we just edge for a while?”
	Layla and Selena sat, shoulder-to-shoulder, Selena's left hand wrapped around Layla's cock, and vice versa. Selena stroked the hot, hard cock with long, slow, deliberate strokes. It reminded Layla of her routine with the weights, holding them as long as possible...
	“Layla, slow down.”
	They looked down. Layla was working Selena's cock at a medium-to-high pace, not exactly what scientists would call “edging.”
	Layla didn't immediately slow down. “Can't you handle this?”
	“Of course. But I'm going to go just as fast as you.”
	Layla reluctantly slowed down. They spend all of Jeopardy gently working each other's cock, letting the precum trickle down, moistening their fingers and making their grips wet and slick. Commercials were spent kissing, hoping those models in the toothpaste commercials would be jealous of their intimate spectacle. They didn't need whatever fancy toothpaste gthey were selling to get kisses. Maybe they could talk to that guy in the cowboy hat who runs the car dealership. He looks like he doesn't get out much.
	After Final Jeopardy, Selena excused herself to her office, and left Layla alone.
	Layla did what she normally did when she had an erection in the evening. She grabbed her laptop.

	Layla's broadcast began. She was in bed, white bed sheets pulled up to cover her breasts, her bare shoulders sticking out from under them. The light nearby was harsh and direct, and the laptop's built-in camera and the broadcasting compression made her face look a little overlit. She adjusted a few sliders to even out the light and give her a more uniform look.
	“Hey, everyone.” Layla smiled brightly. Her introduction was purposely nongendered, as to include anyone watching. She used to say “Hey, boys,” but stopped when the female and futa viewers asked politely to be included. When she started streaming, Layla really thought she'd be whacking off to a churning sea of exclusively male lust. That stereotype was evidently incorrect.
	The stereotype that futanari had stronger libidos than either men or women... well, Layla didn't know exactly how strong the average male libido was, but Layla felt she more than lived up to that stereotype of her gender.
	Maybe six months ago, Layla found herself facing the wrath of an apparently popular Youtuber with hideous neon-dyed hair and Buddy Holly glasses. Somehow, the explosion of fame that Selena experienced had eluded her, and she blamed Layla exclusively for sending out a negative perception of futanari as sex-crazed bombshells.
	Layla only ever deigned to give her two responses. The first was, “I didn't realize you were so sex-negative.” Layla knew how painful it was to throw their made-up pseudo-intellectual terminology back at them. The only other thing Layla asked was whether she was a futanari herself. The woman refused to reveal that, but based on the crow's feet decorating her temples from a lifetime of disapproving scowling... she guessed she was 'safe.'
	“How is everyone?” Layla asked. She paused to read the chat for a few seconds. This was the easiest time to read it, as people filtered in after she announced the start of her stream on all the applicable social networks. Apparently, Facebook didn't approve of having her promote her pornographic streams there, so her Facebook group was deleted. She wanted to fight this injustice, since she knew other porn stars had active Facebook groups. Selena had several dedicated to her, mostly by people unwilling to search Facebook before creating their own. Layla cut her losses and was simply glad her regular Facebook account wasn't dragged down with it.
	Chat seemed to be doing fine, in general. One of Layla's moderators, DuckStevens, appeared in chat, signified by a pop-up notification. “Hey, Duck!” Layla kissed her fingertips three times and blew them at the camera. “Haven't seen you in a while. How's everything?”
	Duck eventually responded, “Finals. You know how it is.”
	Layla laughed. “Duck, you've been saying that for how long now?” She said. “It's January. There are no finals in January.” This was Duck's version of a Dad joke, even though Layla was fairly sure he didn't even have a girlfriend, especially if he watched a semi-popular futa camgirl with such regularity that said camgirl herself enlisted him to be a chat moderator.
	“So I've been really good today.” Layla smiled. “You ever step out of the shower, reach for your towel and think... I've got nowhere to be today, so why bother getting dressed?”
	Layla slowly peeled down the bed sheet to her waist, revealing her nude breasts to the camera. “Yeah, I never put on so much a single sock today. It was very liberating. I know some of you love watching me strip, but... sorry, not today.”
	Layla read the chat. “I guess you're right, KittycombLord. If someone took a class in the winter, they might have a final in January. Good catch.” She returned to the erotic requests. “Did I get hard?” She looked at the camera as if it should know better. “Of course I was hard. I was hard almost the whole time.
	“...what did I do today? Well, I did some laundry, I hung out with my friend, watched some TV…” She said. “And of course, I watched some porn.”
	Chat asked what kind of porn, and one denizen took a guess at the star.
	“It WAS Selena Grande. You're right.” Layla pointed. “Am I that predictable? What can I say? There's no one else like her.” She clicked around on the touch pad of her laptop. “Let me see if I can find the video... it was just a five minute clip of her masturbating.”
	Layla spent about forty seconds looking for the clip, in what was surely not particularly stimulating entertainment, watching the color temperature of the light change on Layla's face as she clicked through different websites. She found the clip she'd seen earlier and posted it into chat.
	“Here we go.” She watched the link herself. She slipped out of the sheets entirely and brought her legs on the duvet. Now that her hard cock was finally visible, chat started moving faster.
	“Oh yeah... this video is hot.” Layla said. “Even though you can't see her face, it’s definitely her. God, her cock is so huge.” She alternated from watching Selena pound her cock and reading the chat. “Yeah, it's soo nice...”
	“She ain't fat!” Layla sneered, releasing her cock. “Selena Grande is totally not fat.” She looked through chat to see who had said that. “She ain't, trust me.”
	The chatter defended his position. “What about those rolls of fat on her stomach?”
	“Those folds aren't fat.” Layla said. “She's just bending forward. It's loose skin. Look, even I get them when I lean forward.” Layla did so, and the skin of her stomach bunched up just a bit into a few small folds. “See? I've got a fold right here, and I'm about 100 pounds. Everyone has it because if you didn't have a little flexibility there, you couldn't bend over. It'd be like wearing a shirt that's too small.”
	Among the commenters, he said, “I don't have those, because my gut is one big blob.”
	Layla waved her hand. “Well, that's one way to do it. That wasn't a nice thing to say, but... that's no big deal. Calling someone fat isn't an insult, because there's nothing morally wrong with being fat. There's a question for chat.” She organized a poll. “Would you still watch my streams if I gained a lot of weight? Like, if I were 300 pounds.”
	The poll went for one minute, and the results came in. 

	I like you the way you are! - 55%
	You could stand to gain a few pounds. - 15% 
	Maybe somewhere between 100 and 300? - 11%
	300 lbs would be perfect! - 2%
	300 lbs is for wimps! More! 17%
	
	The results amused her, though she didn't quite have the courage to put down an option where her chat could ask her to lose weight. The only way she could see herself losing weight would be a drastic haircut... and even then, how much does hair weigh?
	“I'm glad so many of you like me how I am. I hope you weren't just being polite.” Layla said, grabbing herself again. “Those of you who want me to be north of 300 pounds... not sure why you're watching me if that's what you like. Not that I mind... maybe the Internet just likes extremes, either the very skinny or the very obese... are there any chubby futa streamers? Most of the ones I know are in pretty good shape, but then again... we were all born after the Comet, so we're all under 26.”
	Layla said something that caught her eye. “Some of you in chat mention that pubic fat would make my cock look smaller. Chat... you're going to give a girl a complex here. Besides... you all know the truth. Any of you men or futa out there with big cocks... I would love nothing more than to have all your cocks here with me... I'm just so horny right now.”
	A particular request went by and Layla drew attention to it. “Sorry, BrigadoonLoon, I can't do any tributes right now.”
	“Tributes” was the term for a special performance Layla did for any viewer who could donate to have Layla 'finish' on a picture of their choosing. It was normally a picture of the chatter who was donating. For men, it was usually a picture of their cock. For women, it was their tits or their nude upper body. For the rare futa fan brave enough to post a picture... it could be anything. Those were definitely Layla's favorite.
	“For one, I'm not at home. And second, my color printer broke. It can print, but only black-and-white, and that seems lame. I tell you, I hate printers so much. I've never owned a printer that worked properly out of the box. And I grew up on a farm, OK? So when something doesn't work on a farm, it's a problem. My dad would either fix it THAT DAY, or he would replace the fucking thing. And brand-new printers are still temperamental or they leave out the color blue or whatever. I really hate them.
	“I'm thinking of not doing tributes anymore simply because of how much I hate working with printers. No, I'm NOT jacking off onto an iPad with pictures on it. That would be simpler, but... I can't afford an iPad! That's crazy. Who's stupid idea was that?” She scrolled back, but didn't recognize the name. She thought it was DuckStevens being stupid again, but apparently not.
	“Maybe I'll just jack off onto blank pieces of paper with the words 'Fuck Canon Printers' written on it. Maybe some other companies that make printers, like Xerox or Hitachi or Kodak or…”
	Layla ran out of known printer companies. She ended it with silly enthusiasm. “Nintendo! I don't know... Wow, I'm rambling, but I really am so crazy horny right now, you don't even know.”
	She reached off camera and got her backpack. “It's been a while since I played with this.” Layla pulled out the white USB-powered dildo from her backpack. “You all know how this works, I'm sure... all you Nintendo fans.”
	She spread out her tongue and teased the head of the dildo with it, flicking it suggestively. That was about all the contact the rubber dildo could make with her tongue without the rubbery taste making her want to barf. How she wished she could deep-throat it like other camgirls... well, she surely could do it, if she found one with an agreeable taste.
	“You're right, whoever that was, I missed the name. Nintendo DID make the Game Boy Camera and Pocket Printer.” Layla nodded, as she often did when someone in chat made a good point. “But that must have been before I was born...”
	Layla set the dildo down in her lap, barely out of shot, and fished through her bag. After a few seconds, her calm search grew into a ransack, tossing clothing and other junk out of her backpack.
	She hummed a bit, and looked back at the camera. “I'll be right back, everyone.” She slipped out from under the laptop, the laptop rocking like a boat on uneven seas. Layla walked out into the hall and found Selena in her office, the door cracked. As Layla opened it at the same time as a knock, she saw Selena switch to a different tab on her browser quickly. Selena didn't have her dick out this time.
	“Selena?” Layla asked.
	“Yes?” Selena turned to her, not surprised to see Layla stood there, nude and erect. How many times can she see that and be shocked? Perhaps she’d grown used to it.
	“Do you have a micro-USB cord I can borrow?”
	“Yeah, somewhere.” Selena opened a drawer filled mostly with computer wires, her hand entering it like a huge swatch of bramble and just as likely to emerge unscathed. “My iPhone uses the Apple proprietary thing, whatever that's called.” Selena found a black-and-gray wire tied together with a hair tie.
	Selena looked at it closely, squinting a bit. “Is this Mini or Micro?”
	Layla stepped in. “Micro.”
	Selena passed it to her. “It's all yours. I've got cords everywhere, somehow.”
	“Thank you.” Layla was about to march off.
	“Can I get a kiss?” Selena leaned back in her chair, catching Layla before before she moved.
	Layla looked at her. Selena was serious. She'd just asked for a kiss, like a couple does before one of them goes off to work. That could be an accurate description of what Layla was doing, after all.
	Layla walked over, took Selena's chin in on finger and planted a very long kiss on her lips. No follow-up, no tongue, just a warm, welcome kiss that made both their hearts flutter.
	Returning to her chat, Layla wagged the all-important USB cord at the chat. “Can't do it without this, silly me.” She unraveled it, and elected to put her hair up in the hair elastic the cord had been wrapped in. “I'm glad my friend had one.” She plugged it into the laptop and then into the base of the dildo.
	Layla opened the chat-reading bot that kept track of the relevant data from the chat. She didn't announce any of this to the loyal fans, but an explanation might be warranted to one who had never seen this trick.
	The vibrator's RPMs were directly controlled by a ‘bot’ that read chat. Any member of chat could type either “faster” or “slower” preceded by a forward slash to gently amp up or slow the vibrator. The first time Layla tried it, she expected all of chat to type 'faster' and for her to nut immediately, but they immediately knew the real game was in vibrating her long and hard, but occasionally letting the foot off the gas to let her relax and build to something really intense.
	Those with advanced accounts attached to credit cards were afforded the luxury of buying a site-specific currency called “Buxxx.” It was presumably a homonym with the nickname for American currency “bucks,” but Layla had never heard anyone else say it aloud. Most chats allowed people to spend Buxxx to get shoutouts from the camgirls or ask for certain positions or orifices to be explored.
	Layla had an enterprising fan from Norway called ParachuteLump. He was a programmer, and she commissioned him to program a tiny piece of custom software which linked spending Buxxx and increasing or decreasing the RPMs at a significantly increased rate. Buxxx were gained by all chat denizens at a pitifully slow rate simply by minutes watched; it was surely a technique to make watchers grow fed up and spend the money. Layla thought this was a very interesting innovation, and hoped to see it catch on.
	“You ready, everyone?” Layla held the dildo against her own cock for a bit, showing it to be an inch shorter than her. As much as she might like a dildo that was bigger, she wouldn't press such a dildo against her cock and make herself look small. This size suited her just fine. Layla scooted away from her laptop to show more of herself to the camera, her legs spread apart. She lifted up her balls, revealing her previously obscured pussy. Layla gently worked the soft dildo inside her until everything but the very end was sticking out.
	Looking at herself on her broadcast software, Layla did something she didn't always do. She pressed the dildo in just a little further. Her lips wrapped around it and the dildo disappeared, no evidence of it but the dark wire emerging from her pussy.
	“OK, I'm plugged in.” Layla sighed, lowering her balls and putting her hands out to her sides, bracing herself for the teasing that would commence.
	Chat could hardly wait to start playing with it. The start was always a cavalcade of 'faster' votes, simply because the vibrator started at the less-than-exciting 0 RPMs. ParachuteLump had even made a cute digital 'speedometer' that showed the exact RPM.
	The vibrator gained speed, giving off a gentle hum and tickling her with its teasing vibrations. She sighed, feeling it growing stronger inside her. It pulsed suddenly, as someone had donated a few dollars to make the vibrator spike in speed for just a few seconds. Layla shuddered, curling her toes. It was amazing how hundreds of perverts watching from the Internet could make her vibrator act so randomly. She felt it go up and down in speed, gently getting faster. A graph of the speed would look like a drawing of mountains, as big spikes of speed grew and decayed.
	One big pulse of energy caused her gasp, as it got up to about half-speed. Layla huffed as she went back through the chat. “Oh, Animousity, you're very generous. Ten Buxxx... you know how to please a horny little futa like me... ohh... I wish you were here so I could suck your big cock... do you have a big cock?”
	Eventually, Animousity responded, “no.”
	“Well, I'd suck your little cock, then. Or I'd suck your titties if you're a woman, or a non-futa, whatever... God, I'm so wet and hot...” She put her hands on her thighs. “I wonder… maybe today's the day I can do it. I wonder if I can finally come hands-freeeeee…!”
	There came a noise that sounded almost like a dirt bike had been driven into the room. Layla bucked her head back so hard, she almost smashed it against the headboard. She cried out, kicking her legs out involuntarily, her body shaking. Layla grabbed her head with both arms and thrashed about a bit until she came, spraying come into the air like a champagne bottle opened with a swipe of a saber. Her come splattered warmly in a puddle in her lap and on her torso. The bursts of come continued for almost thirty seconds.
	The chat was suddenly filled with an almost opaque wall of 'splut' emoticons.
	Layla regained her senses and pulled the dildo out from within her by the USB cord. Free from its restraints, it buzzed like a blender activated without the pitcher in place. She unplugged it from her computer and set it off-screen.
	Wiping her eyes with her arm, she looked at the on-screen speedometer. It was at 11,000 RPM, a faster speed than the highest setting on most sybians. She was surprised the dildo hadn't burned out going so fast.
	“Well, that's certainly a record.” Layla said deliriously, wiping a little of her come off her breasts and licking it. The stream posted many more 'spluts' at the sight of her eating her own come, something she hadn't had the nerve to do before now.
	Layla contemplated the new wave of 'spluts.' If her chat could go twice in a row so fast... good for them. But she was spent. “I guess that's the end of the stream for tonight...” She moaned. “Man, I'm numb. Like, that was fun, but... that was probably too much of a good thing.”
	Chat seemed to be wondering who it was in chat who donated to make that happen. Nobody recognized the chat name. Layla didn't, either, but... she had her suspicions.
	“Good night, everyone.” She blew a kiss at the camera before shutting down her broadcasting software and closing the laptop, somehow spared the rain of ejaculate she had just unleashed.
	Layla marched back to Selena's office. Layla had a feeling she might still be there. She went in without knocking this time. Selena had her cock out, and the browser was set to Layla's stream. In fact, Layla was still on stream, talking to chat just before she went off.
	For once, Selena looked shocked, slapping one hand over her heart, but making no attempt to cover up her erection. It was clearly not surprise that she'd walked in on her masturbating, but that Layla could seemingly be in two places at once.
	“The stream has a fifteen second delay.” Layla said flatly, crossing her arms, letting the come on her lower body drip down into vertical white streaks down her legs.
	“Well, your viewers seemed to really like the ending.”
	“That wasn't funny.” Layla was either still catching her breath... or she was actually upset.
	“I think it was funny.” Selena said. “And hot.”
	“You're supposed to be teaching me how NOT to come.” Layla growled.
	“How many nights do you think you can broadcast yourself and not come?” Selena gestured with her other hand, allowing her cock to wag free for a moment. “I'm pretty sure that's why they call it a stream.”
	“It's not.” Layla said quietly.
	“I'm very proud you lasted two days, but... did you really think you were going to hold back for a whole week on your first attempt?” Selena offered. “If you read a book about learning to juggle, they say the first thing you have to do is take whatever it is you're juggling and drop them on the floor. Because you're going to drop stuff a lot and you need to get used to it. You made it this far, and now your first slip-up is also out of the way.”
	There was a pause. They were both still, but for the come slowly climbing down Layla's legs. “Don't you feel better?” Selena asked.
	“I do. Sort of.”
	“See? Then it was all on purpose.” Selena closed the window. “I didn't just do something in the spur of the moment that I thought would be sexy, but... has clearly annoyed you, and I'm really sorry about that.”
	“It's fine.” Layla shrugged.
	Selena stood. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

	It was later than normal for Selena's swim. Her routine was normally to try to work out at least three days a week, aiming for four or five, depending on her schedule or what was on TV. Most nights she was too lazy to work out, she could almost always bring herself to go for a swim.
	After all... it's not like she had to dig out a swimsuit.
	Selena fluttered through the water like a dolphin, swimming from end to end of the pool. Swimming was good exercise if you really pushed yourself, but this was more of a cool-down from her workout.
	Layla had joined her in the pool, but sat at the edge and put her feet in the warm water, having washed the come off her in the shower in the corner. The workout and her intense orgasm had left her feeling a little weak, and a day of walking around nude and barefoot on mostly tile and hardwood floors had left her feet aching.
	A friend of Layla's from back home had dragged her to an anime convention on only one occasion. Layla had a tiny unquenchable grudge against the country of Japan for popularizing 'futanari' as sex-obsessed high-schoolers long before the Comet.
	Of course, this grudge was somewhat hypocritical. At that time, Layla WAS a sex-obsessed high-schooler and only came along because she hoped to 'score points' with her friend, on whom she was nursing a serious and unrequited crush.
	This anime convention was the only time Layla has ever seriously hid her gender after most of her friends already knew. She'd rather walk into this muggy, stank-saturated convention center as an honest-to-god catgirl than as the real life embodiment of all their sexual fantasies.
	Layla noticed a bunch of those dressed up were evidently playing characters who don't wear shoes, and were walking around the convention center barefoot. On the second day of the con... almost all of these cosplayers had chosen to put on sneakers, whether or not the medieval samurai demon would have worn them.
	This was how she felt today. Walking around and standing barefoot all day had finally taken a toll. They felt swollen, though just like the aching feeling she occasionally had in her balls... the sensation of swelling was probably her imagination.
	Selena moved through the pool lengthwise like a torpedo and came to a stop in front of Layla. “How are you feeling?” She asked, floating in the water like a buoy. From this angle, her exquisite body was rendered unrecognizable by the wobbling water, breaking up the image like mosaic censorship on television.
	“I feel pretty good.” Layla said. “If I'd known I was going to walk around naked practically all day, I might not have bothered getting my clothes from home.”
	“But if you hadn't gone home, you wouldn't have been able to get your laptop..”
	“And you wouldn't have had the chance to embarrass me on stream...” Layla looked off to the windows, the wilderness outside almost entirely black, the stars too dim to see while inside even the faintly lit pool room.
	“Were you really embarrassed by that?”
	Layla thought about it. “I guess not. I'm embarrassed the show was so short... Were you the one who suggested jizzing on the iPad?”
	“Yeah.”
	“Was that a sincere suggestion?”
	“It was just a joke.” Selena said. “If you want to do it for tomorrow's show, you can use mine.”
	“No, that would be dumb.”
	“It could be a whole new kind of porn, where futa jack off onto expensive crap. It's not something anyone's done before.”
	“How much DID you give me, anyway?” Layla asked. “More than an iPad, or...”
	“Less. Much less.” Selena explained. “Anyone with a job, even an entry-level job, COULD have given what I gave. It's just that your algorithm seems to take donations and convert them to RPMs at a flat rate. As in, one dollar is this many RPMs. It assumed people will just trickle in dollars and coins with the occasional five dollar splurge. You might want to consider having the rate be exponential, so that someone can't give a lot of money and turn it up to 1,000,000 RPM in one second.”
	“That's a good idea.” Layla nodded. “Or maybe different donations that can either change RPMs or the length of time that it vibrates for. I'll have to talk to my programmer about that.”
	Layla looked down to the sensation of Selena's hand coming to rest on her right knee, just in time to see the other one touch the opposite knee. Selena coaxed Layla's legs apart with less effort than it took to brush through a beaded curtain. Layla's cock slid off her thigh and flopped onto the tile right at the edge of the pool.
	“Can I make it up to you?” Selena said gently.
	The growth began with a gentle twitch, bringing Layla's cock slightly upwards. Layla pulled her hands inward, but Selena caught them and placed them on Layla's own thighs, holding them there as her cock grew to its full length.
	“You don't have to.” Layla voice quavered a bit.
	“Of course I don't have to.” Selena said, bringing her head right next to Layla's cock. “I want to.” Selena rubbed the cock against her cheek the way one might snuggle the head of a beloved kitten. “I've wanted to almost every time I've see this wonderful thing.” Selena held it to her ear like a seashell, hearing the whoosh of the blood moving through it, feeling the pulse of Layla's rapid heartbeat.
	“Trust me. This isn't me just being polite or a good hostess.” Selena continued, not releasing Layla's throbbing cock from her fingertips. “Though if I had many futa friends who visited me, I probably would give them blowjobs, because I absolutely LOVE sucking cock.”
	Selena could no longer resist, giving the shaft a gentle smooch. It felt like kissing a charcoal briquette. “I haven't done many blowjob scenes, unless I'm receiving, but trust me... I love this. Especially sucking off other futa, and especially especially when they're totally adorable and sexy futa babes with huge dicks blushing so bright and sitting with their feet in my pool, God, you're so cute, I just can't stand it. And your dick is so nice and big. It'll definitely be the biggest dick I've ever sucked.”
	Layla just stared at Selena in disbelief. It was like Selena could read her mind and was acting out every fantasy she could imagine having if she'd gotten her mitts on a horny Selena Grande. She was even talking like they were filming a porno. Seriously, how often did regular people talking about dick size? It only really bothered Layla when she compared herself to Selena, her own unique equivalent of the magazine covers that convince women normal women that they were fat.
	Fantasies didn't need to be realistic to do their job. They could involve being slightly more skilled or attractive than you were in real life, or impossible circumstance, fortune or anything else to get the gratifying pieces in place. Could Layla have imagined herself getting a blowjob from Selena Grande? She most certainly could have, just as she could imagine taking her fifth grade teacher's head and slamming it in a car door for calling her a freak when she learned she was a futa. She liked the first fantasy better... and that was the one that was now coming true.
	What she hadn't imagined was how unbelievably excited and eager Selena would be to do so. It's an unhealthy fantasy to pretend all the people on the Internet would be your friend, or sexually attracted to you, or play in your punk rock-funk fusion band. But here she was.
	“You OK, Layla?” Selena asked, looking a touch concerned.
	After the best three days of her life... Layla finally found the will to question her sanity for just a moment. Could this really be happening, or had she somehow lost her mind? Then again, she'd have to be insane to turn this down. If she was dreaming... hopefully nobody would pinch her before Selena could start. She could practically hear her phone alarm going off in her head, waking back in her terrible tiny apartment... alone.
	“I'm fine.” Layla answered, shaking her head. “I just never expected to find myself in this position.”
	“Do you want to try not to come, or do you want me to just go for it?” Selena said. “Because you came... like, an hour ago. It might be good practice to hold back, or at least to tell me when you're close.”
	“Is that the only reason you want to suck my cock?” Layla asked. “So I can practice not coming?”
	“I want to suck your cock because sucking cock is awesome.” Selena spoke like every word was just getting between her and the cock.. “You can either hold back, or you can give me more sweet come to drink like a milkshake. Whatever you want.”
	Layla had no words, but she found a suitably short one to squeak out. “OK.”
	Selena didn't start, still holding Layla's cock by the base.
	“OK, what?”
	“Start.” Layla said shortly.
	“That's not very romantic. Come on. Really ask me to do it.”
	Layla hesitated.
	“Do it any way you want.” Selena said, putting the hand not wielding the cock on the edge of the pool to give her legs a rest from constantly treading water. “Be aggressive, order me around, beg me to do it, grab my head and force it onto you... whatever you want.”
	“I want you to suck my cock.” Layla said in a bashful monotone.
	“Yes, ma'am.” Selena stuck out her tongue, ready to start licking before stopping as Layla continued.
	“I want you to suck my cock, and I want to suck your cock.” The words came out faster, like they were teenagers being rushed out of a fancy dinner party that they had just crashed. “I want to taste your come and feel it splattering against my tits, and I want to feel my cock between your tits, and I want to come in your mouth again and...”
	Layla paused. Selena looked up, bucking an eyebrow for a moment expectantly.
	“And I don't want to tell you everything I want, but I really want you to... do those things I'm thinking... not because I'm too shy to say it, because I'm obviously not, but... you do them because we know we're on the same wavelength... you know?”
	Selena looked up from the pool, one eye hidden by Layla's cock. “I do.”
	And she began. Selena slid her tongue up the underside of Layla's hard cock, flicking it off the tip gently. Somehow, Layla kept herself from having a spontaneous orgasm. That might have been the first test.
	This was happening, Layla thought. Selena had wrapped her lips around the head of Layla's cock, drawing them back slowly to the very tip, repeating this like it was a lollipop. Every time she pushed the head back into her mouth, Selena couldn't help but release a little moan. Selena swirled her tongue around the head, tasting the sweet precum leaking generously from within.
	Layla threw her arms back behind her for support as she arched her back and rolled her head behind her. It certainly didn't feel like she'd came less than an hour ago. This felt like something she'd held back for weeks to experience. Then again, having refrained from orgasm for two days... maybe her cock felt like it was owed a few more to make up the difference.
	Selena released Layla's cock head and moved lower in the water, kissing the shaft as she went down before arriving at Layla's balls. Her scrotum was perfectly smooth, as were all futa nutsacks that either of them had ever seen. Their huge balls left no room for the unpleasant, wrinkled, contracted skin they were familiar with on the original design.
	Selena's hands slithered around Layla's hips and landed on her buttocks, coaxing her forward just far enough that Layla's balls were off the edge of the pool, held aloft by her throbbing erection.
	In a motion not unlike someone slurping a pickled egg into their mouth, Selena's lips formed a wide O-shape and planted on Layla's right testicle, sucking in until the orb moved around the scrotal skin enough to be pulled into Selena's mouth. With a little poking and urging from Selena's fingers, the other one followed soon afterwards.
	Selena sucked on Layla's balls with long, powerful pulls, her lips forming an airtight barrier at the base of Layla's cock, Selena's nose teasing the very base of Layla's cock. Selena sucked as hard as she dared, unwilling to risk harming them. Selena felt them swell in her already crowded mouth, as if the balls were expanding to make room for more tasty come, waiting to be released at any moment.
	Pushing the balls gently out of her mouth with her tongue, she kept it extended to lick the length the side of the shaft before planting her lips again on the head and moving her mouth down where the head tickled the back of her throat. Selena went back and forth, bringing the very edge of the head to her lips before pushing it back against her tongue.
	Selena kept up this pattern of gently sucking and sliding the first third of Layla's cock into her mouth, but after a little bit of Layla's breathy moans, Selena changed positions, unnoticed by Layla. Selena slid the head further into her mouth... and didn't stop. Inch by inch, Layla's cock vanished into her mouth until her lips were at the very base.
	Selena pulled it out quickly, leaving the whole cock slick with spit, and slowly brought it back down again. She repeated this move a few times, not making the fake gagging noises they were encouraged to make for the camera. Even if it was the biggest dick she'd ever sucked, there was no need for it. The only soundtrack she needed for her encouragement was Layla's cries of ecstasy with every thrust of her mouth.
	Her thighs trembling and wet, Layla's hands kept slipping off them, finding no stronger purchase on the tile. The only place she could rest them comfortably...
	Was on top of Selena's head.
	Selena looked up as she felt Layla's hands grab her head without weaving her fingers in her hair. She couldn't really express herself with her mouth entirely filled with cock, except with her eyes. The glance that Selena offered caused Layla to pull her hands back up to her chest, nervous that she'd done something wrong.
	In response, Selena extended her hand. Layla took it, and Selena directed Layla's hand to where it just was, atop her head.
	Was this that thing Layla had read about where, if people spent enough time together, they could communicate without words? Maybe, but what was more important was Layla was face-fucking Selena Grande now. With her feet in the water, she couldn't push herself up into Selena's face, so she moved Selena's head up and down instead, the rest of Selena bobbing in the water, feeling completely weightless.
	Selena opened her arms and reached around for Layla's buttocks, taking hold of one cheek apiece and pulling herself in closer. Selena held herself on the base of Layla's cock for a good long while, holding her breath until she released Layla’s buttocks and brought her cock out until only the tip was still in her mouth.
	One of Selena's hands went around Layla's cock in the classic “OK” gesture that was evidently obscene in some other countries, probably because of what they were doing. She wanked Layla's slippery cock into her mouth, flicking the tip with her tongue.
	Selena knew Layla was close, mostly because Layla kept repeating, “I'm gonna come,” over and over. Saying it didn't seem to make it happen any quicker, which was perfectly fine for Selena. But just like the hypochondriac who complained about every little sniffle, it was when Layla stopped saying it that Selena knew she was on the verge.
	Some experiences are universal. Not everyone knew what it was like to clasp one's lips over a futanari's huge cock head and suck until the owner of said cock ejaculated like a soda bottle losing its cap from being shaken. But everyone knew what it was like to wrap one's lips around the fluted nozzle of a container of canned whipped cream and fill one's mouth with a thick cloud of sweet tasting, nitrous-propelled fluff.
	This was a little different, in the 'cream' was technically a liquid, but no less thick and sweet. Also, it was as if someone else was holding the nozzle in Selena's mouth and refused to hear the word 'when.'
	Not that Selena ever said 'when' for come, of course, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of the warm semi-gelatinous fluid, feeling it crawl down her esophagus like hot molasses. When she thought Layla was close to finished, she stopped swallowing and let Layla continuously bust into her mouth, Selena's lips still wrapped around the tip. Layla's cheeks filled... then slightly bulged... and a dribble of come started to leak from Selena's lower lip and dribble onto her breasts like an iced bun.
	“I underestimated her.” Selena thought. “This is after coming an hour ago on her stream? It's so much...”
	Layla's body started to grow limp, though her cock stayed hard and would be the last part of her to lose its strength. Sensing that she was finally finished, Selena pulled herself out of the pool with her arms, sliding her wet body across Layla's, pushing her onto her back.
	How often had Layla dreamed of having Selena Grande on top of her, arms on either side of her head in the classic missionary position 'push-up' pose.  Selena dipped in closer and unpuckered her lips, spitting out a stream of Layla's ejaculate into her mouth. Layla's tongue danced and lashed in the white river pouring into her mouth and onto her face.
	Of course, there was still the remnants of come stuck to Selena's tongue, and the stuff that had fallen onto Layla's cheeks or nose... Selena and Layla fought over these briefly until their tongues touched, a single ribbon of come connecting them now that they stretched further and further apart until it snapped and fell towards Layla and landed almost invisibly against her bare breasts.
	“And to think...” Selena scraped some come off her breast with her finger and offered it to Layla, who licked it off like cake frosting.
	Selena took her finger back and smiled broadly. “I'll bet you've been throwing this stuff in the trash for years.”

	They wound up in the bedroom they'd first slept in, Merri having worked very hard to render it clean again. Freshly laundered sheets really were the best, even if they weren't still warm from the dryer.
	But tonight, she would have no problem keeping warm. Rolling back and forth to either pillow, either atop her or below her, was Layla, gripping Selena's head like she'd escape if she let up for a moment. As if Selena had anywhere else she'd rather be than here. Their lips and tongues wrestled endlessly, Layla's breath as short and sharp as when she was receiving fellatio from her favorite porn star.
	Eventually, Selena threw the sheets off them because she was getting too warm, feeling both their bodies grow damp with sweat. Layla had barely noticed, continuing her unending swarm of kisses along Selena's mouth, neck, ear, breast... wherever Selena was soft and yielding. Layla wanted to touch her somewhere hard and pulsing, but Selena kept redirecting her hands whenever she tried.
	“My mouth's tired...” Layla moaned gently, finally pulling herself off of Selena.
	“YOUR mouth’s tired?” Selena chuckled.
	Layla pawed the mattress. “Is this memory foam?”
	“This one is.” Selena said. “Every mattress is a different firmness. One of the ones upstairs is really firm.”
	Layla put her ear on Selena's breast, hearing the deep thump of her heartbeat. “I like this better...”
	Selena gently scratched Layla's head and held her close with her other arm. “Good night, Layla.”
	Layla never thought she'd enjoy going to bed early so much. But the bed seemed so much more inviting with someone else in it.
	For a moment, Layla clenched her teeth. Words danced at the tip of her lips, none able to part them long enough to form a word. Layla sighed and kissed the top of Selena's breast.
	“Good night, Selena.”

WEDNESDAY

	When working nights, one gets used to sleeping in as late as necessary. While working in the coffee shop, there was nothing worse than the feeling of waking up completely rested. That invariably meant that she slept through her alarm.
	Layla was alarmed to be thrown out of her dream by someone rocking her back and forth by her shoulder. For a moment, Layla felt she was back at her parent's home, being woken just before she had to leave for school with no breakfast but a granola bar. The days where she woke up with time to spare were the days she actually bothered to ice her Toaster Strudel.
	It took a moment for Layla to remember where she was. It wasn't the twin she remembered from home, but one of the many king-sized beds Selena owned. Layla pulled her head up from her pillow and saw Selena through the blur and hair fallen in front of her eyes.
	“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Selena said.
	When at home, Layla would just throw the sheets over her head and groan. When not threatened with being sent to high school, she pulled herself up to a sitting pose, the sheets covering her lap.
	Selena set down a plate with an omelet and a fork into Layla’s recently formed lap.
	Layla rubbed her eye and sniffed. “Breakfast in bed?”
	“It wasn't going to be in bed, but you slept really late, so... now we're running short on time.” Selena said. “So eat up, because we have less than an hour before we have to hit the road.”
	Layla started eating. She had to learn how Selena made omelets like this. Maybe it was one of those copper pans they sell on late night TV. Selena must have seen those commercials go by at some point. “Where are we going?”
	“We have a meeting with a client in Burbank around eleven.”
	“What time is it now?”
	“Nine-thirty.” Selena said, checking her watch. “Which I'm pretty sure is when we went to bed. How do you sleep so much?”
	“Sometimes, it takes me a while to get to sleep.” Layla said. “I mean, you're sleeping with some random futa babe you met at the start of the week who nobody knows...” She sliced a bit of the omelet off with the fork. “But I'm still sleeping with Selena freaking Grande.”
	“Well, I sleep with Selena Grande every night, and it's not all it's made out to be. It's pretty boring... until you came around, of course.”
	Layla ate her omelet, set the plate on the night stand, and went to shower. She kept the water moderately warm this time, surely in enough control to keep from getting hard. As she scrubbed, her mind wandered a bit, imagining Selena sliding the curtain open in some attempt to save water. Of course, they spent more time touching each other than they would by showering separately, but any time spent away from those succulent breasts would be a waste, and dammit, she was hard. She hadn’t even touched it.
	No matter how much it begged, Layla kept her washing of her cock as just that.
	Layla dried off, dressed in a robe and went to the kitchen. Selena was there drinking a can of pineapple juice with a gentle disapproving look on her face.
	“What’s up?” Layla asked.
	Selena looked over. “Hey. Oh, nothing. But there won’t be coffee today.”
	“Why not?”
	Selena pointed her thumb away from her. In the corner of the adjacent room... was the automatic coffee maker.
	Layla looked at Selena. “Is the coffee maker... in time out?”
	“No.” Selena looked at the device disapprovingly, as if it had leaked coffee all over the carpet instead of on the paper. “But it's a piece of junk and I need to get rid of it. So I put it over there so I'd remember to actually do that. I would happily smash it so it wouldn't work again, but... then glass and plastic shards would go everywhere, and that'd be bad, considering that I sometimes walk around barefoot.”
	“By ‘barefoot,’ you mean ‘naked?’” Layla asked.
	“Of course.”
	Some hesitation entered Layla's voice. “If you were going to smash it, would you be smashing it out of anger?”
	“Oh, no. I'm not that kind of person.” Selena insisted. “It'd just be me forcing myself to get a new coffee maker and stop putting up with bad coffee. I try to keep everything in my life running smoothly and properly, but... sometimes, I'm just too damn busy to buy a new coffee maker. Now, I will... hopefully.”
	Selena pointed her finger upwards. “Actually, you reminded me of something.” She picked up the misbehaving coffee maker and brought it and Layla to the hall, and to one of the many outwardly featureless doors.
	“Have I been in this room yet?” Layla asked.
	“I don't think so.” Selena unlocked it and entered. “This is my junk room. That's why it's locked. I normally don't let guests in here, because it's a mess.”
	“So long as you don't have the corpses of your seven previous wives in here, I'm fine.”
	 At some point, Selena must have realized she'd rather have storage space than one more bed. The room was filled with stainless steel storage racks, plastic storage tubs and unlabeled lidded cardboard boxes on shelves, or stacked atop on another. One of the plastic tubs seems to have sex toys in it, but that was the only interesting thing in the room.
	Except.... up against the wall was a large metal construct about four feet wide in all directions, six armlike extensions webbed with white plastic reaching out from a center base, five of them with propellers. There was a big tear in the metal on one side, and other damage and streaks of dirt about the device.
	“What is that?” Layla gestured to the thing.
	Selena set the coffee maker on a random plastic tote. “It's a remote-controlled drone.”
	“You own a drone?”
	“I do now.” Selena nodded. “We can't fly it because I don't have the remote control. Also, it's broken.”
	“I could tell THAT.” Layla folded her arms. “What happened to it?”
	“This thing flew onto my property sometime last year while I was in my backyard doing a little nude sunbathing. When I saw this thing flying pretty close, taking pictures of me on my property, I picked up my bottle of suntan lotion and lobbed it right at it. I hit one of the propellers and the thing crashed. I dragged it inside and got the pictures off of it. I posted a picture to my blog like a fisherman, talking about what a big catch I had.”
	“I must have missed that blog post.” Layla said. “Whose drone is it?”
	“I'm not going to say exactly who, since it's not anyone you've heard of, but... I know who it is.” Selena said coyly. “I could have pressed charges or something, but then he might try to retaliate and get me to pay for his $35,000 drone that I took out with my $10 bottle of sunscreen.”
	“This thing costs thirty grand?”
	Selena continued without exactly answering. “The funniest thing is... you'd think he'd have a system to live-dump all the pictures and video to his computer or something, but... not this guy. I took the pictures he took of me and sold them to some dumb website for more than the 30 grand! I don't understand why they thought they were valuable. There are pictures of me naked all over the Internet. My penis is the most well-documented penis in the era of Internet pornography.”
	“So…” Layla began, a little uncomfortable. “You trashed this guy's expensive toy for flying over your house, and then stole his photos?”
	“No…” Selena said slowly. “I trashed his unwanted surveillance drone for flying so close that I could actually hit it with something. And I throw like a girl... so to speak.”
	“But flying a drone over someone's house isn't illegal.” Layla said. “Or it wasn't in Oregon.”
	“Flying over someone's house isn't illegal.” Selena said. “But Section 1708.8 of the Civil Code in California was amended to say that flying a drone over someone's property to get images or recordings IS illegal. Trust me, I looked into it. You can fly, you can even shoot video, but you can't do it with the express purpose of getting pictures from someone where someone has an expectation of privacy, like my backyard. It's an anti-paparazzi thing.”
	“I don't think that means you can keep it.”
	“If he wants it back, he can have it back!” Selena gestured. “He obviously knows where I live.”
	“Do you remember…” Layla seemingly changed the subject. “There was a news segment hosted by John Stossel--”
	“Holy crap, there's a name I haven't heard in a while.” Selena snorted. 
	“So John Stossel was trying to demonstrate that people were pretending to be homeless to get money from sympathetic passers-by. So... John Stossel pretended to be homeless... and got money from passers-by. Well, whether or not it was right or wrong to do that… it was definitely wrong if he just kept the money he got from people who thought he was homeless, rather than giving it to a homeless shelter, or even giving it to one of his new homeless friends.”
	Selena set the drone back against the wall. “I think I see what you're saying. I'm a millionaire taking an expensive investment away from... someone who's probably not a millionaire.”
	“What did you do with the money from the pictures?” Layla asked nervously.
	Selena sighed with a gentle self-pitying sneer. “I probably just kept it.” She threw up her hands. “It's not that I don't give money to charity. Far from it. But I just... put that money in the bank. I didn't even think about it.”
	An awkward silence. Layla wished she hadn't brought it up.
	“Do YOU want it?” Selena suggested.
	“No no no no no.” Layla said, rapid as a machine gun, presenting both palms outward. “Not at all. The last thing I want in the world is for you to just give me money. If I wanted more money, I could have kept my day job. I quit that job because I hated working at a coffee shop and I loved masturbating on camera.”
	“At least you're in porn for the right reason.” Selena said, as they both walked out of the room. “Man, I wish I'd seen John Stossel pretending to be homeless. I'd'a gone right up him and said, 'John Stossel?! What happened to you? Did 20/20 getting canceled really just ruin you? Did Hugh Downs take everything in the divorce?’”
	Layla waited a second before responding. “20/20 is still on the air.”
	“Well, hot damn. Now we have something else to watch on... Mondays?”
	“Fridays.”
	“Fridays, then.”
	“20/20 is how I figured out I was... gay, bisexual, whatever.”
	“Did they do a story on futa sexuality?”
	“Maybe they did. But my mom just said once, 'oh, isn't Stone Phillips so handsome?' and I said... I guess?” Layla started to chuckle. “Evidently that wasn't enthusiastic enough. And that's when I figured out I was more attracted to girls than... Stone Phillips.”
	“No way, it's Stossel all the way. Give me that sweet 'stache. All the dudes in porn nowadays have that 'stache.”
	“Do they?”
	“No, they don't. The mustache went out of porn in the seventies, maybe the eighties. It's kind of a miracle that of all the dudes in Star Wars, only Lando has the mustache.”
	They came back to the kitchen. Layla looked around.
	“So... there is no coffee?”
	“We'll get drive-up somewhere on our way out.” Selena pulled out her phone. “And maybe I can get someone to bring me a good coffee maker and install it while I'm gone.” She turned her phone out to Layla. “Was thinking about getting this one.”
	Layla recoiled from the phone like it was a crucifix and she was a vampire, or like Selena had just shown her the face of a high school bully she'd hoped had died in some horrible fashion, but was now the President’s special counsel on wedgies.
	“Oh, no!” Layla cried. “Not the DRC!”
	Selena checked the page she showed her. The full name was DRC-1700S, but Selena's interest was piqued. “You know this machine?”
	“That thing is a piece of shit!” Layla shook her head. “It leaks super hot water, that stainless steel surface gets really hot, even though they say it won't, and that handle that holds the espresso... thing in place... I kept catching my shirt on that. Though... you have more room here than behind the counter, so that might not be as big of a deal here.”
	“I also frequently make coffee naked, but if it leaks hot water... that could be even worse.”
	“Well, it also makes lousy coffee!” Layla gestured. “But that might have been low quality beans at the shop.” Layla pulled out her phone. “Hang on.” She tapped it a few times and held it to her ear. “Hey, Tim? It's--”
	Layla pressed her teeth together, her cheek muscles momentarily prominent. Layla had stopped herself like stomping on the brake of a car. She looked over at Selena self-consciously, then looked back to her phone.
	“It's me.” Layla said.
	Selena knew what just happened.
	Layla had almost said her real name.
	“Yeah, do you remember that old machine we used to have?” Layla asked. “That was the DRC, right? OK, I just had to be sure. How did the replacement work out? I didn't use it very often. Oh... well that sucks. Anyway, sorry to call you so early. I just had a friend who was looking to buy a coffee maker and I wanted them to avoid that piece of shit. OK. Yeah, I'll see you later.”
	Layla glanced at Selena. “I don't know when I can hang out. Soon, hopefully. OK, See ya.”
	She hung up. Selena's eyebrow bucked up knowingly. “I didn't know you had a boyfriend.”
	“Tim is NOT my boyfriend. Jesus.” Layla said pointedly.
	“So you DO have one?” Selena said. “I'm not enough woman for you, I get it.”
	“Selena!” Layla couldn't help but blush.
	“Anyway... I guess I'll do a little more research on a coffee maker.” Selena deleted the bookmark in her phone where she'd saved the page for the DRC. “You've just saved me some time and money. Thank you.”
	“I am here to help you, after all.” Layla said. “I don't know how much help I've been, since all we seem to do is screw around, but... I'm having a lot of fun.”
	“And you got to fuck me.” Selena said. “Well, if you tell Tim that you got to fuck a porn star, I bet they won't be impressed, but you got to do it in my bed, which is way less common.” She had drifted away from Layla, who was blushing, pulling her lips together shyly, holding her hands in front of her.
	Selena looked at Layla with an incredulous smile. “Seriously? I wasn’t even trying!”

	Selena and Layla drove towards Burbank, a half-hour drive when traffic cooperated. Selena almost always gave herself an extra twenty minutes for any appointment. If she was earlier than ten minutes, she might wait in her car. She didn’t want to give the impression of being desperate to impress, but she would absolutely not be late if she could help it. If she even thought that she COULD be late, she would call the client and tell them so. She’d normally still get there on time, but no matter how busy she got, she would try not leave anyone waiting for her.
	In the short drive, Layla continued asking questions that she hadn’t thought of in the last few days. Selena said she would answer a question that she might normally consider too personal for a ‘fan,’ if Layla would answer a question in return.
	“How often do you dye your hair?”
	Selena glanced at Layla, unwilling to look away from the traffic for too long. “I don't dye my hair.”
	“Yeah, you do.” Layla said, quickly realizing how silly her contradiction sounded. “Don't you?”
	“No, this is natural. I'm a natural blonde.”
	“But...” Layla ruffled through her deep knowledge of older pictures and videos of Selena. “I swear you used to have brown roots.”
	“Oh, yeah...” Selena thought back. “Now I know what you're talking about. In the second year, I heard a producer say he wanted me to dye my hair to be more of a bleached platinum blonde, rather than a light blonde. I told him to go find someone else with a twelve inch dick. But it inspired me to do something silly. Have you ever dyed your hair?”
	“In high school, I dyed it purple. And I tried dying it blonde once, but it didn't really work.”
	“Were you trying to look like me?”
	“Maybe subconsciously.” Layla said. “I'm really not sure why I did it. I didn't want more attention, being one of the only futa students...”
	“So, when you dyed your hair, did it come with the touch-up stuff?” Selena asked. “It's like mascara with hair dye in it, and you touch up your roots as they grow in?”
	“I've never heard of that. But it's smart.”
	“Well, that's the thing about porn.” Selena said. “Most people don't want real blondes. They want brunettes that have had their hair dyed blonde... dark roots and dirty streaks and all. It's the same thing with the breast implants thing. Porn consumers start to prefer the stuff they see in porn if they watch too much of it. So they actually prefer brunettes dyed blonde to real blondes. So... I dyed my roots brown a few times.”
	“Why?”
	“At first, it was to fuck with that director.” Selena explained. “He thought I HAD dyed the rest of my hair, but it was an optical illusion. But then I had to keep touching it up, because my real blonde hair would grow in and I'd have this band of brown between streaks of blonde. I even would touch up my eyebrows to make them darker, too. I just dyed it all black and let it fade back to blonde after a few months.”
	“I think I've seen some of that stuff.” Layla said. “I always assumed it was a wig.”
	“Well, if I'm in a porn anytime within the last three years or so, and my hair isn't blonde, it IS a wig. I just hated how my hair felt after dying it, and frankly... my blonde hair is part of my brand, and I don't want to mess with it for weeks at a time unless we were doing a real movie. But, as I’m sure you know, porn is produced much faster than real movies.”
	“Yeah...” Layla trailed off, thinking of the time she ‘produced much faster’ than even she expected. “You have a question for me?”
	Selena was ready. “You ever have trouble... fitting?”
	Layla found herself blushing.
	Selena took it back. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”
	“No, I’ve never had trouble with… that.” Layla answered simply. “What about you?”
	“Not everyone can do the full thirteen... but I get most of the way in about... three-fourths of the time.” Selena said. “There was one woman... ah, what the hell, I’ll just say her name. You ever hear of Jessee Conway? With two E’s?”
	“No.”
	“We did a scene, and she couldn’t take me more than halfway.” Selena said. “She didn’t want to break the scene, but she sort of gestured at me, like, don’t go any further, please. So I just... halved the whole thing, and the director called cut and said, ‘this looks stupid!’ and I said, ‘It sure feels stupid!’ I’d never seen anything like it for someone as tall as her. Jessee is six feet tall, way taller than me, and I’ve had five-foot women ride me like a cowboy. I look at them and I’m like... where is it all going?”
	“How did you finish the scene with Jessee?”
	“We flipped her over and did it up the ass.” Selena said. “That’s the standard solution. Pretty much always plenty of room back there. Man, woman or futa.”
	It was Layla’s turn. “What do you do when you're sick?”
	Selena took in a breath. “Take a lot of decongestants, Dayquil, use my neti pot, Fishermen’s Friend… and then try to get through it. There was a time when someone couldn't deep-throat me because she had a sore throat.”
	“Did she do something else, or did you skip the scene?”
	“We couldn't. It was Deep Sea Deep Throat 2. That was the whole point.”
	“So... what happened?”
	“We shot everything else, and did pickups closeups of the blowjob another day. That’s why there’s no long shot of her covered in jizz. It’s because we were on a different set and we had to keep the shot tight. So, the answer is... you do what you can. Unless it's the flu or something like that, in which case... I don't go. I'm not getting anyone else sick. Everyone understands.”
	It was Selena’s turn to ask a question. “Do you do any... recreational drugs?”
	Layla looked at her. “No. I smoked weed once, but I didn't like it.”
	“I've never actually tried marijuana.” Selena said.
	“Well, if you're like me, ten seconds after you smoke it, you'll get... really really REALLY hard.”
	“Oh!” Selena grinned. “Cool.”
	“It was NOT cool. I was surrounded by friends and they all saw it. I didn't even have a coat to cover myself because it was the summer. It was humiliating. But eventually, the girls in the group convinced me to show it off and they all jacked me off with their soft hands and fought over who got to eat the most of my come.”
	“That sounds like a win.”
	“I totally made that last part up.” Layla said. “That was what I was fantasizing about when I jacked off by myself later that night, after I ran away in tears. I walked two miles home, with an erection, hoping nobody else would see, AND I was high.”
	“So your benchmark for being high is... weed makes me sad, embarrassed and reminds me of walking home?”
	“It certainly didn’t make me eager to try it again.”
	“They should try saying that for Just Say No.”
	“So... I was still hard when I got home, so I went around to the back of the barn and jacked off there so my parents wouldn't see it.”
	“You hid your erection from your parents?”	
	“Well, they obviously knew I was a futa, but... y’know, when you’re a teen, you hide stuff from your parents that they probably know. I took care of the boner. I couldn’t take care of the smell of weed on me. My mom was about to yell at me, but I said, 'I know, I hated it, and I won't be doing it again' and she was sort of stuck, not knowing what to say.”
	A long pause. “So that's my weed story. How about you? Have you ever done drugs?”
	“No. None.” Selena answered. “I don't even drink alcohol. I mean... I did when I was a teenager, and I was...” She sighed, recalling some long-buried memories. “self-medicating because I was unhappy being a futa with literally no peers. But I gave that up because it was just me drinking alone, and I'm like, what's the point of this?”
	“You were depressed?”
	“I don't know if I was depressed in the sense of a medical diagnosis, but yeah. I was a teenager who was miserable in high school. I was SO special and unique.”
	“But... you were unique. You are.” Layla said. “You were the only futa in your region, and you had the biggest dick, male or futa.”
	“You know... I don't want to say that porn got me out of my little funk, but... when I started to realize I was way bigger than the average man, I started to wonder if I was bigger than the men in porn. So, I used to take screenshots of porn and triangulate how big their cocks were, based on things like the width of their hands, or nearby objects. Lenses can distort perspective very easily. That’s why I try not to let photographers do that to me, since... there’s not really any need.
	“I got pretty good at guessing sizes. It was super easy when they compared it to a Red Bull can. Pro tip, Layla: don't do that. They're not that big.  And all my data made me realize that... apparently, I had a humongous cock. It made me think like I had a future.”
	“High school can be fuckin' bleak.” Layla looked out the car window. “The memories are still pretty fresh for me. It's really easy to feel like high school just will never end. That's why that It Gets Better campaign was so encouraging.”
	“I was seventeen when that started, so I could already see the light at the end of the tunnel, but yeah...” Selena remembered something. “Did you know that there were people criticizing the It Gets Better campaign because they were like, 'why should we just tell kids to suck it up? We should try to stop bullying!' Yeah, that was part of it, you asshole, if you ever read more than the name of the movement! What's wrong with trying to tell teenagers to not kill themselves so they survive to join the huge population of LGBT adults that will love them and make their life great?”
	Selena sighed. “You should know... as futanari who work in the sex industry... we have less allies in the LGBT community than you'd think.”
	“No, I know.” Layla said. “I've caught their wrath a few times for being a camgirl. I don’t know why they get so bent out of shape.”
	“Everyone has their idea about what we should be.” Selena said. “And the people who think they’re more socially conscious think they’ve got it all figured out, and that we can’t have a different opinion on the matter. Now, could our participation in porn lead someone to have a weird view of our place in the world? Absolutely. But if they let porn influence them that much, they were going to have crappy opinions about everything anyway. They say the same thing about video game violence. I mean, are we supposed to just NOT be in porn at all? It’s about the only venue where we have representation in anything you could call mainstream.”
	“Do you play video games?” Layla asked.
	“Actually, no.” She shook her head gently. “Never got into them. I’m not sure I’ve ever played a game for more than a few minutes.”
	“You didn’t have an older brother to watch?”
	Selena held for a moment. “I’m an only child.”
	“Oh, really?” Layla said. “Me, too.”
	“I sort of assumed you were.”
	Layla tipped her head. “Why?”
	Selena sighed again, more of a groan. “You want to get REAL heavy? Well, I’m sure you know statistics on futa births are still kind of hard to track, but as we get older... there’s a professor at some university who noticed that lots of couples who had a futa child... never had another kid after that. So most futa births were the last child that couple had.” A long silence. “So... it sure looks like they didn’t want to chance having another... freak baby.”
	“Well, hold on.” Layla said. “How many kids do people usually have? One, two or three, unless they’re Catholic. If the third kid was born futa, what were the odds they were going to have a fourth anyway?”
	“That’s true.” Selena said. “I seem to remember the report saying that the professor stressed that just because the trend was observable didn’t mean it was necessarily statistically significant.”
	The conversation paused. Selena continued, “It sucks that ‘freak’ is such a negative word for us, because... damn, I like calling people sexy little freaks. Like ‘freak’ in the context of sexual participation... that’s awesome. ‘Freak’ in the context of simply being a futa... that is bad.”
	The questions dried up on both sides. Selena turned on the radio. Rather than classic rock, she heard the very beginning of a commercial read by a male announcer.
	“If you experience PE, know that it’s not your fault. You may have testosterone deficiency. Write to us for a free sample of testosterone replacement cream, or come to our offices at...”
	Even if Layla was interested in following this up, they couldn’t hear where the offices were. They were laughing too hard. Now Layla understood why Selena preferred listening to audiobooks.

	It was a large boardroom. Unlike the stereotype of a boardroom that stretched on so long, telegraph wires were suspended from both ends so those at opposite ends could communicate, this one was roughly square. Maybe this made it no longer qualify as a boardroom, but there was a huge table in the middle of the room shaped like the letter “G.” It looked like something a supervillian would own if their name started with G.
	Then again, Selena's last name started with a G...
	The wall with the door was opaque, but the rest were two panes of glass with water running between them and tricking down the glass, letting light through but also providing privacy and soundproofing.
	Almost all the seats were occupied, facing into the center of the G, but for two. Every seat was filled with a man in a business suit and tie with slickly styled hair, but for two. Rather than sit, Selena and Layla were standing at the back of the room, back to the wall, watching this vice president of marketing, or whatever it was he said he was, try to wow them.
	Layla wore costume glasses with thick rims and her hair wound in a tight ponytail. She gripped a clipboard close to her chest, occasionally glancing at it. Selena has her hair down, but was still dressed in a blazer and short skirt, as short as she could without 'hanging' out from within it. Layla had dressed as close as she could, but she didn't own any stockings or garters, and Selena's were too large for her skinny legs. Both their skirts had a vent on the side, where the cut went all the way up to the waist. Layla noticed a few intrigued glances at their legs, wondering how many of them were simply trying to check out Selena's cock. It was clearly silhouetted by her skirt, wobbling just a bit with every move, just aching to be free.
	The presentation was wrapping up, but it could have been summed up in a few sentences. This company made condoms, and they wanted to sell Selena Grande-branded condoms. They have a pop-art caricature of Selena's face that did look like her, considering it was just a few colored shapes. Layla hadn't seen that used on any other products before. If there was much in the way of physical merchandise other than DVDs and the occasional poster, Layla didn't have any of it.
	The VP stood in the center of the G-table, finally done with his lengthy and deeply rehearsed presentation, trying not to sweat under Selena's unimpressed stare.
	“Well?” He said. “What do you think?” He gestured to the projected scren.
	Selena walked around the desk, behind the shoulders of half the men, and watching the others' deliberately watching her breasts bounce. They'd all rather be caught staring at her deep cleavage than at her wobbling wiener.
	Walking through the gap in the G, with Layla following behind her silently like she was on a leash, Selena stepped into the center of the desks, all eyes now on her. She plucked the sample condom from the VP's hand. She inspected it. “Are these novelty condoms or are they quality condoms?”
	“Quality.” The VP answered. “These aren't joke condoms. They are ready for use in the aid of contraception.”
	“Do you use these?”
	An icy pause, where none of the air in the room moved. “Actually, no.”
	“Why not?” Selena smirked.
	“I'm married.” The VP answered. “It's not like I use a different brand. It just... doesn't come up.”
	Selena rotated her head, trying to find a face that would help her. “Anybody?”
	Nobody spoke up.
	“That's fine, gentlemen.” Selena said. “If you worked for a cereal company, you wouldn't necessarily have to eat Cheerios all the time. But... I will have to do a little bit of hands-on testing.”
	Before anyone in the audience could look away or make a sound of hesitation, Selena pinched one corner of Layla's skirt, right at the slit, and ripped it off her, tossing the skirt away, over the heads of the suited men.
	As instructed, Layla wasn't wearing underwear. She yipped like a startled dog at her sudden nudity, turning in place. At the center, there was no place to hide from prying eyes, but she had successfully showed her hanging cock to everyone seated. Layla lowered the clipboard she was holding in front of her crotch, but Selena forced it back up to Layla's chest with a single extended finger. The clipboard rose irresistibly, exposing Layla to the now deeply uncomfortable crowd.
	The crowd grew ever more embarrassed as Layla's cock rose just as irresistibly, growing to its full length and trembling with her rapid heartbeat. Layla bit her lip and pretended to be looking at an empty chair. There was lots of uncomfortable shifting and adjusting of lapels. All these men had their hundred-dollar silk ties, arrows pointing downward to advertise their junk.
	Here Selena and Layla were, proving they didn't need any such misdirection.
	There was a gentle rip as Selena removed the condom from the package. It was pink. “Is this the only color?” Selena asked, pinching the reservoir tip between her fingers.
	“There's pink, blue, green, red, orange, and purple.” The VP said, trying to ignore Selena's assistant's evident humiliation. “We like to think we make the most vibrant colored condoms around.”
	“My experience with these devices is somewhat limited.” Selena analyzed the small balloon. “This feels like a reasonably good condom, but we must put it to the test.” Selena tossed the condom in her mouth like it was a Timbit. The VP put his hand up to stop her, and a few other members of the board started at the sight.
	Selena dropped to one knee and lowered her mouth onto Layla's erection. The room burst out in gasps, but Selena stood right back up, the condom now perfectly applied to Layla's cock.
	“It rolls out very nicely.” Selena said, bringing her hand to the base of Layla's cock. The end of the condom almost reached her balls, with maybe a centimeter of space between them. “Just how big is this condom?”
	“It's about eight and three-quarters inches.” The VP said. “It's the largest condom we make.”
	“It looks like it fits her very nicely.” Selena admired her handiwork... and Layla's gently twitching cock, and her faintly blushing cheeks.  Selena's attitude darkened. “But then again... there's no way this condom would fit me. Are you asking me to sell condoms with my name and my face on it... that don't fit me?”
	The VP leaned back. “But...” He was lost for a moment. “But you have a foot long...” He glanced down at her skirt. He couldn't bring himself to say it. “thing. Nobody makes a twelve inch condom.”
	“Well, why not?” Selena put her fists against her hips. “Is this why I have so many maternity suits against me? Because I just can't plastic-bag it?”
	“But... but...” The VP was deeply flustered now. Layla was surprised she wasn't the most embarrassed person in the room right now. “Twelve inch... penises are extremely rare! Like... progeria rare! Like, one in ten million! Who would we sell them to?”
	“Every one of my fans.” Selena said with sudden brightness, pointing. “For a few bucks, they can unsheath a condom that would actually fit my incredible member. Give them something tangible to hold, and something inherently sexual.”
	The VP seemed to get his breath back. “So... we're talking about novelty condoms again?”
	“Any condom with my name on it should be able to be used if they wanted to... and if they were large enough.” Selena said, talking to the crowd for the first time. “I suggest at least two sizes. The nine-incher that my lovely assistant is modeling...” Selena grabbed Layla by the shoulder and spun her in a slow circle like a car on The Price is Right. “And a twelve inch model that could fit someone like me.
	“If you're really feeling accommodating, you could try to make a ten-and-a-half, ten-and-three-quarters inch condom to fill the gap between those two. I'm sure there are some futa in that size range who can't find protection, but they might be fine using the twelve, depending on their girth. It's the same idea with medium fries at McDonalds. It's the least popular size, and it may legitimately not be worth making it, especially because the novelty crowd will buy the twelve inchers rather than the middle-size, the one Goldilocks chose. But the American shopper, especially American porn watchers... they're not Goldilocks. They're Papa Bear. They want things as big as possible.”
	The VP was taken aback. Selena had seen that look before. Even as the world's most famous porn star, people were surprised that she had deep and erudite thoughts about porn and porn-adjacent subjects. Were they underestimating her because she was a porn star? A woman? Blonde? It didn't matter. She didn't take it personally. Nobody, even some of the people making it, put much thought into porn except her.
	Her... and Layla.
	The VP got his footing back. “All right.” He said. “So, I guess we won't be signing today, then?”
	“Make a set of prototype condoms that would fit me.” Selena said. “I'll put them through some testing, and if they work, I'll sign.”
	The VP nodded eagerly. “Excellent. I'll have them make them a small run as soon as possible. It should only be a few days. But...” The VP folded his hands. “To make condoms that fit you, it would go much quicker if we had specific... measurements.”
	“Dream on.” She said with a gentle smile.
	The men in suits slowly filtered out, a few of them trying to pretend to tap their papers against the desk to straighten them... as they tried to pretend they didn't have to straighten their boners. The VP was the last one to the door. He looked back at them. “You two all set?”
	“Give us a minute, please.” Selena said, gently tracing the back of her fingertips against Layla's cock. “Wouldn't want this to go to waste.”
	The VP looked off. “OK. I'll pretend you said something else. Have fun.” He waved and left them.
	Selena and Layla turned to face each other. Layla took her fake glasses off and put them in her pocket. “How'd I do?”
	“That was perfect.” Selena took her by the head and kissed her. “You even blushed perfectly.”
	“That was all real.” Layla said. “I thought I could just take my pants off in front of them all and not be fazed at all, but... when I felt myself blush, I just rolled with it.”
	Selena pinched the reservoir tip of Layla's condom and whipped it off with a quick jerk. “How did it feel? Are these actually good condoms?”
	“I don't know.” Layla said. “I've never worn one before.”
	“I haven't worn very many, either.” She tugged the rubber between her fingers before chucking it in the nearby trash can. “Someone had one that fit me, but it ripped the second I put it in. It was lousy. If they can get full-sized one of a good quality, I’d pay THEM to make ‘em.”
	Selena recalled something the VP had said. “It’s progeria rare... I can’t believe he said that.” She pulled out her phone. “How rare IS progeria?” She tapped a few buttons on her phone. “Wikipedia says it’s one in twenty million. I guess that sounds right. Does that mean there are ten other people in America with my size?”
	Layla picked her skirt up off the floor and tried to put it on over herself. With her cock sticking above her waistline, she couldn’t quite close the clasp.
	“We’re waiting on you, Layla.” Selena smiled.
	“It’ll be a sec.”

	Selena and Layla drove to a nearby coffee shop to get the coffee they'd forgotten to grab on the way in to Burbank. Considering they were both 'running on empty,' as Layla often said in her old job, she thought Selena did a great job being attentive at the presentation.
	Layla wondered what name Selena would say when the lovely green-apron-clad barista asked for her name. She just said “Selena.” Both their cups came back with names written in beautiful cursive with a china marker. Layla thought it was likely someone either going to school for art, or perhaps someone with an art degree who hadn't landed anywhere.
	Selena indulged herself in a large French vanilla iced coffee with whipped cream, but no cherry. Cherries were permanently associated in her mind with cough medicine and cough drops, not the sweet pinnacles of sundaes and banana splits. Layla got an ordinary black coffee, shocked Selena could drink an iced coffee in the middle of January... be it California or not.
	“So... why didn't you call your business Grande Designs?”
	“Because there's a few businesses already called that, so I just went with Selena Grande, LLC. There's nothing named that... as far as I know.”
	“Until Selena Gomez and Ariana Grande finally team up and make a clothing line or something.”
	“Well, then... I got there first.” She took another sip.
	Layla looked across the table at her, trying not to be too distracted by the deep cleft of Selena's mighty breasts. Layla was only wearing a short skirt barely long enough to cover herself as it was. “So why LLC? Why not Selena Grande, Inc?”
	“It's just me working full-time, so there's no need to be incorporated.” Selena said. “Besides, this way, I only pay personal taxes, not personal and corporate taxes.”
	“I didn't realize there was a difference between those terms. I thought it was a style thing. But I'm not an entrepreneur.”
	“If you're in business for yourself, like being a streamer or a Youtuber, then you are an entrepreneur.” Selena corrected.
	“Well, how do you do this all as one person? How does your million-dollar enterprise and me jacking it on a built-in webcam on my laptop have the same numbers of employees?”
	Selena shrugged. “I don't know. I just... spend most of my day working on something. It never really struck me to get an assistant... until I met you, of course.”
	Layla smiled, but her attention was drawn to someone slowly approached their table, a woman with alternating stripes of pink and white hair cut into a straight bob. She was an average build, had glasses with black frames, and wore a dark colored t-shirt with a pre-faded logo for something neither of them recognized. The Impact font text at the top and bottom of the shirt reminded Layla of an Advice Animal viral picture, but she didn't know what species it was.
	“'Scuze me.” She said quietly. “Are you Selena Grande?”
	Selena stood up. “I am.” She answered, matching the woman's volume.
	The woman's eyebrows sunk briefly. She reached passed Selena, her hand moving faster than a cobra strike. Layla stood up just in time to watch this woman remove the lid from Selena's large French vanilla iced coffee and slung the entire contents into her face, splashing around her like a water balloon filled with slush. Whipped cream and coffee scattered down her body, a dollop of cream settling between her breasts, her mouth opening and eyes closing in shock.
	Layla swooped to move around Selena, shouting, “Hey, what the hell is your--”
	Before being stopped by the iron grip of Selena's wet hand. Layla looked at her hand, and then to Selena, who was looking down at the floor rather than at her attacker. She took in a breath, remaining still as the cream dribbled down her body, and as the other customers had all burst into alarmed chatter and bustle.
	Selena released Layla’s hand and started to walk away, past the woman, not looking at her... but towards a man in a ball cap and sunglasses who was holding his phone sideways. Her face darkened, a frown appearing on her face. If someone had the sense to record horizontally, he was either a videographer by trade, or he was recording before the incident. Others were recording now, but every other phone out was held vertically.
	“So... you got anything to say?” Asked the man.
	Selena resisted the tension building in her, denying this man the spectacle of even watching her hands close into fists. She left out the front door, under the protests of someone who might have been the manager asking her to stay so they could sort this out, or if they wanted her to call the police.
	Layla stayed back for just a second. The man was now recording her. “So who are you, anyway?” The man sneered with a gentle disdain for this unfamiliar woman.
	In a move just as fast as the mysterious woman’s, Layla swung her hand like a leopard's paw, ripping the phone out of his hands. She stopped the recording and looked at the gallery of pictures and videos. There seemed to be only two videos of her and Selena. She could delete them with a single dismissive swipe downward.
	Instead, she went into Settings.
	“Hey, give that back!” Said the amateur paparazzi, jumping from his seat and marching towards Layla, shoulders forward and hands balled into fists. He was pushed back to the wall by a fellow who was definitely the manager, pinning him with one arm against the wall. He might have been wearing an apron and nametag, but he was still over six feet tall and in very good shape. If there was a man Layla could be attracted to... he was somewhere in the ballpark.
	Layla continued to monkey around in the settings as the technicolor memecoat walked towards them, still wielding the empty plastic cup that she had used. “You get your hands off him!”
	“Shut up!” The manager yelled sharply, with the distinct clarity and bark of a man who'd spent at least a few years in the military. Evidently, they missed the sign on the outside that said “Veteran Owned Business.” The photographer shrunk under his intense stare.
	“Should I call the police?” Asked a bystander.
	“No. That's what they want.” The manager answered quietly. “I'll deal with both of you in a bit.” He snarled at the woman with the tye-died hair. Her lips curled into a fearful grimace.
	“There we go.” Layla said quietly, tossing the phone back to the photographer with a flick of the wrist that made the phone tumble wildly before he caught it. Layla patted the manager on the chest, feeling the firm, muscular pectoral under it. “Thank you, sir.”
	She hustled away to catch up with Selena. Just before she got into the vestibule at the front of the coffee shop, she heard the photographer shout, “what did you do?” followed shortly after, more intensely, by “What the fuck did you do?!”
	Selena had just reached her car as Layla dashed to catch up, the air moving past her whipping her short skirt up and exposing herself for a moment before she slapped the skirt back down with both hands. Selena unlocked the car and they both sat down.
	“Sorry. I fell behind.” Layla panted, buckling her seat belt. Selena's hand trembled as it put the key in the ignition. Rather than turn it, she let it go and grabbed the steering wheel. The color left Selena's knuckles and a few tendons appeared through the skin.
	“Selena...?” Layla turned to her. Selena's hair was wet and matted, her formal clothing was stained... and the whole car smelled like coffee.
	She held back as long as she could. Why couldn't this have happened when she was alone so she could cry in her car like a normal person? She let out one struggling sniff, like the first drop appearing in the crack of the dam.
	Layla leaned over, and immediately got caught in her seat belt. She released the buckle and grabbed Selena around the shoulders, holding her. Selena released the wheel and embraced Layla. She breathed in deep with her nose, her arms shaking. Layla turned her head inward and kissed Selena on the lips.
	Suddenly, the tremble was gone. The thumping heartbeat was still there, and the hot breath as they passed their tongues across each other's lips.
	A few minutes later, Layla reluctantly released her. In her mind, Layla kept hearing words to say, but her voice wouldn't cooperate. They stared into each other's eyes, Selena's anger extinguished for now.
	“Let's go to my place.” Layla offered. “We can clean up there.”
	“OK.” Selena turned on the car and drove off.
	A few minutes of quiet, Layla asked “Has that ever happened before?”
	“No.” Selena said. “Never.”
	“What was her deal?”
	“I don't know. I'm not going to give it much thought.” Selena’s frown deepened. “But... I understand, as a porn star, my job is to help people live out fantasies. I fulfill those fantasies. But I also can represent whatever negative feelings people have about futa, about porn, about sexuality itself.”
	A deep breath from Selena. “Remember what I said on the drive in, about how we have less friends in the LGBT community than you'd think, as futas who work in porn? Yeah, this is what I was talking about. 	And the real problem is... there's no futa sisterhood. It's not like black people, who obviously can't hide their skin color, and they come together to support each other from prejudice. It's not even like the transgendered community, where there's support, but also the option to live in stealth. Nobody uses the term 'stealth' to mean a futa who pretends she's not a futa, because most just don't care. There's still a lot of futa who keep their bodies secret, which means those of us who know about it seem like a much smaller minority than we really are. Maybe she didn't even have a problem with me and was just trying to get a rise out of me and put the video on Facebook or whatever.”
	There was a pause. Layla didn’t know what to say.
	“What did you do to that guy's phone, anyway?”
	Layla was surprised Selena had seen that. 
	“I hope you didn't smash it.” Selena said. “That sort of reaction was probably part of what they were hoping for.”
	“I factory-reset it.” Layla said.
	“What? How?”
	“It was a Google phone, like mine. It's easy.”
	“Don't you need his password to reset it?”
	“I guessed it.”
	“How?”
	They reached a stoplight. Layla took out her phone and pulled up the pattern lock screen on her phone and showed it to Selena. Layla drew an S in the nine dots. Her phone wisely rejected it. “It's the most common lock pattern on a phone like this. It used to be mine, until I heard that.”
	“What is your lock pattern now?”
	Layla drew on the nine dots with her fingertip, connecting all the dots into the shape of a G.
	Selena let out a short laugh. “S. G.... is that for me?”
	“Of course.”
	Even though she was still cold and soaked in coffee and cream, that made Selena smile.
	
	At Layla's apartment, Selena stripped and hopped in the shower. Layla changed into some fresh street clothing and washed her formal clothing as well, having been gently spattered with coffee at the point of the assault and making secondhand contact with it while they were making out.
	When Layla came back up, Selena was still in the shower, so she waited in her bedroom, browsing the Internet on her phone, checking her email... it's time like this she'd be browsing something on her laptop... probably looking at some sort of porn.
	Just as she puffed out a sigh of boredom, her bedroom door clicked as it opened, and Selena Grande walked in wearing a towel around her hair like a turban, and one around her body, low enough to show her cleavage and tight enough to enhance it, but barely not long enough to keep the tip of her cock hidden.
	Selena sat on the bed, taking the towel off her hair and rubbing it to dry it. “I feel so much better.” She said. Layla just stared as she tossed her hair about with the towel. “That two-in-one isn't really my favorite, but... it smells nice. Do you have some lotion?”
	Layla reached into her nightstand and pulled out a large bottle of body lotion. “May I?” She pointed the spout towards her, other hand cupped beneath it, anticipating.
	Selena set the towel down, her hair dry enough for now. “Sure.” She stripped off the other towel, revealing her shiny wet flesh. Layla panted gently. It really didn't matter how many times she'd seen it before. Selena Grande was naked in her bedroom.
	Layla filled her hand with a generous dollop of lotion, passing part of it to her right hand as she tossed the bottle to the bed. Layla went to her knees in front of Selena and rubber her calves, spreading the lotion out as much as she could, her face inches from Selena's hanging member.
	“Should I do your feet, or are you ticklish?”
	“I'll do my own feet.” Selena answered. “Unless you want to.”
	“I would, but...” Layla made the sound that some spelled as ‘ech.’ “Why dance around it? No, I don't have a foot fetish.”
	“Me, neither.” Selena said. “I've done a handful of foot scenes in movies, and boy, is it silly to me. I just don't get it.”
	“I have too many fetishes to judge anyone for theirs.” Layla said, advancing upwards to Selena's thighs, taking them each one at a time, her hot breath tickling Selena's cock as she worked the lotion into her skin.
	“Yeah.” Selena said. “Don't get me wrong. I'm not repulsed by it, I just don't understand it. It's like smoking fetish stuff. I'm like... what do you find erotic about this? It's like finding a car erotic. They tried to get me to do smoking fetish stuff once. I refused. I was scared of getting hooked. That's why in Ms. Private Dick, the noir porn parody I did, that's why I never actually smoke. I always hold the lighter in front of the cigarette and something interrupts me, like the phone rings, or someone busts in the door or my assistant gives me fellatio. That wasn't in the script. I just refused to hold a real lit cigarette.”
	“Is that really why they did that?” Layla asked. “Because that was hilarious.”
	“You've seen Ms. Private Dick? That didn't do that well on DVD.”
	“Well, I pirated it.”
	“Naughty. I'll spank you later.” Layla's hands had worked upwards to Selena's breasts, which she also took one at a time. She worked from the underside and rubbed upward, allowing each breast to bound and deform with her touch.
	Stone Phillips helped her realize that she wasn't especially attracted to men... but Layla didn't remember a time where she didn't love breasts. Even if she weren't a futa, she would still certainly be a lesbian, whatever that word meant in the post-Comet world. Layla swallowed hard and tried not to grind her teeth as she rubbed her the huge pliant orb of warm titty flesh.
	All the while, Selena watched, leaning back on her arms, allowing Layla to paw at her flesh and rub the lotion in until nothing was left behind but a pleasant sheen. Of course, Layla couldn't leave one breast shiny and moist-looking and leave the other dry, so she went to work on the other. A dark stain at the tip of Layla’s cock restrained in her gray yoga pants continued to grow larger.
	Selena brought herself on her stomach, and Layla rubbed a bit of lotion into her buttocks. Perhaps the least appreciated part of Selena, it was always Layla's favorite. Well, second-favorite after the cock, which was literally everyone's favorite. Really, her favorite part of Selena was whatever she was touching.
	As she massaged them, she thought about how firm, yet gently yielding the flesh was. It wasn't fatty like a breast, but had a small layer of pillowy fat around it that made it perfect for grabbing and spanking. Layla rolled the cheeks apart and saw, between Selena's legs, her pussy, so small and neat, a tiny slit, curving against her undercarriage like a single parenthesis. Holding the cheeks apart, the two sides of her pussy barely separated, revealing a tiny sliver of pink... and a clear drop of moisture from within that no number of towels could hope to dry.
	And above that... between the cheeks... normally hidden....
	How dirty she felt to be staring at it, the tiny bulls-eye guarded by the luscious muscular mounds. An aperture seemingly too small to fit her littlest finger in, much less something larger... Layla was so hard, she swore she felt it buzzing as it strained against her yoga pants.
	“You get lost back there?” Selena turned her head to look Layla over her shoulder. Layla had dreamed of having Selena in this compromising position a thousand times. She moved forward and pointed the tip of her cock against the opening, not removing it from her yoga pants.
	“Hey.” Selena chuckled. “You're going in dry? That's not very romantic.”
	Layla reached to the bottle of body lotion on the bed.
	Selena's demeanor changed from bemused vixen to patient teacher, turning more fully on her side and pulling herself away from Layla's tip. “No, using that as lubricant is a very bad idea. Everything that makes that great for skin makes it bad for... internal use. The fragrance, the… just trust me. It's bad. I'd rather you go in dry.”
	Layla looked like she was stuck, unable to tune out her desire to continue the massage. Selena took the initiative and grabbed Layla and threw her back down to the bed, reversing their positions. Selena grabbed Layla’s shirt and ripped it off over her head, freeing Layla’s breasts with a single gentle bounce. Selena pulled down on Layla’s yoga pants, the tip caught in the waistband until it came almost perpendicular to her body before finally slipping free and snapping back against her body.
	Selena took Layla’s head and kissed her rapturously. One hand held each other’s head, as if it was necessary to keep it from escaping, the other held their partner’s balls, the heat coming off them like the overworked engine of a muscle car. Selena had forgotten she had been in a bad mood earlier, or that she’d ever been in a bad mood in her whole life.
	In time, they slowed down, coming to rest in a slightly sweaty heap, both breathing hard. Selena moved her head next to Layla’s ear.
	“So... you want to take a nap?” Selena whispered to Layla. “Or you want me to fill you with my babies?”
	Layla moaned, her hands going over her groin. She shivered, moving out from under Selena.
	“Did THAT make you come?”
	“Nooooo...” Layla whimpered. “Not yet.”
	“Hold back.” Selena continued whispering. “You can do it. I believe in you.”
	“The whispering isn't helping! Talk about something not sexy!”
	Five seconds of silence as Layla huffed through her teeth, trying to hold back as she was teetering very close 'to the edge,' as it were.
	“Can you really not think of ANYthing not sexy?!”
	“Ceiling fans?”
	“You just looked up at the ceiling!”
	“It's not like there's actually a ceiling fan up there! At least I got that far!”
	Layla took in a few cleansing breaths. “OK, I think I'm out of immediate danger.”
	“I told you. Ceiling fans.”
	They stayed there for a while, Layla's heart slowing down just in time to be startled when her phone alarm went off, telling her to move the laundry.

	Selena and Layla relaxed. Layla didn't sleep, though Selena did. Once again, sleeping with Selena was more exciting than sleeping with her. Layla let Selena take this nap, unsure how often she got the chance in her hectic routine.
	After all, now she could tell all her friends that Selena Grande had slept in her bed. They wouldn’t believe her, but it would be true.
	Layla did wake Selena up when the laundry was done. Selena looked at her formal clothes, flipping them around and sniffing them.
	“I can't believe they aren't stained.” Selena said.
	“You know how many times I've gotten coffee stains on my clothing at work?” Layla asked. “I got very good at getting it out.”
	Selena lowered the blazer into her lap, then set it to her side and embraced Layla suddenly, kissing her on the mouth like never before. It was one long, slow, deep kiss.
	“Thank you.” Selena said softly, as she released her.
	“It’s no problem at all.” Layla said. “Thank you.”
	Selena thought about getting dressed, but decided against it. She was entirely comfortable here. Instead, she asked, “Layla, do you have a pregnancy fetish?”
	Layla started to blush. “Yeah, kinda.”
	Selena smiled on one side of her face. “What was the video that got you into it?”
	“Excuse me?”
	“In the modern era, everyone has the video that got them into a certain thing. I'm responsible for lots of people learning they like futa. What video got you into pregnant chicks?”
	She pulled out her phone. “I'll look for it.”
	And that's how Layla and Selena wound up rubbing their cocks, watching a video on Layla's phone of an at-least-eight-month pregnant woman in her bed, playing with her clit and staring at the camera like it was the most desirous person in the world.
	This time, Layla knew that person was watching.
	“So...” Selena began. “it doesn't bother you that... to get that way, she had to have sex with a man?”
	Layla turned to Selena. “You've had sex with men. And that doesn't bother me.”
	Selena's eyebrows moved gently. “I guess I can't argue with that.”
	They kept watching.
	“I'll be real with you.” Selena continued. “I'm glad we can't get pregnant. Not just because pregnancy seems rough or because I don't really want children. That's not it. It's just because... have you seen what happens to some of their nipples? She doesn't have it, but lots of pregnant pornos... the women have really big areolas. I guess it grows during the pregnancy. I wouldn't want that.”
	A small pause, and Layla's hand stopped. “I think those women just have those areolas to start with. I mean... when you're trying to make pregnant porn, you can't be too picky with who you cast. There’s only so many women who are pregnant and willing to make a porn at any given time.”
	“I hadn't thought about it that way.” Selena said. “I don’t watch much pregnant porn, but... I can get into it. I don’t know... it looks like we all want what we can’t have.”
	They kept watching until the videos unceremonious end before her climax. Layla could definitely relate.
	“What time is it?”  Selena checked her phone. “If we hang out here for a little while longer, we could get dinner at that Moroccan place.”
	Layla’s eyebrows went up. That sounded like a great idea. “That sounds fun.” Layla said. “But didn't you say your chef was coming over tonight?”
	“Ohh, yeah. Shoot.” Selena tapped her phone. “Hey, it's me. I'm sorry, but I'm still not back in town. What were you going to cook? ... Well, that just goes straight into the oven, right? Can you put that in the fridge? We'll do it tomorrow. Yes, we. I'll have a friend over. I forgot to tell you that, too. Yeah, I'm in Glendale. I won't be home till too late. ...yes, if you can, make up another one for my friend. She'll still be around then. ... yeah, I'm sorry I won’t be home until you’re gone. I'll pound your ass twice as hard next time, I promise. OK. Love you always. Mmmwah.”
	Selena turned back to Layla. “We're good.”
	Layla's brow was low. “The way you said that... I can't tell if your chef is a man or a woman.”
	“I said what they were yesterday.”
	“Did you? Shit, I don’t remember.”
	“Would it bother you if I had sex with a male chef? With his big chef muscles from cutting shallots all day and his... barely average penis?”
	“Is there a word for a lady chef? Like ‘cheffe?’ C-H-E-F-F-E?”
	“I guess it wouldn’t bother you.”

	Selena insisted that if their formal wear was enough to hopefully snag Selena a lucrative licensing deal, it would be fancy enough for Wajba, the Moroccan restaurant that Layla had lived across from for over a year without ever having set foot inside or ever paying it much mind.
	The outside made some attempt to make it look like a building from another time or another country, like the fake painted stuff at a theme park. The inside was significantly fancier, with high ceilings supported by carved wooden archways, doorways filled with strings of beads, and walls covered with artwork, murals and photographs of Morocco. 
	Layla looked at her menu and ordered the vegetable tajine and chicken kebabs. Selena closed her menu and told the waiter, “Impress me.”
	Without missing the beat, the waiter said, “We can do that with the couscous alone.”
	“Should I have ordered couscous?” Layla tried to ask Selena quietly, but the waiter was still within earshot.
	“Did you want some?” His pencil was already off his ear again.
	“Never actually had it. Maybe I'll have some of hers to try it.” Layla said. “Unless that's a faux pas.”
	“Sharing? A faux pax? In Wajba?” He laughed. “Never!”
	He left them, and Selena and Layla sat for a little while, listening to the music and trying to figure out where the loudspeaker was hidden in the dark red curtains and archways. Selena leaned in to Layla.
	Layla recoiled gently. “Should we be doing that here?”
	“What? Why not?”
	“Is Morocco a country friendly to... same-sex stuff?”
	“How do they know we're the same sex?” Selena whispered. “I could be a boring regular old-fashioned woman, and you could be the horny futa who's turned me over to the world of worshiping futa cock.”
	“Shut up. Don't make me horny. I'm still not wearing any panties.”
	“I know you aren't. You could have. We were in your apartment!”
	“You were the one who said I shouldn’t!”
	“You’re the one who walks around in those leggings all the time. I’m not saying stop, of course.”
	The waiter came back with a tray with two small cups of a black liquid. “To start, cafe noir.”
	Layla recognized it immediately, or at least thought she did. As the waiter left, she turned to Selena and said, “How do you feel about espresso?”
	“I hate it.” Selena said. “It's like someone left the pot on too long until it turned to coffee molasses.”
	“That's probably because you haven’t had good espresso. Even coffee shops make it wrong.” Layla took the cup closer to her and took a sip. Her eyes widened a bit. “Well, that's not JUST espresso, that's got some spices in it or something.”
	Selena took her cup and sipped. “This is definitely better.”
	“The spices are so strong...”
	Selena sipped hers until it disappeared. “That's very nice.”
	“The coffee is way better, but those spices are weird.”
	“Nope, I think you’ve converted me. Just like your huge futa cock made me gay.”
	“Not so loud!”
	When the meal came, Selena was presented with roast rack of lamb served over vegetable couscous with slivers of almond and, in the center, a stylish shaped dollop that looked like whipped cream, but was almost certainly yogurt. The ribs of the lamb were interwoven like lovers' fingers, standing off the dish like a tower. Layla was presented with a vegetable stew served in an earthenware bowl and some nicely charred chicken kebabs resting in a mix of still more vegetables and rice.
	Needless to say, it was all delicious. Layla felt a little bad leaving some of it behind, but she was very full by the end.
	When the meal was over, a battalion of waiters took all the long tables away from the couches, leaving the middle of the room open. The loudspeaker music ceased for a moment before switching to something with thumping percussion and exotic wind instruments.
	From one side of the room, a belly dancer jumped from the entrance into the center of the room, a thousand little bells and metal dealies jingling as she did. She was swarthy and remarkably fit, a blue veil, a scarf and an apron-like sash that hung in front and below her hips the only cloth on her. The rest, the small beaded top and belt, gave the illusion that she was nude underneath.
	The dancer spun around the room, her half-skirt rocking around like an upside-down bobblehead. Her abs were perfectly defined without being unattractively muscular. Her breasts bounced as she rolled herself around, her arms waving like two serpents around her body. The set went on for about ten minutes, as the music cycled between a few songs, one with lyrics, but most without. Between the songs, the dancer bowed and the audience applauded.
	During the last set, she started moving further out to the couches and chairs, slinging her scarf around the shoulders of a few gentlemen sat across from them. They produced dollar bills and gingerly slid them in the back of her bra strap.
	The dancer proceeded counterclockwise around the room in a way where she would likely come to Selena and Layla last. They both went into their purses to be ready, unwilling to stop watching this mesmerizing dance for more than a few seconds. They watched as the woman delicately refused to take a bill that was in a man's mouth, gesturing with one hand curled back in obvious discomfort. She somehow made it look like part of the dance.
	Layla felt her heart thump as the dancer grew closer, currently entertaining the Japanese husband and wife sat at the end of their couch. In Layla's mind, she pictured the dancer sashaying up to her and displaying her mostly nude flank to her. Layla leaned forward and clasped the beaded thread of her bottom between her teeth, tugging it outward to place her dollar within, a drop of her sweat touching her nose.
	But before she could place the tip in, the waistband of the half-skirt snapped within her mouth, causing the whole bottom to fall into a jangly heap and for Layla to spit out a few beads before she swallowed them. When she looked up, the dancer's skirt had given way to reveal a beautiful thick cock, half-chubbed from the energy of the dance, swelling to full chub at the shock of being exposed so suddenly.
	Selena stood up and pulled her own cock out. Most of the other patrons ran for cover. Layla swore she heard someone yell, “It's Gojira!” but that was probably a joke AND a violation of copyright. Selena held her cock next to the dancer's to compare the size. The dancer's cock was probably eleven inches, but equal in girth. They say that’s what women and futa are really looking for in Boner Homes and Gardens.
	At the same moment, both the dancer and Selena turned towards Layla, cocks first and presented them to her open mouth.
	Layla shook herself out of the fantasy as Selena was tucking a bill into the dancer's cleavage. Layla sighed. At least she'd stopped her fantasy before she'd gotten hard in front of everyone.
	The dancer moved over to Layla and rolled her abs and shook her tits in Layla's face. Layla stared for a little bit before her trembling hand put her one dollar bill next to Selena's.
	The dancer bowed, the audience applauded, and Layla moved a nearby pillow into her lap as casually as she could. Why didn't she bring her big purse?
	Noticing Layla’s predicament, she asked the helpful waiter if they could arrange a private dance.
	“I’ll have to ask her.” He said. “It will be her decision.”

	“There are three misconceptions about being a dancer that I don't like.” Said Farah, the dancer who had thrilled them so effortlessly after their dinner. “The first is that we are strippers. The second is that we are seducing the people we dance for. The third is that we give private dances that are shallow excuses for prostitution. As you can see, we don't have a private room for that sort of thing, and the rental hall is occupied.”
	This was why Farah had led Selena and Layla into the stock room, surrounded by metal shelving racks covered in supplies, ingredients, cardboard boxes filled with napkins, and other sundry. It was not particularly Moroccan-themed, with the light blue paint and drop ceiling with inset fluorescent lighting.
	“And yet...” Selena said knowingly.
	“And yet, I never expected Selena Grande to come to our little restaurant. I thought you'd go for something fancier.”
	“What restaurant's fancier than this place?” Layla cried. “Buckingham Palace?”
	“So, Selena...” Farah slid forward and put her arms around Selena's shoulders. “Do you want me?”
	“Absolutely.” Selena purred. “But... my friend Layla looks very eager to start you off.”
	Layla moved the pillow away from her crotch, having walked with it from the dining hall into the stock room. She was fully erect, her skirt piled up at the base of her cock.
	“Oh, how nice.” Farah knelt down in front of Layla. She put her left hand on Layla's cock. “Very big.”
	“See, Layla? When will you believe me?”
	Farah licked the shaft of Layla's cock once, then a second time. And Layla made the “T” gesture for 'time out.' She wasn’t even sure if any Moroccan sports used that signal.
	“Uhhh... why don't you start with Selena?”
	“I was a little afraid to start with her.” Farah said. “I've never had someone so big. I feel like I need to warm up to this.”
	“That dance wasn't a warm-up?” Selena got into position. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m a professional like you.”
	Farah’s arms slipped behind her and undid the clasp in her top. Her brassiere came free with surprising force, Farah’s breasts bounding happily, the hundreds of beads and jingly bits sewn into the top making noise as she set it down. Her lower garment was just as easily removed, though underneath it, she revealed a pair of panties that matched Farah’s skin tone as close as could be expected from a mass-produced product.
	“You ARE wearing underwear.” Selena said. “I wasn’t sure.”
	“I couldn’t do it without them. Too much chance of... flashing.” Farah slid the panties down her legs. “How do you two walk around without panties with all the... extra equipment?”
	“It’s so easy.” Selena said. “I don’t get what the problem is.”
	“Well... if you want to keep mine...” Farah held the pair outward, stretching them with her thumbs in between each leg hole.
	Layla reached out, but Selena took Layla’s hand and lowered it. “She’s in training to become a commando master. We’re keeping her away from them the way you keep an alcoholic away from the plate of rum balls.”
	“Fair enough.” Farah set them down on some random cardboard box and took a seat on a barrel. Selena approached and placed the tip against the small slit.
	“Ooh, what’s that song?” Selena pointed her ear toward the door. “That sounds like something you could dance to, huh? Layla, open the door a crack so we can hear it better.”
	And that’s how Layla found herself watching Selena fuck the dancer in the stock room of the Moroccan restaurant across the street from her apartment... to the beat of Sia’s Cheap Thrills… with the door open a crack.
	And that’s when Layla started masturbating.
	The shimmer of sweat that the dancer had when performing returned during their exercise, her tight abs growing more visible as she contracted them, Farah’s breasts bouncing, the right one clockwise and the left counterclockwise. It would be perfect if they were decorated with tassels, but that would be something worn by a stripper, not a dancer.
	Just as the song ended, Farah cried out, gripping the rack behind her. She felt come splatter all over her stomach, though felt nothing inside her. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the streaky, jagged puddle that had been made for her.
	“OoooOoohh...” Farah moaned musically. “You came so much, and you’re still so hard…” She dipped her fingers in the puddle and brought it to her tongue. It was as natural an instinct for Selena’s lovers to do that as it was to blink when firing a gun. Some people didn’t, but… almost everyone did.
	Selena looked at Layla, who seemed to be hiding herself. Selena hadn’t come, she knew that for sure. 
	“Yeah, I am.” She said. “Like I said, I’m a professional.”
	Selena offered to help her clean up, but Farah said she was fine. They were still customers of Wajba, and customers never had to worry about cleaning up. Selena and Layla left the stock room as Farah unwrapped a new roll of paper towels.
	They returned to Selena’s car, still parked in Layla’s spot. It was always nice to get some use out of the spot she was paying for.
	“Layla...” Selena said, before starting the car. “How often would you say that you had an orgasm before you met me?”
	“About once a day? Usually when I streamed?” Layla answered uncertainly. “Sometimes I might crank one out in the middle of the day, but... that’s pretty rare.”
	“You’ve come... four times since we’ve met?” Selena said. “That’s an average of once a day.”
	“You’re trying to tell me I’m not improving?”
	“I just don’t really get why you just whacked off in there. She wanted you. You could’ve just… had sex with her for real.”
	A dark thought moved in like a storm cloud in Layla’s mind. She masturbated because there was nobody to disappoint. No risk of coming too early. No chance to disappoint Selena that she was still as sensitive and premature as always. That’s why she loved solo streaming so much. She played with herself and read chat until she felt like painting the ceiling white. Nobody to disappoint there.
	Then again… could there be another reason? It wasn’t that she didn’t want the exotic, alluring and incredibly athletic dancer. Was it that she wanted... something else?
	“Selena...” Layla began. “For my whole life, whenever I watched you have sex with someone... I was masturbating. If you’re going to keep having sex with women in front of me... it’s going to take me some time to adjust.”
	Selena thought on that. “I suppose.”
	“Are you disappointed that I’m not making more progress?”
	Selena looked at her. “The last thing you are, to me, is a disappointment.”
	They kissed briefly.
	Selena drove them home.
	During the ride, Cheap Thrills played on the radio. And Layla held her skirt down fruitlessly against the rising force of her erection. She just hoped she would never hear that song in the middle of a supermarket.

	After the long drive, Selena and Layla left her car and went straight to different bedrooms, soon to rejoin at the TV room, where Selena's DVR had faithfully recorded Wheel and Jeopardy. Selena threw her formal clothes into a hamper and reached for a bathrobe, but saw Layla leaving her bedroom out of the corner of her eyes, just in time to see her walk out of the room nude.
	“What are you waiting for?” Layla said.
	Selena smiled, pulling her hand away from the robe and up to her chin.
	Of course, Selena wouldn't go a whole hour sitting without edging, so she and Layla gently massaged each other's cocks with their hands. Selena seemed to be more receptive to it now than yesterday. She was reaching the end of her week of restraint, and perhaps it got more difficult the longer she went.
	Eventually, Selena asked that they move to ball massages. Did Selena experience that undesirable phenomenon known as 'blue balls' in her long dry spells? Was her presence making it worse? How deeply wonderful would it be if Selena finally decided that enough was enough and she would plow Layla's hot slit until… who knows when?
	Watching Selena sit there, light flickering off her body and reflected in her shiny blue eyes, lips parted gently, breasts heaving with every deep breath…
	Layla always knew that Selena Grande was sexy.
	Right now, she thought Selena Grande was so beautiful.
	Obviously, Layla had known that as long as she'd been aware of her existence. Somehow, when face-to-face, it felt like a brand new thought, like she'd missed something as big and obvious as Mount Rushmore.
	Layla released Selena's gonads, letting them drop to the soft couch with a thump. Selena looked away from the TV and saw Layla staring at her. There was more wonder in Layla's face than even when they first met.
	Tentatively, Layla advanced and closed her lips against Selena's. Their hearts raced, their fingers interwove, Layla brought her legs around Selena's back and held herself against Selena's torso. Their cocks rubbed between their bellies, Layla’s balls gently parted by the girth of Selena.
	Go for it, Layla’s mind was hollering over the unending timpani of her heartbeat. Just press her down and fuck her again. Tell her what you’re feeling and pound her so hard, they’ll need the Jaws of Life to rescue your cock from her.
	Layla broke away her kisses suddenly, still holding Selena's head and moving hers to Selena's shoulder. She tried to catch her breath. 
	“Something wrong?” Selena asked.
	Layla gently disentangled herself from Selena. “I'm going to need a cold shower.”
	Selena sighed. “Me, too.”
	Layla moved to excuse herself, but Selena grabbed her hand. Their makeout session caused them to miss Final Jeopardy. Selena closed her eyes to keep from seeing the answers appear on the contestants screens as she rewound.
	Neither of them got the question right. As the credits rolled and the theme played, they continued their kisses until the DVR stopped its playback. They were shocked out of their reverie by the sound of sudden gunshots from a repeat episode of Designated Survivor. Layla was shocked that anything could get her heart pounding harder than it already was. They finally separated and went to different showers to cool off.
	Layla didn't touch the hot water knob at all. She clenched her fists and cried out repeatedly as the icy water struck her body like a million tiny daggers. Layla didn't touch the soap or get her hair wet. This wasn't about bathing, this was only about chilling her libido. She pulled her arms into her torso involuntarily, but her skinny arms were already too cold to be much help keeping herself warm.
	Her instincts told her to bend forward and step back, but she resisted. She stood in the cold water until she thought she’d snap in two like a frozen branch. Layla jumped out of the shower without turning off the water first. The air wasn’t much warmer, but it might as well have been a summer day in that bathroom.
	Layla thrashed the towel on herself, desperately trying to generate some friction. As she dried her legs, her erection stood out from her body like a telephone pole. Normally, extreme cold meant blood was drawn from the limbs to keep the trunk warm. This time, her body had evidently regimented all the blood to where it thought she needed it.
	“Well, that was totally worth it.” Layla shivered, grabbing a white robe from a nearby hook and walking to the bedroom where she was pretty sure Selena had gone to shower.
	She entered the bedroom just as Selena left her en suite bathroom, holding a towel in front of her. She gasped gently and held it against herself, and then snickered at how silly she was being.
	“Do you feel better?” Selena asked, still not moving the towel from her million-dollar body.
	Layla pulled the robe open and revealed her fully erect and entirely unfazed cock. “Nope.”
	Selena bit her lip gently at the sight of it. She pulled the towel away from herself, knowing that dropping it would just end up hanging on her boner like a hat rack. “Didn’t help me, either. Though seeing that would’ve got me back to hard again in no time flat.”
	They approached each other, their hands touching.
	“Your hands are cold.”
	“So are yours.”
	“Want to warm them up?” Selena pulled Layla’s hands inwards, towards her cock. Layla felt the warmth come off it for a moment before pulling them back.
	“I don’t know if I can hold out any longer.” Layla whimpered. “Maybe... we should sleep separately.”
	“That’s your choice, if you really want, but...” Selena held Layla close, their cocks bumping together. “No way.” Selena kissed Layla on the lips. Layla pulled her head back. Every moment that passed was one where Layla said to herself, “don’t throw Selena down into that bed and fuck her,” and simultaneously, “throw Selena down into that bed and fuck her, you idiot.”
	“Is this a test?” Layla asked.
	“No, of course not.” Selena spun Layla around and they fell onto the bed sideways. “This is hard for me, too. I’ve been this horny before during the week, but normally, when I try to hold back, I don’t have a beautiful nineteen-year-old futa superfan in my bed with soft skin writhing and panting against me.”
	“How much longer do you need to hold out?”
	“I have a session on Friday afternoon.”
	A pause. Layla looked away. “Could I be there for that?”
	“Sure. I’ll take you to the show.”
	That wasn’t what Layla meant. She wanted to ask, “Can we do the scene together?”
	She could just picture it. She and Selena meet each other in the laundry room of their apartment, Selena wearing a silk robe and Layla wearing a camisole and G-string that shows off her bulge. Selena gets hard as Layla bends to pick up a thoughtlessly dropped garment. They kiss, strip, and hop on the dryer that always seems to shake, maybe throwing some shoes or something else heavy into the dryer to make it shake harder.
	They rub their slits on the buzzing dryer, feeling the vibration rock them through their bodies, shaking their balls and waking their sperm up to get ready to do their job. They lashed their tongues together, such each other off for a while before finally plowing each other’s tight pussies with their cooch-slayer hard-ons.
	This all played out in Layla’s mind in less than a second. This was what she wanted.
	But she didn’t quite have the nerve to ask. She knew it would end with her in the pile of three-pump chumps that would never make it in that market... especially if she was fucking Selena.
	“That sounds fun.” Layla said.
	They cuddled together as they had before, with Layla’s head on Selena’s breasts and Selena’s fingers woven into Layla’s hair.
	“Layla?”
	“Yeah?”
	Say something romantic, Layla thought. One of them really should, and it was clear that Layla wasn’t making any moves. 
	Selena asked, “Did you ever clean up the bed you came all over last night during your stream?”
	Layla took a few seconds to respond. “No.”
	“We should definitely do that tomorrow.”
	“Yeah...”
	Layla held Selena tight until they both fell asleep.


THURSDAY

	Once again, Layla woke to the gentle brightness filtering through the semisheer curtains of this bedroom. At some point in the early morning slumber, Layla had taken one of the many pillows on the bed and wrapped her arms around it lovingly. Layla looked at it and imagined Selena coaxing herself out of Layla’s sleepy grip with this feathery facsimile, the way an adventurer in an unsavory bar might replace the sleeping drunk’s bottle with an empty one.
	Again, Selena’s side of the bed was cold. She’d evidently woken long ago, probably already hard at work. Even though they went to bed at the same time, Layla always slept later because she probably spent an hour each night trying to reconcile what had happened to her. She was sleeping with the most famous porn star in the world, and the sexiest futa that ever existed. How could she be so lucky? What had she done so right?
	As it turned out, trying to dismiss these thoughts was no easier at night than in the morning. When she was resting against Selena’s breast, she could feel her soft flesh, smell her hair, feel her heart beating significantly slower than hers. In the morning... she was alone. Even though she knew this was one of Selena’s bedrooms, she feared waking up and realizing that this whole thing had been a wonderful dream to which the rest of her life would compare unfavorably.
	Layla stayed in bed just a little longer before finally throwing the sheets off her and showering. This was the first time she’d managed to take an entire shower in Selena’s house without getting an erection.
	As she left the shower, she again contemplated the white robe. She didn’t really want to strut around naked again, in case there was some other unexpected guest that Selena hadn’t told her about. Then again, that prank they pulled on all those fussy businessmen where she flashed her hard boner at all of them... that was definitely more exciting than she thought it’d be.
	Layla decided to forego the white robe and dress in her normal bra, camisole and yoga pants. The sweatshirt she normally wore around her waist to hide her bulge... she wore that the traditional way, around her torso, her half-chub already swelling eagerly down one of her pant legs.
	Layla walked out from the bedroom and found Selena right where she expected her to: at the kitchen, sat in front of an empty plate and can of pineapple juice, her breakfast long gone. Layla was briefly surprised to see Selena frowning, as if something was troubling her.
	Selena looked up, and suddenly beamed with happiness. The trouble had faded away instantly. This dramatic change of mood stemmed exclusively from seeing Layla, whom Selena knew for certain she would see. But her smile was as genuine and happy as if they happen to run into each other in a supermarket in a neighborhood where neither of them lived.
	And Layla wasn’t even naked.
	Layla darted to Selena, and they kissed slowly, luxuriating in every twist of their lips. Layla’s hand explored between Selena’s legs, fondling her balls gently as Selena rubbed Layla through the lycra of her yoga pants.
	Selena brought her lips to Layla’s neck, kissed it and purred against it. Layla jumped and giggled uncontrollably.
	“Minx.” Selena whispered into Layla’s ear.
	“What’s for breakfast?” Layla whispered back.
	“You.” Selena took Layla’s shoulders and brought her down onto the countertop, her legs hanging off the end. Selena held her down and spiraled her tongue all over her. Layla moaned wildly, barely able to think. She tried to say something close to “Oh my God, oh my God,” but she could never quite get her breath out enough to make it comprehensible. Selena unzipped her hoodie and buried her face into Layla’s cleavage.
	A few minutes of loving necking later, Selena held Layla’s arms out, fingers interwoven with hers, as she gave Layla one long kiss.
	“I needed that.” Selena grinned.
	“I think I need a lot more.”
	“I could sit here all day and do nothing but kiss you...” Selena cooed.
	Layla blushed.
	“But I do need to do lots of stuff today. I won’t be able to do it tomorrow.” She explained.
	“OK.” Layla sat up, adjusting herself out of her pant leg. She went to the breadbox and retrieved an asiago cheese bagel for breakfast. In the short time Selena’s mighty toaster took to cook it, Selena had returned to her hunched position at the island.
	“I have to say, Selena, your toaster is legit. I...” Layla noticed Selena’s darkened mood had returned. “Are you OK, Selena?” She asked across the less decorated half of her bagel.
	“I’m better now, but something made me unhappy this morning.” Selena confessed. She retrieved a folded letter set above an envelope. “I got a letter from the homeowner’s association.”
	“You have a homeowner’s association?” Layla said. “I thought that was just for condos and gated communities.”
	“That’s what I thought. I’ve also never paid them a cent, as far as I know. So... that’s why this letter is so upsetting.” She gestured with the letter, but didn’t open it again. She knew what it said. “The letter is from several neighbors that are complaining that my lawn looks like crap.”
	Layla blinked. “It’s January.”
	“In this house, yes.” Selena said. “Would you be willing to type out a response letter for me?”
	“I don’t do a lot of typing.” Layla confessed. “I was too young to get into the cybersex chat stuff. It’s all audio and video now.”
	“Well, you’re definitely faster than me.”
	They went to Layla’s laptop. She opened her word processing software and began typing as Selena dictated her letter.

	“To the Homeowner’s Association of Tarzana,
	I have received your letter of January 12, where you discuss what you consider to be the poor condition of my lawn. In response to your request, I must decline to take any further action.
	Included is a page from my calendar, where I have circled the month. You must know what month it is, since you mentioned it in your letter to me. My lawn always looks bad in January for the same reason that in June, my snowman is nothing but two pieces of coal and a carrot posed suggestively in a warm puddle of water. It’s not the right season. I don’t feel it necessary to make my lawn look good in the winter, especially in the middle of this severe drought.”

	The last clause of that sentence was said with such severity, Layla quickly highlighted it and put it in italics. It seemed appropriate.

	“In March,” Selena continued. “I will reactivate my sprinkler system and will water my lawn to the exact specifications allowed by the mandatory water conservation methods imposed by the state of California. As far as conspicuous water consumption, I only have my small pool. I have no fountains, vine trellises, koi ponds, hot tubs, topiary bushes or orchard or other fruit-bearing trees or plants. I can’t say that for most of my neighbors. I am very interested in getting California out of this drought, and if my lawn looks bad while aquifers and reservoirs are restored, so be it.
	“As a matter of fact, to preserve water, there’s plenty of times where I commit that deepest sin of the self-consciously preppy Californian. Sometimes, I wash my hair every other day. You may share this salacious detail with the gossip magazine of your choice with my compliments.
	“Thank you for your letter. In lieu of actually paying dues to your super secret clubhouse, please accept in this parcel about one hundred burned DVDs of pornography, totaling about two hundred and forty fun-filled hours, along with hundreds of thousands of pictures. Most of it stars yours truly, but not all of it, by any means. My filing system needs work, but my lawn is working exactly as expected.
	“Once you’ve relieved all your pent-up sexual tension, please focus on growing your careers and families instead of trying to grow meaningless plant life to impress the neighbors that you hate.
	“Yours very truly… Selena Grande.”
	
	Layla stopped typing not long after Selena has finished. Selena looked over Layla’s shoulder. “Wow, you kept up with me.”
	“Well, I made a lot of mistakes.” Layla pointed to the numerous red squiggles decorating the underside of misspelled words. “But I figured I had time to fix them later. It’s not like it’s a typewriter.”
	“How fast ARE you, anyway?”
	Selena encouraged Layla to open the first typing speed test website that came up on Google. She scored 59 words per minute with no mistakes.
	“That’s really fast.” Selena said. “That’s good enough to work as a secretary, I’ll bet.”
	“I guess typing in chat really has given me some practice.” Layla pressed her knuckles together with her other hand and shook it out. “But I couldn’t keep that up.”
	“Yeah, there’s no restful masturbation between flurries of typing.” Selena said, to Layla’s sputtering laughter. “They might frown on that in the office.”
	“Well, I’m probably way faster on the phone.” Layla said. “Is there an app where two people can text-fight or text-race each other as a game?”
	“I don’t know.” Selena said. “But that’s a good idea. Maybe I should... hire someone to make that. I don’t even know how I’d do that.”
	Layla saved the document, hoping it wouldn’t get lost in the cloud of disorganized icons on her desktop. “Are you really giving them tons of porn?” Layla asked.
	“No. All the DVD-Rs are blank. I just want to get rid of them because my computer doesn’t even have a DVD drive anymore, much less a burner. But that way... they hopefully won’t try to publish this letter anywhere.”
	“If that’s the kind of letter you’re writing, are you sure you should send it?”
	Selena looked at the screen and glanced over the letter again. “Maybe we won’t actually send those DVDs, then. I just don’t know how to get rid of them without throwing them out.”
	“If you sent them, you’d be kicking the can down the street. It’d basically be, ‘here, take my garbage. You deal with it.’”
	“That’s essentially how I feel about their letter.”
	“Yeah, but... maybe we shouldn’t escalate it.” She closed her laptop. “Why don’t you use a laptop, anyway?” Layla asked. “Why do you have a desktop? You got this big house, and you could work anywhere.”
	“That’s part of the reason I like having an office.” Selena said. “Means I have one less bedroom that hardly ever get used.”
	A small pause. “But there is a bed in there.”
	“Yeah, I can’t move a mattress and bed frame by myself.” Selena answered. “Or maybe I can, but I just haven’t bothered.”
	Layla faced Selena with a gentle expression, her eyebrows turned up a bit. She didn’t even have to say anything.
	Unlike most times a woman looked at Selena with that expression in a conversation that involved a bed, this one didn’t end in intercourse. Selena got her hex wrench set from the kitchen and they started disassembling the bed in her office.
	“This is why I chose this bedroom as my office, because this is the only bed that’s sort of cheap like this. The other ones are all hardwood and I have no idea if I could get them apart.” Selena said as they unscrewed the pieces of the frame. One by one, the four planes of the bed came apart, and they hoisted them to the garage.
	“I’m sorry that I’m not stronger.” Layla said. “I’m more Olive Oyl than Popeye.”
	“Don’t worry about it. I just need two sets of hands.”
	Soon, the bed frame, mattress and box spring were all in the garage. Layla slowly caught her breath. “I feel like helping someone move is the greatest challenge to a friendship.”
	“We’re not quite done yet.” Selena returned to the kitchen to find her purse, and her phone. She called one of her contacts. “Hey, Sam? It’s Selena. Can I ask a favor of you? Can I put a bed I’m getting rid of outside your home? I just don’t want to see someone take this bed and put it on Ebay as an ‘official bed that Selena Grande slept in,’ you know? OK, we’ll be right over.”
	“We will?”
	Selena and Layla shuffled the bed, piece by piece, out Selena’s garage door to her next-door neighbor’s property, accented with a paper sign taped to it that said “FREE” in capital letters.
	“We’re not going inside?”
	“Oh, he’s not home right now.”
	“Won’t one of your neighbors complain about this?”
	“Who’d complain about a free bed?”
	“But... won’t it look trashy?”
	“If nobody wants it, the trash men will take it.” Selena figured. “So yeah, I guess it will look trashy.”
	“I can’t imagine why your homeowner’s association is on your case.”
	“Hey, it’s not my bed anymore. It’s Sam’s. In fact, it’s not even his. It has been taken to the curb, so it’s been disclaimed. Anyone who wants it, it’s theirs.”
	They returned to the house through Selena’s garage. Only now did Layla realize she’d never once entered Selena’s house through the front door. “Now what?” She asked.
	“Since we’re already sweaty, let’s go work out.”
	“I think you’re overestimating how sweaty I got from that...” Layla said, nevertheless following her to the workout room. Once they stepped into the workout, Layla felt something vibrate in her chest. She pulled out her phone from its occasional resting place in her shirt.
	“You brought your phone in here?” Selena asked.
	“It was in my pocket!”
	“Those yoga pants have pockets? That’s super useful.”
	Layla scratched her neck. “Well, I mean my bra.”
	“Ah.” Selena said, pulling her shirt off over her head, her huge breasts falling gently and freely against her ribs. “I never do that. I kept hearing about that thing about cell phones causing brain cancer, and figured... yeah, I can’t afford to leave it between my boobs, whether or not that’s true.”
	The sight of Selena casually whipping her shirt off caused Layla’s heart to pound and feel a sudden rush of heat from somewhere inside her. “So I guess you’ve never texted someone and placed it on your balls waiting for a response?”
	“All my friends take forever to respond to texts.” Selena took off her skirt. “They’re all too busy to help me masturbate. That’s why I need an assistant; to text me repeatedly so I can masturbate with my phone, rather than just buy a vibrator.”
	Selena approached the elliptical machine. Layla gently moved between Selena and the machine. Layla grinned at her. “I mean... I could just give you a hand job.”
	Leaning in, Selena whispered, “You think you’re ready for that?”
	They both looked down between Selena’s legs, where her mighty cock slowly rose like a wobbly drawbridge. Layla closed her mouth and swallowed the drool her brain insisted she would soon need.
	“I’ve practiced for this for years.” Layla smiled.
	Selena brought Layla’s chin up with her thumb, looking her in the eye. “Alright. Let’s work on your upper body strength.”
	Layla diligently curled two five-pound dumbbells for almost six minutes. She could have kept going, but Selena couldn’t exercise while watching Layla’s form and making sure she was doing it right. She kept rocking back as she lifted the weights, or letting gravity bring the weights down instead of lowering them slowly. To be fair, Layla had never held a dumbbell before, not even in gym class.
	Selena moved to the stationary bike while Layla moved to the treadmill.
	“You work out pretty hard, huh?” Layla said while jogging in place.
	“I work out as hard as I feel like to stay reasonably trim.” Selena said. “I almost have a flat stomach, but I’ll never have actual defined abs, so I don’t see the need to work out hard enough to get those. Besides...” Selena turned, brushing some sweaty hair out of her face with her forearm. “The last thing I want is to get jacked.”
	“Oh, that won’t happen unless you go totally nuts.” Layla said. “Those fitness models on Instagram set up their whole lives around fitness, sort of the way you do around… sexual performance.”
	“Maybe, but it’s different for futa.” Selena kept pedaling. “I knew a very fit futa porn star who started to get even more ripped. She wanted to move into the muscle fetish market. But her fans didn’t like it... and her popularity faltered.”
	“Because people thought she was a man.” Layla completed the thought.
	“Yeah...” Selena said, with evident disdain. “You would figure that her vagina would say something to the contrary.”
	“Ugh, I don’t like that word.” Layla said. “Pussy is such a better word.”
	“It is.” Selena said. “But ‘vagina’ is better than... the C word.”
	“Well, I never hear anyone use that word to mean ‘pussy.’ I only hear it from my Australian fans call each other that word. They use it like ‘bloke’ or ‘bastard.’”
	“You have fans in Australia?” Selena said. “What time must it be there when you’re streaming?”
	“It depends where in Australia they are, I guess. Australia’s huge.”
	“So is America.” Selena noticed that Layla had started slowing down her jog to a walk. “Now don’t YOU slow down because you’re afraid of getting muscles.” Selena scolded. “I need to start cracking the whip. You’re supposed to be learning how to be more disciplined so you can hold back.”
	“You want me to be too exhausted to whack off?”
	“You need to distract yourself so you won’t think about whacking off.”
	“YOU’RE the distraction! YOU’RE the reason I want to whack off!”
	“Well, use it!” Selena kept pedaling. “I’ll drag this bike over in front of there if you want to imagine you’re chasing me, trying to win the reward of bedding me. Unless you’re already bored of me, after having already done it.”
	Layla picked up the pace. “Of course not.”

	“Can you meet me in the kitchen?”
	This was the text that brought Layla out of the television room. Selena had some boring office work to do for work, which took up an embarrassingly large portion of her workday. So, she let Layla watch TV for a while. Layla returned to the kitchen, where Selena was standing in the kitchen with arms folded, like she was waiting for a bus.
	“What’s up, Selena?” Layla asked.
	“Come with me.” She said. Layla followed her. “I didn’t want to text you, ‘could you meet me in the bedroom’ because that wouldn’t have been very clear.”
	“Do you have a system for telling the different bedrooms apart?”
	“No, not really. Maybe I should put up numbers like in a hotel. If I actually have guests crashing here, I usually tell them to sleep wherever they want.”
	“How many guests are bold enough to actually sleep with you?” Layla asked.
	“So far?” Selena turned back. “Just you.”
	They entered one of the bedrooms, and Selena strode past the bed and into the bathroom. “Layla...” Selena turned around on her heel, gesturing to the toilet silently, with the disapproving look married with the smirk of a woman who would enjoy dispensing the spankings.
	Layla looked at the toilet. Nothing about it seemed amiss. “What?”
	“You left the seat up.” She pointed.
	Layla’s brow lowered. “It wasn’t me.”
	“There’s only two of us here, Layla.”
	“It wasn’t me.” Layla repeated. “I almost never pee standing up.”
	Selena’s pretend disapproval slipped away. “Oh.” She said. “Maybe it WAS me, then.”
	“You pee standing up?”
	“I have to. Otherwise, I...” Selena leaned in to whisper. “I sometimes touch the toilet water.”
	“Ewww.”
	“Yeah, that’s why I don’t do it.” Selena said. “You ever see a ladies’ room with a urinal?”
	“No. Is that a thing?”
	“In a handful of some very cool places, yeah. I hate when there’s a huge line for the ladies’ room when all I have to do is pee.”
	“I’m sure it won’t become common, like handicapped parking.”
	“Well, it’s not like we CAN’T use a normal toilet.” Selena said. “But it’s super cool when I see it.”
	A few seconds passed. Selena set the toilet seat down herself, pushing the seat over with a tissue and throwing it in the bin.
	“Well...” She said. “I guess this meeting is adjourned, then.”
	They walked out of the bathroom. “Layla?”
	“Yes?”
	“Could you throw these sheets into the wash, please?” Selena asked.
	Layla looked over. This was the bedroom where Selena had played that trick on her with the chat-controlled vibrator.
	“Oh, sure.” Layla went at one corner and started to gather the sheets by all four corners, turning it into a giant cartoon hobo pack.
	“Thank you.” Selena said. A moment later, Layla had reached the second corner of the bed. “Can I get a kiss?”
	Layla released the sheets, looking across the bed at Selena. Her smile seemed to inch up further with every moment that passed, like being looked at by Layla was itself pleasurable.
	Circling the bed, Layla wrapped her arms around Selena’s shoulders and kissed her. Layla stepped forward, pushing Selena up against the wall. Mouths opens, hand explored underneath shirts, tongues raked against ticklish neck tissue. Selena pushed off the wall and brought them back to the now sheet-less bed.
	By the time Selena finally let Layla go, neither of them knew what time it was. Selena smiled warmly at Layla.
	“You’re not good at the whole... domination thing, are you?”
	“I’m not.” Selena confessed. “Did you ever see any of my futa-on-male domination?”
	“No. I didn’t really... want to see it.”
	“Well, you didn’t miss much. Because I was absolutely the worst dominatrix who ever lived.” Selena smiled. “I just couldn’t keep up the act. You might have noticed, but I don’t swear a lot. And every BDSM thing I’ve seen is just someone saying the F-word six times in one sentence. That’s how they show their dominance. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t perform and act anything but delighted, even when I was banging some dude.”
	“But you said you weren’t interested in men.”
	“I’m not, but... as some people say in this industry, everyone’s the same when they’re on their stomach.”
	“Ugh...”
	“And with that image, let’s go have lunch.”
	“What about the sheets?”
	Selena had completely forgotten. “Oh, right! Sheets first, then lunch.”

	When it was finally lunchtime, Selena removed two mason jars out of the fridge and poured them onto two platters. They were standard mixed green salads, with hard-boiled eggs sitting atop them like the greens were a nest.
	“These look nice.” Layla said.
	“Yeah... I’m not a very trendy person, but... the whole mason jar salad thing is really convenient.” Selena said. “I love salads, but they’re such a pain to make.”
	“The last time I had a salad...” Layla said. “was probably the last time I was at a steakhouse.”
	“Well, there’s a new trendy thing going around, which is kinda weird.” From within a countertop drawer, Selena picked up a pair of transparent impact googles, the kind worn by construction workers who didn’t mind getting called a dork. “Put these on.”
	Layla did so. “Does this enhance the--”
	She didn’t finish her sentence. Selena opened her other hand and blew the dusty contents of her palm at Layla’s face.
	Pepper.
	Layla hollered, her arms flailing about in shock. She inhaled to sneeze.
	“Fight it!” Selena shouted. “You can resist it! It’s just like resisting an orgasm!”
	Layla’s face contorted into a series of unerotic grimaces. She clenched her nostrils, twisted her mouth to one side, tried to keep her lungs shallow of air to not give them the full force a sneeze would require. Selena hovered nearby, her hands up, gently curled into a nervous gesture.
	Slowly, the urge to sneeze faded, and Layla regained her composure.
	“See? That was perfect. I’m so proud--”
	Layla gulped in air suddenly and sneezed into her hands three times. Not cute girly sneezes, either. These were real convince-your-boss-on-the-phone-that-you-really-are-sick sneezes.  The sudden force of her head and hands coming together to catch the sneeze sent the goggles flying off her head and to the floor.
	Selena had some paper towels ready once Layla was finished. She blew her nose and washed her hands before turning back to Selena with some confusion.
	“So... did I pass or what?” Layla said, a little annoyed.
	“You did good for a bit there.”
	“Selena, resisting a sneeze isn’t like resisting an orgasm if there’s flakes of pepper lodged in my nose.”
	“It COULD be like that if the director says you have to keep pounding the pussy.” Selena said. “And not everyone’s me and can ask for a break and actually GET one.”
	Layla took a deep breath, and blew her nose again. “So, the goggles...”
	“Those were just to keep it out of your eyes.” Selena answered. “I had a different idea for this one. I thought maybe I could give you a blowjob while you’re holding an egg, and you have to keep from tensing and breaking the egg.”
	“I like that idea MUCH more.”
	Selena kissed her. “I knew you would.”
	They sat down to eat. Selena held a long cylindrical object, about a foot long… and hard like wood.
	Her fancy pepper mill.
	Selena offered Layla pepper for her salad.
	She declined.

	The afternoon rolled on, and Selena left her work again to find Layla browsing her phone while resting on a couch.
	“You bored?” Selena asked.
	“I’m watching Youtube.” She answered.
	“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about.” Selena sat next to her. “How I’m not a convincing dominatrix?”
	“Well, you’re just so positive!” Layla said. “It’s why all your other porn works so well. I hate seeing the actresses who look reluctant or disinterested.”
	“You think you hate WATCHING them?” Selena said. “Try working with them. Anyway, I’m here helping you try to control yourself, so maybe you can help me practice my dominatrix bit.”
	Layla bit her lip. “You want me to be your sub?”
	“I think I’d prefer to call you my pet.” Selena rubbed under Layla’s chin, the way that cats apparently liked it. She stepped back, eyeing her up and down. “Strip.” She ordered.
	Layla did so as fast as she could. No matter how many times she’d been nude in front of Selena in the last few days, it was still thrilling.
	Selena looked at Layla’s groin. Somehow, she was able to contain her smile. “I didn’t say to become aroused.”
	“That was going to happen, no matter what you said.” Layla laughed.
	Selena pointed up her nose a bit. “Hmm. Well, I’ll allow it this time. So... I want to experiment. Do you give me permission to do with you what I wish?”
	“Yes, Miss Grande.” Layla smiled.
	“Even if you might find the results embarrassing?”
	“I hope it will be.”
	“Do you wish for a safety word?”
	“I guess.” Layla said.
	“You can choose one for yourself. I am a generous mistress.”
	Layla thought for a while. “No Whammies.” She said.
	Selena let out a sputtering laugh. “Have you ever actually SEEN an episode of Press Your Luck?”
	“No.”
	“It’s not my favorite. I don’t really like that the contestants can lose everything in one blow. Let’s Make A Deal, Price is Right... I mean, at least the Bankrupt space on the Wheel of Fortune makes sense. There must be some kind of risk to keep guessing letters once you know the answer.” Selena said. “Anyway, your safety word is No Whammies. You say that, regardless of the context, everything stops. Do you consent to this?”
	“Yes, Miss Grande.”
	“So, Miss Layla...” Selena looked Layla’s form over. “My first act here will be to open your laptop and look at your porn folder.”
	She started leaving the room before the sentence was finished. Layla gasped and held out her hand, as if she could stretch her arm out like Inspector Gadget and reach her.
	Selena turned back to her slowly, a wicked smile decorating her face. “Is there something wrong?”
	Layla was silent, her face already red.
	Selena went off to find Layla’s laptop. Layla was right behind her. Selena found it in the bedroom-that-was-no-longer-a-bedroom, where they had drafted the letter. Enough time had passed that the computer’s screen had darkened, but not enough to ask for her password.
	“Hey, I’m not your desktop background.” Selena said. “I’m crushed. But I guess it doesn’t matter what your background is when you have soooo many icons on here!”
	“Well, good luck finding it in all that.” Layla said, as Selena opened a search bar and typed her name in.
	“What would be in the folder labeled ‘selena,’ then?” She pointed at the search result.
	Layla was silent.
	“See, you never let anyone else use the computer, so you never even looked up how to hide a folder from the search results.” Selena said. “I could look in here, but instead... let’s open the parent folder.”
	A white window opened, filled with small yellow folders, listed alphabetically. There were no pictures visible until she scrolled down a few lines.
	“Wow, this is more than I thought.” Selena said. “Let’s see how big this parent folder is.”
	“No!”
	“Too late, I already right-clicked it.”
	The number slowly... ever so slowly grew and grew over the course of the next minute.
	“Do you want to know how many gigabytes of porn you have?”
	“No...” Layla groaned. “But I know it’s less than 500.”
	“Why is it definitely less than 500?”
	“Because that’s the size of the hard drive.”
	“Alright, follow me.” Selena took Layla’s laptop to the TV room, Layla following along helplessly. Selena sat the laptop on the rightmost cushion of the couch.
	“Stay here for just a moment.” Selena went to her office and retrieved a large plastic cylinder of nylon cable ties. She brought Layla’s hands around her back and laced the plastic tie around her wrists, keeping them close to her back.
	Selena looked at the tie for a moment, her satisfaction with it fading quickly. “Actually...” She looked about, threw a drawer open, closed it, and pointed. “I’ll be right back.”
	Layla spun around, seeing Selena leave. “Is this part of the game?” She asked nervously.
	No response. A few seconds later, Selena came back with scissors and freed Layla’s hands. 	“Your hands turned red really fast, and I got scared.” Selena confessed, throwing the cut cable tie away.
	“Well, I get marks on my ankles from wearing socks all day.” Layla said.
	“Your skin is just that soft and inviting.” Selena put her hands on Layla’s wrists, feeling no mark or other irregularity in the skin. “Maybe real bondage people use wider ties. These I bought to organize cords behind my computer and televisions and such. Something else that 50 Shades got wrong, I see.”
	“Did you actually read that?”
	“Well, I started the audiobook. I didn’t actually finish it, so I have no idea if they get together at the end. They probably do. What’s the point otherwise?”
	Layla held up a finger. “What if we... take two ties, wrap them around loosely around both my wrists, and then tied THOSE together with a third one?”
	Selena handed Layla a few ties. “I’ll need three hands for this. Could you...” She wrapped one partially closed tie around her wrist, holding two fingers on the underside of her wrist as if she was taking her pulse. Selena reached over and closed the tie, the gap made by Layla’s other hand leaving a little space for the tie to hang loosely around her wrist. It was too small to be removed over her hand, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
	They repeated the process for her other wrist, and Selena roped the two together with a third tie, snipping all the loose ends off the ties.
	“How’s that?” Selena asked.
	“It’s great, but you tied them in front instead of behind my back.”
	“Crap!”
	Some nervous and very delicate fiddling of the scissors freed the two ties again, which Selena then tied behind Layla’s back. Selena coaxed Layla down across her lap, the laptop in front of Layla and to Selena’s right.
	“You’ve been very naughty, Layla, keeping all this porn to yourself. I must punish you.” Selena said. “But I also want to improve your chances of growing out of this bad behavior. I’ve read a book on child psychology--”
	“Excuse me?!” Layla doubted very much that she’d read any such book. It was probably just more random trivia.
	“And it said the best technique to use is the carrot and the stick.”
	Selena opened a nearby drawer and withdrew a wooden ruler... and an unpeeled carrot with the greens still attached.
	“We’ll start with the carrot. I’ve heard they’re very good for eyesight.” She took the carrot away from Layla’s view. She heard some gentle squishing noises, like squeezing mustard out of a tube. The next thing Layla felt was the end of the carrot gently tickling her rear. Layla gasped and tensed, but not tense enough to stop Selena from slowly sliding the now-lubed carrot up her ass, until nothing of the carrot was visible except the greens, dangling from the hole like a horse’s tail.
	“Did you like that?” Selena wiped the lube off of her hand onto Layla’s shoulder. Layla didn’t answer, but her flushed expression and slack jaw answered her. “You remember when I told you how I never met a futa who wasn’t into futa? Well, I’ve also never met a futa who didn’t love anal. Are you going to be the first?”
	Selena tugged on the greens very gently.
	Layla gasped and whimpered.
	“I guess not. Now... where do we begin?”
	Selena’s thumb reached her chin and she hummed. “Let’s not explore my folder just yet...” Selena mewed. “Let’s check out... some lesbian porn. I assume that’s what’s in the folder titled ‘lesbian.’”
	Selena explored the filenames. “Ooh, I know what this is.” She opened the file and scrubbed forward a few minutes to two bleached-blonde, one in pink and one in blue, kissing and suckling their breasts in a bathroom.
	“Layla, you never told me you were into the classics. Ohh, Jenna Jameson and that... other blonde woman.”
	“Brittany Andrews.” Layla answered.
	“Thank you, Miss Layla. I should look up some more scenes with her.” Selena browsed the filenames. “You’ve got a subfolder for ‘molly.’ Who is Molly?”
	“Molly Cavalli.”
	“Oh yeah...” Selena nodded. “I met her once. It was after she retired.”
	“She retired?”
	“Yeah, it was like... 2012. She helps run a camgirl site. You might technically be her competition now, depending where it is you run your streams from.”
	“Did she ever do a scene with a futa?”
	“I don’t think so. There wasn’t long where that could have happened, of course.” Selena noted. “Not to sound egotistical, but if it wasn’t with me, it probably didn’t happen at all.”
	Selena left the comfort and predictability of the lesbian folder, looking for something more adventurous.
	“What’s in ‘misc?’” Selena asked, clicking and opening the folder. She looked at the filenames. Some of them confused her. “World’s best cat fails? You’re not mixing up your porn and your memes, are you?”
	“That’s just the filename.” Layla said. “That one’s really old, before I had my own computer. I downloaded it and changed the name so something pornographic wouldn’t appear in the Recent Files or recently played videos in VLC.”
	“Well, now I’ve GOT to know.”
	“No!”
	“Too late, I opened it.”
	The video faded in on a slim nude woman with braided hair, drinking from an upturned beer bottle, and urinating. When she lowered the bottle to take a breath, the flow stopped. When she put the bottle back to her lips, the flow continued.
	Selena shook with laughter. “Oh, wow. This is just funny.”
	“Would you believe that’s why I kept this video for so long?”
	“Yes, I would.”
	There was a pause. The stream of urine slowed to a trickle, but the beer was still going. The illusion of her pouring the beer directly through her as though she was hollow had been broken.
	“Could you masturbate to this?”
	“Not with you on my lap, I can’t.”
	“I mean... in general.”
	Selena scoffed dramatically. “Of course I could. I’m a professional. I could masturbate to anything. Men, women, futa, Jesus appearing on a piece of toast... ohh, that’s too hot to eat right now, Lord. But enough frivolity. I think it’s time to finally dive into the folder with my name on it.” She double-clicked the folder marked ‘Selena.’
	It took a few seconds for the computer to load the huge amount of videos, images and subfolders.
	“My goodness, there’s a lot here.” Selena cooed. “Look how much you’ve stolen from me. This house would be twice as big if it weren’t for you.”
	Selena’s hand landed firmly on Layla’s buttock. “So... for every movie of mine that you’ve stolen, I’m going to give you a spank. Do you think that’s fair?”
	Layla’s lips were knotted together, biting the lower one a bit. She nodded.
	Selena read off the titles slowly, giving Layla’s buttocks alternate slaps, growing slightly harder and harder. Even though she was promised ‘the stick,’ Selena uses her bare hand against Layla’s buttocks. Layla grunted and moaned, rubbing her cock into Selena’s groin.
	“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Selena said. “You meet your idol, and instead of pounding her sweet pussy, you can’t get past your own monitor.” She spanked both buttocks a few more times.
	Layla spasmed, trying to bury her face in the pillow under her chin. Selena felt something wet and warm on her skirt.
	“Oh, Layla...” Selena shook her head. “Are you enjoying this humiliation?”
	“Noooo...” Layla whined, evidently a lie, though the visible part of her cheeks bright red.
	“Then why!” Selena slapped her ass again, hard. “Are you! Still! Coming!?”
	Layla bucked and cried out. The warm puddle in Selena’s lap grew.
	“What else is in here...” Selena opened a video with a generic file name. The production company and U.S.C. Section 2257 Compliance Statement flashed by. Selena felt her stomach turn, as something she hadn’t thought about in a long time had come to the forefront of her mind.
	“Oh.” Selena said simply. “You’ve seen this, then.”
	Layla noticed her change in tone and looked up. “What, which one is this?”
	The video began with Selena in a stylized rusty dungeon with a grated floor, her arms tied above her head and restraints keeping her feet apart. She looked up to the camera, and water cannons descended from the four corners of the room and sprayed her one at a time with water. The first one sprayed her on her chest, right at her heart. Selena yelped and tried to lean away from the stream, as far as her restraints would allow.
	“That water was SO damn cold.” Selena said.
	“Weren’t you worried about... shrinkage?”
	Selena blew a raspberry. “Shrinkage is temporary. Everyone knows what I got.”
	“So, what was so bad about working on this, then?” Layla asked, interrupted when a second water cannon turned on, pointing at Selena’s face.
	“THAT water cannon was warm, just to make the next water cannon feel even colder.” Selena pointed. “Not that anyone at home would know that, since they don’t explain it. Also, they deliberately made me wear makeup that would run, even though I had waterproof makeup.”
	“This feels like watching a director’s commentary.” Layla said. “But seriously, what was so bad about this?”
	“Haven’t you seen the end?”
	Layla looked away. “I never make it that far. This is one of the only videos where I get to watch you flop around flaccid.”
	Selena scrubbed through the forty-minute video and found the final sequence, where Selena stood in a water torture chamber rapidly filling with water... with a steel ball-and-chain around one of her ankles, the same kind prisoners wore in cartoons but without the striped overalls. She floated as high as the ball would let her, taking in a huge gulp of air just as the water reached the top.
	“There’s a part here you can’t quite see, because of the way the top of the case is designed.” Selena pointed. “That tank completely fills with water. There is no air pocket at the top.”
	On the screen, Selena looked up as the unseen air pocket vanishes. She looked out through the glass, at the crew, momentarily at the camera. She floated in the pool, her hair suspended over her shoulders, staying as still as she could. To Layla, it was a similar image to when she watched Selena swim through the glass behind the television. Unlike then, there was something other than lust building in her eyes.
	Fear.
	“How long can you hold your breath?” Layla asked nervously.
	“Quite a while... if I stay calm.”
	The video continued, without breaking or cutting away. A picture-in-picture showed some other views, including a helpful closeup of Selena’s penis floating weightlessly in the water. Selena blew a few bubbles out her nose, waiting for some support from the crew and seeing none. She looked down at her shackle.
	“Oh, God...” Layla squinted involuntarily. “How much longer does this go on?”
	“A long time.” Selena said.
	Layla put her head down in her arms. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to see this”
	“You’ve never watched this at all?” Selena set the player to fast forward, and the next few minutes dashed by as Selena kept waiting for something to happen in the coffin. Even at four times playback speed, it felt like forever.
	Finally, a plug was pulled by a chain at the base of the water torture chamber, and the air pocket reappeared at the top. Selena went to it, but the ball-and-chain kept her from it until the little plug drained enough that her mouth could breach the surface of the water and gasp in air.
	The water drained away, and the chamber was opened, the four clear walls of the chamber splitting apart like the peel of a banana. A camera moved in close on Selena’s face, with the telltale wobble of handheld videography.
	“Wow.” Said Selena, on the video, shivering and breathing hard. “I’ve never held my breath THAT long before...” She smiled weakly, holding her arms around her torso and made a quick good-bye and shout-out to the website that had released this video.
	“Huh.” Selena grunted. “I held it together way better than I remember. In my head, I was so angry.”
	“How long were you holding your breath?”
	“Just under three minutes.” Selena explained. “To put that into perspective, that’s a feat that can be performed by synchronized swimmers. Anyway, after we left the set, I grabbed the director by the shoulders and threw him into the wall so hard, I broke the drywall. I screamed at him, asking if it was, in fact, his intention to kill me.
	“The director said he heard I could hold my breath for a long time from some interview I did where I talked about how I love swimming. He wanted to push it, but he expected me to do the safe gesture and get out of it and that would be the end of the video.”
	“What did you say to THAT?”
	“I told him he can’t just spring stuff like that on me without asking me. That’s like not telling someone it’s an anal scene until five minutes before. He really didn’t see what the big deal was. To his credit, he asked, ‘do you want us to not use the footage?’ I said, ‘You’re going to put me through that and then NOT use it? No way. You sell as much of this as you want, but I’m never doing a scene like that again.’”
	A silence fell over the pair. Layla slid up from her lap and looked Selena in her eye.
	“You OK?” Layla asked.
	Selena took the back of Layla’s head and brought her in for a kiss. “I’m great.” She said. “How’s the ass?”
	“It feels OK.” Layla shrugged. “You went easy on me.”
	Selena squinted disapprovingly, countered by a smile appearing on one side of her face. “Ohhh... you’re going to get it next time. And you ruined this skirt.”
	They kissed once more. Layla wormed herself off Selena’s lap, bringing her knees onto the carpet. She dipped her lips into the lake of come she’d left on Selena’s skirt, hands behind her like she was bobbing for apples. Layla slurped up as much as she could fit in her mouth. She stood, sat in Selena’s much cleaner lap, and emptied her mouth into Selena’s.
	After their tongues fought over the last sweet morsel, Selena patted Layla’s rear gently. “You’re being bad. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
	“Then you’re going to have to spank me again.”
	“Impudence.” Selena sneered. “I’ll have to find something for that mouth...”
	“Like a bar of soap?”
	Selena shook her head. “No, no. That’d be gross. I’ve got something else in mind.” Selena worked her way off the couch, Layla standing up from Selena’s lap. “But first...”
	Reaching behind Layla, she gently pulled the carrot from within Layla by the green tassel. Layla gasped about as loud as the item left her as she did when it entered. She’d almost forgotten it was there.
	“It’s obvious which of these two were more effective.”

	Layla walked on all fours, having been freed from her impromptu plastic shackles. She was still nude, crawling behind Selena into the locked storage room. She’d explained how an online charity telethon had contacted her and asked if there was some Selena Grande memorabilia she could donate to them for this event.
	Selena asked if an authentic Selena Grande-used dildo would suffice.
	They were very enthusiastic about this.
	Selena now stood above her plastic tub filled with marital aids like a pirate standing by their unearthed plunder.
	“Which one should I give them, Layla?” Selena put her hand into the storage tub and pulled out a red vibrator with clitoral stimulating extension, about seven inches. “This one seems a bit small... and I left the batteries in, so it might not even work anymore.”
	She flipped the switch at the base. The device buzzed and came to live, vibrating and wobbling in the middle like a belly dancer.
	“I stand corrected.”  She said, striding behind Layla. In one vertical move, she pressed the very tip of the vibrator against Layla’s crotch, tickling her balls and barely parting the moist lips of her vulva. Layla’s legs shook, and a single outstretched strand of precum reached the carpet.
	“You’re right, Layla.” Selena said. “You love this one too much to part with it. Could you hold it for me?”
	“If you put it in my pussy, I’m going to come.” Layla begged breathlessly.
	“From that sentence, I can’t tell if you want me to or not.” Selena sighed, turning off the dildo and resting it on Layla’s back like a saddle. “Alright. I’ll be merciful today.”
	Selena’s hand returned to the tub. She retrieved a green semitransparent dildo with concentric ripples, like the inside of a set of pork ribs. “This one is fun, but still... too small. Don’t you agree?”
	Layla nodded her head. “You can’t send a dildo that’s much smaller than you. But nobody makes a thirteen inch dildo.”
	“Actually, some companies do.” Selena corrected in her own voice, rather than her assumed dominatrix demeanor. “But I don’t think I have one. They’re more of a novelty.” She tossed it back into the bin and returned her hand to it, rifling through it like drawing numbers out of a hat.
	“Here we go...” Selena smiled, and withdrew a flesh-colored monstrosity, only a few inches short of Selena’s own cock. It was a peachy color, with a gentle curve upward that neither hers nor Layla’s possessed. “This will do nicely. I can even sign this if they like. Do you think they’ll like this dildo, Layla?”
	“Definitely.” Layla craned her head up. 
	“Well... we’ll have to clean it up.” Selena held the dildo above Layla and lowered the tip towards Layla’s mouth. “Would you be so kind?”
	Once Layla’s mouth opened for a response, Selena gently pressed the dildo inside. She made some moans as the firm rubber crawled down her throat until the rubber balls were against her nose.
	“There we go. Clean it good, now.”
	Layla gagged softly as Selena dipped the dildo in and out of her throat, like rubbing clothing against a washboard. She withdrew it, a strand of spit connecting the tip and Layla’s lip, a few delicate bubbles breaking as she moved her lips again.
	“Beautiful. Clean as a whistle.”
	Layla gagged again.
	“All this time, you can deep-throat beautifully...” Selena looked down at Layla. “And you never once offered to go down on me.”
	Layla still didn’t respond. There were tears gathering in her eyes.
	“Did you like the taste? The remnants of my gushing pussy--”
	“Selena!” Layla finally croaked in a half-shout. “I taste soap.”
	“What?” Selena looked alarmed, dropping the moistened dildo to the floor. She got Layla to her feet. “Are you OK?”
	“I just need a drink.”
	Selena hustled Layla back to the kitchen with the urgency of a mother bringing a child with a stomach bug to the bathroom. Layla insisted that she would not be throwing up in front of Selena Grande, no matter what she ate.
	“I don’t get why it tasted soapy.” Selena rubbed Layla’s shoulder. “I sterilize them in the dishwasher.”
	“Did you add soap when you did it?”
	“Of course not. I’m not that dumb. There must have been some left over or something. Or maybe Merri filled it and I didn’t check. I don’t know. Are you OK?”
	“I’ll be fine. It just tasted bad.”
	“You say the word and I’ll take you to somewhere to get checked out, insurance or no insurance.”
	“It’s OK.” Layla took Selena’s hands and pulled her in. They kissed once, then twice.
	Selena smiled. “Now blow a bubble.”
	Layla playfully shoved Selena away. “So that line about your gushing pussy...”
	“No, I didn’t ride it hard and put it away wet.” Selena noted. “They were all clean.”
	Selena left Layla at the sink only long enough to summon a box of Wheat Thins to continue the campaign of ridding her mouth of the harsh soapy taste.
	The Wheat Thins were stale.
	“Oh, my God, I’m so bad at this!” Selena cried, clenching her fist.

	Having failed to demonstrate that she could be an effective dominatrix, Selena allowed Layla to get dressed. Not everything had to revolve around sex. Just most things.
	Selena found an old shipping box in which the donated dildo would fit. She removed the sticker which bore her address and printed up a shipping label to attach to the box.
	“Wow, it printed right on the first try.” Selena marveled. “See, the printer is behaving itself because I have company over. Printers, right? I seem to remember you talking about them, but I don’t remember when.”
	“It was on stream the other night.”
	“Oh, yeah...” Selena peeled the sticker off the back of the paper and slid it against the wide part of the box, keeping any wrinkles or air bubbles from forming. She also got Layla to print a copy of the letter she had drafted.
	Selena read it once more, checking for any spelling errors the spellcheck wouldn’t catch, like a typo that accidentally formed a word that recognized by the dictionary. She didn’t find any, and promptly folded the letter perfectly into thirds.
	Over her shoulder, Selena caught a glimpse of Layla’s gentle look of concern. “What’s on your mind?” Selena asked.
	Layla inhaled, but didn’t say anything.
	“It’s all right, Layla. Go ahead.” She encouraged.
	Layla puffed up with air, and let it all go. “Are you sure you want to send that letter?”
	“Well, I’m going to the post office anyway.”
	“You can drop that letter in any mailbox on any street corner and it will get there.” Layla said, sharper than she meant. She dialed it back a bit. “So... what’s the rush?”
	Selena turned back to the folded letter in her hands. She unfolded it and read it again. She closed her eyes and folded it again, setting it down on the desk. “Yeah, I’ll sleep on it.”
	They started the walk to the garage, the parcel under Layla’s arm. Layla hoped she hadn’t gone too far.
	“I really like having you around, Layla.” Selena said, almost as if to contradict Layla’s worries. “You’re like the angel on my shoulder.”
	“I don’t think I’m that nice...” Layla said.
	“No, I know you are, because your jizz is sweet.” Selena said. “That’s how I can tell for sure.”
	“I’ve never heard that.” Layla piled into the passenger’s seat. “Are you sure about that?”
	“Well, whenever I meet a futa friend, I talk to them and see if they’re nice. If they are, and we become friends, I’ll inevitably suck them off at some point, and... yeah, so far, they’ve all been sweet. None quite as lovely as yours, of course.”
	Layla moved the parcel to between her legs to hide something. Selena looked at it and just snickered.

	There was a line at the post office. Layla suggested this was exactly the sort of thing an assistant could help with. Selena doubted she’d be doing anything that productive at home except edging, which she obviously wouldn’t do here. Not that she’d be the first person to do that when in line at the post office.
	Selena was grateful the people auctioning the authentic Selena Grande-used dildo lived in America. The shipping costs meant nothing to her, but filling out a custom form was always an interesting challenge, wondering if she would encounter the snooty postal worker who didn’t want her to write ‘dildo’ on a government form. There was also the chance of getting the opposite reaction, one who would say “sex toy” or “marital aid” was not specific enough for the form.
	One man in line stepped forward to ask if she was Selena Grande. She affirmed this, and they took a selfie on his phone. He went back to his place in line, everyone in line polite enough to allow him to re-enter where he had left.
	The woman behind him asked, “Who IS that?”
	The man suddenly looked as though he had to explain the giant stack of Playboys in the corner of his room.
	Selena came to his rescue. “Have you ever seen Modern Family?” She asked the woman.
	She shook her head no.
	The gamble had paid off. “Then you wouldn’t know who I am.”
	Thankfully, the woman didn’t ask for a picture anyway. What a rude awakening she might be in for if she posted THAT to Facebook.

	“You ever get recognized?” Selena asked Layla during the drive home.
	“In public?” Layla folded her hand in her lap. “Once or twice. My stream isn’t very popular, but... it’s not like I’m in disguise. One dude recognized me and asked to see my cock, and I said, ‘show me yours’ as a joke. And then he actually did it. I was joking, but I can’t blame him for doing it when I asked him to.”
	A pause. “Well...?” Selena looked across the car at her expectantly.
	“Yeah, I did it. I was pretty embarrassed, whipping it out in public. But not as embarrassed as him when he realized I was twice as big as him.”
	Selena snickered.
	Layla continued, “Like, I don’t get how he didn’t know! He’s obviously seen my stream.”
	A few minutes of placid driving. Layla came up with another question for her.
	“Did you ever work with that bondage crew again?”
	“Yes, but not as a sub, and not water torture.” Selena answered. “I did a few as my pathetic attempt as a dominatrix. It was still loads of fun. Especially since I got to do whatever I wanted. Despite the fact that I totally committed battery on that guy after he nearly killed me, we patched it up and I’ve been back a few times.”
	“Have you ever... had to break ties with someone professionally?”
	Selena thought for a bit. “Only once.”
	“What happened? If you’re comfortable sharing that, of course.”
	“I won’t name who it was, but it was a younger futa star. We filmed together, and she later went on the news to say that she was fired from a teaching job because of her appearance in our movie. But she claimed she had a degree in elementary education. I was immediately suspicious because... I had just turned twenty-one. As you must be gathering, there doesn’t seem to be any futa porn star that’s older than me. That meant she got a degree in elementary education in two and a half years.”
	“That’s not impossible.” Layla noted.
	“No, it’s not, but nothing else in her story checked out. She never named the school where she worked OR the university where she taught. She always dodged answering it. But sales of the DVD doubled for…  maybe the week this controversy held anyone’s interest. They never admitted to it, but it was clear this was a publicity stunt.
	“I confronted her and the director together. I told them that what they did was wrong, that dragging me into this was absolutely unacceptable, and that I would never work with them again.”
	“Did you?”
	“Never.” Selena said. “They responded to this by saying I was washed up and I’d be out of the industry in a year.”
	“What happened to them?”
	“I sort of wish I didn’t know, but… one night, curiosity got the better of me. The director left the industry about the time when he thought I would, and the actress…”
	Selena paused.
	“She is now an escort. Or she was, as of two years ago.”
	“So she didn’t go back into teaching.” Layla said.
	A smile appeared on Selena’s lips, despite shaking her head in disapproval. “No. Evidently not.”
	A few blocks flew by the windows before Selena spoke again. “You ever do that? Google your exes? See what they’re up to?”
	Layla felt a thin sliver of fear enter her heart at the inquiry. She tried to stay calm. “Exes, no. Crushes… yes.”
	“Swear it off now, while you’re still young.” Selena said. “Like smoking. The older you get, the more the social media of your friends look like highlight reels. There’s no reason to torture yourself over it for people you don’t know anymore, be they friends or enemies. I mean, I’m very successful, but if those two found out that I hate-Googled them… they’d probably think that was some small victory over me. That I hadn’t completely left it behind. And I have. I’m just telling you the story because I hope you can avoid making that mistake.”
	At the end of the journey home, Selena took a brief detour to stop to a grocery store. Layla put a bottled water in among Selena’s items, since it would be the ninth of the allowed ten items. It was the self-checkout, but rules were rules. By the time they got home, it was 4:30, and Selena suggested that 5:00 would be a perfect time for dinner. Sadly, the oven had to preheat, so dinner came closer to 5:30. She wished for an app on her phone that could remotely turn on her oven when she was gone… but then remembered her mother’s habit of hanging damp dish towels inside the still-warm oven to dry them.
	Once the oven timer beeped, Selena removed two identical ceramic casseroles from the oven, with half a game hen resting on a bed of carrots, potatoes, yellow onion, celery and broccoli.
	It smelled amazing. Layla’s stomach knotted and growled at the smell. She took a seat at the kitchen island as Selena took out three plates. One plate held the chicken while she poured the vegetables into the other two before plating the chicken atop the vegetables.
	Layla picked up her utensils, but Selena waved her hand.
	“What, are we going to say Grace?” Layla asked.
	“No, you’re supposed to let the chicken rest for five minutes.”
	Layla set down her utensils. “What do we do for five minutes?”
	Six minutes of French kissing followed, with Selena pinning Layla to the fridge, knocking a few magnets from it as she groped Layla’s balls through her tights. If the smell from the chicken wasn’t making them salivate before... they certainly were now.
	Sitting across from each other, Layla and Selena picked up their forks and knives. Selena tucked in, but Layla hesitated, seeing the chopped carrot among the vegetables.
	“What’s wrong?” Selena asked, taking another bite immediately after.
	Layla brought her fork up with a carrot slice in the tines. “Selena, this isn’t…THE carrot, is it?”
	Selena played coy. “It’s a carrot.” She said, emphasizing the ‘A.’
	Layla set the fork down. “Selena, I’m not eating a carrot that was in my ass. That’s a hard no.”
	Unperturbed, Selena reached across the counter, bringing her fork above Layla’s plate and stabbing a carrot slice with her fork. She brought it back and ate it expressionlessly.
	“That doesn’t necessarily prove anything.” Layla reasoned. “I’ve seen Nil by Ass to Mouth 2.”
	Selena looked at her a little funny. “My chef made these yesterday, remember? I was on the phone at your place.”
	Layla’s face softened. “Oh, yeah.”
	“And besides... I would never do that to you as a prank.” Selena said. “I hate pranks like that.”
	Satisfied, Layla started eating. She speared a coin-shaped slice of carrot in the fork and bit it. The carrot was soft and perfectly cooked, but she still heard a snap and crunch of uncooked carrot.
	Layla looked up. Selena had bitten into the end of an unpeeled carrot, the greens still attached to the root.
	Selena looked back, chewing the carrot. “What?” She asked innocently. “What’s up...”
	A smile crept onto one side of Selena’s face.
	“Doc?” She said finally, face contorting to resist laughing.
	Layla squinted at her. “You’re so weird.” She whispered with a smile.
	“Is this going to stop me from getting kisses tonight?” Selena asked, a trickle of nervousness appearing in her voice.
	“I know that’s not the real carrot.” Layla said. “That one is much… pointier.”
	“Oh, this ISN’T the ass carrot?” Selena looked at it with a gentle rising cheek, as if it had transformed into an uncooked parsnip. “Well, screw it then.” She dropped the carrot to the counter.
	
	After dinner, Selena and Layla watched Wheel and Jeopardy together, Layla in Selena’s lap, a pile of clothing in the corner of the room growing as they slowly stripped them off until they were both naked but for their socks. There was something slightly ridiculous about wearing exclusively socks, and not even on the dong. There was almost a feeling of being more naked than total nudity.
	Layla rubbed herself against Selena’s hard throbbing unit as they kissed deeply, Selena coaxing Layla to her neck so she could keep watching the television, yet no less enthralled with Layla’s enthusiastic petting.
	At some point, Selena broke her lips away for long enough to ask, “Are you going to stream tonight?”
	Layla hadn’t even thought about it all day. “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t do it yesterday. I should. It’s tough missing two days in a row.”
	“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Selena traced her finger down Layla’s spine. “You go get ready for your stream. But I want a kiss before you go to work.”
	Layla gave her one.
	Somehow, it turned into many more kisses.
	The stream didn’t start until half-past-eight.

	The broadcast began. The viewers were welcomed to a video of Layla with her back against the headboard of a bed, sheets gathered below her out of shot. She was fully nude and already erect, which many of the viewers felt necessary to point out how often she had started the stream at full mast recently. Layla knew there was a subset of her audience that loved to watch her slowly get hard, but tonight, she had jumped the gun.
	If they knew where she was broadcasting from, they wouldn’t question it.
	“Hey, everyone.” She waved and smiled. “It’s good to see you again.” She read chat as it slowly filled. “I feel good tonight. How are all of you?”
	She let the chat answer. Most answered with some form of ‘I’m good.’ If there was one thing Layla enjoyed about this one-sided interaction, it was that she avoided the interactions she always faced at the coffee shop. Literally no matter what greeting she said to the customer, they always answered, “Not much, you?” or “Good.”
	“Well, that’s good, most people are--” Layla stopped, her eyes widening. “Whoa, someone lost their job, it says?” She scrolled back up. “SmokeLord12345... I’m sorry to hear that. Did you quit, get fired... what?”
	Smoke’s eventual response: “Laid off. The bowling alley I work at closed.”
	“Well, that’s a shame. But I mean... I literally can’t remember the last time I bowled. I haven’t even played Wii Bowling in years.” Layla blew a kiss at the camera. “Well, that’s for you, Smoke. I’m sure it’ll all work out for you. But... I’m sure tonight’s show will cheer you up. It will be a good one, because I am as horny as a gorilla tonight.”
	A third hand entered the frame from the left, the fingers twirling eagerly as it approached Layla’s cock. Its presence seemed to take Layla by surprise.
	“Uh-oh!” Layla smiled wider, looking off-screen toward the hand’s owner. “It’s Thing! Making her… completely unexpected return!”
	“Thing” was the name the chat had given to Layla’s former roommate who made a few hand-only appearances on Layla’s streams early on. Her roommate had offered to whack her off for her show a few times, mostly so Layla would actually show off her cock in real life and satisfy her curiosity. They figured nobody they knew would ever see it, but the news somehow got back to her roommate’s parents, and…
	Well, Layla no longer had a roommate. Luckily, she and Thing were still friends. But no more lovely handjobs. Layla had to handle those on her own.
	Until tonight, of course.
	The hand took a grip on Layla’s cock and slowly rubbed it up and down, with occasional bursts of enthusiastic speed. Layla twitched a bit as the hand tightly wanked her cock.
	“We’re getting started really early this time.” Layla said. “I just can’t do the slow burn thing tonight. I hope you all don’t mind.”
	Layla tried to read the chat, but the hand rubbed Layla’s tip. She spasmed gently. “I’m not alone... boy, nothing gets past you, huh? Also, someone in chat said that gorillas have teeny little penises, so I guess I shouldn’t use that comparison. But there will be none of those here tonight! Unless you brought them here with you… but your secret’s safe with me.”
	From the same side of the screen as the hand, a head appeared, all the blonde hair parted to the right to obscure her face. The head dropped onto Layla’s cock and vanished into the unseen mouth. Layla shook like a massage chair and clutched her thighs as the mop of blonde hair rose and fell over the cock.
	“Chat says...” Layla momentarily stumbled her words. “Chat says ‘what amateur is this? Move your f’ing hair.’ Do you have anything to say to that, Thing?”
	With a dramatic flip, Selena threw all her hair from the right side of her head to the left, revealing her face and her lips planted atop Layla’s cock. She went down and up a few more times to make sure people saw it.
	The chat started going crazy, with everyone present feeling it necessary to cheer Selena’s name, or to simply point out the obvious: that holy shit, Selena Grande is with Layla and sucking her cock.
	Selena released Layla’s spit-slick cock with a dramatic pop and waved. “Hey, boys.”
	“And ladies.” Layla corrected. “And whatever else.”
	“Do you have many futa viewers, Layla?” Selena brought herself beside Layla on the bed, also completely nude and erect.
	“I ran a poll once,” Layla answered, picking her laptop up off the covers. “and the results said that ten percent of the audience were futa.”
	A small pause. “That sounds awful high.”
	“Well, you were the one who said that you’d never met a futa who wasn’t into other futa.” Layla brought the laptop onto her lap again, folding her cock underneath it. “I know I have futa fans, but probably not THAT many.”
	“What are you doing, Layla? Now we can’t see your cock.”
	“I just need to put chat in Slow Mode.” She explained, tapping on the keys. “I can’t read it like this...”
	Selena waited for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. Layla put the laptop at the end of the bed, her legs crossed to one side of it. Selena pulled out her phone from somewhere.
	“Let’s take a picture.” She put her arm around Layla’s shoulder and held the camera out as far as she could. Layla pulled the sheets up over herself.
	Seeing this in her phone screen, Selena turned her head and whipped the sheets right off her again. Layla yipped involuntarily, in a way far more embarrassing than the nudity.
	“You can be naked.” Selena assured her.
	“They’re not going to take it down or something?”
	“Don’t you have an Instagram or Twitter or anything?”
	“Actually, I don’t.” They posed quickly, leaning against each other’s cheekbones and smiling, both resisting the instinct to do the repulsive ‘duck-face’ expression. Selena snapped the picture, and another one quickly as she turned and kissed Layla on the cheek, Layla’s smile growing wider at the moment the second picture was taken.
	“Here, do this.” Selena coaxed Layla’s hand onto her cock, grabbing it just under the head. She snapped another picture just as Layla stuck out her tongue to lick at Selena’s earlobe. “They might actually take this one down, since it’s someone else touching my cock. They will delete pictures of sex acts, so that might count. Well...” Selena looked at the picture. “You can’t tell whose it is. I’ll just say it’s my hand.”
	“It can’t be your hand, Selena.” Layla noted. “That’s a right hand, and your right hand was holding your phone.”
	“Well, it’s lucky nobody in chat will report this, right?” Selena looked at the featureless black dot at the apex of the laptop’s screen. “This is just between you and us, alright?”
	Selena tried to read the chat. She caught a few affirmative responses, but it flew by like an unending reverse waterfall of text.
	“I thought you put this in Slow Mode. I don’t even know what Slow Mode is, but this doesn’t seem too slow.”
	“I did put it in Slow Mode.” Layla looked at the viewer count. “We just have... suddenly way more people in here than normal.”
	“How many?”
	“Like... two thousand.” Layla said, watching the number jump up every second. “My record was around seven hundred, and that was on some random three-day weekend.”
	“It’ll get worse when I send out the link.” Selena tapped more pictures in her phone.
	“How many followers do you have?”
	“Four million.”
	Watching the number climb higher and higher, Layla felt something she’d never felt before: performance anxiety. Selena sensed Layla’s nervousness and brought her head against hers, and took her hand. On camera, it didn’t look like the master supporting her disciple. It looked like two enthusiastic lovers having a quiet moment.
	Layla whispered to Selena, “I think I prefer having you all to myself.”
	Selena smiled, and whispered back. “Me, too.”
	Layla inhaled deeply and started, trying to ignore the number of viewers growing, possibly exponentially. “Hello, everyone. As you can see, I have a very special guest who needs no introduction.”
	Setting one hand against the top of her breast, Selena spoke up. “I’m Taylor Boyd, I’m Layla’s younger sister.”
	“Selena!”
	“It’s OK. We’re sisters-in-law, so all this sex you’re going to watch is completely family-friendly.”
	Layla giggled. “So yeah, this is the legendary porn star Selena Grande.”
	Selena tried to read the chat and barely caught something. “Yes,  whoever that was in chat.” Selena swiped her finger in the universal gesture of ‘you got it!’ She continued, “Indeed, I was Thing all along. I remember when Layla emailed me last year and said, ‘come to my grandfather’s basement and jack me off, and say or do nothing that indicates that you’re really the world’s most famous porn star.”
	“Selena, shut up!” Layla said. “You’re going to confuse them.”
	“No, it’s true.” Selena refused to recant her blather. “And if someone else out there was ever accused of being the hand behind Thing, they can point to this video and demonstrate with absolute certainty to any disapproving parent or social worker that it was really me! I have always been Thing. This stream is legally binding.”
	Layla shook her head and rolled her eyes. Selena leaned in to whisper again. “Was Thing Caucasian?”
	“Yes, she was.” Layla whispered back. “You lucked out.”
	A moment, where both tried to read chat. They caught a couple words, but any sentence longer than five words had no chance to be read before it vanished up the top of the screen.
	“Did you know about Thing before now? Did you look up an archived video or something?”
	“Had no idea. I just wanted to jerk you off.” Selena answered. “Who was she?”
	“Just a friend.”
	Selena brought her lips to Layla’s and kissed once. They both smiled. Selena turned back to the camera. “Did you know... that in the original Addams Family show, Thing wasn’t a disembodied hand? In the show, Thing was a complete creature who was so horrible, the only thing anyone could stand to look at was its hand, or sometimes, its forearm. It’s only in the Addams Family MOVIES that they established that Thing was a disembodied hand.”
	Layla let out a hissing laugh. “Selena watches a lot of TV. Did you know she loves game shows? I never knew that before we met.”
	“I like game shows because they’re a remnant of good television that still exists. And I must gently dispute what you said. I don’t watch that much TV, but I do watch almost exclusively old TV or game shows. Modern TV is just awful.”
	“I like 2 Broke Girls.”
	“Yeah, but… my understanding is that is a show that doesn’t pretend it’s any better or more complicated than it is.” Selena said. “And it’s not this reality show crap that is just as scripted, but pretends to be real. That stuff makes me sick. And I’m a woman who has sex with strangers for a living. Porn is way more real than any of that reality show crap. Sure, the pizza box might be empty, but the coitus is real! I really can’t stand shows like Honey Boo-Boo’s Adventure or whatever it’s called. I don’t even know why they HAVE a show. Did they open a Mountain Dew can and find a golden ticket?”
	A pause, where Selena took a breath. She burst out with sudden enthusiasm. “Welcome to the first episode of the Selena and Layla podcast! We sit around naked with boners and talk about stuff and have no sex whatsoever! So if you were expecting me to whack off Layla’s searing hot boner...”
	Selena immediately started doing so.
	“I’m sorry, but you’re out of luck. We’re here to talk about boring, explosion-less science and why Prop 60 is bad for California.”
	“What was Prop 60? Farm subsidies or something?”
	“No, it was requiring condoms in pornographic films.” Selena said. “Actually, it was more like… any California resident can sue someone for not having a condom visible in a pornographic production.”
	“Did this include camgirls?” Layla asked. Selena’s handjob was so gentle, she almost didn’t notice it.
	“Probably not, if they’re performing alone. But this, what we’re doing now, sure. We’d need a condom for a handjob.” Selena said. “I don’t remember the exact text of the bill. But it was all based on the fear of spreading HIV, which is thankfully still super rare. This guy spent, like, five million bucks, whereas the ‘opposition’ barely spent a tenth of that... and we won. Because what safety precautions we take, as professionals, that should be up to us, not some self-appointed nannies.”
	Layla was silent for a bit. She didn’t quite have the nerve to tell Selena that she hadn’t voted.
	“And besides... there are no condoms that fit me!” Selena cried. “Or at least not good ones... I would be completely out of luck.”
	“Maybe someday, they’ll make special futa-sized condoms.” Layla said, with gentle emphasis.
	Evidently, Selena didn’t feel like telling chat about the future deal with the condom maker, because she responded with a short, “Maybe.”
	A pause. Selena snuck a peck from Layla’s cheek. Layla did the same. She noticed something when gazing at Selena’s beautiful profile, something she’d missed before now.
	“You don’t have pierced ears.” Layla whispered.
	“No, I don’t.” Selena whispered back.
	“Why not?”
	She shrugged. “Just never had it done.” She looked back to the chat and caught a question in the millisecond it was visible. “Someone in chat asked how we met. That’s a good question. I just saw her out and about somewhere, thought she was super cute, we started talking, she told me she was a futa and... then this all happened.”
	Layla opened her mouth to correct the story. She hesitated. None of the details Selena left out were things she really wanted to share.
	“Yeah, pretty much.” Layla confirmed. “I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask her to be part of my show, but...”
	“Well, it’s not like we wouldn’t be doing all this anyway, right?” Selena smiled, touching Layla’s chin. “Now we’ve got an audience to prove that to your friends you really met me, if anyone questions it.”
	Selena pulled out a can of Reddi-Wip out from under her pillow. Layla wondered how she’d gotten that in there without her noticing. “Why don’t we mess around with this, huh?” Selena snapped the conical lid off and tossed it away.  She rocked the container in her hand a few times before examining it. “Do you shake this stuff? I don’t remember.” She did it anyway. “I never have this stuff in my house. I just thought it’d be fun.”
	Pointing the nozzle down at Layla’s nipple, she sprayed a small dollop of cream atop it. Layla shook a bit at the cold, but moreso as Selena’s mouth went over the nipple and slurped it off, keeping her lips clamped long after the cream was gone.
	“Like I really need this to want to suck on Layla’s cute little nipples.” Selena said to the camera, nevertheless applying a similar portion to the other nipple and slurping it off dramatically.
	“Doesn’t Layla have nice breasts?” Selena folded her hand like a lobster claw, Layla’s breast squeezing a bit out of her palm. She positioned her hand so that the nipples were in perfect tweaking position. She kissed them each once in turn and raked her tongue against them.
	“This stuff is better than I remember...” Selena said, firing a little blast of white into her mouth. “But Conagra can’t make anything as sweet as what’s waiting in here...” Selena rolled Layla’s balls in her hand, both barely fitting within her fingers.
	Selena sprayed a cone-shaped dollop of cream on the tip of Layla’s cock. She blew a raspberry, and started laughing.
	“What?” Layla said, looking past Selena’s head to the swirl of rapidly melting cream atop herself. 
	“It just looks really silly.” She said, still chuckling. “I don’t know why I did that.” She licked it off in one stroke of her tongue. “Layla, you do polls in chat, right?”
	“Yeah, why? What do you want to ask chat?”
	With Layla’s help, Selena made a poll asking the following question: would it have been funny if Selena had brought out Cool Whip instead of Reddi-Wip?
	“There’s a difference?” was the most popular answer. Second-most popular was “You’re sillier in real life than I thought you’d be.”
	“You guys are no fun.” Selena said. “I still think it’d be hilarious. Ooh, baby, I got some cream for you.” She mimed scooping something with a spoon, voicing a sound effect she would choose to spell as “bllooop.”
	“I just wish I could vote in this, because you are definitely sillier than I expected.”
	“That’s just because I’m comfortable with you, Layla.” She answered. “If I’m on set, I’m being professional. If I’m in public, I just mind my own business. But here... it’s just us and thousands of fans, and we can do whatever we want. But now...” Selena took Layla’s chin and kissed her on the lips. “I think it’s about time we really get started...”
	They kissed, leaning in close to the laptop, so the chat could watch as their tongues passed across their lips and into each other’s mouths, noses brushing past each other as they turned their heads. The chat cursed the low-resolution camera, wishing that this encounter would be preserved in 4K, maybe even 8K. This was a moment that should be shown on theater screens or projected onto buildings.
	Selena climbed atop Layla, the laptop between their legs. Selena slid her cock along Layla’s, up to her tits, and down again. The camera glared unblinking at Selena’s ass moved up and down Layla’s body, Selena’s balls parting against Layla’s cock.
	Her hands going lower, Selena put her fingers on each side of Layla’s pussy and pulled them apart, revealing a tiny sliver of pink.
	“HEY!” Layla cried, immediately pushing her legs together.
	Selena turned back to the camera, eyebrows raised, like she’d just found a shiny new penny. “Everyone!” She shouted. “Here’s something you’ve never seen before, I’ll bet.” Selena smiled, dismounting Layla. She pointed to Layla’s face. “Layla blushing.”
	Layla smiled bashfully, tugging the sheet up to her face. “Shut up.” She mumbled.
	“You don’t show off the pink ever? Just because you have a huge wonderful cock doesn’t mean you can neglect that perfect little pussy.”
	They kept kissing, turning to stretch across the bed sideways, the laptop seeing their nude flanks, generous sideboob, and the profile of Layla’s rear. If they weren’t engrossed in rapturous kissing, they might have noticed the hundreds of longtime fans commenting that, with all the time Layla spends on camera just sitting on it, she has a great ass.
	Of course, Selena knew that right away.
	Layla slid down Selena’s body, kissing Layla’s tits, her belly, the tip of her cock, the middle, her balls... and finally hoisting them away to reveal Selena’s slit.
	She didn’t wait another moment. Layla pressed her lips directly into it, parting the lips with her tongue, swirling and sucking at the hot wet gash.
	On Monday, Selena had told her that the ‘myth’ of pineapple making your ejaculate taste better was no myth at all. Despite no first-hand contact with Selena’s semen, she accepted it as the experienced word of a seasoned professional.
	Selena had never commented about improving the sweetness of…
	Bringing her hands under Selena’s buttocks, Layla lifted them off the bed, holding them up so she could rest on her elbows and lick at it, unobstructed by the bed.
	Layla knew a general rule of camgirl audience satisfaction: don’t do the same thing for too long, or else the crowd will get restless and might switch tabs to something else. She tried to keep her eye on the little clock at the top-right of her laptop’s screen to make sure she mixed up either the activity or the angle.
	If anyone in chat complained that she stayed in the same position for quite a long time… well, she didn’t see it, because Selena’s balls were mostly covering her eyes. She didn’t hear anything but Selena’s increasingly high-pitched moans, as Selena’s thighs folded against Layla’s ears, her knees over her shoulders and feet folding together behind Layla’s back.
	Layla brought her right arm up and rubbed Selena’s cock down towards her face, Selena’s head still poised against the bed. Her moans growing louder and breathier, she grabbed fistfuls of Layla’s dark hair, bucked her head back...
	And came.
	Her howls of ecstasy were quickly replaced by the sound of a woman smothered in a fountain of hot come, her face nearly covered after the first blast and the mask growing ever more white with every burst spraying from her tip. Her tongue pierced the thick come like a cardinal escaping the confines of a marshmallow pie, lashing about as more and more come sprayed into her mouth.
	A frequent post-or-mid-orgasm reflex, Selena’s legs turned to butter, sliding off Layla’s sweaty shoulders. Layla scooted on her knees, her legs over Selena’s torso. She started pounding her cock, and within a few seconds, she started to spray her seed into Selena’s mouth, Selena’s cock still spraying unappreciated into the underside of her breasts.
	Selena sucked the tip of Layla’s cock greedily, filling her mouth with seed, and Layla took Selena’ into hers. Both their mouths filled until streams of come dribbled from the corners of their mouths.

	Chat tried to compete with an absolute torrent of ‘splut’ emoticons, but nothing seemed to compare to the huge amount of seed spilled on this bed today. Eventually, the orgasms finally subsided, their faces streaked with come and drool, coming to rest in a little lake of their emissions.
	Twisting back towards each other, Selena’s head drooped next to Layla’s, her hands gripping her shoulder blades like handlebars. Layla held her laptop over her lap, not wanting to bring it to rest in the huge tangle of moistened sheets they had created. “So... I guess that’s all for tonight. Unless you’re feeling up for Round 2...”
	Selena moaned, clinging to Layla tighter.
	“I guess not. Thanks for watching, everyone.” Layla said, pulling Selena off her shoulder. “Do you have enough left in you to say good-bye?”
	Selena pressed forward and kissed Layla, pushing her down flat on the bed, both of them falling out of frame. The laptop fell out of her hands, resting in a dry patch near the corner. In what the audience would be forgiven for thinking was a choreographed move, Layla’s hand reached up from off-screen and turned off the stream, a few extended legs and buttocks gently nudging into frame as they made out.
	Almost everyone turned off that stream, thinking it was the best one ever.
	Layla would have agreed... but for what followed after the camera was turned off.
	They kissed for a minute longer before Selena came to rest back on Layla’s soft shoulder. For a moment, she relaxed, but her breath slowly grew faster.
	“You OK?” Layla asked, patting Selena on her back.
	Selena got up on her arms, slipping away from Layla’s touch. Selena’s eyebrows were knitted together in concern.
	“What have I done?” She whispered.
	“What?” Layla sat up. “What’s the problem?”
	“Why did I let myself come?” Selena said, pulling her hands up to her come-slick hair. “I have to go on tomorrow!”
	“Well, that’s no big deal...” Layla said, growing uncertain as she saw her obvious distress. “Right?”
	Selena stood from the bed, eyes darting around. “I need... I’ll take some more lecithin.” She walked into the bathroom, returning with a green bottle of clear capsules. She shook two out of the bottle, and then three more. Layla’s hand went over and grasped Selena’s wrist before she could toss them into her mouth. Selena closed her hand to keep from dropping the pills. She looked at Layla, surprised.
	“I know what I’m doing, Layla.” Selena insisted, not moving to jerk her wrist away.
	“Have you done this many at once before?”
	Selena paused. “No, but I’ll be fine.”
	“Maybe call your doctor first?”
	Selena scoffed. “Like they know better than we do.”
	Layla felt something hot rise in her heart. She’d never heard Selena be so dismissive before. “I really don’t think you should take too much of that stuff.”
	“Do you know what lecithin is?”
	Layla stammered. “It-it’s an emulsifier. It keeps water and oil from separating.”
	Selena was a little surprised she knew that. “Alright.”
	“So what does that mean?” Layla released her hand from Selena’s grip. “How does it actually work? How does that increase the volume of your come?”
	Selena was silent. She broke eye contact.
	“Do you even know?” Layla cried.
	“I know it works!” Selena exploded, but not in a fun way. “I can’t describe to you exactly how the pineapple thing works, but it does! The lecithin works, it’s not toxic, and I’m taking it.” She clapped her hand over her mouth defiantly, tossing the pills back and swallowing them. “Why’d you have to get carried away on the cunnilingus anyway? That’s like going to a fancy restaurant and filling up on bread! We start with that, and then we get to the fun stuff!”
	“You’re the one who said you never come! What happened to that?”
	“There are still limits! See, this is why you messed up when you had a partner! You have no discipline! Have you ever gone more than a day and not come at least once?”
	“Yes, I have!” Layla shouted. “I went on a school trip to Washington DC where I was never alone. I roomed with all girls, and I was too embarrassed to even try it, not even in the shower. I couldn’t come for SIX. DAYS. And when I finally got home, it was like... maybe twice as much as normal. Not six times as much, because the human body isn’t just this big barrel that fills with unused jizz! Your body will just absorb it or break it down or stop making it or something! There’s no reason to be so extreme!”
	“Porn IS extreme!” Selena shouted back. “It’s all supposed to be grotesque! Huge inflated breasts and huge hair and thighs and everything else! We must be everything we can to as many people as possible. We must come as hard as possible, harder than anyone else, not wasting it on something stupid!”
	“My stream is stupid, now? Nobody buys DVDs of porn anymore! It’s all online! Direct instant interaction with the stars! It’s the future!”
	“Yeah, that’s what they said about 3D movies and Guitar Hero! Now did you become a porn star because you love it, or because you thought it’d be easy and you were tired of doing a real job? Because I work seventy-hour weeks every week to do this! It’s tough work! It’s a real job! It’s not just turning on the computer and jacking it!”
	“It is for me! The bottom is going to fall out of that industry any day, so you’d better be ready to either move on or retire.”
	“I’ve been hearing that for six years! The discs just moved to Blu-Ray, and they sell for more! Porn is recession-proof! See, the Internet just makes everyone think they’re an expert! But I’m the futa porn expert! I’ve done this for years, and you think you know better than me?!”
	Layla panted. She clenched her teeth, her cheeks rising and tears forming in her eyes. She spun in place and ran off, sobbing. Selena chased her, watching as she stumbled up the stairs and found the first bedroom with a door for her to slam.
	Selena looked up from the first floor at the balcony, at the closed door. She lowered her head and dropped it into her hand.
	

FRIDAY

	Layla couldn’t remember the last time she’d made her bed when the sheets weren’t still warm from being freshly cleaned. Her bed was only ever made from whenever she put them on until she pulled them out from their tucked position to wrap in them like a big cozy worm.
	With all the huge beds Selena had in her house, even with two people in them, and no matter how soft they were... Layla felt like she was trying to sleep on a ping pong table. It was so big, she could barely tell where she was on the bed. She was used to being wrapped in the blankets and sleeping reasonably still on her apartment’s tiny twin bed.
	Maybe it was better to stay wrapped in the blankets and forget where the edges of the bed were. Maybe she’d reached her limits without noticing and only now found the edge that she would tumble over in her folly. Maybe she’d deluded herself into thinking she had what it takes to make in this line of work. In bed was where she belonged as a streamer… HER bed. On the Internet, where the only thing more discouraging than how easy it was to find haters and trolls… was how easy it was to find entirely sincere and eager fans.
	Layla had ran upstairs to a bedroom because that’s what she used to do at home when she was upset. She’d never once been in this bedroom before. Even when cleaning with Merri, Selena told her not to waste too much time upstairs since she hadn’t been up there, either. When she got in this bed, she slipped into it as carefully as possible, barely disturbing the sheets with her thin form... all because she wanted to leave this bed as close to how she found it as she could so she wouldn’t fuck up anything else.
	She didn’t dream, either because she simply didn’t reach a deep enough state of sleep to do so… or because the dream had been the last few days she’d spent in the home of her hero… and now it was over.
	Layla was pulled from her sleep suddenly as she felt a hand fall on her shoulder. She spun off her stomach, the sheets falling off her torso, one arm holding her up and one held in a defensive position.
	It was Selena.
	Of course it was, she thought. This is her house. Nobody else lives here. Once again, she’d forgotten where she was. This time, Layla had hoped she’d just wake up in her crappy apartment, and that none of this had really happened.
	Layla pulled her hand to her face, wiping a bit of drool from her lips, inhaling slowly, trying not to sound like she was sniffling, glad that Selena hadn’t turned on the light to see her worn red eyes.
	“Hey.” Layla said weakly.
	“Hey.” Selena parroted.
	Layla looked down. Selena’s upper body was nude, but there was something on her legs that Layla hadn’t seen before.
	“Are those... pants?” Layla asked.
	“They’re PJ’s.” Selena answered, hooking a thumb into the waistband. “This is how I normally sleep. I don’t actually sleep totally naked. I know it’s probably not as cool or sexy as my fans are hoping.”
	Even in the nearly nonexistent light, Layla found herself staring. “Well... that bulge is pretty sexy.”
	Selena moved in closer. Layla sniffed. Selena revealed an open box of tissues from behind her back.
	“Thank you.” Layla took a few and blew her nose gently into them. She crumpled the tissue in her palms and looked over the rim of the bed for a trash can.
	“Just throw it anywhere. I’ll clean it up tomorrow.” Selena said. Layla dropped the wad over the edge of the bed.
	“I’m surprised you don’t have a bedside trash...” Layla commented. “You know, for late night whacking.”
	“But I don’t do that.” Selena said. “I can’t.”
	Layla put her head back to the pillow.
	“You mind if I sit here?” Selena asked.
	“What am I going to say? No? It’s your house.”
	Selena sat, and then brought herself next to Layla, staying on the duvet. Selena put her chin on Layla’s bare shoulder. They both looked across the room to the large bookcase that lined that wall. It held some books, and a roughly equal number of porn accolades that Selena had been presented, most of them shaped like penises mounted to a piece of wood. In the middle of them all were about one hundred fifty Blu-ray DVDs.
	“For someone in your line of work, and who seems to watch a lot of TV… I didn’t think you’d be so into Disney movies.”
	“What can I say?” Selena said, putting one hand around Layla. “They’re great.”
	A small silence. Layla didn’t move out from under Selena’s touch. Selena continued, “I wish... that I had a huge library that I could give you, like in Beauty and the Beast… but instead of books, it’s just acres and acres of porn.”
	Layla laughed. “Well, that’s pretty much my hard drive. And it’s not even one-millionth of all the porn out there.”
	Selena chuckled. Then there was silence.
	“They’re remaking Beauty and the Beast, you know.”
	“I heard.” Selena groaned. “Why? What’s the point?”
	“That live-action Jungle Book was good.”
	“But Beauty and the Beast is a masterpiece. There’s nowhere to go but down.”
	More silence.
	“You ever get invited to the premiere or something like that?”
	Selena sighed. “I don’t get invited anywhere. I’m a porn star. Nobody wants me around for their family-friendly event. I just stay at home.”
	“I know what that feels like.”
	More silence.
	“When I was on the bus to go to the porn studio on Sunday...” Layla started. “I tried pulling my phone out of my sweatshirt pocket by the headphone cord, and it slipped out of the jack. So for one second, on the bus, everyone heard what I was listening to. And I thought... I am so glad I’m not the kind of person who watches porn on the bus.”
	“Was it Disney music?”
	“No.” Layla shook her head. “But I wouldn’t be embarrassed by that.”
	“Would you be embarrassed if everyone thought you were watching porn on your phone?” Selena asked. “Because I’ve always thought that was a holdover from puritanical repression. Like... why shouldn’t we all be free about what we like?”
	“Well, most of us only watch porn to masturbate.” Layla said. “I don’t just sit around and watch it in public to kill time, but that’s also because... I don’t like being aroused in public.”
	“Being aroused in public is your job.” Selena said.
	“Well, being aroused while people watch. Not really in public.”
	More silence.
	“Someone made a GIF of my orgasm tonight and put it on Reddit.” Selena said. “It’s on the front page. The top commenter linked to the archive of the stream, so even though your face isn’t really visible, people can find your channel if they want.”
	Selena took in a deep breath. “I think this could be the moment when you’re finally going to take off. Your channel is probably going to double in size overnight. You’ll be able to support yourself more easily, build up a savings… get a car. What do they call this, the Colbert bump?”
	Layla turned her head a bit. Selena kept going, “And if that’s all you were looking for by coming here, I understand. I probably wouldn’t have passed up that opportunity, either. So--”
	Selena didn’t get to finish her thought. Layla rolled on her side in the sheets and threw her lips against Selena’s.
	“The only bump I was hoping from you was to bump uglies. I don’t need anything FROM you. I’m just so glad I met you and learned what a wonderful sweetheart you are in real life.”
	“Layla...” Selena whispered.
	They kissed again. Selena worked her way under the sheets while keeping her lips pressed to Layla’s, an act more complicated than building a ship in a bottle. Layla tousled Selena’s soft hair with one hand and pawed her breast with the other.
	Selena broke away, atop Layla, holding herself up with both hands. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
	Layla felt like her heart would explode. “Yes?” She asked breathlessly.
	“I lied to you.”
	Layla paused. That wasn’t what she expected to hear. “About what?”
	“You asked me if I took my stage name from Selena Gomez and Ariana Grande. I sort of dodged the answer. I didn’t say ‘yes.’ I just said, ‘well, duh’ or something like that.”
	“OK...” Layla seemed confused.
	“My career started in 2011. Selena Gomez was a rising star, but Ariana Grande was still just some singer on her Nickelodeon show at that point. She wasn’t a superstar until 2013, when her first album went platinum.”
	Layla looked at her. “You DIDN’T take your name from them?”
	“No!” Selena confessed. “It’s just a coincidence that they both took off around the same time, and that porn stars sometimes make compound names from other famous people. Selena is my real first name. I just took ‘Grande’ because it was a pun about my big penis and because my real last name begins with a G, so my initials would be the same. Not sure why I cared about that back then.”
	Layla looked off, and then back. “Then...what is your real name?”
	Selena answered quickly. “My real name is Selena. Selena Anne Gunnarson.”
	“Is that Swedish?”
	“Yeah.” Selena nodded. “Are you surprised? I mean... look at me.” She sighed. “I just had to get that off my chest. The first thing I ever told you was a lie. It wasn’t even meant to be a lie. It’s just something everyone assumed, and I just decided never to correct anyone. It’s not like the twelve-inch thing where people didn’t believe the truth. I just let it become a lie about myself.”
	Layla looked off. “Did you change your name legally?”
	“I was thinking about it, but... I’ve been dragging my feet. I actually had someone tell me that my stage name was cultural appropriation. I let her know my wrath. What culture do I have, exactly? I was one of the first one thousand futa births anywhere in the world! We all grew up completely without peers. I didn’t meet another futa until I was a teenager! And now I have to deal with some fourteen-year-old prick on Tumblr calling me horrible names... all because I took a stage name with a Spanish word... even though ‘grande’ also appears in French, Italian, Portuguese... and, of course, Latin.”
	Selena rolled off Layla and stared at the ceiling. The room was dark enough that she could imagine the ceiling wasn’t there at all, that it was the inky nighttime sky and all the stars had fallen away.
	“The Comet... was probably the single most important event of the last twenty-five years. But by the time we reached adulthood, and I thought I could start making a living in the porn industry... the Internet had changed the way everyone looked at porn. Just like alcoholic punch bowls gave way to the cocktail, everyone wanted something specific. Porn on the internet got more segmented, more fragmented, more distinct.
	“There are people who like futa, and there are people who like futa but only when the futa is a top, or only if they’re topping men, or only if they’re topping STRAIGHT men, or only if they’re topping straight men and NOT wearing a condom, or they’re wearing it and it breaks halfway through and she comes in him anyway, despite him begging her not to ‘get his boy-ass-pussy pregnant.’”
	“This is based on someone in particular, isn’t it?” Layla interrupted. “This is too specific to just be made up on the spot.”
	Selena sighed through her nose. “I don’t respond to all my fan mail, but I DO read it all. My biggest fans… their paraphilias grow like a fractal, ever more obscure and ever more necessary to satisfy the unending lust of a deeply secluded mind.
	“One question I’m glad you didn’t ask me is if it was a good time to get into porn. Honestly, it’s no different from asking if it’s a good time to get into Youtube. Every day that passes, it gets harder to break into it, and the competition grows every day, and the pie gets smaller. With porn, it might even be worse. With all the new websites, and with different fetishes and tribes that grow and splinter into smaller and smaller subfetishes... it’s hard to see the emergence of a huge porn star like me ever again.
	“I could retire right now and never make another frame of porn, and I’d be fine. Porn is a smaller and smaller part of my income these days. I keep doing it because I legitimately like doing it and the people I’ve chosen to work with. But to keep it going, I have to master my entire life, keep everything in order, keep myself fit, but not too fit, holding back every drop for that all-important money shot. My entire week revolves around it, my life.
	“And the second...” Selena’s voice cracked involuntarily. “The second someone came into my life and disrupted my obsessive rituals... I immediately turned into the bratty demanding star who bitched about not getting her way. ‘I can’t work like this. I’ll be in my trailer.’ That sort of thing. And I unloaded on someone who... I really can’t overstate how taken I am with you. Having you around this week has been a blast, and I went and ruined it. I’ll never forgive myself.”
	“No, please. Selena...” Layla held Selena tighter. “I want you to forgive yourself. It’s not like I was right to yell at you when you’ve been so incredibly generous. We both messed up, and that’s OK. Friends do that. Lovers do that. But I want you to forgive yourself. If you don’t, then you’re still obsessing over it. I want you to forgive yourself, more than I want you to forgive me.”
	Selena pulled away to look Layla in the eye. Their foreheads came together. “Please forgive me.”
	“I already have.” Layla answered. “Do you forgive me?”
	“Of course.” Selena clutched Layla’s head into her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
	Layla slipped out of the grasp for a kiss, the first of many. Layla wrestled her way above Selena, slipping her tongue into Selena’s mouth, raking her fingers through her hair. Her other hand crept downwards, the back of her hand glancing between Selena’s breasts and down her abs before she tugged at the waistband of Selena’s pajama bottoms.
	Selena’s hand went down to her groin and held them up. “Layla... are you actually insatiable or what? We both just came.”
	“Why? What time is it?”
	“It’s not even midnight.”
	“Oh, I thought it was like three in the morning.”
	“Do you really want to go again?”
	Layla took a moment. “Selena... it’s you. And it’s me. Of course I want to go again.”
	And Layla kissed her.
	Selena shook her head gently, and left the bed.
	“Let’s do this properly, then.” Selena threw the duvet off them and slipped her pajamas off her legs, freeing her cock from within to stand almost horizontally as it grew harder. Layla instinctively spread apart her legs.
	“Guess again.” Selena smiled, kneel-walking back onto the bed and taking hold of Layla’s member, holding it straight up.
	She lowered herself onto Layla’s stiff cock slowly... as slowly as she could manage. Layla’s hands and legs bucked out from under Selena like the legs of a spider held down by a single finger. With a sharp exhale, Selena came to rest on Layla’s thighs.
	Selena leaned forward and put her hands on Layla’s breasts, looking Layla in the eye.
	“Do you want to get your laptop out and give your fans in Australia something to watch?”
	Layla swallowed hard and tried to catch breath that kept escaping her, possibly because she was pinned down. “Let’s keep this one just for us. It might end up being… a short show.”
	“I’ll go easy on you.”
	For once… everything that followed wasn’t shared with anyone. It was just between the two of them.

	Layla stirred suddenly, opening her eyes to the surprisingly bright light of this upstairs room, a room she’d never seen in daylight. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over.
	For the first time, Selena was next to her as she woke. Her bare shoulders under the duvet, her blonde hair spread across the pillow, motionless but for faint breaths as she slept. The most beautiful and powerful porn star slept soundly beside her. This was a feeling Layla could get used to. She grinned, and slipped out of the bed gently to not wake Selena and walked to the bathroom.
	“Layla?”
	Layla turned very quickly in place, back to the bed. Selena turned in bed, holding the bed sheet up to her chest. In the other hand, she had her phone.
	“How long have you been up?” Layla asked.
	“An hour or so.” Selena said. “I’ve just been on my phone. I got tons of stuff done.”
	“You had your phone with you last night?”
	“No, I went downstairs and got it this morning.”
	Layla folded her arms. “I thought I’d finally woken up before you for once.”
	“You sleep like a rock.” Selena commented. “I don’t want to frighten you, but... do you think you might have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome?”
	“No! No, no, no.” Layla said, shaking her head. “I mean, I was going to the doctor regularly up until a year ago. Like, there was a time where I was doing both the camgirl thing and the coffee shop, and I quit the shop just because I made as much in six hours of work a week in my bed as thirty-five at the shop.”
	“Are you making enough money to grow a savings?”
	Layla looked away. “Sort of?” She looked back. “Did you ever think you were going to be this successful when you started?”
	“Never.”
	“I thought I’d be successful at the camgirl thing if it paid for my phone plan. The fact that I don’t have to do anything else to pay my rent is amazing.”
	Selena kept tapping at her phone, Layla reached her arm over and pulled herself closer. “You want to take a shower together?” Layla said softly.
	“I already showered.”
	“Well, I could tell when I leaned in, because I can smell the soap. How do you do this? How can you get so much done?”
	“It’s all in my book, Being An Efficient Porn Star and Having Much Less Sex Than You Thought.” Selena said sarcastically. “Until the irresistible futa cutie enters your life.”
	Layla froze. She turned to face Selena, looking up from the bed with a smile. Selena wasn’t looking at her nude body, but her face.
	She moved in and kissed Selena once, holding her head against her forehead.
	“I’m so glad we didn’t go to bed mad last night.” Selena whispered.
	“I’m so sorry about all that.”
	“I’m sorry, too. But we’re past that. Go shower up and I’ll tell you what the plan is for today.”
	Layla disappeared into the bathroom. Selena rolled onto her back, holding her phone to her beating heart.
	In a career that wasn’t without speed bumps or minor missteps, Selena had never felt such relief that the bridge she was standing on was not burned after all.

	When Layla was out of the shower, Selena had evidently brought a set of clothes from downstairs for her to wear. That slightly surprised her, as strutting around nude had been acceptable before, even when the maid was over.
	When she left the bedroom, Selena was dressed as well. They walked down the stairs together. into the kitchen.
	Layla sniffed the air. “Did you make breakfast?”
	“Nope.” She said simply.
	At the bottom of the stairs, Layla saw a curvy woman in Selena’s kitchen, swirling something in a frying pan furiously. She looked over her shoulders, her hair slung about as she turned.
	“Almost done!” She said, stirring the pan even harder. She had dark brown hair and eyes, her face round and perfectly shaped for a smile that was almost always there. She wore a black-and-white plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. Before Layla and Selena could reach the island, she plated the scrambled eggs next to the bacon, sausage, toast and fried cubes of potato.
	“This is Chrissie, my chef.” Selena put out her hand, as if Chrissie was the solution on Wheel of Fortune.
	“Calling me a chef is a bit of an exaggeration. I’m just a cook.” She set the hot pan into the sink for now, the nonstick surface unsuitable for the dishwasher.  “Selena told me you were a farm girl, so...” She wiped some perspiration from her forehead onto her sleeve. “I made you a farmer’s breakfast. But...”
	“You didn’t expect me to be so thin?” Layla asked.
	Chrissie’s eyebrows fell, the smile leaving her face for the time being. “Please don’t tell me you’re vegetarian or something.”
	“Nope.” Layla grabbed a fork. “I just might not finish all this.”
	“If there’s anything that Chrissie loves, it’s sloppy seconds.” Selena spun around and pulled Chrissie in close by her shoulder.
	“And if there’s anything Selena loves,” Chrissie slipped out of Selena’s hold. “it’s making up stories about all the times we’ve had sex that have never, ever happened.”
	Layla looked up from her plate. “So... you HAVEN’T had sex with Selena?”
	“Nope.” She shook her head once. “I’m straight and not especially attracted to women, futa or even giant penises.”
	“Huh.” Layla hummed as she swallowed a bit of egg. “I guess we haven’t run across many women like that recently. At least since I started hanging out with Selena.”
	“But that’s Selena.” Chrissie shrugged. “Any woman with at least one lesbian bone in their body loves Selena.”
	“Yep. I got the plus-sized cock, and she’s my plus-sized cook.” Selena joked, taking a forkful of eggs to her mouth before pacing around the kitchen, looking at her phone.
	Layla caught Chrissie’s eye. “You don’t mind being called plus-sized?”
	“No way. It’s what I am. And it’s nicer than ‘fat.’ Which I also kind of am.”
	“Well, I think you’re very pretty.”
	“Thank you.” Chrissie beamed. “I actually like hearing that from women more than from men, even though I’m straight. Perhaps even BECAUSE I’m straight.”
	“And you don’t like huge... thingies?”
	“I prefer them to be average.”
	“Like, say... eight inches?”
	“Oh, God no. Way too big.”
	“She’s actually nine.” Selena called out.
	“Selena!” Layla’s hands went to her groin, even though nobody was looking at it.
	“See, this is why I love hanging out with Layla.” Selena said from a distance. “She is as easy to tease as you are completely unflappable. That and the nine inches.” Selena made two ‘OK’ signs with her fingers, the way a fussy diner would respond to a perfectly poached quail.
	Layla continued to munch on a meal less ostentatious than quail, her head dipped down, but still somehow keenly aware that Chrissie was staring at her.
	“This is really delicious.” Layla added.
	“Are you really nine inches?”
	Layla crammed a sausage in her mouth as quickly and nonerotically as she could. “SUPER delicious.”

	Layla did not quite clear her plate. This was a larger breakfast than she’d seen at most waffle houses, and some of those came with three pancakes. Layla was pleasantly full and saw no reason to gorge herself. She surrendered her fork, which was immediately taken by Chrissie to finish the meal.
	Layla watched Chrissie eat quickly, with great gusto, and without a hint of shame, until the fork went back to the plate with a clink.
	“You really love cooking.” Layla said across her cup of coffee.
	“No, I love food.” Chrissie said. “No need to be diplomatic about it. I love food, and cooking is how I get good food.”
	“Did you know that eating all the food off your plate in considered rude in China?” Selena said. “Eating it all is a sign that the host failed to give you enough to be satisfied.”
	“That ain’t me.” Chrissie moved the dishes to the dishwasher. “I’ve never asked for a box at a restaurant, and I don’t think I will ever need to.”
	“Also...” Selena continued. “in China, you’re supposed to end the meal with a big burp.”
	Layla’s eyes involuntarily went to Chrissie, who shook her head.
	“Nope. If I’m rude whether I burp or not, I’ll pick not.”
	“See, Chrissie is not only my chef, she’s also my house-sitter, when the occasion arises.” Selena said, walking away from the kitchen, looking into her phone. Layla followed. “And that’s what she’s doing here today. Because I’m taking a trip. I always take a trip this time of year for my birthday, but I pushed it forward to start it today. And I’d like you to come.”
	“Really?” Layla said.
	“Absolutely. This year, I’m going back to Bali. It’s beautiful in the winter, the temples are amazing, the hiking on Mount Batur is...”
	Selena stopped herself when she heard Layla’s bare footsteps cease behind her. She turned away from her phone, where Layla was doing an excellent impression of a kid who ate all the sour lemon candies at once. Selena knew for a fact it wasn’t because the breakfast was bad.
	Selena put one hand on her hip. “You don’t have a passport.”
	Layla didn’t respond.
	“Did I say Bali?” Selena tapped her phone repeatedly, evidently going back through several pages. “Silly me, I meant… Maui.”
	“Hawaii?”
	“Have you been?”
	“Never.”
	“Then it’s settled.”
	“But…” Layla thought back to last night, and the source of their argument. “But you have to perform today.”
	“I’m just going in for a few pickup shots. I won’t be having any sex.”
	Layla’s brow crinkled. “Then… why were you so--”
	Selena didn’t let her finish. “Because… sometimes they SAY I won’t be doing a sex shoot, and they ask if I can jump in to something with another performer that I know and shoot something fast while I’m there. I can always say no, since I’m the star and all. But… I’m trying not to say that too many times. You know how it is, right? Just as women, not even futa… we sort of feel obligated to help everyone we can so we don’t get the reputation of being a bitch and get left behind.”
	“The truth of being a futa in the porn industry is sort of like the bad parts of being a man and a woman in the porn industry. Like a woman, you get jerked around and criticized and negged and pushed to your limits, and like a man, you need to be hard as iron at will and never lose control.”
	Layla’s expression softened, her eyebrows dipping downward like wax sculpture slowly melting.
	“Then again...” Selena’s eyes looked upwards for a moment. “Since we’re still reasonably rare, even in porn… sometimes we get treated like princesses. Like, everyone is so accommodating and wanting to make sure that we don’t run to some other studio. Or worse, get pushed out of the industry completely. One guy treated a futa star so badly, she left the industry. And unlike what happens to WOMEN when that happens every damn day... that guy essentially got blackballed by everyone else for killing a unicorn. It’s like Greece in the sixth century BC, where if you cut down an olive tree, you could be sentenced to death.”
	Layla snickered quietly. “You know a lot of trivia.”
	“I watch a lot of game shows.”
	“You ever try to get on one?”
	“I’d love to, but I don’t think Jeopardy’s audience is ready for me. Best I could hope for would be Family Feud, with all that innuendo.”
	Selena’s attention went back to her phone for a moment. “So… it’s up to you if you want to come with me to the shoot or hang out here until I get back.”
	“I’ll tag along.” Layla said. “Chrissie seems great, but hanging out here with her for a few hours sounds a bit awkward.”
	“I’ll tell you what, though...” Selena leaned in. “If the two of you had sex while I was gone, if YOU somehow cracked the code and got in her bed and I couldn’t… that would be so crazily amazingly hot.”
	“Well, it’s too bad. I’ll have to click on one of those banner ads that reveals the three words that make any woman wet.”
	“Twelve inch dong.” Selena said immediately.
	Layla laughed. “But it didn’t work! Chrissie still isn’t into it!”
	“Are you saying I can’t trust ads on the Internet? My goodness, what is the Internet coming to?”
	“Pictures of you.”
	“Or high-def video of me.”

	Filming involved driving out to a suburb that Layla didn’t recognize. Selena dressed in a denim jumpsuit and cap, stepped around a garage and up the long walk to the house, and rang the doorbell. The camera equipment moved around, and she did it again. Because of the ample sunlight, there was no need for lights, so the shots were gathered quickly. This happened repeatedly, as Layla stood around with the crew, trying to watch while not being in the way.
	After another take had concluded, the director turned around and saw Layla. Behind his sunglasses, he eyed her up and down, which caused Layla to avert her eyes nervously.
	“You’re Selena’s friend, right?” He asked.
	“Yes, I’m Layla.” She said, feeling the apprehension rise in her throat. Did he know she was a futa? Was she about to ask if they could perform? She’d love the chance, of course, but... even when they were alone, she didn’t last too long. Nor did she last long when under the scrutiny that the movie set provided.
	“Could you help us out?”
	Layla purposely unclenched her teeth to speak. “Yeah, sure.” She said.
	The director pointed towards the sidewalk. “Go over there, and when I call ‘action,’ can you just jog past in the background?”
	“Oh.” Layla masked her relief. “Yeah, sure, I can do that.”
	She walked to the edge of frame, right underneath a tree, and waited for her to be cued. When he called ‘action,’ Selena started to walk up the walk, and Layla jogged down the sidewalk. She started checking out Selena’s butt in the unflattering jumpsuit as she jogged. Selena’s butt was probably her least discussed body part, other than perhaps her knees. It really was a nice butt, toned and firm with just enough material to wiggle visibly when walking... or when spanked.
	“Layla?” The director called after she’d jogged out of view.
	Layla jumped back from around the corner. “I’m sorry. I was checking her out.”
	“No, I liked that.” The director insisted. “But... you don’t jog, do you?”
	“No...” Layla said. “Why? Did I look stupid?”
	“No, no, no. But it didn’t look... like a jogger, you know. It looked like someone pretending to jog.” He explained. “So... just power walk instead.”
	They called another take. Layla marched energetically down the sidewalk, turned her head towards Selena... and walked directly into the mailbox.
	Layla apologized again, but the director swore he might just use that take.

	“One more thing before we head out.”  Selena told Layla as she wheeled her luggage to the garage. “I emailed that photographer who flew the drone over my house. I told him that I’d put the drone outside my house at 2PM and he could try to get it before someone else takes it. If you could, can you and Chrissie lug that thing outside? I’d rather he didn’t get another chance at taking a picture of me.”
	Chrissie and Layla walked the huge drone out of the storage room, into the garage and out the driveway to the main wall surrounding the property. It was a lot heavier than Selena made it look, though Chrissie didn’t seem to be having much trouble. Layla barely kept her end from scraping on the cement floor of the garage.
	A small distance from the property… there was a white pickup truck. It was too sunny to see if anyone was in the cab. The truck wasn’t that old... but it wasn’t new, either. She hadn’t seen many pickup trucks in this neighborhood, despite the stereotype that Californians all drive enormous gas-guzzling off-road ready vehicles and never drive them over anything more treacherous than a speed bump. 
	“Let’s go, Chrissie.” Layla hustled Chrissie back up the driveway.
	“What’s wrong?”
	“I think that’s the photographer.”
	“What makes you think that?”
	“He’s got a truck big enough to haul that thing away... and nobody parks on the street here.”
	They closed the garage door and returned into the house. They found Selena in the basement television room.
	“We’re going to be heading out very soon. Now, remember the rules, Chrissie.” Selena shook her finger sarcastically. “I want you in bed by eight, and no boys over.”
	“I know, I know…” Chrissie reached into her backpack, pulled out some variety of XBOX, and began attaching it to the monstrous television Layla had only previously used to watch Two Broke Girls. “Your wireless password still the same?”
	“Yeah, that hasn’t changed. Here’s some cash for food or whatever.” Selena pulled out several hundred dollar bills from her purse and handed them to Chrissie as casually as if it were a ten-dollar bill. It was the first time Layla had ever seen Selena throw her money around so visibly.
	It was somehow easy to forget, even while standing in this enormous mansion and on the verge of a Hawaiian vacation… that Selena was a multimillionaire.
	By the time Selena and Layla left to drive to the airport, the drone was already gone.

	Selena had packed everything she’d need into two suitcases, foregoing the carry-on. Her purse had everything she could conceivably need at a moment’s notice, including a Sharpie marker for autographs and even a slightly crumpled granola bar. It had been in this purse for long enough that she should probably either eat it or be rid of it.
	They drove to Burbank to let Layla pack. Selena was surprised to learn that Layla didn’t own a bathing suit, not even in the simple sense of wearing it as a costume for her stream. Layla had learned to swim in school, but had never been very comfortable doing so in front of others for reasons that were obvious. Selena said they could get one upon arrival, as nobody had better swimsuits than Hawaii.
	When they arrived, Layla was surprised to see that Selena wasn’t famous enough that she could avoid waiting in any of the lines. Evidently, there was a priority customers line, but in California, this line was busier than it might be in other parts of the country.
	Selena picked up their tickets and they faced a new line, leading towards security.
	“If they ask...” Selena whispered to Layla. “Pick the scanner and not the pat-down.”
	“Is that thing safe?”
	Selena looked off. “I’m not sure. But I only fly about six times a year. I’m not worried.”
	“But... those things can see through our clothes.”
	Selena turned back with a bemused smirk. “So? I mean, everyone else here should worry about how nobody follows the protocols that dictate how these images are used or stored, and workers have been passing them around inappropriately, but for us... everyone can just look up pictures of us on the Internet anyway.”
	Selena faced the back of the person in front of her again. “And that’s why none of them... will EVER touch me.”
	Selena and Layla passed through the security checkpoint without incident or additional screening. They took a seat at a small lounge below a row of televisions all playing the same thing: the national news coverage of an event in Washington DC.
	“Oh yeah...” Layla said as she looked at the reporting. “It’s January 20th. It’s Inauguration Day.”
	“Mmmmm.” Selena made a long noise between a groan and a growl without opening her mouth.
	There was a pause. Layla nervously proceeded. “So... what do you think of the new guy?”
	Selena sighed. “When you are as famous as me... there’s a certain point where... no matter what you say, you risk alienating someone on some issue that you thought was completely right and justified. I suspect that’s why so many famous people pump money into charities that everyone approves of. Stuff like... kids with cancer, potable water, the homeless, the less fortunate.”
	“The less fortunate get all the breaks!” Layla joked.
	“Nice Futurama reference.”
	“Is that where that’s from? I thought it was just an Internet thing.”
	“Anyway, the only things I support publicly that could be remotely controversial are pro-free speech and pro-porn freedom stuff. Other than that, I’m publicly as apolitical as I can be.”
	A pause. Layla watched the helicopter shots of huge crowds. “What about... among your friends?”
	Selena turned to Layla. She snorted. “As a lesbian woman and unrepresented sexual minority who works in pornography... how do you think I feel about this?”
	“I’m sorry. It was a silly question.”
	“Don’t be. I’m just glad you asked politely, unlike everyone else on the Internet.”
	Another pause. They both looked to the televisions with a sense of dread.
	“If you don’t mind my asking... who DID you vote for, then?”
	“No one who had a chance.”

	Once they entered the plane, Layla nearly walked past the entire first-class cabin before being pulled back to her seat by Selena. They sat in the very last row of seats, on the right-hand side. Layla took the window seat, even though Selena normally took that one for herself to minimize people recognizing her. But she couldn’t deny Layla the view that she had enjoyed so often.
	As the other passengers moved past them to their seats, Selena and Layla got to talking, rather quietly to not disturb the guests.
	“How many male porn stars can you name?” Selena quizzed Layla.
	“Other than Ron Jeremy, none.” Layla confessed.
	“What, not even John Holmes or Peter North?”
	“OK, those three are it.” Layla said. “I’ve never seen anything they’ve done. Now, I could probably name a hundred female porn stars, but the really famous ones, like Sasha Grey... I’ve never seen her in porn. I’ve only seen her in mainstream stuff.”
	“I’ve never seen any of her stuff, either.” Selena said. “I don’t know how big she really was before she moved into mainstream work. She was nominated for some awards, I know.”
	“You ever work with her?”
	“Nope. She retired before I started. We’ve never crossed paths. Not even outside the industry.”
	“I wonder if I’d even like any of her porn. I got this feeling that… it’d feel like watching something that I shouldn’t be watching. It’d feel like when all those celebrity nudes leaked a few years ago.”
	“The Fappening?”
	Layla made a gentle twitch at hearing Selena say the word ‘fap’ in public. “Was that what they called it?”
	“Well, if you look it up on Wikipedia, the article redirects from ‘the Fappening’ to ‘iCloud leaks of celebrity photos,’ but ‘the Fappening’ takes less time to say.”
	“I saw one of those pictures without realizing what it was.” Layla said. “And it was one of those actresses who hasn’t done a nude scene. And it was just so clearly... not a picture that was meant to be shared with everyone. It was grainy and dark. It was just a dirty selfie she sent to a lover. If it looked like an image on Instagram, something EVERYONE was meant to see.. it would have looked better. That’s the whole point, right? Make yourself look as good as possible. The fact that the picture is obviously not meant for the public turns me off. I feel like anything I watch of Sasha Grey will have that feeling, even though it’s legitimate and meant for public consumption.”
	“I get what you mean. If it had been a nude picture of… Rosario Dawson, who has done tons of nude scenes, you might not have been bothered by it.”
	“Well, if it was leaked, I still wouldn’t want it in my collection. But I get what you’re saying.”
	“Have you ever watched something that I’ve done with a male costar?”
	“No.” Layla said. “I’ve watched stuff with a man and a woman, but when it’s a man and a futa, I can’t help but put myself in the position of the futa, and...” Layla’s shoulders rose involuntarily in a gentle shiver. “No. I can’t do it. Not with the guys that they get in porn, at least.”
	“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve had a few male costars, does it?” Selena asked, a scintilla of apprehension in her voice.
	“No, no.” Layla denied. “I mean... you do what you have to do.”
	“Well... I suppose I didn’t HAVE to. Nobody ever made me do it. I chose to.” Selena said.
	Layla turned her head in and looked at Selena in her eyes. “But... you said you were hetero for the cheddar-o.”
	Selena started laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s lame to laugh at your own jokes, but every time I think of that, I laugh. I need to make shirts that say that.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I chose to try to expand my brand by making a futa-on-male porn. I believe my logic at the time was, ‘well, I don’t want someone else to beat me to it.’ And I’m not especially attracted to men, or to my costar, who was good-looking, I suppose. But I did it. Because that’s what I do.
	“Somehow, it got back to me that there were people on Reddit or somewhere that were really glad that I had never had a black costar.” Selena corrected herself. “Rather, they meant that I hadn’t had a black MALE costar, because I had definitely drilled loads of black pussy.”
	Layla gently shushed her.
	“Are you shushing me because I said ‘black’ or because I said ‘pussy?’”
	“The second one.”
	“I won’t know which one you mean unless you say it.”
	“ANYWAY. You were saying?”
	“Once I heard that there was some subsection of my fans for whom it was important that I hadn’t had a black male costar, I immediately asked some people at the studio to find me a suitable candidate for such a release.
	“And eventually, they found me one, and I met Ray.” Selena smiled. “Well, I shouldn’t say his real name. His porn name is Azrael Spencer, but I call him Ray, because when I flew out to meet him, he said, ‘Howdy, I’m Ray.’ We started talking, and we really hit it off. We never talked about sex or about work. We just talked and had fun. We didn’t even flirt, because he’s married to a lovely woman who doesn’t work in the industry at all. I knew it would work. We scheduled a session for a few weeks later, and... what was supposed to be a ten-minute segment went for almost two hours and got its own release.”
	“Did you end the video with both of you giving the double deuce to the camera?” Layla asked.
	“No. That sort of stuff can offend even those who weren’t the target.” Selena said. “Even calling them out specifically would have been too far. It would give them too much importance to dignify it like that. So we shot a conclusion to the video. We were on set, in bathrobes, right afterwards, where we both agreed to give our fees for the day’s work to some charities. I actually forget what I chose, but Ray suggested something that would really get under a racist idiot’s skin without being super obvious about it.”
	Selena chuckled to herself. “So yeah. I did this enormous porn shoot with my new friend... for free... just so I could shake the trunk of my fanbase and knock the deadwood off. There’s still some bad apples and anti-fans, who will hate me no matter what I do, but my fans are almost all excellent.”
	Selena looked into her lap for a moment, and then back into Layla’s eyes. “I mean... look at you.”
	Layla grinned.
	The plane lurched forward suddenly.
	Layla tensed and leaned back in her seat.
	“Have you ever flown before?”
	“It was a long time ago...” Layla croaked.
	Selena put her hand over Layla’s.
	“The beginning’s the hardest part.” Selena comforted her. “Just like anal.”

	Layla had offered to switch seats so Selena wouldn’t be on the aisle and get bothered by a potential fan. Selena was grateful, but she insisted that didn’t generally happen in first class. Their seats were all the way to the back, the ever-impenetrable curtain separating First Class and coach right behind them. Sitting this far back meant almost nobody in First Class would walk past them to get to the lavatory.
	As it was, only one person other than the flight crew or Layla actually spoke to Selena the entire flight. A handsome gentleman in his mid-thirties that Selena might have recognized from somewhere. He referred to her as “Miss Grande,” which Selena snickered at.
	All he wished of her was to answer one question that had been gnawing him since he’d seen her. Selena braced herself for an impertinent question about her career or her sexuality.
	Instead, he asked why she wasn’t flying on a private jet.
	It was a question that Selena had not been asked before. She explained how she very rarely left California, and didn’t see the need to make the greater impact on the environment or her bank account. If she were in a predicament and absolutely HAD to get somewhere, she might charter a private flight somewhere, but that hadn’t happened yet.
	It was an interaction Selena found completely benign. Sitting in the aisle also meant she got her drinks first, and they were just a teensy bit colder, though that was surely just her imagination.
	Either way, Selena survived the aisle seat for the duration of the flight. She would not deny Layla the privilege of watching as the lights of the city and the airport came into view. Hundreds of tiny faint orange lights grew brighter as they approached and the plane returned to the ground.
	Layla wasn’t sure if it would be like the movies: a woman in a grass skirt throwing a necklace of flowers over her head once she deplaned. Nothing like that happened. They entered the Maui airport, which looked like any other, and waited for ten minutes around the baggage carousel. Those ten minutes seemed to make Selena apprehensive, as if she was afraid someone would cry her name across the entire airport and she’d get mobbed at any second.
	Once they retrieved their luggage, they walked to the car rental desk. To Layla’s shock, they had produced a practically identical car to Selena’s. The only difference was the Hawaii state plates. Selena insisted it wasn’t exactly the same car, as this was the 2017 model; hers was the 2016. There were surely some incidental differences in headlight shape to tell them apart, or some other vagaries that even her trivia-tuned mind could not possibly care about.
	From there, it was a short drive to their hotel, a long white building of maybe seven stories that barely poked above the palm trees. It was surrounded by white tile flooring lined with crimson, multiple red hibiscus flower plants at the edges of walking paths, and umbrellas with thatched roof surrounding chairs and external bars.
	It wasn’t quite as exotic as Layla was expecting. But if Selena selected it, it must be nice. She knew what she was doing.
	They drove under the canopy and relinquished the car keys to the valet. A veritable battalion of bellhops extracted their luggage and wheeled it into the hotel.
	The interior of the lobby had understated lighting, dark polished woods and a shiny marble floor with a circular red rug in the middle. Layla thought she might see a fountain there, but the rug seemed to occupy its space. Putting an artificial water feature in a hotel so close to the ocean seemed silly until she realized this hotel almost certainly had a pool.
	Selena handled the check-in at the front desk, and they were swiftly off again. Layla turned towards the bay of elevators and pressed the UP button before she realized she had lost Selena without meaning to. For a moment, terror struck Layla’s heart, like losing her buddy on a school trip, or realizing the black skirt you were following at the supermarket wasn’t your mom after all.
	Selena quickly appeared around the corner and told her, “We’re on the first floor.”
	That surprised Layla. She thought Selena might get the biggest, fanciest penthouse on offer. It was the closest thing to her own living situation that this hotel would have. The pool was probably bigger here, but she didn’t have to share hers with families and drunk people.
	The bellhop unlocked a door and opened it, pointing his arm into the room to let the guests step in first. It had a large living area with a couch, two separate bedrooms with their own bathrooms, a small kitchenette that seemed to lack either an oven or dishwasher… and a porch leading to a secluded beach. The curtains over the sliding doors waved about in the gentle breeze like the legs of jellyfish. The air was gentle, cool and just a bit salty.
	This was something you couldn’t get on the umpteenth floor. Suddenly the choice made more sense.
	Selena tipped the last bellhop and he left. Finally alone, Selena opened her arms to the accommodations. “What do you think?”
	“I like it.” Layla looked to the ceiling. “It’s… smaller than I thought. It’s like if my apartment had another bed and bath.”
	“That means we can spend more time together.” Selena said. “Both of us in my giant house, we could go days without seeing each other.”
	Selena led Layla out by the hand to the porch, where two chairs awaited them. The coast was a scant few hundred feet directly out, the surf lapping the wet sand in a constant metronome. The breeze swept through the porch constantly.
	“How do you like this?” Selena asked.
	“It’s beautiful.” She smiled
	“It is.”
	“It’s cold.”
	“It IS kind of cold right now. This will be more useful in the afternoon.” 
	Layla pulled her arms up to her chest. “Let’s go back inside.”
	“Yeah, I want to take a shower.” Selena said. “Whoever finishes first… we’ll sleep in their bed.”
	Selena walked into the larger bedroom. Layla rushed into the other one, finding the en suite bathroom and showering as fast as she could. Sitting still in an airline seat for six hours hadn’t exactly made her break a sweat, so she didn’t see the need for a ‘deep clean,’ so to speak. If she had to use the airplane’s lavatory… then she would have felt differently. Maybe the first-class airline bathroom was a sterling example of sanitation. She doubted it.
	Layla nearly tripped over the bathmat as she rushed over to Selena’s room. Layla stopped in the doorway, seeing Selena already sitting in bed, looking at her phone, as perfectly put together as always.
	“Damn it.” Layla cursed. “How do you do it so fast?”
	Selena smiled as her eyes fell on Layla again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of you running and standing in doorways naked with an erection.”
	“I can do it again if you like.”
	“No. Just get over here.”
	Layla flew into the bed and they made out, as if it’d been weeks since they’d last had the opportunity. Layla nuzzled her face against Selena’s soft breasts, grasping one hand against Selena’s cock. Selena took Layla by the back of the head and brought it closer for more kissing.
	With Selena underneath her, Layla rolled her hips and positioned her tip on the aperture of Selena’s pussy.
	And Selena’s hand interceded, cupping against her groin and shielding it from Layla’s future thrusts.
	“What?!” Layla asked, looking lost.
	Selena looked up from within Layla’s arms. “I need to know.”
	Layla flushed suddenly. “K-know what?”
	“I need to know for sure if you were right last night. Maybe I don’t need to hold back for days at a time to have big orgasms. So… I know we’re on vacation, but I’m going to refrain from orgasm for a few days and see how I compare to when I save it up for a whole week.”
	“OK.” Layla said immediately. “Then I’ll hold back, too.”
	“You don’t have to. I’ll give you all the blowjobs you can stand. You can even practice not coming too early by fucking me.”
	Layla whimpered, arms shaking as they could barely be convinced to hold her up and apart from Selena. “Don’t tempt me.”
	“I’m a porn star. I’m in the tempting business.”
	“Can we still kiss?”
	“I wouldn’t agree to anything that stopped us from doing that.”
	Selena and Layla kissed until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

	On the first full day of the vacation, Selena woke bright and early. Whereas Layla woke an hour or so before she normally would. This didn’t sound like Layla’s idea of a vacation. Selena suggested they should walk down the nearby beach before it got crowded.
	Layla reminded her that she didn’t yet own a bathing suit.
	The itinerary was immediately changed. Selena called the concierge and asked where the finest swimwear shop was within a reasonable distance of the hotel. They were directed to a boutique that made custom-fitted swimwear. It was a ten-minute drive from the hotel.
	They were brought into a private dressing room with three mirrors. Selena sat on the provided bench. Their design associate entered the room, a man of indeterminate age, probably between thirty and fifty-five. He was mostly bald, but his hair was light blonde, lighter than Selena’s. His eyebrows and mustache were slightly darker. He wore a red velvet suit and turtleneck, what looked like the absolute warmest thing to possibly wear in Hawaii. He must spend his time ducking between air-conditioned buildings and cars, as if the rays of sunlight were bullets.
	“I’m Rod. I’ll be making you look even more fabulous today.”
	He opened up a book filled with sketches and photos of models wearing different types of bikinis. He let Layla flip through the pages, but nothing jumped out at her. Rod made a few comments about shapes and color combinations and other fashion talk that meant absolutely nothing to Layla.
	Maybe it was a lifetime of dressing down to not attract too much attention, maybe it was her upbringing as a farm girl who got her hands and clothes dirty constantly, or maybe it was the fact that all her ‘cute’ clothing was lingerie and other costume stuff that she only wore on stream… but it was dawning on Layla that… besides her beloved yoga pants, she just didn’t dress very girly.
	“What kind of swimsuit do you recommend for someone with my body shape?” She asked.
	“Oh, honey...” Rod looked at her, leaning forward and pressing a single finger down on the book. “You can wear anything. And this isn’t something I say to anyone. Remember, all the fashion designers like to work on skinny women, so everything they design makes them look good. There are ways to emphasize a small butt, or cover a big one, or emphasize a big one, or whatever. But two kinds of body types can wear whatever swimsuit they want. The column...” He gestured to Layla. “And the hourglass.” He gestured to Selena.
	Layla continued to look at the book as if it was the instruction manual for something she’d never heard of. “I think I’ll trust you to put me in something nice.”
	“Do you mind if I take measurements?” Rod held the flexible measuring tape in both hands like a garrote wire.
	Layla swallowed nervously. “Um… I know that you’re not doing that just for fun, because you’re… pretty obviously gay.”
	“What? Who squealed?!” Rod blurted out with mock panic. “Don’t tell my dad! Or my husband. Whom I call Daddy.”
	“I’d ask for a same-gender associate, but… I don’t think you have one.”
	Rod looked at her across his nose. “I’m not following, honey.”
	Selena finally spoke up. “I hate to say something like this but… you don’t know who I am, do you?”
	Rod squinted at her over his glasses. “Oh God, you’re not one of the Kardashians, are you? New Kardashians keep popping up like groundhogs.”
	“I’m Selena Grande.”
	Rod blinked. “Oh.”
	“So… you see what we’re getting at?”
	Rod held up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”
	He disappeared through the red curtains.
	To fill the silence, Layla turned to Selena and said, “We’ve found the only person in the world who hasn’t seen any of your porn.”
	“I don’t think you’re a column. Columns don’t have great asses.”
	“Well, I’m using it right now to sit, so maybe he didn’t see.”
	A new woman entered the dressing room, clearly a local Hawaiian woman. She had a round face, high cheekbones and prominent, dark red lips. She was dressed in a plain black blazer and skirt. Both Selena and Layla smothered a gasp as she entered the room.
	“I’m Kakalina. I can do the measuring if you’re tired of hearing Rod’s stories.”
	“He had stories? Darn.”
	Kakalina took her tape and dispassionately measured Layla’s parts, which was not as playful as when Selena did it the first day they had met. She took notes on a mini notepad in her right hand.
	“I’ll pull up some of the swimsuits in this range that we have ready and let you pick the ones you like. We can do alterations as well.”
	“Before you go...” Selena put up her hand. “May I ask when you were born?”
	Kakalika looked at her. “That’s a bit of a personal question.”
	“It was either that, or just directly asking if you are a futa.”
	“I know who you are, Miss Grande.” Kakalika put the notepad in a breast pocket hidden by the blazer. “And I really must say, your continued and growing fame is part of the reason everyone thinks that futa are all sex-obsessed nymphos. Your star power distorts how everyone looks at futa across the world, even in places with less sexual freedoms than America.”
	Layla’s eyes widened. It had never occurred to her that a futa might not want to be perceived as being ‘like Selena.’ It certainly wasn’t her experience. Even before she met her, her chat comparing her favorably to Selena made her heart swell.
	“I understand.” Selena responded softly. “I really thought someone would have taken the throne from me at some point in the last few years, but… maybe I’ve got too much momentum to catch. I don’t know if things would be different if I were to step aside or not. But if I’ve made trouble for you or someone in your family, I really am sorry.”
	Kakalina’s gaze softened. “I believe you.”
	A pregnant pause. “Do you have… a futa sibling?”
	With her left hand, Kakalika pulled up her skirt and slipped her fingers into her panties. From within the patch of silk, she produced a substantial flaccid cock that wobbled as she dropped it.
	“No. I don’t.”
	Selena grit her teeth involuntarily.
	“What’s wrong?” Kakalina asked. “You like it?”
	“Yes, I do.” Selena nodded.
	Kakalika put it away. The slightest hint of a smile appeared on her face. “Well… that’s as close as you’ll ever get.”
	She exited the dressing room.
	Selena stared out into space, taking deep breaths. For now, her skirt stayed where it was.
	“You OK?” Layla asked.
	“I should make a movie themed around denial.”
	Layla could almost see it appear before Selena’s eyes. “What do you call your whole week?”
	“Who am I normally denying? Myself? Who wants to see that?”
	Layla chose a somewhat modest dark green bikini. The top was shaped more like a sports bra, and the bottoms had a large seat. The dark colors of the bikini seemed to hide her bulge except from direct profile.
	When they returned home, Selena changed into her beach outfit. “Bikini” was probably not be the right word. She wore a white triangle bikini top, a sarong around her waist and a floral print chiffon shoal over her shoulders. In her left hand, she held a tropical-patterned parasol.
	“You ready?” She asked.
	Layla’s heart began beating faster. “I’m ready.”
	No matter how much she steeled herself, Layla never really felt like she was.

	Because of the delay brought on by the shopping trip, it was approaching 10:30 before they stepped out onto the beach... which was now filled with other vacationers. They began their gentle stroll down the beach, weaving through the crowd and trying not to get in anyone’s way.
	One man got up from his towel and walked up to them. He asked if she was, in fact, Selena Grande. She confirmed this, they took a picture together, and he went back to his towel. She requested that the fan not post that picture to social media for a little while, so people wouldn’t find out where she was and seek her out. He agreed to this condition.
	As they left, Selena asked for Layla to keep her eyes behind them to make sure the man wasn’t following them.
	“That’s the thing with my fans.” Selena said. “He did it right, but some of them don’t know when to back off. Or even how.”
	“What about me?”
	Selena pulled her in close as they kept walking. “Why would I want you to back off?”
	Having left most of the crowd behind, they came to a gap in the trees, with a circular space of untouched sand within. It looked like a naturally formed cul-de-sac among the palm trees.
	“This should work.” Selena turned and walked between the trees. “Nobody will bother us in here, I bet.” She unfurled her towel onto the sand.
	“Is this...” Layla swallowed nervously. “a nude beach?”
	“No, it’s not.” Selena said, undoing the knot in her sarong with both hands. “But sometimes...”
	Selena pulled the sarong off herself, her flaccid cock hanging free from her body. “Sometimes I just take my clothes off when nobody’s around.” Her arms snaked behind her to undo the clasp of her bikini top. “Normally, I get undressed with everyone watching. But you know about that.” She took off her sunglasses and looked down at Layla’s groin. Her bottoms had pulled away from her body, wrapped tightly around her erection like a green condom.
	“Layla...” Selena smiled.
	“I can’t help it.” Layla liberated herself from her bottoms, and immediately after, her top. She spread herself onto her towel, looking up as the trees gently waving above them. “It’s kind of shady here.”
	“That’s why I picked it.” Selena said. “I burn pretty easily, so I prefer to tan in partial shade.”
	“It’s still kind of bright.”
	“You don’t have sunglasses?”
	Layla shook her head, and then said ‘no’ to confirm this, as they were not looking at each other.
	Selena leaned over and pulled something out of her purse that she wasn’t expecting.
	A black ball cap.
	“Where’d you get this?”
	“Instant incognito kit.” Selena answered. “If I have to go somewhere where I’m sure I’ll get recognized like a grocery store, I’ll put that on and the sunglasses to lessen the chances.”
	Layla put the ball cap on, pushing the brim down over her eyes. It definitely helped. Why people wore these things backwards for so long, she couldn’t imagine.
	Minutes passed. The pair stayed on their towels. The crowd was far away, but Layla wondered if some old dude with a metal detector was creeping by and spying on them at this very moment, possibly scanning them for unseen genital piercings. Layla listened to the distant surf roll in… and Selena’s deep relaxed breath. The sun warmed her skin… but nothing felt quite as warm as Selena’s skin against hers. Layla tried to relax… but her erection protested with every beat of her heart.
	Layla lifted the hat from her eyes and looked at Selena. Sweat droplets coated Selena’s skin like dew. Layla watched as a gentle shift of Selena’s body caused her breast to wobble, sending a single droplet of sweat off her erect nipple, sliding crookedly down the arc of her breast like a drop of rain running down a car window.
	Suddenly, Layla was on Selena’s towel, planting kisses on her lips, and Layla could barely remember how she got there. They rolled off the towels and into the hot sand, Selena flipping behind Layla and rubbing her fingers on Layla’s slit, then moving beyond it and palming her balls.
	Selena stepped off Layla and stood. Layla got up after her, her whole body below the shoulders covered in sand, affixed to her with a combination of suntan lotion and sweat. Layla moved to wipe the sand from her skin, but Selena waved her arm emphatically.
	“Don’t touch it!” She cried. Layla looked up at her, surprised at her emotion. Layla understood it when Selena found her phone in her small purse. “I have to take a picture of this.” She found it and pointed it at Layla. Layla posed, but Selena didn’t take the picture.
	“Layla...” Selena looked over the phone. “They’re going to take it down if you have an erection.”
	“Oh, come on.” Layla sneered.
	“It’s easy, Layla. In fact, out on the beach, it’s the easiest.” Selena said. “Just close your eyes and listen to the ocean.”
	Layla took in two lungfuls of the salty Hawaiian air. She listened to the white noise of the surf breaching the beach, the wind rustling the overhead trees, the breeze ticking her nude form, her closed eyes keeping her from seeing if any passerby was seeing her standing there naked... Dammit, Layla, keep it together. She cleared her mind of distractions, kept her arms at her side, as if her penis wasn’t even there. Eventually, it subsided to a half-chub that would probably be permissible under the terms of services of any social media website.
	“There we go.” Selena said. “Now open your eyes so everyone can see how beautiful you are.”
	Layla chuckled, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks that would come through in the picture. Selena took another picture, this one of Layla’s impeccable rear speckled with sand like a chocolate nonpareil.
	“Now take one of me!” Selena threw the phone at Layla without making any indication that she would do so.
	Layla managed to catch the phone, a few flecks of sand shaking loose from her body as she jerked forward to catch it. “But...” Layla began, trying to remember which button actually took the picture on an iPhone. “You don’t have much sand on you.”
	Selena’s head drooped, inspecting her form. For once, looking down at her magnificent body made her sad. It was true. There was hardly any sand clinging to her skin.
	“Well, then...” Selena turned around, not much sand on her backside, either. “I guess I have to get wet.”
	And Selena ran out of their naturally formed, shaded cul-de-sac and towards the inviting blue-and-white churn of the Pacific ocean.
	“Selena!” Layla shouted, chasing after her. She hoped nobody was around watching, but if they were, they might have heard her scream “Fuck!” as she stepped off the shady sand of their semi-private alcove and onto the sun-parched and ripping hot sand. She staggered back up as Selena made her way into the ocean, letting the water reach her stomach, scooping some water onto her breasts.
	Sufficiently moistened, Selena left the water and returned to Layla, who had moved to the cooler, wet sand at the edge of where the surf could reach. Selena passed her on one side and threw herself into the sand, belly-first, flopping about like a catfish. She rose with a nearly complete imprint of sand on her body, like a cookie dusted in icing sugar.
	“Here we go.” Selena took her phone back and took the sandy selfie of the two of them. She tapped away at the phone, adding the appropriate hashtags and emojis. “Do you mind if I post these? I mean... you can basically see everything.”
	Layla shrugged. “At this point, what do I have to hide?”
	Selena tapped her phone and published the picture to all the connected social media accounts she controlled.
	“Should I finally brush this off?” Layla asked. “Or do you want to walk back like this?”
	“We really shouldn’t, in case someone’s offended.” Selena started brushing the sand off her stomach. “Besides, we have to walk back, and I need to get back inside before I burn.”
	They brushed off as much of the sand would come free, knowing full well they’d have to shower before feeling completely clean again. Selena helpfully slapped away the sand from Layla’s rear.
	“One more picture.” Selena insisted.
	At Selena’s instruction, Layla posed next to a tree, nude but for the ballcap held over her groin with one hand. Another instant classic. She wanted to take more and more until she could fill up a calendar. Instead, they got dressed and started the walk back, Selena shielding herself from the sun with her parasol.
	“When I ran to the ocean, you cursed. Did you step on a shell or something?”
	“No, the sand was just really hot.”
	“Ah.”
	They returned to the hotel.
	Later on that afternoon, Selena pointed out the very faint, erection-shaped tanline on Layla’s stomach. Selena suggested making a reverse template by tracing Layla’s erection onto a paper plate and cutting the shape of her cock out. The very thought of this caused Layla to get hard. Selena doubted that area of Layla’s body would get much sun this vacation, so that plan was scrapped.
	Besides, how could someone prove they were cavorting in Hawaii in the early winter if they got the ‘all-over tan?’

	For dinner, Selena and Layla went to the hotel’s restaurant. Selena asked to be seated in a very particular seat in the restaurant, halfway between the kitchen and the lavatories, at the back wall. It was a rounded booth that probably seated four or five. Selena asked for a chair to sit opposite the table for Layla, so they could sit across from each other as she sat in the center of the booth. It was the first time Layla saw Selena request something so specific.
	Once the waiters brought the chair and set it down, Selena pulled it out for Layla.
	Layla could only chuckle.
	“So, why did you get me my own chair?” She asked.
	“So we can look at each other while we have dinner.”
	“OK, I guess the question I meant to ask was… why do you want to sit there?”
	“The one time...” Selena scooted along the booth until she reached the center of the semicircular booth. “that Wild Bill Hickok played poker when not seated facing the door… he was shot by a coward who snuck up on him.”
	Layla tensed visibly, her fingers clamping her cloth napkin. “You’re not afraid of someone hurting you, are you?”
	“No, no.” Selena waved her hand. “I just want to see the entrance from my seat, and I don’t want anything behind me but the wall. That way, if a fan tried to talk to me, I can at least see them coming. Most fans won’t approach me if they have to approach me directly.”
	“And if they do?”
	“I’ll put down my fork, scoot out, say hello, shake their hand, take a picture… maybe even peck them on the cheek.”
	“Really?”
	“Only if they look like they’d be embarrassed if I did it.” Selena smiled. “I have something of a bad girl reputation to uphold.”
	Two waiters appeared. One took drink orders. Selena requested a glass of pineapple juice and a glass of ice water.
	Layla held her menu up to the side of her face so the waiters wouldn’t see her whisper, “Can I ask for a soda?”
	Selena nodded.
	Layla ordered a Coke.
	The first waiter sped off. The second waiter took their dinner orders.
	“I’ll have the ribeye, medium rare. I’d prefer it come out closer to medium rather than rare, if you can. I just don’t want it to be cold before I finish it.”
	“Absolutely.” The waiter wrote the order with a flourish. “And for you, miss?”
	Layla looked at her menu as if it was written in hieroglyphics. She looked again to Selena for assistance.
	“There are no prices.” Layla whispered.
	Selena’s grin threatened to fly off her face. She covered her mouth to try not to laugh. “Yes. Get whatever you want.”
	Layla saw the word ‘hamburger’ on the menu and was curious what monstrosity might face her if she ordered that. She went for it.
	Before long, their drinks were brought to the table. Selena took a big sip of her pineapple juice.
	“I thought you’d give up the pineapple juice for vacation.”
	“Nah. I still love this stuff.” Selena took another sip. “The celery smoothies… I could take or leave, really. I do that for work.”
	“I thought that drink might come in a hollowed out fruit.”
	“That’s more a Vegas or Disneyland thing. By my estimation, there’s three kinds of fancy. Disney Fancy, that anyone can probably do, regular fancy, like this place, and the kind of fancy where no level of opulence will fill the void inside their clientele.”
	Selena took another sip. “This place isn’t that fancy. I could afford the highest level, but once it gets that excessive, everything just looks like a Cheesecake Factory.”
	“I love Cheesecake Factory.” Layla muttered shyly.
	“I don’t, but I used to like Applebee’s and Subway, so I’m not going to say anything. I bet that if I went into an Applebee’s today, I’d still love the pasta.”
	Not long after, the food arrived. The steak was a substantial piece of meat on a cast iron serving skillet in a wooden rest, the fabric hand guard still on the handle. Layla’s hamburger was quite tall, with a freshly baked bun and thickly cut vegetation. This was the first burger she’d been served that looked like it could be the picture in the menu… if this menu had pictures.
	Selena sliced the steak through the middle, and cut a smaller portion out from the center. She held it to her eye, and then slid it into her mouth with her fork. She closed her eyes and made a facial expression of immense satisfaction that any of her fans would be familiar with.
	“How is it?” Asked the waiter.
	She chewed the steak up and swallowed before responding, “Get the chef out here so I can have sex with him.”
	“Your steak will get cold.” The waiter noted.
	“Darn.” Selena returned her attention to her steak, cutting herself another bite.
	As she brought the morsel to her mouth, she saw Layla set down the burger after her first bite. Layla lifted the top bun gently off and removed a thin ring of pineapple someone had hidden under the bun like contraband. She dropped it onto her plate, landing like a wet pair of jean shorts. With sudden self-consciousness, she leaned forward and stuffed the pineapple into her mouth, chewing it and swallowing it.
	Layla looked up. “Nobody saw that, right?”
	“Nope. You’re in the clear. The chef won’t poison your dessert.”
	“I like pineapple, but not like that. And that piece had mayonnaise on it, and that made it gross.”
	“You could’ve just left it on your plate. Nobody would’ve cared.”
	Layla enjoyed the second bite of her burger much more without the slice of fruit. Selena slowly ate chunks of steak.
	With her burger half-eaten, Layla asked, “How often do you have steak?”
	“If you don’t count the very occasional steak sandwich, maybe four times a year.” Selena answered. “I always do it once around my birthday. Sometimes, if I’m at a lunch meeting, they’ll drag me to a steakhouse to show how manly they are and how much cow muscle they can endure. If I feel like slow-playing the meeting, I’ll order a salad and a Shirley Temple and just blindside them with some demands while they’re sluggish from all the food, like it’s 7PM on Thanksgiving.”
	Something popped into Selena’s head. “Here’s a story you’ll like. A porn director wanted to negotiate an appearance, and he had this reputation to taking important clients to this one restaurant where they’d do...”
	Selena’s brow lowered as she tried to remember the word. “What’s the word? Nyotaimori.” She pronounced it very slowly.
	“I don’t know what that is.”
	“It’s when you eat sushi off a naked woman’s body.”
	“Oh.” Layla blinked. “I’ve only had sushi once. They didn’t do that.”
	“Well, it’s not common, and sometimes illegal. So before the meeting, I asked around to where they actually did that in California, and found the place. So, they thought they were going to impress me with this sushi layout, but I called them up and asked if they could use a different… model? I don’t know what the woman in that position is actually called.”
	“Something nicer than ‘plate,’ I assume.”
	“Yeah. So when they brought us into the room with the woman set up with the sushi on her… it was Keitaro, an acquaintance of mine and one of the only Japanese-born futas currently working in porn in America. You’ve probably seen her, even if you didn’t know her name.”
	The faces of the Japanese futa porn stars Layla had seen entered her head. Even when talking to Selena, being presumed to be an expert at porn was a little embarrassing. But Layla knew Selena meant it only as a compliment.
	“So I sit across from them as they start trying to impress me. I grab my chopsticks and pull the first piece of sushi right off the tip of her dick and eat it. I don’t even dip it in the soy sauce. They take the pieces on her nipples, of course. I take the second one from her cock and eat it, and then I kiss her on the lips. Keitaro starts getting hard, and the remaining pieces of sushi tumble off her cock.
	“They keep eating the stuff on her torso. I lift Keitaro’s erection with the chopsticks and put my mouth around it and I suck her off until she comes. She knew I was going to do this, by the way. I cleared it with her; I didn’t just drop this on her. She’s sitting as still as she can, but she starts breathing harder and her toes curl and all that good stuff. She comes in my mouth, I swallow some of it, some of it I let spray onto her stomach, some of it I let build in my mouth and spit it into hers… you know, the usual stuff.
	“And after that… neither of them wanted much more of the sushi. I picked up a piece and rubbed it in the come on her stomach and ate it, I fed her one that was soaked in come… and from then on, I essentially was in complete control of that meeting.”
	Selena took another bite of her steak, neglected for a minute as she told that story. She looked back up, and Layla’s face was red, both hands below the table.
	“What?” Selena asked.
	“YOU said wearing yoga pants down here wouldn’t be a problem.” Layla pouted.
	“It’s a hotel restaurant! People come down here in bathrobes! Nobody cares.”
	“Now I have a boner AND I’m in my yoga pants...”
	“I gave you a boner just telling a story? I should start a podcast… anyway, we both got plenty left to eat, so I’m sure it’ll go away eventually.”
	Layla finished a big bite of her burger. She wiped a few specks of spice off her lip with her thumb and asked, “Was that the worst meeting you ever had?”
	“Definitely not. That was a great meeting.” Selena shook her head. “The worst one was this hotshot director who absolutely could not. Stop. Swearing.” She punctuated the last three words by tapping the table with her index finger. “I’m no prude, though I try not to swear unless it’s effective. This guy would literally use the F-word four times in a single sentence. Not even talking about sex, just as an enhancer. ‘We’re gonna f-ing do this so f-ing good, it’s f-ing great. I just could not wait for that meeting to be over so I could get a head start on never seeing that guy again.”
	She took another bite of steak, still not sure if she was ready for Layla to see her talk with her mouth full. “See… after almost six years in the industry and lots of success, I’ve organized my whole life to maximize my ability to perform at my job. But also… I’ve been trying to increase the time that I work with friends. I’ll work with new talent, but if they’re a jerk, I won’t be back. Work doesn’t always have to be fun, but it can’t just drain the life out of me. That’s why I try to maximize the time I spend with friends.”
	She began cutting another morsel away from the steak. “I mean… that’s why I’m not vacationing alone for the first time in years.”
	Layla stared at her. “Are we really friends?”
	“Anyone who fucks me so good is definitely my friend.”
	“Shut up.” Layla wheezed, blushing.
	“Now THAT’s how you swear effectively.” Selena stabbed the piece of steak to bring to her mouth. Layla looked like she was shrinking, trying to adjust herself under the table nonchalantly. Selena looked at her with teasing disapproval. “Are we going to have to get you a second burger so you have enough time to calm down?” She asked.
	“Maybe just some ice cream.” Layla tried to clear her mind and focus on the excellent burger. From across the table, Selena held out a cube of steak on a fork at the end of her arm.
	“Here, try some. Put some of my meat in your mouth.”
	Layla snickered and put her head down.
	“What? I’m asking you to taste my hot, juicy meat. What’s got you so worked up?”
	Layla groaned.

	Layla had watched a lot of Selena’s porn. Like… almost all of it that she could find. She might have seen just about every video Selena’s ever made, except for that rare appearance of a male co-star. 	Thus, she had watched hours and hours of Selena kissing dozens of other women. She could even tell when the other woman wasn’t into it. Rather than do the silly act where the two actresses rock their heads around and kiss ‘past’ each other… Selena would move the kisses elsewhere, to her partner’s neck or breasts.
	Selena wasn’t doing that now. If they were on set, the director would surely tell them to move on to the interesting stuff. But to Selena… this was the interesting stuff. The woman who could have anything or anyone she wanted was content to spend her vacation time… in bed, kissing unknown futa camgirl Layla Boyd.
	If most of Selena’s fans found that hard to believe, so did Layla. She still could hardly believe the woman whose bed she shared, whose heart beat like a drum against her, whose huge hard cock rested under hers…
	“You’re so out of breath, I’m wondering if maybe we shouldn’t go for that hike tomorrow.”
	“I think this gets my heart going much more than any hike.”
	“How much of a hike do you think you can handle?”
	“I mean...” Layla thought a moment. “I used to stand at the coffee shop all day and walk around the farm doing stuff and carrying stuff. I think I can handle a medium hike.”
	“That’ll be the plan, then.” Selena kissed her again. “Which means… we should start winding down and getting to bed.”
	They kissed again.
	“We’re already in bed.”
	They kissed again.
	“By Jove, you’re right.”
	They kissed again.
	And again.
	And again.
	And again...

	Layla thought that the hike Selena had promised would be an intimate affair, just the two of them passing through a snaking trail far off the map, taking treacherous steps down slopes of black sand, possibly cutting through overgrown reeds with Gurkha knives and wearing anachronistic pith helmets.
	Instead, there were about nine people already there when they arrived, and ten more came afterwards. The hikers varied greatly, from some in spandex running tops and multicolored athletic shoes, like they were a marathoner who had lost their number, to T-shirt and cargo-short clad tourists that seemed to be more common on Maui than fire hydrants.
	Selena had her large sunhat, sundress, sunglasses, parasol and a backpack. Layla was dressed as she always was, yoga pants, T-shirt and sweat shirt around her waist to keep herself… hidden.
	One person in the crowd, a man of about twenty-three, seemed very tense when he saw Selena in the hiking party. Selena noticed his apprehension, and merely brought her first finger to her lips and puckered her lips, making a silent shush. This seemed to make the man even more tense, as she just confirmed that he wasn’t hallucinating. He couldn’t have seemed more shocked if he had seen Darth Vader waiting for this hike.
	Layla hoped she didn’t look so ridiculous the first time she saw Selena. But his reaction reminded her once again that, oh yeah, she was on a tropical vacation with Selena freaking Grande.
	
	Mossy cliffs with waterfalls peeking through bare rocks and tumbling in the distance, giving a faint hiss behind the rustling of leaves and branches of the trees surrounding them. Sugarcane as high as a second-story window. The occasional exotic call of some species of bird, which the tour guide helpfully identified by the Latin name. A surprising absence of bugs, though that didn’t seem to stop Selena from reapplying both repellent and sunscreen at equal intervals.
	If this was a movie, this would be where Layla’s heart and mind would be opened to the splendor of the world that the concrete cities had denied her, and she would live in the natural splendor of these tropical islands with Selena, where they would recreate their own version of Gilligan’s Island. Selena would be the millionaire, and she would be… Gilligan? Layla hadn’t actually ever seen any Gilligan’s Island.
	As it was, the natural splendor was something she’d spent her life fighting against. The acres of land her parents had cut from Gaea’s flank were a nuisance from which she was glad to escape. She might not have a car in the city, but she hadn’t once had to get a tractor out of the mud in the city. She dealt with rude customers at the coffee shop, but she never had to give medicine to a cow, or assist in other animal husbandry in ways she rightfully never should have to deal with firsthand, due to her gender.
	And yes, she made money by stripping and masturbating for sex-starved Internet creeps. But no matter how much she jerked it, the calluses on her hands were still fading.
	The group took many, many photos. Some of them had expensive DSLRs and other modern cameras, some took them on their phone. Selena kept her phone in her bag, except to take a single picture of Layla standing in front of that crazy picturesque waterfall. She took it vertically and horizontally, possibly to use as a desktop background or phone wallpaper.
	Once during the hike, some unprepared hiker asked the trail guide if they had extra water because they were thirsty. The guide shook their head and said no, clearly disappointed that they hadn’t read the instructions on the trail. Selena reached into her backpack and pulled out one of many bottles of water she had stowed in there. A few other hikers asked if there were more, and she dispensed with more bottles. Suddenly, everyone realized how heavy that backpack must have been. It was like the rucksack filled with rocks the sergeant would force the lazy soldier to hoist around to teach them a lesson.
	After all, Selena was used to giving thirsty people just what they needed.
	“Whatever makes this lighter.” She said, her first time speaking after she’d joined the group.
	Another man in the group tensed at the sound of her voice., suddenly unable to fathom how likely it was that this women who looked just like a world-famous porn star would also sound like her.
	Layla smothered her giggles in her fist.

	At the midpoint of the hike, there was an ordinary concrete building that would not look out of place in any strip mall or antarctic research station. Vines and other plant life licked and scraped at the edges of the building, as if waiting for it to be disclaimed by humans so it could be returned to nature. Nothing about the exterior of the building seemed to indicate they were in Hawaii, not even a tiki statue or torch. It was as if they’d walked all the way to a forest outpost in western Washington.
	The building was evidently a rest station, where the majority of the party did just that. Selena ditched all the empty water bottles she’d been carrying in her backpack. She brought Layla into the bathroom and pulled out something Layla hadn’t seen her pack: a rolled towel from the hotel.
	“What’s that for?” She asked, as Selena draped the towel across the floor of the single-occupant women’s restroom. She stepped on it like it was a bath mat and upturned a dull orange bottle of powder into her hand.
	“Baby powder?” Layla asked.
	“Gold Bond.” Selena brought the powder under her skirt. She closed her eyes and sighed. “This is actually kind of embarrassing, doing this in front of you.”
	“I didn’t know anything could embarrass you.” Layla smiled.
	“I’m sweating a lot.” She said softly. “Must be the humidity.”
	“Yeah, standing by that waterfall was my favorite part of the hike so far. It was so cooling.”
	“Well, this will have a similar effect.”
	Without warning, Selena hooked two fingers into the waistband of Layla’s yoga pants and pulled them out horizontally. Selena shook the orange container of powder against Layla’s groin and brushed it around with her fingers. She released the waistband, letting it snap against Layla’s abs with a little cloud of powder.
	Selena clapped her hand and rinsed it under the sink to clean the powder from it.
	“Selena.” Layla said tensely.
	She turned around. Layla was already fully erect, the tip of her cock barely staying beneath the stretched latex.
	“Oh! Sorry.” Selena bit her lip. “Guess I should’ve let you do that.”
	“Normally, I’m all for it, but right now, after having not come for two days...” Layla looked down to herself.
	Selena sidled behind her. “Well, you’ll thank me when you don’t wake up tomorrow chafing.” She pulled the back of her yoga pants back and did the same thing for Layla’s bum, snapping the waistband shut and giving her rear a spank punctuated with another cloud of white.
	Layla groaned, grabbing Selena by the torso and pressing her up against the wall, causing the automatic hand dryer near them to briefly jump to life as Selena’s arm passed underneath it. Layla positioned herself under Selena’s skirt, rubbing herself against her vulva. Only the thin layer of stretched yoga pants fabric separated the two of them.
	“Selena...” Layla’s eyebrows were low, her hands moving to Selena’s wrists. “If you just want me to fuck you in this public bathroom, just say so.”
	Breathing deeply and gritting her teeth, Selena’s eyes said, “yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” But aloud, she said, “I don’t think we should.”
	“Then please don’t make this so tough for me.”
	“OK. I’m sorry.”
	“This would be so incredibly hot under almost any other circumstance. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, when I have to walk around with strangers, it’s just annoying.”
	Layla stepped back. Selena was now erect, too, her cock pushing her skirt up.
	“We can’t go out like this, obviously.” Layla said.
	“We’ll just have to wait.”
	After five minutes of waiting, Selena had succeeded where Layla had not. In her career, sometimes Selena found the rare time where losing an erection was a necessary skill. Sometimes, it was to shoot some B-roll of her walking around nude before the fun began. Most commonly, it was just to re-shoot her growing erect.
	The tour guide finally found the missing pair leaving the lavatory. “We’re about to head off. You two ready?”
	“Yep.” Selena piped quietly, and they rejoined the group.
	The tour guide looked at Layla’s adjusted clothing arrangement. “You’re going to be awful hot wearing that sweatshirt out there.”
	“No, I’m always cold.” She gasped, as she pulled the bottom of the shirt down to keep it covering her hips. “Let’s get moving.”
	Partway through the journey back, as the tour guide expected, this woman removed her sweatshirt to put around her waist, the T-shirt beneath it now soaked with sweat.
	What on earth was this woman thinking? At least she’d come to her senses.

	Quite exhausted from the hike, Layla and Selena elected to take dinner in their room tonight. Selena got grilled chicken and roasted yukon gold potatoes. Layla got macaroni and cheese. There was the option to sprinkle lobster bits in it for extra extravagance. Layla didn’t think the best way to try lobster for the first time was smothered in cheese and tangled in pasta, so she declined.
	The other advantage to eating in their room was that nobody would judge them for eating all this fancy crap… while drinking Gatorade out of the bottle. Selena seldom indulged in ‘soft drinks,’ as she called them, which led to a spirited two-minute discussion concerning whether Gatorate was actually a soft drink or not.
	The pair also split a chocolate molten lava cake, certainly not because Selena couldn’t afford two. Even on vacation, Selena just didn’t feel like eating the entire thousand-calorie treat by herself. They each cut the tender cake with their spoons and fed it to each other like an obliviously obnoxious couple on a date.
	Selena was surprised that Layla hadn’t hopped on her the moment they were both in bed. The hike really had sapped her energy. They watched whatever was on the TV, but only when they weren’t trading lovely kisses.
	Layla broke away to take control of the remote, muting the television before returning to Selena’s soft lips.
	Selena turned away. “Do you always mute the commercials?” She asked.
	“Usually.” Layla said. “I don’t have cable, so I’m used to the commercials on the over-the-air programs, and they’re… essentially one step above banner ads.”
	“My face has been on a lot of those.” Selena noted. “Never for a legitimate product, of course.”
	“Well, since over-the-air TV is free, the presumed audience is people in poverty or people who are stuck at home. It’s all ads for cheap phone plans, questionable herbal supplements, class action lawsuits and purchasing structured settlements.”
	“That shit should be illegal.” Selena snapped. “They come on daytime TV with their little songs, knowing that people who are out of work will be stuck at home watching television, and they buy their settlements for a fraction of what they’re worth and leave them with almost nothing for their suffering. If I ever get out of porn, I might just start a company where I buy the settlements at face value, or very close, just to put them out of business.”
	Selena took a breath. “Sorry. I see those commercials all the time and they drive me crazy.”
	“You’re going to do what Uber is doing to taxis?”
	“Run them out of business with a more convenient product and then raise prices once they no longer have competition?”
	“Well, taxis have had a terrible reputation for... decades now.”
	“But that’s the question, isn’t it? Did they earn that bad reputation because of bad service and a lack of competition...or did they gain a reputation unfairly because it’s a career dominated by immigrants and religious minorities?”
	Layla thought on that for a moment, but she shrugged. “I don’t know. That was an entrenched stereotype before I was born. And I’ve never actually ridden in a taxi.”
	They looked to the silent television for a moment. Battered shrimp tumbled in empty space, bread crumbs flying off like raindrops lashed off wet hair. The price of these allegedly endless shrimp appeared in bright white text.
	“Any commercial is better than that smiling dude and his penis pills.” Layla said.
	“I think they don’t exist anymore. Bankruptcy, money laundering, that sort of thing. If there WAS a penis pill, you wouldn’t need any funny business to promote it. People would beat a path to your door.”
	“Have you ever turned down an endorsement deal?”
	“A serious one?” Selena said. “Because I get emails about penis enhancement pills probably every day.”
	“Everyone gets those.”
	“No, these are from the companies themselves.” Selena specified. “I wouldn’t endorse anything unless I used it, or at least COULD, like those condoms. Even if those pills worked, which I’m confident that they don’t... I don’t want to be any bigger. I’m already on the verge of what most women can handle. If I can’t have sex, that’s the end of my career. I actually posted something on my Youtube channel that basically said that every banner ad that you see saying that I used penis pills was lying to you, and to not click them.”
	“Did you ever sue them?”
	Selena scoffed. “I might as well sue a particular mosquito in a swarm. They’ve got nothing I want or need. The money would be better spent promoting my video to spread the word about it. Then again, most sensible people know that it’s not true. That’d just be throwing good money after bad.”
	“Have you ever been sued?”
	Selena looked out into space for a second.
	“Should I even ask this when we’re on vacation?” Layla pulled back. “I’m sorry.”
	“Once.” Selena answered.
	“What happened? If you don’t mind sharing.”
	“A man sued one of those shake oil penis pill companies... and me for appearing in their banner ads.” Selena blew out a breath, the memories evidently not entirely cooled off with time. “I called the lawyer myself and said, ‘you’re not going to find a single judge in California or likely anywhere that will tell you that my inclusion in this suit is meritorious. If your client had e-mailed me and asked, ‘do you really use those pills?’ I would have told him ‘no, no, don’t buy them, do literally anything else with your money.’ I don’t answer all my emails, but I definitely answer people asking that kind of thing.
	“Unlike your client, I know what to do with my money. So if I have to get my lawyer involved in this, he will make sure that you don’t get a cent out of me. And then we’ll make sure you pay his fees. Not your client… YOU, the lawyer who is facilitating this nonsense. So drop me from this suit TODAY and save yourself some money.’ See, this is before I had you around to keep me from snapping off angry emails.”
	“No, I’m completely behind you on this one. What did they do?”
	“They kept me in.”
	“Uh-oh.”
	“To be fair... I did actually text my lawyer my idea for this beforehand, and he thought it wouldn’t work, but didn’t see the harm in it. So he got involved, and he got me out of it.”
	“Did you ever get your money back?”
	“I don’t know. I pay my lawyer whatever he wants. He might be overcharging me, but so long as he isn’t actually embezzling, I’ll be fine. It’s the same thing with my accountant. His job isn’t to make sure that I pay no taxes. His job is to make sure that I’m doing everything completely by the book and above board so that I don’t go to jail. No amount of opulence is worth risking that. I’ll go back to peanut butter sandwiches and noisy neighbors before that.”
	“Luckily, you’ll never have to.”
	The commercials had ended, but neither of them decided to turn the sound back on.
	“You feeling alright after that hike?” Selena asked.
	“I think so. I’ll be ready to do another one tomorrow.”
	“There’s a longer one we could do, but it’s further out. Let’s see how we feel tomorrow.”
	“Sure.”
	They cuddled closer.
	“I’m sorry for yelling at you today.” Layla apologized.
	Selena looked at her. “That thing in the bathroom? That was awesome.”
	“What?”
	“Grabbing me like that… that was so hot. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
	Layla chuckled. It was like Selena was a succubus that didn’t know how to do anything in a non-sexy way. Layla kissed her on the temple.
	Selena moved up and placed her lips on Layla’s.
	Tired as they were, sleep was still some way off.

	Selena had performed all her morning rituals, but Layla was still in bed. This wasn’t that out of the ordinary. Neither was the desire to stay in bed or sleep in while on vacation. But Selena heard a gentle moan penetrating Layla’s pillow. These weren’t fun sexy moans; this sounded more like every breath hurt.
	“You OK, Layla?” Selena asked. “You didn’t get a sunburn, did you?”
	Layla didn’t answer. Her moans didn’t even change in pitch to indicate she had even noticed that Selena had entered the room.
	Selena gingerly picked up a corner of the bed sheet and peeled it off Layla’s nude body like a banana peel. “Nope. Just as lovely and fair as ever.” Selena rubbed one of Layla’s buttocks gently before giving it a light tap, barely enough to really be called a spank.
	Layla whimpered.
	Selena sat on the bed. “We probably should’ve started with a shorter hike. I’m sorry.”
	“I thought I could handle it.” She croaked.
	“We can take it easy today, if you need time to recover.”
	“Don’t let me ruin your plans.”
	Selena placed her hand on Layla’s shoulder. “You ARE my plans, Layla. But I’ve got an idea.”

	Two women in their thirties entered the suite, pushing two folding massage tables in front of them. They set up the tables in the living room and stood outside the doorway to let them strip and place themselves on the tables in privacy.
	They looked at each other knowingly, and Selena snickered.
	Once Selena had undressed, she approached her table and put one leg up to climb on top of it. She looked to the other table, where Layla was, flat as a board, a small towel over her rear.
	Selena walked over to Layla’s table and whipped the towel off Layla.
	Layla yipped.
	“What, are you shy?” Selena set the towel down on the table. “We can’t hide that ass.”
	“I thought this was what you’re supposed to do at a massage.”
	“You can… unless you work in the professional nudity industry.”
	The two masseuses re-entered the room. Selena specified that since this would be Layla’s first massage, she should get a standard massage. Selena asked for a deep-tissue massage.
	The moment Layla’s masseuse put her hands around Layla’s right calf, she whispered to herself, “Oh, goodness.” Alternating between pressing with her thumb and squeezing with her palm, she massaged the tight muscle. Every time she applied pressure, she heard Layla moan.
	The massage stopped and she asked Layla if she was in pain.
	“There’s a difference between pain and discomfort.” She explained. “Massages can cause discomfort, but they shouldn’t cause pain. Pain is sharp and sudden. Discomfort is dull and spread out. If you actually experience pain, let me know.”
	Layla nodded and allowed the masseuse to work her stiff leg muscles. The masseuse also worked her shoulders and neck, but those were probably stiff from too much time sitting at a computer rather than from the hike. She swore she felt something crunch in her muscles as she pressed on them, like trying to break up corn flakes stuffed inside a balloon.
	“Roll over.” The masseuse instructed.
	Layla turned over on the table. By the time she was on her side, she realized she was exposing her erection to the masseuse. She’d been so comfortably naked so often, she hadn’t even considered this might not be OK. She covered herself with her hands, blushing.
	“Sorry. I forgot.” She said softly.
	“It’s fine. I just didn’t know you were even...” The masseuse looked away... and then back. “I probably should’ve guessed, if you’re vacationing with her.”
	Layla sat forward, trying to tuck it between her thighs to keep it covered. “I’m sorry.” She repeated.
	“It’s fine, I swear.” She insisted, soft redness appearing on her face. “It’s... normal to experience positive emotions during a massage. I’m not normally that kind of masseuse, but if you want...”
	Layla’s legs came apart gently, her cock rising back into place against her abs. The masseuse’s strong, knowledgeable hands approached it, fingertips outstretched.
	“Don’t you do it.” Selena said. She was on her back now as well, but her cock was flaccid as her masseuse rubbed her calf muscle. “I’m the one paying for this massage, and she said she’d refrain from orgasm.”
	Layla moaned. She felt she might get blue balls again. “How much is a massage?”
	“Forty-two thousand dollars.”
	“That’s impossible!” 
	“Yes, it is.” Selena said. “I’m just saying... stick with it. Don’t just give up because we have the two hottest massage therapists ever.”
	“You’re sweet.” Said Selena’s masseuse. “But I can’t be the hottest anymore at thirty-six.”
	“You’re thirty-six?” Selena brought her head up. “Wow, I hope I look half as good as you when I’M thirty-six. What’s your secret?”
	“I don’t know if there is one.” She shrugged without moving her hands from Selena’s leg. “I almost always have a glass of red wine with dinner.”
	Selena put her head back down. “Yeah… not doing that. Maybe grape juice or sparkling cider will work the same way.”

	After the massage, the pair took a rare warm shower to soothe their muscles and relaxed in their bathrobes. They ordered a large pitcher of ice water and some tea as part of the suggested post-massage hydration. Layla found a travel pack of ibuprofen in her purse and took those as well.
	“Is it that bad?” Selena asked from across her cup of tea.
	“I’m not in agony or anything.” Layla rubbed her thigh. “But… I don’t see the point in toughing it out. The massage was great. I feel much better and very limber, but now instead of it hurting a lot when I try to move, it just hurts either way.”
	“Yeah, she really did a number on me.” Selena said, sitting and sipping her tea. Nothing in her behavior suggested she wasn’t anything but completely comfortable. “As you’ve seen… I ask a lot of my body. But I wouldn’t take medicine unless I absolutely had to do something, if I had the rare migraine on a day I had to perform or something. So I’m fine just sitting here.”
	“Should we go to the hot tub?” Layla suggested. “I’ll bet they’ve got one.”
	“I can’t wear the sarong in there, so I can’t do it. Besides, the masseuse told me it’s best to do that before the massage to loosen up, but… I didn’t know that.”
	“If you wanted to use the hot tub privately, I’m sure that we could ask for a private hour in there.”
	“I don’t believe in that.” Selena gently shook her head. “I hear stories from some of the other rich celebrities I sometimes cross paths with, how they ask for special considerations. As far as trying to enjoy themselves without being bothered by fan encounters… that’s fine. I won’t name names, but some of them use their celebrity to get free stuff. Like… they close the place so someone can do something... and they don’t even pay. The payment is just being allowed to serve someone famous, to BE in their presence. I don’t believe in that at all.”
	“Being in YOUR presence has been pretty great.”
	“I feel the same way, Layla.”
	Layla doubted that she really felt as strongly as she did, but it was a fun thought.
	“So… did you take the Advil because you’re that uncomfortable… or were you thinking of doing a little streaming?”
	Layla started gently, as if Selena has just read her mind. “I mean...” She hesitated. “I haven’t streamed in three days. And it’s not like I told them I was going on vacation. I feel like I should at least tune in and chat for a bit.”
	“Oh, come on.” Selena sneered, which struck Layla’s heart like a sudden dagger. It felt like a territorial move, something said to keep Layla all to herself. That wouldn’t be so bad, but that phrase had the slightest edge of jealousy in it.
	Selena continued, “If you’re going to stream… at least show off the goods.”
	They stared at each other for a moment. That misunderstanding completely eradicated, Layla grabbed Selena’s head, kissed her on the mouth and dashed off to get her laptop.

	For Layla’s audience, it had been the longest break in streaming in recent memory that wasn’t around a major holiday or otherwise pre-announced absence. But Layla had begun a new stream at last. Instead of her bedroom, couch, or shower… she was outside. There was endless sand behind her, a blue sky and bluer water in the background.
	“Hey, everyone!” Layla waved, speaking loudly over the soft but ever-present wind. She was wearing a green string bikini and sitting on a plain white towel. She could barely see her screen, but the white towel appeared completely blown out on her camera.
	Layla found the keyboard shortcut to brighten her screen as far as it would go. It had evidently not been designed for this sort of external use.
	“What better time to visit the beach than… January?” She laughed. “Well, to do what we’re going to do… it’s better that it’s not that crowded. I assume that nobody will bother us out here.”
	She watched chat go by faster than normal, trying to draw out familiar names. “There are a lot of new people here. Welcome to my stream. If this is your first time… don’t worry. I know how big I am. I’ll be gentle.”
	Layla’s hand folded and squeezed her flaccid package in her green bikini bottom.
	“So… to introduce myself, I’m Layla Boyd. I’m nineteen, and I’m a camgirl from California. I like yoga pants, porn and big cocks.”
	She had said this intro many times, whenever she either knew or suspected that she had some new viewers. The only part that wasn’t true was the ‘from California’ part. She’d lived in California less than two years. Everything else was true.
	“Can everyone hear me OK?” Layla asked, constantly tickled by the soft breeze coming off the ocean. “I hope the wind isn’t too bad. But if you can see me fine, I’m sure you’ll all be all right.”
	Layla pushed her breast together with her upper arms. “I didn’t own a swimsuit until I got this one. I went for the modest bikini top. I wasn’t sure I’d be streaming today, so maybe I would have bought something skimpy if I knew I’d be doing this.”
	She typed at the computer. “Let’s start a poll… how many of you out there think my bikini isn’t nearly skimpy enough?”
	She let the poll populate and revealed the results. Most said her bikini was, indeed, far too conservative for a self-respecting horny futa camgirl.
	“Well then…” Layla smirked and purred. “I guess I’ll have to take it off.”
	Layla’s hands went under her breasts and pulled her top off over her head. She tossed it off-camera. She removed the hairband holding her hair back into a ponytail and threw her hair across her breasts like she was posing for Sports Illustrated.
	“I haven’t seen any topless sunbathers yet.” Layla looked to her surroundings. She then pointed one finger. “Which reminds me, I need to put on sunscreen.” Layla retrieved a bronze-colored bottle of sunscreen from off-camera somewhere. “A friend told me that you should put on sunscreen before you go outside, but… I couldn’t refuse you all the show, could I?”
	That was a lie. Layla had just forgotten to put it on before going out.
	Layla took the bottle and opened the little spout at the top. She worked the cylindrical bottle like it was the hot and turgid extension of someone special enough to guest star on her stream.
	“You like this?” She asked chat breathlessly. “I thought it was hot out here, but you’re just so big and hot… ooohh...” She wagged her tongue past her lips a few times in anticipation.
	She squeezed the bottle in her hand in a way that would not be comfortable if it was really the viewer’s penis. But it did the trick, as the bottle squirted a little ribbon of white stuff onto her bare breasts. She released and re-squeezed the bottle a few more times, moaning with every drop that landed on her tits.
	“Ooh… so soon? I’m sorry.” She put down the bottle and wiped a bit away from her breast with her fingertip. She touched it to the tip of her tongue, and immediately winced and blew a raspberry. The ‘splut’ icons were posted in equal measure to generic ‘heart’ icons.
	If there was a hypothetical interview of any of Layla’s chat moderators, it might have to be published on a website specializing in stuff nobody could ever possibly care about. Nevertheless, the moderators might testify that they didn’t become fans of Layla because of her beautiful face, or her naturally thin frame, or even her huge penis. Moments like this, moments of vulnerability and silliness, cut through the armor of even the most cynical Internet denizen.
	Lots of camgirls pretended to be innocent. If this was an act... it was a very good one.
	“Ohh, yuck.” Layla groaned. “Wish I had some Coke or something to wash it out with.” She rubbed the rest of the lotion into her skin until it disappeared, leaving her breasts and fingers shiny. “But it’s left me all shiny. Does everyone like that? I really love baby oil play videos, but I have no place to do it in my apartment except the bathroom. I mean, I’ve got hardwood floors, but if I’m honest… I would need to clean really well to not get covered in dust. I should also look into if the wood would absorb the oil. Maybe I shouldn’t worry about it until I get a high-def camera. I could do baby oil out here and make a mess, but I feel like under the sun, I would fry like a mozzarella stick.”
	She coated the rest of her upper body with lotion, getting as much of her back as she could. Most of the spots she couldn’t reach would be under her hair anyway.
	“Now the bottoms...” Layla got on her knees and pulled up the waistband on both sides, lifting the bottoms and bouncing her package within. She pulled them down to her knees, rolling onto her rear to pull them out from under her. She hooked the waistband by her thumb and snapped it at her webcam, the little green thing tumbling down onto her keyboard.
	Looking around to her surroundings, yards and yards of empty sand in every direction… this was different from a little nude sunbathing under some palm trees. Being topless meant nothing to her. If someone had found here without a shirt, she would not be bothered. But being completely nude and exposed… she would find this exciting even if she hadn’t refrained for a few days. Her cock quickly grew hard and pulsing, demanding attention.
	“Wow, this is… sort of new for me.” Layla grinned. “Never really done full public nudity before. It’s one thing to snap a quick picture when nobody’s looking, but this… and don’t worry about me. This is a clothing optional beach, but I don’t know how they feel about nude futa. I know that YOU all love it, of course.”
	Requests in chat were filled with the obvious stuff one could do when presented with a hard futa cock. There wasn’t much out here that she couldn’t do inside. She wasn’t going to get into the water, as much fun as that sounded. Nobody would be able to see it on her little pinhole webcam.
	Someone requested her to jerk off with a handful of sand. Layla ignored that one. Instead, she ran the spout of her bottle of sunscreen along herself, leaving a laminar wave of lotion on her like mustard on a hot dog. She moved in closer to her camera to show it up close as she rubbed the lotion into her skin.
	Of course, once she started rubbing… Layla found it very hard to stop, even when all the lotion was gone. She pulled back from her laptop and sat on her haunches, legs spread apart. She grunted and huffed as she tugged on herself, her face growing red as what she was doing came to her mind. Nudity might be permitted on clothing-optional beaches, but sex was surely frowned upon. Especially masturbation, which one could easily do in private.
	But Layla hadn’t masturbated ‘in private’ in well over a year. If she felt randy, even if it was one in the morning where she lived, she’d start up a broadcast and welcome all the people watching from England and Syria.
	Then again, there was essentially no threat of anyone bursting in on her if she did that in her apartment, aside from the one-in-a-million chance of getting SWATed. But that was a terrifying, if very unlikely event. Here, it was approaching mid-afternoon. The odds of someone entering this beach around now seemed very good.
	In contrast to the terror that her real address getting leaked posed, the threat of being exposed and found jerking off… this was as authentically scary as a haunted hayride. Sure, this wasn’t really a nude beach, and maybe some vacationer could call the cops. So long as they handcuffed her arms in front of her, she’d be fine…
	Layla stopped. She was supposed to be saving herself for Selena… whenever she decided they’d held back long enough. She’d surely forgive her, especially in pursuit of work, but then again… they were on vacation.
	“I feel like I shouldn’t do this so fast...” She said aloud. “But I also feel...”
	Layla’s wrist started moving again, pulling hard on herself. “I also feel like we need to do this fast so nobody catches us...”
	She slowed down again. “But maybe the longer we’re out here… the hotter this is, right? God… I really, really want to come so bad. I’m so backed up. Should I? Should I risk it?”
	Layla got down on all fours to look at her laptop screen, trying to read chat over the bright sunlight. Chat seemed unable to come to a consensus on this important issue.
	She peeked up from the edge of her laptop. From around an outcropping of trees, an enormous group of people had appeared. Men and women, possibly a futa in there somewhere, but they weren’t making as obvious as she was. They appeared to be carrying some towels, coolers, umbrellas, maybe sporting equipment like a volleyball net. They were too far way to see clearly.
	Layla nearly choked on her own gasp. She jumped to her feet and ran as fast as she could, her legs protesting from the strain of both yesterday’s hike and today’s massage. The laptop camera could barely make a comprehensible image of her running so haphazardly. She made it back to an outcropping of trees near the hotel where nobody could see her. She had left both the towel and her bikini behind.
	“Oh my God...” Layla panted, face red from exertion and chagrin. “I almost got caught.” Her hand went over her heart, laughing. Chat was filled with spluts. “I need to get back... somehow. Sorry, we need to cut this short.”
	In chat, someone said, “Bullshit. There’s nobody out there. You just wanted to cut out without jizzing again.”
	“Oh, ‘there’s nobody out there,’ is there?” Layla talked to chat, holding the laptop up so they could only see her face. She turned the whole laptop around and pointed it at the crowd walking through the sand she had just occupied. The built-in camera didn’t have a ‘zoom’ function, but they could see a colorful crowd of indistinct shapes walking through the shot.
	She spun it around and lowered it, her erection advancing into shot. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to come all over my laptop right now. But I need to get home somehow. Anyway, thanks for watching. I hope you found that as thrilling as I did. I wonder if that Uber driver will come back. I bet he won’t mind TOO much.”
	She signed off from the stream and closed her laptop. She wasn’t quite as far from the hotel as she had implied, of course. Otherwise, the Wi-Fi would not have stayed connected. She made up a fictional Uber driver because she knew that chat was aware that she didn’t own a car. How else would she get to the beach, without implying that she lived within a walking distance of it? Their minds might dance with the idea of her taking a rideshare home nude, the way sugar plums fill the dreams on Christmas Eve.
	Watching as Selena politely asked people who asked her for pictures to keep them to themselves while she was still on vacation… Layla wondered if she should do the same thing. Then again, how many of her fans actually lived on Maui? Even with her sudden spike in followers, she probably didn’t need to worry about being out in public.
	Unless, of course, she was naked.
	Layla took the one minute walk back to her private porch and opened the door. Selena was relaxing on the couch, startled by the door opening so suddenly. Layla walked into the room, still holding the laptop over herself.
	“So glad I went for the fifteen inch model...” She set the laptop down.
	Once again, Layla had walked through a doorway with an erection. Selena smiled. “How was the stream?”
	“I lost that bikini you got me.” Layla confessed. “I’m so sorry.”
	“Don’t worry about it.” She stood from the couch. “I like you better without it.”
	“Thank goodness you left that door open.”
	“What if it wasn’t?” Selena suggested, whispering into Layla’s ear. “What if I made you sneak alllll the way around the hotel to come back in the front door?”
	Layla bit her lower lip and contorted a bit. “That would be so hot.”
	“It would be.”
	“But… why give them a show for free?”
	Selena put her arms around Layla. “That’s the spirit. I’m so proud of you.”
	“Then again, almost all my chat watches for free.”
	“Yeah, the metaphor doesn’t work all the way though.”

	One of the other things the masseuses suggested was to take a walk sometime after the massage. A massage was a form of exercise, and it is better to warm up and cool down, rather than stop suddenly and possibly cramp up.
	It had been about ninety minutes or so, and neither of them felt like getting any more exercise. The furthest they felt like going was the short walk to the lobby for some lunch. That was the compromise.
	When walking through the hotel lobby, a sign on an easel caught Selena’s attention. Tonight, there was to be an auction for charity.
	“Oh!” Selena hummed. “We should go to that.”
	“That could be cool.” Layla said. “Can’t say I’ve been to one of those before.”
	“Me, neither.” Selena said. “But what else are we going to do tonight?”
	“Is this a fancy event? Do I need something to wear?”
	“I guess we got this afternoon planned out, too.”
	After an abbreviated lunch, Selena and Layla returned to that boutique where they’d gotten Layla’s bikini. This time, Selena was measured by three different men, a process she didn’t seem to mind.
	Layla chose a red sleeveless dress with a hem that reached between knee and hip. Trying it on over her yoga pants made her wonder how she’d keep herself ‘in place’ without underwear. All the underwear she’d brought with her were the kind she would wear on stream, tiny tufts of silk smaller than an eye patch. She didn’t even own a skirt that wasn’t attached to a nightgown or some other piece of costume for her show.
	Layla pulled the yoga pants off her legs. She hadn’t worn anything with a skirt in public for a long time. She wore leggings, jeans or gym shorts, depending on the weather. Even in jeans, her genitals cut a significant shape in her crotch. Layla stood back from the mirror and walked towards it. Her flaccid cock flopped visibly under the hem like a dog’s tail. Her heart fluttered. She should try to do this on stream sometimes.
	She tried something she almost never did. Layla’s hand reached between her legs and pushed her cock between her thighs, holding it in place as gently as she could by keeping her legs close together.
	Layla took a few steps. There seemed to be no position she could hold where her cock would stay in place that also wasn’t incredibly uncomfortable for her balls. Layla was thin, but did not possess that allegedly desirable ‘thigh gap’ that seemed so popular.
	She looked to her pile of clothing, and her inside-out light gray yoga pants. On a nearby chair was a pair of fabric scissors that the tailors had left in here for some reason, possibly to cut hanging threads. Layla wormed her way out of the red dress before picking up her yoga pants from the floor. When not stretched so snugly on her legs, her yoga pants looked like stretched out socks with the toes cut off. They really were quite small.
	Layla bravely cut the legs from the yoga pants, hoping to leave enough that they’d become booty shorts and not a thong. She could be more precise if she cut them as they were on her body, but one blessing of being born a futa was that she had never once needed to place a sharp blade near her legs. She wasn’t about to start now.
	Stepping into the new modified booty shorts, she hiked them up her body and up to her hips. They fit snugly around them, as they always did, but now the edge of the shorts rose to a V-shape at her crotch. Her package was suspended between her legs below the end of the shorts.
	Despite being naturally thin and what most people estimated to be beautiful, Layla wasn’t always satisfied with how she looked. This look made her think that she needed to buy more booty shorts for the stream. She turned to the side to see the profile of her package.
	Layla looked away before she let herself start getting hard. Being aroused at her own reflection... she hoped that streaming hadn’t made her that much of a narcissist.
	She folded the dress up and put the rest of her street clothes back on. When Layla returned to the lobby, Selena turned a corner, wearing the outfit she’d chosen for the evening: a custom-fit tuxedo, top hat and cane, with a huge white carnation at the lapel. She looked like Fred Astaire... if he had worn a shirt altered to emphasize his cleavage and a skirt to keep his dong free while he danced.
	“What happened to trying not to draw attention?” Layla laughed.
	“It’s a charity auction, Layla.” Selena said. “We need to help them raise awareness about those… kids? Hurricane victims? What was this for again?”
	“I don’t remember.”
	“It’s surely something good.” Selena shrugged. “Unless it’s the NRA, in which case, we’re leaving.”
	“They’re not a charity, are they?”
	“They’re a non-profit, so they don’t pay taxes. But so is the NFL.”
	“Not anymore.”
	“What?”
	“They gave that up a few years back.”
	“Well… they probably still don’t pay much taxes.”

	One of the conference spaces was filled with rows of stackable chairs in front of a stage. Layla and Selena took a seat in the back row, currently completely unoccupied. Layla hoped that Selena wouldn’t try to get frisky back here. Layla had now held back for long enough that she might not be able to resist the temptation. The auctioneer would probably kick them out of the auction for such behavior.
	The prizes slowly drifted by. Almost all of them were things that Layla might drop some money on, but nothing that really excited her. Selena saw lots of things she could probably just buy on her own, if she felt so inclined.
	Vacations to Europe, wine-making tours, a Hawaiian pig roast in your backyard, free gasoline for a year... nothing really caught her attention. There was a trip to Japan with dinner at a series of extravagant sushi restaurants...
	“You like sushi...” Layla suggested.
	“I like it, but I don’t eat it more than once a month.” Selena said. “Too much chance of mercury contamination. Which is a shame, because I love the tuna.”
	“Have you ever been to Japan?”
	“Not yet. I’m not sure how they’re going to react to me.”
	The auctions continued on, growing more extravagant. There was a hot-air balloon ride, tickets to an upcoming basketball game, and year-long “passports” to Disneyland. Selena joked that Layla could finally get a passport.
	The auctioneer gestured to a playbill set on a miniature stand, itself sitting on a pillar. “Item number 39. The Hamilton Experience.”
	Layla gasped gently into her knuckle. The auctioneer explained that it included a trip to New York, dinner for two, a private meeting with the cast, a customized signed playbook, and of course, the two best seats in the house.
	“Wow.” Layla whispered. She looked to Selena, who had not risen her paddle. “You ever seen Hamilton?”
	“No.” Selena answered.
	“Do you want to?”
	“Not really.” She whispered back. “Did you hear that the tickets are around 850 bucks, maybe even more now?”
	“Yeah. It’s crazy expensive.”
	“The second-most expensive show, at the time, was The Book of Mormon. That topped out at less than five hundred dollars.” Selena explained. “That’s a huge jump in price, just because the show became a phenomenon and they knew people would pay it. I couldn’t get behind that. I’m not really a theater person anyway, but I don’t like that it’s becoming something that only rich people can afford, especially for a show that is evidently about struggling poor people.”
	Layla turned back to the audience, seeing a few paddles rise as the price of the trip rose as well.
	“Do you want it?” Selena asked.
	“No, not really.” Layla said. “I mean, you make a good point.”
	“I wouldn’t MIND seeing it...” Selena said, arms folded beneath her breasts, paddle tucked in one hand. “But... I think I’ll wait for the local high school production.”
	“Yeah, when we’re in our fifties...” Layla rued.
	Items continued to drift by. A signed picture of the original cast of Star Trek started its auction at what Selena thought was an extravagant price. Then again, three of the pictured actors had passed, so the value of their signatures certainly wasn’t going to go down anytime soon.
	“Is it just me, or is that going for a lot?” Selena asked Layla.
	“I have no idea.” Layla answered. “I’ve never done a Star Trek convention. The anime convention was bad enough.”
	“Did you know that there’s been a huge drop in the price of Elvis merchandise?” Selena said. “Elvis has simply left the public consciousness. So... what I’m wondering is when we’re going to see a contraction in the value of Star Trek merchandise.”
	“Well, it won’t be while they’re making movies AND a new TV show coming out in the fall. Speaking of CBS...”
	Selena looked up to the stage to see what Layla was referring to.
	“Item number 45.” The auctioneer gestured to an easel with a blue-tinted portrait of Tom Selleck, Bridget Moynihan and Donnie Walhberg. “A walk-on, one-line speaking role in an episode of the CBS drama Blue Bloods.”
	The entire audience could faintly hear Selena gasp.
	“We shall start the bidding at one--”
	Selena’s paddle was already up.
	“One thousand dollars.” He said, pointing to her paddle. “From 205.”
	A hand went up a few rows ahead of her. “Fifteen-hundred, from 128.”
	Selena’s paddle went up again.
	“Two thousand from 205.” The auctioneer said, and quickly added. “Twenty-five hundred, from 128.”
	This continued, very rapidly, both of them steadfastly standing their ground until the bids had grown into the tens of thousands. When the auctioneer didn’t acknowledge Selena’s paddle because she hadn’t yet lowered it to indicate a new bid, she shook it once like a maraca.
	“Fourteen thousand, 205.”
	The woman in the bidding war with Selena finally turned around... and nearly deflated as she saw the world’s richest porn star holding the paddle. Selena couldn’t hear her from that distance, but it looked like she had given up hope of that prize.
	Suddenly, Selena felt like she was the strongest kid on the schoolyard, who had just swung so hard he had sent the only softball onto the roof of the school. That was the child equivalent to cutting the olive tree down: taking a ball permanently out of play, ruining it for everyone. Kids had transferred to different schools and had taken assumed names for less.
	“Going once.” The auctioneer said.
	Selena left her seat and went to her competitor, leaving the hat and cane behind.
	“Hey.” Selena smiled at the slightly confused woman. “I’m Selena.”
	“I know who you are.” She extended her hand for a shake, but Selena brought it in for a gentle kiss. The woman slipped her hand back towards herself and hid it behind the other one.
	“What’s your name?”
	“Maree.” She said.
	“Do you watch Blue Bloods?”
	“I do, though I’m behind on this season. Do you?”
	“Actually, no. But I loved being on TV before I got too famous and the extras placement firm stopped letting me do it. But now they can’t stop me!”
	Maree looked down at Selena. She had both fists clenched together, like the very idea of this was an amazing opportunity. Surely, someone of her wealth had everything she could want.
	“You really want to do this.” Maree noted.
	“Hell yes, I do. But if you want it, I’ll back off.”
	“Going twice.” The auctioneer said.
	Selena rose her paddle.
	“Fifteen thousand, to...” The auctioneer looked at the number on the paddle and adjusted his glasses. “205 again.”
	“You sure you don’t want it?” Selena asked.
	“I’m fine.” The woman said. “I mean... I was going to do it to meet a few celebrities, and I just met you, so... it’s all yours.”
	Selena pulled a business card from her purse and gave it to the woman. “Email me. I’ll send you something cool.”
	“Going once...” The auctioneer watched as Selena returned to her seat, anticipating her raising her paddle again. “Going twice... and sold to 205 for fifteen thousand.”
	The woman looked at the business card. It was one-sided, entirely white but for the word “SELENA GRANDE” in all-caps in the lower-left corner. Underneath that was “I have a huge penis” in itty-bitty type. Beneath that was an email address.
	Even if she didn’t win anything, she wasn’t leaving empty-handed.

	Layla bathed in her private bath, the water neither hot nor cold. She let the water pound on her, rinsing the suds from her lean form. She wasn’t aroused, she wasn’t entirely flaccid, nor was she sporting a half-chub. For once, she didn’t feel her lust in her genitals, but rather in her whole body. She was in this shower, alone, staring at the magnolia colored tile, not thinking of anything sexy or not deliberately thinking of something non-sexy...
	Was this what Selena went through when she was refraining from sex for days at a time? It felt almost like being sick. It was like a constant anxiety. Maybe it was a side effect of holding back, or maybe it was being deprived of her favorite stress reliever. But what did she have to stress about here, vacationing in paradise with the avatar of human sexuality and beauty?
	Layla left the shower, dried and brushed her hair, moisturized herself... and put on her little semisheer nightgown that she only wore on streams.
	Until tonight.
	“Selena?” She called, turning towards the open door that led to the beach, the curtains fluttering in the salty breeze, gently tickling at her bare legs and up her skirt. As she turned back, Selena was there, having walked around the corner from her bathroom. She wore a magenta robe of shiny satin. It wasn’t short enough to show off her cock and the lapel wasn’t splayed out to a ridiculous degree to show a solid foot of lovely cleavage. She wasn’t made up with eye shadow and lipstick.
	And yet... Layla’s mouth still fell open at the sight of her.
	Layla herself looked just as lovely as always. Her hair wasn’t tied in a ponytail as it often was, and she was wearing a nightgown rather than her normal sleep attire of nothing. 
	Layla stepped slowly, then faster, until she was in Selena’s arms. Selena puckered her lips in anticipation, but Layla moved her head onto Selena’s shoulder. She clutched her tightly, moving her fingers into Layla’s hair.
	“Selena...” She moaned. “I can’t wait any longer. I’m so horny, I could die. Please... let’s have fun tonight.”
	“I would love nothing better.” Selena whispered.
	Selena stepped away from Layla and went… to the coffee table.
	“Look at what finally turned up.” She picked up a manila bubble mailer that had been delivered. She tore the top off the envelope and upturned it above the table and poured the contents out like it was a box of cereal. A collection of colorful plastic squares scattered across the surface of the table.
	“They emailed me a few days ago. I asked them to send some samples out here. Now, we can do this properly.” Selena picked one of the smaller squares out and turned it towards Layla, the little ring of colored rubber visible on the transparent side.
	The sight of Selena cocking a single eyebrow, smirking and holding a condom in her teeth... one might think this was an image whose power might diminish after having already fucked her WITHOUT a condom.
	That didn’t turn out to be the case. Layla’s heart pounded so hard, she felt it in her ears. She wondered if they were as red as her cheeks. “We’re going to do some product testing?”
	“Who else can test the big ones but me?”
	Selena tore the wrapper and removed the rubber disc from within. She coaxed Layla to the bed, holding Layla’s erection upwards and slowly advancing the rubber down until it reached the base.
	“It’s not too tight, is it?”
	“No, it’s fine.” She looked down at it. She didn’t feel restricted by the rubber, and maybe this sheath could dial down her sensitivity and help her last longer.
	“I figured that one would be fine. That’s the standard size they made for the demo we did last week.” Selena said, picking up a larger square, almost the size of a playing card cut into a square. “THIS... is what I’m interested in. This is supposed to fit me.”
	Selena slid across the bed until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Layla. “Would you do the honors?” She asked.
	Layla hopped off the bed and knelt near Selena’s groin, holding the cock upright. She gently rolled the rubber down Selena’s shaft. It seemed to barely fit, like she was a fussy actor trying to insist they didn’t need an extra-large dress shirt.
	“Should I have used lube?” Layla said as she nervously kept rolling it down, waiting for the moment that it would tear. “Are you supposed to use lube on condoms?”
	“I think you could, if it didn’t fit.” Selena said. “I tried it before, but it never helped me. They always ripped.”
	Layla reached the end of the condom, an inch from the base of Selena’s cock. They must have made it twelve inches, based on how much penis was left at the end of the condom.
	“Is it too tight?” Layla asked.
	“It’s tight, but it’s not unbearable. It’s definitely the most comfortable condom I’ve ever worn.”
	“Yeah, same for me, I guess.” Layla looked down at it, the bright red color making her a little concerned. She might prefer a condom that wasn’t so brightly colored.
	“Layla...” Selena sat up on the bed. “Have you ever worn a condom before?”
	“No.” Layla confessed immediately.
	“I’m not your first partner, am I?” Selena asked. “I think I’ve been going too hard if you are.”
	“No, no, no, you’re not.” Layla looked off. “But... yeah, I haven’t have that many partners or girlfriends or whatever.”
	“Someone as pretty as you, I’m surprised you weren’t fighting them off.”
	“None of them liked my penis.”
	“Their loss.” Selena brought herself down on the bed. She pulled her thighs up and held them in place against her sides, her cock resting against her stomach. “You know what this position is called, right?”
	Layla gulped. “Mating press.”
	“Yes.” She purred. “Now let’s do this like its our honeymoon.”
	Layla positioned herself on the bed above Selena. Layla’s feet hung off the bed, her knees on each side of Selena’s body. She pushed Selena’s balls up with the back of one hand and positioned herself. She dropped her thumbs into the back of Selena’s knees and pushed herself in.
	This was it. This was her chance to make up for going too fast when they first met. This time, she would pace herself, she would give Selena the tender lovemaking she deserved. Maybe she could gently caress her tits with her nose or support the small of her back with one hand. Or maybe…
	Layla lasted maybe three minutes of stern, uneven and nearly involuntary thrusts. She really only lasted longer because of the lesser sensation the condom provided. She would conclude later that the men of the world had deeply exaggerated this problem.
	Falling forward to Selena’s side, Layla rocked her head back, sweat whipping off her hair. She gasped for breath like she’d run a marathon, putting one forearm on her forehead and one hand on her heart to keep it from leaping from her chest. She was seeing sparkles whenever she opened her eyes.
	For a few minutes, Layla felt alone in the bed, the gentle ocean breeze not nearly enough to wick away the sweat from her body or to clear the dense fog around her mind. Only when the bed shifted again did she realize Selena had actually left to enter the bathroom, and had now returned. Her arms went back around Layla, pulling her close.
	“That was wonderful.” Selena whispered.
	Layla slipped into a delirious slumber as Selena cradled her.

	Layla woke up a little after 8:30. Selena wasn’t in bed, as usual. She slid off the sheets and sleepily walked to the bathroom for her morning pee.
	Turning to her left as she sat there, she saw a red orb and a larger blue one resting near the sink. The smaller one was about the size of a guava. They appeared to be the condoms used last night, tied up like water balloons. Using the condoms did seem to keep the bed sheets clean, but since pregnancy was not much of a concern, it didn’t seem necessary. Selena’s house did have seven bedrooms, so they could mess up a bed every night and not deal with it until a week later, if they were the most disgusting people alive.
	“Selena?” Layla threw on a robe and turned the corner into the main room. Selena was on the couch, in her own robe, flipping through her phone.
	“Good morning.” Selena lit up.
	“Why did you keep the condoms from last night?” She asked. “I didn’t even notice that you had taken it off me.”
	“I want to make a comparison.” Selena said. “I want to weigh them to see how much we ejaculated, and compare it to the next time we do it. I held back for four days and came about as much as I expected. The next time we do it, if I make the same amount… then we know what you said was right.”
	“Selena… who cares about that?” Layla stepped forward. “I’m sorry I said it, I wish I never had.”
	“I know, but… I just have to know for sure.” She insisted. “If it turns out I don’t need to drink those smoothies or that I can occasionally have a little fun on a Tuesday and it doesn’t make a big difference in my performance… that would be a huge weight off my mind.”
	Layla took a deep breath. “Alright. I’m going to take a shower.”
	She left the room.
	Layla returned a moment later.
	“Selena?”
	She turned to face her. “Yes?”
	“You said… ‘the next time we do it.’”
	“I did.”
	Layla grinned. “I like that.”
	“I like it, too.”
	
	If Layla had known that oatmeal could be as good as what arrived with room service, she might have eaten it more often. Her only contact with it had previously giving it to her parents’ livestock. They didn’t seem to appreciate it… except the pigs.
	Then again, she was almost certain that a cheap plastic cartoon watch she had won at the state fair had fallen into the pigs’ trough and was thus consumed by the undiscriminating eaters. Her parents weren’t going to have a bunch of pigs X-rayed until one of them got sick, and none of them ever did.
	On the plus side, she had neatly parleyed the loss of her watch into getting her first smartphone.
	This morning, Selena said to leave her phone behind, as they’d take a short walk to the end of their beach. Foregoing the swimwear, Selena wore a thin white camisole with lacy fringe, blue skirt and sneakers. Layla just put on another pair of her reliable hooded sweatshirt and yoga pants. It proved not to be too warm, especially directly by the faint spray of the ocean.
	They walked down the beach, watching as the sand gave way to millions of polished rocks. They looked perfect for skipping, but skipping them on the churning surf would be unsatisfying.
	“Is anyone going to be out here?” Layla asked, watching her feet as she set them down on the treacherous stones.
	“This beach is too rocky for what most people want to do on the beach.” She set herself down and looked out to the surf. “But for sitting and watching the waves… it’s nice.”
	“We could have done that from the porch.”
	“Not sitting on a bunch of wet rocks, we couldn’t.”
	“Are your rocks wet?”
	“No.”
	They sat next to each other and watched as the surf rolled up to the rocks.
	“Are we going to have sex out here? Because that sounds uncomfortable.”
	“It does, and no, we’re not.” Selena answered. “It’s just… nice to get away from all the technology for a bit. Even on vacation, we’re still connected to our businesses through our phones. You were even emailing people about your streams.”
	“I was… just emailing out gift cards to my moderators.” Layla said. “For… their help last week.”
	“What was the longest you’ve gone without your phone?”
	Layla considered that. Most women her age were essentially born with a phone and never put it down. “Once I worked a whole shift without it because I forgot it wasn’t in my purse.” She answered. “It was weird going without it for that long.”
	“That’s why this is such a nice change of pace.” Selena said. “Get away from the phones, from email and Twitter and whatever else… and just relax and think about stuff. Maybe even talk about stuff without the government listening in.”
	“Do you believe they do that?”
	“Not really the government, but tech companies… maybe. In fact, very likely.” Selena said. “I find most conspiracies discouraging more than frightening, but… I still have a VPN, for whatever good that does. The thing with a VPN is… you have to trust the company encrypting your data to not look at it before it gets encrypted.”
	“Well, who do you think would be more likely to spy on you: the government or tech companies?”
	“That’s a good question.” Selena rued. “Both are careers filled with greedy and amoral men, but only one of them do we get to vote for.”
	Layla blew out a sigh. “True enough.”
	“So… what’s on your mind, Layla?”
	Layla tightened. “Me? Uh…”
	She thought a bit. She knew what she wanted to say, but…
	“I… really want to thank you for this opportunity. This last week or so has been so great.”
	“It’s been great for me, too, Layla. Don’t forget that.” Selena put her arm around Layla. “And that’s not what I was fishing for. I really want to know if there’s something on your mind, something you wouldn’t tell your fans, or maybe even your friends or family.”
	Layla took a breath. While in Selena’s arms, on a tropical island twenty five hundred miles away from home… all her worries felt very far away indeed.
	“No, I feel good.” Layla brought her head up from Selena’s shoulders. “But something is clearly weighing on you, so… why don’t you tell me what is is?”
	They looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. For once, it didn’t end in a kiss. Selena instead turned back towards the eternally churning surf.
	“Do you know Nancy’s Law?”
	Layla shook her head no.
	“Nancy’s Law is the American law that stops parents from altering the gender of a futanari at birth.”
	“Oh, that!” Layla knew there was such a law, but didn’t know the name. “Well, that’s a good thing.”
	Selena took a few seconds to respond, “Is it?”
	“What do you mean? If that law wasn’t there, we’d have been ‘assigned’ by some damn doctor.”
	“I was actually born before Nancy’s Law.” Selena noted. “But… the law is written in a way that has been interpreted as… a futa can’t go through any reassignment until they’re old enough to consent, and by ‘old enough,’ they mean eighteen years old.”
	Selena let the waves crash against the beach twice before continuing. “I’ve heard lots of stories about people figuring out that they’re transgender long before they’re eighteen.”
	“I’ve...” Layla hesitated. “never heard of a transgender futa.”
	“How could you? It’s not allowed until they’re adults. You’d have thought that our existence would have been the wedge that would have finally broken the gender binary for good. But instead… the binary became the ternary. Now that we’re here, people can tell a transgender youth, ‘you’re not a woman with a penis. That’s a futanari, and you’re not one of those.’ Nothing has changed. There were white and black chess pieces, White and Black Spy, and now there’s gray.
	“Worse, futanari moving in to porn has apparently hurt transgender porn stars. It’s trended down every year since I came on the scene. The gravity of my star power has changed everything… is that wrong?”
	“You earned everything you have right now, Selena.” Layla insisted. “Unless you’re hiding something, like you embezzled money and kept that secret.”
	“No, of course not.” Selena shook her head. “I’d rather be broke than go to jail. Even cuddly minimum security celebrity jail. I made plenty of money, and I’m not one of these nihilists who always needs more.”
	The waves of the sea grew louder, though perhaps it was Selena’s imagination. She continued, “You know who Sinéad O'Connor is?”
	Layla shook her head.
	“Do you watch Saturday Night Live?”
	Layla sneered, as though Selena had asked if she watched The Lawrence Welk Show. “No.”
	“She was a musician who got in a lot of hot water in 1992 when she was the musical guest on SNL. At the end of the song, she pulled out a picture of the Pope and tore it in half.”
	A short silence. “Why?”
	“To protest the Catholic Church’s failure to control the abuse of children at the hands of their priests.”
	Layla noticed the incongruity in that statement. “THAT was controversial?”
	“Somehow, opposing child abuse was controversial, yeah. That act made her more publicly hated than the Unabomber. This was how people acted before the Comet. They got wrapped up in stuff that didn’t matter and that they didn’t understand.
	“Don’t get me wrong. O’Connor made her own bed that night. If you know two things about SNL, it’s that... it was best whenever YOU started watching, and that Lorne Michaels hates when people go off-script on his live program. She drilled a hole in her own boat.
	“Then there was the Dixie Chicks, who were derailed by publicly opposing the war in Iraq. As country singers, maybe they should have known who was buttering their toast, but it’s not like they were wrong. During the Civil war, William Hammond was removed as Surgeon General because he banned the medical use of mercury chloride, which was poisonous. He was completely right to do so, but it didn’t matter. It was unpopular, and he paid the price. Wow, if I wanted to sound smart, I should have started with this one, huh?”
	“It’s alright, Selena.”
	“I feel like I should speak out against Nancy’s Law, or at least in favor of amending it, but… I really hate when celebrities talk about issues. And what I’m about to say is definitely an unpopular opinion. Or maybe it’s popular with lots of people that I wouldn’t respect. But…”
	She took a breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t sympathize with Colin Kaepernick. Not because he protested during the national anthem. That doesn’t bother me. The important thing is he did it while he was AT WORK. Football may be a game, but for him, it was his job. And when you’re at work, your bosses CAN limit your speech, your behavior, while you’re working for them and representing them. The NFL handled the whole situation terribly, of course. But I’ve always thought that celebrity protests would almost always be better if they just shut up and gave money anonymously to something that was working towards what they want.
	“I would take them more seriously if every celebrity protest wasn’t hooking on to a trend that wasn’t already part of the zeitgeist. Mark Ruffalo is out there protesting petroleum fracking. Seth Rogen has a charity for Alzheimer’s research. I think his grandma had Alzheimer’s or something, but the point is… he didn’t start that because everyone else was doing it. Kaepernick’s heart is obviously in the right place, and I think he’s correct morally, but what really was accomplished with his protest?”
	“The phrase ‘sheds more heat than light’ comes to mind.” Layla slipped in.
	“Yes, that’s perfect.” Selena said. “And there’s so many issues that nobody wants to talk about, like the appalling conditions of our prisons, or that the Nestle company buys millions of gallons of water from strained Californian aquifers for essentially nothing so they can sell it back to us in non-biodegradable plastic bottles, or the fact that everyone blames illegal immigrants for conditions created by corporations that make millions exploiting them and not paying them a minimum wage. That’s just straight up blaming the victim right there.
	“So if I speak out about against Nancy’s Law, I’ll get loads of people saying I’ve gone all Fox News on them, as they all ignore the thousands of times people have commented that they liked me… until I *became* an SJW when I spoke out on some thing I thought we could all agree on.
	“Kakalina hates me because I’m the most famous futa, and thus all futa get associated with porn. Fine. I understand that. I’ve had lots of haters, lots of death threats. I can handle her hating me for something reasonable like that. But if I go out against Nancy’s Law… what if the Internet just decides that I’m the latest person they want to cancel?”
	“Selena…” Layla began solemnly. “If you’re not in a position to say something about this… then who is?”
	The waves crashed against some nearby rocks. A pit opened in Selena’s stomach, and her hand was pulled towards it, clutching it tightly. Her eyes filled with tears.
	Layla quickly wrapped her arms around Selena. She sniffed and sobbed a few times before Layla pulled her head in for a long kiss.
	The tears mostly evaporated from her eyes, Selena looked at Layla, her breath still a little ragged.
	“Thank you so much, Layla.” She huffed.
	“Don’t do anything rashly.” Layla said. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who opposes Nancy’s Law. Find who they are, find some other experts, find out what they think… do some research, find the arguments on both sides. Maybe there is a defense of Nancy’s Law. Maybe it would be worse if it wasn’t there when all the futa my age were born.”
	Selena’s mood chilled a bit, as her eyes moved around, planning things in her head. “Yeah...” She said. “This sounds like it could be fun to make a difference in a way that’s... not just writing checks.”
	With a breath that seemed to bring the spirit back into Selena, she stood up.
	“That was it?” Layla asked, as Selena helped her up off the rocks. “That’s what was weighing on you?”
	“I had to get it off my chest. It’s been there for months... years.”
	“Well… there’s something I should get off my chest.”
	“Finally going to give up bras?” Selena joked, only to see Layla’s hand go into her bra and pull out…
	Her phone.
	“Layla, I said no phones.” Selena said testily. “What the hell?”
	“What if you broke your ankle out there?! What then?” Layla snapped back.
	Selena reached into her purse and removed a phone of her own… a very old candy-bar style phone of liquid crystal display and indestructible design.
	“I… probably should have told you I had this for emergencies.” She said before putting it back. “I doubt anyone’s listening through this old thing. But… good job being prepared.”
	They walked back towards the hotel.
	“You ever read MAD Magazine?”
	“No, but I know who the Black and White Spy are.”
	“Did you know there was actually a Grey Spy?”
	“No.”
	“She was this beautiful blonde woman. She existed somewhere between those two sides...” Selena leaned in closer. “And in the end, she always, ALWAYS won.”

	Selena and Layla spent most of the day relaxing on the porch, feeling the cool breeze. When the sun went down and the chill came in, they retired to their bedroom and watched television while snuggling. Perhaps the snuggling was the primary action and the watching television was the secondary action, as neither of them were really paying that much attention. Layla didn’t even wait for a commercial before asking something.
	“If you had to give one piece of advice to up-and-coming porn star...” Layla began.
	“You first.” Selena said. “I think you know what I’ll say, and I want to hear what you think is important.”
	Layla was momentarily on the back foot. She thought of the first few awkward months. She didn’t even show her face for the first few weeks. Then again, when she finally showed it, everyone in chat wondered why she’d hide such a nice face.
	“If I was giving advice to a fellow camgirl or streamer… in the first few months, I would have to sit in a way where I could reach the keyboard, or at least a wireless USB keyboard, to ban spambots and trolls who would disrupt the chat. I would never mention what they said, and I would never draw attention to them when I banned them. Because being a girl on the Internet--not even a futa, just as a female--taught me that giving them ANY reaction at all... means that they won.
	“Once I had been doing it long enough to recognize a few names in chat who kept coming back, I asked them if they wanted to be my moderators. And since then, I’ve never once had to worry about trolls. They took care of them and I barely notice it. They are worth their weight in gold.”
	“Never let them see you react.” Selena condensed the story into a single sentence.
	“Yeah.” Layla nodded. “There are trolls who take pleasure at getting banned from these chats, and share their screenshots of being blocked. This is something I’ve never understood, why someone would be proud that they bothered someone, that they acted like a jerk.”
	“I used to be a muter, not a blocker, on Twitter.” Selena said. “But then someone pointed out that only muting someone doesn’t stop them from seeing the tweets… and seeing other people who respond to them and going after THEM.”
	“Oh.” Layla hadn’t known this.
	“For a small-time user, muting is probably fine. But for someone as big as me, I need to block. If that means that they win, well… it’ll be the only time in their life.”
	“Well… what’s your advice for someone trying to break into actual mainstream porn?”
	“Get good at something else, too.” Selena answered. “Stay in school if you possibly can. Find the job you can do after it’s all over. I know I didn’t do any of those things, and it drives me crazy when people point to me as an example of how to do it right. But I was the first twelve-inch futa on the scene, and that moment is long gone. I completely overextended and I had no backup but to go back to Illinois and start over. I don’t recommend others take such a jump. It’s not the same out there as it was for me.
	“Someone out there with a twelve inch dick will probably find a path laid out for them in porn. But it can all go wrong. Thank goodness I’m not the type to get addicted to drugs or whatever. It’s like people pointing out that Bill Gates was a college dropout. Yeah, but he was Bill Gates. And there’s a lot of people who are just as good as Bill Gates who you haven’t heard of... because of the winds of fate.”
	There was a moment of total silence between commercials.
	“Do you have a plan for what you’ll do after streaming?”
	Layla hesitated.
	“If I say no, is that bad?”
	“Well, I think most nineteen-year-olds don’t have that much planned ahead.”
	“I should think I could do the streaming thing for at least two or three more years. Maybe longer.”
	“I think you’ll still be sexy and lovable well into your fifties. But that’s not really what I’m getting at.”
	“What do you mean, then?”
	“Layla... do you love streaming?”
	Layla turned her head back towards Selena’s for a moment. “I love not having any other job.”
	“No. I mean... when you stream, and you whip it out for the Internet and come buckets... is that what you love? Or is there something else you’d rather be doing as a job? To love it isn’t to like it a lot; to love it is to hate if you weren’t allowed to do it anymore.”
	Layla looked down and thought for a while. “If I weren’t allowed to do it anymore and I had to get a normal...” She stopped herself. “That’s not the answer you’re looking for.”
	“No, it isn’t.”
	Layla sighed. “I know I can’t do it forever. Eventually, people will lose interest, the market will keep expanding with more and more futa coming of age every year, and it will be tougher. I know that eventually, I will have to take this and turn it into something else.
	“Despite working maybe… fifteen hours a week of on-camera broadcast time, being a camgirl is still tough. It’s draining, it’s frustrating when these websites do a redesign that changes how people get notified that I’m going live, or someone posts my streams on Xvideos or whatever and they won’t take it down because I can’t prove I am the woman in the stream, or even if just some toxic jerk decides that I represent something bad and wants to ruin my stream for others.
	“So… the answer is probably ‘no.’ I don’t love it so much that there would be a piece missing from my life if I had to stop. But I do love it. I love my fans. I love dressing up and being sexy. Obviously I love being paid to masturbate. Where was that booth on career day? I even love that most of my fans are OK if I have a ‘slow day,’ when I’m not feeling super sexy and I just chat for a few hours. Sometimes I get into it and I jerk off and everyone’s happy, and all the losers who were like...” Layla mimed typing with both hands. “I don’t care, show off your tits, show off your balls, blehhh… well, by that time, they’re all gone.
	“I couldn’t have a slow day at my old job. At the coffee shop… I mostly worked hard just to do it, because it felt like a walk in the park compared to all the stuff I had to do on the farm. And after a year, I got Employee of the Month. I got a twenty-dollar gift card to Chili’s, a floating key chain with the coffee shop’s name on it, and a certificate of appreciation, which was a piece of paper in a really crappy cardboard document frame. And my name was misspelled.
	“I kept that key chain on my keys to remind myself… not to grow roots there. It’s not because I’m special or because I’m worth it or because I’m pretty or any of that. I just can’t believe they think THAT what a sufficient reward for how hard I worked. THAT was supposed to be an incentive. Why not just barely put in the effort and float just above the Mendoza line like all the other disenchanted California youths who could barely tear themselves away from their phones?
	“So… that’s when I knew I had to push the stream harder. I just had to get out of there. The goal was to do that full-time and to save up some money, and eventually… I had enough saved up to take a chance. And now… it’s paying all the bills.”
	“Do you like making videos? Could you become a video editor?”
	“I hate every second I have to look at a video editor.” Layla shook her head. “I’ve got a few fans who edit stuff and send me ‘come-pilations’ to post to the archive. I’ve paid for them in gifts.”
	“Like what?”
	Layla started to blush faintly. “One wanted a pair of my panties.”
	“Did you do it?”
	She nodded. “It’s worth it. He evidently likes editing. If I made tons of money, I’d hire him to edit everything.”
	“Let’s say that... you had enough money that you didn’t have to work at all for a few years.” Selena began. “Then... what would you do? What would be the thing you’d do to spend your time and try to make a living at?”
	“Are you asking me what my dream job is?” Layla asked.
	“I guess.”
	“Well...” Layla inhaled deeply through her nose, smelling Selena’s sweet scent, feeling her soft skin against hers, and seeing those deep blue eyes, even in the dim light of their bedroom. “I mean... the last few weeks have been so much fun. Even before we went on vacation, just hanging out, watching TV, and you somehow getting work done...”
	Selena smiled. “Are you saying that working for me is your idea of a dream job?”
	“It’s been better than a dream come true so far.” Layla said. “And that’s even if I leave out the part where I got to fuck the most beautiful woman in the world several times.”
	Selena chortled. She pulled Layla closer into her chest. Layla’s hand fell lightly on Selena’s sternum, Selena’s heart beating calmly beneath Layla’s fingertips.
	“Layla?” Selena said softly.
	Layla pulled her head up from Selena’s shoulders. “Yes?” She said, trying to hide the anticipation in her voice. Say it. Please say it.
	“What’s the Mendoza line?”
	That was not what she was expecting Selena to say.
	“Are you serious?”
	“Is it a Dilbert thing?”
	“It’s baseball. There was shortstop named Mendoza who played for Seattle. His batting average was close to .200, which isn’t great, but he was a good defensive player. If someone’s hitting is below .200, they’re below the Mendoza line, which even a strong defensive player should be above.”
	A long pause from Selena. “Oh.”
	“You’ve never heard that? You, the queen of game show trivia?”
	“I don’t watch any sports. That’s why I could never win Trivial Pursuit against my dad. I could never get that orange wedge. As a team, though… we were unstoppable.”
	Selena put her arm around Layla’s shoulder and pulled her closer.
	“Sort of like you and me.” She continued, pulling her in tighter.
	Layla kissed Selena neck and shoulder a few times as the television flickered. Selena thought of something.
	“How could they have misspelled your name on that certificate? Surely your name is spelled right in payroll...”
	“That’s what I said!” Layla shouted suddenly, and then suddenly felt silly. “Sorry. But I’ve told that story to a lot of people, and nobody else brought that up.”
	“See, you and I are a lot alike.” Selena said. “Now… do you want to keep watching TV, or are you ready to fuck me again?”
	Layla brought herself over Selena, looming like a panther. “I’ve been ready since seven o’clock this morning.”
	“You were not even close to awake at seven.”
	“I was still ready. Do you know how many boners I get in my sleep?”
	“Know? I’ve felt most of them.”
	“Well, feel this one.”
	Layla grabbed her for a kiss, but Selena quickly got out of it.
	“Let’s get the things.” She said softly, sliding out of bed and out of the room.
	Of course. She had forgotten about the experiment.
	Layla heard somewhere that most nineteen-year-olds did some sexual experimentation at that age. But this wasn’t what she had envisioned.
	Selena and Layla grabbed a condom apiece. Layla’s was purple, but Selena’s was still blue. The color varieties didn’t seem as broad on the twelve-inch variant. This time, they wrapped themselves, carefully rolling the latex sheath down until they were nearly fully ensheathed.
	“You ready to come back to bed?” Selena put her hand on Layla’s shoulder.
	Layla took that hand into hers. “No.”
	And thus, Selena was leaning on the table, one leg up on a chair, as Layla pounded her pussy from behind. Layla’s hands groped and fondled Selena’s breasts, the soft flesh kneading and spilling between her fingers. She felt Selena’s nipples grow hard underneath her palms.
	Selena turned head as far back as she could to kiss Layla over her shoulder. “Yeah… yeah… God, you’re so sexy.” She cooed, practically speaking directly into Layla’s lips.
	She’d never seen Selena like this before. Never in the entire library of videos starring Selena had she behaved like this. Selena was always cool, confident… in control.
	That was it. Finally, Layla was really in control of this lovemaking. Selena really was getting fucked by her… and letting Layla control the pace, the position, everything. Layla could put her hands wherever she wanted.
	So she put her hands around Selena’s cock. She grabbed it with one hand, and then two, rubbing the hot, hard meat up and down. She had dreamed of being able to touch Selena Grande’s legendary cock, and here it was, pulsing with so much desire.
	Selena trembled and shuddered, the leg up on the chair shaking. She was now as passive as the dozens… hundreds of women she had serviced in this exact way. Her breath got deeper, her moans brighter and louder.
	Until Selena came. Her condom stretched and bulged as the tip filled with each burst from Selena. Layla pushed the rim of Selena’s condom further and further down, Selena’s cock tensing with each blast, until Layla pinched the condom shut and tied it.
	Selena staggered off and came to rest on the couch with a huge thump. Layla finished filling her own condom, tying it up, dropping it on the table… and resting atop Selena on the couch.
	Their sweat-soaked bodies slid against each other until both were comfortable. Layla pulled down the decorative quilt off the back of the couch and onto them as they both fell asleep.

	The next morning, Layla stirred as she heard Selena fuss with something on one of the nearby chairs. Layla leaned up from the bed on her arms and watched her fight to pack something into one of her suitcases. Layla had forgotten that they’d fallen asleep on the couch. She hoped that housekeeping wouldn’t be unhappy about them messing up this quilt. It looked nice, but they probably had a warehouse full of them.
	“You can keep sleeping.” Selena said brightly, not turning around. “I’m just packing up a bit.”
	“Are we… leaving today?”
	“Not for a while. Checkout is at noon.” Selena continued to rustle something in her bags.
	Layla squinted and sat up. “What are you trying to do?”
	She turned around, holding the top hat she had purchased for the charity event. She looked at it a crinkled brow, as if she wasn’t certain why the hat wasn’t disgorging white rabbits.
	“Isn’t this thing supposed to collapse?” She placed it between her hands. “It feels really rigid.”
	“What are you talking about?” Layla said. “Isn’t that just a magician thing?”
	“No, I swear real top hats do that! Don’t they?” She turned the thing around in her hands.
	“Well, don’t wreck that one trying to do it if it won’t.”
	Evidently defeated, she dropped the top hat onto her folded and packed clothing. She disappeared briefly, returning to the couch with a pair of orbs, both of the tied blue condoms Selena had worn. Holding them from the knot on the top, the teardrop shape reminded Layla of those google-eyed grinning slime monsters from some Japanese video game that she frequently saw merchandised.
	Selena dropped them into Layla’s palms. She was startled by the weight of them, heavier than equivalently filled water balloons. She looked back and forth between them like they were a physical find-the-difference puzzle. Layla gave them a very light squeeze, unsure how tough the rubber of a condom really was. They would surely break if she crushed them like a stress ball.
	“Can you tell the difference?” Selena asked.
	Layla considered the two orbs again, one in each hand like the fussy woman considering which coconut to buy. Neither of the balloons were still… warm from last night’s coitus. Layla shook her head.
	“Neither can I.” Selena’s smile grew. “They’re almost identical.”
	She sat on the couch next to Layla. “That means… you were right. All along, I didn’t have to hold back for the whole week. I could shoot twice as often… or maybe I can have a little fun on a weeknight with a friend… and I can still perform.”
	Selena wrapped her arms around Layla. “Thank you, Layla. I feel like I’ve been freed. I feel like this will be the easiest year since I started. All because of you. Thank you so much. Anything you want, I’ll do it for you.”
	Selena brought her nose to Layla’s. “What do you want, Layla?”
	She stared into her eyes. “I want to kiss you.”
	Selena burst out in breathless, incredulous laughter. She brought Layla in for a kiss.
	Layla covered her mouth with her hand.
	“I should brush my teeth first.” She slipped away to her room.
	“Hasn’t stopped you before. Or me!” Selena called out, bringing a hand to her heart. She looked down to the two blue blobs resting on the coffee table.
	Having now served their purpose, Selena picked up the balloons to get rid of them, popping them with a pen and draining them down the sink. Amusing as it might be to imagine biting them like a hand fruit and sucking all the jizz out of them… that’s all it was. Amusing, rather than arousing. These things had sat out all night. If she’d left an egg out that long, she would throw it away.
	After all... there was plenty more where these came from.

	On the flight home, just before takeoff, Selena started in her first-class seat.
	“What? What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” Layla asked in a tight whisper.
	It took a moment before her response. “I never got you a lei.”
	Layla stared at her, a smile creeping on her face as she put her head down. “Or a coconut bra.”
	The plane shifted forward, rocking everyone in their seats.
	“I’m sure there’s a ‘getting laid’ joke in here somewhere, but I can’t see it.”
	“Yeah, the moment’s passed.”
	The flight itself was pleasant enough, with no fan encounters in first class this time. Layla was able to sleep for part of the flight. Selena was always on guard, never quite being able to fall asleep in public. She pictured the cover of the National Enquirer featuring her with her eyes closed, mouth wide open with a strand of drool hanging from it. Somehow, this would be spun into a tale of her being in a prescription drug-fueled torpor.
	When Layla woke up, Selena explained that she’d calculated the cost of taking Layla along on vacation. It was only a few thousand dollars, most of that the round-trip first-class plane ticket.
	“I swear I’m really trying not to dazzle you with my money. I really just wanted to take you on vacation because I knew it’d be more fun than going alone. And it absolutely was.”
	Layla took Selena’s hand. “Thank you so much, Selena.”
	“The pleasure is all mine.”
	Selena and Layla disembarked and recovered their baggage at the carousel. They walked out to the parking lot, where Selena’s car had sat resolutely for several days. The cost to be parked here for so long made her think that maybe she should have gotten dropped off instead, but not waiting around to be picked up or to summon a taxi minimized awkward fan encounters.
	Little did she know that there was one waiting for her in the empty parking garage.
	As Selena loaded the bags into the trunk, Layla stood to one side, hands folded in front of her.
	“Selena?” She said, quiet as a mouse.
	She turned to her and closed the trunk. “Yes?”
	“I think… it’s time for me to go home.”
	The air was completely still in this parking garage. No sound but for some tires squealing a few floors below them. “You mean… back to your place?”
	She nodded. “If I don’t go back home… if you take me back to your place… then I might never leave. I need to get back to my normal life for a while.”
	Selena’s expression was blank. She looked out into space a moment. “If that’s what you want.” She whispered.
	The ride to Glendale was completely silent. Selena didn’t even put on the radio.
	Selena parked in Layla’s assigned spot. She pulled out Layla’s bags from the trunk. As much as Layla wanted her life to return to something resembling normal again… she wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye yet.
	“Walk me up?” She said suddenly.
	“Of course.” Selena grinned. “I wasn’t going to make you carry these.”
	Hoisting the luggage up the stairs was much more effort than bringing it down. “Why doesn’t your building have an elevator? Surely, that’s a violation of the American Disabilities Act.”
	“It’s on the other side of the building.” She answered.
	“Why aren’t we using it?”
	“Because it almost always reeks of pee.”
	Selena nodded sagely. “Alright. Once again, you make the right call.”
	They stood outside her door, Layla holding her keys. Why had she brought these useless things with her to Hawaii? God forbid she had lost her purse while she was there…
	Selena opened her arms and pulled Layla in tightly, very tightly. “I miss you already.” She said.
	“You’ve got my number. We’ll stay in touch.” Layla said softly, dearly hoping that it would be true.
	Holding Layla in place with her elbows, Selena took Layla’s head and brought her in for a kiss, the longest they’d ever shared. Layla almost expected to open her eyes and it would be daylight out.
	“Can I stay the night?” Selena whispered, lips still touching Layla’s.
	“Please!”

	Layla woke to some very forceful knocking. She tumbled out of bed, pulling the sheets with her. She wrapped part of them around her waist and held the rest up to her chest, in a way she’d only seen done in movies. So disoriented by the awakening, she that she didn’t even look through the peephole. She just threw the door open.
	On the other side of the door were two men in matching navy blue T-shirts. Both could be described as ‘strapping.’ They were hoisting what looked to be a brand new mattress.
	“Are you Layla Boyd?”
	Layla blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her knuckle. “Yes, that’s what some people call me.”
	The men marched into the apartment with the new furniture. She turned around called out to them, “Kind of early to do this. I was still using that bad.”
	One of the men carrying the mattress turned back as he walked into the bedroom. “Honey, it’s one o’clock.”
	She squinted at the clock on the microwave in her kitchenette, her phone nowhere in sight. Her microwave’s clock was often off by a few minutes in a way that drove her crazy, but it confirmed what the mover had told her.
	The events of last night slowly came back to her. To say that Selena ‘slept over’ would be a euphemism of the highest order, worthy of Victorian times. The moment they were in bed together, Selena grabbed her and never let go. If they’d been filming, they’d need a Blu-ray to fit everything they did. It was like Layla was going to be deployed and Selena wasn’t sure she’d ever see her again. She held absolutely nothing back.
	She felt dehydrated. She could really go for a coffee. There was some discomfort, most of her muscles sore. But unlike the discomfort after that massage, here there was something else mitigating it. She felt it rising from her like an aura, that intangible sensation that some called ‘afterglow.’ She wondered if these men could see it rising off her like the heat rippling the air on a long stretch of desert highway.
	Selena had fucked her so good… this bed was now being retired. It had been asked to withstand as much as could be expected through an entire lifetime.
	As Layla stood transfixed in the doorway, her next-door neighbor walked by. They noticed the open door, Layla standing within the door frame, and engaged her.
	“Hey, what the hell happened last night? Were you shooting a porno in there or what?”
	Layla let out a gentle moan. How little we know our neighbors, she thought. Then again, this was the neighbor with whom she shared her bedroom wall...
	“I’m sorry.” Layla apologized as she stared off into space. “I was having sex with Selena Grande.”
	“Ha ha ha.” The neighbor spoke in a sarcastic monotone. “Very funny. Just… please keep it down.”
	They disappeared into their apartment.
	A moment later, two men started walking the old mattress through the apartment. This one had been wrapped in a giant clear plastic bag, and the men had put on purple latex gloves.
	“Don’t worry. We were warned.” Said the first mover, taking the adulterated mattress out of the apartment.
	Maybe watching these men pull out the ruined mattress would have supported the claim to her neighbor. As it was, Layla just found this whole experience mortifying. Layla excused herself to take a quick shower.
	In the bathroom mirror, Layla noticed a mark on her right shoulder: a pink lip imprint, evidently left by Selena before she left. Layla took a picture of it in the mirror before starting her shower. Selena had told her no hot showers. She’d make this one medium warm, then.
	She came back out in her slightly ratty bathrobe, much more dignified than clinging to the bed sheets like she was posing for the cover of a romance novel. The four men had completely removed her old rickety twin bed and replaced it with a fashionable queen-sized dark wooden bed with a bookshelf for a header. Her vacuum had found its way to the corner of this room, suggesting one of the men had used it before they built the new bed.
	Layla had heard that, to a straight woman, the sight of a well-muscled man pushing a vacuum cleaner was somehow a sight that inspired lust like none other. She was sad to have missed this one.
	“I was also told to give you this.” The mover in charge gave Layla a folded piece of paper. It was a brief letter.

	“Layla,
	As much fun as we had here last night, I thought you might appreciate an upgrade. After all, the bed is the desk of the streamer. If it’s too firm or soft, call them and they’ll switch it out.
	I’ll be watching when I can.
	Text me,
	--Selena”

	Layla folded the letter and held it to her chest. What a nice soft bed it appeared to be…
	The movers started to make their exit. Layla was struck with sudden inspiration.
	“Can I get one of you to help me with something before you go?”
	One of the movers looked to the others. “What kind of help?”
	“Don’t worry. It won’t be long.”
	She handed her phone to the mover and asked if he would be so kind as to take some pictures of her on her brand new bed. He agreed. By the time he had worked out how to open the camera app on her unfamiliar phone, Layla was already on the bed.
	The robe wasn’t.
	The mover seemed alright with this, and snapped many pictures of her into the phone as she writhed about on her new bed. She quickly grew aroused as the other movers slowly filtered in and watched with bemusement at the naked nymph sprawled out on the newly delivered bed.
	Layla had lied. It was long… and hard.
	Among the chatter and laughter, Layla heard the sound of a photo being snapped, a feature she’d turned off on her own phone. One of the other movers had taken his own phone out and snapped a few candid shots of his own.
	Layla almost moved to object, but kept it to herself. As they say… it’ll last longer. Maybe she’d just made a new fan. Feeling these eight eyes resting on her was so much more thrilling than seeing hundreds of indistinguishable names pass by in chat, the only visible eye the single black dot at the top of her laptop screen. Her breath deepened, her heart thumped as these strangers scanned her nude body.
	This could be dangerous. Maybe one of these four would take it too far, or expect some recompense for the crime of arousing him in the middle of the work day. Any one of them could overpower her. But they didn’t have power here. The world’s sexiest woman, with all her means and her choice of any potential partner, had chosen her to bed last night. These men would just stand at a distance… and watch.
	Layla had all the power in this room.
	How she wished she could go back in time to her poor bullied and miserable self from years ago and give her some of this excess confidence, to tell her the secret that absolutely nothing that happened in those walls mattered, not even the grades. In that upside-down world, somehow being skinny, attractive AND hung was a combination nobody could appreciate, like accidentally pouring Coke into a bowl of Cheerios. No, maybe it was more like chocolate and cilantro. Unappreciated by her classmates, but in the mouth of someone sophisticated… a delicacy.
	Layla hated cilantro. But she would no longer be told to hate herself for her shape. Let everyone see her as she was. Let these men salivate and envy her member, even as theirs barely fills their denim pouches designed to hold and accentuate them. Let her and those that follow her feel no obligation to hide themselves.
	After snapping many pictures, the mover-cum-photographer looked through his creations, even though Layla was still writhing and running her tongue on her teeth and otherwise being very seductive.
	“I think we’ve got a few good ones in here.” He said matter-of-factly, as if he was checking an old drawer of parts for a spare hinge that didn’t have rust.
	“Ohh, you’re bored of me already?” Layla pouted.
	“I’m not really into futa.” The photographer said. “I won’t act like I’m not into how… into that you were.”
	Layla picked up the robe from the corner where it had been quickly thrown. “I don’t have business cards, but I’ll just say a website name out loud, and anyone who wants to see me again can look me up there.”
	She put on the robe and walked the men back into the living room and to the front door. She put her hand on the shoulder of the last one to reach the doorway, a younger man, and one who hadn’t ever looked her in the eye since she hopped on the bed. He turned back.
	She flashed him.
	The man’s face lit up like a lantern, and he made his retreat, his hands below his waist.
	“Don’t forget that website, boys!” She called out, waving as they hit the stairs.
	She turned back into her apartment and closed the door. Her heart was pounding harder than ever, her cock almost painfully hard and pulsing, ever-teased by the soft fabric of the robe. No need for coffee after all. Her mind flashed with erotic images like a disorganized flip-book. She wanted to rip her robe off and jerk off… to get her laptop out and stream… to jizz onto some popcorn and eat it… to… to…
	Layla grabbed her phone and looked through the pictures. She couldn’t deny that the one he had selected as his favorite was, in fact, a ‘good one.’ Thus, she attached that picture to a text and sent it to Selena.
	Layla put the phone on her night stand, which now looked hopelessly old and busted compared to the new bed. She pulled her new pillow in close and took a very comfortable breath. This really was a nice bed…
	Within a minute of her setting the phone down, it began to ring. Not buzz from the receipt of a text, but ring. Layla reached over and grabbed it.
	It was Selena.
	She answered it.
	In lieu of a greeting, Selena simply asked, “Who took that picture?”
	Layla laughed. “One of the movers.”
	“Oh, wow. You’re so bold.” She responded. “I never mess with, like, the plumber or whatever. They’re there to do a job.”
	“These guys seemed alright with it.” Layla turned onto her other arm.
	“How’s the bed?”
	“It’s very nice. I wish you were in it.”
	“I knew you’d say that.”
	And so on...


SUNDAY, SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

	Loree had gotten all dolled up in her neon yellow zebra striped leggings and hot pink leg warmers. Her T-shirt had a wide neck hole to keep one shoulder exposed. It also said ‘Utterly 80’s!’ in pink letters set against blue squiggly lines. It was convenient for your T-shirt to remind you what decade it was. With the recreational drugs that were likely still working their way through her system, it was a necessary precaution.
	She chose the center stall in this bathroom, sitting down on the toilet, but not taking her pants off. On each side of the painted stainless steel lavatory partitions, there were two holes cut straight through them, as if a pipe would be directed through this lavatory by the world’s most stubborn plumber. The sharp metal edges had been thoughtfully covered with duct tape. This glory hole was up to code.
	The only thing missing… were the dicks.
	She huffed impatiently. She pounded on one of the stalls, the wall wobbling suspiciously like cardboard. “Come on! Where are you?” She shouted. “I ain’t got all night.”
	The smell of sweat and sex that lingered eternally in this bathroom had gotten to her. From inside her tight leggings, she unveiled her turgid cock. There was no guarantee it would see any action today, unless whoever appeared on the other end of this portal was very generous and returned the favor.  But she knew the rules. She was in the center, which meant she would be the one on the receiving end. It’s what she was craving anyway. She had skipped lunch to be sure not a drop would be wasted.
	The bathroom filled with echoing high-heeled footsteps against the tile. Someone entered the stall to her left. With a bit of shuffling fabric, this individual presented their erect penis through the hole.
	“Finally!” she sneered, taking a look at the cock she had been presented. It was a really big one, one that compared favorably to the size of her forearm. It was definitely a cock worth waiting seventy seconds for. In fact, it looked a bit familiar. It was a foot long, maybe longer…
	Longer than a foot… of a size and shape she’d seen before… many, many times before.
	Loree left her stall and faced the provider of the cock in that stall. It was a brunette woman with big breasts, slightly above average height, dressed in a tube top that said Shermer High and a blue sling bikini with gray leggings. Her cock was hanging outside the sling.
	“Selena...” Loree whispered.
	“Layla!” The woman cried, as she tried pulling herself from the custom-made extra-wide portal. There didn’t seem to be enough stall to back up into to get free.
	‘Loree’ started to hyperventilate. She staggered back, both fists over her heart. And then she ran, leaving this bathroom, which was weirdly surrounded on three sides by a movie studio. That would explain the guy in the fabric folding chair with the megaphone asking her where the fuck she was going.
	Having finally freed herself from the wall, Selena walked off set and chased after her costar, tossing her wig away and telling the director to ‘give them a minute.’ One production assistant chased them down, finding Selena holding her sobbing costar to her shoulder in the locker room.
	He gave them the minute she requested.

	“I can’t believe you’re here.” Selena said, barely able to fight her smile.
	Once Layla had stopped crying, she pulled her face off Selena’s shoulders, wet with tears. “It IS you, isn’t it? I’ve had this dream a few times...”
	“It’s really me.” Selena assured her.
	“You said that in one of the dreams.”
	With her thumb and forefinger, Selena very softly pinched a bit of Layla’s reddened cheek. “See? You’re not dreaming.”
	Layla pulled herself in tighter, as if Selena was a toothpaste tube. “I can’t believe it.” She repeated.
	“They said I’d be working with someone I haven’t worked with before.” Selena looked to the door, wondering what sort of joke they were trying to pull. “I guess that’s true, but I feel like we’ve both been pranked.”
	There was a lengthy silence.
	“It’s been so long…”
	Selena took another breath.
	“How’ve you been, Layla?”
	It took still more time, and many deep breaths, for Layla’s reply to come.
	“Fine.”
	After an equally long silence, Layla asked another important question.
	“How’ve you been?”
	“Fine.” Selena answered a little quicker.
	“What happened, Selena?” Layla asked. “Why did you stop texting me?”
	“I thought you stopped texting ME.”
	“I didn’t want to bother you.”
	“It wouldn’t be a bother, I swear. But I… I just assumed you were busy with your own thing.”
	“My own thing? My little apartment and my boring life and my stream?”
	“I’ve seen how much it has grown. I’m so proud.”
	Layla’s breath got deeper and more panicked. She started to shake. “I can’t do this, Selena.”
	Selena held Layla still as delicately as she could. “Of course you can, Layla. You’re a natural. Don’t worry about it so much.”
	“No...” Layla pulled back just far enough to make eye contact with Selena. “I can’t go out there and suck your cock and pretend that I don’t love you, because I do. I love you, Selena.”
	Selena took in a slow gasp and held it. “You...” She said, almost inaudible.
	“It’s not your money that I miss, or even your body. I just miss all the stupid shit we got up to. I miss snuggling with you and watching Jeopardy and talking about whatever we were thinking at that moment.”
	Selena brought Layla back in, staring out into space. “I miss that, too.”
	“Did you see that you were finally an answer on Jeopardy?”
	“I did. Nobody answered it, the big fat chickens. Did you sign that petition to save Two Broke Girls?”
	“I did. It didn’t work.”
	“I signed it, too.”
	“You never watched that show.”
	“With my number of Twitter followers, I thought maybe I could actually tip the scales.”
	“I friended a few Jeopardy writers on Twitter to see if they’d make you an answer.”
	“I used to lurk on your stream. I didn’t donate because I didn’t want to give myself away.”
	“My moderators learned not to bring you up in chat because it was upsetting me.”
	“I had to take the Layla ringtone off my phone because it made me cry.”
	“Every time I hear Careless Whisper, I burst into tears.”
	“...why Careless Whisper?”
	“I don’t know.”
	They looked at each other again. “We sound like crazy people.”
	“Love makes people do crazy things.”
	“Do you love me?” Layla asked, speaking so gently that her voice almost squeaked.
	“If you had asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said that I was over you.” Selena answered. “A courtship, friendship, whatever it was, that smoldered and died. Happens all the time. Sometimes, it does that. We sort of fizzled out. And it was hard for me, since I knew I could tune in whenever and see how you were doing. I’m so glad your channel continues to grow. But it was easier to see you though the screen, the way you used to see me.”
	“You were my first, Selena.” Layla confessed. “That night at my apartment after the vacation...”
	“Shit, really?” Selena coughed. “I went way too hard on you.”
	“No, it was amazing.” She sighed. “That lip print you left on my shoulder… I had it tattooed in place.”
	“Oh, wow.” Selena touched the pink lip print. It didn’t budge or shift at all. “I don’t really like tattoos, but I’m flattered that you did that.”
	“You’re my first… anything. I’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. If it wasn’t for the scene I shot with Vyronica, you’d be my only partner ever.”
	“You lost your virginity on-camera?!” Selena was alarmed.
	“Like they say... you need to act like you’ve been there before.”
	“Layla, you could’ve got SO MUCH money for a real first time.”
	“If it was sold as a first-time, then my fans would know I was a phony.”
	“Your fans HAVE to know that you’re just acting, right?”
	“I don’t know.”
	Selena held Layla tight. “Well… if it makes you feel any better… you took my virginity, too.”
	“That’s impossible.”
	“It’s not impossible.” Selena said. “That night we met… you were my first.”
	“That can’t be.”
	“It’s obviously not my… dick virginity or anything like that.” Selena seemed a little embarrassed to say this. “But think about it. Have you ever seen anyone else fuck my pussy?”
	Layla didn’t answer, evidently rolling through the archive of Selena’s work in her mind.
	“You’ve seen almost everything that I’ve ever done.” Selena said. “You know I’m telling the truth.”
	“Not even that video with Azrael Whatshisface?”
	“Nope. Lots of people complained about us leaving that one on the table.”
	Layla was growing less convinced that she wasn’t having a lovely dream that would turn bitter and dark the second she woke. “How can this be real? How can I be your first?”
	“When I started, I thought I’d save me getting fucked for my last video before I retired. But then we met, and there were so many sparks, it must’ve looked like a meteor shower. We got in bed together and I asked what you wanted, and you said… you wanted to kiss me.”
	Selena sniffled. “That experiment we did on vacation, where we learned that I didn’t need to hold back all week… it turns out that once I tried it with someone else, it didn’t work. I was back on my gross smoothies and the soy lecithin again. It seems obvious now. I came that hard... because it was you.”
	Selena pulled Layla in closer without realizing she was doing it. “I thought I was over you… I swear I thought I was… until you fell back into my arms. The months without you… it now feels like it went by in an instant, like turning a single page over in a book.. But now you’re here and...”
	They leaned forehead-to-forehead, the tips of their noses pressed together.
	“I can not let you go.”
	Layla was quaking with sobs. “You mean it?”
	“Yes.” Selena’s eyes shimmered, speaking as emphatically as she could while maintaining a sexy whisper.
	“I.
	Love.
	You… Layla Boyd.”
	Layla blinked away her tears and rubbed her nose on her shirt.
	“Sue.” Layla sniffled. “Sue Wilkins.”
	Selena grinned wider still. “Do you mind if I still call you Layla?”
	“Please!”
	The production assistant returned to the locker room to see if they’d settled the younger costar’s stage fright. They didn’t appear to have made any progress, with the costar still crying into Selena’s shoulder.
	“You ladies all right?” He asked diplomatically.
	“We’re great.” Selena answered with a beaming smile.
	“She appears to be crying even harder than before.”
	“We’ll be out in a few minutes. I promise.”
	He may not have appreciated the difference, but Selena felt amazing. She felt like the sun was inside her, filling her with warmth and sunshine, ready to burst out from her at any moment. She put both hands on Layla’s cheeks, brushing tears aside with her thumbs.
	“Come on.” Selena said. “Let’s go show all those dudes out there what real cocks can do.”
	The sales of Glory Hole In One 7 were less than the studio expected, possibly because of the confusing set of numerals in the title. Sales ballooned when a rumor spread that Selena Grande had met her girlfriend on the set of this film.
	Those familiar with Selena’s life knew that this was an exaggeration.


	EPILOGUE

	The following is a transcript of a portion of the Porned Beef and Hash podcast, Episode 55. On the episode released May 5, 2022, the hosts interviewed porn legend Selena Grande. This transcript has been posted here with permission.

	HASH: You ever think of starting your own podcast, Selena?
	SELENA: I don’t know. This is my first foray into podcasting as it is. I hope this microphone is good enough quality for your show. It’s just a regular USB microphone.
	HASH: You sound great.
	SELENA: To answer the question, I really don’t think I have enough to say about anything to support it. I would love to go onto one of those podcasts where they watch old TV shows, but I’d have to listen to all of them so I would not repeat any information. My trivia knowledge comes from the same place as them.
	If I did do it, I know what I’d use as an intro. I’d license that clip of Alex Trebek saying, “Who is… Selena Grande?” What a great moment that was in my life. But I don’t have time to start something like that right now. I’m still pretty busy. It’s one thing to cut out an hour to talk to all the porn lovers who listen to your show as a one-time thing. But every week? I’d have to find something else to give up to make room in my schedule.
	HASH: Since we’re talking about schedules, have you given thought at all about retiring from mainstream porn?
	SELENA: You’re finally sick of me?
	HASH: Absolutely not.
	SELENA: I won’t pretend that I haven’t considered it. I thought about it at my ten-year anniversary. And my thirtieth birthday is not that far off. And each year lately, I’ve done less movies than the year that preceded it. I am getting older, and I now wear glasses around pretty much everywhere except when I’m performing, mostly so I don’t lose another pair.
	But I’m afraid to just retire for two reasons. First off, I feel like me leaving would have a bad impact on the porn industry, the way that Mom leaving you home alone is bad for that bag of Oreos. I feel like my presence at certain studios and such keeps people in line somehow. Everyone knows, and not just futa porn stars, that they can come to me if someone wronged them or abused them and I’ll try to make it right. If I’m retired, and people aren’t threatened by not being able to work with me… that won’t work anymore.
	Second… maybe it’s just because I’ve done it for so long, but I really do love performing. It’s not even that I love to have sex with random porn stars, or I love orgasms. Acting in porn IS performing for me, and I love doing it. That’s why I call it performing, like acting or dancing.
	HASH: Well, we’ve all seen that GIF of you meekly dancing on that karaoke show.
	SELENA: It’s the only GIF of me that’s ever been work-safe. And can I just say… everyone said my dancing was awkward. Of COURSE it was. I’m not a dancer. I’m not a singer, either, as anyone could tell by listening. But I was on that show because someone dared me that I wouldn’t do it. And I wasn’t going to until I heard they had a Disney-themed episode.
	HASH: You getting on that show is the greatest prank in the history of television.
	SELENA: Nobody at production seemed to think it was a prank. Remember, this is ABC, owned by Disney! All the producers just seemed to think, “Well, WE don’t want to be responsible for sending the most famous person we’ve ever got on the show away.” So they just sort of rolled with it. They introduced me as just “Selena.”
	HASH: You did very well. You only missed one song.
	SELENA: It was from Bedknobs and Broomsticks! That’s how far back they had to go to stump me! Everyone else was stumped by Fixer Upper.
	HASH: Well, I hear you’re not the only musician in your family.
	SELENA: Yes! Would you have ever thought… skinny little Layla Boyd would be a drummer in a rock band?
	HASH: How did that come about?
	SELENA: We saw Bohemian Rhapsody. Now that movie sucks, but there’s that clip of the music video of Don’t Stop Me Now with Roger Taylor drumming in a three-piece suit. It stuck with her, so I offered to buy her a drum kit. It’s not something I have time for, but she went for it and loved it. She’s gotten very good. She drums open-handed like Max Weinberg. But I’m always there like a fussy mother making sure she’s wearing her ear pro.
	HASH: Do I hear faint giggling? Is she in the room with you?
	SELENA: She’s right here. She has been for a while.
	HASH: How are you, Layla?
	SELENA: She can’t talk right now. Her mouth is full.
	LAYLA: Selena!
	SELENA: Isn’t she talented? You’d never think she could speak so clearly with her mouth full of dick.

	(There is tittering and gentle shuffling on Selena’s mic.)

	LAYLA: Have you all forgiven us for that fake sex tape?
	HASH: I thought that was hilarious. It didn’t seem to go over well with…
	SELENA: With people who love authentically leaked private sex videos, I guess.
	LAYLA: Or people who don’t understand dozens of references to old TV shows.
	HASH: It was still you two walking around naked for two hours. Some people just don’t appreciate it. So, are you two still as in love as you were when you met?
	LAYLA: I think you should take that one.
	SELENA: When I met Layla… we found each other at the best time, really. But we almost didn’t make it. We were both sort of afraid to say what we felt. We were both afraid to recognize what was so self-evident… so early. So we were apart for a long time. And I had the worst year of my career. I was evidently a terror because I was so unhappy.
	I’m almost certain someone in my life conspired for the two of us to meet again. Nobody’s fessed up, but I think it was like that beginning of the third act in the romantic comedy, where all the tertiary characters team up to get the two main characters locked in the same room again so they can kiss and let the credits roll.
	It just showed me how close we were to losing it forever. Losing something so important. I don’t know where I’d be without her. And thank God she had the courage to finally tell me how she felt, or else she might have left my life for good.
	HASH: How about you, Layla?
	LAYLA: How’s life married the sexy, playful multimillionaire with the world’s biggest penis?
	HASH: Well... where do you think you’d be without her?
	LAYLA: I mean, we met at the studio, so… my stream had been doing well enough that the studio was willing to take a chance on me. Maybe a non-futa wouldn’t get the same opportunity, but even if I hadn’t… my stream would probably have kept growing, even without the career bump I got from her. I’d probably still be doing it.
	HASH: My research says you still sometimes stream.
	LAYLA: Not for money, of course. But all those fans who supported me for so long… I’m trying to make it into a video game stream, but I’m SO BAD at video games. And obviously… I can’t whip it out on Twitch. Sometimes I still feel like doing that. It’s like hanging out with old friends. I’ll stop when people stop showing up, I guess. But I just can’t drop it all at once.
	HASH: Do you have a plan for the future?
	SELENA: Well, we already talked about possible retirement. I could probably actually make more money trying to do something else. But that’s just it, isn’t it? I have enough that I could never leave the house and live for a thousand years and I’d be fine. So I’m going to do what I want to do… which for right now, is making porn.
	LAYLA: Even if we went bankrupt tomorrow... let’s say all this was taken away from us and I had to work at a grocery store or whatever. There’d be a lot of stuff that would annoy me about that, and a lot of stuff about our life now right now that I’d miss. But if I had to choose between my comfort and Selena, I’d happily work at whatever job if it meant I could come home to her every night and hear her jokes and watch TV with her. She is my plan for my future, and not just because this is her house. I love her so… so much. Finding love like ours, that’s as rare as... finding a virgin on a porn set.
	SELENA: Two virgins.
	HASH: Anything you want to say to our listeners before we sign off?
	SELENA: I think this is a fine place to make this announcement to the world. Layla and I… will soon be welcoming a new member of our family.
	HASH: ...are you serious?!
	SELENA: Yes. We’re finally going to get a kitty!

	(There is a substantial pause.)

	HASH: You did that on purpose.
	SELENA: I’m a porn star, baby. What am I if not a huge tease?