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The bell over the pizzeria door jingles as you step out of the walk-in freezer, arms still tingling from the cold. You’re halfway through restocking pepperoni when Tony, your boss, pokes his head out from behind the counter. His thick black mustache twitches with irritation—or maybe it's just the usual.
"Eyyy, ragazzo, stop makin' love to the salami and get over here!"
You wipe your hands on your apron and hustle to the front, bracing yourself for whatever fresh nonsense Tony has cooked up. He’s already holding a steaming box of pizza in one hand and a delivery receipt in the other. The moment you see that smirk on his face, you know this job’s about to ruin your night.
"Got a special run for you. Outer Ring."
Your stomach sinks.
"You serious? That’s like an hour-long drive! I can’t make it there within 30 minutes! Besides, my bike’s been acting up."
"So's my sciatica," he snaps, shoving the box into your chest. The heat seeps into your shirt. "But do I sit down and cry about it? No. I send my best guy. You. Unless you want Enzo takin’ it and eatin’ half the toppings before he even gets there. Besides, it’s our policy!" Tony points to a plaque that reads, will deliver to any customer regardless of place! God, you hated reading that, especially in moments like this.
You glance at the receipt. Zone 3A. Deep Outer Ring. The kind of place where Sons of Calydon bikers rule the road and GPS signals cry for help. You’ve heard stories—men on bikes that’d rough up even the best of the best. High-speed hijackings, Hollow flickers that make your eyeballs itch, and impromptu tolls paid in slices.
"Great," you mutter. "Hope they like their anchovies with a side of existential dread."
Tony claps you on the shoulder hard enough to rattle your spine. "Just don’t get flattened by a dirtbike stampede. And remember—no refunds."
You grab your helmet, your jacket, and a generous scoop of regret, then swing onto your delivery scooter like a man walking into battle.
Outer Ring awaits.
And hopefully it tips
--------------------------
You hit the edge of New Eridu’s perimeter and immediately regret everything. The road cracks beneath your tires like it's trying to chew on your scooter, and the air turns to hot metal and regret. You mash the nitrous button like it owes you money, and the bike lurches forward with a scream that’s half engine, half existential crisis.
You weave past rusted cargo containers and skittering drones, your delivery box wobbling with each jolt. Some nomads roar past on their bikes at one point—one of them throws you a thumbs-up, another tries to race you. You do not win.
Halfway through, the engine starts to sputter. Steam hisses out of the sides. Not wanting to risk total failure, you hop off, hoist the overheating scooter over your shoulder, and run like a madman. Past a field of abandoned tires, over a makeshift ramp some bikers left as a joke, and through a sandstorm that smells faintly of barbeque sauce and gasoline.
Every minute feels like five, every Hollow flicker on the horizon feels like a dare. You dive back on the scooter after it cools off, mash the nitrous again, and pray the wheels don’t fall off.
By some miracle (and a lot of screaming), you skid to a halt in front of your destination in just under 20 minutes. The pizza's slightly rattled but still warm. Your legs are jelly, your shirt is soaked, and the bike is hissing like an angry cat.
Rushing up the stairs, skipping a few steps on the way, you reach the address of what seems to be a ratty building. It doesn’t seem like it was designed to last, and given how these bikers were nomadic, that makes sense, but that feeling soon dissipates as you knock on the door.
Tony taught you a very special knock, Three quick taps, one pause, then two slower ones. You don’t know if it actually means anything out here, but it always made Tony look smug when he did it.
The door creaks open, and standing in the doorway is a wall of a woman with wild, blonde pigtailed hair, a stained apron, and the look of someone who just finished bench-pressing a hovercycle. You recognize her instantly from one of the worst staff safety briefings you ever sat through:
Burnice White. Mixologist, part-time arsonist, and bartender to the Sons of Calydon.
She looks you up and down, one eyebrow arched.
"Oooooh! You're not booze! You're pizza! That’s even better—less flammable, but way tastier!"
You blink. "Uh… pizza? Double anchovy? Zone 3A?"
Burnice snatches the receipt from your hand with a gleeful bounce, squints, and lets out a chuckle.
"Kid, you’re in Block Gamma. You need Delta. That’s five klicks that way and definitely full of drone-eating crater fun."
You stare blankly. Your legs start to whimper.
Burnice flings the door wide open. "Welp! You’re halfway to a meltdown, so come in! You look like you need a drink and a couch that doesn’t ask questions."
You hesitate. "Is it water?"
She grins like a pyromaniac at a fireworks stand. "Better. Nitro-Fuel."
You know you shouldn’t take drinks from strangers. Especially cute women, mother always told you to be careful with attractive women. Chances are, they might want something from you, and it wasn’t always something you could let go of that easily.
But hey, she also told you to never go out here, so you’ve already disregarded that rule, why not disregard another?
You sat down on a couch, at least the part of it that wasn’t stained with what was hopefully grease, and waited as your host picked up a bottle of a nitro-fuel mix. Burnice hums to herself as she shakes the bottle like she’s mixing a smoothie and plotting a surprise party at the same time.
"If it fizzes green, you’re good. If it fizzes purple, you might hallucinate your scooter gaining sentience. And if it does both? "Well. That’s a party."
That was a thing Lighter had told her. As a warning.
She shrugs and pours two shot-glass-sized servings into what might have once been fancy espresso cups. They now have cartoon skulls drawn on them in permanent marker. You take yours with the kind of reverence one reserves for ritual sacrifices.
She pours two shots into tiny mugs decorated with doodles and smiley faces, proudly sliding one your way. "To surviving the dumbest delivery route ever and still being cute enough to wobble inside!"
You clink cups. You drink. You regret.
It burns. Not in the good way. Not in the bad way either. In the experimental jet fuel way.
You cough. Burnice laughs like someone who’s seen this exact scene too many times.
Burnice claps. "Just breathe through the zing! That’s the flavor of triumph and possibly battery acid."
You slump back into the couch, now fully resigned to your fate.
Outside, a familiar roar tears through the air—an engine growling like a jungle cat with road rage. A second later, it’s followed by a quieter sputter-hum, like an old scooter trying to imitate its cooler cousin. The sound gets closer, louder, then abruptly cuts off with a screech and a bang that probably wasn’t supposed to happen.
Burnice perks up, hopping over to the window like someone expecting a parade. "Ooh! That’ll be Caesar! And I bet Piper’s with her!". "Yay! Caesar’s here! And probably Piper too!"
You sit upright a little too quickly—Nitro-Fuel sloshing in your stomach like a shaken soda can—as a heavy pair of boots stomp up the stairs and someone absolutely kicks the door open.
Standing in the frame is Caesar, brash queen of the Sons of Calydon, wearing a bomber jacket that’s more patch than fabric and a grin like she just dared gravity to fight her and won. She radiates Main Character Energy—shoulders squared, fists curled, eyes burning bright. She spots you on the couch and points immediately.
"You! You the pizza guy Burnice texted about? What are you doing here?”
Behind her drifts in Piper, a midget who looks like she was halfway through a nap and hasn’t fully decided if she wants to finish it or take a nap inside a book instead. She gives you a once-over like she’s solving a very chill math problem and slowly nods.
"He smells like road dust, jet fuel, and regret. Definitely from the city."
"Block Gamma," Burnice chimes in cheerfully from the kitchen. "Tried to deliver to Delta. Got lost. Almost died. Took a shot. Like a champ."
Burnice spins around with jazz hands. "He zoomed across Gamma like a delivery comet! Nitro’d half the way and ran the rest! It was chaos and amazing and slightly tragic—ten outta ten!"
Caesar raises an eyebrow. "You ran your bike through the Outer Ring?"
You nod. Slowly.
Caesar strides in, grabs your shoulder like she’s sizing up a sparring partner, and grins wider. "Well damn. You look like someone who just wrestled death for a tip. C’mon, let’s see this legendary pizza."
You hand it over, still warm, miraculously intact. Caesar opens the box, sniffs, and gives a low whistle.
"Double anchovy. The real Outer Ring currency. You survived the wasteland and brought bribes. Respect."
Piper’s already halfway to the couch, sliding into the other side like she’s reclaiming a throne. “So, you here til’ your ride stops hissing or what?”
You pause. Outside, your scooter makes a sound like it’s considering spontaneous combustion.
“Oh, man.”
---------
Minutes later, you’re passed out on the couch (an ironic side effect of that Nitro Fuel mix). Piper is a bit jealous you got to pass out on the couch, almost threatening to collapse on you before Caesar pulls her back.
“Piper!” The boss reprimanded, with the shorter woman jokingly shrugging her shoulders at her little… jest.
“I’m alright, I’m alright. Just need me a pick me up and then I can get going!” Piper announces, and then moments later, she tumbles onto the floor and passes out completely. Caesar kneels down and pokes the Trucker on the back of her head. One poke. Two pokes. Three pokes later, Caesar rolls her eyes and looks over to her other comrade.
“Burnice, I think it’s time to get our guest up and moving. Or atleast snap him out of this sugar crash you gave him. Guess that lightweight can’t handle a little more sugar than your average energy drink, hehehe.” Caesar awaits a reply from Burnice, but nothing came from her. Something’s definitely off. “Oi, Burnice, eyes over here.” She snaps her fingers to put extra emphasis on her command, but the twin tailed bartender is still just sitting across from your sleeping body.
Caesar is getting sick at this sudden insubordination and walks over to the mixologist, “Burnice, what are you…”
Burnice dramatically points to your resting form, all two hands and three legs attached… wait, three?! Yes, and as it turns out, you’ve fashioned yourself quite the bulge while you’re sleeping. Caesar’s stern face quickly melts at the sight of your sleeping affection, covering her mouth, and blushing so bright red, her face looks like a tomato.
“W-W-What, what h-h-happened h-here?!” Caesar stammers out, trying to cover her face with her hands.
Burnice chuckles to herself, “Uhh, I guess I must’ve mixed the wrong things together and now the consequences of my actions have come to bite me.”
“B-B-B-But… how?” Burnice shrugs at her leader’s stuttering.
“I dunno! I just toss stuff together until it stops looking boring. It’s kinda like that time Lucy told me not to mix cleaning stuff or I'd make a chemical hazard? Same vibe. Maybe one of my ingredients had, like, secret drama inside it. Then—boom! Instant excitement!”
The loud noise threatens to wake up her sleeping teammate, to which Burnice quickly took notice of and immediately backpedaled to a much lower tone of voice.
“So, at this point, what do you want me to do with him? Throw him to the curb?” Caesar is silent for a good while. “Boss, it’s still attached to him, so I can’t just get rid of it… unless you want me to burn it to ashes,” Burnice gleefully inquires and Caesar can’t say anything else, because now she’s on the floor, steam coming out of her mouth and ears.
Burnice immediately grabs her boss and starts shaking her like a maraca. “No no no no no, c’mon, you can’t let a man’s thing take you out! You’re Caesar! Big-bike, big-heart, big-punch Caesar! You don't nap through the drama, you punch it in the face!”
The gust of hot air fizzles out just as Caesar’s eyes snap open in stunned confusion. “What do you mean? You want me to go against that?! But how!?”
A pause runs through the mixologist’s mind for a bit, then like a lightbulb turning on, she had an idea, “I mean, you haven’t even fought him yet…”
Caesar sits up, rubbing her forehead. “What are you talking about? He’s not a warrior, Burnice. He’s a delivery guy. I could probably just fling him into a dumpster and call it a day.”
“Exactly!” Burnice says, throwing both arms in the air like confetti. “But have you ever flung a guy who carried a flaming scooter on his back like it owed him rent? Who blasted through the Outer Ring like a meatball through a wind tunnel, hopped on burning tires, and still delivered a pizza that smells like disappointment and effort?! That’s not something you just fling! That’s destiny trying to body-check you through a window!”
Caesar stares at her, slowly blinking.
Burnice nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing in place. “This could be the most chaotic, wonderful, blaze-worthy fight ever! You get to prove you can beat the impossible—not with brute force, but with style. You versus the Courier of Catastrophe. Fists versus fumes. Motor Queen versus Anchovy Knight!”
“Yeah… that’s exactly what I needed to here, Burnice!” Caesar starts to wind her fist in a clockwise direction, charging up a punch that’d certainly hospitalize you, but Burnice dramatically leaps forward… and tumbles down flat on her face.
“Sure, I said that you punch problems, but that doesn’t mean that I mean you should literally punch this problem in particular! Well not like this. You see,” Burnice gets up and dramatically throws out another pair of jazz hands in the general direction of your dick. “This isn’t something you can just punch! Like, something this… uhhh… uhhh…” She starts to rest her elbow on a knee, hand curled under her chin, and bowing her head down as if she’s in the deepest thought of her life.
“Big?” Caesar suggests, “Large, Gargantuan, Massive?” Burnice snaps her fingers upon the realization of the word that she’s looking for.
“Gigantis! Let’s call it Gigantis! That’s a cute name, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty awesome, but it doesn’t seem that big…” Caesar looks a little more inquisitively, noting that your pants concealed a lot of the size that Burnice was supposedly hyping you up to have.
“Come on! You really, really, really think that someone who ran halfway here for some dusty old pennies wouldn’t be built in some way?”
“Kinda, yeah,” Caesar bluntly puts it, as while she was impressed by your accolades, a pizza delivery guy didn’t inspire much positivity in being… impressive.
“Yeah, will I think you’re being a little wrong! And I’ll put you up to it.” Burnice stretches out her hand, “I bet that he’s a slim guy with a big gigantis!”
“And what are you betting on exactly?” Caesar inquires, and Burnice just shrugs, thinking she’ll figure it out later. This cause Caesar to close her eyes and chuckle, opening them up and saying, “Alrighty. But don’t burn them off.”
Somehow, her flamethrowers are already in had but now, she was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. She quickly inches over, and grabs your shirt. Tugging at it playfully a couple of times, she pulls at it finally to reveal a relatively slim stomach. There’s a little “muscle” there, but not something substantial.
Really, the only reason you’ve kept a decent build like this is mostly because of Tony’s wife, Bonnie. She came over to the shop often, and she was just the loveliest lady. But she was strict at times to, and she always brought over some vegetables, fruits, and all the stuff you should be regularly eating. You’d try to turn it down sometimes, but Tony would catch on and basically strongarm you into accepting her food. At the least, it keep all the bad shit out of your system. That combined with traveling all over the place on that ratty ass bike kept you from looking like a planet.
“Ha! I win!” Burnice gleefully looks at her boss, who’s still a little shy at seeing a man exposed like this, though not as much as a nervous wreck as before. “See, if he has a body this nice, he’s gotta have a pretty big gigantis too!”
“I-I though gigantis meant big?” Caesar questions, but Burnice shakes her head.
“No, Gigantis is it’s name! Not how you describe it.” She starts to poke at the edge of the your pants, singing the tune of “♫ Lookey, what we have here! The big and tall Gigantis! I wonder what he’s got to show! ♫” She keep proding right as she’s touched it for the tenth time, she accidentally’s her hand to press down on the zipper and bring the fly open and in that same breath, your underwear slinging right off too.
Burnice looks straight at your freshly exposed dick, and it seems her guesses were right. It’s her first time seeing a real dick, and she could already figure out that this was pretty big for a man. Somewhere between 5-7 inches from the looks of it. “Ah! I was right! I knew Gigantis was super hot!”
Caesar looks away for a brief moment, but curiosity draws her in. Burnice, somehow, had a point. She had bested many people before, so this basic part of male anatomy shouldn’t be doing anything to her. But still…
“So, how do we… do it?” Caesar, with a little more pep in her step asks. “Am I supposed to lick it?”
“You can try! But I don’t think that’s the best for us right now! A lot of the women I’ve seen struggle with getting smaller ones in their mouths, no way that total noobs like us can handle gigantis.”
“Yeah, but you never truly know the limits of your body unless you test them… Wait, what do you mean ‘women you’ve seen’”
“Oh, yeah, whenever I’m on the inter-knot, sometimes my browsing gets redirected to a place where women are doing all these crazy stuff to men. I even once saw a—”
“Hold on… do you think that I can use those videos as reference to help me prepare for this battle…” Caesar timidly asks.
“Sure thing! We can both learn a thing or two. Shouldn’t take more that a few minutes, I’m sure!”
“And here I was thinking that I could get a few minutes to rest. You don’t really know how much you need sleep until you’ve lost too much of it at my age.” Piper is finally up and about, and Burnice gladly looks at her with an expression that could lit your day up… and probably you in the process.
“Hey, Piper!” Burnice chirped up, “Me and the boss were gonna train for a battle between us and Gigantis over there. Wanna join?”
Piper looks over to exposed dick right beside her, and almost instantly deduced what exactly Burnice meant. But honestly, what else did she have to do today. With a shrug, she says, “Sure, what the hell.”
------
Minutes pass and you’re finally awake. You look down to see that embarrassingly, you’re naked and you dick’s as hard as a rock. Must be that thing you drank. Luckily, you’re clothes are to the side and it hadn’t seemed like you’ve been robbed… yet. You’re about to reach out and grab them when a door opens up and Burnice pops her head out from behind the doorway.
“Oh, you’re awake! That’s good! Caesar and Piper kept telling me that it wasn’t good to test you out while you’re sleeping. I don’t know why, but apparently it’s not a good thing.” She says in her chipper tone.
“Uhhh… what are you gals going to do to me?!” You asked, almost panicking, but Burnice just laughs at your worry .
“Don’t worry~ We’re not monsters and anything… I think, hey Boss! Are we monsters?”
“No, Burnice.”
“Right, just making sure! Anyways, you’ve got a big problem to deal with, right?” Burnice points to your dick, which you try to unsuccessfully hide. “Hey, don’t try to hide it! Gigantis deserves to be seen!”
“Gigantis?” You ask, and the smaller woman from before pops her head out, “That’s what she named your dick. Just go with it.” You were about to question it, but sensibility reeled you back in, telling you that it’s not worth it to try and challenge her.
“Anyways!” Burnice and company step out from the shadows and reveal that they too are naked, to your shock and awe.
Despite how much she showed off, now with a clear view of Burnice’s body, you could take in everything. She's skinny but not in that stick-ish kind of way. More like curvy in a natural way. Her waist goes in and her hips go out, which gave you an already great peak at her ass, and her chest, which is noticeable even under regular clothes, are quite pronounced, shaped to near perfection.
Burnice was kind of the middle ground to the extremes of which Caesar and Piper represent.
Caesar’s tall, you can swear she’s taller than you just from the distance despite how she’s only half-a-head taller than Burnice. All that came from her big frame, wide hips, strong legs. She carries a lot of weight in her chest, her boobs dwarfing her subordinates to almost comical degrees, and thighs, but not in a sloppy way—it's all solid. Her skin is clear, kinda glowing like she uses expensive skincare that all wraps it nicely together.
Piper was the exact opposite. She’s short and thin, like you could lift her with one arm. Small chest, small waist, and baggy eyes. Kind of girl you might think is fragile but isn’t. The only thing that didn’t turn her into the equivalent of piece of paper was her hips. While they weren’t nearly as defined as her compatriots, they still weren’t too bad, thick enough that it radiates the image of thickness, mostly to her lower half.
All three girls were right before you, to which you could barely let out any words.
“Well, looky here! Kitty got your throat?” Burnice chuckles.
“Hey, he’s got 3 sexy women right in front of him. I don’t blame his begin eyes to crack out,” Piper retorts.
“Knock it off guys,” Caesar comments, quickly turning to you, with a gaze that reads nothing but… well, it’s close to excitement you can certainly say. “All this teasing isn’t going to help him out, is it?” She approached you, cupping your chin in her left hand, letting out a soft purr-like noise.
Burnice wraps her arms around your waist, chuckling in the process. She almost reaches to squeeze your ass but stops herself at the last minute. Piper, meanwhile, had a camera that one of her compatriots had tossed her a few seconds ago. She places it down on the nearest countertop and sets it on a timer, scooting over to right in front of you, head reaching up to your pecs.
“Let’s have a physical memory of this… well one that won’t be wiped away after we clean this place.” You bring your hands to Burnice’s and Caesar’s shoulder’s causing them both to smile, as you nervously chuckled.
And right as the camera’s light went off, your eyes flashed before your eyes.
First up to bat is the king, and it looks like she’s playing to keep, eh? She’s using the biggest assests she’s got, her tits to give you a mind-blowing paizuri. She moves against your dick in a fast, rhythmic vertical motion—rising a few inches, then descending just as gently. Her boobs pulse slightly, rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Each bounce is smooth and deliberate—thump... thump—as though an unseen force is dribbling them in perfect sync to bring such a sensation. With each bounce, they compress and spring back up, their surface dimpling momentarily before regaining shape.
“Yeah, yeah! I can tell by the look on your face this feels really good! Thanks for the compliment, pizza boy! I’m not quite sure what I was nervous for! A cute man letting me do this to him is definitely in my Top 20 best moments… keep being so good to us and you might shoot up to Top 15!”
Off to the side, the other two sat at bay, waiting for their boss to finish up with her fun. Piper was on her hands and knees looking down at you sometimes, but mostly over at Caesar where Burnice was facing away from the action, maybe jamming out to whatever melodic sound came from Caesar giving your cock a Grade-A Butcher treatment.
Shockingly, that wasn’t enough to get you to cum quite yet, and even for the great and powerful Caesar, she was going to tire of her being the only one having fun! So, eventually, she let’s your cock slip out, giving it a nice reward in the form of a kiss on it’s tip, before calling out, “Who’s next?”
A quick glance, and a shrug of the shoulders later, reliable ole’ piper was up next and she didn’t waste any time, positioning herself over your dick and sliding down and down… until she gets stuck half way on it.
“Oh…” You ponder, a little concerned for her, “Uhh, maybe you’re just not built for this? Uhh, no shame, sometimes it’s ok to be lacking in departments like this, especially at--”
“My age?!” Piper looks almost insulted at that unfinished comment, which you tried to back track on, but the sleepy woman gritted her teeth and in a good motion, pushed down, reach your base. You looked surprised, not only at how she’d did it but just how dang tight this woman was. Seriously, it’s like her walls tightened with methodical precision, strangling out each throb your penis gave, but shockingly not in an uncomfortable manner. Piper meaning while was grinning as she saw how stunned you were at her abilities, and it really looked like she was ready to get the show on the road.
Riding you like a cowgirl, Piper had to keep her eyes closed and let out some deep gasps at each time she brough herself down on your dick. This was to control her movements and keep herself more grounded and restricted, subtly moving your dick against her inner walls and getting her wetter and wetter. Although, even after all the softening and more of that natural lubricant was applied, it still wasn’t the easiest ride, but honestly, you both enjoyed it. You’d even hug her if you could but right now, you felt so damn good that your face was so enthralled with your partner, all her comrades can do is just look at you with humored faces.
Caesar smiles gently down at you, almost in opposition to how much Piper was holding herself back, “Dang, I ain’t ever see Piper tough out something like this! Great job boy, I’ve only ever seen Piper ride two things and your dick’s gotta be real impressive to give her front seat a run for it’s money!”
Burnice had her finger up to the bottom of lip, wishing, “That thing better be hot to the touch!”
The flooding soon came, and where she was a newly formed pond, you were still the dry desert. And so, it’s time for the next challenger to take a swing.
Burnice, is wild, to put it bluntly. To not put it bluntly, you could barely handle all of that. The literal microsecond Piper gets off you, the blonde arsonist and up and going from a different angle, a reverse cowgirl as some would call it.
And you were doing it, anally.
She plops down on your, fully letting you deep into her ass and letting out a hearty chuckle. “Wow! You’re incredibly warm! It almost reminds me of my tools!” Arching up a little, one hand gripping on of her buttcheeks and the other reaching down to caress her pussy, she starts to go to work.
You’re eyes go blank at how snug she was, almost as good as Caesar’s breasts in terms of softness, and nearly there with Piper’s tightness, combing to make the near perfect place to put your dick in. But her movements were jerky, erratic, only really having the beat on occasion but then switching up the moments things started to bore her. All the while, she’s looking back at you with the nicest grin she can give.
Caesar’s simply just standing beside you, eyes closed, arm underneath her breasts to give those tanks somewhere to rest. Piper is simply just looking at you from a little away, remarking, “Alrighty, he’s surviving the Burnice Stress Test very well!”
This comfort didn’t last too long, since they kept on switching and switching, causing you to no longer wait any longer in holding back that build up of pressure in your balls. The first one to get your load was Burnice, by sheer happenstance right in her pussy as she tried to emulate Piper riding you. Followed by Caesar, who similar received the load in a cowgirl-esque position, keeping close to you all the while she bounced away. Piper get hers when you lifted her up and started going at it then, finally finishing.
That left you and your dick out of the game for a bit, but that wasn’t enough for them! Even as you laid on whatever soft thing you could lay on, the three girls were looking straight at your crotch, almost meanmugging you to try and get back into action, forgetting about the cum seeping out of there vagina’s.
“That can’t be it, can it?” Caesar’s frowning at the display of weakness, eyes narrowed in frustration, “And right as you were doing so good!”
“Really? You tapped out before I did? I guess this spring chicken isn’t so energetic as I thought.” Piper teases.
“Aw, don’t be a party pooper,” Burnice complains, “You gotta be stronger than that. If not…”
You could hear all of that, and as much as you needed the rest, needed the moment to gather your bearings,, your body didn’t want to wait a second more to let the ladies down. Almost on cue, you started to grow from flaccidity, all the way to rigidness, and similarly, those bored expressions turned into ones of complete joy upon seeing Gigantis rise from the ground.
After doing some poses that really had you question how you didn’t know you could bend like that, you returned to the good old position.
Doggystyle. Hands on hips, legs aligned together, boobs shaking beautifully, cock snuggled nice in a pussy, and hips moving like the gear in a car. This was, unexpectedly, your forte. This is where you excelled at giving them what they wanted. It was just a matter of how long would they last.
Burnice was first out. Sure, she started out happy, pushing herself against you and saying stuff like, “Let’s turn up the heat!” She’d be the first to fall to the might of doggystyle. Eventually, she was moaning out loud with her eyes completely shut, her nice ass and breasts you occasionally grabbed as a sort of playful thing, were not help her to even say anything coherent. So not much changed.
Piper followed next, even though she was one tough cookie to crack. The tightness was your first barrier, preventing you from going all out. So at the start of this, Piper kept teasing you about your speed, and how lackluster you were. Started singing a different tune after that natural layer of ease came in clutch. An of course, giving those backshots were so much easier, as you’d be in and out in record time, and could feel her body shudder at the strength of your pounds. “I take it back! Go easy on me! I’m just an old lady!” She kept saying that. She didn’t really mean it. So you kept going.
Caesar was the last one to fall, and my, was it lovely. Such a nice body was wonderful to penetrate, especially how her ass jiggled so nicely, and her breast shook with the grace they earned. All Caesar really bothered to say were words of encouragement towards having you do your best but even those just turned into simple phrases as “I love you and this dick!”. Nothing out of ourdinary… maybe.
Minutes, maybe even hours, pass on by…
Finally, the Sons of Calydon are tuckered out. Piper and Burncice rested on the side and backs respectively, not even having the energy to mumur out words. Caesar was inbetween them, and above her, you lay, after delivering your final load into her, still evidence by the cum puddle still there; You two were embraced in a sort of “failed mating press” position. The King of the Riders had one hand on you waist, inbetween a breast that jutted out of the tangle of arms, and the other hand was wrapped around your neck. You were out cold, but Caesar still had some spark in her.
“Mhmm… Boy meets girl… girl introduces other girls… boy shows his love… boy and girl make a mess out of thing. Hehe, wonderful… looks like pizza aren’t the only thing you’re good at delivering… Haaaaahh… I love you…”
You didn’t hear a thing, but you didn’t need to. The body had all the proof right before you.
Block Delta…
“30 minutes. It’s been long past that. Maybe he’s a little late. Don’t worry! You’ll get your Pizza, and drink! And finally, you can taste real food out here in the Outer Ring!”
This man never received his pizza. However, his complementary breadstick were shortly delivered. And it was that and that alone that prevented Tony from receiving his first negative review.
Enzo is sitting at the counter, noting how there was not a single customer today at all. Weird. Tony was in the back, cooking one of his “world-famous” pastas (no much of a world to be famous in) but the worry wasn’t in the lack of customers, that was too common actually.
Only reason he stayed in business… well, when a lot of orders come in, A LOT come in. No, Tony, was concerned about you. You were like a son to him, and ever since yesterday, you didn’t come back from the Outer Ring delivery. Maybe this was the end for her best delivery boy?
That was until the door bell rang and who happened to walk in, you… dressed in much more… biker looking clothes and with some… lipstick smears on your face. Enzo looks up from his phone, seeing how disheleved, and how stupid your grin was, and just looked right back down. “Tony, he’s back again.”
Tony pokes his head from his pizza making, and sees you… dressed like that. That might’ve put him into an early grave if his worry for you didn’t kick in.
“Madonna mia... che cosa sei diventato? You go deliver a pizza, and come back lookin’ like a backup dancer for a metal band!”
Tony walks out fully, waving his spoon like a sword. “You think this is funny?! I thought you were dead! I almost put your picture on the wall next to Nonna’s! And now you stroll in smelling like burnt rubber and heartbreak?!”
You shrug. “Hey, the pizza made it.”
Tony squints, then rubs his temples. “…You’re gonna give me an ulcer.”
Enzo chuckles, “Looks like he already gave some poor fella one.”
You chuckle, and look at Tony with puppy dog eyes, “Can I please go wash up and get back to my job sir?”
Tony looks down, but those damn eyes! This and his wife were the only thing that could make him budge and so he relented, and you dashed off to wash off all the evidence of the fun you had, not before commenting, “By the way, I may or may not be married to a gang of bikers… idk, I forgot.”
Closing the door, Tony pauses for a moment, before laughing like he’s never laughed before. “That kid, that kid is a going places.”
Enzo looks at Tony, wondering how he didn’t pick up on what happened, but Tony can figure it out when the Sons of Calydon come by for dinner reservations.
Meanwhile, he was planning on going to a video store. There was a horror movie he wanted to pick up and there were these two cute siblings people keep talking about.
And hey, looks like he’d have some workplace drama to spill later that day.