5 on 1 - Chapter sixteen: Dressed to impress (Patreon)

The tiny car was packed. Six people crushed into five seats should’ve been impossible. Sure, they were strong, but one errant bump and Yuki would go flying out of Mia’s lap. That fear was what compelled him to keep checking the mirrors, even though that kept raising the chances of that worst case scenario.

The highway zipped by them all, the other cars barely taking notice of the clown car full of beautiful women in yesterday’s shirts. Not that they were drawing much attention, but just below every window was an ocean of naked thighs that wobbled with every rattle of the ancient exhaust.

It was also noisy. Alive, in a way this car had never seen. Movement, music, conversation, it flowed in all directions like water from a broken tap. Mike would’ve just preferred if much of the conversation wasn’t a play-by-play of this morning. The Red made some excellent arguments about abandoning the wheel and leaping into the many gooey pussies he could smell more than see.

“Th-then he g-grabbed me and-”

“So, just to be clear,” Mike said, both louder and at a higher pitch than he meant to, “does everyone know the plan?”

Carmen, perched in the passenger seat, rubbed the hospital gown, “yup! We’re escaped mental patients and you’re fucking us back to sanity.”

Mike sighed, rolling his eyes, “someone else?”

“We will go in with the gown, explain that we have lost our clothes, and grab a suitable outfit to replace it,” Afi said, twiddling her fingers against her leg, idly imagining what might have happened to Lilly after Mike grabbed her head. Teeth, she reckoned. Savage, biting teeth.

“And then?”

“They’ll give the gown to the next girl, drive to the next store, and repeat the process,” Mia said, peeking out from behind Yuki, “should we come up with a reason we lost our clothes?”

“I tell ya, mental patients!”

“It c-c-could’ve been a f-fire?”

“But we’re not burned?”

“A foiled kidnapping attempt seems obvious,” Yuki said.

“Which would only make Master seem more suspicious,” Afi said, “I think-”

“Girls.”

That got the car quiet. Well, save the sound of Hot To Go filtered through the shitty radio.

“The less details, the better,” he said, exhaling, “we’re buying clothes, not putting together a stage-play.”

That got a chorus of nodding and huffing. Afi reached forward and tapped him on the shoulder, earning a quick look and a sigh.

“Yeah Afi, what’s up?”

“I have had a thought, and I worry you may not have considered it.”

“Lay it on me.”

“The first of these will be the most difficult, because it will only be you and one of us. All subsequent ones, you can bring in the other dressed members of your harem to assuage worry.”

“That makes sense,” Mike said, nodding and furrowing his brow, “So what do you think I missed?”

“It would be best if Lilly or Mia were first. It is a white country, and we stand out. They are likely to suspect trafficking, or that we are dangerous.”

“They wouldn’t think you’re-”

He was about to reassure her, maybe tell her that this wasn’t the 1950’s, but he caught sight of Carmen. Nodding. Fixed expression. Her smile not quite as stable, and she was fidgeting with the gown. Afi leaned back in her seat, her thought now complete and externalised.

“Aren’t we in just as much danger if Mia opens her mouth?”

“Come on Papi, she’s still white. In fact, probably better, they’ll think she’s a down-on-her luck tourist.”

“Seen a lot of those, have you?”

“Oh suuuuuuure. Seen a million of em, they just tend to be a lot redder,” she said, gesturing to her face and making a panting, exposed-to-equatorial-heat-for-the-first-time-in-their-life expression.

“The council has spoken then,” Mike said, jerking a thumb back.

Carmen passed the gown backwards, accidentally bumping it into Yuki’s chest as the car came to a stop. Yuki gave a grunt, taking it from Carmen and passing it down to Mia. Some sounds and movements ensued, which Mike tried very hard not to look at as they idled on the side street behind the op-shop.

“Y’knoooooow,” Carmen said, head and body turned to watch the full commotion, “if you pumped her full the lie’d be way more convincing. Expectant mothers need new clothes, it’s an easy sell.”

“Of course, that’s what I want this car smelling like: my own cum,” Mike said, trying to make it sound like a joke instead of something he was considering, “and with what space? The rest of you would have to get out just to give us room. Kinda goes against what we’re trying to do here.”

“Hey, I gave you a fireman’s hose for exactly this kinda situation,” Carmen said, lying her ass off, “Just grow it out, angle it backwards, poke it into her pussy, and let the rest of us massage you till it blows!”

“As… tempting, as that is,” Mike said, the world getting redder by the second and his pants feeling uncomfortable against his thighs, “I definitely do not have the flexib-”

“I got it.”

“She got it,” Yuki concurred from the floor.

“Great! Lift that flap and let’s get started,” Carmen said, reaching back to grab the hem.

Mike pushed out of the car before he could be talked into this atrocious plan. He took a moment in the sunlight. It was about midday, and this side street was shaded by a couple of young trees. On one end, it stretched into a T intersection, mismatched houses spreading out on either side. At the other end, the far busier road was still bustling with cars. Not one of which turned down their street, nor stopped to catch a glimpse of the many glimpsable people therein.

This was the first time he’d been outside in a good part of a week. He didn’t particularly like being outside, hence why it’d been so long. He occasionally went for walks in the park, or stopped by some local pub for a drink, but it wasn’t often he had the energy or the money respectively.

And he tended to do both of those at night.

Even for being city adjacent, this area still had greenery. A bit of birdsong. If he went up the road to the coffee shops, the sound of chatter might reach over the hum of cars and trucks. He leaned back against the door for a second. Just a second. Taking a deep breath, letting it all in. Even the smell of exhaust and warm pavement.

Then he heard, and felt, the other door slam shut. Then slam shut again, as Mia was introduced to the world’s worst locking system. Two more good slams and the thing mercifully surrendered to the redhead’s might.

She huffed, releasing the handle and smoothing down the unflattering gown. It was covering, sure, but she caught sight of herself in the window. She looked like an upside down circus tent, covered in little grey-blue dots. She stepped back, feet gripping the far too big sandals Mike had give them to at least not stroll in barefoot.

She was exhausted, but she wasn’t about to let on. There was a mission, an honest-to-god mission for her to undertake. She’d been paying attention to Afi, maybe even a bit too much. The safety and security of her new sisters, or her master, all hinged on her acting as normally as possible. The threat of a mental institution, a police call, deportation, all incredibly real in a way it never would’ve been two days ago.

But instead of fear and anxiety, she felt only exhilaration. A thrumming in her chest as she began to scan the area. Marking exit routes, looking for bystanders, keying herself in to gauge reactions and act accordingly. The thought of her grandmother sprang to mind. Behind German lines, way back when. Had she ever had to do a mission in a hospital gown? Had she ever had to be covert in way-too-big sandals?

“Ready to rock?” he said, pushing off the car door and strolling around to the back

“Yes sir,” she said, nodding. She followed along behind him, walking normally. Which, when you’re focusing on doing it, is not the same as walking.

They pushed open the door and made their way inside. A cool, artificial breeze pulled at her hem, giving a flash of her thighs to anyone looking their way. It was everything you might expect from a second-hand store. Racks of silverware, toys and 90’s T-shirts were shoulder to shoulder, following no kind of order Mike could discern. Mia’s rapid scan caught the movement of two other shoppers, an elderly man with a cane and a woman who would’ve been about Lilly’s age as of two days ago.

The front desk was unattended, but had life all of its own. Plastered in stickers and posters for every single charity you could imagine, nearly hiding the brand name of the store. There was a metaphor in that, but Mia was not in a metaphor mood. Atop it was an enormous cash register, pulled out of the wild west into the world of touch screens like a dinosaur in a nuclear reactor. The weathered brown and gold was a real statement amid the white-ish beige décor of this place.

At the very back were their targets. A rack of women’s wear and the change rooms. Well, change stalls. A couple of plywood boxes that might as well have been stapled together, touched off with a curtain that Mike struggled to believe wouldn’t be see-through.

Mia was off like a shot, weaving through the aisles in a pattern that would’ve thrown off any pursuer, so long as they happened to be ants. Or perhaps slow flies. She’d made her decision of attire before she even reached her destination, and all Mike caught was a flurry of fabric as she vanished into the stall.

“You wanna pass-”

A freckled hand was already sticking out, crumpled gown in its grip. Mike took it and began folding as she vanished once more. At first he was surprised. The curtain seemed to be doing its job. At least, until the sun came out and perfectly outlined her shadow against the material. Every inch of her jaw-droppingly curvy body was on display, freed from the shackles of the gown. With the way she was moving and twisted, jiggling and shaking, he could almost believe she was growing again. That he’d hear the plywood crack as her body went from big to bigger.

He parted the curtain with a single finger. Closed his eyes, to preserve some modesty they’d long since abandoned.

“C’mere.”

He felt warmth. Wet and soft and vibrating against him. Like they were going over a rumble strip. He darted a tongue out, licking at the edge of her lips, feeling her breath hitch and her nostrils flare. He reached his hand out, blind but certain, and ran it along the side of her face. Over her ear, through her hair. Catching and guiding a few errant strands. He could swear that they felt warm in his fingers.

Then he pulled back. Curtain closed, eyes open. With a big, dumb grin on his face and an erection throbbing against his jeans.

He turned back to the store. Nobody looking, nobody even in his field of vision. He sighed, then groaned, pushing back The Red. Why was he doing this again? Why couldn’t he just have a set of beautiful women traipsing naked through his home for all eternity? The answers were not forthcoming.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled to himself, making his way back to the counter, “and I’d’ve had everyone in that car giga-pregnant.”

Somehow, the counter was now staffed. A pimply, gangly man wearing the same grey-ish beige as the rest of the store. The kind of 16-21 year old who seems to spawn around dead-end service gigs, before maturing into a factory worker or an even saltier, more dead-eyed artist. He looked bored out of his skull, edging from foot to foot as if that’d keep himself from falling asleep.

As Mike got closer, the clerk took notice. Not interest, but notice, turning towards Mike as a barcode scanner materialised into his hand.

“Hello sir, do you have anything you’d like to purchase?”

“Oh, yeah, my uh… partner?” he nodded to no-one, and the clerk nodded too, “she’s trying on a few things, but I just wanted to pay for them now. Is it alright if she wears them out of the store.”

“That’s fine sir, do you have the codes of what she grabbed, I can-”

The young man had been tapping away at the computer, pulling up some database, but when he turned back to Mike his eyes kept sliding.

Mike followed his eyeline. Mia had made it halfway to them, her rolling hips bouncing hypnotically. She’d shed her dress shirt, now folded under her arm, in favour of the black spaghetti strap crop-top that clung to every inch of her chest. She had not bothered to put a bra underneath it, so the soft curve of her nipples were pointing outwards like they were asking for a hug. Her pale belly, smoothed and muscled by magic, gave incredible, tantalising contrast to her top that it was all Mike could do to not fuck her right then and there.

But it was her bottom selection that really threw him. It was a slit skirt, covered in the kinds of colours and flower patterns one might expect on a Hawaiian shirt. Gaudy, a bit faded, washed out, and clearly made for a much larger wearer. In order to keep the whole ensemble in place, she’d situated a belt just below her belly button, and threaded the cord of the dress around it, making a colourful little bow on her right hip.

And through that slit was her gorgeous leg, now clad in simple, correctly sized sandals.

She intertwined her arm with Mike’s, really having to lean to not bump him with her hip, and grinned at the pair of frozen men.

“Good to go babe?”

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