Author’s Note: Age of Exhibitionism Part 2 is coming along soon, in the meantime, here is a mid-week bonus.



Description: One of possible futures, the following vision is set far into the end-state of a dystopian world. One plucky young woman finds her own way across this recumbent land in its twilight days, but what will she find at journey’s end?

The checkpoint was delayed to clear the new batch of imports from the Factory. No one could see inside the special container, as the shipment was an exclusive for the district headquarters, destined to be divvied up among the leaders. The grumpy workers groused about the unfairness of it all but they put their heads down and went to work moving boxes around the loading area for sorting. It was a busy area since several districts used the port as a hub for deliveries so no one noticed the girl at first until one of them shouted. She was quickly corralled and sent up to the security office.

“Damn it, Girl, how many times have we told you that you can’t come here,” admonished the security chief. “You haven’t been selected yet for service, and even if you were you’d be assigned to a specific district. You can’t just wander to another one on your own.”

“But I’ve got great tits, they have to want me in the admin district,” she proffered.



“Go play with the boys in your town, Girl,” he sighed. It was illegal for federal workers to consort with a non-bonded service girl, so he feigned disinterest. “We’ll be happy to let you through, once the paperwork comes in.”

“But I’m horny, and I’m bored with the guys in my town. They’re all hicks,” she pouted.

He sighed, getting tired of dealing with the crazy youth. He pulled out some paperwork and stamped it. He handed it to her, “Here, it’s a pass for the district city. You can volunteer with the service bureau there on a temp basis. I could get some shit for sending in a country gal, but if you do a good job maybe they’ll let it slide. So do your best!”

“Thank you!” she tried to hug him, but he pushed the girl back. She pouted, “Rules are rules, eh? I’m going to just use edge of your desk then.”

“Wait, wait. Will a finger-bang work for you?” he asked, giving in. She nodded happily. Somewhat relieved, she bounced off as he wiped his sodden hand on a towel.

Girl wasn’t unattractive with a nice floppy set of breasts that caught everyone’s gaze and decently wide hips, but she had a bit of an under-bite and freckles that put her on the waiting list for the Service Bureau as they had plenty of prime candidates this season. Tastes changed, and another year, her type might be highly prized.

She hitched a ride on a truck headed to the city in exchange for a blow job but she was so excited she masturbated while inside the cargo area. When she was let off, she hoped the driver wouldn’t notice the wet spot she’d left in between the sacks of goods he was carrying.

Her eyes were wide as she had never been in the city with its bustling traffic and tall buildings (although they were only a few stories tall, quite small compared to the old style skyscrapers which were long defunct). The gendarmes picked her up almost immediately, as an unlicensed service girl was illegal in the city.

“Where’s your stamp, girl?” asked the trooper, who handled her roughly, trying to look for tags or bond tattoos.

“I don’t have any, sah. I’m from the sea village down the way. I have a pass here for the service bureau,” she waved the laminated slip at his face.

“Hey, hey. Just hold it up,” he said disgustedly. Although it was probably actually cleaner in the country, there was some prejudice against the farming communities in the city. His partner wasn’t as discerning, as he checked her orifices with his fingers.

The first man seemed satisfied, “This looks valid. We can show you the way to the Bureau, it’s not too far.”

“Let’s see how she rates,” his partner said, lifting her up and plopping her on his penis, after opening a flap on his uniform. “Not bad. She’s nice and tight.” She held on as they bounced down the road like that until he was satisfied.

They paused so she could clean him off with her mouth.

“You sure you don’t want to try some?” the more affable officer asked, but the sour man just shook his head, grimacing. He said, “Just be thankful I’m not writing you up for that. Whatever. Not like I care.”

The Bureau was a low building surrounded by a grey fence. They left her at the gate, though the gendarme leaned her up against the wall to get a second, quick fuck before heading back to his post.

“Thanks!” she waved, licking the cum off her fingers. The inner security guard barely glanced at her card before buzzing her past the gate; and she quickly found herself in a musty office. Most people were sitting at desks shuffling papers or talking on phones. The Girl had worked a phone at the shop, but these were fancy office versions with headsets. The village was pretty simple without much tech.

A bureaucrat finally signaled her to come up to his desk. He glanced at the paperwork, looked her up and down, and asked, “Volunteer, eh? Not bad. Enthusiasm always gets points around here.” He filled out some paperwork and turned it toward her, “Sign at the bottom. By doing so you agree to be the property of the Service Bureau, you give up any basic human rights except for disposal on the event of your demise. Those rights revert to your guardians or village headmaster, whoever has writ over you. Usually, we need a referral from them as well, but since you’re technically of age, we can waive that for the temp service until the paperwork gets to the head office. Press your finger here for biometric confirmation and swear the oath.”

She jumped in glee. The bureaucrat smiled, “Congratulations and welcome. You’ve been assigned the number CVA-112-718-592, but for convenience you’ll be called by the last three digits unless there is a duplicate in your posting. Go to this office–I’ll write the number for you–for medical examination, after that they will take you to branding and they’ll let you know where to go from there, good luck. You’ve got a nice rack, so I’ll keep an eye out for you, 592.”

Number 592 was so happy that she was leaking on the way down the hall. Absently, she rubbed herself as she waited in front of the medical office but there was a short line so the process went quickly. They did some tests and drew some blood but otherwise it was rather perfunctory.

In branding, they put her ID bar code on the small of her back and the nape of her neck, plus a temp tattoo on the inside of her thigh, and finally, injected tracer tags into her bloodstream. A leather collar was fitted that had its own human-readable ID tag and she was lead out to holding. There were several other girls there but they didn’t seem interested in conversation. She was expecting some kind of training but there was none, just a basic set of behavioral rules that were fairly standard and obvious, at least to 592. Essentially, be quiet and accept whatever happens.

Her first posting was a bit of a disappointment. Handlers put her and a dozen other girls into a special contraption that enclosed them except for their legs and asses. Her best asset weren’t even accessible! Inside the contraption, there were plastic nipples for water and some kind of nutritious slurry that was bland but edible; otherwise it was dark and silent except for the breathing of the women. A fan gave them some comfort. The whole thing was hooked to a motorized hauler and pulled to its destination: a construction zone.

592’s thighs burned at first from the unusual position, but otherwise the contraption had padding and handholds that helped her rest in between sessions as construction workers came to relieve their stress on the service wagon. Still, she strived to please as customers began mounting her, using her best abilities to help them come to completion. Comparing the grunts from the other girls, she thought she was doing well as the day went with only a few periods of rest for her.

“I must be popular!” she thought as another man took his time fucking her from behind. Every hour, someone would hose them down and sweep away offal, and at the end of the day they were taken back to the Bureau where they were washed in a communal shower and rubbed down with brushes.

592 fell fast asleep, satiated from a hearty meal, and happy after a full day of activity. Her dreams were all full of anticipation for tomorrow.

The next morning there was some commotion in the Bureau with handlers rushing about like chickens. 592 and several other girls had to wait in holding while some emergency was sorted. Bored, they teased each other, so 592 was still lapping at the cunt of one the others when the handlers suddenly appeared. Once they were untangled she was corralled into a meeting room where several important looking officials were gathered.

“Here are some of our freshest,” one handler announced. A grey haired man in a suit examined the women as they stood nervously.

“Have them come up one at a time for examination,” the official ordered. When it was 592’s turn he spun her around, touching her in various sensitive areas. “Nice chest, nice ass.” He slapped her belly. “Might want to keep an eye on her caloric intake though. She’ll do, add her to the replacement list.”

592 clapped her hands in glee as she was lined up with five other girls who had passed the inspection. They were bent over and the other executives took turns shagging them. The grey haired man merely took notes. 592 was forced to kneel while the man who had fucked her came into her mouth. She swallowed it all, just like her compatriots. She gave the executive a sloppy grin.

“Not bad,” grey hair announced. “Get them washed up and sign them over to shipping.”

A handler rounded the happy women along into another room where they were processed for shipment, bar codes read off of their necks. He was a nice enough fellow who offered the curious women some information, “A delivery to the Headquarters had an accident. Sadly, there were some losses in the shipment, so you will be replacing them.” He snapped delivery tags onto their collars and patted them on their rears. He winked at 592, “I was hoping to see more of you, 592, but looks like the executives will have that enjoyment, good luck.” She grinned at the compliment. The whole group was getting excited so they fingered each other to completion while waiting for their truck.

771 seemed giddy, “I wonder which executive branch will get us? This is an opportunity of a lifetime. I never expected to move out of this backwater so soon. Straight to the capitol! I can’t believe it. Maybe even the big bosses themselves will be using us!”

The delivery driver, a greasy older man with denim overalls and pot belly, checked them into his truck. He had noticed the exchange, “There’s a good chance you’ll get installed in the Main Hall, where the Senate meets. They just ordered a big renovation, and I’m guessing you lot will be going in as part of that. Bit of a rush job, I hear.”

They all practically came again.

They were loaded onto a box truck and belted into seats installed in the storage area. A chemical toilet was located on one end plus some metal lockers that held jugs of water and other sundries since it would be a long drive to the capitol.

The driver said, “There are pills for nausea and to help you sleep. Dildos are in the marked box. Just dispose of any used items in the refuse, please, I like to keep a clean truck. There will be rest stops and I can service you gals at that time. If there is an emergency, bang on the cab wall and I will come back and check on you.” With that, he slammed the rear doors shut. It was dim inside but the roof was made of tarp that let in daylight and vents allowed for circulation though it quickly became stuffy. The toilet stank but they soon became inured to it.

A couple girls did get a bit green during the long drive but they all settled in for the most part. At one of the rest stops, the driver let them out for a bit to stretch. It was an overcast day somewhere out in the countryside that was unfamiliar to them: unidentifiable rolling hills that stretched as far as they could see with no landmarks except the narrow strip of road. None of them had ever traveled this far from their home district. The road itself was mostly empty except for other cargo vehicles. Some of them honked as they passed but did not stop.

The rest area was no more than a rusty shed which had a lavatory and supplies, plus barrels of fuel stacked in chained area. An attendant appeared with a fuel hose that he quickly attached. Behind the shed, a pump motor began working noisily. The women waited while sitting on their haunches or on the bare concrete, trying to avoid the oily patches.

Once the refueling was done, the driver waved the attendant over. Smartly, the women began preparing themselves, using spit to lubricate their loins. Always good to prime the pump, 592 smirked.

Both men took turns with the girls, who were spread before them on their hands and knees. 592 was impressed by their endurance. Soon, they were all sweaty in the afternoon sun as the slap of flesh against flesh reverberated across the concrete for quite a while. The men seemed pleased by her performance, as she timed her pelvis to their thrusts and squeezed down appropriately with her muscles. Some competitive spirit must have been aroused, as the others in her group began to put more effort into their ministrations.

592 giggled as she licked cum off the sweaty side of one of the girls who wasn’t quite sated as yet. She used her tongue to finish the woman off, her moans indicating approval. This set off another round of randy thrusting and gleeful fondling as the group found fresh amusement in each other. The grey boredom of the long road trip finally seemed to dissolve as the smell of sweat and sex wafted across the tiny lot.

At the end of it, their hands and knees were bruised by the rough concrete and the small pebbles strewn across the surface. The attendant, now completely naked, swaggered off to grab a long hose with which he splashed water on himself and then on the soiled band of wares. The thirsty women drank the cool water greedily from the hoses mouth, mimicking the way they had just recently sucked at his, now quite sated, member.

Wearing only a stained shirt, the driver went into the little shack that represented the station’s little shop from which he reappeared with an odd assortment of traveler’s snacks in two fistfuls of sacks. He tossed them on the ground before the women, who hungrily grabbed at the various items. The attendant finally brought out some old blankets and cushions for them to sit on while resting under a corrugated metal awning. 592 wished he had done this earlier but didn’t express this complaint.

592 gnawed on some kind of jerked meat. The driver sprawled beside her, absently fondling her tits as he ate a processed meat stick of some sort. The weather was quite pleasant and the landscape much greener than her home. Inside the truck, she had not been able to see much of the countryside that they were traversing, although it was clear that they were now deep into some rural, undeveloped, region. She couldn’t hear the familiar noises of a city, only the breezy wind, rustling of tree limbs, and the cries of distant animals of a type she was not familiar.

Once she was full, she rested her head on the driver’s belly, toying with his shriveled dick with a finger. One of the girls approached. She was a thin lass with long, vagrant hair that needed either to be cut or properly groomed, yet the look did much to match the wild grin the girl gave 592 as she gestured. It took a moment for her to grasp that she wanted a lesson on fellatio.

Trying to stifle giggles, they took turns with the half-tumescent member of the driver who seemed pleased with the development. His foreskin was already sticky again with leakage, so 592 gently peeled it back to expose the reddened crown. As it complied and grew, she took him into her mouth, eyeing the girl to make sure she was observing carefully. Once it was engorged and stiff once more, she deep throated his lengthy spear, saliva spilling from the sides of her mouth. The girl couldn’t quite succeed but the lesson continued until the driver pushed them away, his sensitive cock pulsing to yet another climax, although only a thin stream of semen trickled out.

Once everyone appeared to be finished, the remnants of food and drink were cleared away. The driver settled into nap, a cloth draped over his eyes, right on the spot with his naked legs still sprawled halfway onto the concrete. 592 huddled with the girl on his lap. She absently pecked at her cheek until they both fell asleep.

When she awoke with a start, it was late afternoon, the shadows having grown long. She had been awoken once again to the familiar sounds of slapping flesh as the attendant happily took turns assessing the various wares of the docile group.

The hose was turned on them once more, though the evening wind now chilled them. Dried off with musky old blankets, they were herded back into the truck. The driver finally hitched up his pants and shook hands with the other man who waved them off with a happy grin.

Soon, darkness fell and nothing could be seen in the pitch blackness. After a long while, the machine ground to a halt. 592 heard the driver slam the door closed. Although she could barely make out his form in the near total gloom, she knew it was the heavyset man who grunted as he climbed into the bed of the truck, its shocks creaking from his weight. This time he was not interested in sex, except for some haphazard fondling, he gathered up a blanket and fell into an exhausted slumber amidst the women.

When morning came, they had huddled together from the night chill. Half-awake, the driver had rolled over and slipped inside one of them. They grunted noisily until the squeaking of the truck had woken the whole group, who stretched and passed each other a jug of water that had been saved for such an occasion. After he was finished, he grunted, pointing, and two of them used their mouths to clean both his slippery cock and the trickling secretions from his morning partner’s crotch.

He took a sip of water and crawled out. The truck started up again, but the drive was much shorter this time. He gesticulated at them to exit, lowering the back guard and then helping them out in almost gentlemanly fashion. They were parked behind a massive grey building in a loading area. Their truck was too small for the docking slip so he had parked off to one side so they could be inventoried by a new man, a short fellow wearing a one piece uniform with the words Maintenance and Engineering stitched across his front lapel as well as across his back. He looked bored as he trudged forward to meet the driver. Forms were signed, bar codes scanned, and the driver went off without as much as a backward glance. The maintenance man was also short on words, merely grunting and gesturing.

They were herded up a ramp into the cool interior of the building. Awed by the impressive solidity of the place, hewn from what appeared from solid stone and marble, the group allowed themselves to be led across what seemed like acres of polished floor.

There were icons of people they did not recognize carved in relief all over the massive walls and supporting columns. At one point, they hesitated, stunned by the gilded atrium that towered above them into a circular dome. The maintenance man shooed them forward, impatient to get his job done.

Soon they were at another level. The maintenance man used a master key to open a heavy oak door with golden fixtures. 592 hadn’t known what to expect but she quickly realized that they had entered the most lavish lavatory she had ever seen. There were marble counters with wash basins filled with elegant streams of water cascading down stepped channels carved into the walls. The splashing sounded like gentle laughter. Pleasing scents were misted from hidden nozzles, as well as soothing music from hidden speakers. The vast chamber was warmly lit. Several private booths, each big enough to be a small office, were lined up along one side. On the other were complicated looking devices and accessories that they could not comprehend.

It was to this wall that they were taken. Another maintenance man had been waiting, a toolbox open on the floor beside him. He said, “Ah, finally. Any more delay and we’d be shipped ourselves to some poke-water hole to clean septic tanks. Nice batch you got there.”

592 piped up, “Oh, we get to serve here as bathroom attendants?”

771 clapped her hands, “Sweet. I always wanted to polish a Senator’s knob!”

The small maintenance man snorted, showing some animation for the first time, “You’re quite misinformed, lassies. This here is our new urinal system, within which we will be installing you.”

“What!” 771 squawked. The man pulled her up to the first unit, a ceramic thing with complicated piping and molding; however, it became clear it was shaped to take a human form. A silver mask was placed over her face. Her torso, including genitals, were exposed but her limbs otherwise restrained inside the smooth device that looked more like some kind of art piece than a functional piece of toiletry.

“Hey, give it a whirl,” the man pointed to the other man, who used some tools to adjust settings and valves. One he felt he was ready, he unzipped and began pissing onto the body of the helpless 771. The mask hid any sign of complaint.



Another girl was strapped into the next unit, this one setup so her upper face was enclosed behind a ceramic portrait of some ancient Madonna that also served to keep her head trapped. She was placed so that her body was in a sitting posture, legs splayed so that the man could stand in between and piss into her mouth. Each space had a unique design.

When it was 592’s turn, she was placed lying down backwards with head folded back under the floor so that only her torso could be seen as it was stretched on an angled surface. Her legs were spread and clamped down into the wall. In this way, the man could urinate all across her body and the fluid would trickle down until it pooled in area around her head until it was flushed. Ingeniously, her mouth was exposed to the drainage area but not her nostrils and eyes, which was some comfort. All the women had their eyes and ears covered so that they could not spy on the private conversations of the Senators or their guests, not that they really cared. It was more of a formality in this case.

A bit disappointed at first, 592 settled into her new life as a urinal fixture. There were breaks, and the maintenance men took turns servicing them every day. After hours, they slept in a dormitory located in a nearby facility accessible via an underground tunnel (they were not allowed to interact with the business of the administration).

During one break, 771 sighed. She was still installed in her position, but the mask removed so she could talk. The cleaning crew was mopping the floors. One of them had taken a shine to 771 and liked to fuck her during his shift. “Maybe someday we’ll get promoted to the Capitol Service Bureau?”

“Sure honey,” the man lied as he groped her. He had hosed her down already but apparently he didn’t mind the lingering smells.

592 was a bit jealous, since she had no regular of her own. The maintenance man had let her out on this occasion so he could shag her on top of the marble counters, which was probably against some regulation but no one in the room would snitch. 592 was a bit wiser, she said, “We’re not going anywhere, are we?”

The man shrugged, “I’ve been here ten years and you’re just the latest group. They renovate every couple years, after that…who knows? But let’s just say there isn’t much demand for used toilets in the capitol.”

A little teary eyed, 592 tried to give an amiable grin, just like old times, and shuddered when he ejaculated inside. The marble felt cold and immutable under the flesh of her back as he pulled away. Letting her head fall under the dancing waters of the washing basin, she let the cool liquid splash across her face. She couldn’t tell if the sound was that of her own laughter or the chuckling of the water as it bounced across the channels and returned down the drain to whence it came.

The End.