I pulled the door open. As it swung wide and opened up into the ground floor I was beheld by a sea of one-eyed snakes, hissing menacingly and slithering around on either side of the hall. What's more was the bare-naked snake tamers strangling each of their prospective pets into place, holding them firmly outstretched toward the aisle waiting for the moment they might spit their venom into my face.
This would be enough. It HAD to be enough. Levi had organized a literal bukkake in the basement for me and very well may have saved my soul in tandem with it. I stepped into the hall and let the door give my ass a slap of encouragement on the way in. A few of the guys accidentally came on the floor in front of them at my reveal, turning bright red as the ones next to them laughed and prodded them about it. I was going to have to work fast if they were all this sensitive to what was happening.
I dropped to my knees, and the first boy had been ready for me. The moment my lips made contact with the head of his penis he was already bursting through the center seam of his cock. Thick, gelatinous, and so incredibly warm to the tongue and cheek. The men in line were stroking the dicks in preparation as I crawled from the first guy to the next in line.
Whatever this was that Levi had organized. It was working. Snake after snake, noodle after noodle, down the assembly line of shifters I went. I'd stopped momentarily at the seventh man down in order to lick up the cum that had been expelled onto the floor only to find that the act itself was resulting in more of them prematurely ejaculating onto the floor. They just couldn't help themselves. How could they not hold out until it was their turn to have my mouth? Was it really so hard?
'Well, yes, I suppose that was part of the problem.'
Because of the risk of losing more fluid to my archnemesis, Miss Le Concrete', I had decided on only lip to dick contact as my strategy of attack. Most of the boys were being good and when I'd reached the ones who'd spoiled their treatment, all I saw in their faces were regret and embarrassment. Some of them had trace quantities of what I interpreted as determination, where in their minds I think they were choosing to focus on catching up during my second lap.
About thirty-eight men down I crawled into Gabe. His stature was a direct representation of his appendage. Short and stout. By God was it girthy. Standing only two inches fully erect, but just shy of the width of a can of cola I discovered that people really could "cum" in all shapes and sizes. I giggled at my own pun. Looking back upward I watched as the initial smile of enthusiasm on Gabe's face was now draining.
He thought I was laughing at him. Why was my timing always so absurd? It was as if the universe were trying to tell me I was always meant to be a professional asshole.
"Nuh, not you, Gabe," I said, "I was just thinking of something else."
Enthusiasm had paved way to shame, but at the unsolicited mention of his name began to lay the foundations for skepticism. He recoiled away to the point I was afraid he might melt into the wall. Then he turned tail and ran down the hall. He hadn't made it very far before slipping on someone's ejaculate that Miss Le Concrete' had claimed. The entire hallway erupted in a roar of laughter and malice. Naked, now covered in someone else's cum, and possibly hurt from the fall; Gabe walked down to the last room of the hall, retrieved his things and a towel, and left.
The entire ordeal was already physically exhausting; must it have also been emotionally taxing as well? His storming out had interrupted to flow of "essence" as Kabo may very well have called it. It took nearly a full minute for me to re-center my emotions and move onto the following boy. I couldn't afford hiccups like this.
The remainder of the night was a blur of snowfall, bleaching of my black undergarments to white, and figurative swimming in a sea of human potential. It got in my hair, on my face, on my breasts, and even on my ass and back from the one's directly behind me who couldn't wait their turn.
The entire event was a masterclass in physical endurance and by the time I'd made it back to my floor I was completely exhausted, bruised on the knees, and crusty/sticky to the point of a much needed and well-deserved bath.
All that would play in the resigned cabinetry of my mind was, 'The Fitness Dick in my Mouth Pacing Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets harder as more dicks are introduced. The single gallon quota request will begin in thirty seconds. Line up at the start.'
Then images of so many penises and sweaty, hot ass naked bodies shoulder to shoulder in a cramped hallway.
'If you fail to complete a lap and fulfill your daily quota, your test is over. Please proceed directly to Hell.'
Then, nothing. I'd fallen asleep in the tub.