James stopped at the food court to grab a burger on his way to the arcade on his break. He was still munching it as he stepped into the strange, dark world of Buck-A-Fuck, starting down the center aisle looking for a vacant right-side-up mouth.

They had recently remodeled the arcade. Everything – the stations, the walls, ceiling, and vinyl floor – were all matte black with only dim lights in the aisles. Every second station on each side of the aisle presented an ass, thrust through and trapped in place by the large openings built into the wall. In the unoccupied stations, small but brilliant spotlights focused on the available holes from above and below to show what was on offer, twin spheres of flesh framing the welcoming slits and puckers, their skin seeming to glow in the darkened room. The holes glistened with lube.

The mouth holes also had spotlights, but as the girls were allowed to move their heads when not occupied there was rarely much to see other than a bit of hair or perhaps a cheek. The touchscreen above each unoccupied hole displayed the same bold announcement: ‘Welcome To Buck-a-Fuck: For All Your Feminine Needs.’ The mouth station displays also held little right-side up or upside-down face symbols, to show whether the girl was on her back or on her stomach.

In the old arcade, Holes, you never saw any of the girl. You just stuck your cock into a hole in the half-height box and pushed a button for mouth, cunt, or ass, and the girl inside took care of you. It was really quite ghetto compared to this new system, but James liked it better because it felt more like a cock-massage. Now you had to do most of the work.

The new sound-dampening privacy panels that separated the stations helped to contain all the different streams of porn that the other guys were watching, but they were still far from 100% effective, so the room was a riot of muffled gasps, grunts, groans, and obscene dialog.

James always started with a right-side-up mouth. The ‘sunny side up’ ones were good if you wanted your balls lapped or just wanted to fuck the shit out of a passive, defenseless throat – having her head tipped back like that made it so much more comfortable to go balls deep because it was a nice straight channel all the way in – but just as she was helpless to avoid you taking your pleasure however deep and hard you wanted, neither could she do very much to give you pleasure. For James, that meant he wanted a mouth that would do all the work. He always started right-side up.

Even from the end of the aisle you could see the backs of guys standing in various stations along both sides. The rows of stations that stretched down the aisle alternated in a predictable pattern of sunny-side up mouth, sunny-side up ass, right-side up mouth, right-side up ass, rinse and repeat. James could see that the third and seventh stations on both sides were occupied so he turned left to try the usually less busy outer aisle, where the other ends of the girls in the center aisle stuck out. Success: there was a guy was just stepping out of number four, his prong wagging as he went in search of a new sensation.

As James stepped between the privacy flaps, the box and screen automatically raised a couple of inches until the hole was right at his cock height. Okay, that was a huge improvement over the one-height-fits-none of the old arcade.

He had to wait half a minute for the cleanser dildo to finish its cycle, sucking the used sanitizer rinse out of the mouth inside the hole. It paused for a few moments and James could hear the girl inside greedily sucking as much of the joy syrup as she could get. As he waited, an advertisement played, which he paid only half-attention to.

Soylent’s new Performance Plus is a highly nutritious and hydrating joy syrup that will let you maximize gloryhole productivity by minimizing down-time.
Performance Plus is specially formulated for the carefree, set-and-forget design of modern automat-style arcades. It is a complete nutrition system and 100% absorbed in the small intestines, so bowels are always clean and ready. There is never any unsightly waste. Performance Plus contains both curatives and preventatives to allow your Customer Service Representatives to work a productivity-optimized 16x7 schedule indefinitely.
No need to worry about the loss of appetite that often accompanies the rebelliousness, severe depression, or mind-breaking; the double-dose of Soylent’s patented Nic-o-ddict is so highly addictive that even the most brain-fried Customer Service Representative will always be eager for her next squirt.
Perfect for normalizing oral environments after astringent sanitizing rinses, Performance Plus joy syrup is now available in two viscosities, regular Synthi-Saliva and our new, thicker ‘E-Z-Glide’ formula which forms a long-lasting coating on oral surfaces for the extra smooth, vaginal sensation many customers prefer.
Performance Plus is competitively priced because it does not contain any costly aphrodisiacs or neuro-retardants. The wonderful advances in the modern automat design means the emotional state or enthusiasm of any Customer Service Representative is completely irrelevant, so why waste money?
Performance Plus: making arcades worry-free.

As he waited, James unzipped the fly of his work uniform and pulled out his cock so it was hanging free, limp but ready. He had another bite of burger.

For all your feminine needs, the porn screen said. Horseshit, he thought. James had a great number of ‘feminine needs’ that were not being met by the disembodied orifices of the arcade. Still, while he could dream about buying a gorgeous young virgin whore of his own, skinny as a rail with implants so enormous she was unable to walk, this is what he could afford. He considered himself fortunate that arcades were now so cheap that even a guy like him working minimum wage could afford all the ass and pussy he could ever want.

Once the cleansing dildo had finally withdrawn, he tapped his credstick against the sensor, exchanging some money for ten minutes of fun. For James, the second-strongest advantage Buck-A-Fuck had over the old Holes arcade was the new lower price. The actual strongest one was how you were now allowed to move around, using as many holes as you wanted in the time you bought.

The transaction beeped complete, the display changed to a menu of vid feeds with his girlfriend Elsa at the top of the list, and the access bars at knee and gut height retracted so he could move up and press his belly against the rubber membrane. His cock and balls disappeared through the fist-sized hole. Okay, the new rubber walls were also a vast improvement over the old hard plastic ones, too.

Lips wrapped around the head of his cock. A tongue lifted it, and lips reached out and drew him in, enveloping his in soft warmth. The tongue stretched out and began to lick his balls. He selected his girl on the screen.

Mmmm, Elsa. Fucking exquisite. This was the girl. The one he would buy if he was rich. A tiny little thing, with a flawlessly tight little body, stunningly beautiful face, a beautifully rounded little butt, and massive saggy sacks of titmeat that sloshed up and down her tiny chest as James sawed in and out of her willing mouth.

James pushed the ‘Medium’ and ‘Hand’ buttons to let the whore in the box know what he wanted.

Out of habit he also tried the ‘Unsatisfactory’ button, but it did not light; they rarely did. If one of the Quality Assurance testers came by for a routine assessment and felt she was not performing adequately, he would activate it so that customers could encourage her to try harder in the form of particularly unpleasant electrical stimulation applied directly to her nipples. Since certain people tended to abuse the button when it was enabled – James, for instance – the buttons were almost never active. A tune-up of even a few hours could keep a ‘customer service representative’ doing her best for many months, eagerly sucking every hose presented to her as if it belonged to a QA.

There was a job! How the fuck does a guy get to be a QA? James knew he would be far better at that than he was selling luggage.

On the vid screen above, some old guy and Elsa sat atop a bed fit for a honeymoon suite. The man made a gesture with his hand, and she obediently got on her hands and knees on the aqua satin sheets. The guy knelt behind her and tried to mount her, but he was still soft. He gave her a slap on the ass and said something that had her crawling around to use her mouth to restiffen him. Seeing her mouthing that wizened cock, slobbering like a nympho whore, brought the romantic out in James.

He had first seen Elsa few months ago one night when he was watching the auctions on TV. It was frustrating watching all those naked pieces of sex-meat being auctioned off at prices that meant he would never be able to own a pussy of his own, not even the ugliest, oldest, most broken down perma-gaped cavern, but he still watched.

Everybody watched. Most guys said they just liked looking at the fresh meat, but James was honest enough with himself to admit that what he liked was the drama. He loved it when they cried. He loved it when he could see the abject shame on their faces as they were forced to pose naked in various lewd positions. He didn’t know why he liked it, but he did. His favorite was when they were seated in the gyno-chair and the automated stirrups separated, forcing the girls’ thighs far apart so the entire nation could get a close-up view of their holes. Lots of them didn’t care, but if they were going to break down, that was what usually got to them.

And then this little blonde angel was brought on stage, her hands manacled behind her back, tears pouring down her sobbing cheeks to glisten her little A-cup titties. It was kind of love-at-first-sight for James. So young, so sweet, so miserable, and the biggest dangling piss-flaps he had ever seen. The auctioneer made a big deal of the fact that just yesterday she had been too young to be enslaved and that today, one day later, she was all grown up and the birthday girl’s unspoiled holes could be legally owned by some lucky Master.

She had such beautiful, delicate features when she had first been purchased. Now, her face had enormous balloon-lips. They looked ridiculous, but James liked his women looking ridiculous, so they worked for him.

James pushed the ‘No Hand’ button; wouldn’t want to get off to soon.

It made James happy to see that Elsa had been bought by FemCorp, his arcology. She felt closer to him. There was something almost intimate about knowing that what he was watching on the screen was happening just a few stories above him. For a while she would be kept upstairs, probably either given to one of the executives as part of their compensation package or rented by the hour to men who could afford top-quality whores. But it gave him hope. It was the nature of corporate owned ‘wives’ for there to be a very good chance that, sometime in the not too-distant future, it would be Else’s faceless holes he would be pumping in and out of in Buck-A-Fuck. Not that he would know or care, but still, he was a bit of a romantic.

The old guy was gripping her ponytail and using it as a handle to guide Elsa’s head on and off his cock. Without realizing he was doing it, James had started to fuck the mouth in the hole, so the whore inside had stopped moving and was simply pressing her open lips out of the hole in the rubber, passively available for him to use.

James had actually left work early the night Elsa lost her virginity so he could watch the live feed in the Buck-A-Fuck. Being able to share that special moment with her in a live feed made him feel even closer to her.

Having been purchased by FemCorp, she was forced to go through the televised auction process all over again on FemCorp’s Got Talent to determine who her first customer would be.

James liked the lotteries, too, and often bought a ticket, but since he had never won he was delighted that Elsa’s hymen, clearly visible on the extreme close-up, was auctioned off to the highest bidder; while he could see the humor of giving those beautiful virgins’ maidenheads to some random plebian like him, there was a drama to watching an innocent young girl being auctioned to the highest bidder. It really appealed to him.

The winner had taken his prize by the hand and led her to the Love Suite where the action was caught on camera from numerous angles with close-ups of the penetration and the look on her face. There was even slo-mo replay with commentators in suits discussing the finer points of the action.

One commentator, the mean one – there was always a mean one – said she was a boring whore, that she neither cried nor loved it, but James agreed with the female commentator who argued the girl had just been more subtle, but just as emotional. That there was an exquisite beauty to seeing how hard the girl had to fight to not cry.

They had rerun the close-up of her face in ultra slo-mo so James could savor the distress on the girl’s face, the way she bit her lip, the way her chin quivered, the way her angelic face scrunched in pain at the moment of penetration. So beautiful, really; very touching.

He had that scene saved in his favorites and had rewatched it dozens of times, and each time he felt his heart break at her distress. His poor, sweet angel was being heartlessly raped by the highest bidder; how could that not turn you on?

It was intimate moments like that that made James feel he really understood Elsa, that he was not like all the other guys, both in real life and on-line, who just used her to get off but would never know the real girl.

Of course, six months ago it had been some little Asian whore at some other arcology that he had been ‘seeing’, but she had been sold or sent to an arcade or something and now he was ‘seeing’ Elsa. This time it was different. James really understood Elsa.

Where most men would just see a wanton whore so voracious for cock that she was clearly eager to gobble this old man’s dick until her nose was buried in a nest of grey hair, James knew it was just an act, a testament to her slave training. Because James had watched her training over the months, had watched the sad, resistant girl learn from punishments and rewards to hide own feelings beneath the persona of the cookie-cutter, eager sex-thing that all the men wanted.

But James knew that girl was still in there. That moment’s hesitation when the old guy told her to lick his balls, the fraction of a second she took to close her eyes and gather herself before diving to lap the ugly, dangling, chicken-skinned sack. Elsa still hated her life as a sex-slave as much as that first night. That was a secret only James knew, the secret that made their relationship so real for him.

Whenever he went to the arcade he always first checked to see if Elsa was on-line; he would have felt unfaithful to her if he had watched some other whore getting fucked if Elsa was being used.

The girl was on her hands and knees, now, the huge sacks of her breasts swinging pendulously below her, the huge brown stains of her areolae brushing the sheets. James preferred the impossible gravity-defying perfection of implants, but the current fad seemed to be for skinny girls with ‘naturally’ titanic udders, grown with bovine hormones so they had the sag, and more importantly the sloshing movement, of the natural.

The little thing must have been receiving huge dosages of the hormones, because in the few months since her purchase her perfect little champagne glass A-cups had swollen into monstrous hanging sacks, each one twice the size of her head. Standing, they hung well past her navel. Not the perfect double-bubble spheres James liked, but still, there was just something so very hot about turning a normal little teenage girl into a man’s obscene caricature of a woman.

There was just something so pleasingly simple about grading women solely on the size of their mammary glands. It was kind of a win/win scenario. All women could be neatly slotted into two categories: inadequately small, or ‘an obscene fucking cow’. Both were worthy of his derision, so both made James happy.

Of course, once you decide that bigger is better there was no logical end until your girl was so ridiculously, impossibly huge that she could no longer properly function as a human being and had been reduced to merely a monstrous set of tits with three warm holes attached. James was very hopeful that that was where his sweet Elsa was going.

Slowly sliding in and out of the unseen mouth, he was imagining what his girl would look like maximized. Two twenty-pound bags of meat, so heavy she could barely lift them on her own, a prisoner of her own female body. It was a fashion FemCorp had been promoting for over a year and James, for one, really liked it.

It made him a little sad that not only would his love never have the perfection of giant spherical implants, but that her breasts were not growing nicely in the big, full watermelon shape that brought top-dollar in the resale market. The more they grew, the more they were stretching into a distinctly tear-drop shape, like socks with large balls at the end, the kind that could eventually stretch to her knees. The fact that he stayed true to her despite her ugly tits was a sign of his commitment.

The old guy was gliding a lubed finger in and out of her tight butthole. James tapped the screen to the view of her face; it was a breathtaking vision of suppressed fear and disgust. “Poor baby,” he muttered compassionately. She hated anal sex and would cry every time; it was one of her quirks that made her so loveable. He felt so bad for her, knowing how difficult this would be.

The old guy took his place behind her and a moment later her face suddenly melted in a glorious display of pain, humiliation, and tears.

James quickly hit “Stop” and just rested in the unmoving mouth, throbbing, not wanting to get off too early.

Impossible. Even without moving, watching his angel’s trauma was going to make him blow. Summoning all his reserves of willpower, he backed away from the hole. His cock stood achingly ready.

James leaned back a bit. He could see that the station on his left was unoccupied, so he stepped into it.

Dark meat. A big brown ass splayed open before him, her lower legs sticking up, the rest of her enclosed unseen within the walls of the station. The huge spheres of brown flesh framed a bald, black vulva and black sphincter. The cunt had large black lips that were parted to show the inviting pink tunnel within. If you had any preferences about race, the arcades quickly taught you that they are all the same color on the inside. At least this girl’s lips were what he used to consider large before he met his dear Elsa and her hateful-big ‘roast beef curtains’. Elsa’s made this one look almost petite. Both holes were cleaned, lubed, and ready for use.

When he had been at work thinking about this noon-time fun, he had been looking forward to that lovely tight-ring grip of impaling an asshole, but now the little pink glistening cunthole looked really inviting, offering all the full-cock sensations that only a pussy could give.

A tap of his credstick told the machinery that he still had almost four minutes left. The access bars retracted and the display automatically switched to the scene he had been watching. He stepped forward and, in one smooth thrust, buried the length of his cock into the warm slippery hole.

Mmmm, wet pussy. Yeah, good call. He liked the tight grip of an asshole as much as the next guy, but there was nothing quite as good as sliding into a lube-slicked cocksheath and feeling it massage the entire length of your prong.

He turned his attention back to his lover on the screen, and thought that if he owned a girl like Elsa he’d never leave her cunt. Elsa was blubbering, snot running out of her nose while the old guy plowed her shithole. James loved that she hated anal so much but still made herself endure it.

Just a few seconds of that and James started wondering if this time he should let himself come. He still had more than three minutes left.

Then the old guy gave a couple of decisive final thrusts, paused a moment, and then walked away and started dressing. The screen switched back to the main menu.

Well, shit.

Try to find something else worth watching? He could easily waste all his remaining time and find nothing. He went to NightVision. The screen was filled with the eerie green image of a woman’s face, mouth open and ready. Most of the mouths in this arcade had Welcome dentures. James really appreciated that.

Welcomes were fairly new, only really becoming common now that degrading slaves was becoming increasingly popular. The molars of Welcomes were extended so the woman could never close her jaw completely. The look really did say “welcome” to James, and apparently to many other men, as half the slave women in the arcology now walked around with their mouths hanging open by a cock’s width, many of them not even wearing the dentures.

He hated them as customers because he could never understand a word they said, but that was a small price to pay for a mall full of women walking around with their mouths open and ready for cock.

But in an arcade? Welcomes were very high-end. The true genius of Welcome dentures were the front teeth. They looked real, though a little too white, but were made of supple silicone rubber so when you pushed into them they bent and stretched around your cock, making a mouth feel more like a cross between a pussy and an asshole than any toothed hole could.

The woman’s eyes stared blankly up, her pupils huge in the darkness of her prison.

Unless you were doing something to cause them real discomfort, they usually had this same blank look. Beyond simply bored, it was the look of nothing at all, of being alone with her thoughts so long that she no longer had thoughts, no longer felt, of having been fucked by so many unseen men for so long that she barely noticed that out there in the world someone was fucking her. Sometimes it turned him off to see how little the occupant felt about what he was doing. Other times, though, he quite enjoyed seeing the whore in her private little hell while he took his pleasure.

Today, however, with just three minutes left on the clock, he wanted to see her feel it. He pulled out of her gash and plunged straight into the dark pucker of her shithole, all in a single violent thrust. Her eyes opened wide at that! She was too well trained to make any noise, but she was biting her lip as he started thumping into her asshole. It was a little loose. Not gaped, but neither did it have that nice tight grip of a fresh hole.

See, this was the real problem with the arcades. When you were only paying the bare minimum amount of money you could, the arcade did not bother to maintain the holes properly. How difficult could it be to keep these damned holes tightened up? They had the technology, they just don’t bother using it on the arcade girls.

The red circle in the top corner of his screen lit, telling him that someone was going to be using her mouth. Fuck, not now!

Her head snapped back, pulled by some mechanism, and all he could see was her green throat and chin while a cock entered the top of the screen to slide into her face. James rammed hard into her asshole, making her lurch onto the other guy’s cock. “You watching this, buddy?” He said. He eased his cock out so only the tip was still buried and again rammed it home, hoping the guy was watching the side-cam close-up of his cock stretching the poor girl’s hoop. James could tell from the lump that throbbed in the girl’s throat that the guy was all the way in. And he stayed there.

And he stayed there some more.

And he stayed there even longer, and only then did James realize he was going to tilt her, all while James fucked the shit out of her asshole. Sure enough, the guy did not withdraw. The girl started floundering, panicking, helplessly skewered between the two impaling cocks.

There was something of a bonding moment you felt with a guy, even an unknown stranger, when you were both pounding the hell out of the same girl. James pushed the ‘High Five!’ button. A moment later, his screen flashed the big yellow high five hand symbol too.

And still the guy stayed there. Her ass was bouncing around as she struggled, desperate for air, but the straps held her down too securely. There was no risk of her bucking James out, so no risk of escaping the two cocks utterly destroying her from both sides.

After a minute or so the ass suddenly stopped all movement and the word ‘Tilt’ flashed on the screen. He never knew why it said ‘Tilt’, but that meant the girl inside had tripped the dead-man switch that monitored whether she was conscious or not. Throat-fuck a girl too long and too deep and you tilted, and the access bars came out to force you out of her mouth. They would not retract again until she regained consciousness. The electrodes on her nipples would now be providing some fairly unpleasant stimulation to bring her around as quickly as possible, but until she did the guy who had tilted her could not start a new session at a different station, so most people tried to avoid it.

At her other end, however, James was welcome to continue using her, and the fact that he was fucking an unconscious body was just perverse enough to push him over the edge. He started pumping his load into the dark, insensible hole, tapping the ‘High Five!’ repeatedly, which sort of meant “Thanks, mate, I just came.”

Glancing at the clock, James saw he still had half a minute left, so rather than doing the post-squirt chill thing in her butt he pulled out, checked station four – occupied – and went into six. A tap of his cred stick gave him 17 seconds access to a mouth. Realizing he was still gripping the last of his cold burger, he shoved it into his mouth with a big, contented sigh, chewing while unseen lips obediently slurped his slimy cock clean.

“Okay, well maybe it satisfies most of my ‘feminine needs’”, he said as he zipped back up and headed back out into the mall.