We Love Her Fat Indian Pussy

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" So what do I owe you for this?" She waved her fork over the plate. "Not like I can reciprocate in kind." Well." Brody scooped some more pasta onto his plate. "How about the all-access backstage pass?" He got up and took the plates to the counter, waving off her offer of help. "I mean, I need the whole experience." He stopped and widened his eyes. "Hey, do you have groupies? Because that could be all kinds of fun."Ryan couldn't help but smile and shake her head. "Groupies wouldn't fit in the backstage area. Trust me, the band barely fits." And another bubble bursts." Brody told Ryan to go into the living room while he dealt with the dishes, and she did. She indulged herself and curled into the overstuffed sofa."I could probably fall asleep on this in no time flat," she said when he came out."Don't do that. We're going to watch something." We are?" You bet. No big revenge stories, though. This is something different. The most basic competition—man versus man. Who's the fastest? Who's. An identity tag, "Constable 70748, Margery Dennis," hung from her belt.James caught himself staring at her. He knew there would be trouble if she noticed. He looked down quickly, staring at the table.The woman that had arrested him and another plain clothes officer came into the cell and sat down opposite him.The second woman slipped a mini-disk into a box at one side of the table and flicked down a switch on. "Interview with suspect James Leonard. DI Collins and DS Haste interviewing. PC Dennis in attendance. Interview started at 21:05." Hello James," the second woman said. "I'm Inspector Collins. This is Detective Sergeant Haste. Do you know why you were arrested?" Yes, Inspector," James thought that the best approach would be to be as un-confrontational as possible. He knew from what others had said that there wasn't any point in suggesting they might like to let him get a lawyer; even if he knew one. "There were some magazines and papers found in my flat but I didn't..." One step.
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They were all female brain deads, all formerly attractive, all young and physically mature- I bet you can already see where this is going. They waz all nekked!It was a breeding facility, and Jimbo and I didn't know if it was 'governmental' or just a hobby farmer, but I for one didn't want to get volunteered for stud service. Although, I suppose they could harvest sperm from male brain dead- I cut that thought off right there, with a shudder. I am not very squeamish, but that squicked me.We were glad of signs of life, but didn't want to get caught up in that old shit. I wished them luck, trying to raise hundreds of babies. This place would not be good for Our Lady the Tiger. I can just imagine- Annoying stinky babies? Loud, too.We slunk away. I marked it on my map. I actually applauded the person doing this, a gene-conservation effort. I should have thought of it. I should have thought of letting the cats out. All I thought of was putting down the brain dead. I wasn't much of a leader,.

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