Community: The Drilling

Britta sucked hard on her joint. Greendale couldn’t even do an active shooter drill right. The whole thing had become yet another paintball fiasco, with the ‘shooters’ pretending they were possessed by aliens and everyone else forming a resistance… it was all a bit high-concept for her. She’d resolved to wait the whole thing out in a janitor’s closet, smoking jays and not getting any paint at all on her clothes.

The door swung open and memories so integral to Britta that they were practically racial swarmed her mind. “I’m not smoking weed, dad!” she protested to Annie as the girl charged into the closet, paintgun leveled.

Not that Britta recognized her at first, and it wasn’t all the THC. Annie was wearing some kind of gimp suit, skintight leather enclosing all of her body except for her head. And that teenage body could take the merciless tightness of her gimp suit. Britta felt herself going a little cross-eyed, staring at all that supple flesh, the full breasts, the long legs—nothing at all bloated or swollen, least of all that absolutely adorable face, which somehow became even cuter when it furrowed with disappointment.

“Britta! What are you doing? I could’ve been an active shooter! You think some crazed active shooter doesn’t know what marihuana smells like? It probably draws them like catnip! How can you not take this seriously?”

Britta coughed and waved some of the smoke away from her, though she was quickly irritated at herself for letting Annie psy-op her like that. “Grow up, Annie. Abed turned this all into some dumb Stargate cosplay and Jeff backed him up because he thought it was funny. Look at you, you’re dressed like Catwoman. How is that supposed to teach people about what to do if the school gets shot up?”

“I am committing to my character! That’s what it takes to make Greendale safe—commitment!”

Britta giggled. “Are you wearing underwear over your catsuit? That’s crazy!”

“It’s… nobody said I couldn’t! As long as it’s mostly black leather, I’m fine to play a Zyntharian. It’s not like you commented on my earrings!”

“I think I got you those, actually.” Britta sidled closer for a better look. “For Galentine’s Day, because I was working at the mall and got a discount?”

“Aw, Britta, you remembered… Look, I can maybe pretend I didn’t see you, but you’ve got to start taking this more seriously! No more devil weed! If you need counseling, or someone to drive you to rehab…”

Britta moved fast, suddenly grabbing the panties Annie wore and tearing them down her thighs. Annie shrieked and so did Britta as a massive erection spilled out into the open.

“Oh my God!”

“What is that!?”

“Why would you pants me?”

“What is that!”

“That is something Troy and Abed do with each other, okay, that is not something we do, we’re girls!”

“Where did you even find the money for an operation—”

Annie’s face darkened. “It’s not mine! Well, it’s mine, but it’s not attached! Okay, it’s attached, but it’s… it’s part of the suit, alright, and I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it, so I thought I’d just wear some underwear on the outside to cover it up.”

“You’ve been running around packing heat this whole time?” Britta’s eyebrows popped. “Damn, maybe I should’ve participated.”

“It’s not funny, Britta!” Annie tried to haul her panties up while keeping the gun on Britta. “This is the only black clothing item I could get on short notice—the owner of Dildopolis practically gave it to me for free…”

“Yeah, I can see why they thought you needed a sex toy.”

“Don’t be mean!” Annie hissed at her, giving up on the panties and entirely holding the gun on Britta. “I really want to be solidarity… solid… solidar… ious… with you, but you are not making it easy!”

“Relax, Annie—” Britta tried to hide a grin. “Maybe it’s just something Zyntharians have…”

Annie rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even read the campaign notes, do you? Only the priest caste has penises. You know what, fine, I’m just going to shoot you and get it over with—you can go home and hang out with your weed dealer. Where do you want it, huh? That blouse looks pretty cheap… you could use a new pair of jeans too…”

“Hey, come on now Annie, we’re friends…” Britta inched closer to Annie, reaching out to put a dainty finger on the gunbarrel and lower it. She knew Annie couldn’t resist some good Michael Jackson shtick. “What if I promise to start taking the Zyntharians seriously, huh, then what?”

“It’s too late for that!” Annie insisted, but she didn’t sound very certain.

Britta slid her arms warmly around Annie’s shoulders. “C’mon, don’t shoot me, I’m just starting to have fun with it. Can’t you just take me prisoner or something? We can hang out, kvetch a little… I’ll wear handcuffs… you have handcuffs right?”

“No—yes—they came with the suit.”

Britta pressed closer to Annie, sniffing her hair, pressing her own small breasts against Annie’s back. “Okay then… please, Mr. Zyntharian, don’t kill me… I’ll do anything…” She suppressed a little laugh; it was way too much fun, screwing with Annie when she was high. Gave her just enough tolerance for Annie’s bullshit to make it really worthwhile.

“Okay, I’ll take you prisoner. You can stop that now.”

“Thank you, Zyntharian Annie, I’m really grateful,” Britta cooed as she rubbed Annie’s stomach, her thighs, giggling as her hand squeaked on all the taut leather. A thought occurred to her. “Is this vegan leather?”

“No, but the store owner said the cow died of natural causes. And what are you doing?”

“Showing you how thankful I am. Don’t you know how horny Zyntharians make me?” Tittering, Britta took hold of the strap-on and squeezed it hard, eliciting a squeak from the girthy silicone as she twisted her hand around it.

“Hey, you’re gonna break it!” Annie groaned helplessly.

“Sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be careful with your equipment.” Britta slid to her knees submissively before Annie. The big strap-on loomed over her face. She stared up at it as though awestruck.

“Stop it, Britta!” Annie said weakly. “I did not give permission to handle my… thing. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to MeToo you!”

“Aww, Annie, don’t be like that. It’s just a fashion accessory, right?” Britta mewled playfully. “Like a barrette. You’d let me borrow a barrette, wouldn’t you?”

She moved her hand to the root of the dildo and popped the head of it between her lips. Britta had given enough blowjobs over the years that she could almost imagine the taste of drooling precum instead of the sterile, rubbery taste of the strap-on inside. She swiped her tongue along what would’ve been the glans of the dick, as though to lap up her first taste of male arousal.

“Hey!” Annie stared helplessly down at her friend, utterly unprepared for the sight of Britta seemingly going down on her—even if it was just a fashion accessory she was technically fellating. “Quit it, Britta, I am a Zyntharian warrior!”

Ignoring her protests, Britta wrapped her lips around the fullness of the dildo, making a tight collar the phallus couldn’t escape. Then she sucked so hard it was audible, caving her cheeks in to increase the pressure. It was a shame Annie couldn’t actually feel what Britta was doing—but then, if she could, this wouldn’t have been the game Britta was treating it as.

The truth was, part of the reason Britta wasn’t in the mood for more paintball was because she was drastically undersexed. And, while this was only her goofing off, pretending to blow Annie was quickly reminding Britta of how much she loved blowing guys. That good, salty taste… the warmth spreading through her cunt like it always did when she had a stiff cock in her mouth and she knew its next stop was in her pussy, or her ass if they were kinda metrosexual.

Britta gurgled and slurped noisily on the dildo, then started bobbing her head, fucking her own face since Annie wouldn’t do it for her, much as Britta might like that. Not from Annie specifically, of course, just from someone with an oversized prick like Annie had, or at least owned.

“Unnh.” Annie tried to compose herself, but she felt the flush in her cheeks and knew she must be red-hot with arousal, just watching the slinky movement of Britta’s lips and tongue all over the dildo. “Oh wow… you’re really taking a lot of it… if I knew you would be so driven to take it all, I would’ve tried to get a smaller one… usually, you’re a lot less ambitious than this… unn… uh… can I help?” She took hold of the back of Britta’s head and gently rocked her hips, knowing that every little movement was also moving her strap-on… the strap-on, she told herself… from where Britta had already placed it inside her throat. “I just don’t want you to choke yourself, Britta!” she moaned helplessly.