Chapter 1: First Day on the Job
The lavender-scented air in the common room felt thick enough to chew. Bambi Rae pasted her brightest smile onto her face, clutching the laminated orientation folder like a shield.Sunset Pines Retirement Community. A fresh start. No more HR violations about “inappropriate desk posture” or “excessive after-hours team-building.” Here, she would be helpful, demure, and absolutely, positively professional.
The common room hummed with a low, warm frequency—the clink of porcelain teacups, the rustle of stiff fabric, a murmur of voices that sounded like dry leaves skittering on pavement. The chairs were arranged in a loose circle, their floral upholstery faded to the color of weak tea. As Bambi stepped in, the murmur stopped.Every head turned.
A dozen pairs of milky, knowing eyes fixed on her. They were all women, their faces a map of fine lines and soft folds, their hair styled in crisp white curls or wispy halos. They wore loose, floral robes. And they were all grinning.
“Ah, the new girl,” one by the fireplace said, her voice like gravel wrapped in velvet. “Come in, dear. Don’t be shy.”
Bambi’s high heels clicked on the linoleum. Her smile faltered for a second.Something was off. The air wasn’t just scented with lavender and talcum powder; underneath it was a musky, deep aroma, like turned earth and old leather. And the way they were sitting… their postures were odd.Upright. Tense.
Her eyes, unbidden, travelled downward.
Beneath the loose drape of Granny May’s rose-patterned robe, in her lap, was an impossible, massive ridge. It strained against the thin fabric, a rigid, pronounced bulge that defied every law of aging anatomy.Bambi blinked. She quickly glanced at the woman next to her, Mrs.Delaney. Same thing. A prominent, firm swell distorted the lavender terrycloth. Her gaze darted around the circle. Every single one of them. Every lap held a thick, unmistakable silhouette, tenting their robes.
A hot, dizzy wave washed over Bambi. This had to be a trick of the light, some weird collective medical condition. She’d signed up for bathing and bedpan duty, not… not this.
“Cat got your tongue, honey?” Granny May crooned. She patted the cushion of the plush sofa beside her. The fabric was slightly damp, Bambi noticed, as if warmed by something. “Come sit. We’ve been waiting for you.”
The command, wrapped in that grandmotherly tone, short-circuited Bambi’s professional programming. Her body moved on autopilot, the old desire to please overriding the screaming in her head. She took a few unsteady steps forward and perched on the very edge of the cushion Granny May had indicated.
The older woman beamed. “That’s better.” She leaned closer, and the earthy, spicy scent intensified. Her gnarled hand, surprisingly strong, settled on Bambi’s knee. “We do so enjoy new… help.”
Bambi’s mind was a ricochet of confusion and a strange, electric curiosity. She felt Granny May’s hand slide an inch up her thigh, the rough skin snagging on her nylons.The professional script evaporated. “Your… your robe,” Bambi heard herself squeak, nodding toward the prominent bulge. “Is it… comfortable?”
A slow, wicked smile spread across Granny May’s wrinkled face. Her eyes sparkled. “A bit restrictive, dear. But we manage.” Her fingers gave Bambi’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you be a doll and help me manage?”
The other women watched, silent and intent, their hands stroking their own swollen laps.
Bambi’s own insatiable appetite, the one that had gotten her fired from three offices and a coffee shop, uncoiled inside her. The fear melted, replaced by a pulsing, thrilling heat. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But if it was… Oh, god.
“Okay,” Bambi whispered, her ditzy playfulness surfacing like a life raft. She shifted her weight, turning more fully toward Granny May. Instead of just sitting beside her, she lifted her legs and carefully, deliberately, settled herself down onto the woman’s lap. The firm, immense ridge pressed directly against her. A tiny, shocked gasp escaped her lips. It wasn’t pillow-soft. It was solid, hot, and insistent through the layers of cloth.
“Oh, my,” Granny May purred, her arms circling Bambi’s petite waist. “Aren’t you just a perfect little thing?”
Bambi wiggled, just a little, feeling the rigid shape beneath her. A soft chorus of approving murmurs rose from the circle. She looked around, her blue eyes wide with faux-innocence. “Does… does anyone else need help? Managing?”
It was like flipping a switch. Hands raised. Crooked fingers beckoned. “Over here, dear.” “My turn, surely.”
For the next hour, Bambi Rae made her rounds. She slid onto Mrs. Delaney’s lap, who hummed an old hymn as her hands found Bambi’s hips, rocking her gently against the daunting mound. She perched playfully on tiny Mrs. Finch, who surprisingly had the largest, most aggressive bulge of all, a battering ram against Bambi’s lower back. Each woman’s hands explored her—pawing at