The Long Pull: Use Your Noodle

Toni considered herself to be an organized person. Her job as a database administrator didn't leave her much room for ambiguity or uncertainty. It wasn't that she was inflexible or rigid. Chaos could come at her from any direction, and she had to be prepared for problems. Vigilance, prudence, preparedness, those were her duties.

It sounded better than to say she spent forty-some odd hours at a desk working on computers. Even if the servers themselves had a physical problem, she was seldom the one dispatched to handle it. She was at the top of the heap. Someone else could handle that, and if they couldn't... well, then she hadn't prepared them properly. It was like being the coach of a football team. If her team lost the game, at least half the blame was on her. So long as the player didn't throw the ball the wrong way or didn't fail to get a three-pointer...

Toni didn't watch sports. After all, she was a database administrator.

Despite having to respond to problems at any time during her time at work, she still had settled into some weekly routines. On Wednesdays, she took a slightly longer lunch to get Thai food at the restaurant across the street from her building. Thursday nights were for groceries, the night when the shops were consistently the least crowded. Friday evenings meant a hamburger from one of a set of rotating Americana chains between her work and her apartment. On Saturdays, she would take a long walk through the park and wind up at the mall to watch whatever movies had come out the previous day. On Sundays, she attended her local church and sung hymns with her community. She did so very quietly, as she was completely tone-deaf.

Monday would return soon after, and she'd be ready to get back to her job again.

One Monday... things had taken a turn.

The movie theater and the mall had closed. The restaurants near her work that were still open had gone take-out only. Her church had re-opened after a narrow window of closure, but not narrow enough for her liking. Several pastors around the nation swore, with the same certainty and clarity with which that they had conducted all their sermons, that divine forces would protect the congregation... only to be struck down themselves. It was disillusioning, for sure.

Many had been furloughed, laid off or otherwise displaced by this crisis. Toni's office graciously had allowed her to work remotely from her home until it was safe to return. One of her brave and unfortunate subordinates could be dispatched to the site if something physical went wrong, but the office would be otherwise left as empty as possible.

At first, Toni was excited. Now she could just crawl out of bed and do her job in her underwear. She didn't even have to brush her hair. Suddenly, a job that her bosses had insisted could not be performed remotely... definitely could. Toni rolled with it, set up her desk near the window of her bedroom and established a home base to operate from for the next few weeks.

That was in March.

Weeks turned into months... and the routine Toni had developed turned more into a groove. As summer stretched into fall, it could more accurately be described as a 'rut.'

On Sundays, she would order groceries to get her through the week. (She always tipped the delivery boys generously, as they were quite literally risking their lives to keep her safe and fed.) As the weeks moved on, her desire to cook anything elaborate dwindled. Over time, her grocery list had ossified: one or two boxes of cereal, milk, peanut butter, jam, sliced bread, a small box of snack crackers and a 12-pack of Coca-Cola Zero Sugar that she rationed out to last the entire week.

For breakfast, she'd have a bowl of whatever cereal she wasn't currently sick of eating. For lunch, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a dish she could never get sick of. For dinner...

Takeout.

She generally liked the restaurant experience. Lots of people complained about the Americana chains like Applebee's or Chili's, but... she always enjoyed her meals there. There were the rumors that, behind the scenes, the food was pre-packaged and pre-fab dishes in aseptic plastic packaging, and the 'cooks' job was merely to reheat and plate. The 'kitchen' may have been nothing but a row of microwaves, like a 50's automat. None of that mattered to her. It was still tasty.

Eating the same stuff after it had survived a half-hour drive from the restaurant in a styrofoam container... was less nice. After a few weeks of isolation, it was nice to have something familiar... until she started to have slightly cold takeout every night.

Toni mixed up what she got as much as she could. She'd never eaten so multiculturally before. She tried a few dishes from a local Pakistani restaurant, and even some sushi from a restaurant that was apparently one of the best in the country. But mostly... she reverted to burgers, chicken and other typical American dinner fare.

Once or twice, she had McDonald's delivered to her apartment. MCDONALD'S. It wasn't that she loved McDonald's and missed it. She just missed the idea that she could essentially be anywhere in the contiguous 48 states, move less than a kilometer in any direction... and then have the familiar foamy crunch of McNuggets. It was an artifact of the old world that still tasted just like it did before, one aspect of life that had not been turned entirely on its head.

Tonight, after a day that was stressful, but not heart-poundingly so, Toni wanted to try something a little different. Too often, a bad day ended with her staring down a puck of charred cow flesh. She didn't want to begin associating hamburgers with stress. Toni looked up Italian restaurants to see one that could make her a Fettuccine Alfredo, a meal she definitely didn't have the skill to whip up herself.

Strangely, only one restaurant appeared in the search when she typed in 'fettuccine alfredo.' How was there only one proper Italian restaurant in this town? There were TWO Ecuadorian restaurants, possibly run by a pair of feuding brothers.

Maybe Italian food was one of those things where snobby chefs from the old country insisted that Fettuccine Alfredo could not be enjoyed out of a takeout box. It simply MUST be enjoyed in a romantically lit restaurant while someone played a violin and the chef watched from a distance from behind his mustache the size of a hang glider.

Perhaps that was so, but she was not about to leave her apartment. As with so much American cuisine, the restaurant that decided to compromise the integrity of their dish would be the one to get her cash. They could call it 'fusion' if they wanted an excuse to pander to the dull American tongue.

Toni clicked the black button at the bottom of the page that completed the order. A simple animation of a cartoon hamburger falling into a takeout bag, the lettuce and tomato fluttering apart briefly before entering the bag, which itself fell into the bed of a cartoon pickup truck. The estimated delivery time was forty-five minutes.

Maybe it wouldn't take so long if they didn't make the burgers so big, Toni thought to herself. Then it wouldn't be necessary to find someone with a pickup truck.

--

Someone knocked at Toni's door. It brought her out of her stupor as she sat on her couch, staring out into space and barely listening to the sitcom repeats she had on the TV. Denied her beloved movies, she did not find any comfort in modern television programming. It was like she was a vampire who was forbidden from drinking human blood and, in the spirit of consolation, was offered a refreshing Clamato.

Toni dragged herself off the couch and made her way to the door. She normally had a mask hanging from the coat hook near the door, but they must have all been in the hamper, waiting to be washed. Instead, she pulled up the collar of her T-shirt and pinned it in place with the nose pads on her eyeglasses.

Allegedly protected from the outside world, Toni opened the door.

It was a woman. Most of the food delivery people she had met were men, with maybe five or six women bringing her food in the months since she started doing this every day.

The delivery woman had wavy brown hair past the shoulder and dark eyebrows. The rest of her face was covered by a blue earloop surgical mask, but her green-brown eyes definitely portrayed the smile that was surely beneath it. She had an oversized poofy winter coat that reached past her hips and thick leggings above her fur-lined boots.

"Hi!" The delivery woman said with enthusiasm that Toni couldn't hope to match. She held out the to-go bag like it was a present she couldn't wait to give. "Are you Toni?"

"I am." She put her hand out and grabbed the end of the stapled paper takeout bag, the closest contact she was comfortable with. "Thank you very much for this."

"Oh, it's not that cold out. But you're very welcome."

Toni spun in place and closed the door. She set the bag on her kitchen's island. Once the crown jewel of her nicely appointed kitchen, now it was just a table she couldn't move out of the way to do the exercises she was definitely not doing.

Toni pulled the bag open, the staples ripping apart the brown paper and revealing two containers, one a standard square takeaway box and one a cylindrical tub with a plastic lid. She fished out the square box and opened the lid. Inside were some thick yellow noodles, shiny with butter, tangled up with some chicken. But there was something missing.

The Alfredo. That creamy, garlicky white sauce that was possibly more crucial to this dish than the noodles. Maybe the sauce was kept separate in that little round container-no, that's the onion soup that came with it. Toni looked in the bag to see if it was somehow hiding beneath the napkins or the receipt.

There was a knock at the door again.

Toni opened it again.

The delivery woman was still there, hands tented politely in front of her.

"There's no Alfredo sauce?" Toni pointed her thumb back into the room at the empty and slightly torn brown paper bag on her island.

"That's what I'm here for. I'm going to make it fresh, just for you!" The woman bobbed on the balls of her feet.

Toni stared at the woman, only now realizing she hadn't put her shirt back up over her face. Was she about to let a total stranger enter her apartment, when her best friends hadn't even been able to come over for months? Or was she going to eat this fettuccine dry like a stoned college student?

She stepped back and gestured the delivery woman in. "Alright, come on in."

The woman practically skipped inside, pulling her winter coat off and hanging it on the coat hook near the door.

This had better be some damn fine sauce, Toni thought.

The delivery woman stood across the island from her. "As you can imagine, I'm Gianna of Gianna's Cucina. Thank you soooo much for giving my shop a try!"

Toni was suddenly suspicious. Why is that such a big deal to 'give it a try?' Italian cuisine had been iterating since the Renaissance. It was essentially the perfect expression of carbohydrates. What was there to 'try?' And why was the namesake of the restaurant delivering the noodles or making the sauce? Weren't there sous-chefs for that?

"I just picked the only restaurant that came up." Toni confessed.

"Well, you've lucked out!" Gianna kept her mask on as she spoke. "Get ready for the hottest, freshest Alfredo you've ever tasted."

"Sure thing." Toni shrugged, keeping her distance. "The pans are hanging up over there."

"Oh, I won't need a pan."

Toni's brow lowered. Making Alfredo sauce with the ingredients she currently had in her apartment was already going to be a trick akin to pulling a penguin out of your hat. But doing it without a pan...

"OK, I have to see this." Toni said to herself.

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" Gianna opened her purse and pulled out a clear plastic vial, approximately the size a prescription medicine bottle. She opened it and poured a single pointed object into her hand. It almost looked like an incense cone.

Before Toni could ask what the object was, Gianna pulled her tights away from her butt and tucked the object somewhere back there... where it disappeared.

Toni blinked. This woman did NOT just shove something up her ass... did she? In her kitchen??

Before Toni could consider what had just happened, Gianna lurched forward, putting both hands down onto the island, as if she'd been struck in the stomach. She groaned, her arms shaking as whatever she had just put inside her started to take effect.

"Are you alright?" Toni moved to circle the island. "What did you just do?"

Gianna dragged her hands off the counter as Toni rounded the corner. One hand was on her stomach, and one of was struggling with something between her legs. It looked like she was trying to pull out one of the allegedly unlimited breadsticks from down there, a big, thick baguette... wrestling against the stretchy leggings, she eventually got the long thing free from within.

Resting just above her lowered waistband... Gianna had exposed her huge, hard penis. Her balls hung just below them, two egg-sized orbs resting just off the waistband like two boulders in a hammock.

Toni stared at it. A woman she had just met had just delivered her food... and had now pulled down her pants and exposed the largest penis she had ever seen. She hadn't seen that many, mind, and she'd never seen one attached to a woman.

"What?" Gianna hooked one thumb into her waistband and bent her elbow at a right angle, as if to show how little she was bothered by her nudity. "You ordered the 'Futa-ccine Alfredo,' didn't you?"

Toni kept staring at it, as if it was the one talking to her. She looked up to Gianna's eyes for a moment. "Could you give me a second?"

She walked over to her computer without waiting for an answer. Toni summoned the online ordering website, looking at her search history. Indeed, in her exhaustion, distraction, whatever the cause... Toni had typed the deeply misspelled request 'futacinne alfredo' rather than 'Fettucine Alfredo.' This was evidently why only one restaurant answered her query.

Toni sighed. This was her fault. Why had she been a snob and switched to Dvorak in high school? That E and U would be typed by entirely different hands if she'd stuck with QWERTY...

She returned to the kitchen. Gianna was still there, still standing there with her mask on and her giant erection out.

"I guess I didn't double-check the order." Toni looked off.

"Is this not what you were expecting?" Gianna asked innocently.

"It wasn't." Toni answered bluntly. "I was expecting something more... traditional."

"It's very traditional. The noodles are made with my nonna's recipe. But American Alfredo sauce is about as authentically Italian as American Chinese takeout is authentically Chinese. So... I tweaked the recipe a bit."

Homemade noodles... Toni's stomach grumbled a bit. She didn't know if the noodles from Olive Garden were 'homemade,' but they were currently her favorite. It was something to have some homemade noodles made literally just for her... but that wasn't the noodle she was staring at.

Toni was straight... but she was straight because men were generally the ones with the dicks. She'd never really been into the idea of sex without them. But men also had a habit of being dismissive and unkind to her. As a nerdy woman with unorthodox interests, nobody wanted to hear her express her sexuality. If one of the air-headed office hotties talked about what she did the previous night, the men in the office would probably throw a parade. If she told her coworkers that she let a delivery woman into her apartment after months of seclusion and she pulled out her erection and menaced it over her delivery food...

At her job, Toni was trained to root out ambiguities and uncertainties. Maybe what she imagined wasn't what was going to happen. Toni felt it prudent to ask a few questions.

"Before we start, I want to clarify what I just paid for."

"Sure." Gianna put her hands together patiently.

"You're going to ejaculate Alfredo sauce onto my pasta?"

"Yep, that's our tableside service."

"That's what you put in your behind? One of those things they use at those coffee shops?"

"Yep, except mine will be Alfredo sauce, rather than hazelnut."

"To be extra clear... this is not some sort of encoded way to use the food app to enter my apartment and engage in illegal prostitution?"

"Of course not." Gianna didn't seem offended at the implication, though it was hard to tell from behind the mask. She could still wink behind the mask if it was that sort of arrangement. "Besides, I don't know how much sex work goes for, but... my food must be cheaper than that. How much did the order come to? How bad are those fees?"

"I didn't even look. I just ordered." Toni hooked her thumbnails together in front of her. "I... make pretty good money, and I like what I like, so I just clicked and clicked." She realized this was the sort of careless clicking that she scolded her coworkers for doing.

Toni would not be fighting with the website for a refund. She would happily fold a hundred-dollar bill into a swan and toss it off her balcony before she'd waste time fighting for customer service on a website that serves a billion people a day. She could also toss these noodles straight into the trash and eat a box of Pop-Tarts and STILL wouldn't seek a refund.

Despite their current bare state, the noodles looked pretty darn good. But they'd be even better if they were slathered in sauce...

This was not prostitution. Gianna made that clear. So if Toni was going to get a taste... this might be the only way.

"OK. Let's give this a shot."

Gianna cheered as she clutched her fists together tightly, her cock bobbing up and down as she jumped. It was like she barely acknowledged it was there. The next moment, Gianna definitely acknowledged it as she started to stroke it with one hand.

She shuddered and took in a quick breath. "Ohh... my customers don't usually make me wait. If I take that long, they might just reach across the table to take charge themselves." She giggled. "That'd be OK, I guess... the customer is always right..."

Toni looked away. She had briefly worked in a kitchen as a young woman. It was there that she learned nobody really wanted to watch their food being prepared.

"Why aren't you looking?" Gianna asked.

Toni slowly brought her eyes back over to Gianna. She'd paused her masturbation.

"You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable." Gianna said. "But this IS what you ordered."

Her eyes slowly drifted down her form again, and back to the extension stretched across her quartz counter top. Gianna's hand went back to work, slowly rubbing up and down, as unhurried and procedural as any hand-cranked pasta maker.

Toni felt a warmth growing somewhere in her core... and she hadn't yet had any pasta. What a thing this woman wielded. She thought the rumors of futanari having giant penises were just that: unfair rumors. But in Gianna's case, it was definitely true. It was at least three times longer than her hand was wide, because she could clearly see a hand's width between where her hand stopped at the base and when it reached her tip.

What a big thing it was, perfectly straight and no visible veins. Gianna gently rolled her hand around, flicking her tip in a circular motion as she reached it. Toni would have to remember that trick, if she ever found herself in such a position again. It looked... effective.

Not long after she had that thought, Gianna demonstrated just how effective it was. She took hold of the edge of the island and aimed her cock at the takeout box. With a squeak, she pinched her eyes closed and began ejaculating onto the noodles. She let out several thick blasts of cream, each with a cute orgasmic squeal. It was as if the arcs of jizz represented the waveform of her moans. As they got quieter, the blasts got smaller until it was a dribble.