18 The social evening
"Dear participants, your time here with us is coming to an end," the Amazonian leader began when the group gathered for the social evening. Together the couples had prepared sandwiches and salads in the communal kitchen. Refreshments would be taken during the event. Participants sat in pairs on the comfortable seating, making themselves comfortable on the coloured beanbags from the day of arrival. One or two of the women played absentmindedly with the small fellows of their menfolk, and some of the gents’ fingers played in the warm damp places of their ladies.
"You have a busy day ahead tomorrow. We have not announced the exact details in the schedule. In the morning, the results of staying with us here will be identified and assessed. You will find out what is to happen in the afternoon tonight, before bedtime. Hello? Mr Yellow, are you listening to me at all?" The Amazon called Mr Yellow to order, who had seemingly forgotten everything around him and fallen upon Marianne's nipple and was sucking it.
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This admonition of Mr Yellow certainly had the desired effect, because he and the other participants sat up and once again turned their attention to the Amazon. She opened the curtain on the small stage behind her by remote control. Six folding tables were set up on the stage, and on these were the coloured boxes containing the personal clothing of the participants.
"You will soon see what effect healthy nutrition, exercise and copious sex can have in just a few weeks. All of you come onto the stage and step behind your boxes."
The couples did as they were told, unsure what awaited them there. The blue couple, at the beginning, was let's just say the heftiest of all the participants. She was somewhat misshapen, matronly; he had a conspicuous beer belly. The changes of the last few weeks were not noticeable day to day. The transformation of their figures was remarkably quick, but nevertheless imperceptibly quick.
"Open up your boxes and get dressed!" demanded the Amazon.
"What, wear clothes?" questioned Mrs. Blue, incredulously.
"Yes, just put your stuff on," the Amazon confirmed.
Even at the underwear stage, it was plain to see. The clothes no longer fitted. Mr Blue’s 'ultra sexy' boxer shorts would not stay up, nor would her panty girdle. The other participants only acknowledged their clumsy efforts keep the clothes up with an embarrassed grin. But when all the couples were fully clothed and they stood on the stage and looked at one another, then the dam broke and laughter filled the room. It was too comical, to see how the majority of the participants stood on stage and tried to hold their lower garments up. Their clothing was so outsized that they all looked like scarecrows. All except for the black and Pink couples.
Mr and Mrs Black’s clothes still fitted them like a glove. They looked at each other with pride and happiness.
Mr Pink was also significantly slimmer, and his appearance also sparked laughter. Mrs. Pink, on the other hand, no longer fitted into her jeans. The slim backside had assumed a more feminine form over the four weeks. She couldn’t do up the button on the waistband though she wanted to draw in her belly. The buttonhole was an unreachable distance from the button. And similar 'problems' were revealed with her bust size. Mrs Pink was puzzled. Mr Pink rejoiced. The cups were far too small, even though one had to say that her breasts were small, her chest itself had apparently expanded. The bra would not do up, nor would the top and bottom buttons of her blouse. Only in the middle, at belly-button height, could she just close a button. Her small boobs created the impression that they wanted to blow out of the wrapping.
"This little fashion show was not only organised for your general amusement," the Amazon stood up to explain. "It was to make you aware of a little problem, all except the black couple, because tomorrow you will be leaving."
The faces of our participants fell abruptly when they realised they’d be leaving in these clothes.
The Amazon gloated somewhat at the obvious dismay of the group members. "Don't panic!” she tried to calm their group. "Tomorrow the group will make a trip to Erfurt. There you can find new clothes for yourselves. But you’ll still have a bitter pill to swallow..."
"Oh, no, not naked in the state capital!" Mr Blue groaned. "I’ve suffered everything here without complaint, but don’t do this to us!"
The Amazon grinned. "No, we don't expect that of you. That would really be too much to ask. But now get undressed again and put the clothes back in the boxes! I’ll clarify things for you shortly," the Amazon instructed them.
It was done quickly and the boxes along with the folding tables were removed from the stage. Full of excitement, the group members awaited further enlightenment.
"The bitter pill is in the uniforms that you’ll be wearing."
Mr Yellow feared the worst. “What kind of uniforms?" he asked.
"You may or may not want to believe this, but they're also quite fun. Promise!" The Amazon made it sound exciting. After a short, dramatic, pause, she continued: "school uniforms. You will wear Russian school uniforms."
The group members pulled irritated faces.
"It won’t be so bad, first follow me to the dressing room, where we will equip you for the forthcoming shopping trip."
The group followed their leader to a room that was a throwback to the time of the National People’s Army (Nationale Volksarmee – NVA) - and later the Federal Army. A nondescript barrack, once called the Clothing and Equipment Chamber.
Here our participants were appropriately attired. The ladies wore shoes, white knee socks, dark blue dresses, white skirts, white blouses and to complete, a white hair bow.
The men had dark blue suits, white pocket handkerchiefs, white shirts and a cheeky cap.
After a few minutes, the participants were in pairs and uniformed in the dressing room. Their mutual uniform appearance triggered a degree of gaiety. However, some participants noted a certain embarrassment. The prospect of being released in these strange clothes into a public place was daunting to some.
"Make nothing of it. You have come through so many different things. Also, you all come from other areas. It is unlikely that you will know anyone or be recognised." The Amazon reassured the participants. "Get undressed again and tuck the clothes neatly in these bags!"
The instruction was politely followed.
"So, now we can return and enjoy the rest of the evening," commanded the group leader.
"So, Gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable, the ladies have prepared something for you."
Then the ladies disappeared along with their leader through the stage door. The curtain was raised and the ladies together with the Amazon knelt submissively, their foreheads on the ground on the stage. Moments later, some exotic Oriental music began, the women got up and began to move rhythmically to the exotic music. The guys’ jaws actually fell open when they saw their women performing such a lascivious dance. Although each man admired his own wife first and foremost, they did however spare knowing looks for the others. The bouncing, swinging boobs were consistently delicious to look at, especially since, for once, they were not covered by sports bras. It took only a few moments before the lads’ members began to sit up and take notice. This did not escape the ladies, who exerted themselves all the more. Mrs. Pink had pride of place in the centre, flanked to the left and the right in the show by three other women. Mrs. Pink then started something like a solo. The other ladies made up quite a super sexy background during her performance. Her dancing was always ecstatic, she increased from beat to beat. The eyes and the mouths of the men stood wide open at the sight before them. The focus of those present was directed by a spotlight on the dancer, the rest of the room sank into diffuse twilight.
'Now I understand how Herod the Great could refuse Salomé nothing after she had danced before him,' Mr Pink thought to himself. 'And she is mine, all mine!' He happily noted the admiring glances of the other men.
But even the best performances have to come to an end, and so it was with the dance of the naked women. The surprise was a success, in any case!. The lights became slightly brighter, but not really bright. The warmth and the low light fostered a cosy atmosphere.
"You can go now to your ladies, gentlemen," the Amazon announced at the end of the performance, and the men didn’t need telling twice. They literally stormed to their ladies, rewarding them with heartfelt hugs and kisses. The music switched to lighter, fluffier dance music. They all began to dance with each other. Sometimes the couples took short breaks and availed themselves of the buffet. Especially loving couples, like the yellows, fed each other.
After the refreshments they continued the pleasure of dancing.
For a while, our couples danced a loose, easy discofox. They each danced together in free style but increasingly professionally. The Yellows were among these couples. Mr Yellow took over the lead, initially somewhat uncertainly. Mrs Yellow enjoyed the closeness of her husband and the movement to the beat of the music. The morning musical exercise had got her husband, a legendary stick-in-the-mud when it came to dancing , an even sense of beat and rhythm. And now his growing abilities even made him fun! His uncertainty and his opinion that he couldn’t dance had left this one-time dance avoider.
The music slowed from title to title. With this slowdown, the couples drew closer. Mr. Yellow touched his wife’s magnificent soft breasts with his firm chest. Imperceptibly, his right hand left its proper space between his wife’s shoulder blades. It slid down towards her buttocks. Once there, he began to joyfully grab her buttocks. She broke away from his leading hand, laid her head on his shoulder and clawed at his back like a cat on heat. Her manicured claws dug into his skin. His penis grew erect. His left hand also wandered to her bottom, held it tight and pressed it against himself. A first groan escaped her. She looked up and their mouths found each other. For several minutes they kissed, slowly in time to the music. These were minutes of forgetting. Forgetting the intentions to divorce, forgetting old arguments, forgetting any shortcomings of the other, forgetting the harsh words and all of the little bickerings which had put distance between the couple. They felt happiness and deep love for each other. They had survived all the efforts, inconvenience, and tests of their time here. And they would stay together. Marianne felt a drop dribble down her thigh.
"I think I'm dripping…I’m so horny!" she whispered in his ear.
In the half-light, he grabbed her unashamedly between her legs and stroked her clit. "You’re right!" he confirmed, and then licked the wet finger.
"You're so cute!" he commented on the action. "How long must I wait for my dessert?"
"What do you mean, dessert?" she asked, amused.
"Well, the delicious soft oyster. What did you think?" he replied in a tone which melted her.
Now, to top it all off, they put on the song "Je t'aime, Moi non plus" They’d heard that song on their first night together. Memories came up, and Marianne’s tears rolled down. Tears of happiness, joy and love.
"What’s the matter?" he asked, helpless and concerned.
"Oh, dear, sometimes I think you were, are and always will be a jerk! But at least you’re a loveable jerk," she sighed. "Come on, let’s go to the apartment."
She broke away and he chased his fleeing prey. He caught her at the door and pressed her against it. His rigid penis was looking for a way in. She stretched her buttocks backwards. He almost penetrated her. With her last clear thought, she breathed: "let’s go in!"
He put his finger on the sensor, and the door opened with a buzz. Both rushed to the bed. She fell backwards onto the mattress, spread out her arms and spread her legs invitingly. With an effort he avoided pouncing on her brutishly, plunging his dick straight into her fanny. Yet what was there? Oh, yes - dessert. He greedily sucked at the 'soft oyster', licking, sucking, and enjoying it. Meanwhile, almost incidentally, the tip of his nose stimulated her clit which wildly excited her. His hands kneaded her breasts, stroked gently on her nipples, wanting to touch her everywhere, touch, touch, touch. She played with his hair as if he was a faithful dog. When she felt how orgasmic waves carried them away, she signalled to him that he could finally penetrate her. And he slid inside her with no problem or resistance, naturally lubricated by their body fluids. Her legs crossed behind his back. She pulled her husband down to her with arms and legs wrapped around him, as if she never wanted to let him go again. On every square centimetre of her skin she wanted to feel him and only him. And he thrust powerfully into her, increasingly furiously, deeper, faster and faster. Moaning, panting, sweating, the couple rolled up in the sheets.
And finally, he came. She felt the warm semen, the twitching of his penis at just the right moment.
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Exhausted, he withdrew from her and rolled sideways off her. Breathing deeply and quickly, eyes still closed, they were together. After a few breaths they opened their eyes noticing, that they were still in this world and not in paradise. At the height of their sex, they had seemed to be in paradise. She began lovingly stroking his smiling face, while she breathed a blissful "thank you!" Unbidden, she began to clean his penis with her mouth.
"Hmm. That really doesn’t taste at all bad. But this is your slime or mine now?" she asked, cheekily, provocatively.
"Maybe it's the mixture, indeed. Mind you, your slime tastes excellent to me on its own,” he complimented her.
"Yours doesn’t taste bad either. I really don't understand why I didn’t discover that gourmet flavour before!" As she spoke, she came up to him again and smiled at him mischievously.
"I don't understand that either." he said. Any further conversation was suppressed by a big wet kiss on the lips.
"And now, sleep!" he determined. He pressed the lever on the foot end of the bed with his foot. With a jerk, the middle of the bed sagged into the sleeping position. Huddled together, the yellow couple fell happily asleep.
On Saturday morning, no morning exercise took place, but everyone helped clear up. The leadership of the institution was realistic and delighted with the outcome of the evening. Because all the couples had made love during the night. Or so the person on duty in the control centre reported to the morning briefing. That's why, for once, there were no sanctions for the mess left behind.