The female soldier led me forward, her steps crisp and professional. I noticed Mary and Veronica assigned homes to everyone, their names scrolling across a tablet in the soldier's hands. Without a word, I plucked the device from her grip, dismissing her with a cold glance. "Go do your job."

My fingers traced the screen, searching—until I found it. Ada and Ruth's assigned house.

"You can go," I said, my voice dismissive, my eyes locked on the screen. "Back to your duties."

She nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly as she turned and walked away, her ass swaying just enough to catch my eye before the door clicked shut.

I tapped the tablet, my fingers tracing the list until I found Ada and Ruth's room. Room 17. Second floor.

Perfect.

I pushed the door open without knocking, my gaze sweeping over the room—luxurious, modern, a stark contrast to the primitive life they'd left behind.

Ada was standing in the center, her fingers tracing the silky curtains, the soft bedsheets, the smooth marble of the dresser.

She was wearing a pair of short jeans that hugged her thick thighs, the fabric straining over her full ass, and a bikini top that barely contained her heavy breasts, her nipples already peaking through the thin material. Her dark hair was tousled, her lips parted in awed curiosity as she explored her new surroundings.

Ruth was perched on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, her nightie—sheer, clingy, barely covering her pussy—riding up her thighs as she shifted. Her smaller breasts were firm, her nipples hard beneath the fabric, her eyes wide as she took in the room.

Neither of them noticed me at first.

I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed, my gaze raking over them—Ada's ass, Ruth's thighs, the way their breath hitched as they realized they weren't alone.

Ada turned first, her eyes locking onto me, her body freezing mid-motion. "D-Dexter…?" she stammered, her fingers clutching the fabric of her top, her cheeks flushing.

Ruth stammered, her fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of her top, her cheeks burning a furious crimson. Ada, meanwhile, whipped her head around—her nightie shifting with the motion, offering a fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of her pussy lips before she yanked the fabric back down, her own face flushed with embarrassment.

Ruth snapped out of her daze and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around me. "Dexter… where is this place? And these clothes…?" Her voice was shaky, bewildered. I pulled her close, feeling Ada's eyes on me, burning with the same questions.

"This is a place I found by accident," I murmured, my voice low and reassuring. "It's paradise here. You don't have to worry about food, or survival, or anything. Look around—there are so many beautiful things."

Ruth nodded slowly, still clinging to me, while Ada leaned in, her curiosity unfiltered and raw.

"You saw the woman outside, right?" I continued. "That's Angela. She's the leader here. And I work for her." Both of them nodded, their expressions a mix of awe and unease.

Ada didn't hesitate. "Dexter… these clothes are a bit… uncomfortable." She shifted again, her fingers tugging at the fabric. "And I really need to piss. I've been holding it since we got here, but I don't know where to go."

I almost smirked. Of course, they'd never worn clothes before—never had to. "You can take them off when you're inside," I said, my voice steady. "But if you go out, you'll have to wear them."

Ruth surprised me. "No, I like this," she admitted, stroking the soft fabric of her nightie, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's so smooth…"

Ada, however, scowled. "Mine isn't smooth. It's itching me." She fidgeted helplessly, her fingers struggling with the unfamiliar fastenings. The female soldiers must've dressed them—they clearly hadn't been taught how to undress.

"I can't take it off," Ada admitted, frustration creeping into her voice.

I stepped closer, my voice dropping into a low, velvety growl, thick with intent. "Let me help you."

Ada perched on the edge of the bed, her thighs pressing together as I knelt before her. My fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, dragging the fabric down her legs with deliberate slowness. The shorts pooled at her ankles, revealing the tight, damp panties clinging to her. My pulse quickened as I peeled them away, the fabric resisting slightly before giving way.

And then—there she was. Ada's pussy, unshaved and wild, a thick thatch of dark curls framing her lips, glistening faintly with arousal or sweat, I couldn't tell. My gaze flicked upward—her nipples stood erect, dark and swollen, begging to be touched.

The bikini top was next. The moment I tugged it free, her heavy breasts spilled out, the nipples hard as pebbles, pointing directly at me. Fuck.

I exhaled, my voice rough. "Mother Ada… are you comfortable now?"

She nodded, but her face twisted with urgent discomfort. "But I really need to piss, Dexter. It's been too long."

I forced myself to focus, clearing my throat. "This place has something called a toilet. You can piss and shit there. No mess, no smell. Let me show you." I glanced at Ruth, who had been watching with wide, trusting eyes. "Come with me. Both of you."

The bathroom was another world to them. Ruth's fingers trailed over the smooth, cold tiles, her nightie shifting with her movements. Ada hesitated at the threshold, her naked body tense, her eyes darting between the gleaming toilet, the mirror, the strange metal fixtures.

I guided Ada forward, my hand light on her lower back. "Here. Sit."

She obeyed, lowering herself onto the seat, her bare ass meeting the cool porcelain. Her breath hitched. "Dexter… this is where we're supposed to…?" Her voice wavered, half-disbelieving, half-fascinated.

Ruth, ever the curious one, leaned in, peering at the toilet like it was a mysterious artifact. "It's so… clean. And shiny." She reached out, her fingers hovering just above the seat before pulling back. "But won't it get dirty?"

Ada shifted uncomfortably, her thighs pressing together. "It feels strange. Like sitting on a throne. And where does it all… go?" Her fingers twitched against the porcelain, her expression a mix of fascination and skepticism.

I crouched beside them, my voice steady. "There's water beneath. It washes everything away. No smell, no mess. Just… relief." I met Ada's eyes. "Try it. You'll see."

Ada bit her lip, her nipples still stiff from the cool air, her pussy partially exposed as she sat there, vulnerable. "But what if I make a sound? Or if it splashes?"

Ruth, however, seemed unfazed. She turned to Ada, her voice soft but encouraging. "Dexter wouldn't lie to us. If he says it's safe, then it is." She looked at me, her trust absolute. "You're really helping her, aren't you?"

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