The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When the FBI eventually tracked down the mad scientist, they came with guns drawn and dicks out. There was no resistance.

Yeah, you’d occasionally hear stories about a guy making out with their sister. A girl sucking off her brother in a lusty trance. Maybe even a whole family that had just gone hogwild and fucked each other senseless—but these stories were few and far between. When the whole world went horny, it turns out most people didn’t ‘double-down’ on the incestuous possibilities. Most people eventually went out and found significant others among the crowds fucking in the streets.

“I’m off to work!” Tiffany called back at the breakfast table, already out the door.

“Later Mom!” Was the shouted response from upstairs in the kids rooms.

“Bye honey.” Hank gave her a peck. He would be leaving soon too.

The changes happened on a weeknight. Somewhere between the late afternoon and dinner time. The schools were out, thank god, a real bullet dodged there. Tiffany didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if students and teachers had been on campus together when the changes started. Who knows when, or if, they would ever reopen.

“Good morning Mr. Spencer!” Tiff waved at the neighbors, a kindly retired couple. He gave a friendly wave back, pants around his ankles and the bobbing head of Mrs. Spencer between them.

For now the kids stayed at home taking online courses and in a lot of ways not much had really changed. After their reading and homework, the two of them would spend all day locked in their rooms playing videogames and masturbating. The only difference was now Brad’s footlong dick shot molten cum to the ceiling and Sierra’s horny squealing echoing throughout the house. The vibrator she bought off the internet was strong enough to shake the floor. More than once Tiffany found her daughter nothing more than a drooling mess with the webcam left on record. The ‘donations’ bell ringing wildly.

“Another hot one today. Authorities assure us cum now works as a perfect natural sunblock so women are advised to try and cover yourself in as much as possible—” Buzzed the morning radio. Tiffany liked to listen to the news during her commute.

“Well that was a really gross report Ted—” the studio anchor groused. His co-anchor Sally could be heard vigorously slurping away at something.

“What can I say, that’s just how it is.” Came the solemn reply.

Social media was the first thing to change. Tiff was still friends with her kids online, but she tried not to concern herself with it too much. Respect their boundaries. Still, there was room for accepting it and for responsible parenting. She stayed abreast of her children’s social newsfeed, not commenting or being too judgemental. Just aware of Sierra’s public albums of naked selfies or how she had just been ‘liking’ a bunch of blowjob videos.

Brad was not much better. Tiff knew he was always on the prowl for fresh nudes. Most of his selfies were just his grinning face high above two preening redheaded sluts splattered in his cum. If the girls leaving comments on his page were to be believed, apparently he tasted incredible. It was only really a problem when Tiffany spotted some of the other neighborhood Moms popping up in his feed. Different families had different rules, but something like that merits a phone call.

A lot of the women Tiffany’s age were unused to having multiple orgasms—or multiple partners—every day and sometimes it was hard to know where the line was. When you cum your brains out from getting fucked all the time, it’s possible you might unknowingly sleep with one of your best friend’s kids. Which meant you were the target of everyone’s thinly-veiled ribbing at the next book club meeting. The other ladies even made a spanking paddle, Tiff was proud she hadn’t needed it.

“Password?” Asked a gigantically swole guard blocking the entrance outside Tiffany’s building.

She pulled down her top and the man opened the doors, apologising. Everyone’s biometrics changed and until the company issued new ID cards, this was the new policy. His name was Terrance and apparently he had an incredible memory for tits.

Tiffany’s boobs practically sprung out of her top. They felt weightless and free, at least twice as big. Any hint of sag disappeared, those faint blue veins were all gone. She didn’t even need a bra anymore and everybody said they looked fantastic!

“Morning Kelsy.” Tiff called sweetly to the lady manning reception.

“Goo-oo-oo-d moo-oo-orn-n-n-ing” she replied, getting fucked hard from behind.

‘Manning reception’ was right. These days many women just whored on the street as public cum dumps for anyone with a hard dick. Inside, the lobby was ringed with grunting men and beautiful businesslike women wringing them dry. All around her, sloppy wet spurting genitals gushed on the floor and in each other’s faces. The whole room perfumed, soap-smelling and liquorice sweet.

“Going up?” Tiffany gave the lift man a polite nod.

“Number three.”

She tried to keep her eyes on doors in front of her, but something kept dragging them back down to admire the lift operator’s bulky muscles. The boney lines of his waist. He must be an intern or something. Working for peanuts. Young and built, dick the size of a wine bottle. Tiffany made a note to look up his file later.

Tiffany was she glad to work in an office building. On the third floor no less, her own corner office! She earned it long ago before any of this, but if a man with a burning need to screw wanted to get up here, he would have to go through many layers of easy pussy first. He would have to get out of his house. Go downtown. Ignore the throngs of sexy gorgeous women rutting wild in the streets, past Kelsy downstairs and a whole secretarial staff of trained blowjob artists—just to knock on her office door.

Tiffany hardly sat down at her desk for a full minute before a voice crackled in over her intercom: “Are you ready for your first appointment Mrs. Landry?”

“Yes, send them in.”

Her office door opened and a tall devilishly handsome man stooped to pass through the doorway. At least 8 feet tall, hundreds of pounds of pure muscle. Cock hanging down to his knees, rapidly filling with blood. His skin was dark and hot to the touch, with a voice rippling like carribean rum. His body smelled like cocaine and had the same effect. Tiffany quivered just at the sight of him.

Turns out, he had all kinds of basic accounting needs and Tiff could save him a ton of money on next year’s tax returns.

Without a phone or internet connection, it was as if the world stopped spinning. The scientist’s only company came through holes drilled in the wall.

Sierra’s only plan for the day was to go see a movie.

The changes only started about a week ago so there were still pre-horny movies getting released, but there were also some quickly shot straight-to-theater new-cinema movies everyone was talking about. Single location movies about studly repairman fixing appliances at undermanned sorority houses. Engine grease stained firemen with big hairy forearms putting out fires with their bare hands. Who cares what they did.

“Is Bobby picking you up?” Sierra texted her friend.

“No! My mom doesn’t trust me anymore. So lame. She’s dropping me off at the theater.” Was the reply, ornamented with a variety of emoticons symbolizing a mixture of frustration and burning arousal. Eggplants colliding viciously with peaches.

“Srsly.” Sierra sympathized.

Even just standing naked on the sidewalk, her pussy tingled delightfully with each gust of the summer breeze. Constant sparkling fizzles that never went away. She could only sooth it for a moment or two between orgasms that left her gasping and senseless. Many times she had gone to clean herself, only to get lost for hours playing with her clit and pulling out glittering strands of fluid like pizza cheese. A booming voice in her head urging her to cum, to get fucked, screaming into her pillows and scrubbing her pussy raw.

Sierra returned to looking at memes while she waited.

She had never been on a date before. Never really even went to a school dance. Maybe one or two, but always with a group of friends and never with even the timid hope that something might happen. It had mostly been an excuse to get out drink hard punch and listen to crazy loud music. She was pretty sure boys didn’t even like it.

It was totally out of the blue that Bobby and his friend Michael asked us out. We had some classes together before, but we only really started talking when Sierra liked the album of progress picks Michael posted of his junk and he liked her boobies pics. They got to talking, he liked movies, she liked movies, there was this new movie coming out . . .

Sierra took a quick snap of her pussy and sent it to Michael. It turned out great, all her photos did. The virus had made her insanely photogenic from every angle. You could see her cute little clit poking out and everything dripping wet. Soft pink.

He sent back a text that read: “5 Minutes!” and a bunch of thumbs-ups.

There had been no great social upheaval. The people in positions of power last month were all still there. Leading political candidates from both parties reassured voters and pledged to maintain their previous platforms most intact—with only minor changes to public indecency laws, polygamy, and a few FCC rules regarding nudity on television. Hollywood was ready for a seamless transition into a future where audiences expected characters to have crazy nasty sex on screen.

The movie they were going to see was a quirky little coming of age story directed by West Alderson. Sierra loved all his other movies. They were fun. The characters were so interesting and deep. His movies were like brain candy. Interesting people doing their own thing and who didn’t cum in ridiculous brain-melting waves of indescribable pleasure just from squeezing her titties until fireworks invaded her brain and she couldn’t stop laughing, laughing and cumming, her pussy squeezing desperately on nothing—on NOTHING!—

Sierra shook herself from the trance. The visions of dancing naked boys closing in on her disappeared.

Which never used to happen before. Sierra didn’t used to hallucinate monster cocks invading her body or trapping them between her titties. Her boobs weren’t even big enough before to make anything like that happen. She was still reluctant to throw out all her old clothes, but they felt terrible now and fit her so tightly they made her look even sluttier than if she were just naked. Her small handfuls now required two sets of hands and a small trickle of milk came out if guys sucked on them hard enough.

No one seemed to know what was going on. She felt like a freak show, ready for sex. The only comfort was so was everyone else.

Sierra poked at her new breasts gently, careful to avoid the nipple. She had tried all sorts of poses squishing them together in front of the mirror. They were incredible and obeyed her every whim. They jiggled. They plumped. They made a perfect line of cleavage on command. They never felt cold or chilly, even standing outside in the evening in front of a crowded theater. They practically glowed with insatiable heat.

“Nice tits!” Called a boy from inside a huddle of his friends as they walked by. They all turned to admire.

“Thanks!” She called hesitantly back. They were all naked too and her eyes locked on to their swinging penises. “Nice dicks!”

“Thanks!” They chuckled amongst themselves, exchanging high fives as they passed.

Sierra had no interest in seeing pictures of a guy’s junk. It didn’t do anything for her. Then the virus came along and now whenever she closed her eyes even for a moment there was nothing but a vast forest of swaying members. A whole swarm of them rapidly inflating, trunks of every size and shape and color. A insane wanton desperation to suck them all, to be held down and mercilessly fucked one after another.

She had only ever touched herself just a little bit and usually to tame inhibited scenes of sneaking away with a boy for a kiss in the pouring rain. No one ever prepared her for how good it felt to be surrounded by hot guys fucking her two at a time. Dicks in her hands, in her face. Hot cum running off her back, feeling like there was a clit in her ass she never knew existed.

Sierra wiped away a trickle of lubricant snaking its way down her inner thigh. Her hand might have strayed only for second to her pussy, but only because it was fire-engine red and wailing for attention.

“Sierra!” Her friend called, running out of the parking garage.

“Thank god you’re here—” She began but was interrupted by her friend’s lips pressed against her own. It was so easy to kiss her. Not even really intending to, she was just so happy and full of energy it just kind of happened.

“You ready to go in?” Sierra asked. Her friend Tammy nodded enthusiastically.

Sierra and Tammy’s relationship hadn’t changed much. They had been inseparable since elementary school. A bunch of teachers would say we looked just like sisters. Sierra kind of wondered what it would be like to have a sister instead of a disgusting ol’ brother. It must be a little like having a best friend, except now we were naked and knew exactly what each other’s pussy tasted like and that would be weird for sisters.

Tammy was bright citrus. She said I tasted like artificial watermelon. We weren’t gay or anything! It wasn’t romantic. It’s just we’re both so incredibly wet all the time and even though we both said it was only kissing, it quickly became touching, then fingering, and by then we both knew what we wanted. It was fun, friendly, exciting to press and feel her body. Make her yelp and squirm, her gentle little fingers stroking my clit. Her breath hot on my lips, the darting of her tongue.

It was just fun! That’s all! Then her brother came home and just like with all guys now, getting his dick in me was all I could think about so we agreed to meet up later.

“Are the boys here yet?” Tammy asked, holding up her tits for my inspection. They were incredible, as always. Her tiny brown nipples contrasting with my puffy pink dollops.

“Yeah I think they said they were parking the car.” Bobby just got his learner’s permit and was eager to show off his new found independence.

“Omg I am going to fuck him stupid. I am so fucking horny it’s crazy.” Tammy checked her mirror one last time. She didn’t need make-up anymore. No one did. Her pouty ruby-red cocksucking lips were all natural now.

We had been practicing with dildos all day. Boys were gigantic now and as much as it surprised Sierra to see just how many inches she could take, the real thing was still a little frightening. They were always so much more veiny and misshapen in real life. So much more fierce and angry-looking in person, like a bar of steel glowing red-hot.

“Wow! You guys look great!” The boys appearing as if from nowhere, looking only vaguely like what I remembered. A few inches taller, more in shape. The chests ribbed with rolling abdominal muscles. Pecks the size of dinner plates. Huge dicks jutting out in front of them.

“Thanks!” We said almost in unison. Sierra was wearing white thigh highs and nothing else. Tammy just worn a simple black choker around her neck. She had a crush on her date from afar for as long as I could remember. This whole ‘event’ finally gave her an excuse to have Bobby jam his cock in her.

The boys bought the tickets and we bought the popcorn. There was just enough time to take our seats and suck them off before the movie started. Their cum taste like soda. After the previews ended and the empty popcorn baskets long forgotten, Sierra slowly, hesitantly raised herself over the nearest boy and settled into a careful decent down his dick. Riding him gently at first, leisurely greasing his pole. Washing up and down the length of him with her lips.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight. Holy shit.” His breathing ragged, labored. Veins popping on his forehead as he struggled not to just let go and starting dump loads and loads into her like a busted water main. Sierra rewarded his efforts with a friendly squeeze that left him gasping. She loved how she could make him shiver.

It was so weird how alive her pussy left. Like it had been dead inside or something. Now it was buff and glistening, yanking him inside her like a glove. Twisting him about, emptying him like a tube of toothpaste.

Sierra didn’t remember much about the movie. They had swapped boys a couple times, made out with each other, drank what felt like a pint of cum, and the whole memory seemed to strobe in and out of existence as her eyes fluttered in a fever dream of constant orgasm. The boys drove us back to their place and we all agreed it was a great movie.

It was the trial of the century, thousands of people offered to testify. One man claimed to have impregnated over 200 women.

Brad didn’t know how to feel about the knowledge that his mother fucked guys all day or that his Dad now poked around construction sites in nothing but a hard hat, railing the long lines women that would gather on their lunch breaks to cat-call up at him. Teasing him to ‘stop making buildings and come down here with that big dick!’ and other such harassing comments. Married women, the moms of his friends whenever he went over—they all had that same hankering look.

Come over: the text read. There was a winky face next to it. Brad jumped out of his computer chair so fast the headphone cable ripped right out of the socket. He was swinging down the stairs before his bedroom door even closed.

OMW: was the text back. He got the keys in the car lock on the second try and peeled out of the driveway. They had agreed on the signal for when her parents were out of the house. Yesterday Brad ran into her mother and . . . well . . .

That same wild wide-eyed look. The way a dragon looks at gold. Older women, far older than Brad would have ever guessed, would make lewd overtures or openly fantasize about what a treat it would be to wrap him up in their pussy. Nighborhood moms transformed into perfumed bimbosluts, offering up their daughter’s asses; their dripping, naturally lubricated and dishwasher clean butts. The hopeful looks of the strange girls he passed could melt steel.

Brad’s phone buzzed. A picture of lily white skin and the gentle folds of shiny pink pussy within. Stomping on the gas sent the old, clunking, sunbleached ‘kid’s car’ roaring into forty miles per hour.

It didn’t help that he had been hard for about a week or that his dick erupted in size overnight. He had grown like a tree-stump into a tree. Brad just woke up one night with his own alien cockhead pressing against his sternum, high above his belly button. As rigid and fearsome as a live animal. Skin as thick as leather, at first he grabbed at it out of fear!

He had become exhaustible. Cumming a dozen times or more had no effect. Brought no relief from the chorus of invisible women baring themselves inside his head. That first morning’s social media feed was full of girls from school showing off their tits and their horny pussies—begging the internet for answers. No one knew how it worked. Men were just blasting out calories like pancake batter.

The phone buzzed again. The first pussy was joined by a second, so close they were basically hugging. Glistening beet-red clits rubbing noses like an eskimo kiss. Brad’s tires left a hateful puff of smoke at the intersection.

Her name was Sandy and she has an identical twin, Mandy. A bunch of people think that’s weird. Dating a set of identical twins, Sandy and Mandy. I always counter with, well, is it any weirder than teaming up with three other dudes to date a whole group of girls at once? That’s what the football team and the cheerleaders did. A lotta people were doing that these days.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” The cop asked, driving alongside me. He wore aviators and a bushy moustache, signalling with his free hand for me to roll down my window.

“SIR—” Brad could barely tolerate language. His dick so hard it hurt. Taut as piano wire.

“This is a school zone—” He began, but fell silent as Brad shoved the phone into his hands and sped off.

“Sweet jesus . . .” The state trooper mouthed, swiping through the pictures. Saluting as Brad fishtailed down the road. “Godspeed boy . . .”

When it all happened, Brad just hid in his room—coating the walls and seeing red. The prospect of going to school and seeing normal society was crazy. Complete madness. Someone had came in the night and replaced his body with a steaming hunk and a too-big erection slopping jizz everywhere. The president was on TV raving about pussy.

The car ran out of gas about a block away, so Brad ditched it and ran the rest of the way. Hopping fenses, running through pantries. It took everything he had not bash down their front door. His hand shaking as he knocked, like a gentleman would. Not like a . . . MAD beast heart pounding in his chest like jungle thunder, like whiplashes of frenzied lightning! His teeth chattered, his eyes bulged. A viking come to claim his prize!

OH THEY WERE ALONE UP THERE! Her parents had finally left! ALL ALONE! Oh god it was like eating raw sugar, his mouth full of it.

Brad still couldn’t really make eye contact with his own family. I mean, not that he did before. The typical teenager ‘I’m outa here in a year!’ attitude. Now though, his sister was HOT! His mom was fuckin’ bangin’. They both had these crazy fat asses and big full tits he had no idea they had before—and consciously he knew they didn’t, just like him they were changed—but these weird surges of attraction weren’t welcome. They made things weird.

Brad slowed, wiped the sweat from his forehead and knocked again like patient human being respectful of personal property and mutual consent would. The thought of barriers between him and wet pussy made him angry. Insensible. Furious with longing.

“Who is it?” They sing-songed. Two voices in perfect harmony.

“Me.” Brad called back. He could hear a flurry of tittering from inside.

“One sec—” They said. Brad steeling himself impatiently outside the door.

He tried not to think too much about his own family or what they were up to. He knew what they all looked like cumming, had seen their ‘O-faces’. Knowing exactly what it looked like to have his sister spit roasted between two guys, cum dripping down her face and her loving every second of it.

Not everyday of course. She wasn’t just doing that out in the living room when we were around. No, we had all learned pretty quickly to lock our doors. How to knock before entering a room. How to respect each other’s privacy and not mind the loud music to cover for the pervasive sound of raw sex. Brad had seen them all the same, how they could be bent against the anvil of pleasure.

“Come on in—” Brad was inside even before she finished the sentence. The door was loose on it’s hinges, like it had been broken down before. The girls had been playing dress up. Matching white socks pulled up to the knee and these tiny little tops that only lightly hinted at covering their boobs. Identical twins, arm-in-arm, very glad to see him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, looking at both of them.

It was getting harder to tell when he was awake and when he was dreaming. At night all he saw were girls. Naked flashy girls cumming insatiably all around him, laughing and cavorting in free spirited sex. His cock plunging into them, plowing their wet slits. Feeling their whole body quiver and shake, spasming helplessly—caught in a loop of chain orgasms crashing into them one after another.

Then he would wake up and it was exactly that.

“I love it.” As Brad turned, his cock surged and pointed at them both. They were the same in every way. From the way their painted nails meshed as they held hands to the subtle liquid curvature of their hips as they walked. “Who’s first?”

“Me!” They said at the same time.

The first girl Brad brought home just kind of happened. Hard to remember what exactly took place—he was outside one moment then back home the next. A beautiful, stunning, nymph-like whore whose skin seemed to glow in the sunlight and hair shown bright with an internal fire—he just had to have her!—but that he had known from school as a timid chunky freckled girl he’d maybe once said ‘hi’ to in the halls. How wet and joyous she was. How desperate and inviting and everything he’d ever wanted—clutching his cock in her warm embrace. Wordlessly explaining to his parents in the morning how he broke the bed and there was now a large hole in the wall.

“You first!” They said, again at the same time. In the same voice, like they had one mind between them and it had decided firmly on getting fucked tonight.

Brad tackled them both onto the bed, the two of them giggling madly. Their hands found his cock and began guiding it places. He made out with one, his dick in another. Hands and fingers all busy. There was no birth control, but apparently people don’t get pregnant now until they’re like 27. Which was a relief, he didn’t want to be a dad.

As one of them came screaming around his cock, unable to tell them apart but her insides twisting and coiling like a vice around his member and her twin sister fingering herself and cumming with us in tandem—Brad had to admit he was very happy about his monogamous relationship with the twins.

Most people seemed to agree that intentionally infecting unwitting victims with a home-made genetic virus was “wrong”. Others argued that things were a lot more fun.

Hank got the feeling Tiffany didn’t approve of the twins. Not that she was vocal about it, she would just fall into this sudden neutral affect whenever the two of them came up. They were ‘fine’. Things were ‘fine’. What did she think about the two of them occasionally kissing as they both tried to suck his dick? She had no opinion on the subject. It wasn’t for her to judge a pair of over-sexed teenage sluts licking her son’s cum off the floor and making out with each other.

Tiffany caught neighbors kids wandering the block with perky cheerful smiles, holding hands, and wearing nothing but their socks and shoes. She understood there was nothing wrong with sex, Hank and her talked at length about how whatever happened at work stayed at work—but prowling nude through the streets didn’t quite line up with her sense of decency. She was still quite old fashioned. Hank liked that about her.

Dad fetched a beer and turned on the TV. Tonight was their anniversary. All the careful planning had already been done.

“Rain tomorrow and Wednesday-” Spouted an impossibly fit, tiny waisted Mexican weather lady with an ass made out of two tremendous drumsticks better suited to a professional fuckdoll than a newscaster.

On the other hand, Hank quite enjoyed the new fashions. Women had all sorts of inventive ways of highlighting their bodies. The most prudish un-sexual women appeared as their best self. They all had perfect makeup and wore none. Everyone had such flawless skin, ample seductive curves, tight little fuckable pussies dripping with need and lovely teardrop breasts.

They kept their character though. Not obliterated by sameness but keeping that hardness of muscle, that soft petite frame, that massive full-bodied woman. Tiffany didn’t look like some twenty year-old bimbo, she still had the face of a forty something mother of two. Just with immaculate makeup, perfect tidy hair, everything she always wanted to wear fit her exactly—only now she didn’t care to wear it very long. Everywhere Hank looked gorgeous jaw-dropping women were falling over themselves to get fucked—and they loved it.

“In Sports news, the New England Nationalists’ all female wrestling team overwhelmed the New Orlean’s Bishops men’s team. Riding them six straight victories to the head of the division-” The highlights reel had to be seen to be believed. Women with the largest thighs Dad had ever seen cradled men twice their size, draining their cocks dry. Hank shifted uncomfortably on the couch, saving himself for Tiff.

There was no denying it, sex was better now. More powerful. More primal. Orgasms gutted him, cumming felt like shooting streams of hot plasma. Civil engineers and other women from work whom he respected with no particular feeling of attraction were now rare beauties. Dominating the lunchroom and hooting at the men to give it to them HARDER! The notice board which previously vouched for workplace safety had been replaced with their names and columns filled tally marks. Someone named ‘Candice’ was apparently ‘winning’.

“All the stocks went up again for the fourth day in a row. That’s right, all of them. Again. This is it for MarketWatch-” The construction company was doing better than ever, clients had never been easier to work with. Hank lit another scented candle.

Mrs. Sharetten was happy to sign just about whatever Hank suggested after spending the day ramming her non-stop. Painting her insides, feeling her body quiver and her voice squeak out. Her shrieking for MORE! Hank agreed to do most of the work for free.

Bringing his wife to climax before had been this mysterious passionate project the two of them worked at. Now women were squirming and squirting beneath the lightest touch. Hank loved the way they blushed, the way their voices turned soft and mewling—or growling and aggressive—as he plowed them senseless. Eyes-rolled back in their head. Lipstick red smiles from ear to ear. Now they hounded after his cum, begging him to shoot his ropes down their throat—Tiffany most of all. Hank could only gratefully oblige.

“The vehicle fire continues to rage through northern counties-” The topless anchorwoman on TV calmly explained. The camera high above her as she laid on the desk with a rotating cast of men fucking her, her tits rippling with every thrust.

Obviously something was different. Hank’s dick wasn’t always as long and thick as his forearms. He didn’t use to cum gallons a day. It didn’t used to get rave reviews from the long line of thirsty sluts jockeying for position, sometimes offering money for just a cup or two of his hot tasty sperm. In his experience, cum had been universally disliked. Now women’s magazines advertised cum-flavored chewing gum on the cover. Interviews with celebrity Moms about the challenges of raising five boys by herself. Even Tiffany had taken to occasionally replacing dinner with a liter or two of his milkshake thick protein.

Her throat inch-worming it down in gulps. Her eyes looking up at him, pleased and willing. Telling him her needs with her tongue.

He couldn’t even look at her without wanting to wrap his arms around her and fuck the living daylights out of her. Hear her howl. Make her scream his name as he stuck it to her again and again, all through the night. Never relenting, never letting her down from the stratosphere where the air was thin you can barely breath. A thousand orgasms hammering her all the time. Pulling out his hair for more.

“Local businesses beware! Our consumer action report reveals a notorious gloryhole scam-” The timer on the oven dinged and Hank hopped over to it just in time to catch a heady whiff. The meat smelling heavenly. He grabbed the tray straight out with no mitts, his hands were just that tough these days. He felt like a superhero. More than enough stamina to leap over buildings in a single bound.

Hank was just glad Brad was out of the house. The way he’d heard it from some of his friends at work, their boys were fixated on pornography—nutting buckets in their rooms everyday. They practically had to physically introduce girls themselves, lining up dicks and pussies like connecting I-beams at work. Arranging playdates with kids from the neighborhood like when they were children. Hank was relieved Brad found some regular pussy everyone could enjoy.

Plus with Brad out of the way, he and Tiff would have the house to themselves. It was spotless, kitchen smelling like fresh bread and cooked meats, Jim Croce on the stereo, a bottle of her favorite white wine chilling in the fridge, and a sober eager husband ready to take her to bed. The clock ticking down to 7:30 when she would be home.

“And that’s it for the news.” The manly no-nonsense broadcaster began his sign off. “This is Ned-”

His co-host emerged from under the desk, cum clinging to her chin. “And I’m Vicky-”

It had never occured to Hank that he could cheat, that this might be an opportunity to pursue some other woman. Having an affair seemed like a foreign concept, the belief system of an alien race. He wanted Tiffany in his arms, wanted the scent of her hair in his face, her breasts in his hands. He was going to screw her dirty, nail her to the bedposts. Make her moan and howl. Make her shout his name and remind her why they were married.

“Goodnight America.”

Hank loved her with all his heart and felt like it would burst when he heard the front door open.

It took the jury less than an hour of deliberation before they marched back into the courtroom with a verdict. A hundred dollar fine and community service.