Suddenly, she had Betty’s complete attention. Cora frowned just slightly, and only for a moment, as Betty put her plate away.
You see what happens when you try to be serious? Women stop caring about what you do best. Men will, too.
But she had started down this path, and she had to pursue it.
Betty grabbed Cora’s hands. “Tell me. Is it about this town? Is it about Castle Industries?”
“Castle Industries?”
“Yes. What they’re doing here. It all seems so nefarious, doesn’t it? Isn’t that what you want to talk about?”
Betty was so intent on this matter that Cora was inclined to agree with her just to be pleasant. But, first and foremost, she had to be honest.
“No, I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s just...I have all these...thoughts.”
“Thoughts?”
Cora nodded. Even saying that she was thinking was difficult for her. “Disobedient thoughts. And then he—Mister Vance, I mean—has to fuck me until I don’t think them anymore. I’m afraid it’s a terrible strain for him. He works so hard for us, Betty. I don’t want him to leave me.”
“You think he would leave you?” Betty chortled. “Cora, look at you.”
Cora shook her head sadly. “I know. I’ve been terribly lax about going to the gym, and—”
“Cora, no. You’re gorgeous. You think...I mean, you don’t think he would somehow find another woman to sleep with besides you, do you? Not really?”
“Oh, I hope that he does.” Cora smiled at the image suddenly in her head, of her big strong Man filling some hot honey with his hulking cock. “That’s what The Association is, after all. That doesn’t bother me. I just want him to come home to me. I need to be taken care of. You understand. We’re just women, after all.”
Betty put a hand to her forehead. She looked troubled. Immediately, Cora felt guilty. She knew she should have kept her thoughts to herself.
“That’s what the Association is? What Association?”
“The Business Association, of course. They meet, oh...once or twice a week, depending. They have their own girls there. They’re all very beautiful, don’t worry. And Hank assures me he only uses one or two favorites, just like he does at work. The other men make fun of him, but he says he’s got all the blonde he needs in me. But, try as I might, I’m not redheaded or black or Asian...”
Gosh, wouldn’t it be nice if she could be? Just for a day or two, to please Hank. Or to have her will fill up multiple bodies at once, seven or eight girls all doing their best to give her Man a good time, stroke his cock and coo in his ear and rub his back and massage his feet, and all with the same mind and timing...
“Cora!”
She shook her head. “Yes, love? I’m sorry. I was miles away.”
“You’re...” Betty’s face was pained and flushed. Her hands clambered out to the serving tray and she stuffed a truffle into her mouth, seemingly not knowing what she was doing. “You’re talking craziness. You’re like, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen on two legs. You’ve got this killer bod, and you’re just rocking it, and you’re so, so pretty, and you’re worried your husband is cheating on you? And like, you’re telling me he is already? I mean, god, if your man is cheating on you, then what will...I mean, Lane, he could...um....Cora?”
“Yes, love?” Cora’s voice was full of heated pleasure.
“You’re playing with yourself.”
Cora looked down. Her fingers were jammed right inside her hot, warm little cunny. Warm juices spilled down into the plastic cushion of the chair.
“Oh.” She giggled and sucked her fingers dry. “How terribly unladylike of me. Would you like me to give you a turn to make up for it?”
“Give me a turn?”
“With my fingers.” She eyed Betty’s body hungrily. “To make up for it.”
“No. That’s not...that’s not necessary.”
Betty was tempted, she could tell.
“Hank says a good hostess will always finger other men’s wives if they want. But only if they want.”
“You do everything he says?” Betty downed another truffle, and then immediately began nibbling a new one. A thin, attractive layer of raspberry chocolate stained her lips. “Without question?”
“Of course, dear. He’s my Husband.”
“But...but he’s your partner, he’s not God. He’s...he’s just a man. I mean, for god's sake, if he wanted you to get, I don't know, pregnant tomorrow, you wouldn't do that, would you?”
From the phrasing of the question, Cora could tell that she was supposed to say no. But she absolutely wanted to say yes. “I...”
“Cora. Listen to me. You're in charge of you. Not him. You don't...you don't have to get pregnant. Not if you don't want to. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Hank isn't the boss of you.”
Cora considered this carefully, suckling on the juices remaining on her fingers. “I think I understand what you’re saying. He feels like he’s not important enough. He needs to be shown how he's the boss. I should really up my game. Do you think I would look good in leather?”
“Christ, you’d look good in anything, but that’s not the poi—stop that!”
Cora, flush with Betty’s compliment, had started twisting her nipples. Her dress had been pushed down, and Betty was given a complete eyeful of her neighbor’s healthy, luscious body.
Betty stood up, munching yet another truffle. Her eyes were wide and glazed. She squirmed, her hips rotating this way and that. “I...I have to go.”
“The bathroom is the first door on the right, love.”
She stumbled, chocolate-heavy fingers fumbling uselessly with the sliding glass door back inside. “I have to go home!”
But her knees were knocking, her breaths heated on the glass. Finally, she got the door open and rushed inside. Cora, smiling and peeking in, noticed that Betty only made it halfway to the bathroom door before collapsing and fingering herself. Her orgasm was almost immediate, her cries filling the home.
Cora wanted to help, but something told her to give Betty time. The radio blared its hot, white static. She herself had needed time when she first moved in, after all.
But she was so much happier now. Just like she knew Betty would be.
There was some chocolate on the tiled floor, and butter spilled on the patio. She took a long moment, watching her new friend finger her brains out—allowing herself several seconds of orgasm-laden fingering herself—and then, shuddering blissfully, trotted to the kitchen to retrieve her cleaning supplies.
* * * * *
Later that afternoon, Betty walked over to Jasmine's house, feeling a bit frantic. Jasmine answered the door, dressed in a light teal summer dress that showed quite a bit of leg and a tight dark hoodie. She had on her ear buds, listening to the Womaniac podcast.
“Hi,” said Betty. “Can we talk?”
“Of course.” Jasmine smiled. “Inside? Or—”
Inside, Betty could hear Jasmine's radio playing. The strange, discordant static-filled sound. It made her want to investigate the radio, to see what that sound was so that she could justifiably turn it off. The feeling the sound created was like a soft blanket being rubbed over her thoughts. It was alien, and instinctively Betty knew it was wrong.
She tugged at Jasmine's arm and pulled her outside. Soon they were in Jasmine's expansive backyard, in a sort of alley of grass on the side of the house. Outside of the view of the street, out of earshot of the radio.
Jasmine straightened herself, lightly pulling her arm free of Betty's grip. “I guess it's outside, then.”
“Something really fucked up is going on here,” said Betty, getting straight to it. “And I think that they prey on our inhibitions, on us not saying anything about it because we're embarrassed. So I'm just going to come right out and say it. I'm fucking turned on.”
Jasmine gulped. “Okay...?”
“I'm turned on all the time. It's hard to think straight. I was just at Cora's a
nd I ate her food and I came on the floor. I wasn't able to do anything until I had a good, hard cum right in the middle of her hallway. And last night I fucked Lane until he came in my belly. He came in me, Jasmine. He could have gotten me pregnant! I'm not on the pill!”
She left out the strangest part—the weird waking dream she'd had with the giant hulk last night. Betty wasn't entirely sure that really happened. As she recalled it, it felt like just some hot fucking waking fever dream. But, she was reluctant to bring it up and couldn't explain why. When she woke that morning, Lane was already gone—off to the “Business Association meeting” for the day. The note he left said he would be back 'late.' She didn't know what the hell kind of meeting lasted for an entire Saturday, but with him gone already, it wasn't as if she could argue.
Strangely, her biggest regret was that he left before she could make him a proper breakfast.
“Oh.” Jasmine tugged at the neck of her dress. Little beads of sweat had collected around her forehead. “My. That's, um...that's certainly—”
“I'm sorry,” said Betty, shaking her head. “I know we met just like, yesterday, but you're the only one around who seems normal. Are you telling me that nothing like that has been happening to you?”
“I...no.” She shook her head. “I'm not. That has been happening to me. I mean I haven't been cumming on people's floors, or whatever, but Alan and I have been having sex like crazy. Just crazy. Before we moved here, it was like once or twice a week. Now? More like twice in the morning before getting up, and then right when he gets home from work, and maybe a blowjob or two when he's reading, and I'm sucking that beautiful big cock of his, and...what?”
“You're touching your breasts, Jasmine.”
“Oh.” She moved her hands, and then pointed. “Your...your nipples are erect.”
Betty nodded. “I know. But what can we do about it? It's like some fucking lust spell over everyone. Everything.”
To tell the truth, Betty felt pretty relieved. It was all out in the open now. Not just in her head. She and Jasmine could come to Lane together—or Lane and Alan—and let them know what it was that was on their minds. Or...could they? They would need proof. It wasn't like a man was going to walk away from sudden and plentiful sex. They would need some kind of evidence, something concrete.
Right? But how would they find such evidence? Whoever was in charge—obviously, Betty guessed Castle Industries, as they were in charge of everything around here—clearly didn't want to be found out.
It was just...somehow, she knew deep in her bones that she couldn't tell Lane about what was happening. Not yet, anyway. Committing herself to that belief was a comfort, like a nice warm sheet over her brain.
But, wait, wasn't that—
“And also,” said Jasmine, “I've been losing weight.”
This derailed Betty's train of thought immediately. “Losing weight?”
She nodded. “I can't seem to stop.”
“How do you mean?”
“I put myself on a scale this morning. I’ve lost fifteen pounds since I moved here last week.”
“Fifteen pounds in a week? Is that healthy?”
“I don’t know,” Jasmine shrugged. She pulled a truffle from the pocket in her hoodie and popped it into her mouth. “I feel perfectly healthy, and I’ve been eating nonstop. I don’t get it.”
Betty frowned. Those truffles were really something. They were...well, delicious, really. Her mouth watered slightly as she saw Jasmine eat one. All that hot, heavy milk chocolate sliding in her mouth. Jasmine gobbed slightly, thick lips smacking.
“Are those the ones Cora made?”
“Oh yes.” Jasmine nodded. “I mean, she seems like a total ditz, like everyone else in this town, but she's a hell of a baker. Or cook. Is chocolate baking or cooking?”
“I don't know.” Betty licked her lips, trying to focus. “Cora. Cora, yes. We should watch her.”
“Watch her? What do you mean, 'watch' her?”
“She was the last one to move here besides us, right? And she's fairly well in to their group, or whatever, but not totally, right? So what if, like...whatever they're doing. Making girls lust crazy. Making men fuck like mad. And breed. God, they're all so fucking pregnant...”
Jasmine touched her shoulder. “Focus.”
Her grip was firm, but warm. Betty's nipples, if it was possible, tented in her shirt even more.
“Right,” said Betty. “Okay. So they're making women...different.”
“Hotter.”
“Yes. Hotter. And they're doing it to us, maybe.”
Jasmine sighed. Hands on her slimmed-down hips. “Yeah.”
“And they've done it to Cora. But they're not all the way done with her, yet.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she was expressing some doubts to me earlier. She was like, weird about it. Really weird. But they were doubts, nonetheless. And none of those other women have even heard of doubt. Or not anymore, at least. Right?”
Jasmine nodded. “Okay. And you want to watch her? Like a stakeout?”
“Yeah. We can...I don't know. We can just sit in my car and watch them. The boys, they have the Business Association meeting tonight, right? So they won't be home until late. So, we just...watch Cora. For tonight. See if anything happens.”
Jasmine considered for a moment. “Can I bring the truffles Cora made? They're really good. And I don't want her to think I'm rude and not finish them if we see her and have to like, talk to her or something.”
“Of course you can.” Betty's response was automatic. “If I get some.”
They both laughed, though Betty was perfectly serious. She thought her mouth might mutiny if it didn't get one of those truffles soon.
But even more than that, Betty felt empowered, finally having a plan. She and Jasmine were smart, independent women. They would be able to figure this out. She would be able to strike a blow right at the heart of Castle Industries—the same terrible corporation that had ruined Betty's activism career.
Maybe this move wasn't such a bad thing after all.
* * * * *
That night, Evelyn arrived at Cora’s house. The older, magnificently bust-heavy blonde looked stunning when Cora opened the door, as she always did, and was dressed in a tight red dress with a lacy apron around her front. Delicate white gloves adorned her hands, cut off at the wrists. Her neckline scooped deep down to just above her strawberry-sized nipples, the bottom end hugging tight to her lusciously curved ass. With the way her hair was coiffed and prepared, she looked like one of those old-time movie starlets, except much fitter and sexier.
“You’ll have to come with me, dearest.” Evelyn held out a hand. “All right?”
Somehow, Cora already knew that she was supposed to be leaving that evening. That’s why she wasn’t wearing a proper outfit—no tiny dress, no little skirt or sexy big boots. Just a long, warm fleece robe, violet lingerie, and tall pink heels. Hank was at the Business Association meeting that night, and so Cora had cleaned merrily, waiting for him to come home. About thirty minutes before Evelyn arrived, the radio seemed to switch stations on its own, and a compulsion arrived in her head:
Husband loves violet. It’s so important that I wear my sexiest violet lingerie tonight.
And she changed, and now here was Evelyn, and it was time to go.
Evelyn led her into the back of a luxury sedan, their driver rolling up the screen dividing the front and back of the car. Evelyn dropped between Cora’s legs and pushed her panties aside, licking her pussy thoughtfully. She acted as if this was merely a way to pass the time, a manner of conversation. Cora barely had time to inquire about why Evelyn was doing such a thing, let alone protest somehow. Instead, she merely let her head hang back and loll to one side, gently orgasming while Evelyn did her gloriously hot tongue work.
In a few short minutes of driving through Passion Heights, the pair arrived at the Happy Hair Salon, where Cora somehow knew already they would be. It was like
the knowledge had been planted in her somehow. Fertilized, even.
It was dark inside, but a small mattress was arranged in the center of the enormous space. When Cora had been there before, it had been a bustling, wonderful place for women to talk and chat about how darling and perfect their husbands and children were. But now, tonight, it had an even better meaning. Something erotic and dark, something perfectly wicked. Cora stepped inside, pussy dripping wet from Evelyn's efforts. She strutted easily on her tall heels, and let her robe fall to the ground. Her hot violet lingerie was revealed to the air, ready for consumption.
And of course, her consuming audience was there, waiting for her. Hank waited there, wearing only a robe himself. It was shiny, for some reason. Maybe with water. Cora moaned at the sight of him, his huge, muscled body. Her Husband.
“It’s time, Cora.”
“Time?”
“To get you pregnant. Like you’re supposed to be.”
He took off his robe. His cock was beneath, already half-hard. Thick precum dripped down. She could see now that the towel hadn’t been coated with some shiny water. It was coated with his product. Drool filled her mouth. Lust filled her cunt.
“You have to ask for it, though. Castle’s orders.”
“Ask...ask for it?” She didn't understand.
“You’ve been subjected to the process. It’s been perfected. The radio. The food. But it requires your will. Your consent. You have to give up everything to me from now on, Cora. Everything. All your freedom. All your wants, needs, thoughts, hopes, and dreams. They belong to me. They’re mine to shape. Mine to allow.”
That sounded so, so very right. She nodded slowly, following along with his words. He took her hand and, together, they stepped onto the mattress in the middle of the salon.
“You’ve been influenced as far as they could take you. To tell you the truth,” he chuckled, “you put up less of a fight than I thought you would. You used to be pretty damn smart.” He stroked her chin, gripping it easily with strong, manly fingers. “Not anymore though, huh?”
Her lack of intelligence had become a bit of a point of pride for her. It was so nice, knowing she would never be a bother for her Man. She swallowed. He was using so many words, and all at once, and his cock was right there and so hard. What was he asking for? For her to give up some stuff?
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