*VCR rewind noises*

Gretchen McDoogle woke up alone in bed on that fateful morning.

It was just after six in the morning, and the eighty-six-year-old woman sighed as the memory of her sweet dream quickly faded away. After taking a few minutes for her old bones to wake and get moving, she slowly sat up from her adjustable full-sized bed, walked out of her room, then went into the downstairs bathroom, shuffling her slippered feet along the carpet as her white purple robe slightly was dragged along behind her.

When she entered and turned on the light, the short old woman looked at herself in the mirror and sighed once more.

Yep, she thought. Same old Gretchen.

Despite the remarkably healthy and tight skin that made her not look a day over forty-years-old, the busty woman's long brown hair was slightly faded and had more gray hairs than she cared to see. Her big fake tits were also as heavy and burdensome as ever, their basketball size and shape making it impossible for her to close the front of her robe while showing off plenty of firm bubbly cleavage in her translucent purple nightgown. Part of her wished that she'd had them removed after her husband passed away some-odd years back, but there was another part of the old woman that wanted to keep them to remind herself of the sexy fun times she and Marty had spent sixty-years sharing.

Even thinking about those times right then and there was causing dull sparks of sexual need to flare up in her attention-starved pussy.

She could've gone out and sought a new partner to satisfy those needs, or even take care of herself with one of the many neglected sex toys that she and her husband once used on a daily basis. But, alas, it just didn't feel right to cum without her late husband's extra-thick nine-inch cock stuffed into one of her holes or furiously pumping between her tits.

Gretchen missed Marty, but enough time had passed since his passing for her to not break down into a mess of tears anymore at the mere thought of his magnificent dick and unbridled stamina, and there wasn't a man, woman, or intersex individual alive that had been able to satisfy her in the same ways that she desired since. Sure, her three middle-aged sons their own adult-aged offspring would come down once a year for a visit and a quick fuck, but they did it just because they felt obliged to. Having sex with them and their partners was always sub-par at best, and never scratched that lustful itch her husband once knew how to relieve. Well, except for her youngest grandson Jason, a spry nineteen-year-old with a cock that was bigger than a horse's. Sadly, he was gay, so the best she could get when he came over was him closing his eyes and fucking her in the ass, pretending that she was one of the many twink-slaves back in his hometown. It was filling, and his thrusts were strong, but Gretchen would've much preferred to have his massive dick stuffed deep in her cunt instead.

The busty old woman sighed as she poured her first morning cup of coffee, wondering what all the day had in store for her.

She took a few sips of the drink and set it down on the counter, then made her way to the front door of her home to go out and retrieve the daily newspaper.

Per usual, Gretchen found that the neighborhood was alive with activity, per usual.

Judging by the empty red cups and liquor bottles strewn across the home's yard and porch, the neighbors to her right appeared to have thrown another wild party last night. They were a wealthy young married couple that had been living their best lives since moving in several months back, and were still doing so out on the front lawn. Mary, the young blonde with tits just as big and fake as Gretchen's own, had her ass perched high in the air with her firm breasts and dirty face pushed into the grass as a middle-aged black bodybuilder was thrusting both of his three-foot-long cocks into her small round ass and hairless pussy. Her husband Eduardo, a rather short and stocky Latino, was laying right beside her in the exact same position and holding his wife's hand as another big black hunk was elbow deep in his toned ass and fisting it roughly while also stroking one of his own two cocks with his free hand.

Gretchen could hear the sounds of others from inside the house making similar noises of passion and lust through their open doorway, but she didn't bother to wonder who else had come over for another one of their overnight coke-fueled orgies. She didn't really approve of ****, not that she'd never partaken. Gretchen had simply grown out of those habits by the time she hit fiftt, she smugly thought to herself with a roll of her eyes.

The neighbors on her left weren't doing much of anything that Gretchen could see, but she was sure that something fun was happening somewhere in Mrs. Gentry's house. She had five adult-age daughters that had more dick than they did brains, and each of those horny red-headed bimbos couldn't go ten minutes without cumming on or inside of something. Literally. Every ten minutes they had a **** orgasm, all at the same time, like clockwork. It was a good thing that Mrs. Gentry could generate plenty of monetary income from having water-proof cameras strewn around the house to live-stream her and her daughters' antics to the entire world over the internet, being that she was too busy acting as a cum-receptacle for five insatiable dickgirls while they themselves were too lust-riddled and stupid to hold any kind of job.

Gretchen actually stopped over there once every blue moon with an empty cup and a request for sugar, which of course was just an excuse to have her insides flooded with cum. It was fun, but the girls always came too quickly for her tastes, and the very greedy Mrs. Gentry didn't like to share, so Gretchen couldn't linger for long regardless.

Across the street where a local park sat, it seemed that those in their neighborhood who liked to go out for an early morning exercise were giving it their all.

While a few good-looking individuals barely wearing any clothes at all were jogging along the park's lengthy sidewalk, their jiggly curves and/or bulging package out on display in the skimpiest of workout clothes; the most notable sight among them was the group of three naked twinks with very feminine figures doing laps on park's stony border, their big pale butts were bouncing and jiggling along with every step of their jog.

If not for the slight broadness of their shoulders and the hard juicy cocks wildly bobbing up and down in front of them, Gretchen would've figured that they were just a few flat-chested girls in their early-twenties that had a few slight mannish facial features. Slowly following behind them was an Amazonian leather-mommy wearing six-inch platform heels. Even without the shoes, the woman had to be at least seven-foot-tall. Not an ounce of her flesh was visible underneath the thin latex bodysuit hugging every single nook and cranny of her curvy figure and head, and she handled her whip with the grace and ruthlessness of a professional bottom-tamer. The giggly twinks would slow down at every corner they came up to and look back at her teasingly, and she would always take a quick step forward and expertly crack the whip's three braided tips on each of their big round butts. They would squeal with delight and keep up their old pace after that.

In the center of the park, there seemed to be a booth and stage set up with several people involved.

In the booth, two very muscular and heavily tanned men in their late thirties were sitting in two seats next to one another with microphones in front of each of them. They wore white T-shirts with the logo of the town's most popular local FM radio station/ameture podcasters. On the stage to their left, which had a few boom-microphones over it with two large waterproof cameras pointed at it and the booth from ten-feet and five-feet away; two women and three futanari were lined up on the platform, each of them giggling like idiots and wearing spaghetti-thin bikini bottoms over their shaved pussies and large cocks while plain white T-shirts covered each of their sizable breasts. The smallest set, which belonged to a shy and bottom-heavy redhead, were maybe the size of cantaloupes. The largest set, which belonged to a tall, muscular, confident, and very well-hung futanari with short golden-yellow hair, were as large and round and round as beach balls.

The radio jocks in the booth began to hoot and holler about their bi-weekly wet T-shirt contest through the microphones, their goofy voices as amped up and enthusiastic as they could possibly be.

"Good moooooooring, Slutzville!" The jock with long blonde hair called out.

"This is the Bill and Joe show, everyone's favorite morning talk show!" The one with short brunette hair shouted, matching the energy of his co-host.

"I'm Bill!"

"I'm Joe!"

"And you all know what today is!"

They both paused, making sure their timing was correct as they shouted into the mics at the same time.

"The nine-hundred-and-fifty-seventh bi-weekly Wet T-Shirt Contest Shoooooow!"

The ladies on stage cheered and jumped up and down. The short redhead with the smallest bust was clearly **** and nervous, but even she managed to smile and show some enthusiasm.

Having been a part of several wet T-shirt contests herself, Gretchen knew that their original bust size didn't matter for the actual contest itself, but how fast they could grow to completely rip the shirt apart when doused with plain-old cold water. Despite the cocky teasing from the charismatic and mouthy futa who may as well have skipped wearing her bikini-bottoms altogether, the redhead standing next to her stood just as much of a chance at winning than anyone.

After a few more obnoxious announcements from the radio jocks, the show was under way.

Gretchen rolled her eyes and smiled as she strode forward towards the rolled up newspaper laying on the sidewalk in front of her house, recalling the days of her youth before she had the giant fake tits that her late husband loved oh-so much. Because of her implants, they weren't able to swell nearly as large as before, but Marty liked their firmness much more than how big her breasts could become back when fully natural.

Upon reaching the sidewalk, Gretchen was mildly surprised to see that the brightly blushing redhead in the middle of the park was already sporting a set of overly-ripe underneath her poor shirt while the hung futa and the three other women had maybe only gone up one maybe one or two cup sizes in those few seconds. By the time she had bent over and stood back up with her newspaper in hand, the front of redhead's shirt was completely torn down the middle, the impressive weight of her massive and all-natural breasts sloshing and jiggling around enough to throw the embarrassed girl off balance.

The futa seemed upset that she'd grown the least out of them all, but she wasn't throwing a fit, and even helped the dizzy redhead up off of the makeshift stage's floor and congratulate her with a deep tongue kiss.

"Aaaaaand we have a winner, folks!"

"Goddamn, that was a quick one! Right Joe?"

"That's right Bill! That had to be the fastest wet T-shirt contest we've ever seen!"

"I hope you wonderful people listening to us on the radio go and check out our website where we've got the entire thing on film, because seeing is believing!"

"Let me tell you Bill, I'm a believer after that."

"You and me both, Joe!"

While Gretchen stood on the sidewalk watching the show devolve into the two radio hosts passionately making out while the cheerful and very handsy girls on stage began to form a small orgy of their own, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was laying in the grass by the park's sidewalk, easily missable for anyone. It was a wonder how Gretchen and her old eyes managed to spot it, even in the dawn's dim light.

She looked both ways down the street and walked forward towards the park, her slippered feet slapping against the ground as her big heavy breasts bounced around freely outside of her open purple robe.

Gretchen stopped, picked it up, and then raised an eyebrow when she began to examine it.

It looked like an old cell phone that had could slide out in the center to reveal a small keyboard, a piece of technology that even she might be able to use despite her lack of computer/smart-phone skills.

The gaggle of sweaty twinks ran past her on the sidewalk while turning to give her quick and polite 'Hi's' and 'Hello's', and when the Amazon dominatrix began to pass by, Gretchen felt the compulsion to speak up.

"Ma'am, did you happen to drop this?" The busty old woman asked, holding up the device in her hands.

The woman wearing leather that covered every inch of her form, including her eyes and mouth, stopped and faced Gretchen, then glanced down towards the device for a brief moment before looking back up and giving her head a light shake from side to side.

"Getting tired already, you lazy bitch?!" One of the braver twinks shouted from the corner of the sidewalk, panting and covered in sweat. "We've still got another couple of miles in us!"

"Yeah!" The rest of them simultaneously agreed, laughing.

The bottom-tamer's head snapped to the side in their direction, and she began quickly walking towards them again at a faster pace than before, furiously cracking her whip as the trio of young men giggled and ran.

"Hm." Gretchen shrugged, then gazed back down to the phone before sliding out the keyboard. "Then I wonder who this belongs to..."

The small rectangular screen came to life, and an 8-bit message written in neon green letters amongst a dark-gray background appeared.

MASTER PC - MOBILE UNIT #0003

Her brow furrowed as soon as the next set of words appeared on screen, informing her in regards to something about a Master, and the ability to shape the world around her by entering text through the keyboard.

Just as she began to jokingly type, "I understand what this thing is," a slender and naked young man with an ass and figure not unlike the twinks' began shouting at her from a distance.

"No, hand on a second!" He cried out, unheard by an old woman whose mind was being flooded with unbelievable knowledge. "That's mine!"