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Luis leaves sometime after noon, still grinning, cock finally spent, the scent of him thick in the bedroom. The door clicks shut. Bri stays sprawled on the bed in the ruined Hotwife Size Queen outfit, micro-shorts shoved aside, collar still reading free-use for real men, both holes soft, open, and leaking the last of his cum. The black cuck cap is still on your head. The cage is still locked around your five-and-a-half inches, sticky and aching.

She turns her head on the pillow and looks at you with glassy, satisfied eyes.

“I want more of that in my life,” she says simply. “A lot more. Big cocks. Real stretches. Men who can actually make me come until I can’t walk. And I want you right there watching every time, locked up and grateful.”

The words settle into you like the click of the cage earlier. There is no jealousy left—only the pure, cage-fed desire to give her exactly that. You glance at the open costume box still sitting on the dresser. Several outfits remain: the full Dom/Sub pair (heavy black leather for a dominant, glossy latex French-maid set for a submissive), extra collars, more cages, a few labeled tops and bottoms you still can’t quite read without the letters blurring, and a handful of sealed packages the website had simply called “group enhancers.”

You stand on unsteady legs, walk to the box, and start pulling everything out.

“Then we’re going to use all of it,” you hear yourself say. “Every single costume. Tonight.”

Bri’s smile is slow and hungry.

The next hours become a blur of fabric, locks, and phone calls.

You dress her first in the remaining Hotwife pieces layered over what she already wears: a second collar that reads size-queen slut, thigh-high stockings with 8"+ only running up the backs of the seams, and a tiny open-cup bra that leaves her tits completely exposed and framed by the words feed me cock. Every new piece makes her pupils blow wider and her legs spread a little further on instinct.

Then you open the Dom/Sub set.

The heavy black leather harness, pants, and boots go on a guy named Marcus that Luis recommended—tall, thickly built, even bigger than Luis at a full nine inches and heavy. The glossy black latex French-maid dress, petticoat, stockings, and headband go on a second man named Theo, shorter and prettier, who immediately softens and starts calling Marcus “Sir” the moment the last zipper closes. The clothes work exactly as the website promised. Marcus becomes pure dominant hunger. Theo becomes pure eager service.

You stay in the Cuck Yes clothes and the cage. The cuck cap never leaves your head.

By early evening the apartment is full.

Luis returns with two more friends—both thick, both over eight inches, both already hard from the group texts Bri has been sending of herself in the expanding Hotwife outfit. Marcus arrives in full leather, cock already out and gleaming. Theo follows in the squeaking latex maid uniform, tray in hand, ready to serve drinks or his mouth whenever Marcus snaps his fingers.

You sit in the chair at the foot of the bed exactly where Bri points you. The cage is so tight it hurts in the best way. Your little cock leaks constantly onto the towel she placed under you.

What follows is everything she asked for and more.

Marcus fucks her first while the others watch. The leather creaks every time he bottoms out in her cunt. Bri comes screaming, the size-queen slut collar bouncing, the feed me cock bra framing her tits as they sway. When he pulls out of her cream-filled hole he simply points at Theo; the latex maid drops to his knees between her legs and starts licking her clean while Marcus forces his wet cock down Theo’s throat.

Luis takes her next, flipping her onto all fours so you have the perfect view of his thick eight-and-a-half-inch cock stretching her ass open again. She looks straight at you the entire time, mouth open, eyes rolling, and moans,

“He’s so much bigger than your locked little clitty—thank him, baby—thank him for fucking your wife properly—”

You thank him. Your voice is hoarse and sincere. The cage throbs.

The other two men rotate in. One feeds her cock while the other fucks her. They switch. They double her—one in her cunt, one in her ass—while she holds eye contact with you and comes so hard she soaks the sheets. Theo the latex maid crawls underneath and licks every overflowing drop while Marcus uses the maid’s mouth and ass in turn. Every time a man finishes inside Bri or across her tits or on her tongue, she makes you lean in and clean it. Every time she comes she makes you thank the man who caused it.

Hours blur.

At one point she has all four thick cocks around her face while you kneel beside the bed in the cuck cap and stroke the cage. She licks and sucks and strokes until they cover her in so much cum the Hotwife Size Queen lettering disappears under the white. Then she pulls you in by the hair and makes you lick her face clean while the men watch and get hard again.

Later she rides Marcus’s nine-inch cock reverse-cowgirl so you can see every thick inch stretching her, the I need 8"+ only shorts pulled to the side, her juices running down his balls. She reaches back, spreads herself open, and begs Luis to force his way into her ass at the same time. The double penetration makes her sob with pure pleasure. You watch your wife’s holes stretched around two heavy cocks that make your locked five-and-a-half inches look like a toy, and you come helplessly inside the cage—dry, aching, perfect.

They keep going until the sky outside the window turns dark and then starts to lighten again.

By the time the last man finishes—deep in her ass while she is on her back with her knees pinned to her shoulders—Bri is a wreck of sweat, cum, and broken moans. Her makeup is ruined. The Hotwife clothes are stained past recognition. Both holes are soft, open, and constantly leaking. Theo the latex maid is collapsed in the corner, used and smiling. Marcus sits in the leather armchair like a king, still half-hard.

One by one the extra men leave, each one kissing Bri goodbye, each one giving your caged cock a dismissive little pat or a light slap on the cuck cap. Luis is the last to go. He looks at you, then at the overflowing state of your wife, and simply says,

“Call me whenever she needs it again. I’ll bring friends.”

The door finally closes.

Silence settles over the apartment, broken only by Bri’s soft, shaky breathing and the faint drip of cum onto the sheets.

She turns her head on the pillow and looks at you with the same glassy, satisfied eyes from earlier, only deeper now.

“Come here and hold me,” she whispers. “Keep the cage on. Keep the hat on. I want to fall asleep full of them while my locked cuck husband cleans whatever leaks out.”

You crawl onto the bed on unsteady legs, still dressed in the Cuck Yes clothes, still locked, still wearing the cuck cap. You settle beside her. She throws one messy thigh over your hip and pulls your mouth to her freshly used cunt.

“Lick.”

You lick. The taste of four different men mixed with her juices floods your tongue. She sighs, strokes the back of your head, and starts talking softly while you work.

“We’re keeping every costume. Every single one. Tomorrow we’re going to open the rest of the box and see what else it can make us. And every time I need a real cock, you’re going to help me get it… and then you’re going to watch.”

Your locked cock gives one last helpless throb against her sticky thigh.

Outside, the city is waking up.

Inside, every costume from the box has been used, your wife is full and smiling, and the black cuck cap is still sitting perfectly on your head.

You bury your tongue deeper, swallowing everything that leaks out of her, and understand with perfect clarity that the clothes have only just begun.

— End of Version 1 —