Is your fantasy partner good at jokes? Describe their sense of humor.

Is your fantasy partner good at jokes? Describe their sense of humor.

***

There was never going to be a good time to tell her that. Not even on our honeymoon could I have told Charlie that story and stay married. There had once been a good time to tell it: literally the very instant I decided not to destroy his life over a bottle of pills and some sex. If I had told Charlie that very instant, he would have left me, sure. But he would have left me before wasting all his time. Before either of us got invested. Left our relationship as just a fantasy we each had at different times in our lives. But I wasn’t a good enough person to know that, then. And by the time I figured it out, well, that moment was long gone and ‘us’ wasn’t a fantasy anymore.

Every good bone in my body was put in there by Charlie and Charlotte over the course of our relationship. Every good deed I did was after their example. Every kind thought I had was regurgitated slop of their sincerity. At my core I was selfish, impulsive, cruel, and probably a million other things I lacked the self-awareness to identify.

So, no. There was never going to be a good time to tell her the real story.

Admittedly? I probably could have picked a better time. Or maybe even a less bad time. If I thought about it, there probably weren’t too many worse times than the moment I chose.

Telling her while she was on her first period, undergoing genetic reconstruction, and in the middle of a panic attack remembering her abusive childhood was probably tied for last place if I had to rank moments to tell her.

I think I wanted her to leave. In my heart, I knew Mommy was right. I was not good for Charlotte, but I couldn’t leave her. She’d never move on if I left her. But her leaving me? Well, that’s what needed to happen, but I still needed to fell in control. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let her leave me. I didn’t have the strength. So I did the thing that would make her leave.

Her initial reaction was to push away from me. It hurt, but I had braced for that. I was numbed. I didn’t want it to happen, but it needed to. I was not good for her. I was violent, self-centered, and stupid. She deserved better. Everyone deserved better.

I wanted to reach out and shake her so much she vibrated, telling her not to leave me, but I bit my tongue and stayed my hands. She jumped, as if startled by something in my face that I couldn’t see. Was it the monster of her mother’s face? The apathetic numbness of her father? Her hand came up to her chest, the other covering her crotch, as if she were suddenly naked and didn’t want me to see. To protect herself from the sex monster that did this to her,

Her reaction transitioned into something I hadn’t braced for. Laughter. The pain of that hit me full ****. She was crying, but her hand clutched her stomach as her diaphragm spasmed, giving her trouble breathing. I just admitted that the start of our relationship was a lie designed to ruin her life and feed my ego and she was laughing? Did she think I was joking?

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. “That’s, ha! I mean what the actual fuck?”

“Charlotte, I’m not joking.”

“I know!” She gasped, slapping her knee. “I knew you were slurring too much! I knew it!” Was she high? She suddenly jerked violently, giggling even more.

“Charlotte—“

“I mean, talk about picking your moments, huh?” She giggled, barely standing, her hand pushing down on her bulging nipple through her shirt. Ok, so she did see it. This was the moment she fell out of love with me. Her reaction was just confusing, but she was most certainly done with me. I guess, how else was she supposed to react? “Ungh! Ungh! Fuck!” She whined, bulge jolting underneath her sweats. She slipped a hand under her waistband and slid behind, presumably fingering herself.

This was turning her on? Maybe she really was attracted to how evil I was. How terribly sad. I didn’t want to be evil. I didn’t want to lose her, but it was for the best. What could I even do to push her over the edge?

“Oh! Ah, fuck!” She fell to the floor, no longer able to hold herself up. I leapt out and caught her before she could slump forward. She buried her face in my chest, quivering and moaning as I felt her pant leg grow warm and sticky. I felt tears coming. A second ago I wanted her to go, but now I just wanted to hold her like this forever.

She kept shaking and gasping, pushing her face more and more into my heart. “S-stop!” She licked my chest. I grabbed her shoulders and pusher her away. She was quaking and quivering, gritting her teeth in a pained expression like when Charlie would cum but I refused to stop sucking his dick.

Stop? Stop what? Being evil?

“Turn. Them. Gah! Off!” She whined, pinching her nipple.

“Turn wha—“

“THE PIERCINGS!” She screamed, splattering herself again.

“I didn’t! What?”

“It’s, oh, fuck! Too much!”

“What?”

“Too much!” She cried out. “TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH!”

I couldn’t comprehend what the hell was happening to her. It looked like she was having a seizure and an orgasm at the same time. Followed shortly by another seizure and orgasm. And another.

“Turn the piercings off!” She screamed. Oh, fuck. She got vibrating piercings? I didn’t even think those were real things! I just saw it in a hentai, once and thought it was hot.

“Where’s the remote?” I asked, shaking her shoulders. She bit her lip, plunging her face into my elbow.

“You’re the remote!” She cried. “Oh, fuck! Please!”

“I don’t know what you’re—“

“The pills! You wanted ahh! Fuck me, fuck this pussy fuck fuck fuck! Piercings that vibrate on command! So command them off!”

Was that something the pills could even do? Your husband grew a pussy and tits and is shooting gallons of cum from a python. Why couldn’t the pills do that?

“Ok. uh,” I thought for a second, pointing directly at her breast. “Off!” Nothing. “Turn off!” Still nothing. “Stop vibrating! Leave her alone!”

“Fuck! Just do what you did to turn them on!”

“I didn’t do anything to turn them on!” I argued back, watching as her nipple shook under her top. Maybe when we were hugging? I mean I couldn’t imagine these things were wireless.

I reached out and groped her breasts in my palm. “Off. Turn off. Turrrnnnn oooooooffff. Stop. Stoooooop.”

“Fuck, it’s not working! Under the bed! Landline.”

We didn’t have a landline. Why would we have a landline under the bed in the guest room? I looked under the bed, as per her instructions, and found a yellowish plastic device. A relic. I remembered having one just like it hung up on a wall in my home as a kid. Why do we have a landline under the bed in the guest room? I yanked it out, seeing no chord. “Where do I plug it in? How do I plug it in?” I asked, but she just opened and closed her fist, indicating for me to hand it to her. I complied, and watched as she punched in some numbers and picked up the receiver.

“Jens!”

There was an indistinct voice on the other side. Was it just a cell disguised as a landline?

“It’s Charlotte, now! No, same person, just—fuck! Different name. Listen the piercings are vibrating nonstop! How do we turn them off?” She came again. “NO THEY’RE NOT DIFFERENT! The implic— no, Jens this is debilitating!” A tear rolled down her face.

I didn’t know what to do. I felt really helpless. Charlie always got cuddly after orgasms, Charlotte, too in our limited experience. She liked feeling safe. Loved.

It was an impulse. I kneeled down next to her and put her head in my lap. Immediately she started rubbing her cheek against my thighs, as if trying to bury herself in them. Maybe we were over. But I wasn’t going to let her suffer.

I started stroking her hair. It’s getting long. I held her cheek in my hand. She pressed her face into my hand, nuzzling into my touch as she cried. My hands were so big, now.

“W-well can we change it?” She begged into the phone. “There’s not going to be porn w-w-wa-where vibrating piercings turn off! Y—you can? Ok, fuck, we’ll be right over!” She slammed the receiver down and rolled onto her stomach, humping the floor.

“Bab—“ Probably can’t call her baby anymore. “Charlotte, what’s going on? How can I help?”

She wriggled and gasped, one hand pinching her nipple as the other snaked below her pants, obviously worrying her clit. “Bucket. In the garage. Put it inggggghhhhhhaaaaawwwwd! Your car. Guh-grab your pills. Take me t-to Toy Chest.”

Toy Chest? “Toy Chest?”

“TOY CHEST!”

***

Toy Chest was one of two sex shops in Pricefield. And it was the only one that didn’t make you feel like a despicable pervert for even passing it. It was apparently a new addition to the town, arriving shortly before our move.

Charlotte was sat in the passenger seat with a blanked covering her legs. On the floor was a big Home Depot bucket that she held her penis over, accepting her cascading orgasms and just splattering into the container roughly every minute or so. “Piercings vvvvibrate at your co-co-command.”

Off! Turn off! Please! She’s been through enough!

“B-but Jens… oh, fuck! Call me a whore!”

“What?”

“CALL ME A WHORE!”

“You’re a whore.”

“N-nicer!”

“Such a good little whore.”

“Ah…” Another splatter splashed into the bucket. “You ah, wanted piercings tha-that vibrated at your command. B-but you didn’t aaaaaaaasssssssk that they stop at at at yyyour command, oh, fuck this is a lot.”

“What!?” Obviously I wanted them to stop, too! “They’re the same thing!”

“P-please. Please tell me I’m pretty…”

“Such a pretty, pretty girl.”

“T-too nice!”

“Such a pretty, pretty whore?” The wet sounds in the bucket told me I hit the nail on the head. I bit down on my own lip, coughing to disguise my own amused moan. I wanted to toss that blanket to the side and stick that hose in my mouth. Might have to pull over for that… “So why Toy Chest?”

She whimpered, both hands going under the blanket. “M-my balls… oh, fuck, they’re getting… yup, definitely getting bigger.” I started pressing pedal to the metal, but she groaned. “No! No! It’s god, fuck, it’s important that you don’t get pulled over or draw susssssspicion!”

I slowed down despite my instincts. Although in a porn comic, a cop might be so aroused or surprised by the sight of a pretty girl with a fat cock cumming into a bucket that they let us go without a warning, I was sure Charlotte did not want to be seen like this. But being in the car was a kind of **** for me. I was living a porn plot next to the woman I loved more than anything, but knew that once it was over she’d be gone. Every orgasm, every squelch, every shake of her breast made it harder to push toward the goal that would bring this all to a close.

She was being tortured by the orgasms that were **** upon her by the piercings. But seemed less pained whenever I gave input. If I thought about it, was it really appropriate to sexually denigrate, praise, and touch the woman who was dead set on leaving me? But I didn’t think much, it got in the way of my doing.

For some time, I kept one hand massaging her tit, feeling the buzzing of the piercing against my palm. It was not a gentle purr. It was like a V8 was strapped to her most sensitive areas. “It’s ok, pretty slut. You just can’t help cumming yourself. You’re just a good little whore. Let it all out. Good slut.”

Her orgasms began clustering closer together, probably only thirty to forty five seconds apart. But she seemed less distressed by them. Almost enjoying them. Her noises were no longer pained, but she couldn’t really string a coherent thought together.

“Cums, mommy.”

“I see that. You’re such a good girl, Charlotte.”

“Oooh, Cumbitch, cumslut.”

“It’s ok, babygirl, just keep cumming for Mommy, ok? Only a few more minutes.” This was so fucking hot. Holding a quivering mess of a woman, gently praising her as her mind melts away into a random string of expletives… She couldn’t possibly leave you like this. Maybe we just go home… Maybe we make use of that basement.

Oh, my god, I was evil. How could I even think a thought like that? The raw power was intoxicating. Too intoxicating. I hesitantly withdrew my hand, firmly gripping the steering wheel to keep me from full on molesting her.

“W-why d-did you stooop?” Charlotte whined, her own hand replacing mine on her chest.

“I, uh, need to focus on driving.” I lied. I could, drive drunk while fingering myself without so much as tapping a painted line. But if I indulged in this, I’d never let her go. Even if this was to be her new miserable existence—a pathetic, writhing, cum factory I kept locked in the basement—I’d keep her just to avoid the pain of losing her. Of losing.

Toy Chest was a two story building just a little off the freeway on the outskirts of Pricefield’s downtown. Its large illuminated sign could be read from the interstate, but the actual building was obscured by other buildings closer to the off-ramp and tall pine trees in its rear. Aside from the pink letters and the words Erotic Botique, nobody would have assumed it was a sex store, blending in with the rustic, professional storefronts for an insurance firm, a bank, and an electronics repair store. It looked to be repurposed from a mechanic’s shop, with two loading dock doors in the rear.

Even still, the parking spaces immediately in front of Toy Chest were entirely vacant. Nobody wanted their car to be seen in front of the sex store, giving the impression that nobody was inside, though I knew from extensive experience that this was likely not the case.

Toy Chest looked clean, felt sanitary, and, carried a large variety of stock that made it extremely popular. The first floor was entry level, beginner products displayed with professional indifference that made people feel more comfortable. As if they were just buying groceries. An aisle for vibrators, a section for lingerie that felt like Target, a wall of organized BDSM restraints, and of course the ever popular ‘joke’ section. The downstairs was just designed for regular people to shamelessly grab their needs or explore their desires without feeling like total creeps.

The upper section was marked explicitly by signs that indicated that it was not for beginners or the faint of heart—my favorite section. The upstairs felt more like the kind of place you’d expect a store called Toy Chest to look inside. Red walls, warm lights, erotically posed sex dolls, and of course a variety of oversized and **** variants of products available downstairs. Downstairs was for when you and your partner wanted to spice things up a little bit. Upstairs was for engaging with degeneracy. While the staff downstairs wore polos and slacks, the staff upstairs were always dressed in latex and even wore wristbands indicating their personal boundaries. I didn’t go upstairs too often, usually only buying a new vibrator from downstairs every month just to leave around the house, but getting over a lot of the shame from my affair made it a little hard to go where sex was discussed so flagrantly.

Toy Chest was by far my favorite store in Pricefield. But I didn’t know that Charlotte even knew of it except for me being very open about when I was going. I’d never heard her mention it before of her own volition.

“Ok, um… what am I getting?” If we needed to eat metal and shit for our piercings, or drink milk for, well, my milk, then sure, I could believe there was a product in the store Charlotte could consume to add the stop vibrating function to her piercings. But there was no way she was going to get out of the car and walk the ten feet holding a half-filled cum bucket between her legs. Not to mention what the staff would think.

“Go around back.” She came. “Dock t-three… Code issss your birthday.”

“Wha—“

“Please! I’ll explain!” She hissed, grabbing my hand. “Just do it…” She squeezed my fingers as tight as she could—she wasn’t very strong—speaking her words clearly through gritted teeth and between harsh breaths.

“Ok, well, remember how I said Superintendent Rice practically gave us the house for free? Well, that’s because…” Her sharp inhale clearly came from an impending orgasm and not from hesitation. “He literally did. I spent my savings on… this store. Bought materials for rennnovatingggggugh. Used the excess onnnnnn the hou-ow-se!”

I slammed on the brakes, which caused her to cry out. “What!?” She lied to me? She never lies. To anyone.

“Drive! Fucking please! Please!”

“Ok, sorry!” I stepped on the gas, whipping around the building to the loading area. She opened a business? And didn’t consult me? I wasn’t even offended as a wife, I was offended as a business woman that she didn’t even come to me for advice. She hated literally everything that went into finances and would choose to do everything for free if her basic needs were met. I could run a sex shop! Oh, my god, do I want to open a sex shop? “Just surprised me.” How could she even run a business without me knowing? And why was it seemingly succeeding? It even had billboards I passed on the way!

“Brace yourself then.” She groaned. “Any phones in the car?”

“Shit, I left mine—“

“Perrrrrfect. The store is a front.”

I slammed the breaks again. “WHAT!?”

“Fuck you! This is ****! Fuck!”

“Who the fuck are you!? Yo-you’re my sweet, innocent, heartbroken do-gooder, and now you’re telling me you’re laundering money through a sex shop! This whole time?”

“No! J-JensSss! He’sssss an alien!”

“Fine, fuck you, too.”

“DO YOU THINK ANY OF THIS IS TECHNOLOGY WE JUST HAVE LYING AROUND!?” She cupped my breast, milk squirting out onto my shirt. Then she lifted her shirt to show me her big fake tits, nipples swollen and shaking. “HE LIVES IN THE BASEMENT! DRIVE, DAMNIT!”

I let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. I didn’t fully buy it. I didn’t know what I believed, but it wasn’t that. Whatever the real answer was, I wasn’t going to get it out of her now. The pleasure was too much for her to explain deeply. This would be a conversation to have at home with the FBI on speed dial. Charlotte did not have the business savvy to commit smart fraud and I certainly didn’t trust that she wasn’t already about to get audited. I needed her to explain everything so I could fix shit before federal agents were knocking on our door.

Angrily, I pulled up to the loading dock, a keypad next to my window, though I was a bit far from it. With my lengthened arms, I didn’t even have to unbuckle my seatbelt. How tall was I, now? 6’1”, 6’3”? I typed in my birthday, 0218, and was surprised to see the keys flash blue at me, the door to the gate suddenly rolling open with a loud, rusty clattering noise.

“Pull in.” She pleaded, still holding my hand like a vice.

The loading dock was pretty shallow, only giving my SUV about a yard of clearance both front and back. On the right was a chainlink gate that seemed to separate it from the rest of the backroom, which was being used as a storehouse. The floor my car was sitting on was grated and made of thick steel, with an access hatch for a mechanic to pop under and use.

Standing inside, initially hidden by the wall I pulled past, was a tall woman in a latex body suit, leaving only her face exposed. I recognized her from the second floor, the general manager who called herself Mistress Tanya. Or at least, I thought she was the general manager. She was extremely flirty, but after I told her I had a husband and was uncomfortable with her advances, she became only very flirty. I watched from my driver side mirror as the shiny black finger of her latex glove pressed a button on the wall, the garage door closing behind us. The closed in space amplified the rusty clacking three times, explaining why Mistress Tanya wore large headphones.

I was just locked in. I’m trapped in a car inside a front for a wonder **** lab. “Fuck.” I buried my eyes into my hands. Thank fuck you don’t do any of that thinking, Tori. Really would’ve hated for those thoughts to get in the way of your doing, moron. I turned to Charlotte as Mistress Tanya’s heeled boots stepped across the grated floor in a straight line, one directly in front of the other so her tight hips swayed with every step. “If I get shot in the back of the head, right now, you’re dead.”

“Relax.” She moaned. I felt my hands tense around the wheel as the woman approached my window. I stared straight ahead to avoid looking at her, as if it would make her actually disappear. But she passed my window entirely, continuing to walk until she reached a small console on the left corner of the floor, containing only three vertically stacked red buttons. “This is an elevator, by the wayyyyyyyuyuyuyu.”

“Fuck.” I groaned, the car suddenly shaking as the wall ahead of us climbed. The entire room, or shaft rather, was filled with a loud mechanical whine as a motor above us winched us down. Streaky stains stretched on the wall ahead of us, the red light above making it look like dried blood. Was it dried blood? “I’m in a horror movie.”

“You’re nnnnnooot innnn a horror mmmmovie.” Charlotte assured me. “B-but I don’t knowww what th-the aliennnn’s gunna loooook like. Ung.”

“Not funny!” She wasn’t going to psyche me up with all this alien talk. I liked scary movies. Or at least just watching them. Maybe she was trying to psyche me out so the **** dealer was less scary?

The seconds passed too slowly. Mistress Tanya gave me a suggestive look, biting her cheery red lip and winking. The elevator stopped very suddenly with a loud crashing sound that made me jump. Mistress Tanya took long strides to the passenger side, where waiting next to a closed door on a concrete platform was a wheelchair illuminated by a single, fading fluorescent bulb. She grabbed it and took sultry steps over to Charlotte’s door. “Yeah, totally not a horror movie.”

“T-turn off the c-car.” Charlotte said, opening her door. Mistress Tanya flashed her a wide but toothless smile.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Washington.” She chuckled with a tone of familiarity.

I gripped Charlotte’s hand tight, preventing her from leaving her seat. “I thought you said nobody could know.” I whispered quickly, yanking the key from the ignition.

“Tanyaaaa knows everyyyyyything.” She answered. “N-now come ar-around and help mmmme out, yeah? Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

I flared my nostrils. So everyone knows but me. I dropped her hand and threw open my door. If I was about to get held at gunpoint, my advantage was decidedly not inside a car. I put on my corporate bitch face and pretended like none of this bothered me as I took long assertive steps around the front of the car, trying to ignore Mistress Tanya as she parched the wheelchair next to the open door.

“Isn’t it tempting?” Mistress Tanya asked as I approached, hand lazing up to her breast. “To leave her just like this?” She whispered just loud enough for only me to hear.

I looked inside the car and saw Charlotte moaning, hand running through her scalp as more spurts deposited into the bucket hidden beneath her blanket. One of her hands no doubt fingering the new, fresh slut hole that had been abused for nearly an hour. She was helpless.

“Not in the slightest.” I turned my head, barely casting a glance at Mistress Tanya. I was taller than her, now, even in the platform boots. “I don’t control it.”

Mistress Tanya giggled. “I didn’t realize there was a right answer.”

I turned back into the car, reaching over and unbuckling Charlotte’s seatbelt, allowing her to bury her face in my bicep for a moment. “Hold onto your bucket for me, ok?” I asked, sliding my arms under her thighs and back. She whined, but withdrew her hands from her hair and pussy, fidgeting under the blanket. “One, two,” I lifted with far greater ease than I had anticipated.

I was definitely keeping the arms if this shit was reversible.

I pulled her out of the seat as she kissed at my neck, stepping back and turning so I could lower her down into the chair. She groaned in relief, but scooted forwards in her chair, presumably to stay in the bucket. “I’ll push.” I turned to take hold of the chair handles, allowing Mistress Tanya to lead the way, her bleached ponytail bouncing along with her ass with every step toward the door.

“You told her about the phones?”

“We d-don’t have any! Can’t re-really explainnnnn annnnnnything right now-ow-ow-Ow-OW! Please, just, please…”

Mistress Tanya nodded, grabbing a leather strap dangling against her thigh which held a black card and slapped it against a scanner next to the door. “Jens is being tracked by every government in the world.” She said, pulling the door open and holding it for me to pass with the chair. It was a dark, concrete room, lit only by ambient light from around the corner. As if it were designed to be a textbook chokepoint. “Cannot say anything about aliens around a cellphone, a smart device—especially Alexas—or person not already in the know.”

The door closed very quickly behind us with a slam. There was another one of those scanners on this side. No getting out. “Charlie, the now gorgeous Mrs. Charlotte Washington,” Probably not Washington much longer, “got me sober a few years back. You married a good girl.” She flashed a wink behind her shoulder to Charlotte.

“You did… all the hard work.” Charlotte dismissed the claim.

“Found me working as a waitress and tells me I could run my very own business if I agreed to help a friend.”

“Let me guess, that friend is an alien from outer space.” I rolled my eyes, adopting a silly voice to downplay my own fears as we rounded the corner.

The room was large, about the size of the building above, and even had a few tents set up to create rooms. It was packed full of what looked to be excess stock from the top floor. Sex dolls dressed in gimp holding dildos were posed in erotic positions with each other in an orderly line against one wall, often depicting different sex positions. Porn magazines categorized and displayed on aisles of shelving units, with centerfolds used to mark a category rather than a label.

Sitting at a computer in a La-Z-Boy was a jumpy person in a gimp suit that covered their entire body they appeared androgynous, or perhaps sexless would be more apt, though it was hard to get any details about them since they were fully incased in shiny black latex. They seemed to pay us no mind, mindlessly staring at a screen showing a masturbating woman despite their eyes being fully covered by the faceless mask.

“Not just that. An alien obsessed with human sexuality. It turns out we’re the only ones who have sex and Jens is obsessed with studying it.” Mistress Tanya said as we made our way deeper into the clean but dirty feeling room. Right…

“Jens, buddy!” Charlotte called out, sliding back and forth in the chair. The gimp held a strangely long finger up in our direction. “P-please! This hurts!”

The gimp, Jens apparently, twisted his neck to face us. The completely smooth, mirrored surface suddenly split horizontally, white teeth appearing behind the latex. “Jens donated one-thousand tokens to Gemma James, but Gemma James’ sex machine does not increase speed despite Jens donating one-thousand tokens to Gemma James.”

Oh, my god, that’s a fucking alien! “Oh, my god. That’s a fucking alien.” I stopped in my tracks, my feet frozen in place as I watched the lipless mask speak with the annoyed tenor of a teenager.

“Yes, do try to keep up, Mrs. Washington.” Mistress Tanya laughed as the alien turned back to the computer screen.

I leaned down to Charlotte, my heart beating so loud I could barely hear my own whisper. “T-that’s an alien.”

She looked back up at me with an exhausted glance. “Push me forward.” She shook.

“Charlotte—“

“How many times do I need to be right before you just do what I tell you?” She echoed her earlier statement through gritted teeth. It stung my heart into pulling itself from my stomach slightly, at least enough to not weigh my feet down.

“It’s a fucking alien, though.” I muttered under my breath. Everyone seemed to ignore me.

“Jens, you’re watching a recording.” Mistress Tanya declared, coming up behind the chair and rubbing the little freak’s shoulders. “This stream already happened. You can’t change it.”

Jens sighed, pressing the power button on the screen. Then it stood up on the chair, turning around and turning its shiny eyeless face towards me. “Victoria Washington: please proceed to science laboratory. Its finger pointed me towards a narrow hall between a two piles of sex dolls, terminating at an open door through which looked to be some sort of medical table.

“Charlotte, it knows my name.” I whispered, leaning down to her ear.

“Victoria, I’m actively being assaulted. The ah! Alien’s cool. These piercings aren’t. Fix. It.”

I turned the wheelchair, cautiously proceeding down the hall. Even knowing they were sex toys, walking between two poorly lit piles of mostly female body parts at the behest of an alien was an incredibly scary experience. Especially when the destination was a laboratory. Everything in me wanted to take Charlotte and run. We’d rip the piercings out, right? Maybe not that, you psycho. Although it did feel marginally less bad than letting an alien experiment on us.

I looked behind us and saw Mistress Tanya walking behind the creature, who walked like a duck. Hands behind its back, feet sticking straight forwards and just slightly too high with each step. “Victoria Washington is scared.” The alien said. “Does Victoria Washington not wish to turn off the piercings?” It asked. It almost felt sincere and not sarcastic. Was it sincere?

I bent down back into Charlotte’s ear. “Charlotte, is it talking to me or about me?”

“Jens doesn’t ussssssse pronouns when he taaaaaalks.”

“So…”

“Vvvvvery little of my brain power can be used on empathy right now. Alien. Scary. I got it. Wife in pain, be scared of that, ok?”

“I want to turn them off.” I said, refusing to look back at the alien as we entered the laboratory. The room’s outline was defined by plywood walls and lit by a few floodlights with extremely long extension cables. There were tables on all sides hosting chemistry sets, various tools I did not recognize, some that I did, and razor thin computer monitors displaying what I assumed to be scrolling words in a language I could not read.

Then of course the table. Overstuffed black leather shaped like a long bowl, reminiscent of a racing car chair if it were straightened out instead of shaped like an L. It was lifted off the concrete ground about a yard and was placed on top of an out of place red Persian rug.

“Please place Charlotte on operation table.”

I scooped Charlotte up and lowered her onto the bed-table. Charlotte left her bucket, which was about halfway full—more cum than I’d seen in my entire life in one place. Her cock was bulging against the blanket, twitching and writhing, but never hardening. The bulge was larger than when we’d left the house.

I curiously lifted the blanket as the alien walked past us and went into a nearby chest, rummaging around for something. “Oh fuck, Char.” I couldn’t suppress my moan. “Your balls are huge!” All together, her sack, tightened and smoothed up against her, was the size of an orange, each testicle about the size of a lemon.

Why did life have to get sexiest as it was falling apart?

The alien humphed with a noise that was either approval or disapproval. “Yes, this is correct. Multiple repeated orgasms demand more semen for male orgasm. Living Serum stimulates testicle growth to meet demand.”

“Jens. Please. Hhhhhhhnhgh! How’re we gonna fix this?” Charlotte pleaded, grabbing my wrist and rubbing her cheek into my palm. It hurt my heart. Was I really her only comfort? Me, who punched a hole into her door, who never listened, who doomed her to the life if a sex toy?

The alien stood from the chest holding some kind of gun shaped object, then scurried over to a computer, typing something. “Victoria Washington, please describe Victoria Washington’s fantasy for Charlotte to have nipple and clitoris piercings that vibrate at the command of Victoria Washington. Note: Jens cannot remove variables for the presence of vibrating piercings in the previously mentioned organs. Nor can Jens alter commander of piercing vibrations from Victoria Washington.”

“Uh… what?” I tried to decipher what it was saying, taking a moment too long. “Oh, uh, yeah. I want them to vibrate at my command. And to stop vibrating at my command.” Ok, that should do it. “And maybe I can control the intensity or even set patterns.” Where the fuck did that come from? She’s leaving your sorry ass, remember?

A compartment next to the computer hissed open, vapor rolling out as the alien pinched a small vial filled with a clear fluid between two too-long fingers. The vial was slotted into a compartment in the rear of the gun. A wet spot splashed onto the blanket as Charlotte suffered another orgasm.

“Victoria Washington will present Victoria Washington’s arm to Jens for injection.” It stated, walking up to me. It was short, maybe 5’2”—it was hard to tell when I didn’t even know how tall I was—and had the build of a lanky gnome.

I took a step back, eying the gun in its hand. “Uh… I don’t really do needles.” I tried taking another step, but was yanked by Charlotte’s weak hands. She looked up, not pleadingly, but with must’ve been the last of her empathy.

“You can hold my hand. And my boob.” She offered. It was an acceptable trade. It must’ve been how she was feeling. As much as I knew I shouldn’t rely on her for comfort and support, she was all I had here. And I still loved… what was mine.

I indulged in both offers, one of my hands locking fingers with her, the other groping boob under her shirt. I felt the gun press to my shoulder, followed by a hiss, then it was withdrawn. “What?” I turned to look at the alien. “Where was the needle?”

“Millions of needles inside injector. Needles smaller than Victoria Washington’s nerve endings.” The alien explained, pressing the gun to Charlotte’s arm with another hiss.

Charlotte used her free hand to gently tug on my hand groping her. “You can let go now.” I withdrew my hand on her breast, but she maintained our locked fingers.

“Wait, an alien just injected us with something!” I facepalmed, thinking of the chest-bursters from Alien.

“Yes, this is correct. Jens injected Victoria Washington and Charlotte with programmed Living Serum. Now fluid exchange is necessary between Victoria Washington and Charlotte in order to build new telepathic link.”

“Y-you mean like breastfeed her?”

“Breastfeed works if Victoria Washington wishes to also advance development if lactation.”

“No.” Fuck, that sounds hot.

“Then Jens propose much more efficient use of time: Sixty-Nine. Victoria Washington will place Charlotte’s penis in Victoria Washington’s mouth. Victoria Washington will also **** Charlotte’s mouth with Victoria Washington’s vagina.”

“Ugh! Why’d you have to use that word?”

“Because ‘****’ is more arousing a word to Victoria Washington. Victoria Washington has fetishes for control and domination and is aroused by the concept of controlling consent and claiming ownership of people. Arousal increases presence of fluids in female genitalia. Fluids are necessary for fluids exchange.”

“Yeah, but that word just… you make me sound evil.”

“This, too, arouses Victoria Washington. Please take Victoria Washington’s position for fluid exchange.”