John puts education first.

"Is something wrong?" Tricia's question snapped John out of his struggle, and her gentle smile threatened to have him drop even that artsy sex goddess waiting for him. "You may engage the barrier creation whenever you see fit. I'm ready for-"

"Tricia, I'm going to be late... that is, I forgot I had to meet with Ms. Summers for art tutoring."

Tricia stared at him, and opened a 3-D digital clock panel. "What time is your tutoring set to commence?"

"In seven minutes."

"Well, you can hardly expect to be ready in time for... ah, but of course you can, if you open a spatial rift between here and your home, and then from there to the Academy... although using such power there-"

"It's at her house."

Tricia's third Eye opened again, still with that innocuous effect. It didn't prevent her face from wearing naked suspicion. She leaned forward as she regarded her husband, whispering, "Summers... do you mean June Summers, the assistant dean of the humanities department?"

"I... think so?"

"The one with hideously large breasts?" John flinched, and his wife cleared her throat. "Medically speaking, of course... Unless that's your preference..."

I mean, preference makes it sound like I'm committed to them... Huh, commitment... John had a commitment here, he realized, if he was ever going to make this increasingly erotica-like scenario work. "I'm going to be honest with you: the tutoring is probably sex."

"You... I see." Tricia held her pose there, staring blankly at John for three beats before continuing, "But you are still here."

John a nervous laugh and, when Tricia refused to join him, reverted to clearing his throat. "I... I just didn't want to B.S. you, you know?"

"Your honesty is appreciated... but your polyamorous habits will take time to get used to... especially if you intend to marry the Academy's finest artist-"

"I-I don't!"

"... Do you love her?"

John blinked only once before replying, "Not really. I barely know her."

"Could you love her?" John shrugged, unsure. Quieter, she added, "Do you love me?"

Lie. The instinct was almost reflexive; he needed only tell her yes, and he'd be a free man... but this wasn't one of his eroticas. "I... think I'm starting to... but I don't know." It was uncommitted, but it was the truth.

"... So you're saying there's a significant probability?"

"I... yes? Tricia, I know this-"

"Please," she interrupted, holding her gloved hand up, "do not misunderstand. I recognize that I am neither your first nor last wife, and you have shown clear intent to continue having partners. I realize that the regular rules don't apply to you even in relationships..."

John opened his mouth to protest, but her wide-eyed gaze shut it again.

"But we have spent the whole of the night and morning together, in one manner or another. I... That is, we will... have time to discuss this later." Her lip trembled as she struggled to speak, as if she too were struggling with what she wanted to say. "I need to review and organize my research... and collect my thoughts on the same."

Tricia rose from her seat, and John found himself pacing behind her as she went to her computer bank. "So you're... O.K. with this?"

"No." She paused mid-step, almost imperceptibly, before continuing, "But I will run a number of simulations to understand ways in which I might eventually become... O.K.... with this."

The games vanished from the enclave of computer monitors, replaced by rapidly-flickering search engines that began to churn through psychology papers and dating websites; John spotted the word "polyamorous" and "cheating" among the hurricane. Regret began to mount on John, and it wasn't until Tricia sat in her chair and swiveled her back to him that he managed, "H-Hey, do you want..." This is how she deals with it, right? I mean, this is fine, right? "... Um, do you want these scrubs back?"

"Leave them on the floor before your departure."

"Thanks... ah, and about Lily..." The two shared a moment of quiet, interrupted, as they often were, by a loud, grumbling snore of a level 1 demon.

"I will supervise her until you've ensured that Moira has... relented in her hunt."

Awkwardly, John gave a final thank you, slipped out of the molded clothes, and vanished into a tunnel to prepare for June.

Thirty minutes following his departure, Tricia was still running her research... and still with John's scrubs on her lap, even after they had lost the warmth of his body.

---

Earlier, at the Springfield Springs Mall...

Why... am I here? "How did... how did we get here?"

"What's that, sweetie?" Brenda Newman leaned forward to try and hear Moira as they stood on the escalator, and the brief moment of meditation had broken whatever exhaustion had cast its spell over the Warden. She looked down at her clothes - a long-sleeve sweater and a short skirt, both from Brenda - and briefly panicked and squeezed her thighs together when she realized she wasn't wearing underwear.

The last few moments played like a movie in her head: encounter after encounter with John's mother, up and down the woman's house, and no less than two breakfasts and a brunch for fuel. Moira had voiced some complaint about lacking underwear, as if that might shield her from the endlessly horny woman; the latter offered to buy her some underwear for being such a good sport and humoring her.

The reel included getting eaten out in the car before leaving, and viciously finger-fucked by the MILF while the latter drove. Moira shuddered at the memory: her insides burning up, her embarrassment and humiliation even as no one could possibly see her nethers while she sat. A street vendor, selling water bottles of all things, had almost drifted near their car while Moira was struggling to hide her expression; the man was almost upon them, where he would see Moira's hiked-up skirt, the driver's fingers driven against and into her cleft, for the low-class merchant to see... the fear of it turned into a sharp stab of heart-crushing pleasure, and the green light saved Moira from consequence.

All the while, Brenda calmly hummed along with the radio. Moira didn't dare try to remove the woman's hand for fear of causing an accident; instead, she had quietly hissed her orgasms just as they had pulled into the mall, leaving Moira a dripping mess, her pussy soaked and bare underneath the skirt borrowed from Brenda, and with Brenda just behind her to shield her from prying eyes below. The bottom hem below her ass was still darkened with the juices that soaked into the passenger seat Moira left behind.

"You can get cleaned up, too, once we find you some underwear... maybe even a new skirt!"

"I... I don't need underwear..."

"So avant garde..."

"I-I mean I have regular underwear at home! I just never use it-" Moira stopped herself short. A curious eight-year-old turned on the escalator ahead, his wide eyes staring at the Warden. His mother quickly turned his head and covered his ears. Lady, end my suffering now...

"Well now you have me worried you won't wear my gift," Brenda musically laughed.

Damn the Nine Hells, Mrs. Newman: I wear a chastity belt of magic! I can't tell you that of course, but take a hint! More, Moira thought back to when John stole said underwear, and what kind of shame, aside from the mysterious tattoo on her finger, she would have to suffer to have it returned without issue. "I-I can just call my butler!" she suddenly realized aloud. "He'll bring me everything I-I need, Mrs. Newman, so please..."

"Oh, but we're already here!" Brenda motioned as they stepped off of the automated stairs, and Moira followed her hand to the sign looming overhead. "I've been coming here a lot lately, truth be told... but it's such a nice little store!"

"Felicity's...?"

---

The Summers Home, 1:59PM

The tunnel closed behind John, and he looked about again to confirm that no one could have spotted him. Stepping out from behind the hedge, he looked at the gate and then back at the address, confirming the number. I knew it was this neighborhood, so it wasn't hard, but... John looked around the ten-foot-tall brick walls that flanked this place, preventing, along with a solid, iron-plated gate, any chance at assessing her home without some higher ground. Above the gate, thankfully unable to spot his entrance behind the hedge, was a security camera. An increasing paranoia washed over him.

As it was, however, he was about to be late, and he couldn't dare risk that after letting her down once. He pressed the intercom button, and a musical doorbell noise softly played at his end.

The intercom clicked as if it had been picked up, and June's voice was a song. "John! So punctual, but I'm glad you decided to come."

"G-Good afternoon, Ms. Summers."

"Please, John... it's June while you're here. Just walk up to the front door," she instructed as the automated gates began to groan open, "and I'll meet you there."

Revealed by the gates was a property almost out-of-place among the old houses that lined the nicer, well-to-do neighborhood June lived in. Sharp lines made the house appear as if it were made of cubes melded into one another, and smoothly painted walls marked the few places of the contemporary home's design where huge windows and stylish metal paneling did not. John inhaled, and let his mana pool rest at full. He promised himself that he would not use his powers here.

He eyed the small groups of oblong or amorphous sculptures in the lawn, arranged at angles for a curious viewer to appreciate as he walked the winding gravel path. It seemed sensible that an artist would have a gallery even for the walk up to her home...

But man, even as abstract as the designs are... John couldn't help but see titillating, almost pornographic female poses in those abstract shapes. His eyes followed them, and their eyeless gazes seemed to follow him in turn, until he was upon the front door. It opened without so much as a knock, and revealed all too much at once.

June Summers, his teacher and an appreciator of his amateur works, stood all but bared for him as the double doors parted. Her breasts, as perky as such natural, massive tits could be, struggled against the pitiful restraint of a black one-piece bikini that was naught but two strips leading from her crotch and looping over her shoulders. The faintest edges of her areolas peeked out from this virgin-killing swimwear, and erect nipples from the cold of the air conditioning made the swimwear ever more imperiled. If she had any pubic hair left to speak of, it had to be hiding behind the material that outlined her camel-toe as if it were a second skin. Her visible auburn hair, meanwhile, hung straight with the weight of water, and her skin glistened as if only barely toweled off; she had been in a pool, then, and not so barely dressed merely for John's pleasure.

"Welcome to my home, John."

John stared wordlessly at her... and then at her stat sheet as the Eye of the King revealed her.

June Summers
Level 9 Teacher
HP: 75/75
Stats: Str 11 Agi 13 End 14 Int 18 Wis 13 Cha 36 Lib 494
Status Effects: Mildly Aroused (1 heart)
Qualities: None
The best tits in the game. What, you were expecting a dark and sordid past?
Relationship : +111

Her libido is 494?! What the... how the Hell... how is she so calm, even?! These were the thoughts John might've had, had he not lost himself in the mammary abyss before him.

"I don't mind if you stare, John," she whimsically whispered, "but you could at least say 'hello' before I let you in."

John his head up, if only to correct his gaze. "Hello... June."

She planted her hands on her wide, birthing hips as she assessed him in turn. "I just went in for a dip when you turned up." She closed the distance, her breast spilling onto his chest as she leaned towards his right ear. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." Her hands found his buttocks, and gave him a squeeze as she softly tapped his cheek with her tongue.

John's pants tented, and there was no way for June to miss it as he pressed against her thigh with so rigid a presence.