Mrs Hope remembers...

Mrs. Pamela Hope lay on the lawn as dawn approached, reveling in the last of post orgasmic euphoria and trying to put off the return of the craving hunger for cock that seemed to possess her so completely these days. It was in these moments she best remembered the hazy details of her life before the change, which seemed so far away and obscure to her now.

It seemed so long ago that she had accompanied her husband on that business trip, they had traveled by charter bus for hours before arriving in the state capital and the early effects of the so-called epidemic had become clear in the busy metropolis.

She had been shocked at the alarming number of women walking about dressed like tramps. Tarted up in teensy dresses and scandalous fashions; she had almost believed the lot of them to be prostitutes except for the overwhelming quantity of them. She had been embarrassed at the cat-calls and obscene invitations that her aging husband received from strange beauties they had passed on the street, then graduated to feeling furious. Pamela remembered getting into an argument with him over it, wasn’t that silly?

She herself was showing the signs of advancing age and a full life. Her body had been soft and pudgy with middle age fat. Her skin was thinning and showing blemishes. Even her hair was flat and losing its rich color with the passage of time. She had longed for her youth once again when she had boys chasing her and had been considered quite the attractive lady by her dear friends.

It had been when she returned from a short shopping trip that she had found her husband naked in bed with the two hussies. She recalled opening the motel door to find him buried face first into the crotch of a young busty redhead with some peroxide blonde bimbo bouncing on his cock and giggling happily.

She had been both incensed and terribly heartbroken, though she no longer understood why… that man hadn’t even noticed when she tried to drag the two whores off of him. Instead he had moaned loudly and continued rutting like a sex-crazed animal. The panting, chortling girls had just laughed at her and easily swatted her attempts to separate them from him aside.

So she had locked herself in the bathroom and cried for hours to the sounds of the non-stop fucking in the next room.

Finally when she could take no more she fled from there. The last time she had seen her husband–what was his name again?--he had been kneeling over one of the dumb sluts on the cum soaked bed suckling hungrily at her large glistening breasts. It almost seemed unbelievable to her back then that her overweight husband could still move after so much vigorous movement.

They had never lasted more than ten minutes together.

She had boarded the first bus home when it began to change her. Her body had ached for the first few hours of the ride, something she had attributed to her sobbing grief but then her clothing had begun to dig awkwardly into her flesh.

Her breasts had swollen and lifted, pressing painfully at her bra cups yet the bulge in her blouse where her stomach usually bulged out the fabric was gone. A tingling in her scalp resulted in her hair lengthening, dark and full as it had ever been in her teen years.

Slowly Pamela Hope had started to change.

She had run to the tiny bathroom in the rear of the bus to inspect herself and gasped at the changes. The aching in her muscles had resulted in the melting away of her fat, her ass was pert and round again. Her skin became lush and smooth. Twenty years of weariness and wrinkles had melted away from her, and her bust was larger than it had ever been.

She had needed to remove her boring bra to stop it from cutting into her soft gravity defying globes and they didn’t show a hint of sag when that sat freely under her straining top. In a sudden surge of confidence she had left the top few buttons open before discarding the useless undergarment and returning to her seat.

The strangest thing was that there had been no fear, she had been confused and timid at first but never scared.

She had realized that when she had raled at the scantily clad girls in the city–and even the twin whores screwing her man–on some superficial level she had been jealous of them. Jealous of their youth, beauty and confidence.

Now more than anything those feelings overwhelmed her and she wanted them too, and she was going to have it.

The soreness in her muscles had begun to subside, but another ache was fast becoming apparent. Her rejuvenated pussy had begun to ache with a new need. At first she had ignored it but soon it was like she had an overpowering emptiness within her that just begged to be filled.

It was clear she needed relief.

An hour of pawing herself in the tiny shaking bathroom only relieved her briefly before the urge would return demanding further satisfaction and in the end she had used her newfound magnificence to lure a young German backpacker away from his American girlfriend and back into the bathroom with her.

Mrs. Hope fuzzily recalled laughing at the bangs on the door and the sound of the girl crying outside of it as the young stud had passionately impaled her again and again on his long hard tool.

The orgasms had been constant and like nothing she had ever experienced before, the whole bus had heard them screaming and moaning but no-one seemed prepared to do anything about it. They had fucked until he collapsed and then returned to her home and continued for several more days… he had been her first.

Once he had finally succumbed to the infection she had gone out looking for another partner, it didn’t matter anymore if they were married or too young for her, if they could get it up – they were fair game.

The early days had been glorious for her, man following man; sometimes multiple partners at once, the orgasms had been brilliant and bottomless.

But as the infection spread and as other women like her emerged it became harder to lure men into her bower. The numbers of men were dwindling and now the competition for them was growing fierce.

The world was full of dripping cunts desperately hungry for a dick to fill them now but Pamela Hope had been amongst the first in town and could repress the burning urges within herself long enough to convince men she was still rational.

And with a young stud like Tom right next door, she knew where there was a guy who might just fuck her dumb and full of cum real soon…

With the euphoria finally over; Mrs. Hope picked herself up and glanced longingly up at the balcony where he had stood that night, before picking her way back to her own front door. Even as she unlocked it, her crafty mind was already searching for new ways to lure him out.