Sentimental Sockets and other fun items

It took a few moments for my mind to truly accept what was in front of my eyes. Per the old hypnosis movie trope, I swiped my hands in front of Lillian’s angry eyes, but she showed no awareness.

I took a quick step back until her accusatory finger was right in front of my nose. I took hold of her slender forearm intending to pose her into a less judging stance.

“Ugh!” I groaned with exertion. I couldn’t move her arm any more than I could move the doorframe she stood in. “Great, I can’t even move you!” I exclaimed in frustration.

I grasped the enchanted vice grip with the intention of resuming my wife’s diatribe, but something unexpected happened. Her arm shifted position ever so slightly. With a bit of experimentation, I discovered I could pose any part of her body with ease as long as I kept one hand on the vice grips.

Putting her finger away did wonders with my guilt level. In the same vein, I also closed her eyes and adjusted her pursed lips to a softer expression. She looked so much more serene this way—almost like she was indifferent whether I used my enchanted tools on her or not.

I jogged over to my toolbox and yanked out the sander, or “Rejuvenator” it had become. When I turned to hurry back to Lillian’s side, I stopped and scratched my head. “Your clothes are going to get in the way…” I grumbled.

I knew trying to pull her clothes off would be a nightmare while trying to hold on to the vice grips at the same time. Scissors, even unenchanted ones, were the obvious solution, but my scissors and utility knife were missing from my garage tool chest, unfortunately. Instead, I just grabbed the enchanted Crescent wrench and the tape measure.

She simply had on a baggy pair of grey sweatpants and a plain white cotton blouse. Using the tape measure, I carefully made contact with the fabric of her pants. I obviously didn’t want to alter her legs accidentally… at least not yet. I matched the existing height of the garment with the tape and then smoothly pushed the tape up toward Lillian’s hips. Like magic (obviously), the pants seemingly hemmed themselves until the bottom of her pale ass cheek peeked through sweat pants… or shorts, or whatever they became.

I noted amusingly that the other pant leg remained full length, so I quickly hemmed it up, too. The garment still looked really odd. I’d never seen a baggy pair of booty shorts made out of thick sweatpant material, and there’s a good reason why. It was an abomination.

I tried fixing them by using the tape measure in other orientations, but it was exceedingly difficult to make them uniform. By holding the tape diagonal, I did figure out I could scale an object about its center. I figured that would be useful for other things, but it didn’t give me my desired final product on a pair of shorts. No matter, though, that’s why I grabbed the Crescent wrench.

I placed the wrench on the fabric covering my wife’s pert behind and turned it clockwise. The garment tightened to her frame with ease. There is a fine line between showing off the crease between a girl’s ass cheeks and cutting off circulation to the legs. My respect goes out to tailors everywhere.

It occurred to me that if the fabric were thinner, I wouldn’t need to tighten it so much to achieve the same effect. I took the tape measure and measured the 1/8” thickness of the fabric. Unfortunately, tape measures are not designed for such fine work. I made a mental note to bring my caliper home from work and try enchanting it. However, despite the difficulty, I did manage to thin the fabric to just under 1/16”. This made the shorts look positively painted on.

Lillian’s ass wasn’t quite as firm as it was when we met. She’d undoubtedly gained 20-30lbs since then, but so did I. It was tempting to make a few adjustments, but I tamped down the idea. The thought did result in a tightening of my own pants, though. I could feel my judgment and self-control slipping ever so slightly as some of my blood rushed to my dick.

Shaking my head clear, I raised myself from my knees and began adjusting her blouse. With dozens of careful ministrations with the scaling tape and a few turns of the crescent wrench, the plain blouse transformed into a slutty crop top with no sleeves and a plunging neckline. I unbuckled her partially exposed bra and pulled it free from the tight shirt.

I took a step back to admire my work. She looked pretty hot. I hadn’t seen her in anything remotely sexy in months, so this was a real treat. I especially loved ogling the underboob from her absurdly tiny crop top. Her boobs weren’t quite as perky as they were when I met her at 23 years old, but they were still attractive and nice handfuls.

I wondered how she would react to her state of dress. I had a hunch, though, and I was pretty sure it was a magically enhanced one at that. Instinctually, I felt that no one but me would find anything unusual about any changes I made. The instinct wasn’t concrete, though. Were the changes perceivable at all to others? That, I didn’t know.

Regardless, I still wanted to try out a couple of my tools. I wasn’t sure about testing the Phillips or compulsion adjusters just yet, but anything that had a physical instead of a mental response seemed fair game.

I grabbed hold of the Rejuvenator again and excitedly made a quick swipe across my Wife’s belly. It was subtle, but it looked like all of her skin brightened just a bit. Curious, I backed away to arm's length and sanded slowly four more passes. This time, it was quite obvious. Her stomach tightened, her tits and ass perked up noticeably, her skin cleared, her red hair shone slightly brighter, and a decent bit of her excess weight disappeared into the aether.

She looked exactly 25 years old—just like she did on our wedding day. The sight was arousing and nostalgic. I wanted to go further, see what she looked like at 21… or even 19, maybe, but I stopped myself. It wasn’t easy, though. I unbuckled my belt to give me a bit more room for my now throbbing cock.

“It’s time to stop,” I tried to convince myself. “But… I should tighten her clothes back up first… since she’s lost weight.”

I grabbed the crescent wrench and brought her skimpy clothes back in to fit her new, more petite size. I couldn’t help but cop a feel of her perky tits under her tight top.

Suddenly, I got a bit of inspiration. Just one more thing before I brought her out of her frozen state to test the sentimental wrench.

With shaky, excited hands, I took the steady-state adjuster/flat-head screwdriver, lifted my wife’s slutty top, and pressed the driver to her left nipple. I mentally pictured her nipple getting hard and aroused and then turned the screwdriver clockwise. Her little pink nipple hardened and extended more and more as I “tightened” it. I stopped when it looked just a tiny bit more erect than I’d ever seen it and then repeated the process on the other side.

“God, you look so sexy now, Lill,” I groaned. “I-I could do anything to you right now, and you wouldn’t even know…” I snapped myself out of it one more time, though. With short, excited breaths, I barely managed to convince myself to lower her top and put away all of the enchanted tools… well, all except the vice grip and the sentimental wrench.

Before I removed the will clamp from her dainty finger, I quickly tapped her skin with the sentimental socket and put it in my pocket with the socket wrench.

One quick click and the will clamp/vice grip released into my hand. Merely two seconds later, Lillian‘s harsh screams filled my ears once again as she continued her last sentence from before I paused her.

“… and that’s why you… ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME TOM!!!” She yelled with indignation.

Obviously, I wasn’t listening, though I did notice she had sobered up quite a bit. Nobody listens in an argument like she was conducting. You only think forward to the next barb you want to throw. I had something better to add to this argument, though.

While she awaited my response, I simply stared at the cute swollen nipples peaking the fabric of her shirt while I connected the sentimental socket to its wrench. I thumbed the selected switch to “+” and then replied with the dumbest thing a guy can say in an argument. “Woman, calm down, please!!! You’re my wife, and you won’t scream at me anymore.”

I’m not going to lie; I felt true fear while saying something so stupid, but it was necessary to test the sentimental socket.

Her determined gaze softened slightly before she replied much more calmly, “Tom, you’re right. I shouldn’t yell at you. I’m not being a good wife, but you make it so hard to keep my cool. Just let me say my piece, and please listen.”

I could tell she was still angry, but I knew this tool wouldn’t immediately make her lovey-dovey. She’d just be literally unable to take anything I did or said in anything but a positive light, even if only slightly positive. The wrench essentially filters out any reactions that don’t meet the thumb switch’s setting. The anger, disgust, etc., was filtered out of her natural response to my comment, and only a bit of admiration, acceptance, etc., remained. A small part of her agreed and was impressed with what I said. Normally, it would have been covered over by anger and other negative emotions, but the sentimental wrench brought them to the forefront unchallenged.

I clicked the wrench over to the neutral setting, walked up to her, and smacked her hard on her firm ass. I looked at her quizzically when she didn’t respond to my corporeal punishment. She just started calmly listing out grievances and continuing the previous conversation undeterred.

“Neutral is essentially free-use mode… got it,” I thought to myself.

I thumbed the switch over to “-“ only for a split second before returning to positive. Just the sight of me immediately pissed her off with the wrench set there. She clearly harbored a lot of negative feelings towards me.

Plenty of testing had been done, and I was ready to have a nice relaxing night. I left the socket attached and the wrench set to “+” and put it away for the night.

“You know, honey,” I said with mock sweetness. “Let’s stop talking about wherever the hell is troubling you right now. Here’s a better question. What made you decide to wear that sexy little outfit you have on?”

I smirked as I watched her eyes brighten per my “compliment” on her outfit. A slight smile even began creeping onto her face.

“You’re right. We can talk later. I shouldn’t ambush you right when you get home,” she conceded. “You really think I look sexy in this?! It’s just my favorite comfortable around the house outfit. I’ve had these poor sweats since high school! I’m glad you still like to look at me, though.”

“Of course, I like to look at you. Hell, you don’t look a day over 25.” I said sweetly. “I am curious about one thing, though… Why is your bra on the ground beside you?”

She let out a smile that reminded me of why I married her back when she was really 25. “Huh! Look at that.” She said laughingly. “I guess I got hot while I was yelling at you. Serves me right!”

She bent down to pick up the littered article. “Nuh-uh,” I chided playfully while pulling the bra from her grasp. “I like how your tits look without this better.”

Before she could respond to my crude but inevitably acceptable remark, I reached out and pinched her nipple to really nail home my point.

Imagine my surprise when she let out a subtle but still audible moan of pleasure. It made sense when I thought about it, but it was still unexpected. The sentimental wrench also blocked out negative physical feelings from my actions. In the absence of (unwanted) pain, only pleasurable stimuli made it through the filter into her mind.

I let the bra fall to the hard concrete floor and roughly grabbed my wife’s tits. I groped them, pinched her nipples as hard as I could, and even gave them a few good slaps. Lillian didn’t say a word while I enjoyed her body. She didn’t have to. Her body spoke for her. She thrust her tits into my hands, and gradually her smile faded to a gaze of pleasure as she stifled countless moans from my touches.

“Wow!” Lillian moaned, almost out of breath. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you… b-but I kind of… like it?”

After that much uninhibited titplay, I was more than ready to finally fuck my wife again. It had been over a month since our last “lovemaking,” as Lillian called it. I picked up my now lighter wife and carried her out of the garage and to the bedroom.

Even with the sentimental socket doing its job, she still didn’t immediately spread her legs for me. No, it was clear she still had some hang-ups, but they didn’t last long under the onslaught of my magically enhanced “bravado.” To her, everything I said was just the right thing; everywhere I touched was just right.

When I reached my hand down and felt the wetness of her pussy, her resistance crumbled. We made out. There was passion! I had missed the feeling so much. My excessive dominance and anger faded for a time. We fucked passionately like we did back on our honeymoon. For the first time in years, things felt right.

With all the excitement, I couldn’t last very long, but I was determined to make Lillian cum for me. It wasn’t difficult. It seemed like every angle I tried made her moan and writhe more and more beneath me. She came hard. I could feel her pussy milking my cock as she cried out. Normally, she would have been mad if I came inside her, but I knew she’d love it now. Without even attempting to pull out, I came deep inside her willing pussy until I was spent.

I rolled over beside Lillian. We kissed one more time, and both dozed off into a pleasant slumber.