Scarlet Wars: Episode 3 (Part 1: The Doppelgangers, the Witch, and the Robot)

Written in collaboration with Namichwan

Wanda rubbed her flat stomach. She remembered it like it was just yesterday, the feeling of her boys.

The rest of her, these days, was anything but flat. The homemade Halloween costume clung to the body she’d rewritten: a scarlet corset that pinched her waist down to something absurdly narrow and then heaved her breasts up into two creamy, overfull mounds, soft and heavy and threatening to slosh right over the neckline if she breathed too hard. Below that tiny span of midriff her hips flared out in a lush, heart-shaped swell, sheer red skirt plastered over the round weight of her ass and the thick, plush curves of her thighs. Scarlet stockings climbed over her legs, garters biting into generous flesh. A dramatic sweeping almost devilish red tiara framed her face.

It was a dramatic contrast to the painfully thin, lesser body she’d once inhabited. The body that had been a vessel for pure grief and bland trauma. This body, this utterly, overwhelmingly feminine MILF body, was a shield, a comfortable, generous space of control and pleasure. She preferred it.

She turned in the foyer mirror, watching the cape swing and the costume creak, and let herself really look. Once upon a time she’d stalked around in drab red leather coats and black skirts. Now she was poured into a pornified witch outfit, in her own living room. Her mouth curled, halfway between a smirk and something a little sad, and she addressed the invisible audience she could practically feel on the other side of the glass.

“Be honest. I used to save the world, now I dress like this and dream about getting railed by every big dumb himbo that smiles at me. Think that’s okay for a mom, Viz?”

Her husband in his brightly colored luchador inspired costume she’d lovingly magicked up for him, looked up from his newspaper, “Ah yes… indeed…”

She frowned a bit. Vision certainly seemed a bit distracted lately. But she pushed it aside and turned back to the audience with a crooked little smile, “Because I kinda like it. If I have to start over, I’d rather be the hot, shameless one who bakes cookies and worships big cock in equal measure.”

Still no engagement from her partner in this scene, now he was rubbing his chin and gazing off into space.

“Well,” she sighed, half fond, half wicked, “one of us really committed to the reboot.” She smoothed a hand down over her obscene curves, then tipped her chin at his very neat, very featureless lap. “You ever figure out where you put that great big Mark dick attachment, or are we just leaning into the ‘Ken doll in a cape’ thing this season, Viz?”

Wanda let the silence hang a beat longer, then huffed through her nose and decided to treat it like a bit.

“Okay, mister serious face,” she said, swishing across the room. The cape flared, the tiny skirt did that useless little flutter it did, riding up high enough that the soft half-moons of her luscious butt-cheeks were on full display, and then she was in front of his chair, all red satin and impossible curves.

Vision was sitting very straight, elbows on the armrests, brows drawn as if he could squint the oddness of the world into making sense. He barely registered her presence.

“Viz,” she sing-songed, leaning in. “Earth to husband.”

She planted one hand on the back of his chair, the other on the arm, and bent at the waist in a way no chiropractor would endorse. His field of view filled abruptly with the deep, warm canyon of her cleavage as the corset creaked and her breasts settled around his cheeks like overexcited memory foam.

“Wanda-” he protested, voice muffled.

She gave a breathy, off-key little chant, half joke, half dare, right into the top of his head. “I like big, big dicks and I cannot lie,” she crooned, wiggling her shoulders so he got the full slapstick effect. “Won’t my handsome hubby conjure up just a little extra for his girl?”

Vision’s hands hovered uselessly in the air, fingers flexing as if unsure where they were allowed to land. He managed to turn his head enough to get one eye free, glancing toward the stairs as if the universe might send help in the form of a cut to commercial.

“Statistically speaking,” he said dryly, “the household is already extremely well supplied in that particular… category. The twins appear to be providing more than adequate coverage.”

Speak of the devils…

“Moooommm!”

“We’re up nooowww!”

The fully grown adult men thundered down the stairs, and Vision’s gaze snapped to them.

“Billy! Tommy!” Wanda called, turning as they barreled into the foyer, laughing.

There was… little resemblance to him in Billy and Tommy, if he had to admit. Not that he would have been able to provide any level of genetic code for their growth anyway, as they were clearly on some level magic babies Wanda could have thrown him a bone, but they weren’t fully Wanda either. They arguably should have looked like her late twin brother, but instead they only shared hair colour with the two Maximoff twins. No, instead their face shape, scruffy hair, lecherous grins, and humungous girthy members all pointed to… well, Mark.

Which, Vision supposed, should hardly have come as a shock, given that Mark had already inseminated his wife with a frankly staggering amount of genetic material on at least two occasions he could account for, one of which he himself had helped bring about.

“How are my beautiful boys doing today?”

“Horny,” Billy, the black-haired one, said, completely unbothered.

"Yeah,” Tommy, the white-blond, added, eyes dropping to the deep valley of her corset and back up. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Wanda’s gaze, every bit the all-knowing MILF, dropped immediately from their lecherous grins to their well-filled pants.

She’d built them greedy. Even on their laziest day, their cocks never dropped under an obscene ten inches, thick, veiny, and heavy. Her sons didn’t know the meaning of the term ‘shrinkage’. Today, just from being near her, they were already creeping up into that familiar twelve-, thirteen-inch “half-hard and hungry” zone, straining fabric and good sense.

Billy’s sweats were slung low, the fabric straining to contain the long, thick shaft lying heavy along his thigh, dragging the knit into a sinfully clear outline. Tommy’s retro running shorts were even more indecent; the groin was crammed full of two big, pendulous nuts, and one leg opening gaped just enough to let the thick, meaty end of his cock hang right out into the open.

She sighed, the long-suffering sound of a woman used to being the only adult in the room. “I swear,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You two are like puppies with… very poor impulse control.” Her eyes softened. “Costumes aren’t even on. And you come in shouting at me that you’re horny?”

They grinned, exactly the same grin in two different hair colors.

“Please,” Billy said, almost sing-song.

“Pleeease,” Tommy echoed, drawing it out, the bare end of his cock giving a slow, hopeful wag against his thigh.

Wanda tried to glare. Her mouth betrayed her. Total mom energy: talking tough and then spoiling them anyway. “You know that doesn’t work on me,” she said, her voice dropping a little, goading them. "Who do you think you are, little boys begging for a treat?"

Billy’s lecherous grin widened. His voice dropped, losing all its boyishness. “We’re not boys, Ma. We’re men. And you’re the MILF. You know the rules.

Tommy’s own grin matched his brother’s. “And these big dicks aren’t going to suck themselves. Get on your knees. Now.”

She let out a breath, shoulders dropping. “Fine,” she said, like she was giving in on an extra cartoon before bed. “Hands clasped behind your backs. Right here. And if you make a mess, you’re the ones scrubbing the rug.”

Two eager nods and they obeyed instantly, linking their fingers behind them, chests out, those half-hard monsters still trapped under fabric. She went to her knees and hooked her fingers into the waistband of Billy’s sweats, glanced sideways at Tommy, and gave the tiniest nod.

On one beat, she yanked Billy’s sweats down.

On the same beat, Tommy blurred and his running shorts vanished in a gust of displaced air.

The reveal hit simultaneously.

The change was instant. Freed from fabric, both cocks surged from that thick twelve-, thirteen-inch half-state to full, aching hardness. Fifteen inches, easy, rising high and proud.

For a moment she just sat there, breathing, taking in the sight.

Two dicks, copy-pasted.

They jutted out from their hips at the same angle, same length, same outrageous girth. Identically shaped heads, identical ridges, the same rope of veins standing proud along the top.

Only the landscaping was different. Billy’s base was framed in dense black curls and Tommy’s was haloed by soft golden fuzz. But below, even that matched. Two massive scrotums hung from them like twin pairs of boxing gloves, heavy and pendulous, each one cradling a matching pair of huge nuts. Four oversized, identical testicles, swinging in two mirrored sets.

Vision frowned. Lowering his paper to see his wife slink down to the floor with a beaming expression, taking their two sons’ massive cocks in her hands.

It was nearing the end of the day, so one can imagine how many times she’d been fucked by her two sons by now.

Somewhere behind his eyes that little hex-woven cuckold circuit she’d tucked into his code gave a quiet, traitorous click, and what ought to have been shock and outrage melted into a warm, dizzy rush of approval that his wife was being so thoroughly… appreciated.

“You know," she said, voice thick, glancing over her shoulder at the empty space where the audience might be. "I usually tell the boys not to play with their food. But when the serving size is this generous…”

She squeezed. Both boys hissed in unison, hips bucking forward. The heat radiating off the twin shafts was immense, like standing next to a radiator.

Wanda pursed her lips, blowing a stray lock of auburn hair out of her face as she looked between the two throbbing pillars of meat. She gave the camera a quick, conspiratorial eyebrow raise, the kind that usually preceded a burned roast, not incestuous felatio.

“I mean,” she purred, her voice dropping into that breathy, velvet register, “I’m a growing girl. I need my protein.”

She gently shook her shoulders, sending her immense, milky bosoms wobbling to punctuate her punchline. She nuzzled her face right into the space between the two massive erections. The smell hit her of musk, youthful testosterone, and that distinct, heavy scent of arousal. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek against the velvety, stretched skin of Billy’s shaft, letting the cool silk of her tiara graze the underside of Tommy’s sensitive glans.

“Okay, my big, strong men,” she whispered, the vibration of her voice against their cocks making them jump. “Let’s see if you taste as identical as you look.”

She brought her hands up, gripping them mid-shaft, her palms looked dainty, almost doll-like wrapped around the thick, corded meat. She began a slow, rhythmic milking. Up and down. The motion was synchronized, a double-barrelled stroke that glided over the taut, smooth skin of their shafts, her grip tightening just enough to drag delightfully over the ridges of those wide, exposed mushroom heads.

Squelch. Drag. Squelch.

They both groaned in stereo. Beneath each shaft, their big nut-sacks swung and slapped softly together, twin pairs of heavy globes rolling and churning visibly as if they were boiling up a fresh, heavy load of seed right before her eyes.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed, watching the pre-cum bead at the exact same moment on both slit tips. “Leaky faucets. Just like your father. The… fun father.”

She tilted her head back, looking up at Tommy. With a wicked, knowing glint in her eye, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue. It was a long, wet, teasing muscle. She didn’t take him in yet; instead, she dragged the flat of her tongue right up the underside of his shaft, swirling it around the frenulum, treating the massive organ like a giant, fleshy lollipop.

Tommy groaned, his knees shaking. “Ma… fuck…”

Before he could get comfortable, she snapped her head to the left and captured Billy’s glistening head. She didn’t just lick it; she popped it into her mouth with a wet shluck, sucking hard on the head, cheeks hollowing instantly as she vacuum-sealed her lips around the ridge. She bobbed her head, swirling her tongue around the sensitive corona, while her hand kept pumping Tommy’s leaking rod with a ruthless, tight grip.

She released Billy with a loud, wet pop and a string of saliva connecting her lip to his cock, only to immediately switch targets. She lunged for Tommy, taking the first three inches of his thick meat into her throat, humming a low, vibrating note against his skin that made his toes curl.

Left. Right. Suck. Stroke. She was a machine. A beautiful, pornographic machine (in stark contrast to the frustratingly not-pornographic machine sitting like a lump nearby)

She picked up the pace, her hands flying up and down the twin pillars of meat, her head darting between them like a starving bird. She kissed the veins, she licked the slits, she sucked way under and rubbed her nose against the heavy, swaying scrotums that brushed her chin.

Such strong Sokovian boys. Pure. It was such a tragedy that her country of huge dicked studs was blown up by that dastardly Ultron. Now her sons were here, and they could help Mark in breeding the whole of Westview into a new Sokovian paradise. Soon Agnes, Dottie, Natalie, Daisy, and everyone else in town would have bellies bulging with her son and crush’s babies.

Her eyes glanced over at her husband. Still trying to keep his eyes focused on the newspaper. She wasn’t sure why, considering the news of the day was how perfect Mark was for Wanda. Maybe the article about ways Mark has pleasured her was interesting to him? Though she doubted it.

Why was Vision so resistant to their new life? It was at least a good plot hook for the episode, but Wanda had wanted today to be a spooky tale of how scary-good her sons were at fucking her.

Though the writing had a flawed premise, as Vision probably wouldn’t be able to tell Wanda why he felt this way. Something about this whole TV life felt strange.

Like… they weren’t even supposed to be living in a television world at all, but also the show itself was falling apart.

Perhaps it was a relatable feeling for the studio audience? Too bad they were all too busy fucking each other to even laugh at Wanda’s jokes anymore. The metaphorical sign for ‘LAUGH’ had been replaced with ‘CUM’ and every so often a collective groan would signal the sexual soiling of studio property. And yet Vision couldn’t truly find fault with any logic occuring. Wanda loved Billy and Tommy, and they loved blowjobs. With such a beautiful coupling, why shouldn’t everyone be enjoying themselves to the sight? It felt like these were fundamental rules to his world that were infallible in logic, yet terrifying when thought about.

"Mama," Billy suddenly pleaded, his voice a low, rough rumble. He shoved his hips forward, a thick, insistent pump that drove his glans straight into the back of her throat. "Deep. Swallow it, Ma. Now."

Wanda didn't obey. Instead, with a wet, hollow pop that sounded indecently loud in the foyer, she slid off Billy’s thick meat, leaving his hips jerking uselessly at empty air. A string of saliva swung from her chin, landing on the slope of her exposed, heaving cleavage.

She looked up at him through her lashes, feigning shock at his rudeness while her massive cleavage swayed heavily with her sudden movement.

“Tsk, tsk,” she chided, wiping the corner of her mouth with a theatrical delicacy that was pure sitcom mom. “Patience is a virtue, Billy. Even for big boys.”

Tommy, seeing the opening, immediately tried to shove his hips forward to fill the vacancy, but Wanda was faster. She caught both thick shafts in her hands before he could breach her lips, bringing them together right in front of her nose.

She slid both cocks together, pressing their slick identical heads side by side. She pushed her fists up so the swollen, circumcised glans’ bumped and rubbed against each other, a meaty, wet little sword-fight right under her nose.

The men sucked in breaths, their abdomens flexing hard. The veiny, girthy shafts slid against each other, the friction smearing clear, salty pre-cum across her lips and chin. She let them fight for a heartbeat, the heavy slap of meat-on-meat echoing like applause.

“Such a mess,” she murmured, amused, her eyes crossing slightly as she focused on the twin slits weeping in unison. “Look at you two. Fighting over who gets to be Mommy’s favorite snack.”

They both tried to angle toward her mouth at once, and that’s when it got rowdy.

“Mine,” Tommy grunted, thrusting his hips. “Back off,” Billy snarled, bucking against his brother’s shaft.

She loosened her grip just enough and let them jostle and slap, two thick, fifteen-inch cocks knocking together as each man flexed his hips, trying to guide himself to her lips first. It was obscene and helpless, like watching two rams butt, but softer, wetter, and significantly more vascular. The heavy slap of skin on skin mixed with the wet sounds of her earlier slobber, a chaotic rhythm of pure, incestuous need.

Wanda laughed, low and genuinely fond, the sound vibrating in her chest and sending her vast breasts into a fresh, mesmerizing wobble that brushed against the underside of the warring shafts when they swung downward.

“Alright, alright,” she said, catching both by the base again, her fingers sinking into their curly pubes as she held them apart like misbehaving siblings. “One at a time. We don’t shove. There is plenty of room in here for everyone.”

She held their gazes, letting the anticipation build, before her eyes settled on the dark-haired twin.

“You,” she purred, tapping the head of his cock with a manicured nail.

Then, she sank onto him.

In reality, of course, Wanda had rewritten her internal biology just as thoroughly as her external curves. She had crafted herself to be the ultimate vessel, capable of taking the full, terrifying fifteen inches of Mark’s girth to the root without so much as a blink. She could have swallowed him whole like a serpent. But she knew the script; she knew that a man, especially a good Sokovian stud, didn’t just want to be received. He wanted to see his woman struggle against his sheer size.

So, she put on a show.

She tilted her head back, stretching her painted red lips impossibly wide and as she wrapped them over the broad, mushrooming head. She let her throat flutter visibly, forcing a little hitch in her breath and allowing her eyes to glaze over with unshed tears as she worked to swallow past the thickest, widest part of the ridge.

Gulp. Gluck.

She took him deep, feeling the massive head hit the back of her throat, and then she began to move.

Her head bobbed fast, a piston of maternal devotion. And as she worked towards slamming her face into his groin, Billy’s big, dangling nuts slapped wetly against her soft, jiggling mounds. The heavy scrotal skin dragged across the creamy slopes of her cleavage with every retreat, leaving slick trails of musk on her heaving chest. The vigorous back-and-forth motion of her torso made her huge, heavy breasts dance a chaotic rhythm, the nipples quivering as the massive globes threatened to tear free from the last vestiges of the corset's support and spill completely over the top in a deluge of pale, soft flesh.

First the areolas started crested the rim, and then, pop, the fabric surrendered completely.

One very large milk-white sphere tumbled free, bouncing with a heavy, gelatinous weight. It was absurd, a literal head-sized globe of soft, warm mother-flesh, tipped with a cherry-red nipple the size of a silver dollar that stood stiff and proud in the cool air.

Tommy watched, jealous, his eyes glued to the way the naked breast swung inches from his brother’s shaft. His own cock jumped in her other hand, weeping pre-cum. He groaned, shuffling closer, unable to wait his turn.

“Tommy, wait your-” Wanda tried to mumble around Billy’s girth.

He pushed in, breaking rank. He smushed his huge, fat, mutant nut-filled ball-bag right against the side of her face, the heavy, sagging skin warm and musky against her cheek. Before she could scold him, his heavy slab of cock-meat slapped atop her head, the sheer weight of the slab knocking her tiara clattering to the floor. He was basically humping her face, groaning as his shaft rubbed aggressively against her auburn hair.

Wanda pulled off Billy with a wet, **** gasp, a string of saliva flying as she freed her mouth. Her massive breasts were still heaving, bouncing independently with their own momentum.

"Tommy, what did I say about waiting your turn!" she wheezed, trying to blink away the sudden musk and shock.

Tommy- never the patient one, didn't stop. He vibrated, just a little, the air around his cock shimmering. In a blur of motion, his meaty cock thwacked against her exposed left breast, a super-speed drumroll right on the big, stiff cherry nipple, stimulating her.

Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!

"Ahh! Tommy, stop!" she squealed, the sudden jolt of pleasure shooting through her like an electric shock. Her stubby nipple tip flattening and springing up at super speed along with the dick, tingling and throbbing.

Billy, seeing his brother use his powers, got instantly, magically jealous. He snapped his fingers.

SNAP.

Wanda gasped, her whole body seizing as a sharp, powerful BUZZ erupted at her core, vibrating her clit like a trapped hornet. She felt a small, involuntary orgasm ripple outward from her pelvis, making her immense breasts tremble. "Billy-!"

SNAP. SNAP.

He did it twice more, fast. A burst of pure chaos-magic targeted right at her core.

"Ah! Ahh-" She shuddered violently, throwing her head back. The sensation was overwhelming, a non-stop magical pulse-wave directly to her most sensitive spot. Her eyes rolled back, and her throat worked convulsively.

The doorbell chimed.

Ding-dong.

The sound, absurdly normal, sliced through the magical moment like a knife.

Wanda immediately deflated, the intense magical buzzing stopping as Billy’s concentration broke. She blinked, her chest heaving, the one escaped breast bobbing heavily as she fought for air.

She let both shafts slip from her mouth and hands, stroking them twice more as a brief apology and a promise before she caught her breath. She tapped their slick tips with a fingertip. "Pause," she said, her voice a little shaky, the words still sounding like a demand. "Do not make a mess on my floor."

She slapped Billy’s ball-bag lightly. "And no more zapping Mama, you naughty boy."

She rose, costume rustling, breasts swaying dramatically. She quickly tucked her runaway breast back into the corset, fixing the bodice with a quick tug. As she bent over to retrieve her fallen tiara, her tiny, sheer skirt rode up, revealing her swollen, glistening, fat pussy completely eating the thin string of her panties.

Billy and Tommy both groaned at the sight, their cocks jumping, still rock-hard and dripping.

On the way past Vision, who was frozen in his chair with his newspaper lowered and a look of profound, polite panic on his face, she plucked the plastic candy bowl he’d picked up from his hands. "Thanks!" she told him, softer, soothing. "You’re doing great, Viz. Just keep smiling for the camera."

She opened the door, and her polite smile froze for just a second. The trick-or-treaters were all adults, and they were not censored.

Two men stood there dressed as classic sheet ghosts, but each sheet had a crude hole cut at the crotch. A small, erect white penis poked through one, and a small, erect black penis poked through the other. Beside them, a black woman stood completely nude, wearing only a huge, fuzzy dog mascot head. The fourth, a white woman, was poured into a classic Playboy bunny outfit, complete with fishnets and pasties over her nipples.

"Trick or treat!" they chimed.

Wanda maintained her cordial mom energy, though her eyes flicked to the two tiny, exposed penises and she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose.

"Well, aren’t you all… creative," she said brightly, the ultimate hostess. "Let me see what treats I have for such an effort."

She wiggled her fingers, a subtle pulse of red magic flowing from her hand.

The two women gasped. The bunny girl looked down as her breasts swelled, straining her costume, and the mascot-headed woman cupped her own newly heavier chest. Both had grown a full bra size.

The two ghosts let out surprised grunts. Their small members suddenly lurched, growing three extra inches in length before their very eyes. Their dicks didn’t thicken in the slightest, just stretched into longer, wobblier little pencil-dicks jutting from the sheets like obscene Pinocchio noses, somehow making their scrawny inadequacy even more glaring.

"There," Wanda smiled, floating candy into their bags. "Happy Halloween."

She shut the door on their stunned silence.

She turned back to the foyer. Billy and Tommy were still standing there, hands dutifully clasped, their magnificent fifteen-inch cocks still rigid and waiting.

But the interruption hadn't reset her. That magical, buzzing thrum against her clit... it hadn't stopped. It had just settled, a low, demanding vibration deep in her core. Billy’s little jealous trick had flipped a switch.

The mom-mode was gone.

She looked up at them, her eyes dark and hazy, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her lips. She didn't kneel this time.

She turned around, her heels clicking on the floor. She walked to the small foyer table, placing her palms flat on its surface and bending over, presenting her huge, heart-shaped ass to them. Her tiny, sheer skirt rode up, revealing her swollen, glistening, fat pussy, and she reached back and pulled the thin string of her panties out of the way.

"Alright, boys," she panted, her voice a low, throaty purr. "Mommy’s done playing."

She looked over her shoulder, her gaze promising worlds of pleasure.

"Come and get it."

There was a split second where Billy’s muscles tensed, his intention to claim the prize clear. But against a speedster, intention was just a thought bubble waiting to be popped.

Zzzzt-THWACK.

A blur of wind displaced the muscular form of Tommy in the foyer. Before Billy could even lift his foot, Tommy was already there, blurred into existence right behind his mother. He didn't ask. He didn't tease. He gripped Wanda’s wide, heart-shaped hips in his hands, using the leverage to drive his hips forward with a superhuman snap.

SHLUCK.

"OH GOD!" Wanda screamed, her head thrown back, eyes crossing as fifteen inches of thick, vibrating speedster cock buried itself to the hilt in her glistening, pre-lubed snatch. The impact pushed her sliding across the polished table, her breasts swaying violently with the **** of the intrusion.

Billy stood there, blinking in the sudden draft, looking at the empty space where he’d intended to be. He let out a rueful little huff, shaking his head as he looked at his brother, who was already grinning like a maniac, burying his face in the curve of Wanda’s neck while he began to piston his hips.

"Fastest man alive, bro," Tommy groaned, his voice thick with lust.

"You're an animal," Billy muttered, though there was no real heat in it. He walked around the table, stepping between Wanda’s splayed arms.

Wanda, pinned to the wood by the sheer mass of meat inside her, looked up at Billy with hazy, pleasure-addled eyes. His boiling pole lightly grazed her cheek as he approached. Her mouth was already open, saliva stringing from her lips, **** to be filled on both ends.

"Make it better, Billy," she whimpered, lewd and begging. "Fill Mommy up."

Billy didn't hesitate. He grabbed a fistful of her auburn hair to hold her steady and drove his own massive shaft into her waiting mouth.

For a few minutes, the foyer was filled with the wet, sloppy sounds of a family reunion gone wonderfully wrong. The table creaked rhythmically as Tommy slammed into her from behind, his speed making her entire body vibrate, while Billy fucked her face with slow, deep, punishing thrusts that made her throat bulge.

The **** of their combined rhythm finally shook her corset into total surrender, sending her colossal, milk-pale breasts spilling free to flop and sway with every impact like lewd breached whales. Behind her, Tommy’s super-speed hips were a blur of motion, his rock-hard pelvis hammering a relentless pom-pom-pom rhythm against the bouncing, jelly-soft crescent curves of her buttocks, driving his glans deep into her womb while Billy gagged her from the front. The friction churned up a slick, shameful mess, with copious strings of thick pussy slime dripping from her ravished nether lips and ropes of drool leaking from her stuffed mouth, coating both massive shafts in a glaze of nasty, familial lubrication that splattered onto the polished wood with every wet, heavy thrust.

The dual **** was pushing her toward a second, blinding climax, and the buzzing at her core was escalating from a low thrum to a panicked, frantic whine. Wanda was gasping, hands white-knuckled against the polished wood of the table, her pelvis slamming back into Tommy’s relentless speed-piston.

"N-no! Too m-much!" she managed to whine, barely coherent, as Billy’s monstrous head scraped her soft palate.

Tommy’s response was a thick, possessive grunt. He reached down and gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into the plush flesh above her knees as he lifted her entire weight off the table.

"Ready for standing, Ma?" he growled, his voice a vibrating rumble deep in her ear.

"Y-yes! Oh, God!"

Without losing the depth of his penetration, Tommy grabbed Wanda’s waist with both hands and spun her body around on his prick, rotating her orientation from facing away to facing him. The friction of the turn sent a fresh, shocking wave of pleasure through her cunt. Her swollen, heart-shaped ass dipped down from gravity before Tommy's big hands sank into the doughy, glossy ass-flesh, the big, soft globes of her PAWG flesh jiggling and rolling with the momentum.

In one smooth motion, he hauled her up, lifting her thighs and she locked her legs behind his back. The sudden re-orientation sent her immense, creamy breasts surging upward, smashing into his hard, muscled pecs (he’d speed-whipped off his ratty T between one shot and the next). Her large nipples pressed flat against his chest, instantly stimulating both of them.

"Gotcha," Tommy breathed, then began to bounce her on his prick, the heavy, cushioned impact of his hips meeting her snatch driving his full length in and out with punishing speed. Each bounce sent a satisfying, wet SCHLOCK through the foyer, followed by the soft, rhythmic jiggle of her heavy ass and the chaotic sway of her breasts against his chest.

Billy didn’t miss a beat. As Tommy had snatched Wanda away into the standing deep-fuck position, Billy had smoothly pulled his throbbing shaft from her mouth. A thick, wet string of his clear pre-cum had snapped from his head to her lips.

Now Wanda gasped for air, leaning her head against Tommy’s shoulder as he bounced her with brutal affection.

Billy grinned, his eyes dark with predatory intent. He walked around the table, his fully rigid, dripping cock standing proudly. He came up behind her, zeroing in on her rolling globes of delicious MILF assmeat. He leaned down, his muscled torso pressed against her back, and took double handfuls of those heavy, soft cheeks.

"Let's try this one, Ma," Billy commanded, his voice a low, rough rumble. He spat a slick, thick stream of saliva onto his hand, coating her tight, winking star. He grabbed the back of her waist, his grip possessive and absolute, and drove his massive, veiny shaft straight into her asshole.

The sheer volume of meat invading her body was obliterating her ability to think, leaving only raw, screaming sensation. Wanda buried her face into the crook of Tommy’s neck, her fingers digging claw-marks into his traps as the twin pistons hammered her from both sides.

“OH GOD! OH GOD, BILLY! TOMMY!” she shrieked, her voice cracking, no longer caring about the neighbors or the cameras. “IT’S TOO BIG! YOU’RE SPLITTING ME IN HALF!”

She was trapped. A soft, fleshy filling pressed between two walls of hard, unyielding muscle.

"FFFFFF-UUUUUU-CCCCKKKK!" Wanda wailed, her voice cracking as she was impaled from both sides simultaneously.

Had you shown this programme to Wanda a week ago, she’d have been truly disgusted by the lewd images being streamed. But now? She was the bastion of bliss. To her this was the perfect way to spend Halloween. She’d have taken a picture for her Christmas Cards if she wasn’t speared and sandwiched so strongly. Her mind rewritten to be such a deep pervert that being DP’d by her boys just felt like the best way to grow closer as a family. It could only be more perfect if she had her husband in the mix too… and though she tried to keep that image as Vision, her mind could not imagining her childhood friend Mark Williams as the stern manly visage that Wanda truly yearned for.

Her body, rewritten for maximum softness and yield, was squished flat. Her immense breasts, already struggling against gravity, were mashed between the men’s chests and her own compressed torso, spilling out sideways in overflowing puddles of creamy flesh. Her stomach, her thighs, her ass, everything was folded and squeezed, the soft curves of her MILF form yielding around the hard angles of her sons.

It was a standing double-penetration, a feat of geometry and lust. As they thrust into her, Tommy driving deep into her womb, Billy reaming her ass, their hips met in the middle.

Thud. Squish. PLAP.

The sound was distinct and obscene. With every synchronized thrust, the two men’s massive, heavy scrotums swung forward like pendulums. Beneath Wanda’s suspended, stretching perineum, the four huge testicles collided.

From across the living room, Vision froze.

His newspaper sagged.
His synthetic pupils dilated.
The little hex-woven cuckold circuit she’d tucked into his neural pathways pinged, soft and warm and traitorous.

Shock surged. Outrage flickered.

And then both sensations drowned instantly in syrup-thick, helpless arousal.

Oh, Vision thought dimly. Oh, this is… this is very… pleasant.

Wanda caught his eye between the twins’ shoulders.

“Viz,” she gasped breathlessly, hair stuck to her cheeks, tiara crooked, breasts quivering from the jostling. She flashed him a wicked MILF grin. “Honey… don’t be shy. You can enjoy the show. It’s okay. I want you to.”

Her voice triggered the circuit again. A subtle whine, like a capacitor overcharging.

Vision sat straighter.
And nodded.
And radiated the earnest devotion of a husband who had completely accepted that his role tonight was to witness, not participate.

“Of course, my love,” he said reverently.

Wanda snapped her fingers.

A jaunty little poof! sounded.

Suddenly there was a glittery, pastel-pink Jack-In-The-Box in Vision’s lap, decorated with swirls of hearts and tiny cartoon penises dancing around the edges.

He blinked. Then looked at her. She winked.

Vision placed his hand on the crank.

And began to turn it.

Clink-clonk. Clink-clonk. Clink-clonk.

His motions were rhythmic. Mechanical.

A perfect euphemism for jerking himself senseless.

Wanda bit her lip.

God, she loved him. Even with everything else going on in her head, she still loved her Vision.

The twins hoisted her higher and now Wanda was fully suspended between them.

Her body bounced with every shifting grip, tits wobbling hugely, ass cheeks squishing out between their hips as they pressed closer and closer. The silhouettes alone were pure porn filth.

Her head dropped back onto Billy’s shoulder; her feet kicked as Tommy adjusted his hold.

Their bodies were so much larger, so much taller, she looked like a plush and fleshy, milf onahole hung between two oversized Mark-action-figures.

The sound design of the sitcom got very… selective.

Wet rhythm beneath the canned Halloween ambience.
Heavy breathing.
Wanda’s gasps.
Low male groans.
Soft, rhythmic plap-plap-plap as their nuts slapped together and moved in perfect sync.

“Boys-!” she wailed, voice breaking into a breathless, obscene moan disguised as a comedic yelp. “If you two- hhaahh! -don’t slow down, I’m.. I’m gonna… I’m gonna break-!”

Billy and Tommy’s voices overlapped in that eerie mirrored Mark-register:

“You’re fine, Ma.”

“You’re our MILF! Our slutty perverse broodmare!”

“You’re gonna cum so hard you forget your own name as you get pregnant over and over again!”

Her head snapped toward Vision, eyes wild and teary.

“Viz! Sweetheart! A little support here?!”

Vision, still turning the crank with dutiful intensity, nodded rapidly.

“Yes, darling! You’re doing beautifully! Excellent form!”

Wanda laughed, breathless and delirious.

“You’re-hhaah- such a good husband, Viz-”

Clink-clonk. Clink-clonk.

The crank went faster.

The twins shifted their stances and now Wanda was lifted even higher, her overflowing jugs squished up between their collarbones, her body jostled like she weighed nothing.

The plap-plap-plap sound intensified.

Wanda’s cries went from comedic to downright unhinged hentai heroine.

“Ohhh- fffuck-! That’s too- it’s too- aaah- aaAAAH! I can’t- boys… boys… you’re- you’re breaking your mother- ohhhh god-!”

Tommy grinned, sweat dripping from his brow as he increased his speed, vibrating his hips just enough to send shockwaves through her womb. “You built us this way, Ma! Take it!”

“F-fuck!” Wanda gasped, her head thrashing against Billy’s shoulder. The friction was maddening, a burning, stretching fullness that felt like she was being rewritten from the inside out. “T-this is… it’s too much! YOU’RE RUINING MEEE~!”

Billy grunted, driving upward into her ass with a possessive, relentless rhythm that matched his brother’s perfectly. “We’re not ruining you,” he growled into her ear. “We’re fixing you.”

“AHHHH! THEY’RE TOUCHING!” she wailed, a high, **** keen. “I CAN FEEL YOU RUBBING! FUCK, YOU’RE MEETING INSIDE ME!”

The sensation of the two massive heads grinding together inside her core sent her over the edge. Her massive breasts, squished and folded between the three sweating bodies, shook violently as a full-body orgasm ripped through her.

“CUMMIIIINNG~!” she screamed, her legs spasming over Tommy’s shoulders. “YOU’RE MAKING ME CUM SO MUUUUCCHHH~!”

“That’s it,” Tommy laughed, breathless and manic. “Show Dad what a hungry slut you are.”

“I CAN’T STOP!” Wanda sobbed, slobbering onto Billy’s skin, completely broken by the pleasure. “YOU’RE MAKING ME CUM, YOU’RE MAKING ME CUM, YOU’RE MAKING MOMMY CUMMMM~!!”

Clink-clonkclinkclonkclinkclonk-

Vision became a blur.

The Jack-in-the-Box rattled in his lap.

Magic crackled.

Wanda’s body arched violently between the twins.

She shrieked a long, raw, over-the-top what should be sitcom-censored wail.

Vision’s crank spun wildly as the Jack-in-the-Box reached its crescendo:

POP!

But instead of a clown, or a jester, or anything tv-appropriate…

A tiny five inch pink dildo sprang out on a wobbly spring.

Boing.
Boing.
Boing.

Vision stared at it.

Then gave Wanda a shy, blissed-out little smile.

“Ah,” he whispered reverently. “Yes. That… that felt correct.”

Wanda, still suspended between her two adult sons, her breasts heaving, her hair a mess, her tits bouncing with every aftershock, managed a shaky laugh.

“Good boy,” she panted. “My sweet, perfect little husband. Always doing your part.”

The twins pressed her tighter between them, one giant wall of man in front, one behind, drowning her soft MILF body between their sculpted mass.

The camera zoomed in on Vision’s pink dildo popping in slow, comedic thrusts.

Cue laugh track.

Cue spooky Halloween stinger.

Cue Wanda’s wrecked little smirk at the “audience.”

Fade to commercial.

What was the commercial? Nothing important. Local wares sellers Fitz and Simmons were simply showcasing the latest line of Mark based products. Face masks, dildos, divorce papers, that kind of thing.

The invisible studio lights dimmed. The canned laughter cut out instantly, leaving only the wet, visceral schluck-schluck-plap of flesh slapping flesh echoing in the sudden, jarring silence of the foyer.

Vision blinked. The golden haze of the ‘broadcast’ lifted from his optic sensors like a heavy curtain being pulled back. The Cuckold Circuit, which had been redlining his processors with **** euphoria, throttled down to a dull, background hum. He looked down at his lap. The jaunty pink Jack-in-the-Box flickered, distorted like a bad signal, and then dissolved into a wisp of red chaos magic, leaving his hand grasping at empty air.

He looked up. The scene hadn't changed. Wanda was still suspended, eyes rolled back, drool leaking onto Billy’s shoulder as they ruthlessly stretched her but the warm, forgiving sitcom filter was gone. Now, it was just his wife being aggressively bred by their adult sons in the foyer.

Vision sighed, the sound echoing the weary resignation of a man trying to maintain order in a madhouse. He stood up, smoothing the wrinkles of his luchador spandex, deciding that sticking to the evening's schedule was the only way to maintain his sanity. After all, the commercial would be over soon, and Wanda was never a fan of bottle episodes.

“Well boys, I’d say it’s about time to go trick-or-treating. Want to go get changed?”

“Uhh, you go ahead dad,” Billy grunted, not missing a stroke inside his mother’s ass.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up.”

In a blur of motion, Tommy exited his mother with a loud SHLUCK, leaving her vaginal canal gaping open and dripping. Before Wanda could even whine at the loss of fullness, Tommy was across the room. He grabbed Vision by the arm and dragged him out the door at super speed.

SLAM.

Suddenly experiencing his house door getting slammed into his face, Vision stood on the porch, alone.

Vision blinked, letting out a slightly exasperated chuckle. He easily phased through his front door, “You can’t be serious? I am for all intents and purposes a grown man. Social etiquette strictly forbids me to go around asking for… candy by myself!”

“Hey, we’re adults too, dad. Mom made us eighteen, remember?” Tommy argued, grabbing Wanda’s hips.

“Yeah, if anything you’re younger than us.” Billy added, leaning his chin on Wanda’s shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun!” he continued, using a similar power to Wanda’s to send Vision flying back out through the door.

Feeling slightly irritated now, Vision phased through the wall with prejudice, “Wanda! Are you going to stop having sex with them any time today?! This whole Halloween trip was your idea!”

“Ohh~! N-next one to u-use their powers on th-their father to banish him from the scene d-doesn’t get to c-cum in ME!”

Billy’s eyes widened. He immediately used his magic again, not on Vision to banish him, but to push Vision straight down through the floorboards, pinning him beneath the ground with increased gravity so he couldn't move or leave, but technically not "sending him away."

“Aww, mom I’m sorry. Can’t I please still cum in you?” He snarled, placing his manly fingers along his mother’s sweaty jawline to move her face towards his.

“I-if you’re sorry…” Wanda breathed, her eyes fluttering as she felt his thick thumb stroke her cheek.

Thankfully as his magically-inclined son reached orgasm and began the long and explosive process of emptying his testicles inside his own mother’s womb, he lost concentration and Vision found himself released from his spell.

With a sigh, he floated upwards, staring at the family dynamic in all its glory as his two son’s jism poured into his wife. The cuckoldry circuit flickering back and forth, making him happy they were happy, yet empty in his heart, “Wanda…”

“WE’LL MEET YOU OUT THERE!” She screamed in the throws of a rolling climax, kissing Billy hard with eyes rolled back. Implying but not saying ‘LEAVE!’ without even a glance his way.

With no argument, opinion, or words to fight back the madness, Vision quietly left his home. Floating into the empty night air of Halloween.