Down and Dirty

The hall exploded with an especially loud, lustful roar. On the huge screen, the fourth option lit up bright pink.

Down and Dirty.

Molly squeaked quietly, her huge eyes widening. The Fate Collar instantly flashed with blinding pink light. A hot, thick, almost sticky wave of magic slammed straight into her brain, penetrating the deepest layers of her mind.

“Aaaaaahhh…” a long, high, trembling moan escaped her.

She bent over, grabbing her massive, barely covered tits with both hands. The transparent top stretched to its limit, her nipples painfully rubbing against the thin fabric. The fog filled her head — thick, sweet, and soaked with pure lust.

Memories of gentle, loving sex with Arthur began to fade and twist. In their place, new dirty, rough images flooded her mind. She saw herself on her knees with a thick cock brutally shoved down her throat, tears and drool running down her cheeks. She saw her plump body being thrown onto a table, her wide thighs roughly spread apart, and someone slamming into her hard and deep with no warmup. Being called a whore, a dirty bimbo bitch, her big ass spanked red, cum dripping down her face, tits, and thighs. These pictures sent powerful waves of arousal through her body.

“Ohhh… yesss…” she squeaked thinly, no longer able to hold back.

Arthur in the dark corner backstage couldn’t take it. He stared at his wife, who he barely recognized anymore. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His shoulders shook. He pressed his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming, but quiet, choked sobs still broke through. His Molly — tender, caring, strong — was turning into a woman who now craved rough, humiliating, filthy sex. Arthur felt his heart tearing apart.

Meanwhile, Molly straightened up. Her gaze became hazier, hungrier. Between her thick thighs, her juices were no longer trickling — they were flowing in a steady stream, soaking the insides of her legs. Her tiny thong was completely drenched. Her huge tits heaved heavily, nipples rock hard and painfully sensitive. Her bright pink curls were splayed across her shoulders.

Now she didn’t dream of gentle kisses. She dreamed of getting fucked. Hard. Dirty. Of being used like a cheap whore, spanked, hair pulled, cum shot on her face and in her mouth. Of being called filthy names and made to beg for more.

“Mmmm… I want… to get fucked… hard…” she squeaked quietly, running her hands over her soft plump body. Her fingers instinctively squeezed her massive tits, and Molly moaned with pleasure.

Jack watched with a wide, satisfied grin. He glanced once more at the broken Arthur and smirked faintly.

“Transformation complete!” he announced loudly. “Molly now officially loves rough, dirty, degrading sex. The rougher, the wetter! And now, sweetie… you have only one case left in this round. Pick it. And let’s make it really interesting.”

Molly stood there breathing heavily. Her plump body trembled with arousal. Her soft belly rose and fell quickly, her wide thighs squeezed tight, but that only put more pressure on her swollen clit. She was already imagining how after the show someone would grab her, pin her against the wall, and fuck her right there backstage — rough and merciless.

“N-number… twenty-three…” she squeaked sweetly and excitedly, lightly swaying her big ass.

Chrissy walked over to chest №23. The hall held its breath. The lock clicked.

The lid opened…