Alexs suprise

3 months after what would have been the wedding I could not stay away.

After seeing Luna on that screen during my stag night, I spent days in a haze. Abbigail was still missing. The wedding was cancelled. My family offered quiet support while my friends tried to drag me out for drinks to “forget.” None of it helped. My apartment still had her wedding dress hanging on the door like a ghost. Photos of us together haunted every room. Sleep came in short, nightmare-filled bursts where I heard her voice calling my name before it twisted into moans I did not recognize. I had to know the truth. I had to see it with my own eyes even if it destroyed me.

I went back to the club alone. It was Wedding Theme Night. The irony burned like acid in my chest. The main floor was filled with girls dressed in slutty white lingerie, tiny veils perched crookedly on their heads, and cheap “just married” sashes stretched tight across their enhanced tits. Some wore nothing but garters, stockings, and high heels. Others had “Bride for the Night” written across their asses in glitter. The music pulsed low and heavy while men laughed and groped freely. The whole atmosphere felt like a deliberate, cruel joke aimed straight at my shattered life.

I paid for a private room and asked specifically for Luna. My hands shook as I handed over the cash.

When the door opened, my heart shattered into pieces I did not know could break further.

Luna (Sylvie) was on her knees in a tiny white bridal lingerie set that left almost nothing to the imagination. The sheer fabric clung to her heavily tattooed body, her slave collar peeking out above the lacy neckline. Her puffy lips were wrapped tightly around my brother’s cock, sliding up and down with practiced, hungry devotion. Thick strings of drool ran down her chin and dripped onto her heavy, round tits. Beside her was another girl. Trixie. Also dressed in bridal slutwear: a sheer white micro babydoll that barely covered her enhanced chest, a small veil slightly askew, and a sash that read “Just Married Whore” in sparkling letters. She had long auburn hair, warm hazel eyes, and a face that hit me like a punch to the gut even through the heavy makeup and vacant expression.

It was Abbigail.

Both of them were moaning like trained whores, taking the cocks deep into their throats. Abbigail bobbed eagerly on my best man’s thick shaft, her new plump lips stretched obscenely around him as she gagged wetly and drooled. Her enhanced tits bounced heavily with every motion, the fresh tattoos on her skin clearly visible under the dim lights. My brother groaned loudly as he fucked Luna’s face, holding her head in place with both hands while she looked up at him with glassy, submissive eyes full of pure lust.

I stood frozen in the doorway, unable to look away or even breathe properly.

A storm of emotions crashed through me all at once: shock, betrayal, grief, rage… and something else. Something dark and twisted that made my stomach turn even as my cock twitched and began to harden in my pants. The two women I had loved were on their knees for the men closest to me, dressed like cheap bridal fucktoys and clearly loving every second of it. The sight was obscene, degrading, and painfully arousing.

Luna’s eyes flicked up and met mine for a brief moment. Something flickered in her glassy expression, a tiny spark of recognition that vanished almost instantly beneath layers of programming and drugs. She moaned louder around my brother’s cock and pushed her ass back invitingly toward another man who had stepped up behind her. He sank into her ass without hesitation, filling her completely while she continued sucking with renewed enthusiasm.

Abbigail’s eyes met mine too. There was a brief flash of something distant and unreadable in those once-familiar hazel eyes, quickly swallowed by drugged, broken lust. She did not stop. She kept sucking my best man’s cock with desperate enthusiasm, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper and gagged happily. Her enhanced body moved with practiced ease, hips swaying as if begging for more even while on her knees.

Mybrother noticed me standing there and smirked, still thrusting lazily into Luna’s throat. “Alex? Fuck, mate… you want in? These two sluts are incredible. Luna’s throat is fucking heaven. And Trixie here is an absolute cock addict. She cums just from getting her face fucked.”

I could not speak. My throat felt tight and dry. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. Sweat beaded on my forehead. And my cock… it was getting painfully hard, straining against my pants as I watched the woman I once planned to spend my life with deepthroat my best friend while my ex moaned like a whore around my brother’s dick. The contrast between the white bridal lingerie and their completely ruined, eager behavior made it even worse.

And part of me was getting off on it.

I hated myself for it.

Luna pulled off my brother’s cock for a moment, long strings of saliva connecting her puffy lips to his glistening shaft. She looked up at me with that empty, blissful smile and whispered in a soft, obedient voice, “Hello, sir. Would you like to join? Your brother and best man are using us so well tonight.”

Abbigail glanced at me again, her lips still wrapped tightly around my best man’s cock. She did not pull away. She simply kept sucking, her half-lidded eyes showing nothing but lust as she moaned around him and pushed her tits forward.

I felt sick. I felt angry. I felt betrayed beyond words.

And I was hard as fucking steel.

I turned and walked out of the room without a word, my cock straining painfully in my pants. Behind me I heard the wet, obscene sounds of them sucking, the loud moans, and the laughter from the men encouraging them to take it deeper.

I stumbled down the hallway, my mind spinning wildly. First Sylvie. Now Abbigail. Both of them, the two women I had loved, were gone. Broken. Turned into eager, tattooed whores who moaned for anyone who paid. And the worst part? Part of me was painfully aroused by the image burned into my brain: Luna on her knees for my brother, Trixie (Abbigail) eagerly servicing my best man, both of them dressed like ruined brides and completely owned.

I left the club and walked the streets for hours, the stag night long forgotten. Tomorrow would mark a month since the wedding that never happened. But tonight all I could see was the broken women who used to be mine.

And the dark, shameful arousal that refused to go away.

As I stepped out of the club into the cool night air, a familiar voice stopped me.

“Alex.”

I turned.

Emily was standing there on the sidewalk, looking calm and elegant as always, a small knowing smile on her face.