Get accosted by the seemingly living dicks

Without warning, almost every phallus in the room re-orients itself, jutting out towards you.

Sophie: "Eek! What's going on!?"

It's clear that your wish has been heard, and granted. The shafts of your homegrown slit stretchers elongate and bend themselves to seemigly chase you down. You make a run for it, but get tripped over. A veiny mess looms over you, ready to strike.

Sophie: "No, NOOOO STOP!"

As if from command, they stop. You catch your breath for a moment.

Sophie: "They... do they follow my command?"

You rise to your feet and eye up the still heaving, dripping dicks. You try stroking one of them, and it undulates under your touch, as if being able to feel you.

Sophie: "Ooh, you're a strong one, aren't you? Aren't you real strong."

The strange tentacle-like entity goes rock-hard, and juices drip down from its tip as if drool.

Sophie: "Oh I bet you're a real eager one, hm? I bet you're rearing to go, right?"

The monster-dick spasms slightly, as if showing excitement.

Sophie: "Looks like it, yea! Haha, but you won't ever get to cum, no. Not without my permission."

This only serves to excite it more. It can't keep up its elongated form anymore, and retracts back into a proud, steel-hard pole on the ground. You walk around the room, taking care to stomp your feet down on any that dare slither underneath you.

Sophie: "You'll do aaaaaaanything I tell you to do, right?"

Every penis in the room vibrates, as if shivering. You take that this means 'yes' in dickmonster language.

Sophie: "So then, we are in agreement? You'll do my bidding, and if you do really good work, I'll let you cum."

The forest of dicks is in agreement. They calm down soon enough, as if awaiting orders. You suppose you have to come up with a name for these things, though.

Sophie: "I think I'll call you 'Miles'. That's almost like 'males' if you're Australian, and also reflects your length!"

Time to test out what these things can do. You snap your fingers and point at a Mile as it stands erect at attention.

Sophie: "You there! Cook me breakfast. I want a pastrami sandwitch with butter, parmesan and two pickles, apple juice, and an omelette with dick cheese on it. Got it?"

The small Mile vibrates.

Sophie: "You have my special permission to cum once to get that dick cheese on the omelette. Once I'm finished eating you can cum again. And you there!"

You point at a mesh of small-sized penises growing from the wall.

Sophie: "Play piano for me. Mid 60's Lounge Jazz, improvised on the... eh, G Mixolydian scale. All of you can cum once I'm finished eating, if you've played well enough."

You now turn around with wide arms, addressing everyone else.

Sophie: "And the rest of you: My house is a mess! Clean everything up before I'm finished eating. I want everything spring sprung, top-notch, double waxed and shone to a sheen. Laundry done, garbage taken out, sheets changed, dust dusted, TV repaired, the whole wazoo. Once everything is taken care of and inspected, I'll allow you to cum. Understood?"

The Miles vibrate approvingly.

Sophie: "Good."

You clap your hands.

Sophie: "Go."

The room erupts frighteningly quickly, all Miles going about their respective tasks. It appears that they have phenomenal knowledge about technical and cultural matters - even the music sounds alright, though you're not savvy enough to distinguish if it's really on a Mixolydian scale.

The clean-up progresses surprisingly quickly, despite the lack of opposable thumbs, or really opposable anything. The Miles work in pairs of five, simulating human hands. They've ceased leaking cum to prevent any more mess-ups from occuring. There are no problems whatsoever in cooking, cleaning or even fixing the TV. Thankfully you have a large fence around your yard, and the neighbours don't see when one Mile hauls a garbage bag out back.

Your breakfast is professionally made. You give compliments to the chef on its dick cheese, prompting it to quiver around ecstatically.

The Miles are long-since done with the housework as you're finishing up the last crumbs of your breakfast. They've gathered around your table, as if anxiosly waiting.

Sophie: "I'm content. But, after having spent all that trouble cleaning, I can't let you cum just anywhere. Follow me, if you will."

You march your servant army a few rooms over and introduce them to your bath tub. The door frames of your bathroom are nearly torn asunder by the wall of flesh trying to cram through.

Sophie: "You may now cum, but only inside of the bath tub. At your own pace!"

You could swear you can hear a light rumble as semen begins to fill up the Miles. Your wooden door frame can't handle this reduced capacity, and bursts. A wave of orgasms rock the entire room, as hundreds of gallons of cum spew out all at once. Some only release a single time, others shoot out five, ten or even twenty times in a row.

Note to yourself: don't allow all of them to cum simultaneously any more.

Sophie: "Are we done? Good. Now clean up after yourselves you filthy animals, and fix the door frame. We have things to do."