TARDIS Trouble, Part 8: Press

Despite the obvious hunger that all four of them are feeling as they give long, longing looks back the way we've just come, no doubt trying to figure out excuses to go back down it for a coating of blue goo that I'll have '****' but to neutralise with a fat load, we manage to get moving again quickly - it seems that, even with their brains working overtime, the Doctor can't figure out a way to try without me leaving her to her fate in order to punish her. Very quickly, the architecture takes on a consistent caste, the familiar wood and brass of Wakeford Manor occasionally exposing the shiny white plastic and black rubber of the machine that 'infests' it, tubes and spherical chambers pulsing with the flow of some kind of fluid or gas through them. The Aphasias giggle and nudge each other as we pass a portrait that, through design or coincidence, is placed over two such chambers, the subject's tits bulging outwards as if she's trying to escape her painted prison chest-first.

Eventually, the winding corridor that we're following - led by the steadily-intensifying buzz of the Doctor and the Whore's sonic screwdrivers - terminates in a pair of heavy oak doors inlaid with brass glyphs, the same kind that occasionally appear on the TARDIS's walls. Both Time Ladies' eyes widen the instant they look at them and they press the buzzing crystals at the ends of their screwdrivers to their clits, moaning in delight as their legs tremble; a few seconds later, they're sucking on the now-silent devices as if nothing happened, apparently unaware of what they just did or why. "Right," the Doctor announces, stepping closer to the door and spinning to face us, "this is the place!" Having either ignored or not noticed the barcode scanner-like rays of light that the glyphs have just beamed onto her ass, she thrusts it back and hip-checks the doors open.

True to her assertion, the room beyond is clearly a cousin to the control room I'm familiar with; a huge dome of dark, varnished, brass-banded wood, studded with spotlights that illuminate the place in a dim, sodium lamp yellow glow. Unlike the Doctor's, though, instead of being bare except for a ring of floor-level switches and levers - and the pole on which she does most of the work - this version's central piloting platform is dominated by a massive, glowing pillar of crystal. The glow from its uneven surface wavers and ripples as it rises and falls, pumping - or perhaps being sucked - into the orifice emerging from the top of the dome, a tunnel of flexible white plastic tipped with pair of massive, shiny black lips like the one that **** the Doctor on our first visit to Wakeford. Only a few seconds after our intrusion, the tunnel extends downwards to envelop more of the crystal column, and the low, rhythmic hum permeating the room takes on a sense of urgency, almost like...

"Oh my goodness," the Doctor mutters from beside me, "this TARDIS is..."

"She's completely helpless," the Whore moans from my other side, "the sucking is too good..."

"And now she'll do whatever she's told," a third version of the blonde Time Lady finishes, strutting out from behind the raised platform. All five of us find our surprise at her sudden appearance smothered by the shock of seeing her incredible rack preceding her into view; the rest of her body, while certainly no slouch, pales in comparison to her colossal tits as they jiggle and bounce with every step, each one easily matching one of the Doctor's clapcakes for size, roundness and level of eye-catching distraction. All four of the girls, even the Whore, grab their chests self-consciously as I haul my attention off of the new arrival's rack and take a look at the rest of her. She's dressed in a strange amalgamation of pornographic domestic servants' uniforms, the frilly laciness of her garters and indecently-short skirt giving off maid vibes that almost clash with the less delicate aura of her chauffer's cap and the bolero jacket straining to contain her tits behind a single, heroic button. "Miss Joan Smith," she greets me with a smile, "valet at Wakeford Manor, at your service."

A quick glance to either side confirms that the others seem to be trapped in some kind of breast envy-based trance, as I wrack my brain trying to remember what the trigger phrases were for the staff at Wakeford. "I'm surprised that they need a valet here enough to give the job to a hot piece of ass like you-"

"yes sir i'm a hot piece of ass," all three versions of the Doctor chorus, voices faint and toneless.

"-when all the other girls at Wakeford are just tits and holes."

"just tits and holes yes sir," the trio agree, before the dazed look on the Valet's face vanishes.

"I understand your confusion, sir," she replies, nodding her head, "but Miss Waterfield - the butler - and I were hired to do work that the rest of the staff simply can't be trusted with. Miss Waterfield makes sure that the household is running smoothly and keeps the rest of the naughty, naughty girls at the manor in line, while I handle everything else. I make travel arrangements, I handle the finances, I maintain Lady Wakeford's wardrobe, and I pound her slutty cunt with a strap-on every night to make up for the lack of a man of the house." The last four words are spoken with her gaze laser-focused on my crotch, and punctuated by a long, slow lick of her lips. "Luckily, that shouldn't be a problem anymore." A series of loud clicks snaps the Doctor, the Whore and their daughters out of their chance as we turn around to find a dozen busty, blank-eyed maids levelling what appear to be stun batons at us. "Don't worry," the Valet reassures us, "once I've given the new man of the house a proper ride to make sure he's up to the job, we'll get the rest of you sorted out with your new uniforms and bodies. Now..."

There's a sudden impact against the backs of my knees and I fold over backwards, landing on a padded, leather-upholstered bench that hadn't been there when I looked away. "...time for that test drive," the Valet smirks, suddenly lying on top of me with her now free - and, incredibly, even bigger than I previously thought - tits looming over my face and her crotch pressing firmly down on mine. "Oh, it feels even bigger than it looks," she remarks with a hint of glee, clearly happy to be on the receiving end of a surprise like that for once, "I can tell we're all going to love having you as the man of the house." Then she moans, and my next few seconds of conscious thought melt into slurry as the sound triggers something buried deep in the back of my mind; when I come to, the button and fly of my pants have been thoroughly destroyed from the inside, and even though I can't see past the two mind-bogglingly massive mammaries being pressed against my chest, the Valet's expression and the way she's wiggling her upraised hips inform me that the dizziness-inducing sensation currently enveloping the very tip of my cock is about get a lot more-

"mmmm~!"

My teeth grind and a ragged, breathless moan tears its way out of my throat as she pushes her hips back and down, swallowing my entire length in one smooth motion. My head flops back onto the bench as its legs begin to retract into the floor, lowering us both down until she's squatting on me, grinning wildly as her long, luscious legs flex and she starts to ride me. Every rise tries to drag my hips up with hers, and every drop smashes me into the bench under her juicy, jiggly bubble butt; it takes me a minute - or possibly an eternity - to even realise that I have other senses besides the one informing of how hot, wet, tight, and altogether perfect her cunt feels wrapped around me, and even then it takes even longer to realise what the other sensation is.

"Oh, you're such a perfect fit!"

I'm cumming. I'm cumming so hard that I've somehow achieved mid-nut clarity, even as I've lost control over - or even awareness of - the rest of my body; every drop of her hips, every squeeze of her folds, is dragging another rope of cum up my shaft and into her pussy.

"So deep! So thick! So much cum!"

I don't know how long I spend like that, too busy dissociating from the intensity of the sensations to care about the passage of time, but returning to reality is as abrupt and intense as being hit by a speeding train.

"There we go!"

Suddenly, I can feel things again - the lingering remnants of pressure on my neck from her now-absent fingertips, the heavy jolts that accompany every impact of her body on mine, the synapse-searing, nerve-frying, mind-melting sensation of her walls clinging to me so perfectly that it almost feels painful whenever she manages to pull herself off of me, inch by inch. Suddenly I can hear things again - the melodic moans and gasps of pleasure from the woman using me, the ****, needy whining of the Doctor, the Whore, and the two Aphasias masturbating as they watch us, the wet, slippery clapping of flesh on flesh every time she drops that ass onto my lap. Suddenly, I can see things again - the Valet's enormous tits, bouncing hypnotically and dragging my gaze in like a black hole, turning everything else to an indistinct blur. Suddenly, I can do things again - like grabbing her hips with both hands, my total inability to actually control her movements when I pull them down doing nothing to stop her screaming with delight at having a partner instead of a living dildo, or the way she leans forward to let me lick, suck and nip at her bouncing bust.

"Oh, you're going to be perfect," she pants and gasps happily. "I can't wait to watch you destroy all the other girls and eat your arse while you use Vicky like a fucking fleshlight." Her breath hitches, and she lets out another long moan. "Oooh, f-fuck! You just... You just knocked me up!" She giggles. "Y-You're not supposed to be able to do that," she 'confesses' in an unsteady tone, never even slowing down her riding, "it's supposed to take days to get there - I'm b-bigger on the inside, after all~" Her eyes widen, and she grabs the sides of my head, pushing it down into the bench as she arches her back and shudders in bliss. "So much cum... Oh my god, you're actually gonna fill me up! Gonna fill me up with cum... Cum... Cum... Cum, cum, cum, cum cum-cum-cum-cum-cum-CUM!" Her hips thrash up and down, not even pretending that the strength-sapping, willpower-draining pleasure she's been giving me was ever anything but a happy side effect anymore as she tries to milk me as hard and fast as she can.

The aching in my hips and the low creaking noises from the bench beneath me are growing more and more intense, enough to overcome even the emotion-numbing haze of stimulation that her pussy has me trapped in, and for a few moments I wonder if the cock-crazed alien is actually going to kill me through cyclically stressing my pelvis into dust.

Then a part of the dome explodes inwards.

Then another part of the dome explodes inwards.