The Daily Grind - a week later

The Daily Grind – A Week Later

Home – The Announcement

Tom slouched on the sofa, scratching his belly through the stretched fabric of his old t-shirt. The microwave hummed in the kitchen, and the familiar ping announced another barely edible lasagne. He didn’t care. Middle-aged lethargy had become his default state.

Mary walked past, and despite twenty-eight years of marriage, his breath still hitched. At fifty-two, she was softer, fuller, her hips swaying with a quiet confidence that always made his throat dry. She bent to pick up an empty beer bottle, and the neckline of her loose pyjama top gaped, giving him a generous view of her heavy breasts. He felt his boxers tighten.

Christ, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She brought their plates through. They ate in silence as the evening news played. Then the Prime Minister’s smarmy face filled the screen.

“My fellow citizens, in these unprecedented times…”

Tom’s fork froze mid-air. The words “fertility crisis” and “national duty” slithered out like poison.

“Effective immediately, all male citizens over the age of eighteen will be required to register at designated clinics for semen extraction. Private sexual activity is hereby suspended under the Human Continuity Act. Every sample is precious. Together, we will rebuild.”

Tom’s beer bottle hit the coffee table with a heavy thud.

Mary’s hand found his, her fingers trembling. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

The Letter

A week later, Mary stood in the kitchen with a cigarette dangling from her lips — something she only did when truly stressed. She handed Tom an official NHS letter without a word.

He skimmed it. Reassignment. Vital national role. Sample Collection Facilitator.

“You’re… what?” Tom’s voice cracked. “They want you to make men come?”

Mary exhaled smoke slowly. “They said my ‘maternal demeanour’ makes me ideal for putting donors at ease. They’re calling it a promotion.”

Tom’s fist clenched around the paper, crumpling it. “This is insane. They’re turning you into a glorified prostitute for the state.”

Mary looked away. “If I refuse, they’ll punish both of us. You’ve already seen the new laws. No private sex. No porn. Violations mean enforced chastity. They’re serious, Tom.”

Tom pulled her into a hug, but his mind was already spiralling.

My wife. My Mary. Touching other men. Making them cum. Every day.

The Uniform

The uniform arrived two days later in a sealed government bag.

Mary stepped out of the bedroom wearing it for the first time.

Tom’s mouth went dry.

The white nurse’s hat sat perched on her head. A tight white choker circled her neck. The shirt was obscenely tight — her massive tits strained against the thin fabric, the top buttons undone, areolas perilously close to spilling out. The skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs, held up by visible garters that dug into her soft hips. Sheer white stockings and high heels completed the look. Red lipstick. Golden wristwatch. She looked like a porn parody come to life.

“Fuck…” Tom breathed.

His small cock surged instantly against the front of his trousers, painfully hard. Damn this chastity cage I want to fuck her so hard right now but I can’t.

“Damn… I want to fuck her,” he thought, the words slipping out loud. “You look amazing.”

Mary turned, cheeks burning. “You sure? I feel ridiculous. Like a bloody Carry On whore.”

“Yeah,” Tom said hoarsely. “I would love to fuck you right now.”

Mary gave a sad smile. “I would let you… but it’s treason now. The new amendment made any non-clinical sexual activity between couples illegal. They want every drop going through the clinics.”

Tom groaned in frustration, his caged cock throbbing uselessly.

Neighbour Mike

They stepped outside together. Tom insisted on driving her.

Their neighbour Mike was leaning on the fence, smoking. The greasy, pot-bellied man’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw Mary.

“Wow… look at you,” Mike leered. “You look fucking great. Proper porn star nurse. I can’t wait till later — I might come in and bust a fat nut right on your face.”

Tom’s vision went red. “What the fuck did you just say about my wife?”

Mike raised his hands, smirking. “Calm down, man. I’m just playing around.”

“Get a life, Mike,” Tom snarled. “You disgusting pervert.”

Mike laughed. “Easy, Wanker. We all know where she works now.”

Tom looked ready to swing, but Mary grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the car.

At Work – The Daily Humiliation

Tom’s job at the builders’ merchant had become ****.

In the canteen, Stu — a cocky twenty-something — was holding court.

“So I went in, right? They make you strip, stand in this little white room, then bam — hole in the wall. Nurse grabs you, starts working you over. Proper technique, mate. And the noises she was making… fuck, like she was enjoying it.”

Tom’s coffee cup cracked in his grip.

“Got a peek at the end. Didn’t see her face, but she had these massive tits. Pretty sure I shot my load right onto ‘em.”

Laughter erupted. Whistles. “Bet she’s used to it!”

Tom’s vision went red. “AM I PAYING YOU TO TALK ABOUT WANKING? GET BACK TO WORK!”

The room emptied fast. Tom returned to his office, breathing hard. The image of his wife pleasuring Stu filled his mind. What was worse — his erection was throbbing painfully against his trousers

That could have been Mary. Those tits he came on… could have been hers.

He sat down, head in his hands.

My wife is out there right now, dressed like a slut, draining cocks for the government. And I’m here getting hard thinking about it.

Mary at the Clinic – The Daily Grind

Mary’s days had fallen into a brutal rhythm.

Wake up. Put on the absurd uniform. Drive to work with Tom staring at her cleavage the entire way. Spend eight to ten hours sucking, stroking, riding, and milking men of all ages. Come home exhausted, leaking cum, uniform stained, and let Tom worship her body on his knees while he whimpered in his cage.

She hated how routine it had become.

She hated how good some of it felt.

Today was no different.

In her booth, cock after cock appeared through the gloryhole. She worked mechanically at first — hands, mouth, tits — then with growing hunger as the day wore on. Her uniform made everything worse. Every bend, every stretch, every bounce of her massive tits drew louder moans from the donors.

During her break, she sat with Sally, Ivana, and Aunty.

Ivana Swallows was in full arrogant mode. “I took seventeen loads yesterday. Twelve down the throat. I’m thinking of getting my nipples pierced. Might increase output.”

Sally looked tired but excited. “The new girls are struggling. One of them cried after her first facial.”

Mary rubbed her temples. “I’m just… tired. Every day the same. Come home to Tom **** and denied. He loves me. I love him. But this uniform, these laws… they’re breaking us.”

Evening – Home

Mary walked through the door exhausted, uniform rumpled and stained. Tom was waiting on his knees in his red WANKER shirt.

He crawled to her immediately, pressing his face between her thighs, licking her clean while she told him everything.

“Another day, Tom. Another forty men. Some of them recognised me from the posters. One of them… God, one of them sounded exactly like Stu from your work.”

Tom moaned loudly into her pussy, his cage leaking.

Mary gripped his hair. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry this is what our marriage has become.”

Tom looked up, chin glistening. “I still love you. Even like this. Especially like this.”

Mary pulled him up and kissed him deeply, tasting the day on his tongue.

The daily grind continued.

And neither of them knew how to stop it

To be continued...