To the school

Chapter 2: Parallel Processing

David wasn't sure if he could fix this, or if he even wanted to.

Currently, his consciousness was split across town. In one head, he was sitting in a hard plastic chair at school, listening to Mrs. Lorenza drone on about Spanish verb conjugations. In the other, he was sitting in an ergonomic office chair at Johnson & Baxter, his mother’s manicured fingers flying across a keyboard as he input client data.

The horniness was becoming a logistical problem.

As his mother, he could feel the massive weight of his—her—mammaries hanging heavy against her chest, jiggling with every small movement. They were a constant pull on her spine, a dull ache he now owned, but her memories told him she didn’t mind. She loved the attention they brought. He watched through her eyes as male coworkers tried to be "sneaky" with their glances, but with decades of experience and the Hive’s heightened awareness, he caught every single wandering gaze. She—he—didn’t complain. If she hadn't wanted the stares, she wouldn't have kept them this large. He arched her back, feeling a satisfying pop in her vertebrae as the heavy weight shifted.

Simultaneously, back in the classroom, David was staring at the back of Mrs. Lorenza. Her jeans were stretched to the breaking point over an ass that defied gravity. He imagined burying his face between those cheeks, while his mother-self daydreamed about the same thing. The virus was already blurring his preferences; he didn’t just want to be with these women—he wanted to be them while being with them.

David licked his finger and rifled through his homework, making sure everything was ready to hand in. At the exact same moment, his mother-self took a break from the spreadsheet to glance at a few "hot babes" in the office—women he wouldn't mind showing his dick into and parking her fat ass over their faces as they ate her out. He was throbbing in his jeans at school and dripping wet in his slacks at the office. The dual-arousal was a feedback loop that made his head swim.

The school bell finally rang. David handed in his papers and hit the restroom before his next class. Hours later, at the office, his mother-self did the same. He was careful as she used the communal stall, but the virus was resourceful and the small particles left behind would make the coming days interesting indeed.

By the time the workday ended, the anticipation was a physical roar in his mind.

David walked through the front door of his house just as his mother-self was already in the living room, her work clothes discarded. She was sprawled on the couch, her fingers buried in her wet snatch, moaning loudly for the "other" part of her to get home and finish what she’d started. She was lucky the sisters weren't home yet; her cries were uninhibited, raw, and echoed by the hard-on David was sporting as he dropped his backpack.

The feedback was incredible. As David, he watched his mother’s heavy breasts smack against her torso with every deep shove of her fingers. As the mother, he felt the friction and the arch of her own back, seeing David’s silhouette in the doorway.

He moved toward the stairs, and she was right behind him. He watched her own form—that wide, swaying ass—climbing the steps toward the master bedroom. She reached up, squeezing one fat breast and pinching the nipple hard. Both bodies shivered in a synchronized jolt of electricity.

The Hive didn't just share a mind; it shared every nerve ending. And as they stepped into the bedroom and locked the door, David realized that "Patient Zero" was about to have the best afternoon of his life.