Not for too long...

After the heat of the morning finally faded, Rachel kissed my cheek and slipped out of bed to make lunch. I lay there for a few minutes, dazed, warm, and absolutely wrecked—in the best way.

When I finally joined her, she was standing in the kitchen in just a tank and tight shorts, stirring something on the stove. She looked over her shoulder and smirked.

“Good. You’re up. I need my doll to help around the house.”

I blinked. “Like… chores?”

She nodded and pulled something from a drawer.

A tiny, frilly apron.

Pink.

With lace trim.

She held it out, eyes twinkling. “Put this on. Nothing else.”

I flushed—but took it.

When I came back from the bedroom, naked except for the apron tied around my waist, Rachel let out a low whistle.

“You look edible,” she murmured, walking over to cup my ass. “Now go start on the laundry.”

The rest of the afternoon became a blur of teasing domesticity.

I folded clothes while she watched from the couch, occasionally calling me over to “check my form”—which always included squeezing my hips or slipping a hand under the apron.

I vacuumed while bent over, her gaze glued to the sway of my ass. At one point, she spanked me playfully and whispered, “That’s for missing a corner.”

Even the dishes became an opportunity for her to step behind me and grind her hips against mine, growling how proud she was of her perfect little housewife.

“You like being useful, don’t you?” she said at one point, pinning me to the counter and licking the shell of my ear. “Pretty, quiet, obedient.”

I whimpered and nodded.

And just when I thought we might move past the teasing—when I was blushing and aching under the weight of her praise—she let me finish.

She kissed my forehead and guided me to the couch, pulling me into her lap.

“I’ll take care of dinner,” she whispered, stroking my thigh. “You just keep being perfect.”

I curled against her, legs draped over her lap, utterly at peace.

Her doll. Her housewife. Her everything.

The next morning started like any other—soft sheets, Rachel’s warm body beside me, her arm draped lazily over my waist. But as I stirred, something felt… different.

Heavier.

Tighter.

I turned over, blinking up at her—and gasped.

She was… bigger.

Not just taller—though she definitely was, her long legs stretching farther across the bed than ever before—but broader. Her shoulders were thick with new muscle. Her arms looked powerful, toned, wrapped in definition that hadn’t been there just a day ago.

And then I saw it.

Her cock, half-hard in sleep, resting against her thigh—thicker, longer, veined, and utterly monstrous compared to before. I felt my breath hitch, my thighs instinctively pressing together. It looked intimidating. Hypnotic.

Rachel stirred slowly, golden eyes blinking open. Her gaze found mine—and she smirked.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice lower. Rougher. “Something wrong, doll?”

I shook my head, cheeks burning. “You… changed again.”

She sat up and stretched, the muscles across her back rippling with new strength. I watched in stunned silence as she rolled her neck, flexed one arm casually, then reached down to stroke her cock.

“Feels different,” she admitted, glancing down at herself. “Heavier. Thicker. Like I could split you in half.”

I whimpered.

She laughed, low and dangerous. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

But we both knew she wouldn’t.

She stood and towered above me, her new frame casting a shadow across the bed. She was stunning—goddess-like. And more dominant than ever.

“You’ve been spoiled, Mikey,” she said, stepping around to my side. “All pampered and soft. But now it’s my turn.”

Her hand gripped my jaw and tilted my face upward. I looked into her eyes and saw fire.

She wasn’t just bigger.

She was becoming something else entirely.

Stronger.

Hungrier.

And I was hers to use.

Rachel leaned over me like a goddess carved from dominance—taller, stronger, radiating heat. Her cock throbbed heavily between us, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

She grinned. “You like what you see, doll?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re… incredible.”

She took my hand and guided it to her length. It was hot, thick, veiny—heavier than I’d ever felt. My fingers barely curled around it. She watched my reaction with smug satisfaction.

“Get on your knees,” she said.

I slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, trembling with anticipation. Rachel stepped forward, her cock brushing my lips. I kissed the tip, then the shaft, trailing soft kisses up its length until she grabbed the back of my head.

“Open wide.”

I obeyed.

She slid past my lips, filling my mouth inch by inch. I moaned around her, the weight of her cock stretching my jaw. Her hands cradled my face gently—but her hips thrust forward with growing ****.

She groaned. “God, your mouth feels good.”

I tried to nod, but she was already moving, fucking my throat with slow, deep strokes. My eyes watered, and I clutched her thighs, **** to please her. Her cock throbbed on my tongue, and I moaned louder with every thrust.

When she finally pulled out, I gasped for breath, lips swollen and wet. She lifted me effortlessly and tossed me onto the bed.

“You ready?” she asked, already crawling over me.

I could barely speak. “Yes. Please.”

She positioned herself between my legs and pushed in slowly.

It was… too much.

I cried out as she filled me, stretching my slick hole wider than ever before. But she held still, letting me adjust, her eyes locked on mine.

“I’ll go slow,” she promised.

And she did—at first.

Her strokes were steady, deep, precise. But as I relaxed around her, she sped up, pounding into me harder, faster. My moans filled the room, my body rocking with every thrust.

She grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

“You were made for this,” she growled. “Made for me.”

My cocklet twitched against my belly, untouched, as she fucked me into the mattress. I felt helpless, small, and completely hers.

When she came—hot and hard inside me—I cried out, my own climax crashing over me moments later. My whole body convulsed, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Rachel stayed inside me as I trembled, her arms wrapped around my waist.

“You’re mine,” she whispered again.

And I never wanted to be anything else.

Rachel didn’t even pull out.

Still buried deep inside me, she rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, making me gasp. My body was still trembling from the first orgasm, my thighs slick, my hole overstimulated and raw—and yet, I wanted more.

Rachel leaned over, her arms braced beside my head. Her new body was radiant—dripping sweat, muscles glistening, eyes wild with hunger.

“You thought I was done?” she whispered, grinding into me. “I’ve only just started.”

I whimpered, wrapping my legs around her waist.

“I can’t—”

“You can,” she cut in. “And you will.”

She started to move again.

Long, slow thrusts at first—just enough to make my back arch, to drive soft cries from my lips. She kissed my neck, my collarbone, my chest, tracing circles around my sensitive nipples with her tongue.

My whole body was electric, raw with sensation.

Every push inside me sent jolts up my spine.

“You’re going to take it,” she breathed. “All of it. Again.”

And I did.

She picked up the pace, her cock pistoning in and out of me, each stroke harder than the last. My legs trembled around her waist, my fingers clawing at the sheets.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until she kissed my tears away.

“Too much?” she asked, almost tender.

I shook my head frantically. “No. Please. Don’t stop.”

Her smirk returned—and she went feral.

She flipped me onto my stomach in one motion, lifting my hips and slamming back into me. I screamed into the pillow, hips jerking with each brutal thrust.

She pinned me down by the back of my neck and growled, “Mine.”

My world blurred into heat and sound and submission.

When I came again—shaking and sobbing into the sheets—I didn’t even touch myself. Her cock, her rhythm, her dominance was enough.

Rachel followed with a deep, guttural moan, emptying herself inside me once more. I collapsed completely, legs shaking uncontrollably.

She lay beside me this time, pulling me into her arms.

“You’re unbelievable,” she whispered. “My perfect little slut.”

I pressed my face into her chest and smiled through the tears.

“Again?”

She laughed. “Maybe after breakfast.”

But her cock never softened.

And I had a feeling round three wasn’t far off.

Sunlight poured through the kitchen window, and the air was thick with the smell of sizzling butter and sweet batter. Rachel stood at the stove in nothing but a loose tank top, her powerful thighs on full display, her cock still gloriously hard, bobbing with every motion.

I knelt beside her.

The tile was cool beneath my knees, but my body was still warm—raw and slick from everything she’d done to me. I looked up at her with wide eyes as she flipped a waffle and turned toward me with a smirk.

“Hungry?”

I nodded slowly, staring at her cock.

“Good,” she said, running a hand through my hair. “Start with this.”

She guided me forward, resting her thick shaft on my lips. I kissed it reverently—slow, wet kisses from base to tip, before parting my lips and sliding her inside.

She sighed as she returned to the waffle maker, one hand resting lazily on my head. “That’s it, baby. Nice and slow. Worship me while I cook for us.”

I moaned around her, letting her cock stretch my throat as she gently rocked her hips. Her length was too much—but I didn’t care. I wanted it. Needed it.

Her free hand moved from the counter to stroke my cheek. “You look so pretty down there. Look at you—on your knees like a good little doll.”

The rhythm was perfect. Every time she moved to flip a waffle or pour more batter, she’d thrust gently into my mouth, as if I were part of the kitchen itself—an obedient house fixture, there solely for her pleasure.

And I loved it.

I clutched her thighs, nose brushing her trimmed base, tears welling in my eyes from how deep she slid.

She chuckled. “Careful. Don’t ruin your face. You’ve gotten so delicate lately.”

I whimpered around her, loving every second.

Eventually she pulled out, thick and wet with my spit.

“Good boy,” she said, patting my cheek. “Now go set the table. I want you to eat your waffles with my taste still in your mouth.”

I stood shakily, lips swollen, legs trembling, and obeyed.

She was in charge.

And I was just her pretty little worshipper.