Suggest that someone else try the machine while you still have some self-control

Westfield Galleria food court, unknown city, at 3:05 PM on Saturday June 15th, 2024

You force the words out through gritted teeth, fighting against every primal instinct screaming at you to grab one of these girls and fuck them right here on the food court floor. "Someone else... someone else should try the machine. While we still... fuck... while we can still think straight."

Your voice comes out strained, rough. Your cock is throbbing so hard it's actually painful, and that sweet musky smell pouring off Marcus's transformed body is making it nearly impossible to form coherent thoughts.

Tyler laughs—high-pitched, almost manic. His hand is blatantly groping his bulge through his jeans now. "Think straight? Dude, are you fucking kidding me right now?" His eyes are locked on Marcus's massive leaking tits, watching the milk drip steadily through that sheer mesh. "I can't think about anything except—"

Derek cuts him off, his deep voice gone guttural. "The machine can wait." He takes a step toward Marcus, his massive frame looming. "What we need to do right fucking now is—"

"Please!" Evan's desperate whine interrupts him. She's pressed fully against your back, grinding her soaked crotch against you. Her hands claw at your shoulders. "Please someone fuck me, I'm so wet I can't stand it, I need it so bad, please please PLEASE—"

Marcus staggers forward on those ridiculous heels, milk flowing freely now, leaving a trail of white droplets on the tile. Her green eyes are glazed, unfocused. "I need... I need cock. Right now. I need it in my mouth, I need it everywhere, oh god there's so much I need—" Her hands squeeze her enormous tits and milk sprays out in thin streams. The sight makes you actually growl.

A few mall-goers nearby are starting to notice the commotion. An older woman clutches her shopping bags and hurries away. A teenage couple stops to stare openly, the guy's jaw hanging slack as he takes in the two transformed sluts.

"Fuck the machine," Tyler gasps, already moving toward Evan. "We can do that later. Right now I need—"

"Wait," you manage, though your resolve is crumbling by the second. Your hand reaches back to grab Evan's wrist, stopping her grinding. The contact makes her moan so loud it echoes. "Derek. Or Tyler. One of you. Use the fucking machine first. Then we... then we can..."

But Marcus drops to her knees right there in the food court, her hands reaching for your zipper. "Please," she begs, those full lips parted, tongue visible. "I need to taste it. I need cock in my mouth right fucking now or I'm going to lose my mind. Please Chad, please let me suck you, I'm begging—"

Derek's hand is on his own belt now, his eyes wild. Tyler has moved behind Evan, his hands already groping her tits through that thin pink fabric.

Your suggestion about the machine hangs in the air, completely ignored by everyone including yourself as Marcus's fingers work at your button.