it has always been like this,right?

Sarah and Jade sit on a stained couch, their bodies transformed. Four days ago, they were a couple who couldn't bear to be apart; now, they sit side by side like two broken dolls, their eyes glassy and vacant, their lips permanently glossed and parted. Their once sharp minds have been hollowed out, replaced by the soft, pink static of pure, unthinking hedonism. They wear tiny, absurdly tight outfits that leave nothing to the imagination, their skin flushed and perpetually warm.

They stare at the doorway with hungry, expectant eyes, waiting for him.

"Where is he?" Jade whines, her voice high pitched and breathy, devoid of any of her former intellect. "I need him. I need it."

"Me too," Sarah giggles, a sound that carries no genuine amusement, only the empty reflex of a trained pet. "Want daddy's cum. Want daddy's cock."

The door swings open, and he enters. He is a massive, imposing figure whose mere presence fills the room with an overwhelming musk. He is sweaty, unwashed, and radiates a raw, aggressive masculinity that would have repelled them days ago. But to the two bimbos on the couch, he is their entire universe.

He approaches them with a slow, deliberate swagger, his jeans hanging low. As he unzips, the smell hits them a potent, overwhelming cocktail of stale urine and the thick, sharp tang of unwashed groin. His cock springs free, enormous and dark, but it is not clean. It is caked in thick, yellowish layers of smegma, a crusty reminder of his complete disregard for hygiene.

To the old Sarah and Jade, this would have been a nightmare. To the new Sarah and Jade, it is a feast.

"Come here, you stupid bitches," he growls, his voice rough and contemptuous.

They scramble off the couch with unnatural eagerness, crawling toward him on their hands and knees like eager animals. They don't see a gross, sweaty man; they see their master. They don't see the filth on his cock; they crave it.

Sarah presses her face against his thigh, inhaling the sharp stench of his sweat with obvious pleasure. Jade reaches up, her small hands grasping his hips as she positions herself beneath the massive, caked organ. "So big," Jade whispers, her eyes widening with a mindless, worshipful awe. "So dirty. So good."

The transformation is absolute. The raygun didn't just change their bodies; it cauterized their pasts. Every memory of their shared love, every political conviction, every preference for women has been burned away by the magical radiation, leaving behind only two empty vessels designed to worship his cock, his seed, and the very filth he carries.

As he thrusts into them without warning, their cries aren't of pain or protest, but of mindless, ecstatic surrender. They are happy. They are dumb. And they belong to him.