The Horses
Chapter 5 — My wife is ridden
I can’t stop what is going to happen to her. I don’t want to. She won’t either. Neither of us have any choice any more. People can be controlled just by being well-fucked with the promise of more. How easy is it for them to surrender when their pleasure centres are stimulated. Perhaps they have always been herding creatures, wanting to surrender but held back by a sense of identity and it is just about finding the right way to do so that confirms with this.
I walk to my computer and check the stock prices. They are exactly where I expect them to be. I have already made several hundred thousand dollars.
I hear Helen calling in sick and then the shower starts. I join her in there and we wash and then towel each other. She dresses in a white cotton dress, no bra, no underwear. I lie to her about Greg and Emily, a business contact and his wife whom I have invited to go out to dinner. She accepts everything I tell her with a nod of her head. Previously she would have argued. They are coming here first so we can go together. Soon there will be no need to lie to her. She will know everything.
I spend the day buying the equipment and supplies for our base. We need to produce our nourishment in larger receptacles than pressure cookers. I hack into a university website and download course materials in chemistry. I read two thousand pages in half an hour.
We need breeding grounds. The house is too small; I locate a light industrial site. It’s on the outskirts of town and I arrange to view it tomorrow. The customised stock ticker advances on schedule. Three quarters of a million dollars so far. There will be a dip later today as profits are taken by some investors ahead of closing time and then it will pick up for those that do not conduct after-hours trading.
Helen walks in and brushes her thigh against my arm as I type. I finger her pussy with one hand and type with the other for a while. She does not mind. I stand, lift her dress over her head, walk her to the bedroom and fuck her for an hour. We take another shower and I press her up against the wall and fuck her hard. She comes twice. I see the fading tile-marks on her back as she dresses for a dinner she will never have.
The tile-marks are gone before Greg and Emily arrive. Helen is wearing a backless red Lycra dress with no underwear. Her erect nipples stretch the fabric at front as she stares vacantly at the news channel. She does not care.
It is time. Greg and Emily arrive. I suggest they need a drink after their long drive and ask Helen to fetch them some ice water from the fridge. She walks to the kitchen and Emily follows. I look at Greg. There is nothing yet to say. Through the hatch I see the reflection of the women embracing. I sense the chemicals that have wiped away most of Helen’s inhibitions and accelerated her lust. I hear the women walking to the bedroom. Greg and I wait for three minutes, then we stand and follow them. Greg carries the sphere holding the implanter.
The women are naked. Emily sits on the edge of the bed. Helen kneels on the floor. Her head is buried between Emily’s thighs, linking out her pussy and lapping up her juices. She holds Emily’s legs apart as Emily hold on to her head, pushing it and manoeuvring it like a spherical sex toy deep into her snatch. She releases her hold as we walk in. Helen pauses and glances up at me, her expression remains one of desire and determination.
“Uh-mmm-I, mmm, can’t , uh, stop-mmm.”, she says as she tries to use her tongue to talk and fuck at the same time. “I-uh, don’t-mmm, want-mmm to-mmm.”. These are the last things she will say as a human.
A stream of Emily’s pussy juices hit Helen in the eyes. She blinks them in, her mascara streaming down her cheeks. More pussy juices follow and Helen moves her mouth to catch and urgently swallow them down. The implanter’s sphere is placed on a bedside table. Greg and I calmly undress. Helen does not notice. She brushes Emily’s juices from her cheek and onto her tongue.
I erect myself and walk over to my wife a shoot a stream of come onto her face. She looks at me in surprise and wonderment. I manufacture chemicals inside my body and direct them to the fingers of my right hand. I grab Helen’s hair with my left hand and wrench her away from Emily’s pussy and run my chemical-soaked fingers round the inside of her mouth, paralyzing her jaw muscles. I squirt more come into her open jaw, which she greedily swallows. She takes my cock into her mouth and desperately sucks on it. I come again and again and I see her throat bobbing up and down as she rapidly takes down what I give her. I keep coming.
I begin to keen my sensations, the new vocal chords in my reconfigured throat using hypersonic frequencies for greater depth and detail. Greg joins in has he lifts up my wife by the hips. Through his eyes I see his hands stretch apart her butt and his stiff cock shoot a load of come onto her tight asshole, which springs open and stays there as Greg works his juices deeper inside her. Helen’s body shivers at being opened up this way and she moans even louder. I feel Greg’s cock sliding into Helen’s willing rectum and beginning to fill her up with more loads of come.
Emily moves herself until she is under my wife as her voice joins in chorus with ours. She extends tentacles from her mouth into Helen’s pussy, wrapping a fleshy tendril around her clitoris and enveloping her labia. I feel tiny stalks moving through the flesh of Helen’s vagina and feeding chemicals into her capillaries. She is being prepared for implantation. We surround her, penetrate her, feed her like three components of a single multi-jointed creature, adjusting her mindlessly willing body to allow us to fertilise it with our alien flesh.
She is ready. We trigger a succession of orgasms and her body collapses as her thoughts are dominated by non-stop pleasure. We carry her to the bed. Still keening, Greg and Emily leave the room and wait for us. I lie down next to my wife. Absorbed in her endless pleasure, she looks straight through me.
The implanter bursts from the sphere as it senses that it has a prepared body. It crawls quickly over Helen’s back, leaving pinpricks of blood from its pointed legs until it arrives at the back of her neck. Helen instinctively leans her head forward as it begins to dig, the blood being sucked up before it stains the sheets by a dozen tendrils that erupt from the implanter’s shell. The shell itself splits in half as the implanter slowly thrusts its wet grey flesh into Helen’s head until all that is left is a shiny thin gash on the back of her neck. I finger my own gash, my grey flesh squeezing my fingers as I probe deeper into my head. The lifeless shell rools off Helen and crumbles to dust on the sheets between us.
The come drips from Helen’s vacant mouth and I scoop it back in. She starts blinking rapidly and her body shakes. She closes her mouth and swallows, the skin on the throat rippling in a way it never has before. I start to keen again as I stroke her hair. And then she joins me. Through her multi-frequency song I feel her breasts, her erect nipples, the memory of her orgasm, her well-used pussy and anus, the new parts of her body stretching out through her insides feeding on the juices Greg and I pumped into her.
She stands, confident and complete, and walks in the lounge and joins in Greg and Emily’s keening. I go into the garage and prepare our food.
I bring the pressure cookers with their ice-cooled contents into the lounge. Bent over, our asses in the air, we form a circle around them. I feed Helen, while Emily shoves the nourishment into my willing rectum. Greg’s anal muscles greedily grabs the food from Helen’s hands. We wail and sing our pleasure. Soon, Helen’s anus will be able to form more complex shapes as her flesh is reconfigured. I am getting my wife back.