The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Marital Strain

by Limerick


“Lets go down to the pool,” Beth decided. “Clear your head. Maybe.”

Amanda wiped her mouth again. Her nose burned. She still felt queasy, and it had chased away the hornies. She had an uncomfortable feeling she knew what was going on.

“I probably ate too much,” she said. Heroic denial was practically second nature, now. “What’d we even have last night? Didn’t you order in pizza? And chinese? Was it really both?”

“You two were still hungry,” Beth said. She had taken to dressing Amanda, and picked out a bikini bottom that Amanda didn’t remember buying. It was bright blue, with spangles. On top she put Amanda in a cut-off t-shirt. The girls didn’t really bother with bras. Their tits didn’t seem to really hurt no matter how much they bobbled. Amanda had joked that it was the cum, drying stiff, lending support. “C’mon. Just don’t get in the pool.”

It had been awhile since Amanda had been down to the pool. It was cool and nearly chilly, which didn’t seem to bother the other girls. Amanda admired their hair—they were blonde, all of them, the same shiny golden color. Every single one, bright blonde girls, with hair that curled around them and ran down well past their shoulders. Although—she was blonde too, right? But not THIS blonde, not this nuclear-sun. They shone.

“Here,” Beth said, picking a spot well back from the water. It was as sparkling as she remembered. “Be careful, okay? Don’t get any of that on you.”

“Okay,” Amanda said, absently. She picked at her own hair. She was a lot blonder then—then before, wasn’t she? Not THIS blonde, of course. The girls in and out of the pool were all so bleached. It was very difficult to tell them apart. Sun-kissed skin, happy smiles, blue eyes, blonde hair. They smiled at each other and giggled and didn’t say much at all. Her nausea faded, then surged back again. A question struggled up through the lazy depths of her head. “Why don’t we go in the pool?”

“Oh, the chemicals in there are CRAZY,” Beth said. “I told Daddy that he’s overdoing it but he’s really nervous about this all working out.”

“Crazy… chemicals?” Amanda said, very slowly.

“Yeah, like, I don’t know if those girls can TALK, you know what I mean? I don’t think it’s very nice but I’m just a girl so,” she shrugged. “Fine.”

Amanda held on, for the first time in awhile, to the sense of wrongness. It flooded her. The nausea helped.

“Beth, what the fuck are you talking about?” she said, turning to her friend. Beth looked confused. She shrugged. Her tits bounced, as usual. They never didn’t bounce.

“All the chemicals making you happy and horny and big and ready. God’s Bodies,” Beth said, slowly, like this had already been explained a dozen times. Had it? It did seem familiar. “Your breeding body? No? None of this is familiar stuff? Gosh, you’re so dumb now.”

“Beth, are you kidding?” But of course not. Beth didn’t crack jokes. Amanda sat upright. It was a challenge. She just had so much body, now.

“Gosh, I thought—” Beth seemed genuinely confused. “I thought you were all here to be better women for your husbands. You know, more fuckable, more suckable, more pliable, more breedable.” She said it like a catechism. “Isn’t that why you’re in Calving?”

“We’re here to build a fucking—” she caught herself. This all seemed uncomfortably familiar. “A god damn industrial plant! Beth, you didn’t think to say anything? Like get the FUCK OUT of here?”

“I thought you wanted bigger boobs and stuff,” Beth said. “Didn’t you notice that there’s a lot of people having sex all the time? Did you used to blow your husband ten times a day?” Beth scratched her nose. “I guess the chemicals can be a bit overwhelming if you’re an out-of-towner,” she conceded.

“The CHEMICALS!” Amanda said, standing up. She tried to make a quick decision. But she was so unused to thinking. Even moving too fast was unusual—her body had gotten comfortable lying around, with some light sucking and fucking. She felt so—big. How big was she? She needed a mirror.

“Girls, snacks!” Marshall said. The girls cheered as he pushed a cart into the pool. They gathered around in a conglomeration of tits and perfect, wide butts. They were close enough that Amanda could see the mildly pooching tummies, the big hips. Happily bred. It was a good thing she was still on her birth control. Right? She’d taken a few pills, right? The lack of recall shocked her straight. And when did she lose sight of her toes? They were totally hidden beyond the push of her cleavage, and she had to kick her legs way out to get a glimpse of them. She was wearing neon pink nail polish, it turned out.

The girls had all gotten out of the pool, for snacks. Marshall’s cart was overflowing with crisps, sweets, pastries, all sorts of things glazed and sugary. Amanda had a good look at their faces—expectant, dully happy, essentially empty. Water streamed off their tits. It was uncertain if their husbands were bothering to tell them apart. There didn’t seem to be any point to it.

Amanda blinked, and Marshall’s cock was out. It still made her catch her breath. And yet, Joseph’s dick, wasn’t it… getting there? Getting that big? Her mouth flooded with drool, and that worried her too. Most of the blondes were happily snacking on big sugary donuts but a trio were getting their frosting from Marshall. His cum drizzled gently out of his dick. It wasn’t clear if he was cumming or not. Everyone shared—they got a few droplets in their mouth, and neatly moved over to let another girl in. It was clear no one was going to go hungry. He was treated like a dispenser, one of the girls tugging on his dick to make sure the flow kept it up.

“I gotta go,” Amanda mumbled, to Beth.

“Oh, you’re upset! Oh, oh no!” Beth said. She trailed after Amanda. “Amanda, I’m sorry! I thought you all knew! You can still read and stuff with me!”

She put her hand on Amanda’s tits, to placate her. It felt very good. Amanda froze, turned, and shoved Beth. The girl was top heavy. She took three steps backwards and fell, eyes wide, into the bright blue pool.

Amanda fled.

* * *

“Oh no no no no no,” Amanda mumbled. Nothing fit. She kept trying to stuff herself into SOMETHING from before her descent into food-guzzling slutdom. Something that would say—you can still do this. You can still wear a size small. You can still wear jeans. Something not slutty and skimpy and designed to show off already aggravated curves.

It wasn’t going well at all. And she looked so overwhelmingly… there was no other word for it… FEMALE in the mirror. Like some well-worshipped fertility idol. Her hip bones alone had jutted out to an absurd degree, and her butt trailed behind her with cartoonish heft. Two well-sized half-moons. She looked absurdly fertile, designed by nature to be efficiently knocked up, pop out progeny, and nurse them into more strapping farm boys and girls. Amanda wore eyeshadow she had no recall of putting on.

Worst of all, she was popping bubblegum furiously, and couldn’t quite remember when she had started to chew gum.

The farm report was still on, on the big screen. Amanda wandered in front of it, still trying to zip up a hoodie zipper. How long had the grinning good ol’ boys been just fucking girls on camera? Nothing else about the show had changed—the cheesy backdrop of printed crops, the grainy camera feed, but now the large men had installed a grunting, moaning girl on top of the table. They even still had their coffee mugs on it. The camera angle really got a good view of the girl’s face. She looked dully blissed out. There was a bit of spooge on the camera lens, glistening under the studio lighting.

Struck by an idea, Amanda dug deep into some of the moving boxes still moldering in a corner. She and Joseph had tended to use them as modular fuck furniture. Yes—she did have a single print of her and Joseph on their wedding day—at City Hall. They had both laughed at the idea of a big wedding. She had worn a winsome black and blue dress with colored leggings to make it all ironic. You could barely tell that she had tits. She hadn’t even bothered with lipstick. Now her lips were coated with it, and it tasted like strawberries.

Come to think, she had hundreds of pre-Calving photos of herself, on her phone.

Amanda gave up on the pants. She couldn’t get a single pair of old jeans over her new butt. By huffing and pulling she was just able to pull a pair of old shorts up and over her impossibly thick body. They were a cheap cotton pair she had used as workout material. They now immediately lodged in her pussy. And a hoodie that she was able to half zip up. It was snug as anything and showed off her boobs but at least it was blessedly grey, the least sexy color of all. On the other hand, there was dried spooge on it from who-knows-when, and it was making her hungry.

She picked up her car keys, phone. Amanda had no idea where her wallet was. Now she just had to get Joseph, get into the car, and drive like hell, in any direction. To the ocean. Somewhere where sex was banned by law. They’d jog on the beach and drop all the pounds, and then get back and burn more calories on each other, fucking to the crash of the waves.

Amanda realized she was touching herself again. She huffed, pulled her hands out of her waistband. She could do this.

Now where the hell was Joseph?

* * *

She could smell the boys from a long ways away.

Amanda stopped. She’d been distracted by just how disturbingly sexual walking had become. Her tits swung around, her nipples rubbed on her shirt, her pussy leaked. All she was trying to do was move in a direction. Boy-scent drove all that away.

This was certainly going to be dangerous. The scent of concentrated man was potent, and hot, and she was still a long ways from the exercise room. She herself had thought about going down there, many times, whenever she picked haplessly at the creamy weight going in to her boobs, and never had. Maybe if she breathed through her nose. That would keep her from smelling it. No—the other way, her mouth.

Amanda sighed and leaned against the wall. Her resolve sagged. It wasn’t like she wasn’t enjoying herself. She could just be a horny lil wife and pop out a hundred or so babies. What, really, was the alternative? Crappy amateur photography, jogging, self-denial, and, best case scenario, she’d work in advertising, making people want burgers she herself would never eat. Oh boy. She popped a big bubble. The noise startled her—when did she start chewing gum?

“Stop it Mandy-butt, that’s the chemicals,” she scolded herself. She could do this. Amanda took a deep breath and marched inside, to find her husband. Or at least someone who knew where the hell he was.

She let the breath go as soon as she was in.

She’d expected some men. She hadn’t expected EVERY man. They thronged throughout the exercise room—all of them, as far as she could see, every single man in the company. Every bike and treadmill was occupied by sweating, grunting men, their eyes glued to the rutting on the farm report. But most were hanging out by the free weights, waiting patiently in line, while one of their number lifted an awe-inspiring amount of iron.

They were all beautiful, stacked, hairy. Their biceps gleamed under the lights. There was barely any air circulating, so it was muggy with their combined scent. Dicks were barely contained in compression shorts. The manager, who had been in his 50s, saggy belly, was calmly lifting massive round weights while his coworkers struggled to help him count.

The men took little notice of her. Maybe because she was wearing clothes. Amanda wandered inside slowly, carefully. She could feel the sweat soaking into her. She wanted to smell them—they smelled so hot, so hard. Going down on one of these men would be an education. They probably all had their own signature smell. She licked her lips. It was very tempting.

“Thomas!” she barely recognized him—he had swollen and gained even since their dinner party. “Thomas, it’s me, Mandy!” she had to wave her hand in front of his face. He was watching TV, just like the rest of them. The same girl was getting fucked on fifty screens.

“Oh,” he said, slowly, and turned to look at her. “Amanda? Oh. Joe’s girl.” His eyes were dull, placid. “Right.”

Joe’s girl, huh? It wasn’t inaccurate. Amanda felt for the ring on her finger. It wasn’t there. Right—her fingers had gotten bigger, too. Where the hell was her wedding ring?

“He’s not here,” Thomas shrugged. “Meeting somebody about something I think?”

“What about Chloe? Where’s Chloe?” She seized on the idea. Maybe she could stuff Chloe and Justine in the back, all the girls fleeing this bimboslut nightmare.

“Over by the water cooler,” Thomas said. He smiled affectionately across the crowded room. “She volunteered to keep us going, she’s so amazing. I’m so lucky.”

“What are... “ the question finally occurred to her. “What are you guys all DOING here? Aren’t you supposed to be finishing up the factory or whatever it is?”

“Oh, the factory is done,” Thomas said. He wiped a rag across his forehead. All the sweat was very distracting. “Almost done. Nearly done. We’re just waiting for one final piece. A screw about so long.” He put his fingers up and held them a half-inch apart.

“A screw,” Amanda said, flatly. It was immediately clear female sarcasm no longer registered with the men. Or possibly any sarcasm.

“Yeah, the one we have is an eighth of an inch short. We ordered a new one a few… awhile ago but it is sure taking awhile. But we’re keeping busy!” He smiled brightly at her.

There were a lot of men clustered around the water cooler. Amanda briefly hoped they were just thirsty for the disturbingly blue water in the cooler. It looked like it had been colored in with a magic marker.

But no—her friend Chloe was right next to it. On her knees, wholly naked. She had put her hair back and up. That made sense, Amanda noted, dully, because she was covered from head to toe in cum. It was hard to tell where one blast ended and one began, and it was hard to imagine, for example, why she had so much jizz on her shoulders. But there it was, giving her a white, glistening sheen. She had been wholly glazed.

In spite of herself Amanda had to slurp up drool. Part of her wanted to know—what DID that taste like? It smelled so… complicated. How fun would it be to learn each and every man in that weight room? To see how every one of them liked their dick sucked, what they tasted like, how they grunted, how fast she could make them cum? Right then Chloe was diligently licking at a dick, ice cream cone style. She held it with both hands, and the big prong was already drooling nice white jizz. A shot from it hit her in the forehead, just another splash. She didn’t even react to it.

“Chloe?” Amanda said, without any real hope. And Chloe didn’t even bother to open her eyes. Amanda understood—that was a lot of cum, no one wanted cum in their eyes, even overstuffed girls. How much bigger was her friend? Her tits were large enough the nipples drooled cum, and her cleavage had made a small river valley.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Thomas said, behind her. He had put his hand on Amanda’s ass. Amanda hadn’t even noticed. “I’m so lucky!”

It was so tempting. All she had to do was kneel, and the rest of her life was taken care of. She’d have a job, a hobby, and a lifestyle, all in one. From the way Chloe was occasionally trembling, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Of course she was. Amanda’s mouth was so wet.

“I gotta go,” she choked out. Her butt didn’t want to come free of Thomas’ hands. Why shouldn’t she laze into it?

She was frozen. Mandy knew how fun it would be. If she knelt everything would feel good. She’d exist as a sizzling spark of happy hormones, her body trembling and wet and always, always about to cum. All she would do is feel so good. She’d be well-moisturized, surrounded by friends, and every inch of her would cascade with wonderful pink clouds, all of the time. Chloe had thrown away all the little stuff, the stuff like math and maybe even the spoken word, just to get splashed in the face all the time with jizz. Mandy understood the decision.

Joe. Joseph. She had to find Joseph.

* * *

She found Justine, instead.

Her friend was in the vending machine room. Amanda wasn’t totally sure how she herself had gotten there. She’d stumbled out of the weight room and found a bathroom, an unoccupied girl’s one. Mandy had sat down on a toilet and cummed herself wholly senseless, three fingers frigging deep inside of herself. When she came to she was slumped up against the tile, drooling thickly onto the floor. Her own drool brought back the concerns—it was strangely thick and viscous, and she could swear there was a tint of pink in it.

Amanda had washed her face in the sink, until she had noticed the water was the same bright blue as the water cooler. What the hell could she even trust? It went without saying that the soap was a pearly translucent gel, that smelled like strawberries. She had torn her underpants in half at some point, and reluctantly threw them out in the trash.

“Your name is AMANDA,” she told the big-lipped girl in the mirror. She could do this. And then she’d gotten thoroughly lost in the underbelly of the building.

Amanda caught herself humming some country tune she couldn’t recall learning. Something with a twang. And then someone called out, “Amanda?”

Her friend was methodically stripping the contents of two of the vending machines. Most of them had been moved out, to some unknown destination, but the room still held a few of the gleaming machines. Justine had shattered the plastic with, apparently, a wrench, and was filling up consecutive backpacks with pastries.

“Justine? What are you doing?” Amanda said. Justine had also tried to put herself in an old set of clothes, a black t-shirt that had some sort of band name on it. It was too pulled and distended by her tits to really tell. And a black skirt that was more of a waistband. Bent over, pulling out food, just let Amanda admire her ass in bright red panties.

“Stocking up,” Justine said. She still wore heavy lipstick and makeup. “I’m getting out.”

“You’re leaving?”

Justine gave her a pitying look. “Amanda, you’re probably too far gone to get this, but this entire facility is one giant trap to turn us girls into fuck dolls. I’m getting out while I’m still just hot and horny.”

“No.. I… uh… I got that too,” Amanda said. “I’m… also fleeing.”

“Then why’re you wearing THAT?” Justine said. She gestured at Amanda’s outfit. Amanda looked down. Of course Justine wasn’t wrong, exactly. It was whoreish. But these were OLD clothes. The problem was her.

“I think we’re kinda skanky no matter what,” Amanda said. “You’re all boobs and lips now.”

“You used to have such a tiny ass. I made fun of it with Chloe,” Justine reflected. She finished stuffing packages into her backpack. “Behind your back. Your little back.”

“When did you do that?”

“Not really important now. You’re really there? Chloe is just a sponge, now. You want to get out with me?”

“I’m looking for Jo—Joseph,” Amanda said.

Justine snorted. It was an odd look on a girl wearing thick eyeshadow. “You don’t think they’re in on it? Amanda, we’re getting made over into their TOYS.”

“I don’t think so,” Amanda said. This was hard. It was difficult enough to not touch herself, much less work out fiendish bimboifying conspiracies. “The boys in the weight room are like… male bimbos? Is there a word for that?”

Both girls stood there, brows furrowed, for a few minutes, trying to think of the word. Justine managed to shrug. “Look, I’m going. If you want to stick around and get a baby batter bath, go ahead.”

“Then why’re you taking all the stuff making you horny and shit?” Amanda said, genuinely confused. “There’s chemicals in everything.”

Justine looked at the backpacks. “Oh. Huh.” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yeah its in like, everything,” Amanda said. “I mean we’re all bigger and stuff, it stands to reason.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Justine said. She tapped her own thigh. “They taste really good though. Kinda… really good. Maybe just one backpack? Of stuff? Or two. I’ll just bring two. That should be fine.”

“You only have two backpacks.”

“Are you going to help or not?” Justine huffed.

“Fine,” Amanda sighed. But it felt good to have an ally, for once. They could work together on this. If Amanda started backsliding, rubbing her ass on things for a cheap, dirty cum, Justine could slap her. And then Amanda could grab her titties, and they could kiss each other until—

She shook herself again. It was just too sugary in there. She popped a huge bubble of gum, anxious. Just standing still was making her dully horny. Her pussy dribbled if left to itself. “Lets go.”

“How’d you figure out all the bimbo-y sexy stuff?” she said, once they were back into the endless corridors.

“That maintenance guy. With the big cock,” Justine said. “I’ve been letting him fuck me so I could get into his apartment and investigate.”

“Oh,” Amanda said. The backpack was very heavy. It didn’t seem like a good idea to escape with a big bag of transformative goodies, but what did she know? She was just a girl. “And that worked okay?”

“I mean he told me right away,” Justine said. “Like a month ago or something.” She tried to push down her skirt so it wasn’t showing off her panties. “I think he got off on it, you know. Like, oh you’re getting so hot and stupid, Justine. I bet you can’t even read. It was pretty messed up stuff. And I can too read. Justine your ass is so thick, blah blah blah. Sick. But I didn’t PROVE it until I found a bunch of documents on his desk while he was off fucking his wife.”

“What’d they say?” Amanda said.

Justine shrugged. “I mean, I took them. I’m gonna give them to a journalisty guy once we get out of here. Do you have car keys, by the way? I lost mine like, a long time ago.”


She stopped. It took parts of her body a bit to also stop. Her husband had appeared in a corridor behind them. “Justine, where the hell were you? I told you to be on the roof. We’re meeting the Evans and the Closkys up there.”

“I’m escaping, Matthew,” Justine said, calmly. “I’m leaving this slut den. Amanda and I. We’re FLEEING.”

“Your big slut butt is leaving, huh,” Matt said. He looked at Amanda. “She does this like, every day. It’s her thing. Make husband drag her horny ass back.”

“I do NOT!” Justine said, flushing. “You have been catching me. And spanking me.” She squirmed. “For being bad.”

“Are you being bad now?” Matthew said. He was shirtless, and had the broad arms and shoulders of just about every male around.

“Mmmmaybe,” Justine said. She slurped back drool and got hold of herself. “Matthew! We are being turned into breeding animals by these monsters and we have GOT to umm ummm ummmmmm.” Matthew had put a finger up to her lips, rubbed them very softly, and then stuck it into her mouth. Amanda could see all the tension in Justine’s shoulders simply melt away. Her eyelids fluttered. Justine tried to talk around the finger in her mouth.

“Matt we gotta… mmmm.. We gotta GO baby… its all BAD here… we’re all so fuckin HORNY!”

“You’re being bad,” Matt said, sternly. “We’re just here for another week or month or whatever and I’m spending all my free time bending you over my knee. Say that you’re sorry and then bend over.”

He removed his finger. Justine tried to follow it. She kept casting guilty glances at Amanda. “I’m sorry I’m being bad but… we should GO, Matty. I’m sooooo horny and stuff now. Like, don’t you want smart Justine back?”

“Bend over,” Matt said.

“But..” Justine chewed on her lip. “I’m your wife… and Amanda is right here… and... “ She rubbed her legs together. It was so warm in the corridor. Mandy watched her friend try to keep her hands out of her underpants.

“Bend over!” Matt insisted. Justine stomped, once, but then meekly put her hands up against the wall, her ass sticking out.

“The red panties. Of course,” Matt snorted. “Justine, if you want to be spanked, you can just ask. We don’t have to go through this hide and seek crap every time.” He looked right at Amanda. “You might want to go. She gets REALLY loud.”

“I’m suuuuper sorry, Amanda,” Justine said. She was panting hard. “I just… just a quick spanking and we’ll go. I totally promise. It’ll be super fun. I just…” she looked beseeching. “It’s just that I’m being bad.”

Amanda got to the elevator just as the first screech-moan echoed through the hallways.

* * *


“Huh?” Mandy had made it down to the car park, even found her car. It was covered with dust. They all were—the parking lot was a sea of silent cars. There were relics of a different life in there—bumper stickers she didn’t have the energy to read, empty coffee cups in the back, even a discarded sweater there was no way she’d be able to fit into. At that point she realized she didn’t have her car keys. That led to sitting on the back of the car and eating all the pastries in Justine’s backpack.

The maintenance guy had tapped her on the shoulder. Mandy’s eyes automatically dipped down to his jeans. “I’m not gonna suck you off,” she said, aggrieved. “I’m just gonna sit here and be fat and dumb and sexy and hot. But NOT gonna suck you off. I’m… married.” She pointed to where her wedding ring would’ve been on her hand.

“Come with me. I’ve been looking for you,” Marshall said.

“No spanking either. And DEFINITELY no fuckin and suckin,” Mandy said. But she followed Marshall through the silent cars. It wasn’t clear if saying no to men was still, ultimately, a thing. “Not even a lil bit.”

“Here,” Marshall said. He led her inside the elevator, and pressed ‘4’.

“That’s the floor that doesn’t work,” Mandy said. She examined her hands for something to eat, and found nothing. What was that about?

“We opened it up,” Marshall said, shrugging. “Seemed like the right time.”

The door dinged.

“This is… what is this?” Mandy said.

“The nursery,” Marshall said.

“For plants?”

Marshall sighed. “Babies, Amanda. Full-featured. Birthing center to the right. Playgym, school, whole deal. Cafeteria. That’s where the vending machines are gonna go.”

“Nursery?” Mandy said. She let Marshall lead her on. It was all brand new, and nicely done up in primary colors. There were smiling cartoon suns on the walls, and lots of stork motifs. Comfy couches for lying around in, and, of course, TVs everywhere. A jangly baby tune played over some hidden loudspeaker.

“Amanda!” They had passed into a set of suites, each one featuring a reclining hospital chair and an empty tub. Pastor Flynn sat on one of the chairs, dressed in all black with a clerical collar. Some random memory floated through Mandy’s head—wasn’t that just Catholics? “Come in, come in. I’m glad we found you. We’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I’m all horny and dumb now,” Mandy said. She took a deep breath, used her remaining anger to power on. “What did you do to us? WHY? What is all…” she gestured at her cartoonish, sluttened body ‘THIS?”

“Amanda, you’re right. I overdid it. You have to understand that this is a big moment for us,” Flynn said, very apologetic. “An entire community sexed up at the same time. So yes, I went overboard with the chemicals, I freely admit it. Especially with the boys. Terrible to waste all that engineering acumen. But we can probably get most of it back. Some of it back.”


“Breed and seed, fuck and suck,” Pastor Flynn said. He and Marshall both made a complicated religious-y gesture that involved pointing at their balls. “I don’t want to go in depth. There’s plenty of Sunday School in your future. But the bottom line is: no one in this world is happy, and one is being fruitful and multiplying. God commanded us to be both. And there’s one solution to both problems.”

A familiar moan echoed from the room over.

“That’s Beth,” Flynn said, smiling. “That’s why I wanted to thank you. She won’t be… as good a conversationalist at the dinner table, but a little dip in the pool was all she needed to get over her hangups. Now you two can be new mommies together. Its ideal.”

“New mommies?” Mandy mumbled. There was hoarse screaming going on one room over. Whatever was going on with Beth, she seemed to be enjoying it.

“But more generally, I owe you my thanks,” Flynn said. He led her gently away by the waist from the impassioned screams. “I’ve been so… overinvolved. Meddling. And what I realized is that I, of all people, lacked trust in the Maker. And yet. You coming to our town, you meeting Beth, all of it has worked out so cleanly. The word for that is providence.”


“Right. And now we’re moving out of our cloistered little town. It’s time to trust. That agriculture company not too far away… all the small communities with their small water systems… that university up the highway… we made the plans so long ago. It’s time to move, and to believe. Believe in the future. OUR future.”

He turned to her, and gave Amanda a firm, friendly handshake. Mandy stared at it. She was too confused to be mad. She was still stuck on the new mommies mention, but a thought occurred to her: this was the last handshake she’d ever get in her entire life. From now on, at best it would be a smack on the ass.

“So, as thanks, I’ve got a present for you,” Pastor Flynn said. He handed her a box wrapped up in cow-themed wrapping paper. It had a black and white bow on it.

“I just... “ Mandy sighed. Why fight? What was she even fighting for? What did she REALLY want?

“I just want my husband,” she said.

“Pretty sure he’s in your apartment,” Pastor Flynn said. He stepped back. “Go ahead and go to him. Heck, you two can leave town if you like. Do whatever you want. But you’ll always have a home here.”

“Daddddddddddddddyyyyyyy,” Beth screamed, from the other room.

Pastor Flynn beamed. “What a blessing,” he exclaimed.

* * *

Joe was heavily annoyed.

He tried to be accommodating of his wife. The other guys loved to razz him about her. Amanda, walking around with her books, her nose in the air. Amanda, stealing the Pastor’s daughter. Amanda, who hesitated before anal, who still loved to use her mouth for something other than suck. Yes, she had finally got the hang of cooking and cleaning, but some of the other girls could fuck and do dishes at the same time.

But she was his wife, and he did love her.

Even if she did sometimes snore at night. And, currently, abandoned the household before dinnertime. He was hungry, horny. Joe thought about jacking off, and the very thought added to his aggravation. Everyone at work thought avoiding the Watercooler Girls was a joke. Well, he wasn’t married to those mouths.

“Marriage is hard,” he reminded himself.

Finally, finally the door opened. Amanda stumbled in. Her legs were wobbling. She wore an odd pastiche of stuff—he sort of remembered it from way back when. It was actually kind of hot, the way it pushed out her tits, showed off her ass. Joe’s irritation softened.

“Where’ve you been?” he said, from the table.

“Oh, Joe, Joeeeeee,” his wife said. She was holding a small box and a piece of unwrapped wrapping paper, which she tossed aside. “Oh my GOD I missed you! I was looking everywhere for you! I got something super-DUPER important to tell you!”

“Uh-huh,” Joe said. His balls ached. He was tempted to order her on her knees. But no. This was his wife. She had to WANT to suck him dry, he had to remember that.

She sat on his lap and gave him a searing kiss. They rested comfortably like that, his erection poking into her butt. Joe was already starting to fuck, reaching for her tits. To his utter shock, she pushed his hands away.

“One sec,” she whispered. “I promise. Its REAL important.” She sashayed into the bathroom. Joe was baffled.

“What could possibly be that important?” he called to her. No answer. Joe took a deep breath. He fingered her wedding ring. He kept it on a chain around his neck. It didn’t fit on his finger.

“Okay!” she answered, and came out. Amanda fell onto her knees immediately, and ambled towards him. Her eyes were watering. Was she crying?

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Amanda said. She wiped her face. “Happy tears! It’s all good!” she unzipped his fly. One of the things he liked about Amanda was how she always stopped to admire his dick. He loved it too. So they had that in common.

“Then what?” Joe demanded.

His wife flourished the pregnancy test. “We’re gonna have a million billion beautiful babies!” she said, and then lowered her head.