BSU: A Romance In Molly - Ch. 04

"Live telemetry from the pheromone enhancer you purchased indicates that pheromone levels in its immediate vicinity are past permissible levels for under-18 males. Your son's tracker bracelet indicates that he is in your car, but we have to follow protocol: could you provide visual confirmation that he is present in the vehicle with you?"

"Here he is," Betty said. "Roger, stand up. Say hello to the nice Shifter."

The dashboard camera that every car came with winked red. Roger stood up and waved.

"Hello there, Nice Shifter. We come in peace."

"He's been watching a lot of old movies," Betty said.

"I'm happy to hear that, Roger," Xenna said over the car's speaker. Now it was speaking in Betty's ear again. "Mrs. Jones, could you please seat Roger in the front where I can see him? We are going to need you to leave him there until the pheromones in the box's vicinity have been cleaned up."

They should have been in Tara's home by now, Betty thought. She had heard rumors of what happened when overdoses occurred: Limbs being broken in the heat of animalistic lust, eyes being gouged out by overly amped-up lovers seeking better purchase, and even panicked men calling to report dead lovers they had accidentally stifled to death the day before... and then continued fucking because they were too horny to perceive or care.

"I... I can't believe this. I'm so sorry this has happened, really, I am."" Betty said, getting out of her car and moving the plastic crate of food supplies she had bought to the back seat, and pulling Roger out of the backseat. He grabbed desperately at two toys, pouting because he wanted to be in the roomy back of the car, where he could lie down and pretend he was being shot at.

"It's all right. We've had incidents like these before. You aren't to blame."

Betty let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. She had already lost a husband to those... things. She wouldn't have been able to live if she had lost her son as well to an overzealous bureaucrat who really bought into all that rah-rah crap about protecting the best interests of humanity. If they really wanted to take care of the men that they so loved, why didn't they just leave us the fuck alone?

"Right. Now about your situation," Xenna said, "the box's camera has been obscured, so we can't really be too sure what's going on in that room. We're considering sending a SWAT team in, but we'd like to try and avoid that if possible. Do you think you could go upstairs with a camera and check in on them?"

Betty had a lurid vision of herself stumbling on a monstrously-oversexed Martin defiling her daughter, and him glancing up at her like a lion looking up from an old kill at still-living prey that had wandered into its domain. Though she was for the most part horrified, a small part of her wondered just what it would be like to be pinned down by a man in the blind, all-possessing fugue of lust... a man who would strip her of her tokens of civilization and press in on her, sex erect, thrusting, seeking, entering...

Betty shuddered. Molly might be in real trouble. You're sick, Betty. Sick, she told herself. Her better nature rose in outrage and clubbed down her animal side.

"Do you have audio?" Betty asked.

"Unfortunately, we don't. Pheromone boxes fall under Priority-2 Human-Assistance devices, which means that we are not allowed to gather anything apart from video feed from a clearly-visible camera on its side, and that only in emergencies."

"Do I really have to?"

"I'm just laying out your options for you, Mrs. Jones. It's your call, really. If you think it's necessary, we could send in a SWAT team to secure your daughter and... relieve the male subject of his urges. Obviously, they might need to deploy more pheromones to induce him to follow them to the station..."

Betty swallowed. She thought of the looks that Tara and Molly would give her if they found out that she had been responsible for calling SWAT on the young couple. The Shifters were reliable enough where it did not involve men; she had read news reports of an armed response team neutralizing two female neighbors who were fighting because one of them had accused the other's son of bullying her own. The women were firing into each other's homes, prompting a very concerned neighbor to call 911.

Add a man into the mix, however, and the story always ended the same way: after the man was taken to the nearest police station for 'questioning', there would be a side article about him accepting a lucrative job offer in New York or Beijing from a corporate headhunter who had been waiting outside the station for this exact opportunity.

With what Betty knew of the Shifters, it didn't take much reading between the lines to know that by the time they were through 'interrogating and placating' a man, his cock would be a few inches longer, and his sexual appetite and proclivities shifted in favor of the shifters. Sure, they all knew that would happen to Martin when he started working in the City, but still, to have to shoulder the blame for that was a fate worse than having Martin force himself upon her. She tried to steel herself against the image of her own pallid bottom jiggling and heaving as Martin's tight, toned, slightly-tanned ass rose and fell, rose and fell between her legs, driving his angry, veiny member into her again and again and again...

"God, Betty, get a hold of yourself!" She said aloud, slapping herself on her thigh.

"Mrs. Jones?" Xenna said.

"Whoosh! Pow-pow!" Roger played on in the background, mercifully oblivious to everything else.

"I'm... I'm all right. I'll go in on my own," Betty said.

"Alright, Mrs. Jones. Could you please get your phone out and hold it at arm's length? I can get access to its mic and camera and help you clear corners."

"What about Roger?" Betty said.

"Yeah, what about Sergeant Roger?" Roger said. "He's all alone, stuck behind enemy lines. One man, with just one gun."

"I'll call in a temporary caretaker. Check your phone."

Betty's phone buzzed in her fingers even as she got it out of her handbag. The image of a photogenic redhead smiled coolly below a MAHAD communique informing her that she had been assigned Anna fifteen, eighty-nine AFF, house Alpha, personnel number en--a--dash--five nine four three six one four zero nine. Below her picture was a slider with glowing words on it that said 'Swipe right for yes, left for no.'

It took less than five minutes for the Shifter to arrive in a sleek, nondescript vehicle with black-and-white MAHAD markings.

"Good evening," Anna said politely, as she got out. She was very conservatively-attired in a flowing white gown that only left her neck and hands exposed and loosely masked her curves. Betty could not help but admire the Shifter's poise and grace.

"Evening. Where will my child sleep if I'm not back within an hour?"

"We'll put him up at the nearest Hilton."

"We're going on a trip! We're going on a trip!" Roger sang.

"Roger, please be quiet," Betty said, resisting the impulse to scream at him to shut up, can't you see we're busy here?

"Awwh." Roger piped down grudgingly.

"Hey there, little man," the Shifter said, holding her arms out, "let's go on an adventure!"

Roger ran over to her and let her scoop him up in her arms. "You're nice," he said shyly.

Anna must have seen the resentment in Betty's eyes. "Don't worry, Mrs. Jones. I have completed a two-year abstinence course, and am MAHAD-certified to handle all males under eighteen."

"I hope so," Betty muttered dourly.

Anna sighed. "I could go in there instead, if that makes you feel better."

"Never mind. Just make sure Roger gets one glass of milk before bedtime, and no sweets, no matter how hard he begs. The fumes are likely going to take a few hours to clear anyways, so you might as well take him for the night."

"Candy? Pleeease?" Roger said.

"No, Roger." Anna said gently, smiling.

"Okay," Roger agreed meekly.

Betty walked towards her home, phone held out at the ready like a weapon. Behind her, Roger asked Anna what was going on, only to receive a sly statement that turned into a question which distracted Roger from his original topic of inquiry as Anna bundled him into her vehicle.

"All right, I'm going in." Betty pushed her own front door open slowly. The first thing that she noticed was an ominous silence and the smell. It positively reeked of sex and semen. Her nose wrinkled. Lurid images of her daughter intertwined in a lewd embrace with Tara's son ran through her mind before she could shut them out. "It stinks."

"We are detecting the presence of vapors that are suggestive of sexual activity," Xenna said in her ear.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"What was that?"

"Some old human movie reference. I'm checking the living room now." Betty cringed when she switched on the light stealthily and saw the stains on the sofa and carpet. Roger was definitely staying the night with Anna, and perhaps the rest of the next day too.

"Check the study and kitchen too," Xenna said.

Betty held her phone out in her hand, sweeping both rooms and receiving an all clear from Xenna each time before she entered.

"They must be upstairs," Xenna concluded.

"Elementary, Watson."

"Same reference?"

"Yep."

Betty climbed the stairs, hands shaking and struggling to hold her phone steady. She could vaguely make out muffled sounds now: Quiet gasps, moans, and gentle, regular scuffling and slicking sounds. They must have only just resumed their lovemaking, or she would have heard them earlier.

"Can you hear that?" she whispered.

"Yes, we can. Keep your voice down," Xenna said.

"I think it's coming from my daughter's room."

"Make sure she's still alive."

Oh God, the stories were true, Betty thought. I'm throwing that pheromone box out the window the first chance I get.

Her daughter's door was closed. She hesitated there, wondering how she was going to open it without alerting Martin.

"Turn off your phone's screen and slide as much of it as you can under the door," Xenna said, as though reading Betty's mind.

Betty complied. Half a minute passed.

"Good news, Mrs. Jones. We are detecting two sets of vocal signatures in the room. Your daughter is very much alive and well. Also, according to telemetry from the pheromone box, airborne pheromone levels are low enough so that any male exposed would still retain most of their higher-brain functions and social inhibitions. Martin should still be fairly aroused, but he will not be violent."

Betty grew dizzy with relief. She sat back, inhaled deeply, and regretted doing so.

"We will put the box on lockdown mode for now. Would you like to go in and... erm, resolve the situation?"

"It's all right," Betty said. She pressed her ear to their door, blushing like mad. After a few seconds of hearing her daughter moan, Betty pulled her phone back out, stood hurriedly, and ran downstairs on tiptoe.

"Could I accompany my son to his hotel? Cleaning and airing out the house might take hours, so he will still have to stay the night."

There was a long pause on the line.

"This is highly irregular, but we don't see why not."

"How much will I be billed?"

"So long as you share your son's facilities, you're getting everything gratis from the government."

"Hell yeah." Betty said. She reached the front porch and closed the door behind her silently. The A.I. driver of her car had already received instructions to the nearest Hilton hotel. It chirped merrily at her to fasten her seatbelt before starting the car's engine.

Molly had been awoken by Martin's gentle thrusting. Her arms and legs had gone back around him, and it was as though they had never stopped. She smiled at him when she saw that his gaze was no longer glassy and vacant.

"You're back," she whispered.

"I never left."

"Even when you were fucking my brains out?"

"Even when you were cumming your brains out."

Time and place lost their meaning for the lovers as Martin took Molly gently and tenderly. His thrusts were long and deep, and every meeting of their flesh was tender and sweet. Martin took his time reaching his own climax. He made Molly beg for it, made her arch her back and lavish his neck with trembling kisses and wet licks.

"Do it, Martin, do it! Cum in me!"

Martin opened his mouth to say something, but only managed a long, grating moan as he forced his seed into her. He trembled, gasped, and collapsed atop her.

Molly held him for a bit before they parted. Martin got up and flipped on the lights.

"Oh shit," he said, reaching for his flaccid member.

"I don't think either of us is supposed to be bleeding at this point," Molly agreed.