tagSci-Fi & FantasyHouse of Sex

House of Sex


In the semi-darkness of a Gothic mansion's basement two women in bathrobes stood in front of a row of tall, clear tanks. The smaller, lithe dark one looked up anxiously at the strongly built, older blond who in turn stared intently into the nearest tank. Inside a third women floated, naked, her hair waving gently in the current as minute bubbles rose in slow streams around her. She smiled dreamily at her audience and languidly waved at them.

"So she actually can breathe in there?" Mayor Shirley Kuttner-Gascogne asked?

"Oh, yes." Karl von Preussen, (MD, PhD, FAAAS and a couple of et ceteras) nodded soberly. "The fluid is not only hyper-saturated with oxygen but contains whichever blend of medications and amino acids that will best serve the patient's needs. Naturally, Alice is long past any need for treatment but she enjoys the sensations and is always glad to demonstrate for the unsure."

"Treatment. And what are you proposing to treat me for, Karl?" Shirley asked with a skeptical arch in her eyebrow.

Her husband answered from behind her. "Cheri, ever since our first encounters your approach to l'amour et la sexualité could be described in many ways. Ardent, enthusiastic, demanding, dominant and many more. 'Owever, at no time could one say you were softly compliant. It will be a new experience for you, non?"

The mayor pursed her lips and nodded slightly. Indeed it would be. One of her harem of toyboys had called her a bossy playmate and she had to admit he had her pegged. "And I would be released, all demure but available just in time for our Halloween party? It might be interesting being submissive for a change." Her face sharpened. "But this new condition will be temporary, right?"

The scientist laughed. "Of course, at least if you only spend a session or two in the tank. For permanent effect, treatment would have to stretch out over a month or more alternating between one day awake and a week in recuperative slumber."

"An entire week asleep?

"Hibernating, actually. Your pulse drops to around four beats a minute and you only breathe about a dozen times each hour."

The mayor looked down at her smaller companion. "And when it's done, Officer Boggs will be a more positive and happier person and an even better cop?"

"The first I can guarantee and the latter I would put money on." Von Preussen was emphatic. "Chief O'Shaughnessy said in the personnel file that she was already an effective officer but that developing a more benign attitude would make her a superb one. And you do want to be a superb officer, don't you Miranda?"

Miranda Boggs may have been slight but beneath her bathrobe wiry muscle rippled across her body. Physically she was tough as an old boot but the expression on her face now was vulnerable, beseeching. She nodded reluctantly.

Shirley laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mindy, you can see I never require anyone to take risks I'm unwilling to take myself. We'll be side by side, at least for the first week, and I promise that if you really don't want to get back in you won't have to. However, until you learn to control your anger and to decide when the law has to be enforced and when it can stretch a little, it will be a long time before you make sergeant."

Miranda took a deep breath, closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as she regained control. "I—I understand that part. But Doctor, what's with the cages? Can't we just climb in?"

The tall, bald man sighed. He took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and cleaned his horn-rimmed glasses. "Really, young lady, I wish you could. Unfortunately there is one thing I can't control, the human panic reflex when first you try to breath under the surface. I feel so bad about that I've seriously considered sedating patients before suspending them but then I would have to balance the original sedative with those in the tank and I won't risk the possibility of getting it wrong. I've never lost a patient, thank Heaven, and I don't intend to start now. No, you have to be held under the surface until you finally gasp and take the fluid in. It's really very pleasant once you get used to it. Look at Alice."

Alice by now was almost asleep but she winked slowly as though she could hear the conversation. Perhaps she could, Shirley thought. Turning to another tank she whistled under her breath at the sight of a man sleeping peacefully as he hung suspended amid the bubbles. Yes, there was a smile on his face but far more prominent was the rampant erection sticking up from his crotch. It wasn't the biggest hard-on Shirley had ever encountered but it was impressive.

"Hmmm, it looks like he's having some interesting dreams."

"No doubt he is. It's a side effect of the medication mix. You have the most astonishingly erotic dreams in the tank. And very vivid ones, too. She doesn't admit it but I personally suspect that's why Alice is always so eager to return; it would have to be quite the orgy out here in the real world to match the one going on in her head."

Mayor Shirley smiled wickedly. "So it's good for you and a lot of fun, as well? Miranda, I see no downside. Hand the doctor your robe and we'll get started." She undid the tie around her waist and shrugged the garment away to Hercule's waiting hands. Von Preussen made a discrete double-take. The mayor had suggested more than once that he attend one of her notorious parties but he'd always been too preoccupied with his research and medical practice to take advantage of the offer. Now that the procedures were routine it was, perhaps, time for a change of mind.

Blushing even darker, Officer Boggs followed suit and with obvious reluctance stepped into the cage that would carry her up and into the therapeutic tank. Hercule carefully kept his face blank. Equally attracted to voluptuous women and smooth young men he noted that the supple policewoman did a good job of combining the potential delights of both. Yes, he was sure that any course of treatment rendering the girl warmer, less inhibited, softer and more compliant was a splendid idea. If the City hadn't already arranged to pay for it he would volunteer to do so at once.

Once the barred doors were closed and securely latched, the women heard machinery whirr as both cages lifted them off the floor and into the air. Two tanks sat empty and ready, domed lids open. The surface of the stuff within roiled slightly as a myriad of tiny bubbles rose to the surface and popped in a waxy, slippery way. An ominous iridescence glistened across the liquid and the women's eyes both went wide as they were positioned over their prospective vats. The whirring changed notes and they began their descent.

The fluid was bath warm with a greasy, almost obscene feel to it. Their feet submerged. As the stuff climbed her legs, Shirley thought it had an insinuating, unctuous sensation, like the hands of a lover hungry for her body. She shuddered appreciatively.

"Now remember," Dr. von Preussen called up to them, "the best way to do this is open your mouth and try to take a deep breath when your head goes under. Remember, you can breathe!"

Descending, Miranda felt as though the liquid was groping her thighs, then her sex and bottom. She tensed and as it flowed up around her taught breasts she let out an anguished scream. The stuff flowed into her mouth making her choke and cough and in desperation—inhale. In panic she banged fruitlessly on the door until suddenly a great calm spread out from her full lungs. She could breathe. The warmth of the tank, the floating sensation and the tickling, trickling bubbles were, in an odd way, quite wonderful. The fear disappeared leaving her relaxed and floating. This must be how it feels before you're born—with an adult twist.

She looked through the tank walls to see both men looking at her questioningly. She flashed them a lazy smile and slowly made the 'okay' sign with her fingers. The floor of the cage dropped away as the derrick hoisted it out the top. The dome closed over her and she floated without effort, suspended amid the gently swirling currents and the effervescence. Languid drowsiness overcame the young officer and she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The men turned to the mayor. Whatever was in the tank's mix was obviously having an effect. Generous breasts, now free from gravity, stuck out from her chest and already her nipples were erect. She gave a slow, sensuous wink and stuck out the tip of her tongue in such a sultry way it made von Preussen shiver.

The motion caught Hercule's eye. "So, Monsieur le Docteur, this year you will not decline our invitation, non?"

"No, no," the bespectacled man gulped, "I—I definitely want to attend."

They turned and slowly walked between the rows of tanks. Hercule saw with approval that in addition to the treatment facility's latest addition, there were seven women and four men. All showed evidence of strong sexual arousal. He smiled and paused before one labeled 'Andrew'. Inside the taught, pale, freckled backside of an athletic youth especially caught his attention.

"Your other patients," the bulky Frenchman began, "are they too 'aving their inhibitions reduced?"

Von Preussen nodded gravely. "Oh yes, that's the most common reason for their coming here. Of course, I don't personally know how far they were reduced. It would be unprofessional for me to take advantage."

"But it would not be unprofessional to accept an invitation if one were offered, Monsieur le Docteur, and I can assure you at least one will be. My wife and I have a very open relationship and she is a great fan of the male sex. Not that she has anything against women, mais non, no more than I have against attractive young men. I see you are beginning to perspire at the thought? That is good. May I make un suggestion méchant, a roguish suggestion? We usually 'old our parties at a formidably respectable house downtown. 'Owever, Shirley's so-competent assistant, le petit Marilynn, can easily change those arrangements. Your house, suitably decorated, will provide a most appropriate venue for a Halloween party and should any of your patients be interested in joining . . .?"

"I—I could never do that!"

"Nonsense, Monsieur le Docteur, wake them up for a 'midnight snack' a day or so before and ask them. Any who accept get, shall we say, decanted? Those who do not remain blissfully slumbering and serve as décor. Très logique!"


A cat-suited Marilynn Sylvester hummed happily to herself as her husband drove her car to the Halloween party. As Hercule had said, she was ferociously competent at administrative tasks so keeping the town running along while arranging to turn the old von Preussen place into a House of Sex had been nothing but an amusing challenge. The von Preussen's had been a prosperous brewing family in the XIX Century and the family mansion, in Gothic Revival, stood on five acres of what was now a thick wood. With proper lighting around the outside and candles within, it was suitably eerie. The basement, with its treatment tanks now looking like some Mad Scientist's specimen collection, and with a suitable collection of padded benches would be the showpiece of the evening.

"I can't believe doc V's patients agreed to play tonight, I really can't," her husband shook his head in wonder, the Hugh Hefner-esque smoking jacket and lounging pajamas rustling silkily.

"That, darling Mark, is because you still have inhibition issues. I really think you should spend a month or so there loosening up. I'll talk to the doc about it."

"The Hell you will! I have enough trouble snorkeling. Being submerged for a week is out of the question."

Marilynn carefully kept her face straight. Whenever her husband started ranting defensively about what he would or would not do she knew she had him. It was like the first time Shirley and Hercule had shared them. Mark had been blindfolded and suspended just like she was and the older couple had switched back and forth from him to her. It was months before he finally accepted that getting buggered by another man was as much fun as getting pegged by a woman but eventually he had. It was, she thought, only a matter of time. For a couple of hobby-whores it was nothing personal, just business.


By ten, the party was in brilliant form. At Hercule's suggestion, most of the men came dressed in costumes relating to horror movies so numerous versions of Lon Chaney, Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, and Bela Lugosi circulated through the high-ceilinged rooms of the old house. Women dressed as helpless maidens, sultry vamps and sexually voracious vampires flirted with them and made unsubtle suggestions as to what they should do later. Finally, von Preussen wearing a genuine lab coat, bow tie and a monocle had his butler Oswald sound a massive gong.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the hour has come. Join me in my laboratory down the stairs! Muwahahaha . . ."

Mark was impressed. "Damn, he's got that laugh down pat. It's enough to make you wonder if he really is a mad scientist."

Tongue in cheek, Marilyn responded, "What do you mean 'wonder if'?"

As the chattering party descended the stairs they arrived in the tank-filled basement and were struck dumb. Mouths dropped open and eyes widened as they entered a room out of nightmares. Tall guttering candles threw different colors of light, man-tall lava lamps glooped silently and tall vats of slightly viscous fluid held naked humans suspended among streams of minute bubbles. At first the crowd believed them to be truly amazing special effects. But closer examination showed, to the patient observer, that the floating 'specimens' were breathing, their chests rising and falling with excruciating slowness.

Physical evidence of erotic dreams drew raised eyebrows and pursed lips and vivid imaginations went into overdrive at the sight of the few unoccupied tanks. Husbands gave scheming, sideways glances at wives who, while maintaining perfect poker-faced nonchalance, were having similar, reciprocal thoughts.

The room was warm and humid but there was also something in the air, possibly some vapor from the tanks leaking out, so the perspiration that began to moisten everyone's foreheads and trickle down cleavages meant more than physical heat. Besides, the people floating so carnally inspired lustful reactions of their own. Things were seriously starting to 'heat up'.

Then someone shouted out, "Oh my gawd! It—it's Shirley!"

At the words, the partygoers clustered around a single tank containing the naked body of their mayor. Not that her nakedness was an issue. The town's elite was accustomed to riotous orgies at her behest and there was not a single man and only a few women in the crowd who had not sampled the pleasures of her flesh more than once.

As they looked on in amazement her eyes slowly flickered open. A lazy, wide smile crossed her lips and she reached out to the sides of the tank and pushed to the surface. Motors hummed and the domed lid opened. A swim ladder lowered onto the edge of the tank and Shirley climbed out. She rung out her hair and wrapped it in a towel and then dried the oozy liquid off with a second before languidly climbing down the ladder to join the party.

"Happy Halloween, everyone," she purred.

Hercule, who had helped his wife down the last couple of rungs grinned at her appreciatively and stroked her butt. A week in von Preussen's tank had worked magic on the woman's skin, now baby-soft and glowing. She raised her chin and leered at him. "Like that, do you? You're going to have to check out the others. Professor von Preussen?"

The constant background hum changed and the streams of bubbles rising through the tanks' contents increased in size and speed. One by one the 'patients' opened their eyes, blinked a few times into wakefulness and then swam to the surface and climbed out. The four men, obvious in their virility, were immediately the center of the female guests' attention. One of them, with infinite calm, reached out and flicked the shoulder straps off a Vampirella imitator's costume, shucked her out of it and pulled her close for a steaming kiss. He, at least, had no inhibition issues.

When Mark moved next to Shirley, she dropped her eyes and blushed slightly. That was a first, he thought. 'Coy' was never a word he would have applied to his mistress before. She took his hand and led him aside to a padded bench.

"Marky, I'll bet you would just love to get even with me for all the times I've pegged you, wouldn't you? But to use a condom, love? You might want to be getting into some pussy tonight after you're done with me, hmmm?" She put one knee on the bench, spread her legs and arched her back. "Well?" she asked over her shoulder, "what are you waiting for?"

Tossing his smoking jacket aside, Mark dropped his lounging pajamas exposing his solid manhood. Taking a condom packet out of the nearby basket he slipped it on and then covered it with lubricant. Taking one of her generous breasts in his left hand, he guided his cock to her pucker with his right and pushed. At first nothing happened but then as she bore down in response, her anus opened to him like a flower bud and he popped inside. Shirley sighed. "Have fun in my ass, Marky," she breathed, "You've earned it."

As the orgy heated up, Hercule noted with some disappointment that the smooth, freckled young Andrew was interested only in the women guests and had no desire to be the big Frenchman's catamite this evening. Ah well, he mused, per'aps the dark little gem of a policewoman will be more accommodating.

Miranda was, indeed, interested in being accommodating. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the young woman. Since leaving the shell of a city Detroit had become, she had concentrated body and mind on becoming an expert and professional law officer. But now as the mayor's husband suggestively palmed her bottom it occurred to her that it had been so long since she'd had a man inside her that she'd nearly forgotten how good it felt. She put her arms around his neck and raised her face, eyes closed.

When the kiss finally broke, Miranda's hands dropped to Hercule's foulard and began untying it. His hands, in turn, stroked her buttery smooth back and butt while she unfastened his shirt buttons and undid his trousers. "Ooo, you're a big one, Mr. Gascogne," she whispered, "And all hard and ready, too. I guess you don't need any head?"

"Need? Mais non, cherie, I do not need it. 'Owever, I enjoy it as much as you will enjoy my tongue on your petit chatte, no? Come, let us find somewhere comfortable and I will begin. When you are done screaming, you can return the favor before I put that so-slim-and-sexy little body to good use."

Miranda, it turned out, didn't scream. Hercule found it endearing that unlike so many of his other lovers the young Afro police officer never raised her voice above a quiet "Ooo! Oh-oh!" but these she kept up constantly. He was amazed at how long she could stretch out a climax before pushing his face away from between her thighs and slipping to the floor to take his manhood in her mouth. Sucking vigorously as she stroked the shaft and rolled her head around to bring her tongue and cheeks to bear, she soon had him solid and at the ready again. Sitting back on a bench, Miranda lifted her legs and put her ankles on Hercule's shoulders. She lay back with a contented smile and looked up at him. "Have fun, Mr. Gascogne. I know I will."

As the mayor's husband straddled the bench and hammered into her, Miranda looked around at the party's depravity. The dean of women from the local college knelt on one of the other benches, her back arched and her face up. Von Preussen held her by the hair and drove his member down her throat while his butler shot a Lubeshooter up her ass, tossed to one side and them began an epic sodomy. The dean's eyes widened as she realized that she was pinned between the men, held in place like a roast on a spit, helpless to do anything but service their desire.

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