Mind Deviancy - Breed Ring

Peter hated the mall. The arcade next to the food court made an awful racket. For whatever reason, the designers decided the best place for the phone booths was right outside of that noise factory. Normally, he would simply wait until he got back to the office to call Stacy, but he wasn't going back to the office. He couldn't bear the drive home without knowing.

They were too young to be having these sorts of problems. Peter was only twenty-five. A guy that young shouldn't be shooting blanks. Sure, Stacy was a little older at twenty-nine, a little late for the first attempt, but still not over the hill by a long mile. The first doctor blamed stress. Young couples sometimes try too hard, the doctor told them. Peter didn't think his level of trying had changed much one way or the other, only the frequency.

Stacy blamed herself, though. She took the doctor's words to heart and cooked up the idea that wanting to be pregnant was keeping her from getting pregnant. She stared daggers at any other pregnant woman she saw. Sometimes Peter worried his wife might snap and simply snatch a baby out of a stroller. Stacy's sister didn't help. Brittany loved to gab about how all her friends were getting married and pregnant overnight, adding to Stacy's stress. Brittany also liked to rib Peter about his ineffective sperm, something no one appreciated.

Peter couldn't think of a more perfect storm for catastrophe than their plans for the evening. Stacy came up with the idea months earlier. She wanted to host a dinner party, inviting Brittany and her fiancé Tom, as well as Peter's sister Wendy and her husband Mike. Peter wagered Stacy had been counting on announcing a new pregnancy at the dinner, but things didn't work out. Now they faced an evening where everyone avoided the loaded question of when the hosts would be having children.

He fished in his pockets for change as he stepped into the slightly sheltered booth. The nickles and dimes rattled as he cradled the phone with his neck and dialed his home number. Stacy answered with a chipper greeting. "Hey hon, it's me."

"Peter? Where are you? Sounds like a roller rink."

"Went to the mall for lunch. About to drive back, but wanted to call and see how it went."

He could somehow hear her mood sour over the phone. He could also imagine her slim figure tensing up to hold the phone rigidly as she prepared her answer. "The test won't come back for a few days. We can talk when you get —"

"Just say it now, Stacy, I can't drive an hour to hear bad news. I'd rather drive an hour with it."

She sighed, "The doctor doesn't think...he said it's most likely not me. It's you, Peter. He wants you to come in to give a sample. After that, he'll be able to give us some better recommendations."

A mad giggle threatened to lurch out of Peter's throat, but he held it back. "Recommendations? Like what, find someone else to fuck you?"

Stacy made a loud clicking sound she always made when frustrated. "Don't be ridiculous. It's small stuff. You should switch to boxers instead of briefs. Says you should exercise more and change some of your diet. You're eating at the mall again. Did you have that tomato paste covered grease they call pizza? You have to stop eating stuff like that."

"I didn't call home to get nagged," he grumbled. Some kid in the arcade hit a bonus, and the machine was going wild. "Look, I'll be home in a bit. Everything still on for tonight?"

"Yes, Wendy called right before you did. They'll be here at six, so you should hurry home. I've got the roast in the oven."

They said their goodbyes, more tersely than usual. Peter slammed the phone down on its receiver, hoping the small act of violence would make him feel better, but it didn't. He glared at the arcade full of kids, only vaguely understanding why he disliked it so much. He composed himself and set off for the opposite end of the mall where he'd parked.

As he walked, he brushed by the usual mall fare. Teenagers in jean jackets and leg warmers, most of them with headphones on despite being with friends. Peter didn't understand exactly what drew them to the malls, but they came in droves, almost crowding out everyone else. The others, like him, moved around on the edges of the walkways. Mothers with a trail of hooligan kids behind them. Businesswomen out shopping during their breaks wearing pantsuits with shoulderpads. Other men in loose slacks and polos taking long strides as they whiled away the day. Peter didn't like knowing he was part of the crowd, but where else could he get a late lunch and kill time?

Passing the department stores made him consider popping in to buy boxers. It would be a good show of faith to Stacy if he got home with those under his arm. Maybe he could even swing by the lingerie aisle. He'd read in one of the magazines at the doctor's office that keeping things sexy helped increase the chance of conception. Stacy somehow missed that particular bit of advice in all her research and doctor's visits. She approached sex like Peter prepared end of quarter reports.

In his idle wandering, Peter took a wrong turn, almost walking into a Radioshack. He doubled back, but as he did, he noticed a store with no name above it. A sign hanging in the window read, "A shop with solutions for anyone who can find them or it." He didn't see anyone inside. Strangely all the other mallrats kept walking by the store as if it weren't there, which seemed particularly impressive since standing next to the odd sign was a full sized suit of medieval plate armor. It shined with the reflection of the overhead skylight, yet not one person near the store looked at it. They all looked pointedly away from it. Curious, Peter went inside.

The shelves stacked close together, filled with a strange assortment of items. At first, Peter thought it was a novelty shop, selling joke items and gifts. As he looked around, he considered the items to be more of a real and valuable nature than he initially thought. The suit of armor, for example, did not seem fake in the slightest. One wall had a set of three paintings, each depicting the same ship in different stages of disrepair. Whenever Peter looked at one, he thought he saw the other two change slightly, coming to life with lights and people on the deck. As soon as he looked, though, he saw nothing but the static oil on canvas. Elsewhere in the shop, he found a collection of crystal globes. Some of them flickered with strange internal light. One of them somehow played a movie, showing a scene eerily familiar to the night of Peter's nineteenth Halloween, when he lost his virginity to a girl named Kelly Lee. As he stared into the crystal, believing if he looked hard enough he would see himself, a woman appeared on the other side of the aisle.

"Can I help you?" she asked. She was tall and thin, dressed in a waistcoat overlaid on top of a black, lace skirt which stopped above the knee. Her knobbly pale skin showed before a pair of black and white striped socks led down to a pair of witch heeled boots. She had stringy hair tied into a side ponytail. Her black painted lips parted in a wicked smile as she peered at him with strangely dark eyes.

"Just browsing," Peter said, hoping the woman would leave him alone.

"No one 'just browses' at my shop. I've thought of a name. 'Evelyn's Found Shop of Lost Things, Which She Has Previously Located, the Things, Not the Shop, Of Which's Location She Has Remained Aware'. Do you think it's too long? I'm Evelyn. I tend to like long things."

"Uh, maybe a bit. The first part is fine." Peter looked for the door, but somehow in his browsing he'd been turned around. "I'm sorry, where's the exit. I'm due home soon, and I really should be going."

"Naturally," Evelyn said. "See, the thing is though, you shouldn't. To be honest, I didn't make the shop. I'm rubbish at making things. I'm decent at finding them though. I found this shop, but I think I'll lose it one day again. Like my mind. Always finding and losing. Or the page I'm on in Crime and Punishment." Her eyes narrowed as she brought her hand up to scratch the side of her head. Her fingers looked strange to Peter, as if they were grey and exuding smoke. "The lost things here aren't ordinary. The shop isn't ordinary either. You only find your way in with a problem and find your way out with a solution. That's how whoever made it, made it. So what's your problem?"

Peter felt a cold sensation move up the side of his face. What followed felt like his office Rolodex had been shoved in his head and rapidly spun until it stopped on one card. "My wife and I are having trouble conceiving." He blurted it out before he could physically clamp his hand over his mouth. Mortified he watched the woman put her wispy finger to her lips and look around. "God, I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, please if I could —"

"Fertility is easy. Not exactly my bag, but still easy. Lots of fertility things get lost. You only need them for a little while, after all. They can be tricky though. Oo! I have a fun one. C'mere." She grabbed him by the wrist and led him down the aisle. They turned and turned again. They walked for minutes, deep into a store that couldn't possibly exist in the same mall Peter walked through earlier. Finally, she stopped at a glass display box filled with jewelry. Evelyn walked to the opposite side, opened the case, and withdrew a display pillow. "The three rings of Seklov's wife. Anna Seklov was a sorceress who sought to ensnare the tsar with a particularly ripe womb. She overdid it a bit, though, and wound up getting turned into a brood wife who lured every man in the village to her home until they went insane and started murdering one another. The spurned wives realized Seklov was the problem and burned her alive in the house. One ring shouldn't hurt, though."

Without waiting, she snatched his hand up and slid the ring on his finger right beside his wedding band. It was cold and heavy on his finger, barely fitting over his knuckle. "No, really, I don't need —"

Evelyn was gone. Peter stood at a small cashier's stand near the store's entrance. The suit of armor looked at him menacingly. He tried to pull off the ring, but it was stuck on his hand. On the counter in front of him was a receipt as well as a small business card which read, "When finished, lose the ring. Perhaps in the couch." Frustrated, Peter looked at his watch, and his heart sunk. An hour had passed. He grabbed the receipt and the card, and bolted.

***

Peter hurried from the mall. He knew Stacy would be mad. He knew Brittany would tease him. He knew his own sister would complain about wasting her evening waiting for her brother. These thoughts piled on his already troubled mind leaving him distracted as he climbed into his car, buckled his seatbelt, and sped out of the parking lot. It was due to these distractions and worries and hurries that Peter did not notice many things on his way home.

On his way out of the mall, he created a trail of women who followed him unintentionally, drawn by some unheard and unseen signal which vaguely captured their thoughts. In the parking lot, Peter almost collided with a young woman who suddenly felt incredibly horny for a man who she couldn't quite pick out. She appeased this need by shoving her hand into her high waisted shorts and masturbating.

At a stoplight, Peter sat thumping his fingers nervously on his steering wheel. One car over, the woman in the passengers seat was suddenly seized by vivid thoughts of throbbing dicks. Some in her mouth, some in her pussy, some in her ass. Driven by this, she pulled up her shirt and shoved it against the passenger side window, alarming her middle aged husband and going entirely unnoticed by Peter.

Peter arrived in his neighborhood after the usual rush of afternoon traffic. Other husbands and wives were sitting down to talk about the mail or their day at work when a wave of lust rippled through as Peter's car drove by outside. A need to be fucked seized the women while a general despondency attacked the men. In large part, the two urges canceled each other out and many couples went to be early to have frustrated dreams. In some homes, though, the need defeated the despondency. Wives pinned their husbands to their recliners and rode them while thinking of a strangers name. Others flat out said "Peter" into their pillows as their confused spouses rammed them from behind.

It was a strange afternoon. For Peter, he arrived home with no knowledge of the chaos in his wake, prepared to face the chaos of his own lateness. It was not until he stepped out of the car that he noticed the strange bulge in his pants or his own desperate desire to see his wife.

***

Peter stepped in through the garage door to see his wife standing in the kitchen. Stacy wore one of her nicest dresses for the occasion, a navy blue, fifties housewife style which she'd spent a fortune on. As soon as she saw her husband, the look of concentration turned to one of anger. "Where the hell have you been? I'm here worried sick because you're running late. Your sister got here twenty minutes early 'to help' which really meant sitting in the living room judging my housekeeping. And don't even get me started on Brittany, she —" The look on Stacy's face changed as she stood in front of her husband. The scowl faded into a slack face before she smiled. "Oh no you don't. You're going to creampie me here before you even get in there. No way I'm letting one of them get knocked up first. I'm your wife, after all."

None of what she said made any sense to Peter. After her nagging stopped, the rest of her words became an incoherent noise that stuck in his ears. Of course he wouldn't get the other women pregnant. One was his sister-in-law, and the other was his actual sister. And both of them were married. What a bizarre thing to even say. These thoughts further jammed up as Stacy flipped her skirt up and pulled down her underwear. She bent over the kitchen counter with her pussy and ass exposed, wiggling it slightly as she waited for her husband. Peter grabbed her dress and pulled it down. "Have you lost your damn mind?" he hissed, watching the door and expecting Mike or Tom to walk through.

"What? No, of course not, hon. It's logic, that's all. Fuck me first, then you can fuck the other two. Or did you want to do it in front of them? Little pervy since we're married, you know. We're supposed to do it in private, but if that's what it takes to get the first dose of baby batter, then let's go. The roast is already too dry anyway." Before he could stop her, she stepped out of her underwear and walked into the living room. Mortified, he had no choice but to follow.

He went into the adjoining room. Stacy stood close to the doorway smiling at the others. Brittany and Tom sat on the couch, arms around each other. Wendy and Mike sat beside one another in chairs opposite them. Mike spoke first, "Heya Pete, we've been waiting on you."

"Stacy why do you look like the cat who got into the cream?" Brittany asked.

Stacy answered by pulling her dress up and off. Her breasts fell into view as Mike and Tom gasped. The two women looked puzzled, but remained quiet and still. "Because Peter promised to cum in me first. You have to wait your turn. Come on Peter, everyone's here, get your dick out and stick it in my wet pussy."

Tom stood up, "Jesus Christ, what kind of sick —"

Peter felt a flare of anger go through him. The ring burned on his hand as he held it up to Tom, "Hey, watch your fucking mouth and sit down." As Tom instantly obeyed, Peter looked at the ring on his finger. It had turned solid black and seemed to be leaking into the skin around it. What did that insane woman say? Something about a sorceress? Is this actually a magic ring? He looked at Tom who sat still and quiet. "Tom, slap yourself in the face as hard as you can." Without a moment of consideration, Tom slammed his open palm across his cheek. Brittany smiled and clapped dumbly at the action. "Oh, shit."

The ring's leaking poison shot throughout Peter's body. His cock surged to life as his mind turned to wicked thoughts. "Stacy's right," he said. "She's my wife and deserves to be fucked first. But in the meantime, the rest of you strip. I've always wondered what Brittany's pussy looks like. And Mike, I'm curious what my sister has had to deal with in the cock department."

Wendy stood up mouth open and ready to argue, "Peter, that's fucking disgusting. We're lea—" The same pleasant smile crossed her face that had appeared on Stacy. She smiled, unzipped her dress, and let it fall. She wore a black lace bra that held tits bigger than Stacy's or Brittany's. "Gosh, I've been waiting for so long for you to breed me brother. I guess I can wait a little longer."

Brittany needed no convincing. She pulled off her pants, wriggling them over her plump butt and taking her underwear with them. She spread her legs, showing Peter the blonde fuzz above her smooth pussy lips. "No! I get to go second. She's my sister. I want to be bred right after. It's only fair. Shouldn't Mike have bred you already?"

Mike and Tom meanwhile pulled off their clothes with considerable guilt. Their small cocks hung flaccid in front of them despite their efforts to arouse themselves.

Peter moved behind his wife. "We don't need doctors or fucking boxers, Stacy. I just need you to be a good little wife and get fucked properly from time to time. Bend over the couch, let your tits hang out so everyone can see them swing." The thoughts pushed into his head, a grunting, feral lust that felt like madness taking control. He ran his hand along his wife's wet pussy lips, drawing her lubrication onto his fingers. "Oh yeah, you're ready. Nice and wet and tight. Brittany come over here and get my dick out for your sister."

Brittany squealed with delight as she crawled across the room, unzipped Peter's pants, and slurped his cock into her mouth. When he grunted angrily, she gave up her prize, "You didn't say I couldn't taste it. Look, Wendy! Look how fat and thick his dick is! And these balls, gosh, I bet there's enough cum in there to breed each of us twice." She gripped Peter by the root of his cock and guided it to her sister's pussy.

Peter slid inside the velvety heaven of his wife's sopping cunt. How had he never seen the simplicity of it all before? He had one purpose, to fuck sluts until their bellies swelled up with his seed. It only made sense to start with his family. He looked at his sister standing naked beside her husband. "Does it excite you Wendy? Have you ever wondered what your big brother's dick looked like? Come over here, watch it slide in and out of Stacy's pussy. Brittany, I've got bad news. I'm gonna fuck Wendy next."

"Aww," Brittany answered with a big pouting lip.

Stacy looked behind her at her sister, "You'll be grateful for what you get. You should have married Tom and gotten bred long before now."

"He wouldn't marry me! Besides, look at his pathetic little dick."

The three women all turned to look at Tom's limp cock as he hung his head, frantically trying to rub himself to erection. He looked mortified, but kept trying.

Stacy moaned. "Oh, your dick is so much bigger now, Peter. I can feel it stretching me. I bet you're gonna cum so much it spills out."

"Don't you let a drop of it get out," Peter said. "As soon as I cum, you're going to sit on the couch with your pussy up in the air to make sure my cum stays inside you. Right, babe?"

"Mmmhmmm," she moaned, her pussy squeezing tight around his throbbing cock.

Peter let his hand drift over to Wendy. His palm slid down his sister's flat belly imagining it swelling up with his child. When he reached her pussy, they both grinned as his finger pushed against her opening. "You could be wetter, I bet," Peter said. "Brittany, lick my sister's pussy until I cum in Stacy."