Owning the Neighbors

I was cast in the role of a woman tasked to pleasure an assembly line of men. This was both horrifying and stimulating at the same time and provoked confusion. I was repeatedly waking up in a panic not knowing whether the experience was real or not and then I'd drift off once more to revisited where I left off.

With my foggy thoughts doting on the tendrils of images depicting men, my dick throbbed for release as my mouth gaped to welcome each prick.

In the dark, as I lay wallowing between misery and fulfillment, my mind screamed to deny acceptance to the perversion I was engaged in.

I immediately rolled to my side to face my wife's sleeping form and saw naught but dark and heard silence.

There was a sense of vacancy that troubled me.

I sat up and turned on the light from the nightstand.

Her side of the bed was empty.

I reached over and placed my hand on the spot she once lay. The sheet was damp and cold to the touch.

I then noticed that our bedroom door was open.

Where once there was quiet, sounds could now be heard.

A secession of faint moans was reverberating from down the hall.

I immediately rose from the bed and quickly scampered down the hallway to follow the noise.

I stopped at the entrance to the living room and broadened my eyes.

Shelia was sprawled naked with her back against the sofa cushion. Her feet were planted on the floor to support the arch of her pelvis. With her legs widely spread, she was thrusting a black-colored dildo into her pussy.

Her eyes were fixed on the TV screen like she was enmeshed in a fantasy.

A creepy chill surrounded me and churned like a whirlwind.

Although obvious, I remarked, "Shelia, what are you doing?"

She continued to plunge the dark rubber phallus between her legs while uttering a moan and ignoring me.

"Why are you watching this garbage and pleasuring yourself? You told me the BBC shit disgusted you. That's the only thing those channels broadcast."

She didn't respond.

"And where did that damn sex toy come from?"

The air was staticky and electrified with weirdness. It felt wrong and unnatural. I pinched myself to see if I was awake. I felt pain from my tweak and that surged a sense of dread.

I moved fully into the living room to view my wife.

Shelia seemed enraptured by the activity on the screen and didn't look up at me.

I turned to look at what was being broadcast on the TV.

It displayed a closeup of a big black cock pumping between the pulp lips of a white woman's moist twat. There were no cut scenes or zoom outs. The channel only played this unerupted video of fucking that didn't have a script or an ending.

I turned back to look at her and waved my hand in front of her face.

She continued to pleasure herself without losing her rhythm which was in sync with every thrust of the man's cock on the video. It was insane.

"Shelia, what is wrong with you? Damn it, say something, I'm standing right here."

I moved in front of the TV to block her view.

She wailed and her eyes broadened with a look of wildness. She crimped the dildo tight before frenziedly thrusting it into herself. Her pussy was so wet that a cream formed around the shaft while loud sloshy sounds resounded and intensified.

She then rambled, "Black cock, fuck me, fuck me, black cock, fuck me, fuck me..."

Fearing she'd lost her mind and would injure herself, I stepped away from blocking the screen.

Shelia's movements returned to match the speed of the copulation displayed on the TV. She went back to moaning and stopped repeating the weird mantra.

It was like she was in an unbreakable trance that triggered craziness if anyone tried to interfere with it.

Defeated and needing time to figure out how to end this, I dropped beside her on the couch and watched her gyrating to the thrusts of the black dildo.

I fondled the remote in my hand while my finger hovered over the power button.

I feared that turning the television off wouldn't help. More likely she'd fuck herself like a madwoman as she did when I blocked it.

Moving my finger, I changed the channel instead.

Without looking I heard a female's voice blaring out from the speakers repeating the same phrase over and over.

As I decerned from her previous behavior, Shelia mimicked the same mantra, "Love black cock, suck black cock, fuck black cock..."

I grumbled, "Damn it, I'm turning this shit off!"

Determined to end my wife's torment with physical shakes and lots of screaming, I once again hovered my finger over the power button. My digit wouldn't engage.

I looked down at the remote and saw my breath exhale out like white vapor on a winter day. I pressed again, but it was as if there was a substance between my flesh and the round red button.

And then the TV channel changed by itself with no interaction.

I heard a woman's sexy voice say, "Darling, I promise to make you the horniest of sluts."

Spooked by those words, I refused to look up and had an overwhelming urge to bound up from the couch to escape the madness.

Beside me, my wife continued to humiliate herself to ecstasy.

My chin was then forced up by an invisible entity causing my eyes to lock on the screen.

A faint whisper echoed at my ear, "A secret to reveal, darling. The heels I wear are owned by you."

I listened but had no understanding as I was forced to fixate on the broadcast.

The hot blond in a sexy dress danced on a stage and winked at me.

"Are you scared yet?" the voice at my ear asked.

My heart pounded in my chest, but it was no longer from fear.

Once the gorgeous lady stripped off her dress, she stood naked before me. My dick hardened at what she displayed.

From her beautiful face, robust bosoms, sleek curvy waist, sexy round bum, and the chunky hard dick dangling out from between her thighs, she was the most attractive shemale I'd ever seen.

My eyes widened and my mouth gasped as I recognized the identity of the person depicted on the screen.

I screamed, "No!"

The sensual voice whispered, "Oh yes sweetie."

***

DAY TWO: WALKING IN HER HEELS

My gaze was glued to the light, the movement, color, cock, cunt, sucking, licking, and the relentless humping that kept me rigid throughout my ordeal.

Forced to endure the programming for hours, I moaned in concert with my wife until the moment that reality rippled my brain awake.

I experienced a frantic jarring of my shoulder and opened my weary eyes.

Shelia stood over me with her outstretched arm violently shaking me.

Upon observing me conscious, she ceased her frantic action and cried, "Jesse, something horrible has happened and I can't remember any of it!"

Tasting a bitterness in my mouth, I smacked my lips and yawned. A crusted residue of saliva constricted the flesh around my lips, and I mumbled, "What the—"

I found myself sitting on the floor with my curved spine propped against the edge of the sofa.

Shelia was standing in front staring down at the floor to avoid looking at me. She was distressed about something.

I shook my head to clear the sluggishness and replied, "What did you say? Why are we naked?"

She then crinkled her brow while shifting her gaze between my legs.

I felt an ache in my rectum and drew my eyes down.

My right hand grasped the base of a black object attached to a girthy shaft that penetrated my sphincter.

For but a moment it hadn't registered. It was when my ass impulsively crimped down on the intruder that my prick twitched to hardness. The reality of that smacked me into action.

"What the fuck!" I screamed while hastily purging the thick flexible rod from my anus. I then tossed the horrid sex toy from me in a panic and cried, "What did we do?"

Shelia began to cry and blubbered, "You can't remember either?"

"I had a dildo shoved up my ass. Not something easy to forget, but—no I don't remember any of this. Where the hell did it come from?"

"It's not mine. I'm so confused. Nothing makes sense."

I casually rubbed my hand along my abdominal up to my chest feeling sticky globs speckling my flesh.

"This is insane," I snapped and stood up. "I ejaculated on myself with a dildo shoved up my ass. It's humiliating."

Expressing shame, Shelia returned her meek gaze to the floor and went mute.

I watched a tear roll from the corner of one eye and I reached out to embrace her.

She quickly pulled away to avoid my clinch and muttered, "Something's wrong with me."

Giving her room, I stepped back and grabbed a towel off the floor. It was already damp and sticky.

"We're both messed up. I don't know what you mean by that," I replied while using the towel to wipe the spunk from my abdomen.

Shelia looked up at me and said, "You don't feel weird sexual cravings?"

I exclaimed, "Embarrassed, yeah, and concerned."

"I'm horny for—" she finally spat and then stopped.

I eyed her for a moment before saying, "I'm not in the mood—especially after finding a sex toy shoved up my butt. Are you going to complete that sentence?"

"No. You wouldn't understand," she replied and turned her back to me. Tilting her head down, her hands rose to crimp her hair like she was about to pull it out. She murmured, "I'm so confused. So horny for—keeps repeating—it won't stop. Makes me wet."

I wiped the dried saliva from my mouth and said, "You're distressed, that's clear to me. Okay, yeah, I feel strange and bewildered by everything. We need to talk and figure this out."

Shelia released her hair and then stamped her feet on the carpet in frustration. Rushing to the couch, she snatched the remote off the cushion and rambled, "Horny for black cock!"

"What are you doing?" I said.

She glared at me with wild eyes as her finger hovered over the power button.

Watching my wife drop to the couch to spread her legs wide triggered lurid memories from last night. The horror from those events set me into action.

I scrambled towards the TV with the intent to unplug the power.

Shelia pressed the button.

The TV flickered to life in front of me and I stopped in my tracks.

I gasped for breath as a sexy woman with her large breasts pressed her chest against the carpet. She raised her rump and spread her curvy buttocks using both hands.

The camera panned out and shifted to the rear to reveal the female to be male.

Observing the man's dangling balls and rigid penis stimulated me causing my conflicted mind to silently shriek.

I tried to turn my face away from the video that was influencing me, but my eyes forced my head to remain in one direction.

A mysterious female voice whispered in my ear, "Are you terrified yet? Shame. You're a hard one to crack."

From behind me on the couch, my wife moaned while continuously repeating that horrid chant.

I ignored them both as I tried to fight the compulsion. Losing the battle, I screech out in dismay as I impulsively dropped to my knees.

My tormenter softly pronounced, "Darling, my existence is proof that becoming his cock hungry bitch is preordained. I lost that fight so you might as well give in to it as I did."

I moved to prostrated myself with my chest to the floor and ass in the air like the shemale on TV.

I rasped out denial between clenched teeth as I involuntarily spread my butt cheeks.

Colors cascaded and twisted about like a kaleidoscope to mesmerize and tantalize me to comply and mimic the feminized slut on the screen.

Then Shelia pierced my anal ring with the plump knob of a black rubber cock.

I shuddered from ecstasy and gave in to it.

***

FRIDAY: REVERBERATIONS

If days existed before the present, neither of us could recollect them. We remembered the day we moved in and before that, but after was just a blur.

I tried to capture those memories, but they fleeted away from my grasp.

We came to our senses on Friday morning of that same week. Like before, we were naked in the living room and the place was a mess. We smelled nasty and unclean with the musky odor of sex. It was as if we hadn't showered in days.

We were also famished, sore, and exhausted.

Nothing made sense, but oddly, we didn't question why. We went about our business bathing, eating, and recuperating.

It was when I found Shelia standing in place in front of the TV with a troubled expression that I walked up to try and comfort her in my embrace.

She recoiled from me.

I broadened my eyes at her expression of disgust.

"I was only hugging. What is wrong with you?" I said.

Once again, I reached out to her.

Horrified by my approach, she stepped back and snapped, "Don't touch me!"

I demanded, "Why?"

"You nauseate me. I feel icky around you," she replied.

My nerves were on edge. She was behaving out of character and that disturbed me.

"What did I do?" I retorted.

"You repulse me," she replied and then teared up and said, "I don't know why?"

"You're my wife, we embrace all the time. I love you. It's irrational."

She grimaced and turned from me and ran to the bedroom.

I gave chase and made it to the closed door and heard the lock click.

"Talk to me," I pleaded and clenched both hands into fists.

I put my ear to the door and heard her sobbing.

Shelia's anguish defeated me, and I relented.

Dropping my arms to my side, I returned to the living room.

Bewildered and sad, I sat on the sofa and dropped my face in my hands.

I could only speculate that something had happened during our blackout that tainted our relationship. My love for her remained unchanged, yet her passion for me had abruptly evaporated. Questions battered about in my mind as I tried to make sense of it.

What happened to us? Were we drugged?

Within four days something diabolical had played upon us and our marriage. The terror was not being able to recollect what transpired during that period.

Having no answers, I liberated my sorrow and sat back on the couch.

I nonchalantly fingered the remote that was clenched in my hand.

It was greasy and sticky in my grip and my eyes were drawn to it.

I stared at the oblong object with trepidation.

It felt like a devilish curse encased in plastic and there was an urge to toss the vile gadget from my presence.

My finger hovered over the power button. It felt like a familiar action that twisted my stomach with reservation.

My skin began to sweat, and my heart was rapidly beating.

I gathered my nerve and pressed the button.

The TV came on.

At first, there was just static. A sizzling white noise conjoined with black and white specks was phasing in and out on the screen.

Then clarity.

There was a baseball game playing and I perked up. Internally, I felt relief followed by a lack of interest.

I was an avid sport's fan and had always glued my presence to any game. Oddly, my enthusiasm for competition sports had waned. I felt more inclined to watch a fashion show with prancing models than a male-dominated activity.

I thumbed the channel away from the boring game.

This station was broadcasting a daytime talk show. An argument was going full throttle between a white married couple as they bickered over the reveal of their child's paternity test.

It was rather obvious by the kid's dark complexion and crimpy black hair that the man seated beside his wife wasn't the father.

Something about that scenario set me on edge and gave me a feeling of dread.

The negativity of the show was too much to handle so I rapidly shuffled through channels until a glittering sight caught my eye.

It was a TV shopping network.

A beautiful woman wearing sexy lingerie was about to apply a cherry-colored lipstick as a method to promote the product.

My interest peaked and my gaze zeroed in on the lipstick case.

As the skanky clad woman began to glide the glossy stick across her lips, I gasped, and my lips parted as my hand began to mimic her. I desired to be that woman.

Suddenly my thoughts were pervaded by memories of what we experienced the past four days.

I raged up from the couch and slammed the remote with great force against the television screen causing a splintering crater of glass to be permanently imprinted.

I snatched the power cord with a vicious yank to rip it from the socket. After frantically unscrewing the cable wire, I grasped the edges of the TV with both hands.

Raising the appliance above my head, I sundered it to the floor with all my strength.

The casing cracked, and plexiglass shattered, followed by my loud shrieks.

My wife entered, her eyes wide with fright, her voice mute, and her expression was a question.

Seething from the knowledge of what we did, I glared at her and screamed the answer.

"I remember everything!"

My wife mustered her courage and said, "What happened to us?"

"For four-days, we did debaucherous sick shit to each other. That black bastard was in every video and he made us perform deviant and disgusting sex acts. We were made to enjoy it and then forced to plead for more."

Shelia's gape dropped to the floor as one hand rose to tweak a nipple while the other dove to her crotch. She dreamily muttered, "I was so horny for—I don't remember."

Her head rose to look at me with a blank stare as her hands returned to her sides.

Unnerved by her odd behavior, I glared with intensity.

I then spat, "Do you feel anything for me?"

The blankness of her face dissipated. She then exclaimed, "Resentment. My lust is for someone nameless and out of reach. It frustrates me. I feel sensations that stimulate and excite me, but it's also mortifying. I'm an empty bottle that seeks to be filled. What did you expect me to say?"

Those statements were heartbreaking. How could anyone erase love and replace it with revulsion? None of this was rational.

I replied, "That bastard failed with me. Nothing has changed, I'm still madly in love with you and your words tear me up inside. That man must be confronted."

"Who is this person you're talking about?" she said.

"The god-damn cable guy. Did you forget him also? His name is Mr. Johnson."

At the mention of his name, Shelia's body slightly jittered and her face flushed a rosy pink. She replied, "I remember him. A sweet man. He would never harm us."

"If you had any inkling of a memory from the past few days, you'd know that man is wicked and deviant."

"Mr. Johnson is a nice man. He makes me happy. He'd never hurt us. He invited us to a party tonight. We must trust and obey. We must not be late. He wouldn't like that."

"Oh hell no. We're not going to his damn party."

She stood firm and exclaimed, "We've been invited to a housewarming party tonight. We must not be late. We must obey. Don't make him angry."

"You keep saying the same stuff. Something has been done to you. There is no darn way I'm letting you near that man."

Shelia snapped, "And it's clear to me that you're not man enough to confront him with your allegation. You don't have the balls to stand up to him. You keep saying something is wrong with me. Well, I told you I feel incomplete. If what you say is true, force him to fix me and make me whole again."

My wife's words stirred my anger. Narrowing my eyes at her, I replied, "Not man enough? Don't have the balls? He's ruined our marriage. I won't stand for it."

"When a man stands, a woman's job is to suck his dick. Do you see me on my knees? You're no man," she flatly said in defiance.

It was as if she was intentionally riling me up. Her setup worked.

"I'll prove to you I'm a man. Tonight, we confront that fiend together. I'll force him to explain himself. He'll fix what he did to you and then I'm calling the police. Can we agree to get along until then?"

She hesitantly nodded her head and then sheepishly smiled.

I returned her quirky smirk with my own and muttered, "Now to prepare for battle."