Still Under His Eyes

"This is what our marriage has always been like, Randy. I work and make money so you can spend your life in school and the lab and doing whatever you want. I work and make money to pay for this townhouse and the staff and the kids and our lives. I relax and have fun the way I want. And I deserve it, because I work and make the money that pays for everything."

"But Sue Ann, you're my wife, you're not a single party girl anymore. Oh shit, there goes my ulcer again! Where's my Maalox?"

I found his medicine bottle and the flask of rum on the usual shelf. I did not mix the usual blend; I halved the Maalox, doubled the rum, and added a fat juicy squirt of codeine solution. I wanted him calm, comfortable, and quiet.

The opiate went right into Randy's delicate stomach, his bleeding ulcer, his surging bloodstream, zap! He calmed quickly. He shut his mouth quickly too. No, that is not quite right. His mouth opened, slack-jawed, drooling slightly, mumbling. How cute!

"There, there, honey," I said, patting his flushed face. His fat doped cheeks bulged, giving him a chipmunk-with-a-mouthful-of-acorns look. Ah, my squirrel-y husband! "It's all okay. I'll explain things when you wake up."

Randy nodded-out and fell back on the king bed. I pulled off his clothes and covered him with a blanket. Then I called Maria and Hector to the party room for more fun. It was another long night.

--

Randy was still dopey in the morning. More doses of codeine may have contributed. I had used a little syringe (no needle) to squirt it through his lax lips. Easy-peasy.

Maria and I helped him into the bathroom and got him flushed-out, cleaned-up, and dressed-down in fresh boxers. We walked him back into the bedroom and seated him in the big director's chair by the window. I carefully tied him firmly to the chair. His arms and legs and the rest of him would go nowhere until I slipped the knots.

He dozed a bit. He was a bit confused when he woke.

"Uhh, Sue Ann, baby, what am I doing here? Why am I tied down? What hap... oh fuck, last night! What the fuck is going on!" He struggled impotently.

I held a straw to his lips. The other end descended into a big cup of lukewarm creamed coffee, just like he liked, with too much sugar and a dash of cinnamon.

"Drink your coffee, honey. You need to wake up and be alert. C'mon, suck it in."

"What the fuck-"

I slapped him gently.

"Not a word. Nothing till you've finished your coffee. It's just coffee, that's all."

Randy grimaced and sucked and swallowed. I've done that myself. His eyes never left me. When the cup was empty, he scowled even more.

"Okay, I drank the fucking coffee. What the fuck is going on? Why am I tied up?"

I settled in my comfortable bubble chair and looked at him. He was such a retard! Not when it came to information, but he knew nothing about people. He was a total social retard.

"We need to talk. Well, *I* need to talk and you need to listen." I had rehearsed this chat a few times. "I already called your lab to let them know you won't be in today. Family matters, that's the excuse. And what matters here is how this family works. It's all about money. Effectivo. Filthy cash."

He looked puzzled. I drove on.

"The basic outline is that I make money and you spend money. I've supported you, like, totally, ever since I came to Boston. I pay for your school and experiments. I pay for your food and clothes and roof and medicines and everything else. You know how your lab gets little anonymous 'grants' to keep going? Those are from me - I subsidize the lab just like I subsidize the rest of your life." I was getting warm.

"You know the Golden Rule - whoever has the gold, makes the rules. I make the money so I make the rules. That's how it is. That's how it's always been with us but you just didn't know the details. Now you know."

"But Sue Ann, I-"

"Shut up; you'll have your turn. Just listen now. You get to do whatever the fuck you want and it's all on my dime. I know exactly what you want 'cause that's what you throw your life into. You've been playing with your chemicals and books for a long time now and I never complained. I never tried to stop or change you. You focused your mind there and that's fine with me." It had been so far, anyway.

"It's my money that keeps us going and I'll do whatever the fuck *I* want to do, too. I'll screw who *I* want to screw, and when, and where, and how. Sometimes it's you, here; usually it ain't." I sighed.

"You are totally useless most of the time. You come home smelling like a fucking pesticide factory." I crinkled my nose. "Yeah, you shower, but then you mostly just want to sleep. Maybe five percent of the nights you're home, you want to fuck, and I put up with you, stink and all. You ought to sniff your own armpits some time. You'll maybe find what I have to endure."

"But Sue Ann, I love-"

"I said, SHUT UP! Here's how our Golden Rule works. You can keep on doing all this chemistry shit for as long as you like - just do not bother me. I'll keep on working and playing, and supporting us and subsidizing you, and even fucking you, for as long as you don't bitch and whine." Damn, I hate whiners. "Otherwise, I'll break you. I'll divorce you and you'll have NOTHING. Yeah, I'm a slut. You can accept me for the slut I am, or get cut loose and lose your home, your sex life, your family, your subsidies, everything." I crossed my arms. "That's the scene. Any questions?"

"Sue Ann, babe, what is this? What's happened to us?"

"This is reality. And nothing's happened to us. This is how we've always been, at least since I got here, and pretty much when we were back in San Diego, too, except that I wasn't paying your way then."

"But our lives, our marriage, our kids..." His voice trailed off.

"Are you telling me your life doesn't just get better and better? That you don't live better now than you ever had before? You are richly rewarded, bub. You live in the lap of fucking luxury. I give you everything you need. And we put on a good show. We're respectable, prosperous." I was getting heated.

"And you know why? Because I'm a slut. Because I work the Dial-A-Slut line to keep the money rolling in. And I can only be the best fucking Dial-A-Slut around when I'm motivated. And what motivates me? You can probably guess." I glared.

"But Sue Ann, I'm your husband! You're supposed to cleave unto me, all that shit. You've made me a cuckold!"

"You sure didn't seem to mind when you and Brad were fucking Brenda and me and anybody else we brought in. You knew what a fucker I was when you married me. Nothing has changed." I did not even mention the kids. They were not his spawn, so why bother?

"So what is-"

"So what's going to happen is, you're going to learn your place in the food chain. I'll have some friends over, and we'll have great fun, and you're going to sit there and watch." The doorbell rang. "They're here now. Just relax."

"But-"

He shut up when I stuffed a tennis ball in his flapping yap.

I slid a big plastic photo-lab tray under Randy's canvas director's chair to catch any leaks. That coffee would work its way through him quickly enough.

I answered the door and led Dave and Darla and Millie into the master bedroom. We laughed as we undressed each other and started fondling and slurping. Randy struggled and grunted and otherwise was only a minor nuisance.

I blew and tit-fucked Dave to a cosmic orgasm while Darla and Millie noisily and sloppily 69'd beside us. Dave spewed a huge load of hot spunk over my bouncy boobs. I lovingly smeared his cum over Randy's face and especially around my nerdy husband's lips and nose so he could enjoy the odor and texture.

Darla and Millie untangled and kissed Randy's forehead and cheeks with their pussy-wet lips. They rubbed their sweaty naked bodies against him. His reaction? A big boner straining at his boxers, of course, but backed by a filling bladder.

I have noticed that guys have a hard time peeing when they're massively erect and a hard time cumming with a bloated bladder. Sucks being a man sometimes, right?

We arranged ourselves on the king bed. I got on my elbows and knees; Dave doggy-fucked me; Millie slid her puffy crotch under my face; I slurped her; Darla fingered Dave's scrotum and shaft and my clit as we joined. Oh yes, this was fun!

I raised my face from Millies marvelous muff and looked at Randy.

"Enjoying the show? From your tenting, I'd say that's a yes. Mmmm..."

I resumed licking Millie's luscious labia. I felt Dave's bareback lightning rod erupt inside me; his smoking lava burned into my core, hot and heavy, just as I like. I moaned into Millie's pulsing pussy as my latest orgasm curled my toes and sparkled my eyes. Cowabunga!

We had lots of fun that morning. Darla and I played with Randy's boner and balls while Millie blew Dave and jerked his meaty member to hose-down Randy's face with his fresh baby custard. That maneuver really got Randy twitching!

Millie was such an evil girl! She sat naked in Randy's lap. She slowly whisked her mighty melons across his face while tempting his dickhead through the now-stained thin cloth of his boxers. Her wet nether lips left a snail-trail over his straining bulge.

Pinching his nipple did the trick. He spurted into his knickers. The tennis ball in his mouth muffled his groan.

Millie smirked and pushed down on Randy's belly. The dam burst a couple of minutes later; he pissed-out that bladderful of coffee. I knew I would have to trash the canvas chair when we finished here. I thought, what the hell? I replaced Millie in Randy's lap and I emptied my own bladder. Aahhh...

Randy stopped struggling. I think he was on his way to learning his place. It was a good start. But I was sure a few more conditioning sessions would be necessary.

--

Maria the housekeeper cleaned up Randy's mess and together we cleaned him up again, too. We were all naked in the shower because we had to hold him up; he was still groggy and shaky. We kept his hands tied behind his back, just in case. We dried him and threw a robe over him. Maria left to tend the house.

Randy was muttering the whole time. I tapped his forehead to get his attention.

"Hello in there. I'll untie your hands if you promise to be good. No violence, now; I'll use that against you in the divorce. D'you promise?"

Rand nodded sulkily. I shook my head.

"I can't hear you. D'you promise?"

"Yeah, yeah, I promise, I'll be good, no violence, yeah sure..."

"Good boy! Keep that promise, live within the Golden Rule, and you'll be just fine, no, WE'LL do just fine!" I slipped the knots binding his wrists.

Randy muttered some more and stomped to the closet to dress. I lay naked in bed and watched him don his usual jeans and khaki shirt. His eyes never touched me. He hotfooted out the door.

The situation stabilized for several months.

We built a routine. Randy spent more time at his labwork. I had my sex-work and sex-play. Randy never joined my friends unless forced to; he watched but did not play voluntarily. Sure, he did not seem to mind being sucked-off by some of our guests, but he would not stick his prick into anyone's nether holes. What a loser! At least we did not need any more conditioning sessions. Yes, he seemed to have learned his place in the household.

Randy came home early one day with his eyes shining and his face flushed.

"I did it, Sue Ann! I fixed RX7! I have the perfect compound! It's going to be a great success! We need to celebrate! We need a party, a big party, yeah, a big SEX party! Let's throw a revel tomorrow night!"

"A party? A sex party? You really want to-"

His voice oozed sincerity. "I'm sorry I've been such a shit lately, babe. It just took me a while to adjust. But everything is fine now! Yes, invite all your friends, the more, the better. I'm ready to party again. It's been too long for me."

This was quite a change for Randy! Did he really mean it? I assumed so; he had never been any good at concealing stuff from me.

I felt a wave of... Relief? Satisfaction? Control? Whatever. I felt good!

"Great, baby! Yeah, we can have a blast - but not tomorrow, that's too soon. I think I can organize it for Friday. You want an all-nighter? Like we used to do with Brenda and Brad? Yeah, I'll get wine and hash and munchies and lubes and rubbers and incense and everything." My mind slipped into planning mode. So much to do!

This was going to be a big one.

"But hey, babe, I want to celebrate, but it also has to stay quiet, 'cause there's, like, trade secrets involved," my tall husband said. "So they can't tell anyone they're here, got that? It's got to be a really private party. We can go public after it's announced, but not now, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing," I replied absently. I was already thinking of refreshments.

Maria and Hector set-up the playroom with king-size airfoam mattresses all across the floor as well as tall wide ottomans for receptive bodies to be bent over. They hung an extra swing from the ceiling joists. I ordered snacks, drinks, and dope, and otherwise executive-produced the affair.

Friends started arriving around sundown Friday. Dave and Kayleigh and Javier and Darla and Jan and Hideo and Millie and Lasisha and Roz and Linus and Kimora and Jean-Claude and Shaylee and Janiya and Zev; those were all we could fit in there.

We were already naked and noodling when Randy got home. He looked in at our fourway daisychains and triple penetrations and other fun maneuvers. He smiled and closed the playroom door. From the outside. With a click.

That is about all I can remember.

I woke groggy and naked and enmeshed with a bunch of other naked bodies. I think I had Lasisha's pussy in my face and Zev's zebra-size zozo up my ass. I reeled-in my tongue, pulled loose from his still-stiff staff, and creakily sat up. I looked around.

I recognized the playroom but it looked very large now. Huh? I leaned over the mattress edge. Why was the floor so far away? And why were the ottomans so tall? Did everything grow except us?

The bodies around me twitched and flexed into sitting positions. Everyone looked a bit stunned.

"Heh heh." The chuckle sounded low-fidelity crackly, like on a portable radio's two-inch speaker. "Good morning, campers. Welcome to the rest of your lives." That was Randy's voice. What the fuck?

My eyes scanned the playroom again. Randy's face appeared on a TV screen set in a wall. The windows were so high! The door was so tall! And... there was no knob on the door, just a steel plate.

Javier and Linus rolled off mattresses and stumbled to the door. They pushed. Nothing moved.

""Hey," Linus squeaked, "give us a hand now, people! Let's get out of here!"

Squeaked? Big honkin' Linus was a baritone! He never squeaked!

Everyone started talking or shouting at once. Everyone squeaked.

An ear-torturing klaxon roared through the room. Everyone covered their heads.

Randy's TV face smirked; his scratchy voice resumed. "Having fun, folks? Heh heh. It's going to be nothing but fun from here on. And I've got a little story to tell you, so listen up. The effects of the knockout gas should have dissipated by now.

"You know I've been working my butt off for years trying to get my formula right. Well, it works! The final version! My RX7z compound finally does what I always dreamed of - it shrinks the length and volume of proteins. That means it reduces the size of living tissues, reducing by fifty percent, so everything is half-size, with just one-quarter the volume and weight.

"Sue Ann always worried about wearing a few extra pounds. Worry no more! You used to be sixty-six inches high and 120 pounds. Now you're thirty-three inches high and should only weigh thirty pounds! So sleek! So svelte!"

My head was spinning at these words. What, he shrunk me? He shrunk all of us?

"And your big buddy Zev there? He's down from seventy-four inches and 180 pounds of gym-and-steroid muscle to thirty-seven inches and forty-five pounds. Of course your vocal cords are only half-length so your voices are twice as high-pitched. Just like little kids! Except for your pubic hair.

"You don't look like little kids because your body proportions are wrong. You're not dwarves or midgets. You're just shrunken adults."

Voices yelled again. The brain-fucking klazon pounded again. We shut up.

"There, there, now. You little guys need to pay attention, really close attention. It's important. You see, I'm in charge now, and I'm going to stay in charge, because you are all FUCKED!"

More shouting - about rights and justice and lawyers - and then the klaxon once more, and relative peace.

"Be quiet, you morons! My problem with my RX7 compound was stability. Proteins would only shrink for a limited time and then they'd rebound by some unknown factor. It's like I shrunk you this much but after a few hours you'd jump to some other size. That's no good. There's no commercial application for that.

"But now it's stable. My RX7z shrunk you all, and you're going to stay that way. Forever! Even after you die, your bodies will still be teensy-weensy, heh heh.

"And you're going to stay here, too. Right here, in this playroom. For the rest of your lives. Hector and I have been making some changes here. That's right, Sue Ann, Hector and Maria are your friends and fuck-buddies, but they also work for me, and they work for money. And I have LOTS of money now because I sold the RX7z formula for a zillion bucks!"

"I've got to say, Sue Ann, that you chose well when you hired Hector and Maria. They're good workers, they stay bought, and they're good fucks. Hector doesn't even mind blowing me.

"Anyway, Hector and I built in a few conveniences for you. We had to sneak-in the work but you never really pay attention to anything here anyway, do you, Sue Ann? See those new little doorways? They lead to your bathroom and kitchen and gym. Everything is a perfect size for you little folks.

"Let me be clear. All you little fuckers had SO much fun with my cheating wife Sue Ann. Well, you get to keep on having fun with her - if you want to eat, anyway. Because you are NEVER getting out of this little soundproofed solid-walled prison. And you're going to have to work for your keep. What work? Oh, easy work. Fun!"

Screechy growls and grumbles arose. Linus stood up and yelled, I mean squeaked, "You can't do this! We have ri-" A sharp klaxon blast brought silence again.

"I had a good talk with Sue Ann's boss Silvio. He's interested in new technologies like broadband cable video. He's ready to move beyond Dial-A-Slut phone lines to providing LIVE SEX SHOWS on private-subscriber cable networks. He already has a video net set up. And this room is going to be Studio Z!

"So here's the deal. See the lights on the inner wall next to the clock?" Lights flashed; red, then yellow, then green. "Green means nobody's watching, so do whatever you want. Yellow means that the cameras will go live within five minutes, so get ready. Red means the cameras are on and the video feed is going out, so FUCK. Fuck a lot.

"Yeah, you're all sex-show performers now. If you perform, you'll get food and medicine. If you don't, you won't. Pretty simple, huh? And don't think about trying to get any messages out, cries for help, that kind of shit. The video goes through a time-delay circuit. You try anything, it'll be cut. And you'll be punished. What kind of punishment? You'll just have to find out, heh heh.

"The room is sealed and soundproof - good idea, Sue Ann! I have lots of knockout gas. You can't get out. You can perform, or you can die. Your choice. Nobody knows you're here, right? It's not like you little fuckers would be missed anyway.