Vale Ch. 05: Starter and Dessert

This series started from a prompt in the Forum by ScrappyPaperDoodler: "As Many Tropes as Possible (A Tribute to Literotica and Smut in General): ... a guy ... who's hung like a horse and inherits a billion dollars from a father he never knew he had. He falls in love with his sister ... after somehow winning ... a game of poker ... here's the twist: the sister is an alien-vampire and all the friends are cyborgs (see 'fem-bots') ... his high school bully ends up banging the hero's mom ... we all know revenge is a dish best served anally ... the use of a time-machine ..."

Me being me, I took the absurd as a challenge, and with a lot of help and ideas from Scrappy I've written an amusing tale of wishes and wanton lust.

Content Warning: Domestic Violence, Mind Control; all characters are at least 18 years old.

For the second morning in a row, I awoke to find my lover gone. In contrast to Friday's marathon sex session with my fembot mother, Saturday night had been a very human affair full of tentative exploration, communication and humour. But also, I'd been pretty worn out after a very long day. Indeed, I'd nearly fallen asleep downstairs on the sofa after Tiffany spread her legs for my mum to eat her out. Supposedly this was to test my claim about Mum being a fembot and absolutely fine about Tiffany spending the night with me, but when she'd later insisted on saving Sam's number in her contacts (Sam being the futa cop who first arrested me then ravished me anally by the roadside), I had to suspect Tiffany was very bi.

In bed, after much kissing, she sat on my face, insisting that I 'return the favour', so with my nose buried in red curls and the raw, incredible smell of aroused pussy, I learned this act of sweet adoration, my tongue delving hungrily between her labia to lick up the juices and to discover and tease her sensitive clit.

Insisting that I wear a condom, which Vale had provided all too thoughtfully in place of mints with the restaurant bill (and which, despite my being - in theory, at least - a billionaire, she clearly expected me to pay with my existing account), Tiffany had handcuffed my wrists to the bedframe and taken me cowgirl-style, taking my huge cock at her own pace and using it primarily for her own pleasure.

Not that I was complaining. She had, very graciously, kept her promise in the restaurant.

"Why don't you order first," Vale had suggested while I sat there with my cheeks burning. I was finally understanding that in wishing for Vale to be my sister, I was unintentionally wishing for an older sister who would have no regrets about embarrassing her little brother. Tiffany's eyes were full of glee at my discomfiture - but how amazing it was! That I was in a restaurant, alone with an amazingly hot, sexy cheerleader, none other than my nemesis Carl's girlfriend Tiffany! (Although it was weird that Tiffany had no idea who Carl was when I mentioned him later in passing.)

I ordered the Four Cheese, Tiffany ordered one with goat's cheese, and Vale ordered me to stand up. There, in front of Tiffany, in front of the staff and diners too, she unfastened my belt and trousers, and pushed them, along with my underwear, down about my ankles - before wandering off once again towards the kitchen with our order.

A few glanced my way, some with idle curiosity, some with open admiration, but most continued with their work and their conversations. Only Tiffany looked profoundly shocked, whether at the public nudity or the size of my revealed cock, I couldn't tell. "Fuck, that's big," she said eventually.

Not just big, either. It was hard once again and throbbing in eager anticipation. I would have grabbed it in my hands and stroked it, except I was still cuffed.

Tiffany glanced around, noted the casual indifference of the people around us, and gave a wry smile. "Deal's a deal, I guess," she said, and knelt on the floor in front of me. Her fingertips caressed my shaft as if testing to see whether it was flesh or silicone, and the tip of her tongue flickered out to taste the precum dripping from the head. My balls still ached from having been thoroughly drained earlier, but I hoped I had recovered sufficiently to bless Tiffany with a creamy finish.

Clearly Tiffany was no novice at giving blowjobs. Once over her initial hesitancy, she worked my hard shaft enthusiastically with both hands while licking and sucking on the soft head. Saliva and precum dribbled from her chin, and her expression whenever she looked up at me was one of mingled lust and amusement. I stared down at her, quite in love, and just when I thought it couldn't get any better, she slipped a finger into my ass that was still so slippery with Sam's cum that a second and then a third finger were quickly added.

The combined stimulation propelled me to the edge. With a cry I climaxed, her hand gripping my convulsing member tightly as she attempted to swallow the flood of cum that filled her mouth and spilled from her lips. She looked so beautiful like that.

From around us there was a smattering of applause from fellow diners. Tiffany laughed in response, but her cheeks were flushed and she was clearly anxious about the mess on her hands and face - but then Vale was there with those hot towels that posh restaurants have, and Tiffany took them with gratitude.

Free of my handcuffs at last, I was happy to share with Tiffany, while we devoured our pizzas and emptied the bottle, all the entertaining (and sometimes embarrassing) details of the previous, magical twenty-four hours.

But in the morning she was gone when I awoke, leaving only a note that said, "Thank you for a fantastic Saturday night! - Love, T."

The previous day, along with the roses and the card, there had been a little gift box addressed to 'Denise'. The size and weight of the box suggested to her a bottle of perfume, perhaps, and the thought of some secret admirer - the enigmatic 'V' - sending her expensive flowers and even more expensive perfume brought her a secret, guilty pleasure. Hurriedly she had hidden the box from her husband, whose name lacked entirely a 'V' and whose spirit could not be considered romantic by the furthest stretch of her imagination, and pretended the flowers were intended for her daughter.

Because maybe the romantic gesture of flowers would be good for her. Carla was forever getting in trouble and mixing with the wrong people - like that boy Jake, for instance, who Denise thought was supposed to be Tiffany's boyfriend so why he was sniffing round Carla... well, she knew why, and didn't like that Carla was leading him on. It wasn't proper.

Hadn't she been a good mother? Hadn't she tried to teach Carla how to be a lady, how to behave and dress, how to speak nicely and not use bad words? How to find a good boy who was husband material and would look after her properly and make sure she had a good home in which to raise her own children, who Denise would of course spoil the way all grandmothers spoiled their grandchildren?

Later, with Carla out on her date, and her husband, George, snoozing in front of the television with a tumbler of whisky beside him, Denise retrieved the delicately wrapped gift from its hiding place behind the cereal, and carefully opened it.

It wasn't perfume. Indeed, it wasn't immediately obvious what it was, but something about the shape and the black, silicone exterior suggested 'sex toy' to her, and a quick, careful search on the internet revealed exactly where it was supposed to go.

Horrified that some unknown stranger had sent her an anal sex toy, she wanted to throw it away... and yet the texture of it, the weight of it in her hands, and the sheer, awful wrongness of it gave it a seductive quality. On the one hand, it felt powerful and looked oddly beautiful. On the other, its purpose was dirty and certainly forbidden.

Just to hold it in her hands and look at it stirred her blood and excited her in a way she had almost forgotten. She and George made love once a month, if that, and even then it was more out of duty than desire. The dark promise of the silicone plug made her yearn for so much more.

Disgust winning out over intrigue, Denise hid the gift at the back of her underwear drawer, telling herself she would get rid of it later, when it was safe, or return it to this mysterious 'V' with a severe rebuke.

There was no sign of my mother. She'd left a note that read, "Shopping with the twins." Given that I only met my twin half-sisters the day before and that they and my mum knew nothing about each other, it had to be one of Vale's mischiefs.

Maybe I had been a bit of a dick to Vale yesterday, taking her car keys and asking her to suck my cock. In my defence, for what it's worth, I'd just had several vodkas, the most amazing and improbable sex with twin sisters I never knew I had, and had just somehow won a poker game to become a billionaire. All that would go to anyone's head, let alone an eighteen-year-old whose only sexual experience was with his own mother - who he had, indirectly, turned into a fembot. (Okay, she wasn't the World's Best Mum, but she didn't deserve being turned into a fembot.)

I didn't know what to make of Vale. She was beautiful and enigmatic and dangerous, and I loved all that about her. I loved when she acted like my sister, and that she had not only gifted me with the most amazing cock but also kept arranging opportunities for me to use it: my mum; the twins, Polly and Cassie; Sam, the futa cop; Tiffany, the cheerleader; and even Vale herself, briefly.

Was it so bad that I wanted her to be my sister, but also more than my sister? That all the amazing sex I was having I wanted to share with her as well?

Her bedroom door was locked, and she wasn't answering. For the first time since all this started, I was alone.

Denise lay awake. Her husband slept next to her, her daughter slept in her own room, and the house was quiet and dark, but Denise was wide awake. Aroused too, her thoughts forever returning to 'V' and the terrible gift.

The more she thought about it, the more she wondered what it would feel like. The more she wondered that, the more she felt a yearning emptiness within that could only be filled by the object of her fascination.

It was wrong! She kept telling herself that it was wrong! Dirty! Forbidden! But the air was stale and she was hot and restless beneath the covers, and she knew there was no point in waking George for what she needed.

She needed to get out of there. She needed to get rid of that awful temptation. Grabbing the unwanted gift angrily (but very quietly) from the drawer, Denise slipped out of the room, intending to -

She didn't know, exactly.

In the kitchen, she took it out again, admiring its dark, magnetic intensity. Surely it wouldn't hurt to try it. There was even a little tube of what she guessed was lubricant included in the box. She could pop it in, see what it was like... After all, they seemed hugely popular on the internet, with so many different colours and sizes and even shapes. Some even had tails! It was shocking really, how many different types of sex toy there were, and indeed how much sex everyone else seemed to be having. Compared to a lot of the stuff she'd seen earlier, this little black plug seemed rather tame, hardly offensive at all...

She could try it once, maybe. Get the urge out of her system. Satisfy her curiosity, then go to bed and finally forget all about it. Finally get some sleep.

"You win, V," Denise murmured, and eased her panties, soaked (like never before) from her arousal, down her legs, stepping out of them with a guilty twinge, feeling dirty already just thinking about what she was about to do. She twisted open the tube of lubricant and applied it liberally around the black, silicone tip, sure that even so it would hurt going in where nothing was supposed to go in.

She hesitated to take the final step. Everything she had done so far could be dismissed as a moment of idle whimsy, a fantasy born of sleeplessness and an overactive imagination. She told herself to throw it into the bin and return to bed, tempted but morally victorious, superior for having overcome her baser instincts - but that yearning emptiness within was as strong as ever, and the answer was in her hands.

So very carefully, she guided the tip to that tight, forbidden point of entry. The touch of the cool gel made her shiver momentarily, but then she was pressing, and breathing heavily as the tip penetrated. She pressed, and the plug gradually stretched that ring of muscle with a sweet intensity that startled her, how good it actually felt.

It stretched her until she was sure that any more would surely damage her, then seemed to sigh, suddenly, as it slotted into place, keeping her very pleasantly stretched but also comfortably full.

"Now what?" she asked herself as she washed her hands, but no answer occurred to her. Wrapping herself on the sofa in front of the television, she flicked through channels for a while, but was soon fast asleep.

It was Sunday, I was bored, and I had no one to fuck.

Or was that true? My second wish had been, "a huge cock that no woman can resist - especially Carl's mum," and then, later, Vale had said, had almost snarled, "Carl's mother's ass won't fuck itself."

After everything that had happened, Carl and his mother seemed almost irrelevant now. Making love to Carl's forgetful girlfriend was surely a sweeter act of vengeance than the petty brutality of fucking his mother, despite the latter's eye-for-an-eye symmetry.

But maybe, after all, that wasn't the point. Vale had granted my three wishes, but why me? Was it chance? Fate? Or was it my dark, furious fantasy of making Carl watch me fuck his mum in the ass?

Of course, it didn't have to be a humiliating power trip. Maybe it didn't have to be vengeance at all. As I had discovered the day before, anal could be a lot of fun for both participants.

Denise awoke with a start. Early morning sunlight was streaming into the room and she wasn't in bed. She was on the sofa, with a vague memory of having been watching television (although it had switched itself off while she slept). But while it wasn't unusual for her to fall asleep while watching some film or other, it was unusual for her to have slept through the night like that.

And then the memory of the events leading up to that, her yielding to temptation, the sex toy still plugging her ass! She felt for it, but her questing fingers encountered only the little muscular ring that had been so astonishingly stretched by the silicone plug.

Denise shot to her feet, her heart racing. Where was it? Had it slipped out while she slept? She couldn't see it on the sofa anywhere, or around or under it. Had it somehow disappeared inside of her and now she'd need a surgeon to get it out? (Oh God!) But she couldn't feel it inside her, and no way something of that weight and shape could be inside her and not be extremely obvious.

Baffled, she sat again. The only other explanation was that someone else had taken it out while she slept, though that hardly seemed possible.

Maybe it had all been a dream? (It didn't feel like a dream.)

Denise made her way upstairs. George was awake and in the shower. She could hear him singing snatches of different songs. She checked her underwear drawer, but there was no sign of the gift. She ran downstairs again, checked behind the cereal, peered into the bin, but nothing. Vanished as if it had never existed.

The red roses taunted her from the window sill. "Who are you, V?" she murmured. "What do you want from me?"

Back upstairs again, she joined her husband in the shower, intending only a brief moment of intimacy as he stepped out and she took his place, but the sight of his bare cock, even in its quiescent state, stirred an abrupt hunger in her.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her hand cupping his balls and grasping his limp member. "Shall we do something?"

"Shh!" George said. "Carla's asleep."

But Denise didn't care about Carla, and George's cock hardened swiftly in her grip. "Let's do it here," she said, leaning against the wall and pulling him hard against her.

"What's got into you?" he asked, and Denise wanted to laugh because she wanted him in her and he wasn't yet.

"Please, George," she said, hooking one leg about his bum to both open herself up and hold him close. "I need it."

He needed no further encouragement, and she gave a loud, involuntary moan of pleasure as he eased into her. Sex while standing was always complicated, but they had practised often enough when younger. "Mm'yes, George," she cried softly as he thrust harder, the impact making her thump against the wall. "So good. So fucking good."

"Quiet, Denise!" he whined. "Carla will hear!"

"Okay, wait," she said, pushing him away and turning to face the wall instead. She bit her arm to keep herself from crying out, and thrust back as he drove his cock into her from behind. Often before she had wished he were better endowed, but never had she felt his insufficiency quite so keenly.

She stopped him after a minute. He wasn't giving her what she really needed, and she felt impatient rather than excited. She had to risk it. Lifting up, Denise positioned him at that other entrance. The forbidden one. "My ass, George," she said quietly, perhaps not even audible over the shower. "Please. Fuck my ass." It was so wrong of her to want this, let alone ask for it. She cringed inwardly as the words left her mouth.

George recoiled from her, and she didn't need to look at him to see the expression on his face. "Anal sex is for whores, Denise," he growled; almost shouting, he added, "and gays!"

"Then treat me like a whore," she whispered, still not daring to look at him - but he was gone, and Denise let the shower wash away her tears.

Waking to the sounds of her parents fucking in the shower - her parents never had sex - was altogether too weird. Carla dressed quickly, intending to escape the house entirely, but then she heard her father clearly through the wall: "Anal sex is for whores, Denise, and gays!"

It made her shiver. Her father's hatred of 'the gays' was exactly why Carla had been in denial about her attraction to boys. She liked girls as well, but she liked being a girl more. As Carl, she had been everything her father hated. And now he was shouting at her mum? Calling her a whore?

And since when was her morally uptight mother into anal? It was almost as absurd as what had happened to her.

Even as she reached the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang. Carla answered it, and found herself staring at the lesbian florist. "I should've guessed."

"Vale, by the way. Mind if I come in?"

Carla shrugged. "I suppose."

In the kitchen, she boiled the kettle and filled the cafetière, keeping half an eye on Vale who was browsing the bookshelves. "Who are you, Vale?" she asked eventually.

Vale joined her in the kitchen, taking care to avoid direct sunshine. "John's sister. John Alexander."

Carla frowned. "The nerd? He doesn't have a sister."

"No, he didn't have a sister. He does now."

"Ah," said Carla, understanding. "Strange times."

A thunder of heavy steps preceded the arrival of Carla's dad. His face was lined with barely suppressed anger as he poured himself a coffee. "Your mother," he said through clenched teeth, "is not herself."

"Or maybe," Carla said, amazed that she dared to speak at all, "she's finally discovering her true self." Not that she had a clue what her mother was going through, but she understood now her father's toxic, controlling nature.