tagNonHumanWilder West Ch. 02

Wilder West Ch. 02


SILVERTON HIGH -- PRESENT DAY: "When the Great Depression hit they really couldn't afford to replace O'Reilly's, especially with more people checking in because of depression and suicidal thoughts from losing everything," declared Gina.

"That's when they caught Dr. Frankenstein doing his experiments with the patients, wasn't it?" asked her boyfriend Paul.

"What?! Some guy was sewing body parts together?" Barbara asked with disgust.

"No. They called him Frankenstein because his name was Frank or something like that, but he was actually experimenting with living patients, playing sick mind games that he claimed were just radical treatments trying to break them out of their psychoses."

Barb's boyfriend Jerry picked up the tale. "And just like the rapist orderly he ended up confined in his own asylum, babbling about the Red Spirit."

O'REILLY'S ASYLUM -- 1930: Dr. Gabriel Franck took his mid-morning dose of laudanum. He denied his addiction, denied his deteriorating mental health, denied the existence of a red-haired ghost in his hospital while at the same time blaming her for his actions. Yes, it was the Red Spirit who made him do the things he did, but at the same time, if these "treatments" worked, then he was certain he would no longer hallucinate about a pale, red-haired vixen that drove him to the proverbial heights of ecstasy and depths of despair.

One of the ways he justified his opiate use to himself was that it "opened his mind" enough to allow him to psychoanalyze himself. Something no self- respecting psychiatrist would attempt, especially based on the increasingly rejected theories of Sigmund Freud, but Gabriel Franck was well beyond respect.

He'd concluded that his confusion over his own sexuality, especially his erotic thoughts about men, was based on never having gotten out from under his domineering mother's thumb. This had led him to marry an equally domineering wife. Unfortunately, she did not bring that domination to an active sex life, but rather, ignored her husband in bed, while nagging and chiding him throughout their waking hours.

Today Gabriel Franck was going to exorcise the hovering memory of his mother and free himself from a life of submission. Today he was going to turn the tables and dominate his mother.

Well, she wasn't really his mother, who had passed away four years ago, but she was a suitable surrogate. One of the surge of patients that had ended up at O'Reilly's asylum following the sudden onslaught of the Great Crash a year ago. In fact, today being Halloween, it was exactly a year and two days since Black Tuesday had brought the lives of so many crashing down around their ears.

Agnes Thompson was used to a life of ease and luxury. Those things had only become more expected during the stock market's hey day in the 1920's as her husband sunk more and more of their wealth into the market and reaped its rich rewards. Unfortunately, when the bubble burst, especially those three big pops in late October 1929, her husband decided to follow their fortunes into the pit and leapt from a railroad bridge into a deep, narrow ravine west of town.

Agnes's depression had been also been deep and with no one to care for her the penniless widow had ended up at O'Reilly's. The same age as the late Mrs. Franck and bearing a striking resemblance to said matriarch, Agnes had immediately gained the special attention of the asylum's top doctor.

He made his way to her room at the very end of the hall and found his "treatment" team already waiting for him. Yes, what he had planned for Agnes Thompson was going to be good for her, he told himself again. Her deep depression that left her out of touch with reality and harboring thoughts of joining her husband in suicide had been brought on by massive shock. Massive shock was just what was needed to snap her out of it. The fact that inflicting that shock would also help Gabriel with his own issues was a side benefit.

"How are you today, Mrs. Thompson?" he asked smoothly as he lifted her hand from the mattress and felt her pulse.

"Very well, thank you," the old woman answered dreamily. Between her response and pulse Dr. Franck decided that today's dose of laudanum had been just right. He'd tried this shock treatment on other patients who had been much more highly sedated so they wouldn't be able to remember and complain about it later, but it hadn't given him the release he was seeking. In the doctor's twisted analysis that simply indicated that facing down an angry bitch while she was basically sleeping was not enough of a challenge to his deeply held neuroses. He needed to stand up to the beast while she was snarling and snapping; only by not backing down in the face of that challenge would he finally be free of his weak character and amoral thoughts.

Molly had been drawn to this room like a moth to a flame, or a shark to blood in the water. Ever since her encounter with Jane Rostick some eight years earlier had restored her to a certain level of energy, of substance, she had been keeping the cycle going by compelling patients and staff to release their inhibitions and act out their sexual urges. As she circled the room, doing her own checking of pulses and finding them pleasingly strong and increasing, she sensed that all that energy was focused on the only quiet one in the room, the woman on the bed.

Molly certainly could thrive on a rapist's energy, but the greatest pay off for her came when everyone was a willing participant with no one holding back. The long-dead Irish slut began to channel the energy from Dr. Franck and the others in the room into the prone woman. She flowed into Agnes's mind searching for the right switch. Ah, here it was. For Agnes it was just an unfulfilled fantasy, but for Molly it was one of her favorite railroad memories - pulling a train.

"Mrs. Thompson? Agnes?" soothed Dr. Franck. "You've been having a lot of trouble, haven't you? A lot of sadness?" The patient nodded slightly. "Well I've been thinking long and hard about your situation," Franck continued, his voice beginning to lower, "and I've come to the conclusion that it's your own fault."

He was getting closer to a growl as he closed on the woman, looming over her bedside while his colleagues circled in. "Yes, you've been a demanding, greedy woman, always pushing your husband for more, more, more! And when the crash came and your luxury disappeared like smoke, did you show him sympathy, did you support him and remember your wedding vow of 'for richer, for poorer'? No! You just kept pushing until you pushed him right off that bridge!" The drug-addled, semi-psychotic doctor was nearly frothing at the mouth as Agnes became his mother, became the root of all his problems.

"If only I had put you in your place!" Gabriel ranted. "It would have been better for you and for me."

"What?" the dazed woman asked confusedly.

"I mean for him, better for you and your husband," Franck corrected himself through his confusion. "Well today we're going to set that right, we're going to show you your real place in the world, we're going to teach you what happens to women who keep asking for more, more, more!"

Two orderlies on either side of the bed took hold of Agnes's arms and pinned them down. Dr. Franck leaned in close, nearly kissing the old woman as he spoke. "For a patient to begin to heal her mind she must first expose herself, expose her flaws and weaknesses." With those words he took hold of her gown by the neckline and ripped it open, shredding the thin cotton down the middle until it lay to either side of Mrs. Thompson's body like a discarded cocoon.

The society matron's chest was covered in a bullet-proof vest of a brassiere, enclosing a very large bosom. A few inches of her fat belly was exposed beneath it before a high-rising slip took over protection of the woman's modesty. Franck reached his hand back like a surgeon at an operating table. Another assistant quickly placed some bandage shears in his hand. The doctor laid their blunted tips on the patient's sternum and began cutting through the fabric and whale bone encasing her big mams.

When he peeled the beehive molds to the sides the tits underneath flowed and sagged to the side. If the woman stood up they would probably hang almost to her naval he thought. But they must have been magnificent when she was young, when she was nursing. She probably could have kept three or four babies satisfied with these huge jugs. He reached down and gathered them in his hands, still solid, still heavy -- as heavy as he'd always imagined.

He bent down and took the warm flesh into his mouth. "What...what are you doing?" the old woman quailed. Molly's attentions had her coming out of her drug- induced daze faster, but she hadn't yet gone all the way into Molly's red haze. "Stop that, stop..."

Franck's head snapped up. "No!" he barked, slamming her breasts together. "You don't get to say stop this time, you are no longer in control, you will learn some humility." He dropped his head back to her chest, this time biting the pale flesh before sucking hard on the fat nipple. He pushed her other breast out to the side and the man holding down her arm on that side bent and also began feasting on Mrs. Thompson's tit.

The assistant who had handed over the scissors recovered them from where the doctor had dropped them, then moved down to the foot of the bed. Lengths of surgical tubing were used to tie Agnes's feet to the footboard with her legs spread. The shears went back to work cutting through the slip and the drawers beneath, leaving the old lady naked on top of the rags that had been her clothes. More surgical tubing was handed out to connect the woman's hands to the headboard, leaving her spread-eagled beneath her caregivers.

"Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you?" Agnes cried.

Dr. Franck straightened up and stood back, the other orderly taking his place mauling the old woman's incredible jug. "We're doing this to help you," the twisted doctor crooned. "We're going to give you just what you need."

The scissor assistant lay on the bed between the patient's legs and began trimming Agnes's thick, matted bush. Franck stared entranced as the woman's thick, fleshy pussy lips were exposed. He began undressing.

Agnes was terrified, how could this be happening to her? How could any of what had gone wrong in the last year be happening to her? She pulled with hands and feet and felt some give, but the bands kept snapping her back into her exposed position. She opened her mouth to scream when one of the animals attacking her breasts grabbed her jaw firmly and shut it. His face appeared directly above hers, eyes glaring, hot breath panting. "Now, you don't want to be doing that, do you?" he growled. "I'd hate to have to stuff a gag in your mouth, but I will. Understand?" She nodded. He returned to her tit.

Her tit, which hadn't had any attention like this in how long? she found herself asking inside her head. Or was she being asked, being reminded that she used to love it when her husband manhandled her big chest pillows? But of course he hadn't been able to suck them both at the same time like she was feeling now. It was great when he'd gone back and forth, one to the other, and she'd often wondered what it would be like to have them both sucked at the same time. But that would have taken two mouths; two mouths like now.

Molly pulled back on the reins of the two orderlies. They were still going at Agnes's mammaries roughly, but now from this side of the pleasure-pain line. When the gnarled old nipple began to swell and grow under his tongue, Reg McPherson was amazed, God, it was huge, and the feel of it under his tongue made his cock swell in his pants.

Juan Gutierrez also felt the fat old white bitch's nipple responding on his side. While a moment before he'd had to stop her from screaming, now he was hearing a groan coming from her mouth. When he took the big button lightly between his teeth she whimpered, whimpered just like the first girl he had fucked back home in Mexico. Without thinking he did now what he had done then.

The man's dark face was above her again, but he wasn't snapping at her this time -- he was kissing her. His full lips pressed hard against hers. They felt good, so good. Her husband Jasper never had been much of a kisser, with his thin lips. But these, these were soft, but pressing hard, pressing so hard.

"Ha! Look at you, old woman; being kissed by a Mexican. You probably wouldn't have let him in your house a year ago, but now you have to take whatever he gives you."

A Mexican! Franck was right; Agnes wouldn't even have a Mexican as a house servant before. The two they did have on staff were relegated to the stables, caring for their horses. But as this one kissed her, as he forced his tongue between her lips she remembered secretly watching the strong young men as they stacked bales of hay, the sweat making their thin cotton shirts cling to the hard bodies. She parted her lips and let him in.

Between her legs she felt her nether lips also being parted as her shorn mound was thoroughly examined by demanding fingers. The lips were pushed together, pulled apart, folded back, outlined by fingertip and now by...tongue! One of them was kissing her pussy! For the first time ever someone was kissing her pussy. It was just something that Jasper had never even considered.

Actually, her attacker hadn't really considered it either, but Molly certainly had. The woman on the bed was starting to respond nicely and the Red Spirit wanted her to go even higher up the staircase of passion. The stiffened tongue ran between the inner and outer labia and flicked the pink petals back and forth. Then fingers were pulling those petals apart and the tongue inserted itself into her love canal. Teasing at first, just the tip, then deeper and deeper until it was drilling into her like a miniature prick.

"You are wicked. You are so bad," spoke Gabriel Franck's voice. The two orderlies straightened up from her body and stepped back. Agnes blinked, coming out of her reverie. Looking down her exposed body she could see the top of the head that was violating her private parts and standing alongside the bed was her doctor -- naked. He had his penis in his hand, stroking it to hardness.

He climbed up on the bed, kneeling alongside her hip. "Imagine what all your friends would say," he sneered. "Imagine all the ladies in your Bridge Club, at your church, seeing you now; laid open like a common whore."

Agnes's social pride did indeed run deep and the sense of terror, of humiliation, at being exposed in public as a harlot bubbled up quickly, threatening to derail her voyage on Molly's passion train. The ghost sent a surge of sexual energy flowing back through the conflicted woman, burning away the last fog of the laudanum. Born in America, but living her entire life amidst a clan of Irish immigrants, the bonnie lass had developed an Irish lilt to her sweet voice and Agnes heard it now.

"A common whore," she soothed, somehow making it sound like an accomplishment instead of an insult. "Who else gets to feel two men sucking her breasts at once? Who else gets to feel a hungry mouth feasting on her cunny? Look at that cock -- you know it's hard for you. And look at that," Agnes saw the Mexican and the other tit man were stripping off their clothes. "You won't have to worry about going unsatisfied when the first cock fires his load because you'll have more waiting for you."

Vivid memories of all the times her husband had shot his spunk inside of her and then immediately rolled over and fell asleep flashed into Agnes's mind. Molly then brought out that forbidden fantasy, the one that had taunted Agnes those times when Jasper had fucked her close to, but not all the way to, climax. She enjoyed getting fucked, wanted that cock to keep pounding her, but the only way that could happen would be for another cock to take her husband's place when he finished. More than one cock; just like were standing around her now.

Dr. Franck swung his leg over the woman's torso and scooted up on his knees until he was straddling her chest. Lost in his own fantasy he stared fascinated at the huge sacks of flesh. He'd known his mother's tits were big, but this was even better than he'd imagined all those times he'd tried to sneak peeks while she bathed or dressed. He gathered the sagging flesh and pressed the warm pillows together, his raging cock trapped between.

The fourth member of Agnes's treatment team stood back from the patient's pussy to also get naked and the two tit men became two cunt men. They sat on either side of the bed massaging the old lady's thighs, working their way north.

Gabriel rolled his "mother's" breasts back and forth, reveling in the soft flesh smothering his prick. He began to thrust his hips, but found his penis couldn't move smoothly between the tits. Pulling them apart he filled his mouth with saliva and let it drip onto his cock. Two, three times more he drooled on the woman's chest, and then he began stroking again. Slick and smooth now.

The fingers exploring her cunny now were rougher than the first ones and more demanding. Like their boss, the two men also spit on the woman tied to the bed. They used that saliva to get her cunt lips open so they could thrust fingers inside her. Once inside they found the old woman was still able to generate some wetness of her own. They smeared the pussy juice-saliva lubricant all over the woman's gash and now both had a finger probing deep inside a hole that had been unfucked for more than a decade.

Dr. Franck used the woman's giant nipples as handles, squeezing and pulling on them as he used her breasts to pleasure himself. Occasionally he'd add more spit lubricant, but mainly his head was tilted back, with eyes closed as he remembered all the times his mother had humiliated him, berated him. He realized now it was just her way of dealing with her frustration. Of wanting him so badly, but knowing it just couldn't be allowed. But now that he had taken it upon himself to give her what she wanted, her son's cock, he knew things were going to be so much better for both of them. No more denying the attraction, no more venting the passion in unhealthy ways, oh no, they were just going to keep fucking, keep fucking her big tits, keep fucking her big, soft tits, fuck mother's tits! His thrusts became more spastic as his orgasm hit him and Gabriel was gasping and panting and shooting his hot load all over his mother's tits and up to her face.

The first shot of her doctor's spunk hit Agnes squarely on her tightly closed lips. She turned her head to the side to avoid anymore of the disgusting liquid. "Caviar!" she heard in her head. Caviar? "Yes, smooth, salty, exotic." Agnes knew her mouth was opening, but she wasn't doing it. Was she? She would never take a man's foul seed into her mouth, but she was. Would never let it linger on her tongue, taste its livid surprise, but she was. It tasted -- dirty, erotic, the embodiment of decadent pleasure - like caviar.

The five fingers jamming in and out of Mrs. Thompson's abused cunt felt more wetness flow from inside and their owners knew it was time. Reg moved first and clambered up onto the bed between the woman's legs. Juan pulled the old pussy wide open and his partner shoved his angry red cock home. Agnes gasped in pleasure.

Leaning forward on one hand Dr. Franck used his cock to sweep a glob of his cum from his mother's cheek to her lips. He was ready to force his cock inside when to his surprise the wrinkled mouth opened and eagerly took in his cum and his cock head. The lips closed on his shrinking meat and sucked, trying to draw out the last pearls of man juice. He groaned; exalting in the power he now had over his mother, in the way she sucked his cock so hungrily. Sucked until it began to hurt. "Ow!" he yelped as he pulled himself loose.

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