The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I woke in the morning with the maid, Mariana, on her knees at the side of my bed. She had already brought in breakfast—a fruit salad arranged on her incredibly buoyant tits. Grapes, orange slices, kiwi. She was feeling mischievous, then.

Most days, she arrived with breakfast on a tray. But when she was especially horny—horniness for Mariana existed on a spectrum with the high-end being “already orgasming” and the low-end being “needing cock terribly”—she would arrive in this manner, presenting herself.

I took some time as I sat up, yawning elaborately. Drawing it out for her. I could see the lust building on her gorgeous young face. She was just past twenty years old, and had never been with another man besides me in her entire life. Her hands tugged at the tiny hem of her maid’s outfit, wanting to slide into her soft, wet pussy at the sight of me. Her anticipation was palpable.

On the bed, I stretched from one side and then the other, smiling at her growing arousal. Her breathing turned in a series of mews.

“Oh, do stop teasing the poor girl,” said Jacqueline, my wife. Her lovely, brunette form turned over slowly, slipping up on one white-gloved elbow. She still wore the same lingerie I fucked her in the night before. My cum stains could be seen around the edges of her corset where I had sprayed all over her delectable breasts.

“She works so hard for you, and you’re just dangling it there in front of her…”

Jacqueline was trying to make sense, but her voice had started to slur. The combination of the early morning hour and the instant arousal from seeing our maid on her knees, needing my cock, had her feeling a bit lust-drunk. I could see the glazed, happy look in her eyes that came from imagining Mariana sucking me off. A bit of drool had formed at the edge of her plush, sexy lips. The same little trail of drool was much more evolved on Mariana’s face, sliding down her chin and elegantly trailing down her perfect chin and neck and into her expansive cleavage, underneath the arrangement of fruit.

“Come then,” I said, calling our maid forward. “Start the day like a good girl.”

Moaning with need, Mariana slipped forward, sliding her wet, red lips over my massively thick shaft. My wife slipped up around my broad, muscular shoulders, cooing in my ear.

“When she’s done, might I get a turn?” she asked. “You’ve left me so very hungry, Husband…you didn’t even bother to fuck my mouth after filling me up last night...”

Jacqueline’s baby bump pressed hard into my back. As Mariana bobbed her head obediently up and down my shaft, I could feel her own baby bump—at the same stage of development as Jacqueline’s—sliding over my shins. Mariana’s mouth was wet and perfectly warm around the thick rod of my cock. I rolled my head back, wondering how long I’d go before erupting in my maid’s mouth for the thousandth time.

This was paradise.

But it wasn’t always this way. No. Once, it was very dark indeed.

This all began some months ago, when I sat down for a quick lunch with Stanford Castle at a steak restaurant he owned one Friday afternoon. Castle owned a great many things, places, and people; it seemed to be a hobby of his. If it was, it was a hobby that had started well after I had met him.

He and I were old school buddies. He was a billionaire, as far as I knew, though the exact extent of his fortune wasn’t known to me. The last time I had seen him before this was seven or eight years before, when he was still penniless and trying to strike it rich. I had offered to let him come and work for me on several occasions, but he insisted that he would be in charge of his own destiny. There was no reasoning with such fervor, as I am sure you well know.

Straight out of the blue, he invited me to lunch at his steakhouse one afternoon. I, of course, agreed, desperate for any excuse whatsoever to get away from the pile of ever-accumulating dread that my house had become.

The restaurant was small and exclusive. It apparently had a focus on catering to high-profile businessmen who enjoyed being in the company of beautiful young women as they ate: everyone from the hostess to the waitress to the bussers I saw hopping around were delectably gorgeous beauties of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The only men were either the customers or the bouncers posted at all the entrances and exits.

Stanford himself had changed quite a bit. When I last saw him, he alternated in large ways between being overweight and far too skinny, perpetuating his existence on mood swings that could last for weeks or even months. He would binge on manic ideas that he was convinced would be his fortune, and in these binges, he would either purge his body of all food and sustenance or eat everything he could. When the ideas failed to materialize, he would again purge or binge.

Now, he was calm, collected, and handsome. And large. He had apparently ed some kind of bodybuilding club, as the expensive suit he wore tugged tightly to his impressive, muscular frame. I myself was a smaller man at the time, no more than six foot tall. I had short brown hair, and I considered myself reasonably handsome—I had, after all, married a woman with the sort of beauty of my wife, Jacqueline.

Stanford and I exchanged a brief number of pleasantries—some few minutes of “oh, it’s been so long.” A few laugh-inducing sections of, “Say, don’t you the time.” All of that. We caught up with one another, and I learned what had been happening in his life.

Since the time I had seen him, he had gained a fortune, married a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and acquired more property and companies than I think I could have ever imagined. What’s more, he had a couple of kids on the way—several, to hear him tell it. Five beautiful daughters, he bragged, from two women, and another few babies that he hadn’t learned the sex of yet from a third girl.

His wife, he intimated with a smile, did not mind in the least that he spread his seed around.

Probably, it is also rather telling of Stanford’s personality and new-found confidence that he did not mind in the least telling me all of this information with an easy, contented smile on his face—and in the presence of our buxom redheaded waitress, besides! She seemed rather excited by the revelation that his wife didn’t mind if he slept around.

I didn’t hold him in judgment for all of this, however. Perhaps once upon a time, I would have, but as of late, I didn’t have the energy for something as taxing as condemnation. All I could muster was a vague sense of surprise that so many women would be willing to get pregnant for Stanford. It was a lot of responsibility for him and for them, after all.

My wife certainly never agreed to children. I tried not to hold it against her, most of the time, and failed.

Finally, though, after finishing our thoroughly delicious steaks and having a few drinks, the conversation swung back around to me.

“How’s your wife?” he asked. “I was given to understand that she was sick.”

That was, I had assumed already, the reason he had asked to see me. He was, despite his peculiarities, a good friend and a caring man.

“Oh, god.” I put my head in my hands for a moment. “Ask another question, won’t you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s that bad?”

“Terrible. She gets worse every day. I can’t tell, day by day, you know. That would be really bad. But week by week? Oh yes. So I know that it is every day.”

“Yes.” His concern was genuine.

“It’s just…she’s positively decaying. It’s hard to stay positive.”

“Can I help at all?”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“Do you have enough money for medication? For all the medical bills? Doctor’s visits, all of it?”

“Oh yes. That’s taken care of. I made sure of that. The business is doing well enough, and my insurance is the very best.”

“I would be happy to help. I have plenty to give.”

“I know, Stanford. But really, it’s all well-in-hand.”

“A good wife is one of the sublime pleasures of the world.” Stanford shook his head. “I hate to see you robbed of one like this. And so slowly.”

It struck me a bit how he referred to the nature of having a wife—as a possession. Something to be owned and, alternatively, robbed of. But I knew he was trying his best to be sympathetic.

“It’s all right. This new medication the doctors have her on, they say it will take time. That it will weaken her at first, but over time…”

“How long has she been on it?”

“Sixty-seven days.”

I knew the number exactly, of course. I knew the number of days of the medication before that as well, and the one before that, and the one before that…

So much of any sort of medicine was a waiting game. “Try this, and see if it works,” the doctors would say. They all say it. It was an awful game, yes, but it was the only one in town.

“And no improvement yet?” Castle raised an eyebrow. “I’m shocked.”

“Yes.”

My own ability to be shocked had slipped away long ago. There was too much to keep up with to be shocked.

He considered something for a moment, grasping his thick jaw with one large hand. I was quite certain that he could have split the table in two if he wanted; not that I was afraid he would do it, of course, but it was just that the size of him brought to mind only continual thoughts of violent action.

“Recently, I’ve invested in a facility that trains housekeepers. Maids. They’re all quite top of the line, I assure you.”

“Maids?” Slowly, it dawned at me. “Oh, look, Stanford, that’s very nice, but I’m not interested in buying, I mean…hiring a maid. Most of my expenses go toward medical bills already.”

“I’ll take care of all of that. The medical bills, too, as a matter of fact.”

“No, Stanford, really. Please, that’s generous, but…”

“Hear me out.”

He leaned forward put a hand on my shoulder. For me to take the same action, I would have had to bend halfway over the table. For him, it was like grabbing something on a kitchen shelf. My word, but he had gained quite a bit of muscle, and he had always cut an imposing figure.

“It’s a pilot program right now. You would be helping me out, actually. I need someone I know, someone I can trust, to judge it for me. I need someone I know will tell me the truth. If you want another, after the first one, well…” he smiled. “Then I’ll start to make you pay our fee. But this first one? Again, you’d be helping me out by saying yes.”

The waitress came by and took up our plates. She lingered over Stanford, clearly ogling him. I watched her lick her lips as she examined his straining biceps.

“Is there…anything else I can do, Sir?” she asked. “Anything at all? Please?”

He hardly seemed to notice her. Not up to his standard. I had seen his gorgeous wife. This poor dear was only fairly cute. But, to my surprise, after a moment he pulled out a card and pushed it down the front of her dress, taking some time to feel her up. His hand mashed against her tits. The girl didn’t seem to mind in the least. With as much testosterone as Stanford oozed, it was a bit of a wonder that he hadn’t brought one of his girls to suck him off during the meal.

Once again, I didn’t have the presence of mind or the energy to protest this behavior. When you live all your time with a sick spouse, you tend to let a lot slide.

“Call this number if you’re interested in more…hands-on work with men like me.”

She practically squealed with excitement, drifting away happily.

Stanford shrugged, casting an iring eye on her wiggling behind. “As I said, new facility. We’re always looking for new recruits. I want to give you the top of the class; the best we have. This girl we’ve got, she hasn’t been used anywhere. What do you say?”

“Again, it’s so generous, but I…”

He leaned forward even more intently. Not to belabor a point, but once again, with his frame, this was an imposing gesture indeed. “My friend, sometimes, when we are in our very worst ruts, we refuse to allow improvement because it is not what we know. We stop listening to our friends because what they say is not the cycle of despair that we have installed in our heads. I am asking that you let me help you. Oblige me.”

I could not turn him down and still remain close to him, and I valued his friendship too much to hurt him, even with as odd and ornery as he could be. I missed talking with Stanford, and I was loathe to give that up just because I was turning down a favor he offered.

“All right,” I said. “All right. Let’s get me a maid, I guess.”

“Wonderful.” His smile was broad and strong, just like all of him. “I’ll have her shipped over immediately.”

Again, there was that usage of language that should have tipped me off. Saying, “shipped,” instead of “arrange her travel” or “tell her where to go.”

Even though I was agreeing with Stanford, I honestly expected to let this maid go within a couple of days. I knew, without a doubt, that a new maid wasn’t what I needed.

Monday morning, I woke up to the front doorbell ringing. It surprised me, and I rushed to the entry to see what it could be. I had to stop that ringing before Jacqueline woke. Usually, she was asleep until well past noon. The medicine hit her hard in the mornings. If she woke now, she’d be coughing all day until the evening, and she’d be even worse tomorrow.

Over the weekend, I had practically forgotten about Stanford’s offer. His statement about my thoughts getting caught in a rut were true; apparently even your memory starts ing just the same things from the day before when your routine for every day is the same.

Here is my schedule:

I wake up and then I make breakfast for myself and the day’s meal for my wife. She can’t take in much. After that, I look after her and do whatever she needs. I bathe her, I clothe her, I ister her medicine, I change her bedding, and I oversee her evacuations. It’s like looking after a newborn. I wasn’t lying when I told Stanford that it was about as bad as it could get. There is no hope when I look at her, day after day, just the routine.

In between all of those duties, I do my best to ignore her constant hacking and coughing, and the fevered mess her brain has become, full of guilt and paranoia and accusations and insults. She is unpleasant to be around.

My wife, once upon a time, was a sweet, lovely woman. Intelligent and gentile. She could make an entire room light up with her presence. You’d feel honored just to be in front of her. No longer was that the case.

Luckily, I had enough money coming in to take care of her as well as anybody could. Many people were not so lucky. I tried to remind myself of that.

I own a chain of hardware stores in the greater metropolitan area, but as the owner, I can leave most of the decisions up to my hand-picked store managers, three of whom were cousins of mine. I trusted them explicitly, and they trusted their staff. I paid my workers good wages and offered the opportunity for bonuses at the end of the year; they were covered with health care and other benefits. As such, theft was almost unheard of and loyalty was solid.

Sometimes, I had dreams of giving away the hardware stores to my sons. But I had no sons. Jacqueline and I had big plans of being parents, but she would always put me off. Always telling me next year, next year.

It was because of my years of good treatment of my staff, and their subsequent good attitudes, that I felt comfortable taking care of my sick wife for as long as I did. Some days, I would still go out to the store nearest to me and look around or help out. I could tell that, as I hadn’t announced my visit and didn’t have any real purpose in being present, that my employees were forced to tolerate my presence a little more than they would have if there was some manner of agenda to my being there.

Sometimes, when Jacqueline was quite bad but also resting quite thoroughly, I would drive out to the store farthest away from our house. I wouldn’t even go inside. I would just sit in the parking lot, hoping for anything at all to change. I just wanted to get away from it all for a time.

Little did I know, that “getting away from it all” could have an entirely new meaning—one that was embodied in the person waiting at the front door of my house that Monday morning.

My house was modest. My wife and I did not need much. It had two stories and a brief backyard. Downstairs was the kitchen, dining room, guest bedroom and my study. Upstairs was the Master bedroom and a game room, as well as another bedroom that had been made into a library of sorts. My wife and I both enjoyed reading.

I answered the door in my robe and bare feet. My chest hair peeked out meekly.

“Yes?”

On the porch, waiting with a small suitcase in her hands, was the most stunning woman I had ever seen. She was like a pin-up girl picture. She wore high heels that were tall and black, melding effortlessly into the long nylon-clad features of her irresistibly beautiful legs. A brief black dress covered her sensational curves (such a tiny waist! I could fit my hands around it and touch my thumbs and pinkies together) and pushed her outstanding rack up and out, on display. Her breasts clearly had no bra, but were positively jiggling and bouncing with their own lack of gravity, and were easily beyond a 36D cup. The tops of her breasts looked polished and shiny. She held her suitcase with both hands, pushing her tits in together with her arms. Long locks of shiny dark hair fell on her cleavage, clearly softer than any other surface on the earth.

And her face! She almost gave me a heart attack just from looking into her deep, dazzling green eyes. There was so much beauty in those that I could hardly take in the lovely curvature of her plump, full lips, or the sexy angle of her cheekbones and chin.

There had never been so beautiful a creature before me in all my life. A breeze drifted by and some hot, amazing scent wafted into my nose, filling my head with any number of impure thoughts. I felt my cock in my robe instantly begin to harden.

There was something about her—even beyond the healthy shine of her skin and hair, and the overflowing nature of her bust, and the wide expanse of her hips contrasted with the tininess of her waist—that was decidedly fertile. I saw her, and I knew that I was looking at a woman who was everything a female could aspire to be.

“Mr. Oakland?” she asked. “Is this the correct house for Mr. Oakland?”

Her voice was accented. Of course it was. I couldn’t trace it, though it seemed like some manner of Spanish, or maybe Portuguese. The expression on her face was somewhat blank, awaiting an answer.

“Y-yes,” I stumbled. “This is he. I am he. I mean, that’s me. Jonathan Oakland. Yes.”

The blank expression on her face cycled quickly through a number of expressions, like perhaps some manner of program—first ing understanding, then smiling faintly, then eyeing me up and down with a rapturously predatory gaze, biting one plump lip, and then tilting her head to one side girlishly, smiling more brightly now.

“I am Mariana,” she said softly. Her voice had gotten even sexier. I didn’t think that was possible. “Your new maid? May I please come in?”

“Oh…” It took me several moments to just what exactly she was saying. Watching her speak was like witnessing the Sistine Chapel come to life. “Oh god yes, please. Please, do come in. Do you have any more bags?”

“There,” she pointed behind her, to a rather massive trunk with thick gold trim.

Trying to show how manly and terrific I could be, I took it upon myself to single-handedly bring the trunk inside. I pushed it about six inches before giving up in exhaustion. What in God’s name was she bringing to my house?

“Oh, Sir!”

Her face was full of alarm. Still gorgeous, of course.

“You should not trouble yourself with my feminine belongings. It is my burden. When I am in your home, there is no work that you should do but the work of the Man.”

“I just didn’t expect it to be so heavy. Did you have a driver or something, or…”

I trailed off as I watched her pick the trunk up, easily, all by herself. All of a sudden, beneath the painfully smooth, soft features of her skin, I saw hot, toned muscles activate. I had no idea a woman in high heels picking up a large object single-handedly was something I found arousing, but very quickly I was trying to hide my fully-fledged hard-on from her, my hand pressed down against my robe.

Guiding her inside, I showed her to the guest room. It was full of dust, and had not been used except as a repository for old junk like broken lamps and furniture covers for nearly the entire year that Jacqueline had been sick.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I said, still watching her as she set down the trunk. She had not even worked up a sweat. “I can take care of it—”

She cut me off, placing a single, perfect finger on my lips. “My dear Sir, please, say no more. You wish to test me on my first day with this challenge. I shall not fail you.”

Slowly, she withdrew her finger, letting it slide off my lips and linger briefly on my chin. Instinctively, I followed it a bit.

For several moments, I just looked at her. She smiled, inviting me to—she even posed, putting a hand on one hip and tossing back her hair. And yet, her face remained inquisitive, open, ionate, as if to say, “Whatever can I do to bring you pleasure, Sir?”

Surely just my imagination. Women like this never went for guys like me. I was not a rock star or a corporate CEO or a film director or anything like that. And yet, her eyes were so sparkling and green with possibility…

Upstairs, Jacqueline began to hack and cough. Instantly, I was snapped back to reality. I had duties. I had to attend to them.

“I have to go take care of her,” I said. “I apologize. We really must get to know each other soon. In the meantime, uh…do whatever you feel is best, all right? Make yourself at home.”

“Of course, Sir,” she purred. “Anything you say.”

Her eyes fixated on me as I turned and left the room, and when I turned back to take one more glimpse at her body before going upstairs to my wife, Mariana was still looking at me, holding herself tight, licking her lips hungrily.

Within just a few hours, I found out that Mariana was more than just a maid. As I attended to Jacqueline’s hacking and coughing, doing my best to sooth her poor, wrecked body, Mariana worked away in the kitchen, preparing a lovely roast dinner. I came down when I smelled cooking meat; I thought something had caught fire.

“Oh, wonderful!” she said, spinning happily. “You’re just in time.”

Over her tiny black minidress, she had put on a frilly white apron, in a sort of sexy mock-up of a maid’s uniform. It was positively scorching on her body. She had a small wooden spoon in one hand, dripping with some delicious substance.

“I am?”

“Oh, yes Sir. Nevermind that it’s your house, and you would be on time no matter what, being as how you own everything in it.” She smiled indulgently, as if we were sharing some intimate secret. “Dinner is ready. Won’t you eat?”

“Ah,” I said. It smelled delicious. “I’d love to, but Jacqueline…”

“I shall take care of your Wife, of course, Sir.”

I could hear the capitalization in her accented voice. Wife. Sir.

As if on cue, Jacqueline had begun hacking away again. The sound tapped several instincts in me, almost once again completely nullifying the level of attraction I had for Mariana and the titillation I felt from staring at her massive, displayed breasts. But I had not eaten anything all day, and the display of food must have added my hunger onto my arousal, keeping me in place.

“Oh. I didn’t know…are you sure?”

“Quite certain, Sir.” She nodded slightly. “I am medically trained. She will be in very good hands, I assure you.” She slipped her hands around mine, patting them gently. They were soft, elegant, and immediately I could imagine them wrapped around the thick shaft of my cock. “We shall make everything as comfortable and good as possible for you.”

“For her, you mean.”

She smiled demurely. “Yes, Sir. As you say, of course.”

And with that, she strutted out of the kitchen, casting back shy, furtive glances at me to ensure that I was sitting down with the food. I made a show of doing so, even though I very much had no intention of eating. Since I began staying home with Jacqueline, I had lost close to thirty pounds. Sympathy weight loss, you could say. She had lost more than fifty, and she had never been a very substantial woman. Eating, like many things, had lost its appeal for me.

But I sat down with the food, and sitting down with it, I felt obliged to give it a try. It did smell rather delicious, after all.

One bite quickly led into another, led into another, led into another, which after enough of that led to me getting up to grab seconds. I was still eating when Mariana came back down, her green eyes sparkling brightly when she saw me munching away.

“Oh, wonderful,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” The food made me absolutely sated and conversely ravenous for more. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

Through the echoing confines of the house, Jacqueline’s coughs began once more. And, once more, on impulse, I got up. I had been trained rather well.

Mariana pressed her body into the side of my arm, though, guiding me back down. Momentarily, her thigh slid over on top of mine, the sweet plush skin there like heaven, even through the cloth of my pants.

“You needn’t worry about any of that, Sir,” she said. “I must continue to ister her medicine. Why don’t you keep eating?”

“No, really. I’m stuffed. I couldn’t possibly, and Jacqueline—”

Upstairs, my wife coughed again. The violence of the hacks always shook me to my core.

“Please, I must help her.”

“Nonsense, Sir. I am the Maid. I will take care of everything. Please, relax? For me?”

She had taken my hands again. Her grip so soft. So inviting. She drew her hand toward her chest, almost drawing me into her positively heart-melting cleavage.

“Y-yes,” I said, unsteady. “All right.”

“Certainly there’s some projects you could work on while I attend to your dear wife?”

“Right,” I said. “Yes. You are right.”

Once again I watched her leave. It was as the cliche went—I hated seeing her gone, but I did love to watch her leave. Her ass swayed perfectly.

So, I thought then, work. Occupy myself. Jacqueline was well in hand. Mariana was medically trained, after all. The bottles of medicine next to the bed were all clearly marked with days and hours.

Briefly, the thought of returning to the hardware stores flashed across my mind. But I did not think I could safely leave Jacqueline in this home with a complete stranger. Mariana had not gained quite that much trust with me yet.

More sinister was the thought—not so firmly buried down—that with Jacqueline sick, I had a perfectly good excuse to stay home from work, do whatever I pleased, and ogle Mariana’s gorgeous visage whenever I pleased.

After dinner, I compromised with myself by taking Mariana at her suggestion and beginning a few projects. I had wanted to re-organize my study for a long time now. I had too many books that I picked up at half-price sales and book fairs that I either would never read or didn’t care very much about. I love a good bloated library as much as any devoted reader, but in my opinion, it ought to at least be bloated with the things that you care about.

My strategy was this: I would place everything on the shelves in boxes, as if I were moving. That way they would be easy to move around and keep track of. What’s more, any books or other accumulated items (my shelves were natural habitats for bits of junk and knick-knacks and old receipts) would have boxes ready to go inside of. Another advantage was that, should I decide to resell the books or give them to a library or just simply toss them into the recycling, they would would already be easily transportable.

This was all, of course, a method to distract myself from the fear of leaving Jacqueline in someone else’s hands. As it turned out, that was the best possible decision I could have made; at the same time, all of my fears ended up being completely justifiable. Jacqueline was headed toward irrevocable change, much as I was, and all because of Mariana.

Over the next several days, many aspects of my life which had become normal since Jacqueline’s sickness began started to transform. For one, I had much more time to myself.

I found I rather enjoyed all the leisure time to do as I pleased, and Mariana was completely faithful to her word, taking care of Jacqueline with an expert, caring hand. I watched her from time to time, cooing in Jacqueline’s ear softly and wiping her brow, looking after my wife with enormous concern on her face.

So, for the first time in many months, I felt somewhat…relieved. Not quite happy, but more like I saw many less barriers to my contentment.

Something else curious started happening. Or rather, something stopped happening. Jacqueline’s coughs ceased, almost entirely. When they did occur, they no longer shook the house, but rather just barely lifted out of her room, like a series of weighed-down helicopters in a blizzard. Jacqueline began eating more, or so Mariana reported to me, and her body began to gain back some of its color. When I saw my wife now, she no longer looked like a living skeleton.

Her poisoned mind, full of terror and accusation, however, remained poisoned. She called me names, she called Mariana names. Everyone was horrible or stupid to Jacqueline.

It was hard to take it to heart with Mariana around. I found that Mariana’s maid outfits were not quite uniform. She wore something different every day, and though always she took care to wear the kind of frilly, sexy maid’s apron that was the maid’s custom, what she wore beneath that varied quite a bit.

Mini-dresses that bared her legs. Tiny halter tops that showed off her enormous tits. Spandex and yoga pants that clung to her sculpted ass. High, high heels: gladiator heels, high-heeled boots, knee-high boots, thigh-high boots, even those sexy tennis shoes with the heels built inside them. Anything to make her legs and behind look better than ever.

She had a spectacular body, and she loved it. She showed it off at every opportunity, and she never, not once, left the house during those first several days.

I had to start assuming she was dres for me. A flattering thought indeed, given the way she looked all the time.

Of course I started jerking off to the thought of Mariana right away. Usually, it happened right after mealtime, after I had downed one of the rich, delicious, specially prepared meals that she had made just for me. It was never the same thing twice; every breakfast, lunch, and dinner was always different and always scrumptious. Steak with a slice of peach pie and whipped cream; a lamb burger served with bourbon-laced bread pudding; baked chicken spritzed with lemon and served with a tall glass of creamy, head-warming milk that I couldn’t identify the source of.

After watching her, in those ridiculously hot teensy tiny outfits, serving me meal after meal, and acting so grateful to be serving them to me, I could not help but jerk off.

And when I jerked off, my body overheated—a brand new development—so that I had to take off my shirt and my pants or else turn into a sweating mess. And so in the bathroom, clothes off and stroking my thick, engorged cock, I could see easily every day how my own muscles had begun to harden, fat sliding off my body even with all the effortlessly filling meals that Mariana provided. She was an absolute wonder.

I blamed the work in the study for my muscles hardening, of course. I worked all day long, tirelessly, stopping only to eat. It was ludicrous to think that anything else was inspiring these changes. I was simply working hard and being turned on constantly by the supermodel-esque beauty of my new maid.

I had begun to suspect that my loads were becoming more substantial, somehow. Thicker. Smelling stronger of musk. From day to day, jerking off as I was directly into a pile of tissues, whether my cum was really changing in any way was hard to measure accurately.

But, my loads becoming more substantial was a fact indeed, proven to be a fact to me in short order.

On the fifth night, after almost a full week of her leaving out meals for me, Mariana insisted on serving me dinner herself. Normally, she would leave the food out in the kitchen or in the study and then take care of Jacqueline while I ate.

But with her asking me so directly, I could hardly refuse. Breakfast had been whole-grain pancakes with fresh strawberry crepes, and lunch had been a thick cut of salmon drizzled with almonds and lemon glaze. Dinner was a brisket that she had started the night before, slow-cooked to perfection.

She brought the meal to me in the study, the plate still steaming hot. There were still piles and piles of books in the study, not quite re-arranged how I wanted them. The bookshelves went all the way to the ceiling, and I had more than three times as many as my shelves would carry.

Mariana wore a tiny blue dress with a sheer, lacy back. When she turned, I could see the advanced muscles on her back, so toned and beautiful. The dress showed only a keyhole of cleavage, but with her massive breasts, that was more than enough to inspire wet dreams for months. Her heels, bright white (to match her apron) and more than four inches high, clicked attractively on the hardwood floor as she approached and sat down on my desk. She crossed her legs, sliding the plate into the tray over my lap.

“Please, may I give you the first bite myself?”

I gulped, nodding slowly. I was grateful for the tray over my lap, because without it, she would have easily seen the erection I had. Smiling low, as if we were lovers trading secrets, she brought the loaded fork up to my mouth, watching me with earnest, almost sexual need as I took her food into my mouth. The brisket was heaven, cooked just right and loaded with flavor. I closed my eyes and moaned, loving the taste of it. When I opened my eyes, I saw that she had closed her eyes, her luscious mouth parted with delight at my enjoyment.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said quietly. “I’ll leave you to your meal, now. I’ll be along in a little bit to take your plate.”

And then she made me watch as she strutted out of the room. Right at the door, she pretended to drop her serving spoon, elaborately bending over to grab it. I saw that her panties were tight, lacy, and transparent. There was just enough shadow to keep me from seeing her pussy, which I somehow knew was dripping wet. I had thought, disbelievingly at the time, that I could even smell it.

Immediately after she left, I stood up and began to jerk off. As always, I ripped off my clothes to do it. I had gotten used to seeing the way my muscular, hard thighs flexed as I stroked. The bulging veins in my forearm matching the veins in my thick, ever-engorged cock. I was already hard at the time, and so it only took a few seconds of imagining Mariana’s luscious form in front of me once more before I came all over the wood floor.

The door creaked open, then.

“I forgot to give you your drink,” she said, holding another glass of milk in her hands. “Is there—?”

I rushed around the side of the desk, breathing hard, my shirt off, trying to clandestinely pull up my pants.

“Oh, dear,” she said, seeing the stain on the floor. “Did you spill some of the sauce?”

Strutting forward, she said nothing of how I had my shirt off, or how fast I was breathing. I knew I was caught. A dozen explanations ran through my head, all of them ending in embarrassment.

She set the glass of milk on the desk. I took it and swallowed it down quickly, trying to cool down. It was heady and heavy, and made my thoughts float around pockets of lust. Whatever kind of milk it was, it definitely didn’t come from a cow.

Mariana’s tits were heavy and thick in her tiny outfit. Approaching the load on the floor—which was thick and wide, perhaps a half an inch tall and six inches in diameter, she leaned over at the waist, showing me once more her panties—and now I could definitely see her pussy and how sparkling wet her pussy was—and slowly licked her lips. She inhaled deeply.

“Oh yes, this is definitely my favorite sauce,” she said. “It smells so good.”

She took a finger and slowly rubbed it in my spilled load, and then licked her fingers clean; she stared at me the whole time, watching my reaction.

“I do love this sauce,” she said. “It’s my favorite.”

“Y-yes,” I said. “That’s good. You’ll have to…clean it all up. Before there’s a stain.”

“You’re right, Sir. So, so right.”

She knelt down, staring hungrily at the mess. I tried to ignore how my cock was jerking wildly, seeing her gorgeous body kneel. Her hair cascaded downward, nearly touching the ground.

“I…I’ll go run and grab some paper towels,” I said. “To help.”

It didn’t seem like she was listening. Her gaze was focused entirely on the floor. I sprinted to the hallway, intent on helping her clean. I didn’t know yet how to process her licking up my cum off her fingers like that.

I had almost closed the door, but I heard a curious sound—lapping. Like a cat at a bowl of milk.

Carefully, I pushed open the door and looked inside. Immediately, I felt my erection growing again.

She was leaning over the spilled cum on the floor, her thick, luscious hair held in one hand carefully, so as not to let it drip into the pure white goo. And she was licking it all up. All my cum.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.

My hand was on my cock in an instant. If Jacqueline woke up and walked around, the sight of me jerking off as I peeked into my study would have been the very first thing she saw once exiting the bedroom and approaching the banister from upstairs.

Mariana gyrated her hips as she lapped eagerly at my cum, sliding her tongue around on the floor, grabbing up all the residue of manliness I had left behind.

And some part of me…some part of me knew that this was good. This was proper, for a beauty like that to prostrate herself and need to swallow every last bit of my cum.

She finished, making a disappointed sound. Her fingers withdrew from her pussy. I could see how they sparkled in the light with her juices. And she saw me—at the door still. It was too much. Her beautiful, beautiful face, so clearly on me. So filled with lust. I came again, just as hard as before, spilling all over the floor.

She approached, then. Quickly I tried to stuff my still-spasming cock into my pants, but she opened the door. It was too late—she saw my cock, covered in shiny cum, and the flush on my face.

Apparently, she didn’t mind at all. I should have expected it at that point.

“Th-there’s another mess,” I said. “More…sauce. You...must have spilled it, coming in.”

I was a bit amazed at myself. Not just for cumming twice in such quick succession, but for not running away in shame.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes full of awe at the load, at my cock. “I shall have to clean this one as well. I wish only to be my Sir’s good girl. I will happily take care of…all his messes. Personally.” She took a breath, moaning. “Thoroughly.”

Her accent gloved over every word. I wanted to fuck her voice.

She knelt down and I very much wanted to stay and watch, but my bed was calling my name. The two orgasms in a row had taken something out of me, and I could feel my strength fading. I wandered past her, back into the study and collapsed on the couch. The last thing I saw before falling asleep completely was Mariana’s perfect form licking up my cum in the hallway.

Over the weekend, shame consumed me. I couldn’t believe what I had done with Mariana. It was so scandalous, so incredibly sexual—and with my sick wife in the very same house! This would have been the mother of my children, if I actually had children, like I had wanted. Jacqueline would have never forgiven me if she found out.

And more and more, it seemed, Jacqueline would find out. She was improving by the day. Perhaps it was the medicine finally taking hold, or perhaps it was Mariana’s presence somehow, but either way, Jacqueline was finally regularly moving to her feet on her own. Her strength was returning to her.

I noticed for the first time when, in the middle of the night, she got up from our bed to go to the bathroom. Normally she would need my assistance, and it would be a big, coughing affair. But this time, she simply stood up, flipped on the light, coughed a few times, did her business, and returned to bed. I was so happy I didn’t even want to say anything. She didn’t seem to it herself in the morning, making it seem like more of a dream than ever.

But during the day, Mariana insisted on taking care of Jacqueline for me, quite sure that there were more important, more manly and masculine tasks I could be busying myself with. It was a sort of flattering diversion that I responded to very well.

Perhaps all the flattering I needed was having someone of Mariana’s exceptional beauty talking to me at all. I wasn’t very popular in high school or college with beautiful women. Jacqueline and I met in a library, studying for a chemistry exam. She was absolutely lovely, with her firm youthful figure and her stunning brunette locks, but only had interest in me because I didn’t talk to her like she was the ditz her beauty would have made her appear to be.

With Mariana, though, there was a sense of…gratitude to her speaking with me. She always seemed so eager to please, so happy to be hearing my voice, her ears hanging on every last word. Like a dog with her Master’s treat before her eyes, or like a rapt worshiper at a sermon, kneeling before the preacher. This willingness of hers to hear me and to gleefully go along with whatever I suggested made me, conversely, that much more willing to listen to whatever she said.

Mariana sensed her advantage, it seemed, and gently tried to press me. During the day, as I tried to organize my study, she would appear with heavily alcoholic drinks or delicious, hand-made chocolates and tarts. Or, better yet, more of that delectable milk. All of this together only seemed to make me the hornier. Her habit of serving me these delectable yummies from a tray shoved underneath her chest—with her heavy tits sliding over the edge of the metal and her cleavage a mere finger’s length away from whatever she served—did not make my troubled conscience any less troubled.

“Are there any more messes to clean, Sir?” she would ask, licking her lips.

Of course I would say no. I had to defend my dignity. Or my wife’s? Or something.

I knew dignity had something to do with the issue, but when I gazed into her endless green eyes, most of my protests seemed to lose their line of reasoning.

When she offered to clean any “messes,” I saw her eyeing my bulge hungrily, which around her was always growing. Also she eyed the newly-tight fabric of my shirts and pants. My muscles were swelling even more than my cock, somehow. I blamed it on all the lifting and moving I was doing in the study. Some of those books were quite heavy.

That wouldn’t explain, though, why I seemed to be getting taller by the day. My pants no longer fit. I had taken to wearing shorts just to avoid the embarrassment of having tiny pants on my ever-more-muscular form. But the shorts, which used to stretch past my knees, were quickly reaching me at my thighs.

Roughly four days after Mariana had licked my cum up off the floor, Jacqueline came to see me in my study in the evening. She walked in wearing a long green silk robe around her skinny, still-skeletal form. I was surprised to see her; Jacqueline must have seen.

“Yes, I’m walking around. Don’t make a fuss.”

“No fuss,” I said, smiling. “I’m just glad to see you moving. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. It comes and goes.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s good. I’m…” I waved my hand around. “I’m reorganizing in here.”

“I can see that.”

I watched her eyes float over my body—the hardness of my muscles, the absence of the gut that had started to form some two years into our marriage. Curiously, she eyed me with more suspicion than interest. I wasn’t used to such glances, having taken in so much iration from Mariana over the past several days.

“Jonathan, I need to speak with you.”

I set my papers aside. “Yes, dear?”

“I want to talk about this maid of yours.”

Oh, dear. I suppose I should have expected this.

I hadn’t ever really discussed the matter with Jacqueline. Not anything more than to tell her it was happening. Her many drugs kept her out of her mind most of the time, either in some form of catatonia or blissed out on some opiate or another. At any rate, having someone move in was definitely a matter to be discussed with a spouse, and I hadn’t bothered to do it.

I hope you’ll understand, it’s not that I don’t value my wife’s opinion. It’s just that she hadn’t had an opinion for the last ten months or so. And so, with that being the case, I didn’t bother to consult her seriously for what I assumed would just be another menial decision in the course of our lives.

I had no idea, of course, that Mariana would end up being what she was.

“Mariana?” I asked, playing the innocent. “What about her? I think she’s been doing a bang-up job.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m sure she wants to bang something, all right.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t give me that. Don’t act like you’re not eating this up. Your own personal beauty-parlor pet, gallivanting about with her tits practically falling out of her dress…”

“They don’t fall out. I’ve checked.”

Jacqueline’s face went red.

“…a joke,” I smiled, trying to laugh. “Come on. You jokes, right?”

“I am not in a joking mood right now. I won’t have it, Jonathan. She’s…she’s flaunting about in those skimpy little outfits, whoring up the place, no, no.” She shook her head violently. “I won’t have it. You’re not telling her to dress like that, are you?”

“Of course not, dear. She told me—”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’re not exactly protesting her wardrobe, are you? And to think that she’s living here, Jonathan! What if she brings some…some gangbang home or something? She’s certainly asking for it, the way she dresses.”

“Come now,” I said, reproaching. “You know that sort of attitude doesn’t fly with you, it shouldn’t fly with me. She’s not encouraging anything. That’s how she wants to express herself. If it makes her happy, why should I stop her?”

“Because it makes me unhappy.” Jacqueline crossed her arms and looked away. “You have to fire her.”

“Fire her? She’s a wonder. She takes care of this place as if it were her own. Better, in fact. And—”

Jacqueline, literally, put her foot down. “I want her fired, Jonathan.”

“And,” I insisted, “she’s done wonders for you. You’re in my office,” I had started to laugh a bit, “arguing with me and pacing about, trying to get me to fire the very woman whose presence precipitated your recovery! You can’t be serious, Jacqueline.”

“I am serious, and…”

She abruptly sat down on the chair behind her. The strength leaving her was visible. I recognized that sort of collapse. It used to happen often before she was bedridden.

“I’m sorry,” I said. My shame returned. “I’ve overexcited you. I’ll fire her. Okay? No more discussion. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

She nodded, smiling slightly. I had to carry her back to bed.

The following morning, as I promised, I prepared to fire Mariana. I assumed there was no point in delaying it—what had to happen, had to happen, and I had to be the man to do it.

Even though I didn’t particularly want to fire Mariana, I still felt no shame in doing so, nor any missteps in confidence. Indeed, I felt more confident than I had in a long time. My wife wanted something, and I would give it to her. What better place is there for a married man than to know that he is doing exactly what would make his wife happy? It was a powerful feeling, pleasing a woman. I felt myself immensely capable to the task.

I knocked on Mariana’s door briefly and then opened it, not bothering to wait. It was my house, after all, and she would soon be moving out.

What I saw inside surprised me for several moments. Mariana knelt down in one corner, her computer screen in front of her. She had a thick pair of headphones on; she must not have heard me come in. She was dressed in sexy blue lingerie, a lace corset and bright blue stockings and red heels. Her back was turned to me entirely, apparently not noticing in the least that I was there. And her hand...

Her hand was buried in her mound, rubbing intently.

Every few moments, a moan escaped her mouth. “Master...” she said. “Masterrr...”

The carpet in the room was deep, thick, and plush. I could see on the floor the outlines around her knees and shins; she had been on the floor in that position for a long, long time.

On her computer screen was a picture of me, from the side, jerking off in the bathroom. She clearly had taken it by sneaking open the door when I wasn’t looking. Or, maybe I had just left the door open. I tended to lose a bearing for my surroundings when I jerked off, closing my eyes and focusing solely on the nymphet creature of lust that lived with me and apparently was masturbating to me.

This beauty, this queen, this goddess was on her knees as if she were at some shrine and offering up her orgasms to my image.

My cock grew harder than it ever had before. It felt like a steel rod pushing out from my crotch. It had, like much of me, appeared to be changing over the past little while. I understood the extra growth and girth as natural effects of my new diet and workout regime from all the re-organization. Long story short, my shorts were enormously uncomfortable.

I stepped backward and closed the door. Mariana had never turned her head—the thick mane of her black hair not shifting for an instant from my entrance. Had the screen been flickering? Was there some sort of program running in the background as she paid tribute? Maybe something…reinforcing what she was doing…

No. Such was the stuff of science fiction. It wasn’t possible.

Not possible like, say, a nearly middle-aged man gaining a slimmer, more muscular body and bigger cock from just eating a lot of delicious handmade meals, or a terminally ill wife making a miraculous recovery, or a drop dead gorgeous maid so desperate for cock that she would eagerly lick cum up from off the floor?

What sort of maid had Stanford given to me?

I had little time to consider it. The door opened, and Mariana was there—fully dressed.

Her blue lingerie apparently remained—she put a frilly white apron over the lacy blue corset, her incredible breasts swelling through the tight confines of the cloth. And a tiny, tight black skirt wrapped around her preciously beautiful ass. Tall heels, as always, completed the look for her. She used to tower over me; these days, she barely came up to my chin. It was an empowering feeling, having her permanently look up to me.

“Hello!” she said. “Sir! I was just thinking of you. It’s so wonderful to see you so early. Would you like to watch me make you your breakfast?”

“No, Mariana. I—”

“No, of course not.” She nodded sharply, as if reprimanding herself. “You have so many more important things to do. I’m so sorry for the presupposition. How might I repay you for my mistake?”

Her hand drifted up to my arm, sliding into it softly. God, but I wanted her!

“Mariana,” I said, somewhat more sternly. “You must come with me to the study. Now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Clearly, from her tone, she had something on her mind that I did not.

She followed me across the hall into the study. I sat down behind my desk. She remained standing, hands clutched at her waist, smiling that dazzling, knowing smile of hers.

“Mariana,” I said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“Oh no, Sir. Are you dissatisfied with my service?”

“No, Mariana. Not at all. You’ve been wonderful.”

“Oh, that’s so good. I love being yours.” She licked her lips. “Your faithful servant, I mean.”

“Yes, well,” I coughed, adjusting myself. My cock was still straining hard against my tight shorts. “I do have to cancel your employment, however.”

“It’s so good being your servant,” she said, strutting slowly forward with a slow model’s walk. I watched her shiny, blue-stockinged legs get closer and closer. “And I would do anything at all for you.”

I was puzzled. Hadn’t she heard me?

“I am aware that you would. But the issue remains. You must leave. You are no longer needed here.”

“Oh, I know, Sir. A big, strong man like you would never need me.”

She was very close now indeed. Leaning over on the table, her beautiful face resting on one fist, looking up at me. I could see the uncovered curve of her ass high in the air behind her.

“M-Mariana,” I said, my voice losing its stern grip. “Your employment is over here. You must go.”

“You’re such a big, strong man,” she cooed, pushing forward on my desk. “You could do anything at all to me. You hold me, lock me up. You could push me around. You could even fire me…”

“I do fire you. You are fired. I am firing you.”

I was steadily backing up in my chair, a bit uncertain as to why she so repeatedly refused to hear me. She was normally so obedient!

She knelt down before me, looking up at me with needy green eyes. My chair hit the wall—nowhere else to back up. Her hands slid over my thick, prominent bulge, and I shuddered deeply.

“Anything at all,” she said again. “You could take me by my hair and just…just force my hot, wet mouth on that big cock of yours. Couldn’t you?”

“I…I mean yes, I could, but that doesn’t mean—”

She let out a delighted giggle. “Oh, do you mean it? You’ll take your cock out and force me on it?”

Her hands came up clapping cheerfully. Soon her fingers were slipping around my zipper.

“Now, see here...” My voice faded out as my cock sprang loose. It was clearly hard. Needing her.

It was the look in her eyes that made my voice falter. The reverence there. The worship. She looked at my cock like it was the first Christmas gift anyone had given her in her entire life, after being inundated with myths and stories of Christmas for millenia. Her lovely, wet mouth parted open, sexy pink tongue sliding over the edges of her plush lips.

“Oh, Mister Oakland, won’t you please fuck my mouth with your cock?”

“M-Mariana…I…you don’t understand. I’m married…”

“I understand very well, Sir. You need me to stroke you off a little bit before you’re completely ready, don’t you?”

Her hand had started to stroke my shaft. Her thumb ran over the head, smearing it with the precum that had already started to spurt forward. Some got on her outfit. Every drip landing on her knees encouraged a soft, happy moan.

She was very good at stroking cock.

“Mariana, I need you to…”

I knew that if I told her to stop, she would stop. I knew if I told her to leave, she would leave. But she was so beautiful. And her mouth was right there.

“It’s Jacqueline, do you understand? I can’t…I can’t do this to her…”

“If she loves you truly, as I do, she would want this for you.” The reverence in her eyes sparked again, green eyes blazing up at me. Her accented words made everything she said sound so right. “Your cock deserves to be sucked. You deserve me sucking it. You deserve to fuck my face.”

Her lips were so tantalizingly close to the head of my now-fully-hard cock. I took up a fistful of her thick, incredibly soft black hair. It was like holding midnight. I didn’t know if I wanted to push her away or pull her in.

A deep satisfied purr emanating from her throat sealed the deal for me. She was so sexy. She wanted it so, so bad.

I pushed into her mouth with a guttural roar. She squealed happily, her tongue sliding up against my shaft every step of the way.

She wanted it. Oh god, how she wanted it! I plowed into her mouth, abandoning all restraint, my thick shaft pumping fast between the perfect, warm space of her lips. Her throat closed on my thick head as she swallowed and gulped, creating ever more suction for my meat.

“Oh fuck, Mariana,” I groaned. “I can’t stop myself. I’m gonna cum. I’m going to cum right down your throat!”

She whimpered with need, urging me on. I fucked her mouth as hard as I could, feeling the pressure rise in my balls. And then, hot sweet release spread out from my balls and flushed through my entire system. I came, shooting hot thick strands of potent cum down her tummy.

Slowly, I let her slide off. She licked me all the way, cleaning obediently. A good maid. She continued to lick my cock, holding it gracefully with one hand, as she looked up at me inquisitively.

“Now, you don’t really want to fire me, do you, Sir?”

“No, Mariana. I don’t.”

“Then I can stay?”

“You must stay,” I said, gripping her hair tightly. “I command it.”

She moaned happily, sliding back onto my cock, which was already half-hard.

I had to command it. I was beginning to think I was in love with this woman, after all.

Two days later, I still had not fired Mariana, and Jacqueline had noticed.

I noticed that she had noticed because she stormed into my study, complaining about how she had noticed Mariana still working in my house.

I had to focus quite a bit to notice my wife at all at the time, you see. She was dressed in thick sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that didn’t even fit her properly when she was fifty pounds heavier. She was breathing hard just from the effort of arriving in my study. She was weak, and angry, and pitiful, and mean-spirited, and no fun at all.

Beneath me, fit as a fiddle, Mariana obediently sucked my cock. She had been doing so for an entire ten minutes before Jacqueline had entered. I knew it was that long, because I was timing myself; I wanted to see how long I could keep Mariana’s expect istrations from making me cum.

Mariana was everything my wife was not. Happy. Eager. Obedient.

Well. Of course I wanted her. Of course I looked at my wife coldly, when she was more of a burden than a partner.

“I d-don’t like this Mariana, do you understand?” Jacqueline’s voice had the cautious air of desperation. “She’s doing something. Something to us. Something to me. And to you. You’re so big now, and so…so stern all the time, and—”

“And you’re up and about and looking well for one of the first times in more than six months,” I said. “If she’s doing something to you, then I ought to say it’s a good thing.”

“You know damn well what I mean! I never looked this…this healthy before, and—”

“You’re saying it’s a bad thing to look healthy? Oh yes, I’ll call her up right now and fire her.”

I could hear, beneath the desk, Mariana stifling a giggle. I leaned forward, shutting her up with my cock. This only elicited more deep vibrating purrs.

Jacqueline did look healthier, that much I had to it. Her hair had grown out to extraordinarily long lengths, vibrant and shiny. Her face still had an unnatural pallor to it, but her lips were rosier than ever, and her cheeks had gained a sort of natural flush that was quite attractive. I suspected—though it was hard to tell underneath her baggy clothes—that she had even grown a few inches in her legs, and that her tits had expanded somewhat.

Mariana, slurping and moaning, made too much noise beneath me as Jacqueline continued complaining. I did not want to be found out. I wasn’t scared of Jacqueline, but I didn’t want to deal with her inevitable crying and sobbing and insults. I just wanted to be sucked off in peace like I deserved.

My beautiful maid had been sucking me off regularly ever since that first time a few days prior. Now she stopped to slurp down on my thick rod after every meal. I no longer jerked off. Mariana insisted on taking all the cum I had to give, and I had quite a lot to give.

I tapped on Mariana’s head to indicate that I wanted her to quiet down. The tapping to her head only seemed to encourage her, though, and she redoubled her efforts.

Very well. I would have this important meeting with my wife while getting sucked off by the woman of my dreams.

“Jonathan, I just…I don’t feel like you like me very much, lately. I feel like…I feel like Mariana is more important to you than I am. Why haven’t you fired her like I asked? I am your wife.”

“You feel I don’t like you very much?” I asked, laughing slightly as Mariana did something very interesting with her tongue.

“Do you?”

I wouldn’t have been so bold as to answer, but Mariana’s magic tongue had relaxed my own quite a bit.

“I suppose not. I look after you all the time. What is there to like, lately? I love you, but what are you giving me to enjoy?”

That stunned her a bit.

“That…that may be true, but, that doesn’t mean you should ignore me.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said slowly, trying to measure my breath. Mariana was slowing down her pace to an excruciating crawl. “You’re mad because you think I’d rather fuck Mariana than you?”

“I…I wouldn’t be so crude, but yes, that’s—”

“Well, it’s true. I would. Of course I would. She’s young, beautiful, energetic, and happy. You’re sick and mean and no fun at all.”

Several layers of sadness crossed over Jacqueline’s face. “You’re being…you’re being cold, Jonathan. I don’t understand it. I don’t like it.”

“Maybe I’m just examining this situation in of a give and take. I’ve been taking care of you for nearly a year. And now you’re finally healthy again, and immediately you’re making demands? Your entire existence has been a demand for months.”

I could tell this shocked her. She had never seen me be so brutally honest. Mariana’s mouth encouraged me, sucking me harder. I could hear the gentle shlick-shlick-schlick sound as she fingered her pussy. Me being this domineering with my wife was getting her off. Me brow-beating my wife made her hot, and that got me even more turned on. I leaned forward, squatting up off my chair as I spoke to Jacqueline even more sternly, and fucked Mariana’s mouth from the top down.

“Maybe,” I said, fucking my maid’s mouth as hard as I knew how without giving myself away, “I’m just waking up to what I deserve. How long has it been since you’ve been a wife to me, really? A loving, doting example of a human being? And you’re mad because a little eye-candy is trotting around in sexy outfits and cleaning up after us. Well, she’s not going to be fired. And you better watch yourself before you are.”

The effect this had was like one of those inverted lines on a graph. Jacqueline’s reaction became more horrified, and Mariana’s became more intensified. She was getting me off to my wife’s despair…and god help me it was so dirty and evil that I couldn’t help but cum right in Mariana’s mouth.

My load squirted down through her mouth and splashed against her throat, no doubt filling up her belly. She told me she had stopped eating anything, to keep her stomach clear of all other nourishment but my cum. She swallowed me down happily, silently. Mariana knew her place. I disguised my orgasm by looking away—to Jacqueline, it would have been a look of reprimand.

“W-what does that mean?” Jacqueline asked finally.

“It means…” I scaled back a little, feeling somewhat guilty now that my orgasm had ed. “It means that a wife isn’t just a title. It’s a responsibility. Quite a lot of them, in fact.”

Her jaw worked around to the side, and she huffed and left the room, slamming the door. I exited Mariana’s mouth, and tugged her up off her knees by her hair.

Breathing hard and audibly swallowing down my load, she looked up at me with those gorgeous, innocent eyes.

“She’s going to be a problem, Mr. Oakland.” She licked her lips slowly, wiping up all the excess cum with her pink tongue.

“Yes,” I said distantly.

My mind was still processing the mind-blowing orgasm that Mariana had just given me. I noticed, after some time had ed, that she was still stroking my cock gently.

“She’s going to try to get between us more and more. I can’t allow that to happen,” she said. “I love you too much, Sir.”

I barely could focus on what she was saying, even with as touching and disturbing as it was. My eyes were fixed on her hand around my stiff, rock-hard penis.

“My god,” I said, voice soft. “My cock…it’s still hard.”

“I know,” said Mariana. “Isn’t that great? And since you’ve already cum, you’ll be able to fuck me for even longer.”

“F-fuck you?”

She pushed me back in my chair and slipped onto my lap. Her tits bounced happily in their sexy black-and-white lace. She had on nothing but lingerie. Her heels had more than six inches to them.

“Of course, Sir. Don’t you want to fuck me? Didn’t you just say how you’d rather be fucking me than your wife?”

“That’s…I mean, context is an important—oh fuck you are so tight!”

She slid down on my cock, smiling rapturously. Her orgasm was evident, immense pleasure sliding over her face and shivering through her body. I could feel her pussy pulsing and gripping hard on my cock as her orgasm continued over several seconds.

“S-so good!” she cried. “My Sir! My Sir! So good! Oh god, Sir!”

After what appeared to be several more orgasms, with me looking on in complete abandon and arousal at the lust-puppet she had turned into, she shook her hair sexily and leveled her green gaze on me.

“Now,” she said, milking my rock-hard cock slow. “Shall we discuss how best to take care of your wife?”

“T-take care of her? What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” she giggled. “She’s a total dish. You should keep her around. But I have certain equipment with me that can expediate her…adjustment process.”

“Adjustment?”

“Yes, Sir. Like I was adjusted.”

“Like…like you were…”

“Yes, Sir,” she said again, smiling broadly. “You didn’t think I was born this way, did you? Heavens, no. I mean, I was rather beautiful, and busty, and leggy…but Castle Enterprises made all of that substantially better. And coded me to be your ever-loving, everlasting fertile servant. Just as I can do for your wife. I’m so happy they altered me for your pleasure.”

“F-fertile? You mean you’re—”

I stopped as she tugged her bra down. I could see her bare tits at last. They were beautiful, huge, and...

Leaking?

They were lactating, I realized. Milk spurted slowly out from them, running down her body in warm droplets.

“Pregnant? Oh, I hope so. At least I hope I will be soon.” She whispered in my ear, her hair soft against the side of my face. “Because I know you’re going to give me the biggest load in the world. You’re so perfect and good. You couldn’t do less.”

I leaned forward, unable to help myself, and licked up her milk. It was delicious. Perfect. Just like her.

“You want to change my wife,” I sucked up more of her milk, “...my Jacqueline, into…into someone like you.”

“Yes.”

“Obedient. Beautiful. Loving…”

“And fertile.” She squeezed her lactating tits, the cream spilling downward onto her tight, perfect body. “So she can give you lots of babies. Yes, Sir. All I need is your say-so.”

“Fuck. Mariana…”

I wanted to get Jacqueline pregnant. That was no mystery to me. And that was another one of her failures as a wife, refusing me in that . And here was this beauty, milking my cock like a goddess, and begging to get my wife pregnant and to get pregnant herself.

“Please, Master? Please, Sir? Let me change her mind. Let me make her what she is supposed to be. Please? Let me change your wife. Tell me to break her mind, Master, please? Please, Sir?”

Her pleading picked up the more that she squeezed and milked my cock. I couldn’t hold back any more—I needed to release. And I needed, needed to see my wife become whatever Mariana wanted to make her into. Her milk ran down her body, and I could feel it sliding into our intersection, lubing up my cock and her pussy as we fucked even harder.

“Yes!” I cried, cumming madly into her fertile, welcoming, lactating body. “Do it! Do it all!”

“Yes Sir!” she cried, clearly orgasming from the opportunity to obey me. “Yes Master! Anything you say!”

I was so exhausted by the multiple-orgasm session that, afterward, I did not have time to change my mind before Mariana had already gotten started.

That night, Jacqueline was in bed, exhausted from yelling at me earlier. I watched from the hallway, hidden in the shadows, as Mariana entered the room. I was stark naked. I didn’t care. This was my house, and I was a man. I had nothing to be ashamed of. My body was shredded with muscle.

Mariana wore a new outfit. Now she had on a smoky dark pair of nylons that contrasted sharply with the bright white minidress she had on. She no longer bothered to wear her apron. Wrapped around her waist was an enormous silk bow, its ends sliding down the backs of her amazing thighs.

She had taken to changing outfits twice a day. She had asked if one was enough, and I said that she needn’t ask about such matters.

She took that to mean that even asking if one was enough was unnecessary because more than one outfit a day was so clearly what was necessary.

She was a treasure. I wanted to fill her up with all the cum I could manage.

Jacqueline eyed Mariana coldly, with great viciousness, as the younger beauty approached. Mariana held the tray of medicine and a glass of milk on one hand, perfectly balanced on the tips of her strong, elegant fingers. In the other hand was her trunk, dragged behind her effortlessly. I tried picking it up myself—it was lighter than air, now. I was so strong these days.

“Medicine, Madam,” Mariana intoned, setting the trunk down easily.

Jacqueline stared murder at her. “Get out of here, you…you whore. I know what you’ve done.”

“Of course you do, Madam. Take your medicine, if you please.”

She held the tray under Jacqueline’s seated form.

“You’ve been fucking him, haven’t you? He’s been pounding away at the pretty body of yours, I have no doubt. And why is that trunk here?”

“Madam, it’s time for your medicine. Please take it.”

Grudgingly, Jacqueline took the medicine and the glass of milk. She held them in her hands, frowning at both. Mariana set the trunk down next to the bed.

I eyed the milk lasciviously. I knew where it came from now. It was Mariana’s milk. Her tits had been lactating ever since she had met me—and she had been putting it all in our food. That was her secret ingredient. It was also, she had told me, why I had changed so much.

“I don’t like the way these make me feel. So…peppy and strange. 44DD.” She read off the pill. “What does that even mean? I don’t the doctor prescribing these.”

“It’s for the best, Madam. You’re much healthier now.”

“Like you care! Answer what I asked. You’ve been fucking my husband, haven’t you?”

Mariana smiled, twirling her thick hair in one hand.

“Yes Madam, I have been. Drink your milk and take your medicine, if you please.”

Jacqueline’s jaw went slack. Clearly she hadn’t expected Mariana to just outright it the infidelity. Neither had I. I almost rushed in right at that moment…but something stayed my hand. I think it was how calm Mariana seemed.

Besides, I was in complete control of the situation. I was the man of the house. I controlled everything and everyone I saw. That was my right.

“Wh-why?” sputtered Jacqueline.

“Because it’s important. Your health, Madam.”

“No! Not that. Sleeping with my husband. Why did you do that?”

“Because he’s a prime example of a man, madam. He is this house’s Master. He is, therefore, my Master. He’s a testosterone-fueled super stud. I can’t even exist in the same room as him without my pussy pulsing with the need to be filled by his cock. Because I’m a sexy, good little slave, and that’s what sexy good little slaves do in front of testosterone-fueled super stud Masters.”

As Mariana spoke, Jacqueline had started to obediently take her medicine. She drank the whole cup of milk. I felt my cock stiffen at the sight. It was like she was programmed to do it; maybe the same way I was programmed to need to cum right after I ate one of Mariana’s meals.

“B-but he’s my…MY husband…”

“Yes, Madam. But you had better start acting like it now that you’re better, oughtn’t you?”

“What would you know about it?”

I could see Jacqueline trying to be vicious, but all the viciousness had left her. A soft, gentle smile had started to form on her lovely face. Mariana’s milk and the magical medicine 44DD doing its work.

God, she was beautiful, my wife. Truly. I hadn’t seen it for so very long, what with the sickness and all. When you only take care of someone for such a long time, when your role is caretaker and not partner, you begin to lose that attraction. Maybe it’s biological. But she truly was beautiful when she was happy. I could see that now.

“I know,” said Mariana, sitting down on the bed with Jacqueline, “that a good wife is always happy to suck and serve her husband at any time. She begs to do it; she does not wait to be asked. She waits on him hand and foot, and s her willingness with the way she dresses. And I know that you didn’t do any of that even when you were well.”

“I had…I was busy…”

Her head started to fall into Mariana’s lap. She nuzzled up against the tight, young beauty’s body, Mariana’s tits pillowing over the top of her face. Jacqueline’s breaths had become soft and measured, matching in time with Mariana’s.

“A good wife is never too busy for her Husband. Her Husband is the first priority.”

Adjusting slightly, Mariana let her top down, freeing her tits. They were large, globular, and perfect. Her nipples were like thick, hot raspberries. Gently, she stroked Jacqueline’s hair. I started stroking my naked cock. This was too much.

“I’ve been wanting for you to suck on my tits for a long, long time, Madam.”

“I…oh. Oh my. Have you?”

“Oh yes. You see, I’ve been lactating for a long time. And you’ve had lots of my milk. But you haven’t had it straight from the source.”

Jacqueline’s voice was sleepy. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Mister Castle is always perfecting his pharmaceuticals. Before I met Master, your dear Husband, I was unable to lactate. I was not a true woman. But as soon as I saw him, Mr. Oakland, I knew my purpose, and my body reacted perfectly. I created just the right kind of milk to make Master happy. And what’s more, anyone that drinks my milk will become much more like they ought to be.”

She slid my wife’s face onto one perfect, milk-heavy tit. My wife, drawn in inexorably, began to suckle obediently. I continued to stroke my cock, watching in amazement.

“You see? Doesn’t that taste good?”

Jacqueline sounded high as she sucked more and more. “Mmmhmmm…”

“Good girl. Isn’t it nicer just to let your mind empty out a little bit? Just to be a little happier. Let go of all those silly resentments. All those petty feelings of hatred and nastiness. You’re so very smart; anybody can see that. I want you to use all that intelligence for being a hot, sexy, pretty, good girl for Mister Oakland. He’s your Husband, after all, and the Master of the House besides. We good girls must obey the Master of the House, mustn’t we?”

Another satisfied, drugged-up acquiescent moan from Jacqueline.

Mariana got up then and pulled her trunk to Jacqueline. She cleared away some clothes, setting them in neat little piles, and then pressed carefully around the inside of the trunk. A low hum began, and a blue light emanated from its interior. Soon, a series of screens and robotic arms hissed upward, forming a small half-shell. Mariana pulled out an extendable table, complete with cushion, and laid Jacqueline down on it. The top half of her torso fit entirely within the shell, flooding her barely-conscious form with blue light from the screens. The robot arms shifted her into position.

Mariana had explained all this to me the night before:

“With good girls like me, there is not so much hardware needed. I was by and large willing and happy to be a servant. Most of the work was done to code me to you, which, again, I am so deliriously happy about. You’re so strong and perfect.”

“It’s your coding that makes you say that,” I had said.

“Do you care?”

I found, after some short introspection, that I absolutely didn’t. It was, in fact, pretty hot. Her loyalty to me would never be in question. That’s what I deserved. A completely loyal, completely hot fuckpet maid. I was a real man, after all.

“With your wife, though,” Mariana continued, “so much of the energy and effects of the standard 44DD treatment went to combating—and utterly defeating—her illness, that her mind hasn’t received as much attention as it might to make her more…agreeable.”

“The drug affects her mind?” I had asked. “And yours?”

“It makes women into what they are supposed to be. Servile. Fertile. Eager. And happy. Wouldn’t you agree that’s for the best?”

Again, I couldn’t find any issue with that logic. That was what women were supposed to be. Jacqueline had been something of a disappointment in all those departments.

Now, with Jacqueline in the contraption from the trunk, my homewrecking fuckpet maid saw me watching and stroking my cock. She bite her lower lip and giggled happily, clapping her hands together. The plan was all coming together. With Jacqueline in place, Mariana stepped out in the hallway with me.

“I made a meal for you,” she said, kissing me hungrily. “It’s in the kitchen. This next stage can be quite long. And uncomfortable, for viewers. I wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts on how we must improve your wife.”

Not seeing anything better to do, and not sure how much I wanted to watch Mariana “improve” Jacqueline, I went downstairs after a few sizzling-hot kisses from my maid slave.

The meal waiting for me in the kitchen was large and incredible, just like what I deserved. It was the size of a Thanksgiving feast for a nine-person family. Turkey, dressing, pie, and of course, several tall glasses of milk. I picked up a whole turkey and tore into it with my teeth, and felt my cock bulge and harden.

I took another bite of turkey, and my cock bulged again. Another bite, and still a stronger pulse. I downed an entire leg in short order and felt my cock spurting out cum.

It was like the food was fueling my testosterone levels. Maybe...maybe Mariana had put a glaze from her milk on all the food. That would be hot.

Mariana had arranged all of this. That was clear now.

The perfect submissive, trying to craft herself the perfect environment. She was crafting me the perfect wife—and so perhaps also the perfect Mistress for herself. The perfect Wife for me certainly would be Mariana’s perfect Mistress, just as I was her perfect Master.

I didn’t care. The meal was all so damn delicious. I wanted more and more and more. I kept tossing the delicious fuel into my gullet, not subsiding in the least after wave after wave of orgasm moved through me. The floor around me soon became sticky and thick with my cum.

I eating half of it before my darkness set in, and I ed out.

I woke to a pair of female hands sliding over my hairy, muscular legs.

“Master?”

“Husband?”

I groaned, trying to wake. It was hard. Everything felt heavy.

“Oh, Madam…he ate all the food.” This was Mariana. I saw her first, looking over me with concerned eyes. “The poor dear. He must have such a tummy ache.”

“Yes. My poor Husband.” Jacqueline’s face slid into view. “We mustn’t leave him alone like this. It’s our duty to make sure he eats in proper amounts.”

“Yes, Madam. Of course. I will make adjustments to our planner when we cook for him again. It will be such a joy to give him the food he deserves.”

I woke completely to them talking like this, already in perfect rhythm, as if they were sisters and had been looking after me for years. They lifted me up and place me sitting up on the kitchen floor, both of them kneeling before me. Waiting. Needing.

“Jacqueline?” I asked.

I could barely believe my eyes. My mousey, cute wife was nothing more than a distant hint in the sexy visage that now knelt over me. She was tall, her deep chestnut hair voluminous and long, shiny, her eyes a bright, happy blue. Sapphire blue. Deep ocean blue. Her form was comparable to Mariana’s now—busty, tiny-waisted, long-legged, with flaring child-rearing hips and sensational muscle tone. She was pale where Mariana was tan, and her features distinctly American where Mariana’s were Latin, but still I felt in ways they could have ed for sisters. Perhaps it was the look of absolute reverence in their eyes as they both ired my prone form, or perhaps it was the manner in which they were both dressed—both of them in sexy white bridal lingerie.

Elbow-length gloves. Tight lacy corsets, pushing their tits up. Diamonds around their necks and on their ears. White fishnet stockings leading into tall white heels.

“Your outfits…” I muttered slowly.

Jacqueline giggled. “I thought it appropriate, Sir. I’ve never truly been your Wife before now. Won’t it be so much better knowing I’ll be your obedient fuckpet wifeyslut from now on? And you are just as married to Mariana as you are to me…she is our partner in all things.”

Mariana clutched her hands to her overflowing chest, tears of happiness appearing in her big green eyes. Her gloves had little bows on the wrists. “Oh, thank you, Madam.”

Jacqueline leaned in and kissed Mariana slowly, ionately, and then slowly let her retreat. Mariana’s eyes were full of hot, easy lust. I recognized the look—it was the same eager, needy look that she constantly gave to me.

I realized suddenly she was as much Jacqueline’s servant as she was mine. She had been this way all along. It was just that, with Jacqueline in such a weak position, Mariana hadn’t been able to do her duty properly.

Watching the two goddesses make out was easily the hottest thing I had seen. I loved them both so much; I wanted them both so much. Their loving gaze turned to me, then, and widened with arousal and amazement.

“Do you see that, Madam? He’s hard. I told you he would be. He’s so strong.”

“Yes,” Jacqueline had started to drool, looking at my erect cock. “You had cum so much earlier, I didn’t know if you would be able...”

I looked to one side from the overflowing of jizz had spurted from my cock beneath the kitchen table and the half-eaten feast. It was thick and solid now, like another layer on the floor. I was halfway surprised Mariana wasn’t already slurping it up, and then I noticed the heavy sheen on their tits. Apparently, before they woke me up, they had spread some of my spent cum all over their cleavage and necks.

Fuck. That was hot.

I slid upward onto the nearby chair.

“You girls have been...very good,” I said, drinking in the sight of them.

“Yes,” said Mariana. “Won’t you reward us? Won’t you fuck your wife?”

“Yes, my darling Husband, please? Won’t you?” Jacqueline purred. She slipped forward into my knees, her gloved hands moving over my naked thighs and searching out my stiff cock. “I need a baby from you. I need to be pregnant with your babies so bad!”

“But…you’re well, now. Your career…”

“My career can wait. My silly little goals and projects were just that. Silly. Nothing in comparison to being what you need. Give me a baby? Give me lots of them. Twins? Triplets? Quintuplets? I know you can do it. You’re so strong. Put them inside me? Make me so pregnant, please, Husband? Let me finally be the Wife that you’ve earned.”

I couldn’t resist. I grabbed her by the thick mass of her hair and kissed her hard, with as much ion as I had kissed anyone in my life. All my fatigue slipped away the second my lips touched hers. Soon I had her on her back in the puddle of my cum, and I spread her legs open and plunged inside of her with virulent force.

Her cunt, not fucked in so very long, was as tight as it had ever been. Tight as a virgin’s. Or maybe that was because my cock had become so huge; maybe a tighter, hotter, wetter pussy was one of the side-effects of all the changes Mariana had brought about. My cock, bigger than it had ever been, shoved hard inside of her, and further than it ever had gone before. And still, she felt as if she had been crafted from the cosmos to hold my cock.

Ripping away at her lingerie, I saw almost right away that Jacqueline’s tits were lactating. Her milk spilling all over her body. Her tits were so huge now. I wanted to fuck them, and the only reason I didn’t is because her cunt felt so heavenly.

Mariana ripped her own corset down and revealed her lactating tits to me. The sweet white contrasted so sharply with her tanned skin. Smiling as I pounded into Jacqueline, she slid one tit in my mouth. Hot, warm, delicious milk quickly slid around my tongue. Both tits were lactating thoroughly—the one I wasn’t sucking on was leaking down onto my cock, lubricating it as I fucked my wife’s tight pussy.

“Oh my god, Husband!” Jacqueline cried. “Oh my god, please! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

“Yes, Master!” Mariana moaned. “You must keep going. You must! Fill her up! Take her how you deserve! Take her, take her!”

“Fuck yeah,” I grunted in between long sucks of Mariana’s milk. “I’m gonna give you a baby, Wife. How do you like that? I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant.”

“Yes please, Sir!” she moaned. “Fucking do it! Cum in me! Cum in my belly! Cum in my babymaking body, oh please! Oh please!”

Mariana’s “adjustments” had been thorough indeed. The old Jacqueline would have never gone for this. Neither would the old me. I didn’t care. The pressure was building and building. Mariana was shoving my hips as I slammed into my wife, cheering me on. We were all three of us covered in milk and cum.

I couldn’t take any more; it was too hot. The pressure had reached its boiling point, and I released into my wife’s hot cunt. Her eyes dilated with the sudden injection of sperm into her body, and from her throat came a roaring mixture of song and moans. She was overwhelmed with bliss. Mariana, watching as we both came together, came herself. There was nothing more pleasurable to her than seeing her Master and Mistress cum together.

Breathing heavily, eventually I slipped out from Jacqueline’s body. I was still hard. I knew I deserved to fuck again.

“Mariana,” I said, grabbing my maid by the hair. “Lick my cum up from your Mistress’s cunt. I’m going to make sure you’re pregnant, slave.”

Whimpering, she obeyed. Soon, she was on all fours, ready for me to enter her.

We went all day before we finally collapsed from exhaustion.

These days, life is a hell of a lot more like it should have been all along.

I’m a man, you see. A real man. This is the sort of treatment a real man deserves. I built this family from the ground up, and I ought to be honored for it.

Jacqueline is completely pregnant, these days. So is Mariana. I deserve lots of children. They’ll grow up right and I’ll give them jobs in my store. Before very long, I won’t need any of those old employees at all; I’ll have people I know I can depend on entirely.

Tomorrow, Jacqueline’s sister, Eliza, is coming by. Ostensibly, she’s coming over to celebrate Jacqueline’s pregnancy, but I know for a fact—because Jacqueline has obediently reported it to me—that she is rather worried about Jacqueline’s sudden complete shift in priorities. She worries about after-effects from the drugs that saved her life, or some kind of mental breakdown. Of course, I’ll set Eliza straight. That’s what men do with women—we let them know what to fill their pretty little heads with, and then we fill up their pretty little cunts as we please. And if Eliza isn’t pretty enough for me, I’ll make sure Jacqueline and Mariana use their milk to make sure she is.

Jacqueline’s been cooing in my ears all week while Mariana has sucked me off, begging me to think about fucking the face of Eliza. She’s desperate to have her sister as pregnant as she is. She thinks it would be “so cool” to have her pregnant sister in the same house as her.

I think I agree. That’s what I deserve as Master of the House.