28 comments/ 49709 views/ 9 favorites Still Under His Eyes By: Hypoxia Disclaimer: This sardonic new BTB-fantasy version of (RIGHT) UNDER HIS EYES (with better punctuation) is a work of fiction. All sexual players are at least 18 years old no matter their height. Nobody dies. Do not take this seriously. It is not a hot stroker. There is little detailed sex here, nor much reality. You *will* find sick humiliation and a little (heh heh) revenge. The slut narrator is certainly not sympathetic. I sure hope you do not find this tale erotic. ***** How long can he take the cheating? Yes, I am a cheating fucking slut, and a liar, and a lousy mother. But at least I am no whore, and no thief. I am not a whore because I fuck and suck and slurp for fun and not for money. You do not need to pay me for fun; I get paid for talking dirty. And I am not a thief. I do not take stuff without paying, no matter the value. I just pay the price. Yes, I have been cheating on my poor (well, not so poor, really) dumb-ass husband since about before forever, and I am not about to stop. And he does not stop me. I know he does not like it, but he cannot stop me. Never could, never will. That is my mantra. And I still do it right under his eyes. It started in high school in beautiful San Diego in the late 1960s. I am Sue Ann. My "big little sister" is Brenda. I am a year older older and she is slightly taller. We are both medium-height medium-build mushy blondes, each just one inch either side of five-and-a-half feet. We are very close - we always have been. Very, very close. Our steady high school boyfriends were Brad and Randy. They are both thin dark-haired guys with hazel eyes, each of them six-feet-four. Brad the Senior went out with Brenda the Junior, and Randy the Junior went out with me the Senior. None of us couples shared classes but we all ate lunch together. And we all went out together and shared. Brenda and I had always slept together anyway, and had started exploring our bodies, and touching and tasting and loving each other, back when we started showing boobs and pubes. Brad and Randy just added to the mix. They could almost be twins, even their long cocks and their cum flavors. Yeah, we went out double-dating in public all the time. But we really liked when somebody's parents were away from home for the evening. Then we would all climb into an available bed there and fuck each other blind. I sucked Brad while my sister slurped Randy. Brenda and I 69'd while Brad and Randy jacked-off each other in a manly way. I fucked Randy while Brad fucked Brenda; and we swapped. Brenda and I double-blew Randy and then Brad. Brad and Randy double-fucked me and then spit-roasted Brenda. I blew Randy who ate Brenda who blew Brad who ate me. It all got kind of sloppy and juicy and yummy there. We had good fun. We were a happy foursome except for the usual minor teenage angst. Puberty sucks, you know? Always has, always will. That is my other mantra. Brad and I graduated in 1970 and went to the local community college which was really a continuation of high school for non-dropouts. Everything changed the next year after Brenda and Randy graduated high school. The were a lot more academic than Brad and I. Brenda went to a little college in Portland, Oregon, and Randy moved to Boston for university. Brad and I circulated and dated just about anybody who would have us. We were rarely lonely. I followed William Burrough's advice. "If you want to get laid, go to college. If you want an education, go to a library." I went to college, tee hee. Brad and I finished junior college a year later. We had AA degrees now. Big fucking deal. Brad lost his student deferment by graduating; he fled to swinging England to avoid the VietNam draft. And I... I missed Randy. I missed him so much that I moved to Boston too and convinced him to marry me. (But I am getting ahead of myself here.) Not that I had been exclusive with Randy. Back home, I had still been fucking Brad, and Larry, and Carl, and Linda, and Ted, and Tammi, and Juan, and I think Steve and Felipe and Debbie, too, but I do not really remember them all real well. I was never going to be exclusive to anybody. How can a Liberated Woman wear chains? -- I still lived at home with my family when I went to community college. I was just another flaky liberal-arts major getting a well-rounded fine education or whatever. Nothing about job skills, or course not. I did not need a lot of money. I am pretty lazy anyway so I did not need to look for a serious job. I did not want to work too much, just enough for pot and gas and clothes. I got lucky. I found the perfect job for me: phone sex. I worked a nationwide Dial-A-Slut sex-talk hotline. It started when big Ted took me to a big adult bookstore in a mini-mall not too far from campus. Ted was scanning the racks for the latest WATUSI DYKES monthly. I was just browsing quietly, soaking up the ambiance, thinking about maybe getting some HUMONGOUS COCKS pictorials. Remember, this was back before home video. "Yo, babe, you over 18? Let's see some ID," the chunky balding sleazy leisure-suited proprietor demanded. "Sure, I'm an adult. What's it to you, fella?" I smirked, flashing my driver's license as I stuck out my rather nice tits. I flexed the tight calf and thigh muscles emerging from my short-shorts. "I was born in 1951 and I'm fucking 20 years old now! I'm a woman - W-O-M-A-N - and don't you forget it, buddy!" "Hey there, sweetie, you got a pretty good voice. Say something nasty to me, hmmm?" he leered. "How about this?" I emoted sultry. "You're a diseased wee loathsome tree toad with a puny pathetic one-inch pecker that itches and drips. You could get lucky tonight - with a jar full of chopped raw liver, or maybe a blow-up doll. Have you ever had sex with the same live person more than once? I'll bet you raise scared sheep in your back yard." "Oh beautiful, babe! Your voice is perfect! How would you like a job, afternoons and evenings?" "A job? Doing what? And where? And how much?" I was almost getting interested. "Right in the back room; I got a phone bank back there. All you gotta do is talk dirty to the lonely jerks who call in. You get a comfortable seat and phone headset, some scripts to work off of and improvise on, all the drinks and snacks you want. Pay is straight commission. The suckers pay three bucks a minute for every minute they're on the line. You'll get a quarter of that. You could make up to forty-five bucks an hour. That's almost as good as a cheap shyster or shrink, yeah?" Now I was definitely getting interested. I could make a load of money just by talking dirty? Fuck yeah! The 1970s would sure be a good time for me. I started that evening. I soon slipped into an easy routine: Classes all day. Minimal homework before supper. Phone sex all evening, four or five hours, depending on the call volume. A quick comfortable fuckfest with some of my friends. More of the same the next day. And party all weekends. I could afford partying now. My workspace was much nicer than I expected. It was like a clean and airy lounge room. Good lights. Air conditioning. A few stuffed chairs and couches, each position with a table, phone and headset, and script folders. I worked with a constantly shifting crew of women with sexy voices. Sometimes we got friendly and sometimes we had friends in. I could talk REAL dirty when June or Theodora was kneeling between my spread legs licking me to hot moaning orgasmic ecstasy. Or when I slurped Norm's or Juan's big bad tasty cocks or Lisa's bodacious boobs. Slurping sounds especially hot on a telephone. -- Our San Diego phone bank had a nationwide call-in line that I could tap for free. I stayed in touch with Randy at school in Boston. I talked to him for a few minutes at a time, a couple days each week. I told him a little bit of what I was up to, and he talked about his studies. He studied hard. He had to, to keep his scholarship. So I finished junior college and received my worthless AA degree. I decided to escape from the old home scene. I packed my gear in my new red Volvo (I had finally dumped the old primer-gray VW Beetle) and headed roughly northeastward. San Diego to Boston, yeah, that is a nice transition, in summer anyway. I was in no hurry. I took a slow month to make a wandering transcontinental drive. Up to Portland to see and taste my big little sister. Over to Boise where I drank too much Spud Beer. Down to Salt Lake City to audition as a Mormon sister-wife. (Not as much fun as I expected.) Across the scenic canyonlands to Albuquerque and up to Taos for clusterfucks in the communes. On to Denver and then east across endless plains, flat as shit on a griddle all the way to Chicago. Through the nasty Rust Belt cities along lakes Erie and Ontario and through a few not-so-rusty guys. Then across hills, valleys, fields and suburbs, and into Boston. I found Randy in his scuzzy dorm. I moved right in with him. I took him out to dinner. He took me up my ass. I knew that we would enjoy living together. I had money saved but it would not last forever. Ernesto, who ran the adult books and phone sex shop back in San Diego, knew everybody in the business, and he had contacts in Boston. Silvio hired me right away; I only had to blow him twice. I was back on the Dial-A-Slut circuit! And yeah, the money was good, damn good. I sprung my plan on Randy not long after I moved into his dorm room. I had just given him a good fuck; I rode him to a long hot orgasm while I had three or four screamers. I collapsed on top of him. His long, curved cock was still semi-inflated and inserted deep inside me. I whispered sweetly in his ear. "Hey Randy, how would you like to get out of this lousy dorm? I can get us an apartment just off campus. You'll get a quieter study space, a bigger bed, and me. C'mon, I can afford this!" "Sure thing, babe, why not? Yeah, I'd be glad to have a better space and less noise. You'll pick someplace good, yeah?" "You bet! It'll be perfect for us. Oooh, you're getting hard again! Ready for another round, lover?" No, convincing Randy to leave the dorm was not too difficult. -- I was no great chef so we ate a lot of Chinese, Italian, and Indian take-out. I could easily handle the cost. It was much easier than learning to cook. But I bought us a new-technology microwave oven anyway, and not just for popcorn. Well, maybe mostly for popcorn. And for drying out cheap pot, and melting the pot with chocolate or cheese for high-times snacks, stuff like that. Randy had tough classes just about all day, every day, it seemed. I worked in Silvio's phone bank most afternoons, complete with the usual oral fluffings to set my mood and tone. I had my mornings and evenings free. Randy was usually busy studying most evenings and he just did not have time for clubs and dancing most nights. So I had friends over most mornings and I went out on dates after dinner. Randy was in an advanced biochemistry program. He was brilliant, and maniacally hard-working, and totally fucking dedicated to his studies. He let no distractions interfere with his concentration. He did not notice me and my fuck-buddies using our rooms during the day, or that I was out till late many nights, or that I did not always come home alone, and sometimes not at all. He only fixated on learning all he could about his science. Things went well that whole school year. Randy took intensive summer-session classes too. We only took a short vacation, if you could call it that - a week in Philadelphia! Randy spent the days at a goddamn biochem research lab. We fucked a bunch in the evenings and then he slept for ten hours before going back to the lab the next day. I guess this was a "busman's holiday" or some shit like that. I did not hang at the lab in Philly. I wandered around town and found guys and girls to occupy me during the long sweaty summer days. It was okay. There is an old joke about a contest where first prize is an all-inclusive one-week vacation in Philadelphia, and second prize is a two-week stay there. That is about right. But some of the animals DO know how to party. We returned home to Boston for a few days. Then I managed to drag Randy back to San Diego for another week off. He was resistant until I bribed him. What was the bribe? A wedding. Ours! The wedding was small and fast and informal. We got our immediate families and a few friends and other bums together in a Unitarian Fellowship hall - do not say church to Unitarians! We had our reception at a Red Lyon hotel banquet room, and honeymooned the next day at the San Diego Zoo. I had wanted the wedding to be at the monkey house there. They turned us down. Nobody has a sense of humor anymore. Our real honeymoon was a couple of days in a seaside lodge in beautiful La Jolla. My sister Brenda and Randy's almost-brother Brad stayed with us there. We all had fun power-fucking each other again. I sure loved sucking both guys' cocks together while Brenda ate my pussy. Yummy! -- So now I was Mrs Randy Ronk. Life in Boston continued just about the same. Randy studied hard and fucked me when he remembered to. I made money and partied hard with my friends. Randy hardly noticed this. Randy came home unexpectedly one morning after a lab session was cancelled. I was in the party room with Dave and Darla and Jan. We were in a nice quiet four-way daisychain when I heard the front door open and Randy come stomping down the hall in his size 17 trail boots. Our play-room door luckily was closed. Randy walked straight to the study room and immersed himself in data or whatever. We kept our orgasms fairly quiet till he left a couple of hours later. Another time, I had come home late, real late, with Hideo and Millie. We had been partying, drinking, dry-fucking on the dance floors of a couple or five hot clubs. We snuck down the apartment hallway, whispering like giddy kids. We passed the open bedroom door. I saw Randy asleep in our bed, naked, on his back, atop the covers, with his long hard cock sticking up like a rounded obelisk. I just could not resist! I gave him a great fast unconscious blowjob. He came like a stallion but never woke up. What a guy! I joined my friends in the party room. Millie was already riding Hideo like she was Dale Fucking Evans and he was Trigger, his long thin Japanese cock sunk deep into her sexy saddle. I sat on Hideo's flat face and slurped Millie's fine bouncy tits. Ooh, this was fun! After a few more orgasms I threw them out and crawled into our marriage bed with my big husband Randy. In the morning he told me about his great wet dream. I told him it sounded exciting. He got hard again, and did me like a dog, sliding easily into my wet pussy, taking sloppy seconds or sixteenths or whatever, and howling. What an easy guy! All went well for another few school years. Randy got his BS quickly, then got into a Master's program and notched his MS in no time at all, and moved fast towards his first doctorate. I kept having hot fun and making good money. Because of my job, Randy did not have to play any impoverished-grad-student games. Life was peachy. Of course I was on The Pill since forever. The Pill was reportedly 99.9% effective. Which means on any given day one sperm-squirt out of 1000 would slip past. And for 90% of each month that did not matter because I was not fertile then. So only one squirt out of 10,000 could ever be a risk. Easy odds. But the odds catch up eventually. Let's see, if I fuck an average of ten times daily for ten years (including leap years) that is 10x10x365.25 = 36,525 fucks. Wow. Anyway, I got pregnant. I was totally knocked up, higher than a kite. I thought about an abortion. But then I thought, "Hey, why don't I try the motherhood thing? It could be a different thrill." Yeah, right. Pregnancy sucks. Labor sucks. Pain sucks. And I soon found that mothering sucks, especially twins. But that was okay; I could afford a nanny-housekeeper. Let HER do all the dirty work! And Maria was a good licker too. I moved us all out of the apartment into a nearby townhouse with a little back yard. I hired Hector from Haiti to be gardener and handyman. He was a pretty good fuck too. Very good, in fact. So I could continue as Dial-A-Slut, and party all I wanted, and not have to pay attention to the twins or the house. I had already paid to have the whole place soundproofed. Nobody bothered anyone else. Randy did not really have time to be an actual father but he could play 'daddy' when necessary. He liked that. -- Why did Randy work so hard? Because he had a dream, a fucking obsession. He traced and integrated all sorts of meta-organic biochemical molecular structures trying to fit them together in different modes. Some clicked; most did not. Randy almost hit pay-dirt. He developed a unique compound with vast potential. But he could never get RX7 quite right. Unknown contaminants acted as weird catalysts. He said the inevitable side-effects ranged from unpleasant to downright disruptive. This rather limited its commercial acceptance. Randy's continuing research aimed at making RX7 a bit less sensitive. It could not just be diluted; its structure needed changing. This research was long and hard and not cheap and eventually fruitless. Some scientists get grouchy when their work does not produce results. Some see failures as good learning experiences. Randy had a bit of both. Failure to perfect RX7 so it would be safe to use just drove him to more intensive research, more effort, even longer hours. But he also got grumpy, with stomach pains. "Goddammit Sue Ann, this is starting to piss me off! I just can't get the fucking inter-atomic linkages right." "I know you'll finally nail it, baby. Just like you nailed me. Hey, let's do anal some more!" I squeezed his big balls. He grinned a little. "Yeah, okay, I'm up for that. Ouch! My ulcer is giving me a monster gut-ache again. Pass me the Maalox, hey?" I poured some rum into the medicine bottle and passed it over. He liked that special boosted mix. He took a slug, then bent me over and nailed my ass again. I screamed my usual pleasure. -- Randy's grumpiness had a side effect. He could not concentrate as hard on chemical theory and semi-abstract thoughts. He actually started noticing more of what was happening around him. He looked closer at the house, and the twins, and Maria and Hector and me. He was not yet putting the pieces together but his long sallow face sometimes wore a curious expression. The twins were five years old now. They did not look a lot like him or me; they looked slightly Oriental. I guess Hideo was the biological father. The twins were fluent in Boston English, and Honduran Spanish and Haitian French, thanks to Maria and Hector. And a little Japanese from Hideo. The kids were friendly with all the visiting 'Uncles' and 'Aunts'; they were accustomed to seeing naked adults. Domestic life cracked open one night. I had my friends in the party room. Randy worked late in the lab as usual but he quit early for a change and came home unexpectedly. I had not closed the party room door. Randy stood in the doorway in his lab clothes and saw Lasisha eating me while Juan fucked her and I sucked-off happy Hideo. "Hey, what's this? What's going on here, Sue Ann?" Randy did not sound happy. "Oh baby, we're only partying. Just like the old days, y'know? C'mon and join us! We'll have fun!" I said after Hideo pulled his engorged dick out of my wide mouth. "You're my wife, Sue Ann! Get these people out of here! Now! We need to talk!" My friends disentangled and dressed and left. I threw on a clean, loose robe and followed Randy into our bedroom. We both sat on the edge of the bed. Randy peered into my eyes. "Is that what you do while I'm working in the lab all day and night? Screw around? Jesus fucking Christ, Sue Ann! What's happened to our marriage?" Still Under His Eyes "This is what our marriage has always been like, Randy. I work and make money so you can spend your life in school and the lab and doing whatever you want. I work and make money to pay for this townhouse and the staff and the kids and our lives. I relax and have fun the way I want. And I deserve it, because I work and make the money that pays for everything." "But Sue Ann, you're my wife, you're not a single party girl anymore. Oh shit, there goes my ulcer again! Where's my Maalox?" I found his medicine bottle and the flask of rum on the usual shelf. I did not mix the usual blend; I halved the Maalox, doubled the rum, and added a fat juicy squirt of codeine solution. I wanted him calm, comfortable, and quiet. The opiate went right into Randy's delicate stomach, his bleeding ulcer, his surging bloodstream, zap! He calmed quickly. He shut his mouth quickly too. No, that is not quite right. His mouth opened, slack-jawed, drooling slightly, mumbling. How cute! "There, there, honey," I said, patting his flushed face. His fat doped cheeks bulged, giving him a chipmunk-with-a-mouthful-of-acorns look. Ah, my squirrel-y husband! "It's all okay. I'll explain things when you wake up." Randy nodded-out and fell back on the king bed. I pulled off his clothes and covered him with a blanket. Then I called Maria and Hector to the party room for more fun. It was another long night. -- Randy was still dopey in the morning. More doses of codeine may have contributed. I had used a little syringe (no needle) to squirt it through his lax lips. Easy-peasy. Maria and I helped him into the bathroom and got him flushed-out, cleaned-up, and dressed-down in fresh boxers. We walked him back into the bedroom and seated him in the big director's chair by the window. I carefully tied him firmly to the chair. His arms and legs and the rest of him would go nowhere until I slipped the knots. He dozed a bit. He was a bit confused when he woke. "Uhh, Sue Ann, baby, what am I doing here? Why am I tied down? What hap... oh fuck, last night! What the fuck is going on!" He struggled impotently. I held a straw to his lips. The other end descended into a big cup of lukewarm creamed coffee, just like he liked, with too much sugar and a dash of cinnamon. "Drink your coffee, honey. You need to wake up and be alert. C'mon, suck it in." "What the fuck-" I slapped him gently. "Not a word. Nothing till you've finished your coffee. It's just coffee, that's all." Randy grimaced and sucked and swallowed. I've done that myself. His eyes never left me. When the cup was empty, he scowled even more. "Okay, I drank the fucking coffee. What the fuck is going on? Why am I tied up?" I settled in my comfortable bubble chair and looked at him. He was such a retard! Not when it came to information, but he knew nothing about people. He was a total social retard. "We need to talk. Well, *I* need to talk and you need to listen." I had rehearsed this chat a few times. "I already called your lab to let them know you won't be in today. Family matters, that's the excuse. And what matters here is how this family works. It's all about money. Effectivo. Filthy cash." He looked puzzled. I drove on. "The basic outline is that I make money and you spend money. I've supported you, like, totally, ever since I came to Boston. I pay for your school and experiments. I pay for your food and clothes and roof and medicines and everything else. You know how your lab gets little anonymous 'grants' to keep going? Those are from me - I subsidize the lab just like I subsidize the rest of your life." I was getting warm. "You know the Golden Rule - whoever has the gold, makes the rules. I make the money so I make the rules. That's how it is. That's how it's always been with us but you just didn't know the details. Now you know." "But Sue Ann, I-" "Shut up; you'll have your turn. Just listen now. You get to do whatever the fuck you want and it's all on my dime. I know exactly what you want 'cause that's what you throw your life into. You've been playing with your chemicals and books for a long time now and I never complained. I never tried to stop or change you. You focused your mind there and that's fine with me." It had been so far, anyway. "It's my money that keeps us going and I'll do whatever the fuck *I* want to do, too. I'll screw who *I* want to screw, and when, and where, and how. Sometimes it's you, here; usually it ain't." I sighed. "You are totally useless most of the time. You come home smelling like a fucking pesticide factory." I crinkled my nose. "Yeah, you shower, but then you mostly just want to sleep. Maybe five percent of the nights you're home, you want to fuck, and I put up with you, stink and all. You ought to sniff your own armpits some time. You'll maybe find what I have to endure." "But Sue Ann, I love-" "I said, SHUT UP! Here's how our Golden Rule works. You can keep on doing all this chemistry shit for as long as you like - just do not bother me. I'll keep on working and playing, and supporting us and subsidizing you, and even fucking you, for as long as you don't bitch and whine." Damn, I hate whiners. "Otherwise, I'll break you. I'll divorce you and you'll have NOTHING. Yeah, I'm a slut. You can accept me for the slut I am, or get cut loose and lose your home, your sex life, your family, your subsidies, everything." I crossed my arms. "That's the scene. Any questions?" "Sue Ann, babe, what is this? What's happened to us?" "This is reality. And nothing's happened to us. This is how we've always been, at least since I got here, and pretty much when we were back in San Diego, too, except that I wasn't paying your way then." "But our lives, our marriage, our kids..." His voice trailed off. "Are you telling me your life doesn't just get better and better? That you don't live better now than you ever had before? You are richly rewarded, bub. You live in the lap of fucking luxury. I give you everything you need. And we put on a good show. We're respectable, prosperous." I was getting heated. "And you know why? Because I'm a slut. Because I work the Dial-A-Slut line to keep the money rolling in. And I can only be the best fucking Dial-A-Slut around when I'm motivated. And what motivates me? You can probably guess." I glared. "But Sue Ann, I'm your husband! You're supposed to cleave unto me, all that shit. You've made me a cuckold!" "You sure didn't seem to mind when you and Brad were fucking Brenda and me and anybody else we brought in. You knew what a fucker I was when you married me. Nothing has changed." I did not even mention the kids. They were not his spawn, so why bother? "So what is-" "So what's going to happen is, you're going to learn your place in the food chain. I'll have some friends over, and we'll have great fun, and you're going to sit there and watch." The doorbell rang. "They're here now. Just relax." "But-" He shut up when I stuffed a tennis ball in his flapping yap. I slid a big plastic photo-lab tray under Randy's canvas director's chair to catch any leaks. That coffee would work its way through him quickly enough. I answered the door and led Dave and Darla and Millie into the master bedroom. We laughed as we undressed each other and started fondling and slurping. Randy struggled and grunted and otherwise was only a minor nuisance. I blew and tit-fucked Dave to a cosmic orgasm while Darla and Millie noisily and sloppily 69'd beside us. Dave spewed a huge load of hot spunk over my bouncy boobs. I lovingly smeared his cum over Randy's face and especially around my nerdy husband's lips and nose so he could enjoy the odor and texture. Darla and Millie untangled and kissed Randy's forehead and cheeks with their pussy-wet lips. They rubbed their sweaty naked bodies against him. His reaction? A big boner straining at his boxers, of course, but backed by a filling bladder. I have noticed that guys have a hard time peeing when they're massively erect and a hard time cumming with a bloated bladder. Sucks being a man sometimes, right? We arranged ourselves on the king bed. I got on my elbows and knees; Dave doggy-fucked me; Millie slid her puffy crotch under my face; I slurped her; Darla fingered Dave's scrotum and shaft and my clit as we joined. Oh yes, this was fun! I raised my face from Millies marvelous muff and looked at Randy. "Enjoying the show? From your tenting, I'd say that's a yes. Mmmm..." I resumed licking Millie's luscious labia. I felt Dave's bareback lightning rod erupt inside me; his smoking lava burned into my core, hot and heavy, just as I like. I moaned into Millie's pulsing pussy as my latest orgasm curled my toes and sparkled my eyes. Cowabunga! We had lots of fun that morning. Darla and I played with Randy's boner and balls while Millie blew Dave and jerked his meaty member to hose-down Randy's face with his fresh baby custard. That maneuver really got Randy twitching! Millie was such an evil girl! She sat naked in Randy's lap. She slowly whisked her mighty melons across his face while tempting his dickhead through the now-stained thin cloth of his boxers. Her wet nether lips left a snail-trail over his straining bulge. Pinching his nipple did the trick. He spurted into his knickers. The tennis ball in his mouth muffled his groan. Millie smirked and pushed down on Randy's belly. The dam burst a couple of minutes later; he pissed-out that bladderful of coffee. I knew I would have to trash the canvas chair when we finished here. I thought, what the hell? I replaced Millie in Randy's lap and I emptied my own bladder. Aahhh... Randy stopped struggling. I think he was on his way to learning his place. It was a good start. But I was sure a few more conditioning sessions would be necessary. -- Maria the housekeeper cleaned up Randy's mess and together we cleaned him up again, too. We were all naked in the shower because we had to hold him up; he was still groggy and shaky. We kept his hands tied behind his back, just in case. We dried him and threw a robe over him. Maria left to tend the house. Randy was muttering the whole time. I tapped his forehead to get his attention. "Hello in there. I'll untie your hands if you promise to be good. No violence, now; I'll use that against you in the divorce. D'you promise?" Rand nodded sulkily. I shook my head. "I can't hear you. D'you promise?" "Yeah, yeah, I promise, I'll be good, no violence, yeah sure..." "Good boy! Keep that promise, live within the Golden Rule, and you'll be just fine, no, WE'LL do just fine!" I slipped the knots binding his wrists. Randy muttered some more and stomped to the closet to dress. I lay naked in bed and watched him don his usual jeans and khaki shirt. His eyes never touched me. He hotfooted out the door. The situation stabilized for several months. We built a routine. Randy spent more time at his labwork. I had my sex-work and sex-play. Randy never joined my friends unless forced to; he watched but did not play voluntarily. Sure, he did not seem to mind being sucked-off by some of our guests, but he would not stick his prick into anyone's nether holes. What a loser! At least we did not need any more conditioning sessions. Yes, he seemed to have learned his place in the household. Randy came home early one day with his eyes shining and his face flushed. "I did it, Sue Ann! I fixed RX7! I have the perfect compound! It's going to be a great success! We need to celebrate! We need a party, a big party, yeah, a big SEX party! Let's throw a revel tomorrow night!" "A party? A sex party? You really want to-" His voice oozed sincerity. "I'm sorry I've been such a shit lately, babe. It just took me a while to adjust. But everything is fine now! Yes, invite all your friends, the more, the better. I'm ready to party again. It's been too long for me." This was quite a change for Randy! Did he really mean it? I assumed so; he had never been any good at concealing stuff from me. I felt a wave of... Relief? Satisfaction? Control? Whatever. I felt good! "Great, baby! Yeah, we can have a blast - but not tomorrow, that's too soon. I think I can organize it for Friday. You want an all-nighter? Like we used to do with Brenda and Brad? Yeah, I'll get wine and hash and munchies and lubes and rubbers and incense and everything." My mind slipped into planning mode. So much to do! This was going to be a big one. "But hey, babe, I want to celebrate, but it also has to stay quiet, 'cause there's, like, trade secrets involved," my tall husband said. "So they can't tell anyone they're here, got that? It's got to be a really private party. We can go public after it's announced, but not now, okay?" "Yeah, sure thing," I replied absently. I was already thinking of refreshments. Maria and Hector set-up the playroom with king-size airfoam mattresses all across the floor as well as tall wide ottomans for receptive bodies to be bent over. They hung an extra swing from the ceiling joists. I ordered snacks, drinks, and dope, and otherwise executive-produced the affair. Friends started arriving around sundown Friday. Dave and Kayleigh and Javier and Darla and Jan and Hideo and Millie and Lasisha and Roz and Linus and Kimora and Jean-Claude and Shaylee and Janiya and Zev; those were all we could fit in there. We were already naked and noodling when Randy got home. He looked in at our fourway daisychains and triple penetrations and other fun maneuvers. He smiled and closed the playroom door. From the outside. With a click. That is about all I can remember. I woke groggy and naked and enmeshed with a bunch of other naked bodies. I think I had Lasisha's pussy in my face and Zev's zebra-size zozo up my ass. I reeled-in my tongue, pulled loose from his still-stiff staff, and creakily sat up. I looked around. I recognized the playroom but it looked very large now. Huh? I leaned over the mattress edge. Why was the floor so far away? And why were the ottomans so tall? Did everything grow except us? The bodies around me twitched and flexed into sitting positions. Everyone looked a bit stunned. "Heh heh." The chuckle sounded low-fidelity crackly, like on a portable radio's two-inch speaker. "Good morning, campers. Welcome to the rest of your lives." That was Randy's voice. What the fuck? My eyes scanned the playroom again. Randy's face appeared on a TV screen set in a wall. The windows were so high! The door was so tall! And... there was no knob on the door, just a steel plate. Javier and Linus rolled off mattresses and stumbled to the door. They pushed. Nothing moved. ""Hey," Linus squeaked, "give us a hand now, people! Let's get out of here!" Squeaked? Big honkin' Linus was a baritone! He never squeaked! Everyone started talking or shouting at once. Everyone squeaked. An ear-torturing klaxon roared through the room. Everyone covered their heads. Randy's TV face smirked; his scratchy voice resumed. "Having fun, folks? Heh heh. It's going to be nothing but fun from here on. And I've got a little story to tell you, so listen up. The effects of the knockout gas should have dissipated by now. "You know I've been working my butt off for years trying to get my formula right. Well, it works! The final version! My RX7z compound finally does what I always dreamed of - it shrinks the length and volume of proteins. That means it reduces the size of living tissues, reducing by fifty percent, so everything is half-size, with just one-quarter the volume and weight. "Sue Ann always worried about wearing a few extra pounds. Worry no more! You used to be sixty-six inches high and 120 pounds. Now you're thirty-three inches high and should only weigh thirty pounds! So sleek! So svelte!" My head was spinning at these words. What, he shrunk me? He shrunk all of us? "And your big buddy Zev there? He's down from seventy-four inches and 180 pounds of gym-and-steroid muscle to thirty-seven inches and forty-five pounds. Of course your vocal cords are only half-length so your voices are twice as high-pitched. Just like little kids! Except for your pubic hair. "You don't look like little kids because your body proportions are wrong. You're not dwarves or midgets. You're just shrunken adults." Voices yelled again. The brain-fucking klazon pounded again. We shut up. "There, there, now. You little guys need to pay attention, really close attention. It's important. You see, I'm in charge now, and I'm going to stay in charge, because you are all FUCKED!" More shouting - about rights and justice and lawyers - and then the klaxon once more, and relative peace. "Be quiet, you morons! My problem with my RX7 compound was stability. Proteins would only shrink for a limited time and then they'd rebound by some unknown factor. It's like I shrunk you this much but after a few hours you'd jump to some other size. That's no good. There's no commercial application for that. "But now it's stable. My RX7z shrunk you all, and you're going to stay that way. Forever! Even after you die, your bodies will still be teensy-weensy, heh heh. "And you're going to stay here, too. Right here, in this playroom. For the rest of your lives. Hector and I have been making some changes here. That's right, Sue Ann, Hector and Maria are your friends and fuck-buddies, but they also work for me, and they work for money. And I have LOTS of money now because I sold the RX7z formula for a zillion bucks!" "I've got to say, Sue Ann, that you chose well when you hired Hector and Maria. They're good workers, they stay bought, and they're good fucks. Hector doesn't even mind blowing me. "Anyway, Hector and I built in a few conveniences for you. We had to sneak-in the work but you never really pay attention to anything here anyway, do you, Sue Ann? See those new little doorways? They lead to your bathroom and kitchen and gym. Everything is a perfect size for you little folks. "Let me be clear. All you little fuckers had SO much fun with my cheating wife Sue Ann. Well, you get to keep on having fun with her - if you want to eat, anyway. Because you are NEVER getting out of this little soundproofed solid-walled prison. And you're going to have to work for your keep. What work? Oh, easy work. Fun!" Screechy growls and grumbles arose. Linus stood up and yelled, I mean squeaked, "You can't do this! We have ri-" A sharp klaxon blast brought silence again. "I had a good talk with Sue Ann's boss Silvio. He's interested in new technologies like broadband cable video. He's ready to move beyond Dial-A-Slut phone lines to providing LIVE SEX SHOWS on private-subscriber cable networks. He already has a video net set up. And this room is going to be Studio Z! "So here's the deal. See the lights on the inner wall next to the clock?" Lights flashed; red, then yellow, then green. "Green means nobody's watching, so do whatever you want. Yellow means that the cameras will go live within five minutes, so get ready. Red means the cameras are on and the video feed is going out, so FUCK. Fuck a lot. "Yeah, you're all sex-show performers now. If you perform, you'll get food and medicine. If you don't, you won't. Pretty simple, huh? And don't think about trying to get any messages out, cries for help, that kind of shit. The video goes through a time-delay circuit. You try anything, it'll be cut. And you'll be punished. What kind of punishment? You'll just have to find out, heh heh. "The room is sealed and soundproof - good idea, Sue Ann! I have lots of knockout gas. You can't get out. You can perform, or you can die. Your choice. Nobody knows you're here, right? It's not like you little fuckers would be missed anyway. Still Under His Eyes "Now you should all clean up and eat. It's one hour till showtime. Break a leg!" The scratchy speaker shut off. My friends started yelling again. Nothing happened. We milled around and argued. Most eventually went into the bath (one big shower stall, one big tub, three sinks, three toilets, no privacy) and the kitchen (electric stove and big fridge, two tables, ten chairs, two sinks, no windows). I noticed a metal band riveted around my ankle. I could not get it off. I saw that all of us wore these bands. I wondered, What's this? I soon found out. Three things happened simultaneously when the clock on the wall read five minutes before the hour. The lights changed from green to yellow. The klaxon honked once. And all of us jumped and twitched. The ankle band shocked me! Shocked everyone! Randy's scratchy voice filled the room. "That's a tiny, tiny taste of punishment, guys. It can get really painful, and it can be directed at anyone personally, like that little butt-fucker Zev there." Zev spasmed, fell, and cried out in pain. "Or that arrogant bitch Millie." She screamed and fell, apparently unconscious. "I can dispense rewards, too. Roz seems pretty deserving." Roz screamed and collapsed too, but in ecstasy, not agony. Her little hands dug at her little pussy. The rest of us (except passed-out Zev and Millie) felt compelled to grab at our genitals too. Ooohhhh... "Nice, huh? My radio technician did well. Anyway, it's time for a test run. Go help yourselves to lubes and aphrodisiacs from the dispensers. When the light goes red in four minutes, start fucking. Fuck well and you'll be rewarded. Perform badly and, well, you won't like what happens. Have fun, kids!" The speaker clicked off. Kayleigh slapped at Roz, Zev and Millie to rouse them. The rest of us fought to get at the dispensers. I lubed-up as fast as I could. I was airtight with Hideo up my ass, Jean-Claude in my pussy, and Javier in my mouth when the lights went red. No shock! Oh good! We performed for an hour. Various pains and pleasures were administered electrically but not to me. The lights flashed yellow and then switched to green. Randy's TV face and voice returned. "That was a good start. I know you'll get the glitches worked out. Ta ta." -- That was five years ago. We sixteen are still alive, still prisoners, still sex-show performers. We have a little gym to keep ourselves in shape - and we do; nobody wants the punishment. We can watch TV when we're not on-the-air so we have some idea of the outside world. Too bad the USA's acting president is not as good an actor as Linus or Zev. I do not know what happened with my twins. I do not really care. I CANNOT really care. If I cared, I would go mad. Life goes on with our well-practiced routine. Play for the cameras, to entertain the perverts, to keep Randy rewarding us and not punishing us. Yes, my little life is a full-time sex party. And it still happens right under his eyes. ***** AUTHOR'S NOTE: This mad BTB fantasy by Hypoxia is copyright (c) 2014 and likely has no redeeming social or artistic qualities. Get out your poison pens, folks. This is dedicated to the real Randy, who deserves better. I borrowed the shrinking chemical idea from my story RANDY'S REVENGE (THE PHARMACIST) which might be approved here on LIT someday. (Spoiler: He's a very different Randy.)