It was becoming the new, 'new normal.' I keep forgetting that for each new day there's a new benchmark standard set and another shifting of reality. I imagine tomorrow will be the new, 'new, new normal'—if such a thing is possible, the phrase sounding ridiculous as it does.
'Cunt'—I had called her that last night, among other things. Cunt was a word that usually sent Karen into a full-blown rage, where her head splits open and flames shoot out her eye sockets and ass. Calling her a cunt was like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. Once either comes out, slur or flag, it's too late for restitution; neither can be retracted—just kiss your ass goodbye. I had never called her that before, not even during our most heated arguments. I was always too much a gentleman, at least until lately, and that was the problem.
Early in our marriage, during one Christmas-time visit with her family, I saw first-hand exactly what that word did to Karen's demeanor. Karen's youngest sister by three years, Dawn, made the mistake of calling her a 'cunt' to her face during one of their many squabbles. The results were swift and terrible. If only society could dole out justice in such a harsh and timely manner, it would be a far more polite and safer world. No sooner had the word escape Dawn's lips then Karen slapped her hard across the face. The blow was so forceful that I swore I heard Dawn's teeth rattle in her skull. Before Dawn could react, Karen grabbed her by the shirt collar, and screamed, "Don't you ever call me that again, you bitch." She accentuated the verbal force of the words, 'Don't', 'ever', 'that', and 'bitch' by smacking her across the face with each syllable uttered. On the last word, Karen slapped so hard, her sister fell to the floor. It didn't end there. Once Dawn was down, Karen went to one knee and smacked her again for good measure and to make sure she never forgot. Dawn didn't, and it's been sixteen years since we've seen or heard from her sister.
Nope, after I saw that object lesson, I made sure never to even think the word in her presence, let alone say it aloud. So, you can see, if I had called Karen a cunt at any other time in our marriage, I would have needed surgery to remove her foot from my ass. Last night, however, it made her soaking with arousal. If there were a single thing that best described the changes imparted by the elixir in us, it was that fact, alone.
It was as if Karen were a different person, changing on the inside. I was changing too, as exemplified by my treatment of Cope from the other night.
Never in a million years would I have done something so cruel, so malicious to another human being, no matter how much I disliked them. Now, those thoughts were becoming commonplace. Worse, I was starting to act on some of those thoughts. Mostly, they were benignly manifested through my increasing acts of sexual decadence, such as the acts of last night with Karen and Denise.
However, how long before I start to expand those erotic, yet depraved designs outside the bedroom, or outside my little conclave of fuck bunnies? How long before I start doing to others what I had done to Cope, out of spite. It's becoming more difficult for me to control those thoughts and actions. Of course, it doesn't help my control that the women in my life want, and even need me that way, and are aroused in the extreme by my depravity and lasciviousness. I had never seen women more aroused then Karen and Denise as I sexually humiliated them, and the more humiliation I heaped onto their heads, the more aroused they became. However, and most importantly, all these things were occurring between and within us even when we were not under the direct influence of the elixir.
That's what has me worried. That's what has me lying awake, thinking, night after night: what was the elixir doing to us? And not slowly and haphazardly, it would seem, but rapidly and inexorably.
Like most things in life, the elixir was providing the bitter with the sweet. It gave the sweetness of unbridled sexual pleasures, lust and sexual power, the degree, depth and intensity of which most people could not even fathom. In exchange for what—a damaged spirit, perhaps, or at least a sickened one.
Like the duality of the elixir, I loved it but hated it as well. The reason for love was obvious. The hate sprang from my uncertainty relative to its effects, what I had noted already as 'peculiar' side effects not told to me by Beetlesmith. I ran all the peculiarities I've experienced in the past couple of weeks in my mind, and still come up with no rational answers to explain them. Night after night, I check off all those peculiars, and tops on the list were our performances from last night. The elixir produces a near superhuman quality in regards to sexual stamina, but I hadn't taken the elixir last night. Yet, I performed as if I had, all of us did.
The second peculiar on the list was the 'clairvoyant' episode of Denise and Karen's cum swapping. I still hadn't convinced myself that it was coincidence.
A close third was the Cope incident. I told him to suck my cock and he did. He wasn't under the influence of the elixir like the others, so how could I have swayed him in committing the act? One after the other I would check them off, right down to the apparent significance of an insignificant, spinning knife. You see, I knew beforehand to whom it would point. I wanted it to be Karen, and it did.
For each of these peculiarities, I had no answer. None of this fits with what Beetlesmith had described, and that worried me. I could rationalize it away, of course, but rationalization was the last refuge of a fool—someone who wishes to remain blind to the dangerous curves that may lie ahead. Was that me? Was I speeding down a dark, twisting mountain road with my headlights turned off, hoping that that black crag in front was really a tunnel, and not a wall? That was my worry. 'Cunt!' I liked calling her that—I truly did. That word so aptly described what she was last night, and she dripped with arousal each time I slung it at her. I saw her eyes glow in deep, uncontrolled desire for me to call her a cunt, before sticking my cock into her mouth, ass, or pussy.
'Cunt!' That simple vulgarism rang in my head as a mental itch reminding me of what we were becoming. It filled me with desire. It filled me with loathing.
As I ended my thoughts this night, I resolved myself to accept the damage that has already been done, whatever that might be, but I 'would' discontinue the elixir's use for now. Don't get me wrong, I loved the sex, but hated what I was becoming. Desire and loathing, they were becoming the same. It all had to stop... I heard Karen laugh. I turned and saw she was still asleep. She continued to murmur words of her dreams aloud, mostly indistinguishable. I wondered what she was dreaming. She raised her arm, and began moving it back and forth while laughing again, almost seductively. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was doing in her dream, stroking a lover's cock perhaps, hopefully mine.
That was another problem with the elixir—the dreams. Mine were starting to change. I was no longer an integral part of them, but a passive observer watching from the shadows of the cavernous room:
Karen and Gloria were still in their chairs, but unbound, while four gnome-like creatures scurried about. They looked like diminutive versions of Beetlesmith, small and pudgy, and their cocks were overtly disproportioned, very thick for their length, and so very hard. They would only attend to Gloria, however, leaving Karen alone as if fearful of her touch.
At first, they would climb over Gloria, rubbing their hard dicks all around her body with abandon. Eventually, one of the little creatures would latch onto her head and begin fucking her mouth with that obscenely thick cock of his, while two of them would sit in her lap, one on each thigh while she jerked them off. The fourth gnome would stand between her legs, sliding his chubby arm in and out of her cunt all the way up to his shoulder.
The vision was all so much like a Robert Crumb comic book—Gloria meets the Snoids from Sheboygan—that I was tempted to laugh at the scene.
Karen watched the gnome orgy from her chair in absolute arousal. She literally dripped wetness as a leaky faucet. Yet, she never touched herself or even moved. She just sat rigid in the chair, watching, loudly moaning and panting, while her wetness continued to form a large puddle on the floor below.
When the gnomes shot their wads, the veiled figure would finally make his grand entrance. What happened next was the same as my previous dream, complete with Gloria's screams of delight as he slid into her...
I looked over at Karen again. She was still mouthing something in her dreams, but her arms had stopped moving. I wondered what her dreams consisted of, was she a 'cunt' in there, as well? It was my last thought before I finally drifted off to sleep.
******************
We all woke around seven, and quite horny. I proceeded to give Karen and Denise a 'patented' Karen 'twofer,' at Karen's insistence, of course. After which, the three of us laid around in bed most of the early morning. We mainly talked nonsense, enjoying each other's company on a lazy Sunday. Around eleven, Karen and Denise got up and made us all breakfast. I found it more than a little erotic that the two of them shuffled about the kitchen, fixing eggs and toast with nothing on.
'Keep 'em in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant,' my grandfather used to say—how about I keep them in the kitchen naked and satisfied, instead, gramps? It's working for me.
The erotic display of my two nymphs aside, I wish they hadn't gone to all that trouble fixing a big meal. Besides my insomnia, I had very little appetite of late. The two must have been famished, though, because they wolfed down the meal in no time, while I just had coffee and a piece of toast. As with fixing breakfast, both of them ate in the nude. This gave me no end in delight, particularly when Denise licked off a large drop of egg yolk that had inadvertently fallen on her breast. I was hoping another drop would fall so that I could clean it for her, but, alas, she ate more carefully thereafter.
