For the final year of his studies, Harry had mixed feelings about the whole university experience. There was no pressing need for him to graduate with a degree, after all, not when he had two very sexy women to look after his every need. His mother clearly enjoyed being the Office Slut he'd turned her into, and the professor earned more in the evenings at the strip club than she did from all that tedious research and teaching that filled her days.
Together, the three of them had moved into a new house - a detached house in the outskirts of the city with enough privacy that John and his little harem could spend their days naked and fucking without worrying about neighbours. One room was a games and cinema room, another was an exercise room with a pole that Jane practised on. There was a spacious kitchen and a luxurious bathroom, a grand bedroom with a bed big enough for two or sometimes three. Another bedroom just for his mother. A room that was Jane's home office, cluttered with books and papers.
And a room just for their growing collection of sex toys. It was a Saturday and his mum was in there cleaning. "I don't know why you have all this stuff," she grumbled, dusting a shelf and wiping the dildos that stood on it with disinfectant wipes. All different colours and sizes. "I bet you've never used half this stuff."
Thanks to the App, his mother looked like a late twenties nymphette with perky perfect tits. At home she was invariably topless, though he allowed her an apron when cooking, and whether home or away she never wore underwear. Harry stood behind her and teasingly lifted her skirt. "How many men used your cunt this week?" he asked, his fingers pressing against that sweet entrance.
"You know I don't like talking about that with you, Harry, sweetheart," she said. Her expression spoke of disapproval but her body spoke differently, pressing down against his questing fingers. She gripped the purple dildo she'd been cleaning, almost like a weapon.
"Suck on it, Mum," he ordered. "Show me what you do to all those cocks that you suck day after day."
She had no resistance to his orders, of course. She pressed the suction cup to the wall and almost swallowed it whole. His mother had been so shy and tentative and awkward the first time he made her suck his own cock, but she took the silicone shaft into her mouth, even into her throat, like a professional now. For most of Lockdown, he had treated her like his personal whore, and now she was unknowingly one for real, well paid for being a slutty secretary.
Harry slipped his cock into her deliciously wet cunt, as he had done a hundred times before, and more, and fucked her unhurriedly, enjoying her enthusiasm and skill with the dildo. It amused him that she wouldn't remember that he had fucked her, or at least she would dismiss the memory as mere imagination. She wouldn't remember that he had ordered her to suck the dildo - but she would remember doing it. Just like she remembered all the men that fucked her at the office.
"You love being a slut, don't you, Mum?"
She nodded and mumbled agreement about the silicone cock filling her mouth.
At first it had been John Richards, a fellow App user, who had employed her and used her. There had been a new option in the App towards the end of Lockdown: "Office Slut: Have the best job ever!"
Initially, Harry had been reluctant to share the fucktoy he had turned his mother into, but the more he thought about it, the more it had excited him. That and he had needed a source of income.
Then John had died in a car accident, and for a few days his mum had grieved the loss of her boss and lover. Until Harry had found her a new employer through the App and this one had hired her for the whole office to use. Which they certainly did.
Chuckling, Harry eased out of her, gave her a playful spank, and retreated from the room. He glanced back from the doorway to see her leaning against the wall, thrusting the dildo into her cunt, her eyes closed.
Yes, life in many ways was perfect for Harry. All thanks to the App. That worried him, though. What if one day the App stopped working? What if the Government found out about it and shut it down? What if he lost his control of Jane and his mum and could no longer enjoy their bodies and rely on their income?
It worried him that there were more and more App users out there, and they weren't all men either. Most were - and not all of those were straight. Harry's troubled imagination often conjured up scenarios in which he was the one controlled. The idea of some hot bitch using him for sex did excite him a little, but what if a man turned him into a cock-sucking cumslut?
Jane was still in bed. She had been at the strip club till three in the morning, after all. He watched her sleeping for a while, enjoying the rise and fall of her bare breasts. She always slept naked apart from her shoes, and the stiletto heels peeked out now from beneath the duvet.
Harry tugged the duvet away and straddled her on the bed. Jane awoke with a start, but relaxed with a smile at the sight of him. "Good morning, Master," she said, and pressed her tits about his cock. "I had a great time last night."
"Did you fuck anyone there, Professor Halley?" he asked, loving the way her breasts warped around his eager, thrusting length. He never tired of this view. Her ass was a better fuck, but the visual feast of her breasts delighted him.
"You're the only man for me, Master," she said. "And I love your new cock - it's so much bigger than yesterday."
Which it was. Harry had awoken that morning to a notification from the App: "Happy Birthday, Harry," it read. "Make adjustments to yourself, up to ten percent!"
Just like the year before, and like then too, Harry immediately bumped up his girth and length, his stamina, the volume and creaminess of his cum. Again he was struck by how little a difference ten percent really is, but his cock was over an inch longer than before Lockdown, and he felt very good about that inch.
With a grunt of pleasure, he achieved his climax, and the best part of that was watching his cum splash against Jane's neck and chest. And then her lips and cheeks too as he aimed his cock at her face. Exactly a year had passed since he went to her office to capture her. She had looked at him then with barely concealed disdain, but now there was only desire and obedience.
Not love. Harry had not demanded that of her. He certainly didn't love her either. She belonged to him, and that was that.
This power he had coloured everything. Whenever he saw a woman that aroused his interest, he yearned to have full control of her, to make her his entirely. It was frustrating to make love to a woman and not be able fuck every part of her at once. He had hooked up with a few fellow students over the year at drunken parties, but the novelty in the encounters did not make up for their tameness.
It affected his enjoyment of movies too. Romantic plotlines were tedious and divorced entirely from his experience, and none of the sex, no matter how hot, was explicit enough to satisfy. Even online porn was unsatisfying, though it did provoke new ideas for how to use the two women who were his to use.
What he craved more than anything was having that power again but over someone new, someone he could take pleasure in corrupting, slowly, gradually. With Jane and his mum he had effectively taken a sledgehammer to their personalities, made them slaves to his whims, and he often regretted having not taken his time to really enjoy their fall from morally uptight to dirty slut.
Every day he checked the App, hoping to have been awarded another blank profile and the opportunity to capture a new face. Every day he wondered who exactly it was who controlled the App and decided just who was worthy of this power. Every day he worried a little that John Richard's car crash had been no accident.
Because John wasn't the only App user to have died in recent months. There was a blonde girl, Karin Something, who had died with her brother in a hotel fire, and Harry had liked chatting with her. They had even been talking about meeting up in person - but that, now, could never be.
*
Karin had just started her first ever job when Lockdown was announced. It was an admin support role that turned out to be something she could do from home using e-mail and Zoom, but was mind numbingly tedious.
Like so many others, she soon took to wearing pyjama bottoms all day long, and a formal shirt for the sake of the camera. Like many others too, she kept a vibrator in her desk drawer for when the boredom and solitude conspired to make her horny.
Karin didn't have a boyfriend. In fact, she'd never actually had sex, despite being okay-looking and twenty years old. She'd always felt awkward around men and preferred the safety of friendships to the risk-and-reward of flirting with men. She loved erotic novels, and had ever since stealing her mother's copy of
Fifty Shades of Grey
.
Lockdown had brought many changes. Sasha, her flatmate, had chosen to move in with her occasional boyfriend, and Karin's older brother Nils had invited himself into the empty room. Nils worked as a cleaner at the hospital, so usually he was away all day, and in the evenings he played loud music in the kitchen while she tried to watch her Netflix series.
Karin found the App on her iPad during the early days of Lockdown. Having never heard of the App before, and there being nothing but whispered rumours of its existence on social media, she didn't for a second believe its claim to be able to alter bodies and personalities. After all, that was just magical nonsense.
Certainly she had no intention of paying for the more advanced options, which to her mind were clearly a scam of some sort, but she had to admit the idea of being able to see and edit a person's mind and appearance was seductive in a disturbing way.
Being in Lockdown, however, limited the opportunity to try it out - for laughs, if nothing else. Not believing, she'd aimed the iPad's camera at Nils one evening, and made him hers.
Ping!
She expected him to laugh, or to shout, or to complain - well, anything other than stare at her in a state of profound confusion that lasted seconds, and then, quite unnaturally, for tens of seconds. "Nils!" she cried, shaking him. "Nils!" Was this Covid? Or, worse, was it a stroke? "Nils! What's wrong?"
Ping!
