Dorothy got off the bus and started walking towards her newly paid off house, with its newly replaced washing machine, the demolded basement, and the functional hot water heater. Her feet felt heavenly in her orthopedic soles, her clothes finally fit properly, and her hives had finally gone down since they'd been able to switch to a different soap and shampoo. Even work was less stressful now that she didn't need to worry about one deducted paycheck away from skipping lunches and risking the pipes freezing. Still, her steps were hesitant, and she looked a bit glum, the previous loving sanctuary now... a bit chilly.
As she got a bit closer, she could hear a rhythmic thudding and saw a truck barely fitting inside the driveway, pulling a shipping container hooked up to the house's electrical supply. It was a... familiar sight by now, and one they'd both agreed on.
Amazons were pretty strictly protected under anti-discrimination laws, probably didn't hurt that the upper class had considered it to be fashionable to be an Amazon for a few centuries, but that equally strictly ended where infectiousness was concerned. Pretty much all Amazons produced a mild virus that caused the body to gradually produce anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxants, gradually helping their partners enjoy each other more. A smaller percentage could cause some noticeable changes to occur, usually after a few years. Then there were people like Garth.
They had sat down in the specialist's office, Garth already over 2 meters tall, clumsy and awkward with the extra 50 kilos of muscle. They'd settled into their chairs, Garth's complaining loudly, his bulging tank top and straining jockstrap under the short skirt fighting for room, the elastic stretching to uselessness. Garth didn't really care, he knew that he'd completely outgrow them by the end of the week. Dorothy tried to hide the constant buzzing coming from between her legs, barely able to see anything other than her amazing husband. It was a bit easier since Dorothy had been bundled up against the blizzard, the nearly 80,000 calories Garth was eating a day offering plenty of protection, even in his flip flops.
The specialist had gulped when they walked through the door, and they'd gotten the news. They couldn't have sex.
Specifically, Dorothy couldn't have sex with Garth. Aside from the lung deflating horse cock, the fist crushing pussy, and the spine snapping thighs, that much mutagenic virus had really unpredictable outcomes. And they weren't easily able to be reversed. If they did a traditional fuck frenzy, it could easily knock 20 years off her life, if her organs didn't grow to the needed size or strength.
Thus... her current predicament. Her suddenly comfortable sex life plunged into cold water, and Garth suddenly needed to deal with a libido strong enough to power a truck. Literally in this case, as Dorothy walked by the truck that was storing today's production.
She sighed. Plunged into cold water wasn't quite the right term. And opening the door just reminded her why. An absolute fog of musk flowed out of the newly constructed staircase from the kitchen down to the basement, where Garth's workspace had been constructed. Dorothy dropped off her bag on the kitchen table, nudging aside a box of high protein ready meals and a number of test samples, then walked down stairs, feeling her nipples harden, her cheeks flush, her heart race, and herself moisten.
Simply put, Garth had gotten married to his job, a lot more literally than she would have liked. And, as she walked through the door, she remembered why him saying that she could sleep around as much as she wanted didn't matter.
She wanted him.
She wanted his 3 meter tall frame, which was currently squatting the weight of a small car. She wanted to drink out of his endlessly leaking nipples, hug his massive dripping cock, see how much his cunt and asshole could gape. She also wanted to kiss him tenderly, put on his favorite show, and gently stroke his hair, just like they used to do. Her body needed him, her heart wanted to comfort him, and she was stuck here, trying not to fist herself in front of the medical staff employed to milk her husband like a prized cow. Not to say she wasn't unappreciative of it. The pay was amazing, and it hit every one of her kinks. Hell, she even had a cowgirl outfit tucked deeply away in the closet, she just... really really wanted something more than just looking.
With another roar, and a thud that shook the house, Garth peaked, legs straightening, body straining, and dropped the weights, triggering the massive electro-stim units in his pussy and ass to go off, unloading the final blast of the night, as his cock and nipples slowly softened.
He was positively glowing, sweaty chest heaving in the cool air, as the medical staff started unhooking their systems and setting the automated cleaning. He brightened as he saw Dorothy, standing there, a hand somehow snaked underneath her shirt, and mouthed "one second" as he walked over to the shower.
It wasn't like the specially formulated shampoo did much to his scent, which was seemingly hardwired to her clit, but it usually gave him enough time to grab a meal with her without necessarily reducing her to a quivering, begging, needy slut.
To be honest, that was two thirds of the reason why she still worked. She needed some time away from so much sheer horny intensity. It wasn't like her paycheck was that much... well, she certainly enjoyed being able to treat Garth, his eyes had lit up so much when she'd bought him his collar, the only thing he regularly wore now... but turned out that having someone with a known virus strain, hyperproductive even by Amazon standards, and was about as communicable as possible without too much risk of addiction... that was really rare and valuable. If you were willing to spend day in and day out being milked, working out, and eating.
"You're trapping yourself inside your head again, aren't you?" Garth asked, appearing in front of her. His voice and new face was tender, and a finger that her hand could barely wrap around gently pulled her chin up to look at his perfect blonde hair, his supermodel face, and his soft lips, stretched in a loving smile, and the two beautiful blue eyes, the same ones that had drawn her to him in the first place, all sparkling with happiness.
She huffed out a laugh. "Yeah... just... fuck, you make me so horny." She hugged him tightly, unable to stop her rubbing against his rock hard thigh.
"You wouldn't believe how much I want to show you my love." Garth said.
"You're probably right." Dorothy laughed, wit h a twisted smile on her face. She didn't believe that he wanted her, when anyone in their right mind would throw themselves at his feet.
Garth pet her head and tensed his abs, sending his cock a few inches out of its sheath, booping her in the nose, leaving a smear of pre. "I really really want to pin you down and fuck you until you're so pregnant you can't move, just belly and milky tits. Then you can spend all day underneath me, here, while I make sure nothing happens to you... well, except for me."
The loving tone didn't change, but the cock started hardening. It wasn't like the musk ever cleared out of the basement, but she couldn't ignore it when it was this fresh, literally pouring off his freshly revealed member. She wanted to lick it so hard, and try to swallow it. She didn't care how it was impossible, she just felt so empty and knew the solution was slowly pushing past her as it fully unsheathed, seemingly neverending. Garth's breath picked up as he started sweating, pouring off pheromones, telling his wife that she was about to... well, exactly what he'd said.
Then the fans picked up, dumping a neutralizing agent into the air.
A few seconds later, the two of them felt a bit embarrassed, their bodies still burning with lingering arousal.
