Taxi door slams. Office steps. Mid-afternoon grind. I’m Martine, medical transport queen. Blonde bombshell in white blouse. Hands in pockets. Spot him. That city guy I’ve eyed in town. Staring. Surprised. Heart races. City pulse fades. Rural blood boils.
He stammers. I grin. Porcine eyes lock. Chewing gum snaps. Blouse gaps open. Tits strain the fabric. He flees to smoke. I wink. Wheelchair client rolls up. Duty calls. But fire ignites.
The Mutation
Evening hits. Taxi idles curbside. Headlights flash. He climbs in his ride. I gun it. Country roads twist. He tails me. Adrenaline surges. Power grips wheel. Farm path looms. Gravel crunches. Courtyard glows dim.
Blouse unbuttons. Three top ones gone. Black lace bra fights udders. Key under mat. Bend low. Ass hikes skirt. String thong flashes. He follows. Mute. Cock-hard hungry. Door creaks. Dim room. Old bed. Worn chairs. Hubby grunts from shadows. Wheelchair throne. Legs blanketed. Impotent king.
The Exploit
Mask drops. Social chains snap. I’m the beast now. Arms snake his neck. Tongue invades. Devour his mouth. Twist. Suck. He hardens. I grind. Control mine. ‘Ready, fucker?’ Hubby watches. His thrill.
Spin. Ass rams his bulge. Hands rip blouse. Tits explode free. He kneads. Pinches nipples. I buck. Heat floods. Gum snaps gone. Pure animal.
Evening shadows deepen. Mutation complete. Secret heroine rises. City facade crumbles. Pulsions rule.