Chapters A Holsom Women's Social Chapter 10
Cherry opened her eyes to discover that she could not see. A censored fog totally obscured her vision, just as it had done the instant she left the bedroom earlier that day. If it was still the same day. How long had she been asleep? The blur let light through at least, and it seemed that she was bathed in the same orange glow of early evening that had only just begun to fill the sitting room when…when the bad thing had happened.
“Can you hear me, Cherry?”
The male voice thankfully broke her train of thought before it could go too far down a path she wanted to avoid. It was unfamiliar; different from either of the two voices she remembered from before the refuge of the powder room door had cut them off.
“Francis?” A desperate hope. The man’s voice had a slight quaver to it, a hint of a tremor. He sounded old.
“No, not Francis.” He said slowly, patiently. “Harold Drestin, actually. You’re a guest at my home, and… you’ve had a bit of an accident.”
Julia’s husband? Cherry shrank back away from his voice. She was seated on a cushion of some sort, legs dangling in open air, suddenly very conscious of her nakedness. Her dress was still gone, her face had been a wreck the last she’d seen and—oh no! Her shoes! She curled her bare toes, trying futilely to shrink her feet into nothingness, to hide them behind each other.
“I’m sorry—“ she blurted, hardly an appropriate greeting from a girl to a man. “I…I misspoke. I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Drestin.”
“Doctor, actually.” His tone was polite but Cherry winced anyway. That had been on the invitation. She should have remembered! “And there’s nothing to apologize for, dear. Not on your end, anyway. I have taken temporary control of your censors.”
Cherry frowned. “Is…Is that why I can’t see?” She hadn’t been aware that other men could do that.
“I thought it best to avoid any unnecessary stimulus, given your condition.” He dropped into an even softer tone. “Are you able to tell me what happened?”
“I can try…” She didn’t want to, but his question had the form of a gentle command. Without Francis there to assert himself as her owner she had no way around an order from another man. At least he had put it delicately.
With a little more gentle encouragement she eventually murmured all that she could remember. It wasn’t much—even if she tried to follow that path in her mind she kept getting lost, hitting dead ends, finding things that didn’t make sense. There had been two men, and another woman. The men had hurt Cherry, and they had hurt the other woman, too. And…she had thought they were her husband. Both of them, and she had really believed it.
Deep down she realized that she still did. Her memories of the men were tangled together, and that tangle itself was then wrapped into the image of Francis in her mind. She couldn’t seem to separate them without immense effort, and they snapped back together like a bra strap holding everything snug whenever she let her concentration slip. That scared her even worse than the memory of what the men had done to her.
“Don’t cry, pumpkin.” She felt a soft cloth press beneath her eyes, the blur of it darkening the bottom edge of her vision, catching tears before they could fall. “There, there. A maid has only just finished fixing your lovely face. Let’s not ruin it’s hard work, shall we? No more tears, now.”
She sniffled and bit her lip, nodding to show that she was trying to do what he told her. The cloth—his handkerchief she imagined—dabbed at her eyes until they were dry enough that the risk was past.
“There we are. You don’t need to continue, Cherry. The sequence of events sounds very much like what I had surmised from Julia’s description of how she found you. Doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
“Yes, darling,” Julia’s breathy voice enthused. “You had it all figured out!”
So Julia was there, too! Who else might be listening? Watching her? Cherry’s eyes darted around the featureless wash as a terrible thought formed of the whole Social staring at her with scorn. She wanted to pull her knees up to cover her breasts, at least, but that would require exposing her feet even more than they already were. And even if Dr. Drestin hadn’t yet scolded her for lacking proper pleasers, he surely wouldn’t appreciate bare feet on his furniture. Her breasts would have to remain thrusting out into the open air, as vulnerable as the rest of her. Exactly as she should be, for her husband, but being so exposed in front of yet another unfamiliar man made her wish again that she still had arms to shield herself.
Dr. Drestin seemed amused by Julia’s exuberance, chuckling goodnaturedly. When he spoke, it sounded as though he had turned away from Cherry; likely in his wife’s direction.
“You give me too much credit, my love, as always. I had a few more clues than that to work with.” There was a brief sound of lips smacking—a kiss! Cherry couldn’t help but picture it as perhaps more romantic than the reality, then blushed at witnessing such an intimate moment, if only in her imagination.
Maybe the three of them were somewhere more private. For all it was called a ‘sitting room’ there hadn’t actually been anything like this cushioned bench to sit on back in the main room of the Social. She rocked back and forth a bit. Her butt felt strangely numb, and her mods had left it considerably thicker than it had been when she last sat on anything other than her bed, but she was able to sense that the surface was hard, with only a thin layer of pleather cushion. Like the examination tables she had sat upon in any number of doctors’ offices over the years, and she was speaking to a doctor, after all. She liked that thought much better.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Cherry abruptly stopped fidgeting; he must have noticed!
“No, I’m fine!”
“I’m sorry not to have a softer seat for you. Didn’t have much time to prepare.”
“It’s very soft.” She assured him, and tried to relax her body. A woman should be poised, or inviting, but never tense. “Thank you.”
“That’s good,” he laughed, the same warm chuckle he had given Julia, “though I know you’re lying for my benefit. I’ve run a scan on your brain, Cherry. Am still running it, currently.”
“My brain?”
“Yes, just a simple scan.” He tapped Cherry on her temple. Or rather, he tapped something that was stuck there. She hadn’t noticed the sensation until he called attention to it. “No need to open you up—this should tell us the gist of what’s going on in there. We’ll be running a few more tests together, too, but your confusion with the two men makes a lot of sense from what I’ve determined thus far.”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part, honey. I took an oath when I became a doctor, you see. Promised not to tell little ladies like you anything your owner might not want you to hear.” He made an exaggerated sigh. “But I grow so forgetful in my old age. Small details like oaths can sometimes completely slip my mind, not to mention how I ramble nowadays. Besides, you’ve been through such an ordeal today, and under my roof, that I find myself wanting to tell you a few things you really have no right to know.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble…”
He really laughed at that, wheezing slightly.
“That’s very presumptuous of you, young lady! I hardly see how you can claim responsibility for my being old and stubborn. No one is going to come after me, don’t you worry. They wouldn’t dare. And there are some things you should know, I think. The damage is already done.”
“So there is something wrong? Can you fix it?”
“Not likely, dear. Truth be told, my medical knowledge is a tad out of date. I ended my practice around the time your grandmother must have been getting her marital modifications. Perhaps even your great-grandmother.”
Cherry furrowed her brow, “I just had a normal mother…”
“Ah, yes, I suppose those words are gibberish to you. No matter. I mean to say that my methods were already old fashioned a long time ago. I’ll do what I can for you, but I doubt it will be more than assessing the extent of the damage.”
A clacking of keys began from somewhere down and to her right—presumably the controls of some sort of medical instrument. He really was old fashioned, if he preferred not to just wave his hands in the air the way most men did. She knew they were actually manipulating displays that only men could see—male contacts could show all sorts of things—but to Cherry it might as well have been magic. She had believed as much until her older brother explained it all to her, much to her father’s displeasure, and she knew plenty of women who still insisted that men’s hands held magic powers.
“By the by,” he said while typing, “I already took the liberty of rubbing you down with a pain relieving ointment. Your surgeons did a marvelous job on your curves. Firm—yet plenty of jiggle—and so soft! An amazing display of the recent advancements in thermoplastics, don’t you agree?”
“Um…” A simple yes or no would usually do when men said big words, but Cherry didn’t understand well enough to know which he wanted to hear. At least the ointment explained why she was so numb, and slightly tingly.
“Thermoplastics? Ah, nevermind. I can see you’re not familiar. My word, they barely teach you ladies how to tie your shoes these days.”
She blinked. “Tie them?”
“A figure of speech, sweetheart. Shoes used to have these things called laces, you see. Oh, and women used to wear normal shoes. Well, normal for the era.”
“You know such fascinating things!” Julia piped up from somewhere nearby. Cherry could hear how wide she was smiling.
“Thank you, my love.” Another quick kiss.
For herself, Cherry still didn’t understand how the women could have tied their own shoes even if they did have laces for the purpose. The very notion conjured a ridiculous image of a woman, her leg curled all the way up to her face, vainly attempting to catch the end of a lace with her teeth. A small giggle bubbled up through her melancholy.
“Now there’s a lovely sound!” He patted her thigh, a light touch, but it made Cherry flinch. For an instant, she had expected him to hurt her. Why would she think that? He was being so nice. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. “It is a silly thought, isn’t it? Such things were before even my time, but I am a student of history.
“Anywho, Cherry, I applied the ointment to your naughty place as well. It seemed pretty battered, so I used a big glob of the stuff, and good thing, too! I think you might have pulled my finger off if I wasn’t all greased up. You’ve got quite a grip down there, young lady!”
Cherry shyly thanked him for the compliment, and the ointment.
“You’re quite welcome. You’re being a very good girl, Cherry—the scan is going well.” His typing paused suddenly. “Would you like a lollipop?”
Cherry perked up at that! She was about to tell him she would like one very much, when she remembered the debacle at the snack table.
“I’m on a diet…” She murmured instead.
“Nonsense.” A drawer opened somewhere nearby. “I have full root access to your censors, including your dietary restrictions, and I say that good girls get lollipops. Now, would you like one?”
Guilt at disobeying Francis’ orders washed through her, but it wasn’t enough to drown her excitement. Her nod managed to be both sheepish and enthusiastic.
“Oh, it’s even cherry-flavored; how perfect. Say ‘ahhh’, darling. There you are.”
Cherry didn’t know what she had expected. Part of her had been bracing for the ear splitting siren again, despite his assurances. Another part had hoped for something like the remembered taste of candies she’d enjoyed when she was little, before she switched to mostly slurpees. And it was like that, only better. So much better than she could have anticipated.
The flavor absolutely exploded on her tongue, curling toes she had only just begun to relax. It was almost the same as those cherished red lollipops of her childhood, but so much more vibrant, more specific. As if so much time without had somehow attuned her to better appreciate the subtleties of the sugariness. And yet at the same time it was overwhelming, totally obliterating her ability to focus on anything else. A shiver ran down her spine. It was good.
Julia Drestin keeps herself occupied.
“Thank you,” she mumbled around the stick.
“You’re welcome, dear.” Dr. Drestin said distractedly. The typing had resumed, even faster now. “Oh, your brain is lighting up! This should give us a good comparison for our tests, I think. Honestly, it’s making me want one as well. Julia, darling, how about you?”
Julia responded in the affirmative, though Cherry barely paid attention to the admiring words that passed between the husband and wife. She was too focused on rolling the lollipop around in her mouth, mixing her saliva with the sugar and swallowing the sweet results. Twirling the stick as she had done in girlhood required hands long since gone; trimmed only recently, but bound behind her back from her first day at finishing school. Her tongue proved more than capable of producing the desired effect on its own, however. It hadn’t yet been pierced when she’d last had anything so solid in her mouth, and the way her studs clacked and scraped against the hard candy surface added an additional sensation she found quite pleasant. Cherry didn’t know when she might get a chance like this again and she was intent on savoring every second.
“My, but you are enjoying that, aren’t you, pumpkin?” Dr. Drestin chuckled, at her side again, and Cherry grinned around her treat. She heard him make a swallowing sound and wondered if he might have really gotten himself a lollipop, too. “Julia is having hers in the corner. She’s graciously agreed to be censored for the time being, to give you a little privacy for the rest of your exam. I still need a minute before I’m ready to proceed. In the meantime, I’d like to offer my sincere apologies for what happened today. I don’t see much that could have been done to prevent it — retirement agents go where they please, after all — but I am sorry all the same.”
“Retirement…?”
What did retirement have to do with what had happened to her? Her memory was too fuzzy to figure it out. She chided herself for not responding to his apology immediately — it was so kind of him to offer one, and she was being incredibly rude by not replying properly — but he had begun speaking again. It would be even worse to interrupt.
“Quite callous of the husband, foregoing the ceremony like that, but the agency men should have had more tact as well. They made a poor job of it all around. Interrupted Julia’s little tea party, and I’m sure you noticed how important that is to her. Not to mention the mess they made of you! Yes, I’ll be on the horn to their supervisor first thing tomorrow.
“Ah, it’s a shame really. Men retire their wives willy nilly nowadays. That was never the intention of the program. It was meant as a reform, a place for women to go, a role for them to play, if — not when — their husbands no longer desired them as wives. No woman should have to bear her husband’s distaste, after all, and no man should stay with a wife out of guilt alone. It was hard on a man, when the only option was cutting her loose. You know where those women end up.”
Cherry must have looked sufficiently puzzled.
“You don’t? I won’t spoil your innocence further, then. Surely you’ve seen them in the streets, at least. Retirement seemed a better alternative. I joined the campaign myself, in my youth.
But replacing a woman has become perhaps too convenient. And the social pressure to do so is immense—why I can hardly sit at the country club for five minutes before someone cracks a joke about my Julia’s age. I have to keep her ears off whenever she joins me in the clubhouse; it would break her heart to hear the things they say. Not that she’d let it show, of course. She’s a strong woman, my wife. Resilient. Don’t make ‘em like that anymore. One of many reasons I’ll keep her till the end of my days. Assuming I don’t have too many of those left.”
He chuckled to himself, then gave a lighthearted sigh.
“Oh, but look at me ramble. I warned you, didn’t I? We need to move on with your exam. First, I’d like to fill you in on some of what I’ve already discovered inside your head.”
Cherry gulped, forgetting to appreciate the syrupy liquid as it slid down her throat. She hadn’t realized he would be so direct with her.
“Is there too much air?” She asked earnestly, trying to be helpful.
“What? Ah…I understand.” He chuckled again, “Who told you that you were ‘airheaded’? You are actually quite intelligent.”
“I am?”
“Yes, for a woman you are remarkably bright. Naive, of course, but very inquisitive. I’m surprised your husband didn’t choose to dim you down a bit. He clearly had no qualms about other changes to your mind.”
Cherry chewed the lollipop stick self-consciously. “I didn’t know he changed anything at all. He didn’t tell me.”
“Well, I imagine that was part of the point. You have a sophisticated modification to your brain, Cherry. In my day we might have called it an ‘imprint’, though the purpose seems different than what I would have used such a thing for. You will believe any man you see is your husband, and upon seeing him you temporarily lose some memories of your previous interaction together. Or rather, your previous interaction with whichever man you believed to be him at the time. Does that make sense?”
“Yes…” It did, based on her experience with the two men in the sitting room. What she didn’t understand was why Francis would want such a thing for her. She never left his bedroom, after all. He was the only man she ever saw…wasn’t he?
“I wouldn’t have told you that much, if not for what happened today. It’s clear that it was meant to be a secret from you. Unfortunately, my scans suggest that the imprint is no longer functioning as intended. Seeing two men at once sent you into something of a recursive loop—ah, I mean to say, it made you very confused. Normally the imprint should have been able to self-correct upon the next time you saw an individual man. But the trauma of that particular experience—and multiple subsequent traumatic exposures, in rapid succession—has left it permanently corrupted. Are you still following?”
She shook her head. The lollipop was dissolving so quickly, slipping away.
“Hmmm…how can I put this? I’m not in the habit of speaking on such subjects with female patients. The imprint relies on your love, and trust, for your husband to work. You were hurt very deeply today, by someone who you at times saw as him, and at times not. And because there were two men present, it felt to you as though it was happening afresh, over and over. If it had continued working as intended, the imprint might have trapped you in that moment for what would have felt like forever. Thankfully, it broke instead.”
“So it’s…gone, then?” She hoped it hadn’t been too expensive. Would Francis be angry with her for breaking it?
“Not entirely. It remains in place, but severely damaged. I’m not sure what the effect will be, now. That’s what I would like to determine, with your help. Have you finished your lollipop, dear? It’s time to move on with your test.”
She felt the stick being tugged from her lips. There was still a small sliver of lollipop left, but she let it go. Giving her only a single lick would have already been a wonderful kindness; she wouldn’t quibble over the last tiny bit.
“Let’s get you down here now…” There was the click of a leash attaching to the collar at her throat, then a gentle tug forward. She had to scooch her butt to the edge, and when the tugs did not stop she was forced to slide herself off of the surface. The drop was short—only a few inches before the balls of her bare feet hit a hardwood floor. She gasped at the sensation of standing directly on her own feet, and collapsed almost immediately onto her knees instead; a much more familiar feeling. He didn’t help her back up, nor provide her with the pleasers she had misplaced.
In the span of a single blink, her worry was overtaken by the return of her sight. The fog was gone.
She was in a well lit, nicely furnished office. Not a doctor’s office after all, but rather a private study. Julia stood facing into a corner between two windows, displaying the open back of her latex sundress. Beyond the window panes lay a stunning view of the rocky coastline, Cherry’s first glimpse of the outside since her wedding. But it was only a glimpse, because though the censors had lifted her vision was still mostly blocked by the erect penis dominating her view.
Cherry balked at being so suddenly confronted with Dr. Drestin’s manhood. It was only the second such specimen she had ever seen—well, she had seen plenty in school but the context there had been quite different. Oh, and she had briefly seen that man’s cock earlier, after he’d pulled it out of her and before he hastily shoved it back into his pants, but she didn’t want to think about that. And she supposed she had stolen curious glances at her brothers’ over the years, but that hardly counted.
Those exceptions aside, Francis was her primary reference for comparison. His cock was…it was… Funny, her memory of her husband’s penis seemed to be all jumbled up. She could remember it looking all sorts of different ways, almost like the series of examples from school. What kind of wife couldn’t summon a perfect image of her husband’s cock to her mind’s eye?
She was sure it looked nothing like this one, though. Julia’s husband was very old, she had already gathered that much from their conversation, and his penis reflected that. It wasn’t very large, though it stretched for her face with every inch, hard, and pulsing with an almost angry energy. He was uncircumcised, an extra flap of skin still covering the head, allowing only the very tip to peek out at her. There was plenty of extra skin elsewhere, too. His testicles sagged low, dangling against his spindly thighs in a pouch of wrinkled skin that was covered with wispy white hairs. Cherry couldn’t help but take a moment to drink in the sight—any penis was a marvel, something to be venerated— but she felt guilty appreciating it in front of Julia, even if the other woman was totally blocked.
“Dr. Drestin, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I should—“ she started, darting her eyes up to his face. And that was when she saw him, really saw him, for the first time. An old man, maybe older than anyone she’d ever seen before. He was wearing the sort of funny spectacles men sometimes wore in paintings or statues, from a time before the contacts. They sat atop his gnarled nose, straddling his drooping, wrinkled cheeks.
“Francis…?” She murmured.
“Hmm…so it’s at least partially intact.” He reached over her head to clack a few keys on some sort of machine, bumping her cheek with his cock as he did so. “Localized to the face…regular trigger patterns disrupted…”
Cherry stared up at this strange, ancient man. Her husband? Surely not. That made no sense—she was still in Dr. Drestin’s office, not home in her bed where Francis usually came to her. Where had the good-hearted doctor gone? Julia was still standing stiffly, her face to the corner. He hadn’t seemed the type to leave his wife like that. Wait…
“Dr. Drestin, are you still…you?”
“Yes, I am still myself, honey. I had no intention of deceiving you for long, but I also needed to determine exactly what would trigger the imprint. What’s left of it, at least.”
“I thought you were Francis, for a moment. I still kinda think you might be. Maybe the…the imprint isn’t too broken, after all?”
“I’m afraid it’s quite badly damaged, dear. You shouldn’t have even noticed anything amiss.”
“Oh…” She glanced down at his cock, still prodding at her cheek. “What would you like me to do with…with this?”
“Whatever you are comfortable with. Though it would be most useful for the scan if you were to put it in your mouth.”
“Oh, can I?” The lollipop had been one thing, but this might truly be overstepping Francis’ authority. “Is that allowed? You’re not my husband.”
“If my suspicions are correct, I doubt it would be out of the ordinary for you.” He coughed, clearing his throat, and adjusted his spectacles in what appeared to be a self-conscious gesture. “Well, that is… ah… I mean to say…that I will be sure to note the medical necessity in my report. He should have no reason to be angry.”
“Ok,” Cherry smiled somewhat shyly, not wanting to appear overeager. “As long as Francis won’t be upset.”
She turned her head to grasp him with her lips, pulling him back into a straight on position towards her face. She spared a glance for Julia, still blissfully unaware, and felt a surge of guilt, but the thought evaporated as Dr. Drestin thrust himself against her lips. Her tongue caught the edge of his foreskin as his cock pushed into her mouth, and she rolled it around the bulbous head, feeling the tension from her frontmost piercing stretching his skin. She slowly peeled it back with her tongue, then rolled it forward again with her lips, playing with his head like she had the lollipop.
“That’s wonderful, dear. This is very good data, but you can always stop if you feel uncomfortable.”
She nodded, which had the effect of bobbing her onto his shaft. He tasted quite nice, though partly that was the residual flavor of the lollipop still coating her tongue. It was being washed with the silky fluid from her intimate mods now rather than her natural saliva, but still managed to add a delicious sweetness. If she closed her eyes, maybe she could imagine he really was Francis. It was already a struggle to keep the two of them separate in her head, anyway—
Not Francis.
Cherry suddenly coughed, spluttering around his cock, trying to breathe.
“Are you alright, Cherry? I saw a brief spike on your chart.”
She nodded again, breathlessly this time, holding him between her lips while she sucked in air around his shaft. Where had that sudden wave of fear come from? It was like before, when he had touched her thigh. A flash of panic, and two thoughts subsuming all the rest: He was not Francis, and he was going to hurt her.
That wasn’t true. Well, the first part was, but the surety that he would hurt her was clearly false. He had been tremendously tender towards her so far. She had no reason to expect that to change.
Not Francis.
I know that, Cherry replied to the strange presence in her head; not really a voice, just a…feeling. A frayed little knot of harried emotion that seemed isolated from the rest of her, nestled somewhere deep.
Not Francis!
I know, she told it again, but that didn’t seem to matter. It wanted her to get away, spit him out, hide.
Well that would be just plain rude. Not only because he was a man, and her host, but also because he had been so kind to her. Much kinder than Francis, if she was being honest with herself. He was the sort of man she had once hoped her husband would be, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to put it in those terms. She wanted to thank him the best way she knew how. Her lessons hadn’t covered this specific situation, but it seemed like the sort of thing a good girl would do. So long as her husband approved, of course, and he had assured her that Francis wouldn’t be mad.
Determined not to listen to the little voice, Cherry took him fully back inside. She made sure he slid along the length of her tongue, hitting the bumps of all three piercings, before she plunged him on into her throat. The walls constricted immediately upon his entrance, inflating, squeezing him tight inside the swollen tube. Welcoming him as she had been designed to do.
Dr. Drestin grunted, doubling forward to clutch the desk.
“Oh goodness. Cherry, dear, I—I’m not sure how long I can—I took a pill, you see—!”
Her swallowing reflex controlled the rhythm of her contracting muscle pulses, giving her much more command over her performance than with her other holes. Her throat would loosen enough for her to breathe whenever he exited back into the chamber of her mouth. With pull after practiced pull, she took his head from her lips, to her tongue, to the depths of her throat, his shaft following closely behind.
NOT FRANCIS!
I know! She shouted inside her head. It felt odd to raise her voice inside her own mind, and not just because she had been taught to maintain an attractively meek tone. She shouldn’t have to worry about being ladylike with herself, at least. It wasn’t as though the little voice could punish her.
NOT FRANCIS! NOT FRANCIS! NOT FRANCIS!
She tried to ignore the voice as it grew louder. Her pace accelerated until she was noisily propelling him in and out of her throat, faster and faster, sloshing her velvety drool over her lips and down her chin. She had to finish, to thank him. And then it would be done, and she would be safe. She was already safe! He wasn’t going to hurt her! But she was losing the battle now, the little voice filling her mind. The terror was seeping into the rest of her even as she tried to push it away.
“Cherry, stop! Your chart is spiking out of control, and I can’t—I can’t—Good Lord!”
NOTFRANCISNOTFRANCISNOTFRANCISNOTFRANCISNOTFRANCISNOTFRANCIS
The tiny knot suddenly overpowered her, wrestling control and forcing her back, ejecting him from her mouth in the same instant that he began to erupt. She watched wide-eyed as white globs pumped free of his pulsating shaft, warmly splattering onto her face while she gasped for air. He shuddered, bent completely over the desk, moaning, but she could barely hear over her own quite unladylike heaving noises, desperately fighting to regain command of her body, to breathe.
NOT FRANCIS!!!
It’s over! I’m ok!
NOT FRANCIS!
It’s OVER!
The struggle consumed her full attention, and she didn’t even notice him crouching down to her level until he spoke.
“It’s alright, Cherry. Just breathe.” He had a hand on her tiny shoulder bump, pressing on her in a slow rhythm. “With me, now. In…and out. That’s it. You’re alright. In….and out.” He was still panting himself, his deep breaths clearly as much for his own recovery as hers, but she let him lead her.
“What…what happened…to me?” She managed to get out. Her own panting was blowing the strands of cum that stretched across her lips, and she could feel even more dangling from her chin. Plenty had already fallen to the floor, and there were goopy trails slowly crawling down her cheeks as well.
“A malfunction. Your imprint triggered a panic attack. It’s going to be ok. You just need to breathe. In and out.”
“Why? Why would it…do that?”
He kept up the steady pressure, and gestured with his other hand how he wanted her to keep breathing, slowly opening and closing his fingers, but slipped from coaching her with his words to explaining, instead.
“It seems the self-correction protocols are overreacting to your trauma. The exact reasoning is unknowable—once these things shift from their usual parameters the results are more chaotic than logical. I’ve spent a lot of time mapping such malfunctions, however, and I believe I understand the nature of this one. It can’t repair itself, so it’s trying to prevent further damage. Meaning that it will act to avoid an experience like what happened earlier today. I’m afraid the panic will likely return whenever you try to have sex with a man who is not your husband.”
“Well that’s ok, then, right?” She asked, hopefully. Her breath was returning. “I’ll only be with Francis from now on, anyway.”
He paused before responding, looking at her with pity, apparently considering what to say.
“In…most cases, yes, that would be the solution. But I suspect that this might be more of an issue for you than you realize.” He adjusted his spectacles again, fidgeting with where the wire frame rested on his ear. “Ah, but I shouldn’t trouble you with speculation. What I do know is that it’s likely to get worse, especially if you are already averse to what is happening. You might…not always have the luxury of being with a man you want to, uh, satisfy.”
“But I do want to satisfy Francis! That’s all I want!” It was all she had ever wanted, since she was a little girl. To be a good wife for her husband, to make him happy, and proud of her, the way her father had been with his wives. The way Dr. Drestin was with Julia.
“I’m sure you do, pumpkin. It might be…difficult for you, is all. To serve him the way he wants, I mean. With the imprint in this state, his expectations of you will likely need to change. A little patience will be necessary.”
Cherry’s eyes fell, shoulders slumping.
“Francis isn’t very patient…”
“I…imagine not.”
They both sat there on the floor for a time, neither really sure what more to say. A large string of cum hanging from her chin finally sprang free, splashing down onto the hardwood. Dr. Drestin chuckled, a bit of his light humor returning.
“You really did do a number on me. This went further than I had intended.”
“I’m sorry.” Cherry grimaced. “I wanted to make you happy.” Apparently she couldn’t even do that right.
“Oh, I had a thrilling experience, darling, never fear.” He tapped her nose, smiling fondly. She tried to return the expression. For his benefit, at first, but even a forced smile really did make her feel a little better. A strand of cum had attached itself to his finger when he touched her, and he laughed, wiggling it around. “We’ve made a bit of a mess, haven’t we?”
“There’s so much,” Cherry said, bashfully glancing at the small puddle that had already dribbled onto the floor. She could only guess at how much was still plastered to her face.
“My pills. I take them to be ready for Julia, but there are, ah, additional effects.” He popped his finger into her mouth, letting her lick the cum off. She would have to swallow it all, of course. Her schooling had been very clear on that point. Not a drop to be wasted, it all had to be properly appreciated.
NOT FRANCIS!
She shot back away from his finger involuntarily, gasping. His wispy eyebrows drooped into a frown.
“I’m sorry!” Cherry could feel tears forming. Was she really this broken?
“It’s quite alright, Cherry. Though perhaps it would be best if you don’t clean this up yourself.”
“But I have to…” Her makeup was surely ruined again anyway—maybe this time it would be alright to cry.
“No, you don’t, darling.” He patted her head and stood, facing his wife. “Julia will be happy to help.”
“What?!” She shot her gaze towards Julia, feeling a very different sort of panic that she knew was all her own. He couldn’t mean…
But he was already releasing his wife’s censors with a quick wave of his hand. Julia’s posture suddenly relaxed—Cherry understood the relief of having a total block suddenly disappear— and she turned, her usual pleasant smile curling around the stick of her own lollipop. When her eyes fell on Cherry’s cum covered face, the empty stick fell from her lips along with the smile.
Find accompanying notes and illustrations on Slothargy’s DeviantArt and Pixiv