Models: Chessie Kay & Rick Angel
The feel of Gavin’s hardening cock was familiar in Marissa’s hand. She could recite from memory the exact contours of every inch (and there were plenty of inches to memorise) from the particularly prominent vein running along the underside to the especially soft band of skin towards the base where the cock ring he delighted in fucking her with usually nestled. Marissa had no doubt that ring would see plenty of use tonight, but for now she had him both figuratively and literally in the palm of her hand.
Marissa was so used to jerking him off by now that it almost felt natural. Just like riding him deep into the night, or bending over to let him pound her ass, or kneeling down so he could run his cock between her big plastic tits drooling like an overexcited hound.
In truth, none of it was natural – not even her body. Marissa wasn’t even her real name. She was no more than an exceptionally convincing bodysuit perfectly designed to draw out every drop of pleasure from any man she sank her pretty manicured claws into. The man inside, Marty, he was the one calling the shots.
‘Mmmh, baby, you feel even harder than usual,’ Marissa giggled, her plump, enhanced lips glistening with sticky pink gloss.
It wasn’t true – Gavin didn’t feel any harder at all – but Marty liked to give his victims a wedding night to remember. After all, it seemed the courteous thing to do given that within the month he’d have made off with half of Gavin’s fortune, never to be seen again. If he really wanted to, he could even slip away tomorrow morning and leave his new husband picking up the pieces of his shattered life, but Gavin – like most of the rich studs Marty seduced using Marissa’s plastic charms – had already paid for a three-week honeymoon in the Caribbean, and if the previous honeymoons she’d swindled out of men were anything to go by they’d be having hot, passionate sex every chance they got. And what kind of bimbo could turn down such an offer?
Gavin was oblivious to her dishonesty. ‘Of course I am, hot stuff. Seeing you all in white, it gives me such filthy ideas. It makes you look so deliciously innocent.’
A slutty smile warped her lips. ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ She thrust him down onto the bed and weaved her hips from side to side, deliberately flaunting her fleshy thighs and big, fake tits.
Marty didn’t really mind that every guy he walked by shamelessly ogled him. He didn’t care that in their eye he was no more than a set of holes, every detail of his person expressly designed to fuck and seduce – that only made it all the more satisfying when the joke wound up being on them. Gavin didn’t love Marissa, not in the slightest. Sure, he’d happily spend a lifetime fucking her tight, plastic body, but in the end he was just another rich bastard looking for a shallow plastic nympho to call his own. Men like him were always willing to fund the lavish lifestyle of women like her, just so long as they received a cock-loving whore in return.
But that wasn’t the deal Marty made. He’d been using this body to seduce his victims, drag them into addiction for him, then scarper with their millions for years. He’d already stolen enough wealth to make most royalty look destitute, but then it wasn’t even about the money anymore – that was just an added bonus.
No, it was about the sex.
Marty had realised a long time ago that if he was going to spend every waking hour in Marissa’s bimbofied body, he might as well enjoy it, so he’d made a few enhancements to the bodysuit to make it a more… invigorating experience. Her skin was hypersensitive, arousing her at the barest brush of a man’s hands or the wet heat of his cum over her flesh; her tits ached to be groped, the sensation sending bolts of pleasure through her chest. And her pussy – there were no words to describe how intense it was having a thick cock pounding Marissa’s designer sex.
His tastes in men had changed over time too. By now Marty was wealthy enough that he could easily have attracted a plastic cocksleeve of his own, but there was nothing that could possibly compare to the pleasure of Marissa’s body, so he had decided it would be far more satisfying to get his sexual kicks living her life rather than his own. As a result, where once he had fucked men purely for their fortunes, these days he was far more discerning, ensuring his victims could fill Marissa with pleasure as easily as they could fill her bank account.
And nothing ever turned her lovers on more than a shameless showcase of her sinful figure.
Standing over Gavin she danced for him like a trained stripper, peeling down the bust of her top as she did so. His eyes were wide and hungry and glued to her tits, a lustful grin splitting his handsome features.
Then, with the speed of a striking viper, she dropped down on top of him and fixed him with a wicked stare. ‘So tell me, big boy, if I really was innocent, would I be able to suck cock this well?’
Bowing her head, she swallowed his thick cock deep down her throat.
If anything was more familiar than Gavin’s cock in her hand, it was his cock in her mouth. Though Marissa was undeniably incredible in bed, her oral skills were truly unparalleled. Any cock she wrapped her lips around was hers to command, whether she wanted her lover to cum in seconds or to teeter on the brink for hours at a time.
She had given head more times than she could count, and of all the filthy things she got up to with her lovers, gagging on their thick dicks was by far her favourite amongst them.
The taste of Gavin’s meat blossomed over her tastebuds and she gave a slutty moan as arousal massaged her spine. The horniness coursing through her body highlighted another modification Marty had made to the suit: libido enhancers infused into Marissa’s plump, dick-sucking lips. Making out activated them well enough, but there was nothing like slobbering over a thick cock to send her sexual hunger into overdrive.
But tonight, something wasn’t quite right. Even through Marissa’s pleasure Marty could sense it. It was her lips – they felt different.
When he realised what was wrong his stomach dropped.
Wearing the bodysuit was a strange sensation. The stimuli that affected her had never quite touched Marty in the same way. Sure, he felt her pleasure, touched everything she did, but he was always just a little bit detached. It was like his whole body had been wrapped in silk and everything – every sound and sight and touch – was filtered through it instead of affecting him directly. While it had been disorienting at first, he’d long since grown used to it, so much so that it took a few minutes before he noticed that divide was no longer there.
She wasn’t sucking Gavin’s cock with her lips anymore – Marty was sucking them with his. The salty tang of his precum was on Marty’s tongue, the sliding of Gavin’s dick over his lips astonishingly real.
The next moment, he felt a tightening around his waist and he knew without doubt that the suit was fusing to his flesh. His heart stuttered and he tried to pull back – but Marissa simply continued to throat Gavin’s dick, her actions no longer dictated by her pilot but by the bodysuit’s bimbo coding.
Through his panic a fleeting thought broke through: I’m surprised it’s taken this long. After all, he’d been living his life as Marissa for what… five years? Ten? More? Already his thoughts and memories were growing hazy. But the bodysuit could malfunction just like anything else and given all the rigorous exertion he had put Marissa through over the years it was impressive that she hadn’t sealed up before now.
Marty could feel himself becoming her; her huge plastic tits were heavy on his chest, the empty-headed lust swirling through her thoughts was seeping into his own, and he could even feel her pussy, tingling with electric arousal. The muted, almost phantom-like sensation of his long-neglected penis nestled just inside was now absent, never to return.
In a matter of seconds, there was no longer a distinction between the bodysuit and the man who’d once commanded it. His panic was thick and choking, but Marissa’s lips just glided up and down without hesitation – the only thing she’d be choking on tonight was Gavin’s dick. She batted her eyelids at him, giggling and groaning whorishly even as Marty fought to try and think of a way out of this mess.
But the more he thought, the less it seemed to matter. His mind was going beautifully, blissfully blank. The only thing that mattered anymore was Gavin’s pleasure and the pleasure he would give his new wife in return.
Hungry for more, Marty gorged on Gavin harder, savouring his taste as though this was their first night together, as if it was the first cock he’d ever tasted. His pink-shadowed, long-lashed eyes rolled and he realised his pussy was dripping wet.
There wasn’t much left of Marty by the time Gavin pulled himself from Marissa’s throat and began manhandling the bimbo into position. Riding high on the euphoria of Marissa’s body Marty didn’t pay attention to what his new husband was doing until the head of his cock was driving into her cunt and she was screaming, begging, grovelling for more.
That was all Marty could think of now: more. More cock in her pussy. More cum down her throat. More sex toys filling her tight ass. More of anything Gavin wanted to use her for, just so long as it was depraved, erotic, and sinful enough to corrupt anyone who watched into an addict to sex. More… more… more…
The last thing Marty thought before he succumbed to the bodysuit’s bimbo programming was that he had finally found the word to describe every night of pleasure he’d ever spent wearing Marissa: inferior.
He’d thought wearing her was the ultimate thrill, but he’d been wrong. Being her, now that was what true pleasure felt like. Everything up to now simply paled in comparison.
And somewhere, deep down, underneath the panic and the futile internal begging for the bodysuit to release him before it was too late, he knew he was going to enjoy his new life.
Then, like a candle snuffed out in a hurricane, Marty was gone, wiped out by the bimbo programming, and Marissa found herself riding Gavin’s perfect cock, rolling and bucking and pitching her hips in an effort to take him deeper. Her screams bounced from the walls and she could hear him huffing and groaning as her tight cunt squeezed the pleasure from him with experienced ease.
‘Oh fuck, baby, you’re the only man I ever want. Fuck my naughty cunt baby. Fuck me like it’s our first time and you want to break me in half. Use me like I’m just holes for you to pummel. Make me your bimbo!’
So that’s exactly what Gavin did…
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2 Thoughts on “Wedding Night Woes”
“The bodysuit seals your fate” theme has been told often in TG fiction but never to this level of “DAMN! Somebody open a window” Very hot.
Aw thanks, you flatter me! I definitely enjoyed writing this tale of twisted comeuppance and I’m thrilled you enjoyed it!