The Mist: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Monica went to bed, and was soon asleep. For a few hours, all was quiet, the sound of nocturnal animals barely penetrating into the room. The sound of the city was completely absent, not a single car driving up the winding path. Below her, a few TVs played, but soon enough they were silent as sleep came upon all the occupants.

Even those who were night owls, oddly enough.

The night wore on, and slowly tendrils of glowing mist entered Monica’s room, traveling down the long ventilation shafts.

In her room, Monica twisted and moaned, tossing the covers away from her night-gown clad body. She lay sprawled out on the bed, her hands by her side. Then a tendril of glowing mist seemed to caress her body.

Monica shivered and murmured in her sleep. The mist teased her form, and under her light gown, her large nipples stiffened.

Monica moaned again.

Monica was walking down the hallway. She was in her nightgown, the air teasing her body, little currents running up and over her pussy. Monica never bothered to wear panties to bed. Why? But now she was walking, the sound of a party calling her.

Monica licked her lips. She should go back to her room. Her nightgown was practically transparent. It was… she shivered. What would people think, looking at her, the light shining through and showing the way her heavy jugs swayed, unbound by a bra?  Looking down and seeing the juncture between her legs, the lights of the hallway and room alternately concealing and revealing her slit…

Monica gasped in the empty room, the mist seeming to pluck at her body. She pulled her legs up, spreading them, revealing her mons. A moment later, the mist was caressing her mound, teasing her stiffening clit. Monica gasped again, arching her back, presenting herself…

Monica kept walking, her hips swaying. She was… She stopped and stared at a mirror.

“That… That can’t be me!” she gasped. Monica was curvy, she had a good shape but this… she reached up and touched her lips. Red, full, they looked like they’d been designed to wrap around a man’s cock. To service him, to take the cook deep into her mouth and throat… Monica shivered at the thought. Not a boyfriend, not someone who just bought you dinner, but a dominant powerful male who stood over you… “Ohhh…” she murmured and then looked down at the rest of her body. Monica blinked. She had to be dreaming. Her tits were big, but not just big they were heavy. Wide… she reached up and on a sudden impulse, ripped the nightgown open.

The soft cry in the room, was accompanied by Monica’s hands ripping her nightgown open, the light fabric presenting no resistance. She spread her legs, eyes closed, a sheen of sweat covering her body in the cool room. The mist seemed to take delight in coiling around her nipples, seeming to tug on them. With each spectral tug, Monica’s cries got a little louder, her back arching, hands clenching, grabbing handfuls of the bed sheets. But the mist kept playing over her body.

Monica stared at her body. Her tits were larger, but they were also fuller, wider, sagging just a little even though they were still bouncy. Broad, dark nipples thrust out and Monica hissed as she touched them. They weren’t the tits of a movie star, she suddenly thought.

They were the boobs of a farmer’s wife, showing off her domesticity, her ability to care for and make a family. She looked down, dropping her hands from those sensitive jugs and and ran them over her broad hips, lightly touching her mons. 

Monica’s cry echoed  through the hallway, and she heard some sounds that were almost answering. Her hips were curved and full, her body… Ripe. It felt like she was being prepared for something…

Monica walked on, forgetting her nightgown as it lay on the floor.

Monica’s moans were getting louder. Her body shivering, as the mist grew denser, alternately revealing and concealing her body. She was quivering, one hand descending to her pussy, fingers thrusting into her wet, welcoming opening, while the other hand cupped one meaty tit.

There was a door at the end of the hallway and Monica ran for it, her tits bouncing. She heard cheers and shouts as she entered. There were people in there. Men, women, people she didn’t recognize. Most of them naked heavy, nutsacks and thick cocks drawing her eye from the muscular men, while women looked like she did, curvy, big titted and ready to be… taken.

“Oh-oh God!”  Monica looked over at the sound. It was Jennifer. The Asian was bent over a low table, a man fucking her from behind. It wasn’t Tom. Tom was fucking someone else she noticed. But Jennifer’s heavy dugs were bouncing with every powerful thrust, her man’s cock spreading her as it entered her.

“Hey, look, another one!” There was a cheer, and Monica felt a man take her by the arm. She thought… but a surge of  desire filled her as she was guided to the table. Girls squealed and some cheered her, those who didn’t have cocks in their mouth. Men ran their hands over her body, cupping her tits, tugging on her nipples, rubbing her pussy.

Monica gasped and whimpered, as they talked to each other.

“Look at those dugs…”

“Good hips on this one…” And then they were pushing her down next to Jennifer, the padded floor soft on her knees.

And then she felt the cock press against her wet slit. Monica moaned, raising her ass, presenting herself to the man, the cool wood of the table rubbing against her tits.

Then he was fucking her, thrusting into her. Monica gasped and wailed, as she felt that powerful intruder dominate her.

“Muh…muh…” Nonsense words tumbled from her mouth. Next to her she heard Jennifer gasping out one word.

“Destiny! Destiny!”

Monica shivered. She knew what Jennifer was saying. This was her destiny. To be fucked by a man, made into his… and then she felt more hands on her and she started gasping out the same word.

In the room, the mist was glowing, a warm, earthy scent filling the room. Monica had rolled over, moaning and gasping, her as jiggling as if invisible beings were thrusting into her. Finally, she threw her head back and screamed out one word.

“Destiny!” She came, came so hard that had she been awake, she would have passed out. Monica shuddered, then sighed, falling into a deeper sleep, the juices from her pussy staining the sheets…

And the mist slowly retreated from the room, leaving no sign of its presence…