Chapter 1: Audiobook Auditions
The air in Mandy’s basement bedroom tasted like ozone and salt. Holographic wallpaper shimmered along the sunken walls, cycling slowly from deep-sea trenches to star-blown nebulae. A floating projection screen flickered, casting a blue glow over the rumpled sheets of the massive bed.
Yukio Harata’s voice, synthesized into a smooth, whiskey-warm audiobook narrator, filled the space.
“His hands found the small of her back, fingertips tracing the hem of her shirt before sliding beneath, seeking the warm skin underneath—”
Mandy shifted, her shaggy brown hair tickling Ben’s shoulder. Her hand, which had been idly stroking his stomach, drifted lower. “This is getting pretty graphic,” she murmured, her lips against his collarbone.
Ben grunted, his eyes fixed on the shifting constellations above. He’d been trying to ignore the narration, focusing on the coolness of the sheets and the weight of Mandy’s leg thrown over his. It wasn’t working. His boxers were feeling tight. “It’s just a story,” he said, but his voice was thick.
“She arched against him, her tech-savvy smirk softening into something wanton and open. ‘I read the manual,’ she whispered against his mouth. ‘Now let me practice.’”
Ben stiffened. Tech-savvy smirk. A cold, familiar dread trickled down his spine. He knew that phrase. He’d heard his mom use it, bragging about her new character’s kinky streak over Sunday dinner while his dad beamed and Portia stabbed her potatoes during his last visit to Chicago.
“Wait,” he said, pushing up on his elbows.
Mandy’s hand slid under the waistband of his boxers, her fingers wrapping around him. He was already half-hard. She squeezed, and he groaned. “Shut up, Ben. This is the good part.”
“The scholarly blonde watched from the doorway, her blue eyes wide, a textbook forgotten in her hand. The dragonrider turned, her rose tattoo glistening with sweat, and beckoned her closer…”
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” Ben breathed, but the protest was lost as Mandy’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock. It twitched in her grip.
Mandy laughed, a low, dirty sound. “Her ‘tech-savvy smirk’? Her ‘kinky streak’? Ben, babe, she’s literally writing us. Your mom is writing porn about us.” She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. The neon light from the wall painted her breasts in shifting greens and purples. “That’s me. And the scholarly blonde? That’s Flick. And the dragonrider is Mai’s mom. Jesus, she’s writing a threesome.”
“Stop,” Ben begged, but his hips pushed up into her hand. “It’s weird. It’s so fucking weird.”
“It’s hot,” Mandy corrected, leaning down to lick a stripe up his neck. “Hear that? Yukio’s voice is all calm and documentary-style, and she’s describing how the jock’s ‘thick, impressive length’ fills the tech girl up. That’s your ‘impressive length,’ Benedict.” She said his full name just to watch him wince. “Your mom thinks you’re hung. She wrote it down and published it.”
He wanted to die. He also wanted to come. The conflict made his head throb. The audiobook kept going, Yukio’s serene synth-voice detailing how the blonde joined in, her shy hands learning the curves of the other woman’s body.
Mandy released him only to shove her own underwear down and kick it off. She straddled his hips, not waiting, not asking. She was already wet; he felt her heat against him. She guided him inside with one smooth, practiced roll of her hips, taking him all the way until his thighs pressed against hers.
“Fuck,” he gasped, his hands flying to her waist.
“See?” Mandy breathed, starting to move, a slow, deep rhythm. “That’s us. Right now. She’s narrating us.” She tilted her head, listening. “He thrust up, his muscles corded with the effort of holding back—” Mandy grinned down at him. “Don’t you dare hold back.”
It was surreal. Obscene. His mother’s words, in her best friend’s voice, were choreographing his sex life. He tried to block it out, to focus on the feel of Mandy—the clutch of her cunt, the sweat beading between her breasts, the way her teeth dug into her lower lip. But the narration was everywhere.
“The blonde’s mouth found the tech-girl’s nipple, sucking hard, as the jock drove into her from behind—”
“God, my mom is a pervert,” Ben muttered, flipping them over suddenly. The holographic waves crashed soundlessly beside the bed. He pinned Mandy’s wrists above her head, driving into her harder, faster. The bedframe rocked against the wall.
“The best kind,” Mandy gasped, wrapping her legs around his back. “Oh, right there. Don’t stop. Is this the part where the blonde watches?”
As if on cue, another voice filtered down from the floor above. Felicity’s voice. Sweet, studious, and currently trembling with arousal.
“…her fingers delved into the wet heat, circling the swollen clit as she watched the other two move together…”
Felicity was reading the passage aloud. And she wasn’t just reading. Her words hitched. A soft, desperate moan trailed down the stairwell and mingled with Yukio’s narration and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
Mandy’s eyes, hazy with pleasure, sharpened with mischief. “She’s upstairs. In her room. She’s got the book open and she’s touching herself.” Mandy’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Your mom’s writing got Flick all worked up. You hear that? She’s so wet for us.”
Ben’s rhythm faltered. The image was too vivid: Felicity, blonde hair fanned out on her pillow, her scholarly fingers doing something dirty, thinking about them. His balls tightened. “Mandy…”
“You wanna go upstairs?” she panted, nails digging into his shoulders. “After? See if she wants to… compare notes?”
He came with a broken groan, slamming into her one last time, his whole body seizing as he spilled inside her. The audiobook reached its own climax, Yukio describing a tangled, sated heap of limbs. For a minute, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the sentient fridge in the corner humming a bars from an old pop song.
Then, from above, a clear, sighing moan. Felicity’s voice, satiated and soft. “Wow.”
Mandy started to laugh, breathless and bright. She cupped Ben’s face, sweaty and stunned. “Told you it was hot.”
Ben collapsed beside her, spent and morally scrambled. The holograms on the wall had settled on a tranquil beach scene. “We are never telling my mom about this. Ever.”
Footsteps padded on the stairs. Felicity appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a silky robe, her face flushed, her blue eyes bright. She clutched a hardcover book to her chest. Amy Bryant’s latest novel, The Digital Dragonrider.
“So,” Felicity said, her voice still a little shaky. “I have a question about chapter twelve. The positioning seems… anatomically ambitious.” She bit her lip, trying and failing to look academic. “Maybe we could… diagram it?”
A soft chime echoed. Jeeves, the floating brass sphere, glided into the room, its tiny mechanical arms gesturing politely. “A delivery drone is approaching the front gate,” it intoned in its crisp, artificial voice. “The package is labeled ‘For Research Purposes’ and is from ‘A.B.’” A pause. “The shipping manifest notes it contains ‘supplementary materials’ including lubricant and silicon-based anatomy replicas.”
Mandy started laughing harder, pressing her face into Ben’s shoulder. He just stared at the ceiling, a man adrift in a sea of his mother’s deviant imagination.
Felicity walked over and perched on the edge of the messy bed, opening the book again. “I think your mom is trying to tell us something, Ben.”
“She’s trying to give me a nervous breakdown,” he corrected.
The ceiling lights flickered. The hologram shifted back to the stars. Somewhere, two houses down, Beth, Marty, and Shiv were probably asleep, blissfully unaware. Up here, in Judy’s beach house, the night was young, and the narrative, it seemed, was just beginning. Mandy reached out and hooked a finger in the belt of Felicity’s robe.
“Well,” Mandy said. “We’ve got the manual. And the… supplementary materials.” She pulled Felicity down onto the sheets. “Might as well practice.”
Felicity’s fingers trembled slightly as she peeled back the tape on the large cardboard box. The holographic wallpaper had shifted to a gentle, pulsing aurora, bathing the room in soft light. Inside, nestled in custom-cut foam, were an array of sleek silicone shapes in muted colors, several bottles of lubricant with elegant, minimalist labels, and a few devices whose purpose wasn’t immediately obvious.
“Wow,” she breathed, her scholarly curiosity overriding everything else for a moment. She picked up a smooth, curved piece, its surface cool and perfect. “The ergonomics on this are fantastic. I’ve never seen a flared base like this, it’s almost… architectural.”
Then the thought hit her, cold and sudden, like a splash of ice water.
Amy was using them.
This wasn’t just a gift. It was a transaction. They were the test subjects, the inspiration. The scene they’d just acted out, the one she’d moaned through upstairs, was already being mentally filed away in Amy Bryant’s notes for the next chapter, the next book. Her intimacy, Ben’s body, Mandy’s laughter—all of it was just raw material.
She dropped the toy back into the foam as if it had burned her. “She’s mining us for ideas,” Felicity said, her voice quiet. The arousal that had hummed through her body solidified into a lump of discomfort in her throat. “This is… ethnographic research for her. We’re her damn focus group.”
Ben had pulled on his boxers and was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “Tell me about it,” he mumbled, his words thick with humiliation. “My own mother is picturing my dick. She’s writing stage directions for it. ‘His thick, impressive length.’ I’m gonna be sick.”
Mandy shrugged, unfazed. She plucked a bottle of lube from the box, examining the ingredients. “So what? It’s not like we’re famous. The only people who’ll ever know are the people who already know us. And hell, my parents probably inspired half the characters in her ‘Romantasy’ line she wrote as that pen name, ‘A.S. Thorn.’ I found a first edition of ‘The Satyr’s Circuit Board’ in my dad’s office once. The hero had his exact, annoying smirk.” She glanced at Ben. “‘The Digital Dragonrider’ is just the first time she’s used her real name for the smut. She’s gotten bold.”
“It’s still a violation,” Felicity insisted, wrapping her robe tighter.
“It’s a compliment!” a new voice declared from the stairs.
Mai stood on the bottom step, dressed only in a sheer black kimono that she hadn’t bothered to tie closed. Her dusky skin glowed under the aurora lights. She held a copy of the same book, her knuckles white on the cover. Her normally playful expression was sharp, annoyed.
“The violation,” Mai said, storming into the room, “is that the sexy dragonrider with the tech girl and the blonde scholar is clearly my mother. Not me.” She tossed the book onto the bed where it landed face-down, showing the back cover’s author photo of a beaming, willowy Amy. “Yukio gets to be the adventurous one. The one in the threesome. I’m just the goddamn daughter on the livestream looking for eels. Mom gets all the fun, even in fiction.”
She stalked over to the box, her kimono fluttering open to reveal the full, perfect curve of her breast and the dark triangle of hair between her legs. She didn’t seem to notice, or care. She began rooting through the contents with the focused intensity of an archaeologist on a dig.
“Ah-ha,” Mai said, pulling out a thick, double-headed dildo made of pearlescent silicone. “Now this has potential.” She turned, wielding it like a wand, her English accent clipping her words into sharp points. “Maybe I should just film myself using this. A proper review. Send the footage straight to Auntie Amy with a note: ‘Inspiration for the next volume. The daughter’s revenge.’ Give the people what they want, right Flick? You know your paranormal studies department would die for my subscriber analytics.”
Felicity flushed, a confusing mix of arousal and acute embarrassment tightening her chest. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Mai challenged, her eyes glinting. “You’re happy to be the shy blonde in the story, getting led around by her desires. You just don’t want to admit you like being led. Or being watched.” She turned the toy, examining it. “Ben, you in? We could make it a group project. Show your mom what a real, contemporary deviant looks like. Not some faded tattoo from her college days.”
Ben just stared, mortified, his mouth opening and closing without sound.
“Mai,” Mandy said, her tone dry as dust. She hadn’t moved from her spot, but she was watching her friend with amused, wary eyes. “You are going to get arrested for public indecency or illegal broadcasting one of these days. It’s a statistical certainty.”
“Arrested is just another form of engagement,” Mai retorted, but she was already digging deeper into the box, her frustration seemingly channeled into sheer, wanton curiosity. She pushed aside more foam.
Her fingers hit cardboard at the very bottom.
“What’s this?”
It was a small, cream-colored envelope, sealed with a silver sticker. Mai tore it open, pulling out a card. Her eyes scanned the elegant script. She went very still, then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
“Oh, this is rich,” she whispered. Then she read aloud, her voice dripping with theatrical delight.
“‘My dearest test subjects—I hope the equipment is to your specifications. I’ll be in Miami in two days for the South Beach stop on my multi-city tour. I’d love to meet up with you girls for cocktails. You can tell me all about how the toys worked out. All my love, Amy.’” Mai looked up, her gaze pinning Ben. “P.S. Ben, sweetheart, don’t be so grim. Your father thinks chapter fourteen is your best work yet.”
A long, low, utterly despairing groan tore itself from Ben’s chest. He fell backwards onto the bed, an arm flung over his eyes, as if he could block out the entire reality.
The aurora on the walls bled into deep magenta. The sentient fridge hummed a jaunty tune.
Mandy finally laughed, reaching over to pluck the note from Mai’s hand. She read it herself, her smirk softening into something genuine. “Well,” she said. “We’ve got two days to prepare our fieldwork report.”
Felicity looked at the box of sleek, silent toys, then at Ben’s prone form, then at Mai’s defiant, naked stance. The embarrassment was still there, a cold stone in her gut. But underneath it, sparked by the challenge in Mai’s eyes and the promise in Mandy’s voice, was something else hotter, and far more dangerous. A need to not just be the subject of the story, but to author a few lines herself.
Mai dropped the pearlescent dildo back into the box with a soft thud. It landed next to the discarded novel. “So,” she said, her voice a purr. “Who wants to start drafting our presentation?”
The question hung in the air, charged with the ozone and salt and the fading echo of Yukio’s narration. The box of “supplementary materials” sat between them like an unexploded bomb.
Felicity, her scholar’s mind rebelling against the sheer emotional chaos, did what she always did. She sought data. She knelt by the box, moving past the obvious silicone shapes and bottles, her fingers probing the custom-cut foam. In a narrow compartment at the very edge, hidden beneath a false layer, her fingertips brushed cool, polished metal.
“There’s something else here,” she murmured.
She lifted it out. It was a wand, but unlike any she’d seen. About ten inches long, it was made of a brushed, gunmetal grey alloy, seamless and cool to the touch. One end was slightly thicker, with a smooth, opaque crystal set into its tip. Along its length were three subtle, flush-mounted buttons, their surfaces barely visible.
“What the hell is that?” Ben asked, peeking from under his arm.
“I don’t know.” Felicity turned it over. There were no markings, no brand name. It felt heavy, precise. “It doesn’t look like a standard… you know.”
Mai, ever impatient, snatched it from her hand. “Let me see. Probably a fancy vibrator. Auntie Amy does love her gadgets.” She ran her fingers along its length, pressing the buttons at random.
Nothing happened.
“Dud,” Mai declared, tossing it back onto the bed beside Felicity.
Felicity picked it up again, her curiosity piqued. She traced the surface, her thumb finding the middle button. It depressed with a soft, almost inaudible click.
The crystal at the tip glowed a faint, pulsating blue.
“Okay, not a dud,” Mandy observed from her sprawled position, watching with detached interest.
Felicity aimed the wand absently at the discarded book, wondering if it was some kind of pointer or light. Mai was bending over the box again, her kimono gaping open completely, presenting the smooth, perfect curve of her ass.
Without thinking, Felicity pointed the glowing tip at Mai’s backside and pressed the top button.
A thin, concentrated beam of cerulean light, silent and precise, lanced out and connected with the small of Mai’s back.
Mai didn’t scream. The sound that ripped from her throat was a stunned, guttural uhn-ah! Her entire body seized, arching backwards in a violent bow. Her hands flew out, knocking the box sideways as her knees buckled. A shockwave of sensation, instant and absolute, detonated in her core and radiated outward.
“Fuck! Oh, holy fucking—!” she cried out, her English accent shredding into pure, raw sound.
Her cunt clenched around nothing, spasming violently. A flood of wetness soaked the inside of her thighs, dripping onto the polished concrete floor. The orgasm wasn’t a wave; it was a lightning strike. It pinned her in place for three seconds of convulsive, mind-wiping pleasure before her legs gave out and she collapsed into a trembling heap, gasping.
The room was dead silent save for Mai’s ragged panting.
Ben stared, his jaw unhinged. “What did you do?”
Felicity looked from the wand in her hand to Mai’s shuddering form on the floor, her eyes wide with horror and electrifying discovery. “I… I just pointed it.”
Mandy pushed herself up on her elbows, a genuine, wide-eyed grin spreading across her face. “No way. A literal orgasm ray. Amy Bryant, you glorious, deviant bitch.”
Mai groaned, pushing herself up on trembling arms. Her face was flushed, her eyes dark and swimming with disorientation and a furious, new hunger. “You… you little blonde prick,” she slurred, her gaze zeroing in on the wand. “Give me that.”
She lunged.
Felicity yelped, scrambling backwards on the bed. Mai’s hand closed around her wrist, nails digging in. They grappled, a tangle of limbs and silk. The wand, caught between them, twisted in Felicity’s grip. The glowing tip pressed against Felicity’s own thigh through her robe.
Her thumb, spasming in the struggle, hit the button.
The blue beam hit her directly on the clit.
The world dissolved into white static.
A broken, keening wail tore from Felicity’s throat. Her back arched off the mattress, every muscle locking tight. It was like being fucked by pure voltage. Her pussy gushed, an immediate, embarrassing flood that saturated her robe. The intensity was unbearable, blasphemous. It scraped her nerves raw and then lit them on fire. It felt like it lasted an hour. It was six seconds.
When it released her, she was sobbing, her body limp and twitching.
Mai used the moment to wrench the wand free. She stood over Felicity, panting, her own body still humming from the first blast. “My turn,” she growled, and aimed.
Felicity, through tear-blurred eyes, saw the crystal glow. Instinct took over. She kicked out, her foot connecting with Mai’s knee. Mai stumbled, the beam searing a line across the holographic wall, which flickered and showed a distorted, pixelated ocean.
“You fucking shot me!” Felicity shrieked, finding a reserve of strength she didn’t know she had. She launched herself at Mai.
They crashed to the floor in a whirl of limbs. The wand skittered from Mai’s grip, sliding across the concrete. Both women scrambled for it. Felicity’s fingers brushed the metal just as Mai’s hand closed over the crystal tip.
Mai pressed Felicity’s finger down onto the button.
The beam shot straight up between them.
It caught Felicity under her chin, a glancing blow. It was enough. Another orgasm, shorter but just as sharp, slammed into her. She jerked, a helpless puppet, cumming against Mai’s thrashing leg.
But Mai, holding the tip, got the full, reflected feedback.
She screamed, her body bowing so hard her shoulders and heels lifted off the floor. “YES! GOD, YES! FUCK!” Her toes curled, her cunt pulsing in rapid, frantic contractions, splashing more fluid onto the floor. She shook through it, her cries devolving into mindless babbling.
Ben watched the scene from the bed, a monument to stunned horror. His girlfriend and her two best friends were writhing on the floor, half-naked, screaming in pleasure-pain, fighting over a piece of technology that made them come on command. “Why?” he whispered to the humming room. “Why does she have access to this stuff? Why does she think sending it is okay? My dad approved this?”
Mandy, meanwhile, had calmly retrieved the wand from where it had fallen between the two shuddering women. She examined it, her tech-brain analyzing. “Biometric trigger, directed microwave or neuro-impulse technology? Hmm. Efficient.” She aimed it casually at Felicity, who was trying to crawl away.
Click.
A blue beam hit Felicity in the ass.
“Ah! Mandy, no!” Felicity begged, but it was too late. The orgasm ripped through her exhausted body, a merciless third wave that left her curled in a fetal position, whimpering, her senses completely overloaded.
“For science,” Mandy said, her voice flat but her eyes sparkling. She then turned the wand on herself, pointing it at her own abdomen. She took a deep breath and pressed the button.
Her reaction was more controlled, but no less intense. Her eyes snapped shut. A long, low moan vibrated in her chest. Her free hand clutched at the sheets as the artificial climax rolled through her, her hips grinding down into the mattress. “Oh, wow,” she breathed, opening her eyes. “That’s… comprehensively effective. The burst pattern is incredible.”
Mai, recovered enough to move, made a final, desperate lunge. She tackled Mandy around the waist, sending the wand flying again. It clattered against the far wall, the blue light winking out.
The three women lay in a spent, wet heap on the floor, limbs intertwined, breathing in ragged, broken sync. The air was thick with the salty-musky scent of female cum and sweat. The holographic walls showed a tranquil, looping sunset, utterly at odds with the scene.
Felicity was the first to speak, her voice a cracked whisper. “I think… I think I need to revise my thesis. The paranormal implications of… directed pleasure technology…”
Mai laughed, a weak, breathless sound against Mandy’s shoulder. “Told you. Presentation.”
Ben finally slid off the bed. He walked, shell-shocked, to the wand. He picked it up. It was warm. He looked at it, then at the three devastated women on the floor, then at the open box from his mother.
He had no words.
Mandy lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Her smirk was back, tired but triumphant. “So,” she panted. “We’re definitely having cocktails with your mom.”