Earlier in the morning, Michiko woke up to the familiar, shameful sensation of wet sheets soaked in her own vaginal fluids.
The same hyper-realistic nightmare had come again, where she was fucked so thoroughly she lost all control, and her body betrayed her in a way that left her feeling both violated and hollowly satisfied.
It was all the same, but today, something was fundamentally different as a disorienting fog settled over her mind, and she couldn't tell if she had truly woken up or if this was just another layer of the dream.
Pinching and hurting oneself to check was meaningless; she had already tried these unreliable methods countless times.
Not to mention those extreme, soul-shattering fucking sessions in her dreams. Since even they couldn't wake her up until she woke up naturally, she knew that nothing in the dream could wake her up.
Unbeknownst to her, the boundary between her dreams and the real world had been silently and irrevocably shattered.
Moreover, with her lust increasing each day, slowly, slowly, after being fucked every night to the point of extremity, combined with the potent cocktail of drugs being fed to her body, she had been pushed past a point of no return.
Her body was getting more and more sensitive. She was getting hornier, and the lust, which was once just a lingering ember, had now become a raging inferno, growing hotter with each passing minute.
The heat building inside her was becoming unbearable.
Subconsciously, her mind drifted to the memories of those dreams: of her being fucked in the kitchen, sometimes in the shower, in Shizuka's room, and God knows where else.
She could still feel the ghost of my hands on her hips, bending her over the cold marble of the kitchen slab in her mind.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
At that moment, her alarm rang, pulling her back from her daze and making her realize with horror that she seemed to have become addicted. Not just to sex, but to me.
The thought of pleasure and sex in her mind was now inextricably linked to the memory of my huge cock pounding her pussy.
Meanwhile, the ultimate question of "Was it the real world? Or was this a dream?" remained like a maddening itch in her mind.
She didn't know the answer, nor did she want to know, because if it was a dream, she was utterly helpless against me. And if it wasn't a dream, then what was happening to her was real, and there was no escaping it anyway.
A paradox with no safe answer, so she just said 'whatever' and decided not to care about it. At least that's what she wanted to, until she heard that I would be going outside for some important work and wouldn't be back until dinner.
It was at that exact moment that a strange, hollow emptiness welled up in her heart.
By all logic, the news should have made her happy or at least relieved. She would be free from my presence, free from the constant worries of what I might do to her next.
However, instead of relief, she felt a profound sense of loss, as if a vital part of her had been amputated.
A part of her was empty, and the itch in her pussy told her which part was the most empty.
These were thoughts and feelings she couldn't reconcile with the woman she thought she was. She struggled to make sense of the internal war, battling against her own overwhelming lust and this sudden, crushing emptiness.
In this state, she drifted through the day like a lost ship at sea, her mood growing more downcast with every passing hour until the moment she finally heard me return home.
When I returned in the evening, Michiko was already in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
"I am back."
As soon as my voice reached her, the oppressive fog of loneliness in her heart burned away instantly, replaced by a desperate heat.
She was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce, but I could see that her entire being was focused on me.
"You're back."
The words burst from her lips in a loud, cheerful, and certainly enthusiastic voice that sounded foreign even to her own ears. At the same time, she let out a long breath of pure relief.
Of course, nothing escaped my eyes, especially that need in her eyes, the slight tremble in her lower lip, and the way her body leaned towards mine.
I wasn't at all surprised by seeing these exaggerated actions.
After all, one had to know that I had really fucked her into madness each night, and those memories and experiences were etched so deeply into her psyche that they felt more real than reality itself.
Not to mention the drugs, enough to make even a woman with an iron will burn with insatiable lust, let alone her, who was a proper woman with six desires and seven sins.
Now, she was just a bitch in heat waiting for me to fuck her.
"Did you miss me?"
At that moment, to test the extent of her conditioning, I asked teasingly, and her response was a simple, almost shameful nod.
Seeing that her state was even more fragile than I'd expected, I decided to push further.
"Did you think about me? Did you dream about me, Auntie? About my cock?"
"Yes..."
The word was a subconscious admission that slipped past her lips before she could catch it. When she realized what she had said, her eyes shot wide open, and a deep blush flooded her cheeks.
"W-what nonsense are you talking about?"
She hurriedly turned her back to me in a pathetic attempt to create a barrier, pretending to focus on the pan on the stove.
But how could I allow her to turn back? I closed the distance, activated my Eros Touch, and slapped Michiko's ass, sending Eros Touch's energy past the two layers of her clothes, and then immediately followed it by rubbing the flesh.
Smack!
"Ah~"
A genuine, soft moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaped her lips, and she spun around immediately to face me.
"What's wrong, Takashi?" Michiko pretended to be angry, but her eyes betrayed her, darting down to subconsciously glance at the crotch of my pants.
Seeing the tent erected under my pants was all the confirmation her lust-addled mind needed to think of the crazy dream that night, getting her pussy a little wet.
"Auntie, I want it again." I reached out and rubbed Michiko's big, plump butt through her skirt, making Michiko feel itchy.
Michiko shuddered slightly, but she didn't push my hand away. Rather, the final, desperate flicker of her old self made her protest, "No, Takashi, we can't do this. I can't do anything to let my husband down. You don't want your wife to betray you with another man after you have one in the future, right?"
She tried to play with words, but did she think I was really a 10-year-old?
"Then Auntie, why don't you be my wife?" I simply ignored the latter part and countered with a wild, predatory laugh while increasing my grip on her ass as my fingers dug into the soft flesh.
"Well, don't, Takashi. Don't play with your aunt's ass like this. How can I be your wife?"
Michiko felt itchy inside because of me, but she still pretended to be calm and looked at me.
In reality, deep inside her heart, the confusion was spiraling out of control, taking all her attention.
Was this a dream? It had to be. Why else would I act so boldly, so shamelessly? Why else would her body respond with such wanton eagerness? Should she try to stop me?
She herself didn't realize the truth of her own predicament: that if someone were to tell her, right now, that this was all a dream, she would drop all resistance in a heartbeat. Every last shred of her morality, her vows, and her entire identity as a faithful wife would evaporate like mist in the sun. That she would finally become her true self: a bitch in heat, desperate to be fucked.
If not, why else was she even entertaining this insane question? Wrong is wrong, whether in a dream or in reality. The fact that she was even debating it was proof of how far she had already fallen.
Seeing her absentminded and lost in this internal turmoil, I pinched her ass cheek hard, yanking her back to the present.
"What's wrong with that? You can just be my slutty wife behind your husband's back. Hehehe."
==============
The fanfic's last chapters will be uploaded on the upcoming Monday, so yes, this is almost completed. Read advanced chapters early on:
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