The Wreckoning Chapter 18: Groundhog Day

It is Groundhog Day.  My husband’s flight was due to arrive the day after tomorrow.  He had left the Southern continent a few days ago and was currently in New Zealand.

I stand before the full length mirror staring at myself without a stitch of clothes on.  From the waist up all seemed normal.  Tight body, cute little tits, I am still the perky petite Nat of old.  My thighs and calves as well were still shapely and fit.  But in between…ruination.

My pussy lips were now long hanging meat flaps, reminiscent to the empty sleeve of my bathrobe.  These dark rubbery beef curtains ran along either side of a cavernous gaping gash.  I swore if I stood outside on a windy day I would hoot like an empty bottle.  My ass wasn’t much better, it didn’t hang open but the big puffy sphincter opened wide to a feather’s touch.  My farts hadn’t made a sound for months now. Dylan might find a bit more traction there, but not much.

I slip little D1 into my wrecked cunt as I had in August and last February.  It goes in without even touching the sides.  Even trying to tighten around it I cannot feel its 5 and a half slender inches.  I do my best to bear down but as I let it go to put my hands to my head it falls straight to the floor with a thump.  My pussy hadn’t even slowed it down.  My “wreckoning” was complete.

I look down at the dildo at my feet knowing full well it was only slightly smaller than my husband.  What I had let happen to my body was far worse a crime to my spouse than anything the video could have done.  As had been Robyn’s original intention I was well and truly ruined for any real man.  It wasn’t simply the size of the toys but the mileage I’d put on with them.  Last night alone we’d gone at it for two solid hours.

And the craziest thing of all?  I felt so god damned proud of myself.  This obscene transformation had been hard won through hundreds of hours of humiliation, pain, and pleasures beyond my previous fantasies.  I was of course worried about Dylan’s inevitable reaction yet I could not bring myself to regret any of it.  I had never felt more beautiful.

Some part of me hoped Dylan would be angry.  That he would throw me down on the floor and use my gaping cunt and slack asshole and tell me what a whore I was.  That he would invite all of his friends and brother over to fuck his ruined wife like the slut I was.  He could invite every fucking guy from his whole fucking department over if he wanted.  30 or 40 men, old and young, fucking me in every hole. One after another after another.  I knew I could take them all and beg for more.  Bring over the university football team, the basketball team, both at once.  Bring ‘em all on!  DP, double anal, double vaginal, whatever they wanted to do to me.  Nothing frightened me anymore.  Hell, I would welcome it.

The increase in my libido had never come down.  I was utterly insatiable.  My pussy permanently wet and ready to rock.  I was forever sneaking off to rub one out.  I’d fuck myself with bottles, brush handles, whatever I could find.  The worse it got the better I felt, as if I was getting in touch with my true destiny.

Questions fill my mind.

Even if Dylan could somehow accept the new me would he be able to keep up?  Would his male ego allow him to fist me and plug me full of fake phalluses that made his own manhood look like a toothpick?  Would my incredible oral skills and willingness to do to be used and abused in anyway he wanted be enough to satisfy him?  Could a straight laced man like Dylan appreciate having a wanton slut for a wife?  If he stayed would he want me to try to return to the way I was?  Was that even possible?  Did I even want that?  

Even if I could flick a switch and return my body to what it was a year ago my body and mind would remember the ecstasy of this year.  I missed my husbands weight and scent and strong hands.  I missed the way he could lift me and manhandle me and the way he looked as bust his nut on or in me.  And while I hungered to pleasure his cock, truly longing for the taste of his seed, I knew the meager morsel could do nothing to pleasure me as I was now.  It wasn’t his fault, he simply hadn’t the size or stamina to do anything beyond getting me warmed up.

And what of my heart?  It belonged to two people now.  Dylan was still number one but Robyn had carved out a piece all her own.  More than any of my yoga masters she had challenged me and encouraged me and guided me on a journey of self discovery.  It had started for all the wrong reasons yet I felt indebted to her for helping me get through this year and uncover hidden joys I never would have found on my own.  I considered her a dear friend, a dear friend with benefits.  How would she react to Dylan’s return?  How would he react to my former enemy being my new best friend?  What would he do when he found out she was the one that changed me?

I had put these questions off all year long but my time for burying my head in the sand was quickly running out.  One way or another all would be answered in the next few days.