When has being exposed to untested theoretical physics equipment ever ended well? For one lucky, misogynistic pervert, today apparently! Accidentally unshackling yourself from the threads of fate, you are imprisoned outside reality, and are tasked with making your way back to your old life, one sloppy throat dredging after another.
You stretch out on the king sized bed, groaning as you stretch your limbs, then reach down to the head between your legs. It's probably time for a shower soon, but you've time enough for another throat pie. All the time in the world.
In this timeline, you'd just coerced a fresh faced 18 year old into being your cock holster for the night; she was an adorable little thing with the cutest face that was just begging to be destroyed. In turn, the two of you had roped her conservative mother into your debauchery. The mother, terrified of her precious daughter's reputation becoming public, and the young girl just enjoying the twisted irony of her strict mother finally whoring herself out just like she was never allowed to. A teacher's wet dream. Huh, you're a teacher here? Eh. Whatever.
The consequences of abusing your authority and violating a teen student and her mother should have you shitting your pants. Instead, you hadn't even been bothered to dredge your new memories for their names. It wasn't as if you were going to keep on living in this timeline anyway. She and her mother both were just the latest in an endless stream of cum dumpsters. Bitches to break in, use as orgasm dispensers, then summarily discard like so much trash until the next time you wanted a wet hole.
You twist your fingers into the dishevelled matt of brown hair and yank the girl deeper down your shaft, revelling in the seeming lack of any gag reflex. Most of the pleasurable sensations from oral comes from the first 5 inches or so of a girl's mouth. The contrast between the cool air and warm, thick strands of gag-spit being sloppily twisted around your shaft; the suction gently drawing more dick-hardening blood into your phallus; the swirling of that beautiful, dextrous muscle called the tongue tickling the sensitive area under the head of your cock; the pressure as you scrape up against the palate and punch up against the soft tissue at the back of the throat; even the exciting gentle scraping of teeth could be a thrill. Once the throat barrier has been penetrated, things start to feel much the same, a steady all encompassing pressure, but the freedom of being able to just go to town with your hips, pounding away at a slick tunnel of flesh was simply incomparable.
Despite the growing pool of thick, slimy spittle dredged up from your latest hole's throat coating your crotch, your latest fuck toy was fairing far better than her mother, who was currently lying semi-conscious at the foot of your bed, plastered in cum and smeared makeup. The older woman's severe gagging fit had mostly calmed down, and she had done her best to wipe away the vomit and tears from her face. You hadn't even been all that rough with her, just a little deepthroat to get warmed up and she'd damn near erupted all over herself.
You were looking forward to breaking in the strong gag reflex of the older, curvy woman. It contrasted nicely with her petite daughter who, despite looking like she'd snap if somebody breathed on her too hard, could nevertheless take a violent, balls deep oral pounding like a pro. You'd expect experience to come with age, but not here, and the atypical juxtaposition between the two of them was enticing. It was why you'd chosen them.
Grabbing the younger of the coerced, incestuous duo and manhandling her onto her back, you flip yourself and pin her head under you in a firm double handed grip. Keeping your cock sheathed to the hilt the entire time in her tight little throat, you start pumping once again. The mattress springs are sorely tested as you slowly lift, then violently slam down your hips in a brutal rhythm. A steady squeaking and wet squelching fills the room like a perverted, accelerating metronome as the poor teen's skull bounces into the mattress and your cockhead dredges the innermost depths of her tight little throat. You can't reach the sphincter of her stomach, but it's through no lack of trying.
You grunt in pleasure as your shaft distends her slender throat, and reach down to massage your cock through her neck. Enjoying the sensation, your other hand joins the party, and you pin her beneath you, wrapping your hands around her neck and choking her gently as you use her neck as a cheap sex toy. You feel spittle spurting from her nostrils onto your balls, and the body under your grasp starts to twitch. You tighten your grip and keep humping. How much semen have you deposited into the poor girl's stomach already today? No matter. She can take one more. You squeeze a little harder. Fuck, she's so tight.
"I think... I think that's enough", the milf gasps. "Isn't that-"
"Nah, she's good", you interrupt. You've no idea if that's true or not and honestly couldn't care less if it wasn't. Nevertheless, the teen seems to be coping well enough despite having her throat plugged and stomach pumped full of strand after strand of thick ball juice for half an evening straight.
"uuughkh... GAAAACHHH!"
Or maybe not. The sudden spasm of the diminutive teenager's body, her flat chest bucking from the bed and hands slapping pathetically at your limbs indicate you hadn't just finally found the poor girl's limit - you'd punched right through it and kept on going.
"GAAACKKK! GACCKKK - GLLRRRRhurrrghhhhhh!"
If you could see under the heavy ball sack currently smothering the poor girl's upper face, you'd see bloodshot, cum-covered eyes darting frantically, begging for release. The schoolgirl kicks and bucks, frantically attempting to twist herself away from the fleshy rod skewering her body from mouth to sternum.
More... more... just a little more. You keep pounding away at her, concentrating instead on the tingle running down your spine and your the pleasurable pressure signifying the onset of your own sweet release. She spasms violently, frantically slapping at your arms. You swat them away, annoyed. Not now. You need just a little more! You're so close. Her throat is so fucking tight. Fuck, MORE!
"Please! That's enough! Take me instead, let her go!" The mother cries.
You ignore the annoying whine coming from the bottom of your bed and keep jerking off with her daughter's throat. Breathing heavily, you hump like an animal until, with a balls deep thrust... finally. There it is. Your pleasure finally reaches a tipping point. The orgasm swells and erupts, flowing down your shaft to squirt into the comforting embrace of your conquest's spasming oral passage. A dull, wet gargling noise and a mass of frothy cum and viscous saliva gush from between her overflowing lips as you milk another thick load of semen from your balls into your wet teenage cum receptacle.
Satisfied for now, you release a deep breath you hadn't realised you were holding in a satisfied sigh. Letting go of her neck and slowly extracting your considerable length with a wet squelch, you let her push herself away from you and twist over before she has a chance to make more of a mess of herself than her mother.
Quickly losing interest in her now that her purpose as a meat sleeve has been fulfilled, she suddenly finds the room spinning as you unceremoniously roll her off the side of the bed with your foot. As the teenager disappears out of view to land with a thump on the floor, you turn your attention back to the weary, complaining mother.
She looks on in disgust as your softening cock approaches her face, spraying strands of her daughters spittle to add to the disgusting mess on her huge bosom as you shake it off. You grab her hair and yank her ruined face towards your crotch, wiping it off on her face. She starts to gag before you even penetrate her lips.
"Aight. Since you're so keen on ruining my orgasms with your bitching, let's switch it up, then. Your daughter just set a high bar for oral abuse, let's see if we can't beat that record, eh? And do try to tongue the balls this time, they need a good clean up."
---
Sometime earlier...
---
*beep beep, beep beep, beep beep*
"Ugghhh."
You slap your hand out to silence the alarm, then tuck in back under the warm duvet
*badeep, badeep, badeep*
"Fuuuuckkk."
Forced to open your eyes, you lean over the side of the bed and half drag your body reluctantly towards the noise that is once again summoning you to the dreary, ceaseless monotony of your waking hours. Swearing as you knock your mobile phone further away in an attempt to silence it, you grunt and slide out of bed. There's a reason you always set 2 alarms and kick the phone away from your bed, you've learned from past experience not to trust yourself to get up unless forced. Not that it ever stops you resenting your past self every morning. Responsible asshole.
Swiping the screen, the browser you were using before sleep last night pops up, along with the porn site you nutted to before passing out. Dragging the phone back into bed, you rewind and hit play, reaching under the boxers you wore to bed to take care of your morning wood.
Different day, same old shit. Wake up, eat, work, jerk off, play some videogames, do housework, sleep. Wake up, work. Sleep. Jerk off, videogames. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Work. It just never fucking ends. And as of last week, even the luxury of watching porn on your PC has been stripped from you. Your door didn't have a lock and wearing headphones was just an embarrassing parental conversation waiting to happen.
Why was losing access to porn so important? Because, hands in the air, you were a pervert. You know how there are dead life alcoholics, and then functional alcoholics who can hold a job with a clean cut appearance? You're a functional pervert. Normal guy, get's on well with everyone, no issues talking to women or holding down a job, but walk around at work most days with a full erection tucked behind the top of your pants. It's just harmless, and it feels good. You lean into it. It feels good to maintain eye contact with your female co-workers and making small talk whilst imagining them wearing heavy makeup, and you smearing your erection all over their face.
It's just harmless daydreaming. Chatting with a client, or that cute rocker girl at the corner shop, all the while imagining sliding your hand up her sweater, ripping off her bra and pushing her down onto your cock. It wasn't like your daydreams hurt anybody, and you weren't some psychopath that couldn't differentiate fantasy from reality. Truthfully, you just enjoyed fantasising about being able to use women's bodies without restraint or consequence. A reprieve from the endless drudgery of being a cog stuck in a late stage capitalistic society.
"Breakfast's going cold! I'm heading off, don't forget your open day," your sister Marie calls up the stairs. The clunk of the front door signals her departure.
So, yeah. You were still living with your parents. It's not like you hadn't tried moving out, but with rent skyrocketing and landlords snatching up every property within your budget, it had become depressingly obvious over the past year that you were never going to be able to get onto the property ladder without a serious life change. Working two jobs at the local garage and supermarket was just barely paying for rent, bills and groceries and so, with miserable realisation and no small amount of shame, you'd had to ask to move back in to your old bedroom. Your dad had been fine with moving the gym equipment back into the garage and letting you bunk for a few months. A boomer to a fault, it took a little convincing that times had changed, but at least he recognised that you were making an attempt. Your step-mother, on the other hand, was not so enthused about having a 'man-child leeching off our charity'. Fucking bitch. The very definition of a trophy wife, your father had hardly married again for her personality. She'd always resented you and Marie as the two of you had come from your father's previous marriage. Her daughter Rosalyn on the other hand, she doted on like a little princess, and she'd grown up a spoiled little brat as a result. You'd be lying if you said that both of them hadn't featured prominently in some of your darker free use fantasies.
At least your sister Marie was chill. The two of you had always been thick as thieves and, with your father usually away on business, and Rosalyn and Claire constantly at your throat, it was good to have somebody on your side.
Finishing up and more than a little frustrated, you toss the balled up tissues on top of the small pile in your bedside bin, splash some water on your face in the bathroom and head downstairs, yawning. Oh, right. The open day. You'd been applying for university courses in an attempt to grab a higher paying job and some semblance of a career path. Mechanical engineering or something to do with physics. Machines and maths had always been your strong points and literally anything would be a welcome change from the soul crushing monotony of stacking shelves and dealing with disgruntled car owners.
Shovelling some lukewarm bacon into your mouth, you grab your phone charger, check your calendar and head out the house.
An hour into a boring tour of a dusty old physics department led by a balding old guy whom you suspect was more mildew than man, you break away from the group to go pay the water bill. Promptly getting lost, you eventually find yourself in what looks to be an old service corridor. Concrete walls and dripping condensation alongside the harsh exposed strip lights suggest this is very much not part of the tour. You try to backtrack but find yourself completely lost.
A few minutes of random wandering later, and starting to entertain the idea of relieving yourself up against the wall, you find yourself standing at the end of a grimy looking, abandoned corridor. Maybe an exit? Fucking finally. Who build this place, M. C. Escher? You wander in and find yourself in a room that okay, you obviously shouldn't be in.
Tape and cloth covers half the equipment. Everything is cordoned off with warning signs of extreme voltage and chemical hazards. Shit, you shouldn't be here. You're about to leave before you get into any more trouble before noticing a gents sign in the far corner of the room. Looks like you can cut through. So long as you don't touch anything it'll be fine, right? When nature calls, man must answer!
Less than 30 seconds later...
Looking down at the lever you accidentally snapped off a nearby panel as you stumbled over your own feet, you watch helplessly as the doors slam shut and sirens start sounding. The whirring and beeping of of equipment you should definitely not have touched fills the room. A particularly expensive laser of some kind starts glowing white hot, and you realised you'd just royally fucked up. God, you were going to be in so much trouble.
Sundering complete. Initiating allocation of fractal consciousnesses...
Cataloguing complete.
Harvesting data...
Harvesting data...
Harvesting data...
Harvesting data...
Scanning collected data... Defragging...
All clear. No errors detected. Collapsing loop and re-integrating matter into prime timeline in 3... 2... 1...
White walls. No... ceiling? You're lying down. Hands are cold. Throat is sore. Have you been screaming? What just... the tachyon emitter. You were... outside something? With a... something. A voice, in your head? Fuzzy. Head is fuzzy. You want to go home. Home? Where are you anyway, is this a hospital?
You push yourself to a sitting position and two things become immediately and horrifyingly evident. Number 1: You were not, in point of fact, in a hospital. And number 2: You had fucked. Shit. Up.
The round, sterile white room was not in and of itself a feature worthy of concern. The large panel and holographic display cascading with alien runes was a little unsettling, if very cool. No, what really bothers you is the endless series of rooms to either side of you, filled with... well, you.
Beyond some kind of invisible barrier that repels your hand when approaching in the same way as when trying to force two powerful magnets with the same polarity together, you see more rooms stretching out seemingly forever. You would assume you were standing between two mirrors reflecting each other if it weren't for the other copies of yourself not reflecting your actions. No sound comes from their screaming mouths, but you join them regardless.
Once you'd finished screaming and lay huddled in a corner of the room covered in a cold sweat, hands shaking, you finally realise that you're no longer alone. You feel a sort of.. warm glow flow through you, like thick, golden light unwinding your tension turn by turn. Feels good. This is fine. Everything is fine now. You stand up, looking around at your new surroundings once again.
The walls are now opaque on all sides, and a busty Asian woman in a taught business suit suit stands behind the otherworldly console, her hands behind her back, sizeable chest thrust forward. She maintains uncomfortable, unblinking eye contact with you. You realise she's been talking to you.
You blink and stare at her. God, she's hot. Who is this goddess?
“Greetings, [human male]. My identification number is irrelevant. We will not be long acquainted”, the beautiful alien entity states emotionlessly.
“Very well, ‘Entity’ will suffice. I am a fragment of a synthetic network designated for the role of correcting spatial and temporal anomalies”, the Entity says. “When you ripped a hole in spacetime, you removed yourself from reality - past, present and future. Failsafe systems transported you here in the moments before your vaporization.”
“...Uh?” you reply, staring unabashedly at the huge pair of breasts barely contained by what must be the world's strongest shirt buttons. On closer inspection (and by god were you inspecting), her clothes looked to be part of her skin? What the fuck was -
“My outward appearance is configured to suit the species being interacted with. If it is causing discomfort, it can be altered or removed. Would you prefer an inanimate object or domesticated species?” The Entity states blankly, interrupting your thoughts.
Her - flesh?- melts like molten glass, shifting and re-solidifying quickly into a chrome sphere, then a featureless humanoid, then a horse, of all things.
“Uh, nope. No thank you! I mean, erm. The first one was fine. More than fine! It was… it’s not a problem”, you blurt out, stumbling over your words and hastily tucking away the pseudo-fear boner you’d been growing whilst ogling the Entity’s heaving bosom.
“Very well. It is of no concern,” The Entity says, shifting back into the buxom Asian woman. “Let us proceed to the nature of your incarceration here, and the necessary steps you will be required to perform to resume your previous life.”
She reaches a slender arm out, and dips her hand into the flow of alien runes. They flow around her hand like water, twitching and shifting in colour and form. She flicks and twists at them as they pass, and a display materializes. An image of the room you're standing in, zooming out to show the back of your head, then the room itself slowly shrinking. You see rooms on either side stretching out into nothingness. An endless chain of duplicates spiralling outwards into a vast void, shrinking rapidly to a thin line. The Entity's fingers twitch and a symbol rotates. The display zooms back in until you once again see the room you're both standing in.
“This is you,” the Entity said. “Or rather, a version of you. Right now, you exist outside the universe, in a… you would perceive it as a pocket reality. And here’s what happens if the universe continues to exist with you removed as a variable.”
The display goes black, and then a thin line stretches forward from a single point, winding through the void before branching over and over into a vast tree. Red errors appear alongside a faint blip, slowly at first but accelerating until the room is naught but a cacophony of crimson lights and deafening alarms and then... silence.
“Uhh… wow,” you say. “I didn’t realize I was so important.”
“You are not”, the Entity replies nonchalantly. “Quite insignificant, in fact. On a scale of cosmic influence, you’re easily in the 99th percentile. Utterly unimportant.”
“Oh. Well, er… good? So what’s with.. that?” you reply, gesturing vaguely at your surroundings and waving your arms through the holographic chaos. The fractal images ripple and disperse before fading away, leaving you alone with the Asian gravure model-cum-Alien AI.
“Have you heard of the butterfly effect? No? A simple premise. The sensitive dependence on initial conditions means that a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in later states. Essentially, there is currently a hole in reality in the shape of your existence. Every time any particle should have come into contact with that hole, it now results in a different variable, which in turn creates more unaccounted for timelines. Exponentially so when sentience and free will are added as variables. Given the chaotic nature of reality, things get messy quicker than we can account for. And as auditors of the multiverse, we don’t like things messy.”
“So… I broke the universe? Or, the version of it you like?” you ask.
“Essentially, yes. It renders much of our tachyon technology inaccurate if left unchecked. These things happen more often than you’d think, especially with type III civilizations.” The Entity raises an eyebrow and offers a wry smile. “To see it occur in a species so primitive as your own is a rarity, and one not worthy of manual correction. To that end, your re-insertion into the universe will be completely automated, hence the use of this AI to facilitate your insertion into the data mining liminal space.”
“Meaning… what, exactly?” you ask, somewhat at a loss as to what the point of all this was.
“We're just going to have you play out every possible way you could interact with reality in every conceivable timeline. You'll play out every possible event that could ever happen to you and each scenario will be stored, ready to be re-inserted into the universe as and when required. It's a fully automated process. From your perspective, nothing will have happened.”
“How long will that take?”
“From a mortal perspective? Infinite eons. Long enough that the lifespan of the universe will pass in a fraction of a second, relatively speaking.”
“Oh. Well, I don't think I'm going to live that long.”
“You wont need to. We only need the data from the events, not your memory of them. You have already been duplicated into many trillions of variations of yourself. Each will be assigned a task, and will play out every possible scenario in which this task could theoretically be involved. Each time you complete a scenario, we will log it, fold the timeline back on itself and you'll be free to choose the next. No relative time will have passed.”
“Wait, so somewhere there's a copy of me being condemned to.. I dunno, stubbing my big toe on every object in the world?”
“Yes. Every object in the universe, to be precise. In every possible way.”
“And some other guy has to get murdered with a paperclip over and over again for basically eternity?”
“Correct.”
“That’s… crazy. There’s no way I’d know what to do! I’d never, I don’t know - eat a live slug! Or go on a murder spree, or... or, what about things that I don't even know how to do? You're going to dump me in a timeline where Earth was conquered by Martians and expect me to fit in? This is insane! I can't!”
“You’re going to have to. If you don’t voluntarily choose a scenario we’ll just force you into one until the job is done. Don’t worry, you’ll be equipped with whatever you need to slip straight into a scene beforehand, along with any required knowledge and memories. Just play your part and don’t worry about the consequences. As soon as your task is complete, it’ll be as though it never happened.”
“And what is my task, then? Eating asparagus? Wiping my fucking ass? What are you condemning me to for all eternity?!”
The Entity glances down at the console in front of her.
“Let me see. P… Q… R… yes, here we are. Variation R#2^7^42… your assignment is the reception of fellacio, female partner.”
“Wait, what? So… you're telling me I have to get sloppy head from girls forever?”
“Put crudely, yes.”
“Huh.”
….
Huh?!
Wait, what! This is fucking awesome! You punch the air before a chill settles over you as you realize how very close you were to being forced to give blowjobs for all eternity. You can almost hear the wail of lament from the room next door. Best not to think about it. Hmm, actually, now that you do think about it… Every conceivable timeline? Your mind drifts to some pretty dark places, and you start to wonder if this is perhaps not the gift it appears to be.
“What if the girl I’ve been, er, assigned? What if she doesn’t want to participate? I’m not exactly great with the ladies over here.”
“Their consent is not required,” the Entity replies coolly. “You will act out every possible scenario that involves, as you so primitively expressed, 'getting sloppy head'. If that involves forcing yourself on your partner, that is simply one possible future ticked off.”
“Yeah, but that's just it though. I’d rather not get my dick bitten off over and over again.”
“That would be the role assigned to, let me see... B#2^13^13. To clarify further, any timelines in which you have or will engage in bestiality, underage sex and extreme violence are assigned to other fractals, alongside those involving any personal injury to yourself. Your alarm is unwarranted."
“Wait, so just to clarify here. You’re giving me carte blanche to get sucked off or face-fuck whoever I like, whenever I like, with like, no consequences? And they'll all just be up for it, or else I'll just get away with it scot-free for some bullshit reason, no matter how unfeasible - just because if I couldn't, it'd be the assignment of some other version of me?
"You're telling me I'm some kind of blowjob god for all eternity?!”
“Essentially, yes", the Entity confirms. "Consider yourself lucky. So long as oral sex with a female is imminent, data will continue to be logged. Once there is no more relevant information to be catalogued, you will reset, the temporary timeline in question will be erased and you will be free to begin logging another. Any further questions?”
“Yeah, just the one", you say with barely restrained horniness, the damp stain on the front of your pants already straining at the seams to release your powerful erection. "When can I fucking start?!"
The Entity manipulates the console in front of her again, and the wall behind her melts away from the floor to form an opening. Beyond it lies a well lit corridor stretching onwards seemingly forever, shrinking to a point far in the distance. A little un-nerving but the promise of what lies ahead allows your legs to carry you through the threshold. You take a last look back at the buxom Asian alien... AI... thing behind you, but she's not even looking at you, instead doing those beautiful flowing movements with her hands, dancing in the data stream.
You wander down this bizarre, otherworldly corridor, reading the signs above each door. They offer a bewildering array of scenarios ranging from the seemingly mundane to the utterly depraved, and everything in-between.
Under the signs on some of the doors are pictures, all of them showing females in various states of dress (if the slutwear on offer can be considered dress!). The variety is staggering; barely legal waifish girls to stern looking cougars, beaming smiles to sobbing mascara stains, tiny fairies to chiselled Amazonians. Not all are human, you see fantasy creatures like shortstack goblins and fearful looking fairies no longer than your cock, as well as girls with degenerate sci-fi body mods, angels and succubi, fictional characters from video games and TV shows. It seems the Entity wasn't kidding when she said you'd been erased from the past as well as the future - even data from alternate timelines are being harvested, it seems.
You raise an eyebrow at one that simply says 'Sister's Bedroom'. No picture on this one, but if you listen closely you can hear what sounds like your little sister Rose humming along to a pop song on the other side of the door. Your cock twitches. The implication is seriously twisted. Your timeline suddenly seems awfully boring by comparison.
Given the knowledge that each was a portal into a reality where a set of lips around your shaft was imminent, even the most innocent choice imply perversity. Never in life would the phrase 'Mortgage Advice and Brokerage Meeting' or 'Traffic Jam in a Heatwave' have triggered any positive emotional response. Now though, thoughts of short, skin-tight pencil skirts and voluminous tits with deep canyons of cleavage tenting thin blouses and sweaty, bored teenage girls gagging for a drink of thick nut juice direct from your shaft flash through your mind.
Some of the entrances also have generic looking backpacks slung over hooks under the signs. A few have other items propped up next to them, or heavy looking carry bags on the floor nearby. You unzip one under a door marked 'Home Invasion' and your eyes nearly pop out at the contents. Ball and ring gags, dildos of varying sizes - including a monstrously huge one, bottles of lube, handcuffs, rope, chains, a taser... it just goes on. Did the Entity leave all this here for you?
That’s impossible, the corridor stretches on forever. This must be what they meant by being equipped for every possible scenario. Was this corridor - loading station - whatever - just being magically procedurally generated with every new door you passed then? It's not like anybody was creating this stuff manually, right? The next door leads to 'Gold Digging Step-mom' and simply has the deed to your house and a lottery ticket nailed next to a picture of a slutty looking bimbo you don't recognise. So, it seems like you're being giving you what you need to have fun behind each portal? Neat. You pass more items that look like kids toys - a mind controlling magic wand, a bottle of pills with ludicrously impossible side effects, a dick embiggening serum, voodoo dolls with more than a passing resemblance to girls you recognise and more. Alternate timelines get pretty crazy when infinity is factored in, huh?
You absent-mindedly rub your crotch, which has been slowly tenting into a half chub during your mental foray down freeuse fantasy avenue. You swallow nervously. Any woman's mouth. As deep as you want. Any time. Anywhere. See a nice set of lips? Whip out your cock and let loose. It's still hard to believe. You've had a few awkward fumbles during your pathetic lifetime, but even deepthroat is now on the menu. Most men are probably never lucky enough to get to experience some quality balls-deep throat action in the course of their entire life, and now you've just been handed the keys to an endless lifetime of nutting directly into the stomach of the hottest bitches your imagination can conjure. Pissing even, apparently. Just how depraved was this going to get? How depraved did you want it to get?
Fresh faced teenagers. Prime meat, gasping, crawling on all fours. Begging you to destroy their holes. Dressed in lingerie. Completely obedient to you, horny beyond reason. Desperate for an A in deepthroating. Willing to do anything. Abusing their tight, virgin throats, one after the other, nutting on their faces, gagging and choking them with... you shake your head. You could very easily get very greedy with your wants, needs... demands. Given what some of these doors are offering though, nobody seems to be making any judgments. If anything, this place seems to be freeing you of any restrictions or restraint. You have to enter every door eventually, right? If some of them are pretty sick and twisted, it's just getting the worst over with first, right? Yeah, that makes sense. No use sweating it.
You're already at full mast and somewhere along the line, started jerking off under your sweat pants. Suddenly very self aware, you pull your hand away and look around sheepishly, half expecting somebody to call you out. To your left, an endless corridor of doors stretching away to nothing. To your right, the same. Wherever you entered from, long gone. A corridor of endless possibilities, free of judgment, every door leading to a guilt free, consequence free tongue polishing your shaft with saliva and a juicy pair of lips sucking your soul out through your dick.
After a few more minutes of wandering the corridor and browsing scenarios, you realize you need to make a decision or you're liable to waste a perfectly good orgasm jerking off on your lonesome in an empty corridor. That would both suck and blow. Two things you'd rather somebody else did to you. So, without further ado, you pick a door and discover the pleasures behind it.