Master PC: Breeding Edition
Copyright© 2025 by North Point
Chapter 1: The Protection Removed
Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Protection Removed - She thinks it’s just a kink. He knows it’s much more. When Chris secretly makes his wife fertile again, her reckless craving for unprotected sex spirals into obsession. Now pregnant — and loving it — Sandy has no idea the clock is already ticking. Because for Chris, the real thrill isn’t fatherhood… it’s the risk.
Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mind Control Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Cream Pie Exhibitionism Oral Sex Pregnancy Safe Sex Body Modification Public Sex Transformation
Scene 1: The Trigger
Andrea was in the kitchen making snacks, the sound of the refrigerator door closing echoing down the hallway. She was still naked, except for a hair tie she’d lazily wrapped around her wrist. Her skin glistened with sweat. Her thighs shimmered from a slow drip of leftover pleasure.
They’d just finished a marathon session—an hour of tangled limbs and filthy moans. The air still smelled like it. Sex, sweat, and release. The kind of raw, humid scent that soaked into skin and stuck for hours.
Chris lay sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his forehead, the other still damp from holding her hips. His cock twitched once in the afterglow—already drained, already stirring again.
But he wasn’t thinking about Andrea.
He was thinking about Sandy.
Opening up their marriage had triggered something unexpected in Chris. His obsession with creampie and cum had always been there—but lately it had twisted into something sharper. He didn’t just want to watch Sandy get fucked anymore. He didn’t just want to see the aftermath dripping down her thighs.
He wanted risk.
He wanted to watch her take it — eyes wide, cunt soaking, mind split between desire and fear.
It wasn’t the pregnancy itself that turned him on.
It was the possibility.
The razor’s edge.
The second-guessing. The internal tug-of-war. The quiet panic in her eyes after a load she wasn’t expecting. The flush of arousal when she didn’t stop it.
That was what he craved.
The tension. The recklessness. The game she didn’t realize she was playing.
He’d kept her safe for months — The Program automatically suppressing her cycle, flushing her womb clean, keeping every anonymous load consequence-free.
But that safety had made things too easy.
Too sterile.
And so, one night, without asking, without telling, Chris opened The Program and turned it off.
Just one toggle.
Her fertility came back online immediately.
Sandy didn’t notice.
She complained, sure—cramps, moodiness, tampons again—but she didn’t ask questions. Didn’t realize her app was lying to her. Didn’t know Chris had rerouted the data.
She thought she was safe.
She wasn’t.
And that was the point.
But Chris didn’t stop with her lovers.
He didn’t want arguments, resistance, or even hesitation.
So he reached into the memories of her three regular boyfriends. Tweaked them carefully. Made each one remember always using condoms with Sandy. Not recently—always. No alarms. No confusion.
And they obeyed those memories.
Every time they saw her, they reached for a condom automatically. They didn’t question it. They didn’t notice the change.
But the true brilliance of it—was Sandy.
Chris rewrote her memory, too.
Not completely.
He left her instincts intact. Her cravings. Her desires.
But he erased the months of raw sex she’d enjoyed. Erased the conversations with Chris. Erased the knowledge that it had ever been safe.
Now she believed she’d always used condoms—with everyone but Chris.
But her body ... remembered.
Not in thoughts. In sensation.
Her pussy clenched harder now when latex entered her. Her orgasms came faster when the fantasy of bare penetration slipped into her mind. Something inside her screamed for it, even though her conscious memory denied it had ever happened.
She didn’t know why she was frustrated.
She didn’t know why she missed a feeling she couldn’t name.
But she did.
And Chris?
He was patient.
He knew that hunger would only grow.
Scene 2: The Slow Shift (Final Version)
Sandy continued her sex life with her three regular lovers.
There was Marcus, with his lazy confidence and heavy hands. He was the dominant one—loved bending her over the couch, holding her face to the cushions while he used her hard and fast. Trent, intense and brooding, had a thing for eye contact. He liked taking her slow, missionary, talking her through every orgasm until she begged him to shut up and cum. And then there was Alex—the soft-spoken one. He was the one who kissed her everywhere, who asked questions during sex, who always made her feel like the center of gravity in the room.
Each man satisfied her in different ways. Each offered something she craved. Each now used condoms.
And lately ... that’s where it fell apart.
She couldn’t explain it.
Something had changed. Not in them. In her.
They all used condoms now. She knew they always had — she remembered it that way.
But still...
Each time the wrapper crinkled, something inside her tightened. Not in anticipation—in disappointment. The scent of latex made her throat dry. The slide of it inside her felt dull, foreign, lifeless.
It didn’t used to feel that way.
Or had it?
She wasn’t sure anymore.
It was Thursday when she saw Alex again.
He arrived straight from work, crisp shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sandy answered the door barefoot, in a fitted tank top and black boyshorts that hugged the curve of her ass.
They kissed lightly. Familiar.
Then she pulled him inside.
The foreplay was sweet. Predictable.
Alex knelt between her legs and ate her out gently, slowly, like he was easing into an old routine. She came once—softly, quietly—arching into his mouth with a gasp and a twist of her fingers in his hair.
Then came the part she dreaded.
Alex pulled back from her kiss and reached for the drawer. He found the condom, tore open the foil, and paused.
Sandy lay back on the bed, legs open, already glistening, already ready.
But Alex was frowning.
He was hard—very hard—and the condom looked ... small.
Too small.
He tried to roll it down the head of his cock, but it resisted. The latex stretched tight almost immediately, fighting the shape. His shaft flexed, thick and full, the head swollen, veins etched into the surface.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “They’ve been feeling tighter lately.”
Sandy tilted her head. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just ... this one’s snug.”
He worked it down slowly, both hands pulling at the edges. Inch by inch. The latex clung tightly, straining with every roll. By the time he got it to the base of his shaft, it stopped short.
The condom covered maybe three-quarters of his cock.
Below that—bare, thick, still pulsing.
Sandy stared for a moment.
Her pussy clenched involuntarily.
He adjusted the ring with his thumb, trying to coax it further, but the latex wouldn’t budge.
“Close enough,” he muttered.
Sandy didn’t say anything.
But something about seeing the root of his cock still exposed made her chest tighten—and not in fear.
Alex slid on top of her, lined himself up, and pushed inside.
Her body welcomed him automatically—slick, warm, obedient.
But the sensation made her twitch.
He felt smaller. Less present. Less real.
She moaned anyway, out of habit.
He fucked her in long, steady strokes. Deep, deliberate. His hands gripped her thighs. His lips brushed her neck.
And still...
Her cunt clenched against the latex, searching for something it couldn’t find.
She looked down between her legs—watched him slide in and out of her. The upper half of his cock shined with latex sheen. But each time he bottomed out, the bare, unwrapped base disappeared into her too.
And every time it did, something sparked inside her. Something different.
A flicker of heat. A jolt. A craving.
She didn’t know why.
But her moans sharpened.
Her grip tightened.
She rolled her hips into him harder, trying to match the rhythm. Her whole body demanded something more. Deeper. Riskier. Worse.
“Harder,” she whispered.
Alex groaned and obeyed.
He slammed into her faster, the bed rocking, their bodies slapping loud in the quiet room.
Sandy arched and clawed at his shoulders, her pussy fluttering around the rubber barrier, furious, insistent.
She came. Finally.
But it felt hollow.
And when Alex buried himself with a grunt, his cock twitching hard—something changed.
The condom swelled rapidly, tightening visibly as his load filled it in thick pulses.
Sandy gasped at the weight of it. The heat. The sheer volume.
By the time he pulled out, the condom was dangerously full. It drooped and sagged from his cock, nearly tipping over from sheer volume. Milky streaks of semen clung to the exposed base of his shaft—evidence of the load pushing down and squeezing out. A tiny glisten of white had already slipped from the rim and trailed down toward his balls.
Alex stared at it in disbelief.
“Jesus,” he said under his breath. “That’s ... way more than usual.”
He caught Sandy’s eye, holding the base of the swollen condom.
“Kind of glad this thing held up. You’d be in trouble otherwise.”
Sandy forced a breathy laugh, brushing hair from her cheek. “Yeah. Definitely don’t want that happening.”
On the surface, her voice was cautious. Light. Controlled.
But inside?
Her heart pounded. Her pussy ached. And her mind whispered: what if it hadn’t?
What if it had torn? Slipped?
What if it had gone unnoticed?
What if he’d already bred her and neither of them knew it?
The thought left her wet all over again.
Later, in the shower, Sandy pressed two fingers inside herself, slow and deliberate.
Her body clenched automatically, trying to grip.
Trying to hold something.
She wanted to feel full.
She wanted to feel ruined.
But there was nothing.
No leak.
No heat.
No evidence.
Just an emptiness that pulsed under her skin.
Chris watched the footage from his desk, slow-motion looping the moment Sandy came.
He had the data. The graphs. The arousal spike the second the condom entered her. The delayed orgasm. The hormonal flush afterward.
But it was her face that told him everything.
A moan laced with frustration. A release shadowed by hunger.
And then the ending he hadn’t expected.
The condom, swollen nearly to bursting. Overflowing with an absurd load.
He winced and smirked.
Right ... forgot to reset the volume cap.
Months ago, he’d tuned up all of Sandy’s lovers—longer stamina, faster recovery, and drastically increased cum loads—to match her relentless needs.
He’d been in such a rush to pursue the breeding angle, he never thought to scale the rest of it back.
Their bodies were still wired for excess.
And Sandy’s was starting to crave it again.
Even if she didn’t know why.
Scene 3: The Test
It had been a couple of months since that night with Alex.
Since the condom barely fit. Since the overfilled load. Since that strange conversation—half warning, half invitation.
Things had shifted since then.
Sandy couldn’t pinpoint the moment it all changed.
But she remembered the first time she didn’t insist.
With Marcus, it was easy.
He’d been pounding her from behind, grunting into her hair, fumbling for a wrapper, and she’d just reached back, pressed her hand to his cock, and murmured, “Don’t bother.”
He didn’t even hesitate.
He just pushed inside.
And when she felt him start to cum, thick and hot and real, she didn’t flinch. She came, hard.
With Trent, she played it coy.
He was always intense. Always wanted to talk.
“Are we still being safe?” he asked once, hovering above her, condom unopened on the nightstand.
Sandy bit her lip. “Do you want to be?”
He paused.
She reached down and stroked him slowly, eyes locked.
“I want to feel you,” she whispered.
That was all it took.
He went in raw and came in deep. Twice.
With Alex ... she didn’t say anything at all.
She just let him slide in bare one night, her thighs already spread, eyes already closed, and when he came with a shaky whisper—”God, I missed this”—she just smiled and pulled him closer.
Chris POV: Watching and Tuning
Chris had seen every moment.
He didn’t need to guess—he had the logs, the footage, the biometric overlays. The Program fed him everything: her ovulation spikes, arousal responses, contraction intensity, ejaculation timing, even micro expressions.
At first, he tracked her out of scientific curiosity.
Then it became obsession.
Each time she let a man in bare, his heart would race. Not from jealousy—from hunger. From the pure, unfiltered thrill that she didn’t know the odds. That she was flying blind.
That she could get pregnant at any moment.
And still ... he never checked.
He didn’t open the pregnancy status field.
Didn’t peek at her hormone levels.
Didn’t verify who, if anyone, had fertilized her.
Because if he knew—it would be over.
He wanted the danger.
He wanted the doubt.
And every time she came home with her thighs glistening and her pussy still red and open, every time she kissed him with that slightly fogged look in her eyes ... he just smiled and stirred her up all over again.
He had considered dialing things back.
The cock size boosts. The cum volume tweaks. The stamina enhancements. They were all legacy modifications—built during Sandy’s earlier slut-phase, when her appetite was insatiable.
They weren’t strictly necessary anymore.
But every time he saw her struggle to stretch around them—every time a condom overflowed or a moan turned guttural from fullness—he kept them.
Because she wasn’t just getting fucked.
She was getting bred by monsters.
And her body was starting to want it that way.
Out of curiosity, he checked one more thing: fertility levels.
Marcus? Potent. High motility. Peak volume. Alex? Good counts, decent morphology. Trent?
Low.
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