Chapter 5

As Molly walked into work on Monday morning, she was amazed at how quickly she'd adjusted to her butt-plug's constant presence.

As she'd predicted, it had been no challenge to find someone who could help her - she'd actually found a pair of young men, keen to assist - and had thanked them simultaneously for inserting her new toy for her.

The sensation of all three of her holes being filled simultaneously, one by her new, black butt-plug, the other two by her enthusiastic teenaged assistants had been overwhelming. Molly had never come so close to blacking out from pure pleasure, and when she tasted one of the boy's cum at the same time as she felt the other coming in her wet pussy, she experienced her strongest orgasm to date.

She'd forgotten why she was even at the cinema and gone home, leaving John alone and confused when he came looking for her half an hour later.

Driving to work on Monday, she'd almost gotten lost - Sunday had been spent cleaning: cleaning her apartment, cleaning her butt-plug, cleaning herself of the last of her body hair (for years, she'd refused to shave her pubic area, preferring to keep it neatly trimmed, but now even the idea of hair down there just seemed ... wrong) - and when she wasn't cleaning, she was cumming.

The butt-plug seemed to amplify her sex-drive tenfold; she'd been easily worked-up lately, but with the butt-plug in, everything, everything reminded her of sex. Her TV remote immediately got her thinking about the cocks she'd sucked; the "submit" button on her email log-in made her wonder what it would be like to submit to a big, hulking man; even the act of plugging her iPhone in to charge reminded her how much she wanted to be plugged, how charged up she was feeling.

What Molly hadn't noticed was that each orgasm was knocking a few points off her IQ. After her fourteenth orgasm of the day, her to-do list has simply read "Cleen, jim, cum", and by Sunday evening, she couldn't even read that.

Panic had momentarily seized her when she couldn't work out how to turn the TV on, but after a few minutes of the rain, the quiet, peaceful, gentle rain, she realised that it wasn't worth worrying about - worry was for smart people. She didn't need TV, not when her pussy and her hands provided her more than enough entertainment to get her through the night.

Molly's dreams on Sunday night revolved around something other than sex, for the first time since she got her tattoo. She dreamt about how beautiful it was to be stupid, how her new, vacuous outlook on life was perfect; if she was dumb, she didn't have to think about nearly as much. All she had to do was focus on what she was good at - looking good, making men happy, and bringing herself off.

And cleening, of course.

So when she'd arrived at work on Monday, she was a few hours late. She'd forgotten to set an alarm, she'd gotten lost a few times on the way there, and when she'd eventually remembered the name of her work, she'd spent some time finding a helpful stranger who could push her in the right direction.

If she hadn't insisted on thanking him, she probably would have been in before ten.

Work passed in a daze - her boss had called her into his office for a meeting. He was clearly determined to make some kind of point, but Molly kept drifting off when he spoke, and that just made him madder and madder. She was so wet by the time he was done yelling at her that as she stumbled out of his office, she grabbed Luke and headed straight for the washroom.

The noises that followed made it pretty clear what they were doing in there.

After her orgasm, Molly had a brief moment of clarity. Looking at herself in the mirror above the sink, she felt like her old self was looking back, disappointed. Before she could really take that in, she noticed her tattoo - even though Molly could no longer read what it said, it comforted her - it told her who and what she was. She was a slut. A slut. A big butt slut.

Molly spent the rest of the day in the washroom, alternately playing with herself and pleasuring any man who came in. She found herself staring at her butt whenever she was getting off, or whenever she faced the mirror while fucking someone. It was so big and bouncy, such a perfect ass ... she could see that it was driving the men who came to visit her crazy as well, and that just made her love it all the more.

At the end of the day, Molly's boss came in to escort her off the premises - she would have been annoyed, but he let her give him a quick blow-job before he officially fired her.

On Tuesday night, Molly sat in her lounge-room, looking at all the new clothes she'd bought, wondering if she should be worried about her job. A day of shopping had pretty effectively managed to take her mind off it - shopping was so much easier when you can't read the numbers, she'd discovered - you just grab anything that looks pretty (or slinky, or short, or slutty... ) and hand over your cards. Towards the end of the day, her cards had stopped working, but that had somehow made it even easier - after a quick, wild fuck, the store clerks would often let her take the clothes for free.

Joke was on them, Molly had thought - she'd wanted to fuck them anyway!

By Wednesday, the rain had become a constant presence. Most of the time it was a gentle shower, caressing her face and telling her that everything was going to be okay, but during sex it was a storm, causing lightning to course through her body and rewire her brain. Molly had returned to the gym, but even after two whole hours on the treadmill, she was still buzzing with energy. She joined an aerobics class, and found something that finally took the edge off; standing in the front line of the class, and bending over, bending over, bending over...

The rest of the day was a wash, as Molly wandered the streets near her gym, bending over at every opportunity that she got. She was wearing nothing but her new work-out clothes; a sports bra and a pair of tights, but even if she'd been dressed like a nun her ass would have stopped traffic. The way her hips swayed from side to side as she walked, the heels that were all that she could wear these days...