Chapter One: Protests and Priorities

“WE’RE NOT GOING BACK! WE’RE NOT GOING BACK!”

Zoey Vasquez shouted the slogan at the top of her lungs, “Protect Trans Youth” placard in hand. Dominick shouted right beside her with a “Queer Rights are Human Rights” sign. They wore matching shirts for the protest, “I Love My Cis Husband” for Zoey, “I Love My Trans Wife” for Dom.

Lola Russell-Vasquez didn’t wear clothes, as a rule - she was Dominick’s willing and eager sex slave and felt covering her fantastic body was gauche, disrespectful to her master. But Zoey was her wife too, and Lola wanted to show support.

With a t-shirt out of the question, she had “I Love My Trans Wife” written on her back in bodypaint, and wore a pink and purple bandana headscarf. Her massive breasts jiggled wildly as she pumped her “Love is Love” sign in the air.

Zoey smiled at Lola’s enthusiastic protesting. “I appreciate the effort, babe, but no one is looking at your sign.”

Lola shrugged, tits shaking. “They’re looking - that’s half the battle.”

“They do draw attention to an important cause.” Dominick paused, considering. “I wonder if they’ll show you on the news?”

“KING always shows me above the nipple; KIRO just blurs everything. We’ll get traction on YouTube though. It’s full frontal with no restrictions - our engagement numbers jump way up every time I’m on the news. I must have a special exemption or something because I run happy.freak.”

Right on cue, a happy.freak volunteer walked past, with a rolling cooler full of bottled water for the crowd, stopping when she saw Lola. “Mrs. Vasquez! You folks need a drink?”

“Thank you, Brooklyn. Good timing!” They all took a bottle and the girl moved on.

“How many people do you have running around today?”

“I’m not sure, Master - Violet’s been handling logistics.” She fished her phone out of her purse. “Vi, how many volunteers are out here?”

“Twenty-eight, Mistress, between the water and the first aid stations.” Violet Watts sat in front of the webcam, huge boobs prominent in the frame. Said boobs strained mightily against the purple latex bodysuit she’d worn for the occasion, with pink rope binding her arms behind her back.

Violet had a very specific vision of being Lola’s slave, which included a lot of bondage. It wouldn’t have been Lola’s first choice - she preferred nudity wherever possible - but a healthy relationship is built on compromise.

“Thanks for coordinating things, hon!” Zoey and Dom both thanked her as well. Lola made a kissy face at the screen, and Violet blushed.

“Of course, Mistress - I live to serve you.”

“Love you, sweetie! See you soon!” With that, Lola put her phone away. “Ok, let’s go rage against the machine!”

“Violet, we’re home!” Zoey pushed open the door, arms full of pizza boxes. Dominick and Lola followed shortly behind, hauling in their protesting gear.

“Welcome home, Ms. Vasquez. How did it go?” Violet moved to assist Lola, arms temporarily coming free to grab the cooler.

“It was great. Things have been bleak lately; it was refreshing to see how many people are ready to stand up. Thank you for handling the volunteers.”

“Happy to help, ma’am.” She dumped the contents of the cooler in the sink, arms rebound once the job was done. “We’re all doing our part - you most of all.”

Zoey dismissed it all with a wave. She pulled plates from the cabinet, along with Violet’s bowl. “I sit in a bunch of meetings, arguing about spreadsheets. It feels like I should be doing more.”

Lola squeezed Zoey from behind, breasts pressed firmly into the smaller woman’s back. “You’re in four different advocacy groups, you go to every rally and protest, and you’ve raised more funds than PBS. What else could you possibly be doing?”

“And that doesn’t even count all your work with the humane society,” Dom added. “I’m shocked you have time to sleep!”

“I guess…” She sighed again, then shook it off. “But today was amazing - that’s the important thing.” Soon Zoey was dishing out slices, cutting one into pieces for Violet, while Dominick grabbed some beers.

As they sat at the kitchen table (or knelt beside it), laughing and joking, Zoey’s tension dissipated. Lola was right - she was busting her ass. There’s only so much one woman can do, and she was doing it. After a few slices and a few rounds, Zoey was feeling very happy about the day.

Zoey entered the bedroom, hands full. The others were already naked on the bed, Lola laying between Dominick and Violet as they made out with her. She pulled away for a moment to speak to her wife.

“Whatcha got, Beanpole? We breakin’ out the toys tonight?”

“Not exactly.” She opened her hands, revealing several bodypaint pens. “Your lovely message at the protest got me thinking…”

“Oooh!” Lola sat up, eyes full of excitement. “Fun!”

Zoey disrobed and crawled onto the bed, dropping the pile of pens. She pulled the cap off one with her teeth and picked up one of Lola’s breasts, drawing a large heart around the nipple. Then she blew on the paint, making Lola shiver.

“I should have put down a tarp or something - we’re gonna make a mess.”

Dominick shrugged. “It won’t be the first set of sheets we’ve ruined, and it won’t be the last.” He sat up, cross-legged, and started drawing on Lola’s stomach. Soon there was a little cartoon Dom and little cartoon Lola, hugging and smooching.

“Aww!” Zoey cooed at the drawing. “Do me next!” 

“Sure babe.” Dom shifted around to draw on her, smiling at her eager expression.

“No fair letting Master draw cartoons!” Lola gave Dom a faux-outraged look. “He’s gonna make the rest of us look like amateurs!”

“To be fair, Mistress, we are amateurs - Mr Vasquez is a professional artist.” Violet picked up a pen and started writing on Lola’s side. She craned her neck, trying to read it, and gave Violet a confused look. “Are you writing a poem?”

“If I but see you for a moment, then all my words leave me - my tongue is broken and a sudden fire creeps through my blood.” Violet smiled at her mistress, pushing a stray braid out of her eyes. “Sappho.”

Lola rolled her eyes but kissed her. “That’s very sweet, babe.” Then she put up her hands in frustration.

“But come on guys - cartoons and poetry!? Where’s the filthy language? Where’s the degradation? Don’t you even look at porn!?”

“I don’t want to degrade you!” Zoey was offended by the very suggestion. “I love you!”

“Oh come on. It’s no different than dirty talk - just without the talk. Look…” Lola sat up and grabbed a pen. She wrote HOT SLUT across Zoey’s collarbone in big red letters, then turned and wrote FAT COCK on Dom’s abs, followed by a crude arrow pointing down.

“See? Just some wholesome smut! You call me a whore, I call you a whore - everyone has a good time.”

Zoey was unconvinced. “Can’t I just write ‘World’s Greatest Tits’ on you or something?”

“Leave her be, Zoey.” Dominick poked Lola in the belly button. “I know exactly what you want. Roll over.”

Lola shivered in pleasure at his command and eagerly flipped onto her stomach. He started drawing on her butt, pausing briefly to give Zoey access to his chest for her own art.

“What’s he doing? What’s he doing?” Lola squirmed, trying to see. “Violet, I command you to tell me what Master is doing!”

Violet gave a small moan and began to narrate. “Mr Vasquez is writing something on your ass, Mistress.” Lola sighed in exasperation, but Violet pressed on. “I didn’t realize you knew calligraphy, Sir.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he said nonchalantly.

Lola groaned. “Is this what passes for submission nowadays!? I slave better in my sleep!”

Violet laughed and put a hand up. “Forgive me Mistress.” She paused for dramatic effect. “He has written - in excellent handwriting - Property of Dominick Rafael Vasquez.”

Lola’s eyes went wide with delight. “Get your phone, I gotta see!”

Violet obeyed, taking a picture and passing it to Lola.

She gasped. “...It’s perfect.” Lola turned to Dominick, burning with lust. She hadn’t been this turned on since that wonderful morning three years ago. She moved with purpose, ready to suck her Master’s soul directly from his dick - but Zoey got between them and put a hand up.

“Nope! Not tonight!” She pointed at Dom’s abs - where she’d appended “ZOEY CALLS DIBS ON NICKY’S” to Lola’s previous “FAT COCK.”

“WHAT!? You can’t do that! You can’t call dibs!”

Zoey gave Lola an insolent look. “And yet here we are.”

With a smooth motion, Zoey spun, sitting on Dominick’s chest and kissing him deep. She stared Lola down, mischief in her eyes, as she made out with her husband. After a few moments, she broke the kiss, reaching back to stroke him.

“Master, help me out here!”

Dom only stared at her, smirking. “Are you suggesting I tell my wife not to fuck me?”

Lola turned to Violet. “Do something, Vi! Surely I have priority in a situation like this!”

“I’m afraid the law is clear in such scenarios, Mistress.” Violet shook her head, forlorn. “The Supreme Court’s ruling on Finders v. Keepers is unambiguous.”

“DAMN YOU EARL WARREN!” Lola shook her fist at the heavens. She turned back to Zoey dramatically. “You win this round, Hot Slut - but the war is far from over!”

Violet wrapped her arms around Lola, hands playing with her breasts. “Perhaps I can console you while you strategize, Mistress…” Lola sighed contentedly in her embrace and twisted to kiss her.

Soon Violet was beneath her Mistress, licking and sucking, while Zoey sat beside her riding Dom’s cock. She turned lustful eyes to Lola, breathing heavy. “Can… can you (moan) ever forgive me?”

“(huff) (huff) Not yet, but (moan) I’ll get over it.” They kissed as their orgasms rose, hands in each others’ hair. “Love you (huff) Beanpole - for all that you’re a treacherous backstabbing bitch.” Then the words stopped; Zoey and Lola simply kissed and touched until they came, taking turns supporting each other as pleasure ripped through them.

The four of them were soon lying on the bed, spent and happy. Lola stretched and gave a huge yawn. “Welp, it’s been a long day - let’s go wash this paint off and hit the sack.” She helped Zoey off the bed, giving her a little peck on the cheek.

Zoey gave her a kiss in return and headed out of the bedroom - then jumped when Lola slammed and locked the door behind her. “Have a good night, dear wife!” she shouted from the other side.

“What the hell!?” Zoey banged on the door, shocked and confused. “What are you doing?”

“I’m filing my taxes!” Lola cackled, delighted with herself. “Now who’s got dibs, Beanpole!?” She turned to face the room, her voice slightly muffled behind the wood. “Back on the bed, you two. We’re gonna have a good old-fashioned Vasquez three-way!”

That broke Zoey - she started laughing as she pounded on the door. “My clothes are in there, you crazy slut!”

“Love to help, hon - but I have so much dick to suck. I’m totally swamped! See you in the morning!” Lola walked away, Dom and Violet giggling on the distant bed.

Zoey pounded on the door, laughing and pleading for another minute, but eventually admitted defeat. She washed up, grabbed a snack, and fell asleep on the couch watching TV.

“I’m up, I’m up - stop poking me…” Zoey rubbed her eyes, staring at the couch cushion as she adjusted to morning light. There was more urgent poking at her back, and she made a groan of irritation as she rolled over.

“I’m up! What do you -” The words died in her throat as she beheld Margot’s unshielded dimensionality, the burning purple light of Beyond radiating from the twisting mass of tentacles and teeth.

Zoey did not scream, did not flee the room in animal panic, did not try to claw her eyes out. Three years of regular contact with Margot had given the family some protection from his sanity-smashing shape - but it was still pretty fucking far from pleasant.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, fists clenching. “YOU’RE IN THE WRONG ROOM!” she shouted, “THE DOJO IS DOWN THE HALL!”

Margot responded by moving the tentacle to Zoey’s mouth, pressing firmly against her lips, looking for an entrance. She had just enough time to shout “WAIT!” before it slammed down her throat. There was a moment of icy terror, and then they were in the pale blue infinity of Zoey’s mind. She stood up from the metaphorical floor, outraged. “What the hell!?”

Zoey stared at the shape cowering behind a crude human-shaped cutout. There was fear radiating from it, almost panic. The voice that emerged from behind that cutout was a young woman’s, on the verge of tears.

“Oh Mr. Vasquez, I screwed up! I screwed up so bad! Dad is gonna kill me when he gets back from the conference - you gotta help!”

Zoey blinked. “You’re not Margot…”

Hundreds of alien eyes blinked in return. “You’re not Mr Vasquez…”

And suddenly Dominick was there like a lightning bolt. He grabbed a fistful of horror and yanked, tentacles dangling as he lifted it into the air.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE!” 

The horror shrieked, cringing in his iron grip. “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry!”

“NICKY, STOP!” Zoey grabbed his arm, trying to shake him loose. “I’m ok, it was an accident! They were looking for you - they need your help!”

Dom turned to her, and when she nodded his anger turned to deep embarrassment. He released the horror, which floated back in a panic. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what was going on - I just saw Zoey with a tentacle in her mouth…” He stopped babbling and stared at the sobbing creature. “...Don’t I know you?”

“It’s me, Mr Vasquez!” Then it said a name in an alien tongue which made Zoey and Dom dizzy. “I crashed into you! Margot’s my dad!”