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*** Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of patriarchal misogyny, abuses of civic and marital trust, non-consensual mind control, corrupting perversion of ethics and morality, and incest.

*** Thrill Teaser: This story contains themes of patriarchal misogyny, abuses of civic and marital trust, non-consensual mind control, corrupting perversion of ethics and morality, and incest.

It was still dark out, not even five o’clock yet on this early Monday morning. The Sheriff drove past an old wooden sign at the outskirts of the small city, painted blue emblazoned with friendly white lettering that read, “Welcome to Omassa! A Great Place to Live!” He couldn’t help but bark a laugh. He was on his way to check that his deputies had done as instructed.

It was the opinion of the local Chamber of Commerce that no better phrase could possibly attract people of the quality and standing Omassa wanted as its population. Omassa’s population the last time a census was taken was 46,748 … so, roughly that, plus or minus whoever got born or died on any given day since then. The city was accessible by only one state highway that ran east and west, straight through the center. It boasted the typical small city fare and commerce, had a few annual festivals, three elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school. There was, of course, the obligatory old town square, a few city parks, some churches, some meager industrial enterprises still running, a small county hospital, and one television station.

Archibald Simmons, the owner of the local television station was the Chairman of the Chamber’s Board of Directors. Archie, as his few friends called him, was 43 years old, single, a bit pudgy around the stomach, and he stood at an unimpressive five feet, eight inches.

One of Archie’s friends was the County Sheriff, Clive Warner. Archie had done Clive a huge favor when Clive’s wife threatened to divorce him, taking half his life and his kids with her. That was just four years ago. Clive was a mean drunk and his pal Archie had helped him get sober, and stay that way. Archie had greatly improved Clive’s life in other ways, too. So, of course, just after Archie’s call that morning, it was Clive that ordered his deputies to cordon off both ends of the state highway at the county lines, and detour all traffic around Omassa.

He also ordered two of them, Bart and Dave, to turn around any vehicle trying to leave Omassa at either end of the cordon. The rest of his deputies, along with the dispatcher and all other staff, were sent home for the day, with pay. Clive had already checked in with Dave at the west edge of the county, he was on his way to make sure Bart was squared away on the east side. He had immediately gone into action when Archie called to give the signal.

This plan was a long time in the making and Clive was one of the planners. After checking in with Bart, he made the all clear call to Archie.

Omassa was going under quarantine.

A few hours later, elsewhere in the city, Dr. Emil Bascombe, the local General Practitioner and Director of the County Hospital, was on his way to the television station. He was thinking about Archie’s call he received long before dawn.

When Dr. Bascombe’s cell phone had begun ringing, his wife woke up. As always, in private, her face was a combination of perverse curiosity, perfect longing, and utter submission. While he fumbled through his drowsy state to answer his phone, she rolled her gorgeous, trim body up against his leg and, keeping her eyes locked on his, she lowered her head to take his flaccid cock into her warm, wet mouth.

He saw the caller and he knew what this call must be about.

“Hello?” he asked. His cock began to swell as he remembered the last hole he’d cum in the night before. He sometimes wondered, idly, whether his wife enjoyed the taste of her own ass and his dried cum. Not that he particularly cared, naomi was his, to use however he wanted.

He heard Archie say the words he’d been waiting to hear, “It’s time. You know what to do.”

Dr. Bascombe responded, “I understand. On it.”

He laid the phone aside and placed his hands on either side of his wife’s head, staring coldly into her adoring eyes as he began to thrust his cock into the warm wetness she eagerly surrendered to his use.

Whatever Archie had done five years ago, Dr. Emil would be forever grateful. Before Archie’s help, his wife had been a shrewish dilettante, pretending depths of knowledge and wisdom she did not possess. She was also a devious social climber and a grasping, greedy bitch. Now she was a fervently loyal supporter in public. In private, naomi was both a dutiful, capable wife and an unrestrained, deeply perverse, intensely worshipful slut.

He recalled how she used to wear frumpy granny gowns to bed and would sometimes sleep in the guest room. Now, she only ever slept nude, curled up at his feet. Sometimes, he would rouse lightly to feel her hunching against him, humping her slicked pussy against one of his feet in her horny slumber. A far cry from the former churchgoing, Bible-thumping prude he had married.

She used to tease him about having a small penis, now she craved his cock like a heroin addict craves their next fix. He knew he was close. He felt naomi’s tongue expertly lapping at his dick, hungry for his cum. With a groan he hoped would not wake their children, he pumped a decent load into her now sucking mouth. She waited until he was still, then deftly felt under his scrotum until she found his duct, and expressed the rest into her mouth.

She went onto all fours, then sat back on her heels, with her palms up on her spread thighs, looking to him for direction while holding his load in her mouth.

He nodded, “Swallow, slut.”

She did, then smiled brightly, “Thank you, my Lord, for supplying nourishment to this body. Will you be requiring breakfast, my Lord?”

After instructing her on breakfast, he watched her dress and heard her heading downstairs before he called Delores McGinty, the Superintendent of Schools in Omassa. It wasn’t a fun call. He’d eventually convinced the old biddy that the entire county was under quarantine due to an unknown virulent outbreak. He made a couple of more calls that went much better before going down to a very early breakfast.

That had been at just after three in the morning. Now, at almost eight o’clock, he was heading down eerily deserted streets and turned on the radio as he drove to the television station. He grinned, instantly recognizing McGinty’s unmistakably irritating voice.

The preening, authoritarian battleaxe was saying, “-antine is countywide. Local businesses are closed, no one is permitted to leave town until we know more. Local residents that are away from town might be permitted to reenter at some point. All schools must close until we know how the virus is spreading and who is at risk of contracting it. All residents are required to keep their children at home, today, as we assess the situation. Only authorized law enforcement and medical personnel are permitted to be out of doors, today. Please stay tuned to our local television station for upda-.”

The radio deejay broke her off, mid-sentence, “Or stay tuned to this station.”

She coughed to cover a chuckle. With the imperious hubris of someone certain and proud of their insider knowledge she indulgently explained, “It is my understanding that only the local television station is authorized to continue broadcasting through this quarantine.”

There was a brief silence before the deejay announced, “I have just been advised that this station is shutting down, today. All staff are to return to their homes, immediately. Please tune into the local television station for current updates. This is Disc Jammer, signing off until further notice!”

The station immediately went silent, only static was audible.

Dr. Bascombe’s grin spread further. Eight o’clock. Right on schedule. It was working. Archie’s plan was working! A call chain, started by a few key city and county officials, had been activated and even people in positions of real civic authority who had no idea what was really going on were wanting to be publicly viewed as experts. Archie’s predictions were proving perfectly accurate.

He pulled into the nearly emptied lot, parked in a handicap spot, got out and locked his door. He noticed the news chopper was grounded on the pad and both live remote vans were parked in their designated spots. The city was eerily quiet. No traffic. No people, anywhere to be seen. A side door opened and someone exited the station for a smoke break. Well, no people except that … lady? Guy? He couldn’t really tell from a distance.

He muttered under his breath, “That will be changing, soon. Among other things.”

He suppressed a private chuckle and mustered his best stern, professional face. With a severely determined gait, he marched into the station.

As he made his way into the bowels of the station, he heard Archie’s voice in heated discussion with someone.

“No! I am not leaving. This station is mine and I decide who leaves. I know how to run the whole damned thing by myself. All I need is one camera on. This is a countywide health crisis quarantine for fuck’s sake, not some damned Emmy nominee hurricane segment! This is a time for everyone who can to be at home with their families. I don’t have one, so, I’m staying and that’s final. Understood?”

He barely heard a muttered reply, from someone with a feminine voice, and arrived in time to see a cute, tight little ass in a gray track suit departing Archie’s office, her long blonde ponytail swaying as she walked.

Archie laughed, watching his friend’s eyes following his coworker’s body, “Look, but don’t touch, Emil. At least, not yet. Right?”

They shook hands, “How are things progressing, Archie?”

“Give me just a minute, Emil,” Archie said, pressing a button on an intercom, “Attention all staff. Repeat, attention all staff. There is a countywide quarantine in place. If you live outside the county, you will need to make arrangements to stay with someone inside the county. All staff and management, with the exception of me, are asked to vacate the premises, immediately. Please keep your televisions tuned in to receive updates as they become available. Remember, once you arrive at a safe place, remain indoors and tuned in.”

He turned off the intercom and grinned at Dr. Bascombe, “What did I tell you?”

“No doubt about it, Archie, you were right. You fucking understand people way better than I do.”

“I know, I know, and soon, we’re all going to be balls deep in as many fucking holes as we want, as often as we want. Dr. Gregson is ready on his end, both processing facilities are ready to go. So, are you ready to do your thing?”

“Yeah,” Dr. Bascombe replied, “this is going to be simple. Word’s already out. Clive’s already using the sound car from the Holy Cross Baptist Church to broadcast the warning in residential neighborhoods and his already warned the county rurals with bullhorns, but we’re confident over 95% of residents are already informed.”

“Sounds like it’s all going to plan, then. Follow me, Emil, and I’ll get you mic’d up for your performance. We’ll wait about thirty more minutes, just to make sure nearly everyone is home and watching.”

Archie winked at his friend as he passed by him, heading down the short hallway to the studio with Dr. Bascombe close behind.

The television in the Baxter home was on, tuned in to the local station. The cable was out, so there was nothing else on. The regular shows were on, but everyone was waiting for updates on the quarantine. The crawl across the top and bottom of the screen was a repeated announcement about the situation. To a trained eye it would have appeared to be a little glitchy but no one seemed to mind.

Brian and Barbara Baxter sat still as stone, staring at the television. Their eighteen-year-old daughter, Britney, sat beside her mother, also staring. Their blinking and the gentle rise and fall of their chests the only sign they were still alive.

The screen switched to a beautiful swirl of colors and a voice announced, “We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for a special update. For anyone interested in an important health advisory update follows. Directions: Pay close attention to your local television station to receive important information. Repeat: Pay close attention to your local television station to receive important information.”

The Baxters unitedly said, “Pay close attention to your local television station to receive important information.”

They were blissfully unaware that across the city almost the entire population had repeated that message. Dr. Bascombe’s well-known, comforting face filled every TV screen.

He looked deeply worried, “As most of you already know, I am Dr. Emil Bascombe. At this time we are under a countywide quarantine. The situation is serious and developing, we suspect a highly virulent strain of flu has mutated into something new. We are not yet sure how the virus spreads or who it will affect. If you are authorized personnel you have already been contacted and notified of your roles and responsibilities during this quarantine. If you are not authorized personnel, you must pay close attention to your local station. Every instruction you receive may save your life or the life of your family. Personalize every instruction you receive. Repeat: You must personalize every instruction you receive from your local television station.”

The Baxters responded, “I must personalize every instruction I receive from my local television station.”

After a pause, Dr. Bascombe continued, “I will be periodically updating you as we gain more insight into what is happening, here in Omassa. Continue to follow any instructions you receive from your local television station, it is vital that you make personal application of any instructions.”

Dr. Bascombe nodded toward the camera, and the pretty swirls came back, with the crawl across the top and bottom and the announcer’s voice intoned, “We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.”

No one in the Baxter house cared how long the swirls remained on the screen. They could not distinctly hear the instructions being broadcast straight into their brains. They each received their instructions as vital and personally applied them. There were instructions for anyone with a mature womb, for people over the age of fifty-five, for medical personnel, for business owners and managers, and for teachers. There were also instructions for men, boys, girls, mothers (both with and without children under the age of seven), sisters, daughters, sons, brothers, and fathers. As instructed, they each ignored any instructions that did not apply to them.

Hours later, the announcer’s voice boomed, “You will follow your instructions. Repeat: You will follow your instructions.”

The crawl at the top and bottom of the screen remained and the regularly scheduled syndicated daytime talk show came back on, already in progress.

The clock showed 2:30 PM when the whole Baxter family stood up, along with nearly the entire city, and announced, “I will follow my instructions.”

While taking off her sleep shirt, sleep shirt, Britney asked her mother, who was busy removing her own clothes, “Mom, do I have a ‘mature womb’?”

Her mother smiled while unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor, and said, “Yes, Brit, you do,” she continued, as she slid off her pants and panties, “you have a mature womb to go with that smoking hot body.”

Brian ogled his daughter, “That’s my girls!” he said in a lecherous tone. While stripping off his pants and underwear in one fluid motion, his hard cock sprang free from his clothes, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Wow, Mom,” Britney said in genuine amazement, lovingly stroking her father’s rigid member, “our Lord has a nice cock for putting babies in wombs!”

Their parents both nodded in agreement and Babs added, “That’s right, my Lord has a very nice cock. It makes my holes feel … very … good,” she shuddered as a small orgasm rolled through while watching her husband start to fondle Britney’s supple, bared skin.

Another orgasm caused her to shudder when she heard her Lord say, “It’s ‘Daddy’ to you, you slutty little minx.”

Her daughter shakily replied, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Have fun using your daughter’s body, my Lord,” Babs knew her daughter was also experiencing multiple orgasms, and was struggling to speak through them, “Britney, make that gorgeous body fuckable and please my Lord well. I’m going to make us some lunch.”

While preparing some sandwiches and snack chips for everyone, she couldn’t help but chuckle when she heard Britney yell, “Oh fuck! It’s so big, Daddy!” and moments later, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Daddy is all the way inside me!”

Heading back to the living room to gather them for lunch, she saw Britney straddling Brian with her back to him. His hands were gripping his daughter’s breasts hard, using them to steady her while he long-stroked his beautiful dick in and out of her bloody cunt.

Babs smiled contentedly and crossed the room, positioning her large bared breast near her Britney’s face. Britney immediately latched on, suckling noisily while grunting into her mother’s flesh with each of her father’s hard thrusts.

Brian saw that his slutty wife’s face was filled with perverse delight when she looked over her daughter’s shoulder and said, “Mmmmm, she’s bleeding for You, my Lord. Your cock helped make that tight little virgin cunt and now her Daddy will be the first to dump cum inside her body. How’s that virgin fuckhole feel, my Lord?”

He shoved Britney’s body down hard against his pelvis and pumped his daughter’s virgin womb full of his pent up cum. He roared so loudly that it startled Britney.

A laugh erupted from her mother when she felt her daughter suddenly bite hard at her mother’s nipple, “It’s okay, Brit, that’s just what it sounds like when my Lord is really pleased with a hole He is fucking.”

Backing away from the warmth and bonding of Britney’s suckling mouth, Babs said, “Alright, everyone, unless my Lord says otherwise, it’s time for lunch. We can clean up each other’s pleasure parts afterward. I have towels on the chairs, let’s go!”

All across the city, various scenes of intensely sexual perversion that would have been unthinkable only hours earlier were playing out in many of the homes.

After lunch, every able-bodied adult female cleaned themselves, thoroughly, and clothed themselves with a white t-shirt or white camisole and their sexiest panties. Every able-bodied adult and adolescent male put on durable work clothes. Children dressed themselves as normal.

Nearly the entire city began work.

At half past six, that evening, work stopped. Almost every home was clean, laundry was either done or in the process of being done, and almost everyone’s yard work was done. Very little time had been wasted and anyone following their instructions had remembered to keep hydrated. Only the homes of older residents, or of those with special needs, remained entirely unkempt.

There had never been a smoother, more cohesively operated shift at County General Hospital. Every television was on, tuned in to the local station. Apart from men occasionally finding a private location to fuck an eager and willing cunt full of cum when invited to do so, everyone stayed focused and busy throughout the shift. The emergency room had barely been active. Morale was sky high and patient care was optimal.

By seven-thirty, most people in Omassa had showered and had already eaten dinner. Most were already gathered together in whatever room had their home’s best quality television. In most homes without minors, every member of the household sat mutely, nude, staring at the screen and masturbating, apart from some exceptions Archie had wisely accounted for in the broadcast instructions.