Bride Wars

by Pan

"It's crude."

The man's smile dropped, and he turned to his friend.

Well, 'friend' is a strong word. To his fellow controller. Similar in power… though not, apparently, in taste. Alfie had been trying to impress him for almost twelve moons, but so far nothing had worked.

"What do you mean?"

His not-friend smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His white teeth were in stark contrast to the dark skin of his face, and he raised one hand to gesture at the sight in front of them.

"It's impressive, of course. The craft is to be admired. But the idea itself is… lacking. Like I said, crude."

Alfie tried not to let his annoyance show on his face, but his smile felt more like a grimace. He turned to the front of the chapel, where the bride was kneeling. She was tall, and her blonde hair was piled into an elaborate bun on top of her head, making her look even taller. The veil attached to her headpiece cascaded down her back, and the white lace dress flowed around her, giving the illusion of liquid silk.

She was beautiful.

And in each of her hands, she had a cock. The best man in her left, the priest in her right. Her eyes, decorated with false lashes, were closed in concentration as she worked their erections.

The sound of her efforts filled the chapel; the rhythmic, wet slapping of flesh against flesh and the occasional grunt from either the priest or the best man were the only sounds.

"Perhaps you don't realize," Alfie said. "She has no idea what's happening. None of them do. As far as they're concerned, this is a normal wedding. She thinks she's saying her vows right now, not masturbating two men who aren't her husband."

"Exactly," the man beside him said, his voice a deep rumble. No one noticed, of course. Standing in a crowded room, completely unseen, was one of the first lessons all controllers learned when they started. "What's the point? If no one thinks anything is happening…"

The man laughed, and it grated on Alfie's nerves. "I was just offering my opinion. But as I said, the technical prowess is there.”

As the men approached orgasm, the bride fell to her knees, aiming their cocks at her cleavage, her eyes still closed. She stuck out her tongue, and the men came, one after the other, their semen spraying over the bride's chest.

As if that was their signal, the congregation stood and began applauding, the sounds echoing in the room.

"And now, if everyone could follow me, we will move to the reception," the priest said, smiling benevolently at the happy couple.

"Let me guess," the black man said. "She'll think her Maid of Honor is giving a speech while, in fact, she’s licking her out?"

"Being fucked by three men,” Alfie said, deflated.

The man patted him on the shoulder. "Nicely done."

Alfie sighed. He'd planned a lot of small touches— the couple rubbing cum on each other's face when they thought it was cake, the father of the bride giving head to his new son-in-law… but it was obvious that his companion would be impressed by none of it.

"Mine is a few blocks south," the other man said, turning to leave. "Come.."

Alfie did as he was told—voluntarily, not due to any influence. The men had a truce, and he assumed his colleague had as many traps in place as Alfie did. If even a hint of a command were issued from one controller to the other, the results would be… messy.

They walked along the streets of Baltimore, their strides matching. Neither of them attempted small talk on the way—instead, they kept each other amused with small tricks, demonstrating their skill subtly. Alfie made a woman unbutton her shirt without noticing, revealing a red lace bra that could barely contain her pale, full breasts. The man beside him had a man drop to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk and open his mouth—unlike Alfie's trick, it was obvious that he was fully aware of what he was doing and didn't like it.

"He won't be able to get up until someone fills his mouth with something."

"What if no one does?"

The startlingly white teeth were back. "Those who see him will have an increasing urge to. Every hour, the strength doubles. He will not thank me— or them—for the result, but someone will help him."

"Hmmm," Alfie murmured. It was impossible to deny the other man's work was more inventive than his own.

Several cantrips later, they arrived at a large church, where the guests were being seated. The guests were murmuring in anticipation, and the husband-to-be stood nervously at the altar.

None of them batted an eye as the short white man and the tall black man strode down the aisle and took their seats in the front row.

The second they sat down, the organ began to play, and Alfie turned to see the bride walking down the aisle. She had red hair, and her bright white dress was long and sleek. She wasn't carrying flowers but was instead gripping her father’s arm.

Alfie sensed—rather than saw— the glee of his companion. As the bride reached the halfway point of the aisle, her eyes widened, and her nostrils flared. She faltered for a second, and if you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't know what had just happened.

She'd had a small orgasm.

The tall man beside him chuckled as it happened again just a few seconds later. As the organ played and the bride's footsteps got closer and closer to the front of the church, she began to orgasm over and over again. By the time she was standing next to her soon-to-be-husband, she was panting, and it was obvious to everyone that something unusual was happening.

The bride struggled to keep her composure as the priest began the ceremony. By the time he had finished his opening spiel, the redheaded woman was leaning on the groom for support, and he was giving her a worried look.

"Happiest day of her life," Alfie's companion chuckled.

"You called my attempt crude? This is just ruining her wedding."

The black man shook his head. "Just watch."

As the priest continued, the bride's orgasms increased in intensity. By the time he turned to her to ask if she would take her husband as her lawfully wedded husband, the woman had fallen on her knees, humping the air as the orgasms hit her again and again.

But to Alfie's surprise, the priest accepted her gasping reply and turned to ask the groom the same question. That was when he figured it out.

"The show must go on," he muttered, impressed despite himself. He'd thought that making everyone completely unaware of what was happening was the height of control, but the tall man sitting next to him had proven otherwise.

Everyone in the room knew what was happening… but they were unable to react or do anything to stop it. It was a far sweeter game.

As the bride stood, her legs visibly trembling, the priest declared them husband and wife and told the groom he could kiss his bride. The moment their lips met, the bride orgasmed one final time, screaming into her husband's mouth before collapsing onto the floor in a heap of fabric.

Just as they had at the first ceremony, the crowd clapped, but this time, it was with uncertainty. Everyone had seen what had happened, everyone knew, but… well, it was their wedding day.

"Very nice," Alfie said, nodding to his companion. "Very nice indeed."

The other man grinned. "Thank you."

Alfie bade him farewell and went home, where he sat and pondered what he'd seen that day.

When the pair met again— three moons later, as was the custom—Alfie was prepared. He was determined to impress, to make his fellow controller take notice.

And he did.

"That was unexpected," his companion said, smiling that too-white smile.

They'd gone in reverse order. His wedding had been quite different from the last— when they'd arrived, the ceremony was ending… but the man's tricks were just beginning.

As everyone left the church, the bride and groom thanked them. But they were doing more than just thanking them—with each new guest, they got slightly friendlier, slightly more intimate. The first few guests got an enthusiastic handshake, the next few a hug, and the few after that a kiss on the cheek.

Then, a kiss on the mouth. It was a surprise to both the newlywed couple and their guests, but no one said anything or stopped it from happening. Instead, the procession continued, everyone behind watching as the beautiful Japanese bride and her handsome white husband kissed their guests.

But it didn't end there. After the first few guests had received their kisses with tongue, the couple began getting rougher. They pulled their hair as they made out with their friends and family and then groped them, reaching down to grab their asses and fondle their breasts.

Then, they started undressing them.

It was a slow, steady procession. Guests were stripped, then the bride would fondle their genitals, and the groom would use his mouth to taste them.

By the time Alfie and his companion were in front of the line, the bride was bent over, allowing her new husband's great-uncle to penetrate her pussy, while her own cousin fucked her mouth. Meanwhile, her husband was taking turns with her great-aunt and grandmother, sucking one's nipple as he drove into the other.

Behind them were the last two guests: a pair of terrified-looking eighteen-year-old girls who'd been dragged there by their parents. Alfie could sense that they were virgins, a unique mix of excitement and fear radiating from them.

They knew what was coming next and could do nothing to stop it.

It had been impressive, but Alfie had been expecting that. And so it was with a skip in his step that he led them south to one of the largest churches in the city.

They once again performed small tricks as they walked, demonstrating their talents. A group of teenagers suddenly began discussing their pornographic preferences in great detail. A couple in their sixties, arguing, found themselves making out, their anger turning to passion.

"They'll get like that every time they fight," the black man rumbled, and Alfie nodded. "And only when they fight."

When they arrived at the church, the guests were seated. The groom stood at the altar, visibly sweating and nervous, his best man patting him on the shoulder. They were both Indian, though the rest of their party was white.

The doors opened, and the organ began to play. The guests all stood, craning their necks to see the bride walk down the aisle. She was short and slightly rotund but beautiful—her wedding dress suited her perfectly, and the smile on her face was radiant.

She walked down the aisle alone, and as she did, her eyes were locked not on her future husband but the man standing next to him.

Alfie's companion, sitting beside him, raised his eyebrows. Though it had barely started, he recognized Alfie’s intent.

With every step, the bride's blush increased. Her eyes never left the best man—her husband's best friend. But unlike the second wedding they'd attended last time, she wasn't blushing with pleasure.

She was blushing with embarrassment.

When she reached the altar, her smile had disappeared. Her eyes were filled with tears, and as the priest began, she began shaking her head.

"No," she whispered, and her husband touched her arm. But it was as though she didn't notice, as though she only had eyes for the best man.

The crowd began murmuring, but the priest, as was his duty, pressed on. He began talking about marriage, love, and how wonderful the bride and groom were together.

But the bride wasn't paying attention. Tears were streaming down her face now, and she'd begun to shake her head again. Her husband gazed at her, his love evident, and reached out to wipe away a tear.

He may as well have done nothing, for all she noticed.

When the priest turned to the couple and asked them their vows, the groom responded loud and confident. "I have loved you since the moment we met and will continue loving you until I die. You are the woman of my dreams and the holder of my heart. My future is yours, and I will love you forever."

But he was again met with the same response when he turned to the bride:

"No. No."

She repeated the word over and over again as the crowd murmured.

The bride shook her head, tears flying, and her voice cracked.

"No. I can't," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, I can't do this."

Her husband looked at her hopelessly, but everyone focused on the best man. He leaned forward, looking her directly in the eye.

"You can," he said. "Susie… you must."

And to everyone's surprise, he leaned forward and kissed her. Just once, tenderly, a kiss that said everything.

As their lips met, she closed her eyes and nodded.

"I will," she whispered. When her husband took her hands, she read out her vows, her voice shaky but clear.

The entire crowd, including Alfie, held their breath. The kiss was raw and passionate—everyone in the room felt the connection.

"If anyone has a reason why these two should not be wed," the priest said, his voice booming. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

There was a long pause, and Alfie sensed everyone in the room holding their breath. They all knew. They'd all seen the same thing.

But no one was willing to be the one to break the silence.

The priest nodded and declared them man and wife. But when they kissed, it was the kiss of a friend or a brother, not a lover.

As they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, their guests clapped, but no one's heart was in it.

"That was unexpected," his companion said, smiling that too-white smile. He didn't say anything more; he didn't have to.

Alfie knew he had done it at last. He'd won the respect of his competitor.

"Would you like to go to the reception?" he asked, trying not to sound smug.

Well, not trying too hard.

There was a long pause until, finally, the other man spoke.

"Damn you, Alfie. I do."

Alfie smiled. "You know the cost."

With a sigh, Alfie's companion held out his hand. "Theo," he said. “My name is Theo. Now, please, lead the way. I want to see what happens next."

Alfie smiled as he led Theo to the reception. It had been a good day.