The Fapstones

Fred and Barney, two best friends from the stone age town of Bedrock, had had enough of their wives' insistence on high culture. The thought of an evening at the opera with Wilma and Betty, listening to the wailing of a caveman's mating call disguised as music, was more than their simple, beer-loving brains could handle. They had been planning the perfect escape for weeks, and tonight was the night.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Barney," Fred groaned, clutching his stomach dramatically. "I think I've got the boulder flu."

Barney's eyes lit up with mischief as he mirrored Fred's act. "Me too, buddy. My stomach feels like it's got a woolly mammoth doing the cha-cha in there."

Their wives, Wilma and Betty, were skeptical at first, but after a few Oscar-worthy performances of fake coughing fits and moaning, they reluctantly agreed to let the men stay home. Little did they know, the two men had no intention of spending the night in bed. Instead, they were off to the Water Buffalos' Lodge for a night of bowling and camaraderie with their buddies.

The lodge was a cave filled with the sounds of laughter, the smack of bowling balls on pins, and the clinking of stone mugs filled with Bronto-Brew. The air was thick with the scent of roasting mammoth burgers and the faint aroma of sweaty caveman. Fred and Barney high-fived each other, grinning from ear to ear, as they swaggered over to the bar.

"Two mammoth steins of Bronto-Brew, please," Fred said to the burly bartender, a fellow Water Buffalo named Joe Rockhead.

Joe slammed the frothy drinks down on the counter with a grin. "Coming right up, you crazy kids. What's the special occasion?"

Barney leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "We've got a little secret. We faked being sick so we could ditch the wives and come here instead."

Joe's eyes widened in shock before he burst into laughter. "You two are the best! Here's to a night of fun and freedom!"

The night went on, with the men downing stein after stein of the potent brew and their scores on the stone tablets reflecting their intoxication more than their bowling skills. As the hours passed, the lodge grew more raucous, the music more primal, and the flirting more overt.

Fred couldn't help but notice the seductive sway of the dance floor's newest addition, a voluptuous cavewoman named Mabel. Her raven hair cascaded down her back, and her leather dress clung to her curves like it was painted on. She caught his gaze and sauntered over, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"You guys aren't really sick, are you?" she purred, batting her eyelashes.

Fred felt his cock stir in his animal skin loincloth as he returned her smile. "Nah, just a little under the weather. You wanna join us?"

Mabel slid onto the barstool next to him, her thigh brushing against his. "I've got just the cure for what ails you," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

Barney, noticing his friend's distraction, turned to survey the room. That's when he saw it: the bowling alley's latest attraction, a caveman-sized bowling ball that looked suspiciously like a giant testicle. "Hey, Fred, check this out!" he called over the din.

The two men approached the ball, their laughter echoing through the cave. "It's the ultimate gag ball," the attendant explained. "Guaranteed to knock down more than just pins."

Fred couldn't resist the urge to give it a hefty stroke. "This thing's as hard as my...rock collection!"

Mabel giggled, placing a hand on Fred's arm. "Careful, you might just make it explode."

The tension between Fred and Mabel grew palpable as they made their way back to the bar. Her hand lingered on his arm, her fingertips brushing against his bare skin, sending shivers down his spine. He knew he was playing with fire, but the temptation was too great.

Barney took the hint and excused himself to the loo, leaving Fred and Mabel alone. She leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. "You know, there's a quiet spot in the back where we could go to...talk."

Fred's eyes lit up with excitement, and he nodded eagerly. They made their way to the back of the lodge, the music fading into a distant thump as they entered a dimly lit corridor. Mabel pushed him against the wall, her hand reaching down to grasp his cock, which was now fully erect and straining against the fabric.

"You're sure you're not too sick for this?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with desire.

Fred could only moan as she untied his loincloth, revealing his rock-hard cock. Mabel dropped to her knees, her tongue darting out to lick the tip. "Mmm," she murmured, "you taste better than a rack of ribs."

With a grunt, Fred lifted Mabel up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the nearest flat surface. He laid her down and shoved her dress up, revealing her wet, eager pussy. He didn't bother with foreplay; he was too far gone. He thrust his cock into her, her moans of pleasure mixing with the cacophony of the bowling alley.

Mabel's hips bucked wildly as Fred fucked her, his strokes deep and desperate. He could feel her pussy tightening around his cock, her nails digging into his back as she approached climax. "Oh, Fred, you're so much better than bowling," she moaned.

Fred's own orgasm was building, his cock swelling even further. He leaned down to suck on her nipples, his tongue flicking against the hardened peaks as he drove into her. "And you're a much better score than any strike I've ever had," he groaned.

With a final, powerful thrust, Fred emptied himself into Mabel, her body shuddering with the force of her own orgasm. They lay there, panting and sweaty, the afterglow of their passion illuminating the dusty corner of the bowling alley.

Later that night, as they stumbled back to their respective homes, Fred and Barney couldn't help but feel like they had truly scored the ultimate victory.

Fred stumbled through the door of his cave, his mind still reeling from the illicit encounter with Mabel at the Water Buffalos' Lodge. He was unprepared for the sight that greeted him: Wilma, his own wife, had transformed herself into a doppelgänger of the seductive cavewoman, wearing an identical leather dress and a wig of raven hair. Her eyes flashed with a fury that could melt the polar ice caps.

"You think you can just waltz in here after rolling in the mud with that...that slut?" she seethed, her fists clenched.

Before Fred could even attempt an apology, Wilma smacked him across the face with the back of her hand. "You're going to get what you deserve," she spat.

But instead of the usual scolding, Wilma began to undress, shedding her furious exterior and revealing a new, sophisticated persona. Her voice took on an aristocratic lilt as she announced, "Tonight, I shall be Lady Wilma, and I expect to be treated as such."

Her curvy body was now adorned in luxurious fabrics, her hair styled in an elegant updo, and her face painted with the finesse of a master artist. She sauntered over to him, her hips swaying with an allure Fred had never seen from his down-to-earth wife. She had gone full 180 from the jealous housewife to a high-class vixen, and Fred couldn't believe his eyes.

"But Wilma," he stuttered, his hangover from the Bronto-Brew already setting in.

"Silence," she purred, placing a finger on his lips. "Lady Wilma does not tolerate such uncouth behavior. You will address me accordingly."

Her hand slid down to his cock, which, despite the circumstances, had begun to rise to the occasion. "It seems you've brought back a souvenir from your...bowling tournament," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Allow me to teach you the proper way to appreciate your wife's company."

With a wicked smile, Lady Wilma led Fred to their bed, her eyes never leaving his. He knew he was in for a night of passion and punishment, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement. As she climbed on top of him, her silk gown hiked up to reveal her wet, swollen pussy, Fred realized that this was going to be a night to remember, for better or for worse.

Her hand paused for a moment, her eyes boring into Fred's with a fiery intensity that was both terrifying and incredibly arousing. In a swift move that belied her newfound sophistication, Lady Wilma reached back and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. "You will worship me, Fred Flintstone," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent a bolt of lust through his body. "You will learn to appreciate what you have, or I will make you regret it."

With that, she lowered herself onto his cock, the fabric of her gown parting like a curtain to reveal the soft, velvety warmth of her pussy. Fred groaned as she began to ride him, her movements slow and deliberate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through his body. Her nails dug into his chest, leaving red streaks that stood out starkly against his pale, stone-aged skin. Her hips rolled in a mesmerizing dance, her breasts bouncing with each movement.

The room grew hazy with the scent of their mingled arousal, the soft glow of the fire casting flickering shadows across their bodies. Wilma's eyes never left Fred's, her gaze a potent blend of anger and desire. It was as if she was reclaiming him, marking him as hers once again, and Fred found himself utterly powerless to resist.

He reached up to grasp her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he matched her rhythm, driving his cock deeper into her with each stroke. Her breath grew ragged, her moans turning into gasps as she approached climax. Fred could feel the tension coiling within her, could see the way her body tightened around him like a vice.

Their lovemaking grew more intense, the lines between anger and passion blurring until Fred could no longer tell which was which. He knew he had made a mistake, but in this moment, with Wilma's lithe body writhing above him, all he could do was hold on and hope to survive the storm of emotions she had unleashed.

As she came, her orgasm seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth, her body convulsing in a symphony of pleasure. Fred followed suit, his cock pulsing within her as he emptied himself into her warm, welcoming depths.

For a moment, they lay there, panting and spent, their bodies entwined. And then, with a final, gentle kiss, Lady Wilma leaned back, her aristocratic facade cracking just enough to allow a hint of the familiar Wilma to shine through. "I hope you enjoyed your lesson, my dear," she whispered, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Tomorrow, we'll return to normal...unless, of course, you wish for another round."

Fred, his head still spinning from the tumultuous evening, could only nod, his cock already beginning to stir with renewed interest. He had never seen this side of Wilma before, and as much as it had terrified him, it had also made him want her more than ever.

The sudden transformation was as jolting as a bolt of lightning from a clear, prehistoric sky. Wilma's hand, once poised to deliver a furious slap, now caressed his cheek with a tenderness that seemed alien. Her voice, once filled with rage, had morphed into a sultry purr, and the fire in her eyes had turned into a smoldering passion that could have set the whole cave ablaze.

"You seem surprised, darling," she murmured, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Allow me to introduce you to Lady Wilma, the woman you've been neglecting in your pursuit of...lesser companions."

She straddled him, her newfound poise and elegance as surprising as it was erotic. Her breasts, now freed from their primitive confines, spilled over the top of her silk gown, the dark tips of her nipples peeking out like little berries ripe for the picking. "Tonight, you shall pay homage to your lady," she declared, her eyes gleaming with an intensity that was both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

The force of Wilma's smack sent Fred's head reeling, and for a brief, dizzying moment, he saw stars. When his vision cleared, the furious wife he had left behind was gone, replaced by a woman of regal poise and haughty demeanor. "What...what happened?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse with shock and lust.

"This," she said, her voice a velvety drawl, "is Lady Wilma. I've had quite enough of your caveman antics. It's high time you learned the art of seduction from someone with a bit more...refinement." With that, she reached down and cupped his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze that made him gasp. "Now, my dear, let's see if you can handle a real woman's demands."

Her grip grew tighter, her eyes never leaving his, as she began to stroke his cock with a firmness that spoke of authority. Each movement was deliberate, each touch a silent command that had Fred's body responding with an eagerness that surprised even him. He watched, his heart racing, as she leaned in to whisper in his ear, her breath hot and sweet. "You will serve me well tonight, and perhaps, if you're lucky, I'll allow you to climax."

Her hand moved faster, her nails digging into his thighs, leaving little half-moons of pleasure-pain that had him squirming beneath her. Fred could feel the heat building in his loins, his cock swelling to the point of pain. He had never seen Wilma like this before, and the thrill of it was intoxicating. "Oh, Lady Wilma," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "What do you wish of me?"

"Hmm," she mused, her eyes drifting over his body like a hungry predator. "I believe I'd like to see you on your knees, begging for my mercy."

Without a second thought, Fred complied, his body moving of its own accord. He knelt before her, his cock bobbing with each beat of his racing heart. Wilma's smile grew wider, more predatory, as she traced the head of his cock with a single fingertip, her nail lightly scraping against the sensitive skin. "Good boy," she crooned, her voice a siren's call. "Now, let's see if you can make Lady Wilma as happy as that little tramp did."

The challenge was clear, and Fred was more than ready to rise to it. He leaned in, his tongue sliding along her slit with a fervor that made her gasp. She tasted of honey and heat, and he couldn't get enough. Wilma's legs tightened around his head, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that had him eager to taste more. He lapped at her clit, sucking and nibbling, until she was bucking against his mouth, her cries of pleasure echoing through the cave.

But Lady Wilma wasn't content to let him lead. With a sudden flip, she had him on his back, her mouth moving down to take his cock in a deep, hungry suck that had him seeing stars again. Her technique was flawless, her mouth a warm, wet heaven that made him forget his own name. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that threatened to split him in two, but she pulled away just as he was about to spill his seed, leaving him panting and desperate.

"Not yet," she chastised, her voice a silky purr. "First, I want to watch you pleasure yourself for me."

Fred's hand shot to his cock, his strokes jerky and needy. He couldn't believe the sight before him: Wilma, his sweet, simple wife, had transformed into a demanding, insatiable aristocrat, and he was utterly captivated. She sat back, one hand playing with her own clit as she watched him with a cool detachment that only served to stoke his desire higher.

"Faster," she ordered, her own hand moving more rapidly. "Show me how badly you want to come."

Her instructions were like a siren's song, and Fred obeyed, his hand a blur as he stroked himself faster and faster. Wilma's own masturbation grew more vigorous, her eyes never leaving his cock. "You see, darling?" she purred. "Even a caveman can learn to perform for his lady." She leaned back, her hand still working between her legs, her eyes never leaving his. "But remember, this is my show. When I tell you to come, and only then, will you be allowed to find your release."

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of their arousal. Fred felt like he was going to explode, his balls tightening with every stroke. He wanted to please her, to show her that he could be the man she desired. With a growl, he picked up the pace, his eyes locked on hers, begging for permission.

"Almost," she murmured, her voice a soft caress. "But first, let's see if you can handle a little surprise." With a wicked smile, she reached into a nearby basket and pulled out a collection of smooth, round pebbles. "These," she said, holding one up, "will help you appreciate the finer things in life."

With trembling hands, Fred watched as Lady Wilma selected a medium-sized pebble and brought it to her lips, her tongue flicking over its surface in a way that made him want to replace it with his cock. She leaned over him, her eyes never leaving his, and gently inserted the stone into his anus. The sensation was foreign, but the coolness of the pebble against his heated flesh sent a jolt of pleasure through him that made his cock throb even more. "Now, continue," she ordered, her own hand returning to her clit.

As Fred stroked his shaft with renewed vigor, the pebble inside him sent shockwaves of sensation through his body, each stroke of his hand echoing in his ass. He could feel himself getting closer, his orgasm building like a volcano ready to erupt. "Please, Lady Wilma," he begged, his voice strained with need. "May I come?"

Her eyes flashed with amusement and something else, something darker and more primal. "Not yet," she murmured, her voice low and smoky. "First, I want to feel you stretch around me." With that, she straddled him once more, her own pebble-filled pussy poised above his cock. She lowered herself, her tight hole taking him in inch by inch until he was fully sheathed in her warm, wet depths. The feeling of the stone inside her sent shockwaves through both of them, and she began to ride him with a frenzy that matched his own.

Fred felt the pressure building, his cock swelling even larger as the pebble inside him created a delicious friction with each of her movements. "Now," she finally gasped, her voice breaking. "Now, you may come for me, Fred Flintstone."

And with that, he did. His orgasm ripped through him like a tornado, tearing down the walls of his inhibitions and leaving him trembling and exposed. Wilma came with him, her body convulsing as she clenched around him, the pebbles rolling and rattling together in a symphony of carnality.

As they lay there, spent and gasping for air, Fred couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and trepidation. He had never seen this side of Wilma before, this seductive, dominant creature who had taken control and shown him a world of pleasure he had never known. But as she leaned down to kiss him, her hair tickling his cheek, he realized that he didn't just like it—he craved it. "Again?" she whispered, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Fred grinned, his cock already beginning to stir anew. "As many times as Lady Wilma desires," he vowed, ready to face whatever erotic trials she had in store for him.

Meanwhile, in another part of Bedrock, Barney Rubble lay in his lonely bed, the echoes of the Water Buffalos' Lodge still ringing in his ears. Little did he know that Betty, his wife, was not at home pining for him. Instead, she had found solace and excitement in the arms of the great Gazoo, an alien with an insatiable appetite for Earthly pleasures. Gazoo's extraterrestrial physique boasted an impressive member that had Betty's eyes widening in astonishment and her mouth watering with anticipation. She had never felt so alive, her body craving the alien's touch as he effortlessly navigated her feminine landscape. The sounds of their illicit union carried through the night, a testament to the fact that even in the most primitive of times, desire knew no bounds.

Betty lay sprawled across the bed, her legs still trembling from the otherworldly ecstasy Gazoo had just delivered. His cock, a mighty girth that put even the most robust caveman to shame, had filled her completely, stretching her to limits she never knew existed. Her pussy was a tight, pink rose, now slack and glistening with the evidence of their passionate encounter. Gazoo hovered over her, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he admired his handiwork.

"Again?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper that seemed to vibrate through her very bones.

Betty could only nod, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body already craving another round with her extraterrestrial lover. Gazoo chuckled, his cock swelling even more at the sight of her wanton desire. "As you wish," he said, leaning down to kiss her once more, his lips as soft as the petals of a newly bloomed flower against hers. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of the alien and the familiar that had her blood singing with excitement. As he entered her again, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, eager to feel that delicious fullness once more.

Betty's legs quivered with exhaustion as she tried to stand, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. Gazoo's seven different styles of lovemaking had left her feeling both sated and utterly debauched. Each position had brought her to the brink of pleasure, only to have him pull out and start anew, leaving her begging for more. She looked over at the alien with a mix of amazement and lust, his glowing member still standing at attention despite the marathon they had just endured.

"You're insatiable," she breathed, a note of admiration in her voice. Gazoo simply smiled, his antennae twitching with mirth. "And you, my dear, are absolutely delicious."

With a gentle nudge, he pushed her back down onto the bed, the promise of further exploration glinting in his eyes. Betty sighed, resigning herself to another round of passion with her otherworldly lover, her legs still trembling but her pussy eager for whatever he had in store for her next.

Betty, her body still humming from the night's alien escapade, slipped into the Rubble's cave just before dawn. Dino, the ever-watchful pet dinosaur, couldn't help but catch a glimpse of her sated gait, her inner thighs glistening with the remnants of their passionate romp. The sight of his mistress's arousal stirred something primal within him. As Betty disappeared into her bedchamber, Dino found his thoughts drifting to the soft moans and squeaks that had filled the quiet night. The memory of Wilma's earlier visit, her voluptuous figure and the way she had moved, fueled his own desires.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, casting a warm glow over Bedrock, Dino retreated to his own corner, his tail swishing with excitement. The sight of Betty's dripping sex had him hard, his scaly hand moving to stroke his own, much smaller but equally eager, member. He watched the sunrise, the fiery hues mirroring his own burning lust as he pumped himself to the rhythm of his fantasies, imagining the alien's thick shaft plunging into the cavewoman's welcoming warmth, her body arching with pleasure beneath the strange embrace. With a final, powerful thrust of his hand, Dino reached his climax, the sticky evidence of his excitement coating his hand as he thought of Betty's secret life of cosmic debauchery.

Barney groaned as he rolled out of bed, the sweet scent of Betty's breakfast wafting through the air. His thoughts lingered on the vivid dream he'd had of their children, Bamm-Bamm and Pebbles, exchanging vows in a grand ceremony under the stars. But the reality of the day was about to knock on their door—or rather, stumble through it in the form of Fred Flintstone, his best friend and golf club buddy. As the club's president, Barney had been after Fred for weeks to settle his overdue membership fees. "Fred, you owe me," Barney had said countless times, only to be met with his usual excuses. But today, the stakes were higher than ever—Fred had won the Bedrock Open and was expecting to be handed the gleaming trophy. Little did he know that Barney had concocted a plan to get what he was owed.

"What's the deal, Barn?" Fred mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stumbled into the Rubble's kitchen.

"The deal, my friend," Barney said, his eyes gleaming with a devilish glint, "is that I'm feeling rather... generous." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Fred's ear. "How about we settle your dues with a little... caveman-to-caveman exchange?"

Fred's eyes widened in shock, but before he could protest, Betty sailed in with a platter of steaming mammoth bacon and eggs. "You boys play nice," she winked, giving her husband a knowing look.

Barney took Fred's silence as an invitation and moved closer, his hand sliding down to cup his friend's firm ass. "Think of it as a... golf club membership drive," he whispered, his voice thick with innuendo.

Fred's cock stirred to life in his loincloth, the temptation too great to resist. With a mix of lust and resignation, he nodded. "Alright, Barn," he murmured. "But only if it means I get to keep the trophy."

The two men retreated to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation. Barney's cock was already hard and leaking pre-cum, eager to claim what he saw as his due. Fred, though surprised, couldn't deny the thrill that shot through him at the thought of giving in to his best friend's desires.

Fred and Barney's friendship had always been a bit... unconventional. But as the door to the bedroom closed behind them, it was clear that tonight was going to push those boundaries even further. Fred, his curiosity piqued by the promise of keeping his hard-earned trophy, allowed Barney to lead him to the bed. With trembling hands, Barney untied Fred's loincloth, revealing his firm, muscular ass. "You're going to love this, Fred," he whispered, his breath hot and heavy. Fred's heart raced as he felt the tip of Barney's cock, thick and slick with anticipation, pressing against his tight hole. He took a deep breath and nodded, bracing himself for the unknown.

With a gentle push, Barney entered him, the sensation of his friend's cock stretching him open sending a jolt of pleasure through Fred's body. He gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head, as Barney's shaft slid inch by inch into his tight caveman ass. The room was filled with the sound of their grunts and the slap of flesh against flesh, the rhythm building as Fred's body adjusted to the new, taboo intrusion. Despite the initial shock, Fred found himself craving more, pushing back against Barney with each thrust, urging him deeper.

The two men, usually so competitive, were now joined in a dance of desire, their friendship taking a turn down a path neither had ever dared to explore. Each stroke brought them closer, not just physically, but in a way that transcended the superficial bonds of golf scores and bowling nights. As Barney's cock hit Fred's prostate, the pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, sending waves of ecstasy through his body that made him see stars. And with each passing moment, Fred realized that the price of his golf trophy was worth every inch of this forbidden intimacy.

Fred's mind swam with the surreal experience of having his best friend's cock buried deep inside him. It was like watching the moon landing in vivid detail—an event that was both monumental and utterly alien. The feeling of fullness was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, and as Barney's hips pistoned back and forth, Fred couldn't help but compare it to the way the lunar module had sunk into the moon's dusty embrace. The room was a blur, the only focus being the alien sensation of Barney's shaft claiming his ass, the frantic slapping of their bodies echoing through the quiet morning like the module's historic touchdown.

And just like that historic moment, Fred knew that nothing would ever be the same again—his asshole had been irrevocably changed, stretched and filled in a way that would leave an indelible mark on him, both literally and figuratively. The before image of his tight, untouched hole was now a distant memory, replaced by the aftermath of their carnally driven escapade. With each grunt and thrust, Fred felt himself being reborn into a new world of pleasure and taboo, one that was messier, sweatier, and more intense than he could have ever imagined.