CW: incest dad/son and dad/daughter, monster fucking (minotaur), god kink, ageplay, pregnancy, breeding, ftm 'egg' protagonist, body dysphoria, misgendering (though eventual gender affirmation), force masc, mention of "breasts" and "pussy", non-con/ cnc (if you want me to add more plz mention them in replies and I will add)
Do I need this much world-building in all my sexual fantasies... perhaps
There is a grand and bountiful empire. This empire owes its rolling lands and happy people not to its military or king, but to its god. For in the capital, there is a temple where a bountiful God of harvest, mirth, and fertility resides. You are a novice of that god; you dread the day you become a priestess.
Any city dweller or foreign traveller who might visit the palatial temple for a blessing would be agog at the beauty of the priestesses there. Dazzling women, young and old, more than a few bearing children at any given time. The holy women of this place do not take a vow of chastity, only devotion. Only a far-off traveller would balk at the idea of nuns bearing children, but it only makes sense given their god's domain. One can only imagine the foreigner's shock when they learn that not only is this harvest God the father of all of these avowed women, but He is also the father of their children. The pedantic are quick to note that, that not only makes this God a holy father, but also a grandfather and great-grandfather etc. Legends say that He has been seeding His own daughters for 1000 generations, but they have been saying that for a while, so God only knows how far back the practice really goes. One would think that might make the children malformed or identical, not so. As the peoples of this empire (and thusly the flock of the god) grow in diversity, so too do His children. But such pedantry is irrelevant to you now; that dreaded day has come.
It had only been a few months since your first menstruation, far earlier than your mother's confirmation. Far earlier than most of the priestesses you knew. But there on your pillow, just two nights previous, a small bundle of golden wheat shining in the moonlight. This gift is usually met with elation, but you felt only fear. You looked from the wheat to your bunkmates. You roomed with 15 or so of your sisters, all of similar age to you. You all knew the mechanics of pregnancy and childbirth. You could see in their faces, "How on earth is she going to bear a child? Is she even done growing yet?"
When you told your mother, she was over the moon. She had not been especially favoured by your shared father. You were her only child, conceived the night of her confirmation. For her child to have been chosen so early must mean that she did something right. In bearing you, raising you, to make you ready for him. You timidly voiced your concern to her, "I don't think my womb is fully developed. How can I bear a child?"
"No one knows you better than your father. He has chosen you because it is the right time, sweetheart." She is not usually so affectionate. Feeling her doting, primping, and preening you, makes your stomach turn. It is a nameless feeling you have known for as long as you can recall.
When you were 5 and you were told of your role in this world, you were excited. You were special after all, the child of a god! You looked forward to how you would grow, how you could bear another life within you. When you were 7, you accompanied your grandmother and aunt to the birth of some lesser noble house. It was an easy birth. They knew it would be, better to have your first midwifing experience be easy, but there wasn't much for you to help out with. Being a spare tool, curiosity grabbed you, and you slipped away. Wandering the grand house, you saw a man, the father of the child being born in the other room. He was comforting a toddler. Hearing the cries of labour must have upset them. You understood, intellectually, that mortal fathers do not bed their children. You understood that it was frowned upon to even have the urge or thought cross their minds. But this was the first time you truly understood what that meant. How He looked at His son, was nothing like how your mother looked at you. It was not that she, herself, looked upon you with lust. But she didn't see you as anything more than a vestal. A womb. A broodmare. Something that would make her father happy. You asked your grandmother if you could accompany your cousin in kitchen work from now on. You could not bear to see that kind of love again. When you turned 10 and the first pubic hairs started growing, your nipples became puffy, your hips widened - that was the icy shock of reality. Your fate was not some far-off fantasy; this was going to happen. Your body had betrayed you. You knew you were not just a womb, but your body had other ideas. You felt grotesque.
Your mother is leading you up the stairs, and you did not sleep last night. After she was finished washing and combing your hair, she left you to rest. You were allowed to sleep in a room by yourself for the first time in your life. You had looked in the mirror. You hated what you saw. A collage of a girl. Your face, some other girl’s chest, another's legs, another's hair flowing down to your waist. You couldn't do anything about the legs or chest, so you cut off your hair. Your head was all you, now. When your mother came in the morning, she didn't say anything, but she did start crying almost immediately. You had thought she might question you, had someone else done this? A jealous bunkmate? Maybe you could say some interloper had molested you in the night and now you were unfit to bear your father's seed. But no. She knew you did this. She knew you better than you thought. She didn't know the why you did this, but you didn't either. She asked no questions and made the best of a bad situation; two things she has been doing her entire life. She borrowed scissors and cleaned up your haphazard slashing. You used the razor that your mother had wielded to shave your nethers and armpits. The confirmation ritual requires a "virginal body" apparently that means shaving. In any case, that made your hair jagged and extremely uneven. If your mother wanted to make you presentable, she would have to cut it shorter, and so she did. Even though she was crying and clearly not enjoying this experience, as she cut the hair on the nape of your neck mere millimetres short, you had never felt closer to your mother. Finally, she was not moulding you into the perfect princess, womb, doll; she was discovering you. She was not pushing you into some malformed shape but unearthing you, brushing away muck and dirt to discover what you truly were underneath. This feeling did not last. You were told to undress and don the floor length veil; the same one she wore some 14 years ago.
The journey up the stairs was long, but not long enough. You were here, in the entry room before the main chamber. It was happening. Even if your vision wasn't obscured, you could not admire the finery of the gilded doors that stand before you. How the summer sun shines through all the windowless arches. All you notice is how the breeze buffets your veil and carries the voiceless murmur of the city below. All you can think is, "Are they going to hear me?" You could have sworn you heard screaming coming from your father's high chamber, once or twice. You feel your mother's hands on your shoulders, too warm. You hear her breath in as if to say something. She pauses. "Be good" is all she can muster.
The doors open. Now, so high above the city, you smell dirt. Fresh and fertile. Your mother guides your hand, and you step forth. You are surprised to find grass beneath your feet. You hear a whisper some ways in front of you, which is quickly shushed. Only 20 strides before your mother stops. Her silhouette bows. The smell of earth and plants has given way to some animal musk. Your mother squeezes your hand and then leaves. You can hear your heart beating. You think you may vomit. The great shadow that looms before you moves. You see two fingers, each maybe the width of your forearm, peek under the hem of your veil and lift it up. Momentarily blinded by the midday sun, and suddenly aware of how naked you are, you instinctively reach to cover yourself. You hear giggling, that sharply stops.
As your eyes adjust, you see Him. Your father. Your God. He sits on a throne of that same golden wheat, as naked as you are. He is broad-chested, fully bellied, and maybe 3 metres tall. Upon His wide shoulders sits a bull's head. Golden eyes watch you keenly. He hands the veil to a pregnant woman beside him, one of your sisters, though you have never met her. She is one of His favourites, so her absence from usual temple activities is not unusual; she must be busy. She and several other women, all of whom are clothed, gracefully leave the room. One of them has two young girls in tow, who wear novice's robes. Twins perhaps? You wonder what it must be like, being raised by Him. Knowing what He will one day do to you. As you watch them leave, you take in the grand chamber. There is no ceiling, and the soil reaches all walls of the octagonal room. The windowless archways are present here too, without the veil, you see delicate drapery dancing in the wind. Wild counterparts of many staple crops grow around you. You hear the grand doors close.
Your sisters have left; it's just you and him.
You stare at the ground in front of you. You cannot look Him in the eye. One of His gargantuan hands reaches out and caresses your scalp. You were right, He could wrap His hand around your head, much like you could an apple. You had forgotten what you did to your hair. Panic grips you. Your mind had walled the inevitability of your father away. You had not even considered how He might react. Had your mother cried because she knew what He would do to you? Your panic is not eased when He leans forward and smells you, then lets out a deep laugh. Then, far quicker than His languid movements so far, He licks you, tracing a line from your right breast to your temple. This, too, does nothing to quell your fear, but it does break your frozen trance. You lean back and let out a small squeak, which elicits another laugh from your father. Now that you are looking Him in the face, you can see that when He laughs, He does not open His mouth. The sound seems to come directly from His chest. His mouth remains closed when He rumbles,
"You have started already. Good."
He shifts off His throne and plants one knee on the ground in front of you. It is only now that you realise, with stark animal terror, that your father is fully erect. You had been trying very hard not to look at His penis. It reached His mid-thigh, which meant it could fill you from vulva to diaphragm, and was thick enough that your small hands could not encircle it. As blind animal instinct takes over, you are occupied by only one thought: "There's no way that can fit."
You clumsily leap back. As you turn to run, your father grabs you by the waist with one hand, lifts you up, and turns you back to Him. He is fully kneeling now, and He presses you into His body. He shushes you, as one might a startled horse. A great hand plants itself on the top of your head, and you are moved inevitably downwards. Your father lets out a satisfied groan as He presses your face against the base of His cock. As you adjust your legs so that you kneel as well, you again try to push away, but He is far too strong. He holds your head in place like you are nothing. His other massive hand reaches down to caress your ass, His index finger ghosting your bald vulva. You yelp and struggle away from His hand. You hear another not-so-soothing shush as that hand crashes down against your backside. Stinging pain and a strange electricity shoot through you,
"Be not afraid, child. You were made for this."
As you breathe in your father's musk, and He fondles your ass both His words and your mother's sink in. "Be good.", "You were made for this". You need to behave, do what you are meant to do, and then you can leave. Your mother had said your conception was short, only an hour or two, and then she was done; she was a priestess and had a child. You could do that. Just a few painful hours and nine terrible months, and then you were done, you never had to go through any of that again. You could do this; you just had to be good.
Taking deep and shaky breaths to calm your nerves, you open your mouth and begin clumsily kissing the base of your father's cock. You also realise, belatedly, that you are crying. You have no idea when you started, and you think it unlikely that you will stop anytime soon, so you choose to ignore it. Above you, your father sighs contentedly. He guides your mouth, a bit more gently than before, to the head of His cock. Precum has already started leaking from the tip; you do not want to taste it, but you do all the same. You open your mouth and begin sucking, your movements are awkward and amateurish, and you can barely fit His head within your mouth. Your father moans and runs His nails along your scalp, searching for hair to pull on but coming up short. With shaking hands, you grasp either side of His penis and begin jerking Him off. Again, the movements are awkward, but He seems to appreciate your effort as He rumbles a world-shattering phrase.
"Good boy."
You freeze and look up at him. Those terrible eyes look down, and He smiles. He does not have cows' teeth. He has the teeth of a predator. The hand on your head adjusts, and you are pushed forward. you plant your hands on His thighs when the tip of His penis meets the back of your throat. More to indicate to Him that you cannot fit any more of Him in your mouth, than to actually try to overpower him. He ignores you and pushes further. You swear you feel the muscles of your throat relax involuntarily as His cock pushes further in. Your jaw strains. You feel your throat bulging out. You feel the pulse of your own jugular veins as they are pressed against your skin from the inside out. He adjusts His angle, pointing His cock downward in a laughable effort to make this process smoother. You feel your lungs compress as He moves down your oesophagus within your ribcage. Finally, your nose is buried in His pubic hair again. You are gagging violently, but nothing can escape. The moan He lets out sounds more like a growl as he grinds into you.
"Look at me."
You obey, though you cannot see much through your tears. His cow head is huffing, but it does not interrupt His rumbling voice.
"I feared you would not be ready, but I could not wait for you to ripen any longer. I see that I need not have worried."
Your father pulls your head back, and you struggle to catch your breath between heaves. With one hand, He presses you back into the soil. That hand fondles your chest for a moment before sliding lower, over your stomach, and up your thighs, which are firmly squeezed together. As He prises apart your legs, His mouth descends on your chest. Sucking and nipping your skin with those too sharp teeth. He focuses on one nipple, biting it with growing force until you cry out with pain, or in fear that He will bite it off. That same electricity runs through you. He lets go of the bud and it begins to bleed. He watches the blood run with hungry eyes for a moment before wrapping His cow lips around it again and sucking. When your nipple is released, the wound is healed. He nips a trail down your naval to your virgin pussy, and breaths it in. As you are startled by the cold air, you realize that you are wet; your body is betraying you. His great tongue parts your lips and quickly finds your clitoris. His firm grip on your thighs stops you from reflexively closing your legs. Your father’s tongue laps slowly up and down as you squirm, trying to ignore how good it feels. The tip of His tongue finds your entrance and begins sliding inside. You have never even slid a finger in there, you are a holy child of the great bull, that honour is reserved for your father. He does not give you time to realise what is happening as He slides the rest of His tongue inside you. Your hymen stretches uncomfortably, and you feel Him tracing around your cervix. He pulls back slightly and thrusts back in again and again. His soft upper lip and nose rub against your clitoris. You hold your arms to your chest, hugging yourself for comfort. That electricity is impossible to ignore, now. Shooting through you with every thrust. Your body is betraying you. You shake and convulse but not with fear. One of your hands reaches to cover your mouth and stifle whatever might come out, but lightning fast, your father grabs that arm, pinning both to your chest. You cannot contain it; you squeal and moan and make a hundred other filthy noises. Your father’s voice rings out in the chamber, clear as ever.
“Good boy.”
You don’t know why he’s calling you that again, you don’t know why you like it so much. You feel something building inside your abdomen, like any moment with any thrust you could snap. Just before you fall off the precipice, He pulls away. Before your mind comes back to you, He licks another trail up your body to your temple. Hot wet pants blow in your short hair. You both stay the for a moment, before He kisses you on the forehead and you feel something bump against your entrance. It is your father’s penis. Animal instinct kicks in once more as you try to worm away. A strangled “No!” leaves your lips. This is the first thing you have done that seems to make Him angry.
“Quiet!”
He booms, pressing down on the hand that pins your arms to your chest, pushing the air out of your lungs.
“Do not deny me, I am your Father, your God, I made you for this.”
He bears His fanged teeth and, painfully, pushes inside you. Just like with your throat, the muscles of your cunt relax to accommodate him, just like with your throat, this does not stop the pain. You feel your skin stretch beyond capacity. You feel a joint in your lower back pop. You feel a cramping pain in your bowels as He reaches your cervix, but He keeps going. You feel the walls of your pussy start to impossibly stretch to accommodate His length. The gut pain grows worse. As He bottoms out, He pushes the air out of your lungs once more. You were right, He must be pressing your womb into your diaphragm. His massive hand leaves your chest, and places both hands on either thigh. He lets out a satisfied sigh as you twitch and squirm around him.
“You are mine”
Your father glowers down at you. He pulls back and thrusts back in far too quickly,
“My child, my disciple, my perfect whore,”
He braces one hand next to your head, fucking you with a steady pace.
“My son.”
He grinds deep inside you and reaching His other hand to cradle your face. He licks away a steady stream of tears. You whisper with shallow breaths, “I’m not a boy.” As you say it, you realise it’s a lie. He pauses completely, and for a single terrible moment you think you have angered Him again. But He simply shushes you, beginning to grind, before gently biting your neck. Despite the gentleness, His teeth hurt, reluctantly you have to admit to yourself, it feels good too. He wraps both hands around your thighs once more, but this time He pushes them back. He folds you in half as your knees bracket your head. The added pressure to your abdomen makes your stomach hurt even more. Your father moans, your pussy squeezed even tighter for him. He pushes you knees into the soil and leans over you, beginning to fuck you again. Your squeals and cries ring out in the chamber matched only by your father’s moans. Despite the pain, with each thrust your pussy still gushes for him. Despite the pain, it starts to feel good. All the spark and electricity of His tongue but now that feeling radiates through your whole abdomen. Betrayed by your body once more your start moaning with him. Once you feel that pleasure coil building inside of your again, He slows down. He does not stop completely, just enough to keep you from the edge.
“You are a rare delight; it has been more than a century since I last impregnated a son.”
He thrusts more quickly, though does not pull out nearly as much with each thrust. Keeping himself deep inside as He fucks you. Your father looks down at you,
“I will cherish you and give you many children.”
Even as your body rejoices your mind recoils. This was meant to be one night, one child, you cannot bear staying up here, being His breeding slut for the rest of your life! But your thoughts become harder to think. He thrusts into you more forcefully and He pushes you closer to that precipice once more. You feel Him twitching inside of you. His pace becomes more irregular. You hit your head back into the dirt as you cry out, breath stolen with each thrust. Your father’s nails dig into your skin, and He lets out a moan that shakes the trees. He fills your insides with His divine seed. It should hurt, the pressure building even more. You feel His cum leaking then gushing into your womb. But it does not hurt. You are coated in ecstasy. You forget where you are, who you are, that you are a person at all. Every molecule in your body feels it, rapturous bliss. For a moment, or maybe a thousand years you finally understand. The worship your mother gave. The way she talked about that night. Her devotion to your shared father. Your God. You have been praying for your entire life but for the first time your truly worship.
As you come back to yourself, you still feel Him twitching inside you. It takes a moment to remember where you are, who you are, the fear you were feeling just a moment ago. He lets go of His vice grip on your legs. Your knees naturally rise up and out from that unnatural position. Your thighs rest either side of His torso, feet touching the ground. He looks down at you, huffing. It seems He lost himself for a moment there as well. Your God leans down embracing you. You feel the warmth and comfort of His chest. He bends His back so His snout can reach the top of your head, and breaths you in. Your father begins licking your hair, it feels slightly unpleasant, but you foggily remember cows grooming their loved ones like this. In a bizarre way you are reminded of that noble man comforting His toddler, and for a moment you let yourself feel your father’s love.
That is until He starts thrusting again. Despite cumming, He remains hard. You mother only mentioned Him cumming once inside her before going soft. But you also, with horror, remember some novices spending days in the holy chamber before returning a priestess. How long would He spend deflowering a new favourite? Your father whispers above you,
I take a deep breath as I leave the house. My dress is midnight blue, so that I don't draw attention. It's very late. So late, in fact, that I expect to be alone on the streets with the drunkards and beggars, but they're mostly at the outskirts of the city.
I'm headed to the throne square.
The throne festival ended last week, nobody could take the cock. A lot of people try every year, because whoever can take the cock will be the new ruler of this kingdom.
The last king died decades ago. None of his childre, neither sons nor daughters could sit on the thrones cock. We're without leader, without King or Queen.
My father forbid me from joining the masses trying to pleasure the throne-cock. He said no matter the reward, I couldn't be seen half naked, trying to fuck myseld on a cock that's too big for me anyways. I know why: he wants me to marry a nobleman like himself. Someone with lots of estates and money.
He can't stop me now. I've been waiting for this opportunity since I've been old enough to join the festival: he is on a business trip, trying to sort out some kind of trouble with his beloved vineyard in the south and he'll be gone for a few days.
My maid tried to take the cock herself but failed. She told me to have fun. But still, I'm nervous. Everyone is allowed to try sitting on the throne at any given time, the festival is just a tradition to try and lure in people from cities and towns that are further away.
Should I fail to sit on it, I want to make sure nobody sees me. So here I am, wearing a dark dress, sneaking around but I was right before: nobody is out at this time of the night. My only companions are the streetlights and the warm night air.
I'm near the throne now. The square is beautiful, decorated with flowers and banners and cloths. A warm breeze moves the big white curtains hanging above the square. A big canopy is sheltering the throne from the weather and torches are casting soft light onto the throne. I've seen it numerous times before.
The cock is half-hard now, sprouting from the seat. It's dark, obsidian and shimmering. There's nothing like it, it's beautiful. It looks every bit the magical thing it is in the soft light.
I take a deep breath when I reach it. The torches are flickering behind me, casting shadows.
I gasp when I touch the cock. It's warm, the texture is soft. I give it some experimental pumps with my hand and decide that I could need some time to get used to the idea of this big rod inside one of my holes, so I start by teasing the tip with my thumb. I can feel it twitching, but I know that this doesn't mean anything.
It's been twitching before, but nobody has ever gotten it to cum after the last true King and nobody has sat on it either since then.
I kneel down before the throne after making sure I really am alone on the square and lick the cock from where it sprouts from the seat to it's dark tip. It tastes like a shooting star: otherwordly. It's not unpleasant, so I take the tip into my mouth and start to swirl my tongue around it. I feel myself getting wet.
The cock get's harder and I start pumping the shaft with my free hands while my mouth works the tip. I try to take more of it down my throat, but I don't have a lot of practice with this kind of act. I'm not married, after all. And with a bit of luck I will never marry, either.
If I can really pull it off, if I can sit on it, I will never have to marry someone my father picks for me. I'll be the Queen. He laughed into my face when I told him that I wanted to try and said there's never been a woman on that throne. I mustn't try to do it, to avoid sullying his reputation and mine, so he can marry me off to some nobleman.
I'm practically dripping now, while worshipping the throne-cock with my mouth like this. It's rock hard and twitching, my arousal soaks my silk underwear. I want to touch myself like I've done so many times when I was alone, thinking of this moment but I decide against it.
Instead I stop sucking this glorious dick to get up.
This is the moment. I take a good look at the cock, proudly erect. I think I can even see pre-cum running down the tip and have to surpress a tiny moan. I'm sure that I can take it, it looks so good.
I turn around, hitch my dress up and push my panties to the side. I close my eyes and imagine my kingdom. I imagine myself as Queen and lower myself until I can feel the tip of the cock at my entrance. The hand that doesn't hold my dress up grabs under me to guide the cock through my slit a few times, coating it with my wetness.
And then I guide it to my opening. I mewl when the thick head psuhes into me, but I never stop my descend down onto it. The girth is stretching my hole and I make little fucking motions, going deeper every time I push down until - suddenly - it bottoms out inside of me.
I did it. I did it!
I'm seated on the throne, cock all the way inside me and it feels amazing. It's thick and long and it's mine.
The cock starts to move on it's own now and there is no doubt: It's accepted me as the new Queen. It's never done anything like it before.
I try to surpress my moans, but the cock is so deep inside me, fucking up into me in short, hard strokes and soon I'm moaning and mewling loudly.
The first people are starting to wake up, looking through their windows. I see more and more windows alight with candles, people are trying to see what's happening.
I'm jostles with the hard fucking I receive, "uh uh uh". I can feel an orgasm approaching, gripping the armrest. When it crashes over me, I cry myself hoarse, eyes closing at the intense sensations inside me.
I also feel the cock releasing a load of cum into my cunt. Hot, thick spurts of it shoot into me, prolonging my own orgasm until I feel like I might black out.
Maybe I actually lost consciousness for a few moments, because when I open my eyes again, the square is full of people. They're all looking at me.
One man of the nightwatch approaches me and lifts my dress. There I am, for all to see: panties pushed aside, cock inside me sitting on the throne. I know that the cum is overflowing, dripping onto the seat. The guard rips the fabric of my dress so my pussy stays exposed to the people and then, as if on command -
the crowd erupts into cheers.
Right, I remember, I am their Queen now.
I stay seated on the throne, cock inside me, for the whole night. More and more people gather on the square and the surrounding streets to celebrate. It's as if the throne knows this, it keeps fucking me, filling me with cum so everyone can see it. As if to make sure everyone knows that I am the Queen.
I've never felt such ecstasy, I'm high from one orgasm after another and the endless cheers of people. Soon, musicians join the people on the square.
The festives last three whole days. The coronation happens before my father comes back from his trip. He joins us right as I lower myself back down onto the cock, after I receive the crown and the sceptre. He tries to get to me, but my guards hold him back.
I am the Queen. And the cock releases another load into my cunt.
would love to be the favored acolyte of a divine being. would love to be the only one allowed in the temple’s inner chamber, the evening light from the clerestory illuminating the chosen humanoid form of my deity, their body draped over an oversized throne.
they’re bigger than me, unnaturally tall and long-limbed, their divine nature filling this vessel to the brim. shining skin draped in gossamer fabrics that fall away in perfect swathes framing their body.
they set me over their lap, their long fingers resting over my hips as I straddle them. I only see two hands, yet it feels like dozens tug at me in gentle yet firm encouragements. the robes fall from my shoulders as I am pulled to grind my bare cunt over their lap. I gasp and gaze up with half-lidded eyes into the veiled face of my patron. through the mounting haze I catch a glimpse of their eyes, glinting like rubies under a cascade of fine cloth and glittering gold
eventually I am so caught up in the rhythm of rutting my wet cunt against them, that I’m surprised when their hands lift me bodily by my hips and turn me to face the empty chamber. I feel something hard and leaking and warm brush over my entrance and I look down to see their cock resting between my thighs. I begin to move my hips once more, trying to frot my now aching tdick over them and coat them with my wetness. a low hum emanates from behind me and vibrates through my whole body. I whine and buck more fervently as hands press over my tummy and chest
finally, finally they take their cock in hand and lift me over it, lining me up before lowering me slowly, lovingly. I groan loudly as they push in inch by inch, letting me settle onto them at my own pace. Fingers tease over my straining tdick, easing me into the stretch that I’m now feeling in earnest. My mouth is hanging open, practically drooling by the time I’m fully seated, pressed back against my patron’s bare chest
they then begin to move. It’s a slow rocking of their hips below me at first, but the pace builds. Hands grab once more at my hips, my thighs, helping me as I try to ride and meet their thrusts. I can feel them curling over me, their long tendrils of hair curtaining me in as they fuck me on their twitching cock. I feel lips and teeth at my neck and on my shoulders, nibbling and licking. It goes on like this for how long, I don’t know, I’m so wrapped up in the feeling of being used and played with and adored
Suddenly my deity rears back on their throne, causing me to arch back with them, pulling my body taught. Their hips buck up into me more vigorously and I swear I hear a growl from somewhere above me. The sensation of dozens of hands returns and it’s like every one of my strings is being played at once. Hands on my chest, squeezing and playing with my nipples. Hands running up and down my sides and over my stomach. Fingers playing over my dick and pressing into my cunt. Fingers teasing at my mouth, finding their way in and pressing over my drooling tongue. I moan around them, whining and keening as every part of me vibrates in ecstasy.
I feel limp as they bounce me on their cock, letting them fuck me like the perfect mortal toy that I am. I feel as though I’m floating, the stimulation somehow just right despite it coming from every possible source at once. A low hum permeates the air. They’re getting close and I can feel my own release coiling impossibly into itself within my core. by now the only noises I can utter are fucked-out breathy little uh-uh-uhs as my patron drives up into me over and over
finally the hum reaches a fever pitch and I feel them bury their cock impossibly deep inside me, splitting me open as they claw at my sides. a hoarse, ragged moan is ripped from me as I feel them release deep inside me, filling me to the brim. It’s as though every sensation crescendos at once and I come over their twitching cock, leaking heavily a mix of their cum and mine over our thighs. I sob as they rock me through it, petting at me almost reverently as I come down from the high
It feels like an eternity by the time they lift me tenderly from their lap. I am laid over a cushioned altar, boneless and spent. They loom over me, shrouded and quiet, admiring their work. My eyes flutter closed, for who am I to deny my god their private vanity. I am theirs before anything. I rest knowing I’ve served them well, as I always do
ogre husband who doesn't really understand humans. you are a foreign, exotic creature to him—and the only one to step out and volunteer when he came to town asking for a spouse. to other humans, you're homely, but to him, you're the most lovely, beautiful creature to ever live.
he doesn't know what to make of your body, so much smaller and more delicate than his. he treats it gently, like you're a nervous animal, petting you in all sorts of places and trying to determine what you like best.
you encourage him to use his mouth, and this is a wonder to him. he learns to kiss you on the lips, to tangle your tongues together. he finds his way down your belly and between your legs, where he kisses all over.
but you need more than kisses down there. you give him some gentle instructions, and he's more than eager to please you. he licks and sucks all over, sloppy but earnest and dedicated.
then you explain where his cock ought to go, and he's aghast. there's no way he could possibly fit inside you. but you encourage him to tease you, to convince your hole to open up for him.
experimentally, he squeezes his fingers inside you, one and then another and then another, seeing how far you can stretch. when he thinks it's close to the size of his cock, he oils up the head and pushes it inside you.
and oh, there's nothing at all like your ogre filling you up, his cock so heavy and fat you can see it moving through your belly. he attempts to be gentle with you, seeing as how you struggle just to take his girth, but the feeling of you is so wonderful, so overwhelming to him, that eventually, his self-control breaks.
your ogre roars, a sound that would frighten even mountain lions, as he takes you. he makes you his, in every possible way, plundering you and making you scream as you reach your finish around him. you've never been so thoroughly full. then thick, warm ropes of his cum coat the inside of you, drizzling out everywhere.
when the haze has cleared, he worries that he's hurt you in his excitement, but you're fine—you'll just be sore tomorrow. he cleans you, but as he does, the sight of your used hole stirs him up again, and then he has you a second time.
I know it’s dangerous to walk through a poorly lit public park at three AM, but after two nights shattered by strange, unearthly howls I can’t keep my curiosity at bay any longer. I’ve always loved animals, and I’ve never heard anything like this before. I’m not too worried - the biggest creatures around here are deer, and the industrial flashlight I wield should make a decent weapon against human predators.
That musical howl pierces the night again and I veer towards the sound, picking my way through the dense brush and cursing my choice of shoes. The forest is so dense none of the full moon’s light shines through the canopy, leaving the floor in an impenetrable darkness. Even my flashlight doesn’t seem to help.
I crash through the woods in the general direction of the howl, but there’s no sign of any strange animals. There’s no sign of any animals, actually. No night birds sing, no crickets chirp. Even the wind through the leaves seems to have gone silent. The back of my neck prickles as if there are eyes on me, inexplicable terror freezing my blood in my veins.
The howl rips through the darkness like a tangible thing, echoing between the trees until it seems as if it’s coming from every direction at once. It’s closer now. Far too close.
I take off in a random direction like a startled rabbit, wild and thoughtless with animal terror. I don’t think about which way the path is, or the nearby highway. All I care about is getting away from what I can feel in my bones is a dangerous thing.
I don’t make it far before I hear footsteps behind me. Pounding, heavy steps, like whatever hunts me is taking massive bounding strides. Whatever it is must be huge, far bigger than any buck. I push myself to run harder, stumbling in my panic, but the creature grows closer by the second.
I hear it’s labored panting a moment before a crushing weight hits me from behind, forcing the breath from my lungs. My flashlight flies from my hand and into the dense brush, shrouding the trees in darkness. Suddenly I’m wheezing into the dirt, crushed to the earth by something heavy and hot and covered in thick fur. I can feel powerful muscles rippling against my back when it moves against me.
The monster shoves a wet nose against my neck, breathing heavily against my skin and inducing a shiver despite myself. A long, hot tongue swipes over me, followed by a growling groan. I’m too stunned to move, quivering in fear as I wait for this thing to devour me.
But the creature does no such thing. Instead it - or, he, as is quickly made abundantly clear - presses me more firmly into the ground with his hips, and I feel something hard and throbbing against my ass. The creature growls again, and I can feel the vibration of it against my spine. He pushes into me rhythmically, rutting against me, and a new terror floods through me.
I begin to struggle again with renewed desperation, clawing at the damp forest floor to drag myself out from under this beast. The only thing worse than being killed by him was being fucked by him, surely. He huffs in annoyance - a strangely human sound - and an impossibly strong arm matted with fur is shoved under my chest, holding me firmly against him. A giant hand paws roughly down my side, curved claws catching in the fabric and tearing it away as if it were paper.
He only seems to grow more excited when I’m exposed to the chill night air. I’m both shocked and ashamed to feel wetness cooling between my legs. The monster’s insistent humping grows more frantic, his throbbing cock slipping between my cheeks and rubbing over my pussy as he tries to line himself up with my dripping hole. I thrash beneath his weight, desperate to get away before he can ruin me. In response, hot breath washes over the back of my neck. Long, sharp teeth clamp gently around my throat, just hard enough to dent the flesh. I stop struggling immediately, the message clear.
The head of the creature’s cock pokes at my entrance and I can’t muffle my gasp. It’s so hot, so big, I can feel just the tip stretching me. He gives me no time to fall back into fear, shoving into me as deep as he can manage with a satisfied groan that rattles the teeth against my neck. I cry out, afraid I’ll be split in two. It’s far bigger than anything I’ve ever taken. I’ve never felt so utterly full before.
The monster pumps into me at a steady pace, the hand wrapped around my chest cupping my belly instead, pulling my hips more firmly into every thrust until I’m sure the head must be in my womb. His grunts and the wet sounds of his cock pounding into me fill my ears, his jaws flexing around my throat. I’m ashamed to feel arousal dripping down my thighs, familiar heat growing in my stomach despite the ache of being stretched so completely. How could this be turning me on?
I don’t know how long he fucks me into the dirt. I stop caring after awhile, unable to focus on anything but the constant, powerful in-and-out of his cock, the heat and weight of him keeping me exactly where he wants me. I can’t keep my choked moans hidden anymore, new sounds pushed from my lips every time he bottoms out. The pleasure keeps growing, the pain gone entirely as my body molds itself to this unknown monster’s cock. My thighs begin to quiver with the ecstasy of it, stomach tightening under his claws and pussy fluttering around his throbbing dick.
The creature’s thrusts increase their speed, the movement of his hips becoming jagged and fevered. His fangs, still clamped around my neck, tighten enough to draw blood. His grip tightens until my bones creak beneath the strain. My moans are more like sobs now, my fingers clawing into the dirt. I’m dimly aware of the beast pushing into me one final time, of his hips grinding hard against my ass, of the long, satisfied growl that rumbles in his chest, as I’m finally forced into orgasm.
I shudder helplessly in his iron grip as my entire body clenches almost painfully, my pussy contracting violently around his cock. Scalding heat floods my belly, rope after burning rope of it stuffing me impossibly fuller with every powerful throb. His dick seems to grow somehow larger as he cums, and the renewed ache only makes me spasm harder.
After long moments of grunting and twitching and writhing we both melt into the forest floor, spent. He’s still rutting into me, gently now, his cock twitching and somehow still hard. I try again, weakly, to drag myself away from him and quickly find that I can’t - his dick really did get bigger, lodged inside me for as long as he’s erect with a seal so tight not a drop of his cum has leaked out. I can only hope one round is enough for this thing.
I sag beneath him with a defeated whimper, mewling pathetically when the sound makes him push into me a little harder. It’s going to be a long night…
You're just a cute little toy and I'll rape you like I'm a dog in heat. I'll growl into your ear and bite when it feels too good. I'll bark when I'm getting close to cumming. My big knot will swell inside you and fill you with cum, as you're forced to stay still as I get bigger inside of you. I'll nuzzle into your neck, taking in your scent as I get ready for another round of breeding. I'll piss on you to mark my territory. I'll even piss inside you. You can collar me and hold my leash, but I'm the one in charge. I'll rub my scent all over you, so everyone knows you're mine. I might be a dog, but I'm not your pet. I own you
you signed up to be bred. it's good money, there's health insurance, and you could use a good, solid fuck. you don't mind carrying some monster's offspring. it could be fun.
you're set up in a contraption with your legs spread, ready for the creature that's paid good money to breed you. you don't know what to expect, until a huge shadow dwarfs you.
"oh, fuck." the werewolf's voice comes out gravelly and deep. "look at that gorgeous, hairy pussy."
no one's ever complimented you like that before.
suddenly there's a tongue on you, slipping through your folds, drinking you up.
"yes," the werewolf groans. "I can tell by your taste. you're the one."
the one? you wonder. but your thought is cut off as the werewolf's cock nudges at you, testing your give.
you had prepared for a monster with a big cock, but this is nearly more than you can take. he's careful, though—"I don't want to hurt the mother of my cub," he says with a growl, trying to hold back. but soon he can't, because you're squeezing him so tight.
"the more I make you cum," the werewolf says, "the more receptive you'll be to me." and so you burst, over and over, until at last that fat, swollen knot slips inside you.
he gushes into you, and it's so much you whimper a little in pain. but he soothes you, rubbing your back, sniffing your hair.
when he can finally pull out, a flood of white streams down your thighs. he licks you, shoving his cum back inside you with his tongue.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he assures you. "every day, until you're growing my cub. and then you're coming home with me."
Not to be monster-fucker on here but can y'all imagine how good it would feel to have tentacle suckers on your clit and nipples and each hole stuffed with a different tentacle swirling inside of you as the rest are acting as ropes, keeping you tied down and defenseless?
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
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