You called him instead of your dad, your voice small and slurred over the phone “Uncle Nik… I don’t feel good… please come get me?”
He could hear the thump of distant bass and laughter in the background, a party where you’d clearly had too much to drink and the room had started spinning.
He came. Of course he did. Nikolai would always do anything for you.
Now you’re straddling his thick thighs on the worn couch, your skirt bunched up around your waist, soaked panties shoved roughly aside. Your hands tremble as you fumble with his belt, clumsy from the vodka, whimpering every time the leather refuses to cooperate.
Nikolai watches you with dark, hooded eyes. One broad palm rests steady and warm against the small of your back; the other cradles your flushed cheek as you pant open mouthed against his lips.
“Easy, malyshka,” he rumbles, his accent thick and low, curling straight into your belly. “Look at you… dripping over me like needy little thing.”
A broken whine tears from your throat. You grind down harder, your slick cunt sliding shamelessly over the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans. The denim is soaked through now, dark with your arousal.
Heat floods your face, but you can’t stop. Your hips roll on their own, chasing friction, your clit catching just right and dragging a sob from your lips.
“Uncle Nik… please,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Need you. Feels so empty… it aches.”
His lips twitch into a slow smile. He lets you suffer for another heartbeat, lets you rut against him like a desperate puppy, before his hand finally moves. He frees himself with a low hiss- thick, heavy, veins pulsing, the broad head already glistening with precum.
Your eyes widen, a fresh gush of wetness slipping out of you at the sight.
“Uncle Nik… you’re so big,” you breathe, suddenly nervous even through the haze of alcohol.
“Shh. Breathe for me,” he murmurs. One strong hand grips your hip, guiding you up just enough. The other lines the fat head of his cock against your entrance.
You feel it- hot, blunt, far too thick- pressing insistently against your tight little hole.
He doesn’t thrust in right away. He teases. Circles the tip slowly, coating himself in your slick, nudging just the head inside before pulling back, over and over, until your thighs shake, tears prick at your eyes, and you’re sniffling.
“Please- Uncle Nik, I can’t- please just-”
Nikolai’s grip tightens. He pushes in, stretching you open inch by burning inch. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as your cunt struggles to take him. Virgin. He can feel it, the resistance, the way you flutter and whimper, tensing right before the thick head of his cock punches through.
You bury your face in his neck when he finally sinks deeper, deeper, until he bottoms out, hips flush against yours.
A low groan rumbles from his chest as he feels your cunt clench greedily around him, already trying to milk him. “That is… good girl. Taking Uncle Nik so well.”
You’re panting, trembling, every nerve alight as he holds you there, letting you feel every linch splitting you open.
Then he starts to move, shallow, grinding thrusts at first that drag inside you and make stars burst behind your eyelids.
Your moans turn filthy and broken, your hips jerking helplessly as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly.
Nikolai watches your face the entire time, dark eyes burning.
He had taken John Price’s virginity decades ago in some cold, forgotten safehouse.
Now he was buried deep inside his daughter, claiming her virginity too.
John "virgin hunter" price who is determined to take your virginity. Oh, you've already lost it? He'll find something you haven't done. Anal, blowjobs, maybe a certain kink. He just loves knowing he has more experience than you, loves how you look to him for guidance on everything. It scares some weird, possessive part of him in a way nothing else can.
Reader being completely dehumanised by big Nikolai daddy.. Reader being a new recruit not even that long at base and it takes Nikolai one look at there vibe and go “thats my pup, i’ll make them my mutt even if they don’t want it” basically Reader becomes a pet whos always hanging around Nikolai’s hanger with a collar and everything sometimes even a vest with little straps that read out “FRIENDLY LIKES BEING PET” or smf like that idk i love dehumanising and puppy play together -👾
This has been sitting in my drafts/asks for a hot minute now(since last year) and it itches my brain every time i read it.
Nikolai, being stationed with tf141 for a while, not that he minded. The boys were always fun ti hang around and there was more then one willing body to sate his cock. At least until Laswell brings in younger!reader, a coropral, onto base.
When Price is the one showing them around when they stopped by the hanger. Nikolai was covered in a layer of grease but when John called his name, he hadn't expected to see those most delightful puppy standing just behind the rugged Captain. Eyes looking them up and down, seeing their cheeks flush from his attention, it takes most of Nik's self control to not act on the desires of his hardening cock.
He let you settle with the team first, watched how the others were around them. How *they* were around the others. How praise would light them up, and how snapped words made them draw into themselves. The amount of times he had fisted his cock just looking at the picture in your file.
And Nikolai for sure noticed when reader started coming around the hanger more often. The interest in their eyes, and just like that, he had his fish on the hook. He started with small tasks in the hanger, praising them, giving them a treat and a pat on the head when they completed it. And overtime he became bolder, giving them a kiss or a nip as a reward. Groping them through their clothes.
The first time he locked the collar on their neck, his cock was down their throat while he read maintence reports. A small bone shaped tag hung from it. Nikolai's Pup. Please return to Nikolai if found. A dog bed placed under his desk, a leash hung by the door.
And even know as Nikolai came to get them from their cage, he had your vest ready. Good Pup. Friendly Likes Pets. Cuteness Aggression Will Bite. And such like patches decorating the item.
And none of the boys ever said a word when they saw the transformation, not when Nikolai had them petsit his precious pup.
Gah canablisim and corruption YUMMM, part 2 part 1
"Why can't we see them?" Johnny pouts at the dinner table, already finished with his dinner.
"Simon will start picking out what cut of meat he wants, and you two won't be able to keep your hands to yourself." John huffs back, shaking his head at Johnny. "Once they settle, they'll be good around the house. We can teach them how to clean up our hunts."
"Have a pretty little housewife waiting around for us?" Kyle raises an eyebrow at the idea. John chuckles slightly and leans back in his chair.
"Do you have a problem with that?" He challenges, which makes Simon clear his throat.
"Got a peak at'em. They have plenty of good meat." Simon offers as a protest which makes John narrow his eyes slightly. "I'm sure you thought of that, sir."
"I did. We aren't desperate for food. The only reason this works is because we don't kill every person that we see."
"We just kidnap one of them and kill the rest." Kyle adds on, challenging John slightly. John sighs and shakes his head, standing up and taking the plate he made for you towards the stairs.
"We aren't eating them, and that's final. I think you guys will enjoy the company once they settle in."
You were hungry, but not hungry enough to eat what you knew was human meat. John was kind enough to untie your wrists so you could eat, but your hesitation to eat was irritating him.
"Do you want me to let you starve?" He growls, staring down at you and the tray of food he'd given you. "I could leave you up here for a few days. Would you be hungry enough then?" You look away from him, heart sinking as you weigh your options.
With a shaking hand, you started to eat the food on your plate. You keep yourself from cringing, feeling John's eyes boring down on you as you eat. He didn't go through all this trouble to have you be ungrateful.
You finish everything on the plate, pushing it away from yourself as you try to keep your tears at bay. Part of you was warning you to be more grateful, to show some appreciation for John not putting you on the plate instead. He still could, which makes your stomach twist more than eating human meat did.
"You're so precious... Poor thing." Price chuckles condescending as he strokes your head softly. "Don't worry. You'll make a good housewife for us." He chuckles, gripping your chin and tilting your head up. "It'll take some time, but you'll behave, won't you?"
With tears brimming your eyes, you nod along shakily to his word. "Good answer, Y/N."
being fucked to the point of overstimulation by your master... him pulling your ass up and back onto his cock as though you're nothing but an object to be used, even when your arms give out beneath you and you're collapsed face first into the mattress. and although there are tears running down your cheeks and it hurts you force yourself to clench down on him and bear it because you want to be so good for your master. there is nothing more you want than for him to feel good. the man who'd taken you in when no one else wanted you, who taught you magic and everything you know, who feeds you and clothes you and calls you his apprentice. you owe him everything and so much more than you could ever repay.
♱ synopsis: you kneel for him like it means something and he lets you because it doesn’t.
a/n: song rec: god's game by dove cameron | this is nothing but a treat for myself
The blood on his hands isn't fresh anymore, only smeared remnants, half-dried and fading into the lines of his palms. Kei sits on the edge of his chair like a monarch in the otherwise rather empty room. His fingers are laced together while those piercing blue eyes assess the person kneeling in front of him.
By now, your legs are aching from being folded for too long, your throat feels dry, and your mind is almost frantic with that tight, unbearable hunger for his approval.
A torture in itself for a person so terribly eager for his attention.
“Do you know why I let you come back?” he breaks the tense silence at last, with a voice low and unhurried to make matters worse.
You flinch at the sound and work your throat in an effort to find your voice. “I—I did what you said,” you murmur with those fearful eyes of yours downcast. “I followed your orders. I didn't hesitate.”
Kei hums in amusement while considering your words for a moment too long. “No. That's not why,” he says almost without any emotion on his tongue. “It's because you think if you obey enough, bleed enough, beg enough, I'll say you matter.”
Shame tightens your chest, almost painfully so, but not enough to stop you from nodding and confessing, “I want to please you,” in a whisper.
A beat passes between superior and subordinate before the tip of Kei's boot nudges your chin upward until you meet his gaze. Those cold, distant eyes look at you not as a person, but as a project.
A puzzle.
“I know,” he leans in, just enough that his breath ghosts across your lips to tease you. “That's what makes you useful.”
The words burn cruelly because, in the end, they are the truth. In Kei's world, your worth is measured by how deeply you can cut yourself away, peel back your own humanity, and offer it to him like penance. And you would do it over and over, just to receive his acceptance.
You didn't realise when the silence stopped feeling awkward. It was just part of being around him, even his silence feels heavy with expectation. And you want that. You want to be squished under his expectations, broken down until the only thing left is what Kei allows you to be.
Now, you were kneeling closer. No longer across the room like in the beginning, but right at his feet with your cheek pressed to his thigh, your breath warming the expensive fabric of his trousers.
“I wonder if you even know what you’re doing to yourself,” Kei muses with a voice no louder than a whisper, the edge of amusement tracing along his usually even tone.
You should not be this close, but he put you there, and worse, you didn't resist. You bask in the contact, in his hand moving slowly through your hair like you are some prized pet, a fragile creature he can either feed or break on a leash disguised as affection.
"You're trembling," he notes casually, stroking behind your ear with fingers too soft for the chaos they cause anywhere else. “But you're still here. How pitiful.”
The words hit harder than any slap ever could. But that's the game you have chosen to start: You want him to say worse, you want his attention, even if it cuts. Especially if it cuts because then it means he is looking at you, paying attention to you, no matter how short-lived it might be.
“I just want to do it right. For you.”
He chuckles at that, breathy and quiet with no hint of warmth in it. “But why?” his thumb adores the line of your jaw. “Why try so hard to please someone like me? You've seen what I do to people.”
“I don't care,” you confess all too quickly, too earnestly like a dumb pet begging for a treat. “I just... I want you to want me here.”
At least you manage to surprise him at times.
A task most people fail at. The hand in your hair stills now that Kei leans down slightly; he's close enough that his breath seeps through your hair. “Want you here?” he echoes. “No. I allow you here. There's a difference.”
You try to hide your face, try to lean your forehead against his thigh to cover the shame on your features, but Kei tilts your chin up before you can look away.
“I-I want to be good,” you confess with those sickly-sweet pleading eyes that look at him like he is some sort of god.
“You want too much,” Kei hums faintly. He always says things like that with such gentle cruelty, with that smooth tone of voice that makes you feel ashamed to be aroused by it.
Your throat feels tight, constricting as if your body is begging you to stop making a fool of yourself. But you are weak against the storm in his eyes. “I just want you to want me,” you murmur.
Pathetic.
The silence hangs there for a moment, like a guillotine ready to drop, while you lose yourself in those detached blue eyes as Kei's stare pins you in place.
“I don't want anyone,” he says at last. “But I use what's useful.”
His words twist something inside you, somewhere deep and already half-rotten from wanting too much. From needing his approval, his voice, his hand in your hair. But then his hand slips to the back of your neck, his thumb grazing the delicate hinge of your jaw.
“Which is why you're lucky, aren't you?” He guides your head forward gently. With you, there is no need for force because, after all, you obey without question just to see the ghost of satisfaction flicker behind his dead eyes.
“I didn't even have to ask,” Kei continues, brushing your temple with the backs of his fingers. “You crawled here on your own, like the pathetic little thing you are.”
Yet still, he guides your head down, fingers firm but calm against your scalp. His eyes are half-lidded, his head tipped back slightly as a small sound of pleasure already forms in his throat at the thought of what you are about to do.
“Undo my trousers.”
The command is a whisper, no louder than a sigh, but it makes your whole body tense in anticipation. He has never allowed you this close before, never saw more use in you than to keep you kneeling at his feet.
You obey with trembling hands that move hastily to unbuckle his belt and undo the buttons of his trousers with more care than necessary. His arousal is evident, straining against the confines of dark fabric as you finally pull down his briefs to reveal the flushed tip of his cock slick with pre-cum.
He watches everything, from the way your lips part to the split-second you hesitate before leaning in.
"I haven't said you could have it.” The reprimand causes you to freeze as shame crawls across your skin from the maddening calm in Kei's voice. "But you want it anyway," he sighs, sighs as if this entire thing was nothing but a drag.
Two fingertips are enough to lift your chin and meet your humiliation in the reflection of his eyes. “Look at yourself being desperate for it. Go on then,” he says in that same soft tone.
His hand cups your cheek, a thumb tracing the corner of your lips as he slowly slides it inside. You suck without question or instruction while your eyes are glued to shades of blue as your tongue swirls around the digit.
“You like that?” The question makes Kei's voice sound almost affectionate now. “Letting me feel you like this, so soft and warm...”
He subs his thumb for his ring and middle finger, both now pressing down against your tongue until you choke, just slightly. Though Kei doesn't stop at that, instead, he leans in with a faint smile of satisfaction dancing across his lips once the wet sounds get worse.
“You want me to think you're good.” There is a pinch of venom hidden in his tone now, a fine line of madness wrapped up in filthy praise. “But this is what you are, isn't it? A mouth for me to use.”
He pulls his fingers out, saliva trailing after them, and lets the mess cling to your lips like proof.
“Then show me. Show me how good you can be.”
Your lips brush the warm skin of his abdomen before you lower your head further to leave ghostlike kisses of your pathetic adoration on his skin. Kei's hand never leaves your hair; it’s like a constant reassurance of control and ownership.
“You like this, don't you?” he murmurs as your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue pressed beneath the vein along the underside. The salty taste of pre-cum torments your taste buds once you begin to suck slowly, unsure, perhaps overwhelmed. “Being used. Being good.”
His fingers flex in your hair, holding you there as your tongue works along the underside of his shaft. “And you know what I like, hm?” Kei adds before nudging your face back to adore the dribble of pre-cum that's already smeared across your lips. He watches you intently, no grin, no smirk, just analysing as if he is studying something broken and fascinating.
“I like watching people try.”
With that, he guides you forward once more. The tears pooling in your eyes are almost enough for Kei to find you cute, to consider giving you a moment of reprieve as your throat begins to tighten.
Instead, you gag because he guides you deeper, as if to punish you for the momentary crumble of his walls. Your nails clutch his thighs as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, and a wet, choked sound escapes you.
Ah, but you don't pull away. No, no, you let him fill your mouth until you’re trembling, barely breathing, and still he keeps you there, with fingertips that graze your nape.
“Don't stop now,” Kei whispers, voice almost tender. “You've made it this far. What’s a little more suffering for me?”
You shudder around him, your tears now streaking your cheeks in messy black as you push forward again, choking softly when your jaw aches, when your nose presses to his pelvis. He holds you there, not forcing, just expecting because he knows you would do anything for him.
And when he moans, quiet and airy, more whine than a masculine moan, you almost cry from the sound alone.
“Just like that. Don't think. Don't breathe. Just take.”
You do, always so eager to follow any demand. But your jaw aches, your throat constricts again as spit obscenely drips down your chin. And Kei tries, tries to ignore the way you gag, tries to ignore the way your eyes roll back, but something in him almost feels … worry.
A wave of fresh air fills your lungs as a soft slap to your cheek returns your attention to the man looming over you. “You're going to keep trying,” he remarks calmly while wiping a tear from your cheek. The other hand is curling into your hair again. “Because you're terrified I'll stop and leave you.”
His hips shift barely; it's a test and promise all in one, and the next time he pushes deeper, you let him in with a slack jaw, choking once more around the length of him.
Your eyes flutter shut as Kei guides your rhythm. Slow at first, too slow, until he sighs, his breath hitching just enough to betray his satisfaction. He doesn't groan, doesn't moan like other men would. He sighs like your mouth is relief.
Maybe that is why he let his guard down just a little. Maybe that is why his hand curls tighter in your hair as more of those satisfied sighs leave his lips—quiet, controlled, but unmistakably real.
Your eyes roll back when he whispers, “Such a pretty little ruin you are.”
Teary eyes blink up once his fingers tighten in your hair. You feel the tremble, the tension in his thighs, and curiously glance up to witness the way he tilts his head back for just a moment as his mouth parts. He guides your head up and down with low, pleased hums or a ragged exhale through his nose.
He doesn't need to say a word—you understand just how close he is, how close you are to fulfilling your purpose. So, you hollow your cheeks, swallow him deeper, until he groans softly, beautifully, like he almost didn’t mean to.
You don't even realise how tightly your thighs are pressed together until warmth pools so filthily wet between them it is near unbearable, almost enough to grind down on Kei's shoe that mockingly nudges them apart. You choke once more, only for Kei to hold you in place, letting out the softest gasp—one that he cuts short with his teeth clenched, too proud to make noise unless it’s earned.
And then you feel his cock twitching on your tongue, hear the sharp intake of breath as Kei releases into your mouth. You try your best to manage the warmth coating your tongue and leaking down your throat.
You shudder, almost choke, and cough. Almost—
“Don't spill it,” Kei’s sharp tone snaps you out of it as you realise the fatal mistake of squirming against his hold, but a firm hand on your neck keeps your head down.
“Swallow, or you'll disappoint me.” The words nearly crush your pride, so you obey without making a fuss, even as it burns, even as you whimper, even as the bitter taste makes you shudder.
And when he finally pulls you back, the string of saliva and cum between your lips and his softening cock snaps to stain your neck and chest. Your hands shake where they grip his thighs; you are clearly struggling to come down.
But Kei holds little regard for comfort. His fingers come to your mouth again, just to tilt your chin up for him to admire the humiliating state you put yourself in.
“Open.”
He smiles when he sees the glossy pink of your tongue. “Look at you,” his voice remains soft as his thumb drags through the mess around your mouth like a painter placing his final stroke on a masterpiece. “You tried so hard to please me. And all you got was this.”
Your breath comes in shallow waves, your chest feels tight, and your mind seems to blank further. But his hand stays on your cheek like a mark, like proof that you belong to him now.
“You should be proud. You do make such a pretty mess when you are useful.” Then he leans back in his chair, adjusting his shirt as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just broken something inside you.
You remain kneeling at his feet, not sure if you are meant to move or wait for the next command, with a gaze downcast that takes your chance at noting the flicker of something softer in Kei's gaze.
showing pastors son!art your pussy for the first time and giving him full reign to touch and explore you however he likes and he ends up coming in his pants 🩶
cw : corruption, coming in pants, subby!art (18+)
he’s incredibly sheltered, grew up that way, so when you’re spreading your bare legs for him for the first time he’s just knelt down between them and staring with his mouth hung open. he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. he doesn’t even really have a good idea where the clit is—only knows that it’s supposed to feel good when it’s rubbed and played with.
“just touch me and see what happens,” you shrug, a hand going down to teasingly caress his flushed cheek, “you’ll figure it out.”
art swallows like he’s trying to force down an embarrassing sound, and then he’s scooting forward. his right hand comes up and he hesitates before running his fingertips lightly over your folds. your hips twitch slightly in response, and this spurs him on. his bright blues glued to the sticky wetness glossing your cunt. it looks like a flower spread open, dew glistening on all of the petals.
“you’re all wet.”
he says it so matter-of-factly that it makes you laugh. everything he does just reeks of sickeningly sweet innocence.
you nod and lean back, “yeah, you’re making me this way…”
and god, he doesn’t even try to stifle the moan that’s pushed from his chest. he just leans in closer and slides his index finger up through your folds until he reaches a gummy bud at the very top.
as soon as he touches you there, you let out a low groan and buck up into the feeling.
Oh..
Oh.
now he really gets it.
he feels like he just unlocked the most elusive secret in the universe. he looks up to your face and then right back down to your twitching bundle of nerves, biting down on his lip nervously as he begins to rub circles into it the way he’s seen it done in porn (he’s only watched one video his whole life thus far.. he felt guilty for a month straight afterwards.)
“ohh, fuck yeah,” you breathe out raggedly, “just like that.. you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”
and he’s so caught up in your words, your sounds, your pussy, that he doesn’t even realize he’s about to orgasm. right then and there. right in front of you. he doesn’t have the time to process the fact that he’s hard, let alone the fact that he’s close, before he’s jerking forward with a sharp gasp and choking on a whimper that follows suit.
“aaangh- oh—..!”
he’s rushing to grab your legs for some sense of groundedness; squirting a heavy load into his boxer briefs, pulse after pulse of the warmth flooding his clothes. you just chuckle lowly and stroke his hair as he rides it out.
“s… s-sorry, i’m sorry… did you come too?” he asks, as cute as ever. like a puppy.
you look over his lidded gaze, his parted lips, his heaving chest. and you smile.
hi there!! love your work!! so happy to see you back! may I request oviposition?
Kabr0z Writes Episode 194: Down the Drain
Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!
Episodes 1-180 going out on Ao3!
CWs: Oviposition; tentacles; feral X human; loss of self; corruption; mind break; noncon; intox; aphrodisiac; gagging; oral sex; impregnation;
A/N: I do love some oviposition! And I love being back! It'll take some time to reach everyone who I lost contact with, but I'm confident we'll get there! The actual monster (and title!) for today's episode was decided by my marvellous Discord, which moots can request the link to 😁
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Something was living in your drains.
At first you thought you had rats. It's an old house, and the area was lousy with them despite the feral cat population. It's funny, you never saw so many living in the city, but you move to a tiny village out in the rolling countryside and here they are, out in force. You'd never seen so many, or had to call the exterminator so many times to refresh their traps in your loft. Not that the landlord really cared, he was just happy to have a tenant who's unlikely to smash the place up. When next door was raided and a grow-op found to be taking up much of the upper floors, he made a point of sending you a note making sure you were alright. Not much, sure, but having a pretty hands-off relationship was good for you both. You sent him rent money every month and in return he didn't bother you. But there were still rats.
You paid it no mind. The scrambling sounds only happened when you ran the water, so they were probably quite thoroughly downstream. More than likely you were just hearing echoes up the pipework. Nothing to worry about.
One evening, as you often do, you stood in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water over you, soaping up your nude body, maybe paying a little more attention than you needed to around your soft tits, sliding your fingers a little more between your legs than was strictly warranted. You weren't in the mood to properly get yourself off in the shower, you might see to that later. The sounds in the pipes are louder than usual. They're putting you off your game.
What's really weird is, they sound different. Not the scrabbling of tiny claws, more a slurping sound, like drinking the last few drops of a cup of soda. You didn't notice the drain seem to clog. You hadn't spotted the cover unscrew itself from the threaded fitting. You only clocked something was up when the water was an inch deep around the soles of your feet.
By then, it was too late to run.
A half dozen tendrils were upon you. Thin, whitish, veined with pink. Something else was sliding up from the drain, a bulbous mass, crowned with ever more of the squirming limbs. By the time you had screamed, it was in the bath with you. When you tried to move, it grabbed your ankles, pulling your feet from under you. The bathtub resounded with the force of your fall, somehow you'd managed to not hit your head.
The creature was upon you, holding your legs apart. Textured ridges on the tendrils meant it held its grip even despite the soapy water making it impossible for you to try and prise it off you. Before long, it had your hands, pinning them to your thighs, keeping you sat upright as it climbed.
You screamed again as it stalked between your thighs, the football-sized body headed inexorably to your crotch. All that got you was a pair of limbs in your mouth. It tasted bitter, a thin slime coating its body. The tentacles in your mouth throbbed, pushing to the very back of your throat before spurting out a stream of cold liquid.
You choked and spluttered. The liquid flew from your nose, dribbling down your face. A little went down your throat.
Your head began to spin. Your body got hot. So hot it felt like the shower was cold. Your nippes throbbed, standing on end. You felt your cunt ache, your pulse echoing through your body as it sped up. You needed something inside you, anything at all.
How convenient.
Were your hands free before? Did it matter? You grabbed at the pale ball, pulling it up, letting it kiss your folds. Another spurt of the bitter liquid filled your mouth, but you were ready for it now, swallowing it down, feeling your toes curl. Your hips ground against the thing. Something was protruding from it. Not an arm, something thicker, stiffer, you knew what you were going to do with it.
You moaned as you slid it inside you, the tendrils so recently stopping you escaping now holding it to your body as you ground your hips against the thick organ filling you up. You barely noticed it was already leaking. Thick, lumpy fluid, like if you strained boba tea and forced it through a tube. It was sliding up inside you, depositing as deeply as you could force it.
Maybe on some level, you knew it was filling you with its young. Maybe you would have tried to resist, had you control of your mind. Now though? Your belly full, your womb stuffed, your thoughts reduced to the animal urge to do nothing but breed?
