Kass
“Wrong move, angry female.”
His coils have me completely immobilized before I can process what happened. Arms pinned. Legs spread. Ribs compressed just enough that each breath takes effort. The speed of it—less than a second from attack to total restraint—makes my head spin.
“Let me—”
He plunges us both underwater.
The aphrodisiac pool floods my mouth, nose, eyes. I can't even struggle—his coils have me that secure. Three seconds of drowning panic before he surfaces us. I come up sputtering, gasping, fury temporarily replaced by the need for air.
“Try again,” he says, voice perfectly calm.
I spit water at his face. “Fuck you!”
“Yes.”
The coils adjust, spreading my legs wider.
The position forces my pussy to gape open, and the aphrodisiac water immediately floods inside, making me clench hard around nothing.
His primary cock touches my entrance—just the tip against my outer lips.
The contact makes us both hiss. Him from pain against raw scales.
Me from finally, finally feeling what I've been craving.
“Too big,” I gasp, even as my hips roll trying to take more.
“Body knows better. Modified for this exact size.”
The primary slides in slowly. Every ridge catches on my entrance, requires pressure to pass. I want to fight the pace, demand he go faster, but the coils keep me perfectly still. Only my pussy can move, clenching desperately around each inch as it enters.
The stretch is impossible. I've had three fingers inside myself maximum. This is like being split open by something designed to remake me. Each ridge that passes my entrance sends shockwaves through my entire nervous system.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“Halfway.”
Only halfway? I look down and see it's true. The massive length of him still waits outside. My pussy is already stretched to what feels like its absolute limit, lips pulled tight around his girth.
“Can't take more—”
“Body says different.”
He's right. Despite the impossible stretch, my pussy floods with wetness, easing the way. My cervix, which should be a barrier, seems to soften and shift, making room. The modification didn't just make me need this—it rebuilt me to accommodate it.
The primary hilts inside me with a wet sound that makes me sob. Not from pain. From relief. The base, swollen even thicker than the shaft, stretches my entrance beyond anything I thought possible. But it fits. Perfectly. Like my body was designed for exactly this.
“Now the secondary,” he warns.
“The what—”
Then the secondary follows, a thinner, coiling intrusion alongside the first. My eyes go wide as it corkscrews inside me, creating loops in spaces already filled. The sensation defies description—pressure from multiple directions, internal binding that doesn't hurt but feels absolutely foreign.
“What the fuck is happening?”
“Internal lock. Secondary creates coils inside. Can't withdraw once engaged.”
To demonstrate, he tries to pull back. Nothing moves. The secondary has created three loops inside me, each one anchoring behind ridges of the primary. We're locked more completely than any knot. Movement just makes the coils shift, creating new pressure points that make me see stars.
“Hours?” My voice comes out smaller than intended.
“Hours.”
He begins to move what little he can—tiny thrusts that make the ridges saw against my walls while the secondary tightens and loosens its coils. The sensation is overwhelming. Not just fullness but texture, temperature, movement from inside that I can't control or predict.
“Oh god, oh fuck—”
Something pulses inside me. Warm spheres no bigger than marbles releasing from his primary. I can feel each one as it travels up his length and deposits deep inside me.
“What's that?”
“First deposit. Ten to fifteen eggs each pulse.”
Eggs. He's putting eggs inside me. The knowledge should terrify me but my body celebrates it. My pussy clenches hard, milking him for more. The eggs dissolve almost immediately in my body heat, becoming thick fluid that floods my womb.
I watch my belly distend slightly. Visible proof of what's happening. “You're... I'm...”
“Being bred. Yes.”
“I hate you.” But my pussy spasms around both cocks, desperate for more.
“Good. Hate keeps you yourself.”
Another pulse. More eggs. My belly rounds further. The sensation is strange—warm fullness spreading through my core. Not just physical but something deeper. My body recognizing it's getting what the tonic prepared it for.
“This isn't what I wanted—”
A third deposit cuts me off. Larger this time. Maybe twenty eggs that dissolve into breeding fluid. My belly is visibly swollen now, skin stretched tight. I can feel my womb contracting, trying to accommodate the volume.
“Too much,” I whimper.
“Body says different. Still pulling me deeper.”
He's right. Even filled to what feels like my limit, my body betrays me, clenching again, trying to pull him impossibly deeper.
The fourth deposit makes me scream. My pussy ripples around both cocks, and I feel my cervix opening wider, accepting the breeding fluid directly. My belly is visibly swollen now, round and tight.
We're face to face in the shallow water, me wrapped in his coils, both cocks buried so deep that separation would damage us both. A second pulse follows—twenty more eggs, I count—and my belly swells further.
“How much more?”
“Eleven more deposits. Body needs full breeding to release.”
“Eleven? I'll explode.”
“No. Modified to carry full clutch. Body knows limits.”
The fifth deposit comes with my first breeding orgasm. Different from anything before. This starts in my womb and spreads outward like fever. My whole body convulses, pussy clamping down so hard he actually roars from the pressure.
“What was that?”
“Breeding peak. Body celebrating successful mating.”
Six through ten blur together. Each deposit makes my belly expand more. Each triggers another breeding orgasm that leaves me screaming. His blood is in the water from where I bit him. My throat is raw from sounds I didn't know I could make.
By the eleventh deposit, I'm sobbing. Not sad. Just overwhelmed. My belly is taut as a drumhead, the skin stretched so thin I can see the blue map of veins beneath. Yet still my body accepts more, still demands more.
“Please—”
“Four more. Almost done.”
Twelve comes with pure liquid—no eggs, just thick breeding fluid. The pressure is incredible. I feel like I might actually split open. But my body adjusts, accommodates, accepts.
Thirteen makes me transcend physical form for a moment. Pure sensation without thought.
Fourteen has me biting him again, breaking more new scales, tasting his strange blood.
“Last one,” he warns.
The fifteenth and final deposit comes with his own climax. Everything releases at once—remaining eggs, breeding fluid, and something else. Something that makes my insides tingle with chemical change.
“What's that? Feels different.”
“Markers. Now every male can smell you're already bred. Will last weeks.”
Not permanent bonding. Just temporary claiming. The distinction matters though I'm too fucked-out to think why.
Finally, the primary begins to soften. The ridges deflate just enough to pull free. But the secondary stays coiled, keeping us connected.
“Why isn't it—”
“Secondary releases last. Ensures breeding fluid stays inside. Twenty minutes more.”
I look down at my impossibly swollen belly. Watch breeding fluid leak around where we're still joined. “I look pregnant. Actually pregnant.”
“Some eggs fertilized already. Can smell the chemical change. First clutch taking.”
“What?” My eyes snap to his. “Already?”
“Fifteen deposits. Hundreds of eggs. Some always take immediately.”
“You didn't say immediate pregnancy!”
“You didn't ask.”
I try to bite him again but can't reach. We're both exhausted. My body shakes from overstimulation. His new scales weep lymph and blood where I tore them.
“I still hate you,” I say against his chest.
“Good. Tomorrow you'll hate me again when we do this again.”
“Again?”
“Daily breeding necessary until hunt ends. Body needs it now. Won't accept once without more.”
The secondary finally begins to unwind. When it releases, the flood of breeding fluid that escapes is tremendous. My belly slowly deflates, returning to almost normal. Almost. There's a slight roundness that wasn't there before.
“First clutch,” he confirms. “Already growing.”
“Fuck.”
He carries me to shore still wrapped in his coils, deposits me on soft moss. I lie spread eagle, pussy gaping, occasional spurts of breeding fluid still escaping. Everything between my legs is swollen, reshaped, marked by his use.
“Tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Tomorrow night. And the next. And the next. Until day thirty when you choose to leave or stay.”
“Still have twenty-three days to decide.”
“Yes. Twenty-three days of breeding. Of your belly swelling with deposits. Of your body reshaping itself more each time.” He settles beside me, clearly planning to guard while I recover. “Twenty-three days to pretend you haven't already chosen.”
I want to argue but my pussy clenches at the thought of tomorrow. Of being filled like this again. The empty ache is gone but replaced by something else—need for this specific fullness only he can provide.
“I hate you so much,” I say, but the venom is diluted by exhaustion.
“Good. Wouldn't want you tame.”