Second orgasm.
"Relax," he said. "Need to feel how deep I can reach. Need to make sure I won't hurt you when I knot."
Fourth finger. The stretch was intense. I was whimpering, body torn between too much and not enough. He worked me slowly: pushing deeper, curling his fingers, pressing that spot inside me until I was shaking.
Third orgasm.
"You're taking four fingers." He sounded pleased. Proud even. "You'll be able to take my cock. Maybe not easily. But you'll take it."
He pulled his fingers out. I cried out when he retreated. But then the pleasure cock was moving: unwrapping from my clit, sliding down, pushing inside me. It was thick, flexible, reaching deeper than his fingers had. And it was moving independently, stroking and pulsing and finding every sensitive spot.
Fourth orgasm while the pleasure cock worked inside me.
"Now you're ready." He pulled back and I could see: his regular cock, the one he'd used yesterday at The Weeping Wall, was hard and ready. "This one first. Need to make sure your body accepts penetration before I try the knot."
He positioned himself behind me. Hands on my hips, pulling me up onto my hands and knees. The head of his cock pressedagainst my entrance, already slick from the pleasure cock, already stretched from his fingers.
He pushed in. One slow thrust that buried him to the hilt.
The stretch was perfect. Fullness without pain. The ridges along his shaft caught at my entrance, dragging sensation through me. He started moving: slow at first, then harder. One hand reached around to my clit, rubbing circles while he fucked me.
"This is the easy one," he said between thrusts. "This is the one your body can handle. The breeding cock is twice this size. Has the knot at the base that's going to lock us together. Are you sure you want it?"
"Yes—" I gasped. "—fuck—yes?—"
His thrusts got harder. Faster. His hand on my clit was relentless. I came again, fifth orgasm, clenching around him. I felt him pulse inside me, felt heat flooding, so much of it. He was coming. But he didn't stop moving. Just kept fucking me through his orgasm and into mine, seed spilling out around his cock because there was too much to contain.
Finally he pulled out. I felt empty immediately. Wrong. I needed more.
"Now," he said. His breathing was ragged. "Now you're ready for breeding."
He repositioned me. On my back this time, legs spread, completely exposed. The breeding cock notched at my entrance and I tensed involuntarily.
It was huge. The head alone was the size of my fist. Dark and ridged and clearly designed for one purpose.
"Relax," he said. One hand moved back to my clit. The pleasure cock joined in, wrapping around it again, working it in tight circles. "Let me in."
He pushed. Just the head. The stretch was enormous. Burning. Too much. I whimpered and he stopped.
"Breathe," he said. "Your body was made for this. The tonic restructured you to fit me perfectly. You can take it."
He pushed deeper. An inch. Another inch. The ridges caught at my entrance with every tiny movement, dragging sensation through me. The pleasure cock kept working my clit, keeping me on the edge, keeping me relaxed enough to accept him.
"Too big—" I gasped.
"You're taking it." He pushed deeper. "Look at you. Opening for me. Accepting my breeding cock. So perfect."
He was right. Somehow, impossibly, I was taking him. The breeding cock slid deeper, stretching me beyond what should be possible. I could feel it pressing against my womb, could feel my belly distending slightly from his size.
I looked down. Could see it: the outline of his cock visible through my skin. The bulge moving with every shallow thrust.
"Look at that," he said. Voice rough with satisfaction. "You can see me inside you. See how deep I'm reaching. That's where my seed is going. Deep inside your womb. Going to fill you until it takes root."
He started moving. Shallow thrusts at first, letting me adjust. Then deeper. Harder. Each thrust pressed against my womb, sent sensation through my entire body. His hand was still on my clit, the pleasure cock still working, keeping me close.
"I'm going to knot you now," he said. His voice was strained. Barely controlled. "Once I do, we're locked together. Twenty minutes minimum. Probably longer for the first time. Won't be able to change your mind. If you want to stop, say it now."
"Don't stop—" I was begging. "Please don't stop?—"
