I stumble to the blue pool, body barely coordinating. The aphrodisiac water embraces me like a lover, immediately making everything worse. Or better. Hard to tell anymore. My pussy clenches in the rhythm I watched his secondary cock move.
He slides in after me, and the water carries his pheromones directly to my skin. Concentrated. Unavoidable.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck...” I'm humping the water itself, hips rolling desperately.
“They sent the constrictor,” he says, staying just out of reach but close enough I can see both cocks moving in the water. “Young males learning pack hunting. Next time will be worse.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you're mine to claim or release. No one else's.”
“I haven't chosen?—”
“Your body has.” He moves closer. The water between us heats from our combined temperature. “Every cell in you recognizes breeding compatibility. You leak for my specific anatomy. Clench in patterns that match my coils.”
The truth of his words is a physical blow, and I hate him for it. My pussy spasms in spirals now, mimicking what I saw his secondary do. The fury at my body's betrayal makes me want to scream.
“Tell me the rules,” I demand, still fingering myself uselessly. “All of them.”
“Thirty days you survive or surrender. If caught, you choose—refuse and fight, or submit and breed. Portal opens regardless.But once bred properly, once claimed with bite and bond, you can't leave. Biology won't allow it.”
“And catch and release?”
His tail brushes my leg underwater—just the slightest touch but I come screaming.
“Traditional hunting method. Catch female, demonstrate dominance, release. Repeat until she begs. But you're different.”
“How?”
“You won't beg. You'll choose. With intelligence, not desperation.”
Purple flowers float past us—must have fallen from overhead vines. The golden spores release into water, creating swirls of hallucination. His face fractures into patterns, scales becoming galaxies.
“Focus on my voice,” he says, moving closer. “Ride through distortion.”
“Can't... everything is...”
“I know. Feel me instead of seeing.”
His coils brush against me underwater. Not grasping, just contact. My modified nervous system interprets every scale as pleasure, each touch a promise of being filled. I grind against his tail shamelessly, pussy seeking any pressure. The anger at needing this makes it worse somehow.
“Please...”
“No. Not impaired. Not desperate. When you choose, it's with clear mind.”
“I'm never clear anymore! The tonic makes sure of that!”
“Then we find clarity in chaos.”
The spores fade, reality reasserting. I'm wrapped loosely in his coils—when did that happen? Not trapped, just held. Supported. My body presses against his ventral scales where those impossible cocks emerge. They pulse against my belly, soclose to where I need them. Pre-cum soaks through my clothes, marking me with his scent.
“Tomorrow,” I gasp, grinding harder despite myself. “If you don't fuck me tomorrow, I'll find those young males myself.”
His primary cock twitches, spurts pre-cum that makes the water around us shimmer. “Empty threat. You want specific anatomy. Mine.”
He's right and I hate him for it. My pussy shaped itself for those exact dimensions. Craves that specific coiling lock. My body rebuilt itself at cellular level for his species, but more—for HIM.
“I hate you,” I moan, coming again just from grinding on scales.
