“Good. Anger keeps you thinking. Thinking keeps you choosing.”
“What if I choose to leave? Day thirty?”
Both his cocks pulse, leak heavily. His control slipping. “Then you leave. But you'll always be empty. Always crave what only I can give. The modification is permanent.”
“And if I choose you?”
“Then I breed you until your body holds my clutch. Lock inside you for hours until you're changed at molecular level. Mark you so every male knows you're claimed. Keep you.”
“Keep me.”
“Forever.”
The word makes me come so hard I black out for seconds. When vision returns, I'm still wrapped in his coils, still pressed against those impossible cocks, still empty and desperate and furious about all of it.
“Tomorrow you'll beg for both,” he says, and it's not a question.
“Tomorrow we'll see who breaks first,” I manage, though we both know the answer.
Because we both know I've already chosen. My body decided days ago. Tomorrow is just when my mind catches up.
He uncoils slowly, leaving me bereft in the water. Both hemipenes still extended, still dripping. Ready.
“Where are you going?”
“To mark wider territory. Young males need stronger warning.” He pauses at pool's edge. “Touch yourself tonight thinking of being filled. Your body needs preparation for what's coming.”
Then he's gone, leaving me in aphrodisiac water with the memory of those coils, those cocks, that promise.
Tomorrow.
I finger myself viciously, pussy trying to mimic the spiral I saw. Trying to prepare for being locked, bred, claimed. The empty ache howls for what it's been promised. My anger at needing this makes every orgasm sharper, more desperate.
Twenty-four more hours.
I might actually die from need before then.
But what a way to go—split open on alien cock that won't let go, filled with cum that changes me permanently, claimed by something that sees my mind even while breeding my body.
“Fuck,” I whisper to the alien sky, furious at the admission. “I'm going to let him. Going to choose it.”
The acknowledgment makes me come again, body celebrating even while my mind rages against the decision.
KASS
My fingers are pruned like dead things. Been in this fucking pool since yesterday afternoon, skin wrinkled, muscles cramped from constant tension. The aphrodisiac water stopped feeling warm hours ago. Now it's just wet. But I can't leave. Won't leave. Not after what he promised.
Tomorrow.
Well, tomorrow is now today, and so am I. Floating in alien water that makes my clit throb with every ripple, waiting for a serpent who might not even show. My nipples stay hard as stones above the waterline, dark and swollen from seven days of constant arousal.
“Well?” I call to the empty swamp. “Sun's up, asshole. You said today.”
Nothing. Just the usual sounds of this nightmare ecosystem. Chirping things that aren't birds. Splashing things that aren't fish. My own ragged breathing.
I've been fingering myself all night but it's pointless. Like trying to scratch an itch through leather. My body knows what it wants now. Has tasted the possibility through his proximity, his scent, that one scale brushing my leg. Fingers are just mockery after that.
“Coward!” I shout louder. “All that talk yesterday and now?—”
