Page 16 of The Hornet’s Hucow Pet

“Please,” I beg, my sense of decorum totally melted away. “Please, I need to cum.” I should be embarrassed, but lord knows I’ve done far worse with a stranger after a hit of some unknown drug.

“That’s the side effect,” Zyren says, keeping up his rhythmic kneading of my breasts. “It has a tendency to make people, what’s the technical term… overwhelmingly aroused? But it also makes it nearly impossible to climax.”

I whimper needily. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

“That’s to your benefit for now, though. During the transformation, your first climax will make you extremely sensitive. Any pressure in your breasts will be excruciating, and any milking will be intolerable. So it’s very, very important that you don’t orgasm until your first milking is done.”

This is some sort of sick, twisted joke. It’s the first time I can remember a total lack of pain since the cataclysm, yet it’s the most desperate I’ve ever been.

The heavier my breasts hang in Zyren’s grip, the more urgently I crave climax.

I’ve never felt so totally, completely, deeply good.

And I can’t stand another second.

CHAPTER 6

ZYREN

My cock and stinger rub against each other just within my abdomen’s opening, both throbbing and dripping with sympathetic arousal.

Nova has a strong consciousness, and her desperation is so intense it broadcasts into mine even as I try to block it.

Her pain was overwhelming. I had to do something.

This desperation, at least, won’t leave scars on her nervous system. But it does make it particularly difficult for me to do my job.

Nova’s breath becomes labored as the weight of her breasts increases against her chest, and I reach out with my legs to tug at the silken ropes suspending her. The interwoven threads move smoothly as if on a pulley system, and Nova tips forward, hanging upright and forward now, so that gravity pulls the swelling weight away from her and into the silk supporting her.

Her eyes roll back in pleasure, and she shudders.

A new wave of desperation hits me. I can feel the ghostly, aching pleasure of the weight of her breasts, slowly increasing as the transformation progresses and the silk supporting her weakens and stretches.

The silk’s gradual failure is by design—it allows her body to adjust more slowly to the new burden.

The fact that it makes me salivate, watching the silk strain and thin, digging into her plush flesh, struggling to contain it, is an unfortunate side effect.

I consider calling for Sylvus—it’s the professional thing to do while I’m overwhelmed by her consciousness.

But the mere thought inspires a wave of violent jealousy.

I suppose I thought I was above such things.

What a fool I was.

Nova’s head hangs forward on her neck, and I cradle her face in my hands, giving her muscles a break.

“You’re doing so well, Nova. You’re almost there.”

Tears slide down her cheeks as she sobs with pleasure, and I catch them with my thumbs.

“Deep breaths with me,” I instruct. “In… out…”

I close my eyes and press our foreheads together, leaning into the connection instead of away from it. The chaos of her arousal buffets me, but I hold tight to the anchor cord of my will.

I breathe deeply, with long, slow exhales. Her consciousness accepts the connection and syncs with the movement.

Each exhale tempers some of the desperation, and her body slowly calms, despite the boiling need at her core.