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You never thought you’d be glad to see the old Birch Barrel Inn again, but with the spring rains dappling loudly on the broad rim of your witch hat, the sight of your hometown is a welcome one.
You skip ahead of your companion for the familiar oak door. Catfolk dislike rain at the best of times, and your instincts were screaming that this one would be a doozy, leaving your fur soggy for days. Though your slight frame means you’ve never been the first one to charge into a den of goblins, you charge forward, pushing into the safety of warmth, dry and friendly voices. Including one very happy voice who’s very pleased to see you.
“Isabel? Sis! You’re back!”
Before you have a moment to get your bearings and find a seat, your older sister, Annette, all but tackles you into a loving hug. Her cheeks rub against yours, and both of you purr with familial affection before she consents to letting you go.
You take a moment to admire how much she’s changed since you left to start your adventuring career, and how much more has stayed the same. She’s still taller than you by a head, though when you’re 4’ 10’’, that's not a difficult feat. Still curvier than you too, which you attribute to her worship of the Earthmother who had blessed her with barrel hips and tunic-stretching breasts. You still have only an average bust, though the gap has narrowed a little between your hips and hers. Arcane magic could produce fire from air or make a cat fly, but it didn’t work so well in the fertility department.
Annette beams at you, pushing a lock of her pink hair back, her feline ears peaking in delight. “It’s been months! You look good too, sis. Nice corset, by the way,” She gently tugs at the material, feeling the quality. “Brings the mysterious, magical look together very well. And perks things up around the chest area too, if you’re looking to catch a man’s eye or something. Are you back here to see some old flame? Looking to cast a love spell now, you’re such a dangerous, heart-breaking witch?”
You start to blush at your sister’s teasing, flattening your dark ears. You’d think after fighting for your life that might have changed, too, but books were always easier to deal with than people. Even the goblins didn’t really want to start a conversation, and they could be easily fireballed, unlike Annette.
“Anneeeette,” you whine at your giggling sister. “I’m just in town for one night. Some of our party is at the tourney over in the capital. Contestants aren’t allowed to use magic, so I thought we could catch up till they batter each other with their swords.”
“‘Our’ party? Who did you bring home?” She grins at you with bright canines.
There is the smell of fresh rain and rising wind as the door of the Birch Barrel opens. Your companion looms through the opening, all seven-and-a-half of her infernal figure, and another pleasant, almost warming scent that you could never quite place. The only thing it reminds you of is the sweat beneath your blanket when your heat was at its worst.
The tiefling’s succubus-grade bust and distractingly fat ass make even your sister’s curves appear tame. Her pink skin is the shade of a lover’s mouth, which makes her naturally red lips all the more inviting. Pit-black hair, horns like an archfiend and a fiery smile, the drop-dead beauty of your warlock companion always brings a little tightness to your throat whenever it hits you all at once. Her loose robes cling to her enormous chest like a second skin, practically painted onto her gorgeous form. In contrast, her skirt hangs loose about the midriff. She’s had dalliances before between adventures, with men and women both. All of whom reportedly left her quarters with wide smiles, though at least two reportedly had to be carried out after what acts she performed.
Sometimes you wish you’d peeked in on one of those trysts, and the way the tiefling smiles at you sometimes, you think she maybe knows it.
“This is Vyra.” You say, feeling your tail coil around your leg as Vyra looks upon you with those smoky eyes. It makes you feel tiny, but also safe, like a cherished pet.
“What? All of her?” Annette jokes, bowing her head and letting Vyra take her hand.
“As much of me as you can handle, my dear,” Vyra replies, making you swoon even though it's your sister who's having her hand kissed. It’s not jealousy you feel, but it wouldn’t be unpleasant if you could relive the first time that gorgeous tiefling stepped into your life. You swear, she could make reading from a recipe book sound like an erotic novel, her voice so soft and sultry, it was like silk to the ear.
The cleric makes a low purr in the back of her throat as the tiefling’s raw sexual magnetism leaves both of you pink in the cheeks. “Well, I was planning on having a quiet drink alone, now I’ve finished my harvest blessings around the farms. But if you two girls don’t mind joining me, I could get the first round.” Your sister glances towards you, a toothy grin as she’s noticed your blush. “And then you two lovebirds can tell me all about the kind of mischief you get up to on the road.”
“Annette!” You squeak, more mouse than cat right now. Your tiny fists harmlessly beat at her shoulder as she laughs. Your tail stands out in outrage and embarrassment. “That’s so unprofessional in our line of work!”
Even as your sister retreats to the booth, you can feel Vyra’s smile warming the back of your neck, her scent following you both to your seats as it casts a Cloud of Butterflies in your stomach.
“Like that ever stopped anyone! I saw the way you melted like ice cream when she walked in. I’m just honoured that you thought to bring such a lovely woman home with you.” She turns to Vyra with a Cheshire grin. “You’ll need to be careful around my Isabel. They called her the Midnight Dream around these parts before she left for the adventurer’s life, on account of how she used to visit her lovers in bed through the window, and then cup their-”
“Okay! Now she’s just making things up!” You hiss, trying to hush your sister before Vyra gets any wrong ideas. Not that you don’t want Vyra to think you’re a good lover, but an epitaph-grade lover feels wildly beyond your capabilities. “We’re just colleagues, that’s all”
Usually, you wouldn’t even think of raising your voice, but it surprises even yourself. It’s probably because of how damn warm it is inside the Birch Barrel, away from the fresh air. The stuffy air is making you all sorts of agitated, which isn’t helping with how hard your nipples still are from the outside cold. Part of you, a part that grows hotter every time you look back at the walking paladin-oath-breaking temptation that is your warlock, just needs to rub something to soothe this bothersome itch. For now, you just try to settle into your seat, trying not to notice how Annette is able to easily rest her big chest on the table or how Vyra practically takes up her entire side with both impossibly round tits.
“Oh, so she’s available then?” Your sister asks. You can only freeze as your mind goes blank. Annette runs a hand over her filled-out tunic, her fingers trailing over her stiff nipple as she locks eyes with Vyra, taking the joke further by biting her lip wantonly. “If my sister isn’t brave enough to share a camp roll with you tonight, there’s a private room in my name and one bed. This kitty would love to purr your name.”
Taking a slow breath that heaves her voluptuous pink chest, Vyra speaks so casually back. “Oh, I didn’t realise you both were interested like that. I’m sure the bed could fit all three of us if we squeezed together.” She exaggerates the word like a hand groping, making something inside you clench and ache.
“Sounds great!” Annette replied, not understanding the obvious joke. You’d correct her if you could find your tongue. “Think you’re woman enough for both of us?”
It’s not until Vyra kicks the door open, both you and Annette slung over her shoulders like a triumphant raider, that maybe this is actually happening.
You feel yourself flying through the air onto the bed that lies against the outer wall, your sister bouncing beside you on the mattress and giddy with excitement, whilst you try to catch your breath. The fire in your loins has grown into an inferno since the tiefling took control. The unquenchable flame is unmistakable as anything other than your heat, the fertile instinct that you thought you’d be free of for another few weeks!
That same womb-tingling need seems to have spread to your sister as well, the timing too perfect to be coincidence. No sooner has the cleric stopped bouncing, she’s already leapt back toward Vyra, practically trying to claw the clothes off the warlock as their lips lock in an immediate duel.
A shudder travels up from your pussy, its strange lust from watching your party mate and your sister paw at each other like beasts. The smaller cat-priest on all tiptoes, hands sinking into the finger-smothering heft of Vyra’s chest, whilst the giant devil-kin possessively scoops at Annette’s sizable bottom, lifting her higher and off her feet. Annette was always more confident with lovers, but this is a step further than you both have ever gone.
She breaks the kiss for just a moment, her slitted eyes looking towards you in a dreaming daze, feet dangling in the air in the warlock’s powerful embrace. “Hey sis, don’t be a stranger. Vyra’s here for you too, you know.”
“That’s right,” her silk voice beckons, dropping Annette back on the bed. The towering sex-goddess that is Vyra doesn’t allow your hesitancy to stop you, her strong fingers resting on your scalp, scratching behind your ears in a way that makes you purr uncontrollably. She pulls your head closer, into the vision-blocking depths of her head-smothering tits, still massaging your ears until your tail rises high enough to tap your own back. “You’ve been such a good kitty, so polite, trying not to stare at my breasts or my hips, thinking I wouldn’t notice. No no no, don’t pull away, I enjoyed feeling you watch me. And you deserve relief from your heat, yes?”
You nod into her mountainous chest-pillows, feeling yourself melt against her. That womb-aching scent is so much stronger in here. Her infernal pheromones that sent you into this sudden estrus. It makes your heart race and your pussy sodden, to the point that you’re already desperately rubbing at your damp crotch with your fingers. It's still a little embarrassing, but Vyra’s spirited cooing as she pushes you deeper into her sweltering succubus cleavage kind of makes it clear that such lurid behaviour is encouraged here.
“Then let’s see what we can do, darling.”
Vyra’s statuesque body induces a whine from the wooden bed frame as she guides you both to lie side-by-side. Her experienced fingers guide you both to begin stripping, tugging at your skirt, leading you to reveal more and more of your nervous, pale body. Her red eyes gaze patiently, pleasedly, at the state of your cunny-sap coated cunt when you finally remove your underwear, joining your sister who’s already tossed her soaked garments onto the floor and hoicked up her tunic. Annette’s hips are practically built to carry a litter already, heavy and fertile, as the Earthmother would approve.
“Mmmhmm. Two tasty snacks, all for me.” Vyra groans, making you and Annette squirt a little in unison. You both almost cum from the anticipation alone. The breed heat in your wombs crave Vyra, and when she curls her strong fingers into your shivering cunt, you start caterwauling loud enough for the whole inn to hear.
“Goooooods!” you scream, toes curling, feeling her firmly tap you that wonderful button inside your pussy. Compared to jilling with just your own slender fingers, the tiefling’s broad digits are stretching you so wide. You can barely handle one, but she’s pumping two fat fingers into you like she wants to hollow you out.
“Fuuuuuuck!” Annette hollers a few inches away. Vyra’s messily making out with your sister’s cunt like a starved woman, only you don’t think the cleric’s pelvis is supposed to be thrashing about like an eel is underneath her skin. “Such a fat fucking tongue! My pussy’s only so deep, are you trying to tickle my womb with this thing!” The tiefling’s impossible tongue is so big it’s making Annette bulge. That has to be at least a foot-and-a-half of love muscle coiling around inside her, making her scream and shake with bliss. You’d be jealous if you weren’t also getting your hole scooped out, but maybe next time Vyra could do the same to you.
Next time? You still have to survive the first round! If you squirt any more onto Vyra’s hand, you’ll dehydrate yourself into a blissful coma!
Her fingers finally exit you, sodden with your excessive lust. That long, long, long devil-tongue reels out of the orgasm-wracked remains of your sister in turn, her pink hair a mess already. Both of you gasp like beached fish, Annette giggling stupidly at you. “Wow.” She musters, before purring through the after-quakes still running through her writhing body, her thick thighs clenched together in the hopes of stopping her twitching clit.
“Wow.” You reply back, your core still painfully hot even after being Finger of Little Death’d by the warlock.
“Hope you girls are strong enough to return the favour,” Vyra asks, undoing her dark robes to join you both in your nudity. As Annette throws off her tunic, freeing her huge kitty titties and pinching her fat, aroused nipples at the strip-show, you make sure to join her, if only to not get left out. How much Vyra can there even be to go around?
“We can take on anything,” Annette says, challenging the unflappable seductress.
“Very good then. We wouldn’t want you both to get scared now, would we?” Vyra smirks. She unties her black dress and lets it fall off her body, as something else rises in front of the pair of you.
It's long, long, so fucking long. A massive pink log of tiefling virility that has your ovaries screaming just from the sight of it. How Vyra hid it for so long had to be some aspect of her pact, because this floor-dragging hexblade of hers she’d just summoned couldn’t have been in the same party as you for months without you otherwise noticing!
The bulbous head is already sticky with futa-pre. It seems that you both managed to excite this beast in turn. It pulsates with such heady musk, washing over your faces and bodies, that your clit practically vibrates at the pheromonal humidity. Your areolas puff out lewdly from your small chest, more aroused than anything you’ve experienced before as if every sexual aspect of your body is being magnetised to Vyra’s gigantic iron pole.
“There . . . so . . . much.” You can barely get the words out when your mind is filled with nothing but this vision of pink hyper-cock. “So . . . big.” Your tail coils around your legs as you rub them together. The she-stud looming over you has reduced you to little more than a cock-shocked puddle, and her smile tells you that she already knows it.
“Holy ten-foot pole!” Annette helpfully adds. “The Earthmother certainly made sure you could sow your oats. Those massive balls swinging down there look bigger than prize pumpkins!” Another sudden shiver hits your sister, and then you almost immediately after, as Vyra steps a little closer and the womb-teasing Slosh of her packed seed-barrels produces another potent wave of futa-musk, knocking a micro-squirt from you both. Catfolk are notoriously sensitive to smells, and the pussy-drenching aura wafting off the warlock could’ve easily reduced an orc huntress to a lusty mess. Even from a few feet away, it was having the same effect on you as if Vyra had grabbed your hair and forced you to snort the deepest nook of her cum-tanks. The thought alone makes your cunt salivate and your womb squeeze.
Annette volunteers the bed to your horsecocked companion, leaving you standing and watching as your sister immediately begins kneeling and worshipping the ginormous pink spear thrusting upward into the humid air. “Mwa mwa,” she peppers every vein she can find with kisses, stroking the turgid meat in the hope of being rewarded with more sticky futa-pre. Her tongue is slightly coarse, but Vyra clearly enjoys the rough licking and grants your sister’s wish, leaking more and more clear, delicious-looking nut over Annette’s hungry lips.
You’re almost content to stay to the side and watch your sister take on a cock that is almost as big as you, but she clearly isn’t. “Come on, sis, you need to get a taste of this stuff. It’s better than catnip! I can’t drink it all, so wrap those pretty lips around the tip and show your not-girlfriend a good time.”
Annette drags you over by the wrist, encouraging you like you’re asking someone to the harvest dance. She pushes your hands against the humongous burning pole, its warmth sending goosebumps across your skin, and she nods for you to take your first lick before slinking down towards Vyra’s girthy root, wrapping her huge tits around as much fuckrod as possible.
The first taste of Vyra’s pre clings to your throat, coating your taste buds in her spermcount. Even though it should be impossible, you know that the futa’s arousal alone is more than enough to impregnate every womb in town, nevermind two heat-crazed catgirls. The sheer virility trickling down into your stomach could seed entire tiefling armies. No wonder your womb is throbbing like it’s anticipating a hundred-man orgy, only instead all that potency has been condensed into one perfect she-stud.
“Mmm, you like the taste, Isabel, my dear? You’re doing such a good job swallowing so much, my hungry little kitty.” Vyra says as she sits on the bed’s edge, sending another delicious gout into your puffed-out cheeks. A courtesy from your cock-groping hands and Annette’s fat tits trying to wring even more cum out of those preposterous gonads. Her hand is still petting your head, making you purr into her coin-sized cockslit, and you feel as if she told you your new party role was her all-day-all-night cock-warmer, you couldn’t be happier.
You nod nervously, swallowing the heady potion and feeling it aggravate your condition. The heat is growing worse and worse by the second, no matter how much you precum you chug. You just want more, need more, as you start to grind your pussy against the fat cumvein that rests beneath Vyra’s monstrous endowment. Annette is no better, her breathing growing heavier and heavier as she’s poisoned by futa-fumes. Her pants are ragged, even as she tries to strangle more spunk with her huge breasts, bouncing them against Vyra’s boulderous balls.
After a while of gasping so hard, you’re worried she might be hyperventilating, Annette lurches to her feet and starts to mount the seated tiefling stud. “I can’t take it anymore. You have to let me fuck this thing right now, or my heat is going to kill me. I’m so horny I can barely think straight, when what I need is to be fucked so hard I can’t think of anything at all. Sorry to steal the spot, sis, but if I don’t let this monument to virility ruin me right now, the Earthmother would be ashamed!”
She has to stand on Vyra’s thighs just to be tall enough to tease that fat, throbbing cock with her entrance, rolling her hips and shaking her tailed ass with wanton motions. Until today, you didn’t think members could get so stupidly enormous, but your sister grunts and groans atop its pussy-stretching tip like she was made for this. Or maybe Vyra was just built to fuck catgirl sluts.
Annette’s huge ass wobbles up and down as she forces more and more inside herself, inch by gloriously turgid inch, her legs visibly shaking with weakening muscle control as she rowls in feral bliss. She’s happily turning herself into a spasming sex-sleeve for Vyra’s stomach-bulging rod. It juts two feet outward of Annette’s core, her womb already wrapped around that pre-dribbling monster like a condom. You can tell because all that heat-triggering virility is changing your sister into its perfect breeding bed.
Her fat hips are growing wider with each twerking jiggle, to better bear as many horned kittens as possible. Her huge breasts are swelling too, plumping rounder and heavier, sloshing with fertile milk, growing larger than her own head, though still several cups smaller than Vyra’s godly rack. But most telling of all, the reason you know Annette’s stretched-out cervix is long defeated and her baby-maker has been converted into Vyra’s personal pre-cum dumpster, is the two engorged bumps that rest beside the cock-tip protrusion now three-feet deep inside her. Her ovaries are responding to the planar quantities of pheromones coating her breeding box, making her body produce countless quantities of eggs to be thoroughly seeded. It should be impossible for such child-bearing power to even exist, but everything you’re quickly learning about Vyra proves to you that nothing could be impossible. If your sister wasn’t already pregnant with triplets the moment the tiefling’s precum touched her pussy, then she’d be lucky to waddle away from this with anything less than a baker’s dozen cooking in her oven. It’s a thought that has you purring as you finger your aching pussy, wishing that Vyra’s firm fingers could be pumping more g-gasms out of you, but she’s a little preoccupied by Annette’s breeding-bloated ass clapping against the tiefling’s pink thighs.
“S-s-shee.” Annette slurs, struggling to ‘see’ anything as her bosom-swelling orgasms have her eyes rolling back inside her own head. Seated on the warlock’s lap, she’s already produced a puddle of squirt that coats the monstrous balls warping her body. Hopefully she didn’t have a large deposit for the room, because that much kitty cum wasn’t going to wash out quickly. “I knewssh I could doos it.”
“You did, my dear,” Vyra says, petting your sister’s rolling head. “Now I can take care of the rest.” Your sister’s breeding fattened body doesn’t even slow the tiefling’s rise. Vyra grabs those kitten-bearing hips with a strength that even demon lords couldn’t pull the two lovers apart, lifting Annette three feet off the ground with her hyper erection alone. And then she starts moving her hips.
In the middle of the bedroom, Vyra ploughs your sister’s fields. The futa-tiefling’s fat nuts sway pendulously between her shapely pink things, producing a womb-tingling Churn that you could probably impregnate women by sound alone. You can believe it as your slight breasts rest heavier on your chest with each gasp of sex fumes, your magic orbs growing in the presence of that sister-fucking staff slamming into her womb. Every cock vein is outlined under her skin as it abrades her pussy, each one thicker than lesser dicks and capable of reducing Annette into the mush-brained fuck-puppet that she now is. The pistoning throb of her midsection punches into the air above her wailing head. Her legs kick at nothing as she shakes like in the midst of an erotic exorcism. Her drizzling pussy-gush is rivuletting down Vyra’s nuts, just like the milk rivuletting down her sexed-up slut udders. The sheer obscenity is unheard of even in the most depraved of the Lower Planes, you wonder if an angel might soon appear to strike this sinful mating, but the celestial would no doubt instantly submit her virgin holes to this infernal rut engine as quickly as your screaming sister.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me full of kitteeeenssss!! I need your steaming load inside my c-c-cumming cuuunt! Bless my womb with your seed, your progeny, I need you to flood the heat out of my system with all that she-stud spunk in your huge fucking nuts!” Annette wails, grasping onto the torso-wide erection slamming up into her guts for something to hold onto, but you can see she barely has enough strength to string together her filthy words. You bite into your other fist as your clit shivers from the sight. How could anyone handle so much cock and still be able to even speak?!
Vyra, who has clearly been enjoying the sensation of your sister’s squirting love-hole as you watch her hefty treasure sacks start clenching upward into her groin, graciously fulfils Annette’s request. “Of course, dear. As many as you can take!” Her gurgling cum-cauldrons leap up against her pussy-spreading root, torridly recreating the sound of a flooding river, and you watch open-mouthed as some thick, viscous liquid erupts against your sister’s pale belly. The outline of Vyra’s megacock is rapidly smothered by the bloating sphere of your sister’s womb as more seminal gallons deluge into her body that those (admittedly tremendous) nuts should be able to produce. Only a true she-stallion could unleash such virile quantities of futa-semen, ejaculating casks of catgirl-corrupting goo by the second whilst her potent hips kept bucking more jizz into her ecstatic cumdump.
The swell of your sister’s stomach keeps going beyond all but pornographic sense, as the first hundred gallons soften the outline of Vyra’s megacock to the point of invisibility. The second hundred gallons balloons her to the point that gravity drags her liquid mass towards the floor, rotating her on that spasming rut-spear so that her big tummy can touch the ground. None of this slows Vyra’s rut, her huge nuts whapping against the priestess’s unholy cumgut, their loud testicular claps drawing more lurid cries from Annette as they mercilessly empty into her bed-dwarfing belly.
By the time the dizzying sound of so much audible impregnation begins to settle down, Annette looks closer to a feline water tank than a cleric. Her tail hangs limp between her legs, whilst her torso rests on the gelatinous orb of her stomach. You can’t even see the door out of here behind the well-bred blimp. The only thing your eyes track is the unflagging hyper erection that is unsheathed from her creamy scabbard, the pulsating six-feet of thigh-thick futa-cock letting out one last jizzy spurt across her mewling back, before Vyra turns its throbbing arch towards you.
She looks down at you, expecting an answer with the gorgeous air of a mature headmistress, wondering when her prized pupil is going to admit her yearning for ‘extra credit’. Despite Vyra radiating sexual energy, enough to have already turned your body into a heavy-hipped, jiggle-jugged sex-pot like your sister before you. Despite how your cunt nectar has soddened your thighs with heat and you can feel your ovaries pressing against your skin, desperate to be closer to the source of this room-polluting musk. Despite how much you wish you could fall to your knees in worship like Annette, all you can do is push your thumbs together and turn away from that heart-pounding gaze.
That is the wrong answer, as Vyra puts a finger to your chin and turns you back to face her. She’s so close, she has to turn to the side so that her monster cock doesn’t just knock you down with its ceiling-tapping size alone, but the view of her face is hardly much clearer as the tiefling’s own substantial milkers obscure much of her features, her eager nipples pointed towards your dry lips. Those smoky eyes are still very visible though. They send a shiver through your cunt from the salacious strength of her lust gaze.
“I don’t think you stood there fingering yourself into such a state just because you wanted to feel included, am I right?”
You nod your head, feeling those point-blank pheromones make your soft tits grow another cup size larger just from inhaling Vyra’s sex-charged air. She could probably breed you with a glance right now, but that wouldn’t be enough for either of you.
“Then don’t act a stranger, Isabel.” She whispers your name like it means sex. In her mind, maybe every fertile mate is synonymous with inevitable rutting. “Tell me you want me.”
“I-I w-want you.”
“Keep going,” she says with a self-assured authority that makes you feel completely powerless. Your slutted-up body is hers to command, but she requires more than just another cock-shocked hole to stuff. She asks again, teasing your chin with her finger, gently stroking your face. “Beg for it, if you really want the same treatment as dear Annette. I’m sure a good girl like yourself knows the proper way to ask a lady to bed. Be a good kitty, and purr for me, Isabel. Tell me what you want.”
“I-I-I want you to f-f-fuck me. I w-want y-you to b-breed me like Annette, please, Vyra. Maybe even harder than you did her!” You squeak that last part out, feeling your tail tuck between your legs from the embarrassment. It doesn’t last long however, as Vyra’s fingers start scratching your ears again, giving you some little head-gasms before the main event.
“Good kitty, that’s goood. Now, follow me.”
She takes your hand and leads you to the bed, gesturing for you to get on your hands and knees. The bedroom window is right beside the bed, and for a moment, you panic at the thought of someone in town recognising your dark tail. Then the fear passes, first because you quickly realise that any peeping-toms would only be ogling the seven-foot-tall busty succubus mounting the bed behind you, and also because you have something more pressing to distract you.
Fwapp
It slaps against your freshly caked-up buttocks with a cheek-spreading heft. It is so infernally hot, you think you’ve been hit with fireballs less heated than the catgirl crusher throbbing along your back. It is longer than your torso, which you knew in general terms having just seen it turn your sister into Vyra’s ahegao’d shishkabob, but those several engorged feet of fuck-meat feel suddenly very real when its bulbous tip lands against the headboard and cracks the wooden frame.
“By all the gods and all the archmages before me, that thing is never going to fit.” You babble, unable to move under its oppressive weight and mind-melting musk.
“Oh, I assure you, that’s never been a problem before. You’re still taller than a dwarf.”
“Dwarves are fifty percent rock by mass!” You shriek, before the pinning dick weight lessens on your love-handles, before something slaps against your thighs and jams itself up into roughly the region of your soul.
Your feline pussy has always been naturally stretchy. You can’t give birth to litters without an easy exit for your kittens. But you never expected it to be elasticated on a foot-broad girth, used like an ultra-pliable cock-socket that had you cumming so hard you could make out obscure constellations.
“Uuugugghhh! Soooo thiiiicckkk!” You scream, unable to hear if Vyra replies back because too much blood is rushing through your ears and too much cock is rushing through your anatomy. “Biiiiggg cooooock! Biiigggg coooock!!” Your cervix lasts about as long as tissue paper in a storm, immediately submitting to the battering ram invading your womb, inviting it inside as every inch of your tiefling-wracked channel instinctively tightens around this thing that is smashing way too much pleasure into your once-slender body. Now you’re a sexed-up broodmother in waiting, whose tummy is pulled tight around a futanari cock that could tent-pole a fucking circus!
The first strokes lurch two-foot-deep cock-bulges into your stomach, the sight maddeningly unreal like you’re one moment heavily pregnant with the most phallic shape imaginable, before the throbbing cunt-stretcher pulls back to your squirting entrance and tests how wide your lower lips can be pulled. When it punches back inside your frazzling form, turning your stunned pussy back into its Vyra-pleasing friction channel, the incredible fullness leaves you more stuffed and more satisfied than any post-adventure feast, except the servings appear to be endless.
“Perhaps you’re ready for another couple of feet,” you catch being uttered by that devil-cocked goddess who has a hold of the fat hips she blessed you with. As another body-shivering set of chain-orgasm rip through your screaming figure, the beautiful bulge that is your goddess’s lust-spike thrusts up between your leaking kitten-feeders, fucking them and your pussy in one obscene double-rut.
Without a second thought, you latch your panting lips around the tummy-distorting cockhead, fellating the tit-fucking obscenity that's perverting your bimbofied biology with lust licks. Sensing the tightness of your mouth, Vyra spares no effort in feeding you her hyper-hung futa-dick twice over. You even hear her groan a little as reward for a slutty job well done, and you cum again just from the purring sensation of her approval.
Every inch of your body feels like one massive erogenous zone, as your pussy spasms, your womb quakes, your skin trembles and even your ovaries throb from the powerful fucking of your mate. You want to scream over the monstrous throat-puncher spreading your mouth that you can feel your heat growing stronger. Every time Vyra slathers more nut-spunk inside your bun oven, it cranks up the fire in your loins another blazing notch. It has to be worse than what Annette felt; she only had pre-jizz painting her insides before the big finish. You, on the other hand, have dregs of that room-filling ejaculation being plastered over your walls. Even a teaspoon of Vyra’s succubus nut feels like it could seed a kingdom, millions of sperms jam-packed into the tiniest of liquid measurements, and all of it was now used like a turbo-aphrodisiac to turn your ovaries into hyper-charged breeding machines.
It was like she’d cast a Haste spell on your reproductive organs and a Slow spell on your brain, forcing you to produce as many seed-ready eggs as possible whilst your thoughts turned to blissful mush. It hurts good to be this horny, to be fucked into a strange ouroboros of depraved lust. Vyra’s unstoppable virility forces your body to try and match her growing endowment, still throbbing fatter and longer until you can no longer contain it in your mouth and it springs free into the air, ready to smack-smack-smack against the cracking headboard once more.
“Th-thank youuu!” You whine to your mistress. Her hand spanks your ass, sending further bolts of sexual lightning through your body as you feebly hold onto the bedsheets for life. The same sheets that have been thoroughly drowned in your juices, dragged out by those fat wall-stretching veins, mixed with gallons of futa-pre that is back-washing Vyra’s thigh-slamming balls. “Thank you for breeeeding meee!”
As you bite the sex-stained pillow, your sharp canines tearing into the fabric with brutal ease, and your claws rake across the soaked bedding, someone chuckles somewhere in the room. You barely notice the sound, if only because Vyra starts bucking into your cock-gripping kitten-bag with a sudden acceleration that has your eyes rolling in ecstasy.
Something feels different, wrong, but also oh so right. Vyra’s hips are slamming into you like a raging barbarian, and the weight of her glorious bags of sperm-holding seems to be growing fatter by how much lower they’re plapping your reddened thighs.
Chuuuurnggglle
That’s not a noise testicles are supposed to make, even if it does send you wailing to feel those semen-fattened impregnators groaning and churning behind your bubble butt. “Your nuts are so big, I can hear your sperm trying to breed me!!”
Someone chuckles again. You can barely make it out of your hoarse screams, but it’s definitely coming from the door-blocking dirigible that is Annette. Her fucked-stupid face is grinning at you as she rests upon the massive spunk hoard packed inside her Vyra-raided dungeon.
“I’m not really supposed to use this except on crops, but I think the Earthmother would approve of adding a little extra to your mating, sis. Though, with the way your sexy friend has me so heavy with get that I can’t even move, I bet we’ll need to build a whole new city just to house your kittens.” There’s a radiant glow on her outstretched hand, as she finishes her blessing and once again slumps limply atop her unimaginably pregnant bloat.
You don’t feel the tingle of any divine magic cast on yourself, but you do see your tenting stomach punch through the headboard and breach the outside air. The wall crumbles around the impossible protuberance that is ramming the village skyline with your mate’s engorging throbhood. There’s so much pussy-destroying tiefling cock and you can barely see straight through the toe-curling mega-gasms breaking your brain, feeling your core being stretched over yards and into the neighbouring field.
“Mmmhmm, a little bit harder than usual. But you can handle it, right, dear?” Vyra says as you wordlessly shriek to the open heavens.
Vyra’s skyrocketing virility could flood valleys with her twitching futa-tower spire-ing into the village. Her balls are so unfathomably heavy that you can hear them dragging across the buckling wooden floor, too big for the private bed that is already splintering under your dick-burdened weight. Each soul-shaking cock-pulse feels like you’re squirting your years of witchy training out from this superior fuck-slab, breaking you and everything else in its divinely blessed wake. The sweet pleasure-pain of your thundering heat is most acute not in your cock-stretched womb but in the swelling egg-banks that are your steaming ovaries. They sit about three feet apart on either side of Vyra’s tip, fat like ripe grapefruits with futa-charged ovulation that has them dumping more eggs into your ten-foot-distant breeding cavity, each one destined to produce octuplet kittens minimum when they’re inevitably gangraped by the mass of ovum-seeking sperm waiting in the tiefling’s floor-dragging sack. A sack whose rising tempo can only signal the creamy outcome you’ve long been waiting for.
“Here it comes, Isabel. Be a good kitty and purr for me now!” Vyra’s pelvis snaps against yours, her hand at the base of your tail and her fat root forcing you to hose another litre of catgirl squirt across both sets of thighs. An obscene GLORT-GLORT-GLORT hits you like successive Eldritch Blasts, your belly swelling even lower through the pulverised bed as the futanari’s cumvein enlarges with too much semen for a girl of your frail constitution. Lava hot semen critically hits your heat-scorched womb with tidal force. Spunk gigafloods your cock-warped pussy, turning the remaining bed to splinters as the liquid mass of kitten-fathering essence juggernauts your womb. The sheer lakes of pent-up futa-jism crush the neighbouring field’s crops under your bloating stomach, the spheroid of pale well-bred tummy smothering the farm with all the mercy of an uncontrolled Sphere of Annihilation, only instead of leaving nothing in its wake, there is more and more and more of your goo-blasted belly rolling over fence posts and flattening sheds.
“I’m so fuuucckking pregnaaaant!” You yowl as the glorious certainty of your heat-addled biology instantly knows. The way your nipples start gushing orgasmic streams of milk of their own. The sudden fatty pounds spreading across your shivering horde-bearing hips. The burgeoning warmth of motherhood in your well-seeded core. “I’m going to have thousands of kitteeeeens. Thousands upon thousands of pink-furred babies, if you keep casting MASS IMPREGNATE on meeee!!”
That broodmother warmth is now spreading to your swollen, watermelon-sized ovaries as you feel Vyra’s semen-wash hunting through your fallopian tubes, those perfect egg-seekers sensing the untapped quantities of children you have yet to procreate. They strike at your defenceless fertility nodes, sending constant orgasm to such epic heights that every muscle in your body contracts in rapture. Your pussy contracts around this god-cock, trying to thank the infernal veins that have broken you for any lesser lover, just as you use the last of your strength to feebly push your chest-pumpkins around its bed-breaking girth and kiss one giant throbbing vein that pulsates back against your lips with unrestrained virile power.
Everything goes white with pleasure. All sound, all vision, all senses consumed by the all-encompassing bliss of being your futa mistress’s cum-vessel.
It's only when Vyra slowly pulls out of your juddering form, and she is somehow able to rest her garganta-cock over your back again without destroying the rest of the Birch Barrel Inn, that you regain a small sense of awareness.
“There we go, dear. I think we’re both feeling a little less pent up now.” Vyra coos gently with a stretch, whilst you can only answer with a vacant “sooooo muuuuhhhhch” back. For her, this was a little more exciting than her typical tryst, but for you, it was the start of a new destiny to forever bear her devil-horned kittens who would outnumber all the devil and demons in the Blood War by the time you were done.
Your orgasms haven’t stopped, but your brain finally allows itself to fall unconscious now that your master breeder has extracted herself from your field-crushing cum-balloon body. You feel your clit twitching still, just as strongly as when you and your sister were just starting, and the vibrating walls of your lover-glued womb give another set of shivers as your hyper-ovulating anatomy produces another string of fresh targets for Vyra’s tiefling sperm. When you awake, you’ll likely be pregnant another hundred thousand times over, and the sensation warms you alongside the hill of your blown-out womb.
Knowing you won’t be able to move without an archmage’s help, you admit this little village is the perfect place to start your family. It feels so good to be home.