Updates and announcements

Indefinite hiatus

Hello, my beautiful! So, about this hiatus of mine… it’s gonna last a while.

Probably. I mean, I hope it doesn’t, but a lady can’t help when the whole GODDAMNED WORLD falls suddenly on her shoulders, right?

I’m really sorry for the lack of freebies and all, but you have no idea how much work I’ve been doing lately. A few key things that you may need to know:

  • Freelancing is my main form of income, and all my clients have come back HARD… with a fucking VENGEANCE!
  • I got about one hour of writing to do every day, and I’m using it all on my novel–The Doll.
  • There’s no estimate on when (or if) work will cool down. I hope by December things will be more chill, but no promises.
  • Until then, no freebies, no other updates, no nuthin. :,(
  • For the time being, “The Doll” will shift into a more “traditional publishing”–it’s going to be released when it’s ready, and then it will have all the marketing and fanfare it deserves–and that I can afford.
  • This means no chapter updates and freebies from the novel, just like my porn.
  • I’ve been planning on further professionalizing my whole business, including a visual overhaul of my website. Still, of course, due to everything happening to me, that’s also a long-term thing.

More updates and information are available for my Patrons.

I wish, I wish, I goddamn WISH I could be working for you again, giving out freebies galore and, who knows, heck, even writing new porn again.

However, hey, that’s life. ❤

Just be sure that I *am* still thinking about you, and I *am* still intended on coming back whenever possible.

It’s just that, for the time being, *welp*, I gotta CHASE THAT BAG!! 😉

Wish me luck. And remember, if times are ever rough, and y’all need some great little stories to keep you warm, you can always read my greatest inspirations:

https://forum.xnxx.com/threads/my-life-as-a-teenage-stud.52891/

https://www.pornhub.com/model/desiresfm

https://www.patreon.com/RabiesTL/creators

Enjoy. 😉

The Doll who Loved me

The Doll who Loved me – Chapter 3: The perfect male

Boobs. Breasts. Titties. Knockers. Shakers. Milk-makers. Gazongas. He’d spent the entire morning looking at breasts, and those weren’t even half of all titties he’d have to work with until dawn.

He stretched long and lazily in his chair, both happy and annoyed by the nature of his work. It could get tiresome, you know, working with the same damned thing all day long, day after day in the week, all four weeks of the month, for months and months on end until there were no more months left to waste. «‘Tis what I like doing, though,» he reflected, «so I guess it could be worse, right? So much worse.»

Playing with pictures all day long, building beautiful covers for raunchy and erotic books. Most of his clients used to write tasteless romances to be sold online for peanuts, yet sometimes he got the occasional big gig or had to edits so particularly nasty the clients were pretty much willing to pay him whatever he asked («if not me,» he reasoned, «who’d work for these degenerates? Psycopaths?»).

He looked at his computer and admired the sumptuous cleavages shining on the screen. They were all nubile beauties with overdeveloped, lactating breasts, their dresses stained with their overflowing milk, and the naked figures dripping with hot, thick mommy nectar from their nipples.

It was a lactation thing, the niche for that particular client, and his penis couldn’t quite decide whether to be hard or soft with those images. “I need you to make them all milk.” His client had especifically instructed: “breasts. All ‘em tits. Big tits, all lactating. The dresses are almost tearing up, you know, ‘cause ‘em tits so big! Really hot. Some them, really nasty tits, huge gazongas. I want them tits naked, shooting milk. Not all covers. Some covers, nasty tits covered. Some covers naked, big tits free. You got it? I tell which cover which. You cover tits and you not cover tits when I tell you, okay? Very fine. You can name price. I pay for first cover, just one cover, okay, with the tits out, then we see if we continue work, okay?”

There were really strange, uncommon types asking for gigs all the time, and he really didn’t mind them, quirks and all. As long as they paid, all clients were equal. «It would be nice, though, to make money without having to work for it.» To be born an heir, that would have been a sweet life. To be born beautiful, from a great family, attending top American schools, dating all the girls there, knowing that all the problems of his life would be taken care of because he was a spoiled-as-fuck trust fund kid. «I wish I were spoiled.» He sighed, returning to work after a long sip of coffee. «Life sucks when you’re not.»

The cover was partially done. He needed to add all the shine and polish, however, which could almost be another whole work in and on itself. He added a few effects on the tits, making them gleam like sweat, like dropplets of morning dew on their soft, velvety skins.

All the time he sucked his lips and bit them very lightly, his mouth getting drier as the hours mounted. The skirts of those nubile vixens were just short enough so one could think they saw their panties—a Sharon Stone-crossing of the legs type of effect, though way less artistic. Their asses, hips, and legs were just as he liked them: wide, thick, and meaty. Those were healthy, strong teenagers brimming with fertility and life, good wombs ready to produce great babies, their thight cunts inviting of big, unyielding cock worthy of their lush, fruitful innards.

His dick got a little softer as he thought of the kinds of men who could have such young beauties on their arms. «Men who are the total opposite of me.» His eyes swelled, and the pressure in his head got distracting, if not painful at times, to the point that he found himself struggling to focus. As it happened, the combination of six unbroken hours of work, three liters of coffee, and a lifetime of sexual frustration wasn’t a great recipe for his head.

He stood up. His penis made a tent in his lose shorts. A small tent, mind you, but still a noticieable one. «Some men ain’t even have this luxury,» he sighed, adjusting his cock on his pants and walking to the bathroom in his room.

Pants down. Cock up. Right hand down. Left hand on the wall. Jerk off.

He hated the mirror in front of him. Always forced him to look at himself, that bastard! He could try another position, but that was the absolute best one in the tiny bathroom. Everytime he accidently got a glimpse of his reflection, he felt he could rip his dick off in anger. To mitigate that, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the kind of man he would have loved to see instead in the reflection: that kind of big-dicked, muscular studs who would have the girls just like the ones he edited into his covers.

In the porn videos of his mind, he imagined not himself, but other men fucking his women. Men he knew he would never be. Men he wished he’d been born as, but had been cursed never to be: big, hulking, hairy muscular daddies teaching those uptight little sluts a lesson. He would imagine their orgasms and their fountains of squirt. Rows of women standing in a line, waiting to be fucked by a single, tireless bison. Kings and noblemen in the Middle Ages used to have harems like those: dozens, if not hundreds of pussies on the side, ready to always satiate their masters’ needs whenever required. That’s the perk of wealth and power: all the finest pussy in the world.

He felt the sweat running down his cheeks. His breath was uneven, his head almost exploding. He hated himself for it, but his cock sure felt nice—and it was his cock, not his head, that needed explosion. “Oh, god!” He would imagine this one glorious, beautiful male, with his body sculpted in marble, his face carrying the smile of someone who never had a problem in his life, fucking rows and rows of ladies who could barely contain their own orgasms, one after another passing out with the mere penetration of his giant cock head on their squirting, quivering queenies.

“Oh, god, what…” He rolled his eyes and moaned: “what a man!”

He shot his load on the mirror: pitiful threads of transparent white, almost a watery goo without an ounce of the virility to be expected from real jizz. He jerked himself harder, trying to coax more of that paltry paste from his cock, but that was it. His hardened member was only a little bigger than his palm side-to-side, and his ejaculate was just as pathetic. In disbelief, he watched his semen slide on the mirror as the image of that powerful stud, still fucking his harem of mares, was still etched into his mind.

He came when he had come; and when he had come, oh, it was an orgasm like no other!

The beastly Alpha roared like a lion, thundered like a bull warning off his rivals. His load was enough to make a woman full for the rest of her life; both with his massive cock inside of her and his massive load now filling her up, she felt full like with no other man—or group of men—could ever fill her, stretched beyond the limits of even her wildest fantasies, and experiencing more orgasms with a single thrust of that stud than she had with all the (many) losers in her love life.

That was the image in his mind when he came with his eyes close: a giant, muscular stud ejaculating hot and hard in the womb of his submissive lover. The ejaculation of a powerful conqueror of cunts! The sexual apotheosis of a Real ManTM, not the petty little dribbling of flabby-dicked boy like him.

He cleaned off the semen from the mirror and returned to work, feeling sadly hornier. «Fuck.» Jerking off usually helped to clear the mind, but that one session had been innefective at best. He felt like dying, honestly, with the pressure under his eyes so strong he needed to squint, squeeze, and scratch them from time to time just to set his mind straight and his thoughts clear.

He always felt like dying, but never like killing himself. It would have been so much better if he’d just… never woke up one day, or had never existed at all in the first place. Never having been born. Never having to waddle through all that load of bullshit.

He stared at his own reflection in the dark areas of the computer screen, seeing his bonecheeks produding through his pale skin. Though he now made some effort in leaving his cubicle every once in a while, that country knew no sun; its summers would be winters back in his homeland, and its winters could barely look like planet Earth in some days.

No, it wasn’t a nice country at all to live in, yet thousands of people risked their lives every day to set their feet on those frosty shores. «Nature sucks, but people are nice.» His mind drifted back to his old place, where «people sucked, but nature was nice.»

Was there anywhere a good combination of both? He sure tried to find it: the Americans had long neglected the astounding fertility of their land, choosing instead to splinter into a life of petty, tribalistic squabbles, and they never wanted any business with foreigners like him anyway. He was mediocre and unambitious; definitely not cut from the superior cloth of the Yankee race.

France was the next best thing, but the country too was involved it own, peculiar sort of domestic squabbles to make room for mudblooded peasants like him. Everywhere else in Europe was a raging clusterfuck, just like Asia a few years prior. Would the Europeans end up just as as fucked as the easterns? Their entire continent turned into a depleted battlefield? Its massive populace, into a zombified, mechanized mass of slaves threading and toiling endlessly over the torn-out, bombed-to-oblivion fields that had once housed Earth’s fastest-growing, most technologically-dominant civilizations?

Of the East’s sad fate, only Japan, claimed the experts, remained a viable country to live in, and he even looked into immigration to that strange, unwelcoming land, but the Japanese indeed would rather all bomb the world to oblivion then to allow a single one of his kind even land a boat on the tiniest, most remotest island of their entire bloodied archipelago.

Through trial and error, rejection and capitulation, then, he ended up there, as close to the North Pole as humans could get without abandoning society altogether, almost as if the very edges of the planet, where the scraps of civilization fell, were the only place left for a scrap of human like himself.

Sighing with mild content, he lifted his shirt and looked at his belly. Damn! He could count his ribs on his chest. «Eat more.» He thought, but on most days his lips would know only the taste of coffee. He wasn’t particularly tall, and by no means could he ever be considered hadsome. Cute? Maybe, but even that would have been a stretch for some. He had a pathethically oblong face, like a piece of shit after being stomped by a boot on the sidewalk, and a nose too flat and wide in a skin too pale and graceless—African sharpness without African warmth; Caucasian blandness without Caucasian smoothness. He sometimes looked more like the sketch of a human being than a human proper—as if he’d been God’s first draft for Adam before He discarded it and started all over.

His release had given him no release. It had only made him needier. The heat and the touch of those young, virgin beauties; that’s what he needed! Sweet, inexperienced girls who nonetheless rocked the massive boobs and ass and thighs of ravenous succubi; lovely-looking angels with tight pussies swelling under their pink panties, their gazes like those of sex-starved demonesses in angelic faces with bright-colored eyes.

He leaned closer to the screen, wanting to lick the women through the pixels. The sooner he finished, he reasoned, the sooner his thirst would be quenched. He rubbed his thin thighs against one another constantly, adding extreme amounts of detail to those women, making them little by little more untouchable and impossibly erotic compared to any real one. By the end of his shift, it was night already. The cup of latte just kept magically refilling itself as the hours rolled over one another, without him ever noticing, and his stomach grumbled, churned, and turned in demand of some real food.

He reviewed each and every one of his finished covers before sending them off to his horny client for approval. They were all beautiful works of smut that would also sell beautifully. There was a fizzle of pride in his heart; all but a speck of the emotion he used to feel when he’d started that work, so many years ago, as an act of desperation rather than inspiration, trying to make some money—any money!—to keep himself from starving. It had been sheer, dumb luck that led him to his first clients and taught him that, no, he was not entirely useless, and it was over this sheer, dumb luck that he founded his entire career, built his entire life upon.

Though he was a loner and a crooked fuck—an autistic twat with as much social graces as a bat in daylight—he was not, despite everything everyone had ever told him, an absolute zero. No. He was zero point something. And it was that filthy, smutty something that managed to pay for all his needs and helped him to escape his compatriots and captors, finding solitude, even peace on the farthest edges of the Earth.

He both hated and pitied them. His people. They were not guilty of the rottenness of their souls, but that didn’t help ease the pain of all they had done to him back in his youth. From the day he was born to the day he would die, he would carry all those massive bags of shithead in his mind. His body would grow weary and weak, but the shit, the heavy pile of psycho-dung in his skull, it would remain the same size, the same weight, if not grow even heavier, bending his spine until it cracked and sent him (hopefully) into an early grave.

*Click!* He pressed the button and sent the covers. With a long sigh, he leaned back on his chair, thinking if maybe he should relax a bit. «No.» Another mind within his mind interjected. «I need money.» He carried on to the next client instead.

Money, yes, money. It was money that allowed him to escape his wretched place and rent that little piece of paradise. The nature of freelancing was just as unforgiving as it could be occasionally, rarely very fulfilling: some days you made bank, some days the bank made you. He both envied and despised the stability of more “formal” types of workers, who never had to worry (too much) about their next paycheck, but who also ended becoming such tame, compliant sheep—even evil sheep, on some cases: sheep who, to protect their beloved stability, were always ready to slander, to steal, to smear, or to vote for fascists.

There’s nothing as sad and pitiful as a man in a cubicle. It was like the anti-habitat of a human: the white walls of an air-conditioned office building, the thumping of the fingers on the keyboard, the occasional chat and sneeze of the coworkers, the mortifying buzz and hum of productivity.

He wanted their perks without their leash: a good salary, a career ladder, a nice dental plan without those detestable cubicles to rot away in Excel sheets, moving money from there to here and here to there, all for the fat profits of his uncaring masters, a mere engine to power the easy, unmerited luxuries of his robber barons—barons whose sons, by the way, would all end up tall and handsome and muscular; real studs meant to fuck, marry, and mingle with only the best females of the world, breeding the future princes and kings of humanity, who would go on to continue the endless line of injustice, oppression, and inequality that kept poor blokes like him on the mud—or rather, on the cubicle.

Sons of prosperity, heirs to happiness. How despicable was their existence, and how wondrous would be to have it!

He bit his lips, dreaming with the better rolls of the dice as he read the assignment from a different client. This time, at least, he wouldn’t have to suffer (too much) from his thirst: it was a regular set of covers for yet another run-of-the-mill series of wishy-washy romances. All very girly and very innocent, not the type of work which would require rolls of luscious lactating breasts; not the type of imagery that would have stirred too many emotions inside his flailing, wheezing dick.

Or so he thought.

The covers were in the style of old arcade romantic sagas, with a damsel on the strong, thick arms of a dark, shirtless, muscle-bound, long-maned man. He was already tantalized by the women—big-bosomed beauties whose tight, light dresses highlighted every curve of their healthy, fertile bodies, making them often more erotic than if outright naked—, but it were the men who completely threw him off.

As he laid his eyes on those studs, his penis grew harder yet again. The image was just as arousing as the not-naked-but-still-very-naked virgins. And painful. So bloody painful! The aggressive muscles of those studs, whose pants bulged generously around their crotches, carrying massive meat sticks between their thick, hairy legs, all of it reminded him of a virility he would never possess. Their legs were built like Greek columns, their torsos wide and massive and firm as the back of horses, with pectorals so enormous a single halve of their chest was wider than his whole torso.

He admired their six-, sometimes eight-pack of gorgeous abdominals, the shinny and lustrous hairs that adorned their chests, as well as the beautiful dark manes of their heads, and sometimes the vast, well-kept beards on their manly, chiseled jaws.

The boy picked his computer and stood up abruptly, almost knocking the coffee mug from his desk as he ran again back to the bathroom. He barely shut the door as he put the laptop on the sink, lowered his trousers and began to masturbate to the images of those powerful stallions. He closed his eyes and moaned as he beheld those portraits of obscene masculinity, getting in heat with the abundance of meat and muscles in those larger-than-life bodies. The images were rarely pornographic, but it wasn’t the prospect of their glorious, naked bodies that got him off; it was the sheer confidence in their posture, their gazes, their firm, authoritarian eyes commanding respect without a word.

The perfection of their physiques, living statues out of marble, contrasted with the flabby misery of his own. The thought of him being dominated by those studs—being chained to the bed and hand-whipped by their powerful hands, chocked by their swollen biceps while they sinfully sodomized him like wild males in heat, all of it brought him over the edge.

“Oh, god!!” He rolled his eyes and leaned to the the mirror, getting an glimpse of his reflex before immediately averting his gaze. Too late: the image of his own self got his penis softer and delayed the inevitable explosion. He needed to bathe his mind on those hundreds of powerful, virile bulls to get his cock hard and manly again.

Many of those males wore only black or white boxers, leaving little to the imagination about the size and sturdiness of their genitalia. Some clients asked him to make the bulges bigger, but he scarcely needed to be told that before editing them into obscenely well-endowed hunks, looking like they packed an elephant trunk and a pair of mangos in their boxers.

As he furiously beat his meat, he “accidently” clicked on the folders containing more pornographic images. «Jesus!» The naked crotches flaunted cocks so big and beautiful he almost felt them slapping his face through the screen. His penis vibrated and his balls shrank, filling the bathroom with squishy noises as he prematurely unleashed his load. “Oh, god!!” He almost lost the strength on his legs. “Oh, god!! Oh!! Oh!” He leaned desperately with an arm to the mirror, where his semen was barely visible—all two squirts of it.

He accidently took another peek of himself, and this time he didn’t avert his gaze so quickly. He stared at his reflection and let the anger brew. He almost felt the urge of spitting in his own image; at making a clone of himself and clubbing him to death. «Was that what they felt when they saw me?» The saliva was spilling out of his lips. «This great disgust and hatred?»

His fist was closed. He could almost throw a punch if the glow of his computer screen hadn’t caught his attention before. There, he noticed he had indeed shot more than two pitiful ropes of semen, as another one had actually hit the upper tab of his screen, prompting him to quickly scramble for some toilet paper to clean it up. As he wiped the cum off his computer, his fingers slid over the model’s hair on the screen, like a cuddle. He gazed upon that massive, muscular body, all culminating on a thick, long, soft penis that dangled between its huge, veiny legs, like the absolute pendulum of virility that it was.

The man was obscenely packed. His balls were so big and full the boy could see their bloated outline from behind the cock. Was that what a Real Man looked like? He’d never seen any in real life to compare (certainly not naked), though even the fake cartoon males or porn actors didn’t sport a penis so fabulously fat and gorgeous as that one. The fact that it was soft only made it more imposing, like a third leg so ungodly thick no hand could wrap its fingers fully around its girth. The big, main vein on it was very salient, with smaller, plentiful veins sprawing from it like branches through the rest of the gargantuan womb-smasher. It was such a big and heavy penis it looked like he needed an extra portion of blood just to keep it up there, dangling on his hips without falling off and rotting away.

His penis grew harder again. He felt like spending whole hours just looking at that model of masculinity. He ran his fingers across the screen, imagining his touch on that firm, rock-hard Alpha male, and wished for a moment that he was the Alpha male, before dropping the silly though and imagining himself instead being dominated, beaten, fucked raw in the ass by that powerful hairless bison, that raging human bull, that tireless fertile stallion. The shallowness of his own cum couldn’t compare to the scortching, heavy broth that bull was sure to cum on his ass, or to the massive buckets of load he came on the tight pussies of his hundreds of lovers. “A man like this…” He muttered to himself, touching his own pecs, pinching and twisting and pulling his own nipples, “must ejaculate like a fucking firehose.”

The minutes went by as he imagined himself being humiliated, subjugated by that mighty male in all manners of sexual depravity. Though his dick was fully hard again, his balls were probably as dry as the Cerrado. Nevermind. He was not supposed to be the virile partner there, after all. The man was. He had more pleasure imagining that stud plowing him with brutality or—even better—humiliating and derogating him before his harem of fertile females, than actually being that super stud or having sex with all those women himself.

He imagined himself as a better, richer man, for instance, trying to get a lay with a beautiful woman in a party. Then that stud, that Alpha male appeared and very easily stole the woman from his arms, laughing at him while heading to his bedroom, ready to take the prize on his own bed.

His dreams changed, yet remained the same: he imagined himself with a beautiful girlfriend, only to have her stolen by the stud. Then, the Alpha made him watch as he fucked his own girl, showing him how a real man fucked, mocking him at every opportunity as he took his woman to even greater heights of pleasure, her body twitching and her eyes rolling as he managed to extract one squirting orgasm after another out of her battered pussy.

It didn’t end there: after she was laid conquered and wrecked and ruined on the bed, the male withdrew that gorgeous pipeline of a penis from her and proceeded to jerk it off with both hairy, masculine hands over her body. As she panted and slowly recovered her breath, the overmuscular stud turned to him and demanded: “why don’t you feed your girlfriend a real man’s cock, huh?” The boy, in turn, just stood there, befundled, barely understading his Alpha’s words.

“Do you want this cock again?” The huge male asked his submissive princess. “Tell your pussy boyfriend how badly you want this cock.”

She resisted, she bit her lips, but she inevitably relented, looking almost pitifully to the boy: “yesss. I want this cock!”

“Then ask your boyfriend to put it inside you.” He laughed, clearing any lingering trace of doubt: “not his pencil dick, of course. My cock.” He grabbed his manhood. “Tell him to come here and guide my stallion cock into yout cunt.” They were both shocked by the command, and he, the little boy, almost had tears in his eyes when his girlfriend finally relented, the ectasy dripping on her voice: “please, honey… do as he says.”

He crawled towards them on his knees, weeping and yelping like a hurt puppy, a lonely tear sliding down his cheeks, and grabbed that massive penis as respectifully as he could, like the handling of a divine relic, and felt its hardness, its lusciousness, its liveness, its granite-and-steel texture, as well as the its immense girth, taking the chance to also touch his immense, throbbing balls, who were so full of virile semen you could hear it sloshing inside.

“Good pup.” The mighty male fondled his cheeks. “Now, put this cock where it belongs.”

He moved the penis inside his girlfriend’s pussy, seeing her being wholly stretched by the helmet of that monstrous manhood. «Oh, my god!» He thought to himself, moaning in the bathroom. «His head alone is bigger than my whole penis!»

“Deeper.” The Alpha commanded, and he silently wept as he pushed the cock deeper into the woman, seeing parts of her groin bulge as the immense serpent penetrated her innermost womanhood. “Look how deep I can reach, and I’ve got barely a third of my cock in her.” He silently obliged, guiding inch after inch of that endless cock inside the woman. “Now…” The male leaned to her and sucked her tits, making her moan and wet herself like crazy, “feel it. I’m deeper than any man has ever been in her, and there’s still another half of cock to go.”

In the end, the man could never fully penetrate her. The cock easily hit her cervix with many inches still left outside her cooch. Sadly (for both partners), she didn’t quite enjoy cervical penetration, therefore, with utmost control, his body being both a force of destruction and ecstasy, the stallion proceeded to fuck her pussy senseless for another whole hour, drawing so many orgasms out of her that the poor little being didn’t know what’d hit her when it was all set and done. She yelped, screamed, moaned, and fainted more times than anyone could count, and the little man, both within the dream and in the bathroom, came hard by watching that superior male conquer the ever-living soul of his lover.

Despite his third ejaculation, no semen left his penis. His little, shrived balls were exhausted—the exact opposite of the raging stallion in his dreams, who nutted like ten men inside his girlfriend. Still, the pleasure was even more sublime, and he found himself fumbling his own buttocks, teasing his asshole with his index finger as he descended from ecstasy and found himself again, rather anticlimactically, on the same dark, dreary bathroom, in front of the mirror still smeared by his previous load.

The computer was still on, its screen slightly dimmed after so many minutes of inactivity. “What a man,” he muttered softly, and then more loudly so: “what a man.” The swelling of his eyes got more pronounced, and he closed the laptop quietly and returned to his desk. «Fuck,» he thought. «That’s three jerk-offs.»

He didn’t like the habit a lot, though he admitted it was the only thing that kept he sane, even alive. «Fuck idiot.» He hated himself for having failed to remain “chaste,” nutting three times in the same day and still not feeling sathed. «You fucking piece of shit.» He opened the laptop and stared at the same erotic image of the stud dominating the busty damsel, with his wide shoulders and Greek-column-thick arms. The sight of his exposed, muscular back got his penis twitchy again, and by the end of that shift, a few minutes past two in the morning, he had jerked off again in his seat, without even taking his pants off, making a mess of both it and his underwear.

He changed his clothes quickly, and half-heartedly cleaned the bathroom mirror, where his semen had nearly solidified, leaving two tiny, ugly smudges in the glass. He was in no mood to do anything else. After sending those last covers to the client, he sank into the bed with his head heavy, aching and throbbing like his brain had morphed into a nest of hornets. «This doll… this doll…» He though to himself, holding back the flood in his eyes, «she can’t arrive soon enough.»


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African College Futa series

[NSFW/+18!] The African College Futa – Part 4

“You two are freaks, you know that?”

The images and sound only slowly came together as the pieces of my mind returned to their place. The first thing I saw was a friendly face close to mine, shining a light on my eyes. Then, I heard painful gasps beside me, turning my head to see Veronica on a bed by my side, squirming and panting as he looked wide-eyed to the ceiling, as if seeing a ghost or having a painful heart attack.

“Veronica!” The beds trembled and creaked as we both tried to move. “What…?!” Shaking myself harder, I realized my arms and legs were tied to the beds.

“Please, don’t make another scene.” The nurse walked closer while holding a syringe. “I don’t wanna have to put you down to sleep again.” Despite the sternness her voice, she couldn’t hide her arousal. No man or woman could, and her desire was shown by her fumbling and squeezing our biceps and our legs with her fingers. “Your beautiful, gorgeous bodies… oh!” She squirmed. “Let me tell you one thing: it was suuuper arousing seeing you two breaking the beds and tearing these metal handles so easily with your powerful arms.” She pointed behind her, where I could faintly see a mess of broken equipment and cracked walls. “You, Heather.” She slapped my mighty thigh. “With these huge legs of yours! You broke the bed and tore through the walls with your kicks. I think you would kill a horse with those legs if you kicked it hard enough.” Her fingers travelled between my inner thighs, rising up to my tight, quivering cunt. “You delicious, giant whore.” Her fingers teased me, moisturizing themselves with my lubes. “Mmm! How long has it been since we last fucked?”

As much as I loved that tight-assed, sexy doctor wannabe, my mind was in too many different places to care about her generous offering. “What happened?” My sight finally returned to normal, allowing me to see the wide range of emotions in her face. She pondered on the answer for too long before giving us her best account of the events: “you two were found fainted, screaming in the bathroom. Tamany Hall, building four, remember? What the fuck were you two doing there, huh? Is it some kind of drug the campus police hasn’t yet caught up to?”

As the events suddenly sprang back up to my memory, I looked to my friend Veronica and tried to aid her in her pains. “Vee-vee, relax. Calm down, love.” I tried to reach her. “We’re safe now.”

Despite her body being more relaxed and still, her voice was marred in fear—yet also twinges of desire: “t-that woman…!!” Her legs quivered. The entire bed shook. “S-she’s no woman!!” These words peaked the nurse’s attention, who turned her head and listened closely: “s-she’s a freaking monster! She…!” And then, they started all over again: the orgasms. “Oh!!” Her body jolted. The bed jumped with it. “OOOH!!” The bed jumped again as she suffered one massive orgasm after another, probably a set of multiple O’s, and I could hear, from between her legs, the ebb and flow of juices in her cunt, ready to shoot at any moment. “My god!!” She was clearly losing her breath, and the machine to which she was hooked denounced her heartbeat going past 200bpm. “She’s so powerful!! So godly!! So…!!”

We all heard the exact moment when she squirted. It wasn’t even just a matter of hearing it, but also seeing it: thick, steamy threads of lubes gushed from her legs, splashing all over the bed while making a real mess on the floor and even the walls. “No, no! Not this again!” The nurse ran with her syringe to her, trying to avoid those scalding gushes as Veronica screamed and found herself sinking deeper and deeper into delirium. “Heather!!” The leather cuffs that strapped her into the bed were tearing up. “Heather, please!!”

She tried to reach out to me, but the best I could do was shoosh her to sleep: “calm down, my love. You’re safe now.” When I saw the nurse’s syringe penetrating the long, bulging vein in her biceps, I knew her agony would soon be over. “Go sleep now. We’ll talk again real soon.”

The nurse—who I think was named Amanda or something…—injected the entire content of her syringe in Veronica’s body—“enough juice to knock out a lion,” she later told me—yet still my friend took five minutes to completely pass out, fighting against the medicine like a minute for every second until her eyes closed for good.

Breathing hard, and a little scared herself, Amanda (or was it Fernanda? Bah, who cares…) turned to me with another loaded syringe. “You wanna one too?”

“No worries, doc.” I smiled. “I’m not as weak as her.”

“Mm.” Her eyes lustfully bathed upon my body. “I wonder what dose would knock you know.”

I smiled. “Ain’t enough sedative in your whole hospital to take me know, babe.” Then, with smooth motions of my head, I invited her to “come, get closer, babe. Let me out so I can touch this awesome body.”

She leaned forward and moved her shoulders closer, making her incredible rack swell and test the confines of her vest. “Can’t you two stop thinking about sex for a single minute?”

“Well, I guess she ain’t thinking about no more.” I nodded to Veronica, but to my surprise she did seem to be thinking about sex, as the juices kept gushing from her pussy like little sprays of sexy, sweet-scented female cum. “Damn, doc. What the fuck happened?”

“I told you already.” While she talked, she slowly undid my ties. “You were found in a delirious state on a bathroom.” She undid the restraint on my right hand. “You don’t remember anything?”

One by one, very gradually, the events returned to my memories. “It’s coming back now. Oh, fuck. I wish I didn’t remember it.”

I felt my left arm freed up. “What happened?”

I looked at her. “Can’t you guess?”

She could. Very easily, in fact. I suspected she already knew what had happened, but only kept it hidden so she could hear it straight from our lips, arousing herself with our sexy recounting of the events. “You met Jamila, haven’t you? The African student. Well, no wonder you’re were left in that state.” She moved on to unstrap my left leg. “That awesome student… mm! I have to stop myself from thinking about her so I do not… cum again. Fuck.” She trembled. I could see she was having some issues trying to walk. She looked at me. “Promise not to cause I scene?”

I nodded. “No problem. The only thing I will do once I’m freed is to grab your body and fuck you in this bed.”

“Then I guess it’s better to leave you tied.”

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t you tell me you don’t want it.” I flexed my belly, and the flexing of my abs was powerful enough to make the cloth rumble above my waist. She sucked her lower lip and let it go, making a sensuous *pop!* with it.

“You whore.” Her hand climbed over my left leg. “You’re so… hideous! With all these muscles!”

I laughed. “Come on, you can lie better than this.” I flexed my insane Amazonian legs. Unlike my torso, they were uncovered, free for the view of anyone wanting to see what a real woman looked like. “My muscles are sooo much more toned now that I’m dehydrated. Those orgasms, you see…” I shuttered a little when remembering them. “I think I gushed a whole gallon back in that bathroom. My body is hard and ripped like a mountain. Come on, baby.” Taking her by surprise, I stood up, making the best of the fact she’s untied my hands before my legs. “Free me so I can fuck you with own these powerful…” I flexed one arm, “mighty muscles!” I flexed another, and her eyes soon had swirls in them.

“Shit! I have to admit.” Slowly she moved her hands to my flexed guns, letting her jaw drop as she squeezed them and saw how her hands couldn’t even cover half of their rigid mass. “You’re tantalizing!”

“Mm, ‘tantalizing.’” I wrapped a powerful arm around her waist and pulled her to me. “You really are smart, eh? Using these big words on this big, big girl.”

“Okay, you!” She pulled me away. “Fuck.” Her hands stopped on my abs. “Seriously!” She pulled my gown up, uncovering my belly. “Oh, fuck me! You’ve got an eight-pack?”

I flexed my abs and performed a belly dance for her, hypnotizing her with the loud, rumbling rippling of my muscle fibers. “Try putting a coin between those abs. I betcha I can crush it.”

I was surprised by her serious expression as she looked up to me. It’s as if she was worried about something. “Don’t fuck her.” She fondled my cheek. “Please, I beg you.”

I turned serious just as quickly. “Why? Did someone tell you something?”

“No need too. I knew you were going to challenge her sooner or later. That’s why I’m begging you, for the well-being of your beautiful body,” she squeezed both my biceps, “forget about her. Take a semester off if necessary. Try moving to another country and fucking a new flavor of men instead of going against that… that…!” The mind failed her. “That creature!”

Trying to assert my dominance, I pulled her in a tight squeeze. My nose and lips travelled over her neck as I smelled her sweet scent and sucked her tender skin with many kisses. “You’re seriously telling me to run away. Me?! The strongest woman on the planet??”

She tried pushing me away, but her arms failed to respond accordingly. She was enjoying me far too much to move away too soon. Her hands travelled along my back, her fingers memorizing every shape and sulk of my wall so muscles, and eventually she had one hand on my ass, another on my abs, feeling the insane hardness of my Wonder Woman body, slowly teasing up my cunt as the bed creaked with our passionate make-out.

Five minutes later, feeling drunk and dizzy, she finally managed to speak: “you are not.” Her eyes betrayed painful sincerity. “The strongest, you know. Not anymore.”

The tightness of my hug became a little too painful, as proved by her faint yelps. I couldn’t accept that, but I also couldn’t pretend not to see the writing on the wall: “it’s a matter of honor, you see. I have to prove to her I… I can stand my ground.” No! I had to be even more emphatic: “that I am the superior cunt.”

God, how I hated that look of pity in her face. The way she caressed my cheeks and kissed me… fuck me! It’s as if she was mourning a soon-to-be-dead friend! “My dear, look what happened to you.” She pointed to the unconscious Veronica snoring by our side. “Look what she did to you two without even getting to fuck you! How many kisses did she give you before you completely lost your minds, huh?”

My face was aflush with shame. “She kinda didn’t.”

“Mm? What did you say?”

I sighed. “She didn’t kiss us. She didn’t even touch us.”

Even for our knowledgeable friend, that felt like a bit of a stretch. “You two were like this and she didn’t even kiss you?”

“Touch us, actually.” I gulped and cleared my throat. “She… *sigh* She actually didn’t lay a finger on us. Well, she kinda touched us, I guess, but… in a completely non-sexual way.” I could see that she was not only amazed, but also deeply, maddeningly aroused. “We challenged her to a fight, though, so there’s not much to do about that anymore.”

She tried to speak, but her dry throat got the better of her sometimes. “I mean… uh… well…” She cleared it and smiled. Her mind was clearly on another places—probably the warm, gorgeous muscles of that tall, sexy bitch! “Fuck me, to think she did that to you… fuck! With mere words!”

“Yes, yes, fine. You can stop fawning now.”

“She’s just such a goddess you see! But, well, yeah, I guess…” She gave me a quick, almost apologetic kiss. “You too are quite a woman stud, you know that, right.”

“Stop taking pity on me. Please, it’s disgusting.”

“You don’t need to do this. Please, Heather, pleeease, for the sake of you and your friend, as well as all your lovers, I beg you:” she pulled my face, pushed her forehead into mine, and stared deep into my soul, “don’t fuck her. She’s going to annihilate you both!”

Annihilate. Exterminate. Wreck. Conquer. Destroy. «Amazing!» I thought. The African’s lovemaking was never described as simply “to fuck” or “to screw.” Only the most savage, severe words were used when witnesses (or broken lovers) recounted her sexual Armageddon. For an unknown listener, these tales would have given the impression that people were fucking a huge animal, like a bull or a stallion, not a mere human being. «Is she really human, though?» I shook my head, trying not to get too lost on my own thoughts.

“I’m strong.”

“Not strong enough. Please, Heather, remember the things she did! She fucking wrecked the entire football team! And the wrestling one! Fuck, even our MMA students weren’t enough to take on her, and she laid with over twenty at the same time!” She gestured clumsily, trying to show me the size of those students. “They were massive, beefy studs inches taller than yourself! She fucked scores of these men in a slaughter-orgy without even taking a moment to breath! I…” She brought her hands to her chest, feeling a surge of blood turning her whole face and torso scarlet. “I know it! I’ve seen it first hand, well, not the guys, but with myself. Her lovemaking is not something that can be described or understood by mere mortals. When she fucks you, she truly, really fucks you, and no other fuck will ever be the same… ooh!…” Her hips twirled. She was clearly on the cusp of another orgasm. “Sex is never the same after she lays waste to your cunt.”

I wiggled my lips, trying not to look impressed. “Well, she fucked you, and you look alright for my taste. You’re not a tall, three-hundred-pound muscle jock,” I smiled, “you’re a beautiful, busty, gorgeous, yet delicate supermodel. I don’t see you riding around in a wheelchair after her pounding.”

Her silence begged for respect. It was hard to maintain my cocky smile while staring at her stern, serious face. “I couldn’t walk for two days, you know. That’s because she didn’t ‘really’ lay me. She said it herself: if she’d fucked me with a fraction of the strength she does a man… I would be dead.” She spread her legs apart. “She would have ripped my legs out of my body almost without thinking, she said, and I’ve seen the ruin in her lover’s anuses to know that these aren’t mere bragging words. You’ve seen the pictures, I’ve seen the bodies, let’s stop pretending that she’s a beast that any average human can take down, okay? Anyone who’s seen her knows that she can fuck a mountain into pebbles without even breaking sweat. Are you really that arrogant (or that stupid) to buy her bluff and expose yourself to mortal danger? Are you really in such a need for adrenaline or orgasms? Look at me, Heather! Please!” She kissed me. “I’m really worried about you. Scores of men almost died without her even going into ten percent of her full power! God knows what’s gonna happen to you… and beautiful Veronica… if she really does you with double that power, let alone going all-out on your cunts!”

Despite her honest, legitimate despair… I couldn’t accept it. “It’s a matter of honor, Amanda.”

“Huh, my name is Fernanda.”

Damn it! “Yeah, that’s what I said: Fernanda.”

“You said…”

“Pretty girls like you can’t understand.” I just kept going, flexing my arms and shoulders to distract her, and the muscles threatened to tear through the constraints of my clothes. “Muscle girls like me, we… we have a certain code. A code of power, if you will: we’re proud for being the best, the biggest, the baddest amongst all women, and knowing that we could kick any man’s ass is something that brings us unparalleled pleasure. Most of all, being the biggest, baddest, strongest of all women bestows on you a certain aura of power, an unwavering feeling of… divinity.” I took her by the waist, slowly lifting her without even noticing it. “When you have a body like mine—tall, hard, massive, and beautiful—you feel and act like a goddess—because you are! That’s something no one can take from you, or no one should take from you, until a challenger appears. Oh, Amanda.”

“Fernanda!”

“Yes, Fernanda!” I kissed her. My lips and tongue met every inch of her neck, nape, and bust. “Fernanda, Fernanda, beautiful Fernanda. I’m a goddess! I’ve always been a goddess, and now that fucking bitch came to take my title away. I will not stand idle and watch her steal my glory without a fight. No! I will fight! I will fight and I will die, if necessary, trying to protect what I’ve built after so many years of strenuous effort and bone-breaking exercises. I will reclaim my muscle godhood or I will die trying. That, my friend,” I gave her a long, breathtaking kiss, “is something I will never run away from.”

Once her head stopped spinning, she talked in a resigned tone: “you brain-damaged muscle head. Really, ‘muscle head!’ Despite having a pussy…”

“A gorgeous pussy, you gotta admit.”

“Mm!” She turned her face away, blushing. “Despite having such a tight, super delicious pussy… you’re nothing but a dude, you know that?” She hit me: her fists almost cracked on my massive, hard breasts. “A stupid… dumb… idiot jock!” She hit me again and again and again. “That’s what you are, you know that?”

I grabbed her arms and squeezed them, just enough for her to feel the wonderful mix of fear and arousal that comes with having a much physically superior partner. Our eyes glimmered as our gazes met, and our mouth could hardly stand too long apart before I told her: “I know, and that’s just how you loved me.” She moved on for a kiss, but I moved away while gesturing to my legs, still constrained. “Free me, pussycat. Free me… and I will lay waste to your cunt!”

It was only after she came over two hundred times, with her squirts splashing in every wall of the place, that her screams became impossible to ignore and a team of eight nurses, plus security staff—two for each limb—had to tie me down and sedate me, knocking me out so I could stop ruining that pussy with my tongue, fingers, and the ceaseless grinding of my hips.


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African College Futa series

[NSFW/+18!] The African College Futa – Part 3

Didn’t take us too long to find that fucking bitch. As big as she was, you see, she wasn’t one to be so easily lost in the crowd. When we found her, though, she was dining alone on the college hall. Always the same hall, always the same table, and always alone. It’s not like people didn’t want to talk to her. Oh, quite the opposite! Wherever she was, there was always a crowd forming around her; people too fearful to approach her, but too entranced to leave her. As we walked to her table, we saw the same lines of men and women hoping, oh, praying to get a chance to talk to her. As we looked at many boys’ crotches, we saw big bulges (and some, okay, not so big) poking through their pants. The girls were crossing their legs and giggling, their cheeks all blushed as their hard nipples poked through their shirts.

“Jamila, uh, you got some time to help me on my assignment? I was wondering if you could…”

The African bitch raised her hand, so sudden, yet so graceful that even I and Veronica stopped on our tracks. With that simple, threatening motion, we felt our legs tremble. «Damn!» My eyes widened. «Look at the size of her forearm!»

She was wearing a white T-shit under her uniform. “I know what you need, my love, but I’m not sure I can give it to you now.” We heard her speak, even though dozens of feet still separated us. Very elegantly, like every motion was a royal affair, she raised her cup of tea for a sip. “Let me have a good look at you first.”

“Oh!” Her reluctance burned and died in a flash. “O-okay!” Moving past the mass of students, she walked within Jamila’s range, giving us all a good view of her body.

“I-is that…” I stammered to Veronica. “Is that Heloise?”

“Mmr! Uh-uh.” My friend nervously nodded. “That bitch!” We both watched as the tall, proud student offered herself for Jamila, who still took her sweet time, taking a long sip of the tea before even turning her head to look at her.

Heloise had the fame to be the hottest, yet bitchiest cunt in all of college. “Heloise, Morena, then you and Veronica.” Some dumb jock had told us once, prompting us to almost rip the cock out of him with our cunts: “Heloise is the hottest, but you too are the best fuck in anyone’s life!”

Though we feigned outrage, we couldn’t be too shocked at that assessment. “Bitch is beautiful.” We admitted to each other, having made numerous attempts to take her to bed with us. Unlike every other man or women in school, however, Heloise was the only totally oblivious to our charms. “Why do you keep asking? Do you fancy me for some faggot?”

“We think you like a good fuck.” We licked our lips and leaned towards her while showing her our massive, milk-filled breasts. “Don’t you wanna know what is to be fucked for rea-?”

“No.” She bluntly shot us down, time and time again. “I’m not interested in girls, and even if I were,” she looked at us with clear disgust, “I wouldn’t be interested in freaks like you two.” Then she walked away, jiggling that massive, hard butt of hers. “Girls and muscles! Yuck! As if these two things were ever meant to be together!”

Harsh, but meaningless words. The French goddess herself was very fit and toned, with thick legs going for miles and breasts so humongous that had actually disqualified her for a place in the Miss Universe competition. We envied her, we desired her, but so did every student in school, and as a result that rich, spoiled heiress acted like the absolute queen of college, if not of all of woman-dom.

It was then with great revolt that we saw her, in all her Barbie-like poise, melt like sweet girl in front of her strong, authoritative daddy: when Jamila turned to her, damn!, we could swear we heard the gush between her legs. The tall, supermodel bitch always wore skirts, showing off those god-gifted legs to anyone brave (or delusional) enough to try and flirt with her, and thanks to it we saw the hottest thing two raging bisexuals could see in an attractive bimbo like her: hot threads of lubricant flowing down her thick, toned legs.

“Daaaamn!” I felt like I had to push my eyes back with my fingers, so hard they were bulging! That blonde bitch wasn’t just aroused, she was, like, squirting before everyone. “What the fuck is going on??” Just as we felt our own legs trembling, Jamila gave her one very long look, judging her from head to toes, then back to her head again.

“You look cute.” She turned her attention back to her table, where a huge, heavy book lied open. “Let me see you tonight. At nine. My place.”

“D-don’t you p-prefer my place, J-Jammy?” Her voice, usually so sexy and haughty, was now as graceless and clumsy as a newborn emu. “D-daddy’s outta town. M-my mansion is…”

“You can go now.” She waved her away. “We be seeing each other again soon, sweetie.” The newly crowned queen of college turned her head and gave her a promising wink. Then, she addressed all those around them: “please, folks, I need some space. You’re actually blocking the wind, you know.” She waved at them, and not one of those bastards, as horny as they felt, dared to disobey her and star. “That’s much better. Thank you.” She smiled as she talked to herself: “no matter how many you are, I’ll always have time for each and every one of you. Right now, however, I need to…”

“Caham!”

He looked up. Her left eyebrow was smugly lifted. “Can I help you?”

We stood right next to her, each of us at once side, already positioned to take her down if all things came to it. “Does that also include us? Your time?” I pointed at her breast, trying not to be intimidated by the massive bulk in her shirt. “I suppose you have time for us too, right?”

To our shock, her face warmed up to us. “I was wondering when you were going to introduce yourselves.”

Then… she got up! She got up and we both instinctively stepped back, in a very visceral, reflexive motion, as if our survival instincts were screaming at us to get the fuck outta there!! “Heather.” She looked at me. “Veronica.” She looked at her, then she stretched a hand to each of us. “It’s so nice to meet you. I suppose you want to get a piece of me, right?”

It was…! It was so much…! «God!» It was so much to take! Shaking her hand, feeling her warmth, we immediately realized we stood before something of a much superior nature and nearly incomprehensible power! Her size, her height, her muscles, her grip, her beauty…!! I was never into black chicks, even a light-skinned black like her, but once I saw her face, I accepted the impossible: she was at least three times as hot as Heloise herself.

“Jesus… oh, damn.” As she shook my hand calmly, but firmly, I felt a pressure build up between my legs, and then be discharged in a quivering, noisy gush.

Veronica experienced the same thing too. A dark spot quickly grew in her jeans. “Y-y-you…!” She tried to speak, the poor little fool, but then the goddess lifted her fingers to both our lips and said:

“I know you two used to be the baddest bitches around. The strong women, the tireless Amazons… I know your type all too well. Your reputation preceded you, you see. Well…” What she did next…! “I was eager to meet you.” Her hands…! In front of all the students, in the middle of that vast, crowded hall…! She moved her hands down to our asses and squeezed them! “Veeery eager.” Her massive, powerful, muscular hands fumbled our hard muscles again and again, feeling their rigidity and making our nipples just as hard, and we just stood there, letting her abuse go on. “I see there’s good cause for your reputation. Wonder if those big, massive bodies of yours…”

“Who d-do you t-think…??” I muttered a yelp of protest, but then her eyes were turned to me.

“Did I say you could speak, cunt?”

By god, she was towering! I was left speechless once she stood closer to me, seeing her rise so many inches above me, and now I felt that fear all over again, but with a new, irksome twist to it: it was danger! Real, wild danger, like we were both facing a tigress without morals or scruples. A dark, twisted aura formed around that b-… that demoness!… and we swore we could see the space being distorted around her!

Her presence! Her power! Fuck! Were her muscles rumbling, slowly stretching the fabric of her shirt, threatening to tear that shit up? We knew that, if she so chose, she could wreck us then and there, before all the students and the teaching staff, and there would be no consequences. «By god!» I tried to gulp, but my throat was so completely dry! «Her arms! Are these really arms?! They are so inhumanly big!» She could kill us, yes, and no one would dare lift a finger against us. She could kill us in front cops and all they would do is pull down their pants and jerk off to her mighty, sexy body.

Fuck. What the hell was going on down my panties?! The dark stain, which was at first contained to my crotch, soon reached my knees. “I-I-I’m s-sorry!!” I felt my sight blurring and my eyes tearing up as I tried to at least keep a firm pose—to no avail. Legs, arms, breasts, heads, hips… all of my body was shaking like a bamboo stick to the wind.

The mighty Amazon moved closer to us, taking us by the waists and pulling us both to her. “You probably came here with a challenge in mind, didn’t you? Oh, I know you did. You entered this hall with such confidence, even anger, your strong footsteps being heard all the way over here.” There was a rhythmic grunting deep in her breasts, like a really deep, really low chuckle. “Come on.” She stepped away. “Tell me what you wanted to say. Show me those two furious warriors who took no crap from nobody.” Her lips… they twisted in a sort of cocky smile we hadn’t seen even in the mightiest of studs! “Show me what you’re made off, my white American prostitutes.”

We couldn’t. We. Just. Couldn’t! Veronica was literally crying before her, the tears flowing without a sound. As I tried to muster some strength within me, I realized my body straight out refused to obey. My muscles were frozen and my face was twisted in a pitiful, childish expression. The only movement I could make was to fall on my knees and ask for that goddess’s forgiveness.

She knew we couldn’t move, and seemed to revel greatly in that kind of effect she had on us. “Very well.” Her face quickly changed from pleasant to… deadly! “I command you.”

Then, and only then, did we dare talk to her, even lifting our fingers to her breasts: “I-I-I challenge you!” Still, our voices were cracking. “We challenge you to a fight!”

She smiled while we both covered our mouths, wondering what had just happened. “Heh!” She chuckled. “That’s usually my catchphrase, you see. Are you so out of your minds that you think you can steal from me without consequences?” She moved closer. “You beautiful cunts. It’s game!” Then she… raised her hands… took our palms and… shook them. “I see you this Friday, eight p.m., at my place.”

She turned her back to us, sat back on her table, and returned to study. Maybe a full minute had passed until we recovered our senses and tried to clear things up with her. “Err… you mean…”

She raised her hand, though, just like she did with Heloise, and waved us away: “I’m studying now. Please, leave me be.” Then, one look. Just one look at the corner of her eyes, and we were defeated! “I advise you not to fuck anybody until then. I really do.” She licked her lips. Fuck! We could hear her tongue slurping those huge, fat lips as she watered them! “You two are the only people here who can give me some challenge. I’m reserving an entire weekend for you.” She looked briefly to her side, seeing Heloise still there, gushing on a nearby table. “That French blondie is a fine lay, but she can’t last two hours before she’s screaming her lungs out and showering me with her pussy juice. Two hours and she’s passed out and dehydrated, gushing from her cunt and tits. I need no more than a night with her. You, though, I hope are a different case.” She bit her lower lip, turning away one final time. “I pray you do not disappoint me.”

We dared not to spend a second more in her presence. Both of us feared she might just break us if we did. What we did instead, then, was to turn around, leave the hall, and run to the nearest bathroom we could find.

“Heather! Veronica!” We found a few girls there—many of them old flames of ours. “What are you d-?”

“All of you… OUT!” We roared. “Out of here NOW!!”

They ran away with countless shrieks. They too dared not defy us. To them, we looked just like that African goddess—minus the threat of death, of course, of even overwhelming sexual aura.

We locked ourselves in the boxes and tore off our clothes. The sound of cloth being torn and shredded filled the bathroom. Soon, there were the rumbles of us laying our backs on the walls and the squishes of our fingers penetrating out cunts. I think neither of us have ever orgasmed so hard and so quick just with a finger penetration. Every inch of our cunts was ablaze, and the nectar that came pouring out of them was the stuff of legends. If there was any doubt we didn’t care what any staff would think of our behavior, our screams dispelled it: within seconds, the entire bathroom, along with the hall besides it, was shaking with our savage screams of pleasure and cries of ecstasy.

“GOD!!!” Our minds… a million pieces! “MY GOD!!!” Our pussies, a wet explosion! “Oh, god, oh, god, oh GOD!!”

I heard a body fall on the neighboring box, and I knew it wouldn’t take long for my fate to be the same: Veronica was cumming so hard that her legs had failed her, and she loudly dropped on the toilet, while gushing hot juices on the floor, sprinkling the walls and the door with her cunt. My friend was much less resilient to that witch’s power than I was: “h-h-how can she… h-how can it be…?!” In between every sentence, gushes and more gushes of girl cum. “FUCK!! How can she be so HOT?!”

My back slid down on the wall, my legs shaking so hard my knees were hitting one another. Tears left my eyes in abundance, and I asked myself how long could I resist that orgasm without passing out or going mad. «Release!!» My mind exploded. «I need some fucking release!»

I crammed four fingers as deep as I could in my cunt, and an ocean of cum came gushing out. My thumb ravished my clit while I squirted on my feet, holding on to the top of the boxers so I didn’t fall down. That was the supreme humiliation, the ultimate defeat: I, a mighty goddess, had to lean on the walls like an invalid so as to not succumb to my raging orgasm.

My friend wasn’t any better: peeking under the boxers, I saw her legs and hands on the floor. She was down, maybe kneeling until her forehead touched the ground, while fucking her pussy with both hands. Her splashes of nectar were loud and multiple. She was cumming tanks, and even she didn’t seem to understand the intensity of her own orgasms: “Veronica!! Veronica!!” She asked for help to someone just as helpless as her! “What the fuck is going on?! H-h-how… AAAAH!!!” A long sprout of cum was gushed out of her cunt, hard enough to take her voice out. “H-how… how do I make it stop?!!”

I didn’t know, and I wouldn’t waste my time trying to discover it. As wave after wave of orgasm overtook me, I learned instead to enjoy that ecstasy and prepare my body for the things that monstress would do to us—that giant African goddess with muscles of steel and the face of a black Aphrodite. “Just… OOH!!” After a lot of cumming and moaning, I let myself fall on the ground and, with my legs spread as wide as that boxer allowed, squirted my juices on the door ahead of me, sometimes with jets as high as four feet. “Take it! Take it all!!” My fingering intensified: instead of trying to tame that pussy, I would wreck it like a barbarian! “Don’t try to fight it! Attack it! We’re gonna need… OH, SHIT!!!” Loud splashes where heard. My juices were sprinkled all over my shirt and my face. Their warmth was somewhat refreshing. “We’re gonna need all the power we can muster… if we are to take that cunt down!”

“GOD!!!” We were left alone, two muscle goddesses in that bathroom, as no one who heard our cries would dare venture it. Minutes passed until our senses were fried by our relentless fingering, our pussies becoming desensitized by the numerous merciless blows on our cunts, our insides burning like engines, our wombs literally shaking and throbbing, trying not to fall out along with our bowels. That orgasm was shaking us in a visceral level!

Two puddles of squirt soon appeared from under our boxers, as well as our feet, thanks to us laying our backs on the ground, feeling the darkness overtake our eyes. We added flames to our orgasms as much as we could, but out cunts never appeared satisfied. We came and gushed and squirted until our legs were numb and stiff, yet still our bodies demanded more, our cunts almost eating our fingers out on their own.

With fire in my guts, I imagined that goddess undressing for me, her massive, impossible body slowly revealed, her muscles begging for a good licking! I exploded! My fingers briefly left my cunt as it gushed torrents of cum! I was in heaven! The juices were ricocheting on the door and splashing back on my own face. I was showering myself on my own nectar, and all I could do was beat my pussy even harder, wishing my fingers were only twice as long so I could reach my womb and stimulate my cervix!

“Fuck!! Fuck!!!” A wave of energy took over me. “FUUUUCK!!!” It could have been a few minutes, it probably was a couple of hours, but the end point was the same: we both were passed out, fuck drunk in the middle of the bathroom, abandoned while our cunts still squirted on their own from time to time, utterly and royally defeated by the African goddess before she even laid a single finger on us. «Jesus Christ! Jesus fucking Christ!»

If we thought that was pleasure, though… by god! Neither heaven nor hell would prepare us what that woman would do to us—*gulp!*—in the weekend to come!


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Free books, The Doll who Loved me

The Doll who Loved me – Chapter 2: A cup of blessings

Credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-blonde-look-looking-1919143/

Wednesday was groceries’ day. At some point in the long past, there was a particular reason for him to pick that day—and only that day—for buying his weekly essentials, though he no longer remembered it. Wednesdays just felt right. They had a laxness to them: neither the dread of Mondays nor the chaos of Fridays. They sat right smack in the middle, almost as if balancing the whole workweek on their head, so the world seemed alive, but tame.

Safe. It just felt safe. Not that he had many reasons to expose himself to the world every week, Wednesdays or not. Once every month would suffice, given that he ate very little, and consumed other frivolities even less often. Somewhen in the past, too, he’d changed his schedule for buying groceries only once every month to once every week. As with his choice of the groceries’ day, the exact time of the change eluded him, but the reason was much clearer than ever: «she is so pretty.»

He stood idly at the entry of the market. Time slowed down whenever he saw her. ‘Pretty’ wasn’t the best word. ‘Hot’ was.

That was a perk he hadn’t considered at all when moving to that country—well, not consciously, at least: people there looked much more beautiful than the average—almost astonishingly so—, and girls who would be models elsewhere were usually teachers, drivers, or cashiers in that land. The most average of them looked like models; the better ones, like angels. Competition was so stiff even the cutest gals didn’t think too highly of themselves, and many of them probably even faced a good deal of self-esteem issues, becoming easy (or at least easier) preys for men with just a little bit of balls between their legs.

He wasn’t such a man. In fact, he might was well have been born a girl, so paltry was his pair. He remembered how it took him an Herculian deal of effort to even just look at a woman in the eyes for the first time—and that was with his fucking phychiatrist! His experiences taught him to never again even try and address a lady. Ever. «Just a waste.» He lowered his head and walked in. «Don’t bother them. You’re just a waste.»

Yet still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the pretty girl at the register as he loaded the bags on his cart. He sometimes stopped between the lanes just to have another glance at her, all while making sure he’d never pause for longer than three seconds, more or less. He had become quite an expert at being a lurker without being a creep. He didn’t want to make pretty girls uncomfortable, yes, but he also wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of seeing them. «The sight of a pretty woman is a human right,» he sometimes justified to himself.

At first glance, that girl in the counter was polar opposite of one he’d purchased, and not just from the fact that she was, well, actually real. She was slim and very feminine, hardly weighting nine and a half stones, and definitely without a drop of tomboyishness in her whole demeanor. She was an all-around princess, yet she still carried that humbled, honest look of someone who didn’t have all things in life handed in a silver plate—beauty aside, of course.

She looked down-to-earth. Real. Just like him. He loved to imagine how much better the world would be from her point of view. Good parents, great country, strong relationships, calm and peaceful society. How would it feel to have people always smiling when they looked at you? Treating you like a human being? Showing you always the better angels of their nature?

Should feel nice, he sighed. A world less dry, less threatening. A world where he’d be safe anywhere, anyday, not just on Wedsnedays, and definitely not by living at the very edge of the frozen outskirts of Earth.

He calmly placed his items one by one on his cart. Stopping by the frozen goods, he gave one good look at all he’d bought and realized his lifestyle wasn’t all that bad. «I’m not that much a loser,» he smiled, if only briefly. There was not a bit of organic food or spice in sight, yes, but at least he was past the point of consuming only ready-made goods and frozen junk.

Yeah, he still ate like a college student, but at least he’d be a rich college student: there was pasta and rice and beans with expensive sauces and whole pounds of expensive meat coupled with some fancy-ass bottles of juice imported from his native land, of all places, which happened to sell for a pretty penny up there in the Artics. «Heh. Ironic.» He wondered, feeling the weight of the bottles in his hand. «Back there, this thing’d be cheaper than water.» Considering how hard sanitation and plumbling came around, that wasn’t all hyperbole.

There is only so much junk food, after all, one could have before kissing their heart bye-bye. Mostly, though, it was shame: though food did bring him confort, it’d never been to him the end-all, be-all it was for other people. His hatred for growing fat just happened to be much stronger than his pleasure of munching on junk food.

In a way, the things people did to him in his old country did leave a positive side effect on his body—if not on his mind.

He startled himself by throwing a package of meat a little too hard in his cart. The sound of the heavy meat clashing on the metal woke him from those nasty thoughts, only for him to notice that other people were staring at him very intently.

He immediately lowered his head and carried on with his business, rolling fast between the lanes and disappearing from any gaze as quickly as possible.

People could sense the weird and the disease in him. It was obvious for anyone with their minds in the right places: just as beautiful, rich people exhuded the smell of ease and success, he smelled the stench of failure and inadequacy. It wasn’t even that he resented the fact he was made to fail and slumber; it’s just that everything took so long! «Nature could end me now and quick.» He thought, moving along the isles without picking anything. «More merciful, ya know.»

The fact he could have to go for fifty, sixty, maybe seventy years longer in life sometimes made him desperate. Alone in his apartment—his heavenly kingdom—he sometimes screamed to himself, banging his head against the walls, never to be heard. Not that he minded, of course, never being heard. He preferred it that way, that nobody knew of his problems. It was much better than somebody knowing, but not caring. Or worse: somebody knowing… and enjoying it.

He felt the swelling under his eyes and stopped at the middle between two lanes, felling his heart pace and his skin burn, sweat forming on his forehead. There was a slight unease of breath followed by a blurring of his vision. He had to close his eyes and count to ten, twenty… fifty… but the problem didn’t go away as quickly as it used to.

The longer he faced it, the worse it got. The last time he had it this bad… well, it was really, really bad! Back in his old land. In public. It involved slurs and beating. And blood. His blood.

He felt like losing balance, and the image of those shelves toppling on one another like dominoes because of his carelessness burned brightly in his mind. «The manager’ll come. They’ll scream at me.» The swelling and pain got stronger. His hands were trembling, gripping the cart’s handrail like they wanted tear it off.

A voice came by his side. Almost scared the soul out of his body: “you alright, mate?”

He answered just as promptly: “hmm… headache. Big one.”

“Uh.” The stranger gave him a good look and, thankfully, ignored him. Maybe the man saw that he was no good. Maybe he saw he was a foreigner. Or maybe he had feigned normalcy so that the stranger didn’t feel like saying anything else.

Still, it stung a little. Even if it was actually “just” a headache, it would have been nice for the man to ask if he needed anything, or maybe even go the extra mile and offer him some health assistance—like calling a doctor or something. «Nah,» he forged a smile on his face. «I’m good. It’s better this way. This guy made me a favor.» People like him were better off forgotten.

Maybe looking at the beautiful cashier would make him feel better.

It did. At moments like those, he usually didn’t like thinking about women. Brought him back unconfortable memories, you see. It was a useless, anyway, to dream about something he’d never have. That girl, however, made him feel special; she made him feel calm and sweet. It was something ‘bout her beauty, both arousing and delicate, like a lover and a sister, or a goddess who’d turned into mortal just to take care of him.

He didn’t feel too intimidated by her. Was it because she was poor (or at least working class)? Was it because she was young and quiet—an uncommon thing for pretty gals like her—, maybe nerdy or a bookworm, someone even closer to him?

«You should go talk to her.»

That voice. That annoying voice in the back of his head. He shut his eyes and shook his head, trying to physically expel it from within him. «No!» He reaffirmed. He was not to do the same fucking mistake he did… so many years ago.

He turned the cart around and strolled aimlessly throught the market, with nothing else to buy. The calm and ease were gone. He was now just fearful, with his head heavy and aching, his heart picking up pace, the pressure rising as he realized that, romantic or not, he would have to face that girl up-close.

«Come on. You’ve done that already. Many times, even!» He tried smiling and being positive, but was bombarded by a tsunami of vicious thoughts at every attempt. Maybe he shouldn’t leave that place. Maybe he couldn’t. He looked around and tried to imagine himself living in that already-too-familiar store—the same spot he’d been shopping for the past two years and something. «Fuck.» The word exploded in his mind, time and time again: «fuck. Fuck. Fuck.» Like a deathroll inmate, he went to the counter trying his best to not look at the guard.

Don’t disturb her. Don’t you dare ruin her good day and good mood with his presence. Beauty was something too precious to be tainted by his being. It was, in a way, his only way of caring for her: the farther he got from girls like her, or the more invisible he made himself to them, the better.

T’was a nice relationship: he fed on their beauty, they weren’t disturbed by him. Though that girl didn’t know it, she made the world a much better place by just existing and being beautiful—as if her abundance of good blessings somehow trickled down into his empty chalice of love.

«I respect you. I really do.» He thought, growing a hunchback as he put the groceries on the counter. She might have been looking at him. He couldn’t know, of course, not without lifting his head and seeing it for himself. «I could be feeling less stressed by not coming out here so often. But I do.» He raised his head. «All because of you. Beautiful stranger.»

She wasn’t looking at him. Mechanically, like the job had become part of her instincts, she just grabbed the stuff, passed them under the barcode reader, and stashed them on the other side. It was only then that he noticed he’d forgot to hurry up and package the groceries. «Fuck!» Was his first thought. «Hot!» Was his second. These two were his only thoughts, basically: «fuck! Hot! She hot! Fuck!»

Her skin was beyond flawless—freckles included. «They’re like whiskers. Her face is so feline. So… feminine.» Her eyes were aggressively green. Like… «wow!» They were almost two big emeralds dimming every other light in the room.

She barely looked at him directly, and that was nice. She treated him with the casual disinteresst of a tired-ass, bored-out-of-her-mind teenage cashier, one who had to take on those menial jobs just to pay her way through college or something like that.

«Here,» he pondered, «she doesn’t have to worry about college.» He felt another pinch in his heart. Looking around the place, it was easy for him to forget just how clean and tidy everything in that country was, to the point that even an mundane store like that shone like chrome. «Nobody suffers here. It’s like paradise does exist, but it’s meant only for them.»

He felt resentful and a little bit angry, leading him to mutter to himself and—oh!—catch the attention of his girl.

She looked straight at him, a bit startled. “Sorry?” She leaned forward. “Did you say something?”

He staggered. Deer-on-the-headlights look in his eyes. “Nah, nothing.” He said, stammering his way through the words.

“Hmm.” The pretty girl moved the last few itens past the scanner: “four hundred fifty-seven, twenty-two.”

“Uh-uh.” He muttered, swiping his card and getting the hell out of there as soon as his payment came through. There was a brief moment, however, as he was typing his PIN, when he wished she’d recognized him. «I don’t know. I wish she, like, said something.» Maybe asking whether she’d seen him before, maybe commenting on the fact that he’d bought groceries regularly there, same time, same day, every week without fail, or… «I don’t know.» Something. Anything.

The best thing was probably for her to not say anything, of course. Still hurt, though. «Why can’t I do a bloody thing?!» He hit his head with a fist, thrashing the bags on his arms. «You stupid little cunt!»

A car almost ran him over as he crossed the street without looking. When he got to the other side he realized, with great sadness, that he was still alive.

«Fuck.» Feeling his head almost exploding with negativity, he looked back at the store, through the dark, blue-ish windows where he glimpsed his girl, so faintly visible, and then he was calm again. With a long, chill sigh, he turned around and walked slowly back to his place. «This doll can’t take long enough to come.»

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African College Futa series

[NSFW/+18!] The African College Futa – Part 2

“Who the hell, really, does she think she is?” It was a question that became all-encompassing as the rumors, nay, the accounts of that daring student multiplied across campus. Veronica and I were especially interested in those rumors, as they pertained precisely to the world we were supposed to be queens of; in our unrivaled, unchallenged status quo, that African bitch had appeared to shatter its foundations—and this was driving us crazy!

It all started with a few students “disappearing” for a while: students who never missed a class started missing them, only to reappear days later in completely fucked up conditions and exhausted expressions. Some of the absences lasted for well over months, and at least two students were never heard of again after the African witch, as it appeared, started performing her magic on them.

Males and females, there seemed to be no discrimination on who she chose to attack. Every time we saw a pale face with tired eyes and bruises all over the body, we knew this was a student who had met with the African’s curse. “What happened, Jesse?” We approached one of our friends—a ripped, but much leaner fitness student. Her appearance was absolutely pitiful: since the last time we saw her, she seemed to have lost over thirty pounds, and her limbs were always trembling every time she moved and tried to recount the horrors she had seem.

It was the same story from every pair of lips who recounted it; the same terrifying, yet arousing tale: “we fucked. Me and Jamila.” Oh, so that was her name: Jamila! How well we would have come to know it, and how many times we would hear it, with an admiring tone, from so many other mouths—until it was our mouths who were uttering and screaming it in ecstasy. But back to our friend: “I d-don’t know if she noticed me checking her out. I m-mean, we all knew, right, that I was… fuck! She’s so attractive! I couldn’t help but not to spy on her, to follow her, to try and get a peek… of her awesome body. Damn!” She seemed to be struggling for breath at every couple of words. “She came to me. Out of nowhere, she walked up to me and asked if I wanted to fuck. I was completely shocked by her brashness, but her body, her muscles… fuck, I couldn’t say no to a woman like her, couldn’t I? It was an experience I sure would never miss.” She crossed her legs and squeezed them tightly, her thighs much less impressive and drier than they used to be. Her hands too were crossed above her crotch, as if she was trying to protect something. “Never again. There is a limit to everything, and that woman… that… monster!…” Her heart was pacing. We could hear it from afar! “She’s beyond anything anyone can ever imagine.” Then, her eyes turned to us: “be careful, you two. That monster will soon have you in her sights.”

This first testimonial was enough to peek our curiosity, but it was the following accounts that really got our souls raging. Not just their content, but their numbers: in a span of four months, the African queen appeared to have laid with over half the student body. Soon, we learned that even the staff wasn’t safe from her. Professor Johnson, the college’s preeminent Muay thai instructor, had the same bruised look as everyone else when we gathered enough courage to ask him “what happened?” The poor man’s body, as bad as it looked, wasn’t half as bruised as his ego, though: “I’ll tell you what happened: that freak of nature has destroyed me, that’s what!”

He wasn’t much help, of course. It was much harder getting those confessions from boys than it was from girls, as the crushed egos were so much more painful on the male souls. Still, with just a little inquiry, we soon discovered that it wasn’t just Mr. Johnson, but the entire Muay thai team of the school who had been laid and conquered by that savage African pussy—all in the same night. “What?!” We had to control ourselves so as not to scream aloud in the middle of the hallways. “Are you saying that she did them all… in the same night??”

Our friend Rebecca was just as shocked as we were—if not more, for she was the one who had to take care of the boys after the fact. “Not the same night; the same weekend. I saw firsthand their bruises and injuries, some of them with twisted joints and broken bones.” She came closer to us, lowering her voice, making sure no one else could hear the indelicate matter: “she spent the entire weekend laying the living fuck out of them.”

“B-but they’re…” Poor Veronica couldn’t stop gulping, clearing her throat, crossing her legs, and adjusting her tight skirt on her pelvis. “There are, what, twelve of them?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sixteen?!” I couldn’t believe it. No: I couldn’t accept it. “You’re saying that she fucked sixteen men in a single night?”

“Again, no, not a single night.” Her eyes glimmered with both loathing and passion: “a single session. They met on Friday. The first bodies arrived on the hospital on Monday.”

“Oh, my god!’ Veronica covered her mouth, standing on the tip of her toes. “Are they okay?”

“Two are in… fuck. I can’t believe I’m saying it.” She shook her head and sighed. “Two are under intensive care. Most of the others are fine, but they’ll take a week… weeks to recover. Only Mr. Johnson was discharged, and that’s because she’d left him for last.”

I gulped. “For last?”

“Yes. According to the boys, she said he was ‘by far the most appetizing lay of the night.’ She treated the other boys are mere entrees before the banquet. She said—and again, I don’t believe I’m saying that—that he’d be ‘the first man worthy of her cunt in this whitey country,’ and that she would ‘lay him like only African gods can.’” She gave us that same look: “you shouldn’t be thinking what you are thinking. You haven’t seen the X-rays. I have.” She shuttered. “Three of the guys had their pelvises crushed. Two of them has their femurs dislocated. One will not be able to walk sooner than a month, and five others are so malnourished we had to hook them on machines to inject nutrients back into their veins. They said that, once that monster locked her gaze on them, the minimum she’d last with them was three hours each. They said she fucked four, even five of them simultaneously. One told me she fucked him for eight hours unendingly until he passed out and woke up in the hospital bed.”

“You can’t be serious.”

She took a phone from her pocket and showed us images of the crime scene: “please, don’t tell anyone I showed you this. It’s actually forbidden to take pictures of our patients, but fuck me, what the hell was I supposed to do? Just listen to their stories without a lick a proof? I ain’t being this naïve. Here’s the result of her sex marathon.”

She swiped through the pictures with her thumb, showing us row after row of broken up bodies and beat up males. Though we expected to see something ugly, we didn’t know it would be that gruesome.

The bodies just kept getting worse and worse with each swipe, some of them barely looking alive. “Jesus Christ! Were they hit by a truck?”

“Well, even a truck wouldn’t be that bad.”

“Is she into some kinky shit? Seriously, look at this one: he’s completely twisted! From head to skin, his all purple and bloated, and his limbs all look twisted.”

“No ‘kinky shit,’ at least that I know of. It’s just her body and her prey.” She adjusted the glasses on her nose. “There is something peculiar about her, though. Something I think you would be very interested in knowing.”

We turned our hungry gazes to her, no longer concealing out raging curiosity. “What, what, what?”

“Here. Look at this.”

“Eww!” We immediately turned our faces away. The pictures were now of their gaping anuses and stretched-out pelvises. One of them had an asshole so widened it’s like someone had been fisting him all weekend long. “What the fuck has she done to them?”

“She fucked them.” Our girlfriend, though, felt the need to be more precise: “she penetrated them.”

“Penetrated them with what?” We were met with silence. “You told us she didn’t use anything but her body.”

“Yes. I have told you that.”

“Then how could she have left them in this state? Jesus Christ,” we kept seeing the images, “are all of them like this?”

“All of them. They won’t take a shit without great pain in under a few months, I tell ya.”

“Then how did she do it? There’s no way a woman can do that just with her pelvis! Did she use a strap-on, like I do with Veronica?”

“Heather, please.”

“Oh, come on, Vee-vee.” I took her hand. “Everyone knows I fuck ya lika a mustang.”

She smirked. “You fuck like a beast. I can’t help but to…” She fawned. “Take every inch and every ounce of your power.”

“You two done?”

“Please, tell us. Stop teasing us so: what did she use to leave these men so torn-up and wrecked? Fuck, this one has literally been torn up in the ass. Jesus! You had to stich the poor fuck back up! Did she fist him or what?”

She was trying hard not chuckle at us. “For two strong, independent women like you, you have a very strange lack of imagination.”

“So it’s not a strap on, is it?”

“No, Heather. I told you already: she used only her body.”

“So, her fists.”

“No.” She raised her eyebrows. “She’s into no such kinks. If anything, she’s rather conservative: most of these men were destroyed in simple missionary.”

“Then how…?”

We both shut up. The gears in our brains only then began to turn.

“Now you understand, don’t ya? Or do you want me to spell it all out to you?”

Our hearts began to race. Our legs, to weaken. “Is she… does she have…?”

She nodded. “She’s a hermaphrodite. A very perfect one, as far as they told me.”

“A hermaphro…”

“It means she’s got a cock, Veronica. A cock as well as one tight, massive cunt!”

“Oh, my!”

“What kind of cock?”

“The kind of cock that leaves asses in this state.” She showed me a particularly gruesome picture of an anus inches wider than my own fist. “I wish I had any pictures. Sadly, none of them had the chance to take one of her before she… uh, massacred them all.”

“Holy fuck.”

Something began to change in our friend: she was touching her neck and her hair more often, clearing her throat, crossing her legs, as if her inner turmoil was finally taking the best of her professional demeanor. Once her cheeks flushed and her face was filled with warm colors, we realized she was horny as fuck. “A perfect hermaphrodite, I mean… can you believe it? They told me she’s not just ‘a male,’ but a very endowed one. In fact, when talking about her genitalia, all the men seemed to go into a paralysis state, as if the horror (or the humiliation) was too great even after everything they told us.” She walked closed and confided: “they told me she’s an elephant. Like, really, really big. Bigger than any woman being, even as big as a horse.” The hallway rumbled with the combined echoes of our gulping. Our throats were as dry as the Sahara, but that didn’t prevent us from moving even closer and begging for more intel—which our friend was more than happy to provide: “I have no exact numbers, but one guy told us she was much bigger and thicker than his whole forearm…”

“Oh, come on. That is impossible!”

“Huh, I wasn’t finished, Heather: she’s bigger than his forearm… when she’s limp.”

The silence. One could hear our three hearts beating in unison. “W… h… a… t…?”

“I don’t believe it either.” Again, she showed us the pictures. “However, the X-rays don’t lie: they were penetrated by something much longer than twenty inches and thicker than five inches. Even if they were just exaggerating and the dick isn’t really so humongous, no doubt can be cast upon her strength.” She showed us more images of their internal organs, which seemed to be all messed up from their guts to their stomachs. “You know the ones on intensive care? They had to undergo surgery to reconstruct their guts. She torn them to shreds, real freaky shit. Honestly, they wouldn’t have had it this bad if they took a literal sledgehammer to their asses. She should be charged for attempted homicide, I tell you.” Still, our friend licked her lips. “What freak of nature possesses such a penis and such a power to leave sixteen men such an absolute and complete wreck? Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

More than making us wonder, it made us obsessed. She wasn’t the only one with information about that prodigious student, we eventually learned, as the “survivors” of her plight multiplied with the passing of the days and the weeks. From all trembling lips in all exhilarated faces we heard the same ole story, piecing together the new nuggets of intel as they were presented to us: “the balls! The balls of that woman!” The terrified face of a once proud bodybuilder made us gulp and adjust the skirts in our pelvises. “I could hear the semen coursing inside those two giant things!”

His terror, his trembling, the fact that he’d been walking for days on crutches, we noticed it all, yet the fear didn’t halt our curiosity: “she’s got balls?!” By the way his head trembled as he nodded, we could see he was just as confused as we were.

“Yeah, s-she’s got balls, and she knows how to use them. I mean,” he rubbed his face, “they’re full. Always full! Just as she cums, she produces more semen. I never saw a woman… well, a creature cum as much as that monster did, and I’m into this thing!”

“How does she, well…” I was ashamed of asking such questions, but in face of that discovery, well, my pride be damned! “How does she compare to your other lovers?”

He would have laughed if he wasn’t so scared. “She doesn’t. There’s just no comparing a normal person to that… that…” He shuttered. “That abomination.” Then he looked at us. “I thought you two were tireless freaks in the bed…”

“Oh, thank you.”

“…but you’re not.”

“Oh.”

“You’re nothing compared to her. Not by a mile.”

I stepped forth. Now things were personal. “You couldn’t hold a candle to either of us! Each of us exhausted you on our own, let alone the two of us together.”

“I’m not saying, Heather, that you’re bad. No way. You two are the greatest women on Earth when it comes to sex. Like, you have no peer, no competition! I always thought I was quite a stud, but you two taught me what sex was really like—and for that, my sweethearts, you have my thanks.”

“So why do you…?”

He shut us both by raising his hand. “You have no peers among normal people, but that woman… that abomination!… I wouldn’t put her on your level, ever, for she doesn’t belong to us, you know, mere people, mere humans, but,” he gulped, “maybe demons. Or angels. Or gods.”

“Come on, now you’re pushing it.” But we both froze as he looked at us with such scary seriousness.

“The things she did to me… to us!…” He leaned down to his knees, resisting the urge to curl in a fetal position. “She’s not human. She cannot be. She destroyed us, Heather, I mean it! I’m the only one, it appears, who survived to tell the tale.”

Indeed, it’s been weeks since we’d seen the rest of his gang: he and five other guys, always together, always loud and merry, picking up all the chicks who were into muscles and cocky personalities. Now, that poor man, once the king of all muscle heads, had been reduced to shrivel of his former, jock-y self: “ain’t no comparing. She’s not human. S-she’s…” For a moment, it was if he was staring at the heart of darkness. “She’s not human!”

“Why did you even get together? I thought you were too macho to ever play the pegged type.”

Silence. It was clear there was still too much for the poor, broken male to unpack. Slowly, a defeated smiled appeared on his face. “I was, wasn’t I? Well, I guess I thought so. I won’t deny I was ‘curious’ about her after hearing what she did to… well, everybody else. I was curious, yes, but that’s not what drove me to her. She fucked Marissa, you know?”

“Marissa? Ah.” We remembered: “your girl?”

“My ex, I guess. Doesn’t make a lotta difference. We weren’t that close, anyway, but damn!, she was still my lay, and that African slut fucked her under my nose! That couldn’t stand! I went after her to take, uh, satisfaction.”

Silence. If we leaned in any further, we would have laid on his body. “And?”

No immediate answer. Poor bastard still had a lot to chew. “The bitch challenged us. ‘I hear your guys are the biggest studs out here.’ She knew about us. She didn’t even blink before putting her finger on my pecs and saying: ‘I challenge you to a fight. Let’s see how long you last with me.”

“A fight?”

“I knew what she meant. Me and the boys thought ‘alright, fine, easy pussy.’ It would be a great way to get revenge and get laid.” Again, he curled up into himself, and his soul seemed to leave his body. “H-how long does she last? I-I’ve been hearing stories, you know…”

“Hey, honey, I think you’re getting distrac-”

He just kept speaking, though, like a machine on autopilot, his mind turned mere voicemail: “I’ve heard she can fuck for days. I don’t doubt it. With a penis like that…” His legs were spread out, maybe to give his crotch a bit of cool air. “We didn’t last long. Not as long as these stories go. In the end, we were weak. Not nearly the strong studs we always thought we were.” His hands went down to his crotch, gripping it as if to protect what little remained. “Each of us blanked out in under an hour. I was the last of her ‘crop,’ as well as the one who lasted the longest. She knew it, for just as she dropped Dario’s unconscious body on the pile of my other defeated dudes, she walked over me and said: ‘come. Try and dominate me. If you managed to cram your ant-sized cock on my asshole, I will forever be your sex slave.’ There was no other side to that challenge, you see. The arrogant fuck didn’t even feel like thinking about it: of course she was going to win!”

“Did you, like, got aggressive?”

“Of course we did!” For the first time, we finally got a peek of his former, stronger self: “I went after her like a fighter. I really wanted to punish that bitch, to pummel her with my fists, but every time I tried to push her into the ground, every time I tried to subdue her…” The words, along with his breath, appeared to have been eluding him. “She. Just. Shrugged it off! Like this, like I was nothing! I punched and kicked that bitch in the balls, yet she just laughed at me. At one point, she almost broke my arm, twisting it like this, really nasty, just to prove her point: that goddess…” He covered his mouth. His lips had blabbered something only his mind should know: “that bitch, even after five hours of fucking, could take me down with an arm under her back and not a drop of sweat in her whole body!”

“You mean… literally? Not a drop of sweat?”

Every time he raised his face to us, his expression was sunken deeper and deeper into existential despair. “Yes. I don’t believe she sweated after the whole ordeal. Not that I can know, anyway: I passed out after two hours of ‘fighting.’ She commented that I was ‘a very good man’ for lasting so long, and that ‘only’ eight other people in her life had lasted longer. Eight people, you see! I bet that whore remembers the names and faces of all of them. How many people does that bitch fuck? Anyway, doesn’t matter. All I care about now is Andre, Percy, all the gang. Haven’t heard about them in a while. She told me I was strong, and that I should be proud for lasting so long, but still my ass didn’t stop bleeding for three days, and only yesterday did I really begin to walk properly back again. If I was the strong one, Lord knows what happened to the ‘weakest.’ If all these rumors hold water, they might still be at the hospital as we speak.”

As we would later find out, yes, two of them were indeed at the hospital—one in grave condition. “She’s making quite a reputation for herself, you see.” Another friend told us: “word says the higher-ups are considering some ‘corrective measures.’ She’s starting to affect the performance of whole classes, not to mention the lives she’s putting on the line with her… oh!…” She adjusted the shirt on her massive, bouncing cleavage. “Performance!”

Veronica and I looked at each other and smiled. “You said you slept with her. How come you’re not, you know, dead or something? How come you’re still in one piece?”

The tall, gorgeous vixen crossed her legs. Her eyes were still full of passion as she looked at us, even though it’s been months since we last made love. “You know, Heather, Veronica, you’re still going to be the best lays of my life, and I really can’t thank you enough… oh!… for the things you taught me. The things you made me feel!”

I gave her palm a gentle squeeze. “Always a pleasure. Now, you can thank us by telling us everything.”

“Sure.” She blushed. “You were my best lovers. My best, uh, lesbian romances, if I can put it this way. Actually, you were better than any woman or man, but that’s a given, right? This woman, however… you see, I wouldn’t even classify her a ‘woman’ because… oh, honey, please, I hope you’re not offended, but this student,” she fawned, “she’s on a league of her own. She’s not, like, a normal person, and more like…”

“A goddess?”

Blushing even harder, she tried looking away. “How did you know?”

“You’re not the first person we talk to. Is she really that good?” We saw her nod in silence, almost in shame. “How come you’re still in one piece, then?”

“She’s not aggressive when she knows we’re not into that. I actually never met one of these ‘horror stories’ that are multiplying across campus. I mean, sure, I heard about them, even fingered myself by thinking about them, but I never met one of these people. She’s actually a hell of a lover. I think…” He fanned herself. “Fuck. I’m thinking I’m falling in love.”

Eyebrows were raised. “You’re not the one for falling in love like this.”

“I know, right? Call it addiction, then. I’ve been trying to get back into her dick, but the bitch’s busy, you see. Anyone who’s seen her or heard about her wants to at least spend an hour alone with her, and it seems that uncaring whore, uh, is more than happy to oblige.” He crossed her arms and looked away. “Fuck, can’t believe I’m jealous.”

She wasn’t the only one. “Compared to us, how is she?”

She pretended to not understand. “Compare to you? I mean, well, I told ya, right: there’s no point comparing.”

“Bullshit.” I slapped the table. “Tell us straight: is she really so much better than us?” We saw her shamefully nod. “How much?”

“Oh, Heather, come on…”

I stood up. My size was enough to cast a shadow over her entire being, but that was not the only thing intimidating her: my anger, by that point, was clear and transparent as the waters in the Caribbean. It was a matter of pride, and my pride was fucking shredded! “Quit bullshitting us: comparing that bitch to us, how much better is she? Twice as good? Three times?”

“There’s no saying that.”

“Oh, go fuck y-”

“No, Heather, you don’t get it: even if I were to put a number, there would be no point to it, for I don’t believe any number is that great. Two times, three times, fuck, ten times… none of this even comes close to describing her.”

I sat down, and Veronica cast me a hopeless look. “You mean…?”

“She’s infinitely superior. If I were to describe her, that’s the word I would use: infinity. She’s just… god! There’s no end to that woman’s might!”

“Even with us…?”

“Yes. Even with you being the best lovers I’ve ever had until I met her, and by a wide margin; even with you being two of the most spectacularly well-endowed ladies the world has ever seen, with muscles to put any man to shame and enough stamina to outlast a god… you’d still pale in comparison to that woman, who no ‘woman,’ but really a goddess. The goddess of sex, I’d say, like she’d fallen straight from black Olympus.”

Despite all those testimonies, as well as the constant trembling of our legs, we still refused to throw the towel. A crown, after all, is not so easily taken—or at least it shouldn’t be! “You’re not thinking straight. There’s no way anyone can be that good.”

She nodded, almost agreeing with us. “If by ‘anyone’ you  mean ‘human,’ well, I guess you have a point. She, however, is no human, but a literal…”

“Ah, fuck it. I’m through with this bullshit!”

I wasn’t. If anything, Veronica and I were now crawling all over the walls with fascination for that mythic woman-stud. Could anyone really be so godly at sex? And her genitalia? Could they really be so massive as everyone said they were, let alone so beautiful, so powerful? It pained us to admit, but that bitch was slowly infecting our minds—and our cunts. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Heather.” Veronica whispered while laying on me, our naked bodies sweaty and steamy after a three-hour course of fucking.

“Mm, me too. To be honest, I was kinda thinking about her when I was fucking you.” My fingers carefully travelled over her cheeks, pinching and fondling them, prepping them before I leaned for a kiss. “I imagined I was her. Fucking you.”

“You sure gave me cum like a goddess.” She kissed me back. “There’s no way she can be better than this. No fucking way! Must be some African drug she’s giving all these people, to make them hallucinate such crazy things.”

“Yeah, probably. There’s only one way to know, though.” We went on to fuck for five more hours before putting any more thought to the matter, however. The very next day, another discovery slapped us in the face: not only was she a sex freak, it appeared she was as good in the classroom as she was in the bed—and by that, I mean: she was really freaking smart!

The revelation fell on us like a bomb as a copy of her grades seemed to have been leaked from the university’s directory. It quickly made rounds amongst all the students, who were just as baffled as we were: “I mean, is there anything that whore can’t do?!” I stared in disbelief at her grades on my phone: all an endless stream of A-pluses and perfect 100s. “Holy shit! A four-point GPA score? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Veronica took the phone out of my hand, clearly hoping to laugh at what could only be a gross exaggeration: “alright! I’m not gonna fall for… shit!!” Her eyes met the numbers. Her jaw dropped on the spot. “Is this legit?” Her thumbs scrolled through the pages madly, her nostrils puffing like they wanted to release some steam. “No, no, it can’t be! How can this bitch ace tests that even I found impossible to finish?! Fuck! Some of these tests couldn’t even be aced in theory!”

“There’s no such a thing as tests that can’t be aced, you dum-dum.”

“But look at it! Holy fucking shit, she literally aced everything!” Then, a maniacal laughter burst from her lips. She looked thinner and sicklier in a matter of seconds, and her eyes were crazed, frenzied, like her mind was just a hair trim away from slipping. “I whoop my ass off studying, with barely enough time for food or sleep, and here this cunt comes alone and performs better than even an Albert Einstein would!”

“Mm, Einstein was kinda of a bad student? She’s, like, Jimmy Neutron levels of smart.” I took my phone back. “Really cartoonish.”

Veronica was pulling her hair off. Unlike me, who never cared too much about grades, she wanted a career in a corporate environment where grades like those were mightily important. If only she could make money out of her killing physique, or modelling! Not that there were no offers, but that is beyond the point: it pained me to see my friend, who spent so long studying to only get by, get her (muscular and hard) ass handed to her by a foreigner who shouldn’t even be able to speak proper English, let alone ace tests that even the smartest and fawniest of nerds ever could. Should her performance continue like that, in a single year she’d probably become the most accomplished student in the nation, if not the world. “Only those Harvard freaks can be smarter than her—and even then I have my doubts. Like, these grades…”

“They’re not real!” She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along.

“Wait, let go of me! Fuck, you maniac. What’s going on with you?”

“We have to see it! We have to confirm that those grades are really true!”

“Are you crazy? Do you forget that these were stolen from the archives? If we appear at the student’s bureau, we’re going to…”

Then I shut and gulped once she turned to me those eyes oozing with blood and hatred: “I don’t give a flying FUCK!!” Her scream echoed in the corridor, and many heads turned to pry on us. “I’ll have to see this with my own eyes!”

I wish she didn’t. Usually pure and submissive, Veronica became a lioness of hatred, a goddess of vengeance once the committee confirmed her worst fears: “you know, it’s illegal what you’ve just done.”

“We were not the ones who stole these papers. We’re just here to confirm if they really are true!”

“You know I can’t say anything about this, right? This is private information.”

“Private information is my CUNT!” The entire office froze. Heads were turned, ears were spiked. God, I wish I could flush myself out of the room, like a silly cartoon character, but the gravity of her actions seemed to completely elude my friend’s senses: “just tell me if these are real or not! I don’t care if I get suspended!”

“This is not about you, you know, Veronica.”

To my shock… were those tears? Tears on Veronica’s eyes. “Hey, Ron-ron.” I touched her triceps and gave them a gentle squeeze. Her body shuttered, her muscles making her clothes stretch and writhe.

“I work so damn hard! How come this foreign bitch can just waltz in, without a care in the world, and conquer everything I was short of trading my soul off to have? Not only grades, but all the boyfriends and girlfriends too! I…” At this point, she lost his: she covered her face and cried, her mighty body standing in stark contrast with her frailty. Giving her a tight embrace, I made both our muscles rumble. It would be comical, you know, those two giants squeezing each other, almost making the fabric of their shirt rupture, but it was pretty agonizing—at least to me. Veronica had always had a bit of an “edge” to her personality, and it was maddening to see it finally manifesting the darkest she’d been harboring in her soul for so damn long.

My eyes were already apologizing to the counselor before my lips did it: “I’m sorry, Emma. We had other things going on, you see.”

“It’s fine.” She looked to her sides, trying not to get anymore unwanted attention as she pushed us out of the room. “Normally, I’d have your asses suspended, but… well, they’re lovely asses.” She fumbled my hard, prominent buttocks, and we both gave each other naughty smiles as we stood in a short and empty corridor. “I still remember what you did to my pussy. Fuck!” Her eyes rolled. “After that fucking, trust me, you get a free pass anytime you want.”

“You’re looking even better now than last time, Emmy.” I touched her waist. It was thin and toned, quite an Instagram-perfect shape for a forty-year-old woman with three kids. “Looking good, feeling even better.” I winked. “What you been doing, girl?”

I hugged Veronica tighter as Emma crossed her legs and blushed before us. “What you told me to: I’m hitting the gym at least thrice a week now. Gotta confess,” she flexed one biceps, and the sleeve of her shirt was tested by the swelling of her gun, “it feels fucking awesome to get in shape.”

“You’re a warrior! I’ve got to admit,” my hands did most of the talking, though, fondling her sides and her hips, squeezing her firm buttocks and counting the muscles in her abs, “damn. You’re so fuckable.” Her eyes gleamed. Soon, they were raptured by mine: “damn, girl. I’d do you like a beast, right here, right now, in the snap of a finger, if you wanted to.”

Her thumbs and index fingers trembled, really tempted to test my words. “Fuck.” She swooned. “If only men had half your audacity, Heather.”

“They’re probably be jailed for rape, let’s be honest.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. But you’re…” She touched my belly, feeling my insane hardness and size under my ever-tight uniform. “Damn. You’re impossible to say ‘no’ to.”

I stepped forward. Indeed, there was no beautiful woman (or man) to whom I too would say ‘no’ to if they gave me even the slightest opening. I would take her fat fucking lips and ram my tongue all the way down to her throat, if she let me, but sadly she placed her hands on my belly, almost touching my breasts as she stopped me on my tracks. “No. Another day, please, another time. I’ve got so much to do.”

“Let’s do it. Now.” I fondled her cheeks. “You only have me to do!”

To my surprise, however… “Don’t be too cocky now. You’re not the only lesbian womanizers in town anymore.”

We both shuttered upon hearing those words, and now it was my turn to feel a little of the pain and the wrath that shook Veronica to her core. “What do you mean by that?”

“I think you know what I mean.” She turned around and walked back very slowly to her room, teasing us with a constant jiggle of her butt. “You know, you might have bodies of steel, but sometimes a lady needs more than tongue and fingers. I quite don’t care a lot about the great grades of that foreigner, you see, but her great… endowment…” She swooned. “Hot damn! No wonder you feel so outclassed, girls.” She winked and gave us a kiss. “That’s life, though! Some people just have everything! What can you do, right?”

And there she went, leaving us both frozen, FRAIL, and fuming. “Veronica.” My voice barely left me, heavy and wrathful as it was.

“You thinking the same as me, Heather?”

“Yes.” I punched my fists and cracked my knuckles. “Let’s end that fucking bitch!”

* * * * * *

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The Doll who Loved me

The Doll who Loved me — Chapter 1: The purchase of love

Credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-in-black-and-white-stripe-dress-shirt-sitting-on-chair-in-front-of-macbook-4069292/

“I wish I was loved.”

His fingers hovered on the keyboard. Tits. His eyes gazed upon two glorious breasts. He moved the mouse cursor over the “size” option, clicked the dropdown menu, and hovered over the many available options: C, double-C, D-, double-D, E, double-E, F, double-F.

The standard was double-C, which was still some of the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. He’d rarely consumed porn. Too fake. Too ugly. «Porn women ain’t real women,» he used to think. They were, however, much more real than that, weren’t they?

He wasn’t sure. Those breasts looked much more natural—much more real—than the breasts he’d ever seen in porn. Only the titillating titties of film stars, in the rare moments when they were allowed to shine onscreen, could compare. For all purposes, those breasts were real and gorgeous—yet he wondered if they could be even more so.

He clicked on the double-D option. His eyes almost left his skull. He spread his legs a bit, adjusting his posture on the chair, and felt the fire burning in his groin. Those were truly astounding tits.

«Jesus!» He was amazed by the realness of the pair: their softness, their roundness, their hazelnut shape. It seemed too good to be true—and, given his line of work, a pinch of skepticism was always warranted. After all, there were only images were available. A video or two wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it? Unless the sellers were trying to hide something.

«Still… looks so good, though!»

Yes, it did, and for a damn good reason: if there was a brand that could only stand to lose with false advertisement, it was that one. The most expensive dolls in the market, and one of the few notable companies of its kind that had managed to break into the mainstream: the big papers, the big shows, the big tellies, it seemed that everyone had written or talked about it. Celebrities had gone on camera to gush about their experiences with their products. Sex houses in the Old Riverlands even offered them for people who preffered them over real women—real whores, that is.

“More real than the real deal” was their tagline, and his hard penis seemed to concur. «Fucking… hot!» He found himself rubbing one thigh on other, stimulating his member, even touching and rubbing his pants with his palm, nearly hypnotized into jerking himself off. He shook his hand and moved his warm, cock-smelling fingers back to the mouse.

«Fuck. If this is the reaction a fucking doll has on me…»

He didn’t finish his trail of thoughts. The rest of it was clear and predictable, yes, but still he felt like he should have finished it. When he spoke, in fact, rare was the sentence that ended up intact. He mostly broke them in the middle, too afraid and too ashamed for having spelled them in the first place.

With pressure in the back of his eyes, he selected the largest option: double-F. Now the breasts, once glorious and gorgeous, were bloated into abnormal ballons of titflesh—so much tit that the damned milkers went down to the woman’s navel. He had to click on the previous option several times, instinctively, just too erase that hideous image off his head. He didn’t judge it, though. There certainly were people who liked that sort of stuff. «People will fuck anything, really.» He looked to his own body. «Except me, I guess.»

The double-D breasts were big—massive, in fact—but still believably so. He liked breasts that huge and shapely, much more than most men. The thought of their fertility aroused him. The perfection of the dolls nipples made him pucker his lips and gently suck in the air. He wanted to eat those tits and suck their imaginary milk. Were those globbets of mommy love real, they would certainly be lush, hot, and delightful to touch, never for a day dry of their creamy content, their life-giving nectar.

He was so much closer to the screen, puckering his lips like he was trying to kiss it. He spent so long looking at that doll that he’d basically forgot it was night already, and that most of his room was falling into darkness. Only the burning of the screen in his eyes woke him up. When he straightened up and moved his chair back, his penis hit the top of his desk, forming a visible tent on his pants—a small tent, but a tent nonetheless. At the tip, he could already see a moist, sticky smudge in the fabric. He was lubricating himself, but not yet so aroused that he felt he needed to leave the bedroom and let off some steam—and spunk—in the bathroom.

«Damn!» He bit his lips. «The breasts even got weight on them!» He loved the way the tits arched down on the chest, pulled by gravity. Their silicon (and whatever materials they were made of) was so smooth it actually behaved like real skin in a real breast of such size—or at least, well, how he imagined a real breast would behave. It was firm, yet still meaty; dense and heavy like it was full of milk and healthy fat, but still soft in a very natural, human way.

He spent maybe half an hour looking at those knockers, gawking at their shape, rubbing his penis between his thighs. When he accidently zoomed out and had another look at the full body of his goddess, he very nearly lost it.

She was even hotter the second time around. Exactly his type. «Oh, Jesus!» Poor boy was nearly drooling! Her name was Yara (spelled “Iara,” but who cares), and the site described her as “powerful queen of a long-lost Amazonian tribe.” They even had a cute bio for her, story and all. Just the right amount of cheese to be served with good wine:

Yara is a tall, muscle-bound Amazon for the fearless soldier who love ‘em rough. A goddess amongst queens, leader of women and lover of men, endowned with mystical powers of the forest spirits, this steadfast, unwearying warrior is a match for any men in both the battlefield and the bed. An avid horse-rider and thirsty cock-rider. Are you strong enough to take on her? Nights of fire and fury await!

She stood at exactly six feet tall, and had enough muscle to set herself leagues above even very fit ladies. She clearly belonged to a more risqué, niche selection of the company, and her price tag dearly reflected that.

She wasn’t no monster. She wasn’t no lady either. She was, indeed, like a comic book superheroine, only a little more buff. She had aggressive, bountiful breasts and butt paired with a lady-like trim waist, wide hips, and legs big and powerful as a horse’s. Her construction was so perfect he could even see the strains of the muscle fibers on her thighs, which themselves were each as thick as his own whole waist.

She was big. She was buff. A true gem in an otherwise very samey, predictable roster of babes. Her rareness was only accentuated by a glaring red text blinking above her pictures: “LAST UNITS REMAINING!”

Very few dolls had that sign. «Fuck!» He hated to be pressured for a buy, and he knew how those lame sales techniques worked. On the other hand, he usually could sense when such pressure was valid. Though he had flirted with that kind of buy for a long time, only now did everything seem to align: he had his own apartment and enough savings for such a purchase to not sting him (well, not too much).

«Hundred and fifty grand.» That doll was basically a car. «Fuck.»

It seemed fair, however. She was so tall and thick she easily used up more silicon than two, if not three regular dolls. «She’s just! So! Big!» He admired the thick veins carefully sculpted on her arms. «She’s just… so… pretty.»

Perfect. She felt perfect for him. Even after many years admiring girls of that body-type, he’d never actually found one quite so… right. «It’s like she’s custom made for me.» A doll blue-printed straight ouf of his fantasies. He looked deep into her eyes, captivated by her smooth, royal air of serenity. She really had that stern, peaceful look of a queen, that very suble grim of someone who’s perfectly confident in her own abilities, and who doesn’t need to brag or flaunt them even in the face of the staunchiest opponents.

She was, in short, so completely unlike him.

For a moment, the price didn’t seem to matter. Rather, it was whether he was worthy of even having her in the first place. «What a woman. Fuck.» Even that fake, silicon-based creature felt like too much of a woman for him.

He felt bad. Humiliated. He even considered closing the screen and going back to work—which he should have done about an hour earlier, really. It was foolish to dream with love. Better to not feed his heart any more false hopes.

His finger pressed the right button of the mouse very lightly. The muse’s stern look, however, kept him from hitting that red X on the screen. It was a firm, but caring gaze. Strong and loving. Hard and soft. Her facial features were beyond human—they were almost godly. Though her body was Spartan, her face was cherubic, like a beauty from some Mideastern background. Her skin was so much hotter and more lively than his own palish look. She struck a beautiful balance between the tenderness of Europeans and the strength of North Africans.

«She is, like… perfect. Absolutely perfect!» His eyes glided back to the annoying, blinking red sign: LAST UNITS REMAINING! It wouldn’t be a surprise if she were the very last doll in stock. He had seen that warning on some other premium offers before, and every time, once he least expected, poof!, someone bought the very last one of them, and he’d have to wait at a full year (usually longer) for them to come back on the shelves again. Some dolls weren’t even restocked, and instead replaced by new models entirely. What’s more, older dolls that happened to be resold on other places where offered for two, sometimes three times the original price—which begged the question: who the hell buys an used sex doll??

«From this company, well, I think that, for many people, it’s a risk worth taking.»

While he was thinking, the sign was blinking, the clock was ticking. His work apps were open on the taskbar of his computer, waiting for him to come back and be productive again. It was usual of him to stop in the middle of labor and just… daydream. To peruse useless shit online while thinking about better, more exciting things to do—things he’d never had the balls to do, and never would have.

A trip, a better job, a fresh start. «So many more people have such a worse time that I do!» He thought, punishing himself for being so ungrateful. «Such a worse lot in life.» He looked around his room, which was clean, organized, almost asceptic. «I could be worse off. So much worse off.»

If this line of thinking ever brought him any confort, though, he’d be the happiest man alive. Instead, it only got him mad. Or madder.

The powerful woman kept looking at him, her face both the same and slightly different at every gaze. More compassionate, even. It was like she knew what was going on in his mind; almost like… she was the one—and only one!—who could confort him in those times of need.

He couldn’t find the strength to close his browser—not when that could be the last time he’d ever see her again. «It went for sale yesterday. Yesterday!» He thought, biting his nails. «This red sign wasn’t there when I first saw her. Now, it’s almost out of stock.» Her face was so serene he could hear the waves of a calm ocean in it. «Like she’s begging me to buy her!» Like she was meant to be his!

His indecision got to a point where he found it easier to just get up his seat and walk in circles around his condo—not that it was a very long walk anyway: his apartment was just his bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room slash dining room, and a decently-sized storeroom, with a tiny corridor linking all them together—his bedroom and bathroom to one side, the store and kitchen to the other, and the dining/living room in the beginning of the hallway. It wasn’t considered a studio proper, but only because of some foxy technicality the realters used to upsell that property. It wasn’t a football field worth of space, no, and it wasn’t even his (being rented for a hefty price every six months at a time), but still… it was home—and much better than anything he’d ever thought he would ever get in life.

He walked around the place like it was his very first time. «So calm. So peaceful. Neither downtown, nor the suburbs.» He liked going to his tiny balcony and smelling the fresh air from that twelveth floor, from where he could see the calm ocean shimmering under the placcid northern skies. It was cold—almost bone-chillingly so—but he loved it that way. It made him fell much safer than the unstable, unforgiving hotness of his homeland.

Calmed by the view of the ocean, cooled by the air and the hypnotic sight of the few cars whistling by the streets below, he walked back into his bedroom, where the Amazon goddess still awaited. «You are never going to see me again,» she told him clearly, with all the words.

He looked down. His head felt heavy. A hundred and fifty grand were no piss money. «But, anyway, what else do I have to do with it?» He had worked for so long and lived for so little that he ended up sitting on a pile of cash. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it, for all those efforts to feel like… a waste? If there was one purchase his cash would be useful for, wouldn’t that one be the purchase of love? «Love. I will buy myself some love.»

He sat on the chair, his muse looking much softer, much warmer on the screen. That body! That tall, strong body! How firm and lovely should be her embrace, how tender and confident would her lips feel on his neck!

He refreshed the page. The dool was still there, but the sign… it seemed to be blinking faster, didn’t it? More unforgiving. It was now or never.

«Fuck.» He browsed through the many options for his doll, selecting the small details (he thought) he’d like the most: the type of her hair, the varnish on her nails, the texture of her skin, the color of her eyes. «Green.» He thought, finding the whole combination with her Middle Eastern skin very fascinating. «She looks absolutely beautiful with strong, Northern green eyes!» And so he chose it, going on to other details he felt a little embarrassed even having options for—like, were there really that many shapes of vagina in the world?

In the end, once he had assembled his perfect woman, he clicked the big, yellow buttom at the end of the page, and then only a credit card payment screen separated him from his true love.

He scrambled to find his card. Everything was tidy in his desk, and he wondered if he was being clumsy on purpose just to delay that process and to give himself some excuse to not purchase the doll, not change some things around. It wasn’t only the cost or his insecurities that hurt the most. No. To him, to buy that doll was to admit something intolerable; a truth he’d spent his whole life running away from, but that faced him every day, every time he looked at himself in mirror: «I am undesirable.»

With the card in his trembling hand, he typed the info very quickly, looking away from the screen as he hit the big, bright yellow “proceed” button.

A few seconds passed. After a flicker of the screen, his transaction was confirmed. His love was readied for shipment.

He stood there, unmoving, not a thought in his head. Whatever was done, was done. No reason crying about it now. Just out of curiosity, he went back to the salespage and hit the refresh button one last time. The red sign above the doll was no longer blinking. Instead, the words simply stated: “OUT OF STOCK.” He leaned back on his chair and smiled. «Maybe that wasn’t a bad decision after all.»


The Doll who Loved me is a serial novel about an incel being haunted by his sex doll.

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African College Futa series, Free books

[NSFW/+18!] The African College Futa – Part 1

“Who the fuck is that girl?”

I don’t remember when I first saw her, but I do vividly remember how my body responded to her: shock! Paralysis! Freezing! I literally froze in place and shuttered, feeling a cold tingling up my spine as the transfer student strolled by potently across the hallway.

All the students seemed to have been struck by a similar reaction: they heads were turning, their minds spinning, and their jaws were dropping as they witnessed that titan walk.

I know that Veronica was by my side, though, when she answered: “I…” She gulped. “I d-don’t know.” We would later find out everything about that beauty, but at the moment we were just too awestruck, too staggered by that threatening figure to do (or think) much else. Time seemed to have accelerated many decades in a minute, for in the blink of an eye we were back in class, with our books in our hands and our minds still dizzy. «Who the fuck was that woman?»

Edita. Her name was Edita. She was said to come from a noble African family, though her features made her look like from somewhere in the Caribbean. “Nah, she’s definitely Africa.” Some of our friends, as awestruck as us, pointed out. “Look at her skin! You don’t find that beautiful shade of dark anywhere in the Caribbean. Well, Jamaica, maybe, but even then.”

“Ain’t all about the skin, though.” Another girl said. “It’s, like, her features, her face. Her bone structure is, like, so European.”

“Yeah. Definitely. She’s much more of a Nordic type of face. Though much more beautiful, in my opinion.”

“Her hair!” Veronica said. We were all basically fawning over her. “I mean, her hair is unmistakably ‘foreign,’ isn’t it? Not exactly that ‘black power’ kind of hair, but still so curly and expansive.”

“Is she redhead?”

We tried spying on her. In those first days of college, the mysterious freshmen always dined alone. “I don’t think so. She’s more like light-brown.”

“Nope, she’s definitely redhead.” Our friend moved her body clumsily, trying to catch a glimpse of her in a different position. “But you gotta see it right. She’s so dark, indeed, that’s it’s hard to…”

“Shh, she saw us! Everybody act normal!”

Thanks to our friend’s movements, the freshman looked straight at our table, and we avoided looking at her while nonetheless stripping her for any piece of information we could gather. She just was too fascinating for anyone to ignore. “Is she still looking at us?”

“Yep. She is.”

“Fuck. She’s got a good eye, doesn’t it?”

“She’s smiling. Fuck. Judging by her face, she’s got a good ear too.”

She was on the very other end of the dinner, and the place was packed with loud, talkative students. “Come on! No ways she’s hearing us from all the way over there.”

But she was, or at least that’s what her stance betrayed. “Fuck, I have to confess: I’m horny as hell for her!”

“Gee, Bianca, get a grip.”

“She’s so big, Heather!” Bianca jumped on her seat, leaning across the table to touch my fists. “She’s even bigger than you and Veronica!”

Both me and Veronica bit our lips. “Tsc!” We said almost at the same time. We didn’t want to admit it out loud, but we didn’t need to: anyone with eyes could clearly see that the exchange student, coming straight from the jungle depths of Africa, was far taller and bigger than us both. In the gym, we actually hoped to see just how bigger and stronger she actually was, but the damned bitch never showed up there—not even once!

“Have you seen the exchange student?” Veronica asked me while doing a fourth set of biceps reps.

“No.” I puffed out loudly, pulling up a 400lbs bar. “Haven’t seen that bitch anywhere close to here!” I let go of the weight and leaned back on the wall, basking on the many lustful gazes of the students in the gym. “Does she think she’s too good for us?”

Veronica was overdoing herself. After the stranger’s arrival, she looked even more committed to her exercises than she usually was. «Well, I can’t blame her.» I looked to my massive biceps and flexed her. My shirt stretched with the simultaneous swelling of my arms and my breasts. «Fuck, I’m hard! I feel like shredding these clothes off and doing all the guys in this place!» I too felt extra powerful (and horny!) after the arrival of that mysterious, yet arrogant student. “What do you know about her?”

Veronica laid her weighs on the ground and rested on the wall, mimicking my posture. “Little to nothing. People say all she does is study.”

A great sense of humor almost made me burst out laughing. “Fuck off!”

“No, really.” She was sincerely puzzled: “if we want to find her, we have a better shot by going to library. People say she spends all day there. She’s very studious, apparently, and doesn’t like to slack off.”

No way a woman like her—a woman of her size!—could be the bookworm type. “You saying she’s a nerd or something?” Veronica nodded. “Get outta here!”

Before she could answer, we heard the deep, rumbling voice of man walking by us: “hey, Heather. Looking good!”

I winked and rolled my tongue out, pulling my tank top with one hand while making a “V” gesture with the other. Despite his confidence, the man wasn’t quite expecting what he saw. “I mean… damn!” He stopped on his tracks. “Since when do you have an eight-pack, girl?”

“Since I laid you good, Jason.” I replied. I really wish I could be as loud and bad-mouthed as a sailor, but a lady—even one as big and muscular as I—still had to follow some etiquette. “Wonder when you’ll want to repeat the experience, baby.” Yes, this way I talked was still very mild and lady-like. Combined with my voice, which was very soft and silky, the message actually sounded way sweeter than the words implied.

Jason stepped back and gulped. His confidence quickly vanished, and a few men around him—some jealous, some as equally afraid—couldn’t help but to stare at our bodies and feel very inadequate with themselves. “Gotta confess, babe, you really… mm…”

I put my finger on my lips and shooshed him. “No need to say it, hon. I hope you didn’t spend too long without being able to walk.”

He laughed—but only half-heartedly. “Well, come on, you were not this good.”

“Not for lack of wanting, though. I just didn’t want to kill you, honey.”

His expression made it clear that he believed every single word of mine—and it was wise too, for I was really not joking. “I, uh…” He kept moving undecidedly while I and Veronica walked over to our next set of equipment. “I’m much stronger now, for your information.”

“Sure you are, six-pack.” We both laughed, pulling up out shirts and flashing our gorgeous abs to one another. For anyone, man or woman (especially woman), a six-pack would be something to be proud of, a sign of peak physical condition, but to us it was actually a derogatory expression: with eight rigid, bloated muscles on each of our bellies, we found ourselves in the unique position to belittle and laugh at those wannabe strongmen.

“I can take on both of you, if you want to.”

We laughed. The entire gym froze a little. “Oh, honey, learn your place.” I turned slightly to him before sitting on the bench, and one by one the weights were placed on it by my equally-amused Veronica. “We’re on a whole other league, babe, even for men as massive as you.”

“Don’t talk, Heather. Show.” Veronica gleefully kept adding the weighs to the already overstuffed bench. “Show this puny male what you can do—and why he or any man can never hope to outlast us!” Taken aback by her own power, my friend slid her hands down her muscular, hard, yet curvy profile. “To outfuck us. Come on!”

Puffing steam through my nostrils, I began the exercise. Half the gym seemingly stopped what it was doing to watch me push those weighs like they were nothing, my powerful thighs moving up and down while threatening to shred my lycra apart. My muscles were roaring! Repetition after repetition, I felt the heat coursed through my fibers like mustangs racing through the wilderness.

Jason’s jaw dropped lower for each rep until he just threw his arms up and walked away. “Freaks.” He muttered, but we knew his dick had shrunk a little by witnessing those legs so much more powerful than his entire body.

“I think you hurt him, Heather.”

“Grrr!! Fuck him!” After two hours of exercises, I finally felt the sweat forming on my forehead. “That arrogant fuck! It’s nice putting a petty male like him on his place.”

She pressed the bench harder and harder, drawing fawning sighs from her friend. “Damn, Heather. You’re looking so much harder, so much more muscular.” She too, like many in that gym, couldn’t help herself; the friendship between them, though, allowed her much more liberty to her displays of admiration: pumping the iron like there was no tomorrow, Heather felt in her exposed abs the nails of her desirous friend, who purred with pleasure as she felt them flexing and throbbing—muscles so powerful they were squelching audibly. “Damn, girl. You’re killing it.”

Heather stopped the press. “You feeling needy, Vee-vee?”

Veronica’s eyes glimmered. “Don’t stop.” She slapped her mighty thighs. “Keep going on.”

Heather slapped hers back. “You finding excuses not to work out, huh, you lazy cow.”

“I’m sooo attracted to you.” She confessed. It wasn’t their first time, nor would it be their last. “Pump it. Pump some iron, beautiful.” She laid her palm wholly on her leg, splurging in her smooth, model-like skin, then squeezing (or at least trying to) her massive, bloated muscle. “Pump some iron so I can feel your powerful muscles working. You’re such a mare, Heather, I swear.”

Heather benched-pressed again. The longer she exercised, the hornier Veronica appeared to be. Her breath was coarse and panting. Her neck was swelling at some points. “Yes. Yes.” She whimpered, biting her lips and gulping dry and hard. “Oh, god.” She could see the waves and ripples across the formidable musculature of her friend. She was such a machine. “Fuck. You’re so powerful.”

“Do you want to feel my power again?” Heather took one hand out of the handle and fondled Veronica’s eight-pack. “Do you?”

The beautiful blonde blushed and groaned. “I…” Her throat was so dry. “Fuck. We shouldn’t.”

Heather’s eyes glimmered with passion. “We will.”

They worked out for two more hours until calling it quits and going out to enjoy each other’s bodies on the gym’s sauna. Heather was eating Veronica’s soul out of her pussy when instructors found them amidst the steam. The heat was much superior than it should have been, and that was because of their mighty bodies: those two beautiful, over-muscular blondes were producing steam on their own! If the instructors weren’t so impressed—and aroused—by their lewd display, their punishment would have been much more severe.

“Come, Vee.” Heather picked up Veronica on her arms. “Let’s finish this off back in my place.”

Veronica was still squirting when Heather carried her out to her car, and both girls had to finish off their affairs on a fancy hotel room—the one place where Heather carried all her conquests to, as their college dorms just wouldn’t cut it. Too much noise and too much power. The complaints had been enough to warrant her a suspension.

It was a problem Veronica knew very well, though she was much less powerful than her friend. “Heather!! Oh, Heather!!” As the dominant blonde thrust into her steamy pussy, Veronica cried out and screamed. “Fuck me, how can you be so pow… oooh!!!” Then her screams multiplied and intensified into infinity. The walls of the hotel trembled.

Even in that private place, it appears they wouldn’t have sufficient privacy: the buzzer rang many times, probably with complaints from the other residents. «Fuck them!» Heather thought, punishing her friend’s cunt with her strap-on eleven-inch penis. «I will drown this bitch in orgasms nom matter what!»

Relentlessly, furiously, Heather fucked Veronica for eleven hours until they both passed out in exhaustion. Her eyes were still crazed, however, as she witnessed her friend slowly pass out. “T-too much!!” Veronica cried out. “I-i-it’s too much!” She had put an admirable fight: eleven hours of unending fucking, with every single hole of hers having been licked, sucked, fingered, and fucked out of its tightness… «phew!» Heather resisted the urge of praising her; it would be too much for her already-inflated ego. «Girls, you got some stamina!» She flexed her muscles and pounded them even harder, sensing her fainting very near. «Either you’re getting stronger or I’m getting weaker. Whatever it is,» her thrusts intensified, «I will never let my guard down. Cum!» And her friend screamed. «Cum harder and harder on my dick and my muscles!»

“Oh, Heather… Heather!!” Veronica’s voice was faint and vanishing. Her throat was just too ruined after so much screaming. Squirting a power jet on Heather’s abs, she passed out completely, and her friend could finally withdraw her prick from her and toss it aside like a champ, flexing her muscles and admiring herself in front of a mirror.

«This is what a goddess should look like.» She flexed her biceps and her abs. Her tits jolted mightily, pulling her entire torso up. «Fuck me, I’m shredded!» He saw her raw, reddened pussy. It had taken quite a beating after all those hours of fucking, but, sliding her fingers into her lips, «mmm!», she basked on the fact she still had enough energy to go on for many hours more. «I’m relentless. Ain’t no human being more powerful than me, more vigorous than… me…»

Then it occurred to her: the newcomer. «Who the fuck is that fucking bitch!» Much taller, even wider than she was, the African nerd sure looked like an obvious threat to her reign. Even though she doubted the exchange student would have a physique superior to hers, she couldn’t be sure of anything. «Based on the last time I saw her, uh… fuck. Her body was amazing!» Even though she dressed very modestly, wearing the biggest sizes the stores had available, the African challenger still looked sexy and ripped, with her clothes clinging to her massive body, which looked hard in every inch, trained to perfection by a routine of ceaseless exercises and impeccable diet. «Yet still…» Heather flexed some more in front of the mirror, trying to give herself some sense of reassurance. «She never goes to the gym. How come?!» Maybe the student was laxing. Maybe the routine on the new country was still dawning on her. However… *gulp!* Heather felt her legs shaking. Her shoulders went a little lower, her stomach churning with the impossible thought that «maybe she’s all natural. A perfect body with perfect genes.» She gulped again. It was unreasonable to feel so much fear, especially for her. Turning around, she admired her glutes and her thighs on the mirror, striking bodybuilder poses, thinking that «maybe I’m getting too big. Mm.»

Nah. There wasn’t such a thing as “too big” for women like her. As long as her feminine proportions were kept in check—a thinner waist, a rocking ass, a massive rack, and incredibly long legs—all growth was game. She was unashamed of putting up enough muscle mass on a yearly basis to scare off even a charging bull. At six feet and three inches, she had height to spare: her muscles could grow bigger and denser without sacrificing her feminine form. Yeah, maybe she was too much; maybe she really was just too heavy, too powerful, too hard, but fuck it. «Like if meant to be hot and hard!» She flexed all her muscles before the mirror, adding another two inches of height to herself, before relaxing and laying down on the bed with her friend.

Kissing Veronica tenderly, fondling her hair and squeezing her breasts, Heather couldn’t still stop thinking about her challenger. «That massive African bitch. Who the hell does she think she is?» With an uneasy feeling between her legs, the giantess rested her head on her friend’s back and finally went to sleep.

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Battle of the Amazons series

[NSFW/+18!] Battle of the Amazons 3: Eating out a Goddess

Diane should have been stronger than that. The princess of the Amazons had grown to outrageous eleven feet and six inches of height and added about a thousand pounds of muscle to her curvy, sexy body, yet now she was on the ground, cracking the floor and crushing the stone as she squirmed and panted under the tongue of her much smaller, but much abler master.

She had never felt (or even imagined she would ever feel) such power in a woman so much smaller than herself. For all her femininity, Diane always really had a manly manner to her: in her mind, size was power, and the bigger partner was always the leader in the battle of the bedsheets. Always. That’s how she fucked Amazons and led them to bone-shattering, mind-numbing orgasms, but now she was the one moaning, screaming, and crying under the superior technique of her master.

The Head Instructress, after all, was many decades older than her. Though technically immortal, the Amazons still physically age until they reach the appearance of a fifty-to-seventy-year-old lady. No one ever bothered to track the ages of anybody (or even their own!) so their declared “age” was mostly based on their physical appearance—though even that, in the case of the Head Instructress, was difficult to do.

The woman who was eating Diane out had a legendary status amongst the Amazons, meaning that her age might have as well have been into the thousands of years, but her appearance was undefinable; theoretically, Amazons so old must have resembled a fifty, even a sixty-year old vixen, but the Instructress seemed, even under the least generous of assertions, no older than thirty-five. She was one of those mature women who exuded so much health that they seemed much firmer, harder, more appetizing to both the eye and the touch than any eighteen-year-old would ever be.

Diane felt all this superior quality of her genes as the Head Instructress ate her pussy like a champ. The eight-feet-tall, 600-pound muscle Amazon had a 22-inch tongue as thick as five horse dicks—all of them penetrating the princess at once! Diane was being electrocuted by the explosions of pleasure from her cunt; she literally felt her muscles contracting and her organs moving around her waist, tortured under the almost-magical touch of that strong girl.

Still, the princess didn’t cum. Well, technically she was cumming, but she was not yet unleashing messy loads of cum on the Instructress’s face. Like a very rugged Alpha male, Diane equated squirting to inferiority: the woman who squirted at the touch of another partner was clearly the inferior half of the equation. Accustomed to winning and dominating anyone and everyone from a very early age, Diane was not prone to lose control so quickly—but to her unimaginable terror, the Instructress was not only blasting through her defenses, but also doing so with godly ease and speed, literally torturing her with as many orgasms in under three minutes than a thousand studs could give a woman in a lifetime of bed-breaking action.

Not that things were are as easy as they looked, of course. «Damn, Diane!» The Instructress thought at every second: «you’re every bit a demigoddess as your reputation says!» The matriarch’s tongue blasted the princess’s insides, contorting in such a way that no five points of her cunt were untouched at any given time. Not only that, but she knew a woman’s inside like an engineer and his labyrinth, and every single erogenous spot, every pleasure point, every orgasmic rift, and every ecstatic fold inside her that could be touched, ravished, and stimulated was touched, ravished, and stimulated. As she closed her eyes, the princess imagined a whole battalion of warrior eating her pussy out. All of these warriors were no more than the Instructress’s tongue, which seemed to grow and multiply inside her insanely-lubricated passage.

The princess raised her head, only to throw it back on the floor. *Baang!!* Cracks grew on the stop. She raised her head again and banged it once more time. *Boom!!* Then gain, and again, and then again and again and again, digging a hole under her back and cracking the temple all the way to the walls, the columns, and the ceiling.

The mighty Amazon was bulldozing the massive temple with her body. It wasn’t a surprise, seeing how powerful and virile her physique had become. After that outrageous muscle transformation, Diane had added enough muscles to tear that entire ground in half with a punch, if she so wanted to. The Instructress had to control herself so that she didn’t cum madly while touching Diane’s powerful musculature. She loved the fresh, nubile bodies of her apprentices, but even for her, after thousands of years-worth of beautiful ladies and fertile wombs, that princess was just… too much!

«Hot! So fucking hot!!» She used her arousal to power her tongue, striking nine different erogenous spots in the Amazon at once and literally drinking the juices that piled up inside her. The princess was holding up so many squirts she was flirting with inflammation. «What will I have to do to make you fucking explode?!»

The Instructress didn’t have the same problem: her right hand was firmly planted on her own pussy, fingering it like a machine. Her fingers moved and vibrated hundreds, if not thousands of times per second, drilling so much lube from her inwards that the splashes were clear and loud anywhere in the temple.

Her squirt exploded like jets, sometimes as hard and precise as laser threads, many dozens of feet away from her body; sometimes, the explosions were messy and into every direction, making nectar rain over both women, with Diane trembling under their scorching droplets.

“See, Diane?” The Instructress could even speak while eating her! “It’s so good!” She moaned, and the gravity of her moans only made Diane more aroused. “Unloading your nectar feels so good… oooh!!… I can’t even begin to describe it!” The way she looked up to the princess while basking in her cunt was the most erotic image ever. “Cum rivers on me! I know you have gallons inside that massive body of yours! Ooh, baby girl!” She stuck her tongue as deep as she could, curling its tip around Diane’s cervix and striking three different erogenous spots.

Diane screamed. Her fists gripped the ground and turned it to dust, forcing the princess to grab new fistfuls of the floor to keep her balance, digging two deeper holes as time went on. Both their muscular bodies were standing on uneven soil, as the floor had been cracked so much it was like they were laying on a carpet-bombed battlefield. The Instructress saw how the mere weight of Diane’s muscles made the ground crack, tearing the stone into pebbles, and she fondled the girl’s massive buttocks to feel just how much power she carried in them. «With muscles like these, you could split a horse in two if you fucked it!» She had filthy thoughts, imagining how glorious Diane would be with a dick and two massive, low-hanging fruits.

Diane cried out as she still persisted, against all odds, to hold back her squirts. The tongue was furiously working her insides. Despite all resistance, Diane couldn’t prevent her cunt from leaking, and the amount of lubes was already so extreme that the tongue made splashy sounds inside of her. Soon, the Instructress had to place all her mouth in that cunt so that not a single drop of those juices escaped it.

Then, when she was all set, she sucked it. Diane roared and the temple quaked. Her muscles seemed to be exploding, ripples coursing though her like the surface of a lake under an earthquake, and then she was jolting madly, crashing her back against the floor and sending pieces flying all around.

If one looked at her cunt, one would think she was already squirting. It was merely an illusion: the Instructress was both sucking her and eating her out so hard that the juices inevitably splashed on her face, sometimes being squirted in tiny threads around her face, with a waterfall of nectar forming under her bust.

Diane’s “ejaculation” looked like someone was slowly pouring a very big jug of creamy nectar out of her cunt and into the ground. The crater around the women was being filled with those juices, like rivers reclaiming the folds and crevices of a canyon. Diane felt mad, then she felt like dying. The pleasure and burning of her hips was so intense she felt orgasms straight in her organs. Her guts twirled around like snakes, and her belly throbbed just like one giant heart.

Just when she though the Instructress had shown her her entire arsenal of sexuality, Diane was floored by the lioness’s sudden and masterful tongue swelling and twitching, gently piercing the cervix while striking multiple orgasms at the edges of its folds—all while the rest of the tongue both twitched and throbbed around fifteen or more erogenous zones in the pussy simultaneously.

The tongue seemed to move at supersonic speeds while also giving the princess all the focus and attention of a very slow, tender lovemaking; she had over twenty different spots burning inside of her at any given time, and the precision of the Instructress was such that even if one worshiped a single spot with all the attention and care in the world, one would still far behind the mastery with which the Instructress pressed each and every one of those twenty-plus spots at once.

She wasn’t an Amazon; she was a fucking animal! “Zeus!!” Diane bit her tongue. At points, the pleasure felt like she was being stomped in the stomach by elephants. “Fucking…!! Zeus!! Hades!! OOOH!!” Her screams alone made the temple rumble, and her shaking on the ground added to those earthquakes, prompting parts of the ceiling to fall and further ruin the floor.

“Stop resisting, Diane.” The Instructress pulled off her tongue, then stuck it all back in. *Boom!!* Judging by her wide eyes and quivering smile, Diane was experiencing a reality-bending orgasm. Her expression was like someone who was finally seeing the gods; an orgasm far too incomprehensible for even someone of her godly lineage to grasp, and one that would easily kill hundreds of thousands of mortals if they felt it.

“Do you think that’s even my hardest? Do you think…” The instructress thrust in her three more times, “this is even a labor to me? Fucking arrogant bitch!” She hardened her tongue, making it round like a tube and stiff as iron. Her girth increased around the princess’s tight cunt, like a whole fist penetrating her. Diane felt the tremendous stretching of her flesh followed by rippling noises all over the temple, and for a second she though she had lost it as an outburst of nectar fell heavily on the ground.

It wasn’t yet her squirting, however; just a dense, massive waterfall of juices continuously pouring from her cunt. “Stop holding it, Diane!” The Instructress loudly gulped her copious juices. Her belly was throbbing with over two gallons of pussy juice—and that was still nothing for the inhuman female! “Do you want me to really hurt you? Okay!” The Instructress wrapped her arms around the girl’s massive thighs, preparing for a brutal action. “This is how I really fuck a dumb cunt like yours!” She pulled her tongue out. Every inch of it dripped with pussy potion, and still the little cunt refused to squirt! Diane actually took the time to raise her head and look up to the Instructress in defiance, almost laughing at her expense.

Poor girl! She didn’t know what terrible fate awaited her. “Have you ever wondered, Diane, what it feels to be pounded by a breeding bull?” A stretching sound followed the insane hardening of the tongue, whose tip teased the divine cunt just a little. “It’s about a hundred times weaker… than this!!

The Instructress thrust her tongue inside Diane. All of it. Before the first flash of orgasm could even reach the princess’s brain, however, the Instructress pulled the tongue out and thrust it all back in again, several times in a single second. When the orgasms hit, they did so like a flood: Diane literally passed out before the scream left her throat, and her body remained squirming and twitching on the ground as the Instructress pummeled into her like a herd of a thousand horny stallions.

The juices that had been pent-up by the woman’s defiant pussy will were all released. All of them. All at once! The Instructress made a good call in holding on to the woman’s thighs, for the explosion of nectar in her face was so extreme that she (and her six hundred pounds of muscle mass) would have been blasted away to the other side of the island, with her face nearly peeled off by the potent firehoses.

The temple trembled and its cracks grew as the juice exploded from the cunt. The Instructress felt that smoke was coming from the princess’s skin. The acolyte’s hips began to rise, the muscles of her legs moving them up all by themselves. The princess’s tongue sprang out of her mouth, and her face was colored by pure elation. Her body moved further and further up while the hoses of her cunt only grew stronger, and the Instructress had get up herself so as to keep her aim on the dominant pussy.

No matter how powerfully that bitch came or how hard those juices burned the Instructress’s face; the matriarch would win that battle! After the initial shock, the Instructress hardened her tongue again and pummeled away into the princess’s vagina. If the first flurry of thrusts had made her pass out, the second one waked her back up immediately. “GODS!!” Her scream was torturous, like she couldn’t even hold the insides of her body together. “GODS!! OOH, GAAAWDS!!!

More pieces of the ceiling fell as the Instructress pounded that cunt so hard that the juices exploded into all the columns around them. The thousand-pound body of the princess was pushed back into the ground, like a petite woman being savagely pounded by a breeding bull. Every time the tongue bottomed on her, there was a large explosion. The gardens around the temple were shaking with all that power, and soon the Instructress found her own knees cracking the floor as she firmed them against the stone better, tremendous amounts of energy coursing through her veins and inflating her muscles.

«Fuck!!» Her head was a blur in the air, plunging the tongue in the cunt and blasting through her cervix. The violence would have paralyzed a lesser Amazon, but Diane only experienced blissful orgasms every time she was unrepentantly violated. Her eyes were wide open and her face was in bliss. «No one… has ever pierced… my cervix before!!»

The tongue protruded in her womb, causing a wreckage of orgasms in its wake. Even with its faster-than-light movements, the Instructress had kept her masterful touch, making it twirl and strike precise erogenous spots with its tip whenever the tongue bottomed the princess. As the electric signals travelled to the princess’s brain, they were ramped by these additional (and faster) bursts of electricity, and when they finally reached the central nerves, oh…! The Gods of Olympus themselves couldn’t have made Diane come any harder or louder.

“FUUUCK…!!!” Massive boulders fell around the goddesses. A few large stones crashed on the princess’s abs and the Instructress’s back. Despite the danger, the two women were too fuck-drunk to stop it now—the Instructress would go all-out on Diane’s pussy, and when she was finally done, there would be no temple!

“Arrogant…!! Cocky…!! Princess…!!” For every word, a flurry of tongue-thrusts extracted gallons and more gallons of juices from the giantess. With a long scream and a tsunami of pleasure, Diane’s body stiffened and her legs left the ground. She was like a straight plank of meat, with her head on the floor and her cunt on the Instructress’s mouth, raised diagonally on the ground, shivering and trembling as her cunt throbbed like a heart, gallon after gallon exploding a geyser.

“NO…!!” Her scream was painful and short-lived. Only tears and the rumbling of her stiff body were proof that she was still alive. The ground caved beneath her, and both goddesses sank under the weight of their own power. The Instructress was basking on her lover’s womb, striking orgasms directly at its walls, adding to the gallons of juice that were already blasting from her cunt.

Diane both felt and sounded like she was dying—and maybe she was. She was passing out and waking up so many times, so fast that the shocks were threatening to rupture her body from inside out. Her muscles, which were already impressive, grew harder and denser; her body mass jumped to 1,100 pounds, then 1,200, then 1,300, with the Instructress carrying the brunt of that insane weight.

“Little hoe!” She roared, pounding the cunt even more vigorously. “Do you think you can beat me? Grow!!” She took one hand off Diane’s left tight and laid it on her own back. “Grow harder and heavier, you goddamn giantess! Look!” She took the other hand. “I can fuck you with my tongue alone!”

The jets were almost peeling her face off as the giantess crossed her arms under her back and fucked that cunt away with total abandon. Her tongue was already suffering from cramps thanks to its excessive action—and anyone who’d ever suffered from cramps in the freaking tongue knows that this feeling is far from easily forgotten. Still, the Instructress held her ground, muffing the pain with her own, rock-shattering orgasms.

The two giantesses fell into a deeper, messier crater as the temple’s ceiling cracked in the middle. In an instant, thousands of tons of stone were falling on the bodies of those giantesses, and Diane could only watch the temple fall as her body was too stiff, too ridden with orgasms to even attempt the slightest reaction. A fucking great irony, that was: she was bigger and more powerful than any woman (or living creature) on Earth, yet she was defenseless as a lamb on a lion’s mouth—or rather, the mouth of her fucking mistress! Diane couldn’t even shut her eyes, from which copious tears flowed down like rivers.

Veins popped in her nose, which quickly bled out. What she didn’t have in strength, however, the Instructress had in spades: as the ceiling fell on their heads, the warrior woman simply raised her arms up and prepared for two mighty punches. She struck each falling stone at the precise right time, creating a shockwave of power so intense that the clouds above the temple moved away! An explosion shook the entire island, and Amazons from nearby islands could see dozens of massive blocks of stone flying in the sky at crazy-high speeds, some going beyond the horizon, creating tsunamis at very distant places.

The seemingly effortless punches added energy to Diane’s orgasms, and at that point the princess was openly, desperately crying in pain. “Pleeeeease!!!” Her whiny pitch contrasted so much from her awesome body! “Stooop!!!” Her head went up and down at high speeds as her pussy was brutally pounded. Even if Diane were fucked by literal horses for hours on end, her cunt wouldn’t have been savaged nearly as greatly as the Instructress was savaging her in a single second. “M-maaaaster, pleeeease!!” Her scream was pure agony. “Stop!!”

And just like that, without the need of a single word more, the Instructress bottomed on her one last time, reaching the very end of Diane’s womb—and actually pushing it a few inches higher! Then, she retrieved all her tongue in one swell swoop, and the explosion of juices managed to surpass even all thoe that came before.

The hole around the women grew until it covered the entire area of the temple. It was many feet deep, and it was being quickly flooded by Diane’s desperate ejaculation. Laughing her ass off, the Instructress stood on her feet and took the brunt of those jets in her body, bathing herself completely on the princess’s nectar ejections. “Yes, baby! Bathe your strong momma just like that!” She playfully and cheerfully ran her hands all over her muscles, playing with her own hair and scratching her own head, using the fluids like shampoo.

Diane screamed and screamed and screamed. Not even being relieved from that tongue was enough to halt her raging fire, however. If anything, it’d made it grown only hotter, like throwing water on burning oil: *booom!!* She pushed her arms on the ground, but that gave her no more balance as the stone kept unraveling into dust. She felt as if under a torrential summer rain, but those were her liquids splashing on her master’s body. “FUUUCK…!!” She attempted to scream, but her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

Seeing her in such delightful agony, the Instructress couldn’t help but to admire her powerful, massive buttocks—two boulders of pure power inviting the touch. She knew she should take easy on her girls, but she also remembered that that particular “girl” was the most arrogant little sh#t she had ever met, and a good humbling would suit her well. Therefore, smiling like the fires of Hades, she parted those buttocks with her mighty arms and crammed three fingers in Diane’s tight anus.

Another avalanche of orgasms started, now prompted by the Instructress’s masterfully pressing of the right spots in her apprentice’s ass. The poor girl jumped on the ground like there were rockets in her butt, and the harder she jumped, the bigger the destruction became around them. The Instructress didn’t give a damn: cramming her fingers even deeper, she played with six or seven erogenous spots simultaneously, all the time.

The pussy gushed relentlessly, attracting her gaze to that sweet, moist opening. «No.» Even her mind seemed to tell her to go easy, but that kid’s arrogance really undid any compassion she could have felt for her. With her right hand, the Instructress added her fingers to the gushing, burning pussy, playing with it just as hard as she was the anus.

Diane died again as the double stimulation filled her body with fire. Her massive tits, which sprayed milk like mad bombs, exploded with true geysers of motherly milk while every single muscle of her body hardened and cramped. Her cunt jets destroyed whatever stone they hit, and pillars of steam rose from both her pussy and the Instructress’s arm as she finger-banged the poor princess.

The double stimulation made her every single organ twirl, swell, and (almost) pop. The Instructress was just now having fun, and she felt like the conqueror of the world by subduing that much bigger, but inexperienced youth. Laughing like the devil, she took her fingers off the princess and grabbed her massive legs. «Damn!» She was reminded every time of just how massive the apprentice was! «Legs as big as my waist! Fucking hoe!!» Hardening her abs and flexing her entire body, she pulled the whole princess up. “YOU FUCKING WHORE!!!”

She lifted Diane off the ground and flipped her over her head, slamming her face-down on the ground and literally cracking the entire island in half! A massive canyon parted the island, and the newly-formed halves began to move apart as the two women still relentlessly fucked.

Diane’s orgasmic jets were reaching dozens of feet of height. The waves crashed against the walls of the canyon they fucked in as the Instructress put her head in harm’s way and bathed on the princess’s blasts. The nectar was absolute power. The taste was unlike any other pussy she’d ever drunk from. Still, she was thirsty; her true power had only begun to reveal itself, and she was having the time of her life torturing that cunt and anus with her supersonic fingers.

Slowly, the hardening and growth of her own muscles had turned the Instructress into an 8’5ft-tall, 750-pound monster—still smaller than the princess, but big enough so that her stature alone commanded respect (and fear!) on her heart.

The instructress battered that cunt and massacred that anus for as long as the island took it. Like the temple before it, the canyon too was cracked, then pulverized by the blows of those two bodies, and the Instructress had to pound the princess away, dragging her inch after inch on the sinking ground as more parts of the canyon unraveled under her feet.

“You fucking, filthy, lowly whore!!” The Instructress derived so much pleasure from annihilating that pussy. “How does it feel to be conquered by a common Amazon, huh? What’s the feeling of being reduced to a fucking piece of meat by just the fingers of a smaller woman??” The Instructress withdrew her fingers from Diane’s anus and literally punched her right in the boobs, making them spew fatter loads of milk miles into the air! “I want you to suffer, you fucking cunt!! I want you to cum like you’re never gonna cum again… you weak, pathetic filthy slut! Ya cheap demigoddess toy to my fingers!!”

Diane was unresponsive. Her hard, stiff body vibrated like a pierce of metal, yet her face was calm and asleep. She was so passed out even the violent reactions of her body no longer disturbed her state of mind. Seeing her in this state, the Instructress really thought she killed the poor woman, and the fear of the consequences of such act—not even the act itself—prompted her to take her fingers from both holes and just watch the poor woman cum her soul away!

Diane came. And came. And came!! By the gods, she kept coming like several hoses for twenty more minutes until her body (almost) dried up and softened—yet still kept coming! Another ten minutes were necessary for the princess of Amazons to stop unloading like thousands of wild stallion mid-coitus, and when the was finally done—when every bit and drop of sweet, creamy nectar from her cunt-n-womb had been expunged, exhausted, and expelled!—her body was left squirming on a massive lake of her own cum and milk.

The Instructress walked back to her, with her feet waddling in the lake. She sat with her legs crossed on the ground and admired the youth. Muscles atop muscles turned her light-bronze-skinned physique into the epitome of power. Diane was literally as massive as ten bodybuilders, but her towering height allowed her to still maintain a curvy, hourglass profile. She was monster of muscles, yet also a paragon of fertility; the beauty of Aphrodite and the power of Zeus all rolled up into a single body—and the Instructress was excused for not resisting to touch her and worship her every fold and crevice.

Once her palms met the obscene abs of her goddess, Diane screamed and roared. Gallons of lubes burst from her cunt as her orgasms appeared to have been reignited in full, prompting the Instructress to pull her hand back and just laugh. “This, my little girl, is what we call a good fuck!” She laid down lazily on her back, waiting for those shockwaves of pleasure to stop torturing her apprentice. “You never truly had sex until now. No need to thank me, by the way.” She looked at her, fighting the urge to French kiss the sleeping beauty. “You’re a virgin no more.”

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This chapter of the story ends here, but you can read my full library of erotica on my Patreon, with over 1.5 million words of filthy content for you to read and enjoy. Visit to know more: https://www.patreon.com/gigipotemkin

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The Doll who Loved me: the story of an incel being haunted by his sex doll. Read more at: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09CNSW5KM or go to the author’s Patreon page for full access of the series, as well as early access on a chapter-by-chapter update schedule: https://www.patreon.com/gigipotemkin

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Updates and announcements

“The Doll who Loved me” launching on August 27th – Preorder now!

Hello, my luvs! My novel is launching next Friday, Aug 27th!

It is available for pre-order now on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09CNSW5KM

I’ll be uploading it to SmashWords (and testing out the platform) along the week. I’ve been told Smash is quite finnicky with books, so I might be delayed in releasing my book on other stores.

Also, a reminder: “The Doll” is being released as a series, so this first book is literally just the first six chapter of the full book. You can know more on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/gigipotemkin

For those who want to support me, but don’t want to commit to Patreon, this is a great way to do it. 。◕‿‿◕。

Yeah, Amazon keeps 30% of the whole thing (and, as a non-US person, I’m being further fleeced by the IRS, as you have it), but that’s still great no matter what.

I don’t know what kind of schedule I’ll be keeping, or if I’m going to update the book regularly at all, because it all depends on my side activities and gigs.

If you’re craving the whole book and don’t want to wait one other single weekend for more content, subscribe to my Patreon and get everything, everything you could possibly need or want—including, yes, my filthy hot breeding erotica. 😉 https://www.patreon.com/gigipotemkin

Let’s see how you guys like my stuff as the weeks roll by. Peace! ❤