Chapter 8: The Stitched Throne
My fingers barely closed around his shaft. Eighteen inches of stitched, pulsing meat, hot as a furnace, and my hand looked like a child's toy wrapped around it. I squeezed, feeling the thick veins throb against my palm, and his balls gurgled again behind me.
"That's a lot of cum you've got stored up," I breathed, stroking him slowly. "I can hear it sloshing around in there."
Victor watched me with those dark, patient eyes. "You have not finished with me?"
"Finished?" I laughed, the sound wet and gurgling from my own distended belly. "Victor, I'm just getting started. But I can't keep crawling around on this floor. My knees are killing me."
I looked up at him, at the way the violet light from my candles played across his stitched chest. An idea sparked, sharp and electric. "Stand up."
He rose without question, his massive frame unfolding to its full height. I stayed on my knees, staring up at him, at the impossible cock jutting from his hips, at the watermelon-sized balls hanging heavy beneath it. The stitching across his groin glowed faintly, pulsing with that contained energy.
"Now sit on my bed."
He moved, settling onto the edge of my mattress. His weight made the frame groan. I pushed myself up, using the dresser for support, my enormous belly swaying in front of me like a water-filled balloon. Each step sent a slosh through my guts, warm and heavy.
I climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs. My knees sank into the mattress on either side of him. His cock stood between us, thick as my arm, rising from his lap like a monument. From this angle, I could see every ridge, every arcane stitch running along its length. They pulsed with a rhythm I could feel in my own chest.
"Up," I said, gripping his shoulders. "I want to be above it."
Victor understood. He lifted me easily, his hands spanning my waist despite the impossible girth of my belly. He repositioned me until I hovered over the head of his cock, my pussy slick and aching above it, my swollen stomach pressing against his chest.
"Now grab it," I ordered. "Hold it steady for me."
His stitched hand wrapped around his own shaft, thick fingers barely meeting. The head glistened with pre-cum, smeared and slick. I leaned forward, balancing my weight on his shoulders, and opened my mouth.
The taste hit me first. Salt and ozone and something else, something that made my cunt clench and my head swim. I took the head between my lips, moaning at the heat of it, the weight. Bobbing gently, I worked my mouth around the crown, swirling my tongue along the ridge.
"That's it," I murmured around him, the vibration making his cock twitch. "Hold it deeper."
Victor guided me lower. I felt the head press past my teeth, into my throat, and my elastic flesh gave way without resistance. I sank down, inch by inch, my jaw stretched impossibly wide. My belly squashed against his chest, the sloshing contents pressing against both of us as I took him deeper.
I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into stitched flesh, and pushed down harder.
I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into stitched flesh, and pushed down harder. The head of his cock slid past my throat, and my body opened for him like it had been waiting all night. I felt his hot length fill the entire column of my neck, pressing into my chest, the shaft bulging against my skin from the inside.
From above, his face was a canvas of shifting violet light. Those dark eyes watched me, patient and hungry. His hands found my hips, steadying me as I sank lower, taking more of him. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't need to. My body was elastic now, made for this, and I proved it as my lips finally met the base of his cock.
Eighteen inches deep.
I blinked down at him, my throat distended around his shaft, my belly pressed flat against his chest. I could feel its massive weight squashing between us, the cum from earlier sloshing and shifting as I swallowed around him. I moaned, the vibrations running up his length, and Victor's jaw tightened.
"Graves," he warned, his voice low and strained.
I pulled back just enough to breathe through my nose, then sank down again. My hand found his, pressing it against the side of my neck, where his cock bulged obscenely beneath my skin. I wanted him to feel what he did to me.
He gripped the back of my head, guiding me with brutal patience. Each thrust sent me deeper, my chin buried in his balls, the watermelon-sized sac pressing up against my chest. I could feel them churning, warm and heavy, full of that thick magical cum. They gurgled against me, and I knew what was coming.
"More," I gasped, pulling off him just long enough to say it. "Fill me up again, Victor. Please."
He lifted me by the hips, then drove me down onto his shaft with a force that made the bed frame groan. My mouth was stuffed, my throat stretched impossibly wide, and then he came.
The first surge hit the back of my throat like a wave, hot and thick, coating my esophagus. I swallowed, the cum rushing into my stomach, and he came again. Another surge. Another. My belly, already the size of a beach ball, began to swell anew. I felt the pressure building inside me, the magic-infused cum expanding, filling every last inch of my stretched flesh.
Victor's hands locked on my thighs, holding me down as he pumped load after load into me. I couldn't pull away even if I'd wanted to, and I didn't want to. I wanted every drop. I gulped, and my stomach swelled. I gulped again, and it grew past the size of a beach ball, past the weight of anything I'd ever carried.
The pressure was immense. My belly pushed against his chest, forcing me to arch backward, my spine bending as the weight dragged me down. I gripped his shoulders for balance, my fingers sinking into stitched muscle, and still he came.
"More," he grunted, his cock twitching in my throat. "You asked for more."
I nodded as best I could with my mouth full, and he gave it to me. His balls churned, the glow from his stitching flaring bright enough to cast shadows across the room, and he filled me until my stomach was a taut, watery sphere larger than a yoga ball. I could feel my own skin stretching, aching, and I loved every second of it.
Finally, with one last shuddering surge, he finished. I pulled off him with a wet sound, cum spilling past my lips, coating my chin and chest. I slumped against him, my enormous belly pressing his back into the mattress. I couldn't move. I couldn't even lift my head.
But I was grinning like a madwoman, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Victor," I breathed, managing to meet his gaze. "Your balls still feel heavy. And I've got one more idea."
His stitched eyebrows rose. "You want more?"
I laughed, the sound gurgling from my absurdly full gut. "I want you to come inside me so much that I can't close my legs around it. I want to be so full I can't even kneel. I want to feel every single drop of you, and then I want to do it again."
I pressed a hand to my belly, feeling the slosh of him inside me, warm and alive. The finish line, I decided, was nowhere in sight.