Chapter 12: The Breeding Protocol
The shed door clicked shut, sealing us in with our decision. The creature lay on the tarp, its chest still moving. That faint, persistent breath was the loudest sound in the room.
Ellie stared at the padlock in her hand, the one that had secured the chain around its ankles. Her knuckles were white. "If it can't bite, if it can't scratch..." she began.
"Then the restraints are redundant," Mary finished, her voice flat. "They limit positioning. Reduce efficiency."
Nancy was already moving. She knelt beside the thing's head, her fingers tracing the line of its jaw. "It's so cold." But there was no revulsion in her touch. It was curiosity, edged with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.
I took the lock from Ellie. The metal was cool. My logical mind presented a flowchart of risk assessment. Bite risk: nullified. Laceration risk: neutralized. Threat level: redefined. The greatest danger now was the door at our backs, the world outside. Not this.
I unlocked the chain. The heavy links slithered off its legs and clanked on the floor.
For a moment, nothing. Then it moved. Not with the lurching aggression of before, but with a slow, deliberate turn of its head. Its milky eyes fixed on Nancy's breast, so close to its face.
Its hand came up. Not a clawing strike, but a clumsy, grasping reach. The broken nails brushed the fabric of her shirt. Nancy gasped, but she didn't pull away. She leaned into it.
"See?" she whispered, a frantic smile on her lips. "It just wants to touch."
The hand closed over her breast, squeezing with a dull, impersonal pressure. Nancy moaned, arching her back, pushing herself more firmly into its grasp. With her other hand, she pulled down the neckline of her shirt, freeing her breast. Its head lunged forward, and its mouth closed over her nipple.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a suction, a furious, mechanical drawing. Nancy cried out, her hands tangling in its matted hair, holding it to her. "Yes! God, suck it. Just like that."
Ellie watched, her breath coming in short pants. She unbuttoned her shirt completely, letting it fall open. She approached its other side, guiding its free hand to her own full breast. "Here," she murmured. "You want this too. Take it."
The creature obliged, its mouth detaching from Nancy with a wet pop and latching onto Ellie with the same relentless hunger. Ellie’s head fell back, a long, shuddering sigh escaping her. "It's so strong. It's like it's trying to pull the marrow right out of me."
I watched my wife and my daughter being suckled by a dead thing, their faces etched with a pleasure so profound it bordered on agony. The sight should have shattered me. Instead, a fierce, possessive heat bloomed low in my belly. It was ours. We had made it into this.
Mary, ever direct, had stripped naked. She stood watching, her hand working between her own legs, her fingers slick and urgent. "Its circulatory system must be compromised," she mused, her voice shaky despite the clinical words. "But neural pathways for basic motor function and… this… are intact. A feedback loop. Tactile stimulation prompts arousal, which increases perfusion to the genitalia."
"Shut up and get over here," Nancy groaned, her hips beginning to grind against the air.
The creature released Ellie's breast with a final, harsh pull. It turned its head, its gaze landing on Mary. It moved then, rolling with a sudden, startling force, pinning Nancy beneath it. She shrieked, not in fear, but in raw excitement.
"No restraints," I said aloud, the final acceptance.
Its hips drove forward. There was no guidance needed. It found her entrance and plunged in, burying itself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Nancy's scream was choked off, her eyes wide, her mouth a perfect 'O' of shock and overwhelming sensation.
"Fuck! It's in my womb! I can feel it in my fucking womb!" she babbled, her legs wrapping around its thrusting hips. Each drive was a deep, punishing impact. The shed filled with the wet, meaty sound of its body slamming into hers.
Ellie was on her knees beside them, her hand frantically rubbing her clit, her eyes glued to where their bodies joined. "Does it feel good, baby? Tell me it feels good."
"It's gonna make me come, Mom. It's gonna make me come so hard!"
It was. Her climax took her violently, her body seizing, her inner muscles clamping down on the invading shaft. The creature didn't slow. It fucked her through the convulsions, its pace relentless.
When it finally pulled out of Nancy, a gush of her fluids mixed with a thick, pearlescent drip of its own emission. It wasn't done. It turned, its cock glistening and massive, and grabbed Ellie by the hip, dragging her to the floor.
It took her from behind, doggy-style, its hands gripping the soft flesh of her ass, spreading her wide. The first thrust made her sob. The second stole her breath. By the third, she was matching its rhythm, pushing back against it, begging for more.
"Harder! Oh god, you dead fuck, ruin me! Fill my cervix up!" Her words dissolved into incoherent pleas as it pistoned into her, the sound a brutal slap of skin on skin. Her climax was a silent, shaking rupture, her body going rigid before collapsing onto the tarp.
It withdrew, copious amounts of its strange, cool cum dripping from Ellie's well-used cunt. Its attention landed on Mary.
Mary lay on her back, legs spread and raised. "Optimal angle for deep penetration and retention," she panted. It fell upon her.
This was different. There was a frantic, final energy to its movements. It buried itself inside Mary with a sound that was almost a roar. Mary's analytical composure shattered. "Yes! That's it! Breed me! Pump that fucking dead seed right into my ovaries!"
It fucked her with a punishing, jackhammer intensity. I watched, my hand working between my own legs, desperate now. I needed it. I needed that final, claiming violation.
It came inside Mary with a stuttering series of convulsions. The amount was absurd, impossible. It flooded her, a torrent of viscous, greyish cum that overflowed her pussy and pooled beneath her ass. She screamed, her body arching, her heels digging into the tarp as she was filled beyond reason.
It pulled out, spent but still hard, dripping. It turned its head. It looked at me.
I was on my back before I knew I’d moved. It crawled over me, its weight a familiar, terrible comfort. It positioned itself at my entrance. I was soaked, aching, empty.
It drove home.
The stretch was unbearable. The depth was blasphemous. Each thrust battered the mouth of my womb, a direct, brutal hammering on a door that had never been meant to open. I came almost instantly, a sharp, stunning climax that left me blind. It didn't stop. It fucked me through it, into another, and another, each peak blending into a plateau of continuous, mind-breaking pleasure-pain.
"Give it to me," I rasped. "All of it. Fill my useless, old womb."
Its rhythm grew ragged, frantic. I felt the swell at the base of its cock, the imminent release. With a final, grinding shove that felt like it split me in two, it came.
The flood was a physical shock. A grotesque, prolific geyser of cum filling me, pumping into my cervix, a cooling lake expanding in my belly. It kept coming, spurting in great, generous pulses until I felt distended, impregnated with its deathly chill.
It finally stilled, its weight heavy and complete on top of me.
Silence again, broken by our ragged breaths and the slow, sticky drip of spent fluids onto the tarp. It rolled off, lying beside me.
We lay there in a broken circle around it—Nancy curled on her side, Ellie staring at the ceiling, Mary with her hands on her stomach, feeling the unnatural fullness. I turned my head. The creature’s chest rose and fell. Steady. Its cock, slick and shining, slowly began to soften.
It was still breathing. It was still viable.
We had removed the last restraint. Not just the physical ones.
Ellie spoke into the heavy air, her voice thick with spent passion and dawning horror. "What do we feed it?"
I had no answer. The tool shed no longer smelled just of oil and sweat. It smelled of sex, of salt, and of the profound, chilling sweetness of decay and renewal, hopelessly entwined. We had tamed the storm outside, and in doing so, had welcomed a quieter, more intimate chaos inside. It was ours. We had made it so.
And it was hungry.