Chapter 50: The Bull's Cycle Begins
The heat of his release was still a liquid fire in my belly when he pulled out, the sudden emptiness a shocking void. My transformed cunt clenched around nothing, a frantic, pulsing ache that demanded to be filled again. The Bull’s massive cock, slick with my juices and his own, twitched against my thigh, a promise of more.
“Round two, wives,” he growled, the sound vibrating through the floorboards.
Before I could process the word “wives,” his hands were on me, rough and certain. He flipped me onto my back as if I weighed nothing, the ruined sheets scratching against my sensitive skin. My new hips felt heavy, anchored to the bed, my swollen breasts aching with every movement. He shoved my legs apart, his gaze fixed on the glistening, puffy lips of my sex.
“Still so hungry for it,” he mused, dragging the thick head of his cock through my folds. The contact was electric, sending jolts of pure need straight to my core. “This cunt was made for my seed. It won’t be satisfied until it’s drowning.”
He notched himself at my entrance and drove forward in one brutal, unyielding thrust.
I screamed, my back arching off the bed. The feeling was beyond fullness; it was a violation that felt like coming home. My internal muscles, remade to be impossibly tight, fought him for a second before surrendering, fluttering around his girth in a series of desperate, rhythmic contractions. He was so deep, I felt him in my throat.
“Fuck, yes,” Gena whispered from beside me, her hand stroking my arm. Her eyes were dark pools of desire, her own body glistening with sweat. “Take it, Mother. Let him breed you properly.”
The Bull began to move, a slow, punishing rhythm that stole the air from my lungs. Each withdrawal was a torment, each plunge a relief so profound it bordered on pain. His balls slapped against my ass, a wet, smacking counterpoint to the slick, sucking sounds of our joining.
“Tell me how much you need it,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble.
“I need it,” I gasped, the words torn from me. “I need your fucking cock splitting me open. Don’t stop. Please.”
He grunted, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. The bedframe groaned in protest. I was mindless, a animal pinned beneath him, my fingers clawing at the sheets. The coil of another orgasm was already building, fueled by the magical heat in my womb and the raw, physical friction.
“Gena,” he snarled without breaking rhythm. “Taste your mother. Taste what I’m giving her.”
I felt Gena shift on the bed, then her mouth was on mine, her tongue delving deep. She tasted of salt and sex and something sweetly demonic. Her hand slid down my body, her fingers finding my clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles.
The dual sensation was too much. I broke the kiss, crying out as the orgasm ripped through me. My pussy clamped down on the Bull’s shaft like a vise, milking him, pulling him deeper. With a roar, he slammed into me and held, his body shuddering.
I felt the base of his cock swell, thickening into a hard, unyielding knot that locked him inside me. The pressure was immense, stretching me to a burning, impossible width. A fresh, scalding flood of his cum erupted into my depths, and I whimpered, feeling it pool hot and heavy inside my remodeled channel.
He collapsed on top of me, his weight driving the knot deeper, ensuring not a single drop could escape. I was pinned, thoroughly claimed, my body accepting his seed with a series of involuntary, greedy pulses.
We lay like that for what felt like an eternity, joined in the most intimate of locks. I could feel his heartbeat through his cock, a steady, powerful rhythm inside me. Gena curled against my side, her head on my shoulder, her hand resting on my trembling belly.
“It’s taking root,” she murmured, her voice filled with a strange, reverent awe. “Can you feel it?”
I could. Beneath the soreness and the overwhelming sensation of being stuffed, there was a new, subtle vibration, a hum of potential life. The silver ring on my finger felt cool against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the primal reality of what was happening to my body.
The Bull finally shifted, the knot beginning to subside. He pulled out of me with a slow, wet, dragging sensation that left me feeling hollowed out and used. He rolled onto his back between us, his chest heaving.
He turned his head, his amber eyes catching mine. There was no tenderness in that gaze, only a deep, possessive satisfaction. “The garden is fertile,” he stated, his voice rough. “But the night is not over.”
His hand moved to Gena’s hip, pulling her towards him. She went willingly, a hungry smile on her lips, ready for her own filling.