Chapter 15: The Pumped Anal Experiment
The grey light hardened into day. Chris became aware of the rug’s coarse texture against his cheek, the dry stickiness on his thigh, the profound and specific ache in his lower back. Bea was a warm, breathing weight against his side. Professor Blackwood was gone.
He heard her before he saw her—the clink of glass, the soft rustle of pages. He opened his eyes. She was across the room, already dressed in a practical, high-necked blouse and a long skirt, her hair pinned back into a severe bun. She looked like a different person from the wanton creature of the night, save for the faint scratches on her neck and a certain looseness in her posture. She was peering into the mahogany cabinet, the one with the iridescent dust on its glass.
“The refractory period is notably abbreviated,” she said without turning. Her voice was its old, crisp self, but softer around the edges. “Even post-satiety, your baseline physiological state is elevated. The Nectar’s legacy.”
Bea stirred, stretching like a cat. She squinted at the window. “Christ. It’s actually morning.”
“It is,” Blackwood confirmed. She turned, holding a small, ornate box. Her eyes were bright, analytical, but a faint pink flush lingered on her cheeks. “And while the phenomenological data from last night is invaluable, it was… chaotic. Uncontrolled variables. The pump’s interaction with the pastille, for instance, was merely glimpsed.”
Chris sat up, the blanket falling to his waist. The cool air made his skin prickle. The familiar anxiety began to needle at him, a quiet voice asking what they had done, what it meant. But beneath that, a stronger current flowed: a thrilling, terrifying sense of capability. He had done those things. He had been that man. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have a unique opportunity for a controlled experiment.” Blackwood opened the box. Inside, nestled in velvet, were two of the size-enhancing pastilles, their caramel surfaces gleaming. Beside them lay the leather harness of the Enlargement Pump, its brass fittings polished, the mysterious sigils looking dormant but deep.
Bea sat up, her interest immediate and electric. “You want to do it again. Now.”
“I want to observe it,” Blackwood corrected. “Methodically. With measurements. The pump has been modified since its first use. I need to understand its harmonic resonance with the pastille’s core compound.” She looked at Chris. “You expressed a desire for more adventure. For spontaneity. This is the opposite. This is deliberate exploration. Do you consent?”
His mouth was dry. His cock, semi-hard since waking, gave a thick, heavy twitch against his thigh, as if answering for him. He looked at Bea. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with a dazzling avarice for the experience. She nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Yes,” Chris said, the word leaving him in a breath.
“Excellent.” Blackwood became a whirlwind of efficient movement. She cleared a large, claw-footed desk in the center of the room, sweeping journals and astrolabes onto a secondary table. She produced a bottle of the shimmering oil. “Beatrice, the pump, if you please.”
Bea scrambled up, taking the harness. She knelt before Chris, who remained seated on the floor. She fit the leather ring around the base of his cock and balls, her touch businesslike yet intimate. She tightened the straps, the leather creaking. The cold brass felt alien against his skin.
“Now,” Blackwood said, approaching with one pastille. “A double dose. To establish a pronounced baseline.” She placed it on his tongue. The familiar sweetness exploded, followed by the slow, coiling heat in his gut. Before he could even swallow, she gave him the second.
The effect was instantaneous and violent. It felt less like growth and more like an explosion contained within his flesh. His cock surged upward, thick and rapid, the veins rising like cords under suddenly taut skin. It was already larger than it had been at the peak of the night before. The pump’s sigils began to glow a faint, pulsating blue.
“Fucking hell,” Bea breathed, watching it rise.
“Strap it down. Now,” Blackwood ordered.
Bea fumbled with the pump’s main chamber, fitting it over the monstrous, still-growing erection. She sealed it, the brass latches clicking shut. The moment it was secured, the sigils flared. A deep, sub-audible hum filled the room. Chris cried out.
It wasn’t pain. It was an overwhelming pressure, a sensation of being inflated from the inside. He watched, detached and rapt, as his cock stretched the leather and brass, expanding to a grotesque, magnificent size. Thick as a forearm, long enough that the tip nudged against his own sternum. The weight of it was immense, a pendulous, veined shaft of flushed, hot flesh. His balls drew up tight, heavy sacs full of imminent load.
Blackwood had been busy. She swallowed a different sweet—a small, pink lozenge from a vial marked F. Catus. The transformation was swift and eerie. Her ears elongated, becoming pointed and tufted with auburn fur. A sleek, matching tail swished from beneath her skirt. Her pupils slit. She moved with a new, liquid grace as she shed her clothes again.
“The feline analogue lowers inhibitions and increases physical flexibility,” she explained, her voice gaining a slight, purring rasp. “Useful for the proposed vector.” She poured a stream of oil over Chris’s monstrous cock, the liquid sheeting down the monumental shaft. Then she turned, bent gracefully over the cleared desk, and presented herself. Not her cunt, which was still puffy and used from the night, but the tight, pink pucker of her asshole. She used her fingers to spread her cheeks, offering the clenching star. “I want it there. I need to catalogue the sensation of extreme dilation.”
Bea’s hand was between her own legs, rubbing frantic circles. “Yes. Oh, fuck, Chris, look at her.”
Chris stood, staggering under the new, unbalanced weight of his cock. He stepped forward, the tip leaving a slick trail on the floorboards. He placed a hand on Blackwood’s tailbone, feeling her shudder. He guided the bulbous, oil-sloppy head to her little hole. It looked impossible. It was impossible.
“Slow pressure,” Blackwood instructed, her voice muffled against the desk. “Allow the sphincter to acclimate. The tissue must stretch.”
He pressed. The resistance was absolute, a ring of iron. He leaned his weight, steadily. Bea came to his side, watching, her breath hot on his arm. “Come on, professor. Open up for it.”
Blackwood mewled, a truly feline sound, and pushed back. There was a terrible, thrilling, slow-motion yield. The outermost ring of muscle stretched, turned white, then disappeared as the vast glans forced its way in. A sharp, ragged cry was torn from Blackwood’s throat. Her back arched violently.
“It’s in!” Bea gasped. “The head’s in!”
Chris was stunned by the feel of it. A blistering, clutching tightness far beyond anything he’d ever known. He held still, letting her pant, letting her body scream its protests. Her insides were a searing, silken vice.
“More,” Blackwood begged, the word a sob. “Deeper. Complete the penetration.”
He pushed. It was a brutal, gradual invasion. He watched his obscene girth vanish into her body, inch by impossible inch, her asshole stretched into a wide, straining O around the invading column. Her tail lashed wildly. Her claws scraped the desktop. When his pubic bone finally met the swell of her ass, he was fully sheathed. He was buried in her guts. They were both trembling.
“Oh god,” he moaned. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight inside. It’s like your guts are fucking me.”
Bea was frantically touching herself. “How does it feel?”
“Full!” Blackwood wailed. “It’s a… a profound fullness. A restructuring. I can feel the shape in my colon. The pressure is… illuminating.”
Chris began to move. Withdrawing was an ordeal, her body clinging to every inch as if trying to digest him. Pushing back in was a conquering. The wet, squelching sounds were obscenely loud. He fucked her ass with steady, deep, jaw-clenching strokes.
“Now me,” Bea demanded, her voice raw. She got onto the desk on all fours beside the professor, presenting her dripping cunt. “I need it too. I need to feel it after she has.”
Chris pulled from Blackwood’s ass with a wet, sucking pop. Her hole gaped, flushed and momentarily open, before slowly clenching shut around nothing. He shuffled sideways, the heavy head of his cock dragging across Blackwood’s trembling flank. He positioned himself at Bea’s entrance.
The oil and the residual stretch from Blackwood made his initial penetration into Bea’s pussy shockingly easy. She was so wet she was dripping onto the desk. But the sheer size was still overwhelming. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as he filled her, stretching her wider than she’d ever been stretched. “FUCK! YES! THAT’S IT! RUIN ME!” she shrieked, her decorum vaporized.
He fucked her with deep, punishing strokes, the desk rattling with each thrust. Her cries were constant, a mantra of filth and praise. Then, before she could climax, he pulled out, leaving her whimpering and empty, and plunged back into the incredible, clutching heat of Blackwood’s ass.
He alternated. Bea’s soaking, willing cunt. Then Blackwood’s impossibly tight, academic ass. Back and forth. His world narrowed to a cycle of two devastating sensations: the slick, muscular hug of Bea’s pussy and the agonizing, silken fist of Blackwood’s bowels. His cock glistened with a mixed glaze of oil, Bea’s juices, and the distinct, musky evidence of anal penetration.
The women became a single, keening creature of want beneath him. Bea reached over to fist Blackwood’s hair as Chris pounded into the professor. Blackwood clawed at Bea’s arm, her feline cries harmonizing with Bea’s sobs. The build in Chris’s balls was tectonic. A precipice of pure, physical necessity.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice a shattered growl. “Where? Tell me where!”
Bea’s eyes met his, blazing through tears of pleasure. She grabbed his hip with one hand, her other hand shoving Blackwood’s ass down onto the desk. “Inside her. Fill her ass up. I want to see it leak out of her.”
With a final, brutal shove, Chris buried himself to the hilt in Blackwood’s depths. He roared as he came. It wasn’t a release; it was a detonation. Thick, burning ropes of cum shot deep into her colon, pulse after pulse after endless pulse, a flooding geyser of seed. Blackwood’s body convulsed, her spine bowing, a ululating, feline yowl tearing from her throat as she came from the sheer, invasive sensation of being filled beyond capacity.
Chris slumped over her, spent yet still rigid, the pump’s hum fading to a dull throb. Bea leaned in, her face between his legs. She licked along the base of his still-pulsing cock, lapping at the mixture of fluids that seeped from Blackwood’s stretched ring. She tasted oil, her own tang, the deeper, earthier taste of anal sex, and the first, salty seep of Chris’s spend. She moaned, her own orgasm rippling through her silently.
For a long time, there was only the sound of ragged breathing and the slow, deliberate lap of Bea’s tongue. Blackwood lay prone, her face turned, her slit-pupiled eyes unfocused, a look of stunned, sated revelation on her face.
Chris, still locked inside her, still impossibly hard, felt the last edges of his old anxiety burn away in the afterglow. He had not lost control. He had, under the mad guidance of this professor and the fierce love of his wife, taken control of the magic. He had directed it. Used it.
Bea finally sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth. She looked at Blackwood’s ruined ass, at the slow, white trickle that had begun to escape. She looked at her husband, still embedded, still massive.
“So,” Bea said, her voice hoarse but smiling. “Measurements?”
Blackwood let out a weak, shuddering laugh that ended in a cough. “Data,” she whispered into the wood. “Overwhelming. Successful. The pump-pastille synergy is… multiplicative. Not additive. A revelation.” She shifted slightly, and they both gasped at the internal movement. “The… the semen volume. Also notable.”
Chris didn’t pull out. He knew he couldn’t yet. The experiment, it seemed, was still ongoing. He simply rested there, inside the warm, filled clutch of the professor, his wife’s hand on his back, the morning sun now a solid bar of light across the floor, illuminating everything they had become.
He simply rested there, inside the warm, filled clutch of the professor, his wife’s hand on his back, the morning sun now a solid bar of light across the floor, illuminating everything they had become.
A thick, pearlescent drop of his release welled at the strained junction where his body met Blackwood’s. It swelled, heavy with the evidence of their experiment, before succumbing to gravity. It traced a slow, deliberate path down through the auburn fur of her tail, over the clenched curve of her right buttock, and onto the polished desktop beneath them.The droplet landed with a soft, distinct pat.
“Oh,” Bea said, her voice hushed and fascinated.She watched another drip follow the same glistening trail. “Look at that. It’s really leaking out of you.”
Blackwood let out a shuddering sigh, her cheek pressed to the wood.“Inevitability. The sphincter cannot maintain a seal against such volume. The internal pressure is… considerable.” She shifted her hips minutely, and a fresh, wet trickle escaped her. “The sensation of expulsion is… distinct.”
Chris finally, carefully, pulled himself out. The withdrawal was a slow, slick emergence, his cock—still outrageously large and firm—glistening with a mixture of oil and his own milky spend. Blackwood’s asshole remained open, a pulsing, dark pink aperture, and a rivulet of semen immediately spilled from it, pooling in the shallow of her back.
“Jesus,” Chris breathed, watching his own cum drip from her body onto the desk. The sight was profoundly lewd, a visceral conclusion to the clinical process.
Bea reached out, not with her hand, but with two fingers.She collected the drip from Blackwood’s tailbone, bringing her fingers to her mouth. She sucked them clean, her eyes locked on Chris’s. “Tastes like last night,” she murmured.“But stronger.More you.”
“The metabolic concentration,” Blackwood gasped, still prone. “A byproduct of the pump’s amplification. Fascinating.”
Bea crawled onto the desk beside the professor, her skin smearing the small puddle. She kissed Blackwood’s shoulder, then her neck, then finally her lips, sharing the taste. “You’re a mess, professor. A brilliant, filthy mess.”
“The mess is data,” Blackwood insisted, but she was returning the kiss, her tongue sliding against Bea’s.
Chris stood over them, his monstrous cock throbbing with an unspent, residual urgency. The sight of the two women kissing, surrounded by the physical proof of what he’d done, sent a fresh, aggressive wave of desire through him. He placed a hand on Bea’s back, feeling the knobs of her spine.
She broke the kiss and looked up at him, her lips wet. “You’re still a giant.” She wrapped her hand around his shaft, her fingers not even meeting. “What does this thing need now?Hmm?It’s not done. I can feel it vibrating.”
“I don’t know,” Chris admitted. The analytical part of his mind was quiet, silenced by a pounding, single-minded hunger. “It just… is.”
Blackwood, with effort, pushed herself up on her elbows. She turned her head, her feline eyes assessing him, then the dripping mess between her legs.“The objective was to test limits. We have established a physical limit for my rectum.” She winced as another small spill of cum escaped her. “We have not tested the upper threshold of the pump’s duration on your system. Or the potential for sequential… deployments.”
Bea’s face lit up.“You mean fuck me again?Now? With you still…” She gestured at the professor’s ruined state.
“Concurrent observation,” Blackwood corrected, her voice gaining a thread of strength.“If you are amenable. I would like to document the… the contrast in acoustic and physiological response.Comparing vaginal to recent anal. Side by side.”
“Fuck yes,” Bea said, rolling onto her back beside Blackwood. She spread her legs, hooking her knees over the edge of the desk. Her cunt was swollen, glistening, a stark and welcoming red against her pale skin.“Come on, Chris.Give it to me proper. Let her listen.”
Chris moved between her thighs. The head of his cock, slick and broad, nudged against her entrance. He pushed, and her body, already loosened from earlier, opened for him with a wet, gasping sigh. He sank into her deep and fast, burying himself in her familiar, clutching heat.“God, yes!” Bea cried out, her head falling back. “So fucking big! It’s so much bigger now!”
From her position beside them, Blackwood watched, her scientist’s gaze rapt. She focused on the point where Chris disappeared into her wife, then down at her own soiled and empty passage. “The sounds,” she noted, her voice a ragged whisper.“Higher pitch.A wetter resonance. More… suction.”
Chris fucked Bea with deep, measured strokes, each thrust making her body scoot on the wooden desk. He could feel everything with hypersensitive clarity: the ripple of her inner walls, the grip of her cervix against the tip, the slap of his balls against her ass. He looked over at Blackwood, at the cum still seeping from her, and the raw contrast drove him faster.
“Harder,” Bea demanded, digging her heels into his back.“Fucking ruin this cunt! Make it as loose as hers!”
He obliged, hammering into her, the desk legs now rattling in a frantic rhythm against the floorboards. Blackwood reached out a trembling hand and placed her fingertips on Bea’s lower belly, feeling the deep, internal impact.“The uterine displacement is palpable,” she gasped. “Fascinating.”
Bea’s orgasm tore through her with a silent, breathless intensity. Her body arched, her channel clamping down in a series of violent spasms that milked his shaft.The sudden, vicious tightness tipped Chris over the edge. He pulled out of Bea with a grunt, his cock launching thick ropes of cum across her stomach, her breasts, her throat.
The ejaculation was less a flood than a targeted barrage. Pearls of white splattered across her skin, one stripe landing on her chin. He kept pumping, painting her with his release until his knees felt weak. Bea panted, looking down at the mess on her torso with a dazed, triumphant smile.
Blackwood was already writing in a small, leather-bound notebook she had pulled from somewhere.“Sequential deployment successful.Marked decrease in seminal volume but maintained viscosity. Subject B’s external coating is… thorough.”
Bea scooped a fingerful of cum from her sternum, licking it off. She then dipped her fingers back into the pool on her belly and, reaching over, smeared it across Blackwood’s lips. The professor startled, then her tongue darted out, cleaning them.“Data is best shared,” Bea said, her voice wrecked and happy.
Chris finally softened, the pump’s siguls fading to a dull gray. The monstrous erection shrank, retreating back into a state of exhausted, oversensitive normality. He staggered back a step, looking at the two women on the desk: one painted with his seed, the other leaking it, both of them watching him with a mix of satiation and unquenched curiosity.
CUM DRIPS DOWN.