Beginning

“What the hell… Di.. di...” I swallowed the mouthful of saliva that had suddenly gushed from overactive glands and tried again, “Did you pu… ghk...” more saliva, and this time I couldn’t seem to coordinate lips, tongue and throat in the proper order; drool ran down my chin. The drink slipped from my weak fingers and splashed across the hardwood floor. The tumbler shattered.

Across from me sat my companion for the night; tall, handsome, and now terrifying as the queer smirk spread across his kissable lips. “Did I put something in your drink?” He asked, voice mocking, eyes shining. “Why yes, yes I did. It’s nothing too devastating, not roofies if that’s what is on your mind. Just a little cocktail of my own devising; ketamine, clozapine, risperidone, Doxacurium chloride, and of course plenty of alcohol to hold it all in solution!”

The words were clear, they meant something, there was a conveyance of information—none of which came to rest in my thoughts. All I could clearly understand was that he had drugged me. Desperation came over me then as reality settled home, and I tried to rise. It was a fiasco, though my legs still mostly worked, my sense of balance was thrown and my upper body was too weak to catch myself. I hit the floor hard, right in the puddle of broken glass and vile cocktail. He only laughed at my helpless state. I couldn’t even rise to my knees and crawl, though my hands and wrists flopped and arms twisted, it was more the action of a fish out of water than a woman attempting to help herself.

So there I laid as breath gusted from panicked lungs. Spittle sprayed across the floor and pooled under my cheek. Nausea clutched at my gut but the muscles refused to heave. My knees pulled up, but I couldn’t manage to get my feet under me. There was a keening sound that had to be me, but I could not feel my throat making it.

I had been in his company some hours, we had rattled along numerous topics as we got to know one another better. It had been his suggestion that we come back to his place for a drink. I’d imagined his suave countenance attempting to sway me out of clothes and into his bed—I’d agreed to both, aloud to his offer, and internally with a rush of lust. If he’d only asked… if he had only…

How many drinks I’d downed, I could not say. There had been coffee, and wine, even a bottle of campaign before he’d gotten to the hard stuff. It all finally exited now as my muscles grew slack. I couldn’t feel it, exactly, only a sense of warmth under my hips along with a gushed splatter and a resulting stench.

He noticed. “Ah shit… Now I’m going to need to bleach the floor. Filthy cunt, why’d you have to go and piss now, couldn’t you wait another minute or two?” He stalked off, each step a thump against my skull. When he returned, he was donning latex gloves. He even snapped them. “Well, lets get those wet things off you then. Into the incinerator they’ll go of course!”

I wanted to protest. My dress was brand new silk! Only a bubble of saliva exuded from my mute lips. He pushed my over onto my back, and only then could I see the knife in his hand. He was going to murder me… Why? What had I done? No, I’d been mistaken, at least in as far as the knife was concerned. Three quick slices later my dress was slashed free of my skin, then followed my bra, panties, and hose. I couldn’t feel the cool air on my skin any longer, or the latex caress of his hands, but I could see my nakedness in his tinted glasses.

“You stink, and you’ve got a number of glass shards in your thigh I’ll have to extract before I send you down to meet your mate. Not to worry, only shallow cuts, I’ll pack them with antiseptic before we run you through the decontamination process.”

His hands closed on my wrists, then he began to drag me. I could feel only a faint pressure on my shoulders as he took me away, to meet my—mate. What the hell? He didn’t want to rape me himself? What kind of freak job was he? His bio had seemed so innocuous, a herpetologist, that specialized in large reptiles.

The next ordeal was not pleasant. I felt nothing of course, and even my hearing was growing wobbly as my eyes blurred, but the experience was terribly unpleasant anyway. He hacked my well kept hair off, close to the scalp. He scrubbed me brutally, inside and out with a harsh floor brush and a bucket of water, even my teeth. The decontamination process it turned out was just a wash basin below a shower bag filled with bleach scented water. That he sprayed over me head to toe, inside and out. Then he did one worse when he took the shower head off the hose and simply rammed it up my anus. He had me on my back, knees to chest, rump tilted up. I could hear my gut gurgling as the sterilizing water filled them. I even felt the beginnings of a cramp growing below my ribs as he emptied more and more into me.

It was a humiliation that followed, one I would not go into details upon but to say, he evacuated me shortly thereafter with hands upon my bloated stomach. The process was repeated over and over and over again with what must have been a hundred gallons of bleached water. By the end of it, he looked exhausted, and I felt hollow inside—where I could feel anything at all. There couldn’t be a spec of filth, mucous, or bacterium left inside of my intestines end to end… Through it all, his chatty nature had vanished and left behind a business like visage, clinical even. He saw me not as the beautiful young seductress he’d wooed over drinks, but as a specimen.

At last, I was clean enough to eat off of. Some of the whatever it was he gave me had started to wear off, and I could feel, think, and act just a little. My limbs were yet limp, though not really numb any longer. I even managed to ask a question between saliva filled swallowes, “wuh duhn thu mmmh?” Almost indecipherable as words, and he didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he lifted me up, carried me over to a plate of metal then dumped me upon it.

Like something out of a movie, he pulled a lever, and the trap door opened below me. I fell and tumbled along a chute, then landed upon a slippery floor of mud, deep below the house. There were bright lights above, and green growing things around me, like some sort of terrarium. It smelled of brackish water, rot, and something animal. I’d landed on my back, mostly, upon a mound of muddy debris below the children’s slide he’d dropped me down. It’d once been bright yellow, but was now faded white on the top—that which wasn’t coated in mud.

Something moved not far off, but I couldn’t turn my head to look. Water sloshed, twigs snapped and grasses whispered. Then at last I saw it from the corner of my vision; he ran at high speed, far greater than one would expect for an alligator. He was a massive creature too, bigger than any I’d seen in a zoo. His target was obvious, and with his pale mouth gaped open the way it was, his intent was clear.

I strained as hard as I could, but only managed to jerk my arm slightly outward. Then he was upon me, above me. He was so big, his body alone twice my full height and more! A muddy tail was dragged across my legs, and between, to push them open. He thrashed and parted my thighs wide, then lowered. He was heavy, so heavy that I felt myself sink into the mud below, that my back popped and ribs creaked. Breath gushed from my lungs as he laid himself atop me. As it hissed out, he hissed as well, an incredibly loud sound, throaty and… I suddenly realized, full of lust. It wasn’t something I was acquainted with, or or even remotely familiar, it was the blunt, cold, and wet hardness that suddenly jammed between my legs that told truth.

Sloppy moisture splattered my crotch as he jerked his hips and thrust his prick like a stinger against my folds. I could hear each hard slap, and feel it in my bones as he tap tap tapped his way through, and into me. At last he shifted the right direction, and that ‘tap’ tapped my interior. I felt it, a cold slippery penetration, fast as a bullet. He filled me completely, more than completely, I felt like he would split me open. There he held for a few seconds, still as stone. He then retracted and shot in again, hard and fast to strike against my cervix and behind. It felt like a menstrual cramp, dulled by the drugs, but still painful. Then he did it again, and again, and again.

He climaxed on the sixth thrust, a cold mess unloaded inside and across my lap at high pressure. It lasted no more than three or four seconds, but enough was spilled to fill my vulva a dozen times over! He remained atop of me, a crushing weight , for far too long. My breath came in shallow gasps, while he huffed and grunted his.

I took this uncomfortable, unbelievable moment to take stock. I’d been drugged by the hottest guy I’d ever met. Thrown down a children’s slide into an underground reptile exhibit. Raped by an alligator. Now, now I was getting after coitus cuddles. Stock finished, I began to internally scream, which only existed as sub-vocal expression of disbelief and frustration.

There were so many questions, so many questions! Why? What the fuck? How the fuck did I get myself into this? Who the fuck would kidnap a woman to get her railed by a big lizard? Of course, only a herpetologist. Most importantly though, what the fuck was I going to do now?

That question was answered a few moments later as a sharp stab thrust between my folds again. My “mate” was ready for round two. It took longer this time, far longer, and his tail thrashed when he thrust, it curled under my leg, pushed my hips up. He bucked slightly, but mostly he just clenched to send that girthy, hard penis into my battered sex.

When he climaxed for the second time, the volume was much less, and flowed much slower. Then he settled down to rest once more atop me and crushed the breath out of my lungs. Before my face was only him and his algae stained hide, sectioned like square saucers. I waited, he waited, we both caught our breath. Then it was on to round three, then four, then five before he finally dragged himself away.

By that time I was able to move again, though I hadn’t much for fear of becoming the beast’s lunch. Once he had slithered off into the underbrush, and splashed away across the terrarium, I sat up. My spine popped and cracked, my pelvis creaked, my stomach gurgled, and a flood of sludge poured from between my folds. The black mud below my hips was coated a creamy yellow from his over eager lust. The reek of it! So familiar, yet bitter, fecal, and intensely masculine.

I didn’t feel well, aside from the horrendous bruising and the raw scrapes that covered my body, my stomach felt uncomfortably empty and sour. There was also an unpleasantly feverish heat and tenderness between my legs, like that of an infection. My limbs moved obediently, even my fingers could open and close; but my grip was weak and I didn’t have the energy to even crawl. Sitting up had only been managed with the assistance of gravity; my rump a good six inches deep in the mud now.

Aloud I asked, “What do you want from me? Just to mate with your pet lizard? I’ve done that, let me go!” I had to spit after that, my mouth once again full of saliva, but at least I’d been able to finish speaking. There was, however, no verbal answer. What did happen though, was that the lights dimmed and a projector illuminated a near wall.

I watched with horror. Another girl, a blonde haired beauty. She was screaming, kicking, and punching the alligator as it tried to mount her. She squirmed away as he heaved his bulk up. I could see his rapidly emerging phallus slam into the mud instead of her. He tried again, she escaped once more. The third time, he was fed up with her struggles and instead closed his jaws on her legs, rolled over, and tore them from her pelvis with an incredible spray of blood. He ate her legs, both, whole, then returned to mounting. She died from bloodless before his first orgasm, but he didn’t stop.

I watched and watched. After the mating ended, the projection started over. The instructions were clear. The drugs had worn off, but that did not mean I was free of my predicament. No, not free at all. The video started over and I looked away. The projector continued, light flickered off of leaves and grasses, behind me she died again, and again, and again. I fell asleep with that woman’s death unending behind me.

***

Morning came with my “mate” thrashing through the underbrush toward me. His maw was smeared in blood, his teeth glistened, his hiss seemed almost joyous. I felt my heart stop for a moment as he charged me. I wanted desperately to run, to kick, something, but that blood could easily be mine if I did. Instead, I rolled myself over onto my knees, parted my thighs, and presented myself. I would feed one hunger, not the other.

He came upon me, heavy and eager. His weight crushed my legs into the mud and smashed me breathless, but it wasn’t too much to handle. His spire hit my groin with a wet splat and a gush of moisture which ran down my belly and thighs. The scent was foul, sour and unpleasant, but it could have been worse. He had no trouble entering me though, he seemed well practiced with the act, even this position.

This time, he bottomed out inside without slamming into my cervix. In fact, his entrance felt pleasant; cool against the feverish heat of my groin, and so large! I’d never been a size queen, but there was no argument that bigger felt better so long as it wasn’t too big—and he wasn’t. His tail curled under me and pressed against my belly possessively, his legs jerked in time with each belly clench, and bucked up against me. What he did; he fucked me, to say it bluntly, he fucked me well. I am ashamed to admit however, that he satisfied me; I came for him, and came hard before his first climax, and again later after his recovery.

When he had at last satisfied his urges and abandoned me in a puddle of muddy semen, I came back from whatever strange cloud of ecstasy I had fallen upon, and landed in reality. My gut hurt, my bowels hurt, my sex felt as if someone had taken a sledge hammer to it. It hurt to even touch myself, the skin so raw and swollen, and my fingers came away bloody. How had I not noticed? I was starving, sore, weak, and torn apart inside. Tears began to ooze out and blur my vision, but too few to fall. I did, however, begin to sob.

Minutes, seconds, or hours later I uncoiled myself when there was a grinding and a bang above me. Then down tumbled a lump of something wrapped in wax paper. It was lunch. A banana with a slathering of peanut butter—half stuck to the paper—a cake of dry crumbly bread, and a note that said, “I want to see you drink his semen.” There was no water, perhaps as an encouragement. I looked over at the tacky mud, stained with his semen. It was filthy, alligators had cloacae after all, I couldn’t… right? But—hell, I was desperately thirsty, even before the mouth glue of a meal.

***

I gave in. Perhaps I could have drank the swampy water and survived, but what would happen then? Would I be denied food? So, I gave in, I didn’t want to die and certainly not from dehydration. When my reptilian lover returned from the murky depths, I met him face first instead. He didn’t seem to notice or care when he approached. I laid upon my back, he trotted right up and over, then proceeded to drag his swollen, bulged vent over my breasts.

He was so damned large, bigger than a horse—only those short legs kept him low to the ground. When he rubbed himself into my chest, in search of an orifice, the weight of him left me breathless and gasping. This was not an auspicious start. I was suddenly very, very afraid; his penis which thrust so hard, might break something, or he might smother me, or I might drown!

Too late to turn around, at least not without struggling free of him. That was not an option, the video had made that clear, he would tolerate no disobedience. So I reached up with both hands and pressed against his vent. The thick, bloated tissue was firm yet yielding against my fingers. His rubbery flesh was still wet from the water, and the scales spread with large pink gaps between. I pushed up, to make just enough of a gap to squirm into place.

As wide as my head, that cleft, and so grotesquely swollen! The moment my fingers pushed inside, his phallus shot out like a bolt gun and with it a deluge of moisture… Okay, I’ll be honest, he shat on me, right over my face. Watery, sour, and nasty. My gut heaved and face scrunched. Saliva glands flooded my mouth as nausea gripped. How could I even contemplate this? How could I… Again I imagined that poor woman, legs torn off and swallowed. I opened my mouth and let the sour waste in. Some how I managed to hold my gorge down as he erupted once again, right between my lips.

Creamy filth, urine, and phallus. That phallus was hard, mostly cartilage, and wrapped in only a thin layer of skin and flesh. The cold spire hit my tongue and thrust it aside. He bruised the bottom of my mouth while above, his cloaca gaped and swelled outward messily. My nose, mouth, even chin was enveloped in his cold vent, and he began to fuck me. I shifted and squirmed until I could tilt my head back enough that he slid down my throat. It didn’t help much, but at least there was room for his nearly thirty centimeter dick to penetrate. The base—slippery and soft—flowed more like liquid than flesh into my mouth and stretched my jaw wide. Into me a continuous drizzle of mess flowed from his bowels, with no where else to go.

There was no pleasure in this act, no satisfaction to be had. Breath was a rare desperate commodity and I was subjected to the most abhorrent flavors, textures, and bruisings. He raped my mouth for what felt like hours, and seemed to take less pleasure from it than he had between my thighs. It took him an uncounted eon to ejaculate, and by that point my stomach was already full with his waste. I barely tasted it, buried in my throat as he was, but I felt him shudder, jerk, buck, and clench with his much delayed release. Then I was swallowing violently, just to keep it from backflowing into my sinuses or drowning me!

He finished, but didn’t depart. His spire remained erect and sheathed in my sour mouth as I tried to recover. There was no escape either, my head was half buried in the mud and pinned under a ton or two of lusty gator. I dreaded the second round, and rightfully so considering prior experience, but I was determined to try and please him, to make him peak sooner.

It was less disgusting the second time, but only just. It was also far far longer and far more painful. That bastard, tricking me into this depravity! I was eager to feed him to the gator, piece by piece. I sucked, nursed, licked and nuzzled against the alligator’s vent and jackhammer of a penis, but it did no good. Perhaps it lacked nerves, or he simply found no pleasure in my actions… in any case, I endured and endured until at last his milky discharge filled my mouth to overflowing. There was no room in my stomach anymore to swallow—though I did try, out of fear of the bastard’s displeasure.

Third time was even longer, but I was barely coherent of it. I only remembered brief interludes of awareness interspersed with oxygen starved unconsciousness and inward escapism. There might have been a fourth, or a fifth for all I knew, it was too incoherent to pick apart.

***

I woke, mouth caked in gummy semen, shit, and drool. My jaw hurt too bad to close, my lips were bruised and swollen, my throat was too sore to swallow, and my stomach was cramped with pain. There was also an intense heat between my legs, I could feel it on my thighs, like a branding iron just laying there. When I—with great effort and care—reached down, I found my labia swollen, hot, and incredibly tender.

It was some great time before I worked up enough effort and sense to roll onto my stomach, then crawl my way to the water’s edge. The murky depths were an incredible relief, to both my filthy upper half, and my burning lower. So I submerged and stayed submerged, only lifted my nose above long enough to breathe, then dunk again. My mind felt hazy and memories distant, yet I was still cognizant of myself as a person and my place in the world, and the bastard who was probably watching and laughing.

The pain in my gut grew worse and worse, and I worried about pathogenic bacteria in the gator’s feces. Who knew what horrific infection could have been at that moment liquefying my intestines while I sat submerged. Yet, I didn’t feel nauseous, nor did my bowels bubble like I had to evacuate. Still, the nightmare that played out in my mind as the gut pain grew and grew was almost worse than the reality of it.

I’d already consumed the worst, so felt no resistance to the thought of drinking the swamp water. It tasted organic and mineral, but not as foul as gator shit. I shuddered at the memory. How could I have been so idiotic as to try and drink from a cloaca? Had he drugged my food with some sort of suggestive hypnotic? Did something like that even exist?

The pain continued to grow, until I was clutching at my gut under the water. It was swollen, bloated, and hot. My vulva, even more swollen and tender, protruded below it in the cool water. The labia were spread wide for the inner flesh also jutted out, and my once tight entrance hung open like a fleshy wrinkled ring and allowed cool water up inside. I couldn’t close my thighs either, due to how tender it was, any movement, even a brush of my finger, sent a mixture of pain and pleasure up my spine.

I was still exploring my engorged flesh when I heard splashing in the distance. My lover was approaching for his morning pleasure. I crawled desperately forward, toward the bank. I made it far enough to get my head, shoulders, and breasts out of the water before he was atop of me. He seemed to enjoy the submerged act far greater than on land, and his tail curled in and under me to hold tight while his hind legs clutched at my hips.

It began. That spire of his, it hit my tender passage and I screamed. It felt like an ice cold bolt of metal slamming up into me, and tearing me apart. Where his vent touched me, gushing filth, I felt it like a razor blast over every exposed surface of my pubic mound. Then he slammed himself in, sealed vent to vagina, held me firm, and began to breed me once more.

I did, after a minute or two, grow accustomed to the sensation. Then acclimation became pleasure as the discomfort faded into oblivion and left behind only the delicious, wet, sloppy feeling of him using me thoroughly. I felt strange; I watched myself from within as if a stranger, watched myself buck and squirm against the alligator in utter pleasure and lust. I watched, calm, clear minded, and confused. It was as if there was an animal living inside of me, who had just escaped it’s cage while I, the minder watched on with disapproval.

I climaxed for him, as my ache filled cunt and cramped belly seized up and clamped down. Even throughout the wondrous waves of pleasure, I felt almost clinical. I howled and thrashed, yet part of my mind felt cold and detached. I endured the ecstasy beyond any lover’s or self inflicted touch, yet my emotions were unmoved.

Hours later when It was at last over, I again regained control. I found myself in a cloudy, filth and semen filled pool of water. My body was so incredibly sore, worn and bruised from the mating, strained and exhausted from my frenetic responses, and my poor bloated belly still hurt incredibly. I was a bit worried, for I hadn’t shit in quite a while, in fact, my bowels felt strangely empty and loose. I reached back to probe my anus, not something I did often, but with everything that was going on I was concerned.

The flesh was incredibly hot, and—loose. My sphincter had lost all tone and tension, it hung open, over two inches gaped. Water filled my colon and vagina, both of which were open and swollen. It was down right terrifying to find your body deformed, to find yourself different from what you remembered. Worse, when I slipped my finger inside my vulva… I was able to curl it out through my anus, the skin that had once held them separate, had torn without my realization.

I began to cry then. It was a helpless, demented expression, of abject confusion and self pity. What had he done to me? What was going to become of me? It was obvious that I wouldn’t live through this, infection had undoubtedly set in, in my bowels, vagina, and digestive tract. The swollen, heated flesh was probably gangrenous and would soon go numb—then would come blood poisoning… “No, no no!” I sobbed aloud, then started coughing, horse voice strained beyond normal use.

I remained in that ball of self pity and sufferance until the gator returned. I didn’t welcome him, or resist. I laid limp and mindless until he had me on my back and clutched me once more under the water. The feel of his swollen vent against my ruined passage was once again incredibly painful. Again I screamed, a wounded animal noise, too harsh and senseless to register even to my own ears as a person. I screamed until my vocal cords tore as the gator exploded his evacuation and phallus into me. My bowels and vulva swelled, full, then splattered empty again into the water while he mated me to his cold heart’s content.

The animal within took over once more, the bestial mating it’s entire world. I was cold, unmoved, and barely thinking. This troubled me some, truth be told. My thoughts were shallow and fleeting, more reactionary than considered. It was as if I was losing myself, becoming something inhuman. While my hips thrashed and bowels clenched upon my mate, I grew more and more panicked… yet hadn’t even enough control to wiggle a finger.

Hours of bestial pleasure passed, and when it was over, I found myself up on the muddy bank, face tucked between my own legs. I had no control still, not of fingers or toes, arms or legs. I was an observer in my own body, a body I did not recognize any longer. Before my eyes—eyes that did not track what I wished to track, but darted to and fro as they pleased, mind you—before my eyes, was a single slit, gaping and swollen. My anus and vagina had deformed into a elongated cleft of angry red skin and drooling mess. It was into this which my tongue slipped and lapped… I was cleaning myself orally. The most confounding part of this, was that I was no where near that flexible, yet I could lap at my own asshole now without discomfort, without even disturbing breath!

The filthy sour taste filled my senses for over an hour, until I was completely empty and dry. Then I went for a walk… not on my feet mind you, but on hands and feet, with butt up in the air. I walked… she walked us over to the slide, at the bottom of which was a pile of raw meat. She began to eat, coppery blood filled our senses as broad teeth chewed through tough scraps and gulped the smaller ones down whole.

Once finished, she laid down in a warm dry spot and closed our eyes. The cramping in my full gut was even worse, and it protruded so far out now that I looked pregnant, but the incredible feverish heat had faded. I still felt wholly unpleasant, but I was less sure that it was gangrene. My—well let’s call it what it is—cloaca was not green, or even particularly infected appearing. It was changed, and whatever had changed it, had likely caused the… the… I couldn’t remember the word off the top of my head, but the tiny things that multiplied and caused unhealthiness.

Frustration got the better of me, but none of it showed on my placid face or in the comfortable sprawl of my bloated body. To anyone outside, they would see a happy, content woman who looked six months pregnant! That frustrated me even more.

***

I… I was no longer in control and I was losing my sense of self. Every day seemed to dawn a little less brightly, a little less satisfying. Not that I ever saw a dawn, the lights just turned on and I would wake and… and… I forgot the word, something about being with another, about exertion.

I was reminded abruptly when the giant reptile emerged from the water a few feet away and climbed atop of me. I still couldn’t remember the word, but my body knew the act, oh so well. I lost coherent thought, barely aware of myself as a person while he was inside of me. When it was over, I felt a little less myself than before, as if he had taken something from me as his semen pumped into my bowels.

I spent another period of cleaning, the sour musky mess an intensely alluring and exciting flavor, and the feel of my rough tongue as it rasped over my finely scaled orifice was intense! I brought myself to orgasm twice, orally, before hunger took over. The food spot greeted me with another bloody pile of meat and entrails, oh how delicious it was! Once satiated, I laid down in a dry spot to rest under the lamps, warm and content.

***

I felt like I had been here before, but my last memory was of someplace warm and dry. In fact, I couldn’t seem to dredge up any other memory beyond that moment. I had looked up into someone’s face, familiar, friendly; she smiled, I was safe.

I did not feel safe here, and there was something in the water stalking me. My eyes darted to and fro, to steal a glance of what it was, I knew it was there, knew it wanted me. Worse, I felt trapped, there was no escape.

It arrived, though I never saw it. Scaled claws grasped me, dragged me under the water. A tail tucked under, against my belly. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t reach the surface, for his heavy weight was upon me and pinned me to the muddy bottom. I managed to satisfy his lust before the desperation of air overtook me, and he allowed me to breathe before we began again.

***

I woke confused and in agony. I was on all fours, with something grabbing at me and plunging in. I bucked back to meet it… Something familiar was happening, but I couldn’t describe it. In fact I could barely name a single thing I saw, tasted, smelled, or felt. Instead I panted and moaned as I was penetrated—though I wanted to scream in agony—the thought never reached the point of action. My ejaculate filled bowels splattered filthy moisture across the ground under us as he pulled out. The rank stench burned at my nostrils, yet I inhaled deeply and moaned all that much louder.

My tight passage clenched and milked the intruding spire, muscular insides squeezed down and held him firm within. Only minutes passed before he began to ejaculate, a cool soothing sensation against the burning pain of his entrance. Then he held me, teeth upon my shoulder and tail turned up between my legs, against my belly and breast. I hugged it to me, within his lap, still impaled.

Minutes passed, then he began to mate again, to my great surprise. I could remember other lovers who had passed right out after sex… but not he! It was less painful this time, more pleasure, and this time I came at the same time as he, a violent mind shaking orgasm that left me spent. Then to my even greater surprise, there was a third time, and a fourth before he was done with me. Then I promptly fell asleep in a muddy puddle of our love.

***

The cramps dominated my thoughts. Pain, pain in middle, pain that confused, pain that made me whimper and whine. The pain came to a peak shortly after mating, and I crawled to the high ground, kicked my feet into the mud and dug a deep, damp hole. Once the pain peaked, once the hole was deep enough, I curled down and nestled my lower half in the pit, and began to clench. It was like the largest and most intensely pleasant shit of your life. Deep gut tremors and involuntary spasms were like mini orgasms followed by wet plops and splatters.

I did not understand what was going on, barely even realized that it was abnormal. Once the pain faded, all that was left was contentment. Plop, splat, splutter, plop—then I’d let loose a sigh. Repeat and repeat until I’d lost count, not that I’d really even tried to, it seemed too strange, and too difficult to bother with. Plop, splat, gush… A little hiss of pleasure rippled up my throat.

It was over then, my belly limp and sagged, like a deflated balloon. I crawled weakly from the pit and looked down to see the muddy bottom filled with white eggs, each about the size of a soft ball. I felt proud, so many eggs, such great fulfillment of purpose! I began to push the mud back in, to cover them. I was still doing such by hand, when my mate returned to put more eggs in me. I laid upon the nest, chest in the half filled cavity, face in the dirt upon the other side, and raised my rear for him. My stubby tail, covered in thick plated scales lifted to the side.

End

5/01/2018

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