FSE

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Prologue

I had a self destructive interest, a desperate and near hopeless interest that ruled my life. I am unquestionably what you would call ugly, not just plain--ugly. This strongly impeded my interest, for the object of my desire was to be a Mother. Not just a mother, but a servile, fertile beast of burden mindlessly bent to the task of bearing young. Had I the option, I would have chosen reincarnation as a milk cow or egg laying hen, destined to spend the rest of my fertile life impregnated.

I however feared I would become a spinster at my current rate. I was 29, lived alone, worked a dead end job as gas station attendant, and dreamed. Every night I came home to sit before the cool blue glow of my monitor and surfed through pictures of beautiful happy pregnant women--and their delicious studs. Porn and hentai came next; human and inhuman breeding. Some times I'd even spend the night with an erotic story series or participate in erotic role-play easily found in one of the many breeding chats full of people the world round.

Even--when I felt particularly bold--I'd offer myself to a particularly aggressive stud. They generally were some creature of base instinct and even baser desire, an unhealthy and self-destructive attraction. It was such a thrill to offer, every single time, a simple near pleading offer, "Use me."

Inevitably--once they realized I was earnest and meant in real life, not simply some role play hook--they wanted to see a picture of me. That was where it usually came to an end. I'd send the best picture I had from some five years back. It was in good light, and I'd lost some weight at the time too. It was never good enough.

A few, a very few, looked past my appearance to something more, some potential use. Not the use I craved, for that potential never aligned with my own interest. They wanted a slave, a dehumanized, filth soaked, and reviled object. I... I tried... Oh how I tried! The first time it was offered... oh how I tried! I did everything asked of me; shamed myself on camera, humiliated myself in public, did some of the most disgusting and vile things a human could subject themselves to. In the end he grew bored and left me a broken wreck, and worse; my womb empty. I'd never even seen his penis, let alone felt him inside.

After that horrendous experience, I never again subjected myself to those kinds of people. I role played, I made my offers, I fantasized. I was a common staple, a regular face in the crowd--an all too desperate and annoying presence. People talked about me in private, mocking I'm sure, though I rarely learned what was said, only that new faces appeared and already knew to show no interest. I wanted it too much, I was a man trap, I'd suck the money out of their pockets. That's how I eventually understood it.

An Offer

"What if I was a gator man?" Some dude named Scaelover asked. "Would you still let me impregnate you?"

"I don't care, I'm not a furry but, hey, could be fun," I replied, though the idea of some scaly cold blooded thing on top of me, sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine. I hated snakes, hated lizards in general. But I hadn't had a good scene in days.

He continued, "What if I had a cloaca? Would you still let me fuck you?"

"A what?" I asked.

He explained, "A cloaca, it's Latin for sewer. A single hole for waste and reproduction."

"I..." I started to type "I'm not into filth play." I stopped, erased it, and typed, "Um... how well do you wash it?"

"Not particularly well, but you are welcome to do it yourself."

That might be weird, or intimate. I'd done bath and shower scenes before, but never washed out someone's asshole. "That's not so bad I guess. I'm down."

"Interesting." It was all they said, then they logged off without another word. I sent a couple more messages their way, but they didn't came back online that day.

I went to bed around three in the morning; horny, frustrated, and annoyed. I'd even looked up pictures of gators, anthro-gators, and cloacae out of curiosity. It gave me some very interesting dreams, dreams involving very long scrub brushes and filthy holes that never seemed to come clean enough to satisfy.

When I logged in the next afternoon to check email before work, I had a message waiting for me. It was Scaelover again. No apology, or even acknowledgment of my messages from the night before. All they said was, "What if you had to lay eggs? Would you still be willing?"

"What the fuck? Just ditching me and expect..." I sighed, deleted that, and responded, "I don't care if it's eggs larva or live birth. I know what I want in life, the only thing I want. Fill my womb. Use me. USE ME. Give my life purpose!" Then with a bit of fair turnabout, I logged off and prepared for work.

Gas Station Attendant was not the kind of job you lived for, but it was frequently interesting. The occasional drunk, high, or simply crazy person always lightened the mood. Better yet, the kids who tried to buy alcohol or swipe candy bars. Once I even had a man drive off with the hose still attached to his car. He ended up with a rather hefty fine and bill for a new pump. Most shifts however were like this one: quiet tedium.

The day wore on into night, and my mind continued to drift back to the strange gator dude. He obviously wasn't the immediate gratification type. What did he want? I'd thought; just some quick role play, and he simply wanted to make sure I was cool with his kink. I was beginning to rethink that assessment. Not that I could come up with a better reasoning. I didn't for a second believe he really was a gator man with an unwashed cloaca. Did he own a gator farm? Was that even a real thing? Shit, could he be one of those freaks into real animals? Was he trying to find someone else into it? I shuddered in revulsion, suddenly determined to reject him.

My shift ended as Karen arrived to relieve me. I gave her a friendly wave, informed her of store trivialities, then went home. My mind swirled with the possibilities that I was in communication with a real freak. My prior determination eroded into questions. Could I go through with such a thing? I'd sworn off sickos after the last guy, but... I backed off with a mental recoil, no, I had absolutely no interest in that repugnant possibility! If he wanted a brood-wife who tolerated his perversions, okay, that was okay. He could do as he pleased, but I would not participate!

I sat down at the computer, loaded up the chat client, and saw his icon blink at me. Three messages waited. The first; "Good, that's good. Knowing one's purpose in life is always good. You cannot imagine how long it took me to accept my purpose. :)" seemed innocent enough, though with my newfound understanding, it struck me as ominous. The second "What about civilization? How attached are you to city life, to the human morals and stereotypes you've grown up with?" Shit. Holy shit. He really was a gator fucker! He wanted to know if I'd put up with his taboo perversions, how I'd cope living on a farm in the middle of nowhere. It was his third message that troubled me most; "I would like to meet."

I stared at those words for the longest time. He never asked for a picture, didn't follow the usual pattern, or the unusual pattern. My heart raced and skin prickled with sweat, my words were a panicked reply, "But you don't know what I look like! For all you know, I could be the swamp thing, or some 90 year old hag, or a dude!"

His reply was immediate, "What you look like does not apply. If you are in your ninetieth year, I congratulate you, but suspect you would not service your calling well. I do not think a man would serve either, but if you are and wish to attempt... In any case, an open womb and open mind is all that I require. May I ask where you live?"

I stared at those words, words that terrified me beyond belief. How had I grown so complacent with this life? I smacked myself in the forehead a number of times, then spoke aloud, "Jacqueline, this man is offering you exactly what you want. You have sought this since you turned god damn fourteen. Accept his offer or give up your stupid fantasy forever."

To that self, I replied, "He might be a horrible monster of a man, I don't know a thing about him! And I certainly do not want to spread my legs to a big scaly animal!"

"But you'd do it, if it meant you got what you wanted. Worst case scenario, you get beaten and raped, end up fucked by big lizards for a while, escape, and have his ass arrested. Or, I suppose, you could be killed? I mean, sex with giant lizards sounds quite hazardous, and horrible men can kill as easily. But who cares... You don't care about your life that much anyhow do you."

That settled it. I was right after all, I really didn't care. It'd been twenty minutes since that last message, I finally answered, "No, I'm not in my 90s, nor am I a guy. Just some ground rules; I will not have sex with animals, not interested, got it? I'm not going to be a slave, nor am I a masochist. I want to be impregnated, over and over again. I want to spend the rest of my life breeding. Can you do that for me Scaelover? Even though I am ugly, which you should not question, I am."

"I suppose it depends on what you mean by animal. We are all animals, after all, once you push past the artificial veneer of civilization. But I can assure you, all I want is to see you pregnant and happy. Your appearance does not matter, you will not be a slave, though you will of course have duties to attend to as a mother and a mate. You are not afraid of a little work, are you?" They asked.

"No, I'm not," I answered, then remembered his most important of questions, "I'm in Ann Arbor, MI."

There was a long pause in the conversation. I waited, but they did not go offline. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, twenty. At last, they sent a reply, a link. I clicked the link and discovered it was a prepaid air fare just waiting for my personal information. The flight would leave from Ann Arbor Municipal Airport at two AM, it was midnight now. The destination though: Oslo, Norway.

With hands trembling, I input my information, hit submit, then printed off the ticket. Only then did I realize, "Hey Scaelover, I don't have a passport..."

They answered, "It will be taken care of. Authorities will be informed of your arrival and a visa will be issued. It will be my deepest pleasure to make your acquaintance Jacqueline, see you soon."

Introductions

The business jet came to a halt, the stairs came down. There was no one out there to meet me that I could see nor any vehicle to take luggage; not that I had brought much. I retrieved my backpack, purse, and single suitcase then stepped down onto the tarmac. It was late evening--though my own internal clock never made much sense--I certainly suffered from something like jet lag.

The plane sealed up behind me again and taxied off as I trotted towards the building. There had been no flight attendant, no steward, not a word even from the captain. I'd boarded and flown half way across the world and saw no one. Even now the airport looked deserted. There were planes half taxied, abandoned. An stair truck was parked with driver side door ajar. If I hadn't been nervous before, I was down right terrified now.

Ahead, a car started, it's lights came on. A gate hung open between it and I. So that was the direction I took. At least someone was here, it wasn't the apocalypse after all. The car that waited was an ordinary taxi, oddly colored and labeled in words I could not read, but unmistakable. In the driver seat a scruffy man sat with chin perched in palm, elbow out the window. "You Jacqueline?" He asked. His shirt read Jeppe, I wasn't sure if that was his name, or title.

I nodded, "Yes."

He beamed at me, then leaned over and pulled the passenger door open, then popped the trunk. I shrugged and unloaded my burden and slid in. "Where is everyone?" I inquired.

He shrugged at me then put the vehicle in gear, backed out, shifted, and pulled out onto the highway. It took me a few minutes to realize, but after a number of inquiries it was obvious; he did not speak English. I settled into silence and watched the world pass. I was in another country and it did not entirely seem real. I'd never even left Michigan before.

The drive felt longer than the air travel, but eventually we pulled to a stop in front of a well maintained building made from ancient stone and mortar. It was a heavy thing, imposing, and dark. There were no windows visible, no lights, only a single wide metal door with a solid latch. The driver startled me out of my stare when he popped the trunk. I pulled the door open, shouldered my purse, then came around back to collect my bag and suitcase. The man drove off a moment later, the momentum of his departure slammed the passenger door shut. If that wasn't a sign that I should turn around and flee, nothing was.

"W-wait!" I called after, but it was a futile effort; he was gone. What kind of messed up shit had I thrown myself into? With a deep and trembling breath I approached the door. It looked more like a loading dock at ground level than an entryway. I reached up to knock, but the door thudded from within before my knuckles struck. It sounded of heavy bolts being thrown hard, a series of deep clanks and clunks, then it opened inward.

An old woman greeted me, "Madam Jacqueline, I welcome you." Her accent was strong, but English clear, perhaps a bit British.

"Oh, hello!" I said, even smiled as best I could in the circumstances.

"Come, though I regret I will not offer to take your luggage, I have a tremendous pain in my lower back."

"Not a problem Miss..." I trailed off, she hadn't given her name.

"Madame Amette Scalavare, if you please." I was lead inside, then she returned to the door and shut it, each bolt thrown with a gut wrenching finality. Not that I couldn't just open them again, but this place suggested a sinister purpose. No windows, locked doors, built like a fortress. I wondered if I would ever leave again. I tried to put the fear away, but the old woman saw right through. "Be at ease, no harm will come to you here. If you wish you may return home at any time." When she smiled at me, her eyes crinkled with laugh lines.

Something struck me then, "Scalavare? Scaelover?"

Her smile deepened, "Ahh, just a little pseudonym wordplay."

I sputtered, "B-but, I thought you... I mean..."

"You thought I was a man? Understandable, I did not discourage your notion. It is not for my pleasure that you have been invited afterall, though I am the gatekeeper of a sort. It is for my son. He is of an age with needs that must be satisfied and not the mental fortitude to consider his actions well."

I stared at her, mouth slightly agape, "Your son? Isn't that a little..." I trailed off. It was unwise to offend your host.

"Arranged marriages have been a common tradition among many households for tens of thousands of years. Though most royalty comes from royalty, this leads to inbreeding eventually. We of house Scalavare draw our mothers from the dregs of society. The destitute, the whores, and the harlots... those perceived worthless." She paused, face flushed suddenly. Her words sounded recited, ingrained. "Times change. Oh, how they change. It is I who am desperate, for my mate and I must leave for court soon. Someone must take my place and care for my son."

"How old is he? You mentioned needs to be satisfied, but he's... not smart? Is he mentally disabled?" I tried to imagine myself pleasuring such a man and failed.

Instead of answering, she beckoned and lead me from the doorway, down the hall, and into a sitting room. It was decorated like something from a fantasy novel. Giant hearth with fire, ancient paintings and even what could only be tapestries on the walls. She took a seat in a large chair, and sighed. "Care for your back Jacqueline, especially while pregnant. Keep it strong, you'll never get it back when you lose it."

"Yes Madame," I answered, though I already had back troubles myself. Too much time in the computer chair, or the stool at work, and too much weight. "But please, explain?"

"There are a number of things I cannot tell you until you agree to the... contract shall we say? There are also a number of things I do not wish to tell you, for shame, or fear of losing you. No, my son is not mentally disabled. He has special needs, yes, and he does not think as a regular man. He is different in ways I could never describe, but he is exceedingly intelligent. It is an intelligence that could put our greatest minds to shame, but it is so different, so alien..." She shook her head and laid it back to stare at the soot streaked stone ceiling. "These things you will come to understand. My mate is the same as our son and his mother found me on the streets fifty seven years ago when her mate was called to court. I was a whore by that point, starving and cold. It was nineteen sixty two, Hamburg. There was a terrible flood that winter, I was left homeless and desperate, she offered me hope."

"So... I'm not so desperate, not homeless, just..." I trailed off, what could I say. Her life sounded like hell.

"No, you are not. But I think in your own way, you are desperate and lonely enough that you will welcome my Son into your body--and heart. His needs rule his mind, until they are satiated. Then his mind clears for a time and you will meet the man within the beast. I have not seen that man for some time, I can no longer... no longer satisfy him without great risk."

I sucked in a breath, "do you mean, you had sex with your own child?"

"He is not someone whom can tell no. Once he matured, I had to cloister him from myself and others lest he try and take me from his father. It has been two years since that day. Two years since his mind could form coherent thought, two years of the hunger and madness." She closed her eyes as tears formed and fell, "please bring my son back to me, so that I may say goodbye? I-I am sure you will love him as much as I love his father!"

It was simply too much, too strange. There was so many questions I wanted answered, but I was pretty sure she would tell me little more. Royalty, that part intrigued me, but royalty born of the lowest of the low, that part lent it an air of fantasy. Was she deluded? Did her--mate--as she put it, brain wash her into some nonsense? Though, there was power here, and money. An airport closed? A fortress of a building? There were numerous little details that put forward truth against the incredulity.

"Why did you ask me about Gators, cloaca, and eggs? That just doesn't make any sense. I figured you must be some gator farmer or something in Florida who bangs his animals. But this..." She let out half a laugh at that and shook her head. I continued, "No, obviously not. So why those specific questions?"

She plucked the hem of her dress and wiped her cheek on it, then kept pulling. Her old thighs were covered in thin pale scars, and she was utterly naked below the dress. What I did see however, was something--wrong. There was no pubic hair between her legs, instead, a speckle of black spots that spread in a spangle across her stomach, a stomach that sagged and bunched, a stomach that had more stretch marks than smooth skin. How many times had she borne children for her mate?

She opened her legs farther, and hissed a breath as she tilted her hips. Between her old thighs was a single vertical cleft, no anus, no recognizable vagina, just a scaled cleft with puckered folds surrounding it. "I was once like you, but I was altered with each mating. It may be a mistake to show you this, but I would not lie to you. You will change to match my son, to suit his desperate hunger."

"D-did it hurt?" was all I could think to ask. My mind fell to conspiracy theories however, lizard people, aliens. Holy fuck. That was the only explanation that made any sense!

"Some, especially so the first time. Mostly though, it itched off and on for years."

"What are they?" They could not be human.

She smiled and asked, "Do you wish to meet him?" Her clothes were lowered again, empty sack of a stomach hidden, inhuman genitals concealed. The image of her distorted body was burned into me though, it was something I would never, could never forget. To my surprise, I felt moisture trickle from between my labia and dampen the crotch of my panties. The sight of her near ruined body excited me! Even her inhuman genitals.

"Do I wish..." I echoed, then bit my lip and looked toward the fire, "I have to enter this blind, don't I. Say yes, then accept the consequences, or say no and never learn the truth." The Lizard People couldn't risk revealing themselves to the public, obviously.

"I'm afraid so. No one must ever know the truth of our house."

I said, "Don't I already know too much? You are... I don't know, barely human now?"

"Do you? What do you know? An old lady has perhaps a strange venereal disease? I did admit to being a whore. No. You know nothing." She laced her fingers over her stomach. The padded front of her dress took the contour of her hollow belly. I felt warm all over, and a firm clench announced itself in my sex. To me, her sagging, hideous stomach was the most arousing thing I had ever seen.

Ashamed, I asked, "C-can I see your stomach again?"

She cocked her head as she considered me with dark eyes that stared straight through. She stood with a nod and walked carefully forward. She once more drew her clothing up, then removed them entirely. She stood naked before me, shameless and comfortable. "If that will help convince you to join us."

Her breasts were small and pert, especially for her age, nipples like a pair of erasers. She had never produced milk, never nursed. Her ribs were faintly visible and from them, her stomach hung like curtains. I'd never seen anything like it outside of extreme hentai! I reached up and touched her, pressed just below her navel. Her limp flesh sank in, stomach hollow. Her skin was soft and velvety, with barely an ounce of fat on her frame. What bothered me though, was that it seemed like her intestines were simply missing.

"When I meet him, he will not be in control of himself. He will use me, penetrate me without concern or regard. I will be nothing but an object to satiate his needs within." It wasn't a question, though I left room for her to tell me I was wrong.

Her hand touched my cheek, a gentle caress that ended in my hair. She pressed me close, face against stomach, and held me a moment. "It will hurt, a lot. He will not be gentle for he is too far gone. You will not be in any danger however." She stroked through my hair, a gentle caress that left me shivering. I'd thought of other women sexually, numerous times. I couldn't help it when my core lust was for the fertility, for the gravidity of pregnancy. I'd imagined myself in a harem, a sisterhood of comfort and depravity.

I thought now of touching her, of tasting her even. My hand rose between her thighs and found the soft wrinkled flesh covered in tiny scales. They were hard and smooth and she was very warm to the touch. It felt unreal, like I was watching a strange porno starring myself and this inhuman stranger. Her thighs clenched and opened slightly, her body lowered. I pressed my middle digit into her; scaled skin clenched, then relaxed, a rivulet of moisture drooled free into my palm as her passage devoured that finger.

I imagined my face between her old thighs, mouth to her puckered vent. My disgust I'd felt only this afternoon was gone. She pulled away before the thought came to action and gave me a smile, "You will not regret the choice. This I promise you. When he enters you, you will hurt, but when it is over, when he wakes up, you will... you will see."

She took it for granted that I would agree. Would I? I looked into her eyes, then let my gaze trail down her form once more and lingered at her navel. The way the skin hung there, drooped like a dog's jowls to either side, then dangled over her alien pubic mound. "How many children have you given birth to? Is he only your last?"

She shook her head, "He was my first true-born. I cannot remember how many I have born, it doesn't come in cycles, more like waves. When his needs crest, I am there to drown in them. The pregnancy takes a few months, but he crests numerous times throughout the duration, until laying is constant, weekly and some times daily. I however went barren twelve years ago, every last egg used. I am told there are millions in each ovary... So many..." She shrugged and again asked, "Do you wish to meet him? Do you wish to fulfill your self-proclaimed purpose?"

Continuous, unending pregnancy. Not nine month cycles, not even menstrual cycles, but continuous. The chair under my rear was a sodden mess. My body said yes, as hard as it could. My mind was full of fear, but my heart felt kinship with this woman, felt her honesty. I trusted her for some stupid reason! I wanted to pull my hair out and scream, or masturbate perhaps. But there was a man, an inhuman monster perhaps, or perhaps just mentally unhinged, but a man was waiting for me, waiting to breed me.

I looked down at my sticky hand, stained off-yellow by her. I whispered, "Y-yes Madame," and brought that hand to my face. She smelled sweet and earthy, she tasted just as sweet, tart, and of fresh tilled soil. I flushed, unable to look her in the eye. "Yes. I will give my body to your son."

She sighed, visibly relaxed at the edge of my vision, and held her hand for me, "Well then, lets get you prepared!" I took it with my damp hand.

Penetration

Bathed, oiled, and naked; I stood before the heavily bolted doors that lead to the lower basement. Or perhaps, lower lower basement. The basement of the building went down at least three floors, the second sub basement had been something of a harem like chamber, a woman's fantasy of perfumes, makeups, clothes, and a kingdom's worth of silk drapery. But then there was the door down. Solid metal, even heavier than the front door, bolted from the outside. It was bent and dimpled in places, but unbroken.

I was alone, my instructions clear. I would unbolt the door, enter, re-lock it from within, then descend. My mate had been fed and should be lethargic--at least until he smelled me. I would not struggle for he would know what to do, he was well practiced upon his own mother. That was all, no other instructions, no warnings, no dos and do nots.

I steadied myself and unbolted from the bottom up with greasy fingers. The door opened outward and I stepped through, into utter black. Somewhere ahead I heard loud, deep breaths, almost too large to be believed. That couldn't be him, could it? Carefully I shut the door again and fumbled until the inner bolts were set. I reeked from the oil she had rubbed into my skin. It was not perfume, it was something of biological origin, Alien Reptile glands perhaps. My thighs slipped against one another as I took the first step, my heavy breasts rolled over my ribs with a wet rasp. I hated my body, hated my fat, hated my appearance in all ways... how could anyone want me? But the oil, the oil would be the attraction, to his nose I would be irresistible. Once he smelled me, he would have to claim me, he could do nothing less... or so I was told.

Another step, then another. I held my hand against the dry stone wall as I descended into the darkness. The stone was gritty with dust, but solid. To my disgust I stepped right into a cobweb, but on reflection it did not overly surprise me; two years that door had been closed. Another few steps and the wall vanished from my fingertips. I was down.

The loud breaths were even grander here, and directional. He was there off to my left, had to be a monstrous beast. It stank down there worse than even I, an animal odor, sour and eye watering. One deep breath of that stench however, and an unnatural arousal hit me like a hammer. My knees buckled, suddenly weak. My vagina squeezed on nothing and spat a stream of lubricant into the dust between my knees. My clit engorged and ached, nipples tightened, hair stood on end, and a helpless moan rolled up my throat. My mind felt awash in swirls of confusion and sexual desperation. I'd never felt anything like it, never imagined anything like it. In that moment, I would have spread my thighs for anything; gator, alien, human, horse, dog, or even a jagged rock. Anything to quench the fire which now raged deep within my womanhood.

My moan was echoed by a throaty rumble. He was awake. Something huge scraped against the ground, a foot came down with a thud I could feel through my knees. He took a deep breath, a breath that kept going, a breath like wind through the trees. The breath left him in a sound that was unmistakable, he moaned. It was almost human, almost, but too vast, too deep, simply too much! What had I agreed to? What was he? Reptilian aliens I'd imagined, perhaps even bestial upon four legs, but... but not this!

There was a wet splatter followed by a sticky sound of wet flesh parting. He took another step, then another. With each step a rain of droplets hit the stone. In my mind, I saw his erection; drooling, glistening, and wet. The reality was upon me a few seconds later. He was above, he was over, and something heavy hit me in the chest just hard enough to knocked me flat upon my back.

I opened my legs, willing and yielding. I'd agreed, I'd come all this way. No matter what sort of beast he was, my body had a purpose, a purpose which raged through my veins and burned sane thought from my mind. "Breed me!" I begged and raised my hips in supplication.

I'd expected something like a fleshy log to rip me apart. Instead it felt more like a large tongue. His member licked at me, navel first and then lower. He worked his way under the fold of my stomach, between thigh and pubic mound, then inward. I let him explore, relished it, and let him find me. Madame had told me to let him take me at his own pace. I did with body quivering and nerves on fire.

That sticky member left a trail of gloppy mucous, with up to half inch globs. I could feel them roll, tickling, down my sides and across my thigh. He licked again, up the other side of my pubis and under my belly. A splatter of near scalding fluid blasted forth from his tip and drenched my waistline. The scent of him changed, from sour and foul to raw sex and mind altering intense lust. I felt myself lose control, my body twitched and bucked under him as the scent scoured my sinuses and taste buds. I arched as the heated eruption coated my skin. I orgasmed under him without my sex even being touched. My stomach clenched and rolled while vaginal muscles squeezed and milked the void.

This loss of control, this sense of overwhelming desire; it was new to me. I'd never had sex, never touched a man before, never even smelled the scent of semen. I'd heard it described of course in erotica and role-play. I'd watched the faces of women as they tasted it, bathed in it, worshiped it. Never had I experienced it and I suspected what I experienced now put to shame whatever a human male could do. His precum poured free into my loins, coated my pubic mound, and filled the air with such a perfume! I reached down at last, resistance and resolve evaporated. My hand caught the coagulated and tangled strands of hot mucous, both sticky yet slippery. I then smeared his release across myself, from navel to breasts, up throat, and began to suckle upon my fingers. This was where I belonged.

His appendage curled and rolled. It entangled my thigh, stroked from crotch to knee, and pushed my mucous slathered leg up to my chest. I paid so little mind to what he did, lost as I was in sensations beyond my experience. His phallus licked down again and... and his penis parted into two lengths, two erections that pushed up between the creases at either side of my pubic mound and circled my waist to either side. I felt his scaled, hot slit nestle against my sex, felt the sticky flesh pulse in time with his heart. Fluids drooled from him and soaked into my yet untouched vulva and down over the crease of my rear.

"Please," I begged, "Breed me." I was so desperate to feel him inside, to feel both of his spires! My hips raised involuntarily as the waves of pleasure crashed upon my spine and echoed through my stomach. I imagined myself bloated with life, his spawn, stomach awash in eggs and semen, too gravid to even move!

His erections continued to emerge, his vent swelled and gaped, mashed into my crotch. My disgust, my insistence that I'd wash him first, had vanished. I didn't care any longer, in fact, I relished the feel of him against me. I reached down to once again stroke my hands through the viscous mucus he had coated my stomach with. Tacky globs clung to my fingers, which I brought to my face. I inhaled; sour and eye watering. I tasted again, with fingers thrust between lips. The globs clung to my tongue, then dissolved slowly into a cloying foul bitter-sour flavor. Part of me asked, what the fuck I was doing, but that part was a distant and tiny thing, barely worth noticing. I gathered another fist full of the lust he had sprayed into my waistline and devoured it. Sour, salty, and...

My mind faded into a muddled wash of confused sensations. I could feel his erections pulsate and swell as they emerged. It was such an incredible ache, so desperate, if only they would emerge faster! I could feel her below me, she smelled of Him, and this so right, so perfect... I would claim her! She was mine, she would smell of me, was already beginning to, she squirmed and whimpered and begged like prey, but not to eat, no... I felt her little mind quake and quiver with overpowering lust. And I... wait, I... no? Who was I?

I opened my eyes to stare up into the dark. Up, not down. Up. I bucked hard... No, he bucked hard. I felt him descend upon me like an avalanche and drive a single phallus between my folds and bottomed out. I felt like I was going mad, I felt frustration at how shallow I was, felt the desperate need to just ram through, as if I was he! How was it that I felt myself penetrating--myself?! Yet I raised my hips, willing, offering, full and complete surrender to both sides of the sensational gamut.

I wasn't entirely virginal, not in the traditional sense. I'd used vibrators and dildos almost daily for all of my adult life. Still, the tip of his penis was as thick as my wrist and just grew thicker. My entrance was stretched to it's limit already, and I felt his narrow arrowhead shaped tip wriggle and prod around the aft of my cervix at the... the... fornix! He wanted more, I wanted him to have more. He wanted deeper, I wanted him deeper. It was madness, I didn't care. That arrowhead of a glans nudged against the back wall of my vagina, against the underside of my cervix. I knew what was coming and felt no fear, only mind bending desire for what would happen next.

I--He thrust. My vagina stretched, and my cervix out of the way thrust upward, depth grew from six or seven inches, to eight or nine. My entrance strained against his increase in girth. Muscles clenched desperately upon him, skin stretched painfully. I wanted more; he wanted more. I raised my hips, I lowered his hips; he raised my hips, he lowered his hips. My entrance tore with an audible snap and blood began to flow. My posterior fornix strained, then split before the head of his spire, flesh parted, a wound opened, intestines and colon were thrust aside. The aft of my cervix and uterus opened with a mind searing shock of wrongness and pain, simply parted as he tore me stern to stem.

I screamed; he roared. The pain was mutual, the pleasure too. It drowned out the agony as he sank all the way inside. His cloaca kissed my blood soaked mons. His second phallus curled about my thigh and hugged it. He withdrew, I screamed; he roared, again. My stomach shifted within, intestine pushed aside were pulled again forth.

Another thrust, harder, more desperate. So much pain at first, then it vanished in a wash of unimaginable bliss that overwhelmed every sense. We thrust again, the pain flared, then was quenched. Again it flared and quenched. Hot and cold, or perhaps hot and hotter. My sense of identity came and went, my sense of self was a mess, intermingled with the sexual and emotional equivalent of a raging inferno.

I would have raped myself to death, tore my body in two and fucked a bloody mess into the stones. I would have; he would have. There was no sense of self preservation or reason--there was only the need, the need that dominated every thought. We would have destroyed me without remorse and I would have died happily for him. But...

His climax was a thing of incredible majesty. Mountains moved with less inevitability and beauty. I watched from within the tangle of our minds as his body lost itself to pleasure, as my own body echoed him, a helpless puppet on a string. I felt like there was a new born sun shining behind my eyes. A sun which evaporated everything within and without in a wash of soul searing pleasure. Time passed without recollection or comprehension. We simply were, a joined fusion of ecstasy.

I returned to myself at last; a separate, individual entity. I was still confused, still disoriented, but separate. Within my aching bowels, I could feel a pulse. Each slow throb came with a wash of heat, and a gurgle as he ejaculated. I found that I could still feel his senses and touch his thoughts, but they were no longer inside of me or I inside of him. I'd learned a new sense. It was like how you might reach out and caress something in the dark, or strain to listen for a sound. I reached and felt him, awash in bliss as he spent himself between my thighs.

His second phallus twitched, but did not climax. It hugged my knee to my chest, drooled some upon my breast, but only the right, sheathed in my body, released. The pain I'd felt earlier was a vague memory and gone now. I didn't know why, for I could feel just how deeply he was within. He had done to me what should have been a mortal wound, should have killed me. He had literally impaled me upon his penis and tore my vagina open.

I touched myself, found the rents in my vulva, scarred over already. I had healed? How long had it been? That shouldn't be possible, but his girth was nearly that of a softball, and each throb, each twitch within brought only pleasure and satisfaction. His semen poured into me, into my body cavity and washed amongst my organs. It was the most incredibly bizarre sensation I'd ever felt. With each pulse my stomach bulged further and further, he was seeding me.

I reached out and touched his mind again with that odd sense and felt his joy. His climax had passed and his pleasure was diminished, but he seemed so happy. The fury I'd felt the moment I'd entered the chamber--was gone. His thoughts noticed me at last, and with a sensation like lacing mental fingers, he penetrated me anew.

Vast and alien, his crystal clear mind enveloped me even as I penetrated him. I felt us, felt the satisfying pleasure as he spent the dregs of his load in my bloated body. I felt his astonishment and possessiveness as he recognized me for the first time. The thoughts that came to me were a boy's voice, or perhaps a reflection of youth and timidness, but the words they formed were simple and shy. "Hi," he said, then added with a breath taking rush, "You are so beautiful."

My heart broke. Mind to mind, I saw myself through his mental lens, like a constellation of nervous impulses and mated symmetry. It was such a confounding and unfamiliar notion, my mind recoiled in confusion. I was not beautiful, I was hideous, undesirable, unwanted. I was a freakish monster who preyed upon men for their seed. It was my own self image, it was like a stone, or perhaps mountain held up and rejecting the sun of his gaze.

The words did not match the thought; "Yes!" He disagreed, with such joy. It was a joy that evaporated my defenses, that sublimated my mountain of self loathing. Yes, he disagreed. I was a beautiful breeder, desirable, wanted. A perfect vessel for his precious young. I was his prey, even as I preyed upon him for his seed.

"N-no!" I rejected as best I could as I felt my sense of self distorted into a weird other-person. He pushed. Hips pressed to hips, my butt smashed into the floor. His penis twitched in amongst my bowels. But the real push, the real thrust was somewhere behind my eyes, somewhere between my heart and conscious thoughts. I looked into his heart, into his mind as I trembled in terror before his instant and unmistakable love. We had never even seen one another beyond the pitch black groping of desperate lovemaking. I did not know the contours of his face, or even the timbre of his voice when not bellowing lust. Nor he I. It was love none the less. I loved him then, all of him, all of his alien beauty and terrible impulses. He loved me, loved everything about me, could see the halls of my sorrow filled past and accepted them in an instant without regret. At last, a final reflection formed; my true desire, my true self image. A beast, a cow well bred, a hen to lay clutch after clutch. A mindless, yet beloved creature. "Yesssss!" I hissed aloud.

In response, he withdrew from my body and squatted above. With a sticky wet sputter, he expelled a greasy deluge of pungent fluid against my sex, stomach, breasts, and up into my face. The oily fluids soaked into my skin, poured into my open sex, mouth, and nose, and splattered to the floor below me. I understood, mind to mind, what he was doing. I relished the act, the possessive ferocity behind it, and the instinctive need. He grasped again in his penises, a violent, pelvis straining twist followed as he rolled me back and forth through the spray, and the puddle it formed. Every inch of me, covered. His father's scent vanished under this mark. The prior had been a thin coating only, but his would saturate me bone deep. He--had agreed.

I moaned as it began. My identity was torn apart as he shredded my id and devoured my ego. It was a strange, wounded animal sound that I produced. Nothing I'd ever made before, nothing human. Words did not form, thoughts came in ragged, confused impulses that evaporated under the violent penetration. He claimed me, tore my virginal mind apart and ejaculated globs of alien self amongst the tatters of my identity. That was the mental construct I used to describe the sensation, but it was inaccurate. It was not only mind and emotions that were twisted to his will... my will. I felt him dominate my body--a sensation beyond expressible words. He twisted the fabric of my being, twisted me inside and out; from DNA and individual cells to organs and bones. I moaned that bestial moan, and was from that moment--forever his. A single solitary thought bubbled forth amongst the tatters as he re-knit them in my own self image. "Thank you." It was followed by a quiet, "Mrooh?" as he entered me again with his second phallus. Purpose fulfilled again. "Niaaahhh!" I cried in joy.

Epilogue

I rose slowly to hands and knees in the sunlight. It shined down from the skylights above onto my naked skin. Something shifted behind my navel. I gasped. Muscles clenched and bunched. It ached, oh how it ached. Pain yes, cramping yes, but the ache was an emotional thing, a desperation like a climax not quite achieved. I strained and panted aloud with back arched and hands clutched to navel. My cloaca gaped wide, the golden scales parted to show pink skin. An egg the size of two fists emerged with a rush of yellow-brown mucous into the tangle of rags below.

He stared down at me, proud and joyful. The leash of his thoughts tugged, and I raised my head to look into his bright, shimmering green eyes. Sunlight bathed his oily black scales and cast purple-hued reflections across the room. My mouth opened and a panted wordless sound came out, "Aaaahaa?" My stomach clenched violently as a second egg began to emerge. I ached different now, a deep happy ache, an ache of hard work and a job well done yet more to do.

The second egg nestled into the rags with the first. My gaped hole twitched and sputtered, then helplessly I soiled the nest. I didn't care, He didn't care, my first eggs were laid. Tiny things, barely worth considering. He tugged again and I crawled free of the rags and onto the stone floor and abandoned the eggs in their nest. I could feel the chaos and static at the back of his mind, it would build and build until he lost control. I raised my rear and pressed my cheek to the warm sun baked stone with a satisfied yet exhausted grin plastered over my plump cheeks.

My vent twitched closed at last, the fine spray of scales glistened scattered golden reflections from the wrinkled folds soaked in afterbirth and waste. The reflections vanished into shadow. He settled his hips and pressed both of his members into my vent. I made another wordless sound full of satisfaction and joy. "Mmmeehhhhy!" Our minds nestled together like coiled snakes.

Across the room, an old woman sat, naked under the shelter of her Mate's wing. She asked in a quiet tone, "Was it right to take sentience from her? I feel like she was betrayed..."

Her son responded as he thrust himself into me, his precious beast, "It was what she wanted. I only gave her what she desired most. In time, perhaps she will come back. But mother, she is so happy now! And so am I. You chose well."

"Not much choice," Anette replied, bitter. "Earth is no longer a welcome place I think. Woman's lib and civil rights and all that..."

The older, red scaled beast chided his mate, "Ah Anette, you are too harsh. We simply need to change our methods in the future."

The son looked up and agreed, "Yes, Jacqueline has many interesting ideas involving harems, and also human farming." In our shared mindscape, I saw myself spit-roasted between father and son, throat bulged and mouth agape as belly swelled with mutual releases.

Anette cocked her brow in question, "I thought she is incapable of thought...?"

"She is, but I can think through her, Mother," he replied, then looked to his father, "Is it time yet for us to claim this world perhaps? The humans approach our comprehension of the universe. Another millennium and it may be too late."

"That is why I must go to court. I must help them decide," the elder explained, then eyed me as I panted and bucked under his son. "Harems... You would share your mate?"

The son flinched and possessively curled a wing about to cover the rutting beast of a woman I had become, below. The vision of the three of us shivered and vanished, replaced by myself in the clutches of the heavy, red scaled monster alone. "No... well perhaps?" The vision changed again, my face buried in my mate's cloaca as his father penetrated me. With wild abandon, I threw myself into violent climax. A flood of moisture splattered across the stone floor as I clenched down helplessly upon him. He let out a pleased sound and moved his wing aside to expose me again. "My eggs are yet untrue, I suppose it would be acceptable to let another seed my cow with true eggs. So long as when I am grown, she is mine. It... It would be of greater efficiency... and..." He paused then admitted, "And it would make her happy."

"And what of mingled scents, son? I can smell how strongly she is yours, it makes my blood boil and loins twitch."

The son replied with a wide grin, all teeth exposed, "And just imagine how satisfying it would feel to scent her anew, to make claim." His eyes lowered to his mother and smoldered with lust even as he slammed his own mate into the stone floor under his hips. I bawled and thrashed, his intense lust left me mad and wild.

The father's eyes lowered to his own mate, then me, "I smell what you mean. Carefully controlled, carefully isolated. A delicious game for when I return."

"A sport, for when dragons again rule this planet," The son agreed, then sighed in utter contentment. My vast womb swelled, stomach bulged, and neon yellow semen blasted from between the folds of my vent and the cleft of his dual penises to spray in an arc behind us. I settled down, happy and exhausted as hips dangled from his lap, and began to drowse. Two eggs laid, my first eggs, and an untold number more on the way. Above me the son spoke, "I'll see you soon father, bring me good news."

The father replied, "Shouldn't take longer than a decade or two... Come mate it's time to leave, I'd like to introduce you to someone. He worked out a method of regenerating human ovaries, we'll have you plump and full in no time." At the age of 73... She made a blissful sigh in response.

End