A -fueled breeding frenzy.

The chaser in that chemical cocktail hit Sasha like a truck.

Before he could even give voice to a spike of annoyance at being again a guinea pig, anxiety and frustration was expertly converted to lust. Blood rushed south, his slacks got tight, and the narrow slit-pupils in his red eyes dilated like a housecat spotting a mouse. The by-now trademark smirk on Linda Pelletier’s face made it clearer even than her explicit demand to be ravaged, or the way her nipples, freed by slits in her erotic lingerie, scratched pleasurably up against his rock-hard abs.

She knew she was unleashing a beast. Her chest rose and fell against his, pinned as she was by his superior strength and quickly-mounting ardor. He could feel her heart racing, quite contrary to that calm exterior. When Sasha reached down and lifted her up by her plump, toned shapely ass, sandwiching her against the the wall, legs snapped naturally around his waist.

Linda had long thin limbs, evocative of a shapely spider. She’d drawn him into her web, but it was hard to feel quite so intimidated when his dick was so hard, and the pressure was already building up down there to unbearable levels. **** cigarette smoke, faint waft of suspicious chemicals, and a strong lavender perfume applied over her labcoat to try and cover it overwhelmed his sensitive nekomata nose.

That white coat only concealed from behind. It was open, and quickly fell away from her narrow waist that flared back out into pleasingly-wide hips. This living hourglass was weighted bottomheavy, unlike much of the village.

Clothes came off fast; they were either easy to remove, or ripped to shreds. Seeing as to how his attempts to form words were replaced increasingly with grunts as he rubbed his massive, throbbing erection against her plump ass, the time for thought or thoughtfulness was long past.

The Black ****’s home already looked like a typhoon had come in off the lake to spread mountains of papers, **** kits, and testing supplies all over the floor. One could scarcely avoid tripping over beakers, empty and full of a variety of disconcertingly-colored concoctions. Things were so bad, Sasha would later feel no guilt over it, wrecking everything further in pursuit of the simplest of goals.

Fucking Linda Pelletier into every surface flat enough to support them.

He supported her weight effortlessly with his automail arm, legs showing not so much as a tremor as he pounded the life into her, smashing her back into the wall. The good doctor was not your average woman; she was soaking before he put it in. Foreplay wasn’t needed here. Every time he got more brutal, slammed her into a wall or desk, or bit down on her neck and shoulder, she got wetter, more ready, more **** for his cock.

Desires to fuck and to punish melded into one, and he pounded them together. She let out a cry of pain, feeling like she’d been impaled, eyes wide. She clawed and scratched at his bare, muscular flexing back, and squirmed like she was trying to escape. As if he’d tolerate that kind of behavior, after her big speech.

He crushed her top and bottom, a brutal bruising kiss accompanying the slam of hips. There was no past or future, the **** made everything happen all at once, slowing his perception of time, and heightening every sensation, as if the **** squeezing of her pussy needed that. It was all he could do to endure the fantastic feelings of being buried to the hilt inside of her, to pull back and slam in again.

Clouding over with the same **** she’d wound up swallowing, Linda felt everything more keenly; pleasure and pain blended, wracking her bombshell body. It hurt so good, and she wanted to give him some of this beautiful pain and pleasure too. Though he was doubtless so pent up down there it was uncomfortable, that wasn’t the same as being destroyed by a man so singlemindedly dedicated to fucking a baby into her.

Even if she changed her mind now, he wouldn’t let her. She was about to become a mother, whatever the good doctor, usually in such tight control of her surroundings, thought about it. The thought of so profoundly losing made Linda cum as much as the relentless efforts of this younger man.

She cried out in an unfitting girlish high-pitch that was soon silenced by a forceful kiss. He squeezed her tight, buried himself to the hilt, and let out an honest-to-god roar of conquest as he came. It was good they were so far out from civilization, or people would swear she was being attacked by a wolf.

For the first time in longer than she cared to count, a man was cumming inside of her, and thanks partially to his native prowess, and partially to her definitely-legal ****, he was cumming buckets. Her womb had **** but to take it all; nekomata didn’t knot like cats did, but Sasha might as well have.

She wasn’t going anywhere until those swelling, slapping balls were empty.

He didn’t switch positions, except to stampede into a new part of the house and knock aside whatever was in his way to find a place to fuck her on. Nowhere was safe in her home or body, he claimed every inch of both. He didn’t pull out, or go soft, no matter how much she was reduced to quavering, long-legged jelly by a chain of relentless orgasms. He wouldn’t give her a second to breathe, and already-abused lungs cried out for mercy.

She tried to protest that she couldn’t breathe, that he was cumming too much, that his grip was too painful and she was sore all over and needed to rest. All those protests died in their mouths together.

How easily she could have gotten hurt by this rampaging beast. If he wanted to snap her in half, there was nothing she could do to stop him or even slow him down. Yet, somewhere deep, she knew that’s just why she’d picked him.

He’d leave bruises, bite marks, draw blood, pound her to paste, and **** her flooded womb to accept every drop of his virile seed… just as she wanted. The things nobody in this village had been man enough to give her, now presented without the danger of any permanent harm. Even now, his eyes were hazy but not confused. He stared into her gaze with a look that said both ‘you’re mine’ and ‘stop struggling, idiot, you’re the one who wanted this’.

Within this man’s overwhelming strength was a strange comfort, that allowed her to cling on even tighter as their minds melded together and they became one with the room, and each other. They could do whatever they wanted, and know that the end, they were both going to be completely satisfied. Linda was going to be a mother, Sasha was going to be a father.

Both were sincerely glad she’d left packaged food and bottled water lying around the house as the hours wore on.

He just wasn’t going to stop until they both got what they wanted.