A gruesome ending for the swamp beast's pleasure zombie

That night you sleep riding on the slippery back of the swamp beast, two tentacles holding your naked body against him. When you awake you trudge along beside it, hip-deep in the putrid swamp water. Your breasts are sore and constantly leak milk that drips out onto your belly and splashes in the swamp water.

In the afternoon the beast plucks half-rotten fruits from a tree and you eat them for sustenance, then it drags you beneath it and presents its cock-tentacle. Your mind is gone. You stroke and lick the grotesque member, filling your mouth with the rancid taste and sliding your naked body against the huge shaft. You make it cum and you feel pleasure, drinking its cum and watching as it twitches and sprays your face and open mouth with its putrid spunk. The fluid is hot and sitcky on your body and just lapping at it makes you cum.

The days go by much like this. Sometimes the beast drinks your milk with its cup-tipped tentacles. You moan as the warm cups close around your fat, stretched nipples and begin to steadily suck, drawing out your milk in satisfying spurts. Often the pleasure is so intense as the swamp beast drinks your milk that you fall to your knees and finger your sopping slit to intense orgasms.

Other times you mindlessly pleasure the swamp beast with your hands, huge breasts, and mouth. It never fucks you again, aware of your increasingly distended belly and whatever it has put inside you.

Days become weeks. You are not human at all anymore, a filth-covered sex toy hugely pregnant with some monstrosity. Your belly is so swollen and sore. Pain begins to creep into your routine and some animal part of you knows that its is nearly time to give birth to the swamp beast's offspring. An even deeper part of you knows that you will not live long past that point.

You crawl out of the swamp, your belly aching terribly, and collapse onto a soft bed of willow fronds the beast has prepared for you. Something stirs within your belly, something very large. You gasp in a mixture of pleasure and pain and the world goes mercifully dark.

Your body survives the birthing process. The hatchling swamp beast struggles out of your cunt and slithers on tiny tentacles up your abdomen. Its mouth finds a fat nipple and sucks, quickly drinking all of the bitter milk in your distended breast. It moves to the other and drains it as well. Still hungry, feeding tentacles sink into your flesh and it begins to drink your blood.

Hours later, with a smile fixed on its face, your body dies from blood loss. Your mind died many weeks earlier.