Beg him one more time to pull out—maybe the sound of your desperate voice will reach him

Evan's Bedroom, Blackwood Family Home, Suburban Ohio, at 7:55 AM on Saturday June 15th, 2024 Day 1.

"Derek—Derek, please!" you sob, your voice wrecked and raw from screaming through your orgasm. Your cunt is still spasming around his thick shaft, those involuntary contractions milking him rhythmically. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, swelling even bigger, and you know—he's right there. Right on the edge. "You promised! You said maybe you'd be nice—please, I'm begging you, just pull out!"

Derek doesn't move. He stays buried balls-deep, his hips flush against your ass, his cock twitching against your cervix. His hand tightens in your hair, yanking your head back until you're staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down your cheeks, drool coating your chin. That wolfish grin is back, wider than ever.

"I said maybe," he growls, his voice low and thick with lust. "And you know what? I changed my fucking mind." His free hand comes down hard on your ass, the slap echoing through the room, making your thick cheek jiggle. "But first—I want you to say something for me."

"W-what?" you whimper, your foggy brain struggling to process anything beyond the feeling of his cock throbbing inside your stretched, dripping pussy.

"Tell me about your boyfriend. Tell me about Evan." His hips roll slowly, grinding his cockhead against your deepest walls. "Tell me what a weak, pathetic little bitch he is."

Your heart cracks. "I—I can't—"

"Say it." He thrusts hard, a single brutal stroke that makes you see stars. "Say 'Evan is a pathetic weak little wimp' or I swear to god I'll pump you so full of cum you'll be dripping for a week."

The curse surges inside you. Your lips part and the words tumble out before you can stop them, your reduced intelligence unable to form any resistance: "E-Evan is a pathetic... weak little wimp," you choke out, tears pouring down your face. Something inside you breaks as you say it—speaking about yourself that way, degrading the person you used to be.

"Louder." Derek's pace increases, his cock slamming into you with wet, meaty slaps. "Tell me he could never fuck you like this."

"He could never—ah!—never fuck me like this!" you wail, your voice cracking. And the worst part? Your body believes it. Your pussy clenches tighter around Derek's massive cock, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. The curse rewards your humiliation with another wave of pleasure, making your clit throb.

"That's right," Derek groans, his rhythm becoming erratic, desperate. "That skinny little nerd couldn't fill you up like a real man. Look at your shirt—'BREED ME.' That's what you need. Not some weak-ass virgin boy. You need a real cock. You need to get fucking bred."

His hands grip your hips so hard you know there'll be bruises. His cock swells impossibly thick inside you and you feel his balls draw up tight against your soaked slit.

"Derek—NO—" you scream, clawing at the sheets.

"Too late, baby," he grunts, and slams forward one final time, burying himself as deep as physically possible. His cockhead presses flush against your cervix, the opening to your womb, and then he explodes.

The sensation is volcanic. You feel his cock pulse—once, twice, three times—and then the first thick rope of hot cum blasts directly against your cervix. It's scalding hot, impossibly thick, and there's so much of it. Spurt after spurt floods your insides, his heavy balls emptying directly into your fertile womb. You can feel it filling you, the pressure building, his cum pooling deep inside where it has nowhere to go but into your waiting egg.

"Fuuuuck," Derek groans, his hips grinding in slow circles, making sure every drop gets as deep as possible. "Take it all, slut. Every fucking drop. Getting bred like you're supposed to."

Your body betrays you one final time—your pussy clamps down in a second, devastating orgasm, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into your womb. Your eyes roll back, tongue lolling out, a mindless scream tearing from your throat as pleasure whites out everything. You can feel his cum overflowing, leaking around his shaft, dripping down your thighs in thick white streams.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Your mother's voice calls up: "Boys! I'm back! Evan, breakfast is getting cold!"

Derek pulls his softening cock from your ruined pussy with a wet pop, a flood of his cum immediately gushing out of your gaping, fucked-open hole. He tucks himself back into his sweatpants and grins down at you—sprawled on the bed, legs spread, cum pooling beneath your ass, eyes glazed and unfocused.

"Best morning ever," he says, winking. "Same time tomorrow, baby?"

He walks out, leaving you alone with the devastating realization of what just happened.