Beg him to at least pull out before he cums.

Marco's House (First House), Breedmore Lane, at 8:52 PM on Friday October 31, 2024.

"P-please," I gasp, my fingers clawing at the fur-covered expanse of his chest. "Please, Marco — pull out — you have to pull out before you — ahhh —"

The words dissolve into a shriek as he drives another three inches into my virgin cunt. The condom is gone — I felt it tear, felt the thin latex shred apart like tissue paper against his impossible girth — and now it's just his bare, burning-hot cock splitting me open, every ridge and vein dragging against my stretched, spasming walls. There's no barrier between us. Nothing.

"Pull out?" Marco's voice is barely human anymore — a guttural, animal growl that reverberates through my entire body. His face has shifted further, the jaw elongating, amber eyes blazing with feral hunger. Dark fur covers his chest, his shoulders, crawling up his neck. "I'm going to breed this pussy, Bambi. I'm going to pump you so full of wolf cum your little belly swells."

His hips snap forward and I scream — the full length of him burying inside me, the thick head battering against my cervix with a pressure that makes my vision blur. He's so deep I can feel him in my stomach, his cock reshaping my insides, stretching my virgin channel to its absolute limit. My pussy clenches desperately around him, trying to accommodate the monstrous intrusion, and the wet sound of his thrusts echoes through the room — schlick, schlick, schlick — obscene and rhythmic.

"So tight," he snarls against my neck, his elongated canines grazing my throat. "Virgin cunt gripping my cock like a fucking vice. You feel that, Bambi? Feel my knot swelling at the base? It's going inside you next."

I do feel it — the bulge at the root of his shaft, growing with every thrust, slapping against my stretched entrance each time he bottoms out. It's the size of a tennis ball now, hot and pulsing, and each impact sends jolts of terrifying pleasure-pain through my core. My pussy is gushing around him — I can feel my juices running down my ass, pooling on the velvet cushions beneath me.

"No — you can't — the knot won't —" I'm babbling, tears streaming down my cheeks, but my hips are bucking up to meet his thrusts, my body betraying me completely. The aphrodisiac and his pre-cum are turning my brain to molten honey. Every stroke hits something deep inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

"Can't?" Marco laughs — a rough, bark-like sound. He grabs both my wrists in one massive clawed hand and pins them above my head. "Watch me."

He pulls back until just the head remains inside me, then slams forward — and the knot pushes past my entrance. The stretch is indescribable. I feel my pussy lips spread wide, impossibly wide, the burning ring of muscle forced open around the swollen bulge, and then it's inside — locked behind my entrance, swelling further, sealing his cock inside me like a cork in a bottle. My walls clamp down around it instinctively and Marco throws his head back with a howl.

"Locked," he growls, his hips grinding in tight circles, his knot pressing against every nerve ending inside me. "You're mine now, Bambi. Can't pull out even if I wanted to. And I don't fucking want to."

He begins to thrust in short, brutal strokes — barely moving, just grinding, the knot massaging my G-spot from the inside while his shaft pistons against my cervix. I'm sobbing and moaning simultaneously, my pussy clenching and releasing in waves I can't control. Something enormous is building inside me — bigger than my first orgasm, a pressure that feels like it might tear me apart.

"Gonna cum," Marco snarls, his claws pricking my wrists. "Gonna fill this virgin womb with so much cum you'll be dripping for days. Say you want it."

His cock swells inside me — I feel it throb, the veins pulsing against my stretched walls — and his thrusts become erratic, desperate, animal. The knot is fully engorged now, locked tight inside me, and I can feel it pulsing.