Devotion's maw

The door sprung open, plumes of steam erupting into the bathroom. A hand reached for the tiled floor, then another. Afi’s face came into view. Her hair was wet against her neck. Her ears and her cheeks. Her hooded eyes were focused, pulled by invisible hooks, just like the rest of her body, to the object of her desire.

It was a mighty thing. Wisps of steam swirled around the cock head. The white porcelain behind his legs threw the taut, reddened flesh into stark relief. The light above, a simple yellowed bulb, cast hard shadows beneath each of the thick veins. Two hands were visible. Splayed, like Afi’s. Against the base of the cock. Forcing the titanic mass to stay down. To stay forward. She could see the way his forearms were flexing, tightening and shifting from the effort. Flesh against flesh. Muscle against muscle. Blood against blood.

Her ass shook as she moved. Widened hips, powerful legs. The arc of her back, dipping down like a rope bridge between shoulders and pelvis, only accentuating the jiggling obsidian weight. Mike could see every slow push, every inch of the crawl reflected in her muscles. It was like the inside of a piano, strings pulling and moving at the behest of a virtuoso.

It was only a meter, if that. But the time slowed for them both. Crawling, as she was. Subdued, as he was. Until she was there. An inch, if that. Her head before his. She could smell so much on it. Smell the saliva. The juices. The sweat. The heat. The weight. Her arms wobbled at the thought of the power that it took to make this cock. That it only existed, only came to be at all, because he owned her. That it could not exist without that. That it was a testament to what he was, and what he held over her.

She reached a hand up. A palm, on the side of his cockhead. It barely fit. It could not wrap it. She stretched out a well manicured thumb. Sliding it against the very tip, letting it glide across the slit. She pressed, ever so slightly. Ever so gently. Parting the cockhole like one might peek through a set of curtains.

She leaned her face in. Pressed her nose into the opening. She inhaled, and gasped. Letting her tongue unfold. In an instant, before she or he could realise it, she was kissing the thing. Sloppy, unfettered, unmoored. Breathing in the musk of this cock, this subway tunnel. Breathing in pure power. The way the flesh pulsated against her lips, rippled around her tongue. Sucking her in, pushing her out. Dancing like any mouth might.

Dominating her without any complexity of its own. No tongue. No teeth. No words or throat or cheeks or jaw. Just a hole. A hole far above her, a hole that owned her.

Mike felt her tongue inside his cock, licking away at his glans like a woman possessed. Feeling her breath on his taut skin, feeling her face rock on her neck. It was as if she was headbutting his dick in slow motion, so enamoured by its girth that she could do little more than rock in place on her new, thicker thighs.

He felt arcs of pleasure, streaks and bursts of new sensation. His shoulders, his belly, his neck, clenching and unclenching. He gritted his teeth, leaning forward and groaning as his hands slid down the cock. She shoved her face down, sticking her tongue as deep as it would go, then drawing it along the roof of the dickhole. Inch. Inch. Inch. His breath caught in his throat, his body frozen. Until.

She reached the end. Reached the opening. Flicked her tongue. A spray of saliva. Juices. An exhale from her. He shot up, shot back. His cock rocketed up without his hands. Bouncing. Commanding. Straight up. Into his panting face.

He pushed it back. Revealing an altogether different expression. Focus. He put it level with her drooling, puffy lips yet again, and clicked his fingers. Afi snapped her gaze to his hand, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking-

Hands. On her neck. The back of her head. She felt the force immediately, slamming her face into the cock. She was caught, her face being mashed against the dripping slit. It took her a moment to react. The simple act of use, of confusion and loss of autonomy, was enough to cause her pussy to spasm. To send a twitch into her hips that would've toppled a less bottom-heavy woman.

When she recovered, a second later, she came back with understanding. She opened her mouth. Wide. Stretching her jaw and her throat and her neck. She got as far as her body could manage.

And then got further.

The magic of the cock showed itself again. Like a snake unhinging its jaw, her face expanded. Her chin dipped, her nose raised. Where there should've been pain, fear, discomfort… there was only ease. Like sitting down on a couch after spending all day on your feet.

The entire cockhead was in her mouth now, just past her teeth. The force from behind wasn't stopping. She was being dragged onto his dick. Sheathing it. Made into a condom, face first. The thought fluttered her eyelids, and she tried to moan. She made no sound, but Mike felt it all the same. Felt the ripple move along the endless flesh. It walked along his nerves like it was taking an evening stroll. The signal a pair of young lovers, full and happy and stumbling. No rush, no hurry. When it reached his brain, she was already deeper.

Her throat opened. Opened further. The mass was unstoppable. Something as simple as structure, as bones and muscle and common-sense biology, all discarded. He could do anything, would do anything. His pleasure ignored reality. Her pleasure was her reality.

The cock was pushing between her collarbone now. The bulge was obscene. Her skin stretched to its limit, little more than a balloon. Not full of helium, but cockflesh. The veins she had beheld a moment before became imprints in her skin. Sensations. Ribbing. Variations so subtle upon the length of this monstrosity, but impossible to ignore as her mind made efforts to map every inch.

Mia pushed further. Further. Closer. Halfway now. It had to have reached her stomach now. Gagging did not come. Choking did not come. Breathlessness did not come. A cock even a fraction of this size would leave her gasping and light-headed. Of course her master’s would be easier. Of course. She would only question it later. In this moment, her mind was as accommodating as her lungs.

She forgot, as she moved, that her body had parts that did not serve cock. She was leaning too far forward, and slipped. Her legs slid backwards, and her weight came down. He reacted. His hands leaving the cock to try and help her up. She reacted. Her hands trying to grab for her underarms to pull her back up. Neither of them need have worried.

The cock rose, her body still on it. Throat first. Lifted by forces unknown, strength unimagined. She was a doll on a string, a ring on a finger. A toy on a cock. Her legs slid off the floor, raising limply into the air to join the rest of her.

She reached her apex. The light was dancing off her ass, casting shadows with every twitching jiggle. Shaking and wobbling and purring onto the endless cock. She opened her eyes. Met his. Confusion, a bit of fear. Worry, maybe. He shouldn’t be worried. She was right where she was meant to be. Almost.

She looked down. His crotch. Still a few inches between her and it. Until her nose was buried in his weight. She closed her eyes once more and forced her body to go limp.

Mike felt the weight of an entire human woman slide, slide, slide down his erection. Unbowed, holding her up without effort. He watched her stupendous ass reveal more light, the shadows retreating back into her. He felt the endless waves of her drool coat more of him. Felt the way the world stopped and started with every new movement. Every new shift.

She did not wiggle. Did not twist. Her arms were useless, as were her legs. She had a destination. A target. Mia watched from behind, the bulge crawling its way up her body. Through her ribs, between her sternum, into her belly. The redhead reached a hand forward, daring not put much pressure into the motion. Just to feel it. To take in the heat. The weight. Afi’s abs were stretched, but they were still so soft. Mia traced a line around one of them, feeling as they contorted more and more to meet the passing cockhead. She didn’t realise she was drooling until it hit her foot. She pulled a hand away, but the cock kept moving.

She was close now. Her journey, at an end. The room was near silent, aside from the constant, slow squelching. Her breaths made no noise. Mia was still and staring. He was biting his lip, holding the toilet like he might launch off it. Then…

A movement. A clap. Right behind her head. Her soaked hair rippled from the force of the air. She opened her eyes to try to look at him, find out what he’d done. All she saw was his belly button. His crotch. She clenched. A squirt. Thirteen orgasms would wear anyone out, and her muscles had nothing left. Her goo did not launch, it rolled. Down her clit, over her pelvis, and was greeted by the bulge. Coming from the opposite end. He would later swear he could feel the droplet, even through her skin.

Her eyes would not focus. Everything was doubling. She was blind. She blinked, but nothing changed. Text appeared, but she couldn’t take them in. A vote. Had to be.

She made a burbling sound, and the cock reacted, wobbling with her whole body on top of it. Like a pine tree, shaking in the wind.

The words vanished. A pang moved through her addled mind. A sense of failure. Of not doing her duty. Even as she was stretched out like a living condom on the cock of a man she’d met that very same day. That pang faded as she made contact.

Her lips, normally full and puffy, were stretched to their limits. Acting like a seal. Her upper lip found his pelvis. The lower lip found his balls. His hair tickled her face. Her nose rubbed his belly. Her focus got worse.

A noise. A rumble. A bellow. It moved through the cramped space like rolling thunder. The growl reached a crescendo, and she felt it. Felt his balls lift to meet her chin. Felt muscles stir and contract.

In an instant, the cock stretched. The enormity, pushed even further. Her eyes bulged. It just kept going. Growing. Shifting. Pulsating. Fear struck her. Her hands grabbed his thighs. She didn’t push. Just steadied. Holding on.

His head whipped back. Chest wide. Sweat coating him. Eruption. ERUPTION!

Gallons of cum blasted into her body. A firehose, erupting into her mouth, her throat, her belly. She was five months pregnant in a second. Nine months in two. By five seconds, his cock was bending. Held down by the weight. Her belly touched tiles by second ten. Splatters of femcum erupted, as if trying to match. Squirt and squirt and squirt. Tiles. Legs. Mia. Towels. It wasn’t enough.

He was a fountain. A hose. A great helicopter dousing the bush fire of her lust. It was as if he was trying to get every cell in her body pregnant. Her seal, her lips, held tight. If it was her devotion to him, or simply the force of the stretching, she would never know. She did not care. It was all hers.

After only thirty seconds, it was over. She was full.

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