Look at Pan watching and beg her to help — ask your Mistress to make him give you the knot.

Pan's Underground Chamber, Pandora's Box Costume Shop, at 11:58 PM on a full moon night, approximately 3 years after October 31st, 2024

I turn my head toward Pan — my Mistress, my owner, the axis around which my entire existence rotates — and my eyes are wet, my lips trembling, my pussy stretched obscenely around seven inches of werewolf cock.

"Mistress," I whimper, my voice cracking. "Please — help me — make him give me the knot, I can't wait anymore, I need it so badly —"

Pan rises from her chair with fluid grace, her cock bobbing heavily beneath her hiked skirt. She crosses to where Fenris holds me pinned, his massive shaft throbbing inside my desperate cunt, and she reaches down to stroke my sweat-damp hair with surprising tenderness.

"Patience, kitten," she murmurs, her amber eyes soft with amusement. "If he knots you now, he'll break you in half. That pretty little pussy needs to be prepared first." Her fingers trail down my cheek, across my jaw, tap lightly against my lower lip. "I have something that will help."

She produces a small crystal vial from somewhere — filled with luminous violet liquid that seems to glow with its own inner light. She uncorks it with her teeth and holds it to my lips.

"Drink," she commands.

I open my mouth obediently. The potion pours across my tongue — thick, sweet, tasting of honey and something darker, like ozone and sex. It coats my throat, slides down into my stomach, and immediately I feel it working — a tingling warmth that starts in my mouth, softening my jaw, relaxing muscles I didn't know I had. My lips feel plumper. My throat feels... elastic.

"There," Pan says, watching the potion's effects ripple through me. "It's working its way south. Your mouth first, then your throat, then... eventually... that greedy little cunt of yours. But it takes a few minutes to reach your pussy. In the meantime —"

Her cock shifts.

I watch with wide eyes as her familiar ten-inch shaft begins to change — swelling, thickening, the skin darkening to a deep reddish-grey. Veins bulge along its length. The head flattens and broadens. And at the base, a bulge forms — growing, expanding, swelling into a massive knot identical to Fenris's.

Within seconds, Pan's cock is an exact replica of the werewolf's — fourteen inches of knotted, veiny flesh, thick as my forearm, pulsing with her heartbeat.

"Let's see how stretchy that mouth is now," Pan purrs, stepping forward until her transformed cockhead presses against my lips. It's enormous — far too large to fit in any normal human mouth — but the potion has done its work. My jaw opens wider than should be possible, my lips stretching around the blunt crown like warm taffy.

"Oh fuck," Fenris growls from between my legs, still buried inside me, watching my mouth engulf Pan's massive shaft. "Look at that. Look at that greedy little throat."

Pan pushes forward — slow, deliberate — and my mouth stretches around her cock like it was made for this. My lips seal around the girth, my jaw hinged wide, my tongue pressed flat against the underside of her shaft. Inch after inch slides past my teeth, over my tongue, into my throat. I don't gag. The potion has made my throat as accommodating as my pussy — soft, yielding, hungry.

"That's my good kitten," Pan groans, her fingers threading through my hair, gripping my cat ears. She pushes deeper until her knot bumps against my stretched lips — a promise of what's coming. "Your mouth takes it just as well as your cunt. Maybe better."

She begins to thrust — shallow, grinding strokes that fuck my throat while Fenris continues his slow, deep rhythm in my pussy below. I'm stuffed from both ends, my body a vessel for cock, my mind empty and blissful. The potion's warmth continues spreading south through my torso, and I can feel it approaching my core — approaching the place where Fenris's knot will eventually lock me to him forever.