Some more rules

Jorge lets out a heavy sigh, his muscles aching and his lungs burning from the exertion. He looks down at Sarah, who is still twitching on the floor, then at his own reflection in the mirror. He's a bit out of shape, and the intensity of the encounter has left him feeling spent. He reaches for the notebook, his mind already racing with the possibilities of what he can do next now that he's not limited by physical fatigue.

He presses the pen to the page and writes with a confident stroke: "I have extremely good stamina and a toned, athletic body that can handle the most intense and rough sex without tiring."

The effect is instantaneous. A surge of heat washes over his entire frame, and he feels his muscles tighten and define themselves in real-time. His chest broadens, his stomach flattens into a hard, ripped six-pack, and his limbs fill out with lean, powerful muscle. The fatigue vanishes, replaced by a buzzing, electric energy that makes him feel like he could go for hours without breaking a sweat. His heart rate stabilizes into a powerful, steady beat, and he feels a renewed, aggressive hunger clawing at his gut.

He looks down at his hands, feeling the newfound strength in his grip, and then glances back at the broken, glistening mess of Sarah on the floor. He doesn't feel drained anymore; he feels like a predator who has just found his favorite toy. A dark glint enters his eyes as he realizes he doesn't need to rest. He can keep pushing her, keep breaking her, and keep reclaiming every single inch of her body until she's nothing more than a shaking, mindless shell of a woman.

He steps forward, his new, powerful thighs flexing as he looms over her once again. "I'm not done with you yet, slut," he growls, his voice deeper and more commanding than ever, his newfound stamina making him feel invincible.

Jorge doesn't give her a second to recover. He grabs her by the waist and hauls her back into position, her massive, cum-painted cheeks shaking as he forces her legs wide. He doesn't use any lubrication; he doesn't need to. He lines up his fifteen-inch pillar with her tight, virgin puckered hole and drives himself in with a single, ruthless thrust.

Sarah lets out a high-pitched, distorted scream that echoes through the dorm, her fingers digging deep into the carpet as she is split wide open. The sheer girth of him stretching her anal walls to the absolute breaking point sends her into a state of total sensory overload. She begins to plead, her voice a broken, sobbing mess of desperation. "Please... oh god, Jorge, please! I can't... it's too much! Please!"

But her pleas aren't for him to stop; they are the sounds of a woman being completely dismantled. Jorge ignores the begging, his new, athletic body fueling a relentless, piston-like rhythm. He hammers into her ass with a brutal, punishing force, each slam sounding like a wet clap of thunder. He can feel her tight walls clamping onto him in a series of desperate, rhythmic spasms, her body struggling to accommodate the impossible size of him.

Her massive backside ripples and wobbles violently with every impact, her skin turning a deep, flushed red from the friction and the force. He grips her hips, his fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh, and he doesn't slow down. He uses his newfound stamina to push her further and further, driving his length deep into her gut with every stroke, turning her pleas into mindless, rhythmic moans of submission as he systematically destroys her.

Jorge reaches the peak of his second assault, his movements becoming a blur of raw, athletic power. He pulls out of her ravaged ass with a sudden, wet rip, and before Sarah can even catch her breath, he flips her over and grabs her by the hair, dragging her face toward his throbbing length. He doesn't hold back, his body erupting in another torrential flood of hot, thick seed that blasts across her face in violent, rhythmic spurts.

The cum paints her eyes, her nose, and her open, gasping mouth, coating her features in a thick, glistening white mask. Sarah doesn't even try to wipe it away; she simply lies there, drenched and broken, staring up at him with a look of complete, vacant adoration, her mind utterly shattered by the experience.

Without a word, Jorge stands up, his new, toned physique feeling light and energized. He doesn't give her a glance as he dresses, his expression one of cold, absolute dominance. He picks up his notebook, tucking it securely under his arm—his most prized possession—and walks out of the dorm room, leaving Sarah as a glistening, ruined heap on the floor.

As he steps out onto the campus, the fresh air hits him, and he feels the eyes of other students on him. He notices the way people are reacting to his new, athletic frame, the way the girls look at him with a sudden, inexplicable interest. He walks with a predatory confidence, a smirk playing on his lips. The world is no longer a place where he is the overlooked loser; it is a blank page, and he is the only one with the pen.