... on one of the filled specimen cups.

She reaches for one of the specimen containers you've already filled, and for a moment you panic. The first image in your mind is of a frustrated Devi attacking you with the sizeable gulp o' jizz, maybe in hopes that taking a money shot of your own might slow you down... but in her current state that was apparently far from her first solution. Instead, you get to see her, now closer than ever, with brow furrowed and lips pursed, take in your seed with squinting eyes. You watch, mouth agape, as she chugs until the cup's contents vanish as quickly as you fill the one you're holding. You quickly place yours down as she slams hers... leaving only a total of two filled samples between you. Your exhaustion was for naught... you made no progress.

She sighs happily, once again with that strangely blissful look upon her face... until she becomes self-conscious about it. "You've only filled-" A small burp slips out of her mouth, and her face warms considerably. "... you've only filled two cups, Mr. Peck. In truth, I doubt I'll need more... or that you could make more." She licks her lips seductively, as if to taunt your broken hopes.

Your body ached with hunger and fatigue, your jack arm was sore, and your manhood, albeit still swollen after her erotic feat, felt too sensitive for comfort. You can't possibly keep going...

... for all of six seconds. With shaky, lubricated fingers, you reach for your cock once more. "No," she whispers, "you can't... possibly..." One pump. Two. But it's all you can handle knowing she would drink another glass of you. As if it were a race against the clock, she's grabbing another sample as you pulse into the third and, without even considering the cost of this versus simply losing some shred of underwear, she kicks the cup back and drinks until she's nearly on your sperm. This seems to encourage your balls or _whatever _was spewing out all this cum, because you nearly fill this receptacle to the top.

Two cups slam down. Sample total: two. The servings in her stomach now outnumbered what was on the table. You're both breathing heavily now, her with the occasional, gasping swallow to try and clear her soiled throat and you flinching as you try to touch your cock. Your arm ached... and fell limp by your side.

She manages a smile while gasping loudly for fresh air. Sweat beads on her semi-naked body to match your own, and the room, despite its size, was getting hotter than ever. "You... can't..." She swallows a fourth time, and ends it with sticking her tongue out while panting before continuing. "You can't... keep going... not after all this."

She's right. Your elbow is already cramping up, the jizz in your hand is drying, and your cock, even though its gleaming and stiff as ever, was not only unaccustomed, but outright uncomfortable with your off-hand. Her prediction of defeat seems sound. "I... I don't think I can... get anymore out..." Your words come out in small gasps. Your stomach pain roars to life. Inexplicably, even your legs feel sore, and it feels like your heart is threatening to explode under the pressure... but through this sexual agony, you see a final glimmer. "You must... really like my... taste... huh?"

"Fuck... you..."

You chuckle, and flinch as you do. "I mean... you may as well... finish those cups, yeah? Then you can get... dressed again..."

She looks at you with a strange expression... one of worry. And longing. "N... no..."

"Go ahead," you motion with your less disabled arm, "drink up."

You meant it like a joke, of course. It was obvious she didn't need to continue, and the bet really had been something of a fluke... but her only follow-up is something like a sob that escapes her seed-soaked throat. She reaches for the smaller of the samples, and you blink in disbelief. Did she... really enjoy the taste? The ramifications, the possibilities... your arm starts to go back to your cock, slowly rising against fatigue. The first specimen, meanwhile, starts to go down her throat with the same speed as the last, accompanied now with her tears, though why she was crying while willingly drinking them was lost on you. You try to grip your cock... and a cramp paralyzes your fingers while she barely takes a breath before reaching for the second. It was practically a milkshake in how boldly full it was, threatening to spill over when she moves it hastily... right to her lips, and again a single sob before she chugs, chugs, chugs the whole damn thing away. Your hand doesn't bother to move. You were so aroused that your dick ached, but even this couldn't motivate you to try to refill all these cups.

You sink further into your chair, thoughts racing as you contemplate your swollen dongle... and Devi's crying, and utterly bizarre, expression. You're suddenly worried for your companion in this insane trial, and look past your Crown Jewels and Scepter to investigate. She is covered in sweat. A smell like sex fills the air, but at first you suspect it's just your jizz being so prevalent throughout the last hour and a half. Her chest is heaving against her bra. She's standing on her knees, upright and back arched while holding onto the table... gasping in a peculiar way. In a familiar way, for you, but not in the context of her.

Your eyes travel down her quivering body. Your gaze finds her crotch... and grows wide at the growing stain visible even from here. Her pussy drools down the side of her only visible thigh in multiple trails, mixing with the sweat and catching in the light. You look back to her face, that worried and straining expression and realize she's... coming hard, impossibly hard and, as far as you could tell, from drinking your seed alone. Her body hunches over as it convulses, her cracking voice fills the air with a loud moan, enough to disturb your pious neighbors upstairs, here on a holy Sunday afternoon. Her hands dive for her crotch, then under the panties, and she begins to jill furiously while her eyes roll into the back of her head. A mess of droplets begins to gather between her knees on your faux wood floor.

Slowly, achingly, you stand up before this carnal scene... and walk away from her and go into the kitchen. "Derek," she moans after you as you fish the orange juice jug out of the trash, "please, I've..." She hesitates as her body shudders again. "... I think I've been poisoned... the effects are... too much, and..." Your carefully pour a dull white powder into the jug, and then run its mouth under the sink faucet in your kitchen. It proves difficult to do with one arm too tired to so much as lift anything heavier than a spoon. "... I think I need... the hospital..." She looks up from where she had just lost that precious dignity and, now, seems ready to lose her mind, to find you... and blinks at you through puffy eyes. "What are... what is that?"

You slowly walk into the divide between your kitchen and living room, your jack arm hanging numbly to your side and the other pistoning, with great , the reused OJ jug, now full of some gray liquid. A single thumb on the cap kept it from exploding off from the of your shaking, in this final, exhausting effort. "I'm glad you asked, Devi," you sigh out, trying to breathe regularly as you work out your off-hand. "I bought this protein powder... stuff like... I wanna say... a few months ago? I thought I'd start working out and... well, I didn't-" You motion to your body with a sarcastic chuckle. "- but I think I'm starting to... understand my body now... I mean I figure, I did all that just now on two chimichangas, right? So I'm no scientist... but I bet I'll be able to keep pumping out protein if I just put down enough... well, protein."

She stares at you. For precious seconds, the only noise to break the silence between you is the obnoxious sloshing of your theoretical cure for pain and hunger. It's nearly done now; you put about four, or five, or six (you sort of eyeballed the small mountains you put in the scoop) protein shakes' worth in there, so it took an understandably long time to mix. Given the angry pain in your core, you still wonder if it'll be enough.

"B-but... Derek, I.. I can't, anymore..." She tries to adjust herself, to maybe close her knees... but she only ends up slipping on her own cum and splitting further, gasping as her fingers start to dig deeper into her pussy. "This isn't... this isn't even an experiment, or evaluation, or... healthy, even." The words barely escape her throat. You nod at her... and, with now two exhausted, sore arms, you lift the jug to your lips and mirror her enthusiasm for chugging bizarre tasting, gray-to-white protein. She watches you while shaking her head violently, all the while with her hand still an angry bull in her fine china shop, but she says nothing as you chug... chug... and eventually stop chugging. Putting your incomplete college learning to good use, you open up your throat and let the smooth mix simply pour down into your gut.

You inhale sharply as the last of it falls into place. The jug hangs from your fingers, empty... and then falls to the floor as you stumble towards your loveseat, closer still to the woman lost in her own pleasure. You were still naked, still sore... and now nauseatingly full. Collapsing into the chair, you lean your head back and close your eyes, trying to focus on anything but your stomach's tense feeling, or the pain all over your body, or your raging hard-on from watching your old crush crushing her own puss...