The 2,000 Labors of John

With his arms firmly pinning her legs to her body and his hands, through two tunnels, holding her shoulders down, John had firmly trapped his Moon Elf both to the bed and against his cock. Her fingers gripped the sheets to her sides as she stared, teary-eyed and smiling, as her master readied to ravage her pregnant form. She could barely see him except from the chest up over the horizon of her huge belly, and she knew the feeling of his power coursing through her as he began lacing her body with effects.

From her perspective, it was one terrible affliction after the next: her body became more sensitive as she felt the texture of the sheets and the pressing of his cockhead against her sex; she felt her sex moisten, and then her nipples too even without the aggressive lactation of his aura; her breasts sagged slightly as he made them milkier and heavier; and she could sense a budding emotion in her for her master that extended far and beyond the subservience she had felt or the “**** love” the brand enforced: she was suddenly longing, however slightly, for his ravaging, and she felt him crawling in her mind as these impressions were planted like corrupting seeds.

She did not resist these changes; her master's will was not hers to disobey.

He twisted her nipples and tugged them towards his body as he began to push into her drooling cunt. Anchored by her pained nipples, Tita did her best to keep the pull of his grips soft while enveloping his manhood with her narrow, elf-sized passage. When he reached the bottom of her, in a pussy he had so thoroughly broken in less than a week ago, it was his manhood pressing against her cervix, that drooling opening to the taut sack of her uterus.

John, satisfied that he had secured her, continued to toy with her leaking nipples as milk eased out of them in steady rivers down her sides. “So tell me everything that speeds up pregnancy and labor in a Moon Elf.”

“We are consummate producers, my Master,” Tita did her best to calmly explain, although her voice rattled as her sex clenched John’s unmoving rod, “and birth in times of excess and crisis. I have told you that the mother gives until she no longer can, but that is only true when she is safe; when the mother is in crisis, her body knows and accelerates energy and life into the child at the mother’s expense.”

“Crisis...?”

“It is better to lose the older mother than both her and the young she carries.”

“Crisis...” John raised his posture, pinning her legs farther up as he reached through the tunnels further. His hands rubbed Tita’s breasts as they traveled upward, eliciting more milk and a moan from the pregnant sow until both hands came to wrap around her fragile neck. She gasped and stiffened at this. “How bad does the crisis have to be?”

“L-Life-threatening,” she quietly stammered, “enough to alar-urk!” John’s hands pressed around her frail neck... and used that vital bridge as an anchor to begin pounding her quivering sex.

Every thrust made the pregnant minion shake in so many directions: a slam of John’s hips against her stretched thighs and hairless sex made her fat tits churn and ripple across tender, milk-swollen flesh, whereas her drum-taut belly bounced only once as a solid, precious object. Her tongue shot out of her mouth and her eyes went wide as he choked her... and a bit of drool, and the fluttering of eyebrows, reminded John of what got her off in their first time together.

“You fucking pain slut,” he grunted as he released her neck.

She gasped as he spared her, “A-Again-!”

But she misunderstood his mercy; he just wanted to multi-task. His fingers wrapped around her long, pointed ears... and twisted them down until their tips, those most sensitive parts, were pinned to the top of her neck by his index fingers. Satisfied by her sudden wail of pain, John resumed pressing his fingers against her throat as he pumped most of his mana into another aphrodisiac spell.

Tita’s world became stars and pain as he tortured her ears, and the sudden loss of her breath did put her body into a panic. The addition of becoming more sensitive to John meant it all became better and worse: the stimulation on her ears had her hairless twat twitching and spitting her juices as she came and never stopped coming; the crushing of her throat felt more intense, making her feel that she would surely die; the pounding of his cock against her cervix, already partially expanded by how engorged her babymaker had become, was introducing a new pain as he threatened to endanger the young inside her by fucking her womb directly. She didn’t want to warn him, but he expressed his will: she was to deliver a baby today, and she could feel her body wasting away as her magical and life energies were drained into the most advanced of her young, and her breath was drained by John’s eagerness to hurt her so fucking good-

A sudden surge of health...

John healed her to full in one spell. Her tiny HP pool was child’s play; she continued to asphyxiate as he artificially kept her on the verge of consciousness, denying her burning lungs as she remained fluttering in a horrific, incomparable bliss- yes, yes, fucking yes, how did her master do it? How did he know? Tita couldn’t pretend to not know: she had moaned like a whore when he used her precious, sensitive ears like handlebars, and she enjoyed angering him, trembling all the while as she imagined his retaliation. A Moon Elf... a female Moon Elf... was to be a creature of ancient pride, racial purity, and a dignity beyond reproach...

... but this was where Tita longed to be. She hated how she had been desecrated, it was true... but she relished the humiliation, the torment, and the attentions of the human that had so debased her.

His vicious **** did not cease, her lungs begged for mercy, and he offered it only by feeding her more life energy. That energy continued to be consumed as her body was denied air and her womb did its best to forward the child’s growth. Years became months, then weeks, as she felt her stomach swell. John continued to pound her, almost seeing her weakening womb entrance as the gate to be breached when it was halfway there just from her state.

“So you... fucking love this? You love being ruined, you sloppy whore?”

How dare a mere human... call her... that...! Her legs kicked and her toes curled as he shamed her into another height of pleasure.

"This is a Moon Elf? You're almost pissing yourself just because I call you what you are."

Tita tried, and failed, to focus her eyes on John as he spoke. She must have missed the notification; he was in her mind now... and seeing her soul laid bare. She was disgusting, filthy, corrupted... but it was meant to be her secret, a shame she had to hide... and its revelation to another, even her master, was a fate worse than ****. She clutched at him as her orgasms racked her entire body, causing her to flail and confirm his accusation.

His grip on her throat remained, and he injected another healing spell into her as he whispered, “Alright, well let’s help you with that.”

A familiar face suddenly manifested, though Tita could hardly recognize the redhead that was now standing in the sanctuary. It cocked its pretty little head to the side and spoke in Moira Brighton's voice, "You have summoned this drone?"

"Yeah," John grunted as he pulled his arms free from his tunnels and finally let Tita cough and struggle to inhale, "come join us here."

With a quick roll, John swung Tita's heavy body upwards as he took to the bottom, letting Tita's frail, quaking legs hug his sides and her massive womb rest on his belly. Her tits, now more full of fluid than ever, sagged onto her abdomen and squirted fresh bouts of milk from the new position. Her eyes remained out of focus even as John grabbed her arms and **** her to lean on her belly, causing her to feel even more pressure inside her as she squeezed that against the iron rod in her birth canal. John grabbed her neck anew, now while facing her directly, and squeezed; Tita drooled as her only reaction to the overstimulation.

"Drone, how big a cock can you make?"

Mimic Drone's entire body began to shift...

"I-I mean... that can still be used."

Tita didn't quite register the question; certainly, she couldn't turn and see as the drone returned to its preferred, faux-Moira form. Said Moira raised her left arm... and morphed her closed fist into the shape of John's dick, and her forearm into John's thick, veiny shaft.

"Jesus... alright, that'll do."

A kick... movement? John felt something... shift across the surface of Tita's belly, surprising him enough to let him release Tita's neck. Even in her state of bliss, Tita had felt it too... but that was... "N-No... I'm... I'm this far... along...?"

John, with a confident smirk, opened tunnels to reach his arms behind Tita's bulk... and spread her ass. "Fuck her here."

Tita turned, finally realizing what he was ordering: for that shapeshifter, that bizarre and base animal, to have its way with her... and to do so-

The fist-sized cockhead pushed against her virgin sphincter. She began to shake her head violently; her asshole didn't dare loosen for the invasion.

John grabbed her ass and lifted her effortlessly, popping his cock out of her for the first time. She felt a measure of relief, even as she missed it-

"Fuck her here until you're wet enough."

Tita nearly screamed as she felt a colossal, turgid limb suddenly press into her tiny, Elven puss. She shrieked as she swore something would tear, but still it fucked her with its massive girth, soaking in her lubrication until it finally withdrew after three meaty thrusts, now glistening with her love. John pumped another spell into her, tightening her birth canal anew before shoving his painfully large cock back in. "I-I'll break!"

"That's the point. Fuck her ass with that," John ordered.

The head pressed against her anus... and try as Tita's body naturally might, the lubrication and **** proved enough. The very tip of the giant phallus opened the breach and began to stretch her asshole into an unusable size. Her scream, of shame, of pain, of coming into a new world of pleasure she had not yet experienced, was cut short by John reaching up and **** her anew. Her breasts spat milk as her nipples begged to be sucked, her belly surged as her taut innards became fuller, and her thighs continued to squeeze her favorite cock while her ass was pried apart by an unworthy invader… and all the while, Tita was broken, humiliated, and cherishing her absolute degradation.

Mimic hit her inner-gate… and with John pushing her back onto it, broke through to smash most of its penis-arm into her rectum.

Even if she wasn’t being choked, Tita would find it hard to breathe as her belly pressed against John, her intestines pressed up against the rest of her guts, and her body continued to panic in spasms of orgasms and the threat of ****. Her gravid body gyrated on its own as tears and drool dripped freely from the lost little moon elf, and the mixture of pain and bliss was too great for anything to break her free-

Splash.

John suddenly felt a wave of moisture hit his cock… one too great to be more of her lubrication. He slowly pulled out his cock… and blinked unsure until it slowly dawned on him: Tita’s water had broken all over him and the bed. He let go of Tita’s throat and caressed her belly… where he felt something… someone... shifting. Another explosion of liquid fell from her pussy… and then a third… and then a fourth burst, far longer than the first three; eventually the entire mattress was a sopping, horrible mess.

“Oh… Oh...!” Tita couldn’t believe it… no matter what she knew, this was madness. An elf was not ever born in the less than 240 hours… but she knew the sensations described by her mother and mothers like her. She knew the meaning of the First Water. But it was never this much…. this was… she was…

“Mimic, pull out gently,” John urged, and the minion complied. Tita leaned back, and only now did John realize how much larger she had gotten, her once smooth stomach now laden with red stretch marks left behind by healing that kept her from bursting. He quickly restored her original birth canal size and considered expanding it further.

Tita continued to shake her head in denial. “M-Master, I… I was wrong! T-This shame, this burden… I cannot-!”

“You’re going to give me children, and there’s no escaping that now,” John breathed as he caressed her belly. Perverse as it was, even this gentle caress made her pussy spasm even now in the throes of labor. John dragged her legs up and opened tunnels in which he could loop them like stirrups, leaving her spread eagle and ready to deliver.

Tita shook her head, her red, tortured ear tips matching her panicking face. “This is blasphemy! This is criminal, Master! We should… we should both be executed for this heinous-!”

“Will pain make you deliver faster, too?”

“Y-Yes, but- please, Master, this is-!”

John didn’t have the time or patience to hear her bleat for however long an Elven labor lasted, much less one’s first. John opened a wide tunnel over her spread pussy that led to her face. He reached his head and arms through… and took her chin to bring her up to a kiss. It was shame upon shame as she trembled from the pleasure of his sensitive touch… followed by his hands returning to **** the life from her. Like this they remained, her tongue wildly darting against his as she once again lost herself in the shocking shame of being kissed and choked into orgasms as she tried to birth abominations.

It had proven too much for Tita’s body… or at least too much to not speed up the process manifold. Her cervix dilated… and the first little head began to be pushed through. Tita sought to pray for relief, but she hadn’t the mind or tongue for it. John continued to kiss her, though his chokes had become urging caresses and gentle healing spells as she screamed in his grip… and then he finally leaned out of the tunnel to look down… and marvel, wide-eyed, as a small lump split her labia.

A head of thin white hair, with skin that was white or purple or pink, suddenly sprouted from her sex.

John reached down, wide-eyed and stunned, as he saw tiny shoulders muscle their way into the new world… and after he gently pulled that newborn free of his mother’s birth canal in a moment that seemed too silent to be real, John was suddenly holding a child, of ears pointed but human-sized, of platinum blonde hair, of a female sex, and covered in the viscera of birth… and he was holding a child.

John was holding his daughter.

He looked at her umbilical cord as it reached back towards her origin… and simply blinked as another crowning began.