You can't do this to her. Best to end this game.

You came to this moment with only the illest of intentions, and a hunger that only grew with every additional glimpse of your meal. It lays splayed out before you now, on a pillow-like platter and so totally at your mercy... and the paddle in your hands, burdened with the crimes of that man-ape Daniel Cross, strikes a fear in your prey that is all but tangible... and...

... you cannot bear it. The jury is out on whether or not you're some terrible new monster among humans, but in this moment it is your humanity that appeals and finds a smidgen of good in you. You go back to the side of the bed, where she can see you. You hold up the paddle... and strike it against your knee. {if@ Evo_bulgingbiceps = false}Ow. Once more, and then again, wincing with every strike, and the wood cracks... and pops... and finally shatters in a small nova of splinters. It was done: before the eyes of the one who would serve you, you destroyed her former Master's instrument of control.{else}It explodes with the **** of your power, shattering the object of her former Master's control. Your dominance has been made clear.{endif}

She stares at the shattered weapon with a gaze that, of late, only ever seems to be set to wide-eyed and bewildered, but her hysterics are, at last, converted to a stunned silence. "I'm... sorry, Ophelia," you offer, waving your hand about the ugly little room, "all I can offer is to take you away from all of... this." You move back around her, unzipping your pants as you do so. Bending your knees slightly to put your crotch at level with hers, you pull her ample cheeks apart and, to a rising chorus of her renewed panic, sink yourself into her birth canal. Despite your expectation, it is not some gaping cavern that greets you: as the first mother you've ever laid with, you're surprised to find that hers is as gripping and nurturing a warmth as those before her, even as she cries against this ****. You push aside the dark, ugly things about what you've learned about this girl, a life spent a victim without knowing it, and try to embrace her from behind, letting your hands roam between her squirming figure and the sheets to find her massive breasts, massaging them as best can be managed given her position. She doesn't give in to you, no matter your rubbing, your potent pheromones, your seed in her mouth, and your earnest mercy; her brainwashing, so many years older than anything you've brought to manipulate her, anchors her to the terrible life she lives.

But you have your trump card, and it bubbles inside you as you increase the pace of your thrusts. She seems to know all too well what it means, but can only plead through a gagged hole and the **** shaking of her head as your orgasm nears. "I know you don't want another baby, Ophelia," you pant, "but this is the... only... WAY...!" You finish before you can finish, and slam your full length into her as the chemical chains of her future erupt from your cock, painting her cervix and vaginal walls in fat waves of pale gray. Every other spurt aims true enough to shoot sperm directly into her womb, a few thousand at a time, and those are enough: your senses open almost reflexively now at this moment of truth, and you see the beleaguered ovum, under an impossible siege as more of your seed continues to invade. You rub her back as it shakes with racking sobs, and start to undo her bindings once you sense the egg root inside her, impregnating her completely. "It's done, Ophelia," you sigh as you unbind her last wrist. She slithers off the bed, crouches on the floor, and starts to whine pathetically as a fountain of your cum begins to ooze out from her sopping snatch.

A door opens. You ignore it; it must've been a neighbors, after all. But she doesn't... she looks up, a new fear in her eyes as she eyes the bedroom door... and by the time you realize what's come about, it flies open.

Daniel Cross is, as was previously described, a physically imposing man. A bushy brown mustache and head of hair on tanned features, a body that was almost square with how wide it was, and an intimidating vertical six feet of man besides. Most of his body was likely muscle, with all his fat stored in the dad-bod that no shirt can hide... and that was then, when he was complaining about the volume of your pornography and near-threatening you with **** over it.

Here now, after the shock, was the Mr. Cross you were to confront after seeing his violated wife, and her violator. His body surges towards yours, his massive hands reaching to grab hold of you as he screams incoherently.

You're able to slap away his hands in a sudden, **** defense. You're only barely winded by the sex and all the prep work, but more than anything you're cowed by this man who, in his animalistic fury, clearly means to kill you. Unfortunately, there's only so many places to run: he corners you and, with his massive fist, punches you directly in the face.{if@ Evo_bulgingbiceps = true}.. except your hand is there before his, and holds back his outstretched fist.{else} You're stunned as your nose shatters in an explosion of blood, but his barrage doesn't cease, and even the screams of horror from his wife can't stop him from exacting ****. But you'll never know the full extent of the horror and viscera that resulted from your corpse... because you lost consciousness the moment his thumbs began to press into your eyes.

BAD END{endif}

[Author's Temporary Note: This will be the first of many posts that result in an "ending". While many posts have conditionals that change the text, this will be the first that influences the ending: if you're not playing the game, or you are and you have the Bulging Biceps evolution, you'll have no indication of an ending. If you are playing and don't have that yet, you'll have a very ugly indication of an ending. Later on I'll have a branch at the bottom that continues for those who did not meet a grisly end.]