[Georgia, Guest] Do what must be done.

Tender lips touch yours, and you awake with a smile. It's Saturday, a nice, lazy day to relax in your harem... and the tenderness with which you are kissed makes you believe that it's Devi who's waking you up... only you're greeted with the predatory grin of one Georgia Lemmings, the guest in your apartment, the one whose presence almost demands that Devi be absent. "Good morning, little Derek." It was an upgrade for the various, awful nicknames she gave you in your first week living together, but it doesn't keep you from grimacing when you realize it isn't your high school crush waking you up. She sits up, her bare breasts sagging like teardrops, as she breathes into her hand, as if to check her breath. You've only lived with her for less than three weeks, but that's been more than enough time to know she's mocking you. "Morning breath?"

"Just a nightmare," you sigh. On the positive side, Georgia did keep her promise all this time: she has yet to try to kill you again, though it does require that she sleep in the living room (she tried to take over your bedroom, but it smelled too much like "you" for her) and keep her distance at work. While you've been acquiring more lady friends, she has proven ever resilient, taking your loads in her mouth and pussy (but never her ass) to satisfy her cravings. They're daily, now: your sperm is now part of a complete breakfast and a sleep aid, as far as the middle-aged woman is concerned. Her addiction outstrips most of your slaves, and they're left "hungry" thanks to her voracious appetite for cum.

With no intention of breaking her record, she climbs off the bed just enough to fling your sheets off of you, exposing you to the biting cold of the air conditioning. "It's Saturday," she declares plainly.

"A... And?" You clutch yourself; sleeping naked is proving a poor choice when living with a spiteful lover.

"And that means you're going to satisfy me... all... day..." She sings the terms of today's imprisonment as she crawls onto the bed, her breasts swaying as she approaches. You stare at her... and your extraordinary senses reach out to her body. You've been probing her like this for days now, based on Devi's predictions: she could be ovulating any day this week, without realizing it.

As she crawls onto your shivering body, you recall your brief plot with Devi: to swap Georgia's birth control with fertility pills. It was your complaint that inspired her plan, and you almost feel bad about deceiving your co-worker like this... but that guilt is eased by the fact that she's still a danger to you and the girls. More than killing you, she could reveal at any moment your practice, your strange condition, and keep you locked in a box in some military base or research hospital. She had yet to do it, but she must realize she could **** favors out of you, plenty more than a living space and a few blasts of jizz.

Your senses find three ovum, descending and healthy, and this result takes a minute to fully compute.

THREE? Triplets?! Devi used the word "hyperovulation", but you thought she was just being fancy; now you're more than threatening her free will, given that her body will become terribly warped by such a burden. {if Morality < 0}You're almost alarmed at how much more excited than empathic you are.{endif} At the very least, you can't turn back now. "Let me go on top."

She pauses at your request, and narrows her eyes. "You're usually such a..." She tickles your chest with your fingernail... a tickle that slices and draws a quiet red mark into your flinching flsh. "... victim when I take what I want. Are you starting to enjoy this? You better not be-"

"I... I just want to help you feel good," you lie. "Please... Mistress."

She gives you a stern slap across the face, her expression frozen in dismay... until it finally cracks into a toothy grin. "Sweet talking me, Mr. Peck? Alright... but call me Master, not Mistress. You're the one running a brothel... Mistress." You blink in disbelief at how eagerly she went along with (and made worse) your attempt to charm... but sure enough she rolls off of you, and you quickly follow her, never leaving the space between her legs as you position yourself. You give her one last look-over, though you find nothing new: the scar that swells ever so slightly as your cock enters her, her cleanly shaved pussy grasping you, the subtle lumps and less subtle stretchmarks on her stomach, and those breasts, full of milk after weeks of your "feeding" bringing them back into production. Your eyes stop there as you lower your head and continue to nurse her breasts back into an active state. "Such a strange sensation," she coos while you suckle, blithely unaware of how close to losing her freedom she is as you pound against her cervix, "where my love for sex becomes this... ugly exchange. I hate you so much, Derek," she moans.

You release her tit, unsatisfied with being silent in this last conversation with this Georgia. "But you love fucking the ones you hate, right? Your husband, and now me-"

A less-than-playful jab into your ribs, and she forces you silent. "Ah... ah... aah, but you're not wrong, Mr. Peck: I love this even more than I hate you... I don't think I can ever go back to lovemaking. Such a drab, miserable thing... I'll hate-fuck you for as long as I can get you hard." She uses those dangerous pelvic floor muscles and crushes your cock. Where you thought you had your own, building orgasm under control, she hastens it with barely a squeeze. Your breath quickens as you come close, unable to stop looking down to her pubic mound, behind which three of your future children waited, defenseless. An uncharacteristically tender hand finds the back of your head and scratches there, wringing new pleasure out of you. You almost miss her words. "Marry me."

"Wuh... W-What?!" She just bought you another minute or so with that shock.

"Marry me, and cart the rest of these sluts off to a hole somewhere. Tell them to get abortions for all I care, and then tell them to fuck off while we elope."

"What the- what are you even saying?!" The madness she speaks isn't enough to keep you from cumming for long, and now it feels like your sperm might serve as a signature on this awful deal.

"I love hating you, Derek," she moans, her own orgasm building just on the expectation of your seed, "and I want to hate you for the rest of our lives... you'll do it, right? You'll hate me, too... a marriage without lies, without secrets... a marriage of honest hate and fucking. Come for me, and make..." She squeezes your head as you try to withdraw. "... me..." She raises her hips despite being the bottom, forcing you to enter her to the hilt, the twitching head of your cock kissing her cervix. "... your wife...!" The madness of it all, the insanity to which you almost convince yourself you're surrendering to, causes you to cry out as you baste her womb with seed. For a moment, you believe her delusion, and that moment is terrifying; you're brought from that brink only by your breeder's sense, which showcases three waiting eggs, all bombarded by your seed, all fertilized one after the other. Her body quakes, and her writhing form tempts you back to her bosom to suckle milk once more, the warm and flavorful sensation mixing with the satisfaction of impregnating yet one more woman.

When at last your shocking pleasure subsides, you remain upon her, your bodies both glistening and in need of a shower. You spend precious minutes like this before you renew your attack, humping away at her cum-slick hole. She offers no protest, save that she finishes you even quicker than before. Sensing your second orgasm, she forces you to dismount with those flexible legs, planting her feet on your pelvis and shoving you until you nearly fall off the bed. On your back and ****, you can barely sit up on your elbows by the time her lips are upon you, drinking in your breakfast properly. Through the haze of coming you stare down at her, wondering if she'll realize what's happening to her... and if it is happening to her the way you hope.

"From now on," you whisper, caressing her cheek as she licks your cock clean, "you will do nothing to hurt me, or anyone or anything I care about... and you'll never twist my words and instructions to you, and whatever you do will be to satisfy what I would reasonably want when you don't have specific instructions." Devi and you had workshopped these instructions, just in case her love for you doesn't end up a blithe as it did for everyone else.

She looks up to you with a raised eyebrow, and finishes you off with a tight suck on your head, making your body flinch from the intense pleasure of it. "Your request is sincere enough, darling... but I'm going to have to den-" She flinches, her smile shrinks. "I'm going to have to ref-" Again her words die off, and real alarm begins to show.

"Stand perfectly still, and be quiet." Her body locks up, quaking with fear and terror as her eyebrows raise... but then she is frozen in that expression and pose, on her hands and knees over your cock. You slither out from under her, and look over her **** form as you walk around the bed: bent over, your cum dribbles down her thighs in two streams when it doesn't drip straight down and onto the sheets. Her muscles are tensed, but do not move or even quiver, now.

So it worked... but why do you have a bad feeling about this? "When we're at work, you'll act totally naturally," you explain, "except giving me a bit of slack... only as much as you might to an office friend. But when you come home... you'll obey and serve me, as the others do. You'll never raise your voice to alarm or alert anyone unless you believe I'd want you to... and you'll help the other girls out, and cooperate with them as they do with you." You rub your slick cock, still hard as it is, and start thinking about breakfast proper... and contemplate testing her loyalty by having her prepare breakfast. Right, she'll need to be able to move for that. "You can move and talk again, but do not leave my presence yet."

"You fucking bastard," she sobs, and only now do you realize she's been crying, "what have you done to me?" She tries to yell it, but brings her own volume down and sighs out all the breath she saved to scream. Her spirit is utterly broken... and it's evident that Devi's first theory, that being impregnated would maximize her hatred of you, is proving true.

You frown as guilt eats away at you... {if Morality > 0}new guilt, sitting atop all the rest you've been building until now. {endif}"You left me ****... it was too dangerous to just let you run free with-"

"Fuck you," she sobs. "Just get it over with... what now, huh? Back to anal to ruin me again? Or maybe you'll put me in your little collection of dolls next door? What's next, Ma-" She closes both hands over her mouth, terrified of what almost escapes her throat. It amazes you how easily that title comes to these girls.

"You can just call me by my first-"

"No." You blink in shock, until you realize your instruction was more a suggestion. You'd have to refine it into an order to- "I want to call you Master."

"I... What?"

Her grimace hardens, and her absolute, vile hate for you bubbles like poison on her words. "I want you to never forget what you did to me... and I never want to forgot how horrible a beast you are, imprisoning me... enslaving me!" She hisses her words through gritted teeth, but she may as well have shouted them into your heart as you shrink away from her. "You've stolen the most sacred things I had left, worse still than even that piece of shit ex-husband of mine... God, I wish I was just homeless, now." She laughs mirthlessly. "You've taken everything now... so the least you can do, you little shit, is let me have this." Your own lip stiff, you stare into her with as much of an apology as you can manage. She accepts none of it. Finally, you nod, quietly acquiescing to your new ****'s final demand. "Fine... but from now on, you'll no longer express insults to me or the girls." Bitter hate is all that remains in her smile.