[Georgia, Prisoner] Knock up your bathroom accessory.

It's been a few weeks since that fateful night at the office, and so much has transpired between you and a variety of women that are now part of your life... but it was time, or so your breeder senses declared, to go and check up on that poor, miserable co-worker trapped in your bathroom. You grip the shoulder of the woman next to you in bed; you've been sleeping next to her these past few days, in the predicted week to strike, and can only hope your other slaves don't get jealous enough to make her life hard. "Devi," you whisper, "I think she's ready... but give her breakfast anyways." The frail brown form in your bed stirs, and she faces you with a smile... one that is nonetheless ****. The task she's been saddled with for so many days has worn on her spirit, despite how much satisfaction it brings you. "As you wish{if Devi_shaved = false}.{else@}, Master.{endif}" She gives your manhood a gentle squeeze, as if to tempt you, but your self-control wins out long enough for her to get her naked arse out of bed and get to work.

You follow after her at your own pace, yawning and stretching in the buff yourself, and slowly make your way through your tiny apartment, past the silent bathroom and towards the kitchen where Devi prepared "breakfast" for Georgia Lemmings: a sample of your jizz from last night, now being warmed at the lowest setting of a Bunsen burner and heating pan, and a fine powder consisting of two **** you've never heard of that she described in some long, drawn-out lecture about hyperovulation and thinning the mucus of the cervix... and, necessarily, simplified to "potent fertility ****" for your understanding. Mixed with this powder is an anti-nausea medicine, a necessity given its present application. Your seed, these ****, and a nutritious shake of fruits and vegetables {if Chantel = true}Chantel **** your girls to drink{elseif Nutmeg = true}Nutmeg somehow knew how to make{else@}Devi learned from an online search{endif} were the only three components of the meals that keep Georgia alive.You watch the shake being made and, with a shiver of discomfort that no immoral heart could suppress, the funnel. Were it not for Georgia's wildly potent addiction to your spunk, you're pretty sure she'd gladly starve herself to **** by now.

Silently, Devi takes the massive glass jar of "food" and funnel into the bathroom, and you're glad to wait outside; you've seen the feeding process now, the pained **** that melts, unwillingly, into eager gulps. Devi flushes the toilet, because Georgia can't be expected to do it herself, bound as she is, and it's only when the feeding is complete, and Devi is sure the prisoner won't spit or puke anything out, that she finally calls you in.

You enter, and your nose wrinkles at the hint in the air of the human waste that was recently exorcised. Georgia's eyes, distant and unfocused, snap to you with a fire you remember well. The gag is already back in place, and so her renewed spirit and yelling is muffled once again. This pleases you, of course; you don't want her to find solace in retreating into her mind. "Georgia, Georgia, Georgia... you look absolutely..." You pass a hand across her face. "... radiant, today." You look down at her crotch: three ovum, floating down into her uterus proper and ready to be fertilized, all in one go. You never imagined such a scenario... you know what one new baby does to your slaves, but what would happen when three get attached? Moreover, how would it affect the only woman who hates you more with every dose of you?

Pulling your senses back, you notice a fair amount of pubic hair has grown now that she's unable to maintain herself. You motion Devi to the razor to clean the woman up, and continue to talk as she works. "So... right now, floating in here," you whisper with a jab into her gut, "are three eggs waiting to be fertilized." Her breathing quickens, and surges as she screams through her nostrils. Smilling, you pinch her nose, and her eyes bulge as her breathing is so effortlessly cut off. "So I'm going to give you some more of that cum you love so much... and when you get pregnant, oh my dear Georgia... you're going to be mine, just like Devi here." You pat Devi on the head, and poke her cheek with your cock. All too eager to please, she turns and tries to shave Georgia's pussy while deepthroating your meat, causing small nicks and cuts that bleed openly all over Georgia's tormented labia. You let the scene play out, pulling Devi's head back only when you're on the verge of coming. "Now now, Devi, this first load is for three whole babies... Georgia is going to have triplets! Isn't that exciting?"

Devi smiles and nods, and Georgia shakes and jolts uselessly against the restraints that have kept her immobile for weeks that have felt like months to her. You reach down... and undo a single strap: the one keeping her crotch and ass over the toilet. "God, I'm about to come already, Georgia... I don't think I'll even give you a good hump... you're going to get pregnant and become my property in one, swift motion... you won't even get to enjoy your last moment as a free woman..." You shudder, your cock twitches violently and strikes her clitoris as you hoist her ass up and position yourself at her entrance. She shakes with the **** of her scream into the gag... and the scream dies as you shove your entire length into her in a single, brutal, well-lubricated motion. Your cock hits the end of the road, and so does your self-control: you simply hold yourself there, enraptured by your orgasm and denying her so much as a hump. Her head shakes violently as her protests start anew... and you blast her cervix with baby batter. That tight donut of flesh is practically breathing in your cum now, at the height of her ovulation and without even the basic barrier of chemicals to protect the uterus from the onslaught you now pour into her. Georgia's body finally quakes in your grip as your sperm forces an orgasm, but somewhere in her mind, cutting through this shallow pleasure, is the realization that she has some thin window of freedom. Your orgasm subsides, and you sense with satisfaction as the first two eggs are fertilized before you can even check. The third, as if trying to evade the inevitable, remains at the inner-end of its delivering tube... only to be ravaged by thousands of the fastest, strongest swimmers you deposited into her babymaker. It's fertilized in short order, and drifts into place shortly after the first two. "Congratulations, Georgia... triplets."

She doesn't cry... she sobs miserably into the gag, but no tears stream from her eyes. Such a tease, this one. "It usually takes a few minutes, Georgia... so is there anything you want to think of now, while you're still free to do so?" You rub her tits, squeeze out and drink some of the milk her body gladly gives you... and now is finally when single tears stream down her face.