Oh yes...

...Or more specifically, the pump which made the bed.

It takes you a bit to notice, due to the fact that your balls haven’t let up since the great cumblast moment a few minutes ago.

You may be a champion breeder, but an orgasm’s an orgasm, and you’re just as addicted to it as your cock-sleeves.

But eventually, once your cum-bed doubles in size, completely crushing the mattress beneath her to dust, and your balls finally reduce back to passive mode, you become more aware of your surroundings, and more specifically, the silver haired waif staring at you hungrily.

How interesting you muse.

Everyone else at the store bolted the moment they realized a breeder was in heat and on the hunt, dragging their women and girls before my pre-cum pheromones could ensnare them.

Except for this one, though the reason was rather obvious. Just like what’s her name, this waif was also a stick.

She had a pretty face, but without a proper hourglass to accentuate it, she may as well have been a twink.

You pull out of your old cum bed, before plugging up her hole with a self sealing dildo you keep stored in your pussy for these kind of moments.

Because there was no way in hell your were going to let this little waif continue suffering from the crappy hand she was born with.

You always did believe in civic duty. Someone should really give you a medal for all the good deeds you’ve done tonight.

Your sausage and beans may need some more convincing as they’ve gone a bit droopy and have started receding inward a bit, reducing your size to a pathetic 12 inches.

Good thing someone volunteered to help fix that little problem.

The only question is...