Euphoria

The stimulation was unbearable. It was relentless. An hour of the most intense sex you’d ever felt had you on the brink of madness. You wanted to scream, but it only came out as gasping whimpers as you were choked by the clone. Morgana never stopped riding you, the lamprey tentacle never stopped chewing, the clones never stopped stimulating your balls and nipples. Morgana’s tendril bumps never stopped reaming you. There wasn’t a single part of you not being stimulated by this sexual deity.

You rode the edge of orgasm, never being able to reach the finish line. All the while, Morgana moaned as much at your pleasured suffering as the feeling of you inside her. You felt her core stimulating your tip, and saw it glowing in anticipation.

“Breed me. Breed me. Breed me. Breed me. Breed me. Breed me.” Morgana’s voice echoed through your mental link.

There was no hope. Submission was all your brain could think of anymore.

“I…*gasp*....”

The words began to sputter out of you. Morgana’s face lit up in excitement.

“You what, darling? You want to fill me up? Just say the word, and I’ll let you.”

“*cough*...I…want…to…”

“Say it clearly, so I can hear you. I can keep going all day if you're not ready.” Morgana threatened in a false sweet tone.

“I want to breed. Morgana, please. Let me cum.” You finally managed.

“Good boy! I’m so happy you see it my way! Now, look closely. Unlike your other wives, you’ll get to see my moment of conception! This is something only I can do for you.”

The clone who had been **** you, now propped your head up. You watched as Morgana’s core was in the perfect location to be coated with your cum.

“This is it.” You thought, a glimmer of rationality managing to make it through the sensations you were feeling.

“Watch now, darling. It’s time to cum!”

It started as a slow, insistent pressure, a deep warmth radiating outward, sending tingling pulses through your core. Your muscles twitched involuntarily, your breath hitching as the sensation built up—hot, liquid pleasure pooling low in your abdomen, rolling through your nerves like an incoming tide.

Your thighs trembled, your fingers clenched, and then—release.

The orgasm didn't just hit—it erupted. A sudden, unstoppable explosion of pleasure that tore through you in wave after wave, your body arching, every muscle locking in electric ecstasy. The intensity was blinding, an overwhelming flood of heat and sensation that consumed you completely, pulsing from deep within like a dam breaking. Your vision whited out, your breath shattered into ragged gasps, your entire body shaking as raw, unfiltered bliss surged through you.

And it didn't stop. Each rhythmic contraction wrung you out, dragging you through a pleasure so deep it was almost unbearable—your nerves igniting, your spine tingling, your senses drowning in sheer, overwhelming release. Your mind blanked, lost in the freefall of orgasm, pleasure rolling over you in relentless aftershocks, stretching the moment into eternity.

You watched through Morgana’s translucent pink and purple slime to see yourself bursting inside her. Every pulse through your cock was met with the sensation of pumping thick rope after rope of cum. There was so much, it bloated Morgana. Your sperm coated the gem-like core entirely, causing it to radiate with energy. She screamed her own orgasm. It was a sound so foreign and out of touch with her typical regal persona. There was nothing queenly about the slack expression she wore either. In that moment of impregnation, she wore a face like a beast in heat. Like a person on the brink of **** from dehydration miraculously being granted that life-saving drink. She’d waited a long time for this.

After stiffening from her own release, she plopped down onto you. The clones lost their shapes, pooled out around you, and were re-absorbed into Morgana’s main body.

When your own orgasm finally began to fade, it wasn’t so much an end as a slow, delicious unraveling—your body trembling, your skin hypersensitive, your breath coming in ragged, shuddering waves. A deep, buzzing euphoria lingered in your chest, warmth pooling in your limbs, leaving you utterly spent—drained in the best possible way.

Even as the last tremors faded, the ghost of pleasure lingered, leaving you weightless, dazed, and completely wrecked.

“I…love you…Morgana…”