Chapter 43: The Canine Encounters II

A/N: Had went out to watch Spider Man, so got a bit late in updating. As promised, two Chapters today to wrap up everything.

___

Her entire body convulsed as every single muscle in her torso locked up simultaneously. Her back arched violently off the cold linoleum, her bare thighs clamping around his thick, armored waist like a hydraulic vice while her inner walls spasmed in rapid, uncontrollable pulses around his massive, throbbing shaft.

She would have screamed at the top of her lungs if her mouth were open, but the sound died completely against his thick, warm tongue, turning into a muffled, vibrating sob that rattled deep in her chest.

SCHLORP-SQUELCH! MEATY THWACK!

Wave after wave of devastating physical pleasure crashed straight through her central nervous system, each successive wave hitting with far more force than the last. The sheer intensity built upon the hypersensitive foundation of the climaxes before it, driving her further past any biological threshold she had ever imagined her body could endure.

Her vision went completely, blindingly white behind the sealed fleshy walls of his unzipped skull. Her ears rang with a loud, deafening static while every single nerve ending in her torso fired at maximum capacity, utterly overloading her brain with more raw, primal sensation than her eighteen-year-old mind could process.

And then, with a series of wet, squelching clicks, his flower-face finally unlatched.

CLACK-SLURP.

The tooth-lined petals retracted, peeling away from her wet skin as the chilly break room air rushed across her saliva-drenched face like a bucket of ice water.

Her head was finally free. She could breathe again, sucking in huge, desperate gulps of oxygen as her eyes blinked frantically against the harsh fluorescent lights above. Tears of pure sensory overload and thick, musky zombie drool streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing together on her chin.

With her mouth uncovered and her vocal cords restored, Rebecca desperately tried to marshal every ounce of her S.T.A.R.S. authority to deliver the scolding of the century.

"You... unghhh... you disgusting... you..."

The delivery was an absolute, tragic failure.

"You just had your... whole face around my... your TEETH were on my... you absolute... mmph... FUCK..."

She was trying so hard to be angry. Her logical, college-educated mind was fully committed to the anger plan, had meticulously drafted a stern disciplinary speech, and was currently watching that speech get utterly pulverized by the relentless orgasm rolling through her lower body.

MEATY THWACK! SQUELCH!

His heavy, warm pelvis kept slamming against her bare ass cheeks, driving his thick monster-schmeat into her dripping channel without missing a single beat.

"I can’t believe you... ahhh... you just... what kind of sick... f-fuck... right there... what kind of sick fuck puts his FACE around someone’s... oh god... someone’s HEAD while he’s... nnngh..."

She couldn’t even finish a single coherent sentence. Every time she tried to construct a proper insult, another violent spasm racked her pelvis, morphing her words into high-pitched, embarrassing gasps that sounded like a drowning animal trying to recite the alphabet.

"I hate you," she gasped, though her betrayed vocal cords twisted it into a pathetic, breathless whimpering whine. "I h-hate... you... nngh... you’re the worst... oh god... the worst thing that ever... mmmmph... happened to me..."

Her small, pale hands were gripping his heavy, armored shoulders so hard that her knuckles turned chalk-white. Her bare legs were wrapped around his waist, squeezing his scaly flanks as if she were trying to snap his spine in half, while her hips continuously rolled upward to meet every punishing thrust with an eagerness that completely obliterated her verbal protest.

SLURP-SCHLORP! THWACK!

"I’m going to... ahhh... I’m going to KILL you... when this is over... I’m going to... nngh... oh fuck... oh FUCK... right there... don’t stop... I mean STOP... I meant stop..."

Stop? Did I actually just say don’t stop?! No! Brain, stop overriding my mouth! That was a catastrophic verbal malfunction! A temporary glitch in my speech center because his massive cock is hitting that deep, swollen spot inside me that makes my mouth spew the exact opposite of what I actually want!

What do I even want right now?!

Her hips bucked upward again, slamming her wet, swollen crotch so hard against his heavy groin that the impact echoed off the concrete walls with a wet, heavy sound like a raw steak hitting a stainless-steel counter.

MEATY THWACK!

Those were definitely not the hips of a woman who wanted him to stop.

"You’re... nngh... you’re an animal... you’re literally an... ahhh... an actual animal... this is bestiality... I’m being... fucked by a dog on a tile floor and it feels... it feels..."

She couldn’t bring herself to say the word out loud, even though every single nerve ending below her waist was screaming it at the top of its lungs.

It feels unbelievable. It feels better than anything I have ever experienced in my entire life. My whole nervous system is being played like a piano by a two-hundred-pound bio-weapon that knows exactly how to drive me out of my mind.

"You’re... ahhh... you’re disgusting... you’re the most disgusting... nngh... the most disgusting... f-fuck..."

Her head fell backward against the linoleum with a soft thud. Her eyes squeezed shut, her jaw hanging open as the noises escaping her throat completely ceased to resemble human language. She was making broken, filthy syllables and wet, desperate gasps that bounced off the break room walls.

"Nnngh... mmph... G-Ghosty... I can’t... I can’t... I can’t take any more... please..."

Please what?! Please stop pounding my uterus into paste?! Or please keep driving that concrete-hard monster-dick into me until I forget my own social security number?! I don’t even know anymore! My brain has completely vacated the premises! It packed a bag and moved to a different continent!

"I’m... I’m going to... cum again... oh god... I can’t... ahhh... I can’t cum again... I physically... nngh... I physically cannot..."

Her traitorous, hyper-aroused body completely disagreed with her medical assessment.

The intense coil in her lower abdomen tightened one final notch before violently snapping, unleashing an orgasm that made her previous climaxes look like gentle ripples in a shallow puddle.

Her back arched so severely off the floor that only her shoulder blades and the heels of her boots remained in contact with the ground. Her bare thighs clamped around his waist with terrifying force, her inner walls seizing around his thick, ribbed shaft with a hydraulic pressure so intense that Ghosty actually let out a sharp, surprised whimper above her.

SCHLORP-SQUELCH!

"Nnngh... ahhhh... oh god... oh GOD... f-fuck... FUCK..."

Her voice cracked completely on the final word, breaking into a raw, ragged shriek that echoed off the metal lockers. Tears streamed freely down her face, blending with the drool and slick pre-cum coating her skin as she made noises she had never heard herself make before.

High, desperate, completely involuntary shrieks rattled around the room.

The waves of pleasure kept crashing through her core. One after another, each pulse pushing her past every physical limit she thought her body possessed. Her pussy clenched and released, clenched and released, in rapid, helpless spasms around the thick, pulsating meat buried deep inside her.

Ghosty had gone entirely motionless above her. His hips were frozen mid-thrust, his shaft buried to the absolute hilt, every single inch of his monstrous cock lodged inside her while her inner walls violently convulsed around him like she was being hit with a stun gun.

He was throbbing inside her. She could feel the massive, thick pulses of his shaft expanding against her hypersensitive, stretched passage, each expansion sending another agonizingly good aftershock rolling straight up her spine, curling her toes and making dark spots dance in her vision.

"I can’t... I can’t... stop... I can’t stop..."

She wasn’t talking to him anymore; she was pleading directly with her own treasonous body, begging her pussy to stop squeezing him, begging her pelvis to stop twitching, begging her nervous system to stop reacting to the thick, hot intrusion with an eagerness that made her want to die of sheer embarrassment.

Her body completely ignored her conscious mind, continuing to milk his thick shaft with an aggressive, rhythmic suction that she had zero control over.

Her hands fell limp onto his broad, scaly shoulders. Her legs trembled so violently that she couldn’t keep them wrapped around his waist without his heavy body holding her in place. Her mouth hung open, leaking a string of clear saliva onto her shoulder as she let out broken, wet, gasping sobs.

Ghosty leaned down, nuzzling his broad, wet snout against her flushed cheek with a gentle, almost affectionate pressure that had no right coming from a horrifying Umbrella biological weapon that currently had its entire dick lodged inside her pelvis.

Rebecca lay there on the freezing, filthy tile floor of an Umbrella break room—topless, panting, soaked in zombie saliva, with an eight-inch monster-cock buried to the hilt in her virgin pussy—and held onto the only coherent thought her shattered brain could manufacture.

This is fine. Everything is totally under control. I’m a trained professional. A S.T.A.R.S. field medic who just came three times in a row from a mutant hellhound’s dick and is apparently getting ready to do it a fourth time.

The volcanic heat was already building back up in her gut. That same tight, delicious tension was coiling in her pelvis, winding tighter with every subtle pulse of his shaft against her raw, stretched walls. Her body was actively preparing itself for round four of the most intense physical pounding of her life, and she was genuinely convinced that this one was going to cause permanent brain damage.

Her nervous system simply couldn’t handle another wave like that. It was medically impossible. Her brain would short-circuit, and she would spend the rest of the zombie outbreak as a drooling, cum-filled vegetable on the floor.

"Wait," she gasped, the word coming out hoarse, strangled, and pathetically weak. "Wait... just... just wait a minute..."

Ghosty’s heavy hips slowed down instantly. He didn’t pull out, but the relentless, pounding pace dropped to a slow, gentle glide that gave her insides a moment to breathe. His milky, white eyes focused down on her face with a eerie, intelligence, as if he actually understood her command.

Oh my god, he’s actually listening to me. I told him to wait and he’s waiting. This horrifying zombie dog has better communication skills and boundary respect than every single guy I met in college.

"I’m not... I’m not stopping you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above her own ragged, shallow breathing. "I just need to... I need to adjust... just a little bit~... everything is so sensitive right now and if you keep pounding me like that I’m going to pass out..."

THUMP.

His tail wagged once. A single, heavy thump against the linoleum floor that sounded absurdly sweet.

He was being obedient. This terrifying, skinless bioweapon was acting like a good boy simply because she asked him to slow down, and the fact that his simple compliance was making her heart do stupid, fluttering flips in her chest was easily the most alarming development in a night full of horrifying developments.

"Just... just give me a second to catch my breath, okay?"

Ghosty nuzzled his warm snout back into the crook of her neck, his hot breath washing over her damp skin in steady, rhythmic puffs. Rebecca closed her eyes, trying desperately to remember how to function as a human being instead of an oversensitive collection of nerve endings wrapped around a monster’s dick.

Of course he has infinite stamina. Why wouldn’t a bio-weapon have infinite stamina? Of course he does.

Her legs were beginning to cramp up. The position, lying flat on her back with her thighs clamped around his heavy torso, was causing her hips to ache in ways her anatomy was never built to endure. Every subtle twitch of his shaft sent a sharp jolt of hypersensitive pleasure-pain through her core that bordered on physical torture.

She needed to switch positions. She had to move. If she stayed pinned on her back for another thirty seconds, her hip joints were going to file a formal complaint against her central nervous system.

"O-okay, wait—"

She unhooked her trembling legs from around his waist, and his slow rhythm immediately stalled. He let out a low, disappointed whine, his hips making small, eager twitches that dragged his thick head lazily against her impossibly slick walls.

"Just hold on, I’m not—I’m not leaving—"

Rebecca’s arms shook violently as she pushed against his broad, armored chest. For a terrifying split second, she worried he would refuse to let her move, that he would pin her back down and hammer her until she forgot her own name. But Ghosty yielded, shifting his weight backward.

SCHLORP!

His massive shaft slid completely out of her tight channel with a loud, wet, incredibly obscene sound that echoed off the metal lockers, making her face burn even hotter than before.

The sudden emptiness was immediate and agonizing. She felt hollowed out, throbbing, her pussy lips helplessly twitching around empty air and hating every second of the cold draft.

Why does being empty feel so much worse than getting my insides stretched out?! That’s entirely backward! I should feel relieved! I should be thanking god! Why is my pussy acting like someone just stole its favorite toy?!

She aggressively refused to analyze that thought any further.

Her body moved on pure survival instinct. She rolled onto her stomach, pressing her flushed cheek against the cold linoleum while her bare breasts squished flat against the floor. The icy surface touching her hyper-erect, sensitive nipples made her gasp loudly, the sudden cold sending a sharp shockwave straight down to her throbbing clit like a direct line between her chest and her pelvis.

She pushed her knees apart on the floor, raising her bare ass into the air while her thighs trembled so violently she could barely keep herself propped up.

MEATY SLAP!

Her bare, sticky cheeks spread open, completely exposing her dripping, swollen pussy to the cool air of the room.

This position was better. She could manage this. The heavy strain was off her hips, the angle was completely different, and maybe she could actually survive the next round without her brain liquefying and running out of her ears.

Maybe.

Ghosty let out a low, curious chuff behind her. She heard his heavy claws clicking sharply against the tile as he repositioned his bulk, feeling his boiling, heavy breath puffing against the small of her back before drifting lower, sweeping right over the curve of her exposed ass.

"Just—" Her voice cracked, hoarse and trembling. "Just... here. Like this. You know what to do, right? Please tell me you know what to do because I am in no condition to write an instruction manual right now—"

She reached back with one shaking hand, her trembling fingers brushing against his massive shaft. It was still impossibly hard, still fever-hot, and glistening heavily with a slick mixture of her own vaginal juices and whatever highly potent pre-cum his mutated body was continuously producing.

She gripped the hot, veiny skin of his dick, guiding him toward her entrance while the thick, blunt head nudged insistently against her highly sensitive folds.

What in the world am I doing? I am literally guiding a mutated zombie dog’s dick straight into my own body. I am actively helping a bio-weapon fuck me from behind, and I’m using my own hands and my own brain to make it happen.

The sheer, degenerate absurdity of the thought should have horrified her. It should have sent her running for the nearest exit. Instead, her hips tilted back on pure, traitorous instinct, pressing her bare ass directly against his heavy groin, silently begging him to fill her aching emptiness again.

Ghosty got the message loud and clear.

He pushed forward, and she felt the massive head of his shaft slide past her wet outer lips, gliding through the slick folds with zero resistance because she was absolutely drenched in her own fluids. But the angle of her tilted pelvis was slightly off. Instead of finding her open, wet entrance, the thick, blunt head of his dick slid upward, prodding directly against her other hole.

The tight, puckered, absolutely-not-designed-for-this hole.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA WRONG WRONG WRONG—"

Rebecca’s entire body locked up as if someone had shoved a high-voltage cattle prod straight up her spine. Her hands flew back, slapping against his heavy, scaly hips with the desperate speed of a panicked traffic controller at a busy intersection during rush hour.

"Not that one! That is absolutely NOT the right door! Wrong entrance! Wrong entrance!"

Ghosty let out a confused, high-pitched whine at her sudden panic, his heavy hips shifting forward in another small, tentative thrust that pressed the thick, ribbed head even more insistently against her tight ring of muscle—a delicate place that had absolutely never been stretched in the twenty years of her existence.

"NO—back up—back up right now—that is an exit only—I don’t care what you’ve seen on the internet—BACK UP—"

She reached down between her wet, shaking thighs, her fingers wrapping around his hot, thick shaft, and physically pulled his dick downward. She guided the blunt head away from her rear and aligned it directly with her soaking, wide-open pussy.

"Oh thank god—yes—there—THAT one—that’s the right one—"

Ghosty pushed forward.

The penetration from this rear angle was completely different. It was deeper, way, way deeper than missionary. The thick shaft slid into her with almost no resistance, her body so thoroughly slicked and stretched from their previous activities that he sank in to the hilt in one smooth, devastating stroke.

SCHLORP-SQUELCH!

"Ohhhhh—f-f-fuck—"

Her forehead pressed hard against the cold tile. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the smooth floor, finding nothing but cold linoleum and sliding uselessly across the slick surface. Her toes curled inside her boots so hard she heard the tough leather creak.

The sheer, raw depth was borderline obscene. In this position, with her ass raised and her back arched, he was reaching places inside her that had never been touched before. The thick head of his cock pressed hard against something deep and highly sensitive, making her vision blur around the edges while her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

And then she felt the knot.

The thick, swollen bulge at the base of his shaft pressed hard against her stretched entrance, bumping against her wet pussy lips with each small, tentative movement of his hips.

Previously, during missionary, the knot had stayed firmly outside her, simply too massive to breach her entrance. But this angle was different. Her body was different now—far more relaxed, more stretched, and dangerously accommodating than it had any right to be.

On one particularly deep thrust, the knot caught against her entrance, pressed hard against the tight ring of muscle, and then slid inside with a wet, heavy, meaty pop that she felt all the way up in her chest cavity.

SCHLORP-POP!

"AAHHH—oh my god—oh GOD—what is—what is INSIDE me—"

She was full. She wasn’t just full—she was completely, impossibly, obscenely stretched. The knot had swollen to roughly the size of a large apple, and it was sitting deep inside her entrance, stretching her pelvic bones so wide she could feel the hot pressure vibrating in her hips.

Her inner walls clamped down around the massive bulb involuntarily, trying to accommodate something that was simply too large for human anatomy, and the friction against every single nerve ending inside her made her vision actually tunnel.

I can feel every single millimeter of this. Every ridge, every vein, every single inch of his swollen dick. I am so full I think my internal organs are literally shifting out of the way to make room for him.

Ghosty slowly pulled back, and the massive, swollen knot dragged against her tight entrance from the inside, pulling her sensitive tissue along with it. The sensation was beyond words—like getting aggressively fisted by a fist made of warm velvet, covered in hyper-sensitive nerve endings.

Her tight pussy lips stretched to their absolute maximum limit, catching on the widest point of the knot, before it finally popped free with a wet, sloppy sound that echoed off the break room walls like someone stepping on a water balloon filled with jelly.

SCHLORP!

The sudden emptiness was a devastating, hollow shock. Her body screamed at the loss, her pussy lips frantically clenching around empty air, begging to be filled again.

And then he drove back in.

THWACK-POP!

The knot caught her entrance, stretched her wide open, and popped right back inside, making her see actual stars behind her eyelids.

"POP—SQUISH—AHHHHH—"

Out. In. Out. In. Every single thrust dragged that massive, apple-sized bulb in and out of her tight entrance, stretching her wider than she has ever been stretched in her life, filling her so completely she could feel the thick head pressing against her cervix.

"POP—SCHLORP—POP—SQUISH—"

The wet noises filling the break room were absolutely disgusting. Obscene, fleshy, and incredibly loud, every single thrust produced a wet symphony of squelching fluids and slapping skin that bounced off the concrete walls, haunting her senses from every direction.

And then there were his balls.

In this raw, rear-entry position, with her ass held high and her legs spread wide, his massive, heavy, fur-covered sacks were angled perfectly to swing forward with every single thrust, slamming directly against her exposed, swollen labia.

Each impact delivered a wet, heavy slap against her pussy lips, the forward momentum driving his heavy testicles directly across her engorged clitoris with terrifying precision.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The relentless slapping of his heavy balls against her swollen, dripping sex was utterly obscene. Each heavy impact sends a sharp, electric jolt of pure pleasure straight through her clit, forcing her toes to curl, her eyes to cross, and her mouth to hang open in a silent scream that rapidly dissolved into a loud, incredibly unprofessional shriek.

"AHHH—oh fuck—oh FUCK—right there—nnngh—"

Her trembling arms gave out completely. Her upper body collapsed flat against the floor, her cheek pressing against the cold, hard tile while her bare breasts squished flat against the freezing linoleum.

The cold surface against her highly sensitive, swollen nipples sends another icy bolt of sensation straight to her core, blending with the volcanic heat in her pelvis and completely dismantling her ability to function as a human being.

Ghosty mounted her properly now, settling his heavy, armored weight over her trembling back. His front paws land on either side of her shoulders, caging her in completely while his massive chest presses firmly against her spine. His hot, heavy breath washes over the back of her neck in rapid, panting bursts.

And then he began to move in earnest.

The pace shifted. No longer slow and tentative, his rhythm became primal, urgent, and incredibly fast.

His heavy hips snapped against her bare ass cheeks with a steady, relentless rhythm of wet, meaty impacts that sound like someone repeatedly throwing a raw steak against a wet countertop.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

Each thrust buries the knot inside her with a wet pop, drags it back out with a squelching schlorp, and slams it right back in.

The cycle was relentless. Pop-schlorp-pop-schlorp-pop-schlorp. Every single thrust stretches her entrance to its absolute limit, sending a cascading wave of fullness and friction through her entire pelvis.

His heavy, warm testicles keep swinging forward, crushing against her swollen, dripping labia and spreading her pussy lips wide with each impact before dragging directly across her aching, hyper-sensitive clit with a wet, meaty smack that makes her see actual colors behind her squeezed-shut eyelids.

"Ah—ah—ahh—G-Ghosty—oh god—oh GOD—"

Her vocabulary was completely gone, utterly destroyed by the sensory overload. She has maybe fifteen words left in her entire brain, and twelve of them are different variations of the word "fuck." Her forehead was pressed hard against the cold floor, her jaw hanging wide open as a thin line of saliva leaks from the corner of her lips, pooling against the linoleum in a glistening puddle that she will have to live with for the rest of her life.

She is drooling. Actually drooling. Like a patient in a coma, or a golden retriever after a long run in the sun.

The raw pleasure has completely short-circuited whatever part of her brain is responsible for keeping her mouth closed. She is just lying face-down on a dirty Umbrella break room floor, spit running down her chin while a mutant dog aggressively rearranges her internal organs from behind.

Her bare breasts drag against the cold tile with every single thrust, the friction of her sensitive nipples against the freezing floor creating a sharp, abrasive sensation that travels straight to her clit through some kind of direct neural highway that she is convinced didn’t exist before tonight.

Her hands have entirely given up on finding purchase, lying limp and useless at her sides while her fingers occasionally twitch against the tile, her body completely at the mercy of the creature mounting her.

Then, his teeth find the back of her neck.

He doesn’t bite down hard enough to break her skin, but he clamps his jaws gently around her scruff, pinning her to the floor in the universal gesture of animal dominance.

Something deep inside Rebecca’s brain just snaps.

Whatever remaining thread of resistance, whatever pathetic scrap of professional S.T.A.R.S. dignity she had been desperately clinging to, breaks clean in half like a dry twig under a boot.

She goes completely limp beneath his heavy weight, her body going slack against the tile as her mind finally, mercifully gives up on trying to rationalize, resist, or do anything other than feel.

"Nnnghyes—oh god—yes..."

The words tumbled out of her mouth without her permission. Her hips actively push backward to meet his heavy thrusts, her body moving on pure, primal instinct, rolling backward to absorb each devastating slam of his pelvis against her ass. The wet, filthy sounds of their coupling fill the empty break room in a continuous, obscene symphony of squelching fluids and slapping skin.

SPLAT-SCHLORP-POP-SPLAT-SCHLORP-POP!

"Harder—please—f-fuck me harder~..."

Who is this person? Who is saying these things? Rebecca Chambers, honor roll student, good Catholic girl, S.T.A.R.S. field medic, and she is currently begging a zombie dog to fuck her harder from behind while drooling onto the floor.

Her parents’ massive financial investment in twelve years of private Catholic schooling had officially produced the single worst return on investment in the history of modern education.

Ghosty responded to her begging. His heavy hips slammed into her with brutal, primitive force, each thrust driving her body forward across the slick tile, her bare breasts dragging against the cold floor while her drool smears across the linoleum in a long, glistening streak.

The massive knot is sliding in and out of her with every single stroke, her entrance stretched so wide that the wet, popping sounds are getting louder and filthier with each passing second.

She can feel every single millimeter of the stretch, her walls being pushed to their absolute biological limits, and instead of pain, there is only a devastating, white-hot heat and a crushing friction that turns her thoughts into pure static.

His heavy testicles keep slamming against her sex, driving her swollen, wet tissue against her clit with a precision that should be physically impossible for a creature that technically doesn’t possess a fully functioning cerebral cortex anymore.

"Fill me—please—I need—I need—ahhh~..."

She should have been screaming her heart out to keep the mutant fluid out of her body, yet her mouth betrayed her once again, begging for the very thing she should be running from.

Ghosty’s rhythm became erratic, fast, and desperate. His heavy claws scrape sharply against the tile near her shoulders, leaving deep, jagged gouges in the linoleum.

His teeth tightened slightly on the scruff of her neck—just enough to pin her completely—and she felt his shaft expand and thicken inside her.

He was close. She can feel it in the way his hips stutter, the way his breathing turns into a ragged, desperate pant, and the way the knot inside her pussy begins to swell even larger, pressing against her walls with an intense pressure that is rapidly becoming unbearable.

And then, his shaft swells impossibly.

The knot expands to a size that makes her previous stretching feel like a gentle warm-up. Her tight entrance is forced wide, wider, impossibly wide, until the massive bulb pops fully inside her with a wet, heavy, meaty sound that she can feel in her teeth.

SCHLORP-POP!

"AHHHHH—oh fuck—what—what is—that’s TOO BIG—"

They are locked together. Tied. His swollen knot feels like it has expanded to the size of a softball, plugging her so completely that not even a single bubble of air can escape, and she can feel the massive bulb pulsing against her inner walls with a rapid, desperate rhythm.

The first eruption hit her with the force of a high-pressure fire hose.

"OH—oh my god—"

It is so hot. So impossibly, scaldingly hot. So thick. So much. The pressure was immediate and overwhelming, a massive torrent of warmth that rushes into her deepest parts and keeps coming, keeping her filled, pumping load after load directly into her body.

Because of the airtight seal of the knot, not a single drop of his semen can escape. Every single drop is forced deeper into her womb, filling her far beyond her natural capacity.

"How—there’s so much—how is there—ahhh—"

Another massive, pulsing wave hit her. She can feel her lower belly physically swelling and distending, the pressure building inside her lower abdomen like a balloon being slowly, relentlessly inflated.

Her hands moved weakly to her stomach, pressing against the prominent, hard bulge under her skin, and the sensation of being so full from the inside and the outside simultaneously made her eyes roll back so far she was convinced her brain cells were dying in real-time.

She felt one final, weak pulse, one last warm pump before Ghosty finally slumped over her back. He panted heavily, his massive weight pressing her flat against the tile, his knot still firmly locked inside her to keep every drop of his thick cum trapped within her body.

Rebecca’s consciousness was flickering rapidly. Her vision was blurry, swimming in and out of focus as the darkness closed in.

She can feel the intense warmth spreading through her entire body like she has swallowed an open furnace, feeling the satisfied, rumbling vibration of Ghosty’s breathing right through her spine.

The very last thing she registered before her mind went completely dark was the wet, warm slide of his tongue dragging across the back of her neck, and the absurd, highly intrusive thought that at least the cold tile floor was finally starting to warm up.

[To Be Continued]