This illustration is merely representative of the mood and themes of the story. Sources: kazart1 (https://kazart1.blogspot.com/) (https://www.deviantart.com/kayayezee)
The room was filled with hot, gurgling sounds as the
belly inflated... and inflated... and inflated. Gooey, plucky noises followed.
Something thick, bulky, and steamy was overflowing, coursing powerfully through
some very narrow duct, being deposited hotly in an overstuffed, cramped
receptacle, and then squirting out through the very few crevices that were
available, dripping and falling hotly onto the ground, where it piled into
thicker and wider pools of gunk.
The monster groaned while the female squirmed.
Piercing pangs came from his back, his shoulders, and his sides, but the
creature ignored them as the mere tickles that they were. “Uuurh!” If anything
caused him *any* type of feeling, it was that coarse, thick cream that flowed
so unendingly through his prick. “Uuurh-oooh...!!”
His grunts were low, heavy, and rumbling. With his
breathing alone, the entire room shook.
“Ooo-AAAAH...!!!” On his hands, held up many feet
above the ground, the female presented a completely different picture
altogether: her every hair of her body was spiked, and her tail spasmed wildly,
hitting the ground like a spear, as her cries and howls signaled pure pain and
despair—the type of pain and despair that could only come—“OOOH-AAAH...
AAAH!!”—from experiencing the wildest, heaviest orgasms of her life.
*Gunk! Gunk! Gunk!* In the meantime, the male kept
gushing. His pipe was crammed deep into the womb of the female. His seed flowed
coarsely, so thickly through his duct that here and then the male experienced
something of a discomfort. “Hmm... mmrrrmm!!” With grunts and groans, he
rotated the female around, moved her a bit to allow his breeder a little bit
more breathing space.
To no avail. Always. *Gunk! Gunk! Guunk!!”
“Uuu-ooohhrr!!” With every female he encountered, the story was the same: too
tight a sex, too massive a pipe. *Squeeze!”
“AAAAHH!!”
The only good thing is that the females collapsed
quickly, and he was allowed to plop out his breeding tool from their spasming
sexes and then move on to the next female. “Uuurh...!” With the way he drove
them to their climaxes, his breeding instrument spent more time outside a hot
womb than inside.
“AAAHEEE...!!!”
The feeling of the cool air in his scalding rod was
always soothing. That female, however, was taking a little longer than usual.
Perhaps it was her feline genes that kept her struggling so much longer than
most females of most species, and her stiff body and defiant countenance as she
orgasm did betray some reluctance, some sort of pride that made her refuse, oh,
simply refuse to collapse and fall asleep like all the others. “Uuurhh...!”
Like all the one hundred and sixty-seven others whose
spasming bodies and swollen bellies littered that temple of breeding and
procreation. “Oooorhh...!!” Still orgasming, the male did his duty. He couldn’t
deny that the female’s resistance was valiant—even though her body was brimming
with his seed; more of his alien seed inside of her than all the warriors and
native males she’d ever bred it throughout her lifetime—times fifty!
Grinning and roaring, she took a defiant stance: “ਮੈਂ...
ਨਹੀਂ... ਡਿੱਗਣ ਜਾ ਰਿਹਾ ਹਾਂ!”
The beast male only rolled his eyes. There was a time
when he bothered to learn all those languages and translate all those specific
little quirks from so many species.
Of all his “siblings”, he was regarded as something of
an intellectual. A brainiac. A special, higher-quality stud who had more to
offer than just perfect genes and the wildest orgasms any female could
experience. He actually had some meat inside of his skull, a perfect complement
for all the meat distributed so sexily along his seven and a half feet frame,
and especially the massive meat he flaunted as a genital.
None of that, he discovered, ultimately mattered. He
was a Seedmaker. He was a breeder from the heavens. His job was to make seed...
and with this seed breed all the wombs that were even remotely compatible with
his flawless genes.
“Uuurhh!!” Feeling a thicker load course through his
pipe, the male stretched one hand to the neck of that squirming female, then
squeezed it. “All your womb will be pumping out are my offspring.” He spoke,
even though he was sure she didn’t understand him. Not on the surface, that is.
“I will never lay with you again. Ever.” He groaned. Another massive load of
cream flowed through his pipe.
*Gunk! Gunk! Gloorb!!* The silhouette of the female’s
belly, drawn so clearly against the tender lights and spotlights of that
otherwise dark, moody room, rose and swelled with the thickness of his seed,
and from the over-squeezed ring between her sex and the rim of his mega-pipe
came squirting all the excess seed that no longer fit inside of her, dumping
and falling loudly, hotly on the ground, where a pile of virile semen grew.
It wasn’t, by any stretch, the only pile of seed in
the room. “Aaarh-AAAH!!!” Her body wasn’t the only one being tamed and subdued
by the monster’s almighty sperm.
With her tail flailing and her cat ears spiking, the
woman seemed to bounce back from full consciousness and half-consciousness,
constantly tempted to fall asleep, but too stubborn to allow herself to fall,
to kneel, to embrace defeat.
The monster choked her harder. Her paws came to his
arm. They were huge hands of her own, with long and elegant fingers, five for
each furry paw, and incredibly long nails that served her as weapons even when
her body wore nothing, nothing!, and yet those nails—which he was informed were
as hard as steel—barely made a prick on his skin.
“ਇੰਨਾ ਸ਼ਕਤੀਸ਼ਾਲੀ! ਇੰਨਾ ਰੱਬੀ !!” She came. Her body spasmed after she had grasped
the man’s wrists and tried to defend herself—only to see that the full palms,
both of them, could barely encircle *half* of the male’s *wrist*—which was
easily the thinnest, less girthy part of his whole arm.
Her feline body thrashed wildly, and the orgasms came
more uncontrollably through her throat: “ਤੁਸੀਂ ਇੱਕ ਬਦਨਾਮ ਦੇਵਤਾ ਹੋ!
ਓਹ!! ਮੈਂ ਬਹੁਤ ਚੜ੍ਹ ਰਿਹਾ ਹਾਂ, ਬਹੁਤ ਕੁਝ !!!” She thrashed around, yet her body was kept firm
above the air by the male’s grip—one hand taming her by the neck, the other
lifting her on her back.
The gulping and slurping sounds of thick, hot seed
flowing through a massive pipe kept coming. The belly of the female bulged out
a little further, and it was clear that whatever resistance she still planned
to offer was near its end: the female was shaking uncontrollably now, and her
constant cries betrayed a consciousness on the edge of its resistance. With
waves of orgasm flowing through her muscles, her abdomen relaxed and stopped
offering the male any resistance.
*GLUUUNK!!* With one powerful load, the male inflated
that stomach like a balloon. “Oooorrrh...!!” He rolled his eyes and finally
experienced something of a pleasurable sensation throughout that whole orgasm.
The stomach of his female, once so hard and unwieldy, now relaxed like it was
turning to gel or liquid. Her belly, seen from the outside, looked gooey and
wobbly, like tenderized flesh or the surface of a very thin balloon being
filled with water.
Of course, the load that was inflating her and
swelling her was much thicker than any water could be. The hot syrup kept
gushing from her cunt, and the drips and drops of its thick, heavy pellets on
the ground increased while the flow of semen also increased into her body,
stuffing her womb with more semen than she would ever know what to do with.
“ਰੱਬਾ !! ਵਾਹਿਗੁਰੂ ਜੀ !! ਨਹੀਂ...!!” She screamed and thrashed around, all while the
male sighed with the knowledge that she was only seconds away from the
collapse.
“Congratulations.” With warm squeezes of his hand on
her neck, the monster said somberly: “You’ve been the fifth or sixth strongest
female in this offering.” He cast his gaze around, seeing swollen bodies
everywhere. “Of all these females I inseminated, you’re the closest to being
worthy of my seed.” Taking his other hand from her back, the male patted and
fondled her swelling and growing belly fondling. “Your kind will be blessed
with strong, virile children, and this offspring will grow up to rule your entire
species, queens and kings and mighty warriors and sisters of battle whose power
all flows from me.” Lowering that hand between his legs, he gave his mighty
testicles a mighty squeeze. “A power that flows from my seed makers.”
The woman thrashed around as her beautiful eyes—yellow
feline eyes that shimmered against that artistic darkness in the room—spasmed
and rolled and hid themselves, almost, under her lids. “ਧੰਨਵਾਦ!”
Throughout her thrashing and gasping, many exultations she gave to her man. “ਤੁਹਾਡੇ ਸ਼ਕਤੀਸ਼ਾਲੀ ਬੀਜ, ਸਟਾਲੀਅਨ ਲਈ ਧੰਨਵਾਦ!” Her body shivered, her tail wailed, and every hair
on her furry frame was spiked like a razor, like thorns defending the most
precious rose. “ਤੁਹਾਡੇ ਵੀਰ, ਸ਼ਕਤੀਸ਼ਾਲੀ ਬੱਚਿਆਂ ਲਈ ਤੁਹਾਡਾ ਧੰਨਵਾਦ !!”
The male sighed. His face had nothing but a “let’s get
on with this” expression. “Who’s your daddy?”
He said those words as matter-of-factly and coldly as
such words could ever be uttered. No difference: the female thrashed and
spasmed on his hands like a whole power plant’s worth of electric currents were
flowing through her, a mere conductor for enough electricity to power fifty of
her planet’s cities: “ਤੁਸੀ ਹੋੋ!! ਤੁਸੀਂ ਮੇਰੇ ਡੈਡੀ ਹੋ, ਸਟੱਡ !!”
Shaking and screaming so wildly, the female’s defense
instincts kicked up again: making full use of her paws and decently muscular,
toned body—she was a warrior back in her land, you see—she tried tearing that
man apart... only to break several of her nails against his skin. “ਓਹ!!
ਤੁਸੀਂ ਬਹੁਤ ਗਰਮ ਹੋ !! ਤੁਸੀਂ ਅਜਿਹੇ ਦੇਵਤਾ ਹੋ !! ਐਸਾ ਰੱਬ !!!”
The room was filled with the sound of needles of steel
clicking and clanging on the ground—the nails that she had torn trying to
pierce that god’s skin.
The monster huffed and puffed and moved his penis
around, taking it a couple of inches back from her womb, then stuffing it back
up and making her belly swell even bigger. «This will take her out for good.»
He thought, putting his hand again on her back.
He didn’t need to hold her on the back like that. He
didn’t need to hold her at all: with twelve inches of his breeding tool
inserted to the fullest extent of what a woman’s sexual organs could take, the
monster had enough cock inside of her to sustain her body and lift her up with
the power and strength of his pipe alone.
If he held her like, so strong on her back and her
neck, it was because he wanted to use her as a fucktoy; a living fleshlight
with which he could give the tip of his cock *some* semblance of pleasure, and
a fleshly hole that he could move around to cause enough orgasms on her to
knock her out and relieve him from all his breeding duties for the day.
The female grew stiff as a rod. Despite her feline
nature, her face was very much like his own—though female, of course: humanoid
and not even that furry, and perhaps even more expressive than those species
whose whole bodies were closer to his own physiology.
In that expressive, seductive face of a cat-like
cock-devourer, he could read all the pleasure, all the devotion, all the love
and undying loyalty he had forced upon her by the might of his cock.
She was now his, then and forever. Too sad he was
never going to see her again. “No seed will ever conquer your womb.” He spoke.
He wasn’t flaunting it either. “No male will ever displace the semen I’m
ejaculating inside of you right now.” Once again, he rubbed her belly. *Glunk!
Glunk! Glunk!* The overstuffed stomach was now hard. Her stretching was
reaching its limits. About ten gallons of semen sloshed inside of her—eight
gallons more than she could veritably take in any “normal” circumstance.
“My semen shall never leave you.” Moving that hand up,
he pinched her nipples.
“AAARRHH!!!” The female shivered and shivered as her
sad little tits began to lactate. She was a very lean and muscular cat lady,
and her body did have that feminine curve, that waist-to-hip ratio that got his
balls always so steamy and ready to pump...
... but her great musculature and leanness meant she
didn’t have much of tits and ass to show, despite her wide hips. Combined that
with her elegant, but altogether thin legs, and the male often thought he was
fucking a very firm, very strong stick—and he had to be honest with himself:
were not for his incredible willpower, his breeder would have never gotten hard
for such a female. «Three Seedmakers failed to colonize her.» He reflected,
counting the tremors of the female’s body with his hands. «I suppose they just
didn’t find her too interesting.»
After the first couple of years of breeding, the
Master had grown increasingly thin of nice breeding material for him. It seemed
that the entire universe wasn’t big enough for his cock: with gush after gush
after gush, he had seeded and colonized all the worthy wombs across the stars.
All that was left to him and his brothers, apparently, was the B material. The
middling beauties whom his seed was supposed to elevate—one generation at a
time.
Sensing the absolute perdition of his woman, the
monster leaned back and pumped his mega cock a couple more times into her womb.
Another inch was crammed inside her sex, and the shape of her uterus was drawn
very clearly on her furry belly. «Four eggs.» He saw the immense womb, which
contained four ovaries instead of two. «I guess she’s breadable enough.»
The bulge clearly saw his seed flowing in four main
streams, each stream battering one egg and leaving it no space to run. He
smiled—a little surprise for that evening—and flexed his muscles involuntarily
as he got another visual proof of his unparalleled breeding power: the semen,
coarse and thick, was surrounding each ovary like a snake and crushing it,
breeding every single egg they produced with so much power a slight hue of red
glowed on that belly.
The woman was steaming hot, and his seed was the
source of all this heat. “ਮੈਂ ਨਸਲ ਹਾਂ! ਮੈਂ ਨਸਲ ਹਾਂ !!” She gushed, eyes going wide and dry, drool oozing
from her lips. “ਮੈਂ ਬਹੁਤ ਗਰਭਵਤੀ ਹਾਂ !!” She would have rubbed her belly proudly if she
could move. Under the orgasms of her fertilizing stallion, however, all she
could do was shake, shake, shake: shake and roar, shake and scream, shake and
squeal, shake and peep.
Her cries became thin, then unhearable. *Woomp!* Her
limbs went soft. Her legs, still crawling on the man’s back and hips, collapsed
first, and then her arms followed.
*Gluuursh!!* Just as the female was beginning to
collapse, the monster ejaculated another strong load inside of her. He didn’t
quite have that much control over his ejaculations, and that bulkier load
caught him off guard—but what for him was surprise, for her was terror.
“GOOORH...!!!” She made a gasping sound, then died out
completely.
*Bruuunk!!*
Every inch of her body that could be hard and *was*
indeed hard just one second ago—every muscle, every nerve, every tendon...—they
all went limp in a blink, and one second later she was completely collapsed.
“Uuuuurhh!!” Groaning with a frustrated anxiety on his
crotch, the monster removed her from his breeder. It wasn’t nearly as easy as a
task as it sounded, given the extreme elasticity he forced into her sex or the
excessive lubing his immense seed gave every inch of her vagina: his monstrous
prick had way less than half its length inserted on her, to the fullest extent
her physiology could take. “Uuuurh!!! Uuuurhh!!”
With all that supreme tightness, he felt like fucking
the crevices of a mountain—though he *had* literally fucked holes into
mountains during his training days, when the Masters were gauging his power and
virility, and the feeling was altogether much more comfortable, much more loose
and lax than that literal pussy of flesh and fur he was breeding to oblivion.
Real living creatures, when penetrated by a Seedmaker,
tended to grow harder than the hardest materials known to all intelligent life
in the universe. It was amazing, yes, this biological transformation a
Seedmaker’s seed caused on their receptacles, indeed, but it was also
agonizing: with his penis stuck inside such unwieldy vagina, the monster had to
huff and puff to force the body out of his rod.
The only thing in that female that remained hard were
her sexual organs. All of them. “Uuuuurh!!!” With a suction that would have
torn bulls into mush, it was like her pussy was claiming his prick back,
begging and screaming for him to never stop breeding it!
Inch after inch, the monster removed his seeder from
that container. A massive jet of cum erupted messily and heavily from the
oversized head of his monstrous dong once it was released. The let wasn’t long
or strong; not the kind of shot that could cross a room and spray the walls
like a hydrant; but the thing was bulky and heavy and filthy as fuck—a shot of
painful restraint, like the male was doing his best to withhold it while the
balls were working hard to pump it at its fullest power, and the result was a
scalding bath of virile semen that covered the entire body of the female in two
seconds.
*Blooorsh!! Gluuurck!! Blooorshs!!* In a single spurt,
the semen spread out in all directions. Its net, almost a foot thick in its
bulkiest, cast a shadow over the entire body of the female before falling—from
toe to head, from shoulder to shoulder—and when it fell it was like a full
bathtub of cum being dropped over her.
One second, she was clean and lean and muscular. The
other second, she was one giant, limbless cum popsicle. Every inch of her had
disappeared under a torrent of seed. No face, no limbs, not a single strand of
fur could be seen.
“Uuuuurh!! Ooh... uuuurhh!!!” Groaning low and hard,
the monster squeezed his penis with one hand. Dropping the female on the ground
and grasping her only by her ankles, the beast walked to a massive dry hollow
nearby—a lower portion of the room shaped like a dry, circular pool.
Twenty-eight bodies, more or less, lay on that hollow
already. Twenty-eight females of very different colors and sizes, but all
shaped in that attractive humanoid form he enjoyed so much—the only physiology
that a Seedmaker could reliably procreate with.
With only one difference: their humanoid frames,
generally so voluptuous and curvy and sexy, were all now bloated and swollen
with an excess of seed. The hollow also wasn’t entirely dry: before every
gaping (and ever-spasming) pussy came huge and unending torrents of seed. The
concentrated sperm swam inside the wombs and vaginas (and anuses and intestines
and stomachs and throats of many as well) even hours after being ejaculated...
... and even after all this time the thing was as
thick and juicy and virile as from the moment it first left the mighty balls
that produced them; a powerful almighty broth that, as the stud himself
professed, would forever remain in those wombs, no matter how much time passed
or how many more dicks they all took into their crevices.
“Be gone, you... cat!” Groaning with dissatisfaction,
the monster cast the passed-out cat lady into the pile. *Bloorsh!!* Semen
exploded from her pussy as she crashed on her side into the pile of equally
passed-out ladies, then rolled down this pile onto the floor, where she
settled. Semen came and came and came from her gaping pussy, its flow made a
little easier by the profuse squirting she produced.
That species, he was told, wasn’t known for squirting
or lactating—symptoms of their very problematic fertility, it was said—but that
cat lady now was squirting and lactating quite a lot, which perhaps was a feat
as great as making a rock cum or drawing milk from a metal rod.
Before the power of a Seedmaker, few things in the
universe could remain chaste. Including dead, lifeless objects.
“Uuu-oaarh!!” Groaning low and deep, the monster
squeezed his monster penis with both hands. His muscles glittered against the
soothing lights of the dark room. His enormous knob shone in all its redness,
steaming with the thick strands of ball juice that still squirted from its
pisshole, no matter how harshly the male blocked the flow of his urethra.
Bulging and booming, feeling a growing throbbing
pressure inside, the male jerked his massive monster cock with his ultra-big
hands a couple of times, trying to bring himself to something close to
“pleasure” after that whole tiresome experience.
“Bathe on my semen... whores!” He grunted at them,
though he really didn’t feel any power in those words. Releasing his cock, he
crossed his hands under his mighty ass, and then he ejaculated.
*Bloooorsh!!!* The released stream of semen didn’t
explode with anywhere near the power he remembered having in his youth, when he
go to finally fuck his first real pussies. For his standards, in fact, it was
something of a dribble: a bureaucratic and tiresome emission he had to perform
every hour, if only to relieve his testicles from some mighty discomfort.
“Uuuurhh!! Uuuurhh!!!” Closing his eyes and trying to
enjoy himself, the male felt the seed flow and bathe those luscious bodies in
creamy white.
His ejaculation was a dribble—and still the first
spurt covered the tip of the pyramid of women completely. The woman at the top,
about five feet and a half in height and decently build, with big tits and nice
ass, was completely flooded by messy cumload, and then the three, four ladies
beneath her were covered by the downward-flowing semen as more and more loads
were delivered over them—the arc of semen stretching about ten feet from the
tip of the gushing penis to the very first body atop the pile; a very short
stretch for that mighty male, and one that compensated for its lack of length
with an abundance of width, froth, and bulk.
“Uuurh... hmrmm...!! Hmrmmm...!!” The male squeezed
his eyes and endured that delicious flow of power from his balls all the way
through the thirty-or-so inches of his mega-breeding prick. As weak and rather
mediocre as that ejaculation was—possibly one of the weakest in his whole
life—the feeling of power and supremacy that came with any male ejaculation
never ceased to please him; to make him feel, if only very little, a tingle of
pride in his wide, godly-chiseled chest.
Five seconds later, half the pile of women was covered
under his seed. Five inches thick, the layer of froth was, and it kept
expanding and expanding as pump after pump after pump, groan after groan after
groan, the male continue to relieve his balls from their excessive dump of cum.
“Uuurhmm...!!” His baritone voice rumbled across the room. A hundred and
seventy (or something) bodies trembled under its might—including those nearly
thirty ladies he was bathing with his scalding semen.
“Hmrmmm... rhmmmm...!!” Shutting his eyes, letting his
masculine, chiseled face spasm a little, the male allowed a bit of a smile to
dawn on his face—the first sincere smile he had in many a week. “Good... feels
good...!” Steam burst from his nostrils. His muscles hardened like an armor of
pure power.
Ten seconds into the ejaculation, the main pile of
bodies was completely covered by his seed, and the semen began to flow outwards
and spread through the hollow, joining the other mounds of semen that were
oozing from the few scattered pussies on that ground.
The hollow was about twenty-to-thirty feet in
diameter, perfectly round, and some five feet in depth. The semen reached the
cat lady, who was squirming harder than all others in virtue of being his last
lay, and then surrounded her body whole, causing her to squirm harder and
instinctively roll down with her face to the ground, fighting the pain that
came from his overstuffed womb crushing against the floor, and begin to lap
like a kitten on the virile froth, drinking as much from that semen as she could
even while unconscious.
“ਇਸ ਲਈ ... ਸ਼ਕਤੀਸ਼ਾਲੀ! ਅਜਿਹੇ... ਵਿਰਲੇ... ਵੀਰਜ!” She squealed as she drank from the life-giving,
womb-conquering milk. Despite having been seeded and fertilized by that man
from the very moment he had picked her up, lifted her off the ground, and
penetrated her unceremoniously with his mega pipe, the lady hadn’t been kissed
once nor taken his virile sperm anywhere but in her cunt.
Despite having experienced more orgasms with the mere
touch of his hand on her shoulders... hell, despite already cumming her heart
out at the mere *sight* of that superb male specimen... the lady yearned for a
more thorough loving, and her experience with the mighty stallion, as
mind-breakingly pleasurable as it had been, had still been only a ruthless,
thoroughly utilitarian experiment.
She had been brought to be bred. To be fertilized.
He had been brought to breed. To fertilize.
So she was bred and fertilized by his mighty tool. No
more, no less.
“Uuuurhhh!!” The male squirmed as his ejaculation
began to petter out. He couldn’t remember the last time he was actually
romantic with a female. As soon as he had reached prime breeding age, he tore
through about two hundred and fifty females a day, every day for the first five
years of his peak virility years, and even just one thousand bodies in (a mere
trimester of breeding) he was already pretty desensitized for pussy, tits, or
ass. “Hrmmm!!!”
After one hundred thousand females (little over his
first year of breeding), he swore he couldn’t see a piece without vomiting.
“Oh-hrmmm!!” It was mere sissiness on his part, of course, for he not only saw
one more piece of ass, but he saw roughly eight hundred thousand of those. Even
with his breeding pace somewhat decreased, fucking about one hundred and fifty
to two hundred ladies a day, the mighty seeder had still collected another
450,000 bodies past his prime. Now, at the age of thirty, the ultra stallion
was still fucking 150 new ladies on the regular, day in, day out,
unrelentingly, and his score was fast approaching the respectable mark of one
million wombs fertilized—a mark that firmly cemented his place as the top 5% of
all Seedmakers.
Sensing gush after gush of sperm leaving his balls,
the man opened his eyes and saw a giant cake of cream before him. Like pieces
of meat flavored under the most delicious milk, the women were scattered and
piled around two feet deep of semen—and rising. The pool kept growing and
growing as the male ejaculated and ejaculated, his powerful semen barely
reaching three feet beyond his mega cock-head, and a lot of its ooze flowing
back to the mast and downwards towards the balls, smearing them whole.
*Gluunk!! Glooorsh!! Gluuunk!!* The giant testicles
rose, then fell. Rose, then fell. Lifted, then collapsed, rising about a foot
towards the iron buttocks and mighty thighs of the muscular stallion, then
falling back a foot towards his knees as the voluminous broth of power had been
released. The male sensed their every throb and their every gallon of seed
flowing within their ducts. Even when seen from afar, those were the veiniest,
most masculine balls any male could ever possess! Each testicle was the size
of...
Well, to be frank, it was difficult to compare. From
the moment he’d come out of the tube and began his lessons on virility and
procreation, the male had seen very few things outside of his ruthlessly
utilitarian purpose: the duty to breed! The obligation to spread his seed
across every fertile womb in the universe.
As such, he had a very poor frame of reference when
comparing his size or his virility to anything outside cold, abstract
scientific measurements. The closest he could get to it was using the limbs and
sizes of his partners: by this metric, for instance, a single one of his balls
required three, perhaps four female hands to be completely encircled in their
thickest ring. From top to bottom, their elliptical shape—the most perfect egg
shape a male testicle could ever have—they measured about one whole palm spread
out and a half.
Again, all these measurements came from the typical
females he bred. Some blue moon here and there he would have a particularly big
female, especially those coming from gigantic species (which were sadly quite
rare), but most of the time (he would figure some 85% of breedings) the females
would be from four to five-and-a-half feet tall. Regardless of boobs and ass,
their frames were generally very short and puny, to the point he felt insecure
before penetrating them even at the height of his thirty years of age—twelve of
which spent in unrelenting, unstoppable, unfailing sessions of ferocious
breeding.
The male contorted his face again, feeling the balls
rise, then fall at a much lower pace. The semen never stopped flowing inside of
them, but the relief from their most turgid states was always welcome.
Uncrossing one hand from his back (while the other one remained relaxed over
his super massive, round-but-hard-as-titanium buttocks), the male grabbed the
mighty prick and lowered it down, making his semen ooze towards one edge of
that circular rim.
At four feet of depth, his thousands of gallons of
virile broth were close to overflowing the hollow. About fifty more of those
hollows and pools were spread around the room—and each of them had been filled
to the very brim; close to, but not quite ever overflowing.
The monster twisted his nose, making a grimace of
disappointment and disgust. «This is the last hollow.» He thought. «The last
pool which I filled with women, then seed.» He looked around, seeing all the
other forty-nine baths filled to the edge. Taking into account every body he
had thrown in them, the hollows had been perfectly calculated to take all of
his seed from every session of ejaculation—not one gallon more, not one gallon
less.
“Uuurr-hrmmm!!!” Grunting a powerful roar, the male
felt his mega testicles climb and swell, and his ultra-thick penis ejaculated a
pretty big, fat rope of cum—one that lasted five seconds continuously and could
probably feel a whole bathtub on its own. “Uuurhh!! It c-can’t... it can’t be
possible...!” The male could swear his ejaculation was approaching its end—but
the Masters knew better! There was still a whole foot of depth in that pool to
be filled, and it was going to be filled until his seed was one atom away from
spilling outwards!
The male tried fighting back, but failed. Even the
mightiest Seedmaker could never quite command his own genitals. The rest of the
man existed to support his unfailingly powerful prick and testicles, not the
other way around. If he abounded with muscles, that’s because all those muscles
were necessary to support such a tremendous amount of seed or power to suck
titanium-hard and mountain-heavy prick time and time again into hundreds of
thousands of wombs.
If his face was divinely sculpted, seemingly crafted
by all the Sex and Beauty gods of all the planets and cultures he fertilized,
that’s because a mighty penis and flawless semen such as his could not exist
without only the finest of genes. If his jaw was so chiseled and his face was
so raw and manly (while also angelic in a way) and his eyes were of such deep,
piercing emerald greens... that’s solely a byproduct of the perfect genetics
that he carried in his bloodstream—the same genetics that for the past hundred
or so years had improved the livestock quality of the whole universe.
Womb after womb, generation after generation,
Seedmaker after Seedmaker... “Uurhmm!!” The universe had been uplifted by that
genetically engineered flawless seed—and the same Engineers who designed his
blood, his genes, his heavy cock and balls were also the same Engineers who
designed that very room he bred on; that room meticulously calculated to hold
every bit of his semen, down to the last drop, without a single pool or bucket
come overflown.
With grunt after grunt and gasp after gasp, the
monster began to feel on his forehead the beginnings of what he could even
call... sweat! Just as he felt so close to tiring out, *bloorsh!!*, his
semen erupted in one last hurrah of power, and with buckets of it falling on
the pool the fifth-foot mark was cleared.
The male took deep breaths. The semen continued to
flow from his penis, but the mast was no longer throbbing. His balls pumped and
throbbed a bit, but now semen flowed out of them. The pool of semen continued
to rise one inch or two above the edge, but the broth was so thick, his seed so
virile and creamy, that its surface strength could probably withstand a whole
other foot of height without spilling out, and so his penis was relieved from
its last buckets of seed without a single drop falling out of place, not a
single ounce of the juice going unaccounted for.
The gigantic beast tightened his grip around the mass
of his cock, feeling the turgid strength of the member fight back against his
fingers. His arms swelled and his muscles, he felt them, hardened and bulged
with their fibers thickening and stretching, filling his whole arm with such
uber-muscular virility. “Hrhmmm!” The breast groaned, enjoying that awesome
power that coursed from his shoulders all along his massive muscles. “Hmmm!
Bulge!” His biceps was so tremendous that, even with his arm at a generous
distance from his frame, the mass of muscle rubbed against his sides. His
triceps were so inflated that they rubbed hard against his lower traps, in
constant friction with that awesome wide uber muscular back of his, and
sometimes he felt what could be described as “soreness” on his skin—though in
reality that was merely the heating up and steaming, literally burning of the
surface from the constant friction between so many muscles.
The main vein of his biceps, flowing way down from his
gigantic pecs, bulged larger than an equine cock. It was a vein, therefore it
should have no pulse of its own, but like every other vessel in his body it
throbbed and bulged and pumped just like a penis—not a single fraction of his
body devoid of the most concentrated bloodstream possible.
Most humanoid species, he noted, only absorbed oxygen
at 5% to 20% efficiency. Seedmakers, even the feeblest of them, absorbed at
least 90%. He, at the very top of his species, absorbed 97%.
His entire body throbbed and pulsated as his grip was
tightened around his mega cock, then his hand was moved up, then down on the
enormous semi-flaccid tube, pumping out the remainder of his seed. Giant snakes
of ultra-thick, boiling cream splashed on the pool. The entire thing was
steaming like a cauldron, and bubbled rose here and there, releasing a super
masculine scent when they popped—a scent that, when given to lesser species,
made them incredibly virile and fertile.
A steady diet of that scent—the scent of pure
Seedmaker breeding power—no more than a couple of whiffs a day, increased
testosterone levels of a male 100-fold after a couple of months (1,000 or
10,000-fold for the weakest males). A female who was barren would soon be of
child-bearing capacity within one or two months. A fertile female (considering
an average of a single baby per pregnancy, as well as an insemination success
rate of 15%) would be pumping out triplets or quadruplets for as long as she
maintained the diet.
Every time she lay bare and raw with a male, she would
be knocked up. Every. Single. Time! Without fail. Insemination rates were
literally ranked at 100%, even for females who were once barren, and the steady
stream of that smell, released from the mere perspiration of an average
Seedmaker, meant that their scent wasn’t really all that rare—though the Master
sure “fixed” this little trouble, stockpiling as much of this aphrodisiac as
possible to hold the rest of the universe ransom to their demands.
A Seedmaker’s scent, as well as his seed or anything
that their bodies produced, was impossible to replicate—even for the Master.
Once out of the test tube, a Seedmaker was a unique, remarkable, and inimitable
breeder—and only the total control of their genetic engineering assured the
Masters’ total control upon universal fertility rates.
The Seedmakers were the most powerful tool ever
yielded by any species—and this tool was now used as much for aggression
(though of a subtle sort) as it was for pleasure.
Pleasure that generated pain. An experience so common
for all mighty breeders of his kind. “Uuurhh!!” The male roared, groaned, and
panted, feeling the awesome flexes of his countless muscles as his penis seemed
to hold an endless reserve of seed still just in its urethra.
A fissure was opened somewhere in the dark room. From
it, a tiny black box appeared. It floated to and from the pools full of semen,
scanning the bodies with its invisible lasers, reading the states of the
females’ wombs and announcing the success of each and every impregnation—as it
was so customary for all Seedmakers’ ears. “One hundred and seventy-nine
females fecundated. Average impregnation of...” It took a pause to calculate.
“Three and a half babies per female. Two hundred and fifty percent higher pregnancy
rate for their average species. Insemination rate at 100%. Firty-six females
made fertile again—all pregnant with almost as many babies as the naturally
fertile females. All told, 620 to 640 babies will be born from this session.”
The little box floated towards the stallion, who was still too focused on his
own pleasure and his own cleaning of cock. “Congratulations, Breeder Roberto.
You ranked as the 234th most virile Seedmaker of the day.”
Two hundred and thirty-four. Two hundred and fifty.
“Hmmrrrmm!!” Two hundred and forty. Two hundred and twenty-five. Unless he was
pushing himself past his limits, these were the ranking Roberto always finished
as for the past five years: two hundred and twentieth to two hundred and
fiftieth most powerful breeder. Across all Seedmakers, that was a firm 5%
superiority—though very close to the edge; very close to getting him kicked out
of the pantheon of one-twentieth most virile males in all of the Universe.
With barely the slightest acknowledgment of the box,
the monster moved his other hand to the prick, which he jerked slower, though
much harder. *Sploorsh!! Sploorsh!!* Fist-sized pellets of ultra-thick semen as
long as average female arms drooled and splashed from the tip of his oversized
cockhead to the pool of semen at his feet. He saw the semen rise and rise and
rise, but never overflow. “Hmm-oorrhh!!” Opening his mouth and roaring a little
louder, he made the room tremble with his might, and then pumped a couple more
buckets of seed out of his pussy-wrecker.
The box scanned the pool of scalding semen, then
turned its “eyes”—if you could call its invisible cameras that—to the monster’s
manly face. “If you are trying to make the pool overflow...”
“Shut up.” He grunted, pumping more and more seed from
the now-quite-dry mega penis. His balls rose with the strength of his jerking
motions. No seed, however, was pumped out of them.
“... it's fruitless.” The box continued, indifferent
to the male’s struggle. “This room was carefully designed to hold all your
power and virility. Not one joule more, not one ounce less.”
“I said shut it.” His muscles rumbled and boomed and
roared as he masturbated the flaccid cock more powerfully and artfully.
His member was now fully soft, though that didn’t
prevent it from having almost two feet of pure masculine power, with a
thickness so great that three whole feminine hands, possibly four, couldn’t
envelop it completely on its thickest part. Its lead alone, at its softest
state, was bigger than two average fists joined together. It was a genital to
conquer the gods and scare away the horniest succubi. It was, to put it quite simply, the most
powerful cock in the universe.
The monster jerked and jerked and jerked, but the
gallons turned to ounces turned to (real) slivers turned to marbles turned to
none. After fifteen minutes of massaging his penis, the cum was all gone. In
fact, by trying to coax even more sperm out of his pipe, the monster ended up
making the member fully relaxed, and his massive mega balls rested now
completely cool and chill between his thighs, throbbing only here and there as
they (slowly) refilled with semen.
The beast dropped his cock, and the monstrous snake
slapped hard against one swollen thigh. *BLAAAM!!* The mere swinging of that
virile pendulum caused rumbles to echo: *wroom... wroom... wrooom!* Looking
down at the lake, the monster saw that the pool of cum looked even more perfect
now: its rim was perfectly circular, almost to an atomic precision, and the
bodies caked on it were so elegantly distributed that it was like his whole
wild ejaculation had instead been part of an elaborate plan or artistic performance—not
a single strand of semen out of place, not a single quivering limb unaccounted
for.
And this struck the male with almost indescribable rage.
“What were you
trying to do?” The little box floated perilously close to the man’s face.
Anyone who had come so close to him uninvited had
ended up with its skull reduced to dust. Despite the Seedmakers being the most
desired mates in the Universe, their lesser competitors in every chosen
planet—you know, the old partners of the many females that were picked for
breeding—sometimes couldn’t care less that their women were *finally* going to
breed with cocks worth penetrating them and seeding their wombs. If anything,
such a fact only made them irrationally angry, and there was the random looney here
and there who dared, blinded by rage, to attack a Seedmaker when he was taking
his female on his arms and readying himself for the most thorough fecundation
of her life, and this male was gone in an instant.
A simple look of a Seedmaker was enough to
paralyze—and, in the lesser males, literally kill. Fried brains.
Over-stimulated nerves and all that. If a Seemaker actually attacked, the
bodies of their victims were never to be found again. They *couldn’t* be found
again, after all, for it is difficult to pierce together a body that had been
literally reduced to dust. In the case of slightly stronger-than-average
attacks, the body combusted into flames and was incinerated midair.
Such was the reputation of the Seedmakers—creatures of
both unfathomable breeding power and nigh-incalculable destructive potential.
But a heart is a heart—and a heart is dumb!—so it was still shockingly common
that an aggrieved male would try to “get one over” a Seedmaker—with obvious
(and messy) results.
The controllers of that black box knew this very well.
They also knew that, of all Seedmakers, Roberto was one of the priviest and
more “sensible” ones, absolutely dreading when anyone—females included—got into
his personal space... and yet the box did it all the same, floating closer and
closer to his face, sensing the rising pressure in his blood and the
temperature oozing from his pores, as well as counting every single involuntary
flex of his muscles—the ultra male trying his hardest to not lose his cool.
“Why did you do this?” Still, the box inquired. “What
are you trying to prove?”
Moving his jaw and grunting as if he was chewing his
tongue, the monster answered with the only type of answer his giant heart could
ever muster: with total, naked honesty. “You do not own me.” The box remained
silent by his side. The monster looked down upon the pool and swore he could
almost see his reflection in the perfect white of his boiling seed. “I am
trying to prove that you do not own me. You do not control me.”
The box then floated in front of the man’s face,
coming close and close to his nostrils—many feet closer than any uninvited
person, male or female, had ever gotten. “But we do own you. We know you better
than anyone ever will. Including yourself.” The box then turned slowly, though
without moving away from the stallion’s face, towards the pool of semen boiling
and steaming. “We have designed this room to match your sexual performance to a
tee. Not one atom is out of place.” It slowly moved down, pointing towards the
flaccid penis of the monster. “Were you trying to break the mold? To ejaculate
more than we predicted you would? To cum more gallons than the range we
estimated precisely that you would cum? You can try, Breeder. You can rub and
jerk your penis as many times as you’d like, but unless you overstay and wait
for your balls to refill, then this room is exactly what you fear it to be:
tailor-made for you. For all your power. All your cum.” The box rose again,
pressing the stallion so near his nose. “Not one drop more, not one drop less.”
It read the man’s discomfort. It was an easy thing to do, yes, given not just
its fine-tuned sensors, but a simple thermometer would have already read the
increasing temperature around the stud’s skin, with the aura of heat around him
becoming more prominent to the naked eye. “You do not know anything we already
don’t know. You will never perform any better or any worse than what we’ve
already predicted.” The box moved away somewhat, though just a little. “You are
our creation. There’s little point trying to defy your gods.”
My gods! Oh, those arrogant Masters! The bull puffed steam through his nostrils.
Despite his immense strength; despite all his incredible power and sexual
conquests numbering close to the millions, he was still just a little puppy on
the laps of those unseen, unknowable creatures—and it drove him insane!
“Tell me what you came here to do. You didn’t send a
Communicator just to count the bodies and measure my carnage, did you?” His
voice boomed like a god’s. It was everywhere, that voice of his: every time he
spoke, even the advanced metal that facility was built on shook and trembled.
It was literally as if a god was striking the earth, or if some hidden giant
was waking up from its underground slumber.
The voice of a mountain growing feet and walking away
to the horizon. The voice of two tectonic plates drifting away. The voice of
god! Oh! The voice of God!!
To the box, however, it was just another regular
voice. A voice of at least two hundred and thirty-three males who, at least per
the Master’s account, were superior breeders than he was. “Indeed, there is a
greater purpose to this message.” The box took a gentle pause, letting him
process what was supposedly going to be quite the revelation: “You are being
summoned to the Circle. There is a task for which you are suited that just
might save you from your ennui.”
The beast breathed hard. He could see the steam of his
breath condensing on the shining metal of the smooth black box. “Move away.” He
uttered, but the box made no motion.
“Your presence is required immediately.”
The monster breathed in deeply. “I may have more wombs
to col-”
“Stop this. We all know you have no more semen for the
day.” The box leaned downward, pointing towards the massive balls of the bull,
which, contrary to its words, were already half-refilled and looking incredibly
smooth and swollen. “Or perhaps that’s not the right word for it. You have the
seed, but you have not the will. We know full well...”
*BOOOOM!!!* The monster simply followed his instinct:
as the box moved a little closer still to him, his fist flew towards its
detestably smooth, perfect surface, and then the box, in a blink, was gone.
There was a brief flash of fire where his fist had
landed, and then a shockwave, and then made of the convulsing, spasming bodies
of the unconscious ladies jerking with startle, some of them pushed away from
their piles or high resting places and crashing on the ground and lakes of cum
as the shockwave washed over their bodies. *BOOOM!!!*
The shockwave reached the ends of the room, and then
it ricocheted back to the stud, doing a round on the place at least three more
times before it was heard and felt no more.
No fire or smoke was caused by the crash of the box in
one of the walls of the place. In fact, as soon as the box got far enough, it
disappeared rather seamlessly against the dark backdrop of the room, and little
was heard of its impact—certainly not when compared to the much louder, much
flashier soundwaves of the punch.
Another fissure appeared on a different part of the
room, and through it another box floated in. Another box, certainly, but one
that looked exactly like the previous one—and it might as well have been the
same, if the beast didn’t know better.
“Why would you do this?” The box floated close to him.
Then it stopped. “What could you possibly achieve with this tantrum? You, a
thirty-year-old Breeder behaving like an eighteen-year-old newly Fornicated
calf?”
The stud paid little attention to the words. Instead,
he merely looked down at the box and smiled. “This.” He pointed to the box,
which now stood at ten feet of distance from him—the very limit of his personal
space. The limit he knew they knew well—just as well as him, in fact.
“Respect.”
The box stood still and silent for a while. Then it
spoke: “You are expected. Do not be delayed.”
He was quick. He had to be. “And what if I am?”
The box moved closer. Seven feet. Five feet. Three
feet away from him.
He raised his fist. The enormous hand was almost as
big as the box itself.
The box stopped, and floating at three feet of
distance from his enormous pectorals it spoke in quite the distinct tone: “You
are correct in assessing that we do not possess the technology to contain you,
or that we lack any biological restraints on your body. No mind conditioning or
mind control, no hormonal blocks or any trickery of such a kind. You are
correct in this.” Then... the box moved up. Not closer, but up, facing the
giant straight in the eyes. “What we do have are Seedmakers. Three hundred and thirty-three
Seedmakers, to be precise, who are more powerful and more loyal than you’ve
ever been.” The box rose higher and higher. “Do not be fooled into thinking
your rebellion is the same as your siblings. Of all the “discontented”, you’re
one of the strongest. All others of your kind are smaller and more feeble, and
all the strong us are faithful bulls of their Great Ranchers.” The box then
leaned down, almost as if looking down upon the bull. “Do not be mistaken: if
they are called, they will answer.” Then...
*Woom!* The box disappeared!
The bull remained still-faced as his eyes slowly and
slightly moved around. He tried to catch the box somewhere, but no: it seemed
to have really vanished out of thin air.
“Through all your years of good food and great wombs,”
the voice continued, now from the various speakers across the room. “You may
have cultivated the (quite erroneous) belief that you are, indeed, the
mightiest creature in the Universe, and that all who exist, exist to serve you;
and all who oppose you oppose you in vain.” Despite the different sources, the
voice sounded absolutely the same when it was coming from the box mere three
feet away from him. “You have never done battle. Never sparred even with the
weakest of your kind. You are a child, and there are children way more
powerful, way more ruthless than you’ve ever been—children who *have* been
through battle; children who *have* been prepared to fight.” A gentle pause.
And then... “You are not the first creation we disposed of. You will probably
not be the last. But we can assure you one thing.” A pause. Then... “You will
not want to be the next.”
The bull stood there, still, breathing normally,
though his instinct was to barely breathe. He tried to appear as normal as
possible—only to then later realize that, in trying so, he showed exactly how
*not normal* he truly felt.
The voice came again. Its tone was so formal, though,
that it almost made it sound like a different voice altogether: “You are
waited. Be not delayed.” After a brief pause, the voice came back again, a
little hastier, as if having forgotten to mention the latter part of the
message: “Full decency. Let not an inch of skin below your chin be exposed.”
Then the voice went away, and the bull decided to
waste neither the Masters’ nor his own time anymore.
«Who knows.» He pondered. «Maybe this time they will
be serious.»
Maybe this time some new adventure would rescue him,
as promised, from the sense of purposelessness and hopelessness that had set
over his heart after his cock penetrated its ten thousandth pussy.
Maybe this time... he would remember what it’s like to
be alive again.
Or to simply wish to be alive at all.
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