Womb of the New World
Chapter 6
He smells like the same black darkness I tasted on his tongue when he licked me and shared his tongue with me. Musk and dark caves, blood and violence, teeth and … all the dark dreams I’ve had off and on all my life.
He crushes me with his weight and I feel happy, not knowing why. The pressure feels good, and I push back up against him, feeling his haunches press down to my ribs and my belly, as he bends forward, pushing his groin down toward me.
Two cocks. Freakish, dark, inhuman, yet human, they bend toward me as I hold the top shaft gingerly.
“Do whatever you want,” says Yoevin, alien red eyes on my mouth. “You won’t hurt me.”
In his voice the low echo of a secret, something he is yearning for but hasn’t voiced. I hold him more firmly, stroking the strangely rippling shaft. It makes odd gelatinous noises, something inside moving and working, and it fills in my fingers, hardening and lengthening, and I gasp.
“The more aroused you are, the more I aroused I get, it cannot be helped,” he explains, and I throw my eyes to his, shocked, and slowly push against him so that I can kneel before him. He lifts away from me, kneeling, too.
He has no more warnings, and I look down at the glistening fat head, rounded and more defined than any mushroom I have ever seen, so wide at the end that I envision it will cork me rather than slide into me. The idea makes my sex twitch and tingle, and I sigh, lowering my lashes and leaning forward to flicker my tongue out to the black flesh.
Salty, and soursweet, and the taste should not be one I like but I can’t stop from clamping my mouth around the tip and sucking hard.
“Ah, yes,” Yoevin groans, and I suck harder, amazed by the tangy metallic taste in his flesh, but entirely unable to release him from my mouth. He fists his hands on his powerfully corded thighs and nudges forward with his hips into my mouth. I watch him, looking up as I suck, seeing how powerful his chest is, the broadness of his muscles, how everything bulges with excess. I want to be filled to bursting with him, with all this flesh and power. My sex grows wetter by the second.
“More,” I gasp, popping his upper shaft sloppily from between my lips and darting forward to devour the second. It surprises him, and he lets loose a hoarse shout as I set to sucking it, finding the sucking easier and even more enjoyable since it’s half the size of the other.
“Slow, slow, Imogenne, it … nears pain,” warns my captor, and I gulp and moan around the second shaft, which feels more like a man’s penis but still has that unnaturally large cap and metallic taste to it. It makes the same noises, only more quietly, a wet sound of sliding and action within the flesh I touch.
I release him finally, and he falls away, kneeling back between my spread legs to catch his breath.
“You are beyond me,” declares Yoevin, and I can only stare at him hungrily. The cocks gleam and throb beneath my eyes, and he watches my hunger, alert.
“Now,” is all I say. His eyes meet mine. I lay back, raise my knees, and wait.
She watches me with her glittering yellow-hazel irises, with the whites around them my kind no longer has. They are filled with power, with demand, and there is no time for gentleness any more. I take her knees apart, wide, kneel over her, take myself in hand, and ease closer.
“All of it,” she says, low in her throat as if she hopes I will not hear it. But I hear everything, that is my curse.
“All of what, Imogenne?” I want to hear her say these words, these raw and unnatural words neither of us would ever think to hear tonight.
“You. Put both of them … both of your rods … inside of me.”
“They can’t enter the same way. I am not shaped in that way.”
Her face flushes and she bites her lip, lifts up slightly, and lightly grasps my lower organ.
“I know,” she mutters, but I press forward and slip my tongue around her nipple, hard, just to watch her reaction. “Helut, you—“
“What is Helut?”
A shadow crosses her face but she frowns and dismisses it. “Our god. I want this –“ she massages my lower sex and I catch my breath at the way her fingertips play it, as if they have always known the tune.
“Yes?”
“Here.” She draws me forward and I follow, nudging against her tight lower hole. I have not played here for generations. I don’t even remember how to play. But my body swells with the thought and knows it is eager to try.
“Have you done this before?” I watch her, her full lips full and ripe as berries, and rest my palms around her haunches, squeezing. The action makes her squirm, and I smile.
“Only … small things.”
“Like?”
Her proud eyes meet mine and glare, but I only squeeze her haunches harder, and nudge again against the tight little hole. My lower organ glistens with pre-arousal, my upper one nudging her inner thigh and also seeking home.
“Fingers, tongues.”
“But never this.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please, Yoevin.”
It is the first time she has said my name. I relent, brush her fingers away.
“The angle is wrong. I have to take you above, first, before I can enter you below. Is that what you want? For me to—“
“Stuff me, please, both of them, I want them inside of me,” she whispers quickly, speaking so fast as if she is afraid to say what she is saying but has no choice.
I catch her eyes. They are full of fear and hunger. I imagine that mine must be as well.
“Use your water to prepare me,” I say. She reaches down quickly, sliding her fingertips down into the channel, and her small hand grips my upper shaft, rubbing. I hold my breath, and when it’s done, nod. She drops her hand.
I watch the creature take his large shaft into his black hand, claws curling inward, and kneeling forward on his haunches, he inhales and guides the tip of the thick mushroom to the lower end of my sex.
I stare at our joining, unable to tear my eyes away. The scent of our bodies is everywhere, inescapable, and I begin to pant as the mushroom pushes in, my flesh gripping it tightly, fighting the slow and persistent push as it moves in, by tiny increments, in, until I begin to moan, in, as my eyes close and the water inside of me begins to fill me, waiting, waiting, in as he pushes in, in as he leans over me, in as his weight presses down. And then as I begin to choke on all the pressure inside me, around me, on me, I feel a second rod, another mushroom, small and hot, pressing against the lower hole and I groan.
Low, deep, our breathing, and his mouth is beside my ear, and my fingers reach up blindly for his hips, gripping him tightly, digging in with nails. The second organ pushes, pushes, and is in, and then together the two organs push in tandem, slow, slow, insistent, and then he whispers in my ear.
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes and in the moment he meets my gaze he shoves in, hard and fast, and I scream, squeezing my eyes shut because the pain is tangled impossibly with pleasure.
“Hold on, hold on,” he grunts, and his body begins to pound me, sluicing into and out of my gaping sex and anus, split wide with his unnatural flesh, my legs spread wide as he rocks all the way in and nearly all the way out. Inside of me is the pressure of two living, throbbing organs rubbing in the same perpetual rhythm and as I fall back beneath them the wetness becomes too much and explodes.
“Helut!” I shout, and I grab my breasts and thrash, the pleasure too much, my head whipping back and forth on the pallet. He does not stop, but continues on, and on, and the water comes back and explodes again.
Beneath me she loses her mind, the way I have never had with any human, the way Avgar had hinted it was meant to be. Inside, she is a never ending tunnel and as her inner muscles squeeze and milk me, my sex grows longer, longer, impossibly longer, thrusting up inside her to her cervix and then deeper, as her insides seem to open, as what is anatomically impossible happens. I touch a place I have never felt inside of any female before, a place where I feel as though a million tongues are licking me, a million sexes are sucking upon me, hunger magnified and made real within her womb.
A more intense pleasure radiates, throbbing in her lower tunnel, tighter and harder to navigate, but she is wet everywhere, our thighs are coated with her orgasms, and so everything is a wet voyage of push and pull, as I climb higher into her. Her face is beautiful, a terrible rage and awful vulnerability possessing her face as she gnashes her teeth and spurts fluid from her inner walls and her little nub, splashing against my belly and sex, her moans a music of their own.
“Bokin, you are so wet, heavens, like a geyser,” I breathe, marveling at the sight and sound of her erupting from beneath my thrusting sex organs, a human bouncing like a wild thing on the tips of my cocks.
The liquid spurts from her, slightly viscous and clear, her fingers trying to grasp my wet hips for purchase. Wetness ricochets from my belly button, created for appearance since I was not born from a human. Beneath me she gyrates, arching and falling, moaning and wailing, and the sight makes me ram into her harder, just to make her wail a little louder, more violently. To watch her thrash harder because of how I plunge into her.
“I can’t, I can’t, no more – no more,” she screams, but my body cannot stop, it is possessed by nature, the hunger to stuff her to overflowing with every ounce of latent semen that has been sleeping dormant within me. I couldn’t stop if I tried.
I bear down harder on her, my tongue down her throat and surging deep. Silenced, she gurgles and screams around our mouths, squeezing me by the neck as if to strangle me. It only makes my body thrust harder, and my arms brace beneath her bouncing knees while I plant my heads deep into her in a mindless rhythm.
“Yes,” I begin to chant, feeling her inner walls tighten, tighten, the end of her womb narrowing and squeezing, the million mouths within her converging at last, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hunting, searching, thrusting for the end of her.
“Oh Helut, oh God, please, please, I cannot bear it,” she wails, yet her legs part and fall open like petals from a flower in need of fertilizing, her splayed sex and ripe undersides making her lower body a splayed vision.
I press myself down over her, spreading her back and open with my forearms planted against the backs of her knees and beside her breasts, which bounce and shake as I pound down and in. I smash and grind and slam and pump, so that she is so wide open for me she is nothing but a wet, weeping hole and I am nothing but the flesh to fill it. I stare down at our bodies smacking and grinding together, listen in a glorious bliss to the wet sucking gasps her cunt makes around my shoving rod, like an animal slobbering hungrily over its kill.
“Yes, yes, open to me, give yourself to me, all of you,” I pant, and I hear her sobbing and crying, moaning and begging, but the tunnel is finally ending, the end of her womb has finally come.
At the end I find a burning hot bliss, a final, vengeful clamp upon the end of my sex and a ferocious squeezing that makes me shout in fear and pain—
“Bastard, bastard, Helut, my god—“ she screams this, out of her mind, slamming her sex up to mine as I pummel down to meet her.
And then the pleasure comes, sucking and sucking, and all my years of searching, all the suffering of my people, erupts from deep within my loins to land deep within her womb. I rear up, and fill her to overflowing with my seed.