Wait too long to decide

Oh I so want it… this body is built for exactly him… and…

…and he sticks it in my mouth before I can come to a decision. Ooh, it tastes so good… salty and bitter and musky and why do I like that? I find I'm sucking on it like a lollipop, bringing a hand up to his monstrous meat shaft and stroking it up and down, using my other to massage the two kiwis in his sack. He soon grabs the back of my head and shoves himself all the way in… it's nice not needing to breathe. And my throat and my lips are sensitive, which I already knew from my time with the boys on The Gamble. I go off exactly when he does, his salty essence spilling down my throat as I find myself moaning uncontrollably… and then he pulls out.

I flop back on the bed, my boobs swinging wildly as the man smirks, “She said you'd be easy…” and then I notice he's still hard. He rips my clothes… eh, they were free… exposing my holographic cunt. He wastes no time on foreplay, as it's obvious I'm already soaked, simply pushing that monster in. And I thought I enjoyed this before: But this…

My body is literally designed for this. Exact. Rod.

I'm thrashing around him at his first thrust. Screaming on his second. And he does not let up. He grabs my chest and squeezes, my milk fountains. He brings one to his mouth and sucks, and sucks, and sucks. It's too much, I can't think. Can't react. I can only orgasm. Over and over and over, each one coming before the prior is done. I feel a somehow familiar itching in my middle when he shouts out, “Take my babies, bitch!” and unloads into me.

That doesn't stop him: He just keeps going.

I fear for my sanity as wave after wave of pleasure rocks me…

…until he finally gets tired and slumps, ****, on top of me. That terrible, wonderful, impossible rod still inside.

I take a shot at the third degree ****… and miss, when he's **** and literally right on top of me. Of course. Well… he's still sleeping when his servant returns, orbs in hand. Smiling (partly from what afterglow, partly from… okay, mostly from afterglow), I focus for the minute it takes to migrate his soul from his body to the orb (because Ranged Technomancy means I don't have to touch). There… leash broken. Prick.

I Warp out from under the monster, and use the Life talent Diagnose on myself as his seed slowly seeps from my slit… and that's what the tingle was. The Block the Seed spell? Gone. And I'm pregnant, as utterly impossible as that is when I'm not even organic. I follow through on my promise, casting Heroics on the evil creature for Extra Combat Talent, enough times to give him a Personal Starship and several Companion Vessels - the AI option of them allows for Bipeds to act as substitute crew . They won't have any skills if I don't get involved again, but they'll be able to operate the guns well enough.

“What the abyss did you do to him?” A scary, scary voice whispers in my mind.

And I who owns that one. How could I forget? “Hello Life,” I shake my head as I use a Make Whole spell to unmake the hole ripped in my clothes so the bastard could get access. “I just cut the false leash. That's all.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of a monster he is?” She's screaming at me in a whisper. That's quite the trick.

Looking around at the glassy eyed collection of ‘assassins’, the Aura Sight spell letting me know that half of these folks are north of neutral, “yes, yes I do. He is the monster you made… and he will be far less capable once you stop backing him.”

“He was already a monster! All I did…” she begins.

“Was to enable him, protect him, amplify him, and point the resultant wrecking ball at anyone who bugged you,” I interrupt as I start spamming Dispel Magic on the non-evil slaves, “you kept him from suffering the natural consequences of bad behavior, kept him from learning empathy from loss. You may not have made all of him… but you were absolutely a VERY significant factor.” A couple of the freed slaves start defacing the body that Thaddius is no longer in; I don't stop them.

“You only heard one side of the story, you don't know what he did!” Ah yes, the emotional argument.

“He collected your lover and your son, sent them to Hell because of contracts they signed?” I hazard a ‘guess’.

“He…!” she pauses. “He's evil! One of his worshippers killed them!”

“Unless he told the guy to kill them,” I roll my eyes as I walk out of the ship, resuming my invisibility, “your brother is less culpable for his worshipper's behavior than you are for your Prophet's… who has clearly been a very bad boy.”

“You dare talk back to a goddess?!” Yeah, she's mad. Which also tells me she knows I'm right, deep down.

“I notice you haven't smote me,” I shake my head as I travel the corridors of Absalom Station, “which tells me you can't. I'm pretty sure you can see me, though.”

“You're mine full time for the next nine months,” she confirms the cause, “and you're going to have a really rough pregnancy…”

“When the pregnancy is reasonably likely to kill the mother, abortion is… acceptable,” I point out my own feelings on the matter, “as the **** of the mother would also kill the child.”

“Oh, I'm not going to kill you…” she cackles in my head, “but you might….”

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to tease the goddess of childbirth. “Hey, ****?”

“What can I do for you Dan?” The creepy, disturbing, kind voice in my head pauses, “Oh, hello sister. I'm guessing that means…”

“He's mine,” the soft, melodic, cruel voice cackles, “at least for the next nine months.”

“How far can she actually go?” I ask my patron.