Chapter 349- Deleting Vekar’s History

Chapter 349: Chapter 349- Deleting Vekar’s History

Vekar screamed.

A raw, animal sound that had no words. He thrashed against the kinetic pin, his fat body shaking, his face purple, tears and snot running down his cheeks. He saw his wife’s face—the eyes rolled back, the mouth open, the tongue lolling, the expression of a woman who was being fucked beyond anything she had known.

"RYNA—" he screamed. "RYNA, FIGHT HIM! DON’T LET HIM—"

Ryna couldn’t fight.

Her body was not hers anymore. Her hands were pinned behind her back. Her pregnant belly was crushed against the throne. Her pussy was stuffed with twelve inches of cock that was driving deeper with each thrust. Nine inches. Ten. The head was pressing against her cervix, the tight entrance to her womb that had stayed closed for eight months.

He pressed against it.

"HNNNGH—AAANGH—NO—NOT THERE—"

He drove through.

PAAAH—

"HAAAAAAIYAANGH—MNGH—HAAANGH—"

The head popped through her cervix. Twelve inches buried to the absolute root, his balls pressed against her puffy pussy lips, his hips slamming against her enormous ass. Her womb was stuffed. Her pregnant belly, already full with eight months of child, now had twelve inches of cock pressing against the inner wall.

She came.

The orgasm hit her like a seizure. Her pregnant cunt clenched around his shaft with a force that made him groan, her walls milking him in rhythmic, desperate pulses. Her milk sprayed in thick arcs from her enormous tits, hitting the throne furs and the floor. Her body convulsed, her tongue lolling, her eyes completely rolled back.

"HNNGH—AAANGH—HAAAIYAANGH—"

He didn’t stop.

He fucked her through the orgasm, his hips driving the twelve-inch shaft through the clenching, milking, pregnant chaos of her cunt. The cum from her womb—Vekar’s seed, the last time he had touched her—squelched around his shaft and poured out in thick white globs.

"Fuck—" he grunted. "Pregnant pussy. Milking my cock. Your husband’s seed making it slick."

Vekar sobbed.

His fat body shook against the wall, his pig-like eyes streaming, his mouth open in a continuous wail. He watched his wife’s face—the pleasure and pain mixed, the tongue out, the eyes dead, the enormous tits swinging and spraying milk. He watched another man’s balls slapping against her pussy lips. He watched twelve inches of cock driving into the womb that carried his child.

Cruxius pulled her up.

He grabbed her hair with his free hand, pulling her head back, arching her spine further. Her enormous tits lifted, the dark nipples pointing at the ceiling, milk streaming down her chest. He looked at her face in profile—demolished, ruined, completely overwhelmed.

"Look at him," he commanded.

He turned her head toward Vekar. Forced her to look at her husband pinned against the wall, crying, broken, watching her get fucked.

"Look at what you’ve done to him," he whispered against her ear. "Just by taking my cock. Look at his face."

Ryna looked.

Her eyes, rolled and streaming, found Vekar. She saw his tears. She saw his helplessness. She saw the fat, broken man who had been her husband.

And her pussy clenched harder.

"HNNGH—" she moaned. "I—can’t—stop—"

He fucked harder.

PAHPAHPAAAH—

The rhythm became violent. The twelve-inch shaft withdrawing to the crown and driving back to the root in continuous, brutal strokes. Her pregnant belly slapped against the throne armrest with each impact, the dome of it shaking, the skin rippling. Her enormous tits swung in wild arcs, the milk spraying in all directions, the dark nipples slapping her own chin.

"HAAAIYAANGH—HNNGH—AAANGH—PLEASE—SLOW—"

She kept begging.

But her body kept moaning. The two sounds came from the same mouth, overlapping, contradicting, the voice of a woman who had lost all coherence.

He released her wrists.

Her hands fell forward, gripping the throne again, her fingers white. He grabbed her hips instead. Both hands, digging into the thick, pale flesh of her wide, pregnant hips. He used them as handles, pulling her back onto his cock with each thrust, adding her force to his.

PAH—PAAAH—PAAAH—

"HNNGH—AAANGH—HAAAIYAANGH—"

Vekar’s sobs became screams.

He thrashed against the kinetic pin, his fat body shaking, his face purple, his eyes fixed on the sight of his wife’s pregnant ass being pounded by another man. He saw the cum leaking from her stretched pussy, the white foam forming around the shaft, the blood-pink mixture of her arousal and the brutal friction.

"I’LL KILL YOU—" Vekar screamed. "I’LL KILL YOU FOR THIS—"

Cruxius laughed.

The warm, chest-deep laugh of a man who found the threat comprehensively funny. He thrust to the root, holding Ryna there, his twelve inches buried in her pregnant womb, his hands gripping her hips.

"You’ll do nothing," he said.

He looked at Ryna’s face. At her demolished expression. At her tongue lolling. At her milk-covered tits.

"She’s mine now," he said. "Her pussy. Her womb. Her milk. All of it. While you watch."

He began to thrust again.

Slower. Deeper. Each stroke dragging the full twelve inches through her pregnant cunt, the head scraping against her cervix, the walls of her womb gripping him. The wet sound was obscene—a continuous, liquid, sucking noise that filled the silent hall.

Ryna moaned.

Continuously. The long, rolling, broken moan of a woman who had been fucked past all resistance. Her hands gripped the throne until her knuckles were white. Her pregnant belly pressed against the cold stone. Her enormous tits hung and swayed and leaked.

He sped up.

PAH—PAH—PAAAH—

"HNNGH—AAANGH—HAAAIYAANGH—"

He was going to cum.

He felt it building in his spine, his balls tight, his twelve-inch cock pulsing in the grip of her pregnant womb. He grabbed her hair again, pulled her head back, and drove to the root.

"HNNNGH—"

He came.

The first pulse was thick and violent. The second was endless. The third made her pregnant belly shift visibly—the skin of her dome pushing outward as her womb filled beyond capacity with hot, fresh seed. The cum poured into her, mixing with Vekar’s residual seed, creating a thick, white, obscene flood that leaked immediately from her stretched cunt and ran down her thighs in warm rivers.

"HAAAIYAANGH—MNGH—TOO MUCH—STOP—"

She screamed.

Her body convulsed, her pregnant cunt milking his shaft in rhythmic, desperate pulses, her milk spraying in final thick arcs from her enormous tits. Her eyes rolled completely back, her tongue hanging out, saliva and tears mixing on her chin.

He held her there.

Twelve inches buried. Pumping. Emptying. Filling her pregnant womb with his load while her husband watched from the wall.

Finally, he pulled out.

The withdrawal was obscene. Twelve inches dragging from her stretched, cum-filled pussy, the white flood pouring out in immediate, continuous globs. Her entrance stayed open—the ring of her pregnant cunt unable to close after the twelve-inch stretch—the cum visibly leaking from deep inside her womb.

She collapsed.

Her thick body fell forward onto the throne, her pregnant belly on the armrest, her enormous tits on the furs, her face in the milk puddles she had made. Her body twitched. Her breath came in shallow, broken gasps. Her thighs were soaked—cum, milk, her own juices, and the remnants of her husband’s seed.

Cruxius looked at Vekar.

The Zone Master was pinned against the wall, his face a mask of tears and snot and blood, his pig-like eyes fixed on his wife’s demolished body. He was trembling. Not from rage. From the total, complete, absolute destruction of his authority.

Cruxius buttoned his pants.

He walked toward the door.

He stopped beside Vekar.

"This place will blast," he said, his voice warm and conversational, "erasing everything including what happened and who existed here."

He opened a portal and stepped through.

BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!