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Shortstack Kirlia Have Rights?	By : Tastatura Category: Pokemon > General Views: 65812 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This is a fictional story. I do not own Pokemon. I make no money from writing this. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. Love your pal Jesus.

Chapter List
- 5
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- 7
HELENA'S BEDROOM
Upon awakening, Cruz was greeted with silence. Granted both the time and comfort to drag himself into consciousness, the absence of extraneous noise was the first thing that became apparent to him.

Mentally, he was far too hazy to recall why the lack of noise around him was significant. Then and there, the soreness that rippled through his body as he sat up and the partial nakedness of his body were much more concerning to him.

For a precious handful of seconds, the events prior to his passing out were inaccessible to him. Like any other bleary-eyed child, he sluggishly shifted his legs over the edge of his mattress and rubbed his hands at his eyes in an attempt at waking himself up.

And then it hit him. A moment on his feet sent all of his memories concerning the events of the preceding half-day flowing back into his mind with the force of water from a ruptured dam. For each one, a mental image pertaining to it (some far more graphic than others) cycled past his mind’s eye just slow enough for him to perceive each of them individually.

Being a child, not one of these memories struck Cruz as something that warranted revulsion or petrification. Unaware, or perhaps indifferent to their true nature, his first and only thought after recalling them pertained to the ‘consequent’ promised by Helena after their completion.

The crying that had nagged at him hours prior had stopped. As well, Helena was nowhere to be seen. Taken together, these facts pushed the boy’s mind towards a naïve and all-too comforting conclusion.

“I guess everything is alright now.” Cruz thought to himself. “Babies usually don’t cry when there isn’t something wrong, so everything bein’ quite has t’be good.”

Assuring himself with a nod and a smile, his attentions turned to the ‘morning’ he had woken up to. Pattering off to the right of the bed, he briefly peaked his head around the sun-warmed curtain hung ahead of the bedroom’s sole window. Beyond it was the familiar expanse of Helena’s front yard as bathed in the light of a clear and cloudless morning.

Pleasant as the sight was, an actual morning was not what Cruz had hoped to see behind the curtain. At the sight of it, he turned on his heels and set off into a driven stride towards the bedroom’s door.

As he moved, the smile on his face became far less relieved, and far more embarrassed.

“I slept too much again. I did a lot of stuff yesterday, but it’s still no good.” he mumbled aloud. “I’m supposed to be helping Auntie Helena while I’m here. I hope everything is still alright downstairs...”

Having spent many a weekend within the single SEPH’s household, a part of Cruz understood that one morning of sleeping in was unlikely to result in disaster. Helena was entirely capable of managing on her own (provided she actually wished to do it), and more often than not, the tasks that he completed as her self-assigned ‘helper’ were limited to things that even his childish mind could recognize as trivialities.

Nevertheless, he hurried himself along. Pushing through the bedroom door, he cut across the left side of the second floor corridor and began descending from the staircase leading up to it as though there was somewhere that he needed to be.

In his mind, there was. No matter how trivial his contributions or how capable his ‘Aunt’, a truth unknown to most—one instilled within him and reinforced by the same woman he sought—necessitated that he be present to help her whenever he could:

“SEPH women are useless pigs who are only good for birthing children and being disgusting whores! They can’t function without humans to tell them what to do and keep their desires in check, so it's our responsibility to make sure that they serve whatever purpose is best for them!”

Spurred on by the female voice speaking at the root of his mind, Cruz cleared the flight of stairs ahead of him and again veered off to his left into the kitchen.

A single step into its interior replaced his concern with relief. Contrary to her voice’s suggestions, no disaster had befallen his aunt. Infant cradled in one arm and smothered up against her bust and eyes glued to the face of a cellphone clasped by her free hand, she appeared no different than she usually did in the morning…

At a glance, of course.

In his relief, Cruz’s eyes intentionally glossed over the dried smears of blood that remained pressed across her upper lip and her startling lack of clothes from her waist downward.

Helena, whether sitting, standing, or bouncing her rear up and down the girth of a child’s cock, personified the realities of life as a SEPH female. Though nearly triple the age of the boy beneath her, she stood only a foot and a half above him whilst standing outright. The fact that she could manage standing at all with the sheer amount of doughy-fat packed into her breasts was a miracle—one overlooked by both Cruz and Helena herself, but a miracle nonetheless.

All about the rest of her frame, flesh and fat were smoothed, stacked, and squished into every feminine ‘pocket’ that would take them. Squishy E-Cup breasts comparable to the size of her head (if not rounded and somewhat larger) engorged the sweat and semen-caked fabric of her t-shirt to an extent that made the bloat of their (tea cup dish)-sized areola and the knob-width cylinders of nipple flesh attached to them seem as though they weren’t covered. As well, they refused to hang from the front of her frame as naturally engorged breasts—every bit of their plush pink roundness was situated so youthfully at her chest that one could be forgiven for doubting her age.

The thick, forward hanging tufts of darkly-highlighted ‘hair’ draped across her forehead from the front of her skull and the bubblegum pink choker enveloping her neck added further ambiguity to her exact age.

Neither were visual traits typically associated with a mother of two, but on Helena, they fit. As an unvaccinated and clearly ‘unrestricted’ female SEPH, risqué sexuality hardly ever appeared ‘wrong’ where her frame was concerned.

From her waist downward, bowed hips widened by several pregnancies and thighs thickened with enough fat to compliment her breasts made her identity much less ambiguous. Much like any other SEPH parent, her lower half seemed to be in a perpetual state of ‘readiness’ for child-bearing. Her semen-greased thighs were wider than her youthful charge’s torso, and the fertile curvature that bled into the nut-caked expanse of her crotch framed a stomach cutely padded with the slightest chub of a born and bred breeder. At a glance—perhaps one not owned by a 6 year old—the absence of clothing at her lower body was likely for the best. Unless the garment was baggy and oversized, her hips would have stretched it, her thighs would have thinned it, and her ass would have utterly consumed it.

Cruz’s mild awe at the sight of the older woman provided Helena with all the time in the world to peel her attention away from her phone and recognize her favorite tiny presence within the kitchen.

“There you are, sleepyhead.” she began, voice disturbingly ‘natural’ for the state of her body. “I knew you might be a little tired after how helpful you were last night, so I made sure not to wake you when I got up. Did you sleep okay?”

Taken aback by her greeting, Cruz again found himself at odds with his tongue. Unless requested otherwise, his behavior around the older woman was typically sheepish; without his concern for her as a motivator, defying this norm was very difficult for him. Consequently, his response to her question was a simple, affectless nod.

Acceptant and acclimatized to the boy’s natural behavior, Helena took this nod to mean that all was well.

“Good, I’m glad. I really would prefer if you told me when to get up and start doing things, but I know you’re not quite sure about that yet.” she continued, smiling. “For now, I’ll continue being a helpful bitch and will use my best judgement to keep you comfortable in the future, okay?”

Again, Cruz could do little more than nod in response. Words sat on the tip of his tongue, but he lacked the desire to utter them. Silence was more comfortable—more normal.

Unaffected, Helena took the second silent nod she received in stride. Though she would’ve loved nothing more than for Cruz to state his intentions for her future then and there, she remained of the opinion that it was not her place to genuinely sulk when her desires were not fulfilled. Her purpose was that of Cruz’s tool; thoughts and feelings of her own were of no use to her.

This did not leave the SEPH without volition, however. Until Cruz himself saw fit to define her life, reminding him of his privilege and acting in his best interest remained her responsibility—or so she told herself.

Thus, following his nod, she discarded her phone atop the counter ahead of her and walked towards him until she was close enough to begin smelling him again.

The effects of his youthful stench hit her immediately. All at once, a pleasant light-headedness invaded her skull, and the beating of her heart jumped to an excited flutter. Fresh lubrication burbled to a sticky ooze between her legs, and if only slightly, perspiration began seeping through near every pore on her body.

Practiced even in arousal, these symptoms did not slow her arrival ahead of the youth. Here, she dipped her skull down ever so slightly to peck a short kiss against his forehead. Predicting eye contact after the fact, she kept her gaze slanted towards his face until a tilting of his own features prompted her to speak.

“Anyway, now that you’re awake, I thought today would be a good day for you to practice using me some more.” she suggested, words and expression still in conflict with one another. “I was a very awful sow to you last night, Cruz. As much as I hate the thought of having to compete with these stupid brats you’ve fucked into me one day, it’s important that they have a good role model growing up, don’t you think?”

Responding to this inquiry with further silence was not an option for Cruz. Now, the topic of conversation no longer simply concerned himself. It concerned the well-being of others, and more importantly, his responsibilities to them.

As such, he spoke. Quietly, but confidently.

“I know it’s important, but don’t you enjoy being a…”as prone as any child to forgetting the placement of words, a brief pause interrupted the boy mid-sentence. “A ‘sow’ like that? You seemed really happy just being able to do what you wanted t’do.”

Giggling warmly, Helena applied a second aspect of intimacy to her position ahead of the boy. Raising her freehand up to a consistent tousle of his hair, the settlement of her palm saw her slip into a brief nod of her head.

“Yes, I am, sweetie. I enjoy it very much.” she replied. “That doesn’t change what I am, though. And what am I?”

Abruptly, words began flowing through Cruz’s lips much more freely.

“I know, I know. You’re just a greedy pig that’s suppose ta be used ‘till she dies. Everything else that you know how to do is just t’help that...”

“Very good, I knew you’d remember.” affirmed Helena. “As much as I’d like to ruin my insides on your cock over and over again, that wouldn’t make me very useful to you, now would it? I’d just end up as a braindead jizzsocket that would need to be replaced that much sooner.”

“My purpose is to provide you with as much pleasure as possible and spit out as many of these tiny cunts as I can before becoming useless. It makes me happy that you enjoy seeing me feel good, but what I feel doesn’t matter. That’s why you have to practice doing whatever you like—we’ll both be happier that way.”

Cruz had no reason to doubt these words. The discomfort that he felt whilst participating in Helena’s satiation and the ‘oddness’ of her behavior during took nothing away from the happiness that she projected throughout. More happiness for her (and for him) couldn’t be a bad thing—not unless Helena’s definition of the word was wrong.

And adults could never be wrong.

“Okay, if you say so.” responding without delay, both acceptance and confidence could now be heard in his voice. “So I just gotta decide on something to do with you, right? Something fun?”

More enthused than she had been in days, Helena’s smile widened far enough to expose the tip of her right incisor to Cruz’s line of sight.

Day by day, she was making an impact. So long as she continued pulling her helpful little neighbor along, he would grow to become someone aware of what she was---what all SEPH like her were.

This by itself was reason enough for her to smile.

“Mhm! Anything you want; no matter how much or how awful.”

These words rendered Cruz as a ‘kid in a candy story’. Not yet at an age suitable for taking advantage of his position, the opportunity saw him silently wrack his mind for an appropriate ‘activity’ for the two of them. No shortage of memories concerning the ‘use’ that Helena had in mind existed within his head. At a moment’s notice, the only difficult part about the exercise was selecting one that he enjoyed over the others.

Fortunately, this too was a skill that the boy had honed in his time visiting Helena. Within a half-minute or so, his mind was made up and his lips were primed for speech.

“Oh, I know! We could do that again, couldn’t we?” he suggested. “ I’ll be able to cum way more that way, and it’s usually tires you out pretty quick, too!”

Intimately familiar with the ‘that’ that the boy had mentioned, Helena could not help but smile and giggle as the base degenerate that she was at heart.

“Of course, sweetie ♥. We can do that as much as you want.”

“Just remember: no stopping. No matter what I say or do, don’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

Now, Cruz no longer needed to stop and think about whether or not his response was appropriate. Whilst thinking up the act and its potential consequences, stopping had never crossed his mind to begin with…

-
LEARNT HABIT

Helena’s offering Cruz any sex act of his choosing was not an empty promise meant to coax the boy into participation. Prior to uttering these words, she mentally committed herself to doing anything and everything that the boy suggested so long as he could will himself to demand it of her. She vowed to forgo all forms of complaint, and in doing so further committed herself to the yearnings of her own inner voice.

Thus, when Cruz stated his desire to fuck out as many loads of semen as possible into her greasy asshole while watching her breastfeed her youngest children, she produced a simple “Yes, Cruz ♥.” and snapped to the task of making his desires a reality.

Much to her surprise, little work was actually required of her by Cruz where this was concerned. Seemingly galvanized by her reassurance that the gross abuse that she craved was good for her, he took every opportunity that he could to lead proceedings in the direction that ‘he’ had chosen.

First and foremost, he took Helena’s hand and began leading her along. After briefly doubling back into the kitchen to collect an item necessary for his intent, he hurriedly dragged her from the first floor of the house back up to the second. Skipping their shared bedroom amidst the numerous doorways to either side of the corridor, he instead halted their progression ahead of the door directly beside it.

Behind this door was the bedroom shared by her children. All three of the females housed within this room had not yet developed past the toddler years of an average SEPH* (see chapter #2 foreword). Rightly, the room’s interior was appropriately ‘child-friendly’. Much of its square floor space was consumed by toys, and all but one of its sides (save the one that the door was built into) had a crib nestled up against it.

Inside, Cruz proudly explained his rationale for the room’s use despite the obedient silence put forth by the adult ‘animal’ following behind it.

“You can be close to all three of them this way, so here is probably best. Also, all three of ‘em will get to see what a disgusting fuckhole you are for human cock you are while they aren’t eating. Pretty smart, right?”

Helena, though obscenely pleased with the boy’s thought process, tempered her response in the interest of feeding her insides the sensation of his cock sooner rather than later.

For her, maternal guilt did not exist. Though happy to give birth to children for Cruz’s sake, she considered the daughters she had produced as extensions of herself, and by proxy, valueless tarts who would one day make it more difficult for her to derive fulfillment from the boy that she had found.

In her mind, her sole responsibility to them was educating them as to what they were—a task very easily accomplished whilst getting her asshole messily cratered within earshot of them.

Motivated by this mindset, the adult SEPH shaped her response to Cruz’s explanation with only herself in mind. First applauding his efforts with the slightest peck of her lips against his cheek, she afterwards prodded him along as best she could without violating her own warped ‘principles’ regarding his growth.

“You’re such a wonderful trainer, Cruz ♥. I was hoping you’d suggest something like this, but I really thought it was just the greedy fucking jizz-toilet in me talking. Hearing that we were thinking so similarly makes me very happy as your bitch…”

With this, she released his hand, and naturally sauntered through the room in such a way that set the gratuitous fat plugged into her round asscheeks into a mouth-watering jiggle. Stopping opposite the last crib off to their left, she leaned over its rim ever so slightly and reached into it with her free hand to scoop out the sleeping toddler that it contained. Bringing the girl right up to her other exposed teat, the rest of her work was done for her. At a moment’s notice, a wet and warm mouth consumed the swollen girth of her nipple and began sucking down the milk welled within its ducts.

Finally, she turned towards Helena and smiled. She didn’t speak—she simply smiled and stared at the boy in anticipation of what he might do or say next.

Yet again, the disillusioned boy failed to disappoint. After discarded the fresh to fucking death trackies that only parents of the youngest jock’s cop and exposing the growing sledge of phallus flesh hidden underneath them, he moved right up to her front. Reaching up with his dominant hand whilst elevating his frame on his tip-toes, he collected a handful of the older woman’s pink hair and purposed it as a handle with which to drag her frame down to the ground.

In this, no concessions were made for the children braced against her breasts. Opting to operate under the assumption that Helena would manage this, Cruz roughly pulled the woman back-first onto the floor with only the ‘coaxing’ of his hands grasp of her hair.

This done, he moved to her lower half. ‘Necessary item’ still in hand, he hoisted the SEPH’S naked lower body up and off the ground just short of bending her frame in half at her midsection.

Finally, he engaged himself. The nozzle of the item grasped within his palm came off, and a grin of perverse anticipation spread across his lips…

A grin meant solely for the woman beneath him.
-
CHILDREN

Taken by itself, the discomfort that Cruz sometimes displayed whilst participating in sex acts with his aunt seemed to suggest that the boy had a lack of experience with regards to his own satiation. His age and demeanor reinforced this idea, as did the perceived ‘norms’ that were associated his youth.

However, what appears to be apparent is not always that which is apparent. If any of those willing to describe the boy as an ‘unfortunate victim’ were ever to lay eyes on his dragging Helena to the floor and hiking her hips off of the ground with his hands, their stances towards his youth would be forced to change. Similarly, were any of them to watch the boy spread the older woman’s legs apart and intentionally expose the puffy exterior of her sphincter to his line of sight, all claims that marked him with a ‘lack of experience’ would lose their backing.

Cruz himself was both indifferent and unaware of the way he looked whilst manipulating the breast-feeding mother’s body. His only concern whilst producing the acts was preparing the hole he had chosen for use (as was his responsibility as a trainer). Not even when raising the spout of a clear bottle of lubrication up to the exterior of Helena’s asshole did it appear that the boy was perturbed by what he was doing.

If the effortful compression of his tongue against the left corner of his lip was any indication, he was already all-too comfortable with it.

“Alrighty, now the only thing left to do is…”

“This!”

Narrating his preparation to act, Cruz squeezed both of his hands in against the mid-section of a plastic squeeze bottle. Locking his wrists throughout, he in doing so aimed a consistent drizzle of clear, jelly-dense lubrication at the plumped and rosy meat of Helena’s sphincter.

Satisfaction found him only after the pool of slime caked atop Helena’s shithole grew large enough to send several meaty strands of the substance drooling backwards and downwards across the flesh of her buttocks. At this, he discarded the bottle and braced his meager palm-spans against the squishy curvature at the peak of Helena’s hips.

The footsteps that he took after the fact—steps that set his feet to either side of the older woman’s midsection and inched his crotch over to an imposing hang over top her exposed cockjuice dumpsters—left the ‘purpose’ behind these gestures as unambiguous.

Nevertheless, the greedy sexual excitement that swelled within Cruz’s chest demanded that he make his intent clear all the same.

“Your asshole is gonna drink down all of my cock juice, you stupid pig!” Cruz chirped, enthusiastically.

According to Helena, statements such as these were good for SEPH. Not only did they remind them of their place, but it also ensured that there was no ambiguity in the expectations set for them.

Despite recalling these facts precisely as they had been stated, Cruz remained incapable of understanding what was meant by this. Where his unadulterated use of her body was concerned, what he could understand was limited to sensations and reactions. As such, the boy remained uncertain as to whether or not he had acted correctly right up until he swung the softball-sized bloat of his glans into a gooey, splattering-inducing punch down against the greased exterior of her sphincter. At this, the sloppy, noose-tight pressure exerted by the puffy entrance way and the spongy large intestine behind it threaded a stent of pleasure straight up the boy’s spine. Simultaneously, his position above Helena granted him a front row seat to the crossing of her eyes, and the lustful depression of her right fang into her lower lip. Had he done wrong, such a stupidly sex-drunk expression would never have spread across her face.

Were it the case that Cruz had ears for something that wasn’t the meaty *GLORP* of his grotesquely-vascular erection into the flesh-mire of Helena’s asshole, watching her facial features wouldn’t have been necessary to begin with. Just as soon as the pulsing bulk of his cock forced the puffy (and undoubtedly sensitive) meat of her sphincter to spread, suckle, and finally ‘throat’ the inches of his erection, debased praise burst from her bit lips in excess.

“Mnngh, f-fuck, j-just like t-that♥♥! Gore my stupid fucking pig s-shithole with your cock! Use my guts a-as a twitchy toilet f-for your cock juiceeee♥!”

Cruz heard these outbursts, but failed to attend to them or understand them.

Elated at his successes all the same, he followed up the disappearance of nearly half of his erection into his ‘sow’s’ asshole with a downward dip of his torso, and a grease-slogged unplugging of his erection from her depths. Hooking glistening inches of the unwashed pipe from her guts’ grasp along a backwards angled curve, he subsequently plunged these and several more straight back down into the pliant cocksleeve with the same inward flick that he had produced prior. Having unknowingly thrown the weight of his lower body behind both of the motions, neither of one felt particularly difficult to him. If anything, they were fun; where he ought to have felt strain and exertion, the grind of congealed, lubricant-greased intestine flesh around his painfully engorged length held pleasure at the forefront of his mind. As prone to preoccupation with ‘fun’ as any other child, it was not long before his hips and crotch began working in tandem to see this massive fractions of his cock floored in and out of Helena’s grease-caked shithole at an alarming rate.

Not surprisingly, Cruz’s slippage into a brutally effective pump-fucking of her intestines was precisely the sort of treatment Helena had hoped for.

Now, more so than she had whilst skewering herself on the boy’s cock or gorging herself on the reeking sludge so often churned up by his nuts, did she feel like what she was. With each passing second, the musk-drenched log of flesh that she so adored was stuffed closer and closer to an outright hilt within her tautest and thickest hole. No care was taken in keeping its penetration well-paced, nor was any concern extended to her as the drooling fuckehole’s owner. The increasingly lengthy crescents of flesh made to bulge and contort at her middle by Cruz’s cock went entirely ignored by the youth, as did the vehement spewage of cunt-syrup from her unused lower lips up (and consequently back down against her own crotch). Through and through, she was being used—as though she truly was a living breathing baby-factory meant solely to be used and discarded.

On top of the pleasure that she derived from being used as a means to an end, she enjoyed the same mind-rotting pleasure that had once domesticated her entire species. Every breath that she took underneath Cruz was a breath soaked in the abhorrently youthful stench of a human. Her having inhaled it countless other times had yet to take the ‘edge’ off of the experience, and this instance of it was no different.

Under the influence of this stench, everything to do with the gutting of her asshole became that much more stimulating for her. The pressurized discharge of precum and lubrication from the corners of her sphincter as he depressed himself were to her miniature orgasms snuffed out in their prime by the length of Cruz’s cock. The subsequent twitching and shifting of the tendril-length, finger-thick veins drawn and coiled along his shaft’s exterior were perceived by her innards as the writhing of live serpents atop a baseball bat’s worth of cockflesh. When his meat was hooked back through her oozing hole following any one of these depressions, she could not help but feel as though her insides were being pulled out of her alongside it.

Cycled over and over again at the speed of a chugging piston, acclimating to the sensations was impossible. In the face of Cruz’s aggression, Helena could only groan and squeal like a lactating sow as corrosive bursts of pleasure continually ate away at her psyche.

Despite this, Helena did not use the limiting of her expressions as an excuse for complete incoherence. Keeping her mouth shut as addictive bliss was fucked into her was not an activity that she cared much for in the first place. Further, silence served no purpose in her current situation…

She had suckling-children that she needed to instruct.

“M-Mommy’s—a-asshole’sh—g-gettin’—f-fucked—girl’sh♥..” piping up in the midst of an aggressive stint of thrusting from Cruz, Helena addressed the infants tugging milk from her breasts without so much as glancing towards them.

“She’sh-gettin’ F-FU—GYUUUGHHH♥♥”

Keeping pace with Cruz’s thrusts at all times was impossible for her. Though she tried her best, prolonged and unintelligible squeals regularly invaded her utterance prior to its completion.

“She’sh getting’ f-fucked like the u-useless human j-jizz dumpster, s-she is, s-see? Y-You’re gonna do th’ s-same too someday, understand? Y-You’re gonna be th’ same useless cock toilets when you grow up~! Everything in your worthless little lives is g-gonna lead up to this!”

Neither of the children suckling from Helena’s breasts were capable of comprehending the noise that spilled from her maw. Indifferent to this fact and much more deeply invested in the satisfaction that she derived from producing the words themselves, Helena produced these utterances and others like them in response to Cruz’s churning of her insides as often as she could. Not solely for the sake of her children’s education, but because doing so felt too good to resist.

Funnily enough, the child who took the most away from the nasally exhalations wasn’t even her own. Not quite so ‘lost’ in the sensations being blended around his cock, Cruz understood Helena’s cooing as further signage that he was using her correctly. Whilst under the influence of a slime-greased asshole that sucked vigorously to his erection each time he spiked himself into it, this fact meant quite a bit to the youth. So much so, in fact, that making her squeal out more became his sole intent not long after the fact.

Experience had taught him that accomplishing such a thing would not be a very difficult task. It was the same ‘experience’ that had suggested he squat above Helena’s up-drawn lower body and thrust downward into her cunt as opposed to levelling it and thrusting inwards. Without uttering a word, it had also convinced him to drive himself in and out of her asshole’s squirting confines as rapidly and aggressively as his frame could manage.

Thus, when again he petitioned it for a ‘means’ with which to obtain what he desired, he adhered to its suggestion without question.

Suddenly, the half-lengths strokes that had seen half the full length of his member slotted in and out of Helena’s gaped shithole were compressed down to an inches-long stir. Instead of yanking his member back through her asshole as deeply as he had inserted it, he exchanged a masturbatory tugging of his shaft back through the squeaking sinkhole for a seamless thumping of its bulk against the very deepest reaches of her large intestines. Shortly, he took the stimulation that had once been applied to the trunk of his shaft and funneled all of it towards its topmost inches.

Like all of the other suggestions made by his ‘experience’, Cruz’s following through with the change reaped immediate benefits with regards to his desires. Shortening his thrusts in this way took full advantage of the bestial squat he had set himself into above Helena’s crotch. The body weight that his previous pattern had swung back and forth in time with his thrusts immediately became the sole compliment of his cock’s depressions into Helena’s guts. Much like a hammer-head against a nail, his lower body repeatedly pounded the beginnings of his cock through the tightest and stickiest stretches of intestine flesh that it could reach, then tented it up into a curved ‘enveloping’ with the flesh of her midsection.

The convulsive rejection put forward by these yet-fucked inches was all that Cruz needed to perceive a difference. As his cock was hardly withdrawn from them per thrust, the entirety of his glans and the swollen inches of cockmeat beneath it were squeezed and shuffled through one pulverizing hilt after another with hardly a break in-between.

And then there was the noise. Whereas the length of his thrusts had once elicited a guttural an unpredictable chain of *GLRPT*, *SPLRT*, and *SQULECH* noise timed to splatter-patterned displacement of lubrication from her guts, they now produced a consistent *GRLP-GLRP-GRLP* indicative of a glutted—but far less explosive—funneling of cockmeat through an enflamed and congealed hole.

For another youth, perhaps like the worn child that had been sprawled out across Helena’s bed more than a day prior, pleasure such as this would’ve been nearly intolerable.

For Cruz as he was presently, it was motivation for him to succeed in making Helena present herself as the bitch that she claimed to be. A very uncomfortable and addictive motivation, but motivation all the same.

In it was everything that he needed to squeeze his balls dry within her guts and more—even the inhuman grit necessary to endure the gooey pressure that continued to intensified at the base of his cock.

After focusing himself on it, his tiny frame endured several minutes of close-ranged cock-hilting and innumerable compressions of his testicles against the sex-greased exterior of Helena’s sphincter before giving out.

When it did, a spectacle was made out of the event. All of Cruz’s body weight was floored (and held) downward into a final, stomach-rending plunge of cock through intestine flesh, and a grin ill-suited for the childish face spread across his lips for all to see...
-
LOSS OF HOPE

For both Cruz and Helena, the eruption of seed from the tip of his cock represented a reward. The former was rewarded with the siphoning of cock juice from his testicles, and the latter with the knowledge that, if nothing else, serving the purpose of a fleshlight or semen dumpster was not yet beyond her.

What Helena’s release truly was went unchanged by their perception of it. In truth, a little boy had fucked an adult SEPH’s insides until his overactive erection saw fit to clog her intestines full of fresh cock juice. From another perspective, an adult caregiver had sweetly manipulated an innocent child into fulfilling her degenerate desires for the umpteenth time.

Neither Cruz nor name were aware of these truths, and had it been the case that they were, its unsavoriness would not stopped them. Their rewards felt too good, and the alternative of forgoing them in spite of all they had sacrificed to attain them would have seemed unfair.

So they indulged. Following the final slotting of Cruz’s erection into Helena’s asshole, the pair ‘bought-in’ yet again. Cruz, though physically spent and taxed by another outbreak of debilitating euphoria, did his utmost to savor the urethra-engorging surge of cock juice through his member. Similarly, Helena ‘overcame’ her sexual debilitation solely for the purpose of giving the boy above her a more satisfying release.

Just as they always did, the pair’s mixed efforts paid dividends. After a chunked blurt of mildly discolored jelly-paste leap from the tip of Cruz’s member into contact with the depths of Helena’s intestines, voluminous strands of the same eerily chewable substance wriggled their way through the boy’s member one after another. Each as lengthy as a poorly-cooked noodle and as wide as a human thumb, their streaky layering across the span of gutmeat set ahead of Cruz’s cock quickly became a sordid ‘filling’ of the organ section’s interior. From a foundation built on a half-dozen streaks of off-white, flesh-obscuring glut, their second-by second compilation began to contribute to the creation of a single rancid body of nut within Helena’s depths.

From its formation onward, it grew. In his time fucking Helena, the volume of semen welled within the root of Cruz’s erection had grown to a point of excess that even the bottomless thirst of her asshole had to consider. A half minute of the greasy seed strands basting, then fattening a fraction of her intestines into a semen-packed sausage was only the beginning. Thereafter, the strenuous discharges served only to elongate and engorge the mass until its size demanded a response from Helena’s body.

At first, the SEPH’s guts had dealt with the task thrust upon them amicably. The hooked compression of Cruz’s cocktip up through the especially well-fucked pocket of intestine meat ahead of it hadn’t made the discharge of seed into their depths any more difficult, and the substance’s congealed coalescence within them—much like melted cheese within a pliant sock—had yet to stop them from happily sucking down every drop.

Soon enough, though, something changed. Shot by horrendously glutted shot, the cock juice dumped inside her demanded more from her frame. As the caking of her intestines became a swamp-like inundation of its length, a sloshing, jizz-fed bloat appeared at her stomach to reflect this. Thus far dominated by the pipe of cockmeat still throbbing and squirting underneath the tented flesh of her abdominals, the continued outflow of nut from Cruz’s balls soon saw his cock bulge matched, then utterly exceeded by semen-bloated stomach flesh.

It was around this point in time—the transition between her asshole’s gorging itself on the Cruz’s nutrient-packed ball juice and the hole being forced-fed the substance that—Helena lost the will to hold onto any part of reality.

The first thing that went was her perception of her children. Even when Cruz’s rutting had stressed her into a fresh nosebleed, both of her hands had maintained a loose huddle of their tiny frames up against the leaking teats at her chest. Now, dogged by the same throbbing pleasure of being fucked and the animalistic satisfaction of ‘usage’ that had been bred into her species, no mental resources remained for her to pay any mind to the tots. Her grasps on their backs slackened in sequence, then completely abandoned the pair into a harmless plop onto the ground opposite her chest.

Next, she began to celebrate. Consumed by a feral bliss deemed far too degenerative for her kind as a whole, her fractured mind cobbled its functioning pieces together into something capable of speech.

The words that left her lips were the furthest thing from appropriate.

“H-Human cock juice is filling me up. A little human boy’s smelly cock juice is swelling my asshole like a used up fleshlight…♥.” coherent if hoarse, she produced these utterances more so to herself than the tooth-grit boy above her. “T-This is b-better’thn e-everything. B-Bein’ a stupid m-meat-toilet for human cock’sh th’ best♥.”

“E-Every useless p-pig in th’ world deserves t-this. We d-don’t deserve anythin’ else—w-we’re just fleshlights’n b-babymakers for people that have v-value…”

Though happily deranged in their enunciation, conviction remained apparent in her words. It was not as though the fucking and seeding provided by her trainer had pushed the slurred sentences across her tongue as a result of her stupor. She was merely reiterating facts that her experience had made to shine truer and brighter than they had before.

Coaxed by the warmth of their light, she continued to deny the world around her. Alarmingly privy to the limits of her position, her cobbled psyche flicked her eyes down to gaze at the boy above her and willed her lips to speak to him.

“T-That’s the way that i-it should be, right, C-Cruz?” suggested, lidded eyes searching the boy’s features for emotions. “ Fucking animals like me d-don’t deserve anything m-more than this. T-That’s why you fucked my asshole like this, isn’t it? You wanted to make my useless sow guts s-suck out all of your baby juice regardless of what it would do to me…”

Still very much entranced by the latter stages of his release, Cruz did not respond to the SEPH’s questions with words. As she produced them, his mind remained focused on the same two tasks that had motivated him to this point: making use of Helena for her own sake and enjoying himself whilst doing it.

With these in mind, words could never suffice as his response to her. Instead, he braced his trembling palms more tightly against her hip curvature, and pushed his still-growing legs from out of their taxing squat. Together, these acts saw to a slow and semen-mired extraction of hic cock from out of Helena’s convulsing shithole. For every inch extracted, a muddy burble of discolored cock juice rose to many a *BLURP* inducing discharge from the edges of her fattened sphincter (the foremost of which lewdly drenched the face of Helena’s cunt with a clotted back draft of nut).

As soon as his length was free from the cratered hole, Cruz stepped forward and squatted again. Here, he braced his dominant hand into a partial compression of his cock’s midsection and began stroking at the region to see every strand of semen still packed within his balls messily yoked out against Helena’s face. In doing so, pudgy streaks of nut were drawn across both of her eyes and a single, cheek-spanning dollop was dumped onto her features well before his release was through.

Panting sharply throughout the effort, it was plain to see that a great deal of effort was required for the boy to produce this response whilst on his feet.

And yet, he managed it. Without protesting difficulty or allowing his fatigue to factor into his actions, he drained his balls at Helena’s expense, and completed the act by ‘cleaning’ the tip of his member off into the brightly colored hair hanging from her forehead.

Helena, as if to reward the effort, responded to this treatment with a smile so affectionate that, if only for a moment, the sex-smeared state of her features could be overlooked.

“S-Such a good boy. You understand e-everything, don’t you?” she suggested, happily. “J-Just like always, I-I want you to remember that feeling, o-okay? R-Remember what it feels like t-to use SEPH as t-they were meant t-to be, and r-remember h-how happy it makes me…”

“No matter what anyone says, no matter w-what anyone thinks—t-this is the truth. E-Every SEPH, no—every worthless b-bitch in the world would be happier like this than they would be as anything else…”

“I…promise…♥.”

Cruz heard did not hear these words as the sweetly toned babbling of a woman too unhinged to truly know what she was doing. Whilst staring at a semen-plastered face and bleeding nostril, what he perceived was the truth: one gifted to him by a woman with only his best interests at heart.

Repeated endlessly throughout his time with the woman, this iteration was hardly a stunning revelation for him. It was merely a nail—one of a countless many driven into his mind to keep Helena’s truth rooted to his core.

There this truth would remain until another displaced it…

If another replaced it.
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