Alternative Solutions - Part 6 (Commission for Drash)

TAGS: M/F, Breeding/Breed Frenzy, Growth/Expansion, Hyper, Multi, Mutation/Rampant Mutation, Macro/Macro Growth

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No one else got to experience Drash in that manner, only herself… which meant her body needed to change to better fit what was going to happen to her. She hadn’t actually seen the drake yet, but the two of them being inextricably linked meant their forms began to synch, no need for visual confirmation; if Drash had four cocks, then clearly she needed four cunts to accept them, each one puffier than any other dragoness’, each one immense and ready to take the sort of monster that the drake had hanging between his legs. If Drash had eight nuts ready to blast her insides with seed, then clearly Sheyla needed to attach eight wombs to each slit, just to make sure she made the best out of any breeding. And if Drash was supposed to be there already, then why was she in the bathroom? Why wasn’t she outside, where she could make herself known to the world and attract everyone’s attention? At least then, she could be sure the drake would see her whenever he bothered to show up, even if it did cause plenty of folk to come crawling out of the woodwork just to gawk at her. So many little ones, so many second-rate males who dreamt they might reach the breeding potential that Drash did, all of them looking so utterly terrified by her sudden emergence from the pile of rubble she’d turned the bathroom into; so curious that they would appear so surprised, when clearly this was just the way she was always meant to be. Did they expect her to remain tiny and insignificant her whole life? Worse yet, did they think themselves capable of holding a candle to the sort of stuffing that Sheyla knew only Drash could give her? Perverts, the lot of them, to think that she would ever let them anywhere close to her glorious body, when she had the most perfect breeding drake she could ask for… somewhere outside, she wasn’t sure. Only one way to know for certain: walking out of the front door of the university’s main building, which allowed Sheyla to see a large crowd congregating around a rather large, rather imposing, and impressively multi-dicked dragon of a size far greater than those around him. With a sigh of relief, the dragoness at last knew that Drash hadn’t forgotten about her, and even though none of the words she wanted to say to him really came out, or could come out, that didn’t stop her from moving on closer towards the drake, dragging her immense self as she did so. It was surprisingly difficult the closer she got; not only was her posture definitely broken in some manner, with her spine forcibly trying to place itself in an horizontal configuration for some reason, but her belly became even more laden than before, all without a single egg to fill it with. A latent effect of the viral agent, where close proximity to another affected by it sent the mutation process into overdrive; just as Drash suddenly felt a lot tighter around his cock and balls, so too did Sheyla feel her insides begin to warm up in preparation for the biggest breeding yet. Away from her eyesight, hidden away from the world, her eight wombs per cunt further split into sixteen, further bloating her gut to a gargantuan size, each one serviced by two dozen or so ovaries on either side, for a grand total of nearly fifty smaller egg factories. “Smaller”, purely by virtue of comparison; it was easy for said ovaries to be “small” when compared to the wombs they were flooding with egg cells, but not so easy for anyone else to call them as such, given that each one was so swollen and bloated that it could be seen pushing against Sheyla’s skin from the inside. A near-endless line of bumps across her distended midriff, each one ready to unleash billions upon billions of cells ready to be fertilized, each one waiting for the slightest excuse to multiply further. And in front of her, a colossus of breeding, a true dragon whose form exuded raw sexual energy, one that she’d gone hours without seeing and only then realized how painful it had been; all the pent-up frustration, all the annoyance, all the anger, all of it vanished the moment she laid eyes on Drash… and promptly turned around to offer him her many slits. By then, even though she hadn’t noticed, her tentacles had multiplied even further, in addition to thickening considerably now that they had more room to work with, standing in stark contrast to Drash’s thinner ones. After all, his had to compete for space with his cocks, while the dragoness had pretty much nothing but empty room down there, at least until one of said dicks came around to fill her; thus, her tentacles were thicker, yet also far more under her control, at least to a certain degree. She could, theoretically, move them in a conscious manner that didn’t immediately lead to her further arousal, but at that point in time, the only thing she could think to do was to have those things swing around and start wrapping around her tits, pushing and pulling as if to milk her; this caused a deluge of cream to spurt forth, thoroughly flooding the entrance to campus and leaving the ground around her coated even further in a thick and thickening layer of lactic bliss, all while keeping a few tendrils reserved for whenever Drash decided to take up the mantle of breeder and properly throw himself into the ring like he should have already. The drake, for his part, didn’t resist for much longer; he barely had time to see the dragoness of his dreams show up from within campus before she was presenting, and the moment he noticed the multiple slits waiting for him was the same one he automatically plunged forward, no longer thinking, no longer worrying about the consequences. All he wanted was to feel his tips buried inside Sheyla, to have his lengths engulfed in her warmth, her tightness, capped off by a variety of tentacles wrapping themselves around his cock and pulling them in deeper, almost keeping him from pulling out if not for his own animalistic strength. It was the last straw that broke what remained of his more civilized self; after battling against the viral agent’s effects ever since he woke up, it was clear to him that he was destined to turn into a true beast, one that better reflected his role as a primal, species-wide breeder more than anything else. Thus, he no longer needed to stand on two legs; indeed, to do so would rob him of precious leverage when he could have four sets of claws dug into the ground, or have his entire body thrown atop his beloved dragoness’, letting gravity do most of the work. Not that he bothered to think about this; it was doubtful that Drash even had the mental capacity to think about it, given that all he could see were four slits in desperate need of filling. So he moved forward, heaving himself onto and into Sheyla, feeling as her insides welcomed his quad of cocks with such excitement that it was basically impossible for him to hold back; after hours of being away from her, Drash almost immediately unloaded, not so much painting the dragoness’ insides white as he did plaster them completely, leaving very little space in between his shafts and the colossal amounts of seed that each one produced. Yet, this wasn’t the end; far from it, in fact. It was an initial relief, that much they both knew, especially when Sheyla’s tentacles refused to let go of her lover’s dicks no matter how much he tried to pull them out to get ready for another thrust. It was imperative that he feel her body do what it did best, that being producing eggs; Drash needed to know what it was like to have a hyperactive, hyper-fertile babymaker such as herself being given so much cum to work with, especially now that her body had been refined to the point where it could be bred and have the eggs be ready for laying in a matter of seconds, down from hours. Indeed, it didn’t take long before Drash felt his cock being smushed on all sides by a mass of ovals coalescing from his seed, a mass that actually came closer and closer to his base as the amount of space within each of Sheyla’s wombs quickly ran out. Thankfully, finally getting some release allowed the drake’s rods to soften up just enough to not completely plug the dragoness up, and while it took some effort on both her part and the part of her tentacles, the extra room was enough to get her to vent the first true batch of eggs. A single release, even if a quadrupled one, and already her load of five hundred was put to shame when every single one of her wombs easily produced at least double that much; thousands upon thousands of eggs, clacking down onto the ground, filling all space around the two lovers and only egging Drash further on the route to mindless self-indulgence. After all, if this was what he accomplished with an emergency relief climax, he could only imagine what he could do if he actually put his back into it… though, of course, he didn’t have to imagine it. He was right there, there was nothing stopping him from just railing Sheyla until the day was over, so… he did. As soon as he noticed the last of the eggs were out, he sank back in, all four of his cocks immediately hardening back to full girth as a result. He didn’t care that he was setting the both of them up for further growth and mutation; hell, he could feel his eight balls starting to rumble and multiply already, getting ready to transform into sixteen, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. More nuts meant more cum, more potent cum, better and more voluminous seed to pump into a set of wombs that only grew more numerous with each load that he dumped into the dragoness. In fact, why stop there? Why not sprout even more cocks while he was at it? Sheyla could clearly take him, so why not turn his quad into an octet, stretching his slit out and producing yet more tentacles as four more dicks blossomed from within him, quickly followed by the dragoness’ body sprouting an equal number of cunts, each one with their own set of thirty-two wombs (had to keep up with the number of balls on Drash, after all), each one, by that point, fuelled by hundreds of ovaries each. It was the difference between eclipsing her former productivity and making it be entirely irrelevant by comparison; if she could make a thousand or so eggs per load in each of her wombs before, now Sheyla could probably accomplish that much on a single drop… and there were plenty of those to go around once Drash finally got around to pistoning into her properly. So madly he did so, in fact, that he once again failed to notice the changes being wrought to his form, as he finalized his transformation into a proper breeding dragon; he’d already unfurled his wings, his spine had already begun to bend, thus, all that was left was rearranging his skeletal structure so he’d at long last adopt the quadrupedal form the viral agent best worked with. Only then, when he turned into a true beast of breeding, would he be able to unlock the full potential of the synthetic virus running rampant throughout his body. And as he did so, so too did the dragoness’ body shift and change in accordance; it was no longer about fucking or being together, it was about the breeding. The act had become an end in and of itself, something to be done purely for its own sake, as a result of the viral agent uncontrollably mutating to the point where it completely lost its original function… or rather, it had taken this mission and turned it up to eleven and beyond, transforming both Drash and Sheyla into two entities whose sole purpose was to birth new life. The dragon would pump and thrust and piston and jackhammer into the dragoness, and the latter would take it all, turn it into eggs, then use the few moments of respite in between climaxes to push out the next clutch, the size of which only grew more absurd with each cycle. It was almost quaint to think that she once thought a couple of dozen eggs qualified as “a lot”, when, past a certain point, Sheyla couldn’t even consider the possibility of laying anything less than a few tens of thousands, and even then this was a benchmark that wouldn’t remain stable for longer than a few minutes or so before it went into the six digit, bordering on seven. Their bodies were, after all, designed purely for the act of breeding and being bred, and as a result, all non-essential functions were gradually phased out in favour of the reproductive system and its ancillary processes. Speech? Irrelevant; all they needed was grunting to let one another know whether they were about to cum or needed another filling. A bipedal stance? Wasteful; best if their skeletal structures were properly rearranged to better fit the sort of arrangement that the virus was originally designed for, allowing them to use their increased mass to truly resemble the dragons of legend. Any thought process other than the ones built entirely for arousal and libido? A literal waste of energy; it was far better for both Sheyla and Drash to instead have their minds focused entirely on fucking and absolutely nothing else. The end result was, of course, their transformation into something entirely unrecognizable, at least to those who’d known them before: though Sheyla had always been open about her sexuality, she would eventually become little more than a rotund, perpetually gravid belly whose insides were stuffed with an increasingly higher number of wombs; dozens became hundreds, stacked up against one another and competing for space inside a body that tried its best to keep up with the demand. Hundreds became thousands, each one more than capable of producing tens of thousands of eggs per clutch, each clutch delivered with every single one of the dragon’s loads. Add to that an array of ovaries that almost seemed to multiply as quickly as the egg cells they produced and released, and it was entirely unsurprising that Sheyla would turn into more belly than dragoness in very short order. Indeed, most of her body weight came from her wombs alone, pushed up against one another as the outside of her gut was pockmarked by ovaries that had rapidly reached a size large enough to compete with most fully grown adults; by the time the two of them had filled the campus, Sheyla had broken the ten thousand line, five whole digits’ worth of wombs within her, each one coupled with a thousand or so ovaries as a halo of sorts. And Drash, once so tiny and insignificant, once the punching bag for all those who thought him little more than a runt, had turned into a colossal fuck machine, one whose main body accounted for a smaller fraction of his total weight compared to the package he had attached to him. Eight cocks? He could do more; his slit could clearly distend further, so why not double up again and push out eight more, giving him a bouquet of sixteen dicks, each one lined with three rows of a dozen or so internal cum factories on each side? Hell, he could go the extra mile and multiply his actual nuts as well, since if he could do sixteen, he could do thirty two as well, where each one on their lonesome fill an entire olympic swimming pool with a single load about as easily as Drash himself had filled his bathtub the day before; given that his refractory period could be measured in mere seconds, this guaranteed that his surroundings were coated in white just from his own efforts in but minutes. But for him, this wasn’t anything special, or even out of the ordinary; it was what he wanted, to become the world’s most virile breeder, and now that he had that, he couldn’t help but feel… at home. It was what he was built to do, even if he had to swipe an experimental concoction from his mom’s laboratory; it seemed like a lifetime ago, given how much energy he’d spent on Sheyla already