Fina's revenge (18+)

Mirielle was still bent over the counter, thighs slick, chest heaving, her hair clinging to the sweat on her neck. Her moans were fading into soft whimpers now, her body twitching in the aftershocks of her first-ever orgasm.

Allen stood behind her, bare from the waist down, his cock already rock hard—and now?

Now he was ready to take things further.

___

[Skill Activated: Penis Enlargement (Advanced)]

Calibrating user preference...

Orc-tier selected. Girth and length increasing...

Warning: Not compatible with average mortal expectations.

Proceed?

___

[Yes.]

___

Allen groaned as the skill surged through him—his cock throbbing, swelling thicker with each pulse. His shaft lengthened past human proportions, the girth pushing his hand apart as he gripped it. Veins stood out along the darkened shaft, the head flared and leaking precum like a faucet.

It looked brutal.

It looked wrong.

And it looked fucking perfect.

Mirielle turned her head weakly, catching a glimpse—and froze.

Her lips parted. "W-what the hell is *that*?"

Allen just grinned, stroking the beast slowly in his hand. "That's what a real cock looks like, sweetheart. The kind your husband could never dream of giving you."

Her eyes were locked on it, wide and terrified—but her thighs squeezed together again. Her pussy clenched around nothing.

"Th-that won't fit," she whispered.

Allen stepped forward, letting the blunt, drooling head rub against her still-spread folds.

"We'll make it fit," he said.

She whimpered.

He leaned in, growling in her ear. "You came for the first time tonight. Now I'm going to *fuck* that pussy like it's mine."

He pushed.

The tip barely slipped in—and she cried out, gripping the counter again.

"Oh fuck—Allen—"

"Shhh, breathe."

Another inch.

Her pussy stretched, trying to accommodate the impossible girth. Her walls clenched down, spasming already from the pressure.

Allen gritted his teeth, going slow—not because he was gentle, but because her tight, twitching cunt was trying to swallow him whole and fighting every inch.

"Fuuuck, you're tight," he growled. "Like you were saving this pussy for me all along."

She was panting now, moaning and crying—but she wasn't saying no.

Her hips pushed back.

"Please," she whimpered. "Just—just do it—"

He slammed forward.

Her scream echoed through the house.

Allen bottomed out—barely. Her walls stretched to the limit around the orc-sized cock now buried inside her. She shook like a leaf, body wracked with too many sensations all at once.

"I'm splitting you in half," he groaned, hips grinding against her ass. "And you're fucking loving it."

She was.

Her pussy pulsed around him, her legs trembling as another orgasm crashed into her just from being stuffed so deep. Her screams became moans, moans became sobs, and those sobs twisted right back into *begging*.

He started thrusting.

Slow at first. Each pull dragged that thick cock against her sensitive walls, and each thrust shoved it back in, deeper than she thought possible. Her juices dripped down her thighs. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the kitchen with wet, obscene music.

"Say it," Allen growled, fucking her harder. "Say whose cock this is."

"Y-yours!" she sobbed. "It's yours, Allen! Your cock—just don't stop—!"

Her husband was still passed out on the floor.

And his wife was being bred on the kitchen counter by a stranger with a monster cock.

Allen wrapped his hand around her waist and fucked her harder—like he was going to leave her gaping for days, like he was rewriting her body's memory of sex one brutal thrust at a time.

And then—

Outside, hidden behind the cracked kitchen window, Fina licked her lips.

She saw everything.

And the smile on her face?

Wicked.

Because once Allen was done with that pussy… it would be her turn to punish that cheating little housewife.

Mirielle was wrecked.

She was draped over the kitchen counter, sweaty and limp, her pussy gaping slightly from the brutal stretch of Allen's orc-sized cock. Her thighs were sticky. Her moans had died into breathless whimpers. She couldn't even lift her head.

She had no idea the night was just getting started.

From the front door came a soft click.

Allen looked up, smirking.

"Well, look who showed up right on time."

Barefoot and grinning like a demon, Fina slipped into the house, her feathered skirt bouncing with every step. She moved with zero shame, her golden eyes scanning the scene—the passed-out husband, the twitching wife, the cum-dripping cock still glistening between Allen's legs.

"Ohhh, she really let you put it in," Fina purred, circling them like a lioness around prey.

Mirielle stirred, head turning slightly.

"Wait... who...?"

Fina leaned over the counter, right in Mirielle's face, her smile predatory. "Hey there, Miss High-and-Mighty. Remember me? The 'disgusting beastkin' you turned your nose up at in town?"

Mirielle's lips trembled. "I—"

Fina dropped something soft onto the counter beside her.

A bundle of green leaves. Light, fuzzy. Innocent-looking.

Except they weren't.

Allen chuckled. "You brought the Itching Leaf."

"Oh, I brought the good batch," Fina said, tail swishing with excitement. "The kind that made Mirka rethink her entire existence when we rubbed it between her thighs."

Mirielle tried to push herself up—but Allen's strong hand pressed gently against her lower back, keeping her in place.

"You're not going anywhere," he said coolly. "You're still mine."

Fina leaned closer, her claws brushing a lock of sweat-damp hair behind Mirielle's ear.

"I watched you get split open, darling," she whispered, voice like poisoned honey. "I watched you scream for Allen's cock like a starving whore. And now, you're gonna learn what happens to women who look down on beastkin."

She plucked a leaf from the bundle and rolled it between her fingers—activating the fine, irritating hairs that released a stinging warmth on contact.

Then, without warning—

She slid it between Mirielle's ass cheeks.

"Ahh—!" Mirielle squealed, body jolting. "What—what is that?!"

Fina grinned wider. "It's just nature, babe. It's about to make your pretty little holes tingle in ways you've never felt."

Allen just leaned on the counter, stroking his still-hard cock lazily, watching the show.

Fina wasn't gentle.

She spread Mirielle's legs wider and rubbed another leaf between her inner thighs, then across her freshly-fucked pussy lips. The reaction was instant.

Mirielle screamed—again—this time in confusion and building discomfort.

"It burns!" she cried. "What is this?!"

Fina laughed. "Oh, honey. You're so lucky. This stuff gets stronger the wetter you are. And your slutty pussy's like a swamp right now."

The itch was maddening—an intense, crawling tingle that spread like wildfire across every sensitive fold and crevice. Mirielle thrashed, rubbing her thighs together desperately.

"N-no! It—it's too much! I can't—!"

"You're gonna take it," Fina snapped. "Just like you took his cock. Let that slutty body remember."

Allen stepped forward again, sliding his cock between Mirielle's thighs, not even pushing in—just letting her feel the heat of it, brushing against her itching folds. She sobbed, squirming, the need to relieve the sensation mixing with the arousal she couldn't stop feeling.

It was torture.

Delicious, humiliating, perfect torture.

Fina crouched beside her again, whispering, "You don't get to look down on beastkin anymore, slut. You belong to us now. You'll crave Allen's cock, and you'll beg for me to scratch that itch the way your limp-dick husband never could."

Allen raised a brow. "You want to fuck her next?"

Fina smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just ride your face while she watches."

Mirielle could barely think anymore—caught between burning shame, overwhelming itch, and the lingering stretch of Allen's monstrous cock. She was crying again, but her hips kept twitching, grinding, searching.

"Please," she gasped. "I can't take it—please, do something—"

Allen and Fina exchanged a glance.

"Oh, we'll do something," Allen said, gripping her hips again.

"And this time," Fina purred, climbing onto the counter to sit beside her, "you better thank us for it."

——

Mirielle was a mess.

Her legs trembled beneath her, the burn of the Itching Leaf still buzzing between her thighs like a cruel reminder of her place. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Sweat clung to her skin, her hair stuck to her cheeks, and her pussy still twitched from the way Allen had *ruined* it minutes ago.

And yet—she was still dripping.

Still bent over.

Still needing.

Allen stood behind her, cock still hard, his hand lazily stroking her raw, stretched pussy lips while Fina sat cross-legged on the counter like a queen, watching the woman tremble and degrade herself.

"Look at you," Fina purred. "Human housewife turned cum-drunk fuckpet. Was the itch that bad? Or is Allen's cock just that good?"

Mirielle whimpered.

"Answer her," Allen growled, slapping her ass.

"Y-yes," she gasped. "It's—it's that good…"

Fina leaned down, claws tracing the woman's flushed cheek. "Then say it."

Mirielle blinked up at her, dazed. "S-say what?"

Fina smiled wickedly. "Repeat after me. 'I won't discriminate against beastkin ever again.'"

Mirielle hesitated. Fina narrowed her eyes.

"Say it."

"I—I won't discriminate against beastkin ever again…"

Fina grinned. "Good girl. Now say, 'I belong to Allen and Fina.'"

Mirielle's voice cracked, but she obeyed. "I belong to Allen and Fina…"

Allen slid the thick head of his cock between her folds again, grinding without pushing in.

"Louder."

"I BELONG TO ALLEN AND FINA!"

Fina tilted her head playfully. "Say you're our slave."

"I'm your slave," Mirielle moaned, her voice shaking with arousal and shame. "I'm your property… please…"

Fina giggled, then grabbed a fistful of Mirielle's hair and yanked her head up to meet her eyes.

"Then tell me, slut. How's my man's cock feel compared to your husband's limp, useless noodle?"

Mirielle's eyes glazed over. Her lips quivered. And then she broke.

"It's better! It's thicker—deeper—he makes me feel things—my husband never—never—!"

Allen shoved back inside her, burying his cock all the way again with one smooth thrust.

She screamed in pleasure.

"Gods—yes—! I'm yours! I'm your slut! I'll do anything, just don't stop—!"

Fina moaned softly, reaching down to rub her own dripping slit through the soft fluff of her skirt. "Mmm… she's broken. I love when they break."

Allen didn't slow down.

He fucked her harder, hands gripping her hips like reins, pulling her back into every thrust as Mirielle sobbed and moaned through her submission.

Fina leaned down again, whispering hot against her ear.

"You're gonna clean my pussy with that mouth when we're done. And you're going to *thank* us for saving you from your pathetic life."

Mirielle could barely respond—she just nodded, gasping, crying, coming again around Allen's massive cock.

Owned.

Ruined.

Slave.

And the best part?

Her husband was still passed out five feet away.

Morning light filtered in through the cracks in the shutters. The little kitchen was still a mess—clothes scattered, a chair knocked over, the faint smell of sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air.

Mirielle lay sprawled across the floor, her body a glistening display of exhaustion and pleasure. Her thighs were sticky, her neck marked with fresh bites. Allen had finally let her collapse after what felt like hours of being stuffed, stretched, and used. Her whole body trembled with little aftershocks, and yet—she was smiling.

No, not just smiling.

Laughing.

She let out a breathless giggle, her hand lazily covering her eyes. "Heh… haha… gods… I can't… I can't ever have normal sex again…"

Fina, curled up on the counter nibbling a dried fruit strip, raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Oh?"

Mirielle laughed harder now, her face flushed red as she tilted her head toward Allen—who was sipping from a mug of water, completely naked and not even pretending to hide the beast between his legs. "I mean—look at that thing! That's not a dick, it's a weapon!"

Allen just grinned. "You took it like a champ."

She let out a dreamy sigh, fingers lightly grazing her sore, stretched pussy lips. "No… no, I took it like a whore. Like a broken little bitch who didn't know she could cum like that."

Fina hopped down and crouched beside her, giving her a light pat on the cheek. "You sound happy."

"I am," Mirielle said, still giggling, voice light with delirious ecstasy. "You know what I used to think during sex? That maybe I was just broken. That maybe something was wrong with me. But nope. Turns out my husband just has the sexual energy of a dying squirrel."

Allen nearly spit out his water.

"And now?" she went on, eyes glazed and blissful. "I got split open by orc-cock, slapped with itching leaves, made to say humiliating things, and you still haven't fucked the last bit of sense outta me."

Fina leaned in, grinning wide. "Oh, we're not done, princess. Not even close."

Allen set down his mug, crouching behind her again, his cock already getting hard again just from hearing her ramble.

Mirielle's smile widened as she looked back at him. "You gonna fuck me stupid again, Allen?"

He gave her a lazy nod. "You're not already stupid?"

She laughed so hard she snorted. "Gods, I love you freaks."

Fina gave her a playful slap on the ass. "Good. Because you're ours now. No going back to missionary Mondays with limp-dick Harven."

Mirielle just grinned, legs spreading without even thinking. "Missionary? Pfft. I'm over here trying to figure out if I can walk after getting rearranged like an alphabet puzzle."

Allen cracked his knuckles, stepping closer again. "Let's find out."