Chapter Text
Then they had the SeeD exam. Finally. It felt— baffling, that a month ago he was... well, a month ago he was a virgin. Sex was a fantasy he'd have. Now he'd gotten fucked more times that he could count: dazed and half-unconscious spired on Fenrir's knot; utterly basted in hot, soupy animal cum; pinned between Fenrir's muscular haunches and Ixion's bulky flanks. Raijin had fisted him. Raijin had fisted his throat. He'd had what he'd always considered a futile little crush on Raijin for... he couldn't even remember when. For a real long time. He'd figured it was just a fantasy. It turned out the fantasy was the part where Zell nervously asked him out and he said yes; the actuality was their first time had been a brutal Guardian Force gangbang. He'd cum all over Nida's face while Raijin had been kissing him, body pressed against his, Raijin's cock heavy and slimy smeared across his side. That was what had actually happened. And it'd happened in a month. His asshole was still bloated and bruised, a huge rubbery mound that throbbed needily. Leviathan's day-long reaming, and then Ixion plowing him last night. It was—
"Zell!"
Zell jerked up in his seat, sputtering: "Huh? What, yes, I heard it, yeah." The way he was sitting and his loose shorts hid the way his stiff dick was jutting out all down his thigh. He was so glad they didn't have to wear their actual SeeD uniforms for this; those slacks were so well-tailored there was no hiding a dick imprint.
"It's our first SeeD mission!" Selphie said, hands on her hips. "It's really important!"
Zell screwed up his face. "Is it a real SeeD mission? It kinda seemed like that chick crashed the ball and Cid only decided to help her out of pity." He looked over at Squall, who was leaning against the wall of the shuttle, arms crossed.
"...It's still our assignment," Squall said, voice flat, and Zell rolled his eyes.
"I guess," Zell said, grudgingly.
So, Zell passed the exam! He was a full SeeD now! And of course he had immediately gotten assigned an incredibly long and incredibly unlikely to succeed SeeD mission out in the middle of nowhere. Looked like his inkling that he would have a lot less time to fuck around with Raijin afterwards was totally accurate.
Also, Nida had graduated too, which was— well. Standing next to him at the graduation ceremony, it was hard to stop thinking about Nida's huge donkey dick, his tongue lapping along Zell's shaft, lean body shaking under his, Raijin's heat pressed against his side. And now Nida hadn't gotten the booby assignment, which meant that he was free to hang around the Garden and, probably, irritate Raijin. Maybe Raijin would get him to take Ixion's dick, Zell thought, fleetingly, and then ducked his head, embarrassed. He was turning out just as bad as Raijin. It would be hot, though. Nida was scrawny enough that he really would look like a toy cocksheath for Ixion: horse dick bulging out his belly, reshaping everything, flare imprint clear under his bellybutton.
Last night Raijin had celebrated Zell getting a new, spacious SeeD dorm room by managing to cram Ixion in there. Zell's hole had been throbbing through his deadly exam mission the entire time, even with the magical healing he'd put it through beforehand, and having the bulging, rubbery swell of his asshole pried right open again, plowing him deep with Ixion's enormous horsecock, had left him a sobbing, mewling mess. It hadn't stopped him from begging Raijin to fist out the cum inside him, a soupy slurry of Leviathan's old cum mixed with Ixion's fresh load. Thinking about that made his guts shudder, hole reflexively yawning open with a burning pang, and Zell had to shift his weight again to stop his hard dick from tenting out his shorts.
They were on the shuttle to Balamb town, where they'd be getting train tickets off the island, to Timber, and then they'd be on their own. Officially SeeDs on a mission.
Zell wasn't entirely sex-dumb. He'd spent the morning restructuring his junctions, getting everything in tip-top shape, and only doing a little last-minute fantasizing and jerking off thinking about getting split open by Ixion and Fenrir again. The real thing was— the shuttle hit a pothole, bouncing him on his bloated, rubbery asshole. Zell's cock flexed hard, smearing across the inner fabric of his shorts through the stretched material of his boxer-briefs. The drag against his foreskin-sheathed cockhead was intense, and his dick pulsed, again, again, again, wetly gushing out messy cords of cum that seeped down his cock and sluggishly soaked through the stretched fabric to smear across his thigh before slowly oozing down, liquid and heavy. Zell grit his teeth to stifle his shaky whimper. Well. The real thing was something that should maybe wait until they were on the train and he had a little privacy.
Balamb town was just a quick rush-through: off the shuttle, down the street, get their reserved tickets, on the train. Then the clunk of the car latches engaging, and the jolt of the engine starting, and they were off. The outside was plunged into darkness as they entered the undersea tunnel, where they were gonna remain for the next several hours before they emerged on the other side.
"I'm gonna take a nap," Zell said, convincingly, as he stood up and stretched.
The car they were in had a set of berths along the side wall: one on top of the other, with a ladder on one side to get up to the upper one. Zell lay down on the lower bunk: wide enough for one person, maybe two if they were fucking, with just enough space above him to outstretch his arm and lay his hand flat against the curved ceiling. There was, mercifully, a privacy curtain along the side that he drew out across the bunk, plunging him into near-darkness.
The real thing was a conversation he'd been putting off for, well, a solid month.
"Uh, so, Kujata," Zell sent out, into his mental space. There was an answering shudder, the sense-impression of Kujata's huge bulk lifting up and shaking awake.
Now, after— everything, it was impossible to deny the heated jolt of arousal, of need, that shot through him: Kujata's presence brought with it the sensation of his flanks heaving, muscle shifting, the raw animal strength under his hairy hide; hooves stomping the ground with brutal force. The power flowing through his body, tightly marshaled, braced for his overwhelming charge. And now, of course, Kujata could feel that from Zell, communicated through their link: need, lust, desire. There was a reason Zell had been putting this off.
"Student," Kujata said in response, acknowledging him. Perfectly professional: not Fenrir's overt desires or Ixion's hungry sleaze. His voice was deep, resonant, with an animal burr. Even just in Zell's mind, it buzzed through his bones and, unfortunately, straight to his cock.
"Uh, full SeeD now, actually!" Zell said, trying to— well, trying to not think of the way Kujata's enormous balls sagged between his haunches, the way how now he had firsthand experience wrapping his arms around an enormous sac, face mashed against an unsheathing dick, coaxing and squeezing until he got a full-body shower of rank monster cum. Kujata's balls were way bigger then Fenrir's or Ixion's. How big would his load be?
Zell wasn't very good at redirecting his thoughts. "I thought we could, um," he started. "Touch base? About? Expectations?" Unlike Fenrir, a wild esper, Kujata was— tame. The faculty had told him, when he'd been assigned, that Kujata was a particularly placid and agreeable GF. Not formal, exactly. But well-versed in the expectations Balamb Garden had for a modern SeeD. A good starter GF. Kujata had read the guidebook and, presumably, knew all about the prohibition on fraternizing with GFs. The rule really began much before outright fucking your GF. SeeD were supposed to have an impersonal, impartial relationship with their GFs. Just a mutually-beneficial arrangement: the SeeD got the overwhelming power of the GF, and the GF got to absorb excess paramagical energy generated by their fights. Fucking didn't have to come into it at all.
"You have done well. Not many SeeD candidates pass on their first exam." Zell couldn't contain the shudder that ran through his body from Kujata's voice. His dick ached, still-hard, tacky cum crusty and itchy across his thigh. In the privacy of the bunk, he reached down and squeezed his cock, other arm flung across his face, bicep muffling the shaky moan that ripped its way up his throat.
"Um," Zell said. "About Fenrir?" The thought was more an inchoate mess: I've been fucking Fenrir. You won't tell, right? He's so fucking hot. I can't believe Raijin is fucking Ixion too. This is all so against SeeD regulations. They're gonna find out and expel me on my first mission and some masked Garden employee is gonna explain all about how I'm a slut for monster cock to Squall and Selphie while I'm right there. I need it so much. Fenrir's knot is so huge. I don't know if I want to jerk off without something huge in my ass. I can't believe all of this is happening. Your balls are so fucking big; I want to suck on your huge leathery ballsac and drink down your musky sweat.
"You have certainly been an unusual student," Kujata said, unflappable, while Zell tried to think if there was any way to crawl into a hole and hide from somebody he was sharing a brain with. He just couldn't stop his torrent of desires from flooding through the link. It was like he was kneeling in front of Kujata, naked and trembling, hard, begging to let him worship his huge, pendulous balls, to shove his face into his spicy, heady sheath. Zell was beet red with embarrassment, hips reflexively jerking up to grind his cock against the heel of his hand.
Oh fuck I want to suck on your balls so much. I've always wanted to since the first time I summoned you. Fuck, please, please, please. It wasn't even vocal, just a crashing wave of want. Zell sobbed into his arm, hips jerking, and came in his shorts for the second time in as many hours.
Kujata snorted, amused. "I had been waiting for you to ask," he said. A certain feeling swam back through their connection: Kujata was amused and indulgent at the antics of the student he'd been assigned. A little surprised at just how cockthirsty he'd become. Maybe a little affronted at how Zell'd been more willing to fuck some mysterious esper he'd found beneath the Garden than ask his loyal assigned GF.
He wasn't stoic, he was lazy. Too lazy to get his dick sucked without somebody else doing all the work!
Some measure of Zell's affronted surprise made it through the link; Kujata let out a snorting chuckle. Kujata had all the time in the world to get his dick sucked. No point in rushing it. The anticipation made the build-up hotter. He'd been saving up a fat, greasy load of boar cum for Zell for as long as he'd been assigned. Oh, he'd noticed. That surge of desire the first time Zell had summoned him had been impossible to miss. Seeing just how long it would take Zell to break had been part of the fun. Admittedly, he hadn't anticipated Fenrir diverting most of that desire.
Zell, meanwhile: did that mean I could've been getting triple-fucked by GFs this past month?! Raijin would've been seething with envy if Zell'd had two GFs he was getting fucked by, all by himself.
"Did you know about this?!" Zell squawked at Fenrir, who just responded with a smug sense of possession. He'd had an enthusiastic audience this whole time, it turned out: Kujata, fat boar dick sluggishly oozing clotted pre, watching his charge become more and more desperate for monster cock.
"That's just no fair," Zell groaned. "Come on, really?"
"Now that you've asked, it would be cruel to deny you any longer," Kujata said, more than a little smug. He knew if Zell'd asked just one day earlier, he'd have as much boar cock as he could cram down his gullet. Now he was stuck on assignment for the indeterminate future, with no privacy. Certainly not enough privacy to summon a building-sized esper.
Kujata's amusement rippled over him. "You needn't have to wait, you know," he said. "You could be worshiping my balls in minutes; there are methods."
"Now?!" Zell said, the sudden rush of need mixing with fear— he was only separated from the rest of his squad by a thin hanging curtain! But. Finally getting to press his hands into Kujata's immense sac, coarse coat bristly, heat rising off his balls— fuck, it would be worth it. "There's no; you couldn't fit in the cabin, even if it was empty," he said. That was his concern, not being caught. Ixion and Fenrir, they were roughly the size of a vehicle. A larger truck. Kujata was— well, he was a lot closer to the size of the train car itself.
There was a gusty sigh from Kujata. "I always did consider the Balamb Garden curriculum to be far to timid in this respect," he said, taking on the tone of a teacher starting up a long lecture. "This is on the subject of partial summons. This is considered — by them — an advanced summoning technique, too situational and too risky to make part of their standard suite of teachings. As far as they are considered, Guardian Force summoning is a single-moment action, to be executed when a SeeD has cover and desires to, usually, target multiple hostiles." Kujata could feel Zell's rising impatience, and if anything slowed his oration down even further. "A partial summon is highly situational, and frequently tethers the summon range to the summoner themselves, which makes it much less tactically useful than the broad area-of-effect of a standard summon."
Get to the part where you're gonna fuck me, Zell couldn't resist thinking, and he flinched a little afterwards, intensely aware that Kujata heard that. It felt a little like sticking a hand up in the middle of class and saying, so, uh, when do we get to fuck the GFs?
"A partial summons," Kujata continued as if he hadn't heard, though a little flash of smug amusement rippled down their connection. Kujata had been waiting to get his dick sucked for months, and Zell couldn't handle another five minutes? "pulls only a portion of the Guardian Force's body into phase with base reality. This is frequently useful for summons which have directed attacks, such as breath or claw attacks." There was a pregnant pause. "Your assignment today will be to partially summon only my balls. And, I suppose, my cock. That would make the situation considerably messier, although I suspect you will not take issue with that. The bunk would make a tight fit, however."
Zell flushed hot: cheeks and throat heated, a nervous tingle rippling across his chest. There was a woozy rush: there was, what, two feet of space above him? All of that, filled up with Kujata's immense balls? Bearing down on him, sinking him into the mattress, anchoring him in place. The whole bunk filled with the rich, spicy tang of Kujata's body. There was a slow, steady crawling in his shorts as his half-hard cock fattened up again, smearing through the mess of cum tangled in his leg hair.
There was a kind of poking and prodding at his junctioned senses, the same kind of weird, paramagical motion that Zell remembered from his first casting assignment. This is how to cast a spell, that is how to summon. The pressure felt like Kujata guiding his hand. Right now, it was impossible to think of it in any other way than Kujata pulling both his hands to press against his fat, sagging ballsac. That was sure as hell more motivating than an instructor marking him down as having received an exceptional merit that qualified him for the prize draw at the end of the semester.
"Just don't foul the summons," Kujata said. "The cabin would not survive my entire body being summoned. Or the train. You'd have quite the excuse to make to your squad members."
Zell was so desperate for it he felt woozy. There was the extradimensional pull of summoning, but somehow less, and more focused. Between his hands, there was the characteristic shimmer-and-ripple of a summoning, ghostly flesh budding out of nowhere, spilling out into reality, but instead of Fenrir's helixed horns or Kujata's bristly mane piercing through first, it was—
Kujata's sac lurched out, slamming down against his chest and knocking his breath from his lungs in a shaky whoof that he desperately hoped nobody heard. It was one thing to get caught groping himself in the train berth: embarrassing, but not that bad. Getting caught with Kujata's sac draped over him was something entirely different.
One enormous ball, boulder-like, lolled to the side, down over his hip, while the other shoved up across his shoulder, stretching out Kujata's loose sacflesh over his chest, slowly rippling in thick furrows all across Zell's front. The sheer bulk of Kujata's balls crushed him down into the mattress, pinning him in place. Each one was broader than his torso, almost perfectly spherical, and their cannonball weight sunk him down into the bunk's mattress as their tops nearly wedged in place against the ceiling of the bunk. Kujata hadn't been kidding about it being a tight fit. Zell was pinned between the two giant boar balls.
Zell moaned, hoping the sound was muffled, as Kujata's heavy sacflesh spilled in heavy folds across his cheeks, over his chin, pinning his face between its heavy folds. Zell panted, fast and shaky breath billowing musk-laden puffs of air back across his sweaty face. The scented air sizzled down into his lungs, turning into a hot flush that billowed through his entire body. He opened his mouth wide, and drooping rolls of sacflesh slurped inside: spicy, salt-sour with a thick, savory taste of meat, drenched in rank animal tang. He mindlessly scraped his mouth over Kujata's stubbled coat, lips raw, tongue burning with the acrid tang: spicy musk rank and heavy, sour as he sucked the taste right off Kujata's leathery hide.
Zell was hot, sweating, and the added heat of Kujata's sac heated the bunk to scorching instantly. Thick, tangy boar musk filled the air: spicy, sour, meaty.
Kujata's sacflesh was thick and heavy, coated in stiff, bristly fur that rasped against Zell's palms as he dug in, tugging and twisting, feeling the leathery folds furrow and clench, feeling spit-slick flesh slide across his face. The fat, squiggling cords filling Kujata's sac squirmed over his chest like snakes, and Zell blindly groped for one, hands sinking wrist-deep inside Kujata's folded sac before he caught one through his hide. The cord twisted against his hands, jerking and squirming: a wrist-thick pipe, dense and heavy wrestling against Zell's grip. When he dug in, he could feel the churn through it: thick, jelly-like ooze, tightly-packed sperm, slowly working its way up from Kujata's balls. His bulging sac was packed full, zig-zagging lines filling up the space inside, adding mounded lumps that had nothing to do with his boulder-like balls.
There was a wrenching deep in Zell's gut, a desperate need, and he yanked further on the summon. Kujata's sheath slurped out into existence, smacking down over his balls with a meaty crack, burying Zell deeper under the boar's massive, drooping genitals. Compared to his sac, his sheath was modest: a torso-sized mound of wrinkled flesh that wobbled between his splayed balls, pinned there against the roof of the bunk. Zell smeared his face along his drool-glazed flesh until he peeled free from the enshrouding folds of his sac and could bury his face along the crook between his sheath and balls. Damp skin oozed across Zell's neck, spilling over his cheek, and he sucked in one breath, rich with spicy musk, before Kujata's sagging sheath smacked down over his head. He blindly rooted against it, hands groping and squeezing along dense flesh, until the slick, slimy tip mashed right against his face, halfway sucking his head inside.
Zell's own dick was stiff in his shorts, pinned under the anchoring weight of Kujata's sac. He rutted up, having nowhere near enough leverage to toss Kujata's sac off him, even if it had anywhere to go. His cock ground against Kujata's sac, pressure and heat bearing down against him. Then Kujata's sheath shuddered, pulpy flesh peeling apart, and wet rolls of musk-ridden flesh mashed against his face: slimy, slick, intensely hot, the pure taste from his sheath a hundred times as intense as the taste of his balls. Zell came, just from that: eyes rolling back in his head, hips uselessly jerking against the anchoring weight of Kujata's balls, cock spilling out what felt like the half-dozenth load of the morning. He shuddered, gasps and moans thankfully muffled by the slimy cocoon of sheathflesh smeared around his head. His cock jerked, lurching hard down one leg of his shorts, cum gushing out of him in splurt after splurt.
Kujata tasted... rank, gamy, sour-bitter. Nothing like Ixion's sweet grass-tasting seed, or Fenrir's faintly salty murk. Kujata's sheath was rank with musk, so intense it burnt his nose when he inhaled. His breath blew into it, air popping and slurping inside, and then blew back, forced out by muscular contractions deep inside, reeking of his animal flesh. Zell squeezed his eyes shut, body convulsing, and came again. He sucked globs of congealed sludge off the inner walls of Kujata's sheath with his scraped-raw lips, sound all sloppy and squelching in his ears as his head sunk deeper inside, sheathflesh piling up around his shoulders.
Kujata's cocktip mashed against his open mouth with a meaty thwack, like being smacked over the head with a club. His grimy flesh scraped across Zell's tongue, and the flood of heady, sour pre made his mouth flood with drool. He whimpered and sobbed, lips pursing around Kutata's fist-sized cocktip. His cocktip was smooth and rubbery, flesh coated in fat clots of rubbery old cum. There was a ripple up his shaft, lurching against his lips, and then a messy gush of pre erupted straight into his mouth: enough to cake every inch of inside, to bloat his cheeks. Zell swallowed, dazed, everything else already fading away into the renewed heat, the need to be used, to be bred.
Kujata's cocktip was a huge blunt point, shaft already faintly corkscrewed up. Zell was well-trained now; it was easy to open wide, feeling the catch when his jaw muscles met their limit, and then push-and-twist faintly, using Kujata's cockhead as a lever to pop his jaw from its socket, letting his mouth gape open wider so the enormous boar dick could actually fit inside. Zell gurgled, his spit thickened into gummy sludge from Kujata's heavy pre, and tipped his head back.
Above him, Kujata's sheath lurched, yanking the piled mound of sacflesh forward, and the base of his sheath — faintly shimmery where the rest of his body should have been attached — lurched against the roof of the bunk before it slapped against the pillow, hitting the wall of the bunk over Zell's head with a probably-too-loud thunk.
Zell was beyond noticing any of that: head sunk inside the sheath, pinned down by the weight of his balls. He was only aware of the shove of Kujata's cock in his mouth, digging against his cheeks as his sheath shifted. Zell tipped his head back, mouth wide, throat open, and let Kujata's cock unsheath straight down his throat, plunging into him with a brutal wrench. Zell gurgled, breath choking off in a final musk-laden puff of breath, and then Kujata was mating his throat, using him as a cocksheath.
Zell couldn't even see Kujata's cock, only feel it. In his mouth, across his tongue, butting against his throat. He didn't have a flanged cockhead, or at least, Zell hadn't felt one so far. Just taut, heavy flesh. But there was a twist to it, like a screw: an inner side, flesh slick and frictionless, and then a spiraling ridge that divided that from the lumpy, bulging flesh on the outer edge of his shaft. It twisted its way into him, groove pushing through his lips, catching on the spasming opening of his throat and working him open wider and wider.
Spit-thinned pre pumped up Zell's throat along the corkscrew groove of Kujata's shaft, pouring in sloppy heaps across Zell's tongue and squirting in slimy bursts from his nose and mouth. The ooze splattered against the inner walls of Kujata's sheath, dissolving away the caked on sheathfluid plastered over his sodden flesh, softening it into a creamy sludge that poured in great syrupy heaps across Zell's head, wetly squirting out across his neck as the leathery flesh of his sheath bunched and shifted with their movement.
Zell gulped steadily, bloated throat milking Kujata's spiralling shaft, coaxing out heavier and heavier squirts of pre that spread hot all through his chest, audibly gurgling their way down to his stomach. Kujata wasn't summoned enough to thrust: he could only unspool down Zell's throat, cock sinking deeper and deeper in a steady push until the tip jammed straight past the end of his throat and into his stomach proper. Cockwarming him, keeping his shaft sunk into a slick tight heat, with no ability to draw back and ram forward.
Zell gurgled, thick froth squelching across his closed eyes, and stroked him off with his throat: wetly expelling the final few inches of his cock, fighting against Kujata's unsheathing muscles to stuff a few inches of his shaft back into his half-flooded sheath, only to relax and let it plunge back down his throat, messily stabbing through into his stomach again. Zell's whole body jerked with each thump of impact: stomach churning, nausea rippling through him, but he kept it up, making Kujata use his throat, fucking him open until his throat was an open pipe straight to his stomach, no hitch when Kujata plowed forward again and again.
Zell slopped his tongue back and forth, lost in the sensation: the way the flesh gave slightly under the pressure of his tongue; the spongy firmness of the ridge itself; the intense flavor, thick and heavy, that collected on his tongue until it felt caked-on. Over and over, just gurgling on Kujata's dick, dimly aware of how the shaft was getting thicker and thicker, how the tip prodded at the back of his mouth and then pushed past, sinking heavy and firm down his throat, deeper into his stomach. A cock most of the size of his entire body, plowing through his wrecked mouth, pryng open his ruined throat, reshaping his stomach to fit Kujata's immense anial cock. Grimy mouthfuls of slime poured along his fucked-open throat, squirting out across his disheveled face, stripping caked-on ooze off of Kujata's slimy shaft as more and more kept unsheathing.
Fenrir was jealous. Zell could feel his rising need. Unlike Kujata, Fenrir didn't want to sit aside and just watch — feel — Zell get fucked open by another summon. Fenrir had been there first. Fenrir pushed forward, insistent. Summoning two GFs at once was considered an extremely high-level technique, but— but Zell needed it, so bad. Zell had reshaped his whole body, turning his mouth and asshole both into loose, gaping sockets for his GFs to use. Doing a little extra summoning practice was nothing. He'd do whatever it took if it meant letting his GF's keep using him.
Fenrir shoved out into existence against Zell's legs: balls under his thighs, sheath knifing up between his legs. He unsheathed, cock hot and slick sliding up Zell's stomach, catching on the underside of Kujata's sac and shoving between them. Thin, runny pre gushed against his front, soaking his shirt to his skin, squelching and slurping as he fucked against his body. Zell squirmed, rutting his body against the two GFs, all conscious thought lost under the need to be used. It was only the wet drip of Fenrir's neglected cocktip that broke him out of his reverie. Broke him out enough to realize he also needed to be taking care of Fenrir's needs, at least.
The space around him was packed full. It was one thing to be beneath the GFs in truth: body jammed sideways between Fenrir and Ixion, legs in his way, underbellies scraping against his back. It was something else entirely with them disembodied, just a pair of enormous, oversized dildos for him to use. Fenrir's balls dug against the undersides of his thighs, his feet braced against the bunk above, and he had to lurch and squirm to get his hands down to his waistband, letting him unzip and then yank his cum-smeared shorts and underwear down enough to slide the unsheathing tip of Fenrir's dick between his cheeks and mash, heavy, against his puffy hole. There was hardly any open space in the bunk; he was surrounded on all sides by the immense, animal dicks of his GFs.
It felt like it had been so long since the last time he'd been fucked, but it had been— not even a day. Not even twelve hours. Fenrir burned when he sunk inside, his ass still raw from Ixion's fucking last night. His cock was spongy and heavy, slick with sheathfluid and only a trickle of fresh pre, not much else, but Zell could take it. Fenrir had trained him, had opened him up good, so that even the monstrous, monolithic spike of his cock could sink into him, no problem whatsoever. Zell moaned around Kujata's dick, eyes squeezed shut, clogged throat milking his shaft. He'd thought it'd be months and months before he got to get double-fucked again, but it was happening already. It would be so easy for either of them to fuck him any time they wanted. Zell came again at the thought: riding one of them, both of them, every night. Getting used harder and harder, taking more and more.
He was sobbing, just wet gurgling and choking noises burbling up from Kujata's sheath in popping squelches. He needed it. Needed more. His gut churned, Kujata's gummy pre bloating his stomach and squirting down into his guts; Fenrir's cock sinking, easy and familiar, up past the bend in his guts, letting his rubbery knot pop inside him without a hitch. His silky sheathfur ground between his cheeks, knot a bulky, spongy mass settling between his hips, and Zell let out another needy sob, worn asshole milking Fenrir's cockroot, as his cock gushed out another messy spurt of cum across his front. Each shift of Fenrir's turgid knot dragged across his prostate, fucking gushes of mingled pre and cum out of him in messy splurts.
With Fenrir's cock rearranging his guts, stabbing against his lungs, and Kujata's cock shoved straight down into his chest cavity, they were only a few inches away from meeting in the middle, grinding against each other with only the warped, twisted sheaths of Zell's insides between them. His belly was bloated out in asymmetrical lumps, each one shuddering and pulsing with each fresh gush of pre, slowly rounding out his lumpy gut as they flooded him with their pre.
Kujata's cock shuddered, jerking inside him. It flexed, twisting over itself and dragging Zell's bloated stomach and bunched esophagus with it. The constant seep of syrupy pre stuttered as muscular pulses started along his shaft, pumping from somewhere deeper inside Kujata's half-realized body. Zell keened, gurgling, as the first blast of boar cum erupted out into his stomach. It was tar-thick, clotted and clumping, and so intensely hot it burned inside him. His stomach, already swollen around just the bulk of his cock, surged out, skin rippling under the force of the first blast. And then again, and again, and again, each pump spewing huge, fountaining sprays of thick, syrupy cum straight into his flooded stomach: smacking off his inner walls, forming choppy currents inside him, washing in scorching waves across his bloated stomach.
Fenrir, for all that he started late, wasn't far behind: his knot shuddered, spongy flesh growing firmer with each heartbeat. Zell ground down on it, feet braced on the berth's bedposts, sobbing as he felt the fat knot slot right in to place between his hips. The pressure was too-much and not-enough like always, with Fenrir's knot crushing his prostate flat, cocktip shoved deep inside his well-used guts. Thin, watery squirts of cum gushed into him, an overwhelming contrast to Kujata's thick, glue-like seed.
A low wash of amusement spilled out from Kujata. "Unexpectedly fortuitous that your first two Guardian Forces would be a boar and a wolf," he said, still sounding placid even for all that his cock was thundering inside Zell, pumping huge, fertile gushes of silty boar cum straight into his stomach. "Do you know what they have in common?" he asked with a sigh, cock shifting inside of Zell's warped body, twisted shaft sawing up and down his throat as it pulsed. "They're both well-known for their orgasms lasting half an hour. Or more." For the first time, Zell caught a spark of heat from Kujata: competition. The two GFs snorting at each other, cocks buried inside him, pissing out gush after gush of cum into his bloated body. "Shall we see which lasts longer?"
Fenrir's answer was a snarl, disembodied cock kicking in Zell's guts, hip-cracking knot throbbing even fatter.
Both GFs used him as their cum-recepticle, just a tight, stretchy body that clung to their cockroots as their warring cocks shuddered inside him. His guts squirmed, pressure rippling through him as a heavy thrum. Heavy coils of his bloated guts fought against each other for space: Fenrir's thin, watery cum pouring constantly deeper inside him, making his guts gurgle and squelch every time his load flooded past another curve; against Kujata's gummy, tar-thick load piling up over itself, gluing together in huge gummy clots that stretched his small intestine into warped, bloated lumps, only sluggishly popping deeper as more and more pressure built up in his stomach. The two were fighting over who'd last the longest with Zell as the inconsequential battlefield between them: yanked back and forth, gut bloated out, beyond-pregnant, into an enormous, taut dome. Kujata's balls lurched to one side, piling over Zell's head and shoulders to let his luridly-bloated gut strain against the ceiling of the bunk. His stretched skin warped and shuddered, with each new pulse of cum straining his raw, red flesh further. More and more, and more and more, as they both filled Zell up. His gut caught against the roof of the berth, flattening out against the ceiling with nowhere to go beyond expanding further to the side.
Zell lost all track of time. It was like being knotted for the first time all over again: heat and pressure, the overwhelming pleasure of feeling his body stretch and warp, be reshaped by the cocks thundering inside him. Not even like Leviathan fucking him. Kujata's cum was dense, thick and heavy, clogging the passages Leviathan's watery cum had pumped through. Just the increasing ache and strain, over and over, until all he could think about was the raw sense of it, the stretch, the shift, the wrench of his flattened organs, the air stirring over his stretched-raw skin. Gallons on gallons of cum, anchoring him in place.
Usually he didn't come out of that trance until Fenrir had pulled free and left him to drain out. Here, now, there was a moment when he realized the ache was still growing, that Fenrir's knot — socketed in his gaped ass — could pull free from his ruined guts any time he wanted. That his load would erupt out, spraying all over the berth, spilling across the floor of the cabin. That had two other people in it. Two people that maybe hadn't noticed yet; not that he'd be able to tell, with his head buried deep inside Kujata's sheath. One leg was cocked in the air, the sole of his sneaker braced against a support for leverage. The side of the ladder? Was his foot already shoved outside the privacy screen? Maybe at some point he'd torn the privacy screen down and this had been on display the whole time. Maybe the noise and smell had been impossible to miss. And now, he was all-but-wedged inside the berth, at least until one of the two stopped cumming and pulled out, leaving him to spray their loads everywhere.
Kujata, amused: "You won't have to worry about that for me, at least." Cum had gurgled up Zell's throat at some point, squirting from his nose and mouth and adding fresh clots of sludge to his sheath. Kujata pulled at Zell's attention again, only here he wasn't directing him for summoning advice. He was telling Zell to investigate just how thick and clumpy his cum was: glue-like, hardened in rubbery globs all up his throat, sealing his nose and mouth shut, forming a thick dam in his bloated stomach that even the gallons of churning boar jizz inside him couldn't break through. His mating plug. Zell's throat was sealed tight; when Kujata pulled free all that would be left was a cock-shaped imprint from mouth to stomach, maybe with a messy burble of cum backspilling down from the cocktip before it, too, froze in place inside him.
If Zell hadn't been so fucked-dumb that probably would have worried him. He'd need to breathe at some point!
Fenrir had his invisiblity skill. He could just turn that on, and... the thought of waddling out there in full view of everybody and just hoping that none of their GFs had detection abilities to see through it was mortifying. His cum-bloated gut was pinned against the top of the bunk; he'd have to wrestle it out, hauling his belly with both arms, and try to flop out of the bunk and hope that worked: squirming and gurgling, his own dick still dripping cum, head still sunk inside Kujata's sheath, his cock still bloating his throat, tip lodged in his stomach, as he — probably crawl? He'd probably have to crawl blindly to the bathrooms, on his hands and knees, dragging the dicks anchored to him along, and just hope that he was invisible the entire time.
Sure, okay, the risk was a little hot, but the consequences of that risk paying out would kind of ruin his life. Maybe he should have thought about that before begging Kujata and Fenrir to plug him tight and fill him up. Now, only the swell of Fenrir's knot was keeping a tide of thin, watery wolf cum from spilling out all over the train car, and— well. Zell was pretty loose these days. He was gonna start leaking well before Fenrir's knot fully softened.
"You'd be amazed at the solutions available to a proper summoner," Kujata said. "Even for a situation like this. It really is insulting how little the Garden teaches students before certifying them."
There was a rumble of amusement from the boar, rippling out to Fenrir. "You spent all that time breeding him and you didn't mention your priests alterations at all?"
Fenrir, a little haughty: "Only my most devoted priests earned that honor. No matter how accomodating his hole, he has a ways to go before he's earned that."
Kujata, smug: "Good. He'll be all mine, then."
Fenrir snarled, possessive, and his cock kicked sharply in Zell's guts.
"This is firmly against SeeD regulations," Kujata said, gloating a little. "But I don't think you care about that, hmm? I believe it's under section 3, subsection C. 'Usage of any experimental or deprecated junctioning technique is prohibited, without explicit written permission from three instructors and the Headmaster. This includes any restricted paramagical accessories, reverse junctioning, or glyph-binding."
Fenrir snorted. "'Reverse junctioning'. What a clinical name. My worshipers called it sublimation. Becoming one with their god."
Kujata continued his lecture. Zell was pretty sure at this point he got off on lecturing with somebody spired on his cock. "What you call 'junctioning' is... the esper making themself available to you to use. To call upon, primarily, although also, to bolster your bodies with their strength. But this connection can operate the other way, what the Garden calls 'reverse junctioning'. Making yourself available for us to use. And we can certainly use you in new ways."
Not that Zell didn't appreciate the explanation, but he was spitroast between two enormous monster cocks, sloshing and gurgling with literal gallons of cum that was anchoring him in place and going to burst out of him sooner rather than later.
"We've placed a great deal of our essence in you," Kujata said. His cock flexed, smug, squelching inside Zell's fucked-open throat, cocktip digging into the messy glue-plug in his stomach and wrenching it back and forth with a pang of useless nausea. "Let it flow into you. Take our loads inside you, not just physically, but in spirit. The way you take a spell inside you."
Zell was already hazy: fucked-open, dazed, bloated body folded up to fit inside a tiny train berth. How long had he been lying here? Floating, halfway into a meditative trance already, it was easy to slip a little deeper, into the weird, non-dimensional junction space, all bands and structures of paramagical power lopping around themselves, tethered together. Slowly, like breathing air for the first time, Zell tugged on the gloaming energy inside him. Inside him, roiling in the cum bloating his guts from both ends. It burned, more intense than any spell junction he'd ever done. That was him, pulling. Then Kujata started pushing. It was like being pumped full of cum all over again: a pressure, a heat, bearing down on him not just physically but something else, too. Prying open parts of him he never knew he had, so that Kujata could dump more and more inside him. Stinging pains as he stretched and warped, as he opened himself up, as Kujata carved him open.
"Focus," Kujata said, "on my cock. Let it fill your mind."
Zell hummed around it, throat squelching. He could feel every inch of its corkscrew length: fist-sized at the tip, cockroot fatter than a thigh. Something unimaginable that he'd be able to take a month ago. Already his body was warped around it, molded into a new shape to take it better. The bristly scrub of Kujata's sheath dragged across his shoulders, rough and heavy. Some of the cum in his belly gurgled away, like it was boiled into mist: heat growing sharper, stronger, until it was a burning pain that burst up and down his body. And then, like an overflowing basin having its plug yanked free, there was a sudden pressure. The heat became directed, flowing down. His cock burned, a thousand little pinprick stabs across its length. He ached. Coarse hairs burst up his length, scraping across the sodden denim of his shorts. It felt like someone was grabbing his dick and pulling, twisting, scouring across it with a brush. Flesh thickened, like the whole of his dick was bruising. And, in time, came the heavy glugs of Kujata's load boiling away, essence soaking into him.
Then, with a bit of a sulky tone, Fenrir started pushing too. Kujata had already pried him open, spiritually. His essence poured into him in waves, each one a pang of pleasure and pain: balls twisted up, cock throbbing, pressure burning inside him as his flesh warped and stretched. It felt a little like his cock and balls being grabbed and squeezed, twisted, tugged. Painful and intense, even as he found himself drooling cum. His guts gurgled loudly as the cum anchoring burned away inside him, weight slowly decreasing, less and less.
"You'll make a very good host, I think," Kujata said, cock still stuffed down Zell's throat. "Pliable. Needy. Good boy." Zell whimpered, eyes squeezed shut inside the slimy cavern of Kujata's sheath, and came all over himself again. His load felt different across his skin: slippier, slimier, enough that it spilled down his leg in syrupy lines instead of clinging to his thigh in globs.
There was a final withdrawal: Kujata's cock sliding out of him, Fenrir's turgid knot popping free from his slack asshole, and the subtraction of that weight, after everything else, left him feeling weightless, hollow. He immediately wanted them sunk back inside, but— they evaporated too, rippling away as their summon finally expired, leaving him alone inside the bunk. Face smeared with Kujata's sheath-fluid, body shiny with sweat, skin flushed, his loads clammy and slimy soaked into his underwear, smeared down his thigh. His flattened stomach was loose and weird, abruptly too-much stretched flesh there, folded across his belly weirdly. His skin squirmed, stretch marks slowly seaming closed as his junction-empowered healing started repairing it, but with how swollen he'd been he was going to have heavy skin folds there for... hours. Days, maybe. Zell sucked in a breath, wet and slimy. The first one in — however long it had had been.
He lay there, trying to hear if there was anybody in the room. The shimmering lights of Fenrir's invisibility aura were already dancing through the bunk; Zell had no clue how long they had been active. He had been pretty loud. Probably.
He pulled his shorts back up from where they'd been bunched around his thighs, letting out a aching whine as his underwear dragged against the enormous, burning bulk of his asshole. His shirt was soaked with slime, Fenrir's pre, rank musk from Kujata's sodden sacflesh; his shorts were crusty with his own loads. He was a mess, but he couldn't do much to clean himself up there. When he raised a wobbly hand to his face, feeling across the slimy wetness there, it sunk through a gummy, sludgy layer of caked-on sheath sludge, streaked all across his head.
When he finally slid out: Squall was sitting at the desk on the other side of the room, gaze not rising even as Zell slumped from his bunk. Thank fuck. Selphie wasn't in the cabin at all. Zell's legs almost buckled under his weight when his feet hit the ground: aching after being folded up for so long, still wobbly after the overwhelming string of anal orgasms he'd had, milking Fenrir's knot. His asslips mashed together with a raw pain. They were bruised enormously, a fat and puffy cunt between his cheeks that slid against itself in meaty, grinding lurches with each step. He shakily made his way out the door, to the train hall — still dark, still in the tunnel, with Selphie's dissonant humming coming from the further car — and to the bathroom at the end of the car.
Taking himself in in the bathroom mirror, he was a wreck. There were smeared clots of syrupy slime plastered all across his head, sticking his hair to his scalp, with a visible ring of churned-up sludge around the base of his neck where Kujata's sheathlips had settled. His lips were bruised, puffy and bright red, enormous on his face. Zell felt a burst of pride: this time his lips hadn't split, even around the monstrous base of Kujata's dick. This time he'd taken it all without a hitch, on his first time.
His abs were bruised, muscle green-yellow under the skin where the mismatched GF cocks had jabbed against his belly. Folds of loose skin from his abruptly-shrunken gut hung down over his waist, flesh thick and heavy, faintly churning under his touch. There were crusted-over tracks of yellowed lymph oozing across his sides, little pebbly scabs forming across the ragged red-purple stripes of stretch marks.
He had to contort himself to see his ass: thighs braced on the sink, back twisted around, abused muscles in his core shuddering and shaking from the exertion. His hole was a wreck, big rubbery swells of pink-purple flesh peeking out between his asscheeks. Soft and slick and puffy, when he slid a finger against it, and raw enough the touch ripped out a shaky gasp. Soft, but with a dense, rubbery core, burning with every stretch but still warping wider as Zell absently, in a daze, fed two, three, four fingers into his hole, until he snapped to attention, realizing he was shaking and whining, one knee braced on the sink, thighs trembling, entire fist shoved up inside his ass in the train's bathroom.
Only after all of that did it occur to him to take a look at his dick. You know, the thing Kujata and Fenrir had dumped all their essence into? And changed, maybe permanently? It scraped between his thighs when he hauled his shorts down entirely, bulkier and denser than he was used to. All the way up his shaft there was a thin coating of bristly fur, red-gold at the base, mingling with his blond pubes, and then turning into ragged marbling of red and grey. A mix of Kujata's bristly red hide and Fenrir's grey fur. His cocktip, when he peeled his foreskin back, was a shockingly bright red, not the pinkish tone he was used to. It was drawn out fractionally, ever-so-slightly pointier. And his balls felt like lead weights: intensely heavier, even for all that they only looked a shade fatter. His sac was loose and heavy, sagging down lower, and coated in the same red-grey bristles as his dick, mixing in with the downy blond hairs that already covered it. At the very base of his dick there was the faintest swell, flesh there budding out into a dense knot. It all ached, a steady, burning throb in his balls, and it only went away if he cupped his whole sac in one hand and rhythmically squeezed. Zell whined, fist wrapped around his pulsing balls, steadily milking them. His limp cock shuddered, and a long, slimy cord of pre oozed from his puckered foreskin, cloudy and off-white.
Crude, eager: "That's good progress," came Kujata's voice in his head. "It'll take dozens more loads before you have a cock like us. But I'm sure you're already eager to take them. I saw every one of your trysts with Fenrir, you know. With Fenrir, with Ixion, with Leviathan. I felt the need, the desire, coursing through you. It would be my pleasure to satisfy it. It's been a very long time since I took a proper consort."
Zell splashed water on his face until he looked anywhere close to presentable. Kujata's sheathfluid slime clung to his hair, worked down to his scalp in clots, and even as he washed them out they left behind a stringy, slimy texture. He was pretty sure the faint acrid musk was gonna follow him around for days.
There were a lot more train trips in their future. Next time, he was gonna get Kujata to fuck his ass.