Manbeast

I'm in a strange place. Some kind of big room with a parquet floor. I'm scared. Someone is hunting me. Some thing is hunting me. Desperate, I flee towards a doorway. My high heels click loud, the full-skirt of my red evening dress flows around me, but for some reason does not impede or slow me.

Part of me knows I'm in a dream. The other part is terrified. And thrilled.

He's after me. He wants me. He intends to take me. I don't know who he is. Just that he's an avatar of alpha-male power. Big. Strong. Dominating. Relentless.

A shadowy figure swoops towards me from one side. With a scream of terror, I desperately dodge aside.

Suddenly, I'm outside. A bright full moon shines down. My white-satin wedding gown glows in the pale light as I dash across a lush green lawn towards a high, ivy-covered stone wall with a distant wrought iron gate. Somehow I know that if I can reach the gate, I can escape!

For a split second, my rational mind wonders how can I run full tilt in high heels across soft, loamy sod?

Immediately, instantly, I'm tripped. I go down hard, my arms outstretched to break my fall. I end up face down on the green turf, winded, but otherwise unhurt.

It takes me just a second or two to regain my breath and begin to rise up and flee. Too late! A mighty hand from behind flips me over on my back.

I gaze up at him as he looms over me. His face is all in shadow. His hard, sculpted body is covered in dark fur -- soft and silky, not bristly. He's not a person, he's an alpha-male manbeast. Large. Powerful. Naked. Dominating.

A tangled bush of black pubic hair grows between his strong thighs. His erect mating shaft rises out of it like a thick snake, standing up straight and hard and big. I know he intends to impale me on it. Mesmerized, I stare at it. And at the heavy scrotum that swings below it, swollen with his semen, pulsing with seed that he is about to pump into my womb to impregnate me.

Somehow, in this dream I've become virgin again. It's as if I've never before seen an aroused, erect, male rod ready to take and conquer its prey. I tremble in terror -- and maybe something else. I know that once he thrusts his spear into me and gushes his seed into my womb I will be forever changed from virgin girl to fecund woman.

Though I'm not hurt or injured, I'm weak with fear, and helpless with exhaustion. My chest heaves for breath. Aroused by my peril and the presence of this male beast looming over me, my breasts throb, my erect and sensitive nipples tingle and press against my lacy bra.

"Please," I whimper. "Please, don't."

I know it's hopeless. He's determined to take me like a stallion mounting one of his broodmares. He (it?) is going to breed me and I can sense my body yearning for him to do so. But I know that if he does, he will certainly impregnate me. I don't want a baby. Not now. Not yet. I want my youth, a career, a life.

He says not a word. He just stares down at me waiting to see if I'll try to flee again. That forlorn rational part of me wonders if he's even able to speak, is he some kind of pre-verbal, manbeast?

Quick as a striking snake, he grabs me beneath my arms and lifts me up as if I were a small child.

Suddenly we're in a big, candle-lit bedroom with heavy velvet drapes, dark oak paneling, and crystal mirrors. He releases me, and I drop weakly to my knees, down on to a soft, plush rug. I'm now clothed in a diaphanous black negligee that leaves nothing to his imagination.

Again he stands in front of me, his erection looming before my eyes. It dominates me. My body has surrendered to him, I am utterly in his power. I exist now only for his pleasure and his mating.

He has no need to speak, I know what he wants what he demands. He places his large, callused hands on either side of my head and slowly draws me forward until my lips touch his shaft with a kiss compelled.

He strong, power hands hold me in place. I close my eyes as I lick him with my tongue. He tastes good. Sweet. Erotic. Beneath the thin negligee my breasts throb, my nipples are erect and tingling.

Obedient to his wordless command, I open my mouth in a silent O.

He does not thrust himself into me, but rather guides me to gradually move down on him, taking more and more of him into my mouth while caressing him with my tongue. I'm careful not to touch him with my teeth or let him trigger my gag reflex.

My eyes are submissively closed. I'm alive with sensual, sexual current, I arouse him more and more with my lips and tongue and sucking. Of their own volition, the tips of my fingers delicately caress my breasts and tease my nipples through the negligee's thin, lacy fabric.

I feel his seed rising up his shaft. I can feel my own orgasm building. My feminine cleft is sopping wet. He erupts, gushing his semen down my throat. Oddly, it has no salty taste. His flavor is sensuous, decadent -- like creme brulee.

Though my own orgasm is now spasming though me, I hold myself rigidly still so as not to cause him any discomfort.

I can feel his ropey white seed sliding down towards my belly. Somehow, in the mystical way of dreams, it's imbued with green sparkles of life energy. I realize that it's both an aphrodisiac and also some kind of powerful fertility potion. I can sense my womb opening, preparing itself for impregnation. My swollen breasts begin to spontaneously lactate, oozing a clear, erotic fluid.

After a long, sweet, eternity he gently, slowly, withdraws from my mouth.

Again he picks me up as easily as if I were a rag doll. He holds me cradled in his arms like a sleeping child. My eyes are still closed. I let my head loll back, exposing my throat as symbol of my submission. My blond tresses flow down towards the floor in a soft wave.

He bends his head to my breast and with his chin pushes the loose negligee aside to expose my diamond hard nipple. He kisses it tenderly and then softly touches it with the tip of his wet tongue. A bolt of sensual energy flashes through me and I spasm.

His lips clamp down on my aureole and he begins to suck the clear erotic fluid I'm lactating.

I arc my back to thrust my throbbing mound up into his mouth. Orgasmic electricity surges through me as he sucks and licks and plays my nipple with his tongue.

I can feel the fluid flowing through my pulsing breast, out through my tender nipple, and into his mouth. The sensation is intensely sexual, intensely satisfying. Is this how he will feel when he ejaculates his semen into my womb?

After an eternity of ecstasy, he releases my breast from his mouth.

Suddenly, instantaneously, I'm lying supine and submissive on the white satin sheets of his large, luxurious bed. A full-length mirror is fixed to the ceiling. I'm illuminated by soft candle light. My arms lay limp at my side, a different black-lace nightgown is molded to my body.

I'm sopping wet and ready to be taken. Eager to be impregnated.

He sits on the bed beside me. I feel the mattress sag a bit under his weight. In the mirror I gaze down upon us both.

Even in the candle light, his face is shadowed. He slips his hand beneath my nightgown to softly caress a breast that so desires his touch. Soft as feathers, his fingers trace my curves. His thumbs gently tease my hard, lactating nipple.

I watch in the mirror above as he slowly, ever so slowly, removes the nightgown from my body until I'm naked, open and vulnerable to his lust.

He rests his hot palm on my womb. His touch is a wordless declaration, Here I will plant my seed. Here my child will grow within you. With sublime sensitivity I feel every square millimeter of my flesh where his palm and fingers take possession of me.

Strangely, I don't feel helpless at all. I feel empowered. By surrendering myself to him I am fulfilling my destiny. I am content to be his vessel, his chalice of life. I am willing to be his possession. I am ready for him to take and impregnate me.

I stare at him -- at us -- in the mirror as he moves to the foot of the bed, gently takes my ankles, and slowly spreads open my legs.

I raise my knees and plant my feet on the mattress to facilitate my impalement. And also to confirm my acceptance, my welcome of his penetration. I am wet and juicy. I am ready to be bred. I am ready to be impregnated.

He looms over me, covering me with his big, hard body. His weight pins me to the mattress, his furry chest crushes my still lactating breasts.

My soft sigh is a sigh of surrender. I feel the tip of his shaft ease itself in between my nether lips. It feels so good, so right, so perfect. "Ohhh," I softly moan.

Slowly, carefully, he delves into me until he presses against my somehow magically restored maidenhead. He pauses for a moment to allow me to relax and then with a powerful thrust he rips through it.

"Ahhhhh!" I shriek at the bright flash of sharp pain that is my female sacrifice to his masculine power.

He thrusts in deeper, pumping in and out, my erotic juices and virgin blood lubricating us as I arch, and writhe, and move in perfect rhythm with him. Deeper and deeper he penetrates toward my waiting womb.

I move my head a bit so I can observe in the mirror above as he pistons in and out of me, smooth and powerful.

I the mirror I can see my virgin blood seeping out to either side of me, a spreading scarlet stain on the pure, snow-white sheet. The small shred that's left of my rationality knows that so much blood is utterly impossible -- and would surely be fatal in real life. Dream-me cares not a whit for such mundane details.

His shaft strokes and stimulates my erotic button, building me up towards another orgasm. I'm panting for breath. Sensual energy is flashing up from my apex through my entire body. An intense orgasm is building within me.

Again, I feel his semen rising up through his shaft as the tip of his mansword reaches its goal. With an explosive burst, his seed surges into my womb.

"Yes!" I scream, as he gushes stream after stream into me. "Yes, yes!"

As I thrash and writhe and claw at the fur on his back in an orgasmic nova of sensual pleasure, I'm squirting my own erotic juices to facilitate my impregnation while instinctively rippling the muscles of my mating channel to milk every thread of his semen into my eager womb.

Finally, spent and exhausted, he slowly, gently, withdraws. Beneath him, I'm limp and weak with post-coital satiation.

Abruptly, I'm suddenly lying safe, secure, clean, and alone, in my own bed at home. I'm propped up by pillows behind my back, wearing a soft lacy nightgown that molds itself over my swollen, pregnant body.

I'm all warm and glowy. I caress my bulging belly, and sense the baby growing inside me. As I watch, my pregnancy enlarges before my eyes.

There's no nausea, no discomfort, no unpleasantness of any kind, only joyous expectation. Somewhere in the far mental distance, my rational mind mutters in complete disbelief. I ignore it.

Without warning, I'm suddenly in a warm and beautiful forest glade. I'm lying on my back on a soft bed of thick, lush, grass. Bambi, and a pony-size white unicorn whose name I should know but can't remember, watch over me, their big eyes wide with adoration and awe. They look just like the colorful drawings that had once adorned the wall of my bedroom when I was ten.

I feel my baby move inside me. I spread my legs, and gently push. Without the slightest pain, discomfort, blood, or mess, my daughter gently slides out of me onto the soft grass. An immaculate birth -- though, obviously, not quite an immaculate conception.

Somewhere far away on the other side of the mental universe, my rationality again scoffs. Again, I care not a whit.

Overwhelmed with joy, I watch Bambi and the unicorn tenderly lick her clean. She is totally perfect and utterly gorgeous. I adore her.

Instantly, I'm once again back in the comfort and safety of my home bed, my daughter in my arms as she suckles at my breast. She's so beautiful. The sensation of my mother-milk flowing through my breast is joyously euphoric. She opens her eyes and gazes up at me.

Her name is Grace.