Whose Little Monster?

Cash was in the bed of the bedroom they took me too. He was naked and holding his arms open for me, clucking like a mother hen, obviously having a very good idea of what I had just experienced—what he had recruited me to experience.

I was panting and moaning and whimpering—and, yes, purring—in total confusion, colors and images swirling in my brain. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into bed. Sometime during the night, I was aware that he was fucking me in both the cunt and the ass.

Also, some time in the night I woke with the sensation of something stirring deep in the vagina I had been provided. I'd never felt the sensation before. I would continue to find myself pausing and realizing that the sensation was there—and that it was getting stronger and more active in the days to come.

I had been warned of this at the Italian hospital where I'd had the surgery. They'd said something about me being part of an experiment—a program of seeing just how far with male-to-female transformation surgery could take me. They'd provided me more than a cunt, obtaining my permission by covering most of the cost of the whole operation. They'd warned me that I may have more in the experience of using my new cunt than just sexual pleasure. But as long as they were covering most of the cost, I didn't care or ask very much about what they'd done.

* * * *

The next day, after breakfast in a far more cheery and windowed room than the one we'd had dinner in the previous night, Cash suggested that we get outside and get some exercise. I felt I'd had plenty of exercise but I readily agreed, wanting to be out in the sunshine. I was still woozy and wanted to clear my head, without realizing that I would not be clearing my head again any time soon.

Ivan and Milos were out on the flat lawn at one side of the castle tower, the other side being perched at the top of a chasm, and were kicking a soccer ball around. They had stripped off their mesh T-shirts, showing bodybuilder physiques. They wouldn't put them on again, going with the menacing leather chest harness look, thereafter. Cash and I, also just in athletic shorts, joined them. After that we threw basketball hoops for a while. We wound up at the pool, shorts stripped off and swimming laps.

I pulled out of the pool first and, after standing by the pool and toweling off while the other three suspended their laps and watched me, I stretched out on my back on a lounge bed. Cash came out of the pool, in erection, covered me on the lounge bed, with me willingly spreading my legs for him, and fucking me in a missionary position. Ivan and Milos then came out of the pool, also in full erection, and watched Cash fucking me, but only briefly. Ivan pulled Cash off of me and Milos maneuvered under me. The question of whether the two of them would fuck me while I was here was then answered—and the fantasy of them doubling me was fulfilled. Milos was under me, me riding him, facing him, and Ivan pulled in behind me, saddled up, and then the cocks of both of them were inside me and I was writhing and crying out. Whatever controlling and enhancement drugs they continued to get into me were working, though. I was open enough to take one in the cunt and the other one in the ass for starters and, eventually two in the cunt and two in the ass together.

That night as I was preparing myself in the bathroom, I looked out onto the castle lawn toward a line of trees. The sun was down but it wasn't completely dark. I saw Ivan and Milos carrying Cash into the trees. They were carrying him between the, one holding his ankles and the other his shoulder blades, his arms dangling at his sides. I never saw Cash again.

I rode Peter in a cowboy that night again for starters. My wrists weren't restrained and the room wasn't quite as dark as before. They obviously were acclimating me to being with Peter without total darkness being required. He had a very satisfying cock and I was being paid well. I welcomed being half drugged and a managed to ride him and touch his smooth and scared flesh equally without shuddering. Realizing I could do that, he held me in closer embrace, kissed my throat and my nipples, and pulled me into a close-hold missionary position, thrusting deep in my cunt and breeding me again and again.

The two shadowy figures came into play this night too. Both of them were monsters in their own right. I was taken from Peter's bed to another one in the shadows of the room. Waiting for me there was a man who looked like a satyr, a hunched over body, with pelted, bowed legs, a sneery grin, and what looked like horns on his head. We had a regular wrestling match, and I fought him as I assumed was wanted, as a hoarse voice, Peter's, kept whispering, "Yes, yes, fight him. Yes, fuck him good." I lost the fight and lay there, collapsed, as the satyr fucked me in both cunt and ass. As he did, a more actively engaged Peter sat and watched us and stroked his huge cock. The satyr had quite enough of his own cum to add to the breeding plan.

The other figure came out of the shadows then—tall, thin, handsome, caped, humming, and all teeth. This time I wrestled for my life, but, of course, lost, and was laid out flat on my back, legs and arms positioned in a cruciform, totally sacrificial position. I was panting and whimpering, moaning, and babbling incoherently in complete surrender as he stretched out on top of me, his shaft pumping cum into my cunt, his teeth slicing into my throat, and his mouth making sucking sounds.

I was weaker but still there when I was carried to my room and to my now-empty bed. As I lay there, I felt the stirring in my belly and sensed it a bit mounded—but just a bit as yet.

The third night was more of the same from the three consuming monsters. I was barely conscious when I was carried back to my room. I had been flooded again with cum in both passages, but, once again, Ivan and Milos didn't permit me to clean out my cunt in the bathroom afterward. They carried me back to my bed, and I lay there, softly moaning, focusing on the developing churning in my belly. I didn't have the strength to question what was happening to me. It was, however, happening.

My thoughts went back to the surgery I had had to fully transform and how excited the doctors were, talking about a breakthrough in such surgery—what new capabilities they thought they might have provided. I didn't listen to them much then, only being interested in being able to take a cock in a real cunt with this surgery. Maybe I should have paid more attention then.

Before I drifted off to a hazy sleep, I remember wondering whose little monster was inside me. I wasn't with it much enough in the days following to wonder much of anything—although I had some contentment in knowing that I probably wouldn't be finished until there was another little monster.

At some point, more than a month later, I woke up in my own bed in my shared Manhattan apartment.

"We don't know," my apartment mates said. "We have no idea when you showed up here again. We just know you owe two months' rent now. That must have been some bender."

The manager of the Venus Club was even more obscene in asking me where I'd been the last more than a month. But I was one of his best dancers. He took me back.

"You'll need to drop some of that weight you've picked up, though," he said.

All I know was that my bank account had been well fed and I had some hazy memories of "whatever" that included big cocks and a whole lot of cum running down my legs—and that, for some reason, I kept tuning into possible sensations in my gut and touching my thankfully still only slightly mounded belly. And my nipples were awfully sore.