Slice of Slavelife (Part 2)

Wombs were free to sleep in any of the small side-rooms and padded alcoves spread throughout the crawl-space. We ended up sharing one with six other girls. It got rather tight, but I didn’t mind one bit. Sleeping in bondage is already so damn relaxing. Sleeping in bondage, whilst squished between the sexy soft bodies of other bound slaves was beyond comfy.

Come morning, after swapping some oral with a heavily pregnant elf who never even asked my name, we queued up to be milked.

Guess whose dark skinned ass I bumped into while entering my milking machine?

“Dynja! Hey, long time no see,” I said, as the mechanized servo arms slotted me into metallic stocks.

She let out a startled yelp and cummed into the penis pump. Her eyebrows shot up in shock. “Nghaaaah! Aahh… Haahhh…” Her heavy breasts heaved, leaking purple void-honey into the milkers as she caught her breath. “I-Ion? It truly is you?”

“Who else?” I grunted as the restraints locked in place, slightly too tight. Two metallic tentacles with transparent suction cups raised from the machine, latching onto my small breasts. I bit down a hitched moan when the vacuums activated. And another when something within the cups began pinching my vacuum-bloated nipples.

“Mngh… Mmh… Shhooo ghoood hehehee…” I rocked my hips, presenting my drooling holes to the fuck-machine positioned behind me.

A pressure began to release deep within my breasts. Thick dark purple honey trickled out onto my purple nipples with a pleasurable tingle. My predator had blessed me with breasts to create her milk. Lewd thoughts and memories of my entombment buzzed back into my brain in full force. What wonderful effects did my tit honey have? It had most definitely done something to my brain and body. Just the thought of having more of it made drool fall off my tongue.

My eyes fell onto Dynja’s huge honey-filled tits and then met her gaze.

She stared at my tits with the same addicted lust as I stared at hers, though where mine were squeezing out a teensy trickle, hers had filled the suction cups to the brim.

“Dynja, do you wanna…” Oh great, she isn’t listening. “Dynja. Hey. Hey, Dynja. Helloooo?”

“Huh?” After blinking, she came again, buckling against her restraints.

And it wasn’t a small orgasm.

Good half a milk carton of spunk flowed out of her cock, enough to impregnate a gal ten times over. The pleasure on her face was animalistic and desperate. Gone was the hoity-toity goddess. In her place was a woman dominated by the sensations and cravings of her body.

“Wow…”

Dynja hung limp in her restraints, panting heavily. She shot me a hostile glare. “What are you after?”

“That’s…” Okay, the hoity-toity goddess was still there. “To cum for starters? How do you get the machine to fuck you. It’s barely tickled my holes so far!”

To demonstrate, I struggled against my stocks and wiggled my rear against the gently gyrating dildoes of the fuck-machine.

“Hmph. And you call yourself a Goddess of Knowledge…”

“Hey! You don’t look too smart either right now, so watch it.”

She averted her gaze, struggling to stifle her reaction as the machines re-entered her ass and vagina. “This-nngh thrice damned machine ‘rewards’ us for milk production. If you wish to be penetrated, start lactating.”

I looked down at my small tits, then at her milkers, then at my tits. “How is that fair? How does that make sense? ‘Oh, yeah, we’ll let the girls who are already leaking like cows get the dick, while the rest get teased.’ What?”

Dynja laughed haughtily, while moaning. “Such is the karmic reward of fools who bestow upon themselves inferior breasts.”

“I just wanted to enjoy the process of them growing from itty-bitty to mega-titty.”

“A fool indeed.” She came again and made an euphoric face.

Okay, I was getting jealous.

Grumbling, I squirmed in my bondage and focused on how nice it was to be so securely bound, exposed, and getting publicly milked in a barn with almost a hundred other slaves. It didn’t matter if I didn’t get to cum with my lady bits or anus here, I could always ask Toujou or someone else to lick me, or… maybe even… My mouth got dry the moment my gaze drifted to Dynja’s bick black cum-soaked cock. My lower mouth throbbed, feeling empty as it remembered the shape of her cock.

“A-anyway.” I cleared my voice. “Seems you’re feeling better? You were pretty subby the last two times I saw you.”

“That is… The Voidbee’s eggs are nearly ready to be laid. Their buzzing reminds me of my predator.” She’d nearly whispered the last word.

That flicker of fear and longing in her eyes was one I recognized intimately.

“I know how it feels. Would be lying if I didn’t say I’m looking forward to it. Turning dumb and subby enough to be used by other slaves is… Mmmph.” My clitoris twitched at the fantasy, nearly causing a climax when it brushed against the dildo poised to penetrate me.

“Though I’ve gotta admit, I’m a little surprised to have run into you here. Like, sure, sure I had an inkling you were into pervy shit from the beginning. Biggest haters are the biggest coset fants and so on. And the reactions you had at Horny Jail, woof! But this place is next level.”

Dynja averted her gaze, frowning. She climaxed two more times, before replying, “This will be published for all of the Lesser Deity Afternoon Club to see, will it not?”

“You bet!”

After a moment, she opened her mouth, then closed it again. A struggle of emotions warred on her expression, not the least of which was the steady rhythm of orgasms that the milking machine was force-feeding her. Beneath its waves was fear, anger, frustration, but also several flavors of excitement.

She mumbled her words.

“What was that?”

Dynja hissed. “I said, I…”

“Yeeees?”

“I SAID: I HAVE BEEN HARBORING SALACIOUS DESIRES FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS AND DESPISE HOW A DETESTABLE WHOREMONGERING BITCH LIKE YOU DARE BE SO BRAZEN ABOUT PURSUING PLEASURES, WHICH I HAVE FOR EONS DENIED FROM MYSELF.”

She came again after that.

Slaves locked in the nearby booths gave us odds looks.

Dynja grit her teeth in embarrassment. Her pupils were dilated to the max and I could almost hear her heartbeat. With her secret desires as exposed as her lewdly bound body, you couldn’t squeeze a rawer confession out of her if you had fucked her with a demon shlong. She was at once terrified of my and your judgment, as well as aroused by it.

While a part of me wanted to play into that arousal, my better self prevailed.

I stuck out my tongue cheekily. “Sorry not sorry~ This little bitch is gonna keep on whoremongering and teasing grumpy old goddesses like you, until you go mad. You think this is bad? Pffft! My pussy’s just getting warmed up. Once my lewd plans to corrupt the lesser deities of the Afternoon Club come to fruition, I’ll aim my sultry whispers at the true deities. And once they’ve been perverted, it’s the higher deities’ turn. I won’t stop until the overgod itself has been sluttified to the point they wear a vibrating butt-plug to work everyday. I won’t rest until this entire world is a reflection of my perverted little reincarnator soul. My poor sexy helpless Dynja, you’re a fool if you thought you ever had a chance against an S-class degenerate like myself.”

I finished my monologue with a villainous laughter, well, more like a girly giggle followed up by a stifled moan from nipple stimulation, but hey, I tried.

Dynja closed her mouth. Soul-deep shame fled from her gaze, replaced by a familiar sharpness. She started laughing like a true villainess, though the effect was a little ruined by the occasional moans caused by the penetration and penis pump.

“Foolish reincarnator! You believe me defeated because I’m restrained to a mortal body, pregnant, drugged, bound, and currently being humiliated by a milking automaton? I shall admit that, for a fleeting whisk of time, I nearly lost myself in the abyss of desires when I admitted myself into this torment of carnal pleasure. But that shall be no more, now that I know of your true plans, vile temptress whose degeneracy is of the S-class. This facility shall crumble my morality no more. I will show you the difference in willpower between a real lesser deity and a filthy second class reincarnator. And when the hour of judgment comes, it shall be I who stands above your bound body with a whip in hand, striking you until masochism turns to true pain.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

We cackled like two lunatics, albeit for different reasons.

After a while, a barn staffer came over and electrocuted our butts with a cattle prong for disturbing the milking of the nearby slaves.

F̸͖͍̩̝̺̅͐̓̅̓́̒̉͝͝͝o̵͍̗͉̗͖̟̱͎̙̭̲̽̿͂̄̔̅̌͛̓̔̕r̸̻̜͈͉̭̀͆͂̓̐̑̔̊͋͠b̸̛̤̟̝̗̼͐́̌͊͐̀̆̓̌̓̇́̈į̵̧̠̤̣̦̭͖̜̣͛̈́̂̾͊̇̑͜d̵̢̫͈̭̪͓̭̪̙̠̄͆͒̽̄̽͛̓̏̃͝͝ͅͅd̷̡̛̘̱͍͈͈͚͍͔̪͙͍͍̥͌͊̋̊͑͗͊̋͒̕͠e̵͉͎̟̜̮̳͚̿̿̎̊͛̑́̇͆̂̆͘͝n̶̡̡̧̛̳̲̞͍͍̱̟͕̓̓͛́͑̅̈́ ̴̡̨̱͖̪̬̿͆̇̈́̐̈͛̋̊͆͝͝f̶̠̖̠̙̺̪͓͙̰̭̙̹̼̾͠ṟ̸̛̦̭͚̓͆̅̚͝ọ̷̢̧̖͕̫̖͍͓̱̀̄̉͒ṁ̸͓͙͍͓̱̻͎̼͍̭̊́̉̀̑ ̸̲̞̲̱͔̟͔̫͔̥̃̓̓̍͗̐̐́̅̔̂̎͝͝ͅD̷͍̗̬̟̎̊̔̓̄́͗̈́̌̍̏̀͘͜͝͝y̵͈̤̖̙̥̖̏͆̃̾̓̇͆͠ͅͅǹ̴̡͈͍̩̤̦̭̻͈̣͇̬̝̓̊̓̾̑͆̈j̸̡̟̥͍̫̼͇̮̩̲̼̀̓̎̅͌̆̕͜͠͝ą̷̈͋

I cooked up a divine truename rune to hide this bit from Dynja. This might be the most powerful spoiler I’ve ever written lol.

Okay, hey guys, and especially any true and higher deities reading this. Just so that nobody misunderstands, I’m actually not planning on taking over the world and becoming some lewd villainess who’s going to pervify all of creation. This world is plenty sexy already and I don’t want to impose my desires on unrelated people.

I said what I did mainly ‘cos Dynja seemed truly down and confused, and ‘cos she hasn’t been replying to any of my updates recently. Yeah, tricking her prolly isn’t the best way to resolve whatever identity crisis she is going through, but at least it gives her time to let her be herself, while also indulging in her true desires.

Needless to say, please don’t reveal this to her. She’s been a bit of an ass to me, but after living… gosh, has it been 400 years already? Anyhow, having lived a little longer than I did as a mortal on Earth, I’ve grown to appreciate different kinds of relationships. For higher beings, it can actually be healthy to have a few regular antagonists to keep you balanced. I’m sure many of you can relate (looking at you dark deities who let your enemies summon [Heroes] from otherworlds even if you could stop the ritual with a flick of your fingers).

F̸͖͍̩̝̺̅͐̓̅̓́̒̉͝͝͝o̵͍̗͉̗͖̟̱͎̙̭̲̽̿͂̄̔̅̌͛̓̔̕r̸̻̜͈͉̭̀͆͂̓̐̑̔̊͋͠b̸̛̤̟̝̗̼͐́̌͊͐̀̆̓̌̓̇́̈į̵̧̠̤̣̦̭͖̜̣͛̈́̂̾͊̇̑͜d̵̢̫͈̭̪͓̭̪̙̠̄͆͒̽̄̽͛̓̏̃͝͝ͅͅd̷̡̛̘̱͍͈͈͚͍͔̪͙͍͍̥͌͊̋̊͑͗͊̋͒̕͠e̵͉͎̟̜̮̳͚̿̿̎̊͛̑́̇͆̂̆͘͝n̶̡̡̧̛̳̲̞͍͍̱̟͕̓̓͛́͑̅̈́ ̴̡̨̱͖̪̬̿͆̇̈́̐̈͛̋̊͆͝͝f̶̠̖̠̙̺̪͓͙̰̭̙̹̼̾͠ṟ̸̛̦̭͚̓͆̅̚͝ọ̷̢̧̖͕̫̖͍͓̱̀̄̉͒ṁ̸͓͙͍͓̱̻͎̼͍̭̊́̉̀̑ ̸̲̞̲̱͔̟͔̫͔̥̃̓̓̍͗̐̐́̅̔̂̎͝͝ͅD̷͍̗̬̟̎̊̔̓̄́͗̈́̌̍̏̀͘͜͝͝y̵͈̤̖̙̥̖̏͆̃̾̓̇͆͠ͅͅǹ̴̡͈͍̩̤̦̭̻͈̣͇̬̝̓̊̓̾̑͆̈j̸̡̟̥͍̫̼͇̮̩̲̼̀̓̎̅͌̆̕͜͠͝ą̷̈͋

We were released after some two hours. I produced measly two deciliters of Voidbee honey. As we crawled back into the slave-space, Dynja kept on being mighty smug about her own two liters.

I interrupted her after the tenth brag about how my small tits and dicklessness were a sign about being weaker to lust than her. “So, wanna kiss and fuck?”

“As expected. Your inferior milk production left you wanting and now you crawl to me to beg for release, attempting to plant a growing desire for your slender feminine form into my subconscious. Bold of you to presume that such tricks could work on me.”

After that, we found a private spot and got her cock drenched in my spit and pussy juices, made out till our faces were sloppy, and sucked each other’s tits for Voidbee honey like we were about to die from thirst.

Eventually, after the first few days, my life fell into something akin to a routine.

Mornings were for oral and fucking any futas who’d happened to sleep in my and Toujou’s pile. Next was usually the bathroom, and I quickly grew addicted to the deep-cleaning tentacle enemas of facility toilets. That shit hit all the spots. Most of the actual wake-time was spent eating, sexing, and getting milked, sometimes bathing. When sleep-time came, I was usually exhausted enough to snooze the minute my head fell onto a pair of soft breasts or thighs.

Every so often, I would run into that blonde ponytail research assistant and get some more doggy training. After Toujou’s advice, I listened to her with a keen ear, saving every tid-bit of information she gave for later.

Gradually, I started to notice that same softness puffing up my own body. My breasts gained weight, bringing my nipples to droop closer to the ground with each passing day. I noticed weight accumulating around my once slender figure, padding my rump and thighs to the point that I lost my thigh-gap and couldn’t crawl without rubbing my legs together. Those already tight durlatex clothes grew evermore snug, turning from skin-tight into skin-biting. You could see the clear shape of my pussy against the panties.

The greatest change, of course, was within my belly.

My tummy bloated with each passing week. I couldn’t help but admire it, and whenever I did, my brain filled with strange buzzing thoughts. My eggs. My predator’s eggs. I was their obedient womb. My entire life’s purpose was ensuring their health. With their droning buzz came also a change in my brain chemistry.

Around the time Dynja disappeared for a day to give birth, thinking started to get harder. I kept forgetting simple things, like if I’d already eaten or been to the toilet. My mind went full subby. I was crawling in a haze, entirely dependent on following the herd of slaves, and on Toujou’s help (bless that brave little oni).

But she wasn’t always there. Whenever I was alone I soon found myself on my back, with my nose and tongue buried in an unfamiliar pussy that threatened to choke my breath. I’d become exactly like Dynja, a moaning, groaning, submissive blob of pregnant flesh. How the heck Dynja had managed to put up such a defiant attitude in this state and actually talk back to me, I couldn’t figure out. Neither did I get a chance to ask her. She’d likely been confined to a ‘black section’ chamber for the duration of her next pregnancy and wouldn’t be around for a while.

With my own Voidbee egg-laying creeping closer, so did the time to act.

Toujou’s 5 veteran survival tips and Ponytail’s trickle of rumors gave me all the tools I needed to subtly control my stay at the facility. Those brief moments my face wasn’t sucking a feeding tube or buried in pussy, I spent crunching the optimal solution with the few functioning non-horny braincells I had left.

The safest option was Larissa, a young doctorate student with a heart of gold, who’d already fallen in love with eleven slaves and bought them as her personal love-slaves. Although, given how she was rumored to treat them as equal lovers, it was more apt to say she’d straight up married them.

I scuttled past her without making eye-contact and continued to my real target. Alone, at a corner table of the cafeteria above slave’s feeding area sat a petite woman with white hair, a permanent smile, and gaunt features known as Dr. Hordrewd.

My heart hammered at the pace of a mouse’s as I crawled underneath her and peeked up at her dead eyes, meeting her gaze. The eggs in my belly buzzed next to my stomach, which was turning into knots. My prey instincts kicked in full force, urging me to present myself to this predator and beg.

Before submissive instincts could overwhelm my reasoning, I forced on a defiant glare, cleared my throat, and spat a dollop on Dr. Horndrewd’s crotch.

“F-fuck you, ugly fake bitch,” I managed to peep out.

Slowly, after studying the smear of spit on her black pants, she turned her dead-smile at me. “So you have chosen death.”

This woman was Murchvoch’s niece, twice as mad and infinitely meaner. Dr. Horndrewd had the scientific ambition of a dead fish. Her only reason for working here was to have a place where she could legally torment others. According to rumors, she’d nearly gotten incarcerated for turning her wife into a living sex-toy. Several slaves she had operated on had been turned into a mindless fucknuggets and had to be gifted artificial legs and had their brains partially restored by powerful magics. She was the worst of the worst that a place like this facility could attract, an absolute remorseless S-class sadist, and I had enlisted myself on her naughty list.

I came on the spot.