it'd start with a joke. "oh, my god, mammon! i could suck your dick," or something like that after he bought you something you've been eyeing for a while. he'd chuckle, gently palm just above where your ass started to curve out, and flash you a smile before answering with "that can be arranged, if you'd like, master."

you fluster, but it's not as though the comment is unexpected. all the citizens of hell were very open about their attraction to you even if you were hesitant to go any further than a quick fuck for energy. the response you give him is a half-hearted hum that makes his grin grow further.

hey, are you free?

a few days later, you send him the simple text. your heart is going a little faster than usual even though you know there's no need for you to worry - but you can't help it. you'd spent a half hour trial-and-erroring getting the perfect few pictures. there were at least a couple dozen photos in your recently deleted that left only a select few sitting in your hidden folder.

for you? of course :)

i wanted to thank you, properly

oh?

the lilt in his voice was practically ringing in your ears. if you closed your eyes and let your mind wander, you could see the way his head tilted in the direction of his one horn with pursed lips.

fuck. if that wasn't a mental image that made your thighs rub against each other.

you're alone?

i am now

your fingers move on autopilot as you select the five photos that remain, pressing send as your free hand slips its way between your thighs.

only one of the pictures you sent were solely focused on your ass. you had set the camera on a timer, spreading both globes with a hand to give him a good view of your glistening cunt. in your usually puckered hole was a gold plug; a gift for yourself after mammon had given you particularly large sum of money for no apparent reason.

you could still feel your wetness dripping between your thighs, creating a stickier mess between your folds and crevice of your ass. idly, your fingers collect the spend before circling around your clit.

oh

mammon's chat bubble rises and disappears repeatedly for only a few moments before finally sending a video - a very long one - of his own.

his hand pumped up and down his cock, thumb running over the tip to collect thick rivulets of pre to coat the shaft. he's letting out quite pants as he repeats the motions like clockwork, occasionally giving it a tight squeeze just to make his breath hitch.

it doesn't take long before your fingers are pumping in and out of your sex at the same pace he fucks into his hand. your breath catches in your chest with a whine when the disappointment of not feeling him thrust in and out of your walls.

can i expect something like this everytime i give you something?

if you come over now, then sure

beel's clutch would be larger not only due to her position as queen, but also because it's not a part of bael's natural biology to produce them. bael’s would be duds the thickness of an apple and beel’s would need to be fertilized to grow any larger than a grapefruit. both clutches would be creamy white and oblong, much like an actual fly's egg.

bael would be the first to deposit her eggs. she's gentle and has more self-control than the queen, taking more time in working you open— both your cunt and cervix— until you're able to comfortably take her fist. while she rocks her fist in and out, she'd be kissing at and around your clit and folds encouragingly until she thinks you're able to take her cock.

her control would slip once she's finally buried hilt-deep inside you. in and out, in and out, she would feel the way her clutch would try dropping down her canal and into her dick, shocking you both with a noticeable bulge at the base.

she'd flinch at the way you'd tighten around her. the bulge would push its way up her length before catching at the head. thrust, thrust, thrust, you'd both cry out at the way the egg would drop itself from her dick and fall against your cervix. the longer she goes on, the further it gets pushed through.

the egg wouldn't drop inside your womb until the second egg joins it and the second doesn't pass through until the third joins and it doesn't pass through until the fourth and—

bael releases fifteen eggs inside your cunt, each pushing the last forward until the last. she has to pull herself out and finger the sac inside with its siblings, helping the pulsing of your walls drag it further in.

she'd lay with you while you kept the eggs buried in your womb. occasionally, her hand would drift down to your clit and she'd dutifully begin circling it until you'd come. the other would palm over the bulges in your stomach, ignoring her rising urge to deposit another (then another, and another, and another) clutch within you, thumbing at the individual ends of each egg much to your excitement and stimulation.

when it's finally time for you to push the eggs out— after a day of keeping them in, supposedly to get you used to the feeling and weight. she'd fucked you full of come throughout until the individual eggs were near invisible—, bael fucks every one back into you. she laps around your cunt, your clit, your folds, and below just to collect your come on her tongue for her own pleasure.

(it takes hours for you to lay the clutch. you feel like you've been licked and fucked raw from the inside out, left twitching even after she soaks with you in a bath and lays you down in bed.)

beel is more enthusiastic when bael finally lets her get her hands on you. she eats you out until you're sobbing and keeps her hand on your stomach the entire time she fucks into you.

her come is thicker when she finally releases her clutch, the head cock beating against your cervix and easily depositing her eggs inside your womb. your walls tightened with each one, keeping you stretched from the first as they kept falling one after the other.

she suckles at your breasts as she pushes the eggs down her length. her hips jerk against yours the longer she goes on, and on, and on, until all thirty of her clutch is within your womb.

her eggs combined with her come leave you breathing heavy with a bulging stomach. you're filled faster than how bael had treated you, sobs and unintelligible sounds leave you clawing at her scalp when she drags her way down from your breasts to your belly.

it's a tight fit, but it's what you wanted, isn't it? beel seems to taunt you, bone-achingly slow in the way she pulls herself out, lifting your hips to try and slow the trickle of come that leaks from your sex. you don't want to waste anything? you wanna make it easier to take both their clutches, don't you?