Damian McAllister didn’t just walk through the towering glass doors of the penthouse office — he commanded them open.
Six-foot-three, salt-and-pepper stubble lining his sculpted jaw, body poured into a charcoal three-piece suit that didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was absolutely stacked. His shirt clung to his chest like it was desperate to stay on, buttons groaning over the rise of his sculpted pecs. Broad shoulders rolled with power. Thick legs swelled with every step. And that ass—Jesus—that round, bulging ass filled out his tailored slacks like a slab of prime meat.
He was everything Stretch dreamed of in a "skin suit."
And Stretch, the spectral freak floating unseen above the city, was drooling.
“Holy hell, this guy’s a whole DILF buffet,” Stretch cackled, his translucent tongue flicking the air. “I mean look at that bubble butt—built like a boss, but I bet that thing jiggles when he runs.”
Damian stepped into his private office, letting out a sigh. “God, it’s been meetings all day. Need to take a leak.”
He loosened his tie, heading toward the attached executive bathroom.
“OH YESSS,” Stretch practically squealed, spiraling down through the ceiling. “He’s alone. He’s sexy. And he’s got no idea he's about to get GHOSTED.”
With an unhinged giggle, Stretch rocketed forward.
Damian had just turned the lock when a blast of cold air tickled his spine. He frowned. “What the—?”
“Open wiiiiide, Daddy Damian~!”
Damian barely turned before Stretch plunged into his mouth, a gurgling, cackling stream of ectoplasmic slime ramming down his throat.
“HHHHHUNNNNNGGGGGKKK!!” Damian staggered back, eyes bulging, throat flexing as Stretch forced himself inside like a ghost-shaped firehose.
Damian’s muscles spasmed, his hands clawing at his neck. His tie tightened. His eyes crossed.
Stretch coiled down into his chest like a parasite, wrapping around his core. Damian’s suit strained as his chest heaved outward, ribs cracking, abs flexing violently.
“MMNNNFFFFF—HHAAAHHH—GHHHH!!”
Veins bulged in Damian’s neck. His face flushed red. His legs buckled—
Then… the eyes blinked. Once. Twice.
A smirk crept across his face.
And Damian—now Stretch—looked at himself in the mirror.
“Oh… oh baby.” His voice was Damian’s deep baritone, but his words? 100% Stretch.
He reached up and dragged a strong hand down his stubbled face, then ran both hands down his chest, over those meaty pecs pressing against the strained shirt.
“Damn, Dami’s got that silver fox meat suit magic,” he purred. “This ain’t no businessman. This is a full-blown muscle DADDY.”
He flexed his arms — the seams of the dress shirt sleeves popped.
“FUCK yes,” Stretch moaned, lips curling. “I feel like I could deadlift a car and still fuck someone’s brains out after.”
He turned, examining Damian’s massive ass in the mirror. “Sweet crispy Christ on a kettlebell—this bubble butt is legendary.”
He grabbed a cheek in each hand and squeezed, shaking them.
“GahDAMN, Dami! You been hiding all this cake in a boardroom?!”
Stretch bent over slightly, sticking it out like a filthy cam boy, smirking at the reflection as he bounced it.
Then his eyes wandered downward.
A massive bulge tented the front of his slacks. It throbbed visibly.
Stretch blinked. “Huh… wait a sec…”
He undid the belt and dropped the trousers.
His cock slapped up against Damian’s furry abs, already dripping precum like a leaky faucet.
“OH HOHOHO, what’s this?!” Stretch gasped. “Somebody’s got a hyperspermic horsecock!”
He gripped it with one thick hand.
The second his palm closed around it, the body spasmed.
Damian’s knees knocked, his eyes crossed, and ropes of pure white cum erupted from the cock without a single stroke. It blasted the mirror, the counter, the ceiling.
Stretch moaned like a demon in heat.
“OH HELL YESSS, THIS BODY IS A FREAK!!”
He leaned against the mirror, panting, cock still twitching, still hard.
“Shiiiit, this guy busts like a fire hydrant and he ain’t even touched himself yet…”
Stretch reached back down and gave the shaft a teasing pump.
Another jet sprayed out across the mirror. His mouth hung open, tongue out.
His face was red. Eyes glassy. Drool string hanging off his chin.
“Guhhhhhh… I’m a dumb fuckin’ business stud… just wanna pump and flex and GOON TILL I MELT…”
Stretch fell to his knees, stripped off the dress shirt, and stroked hard now, two-handed.
He bounced his pecs. Moaned like a slut.
“C’mon, daddy… make the face… show me that gooner DILF drool look…”
He opened his mouth and rolled his eyes back, stroking to the rhythm of his flexes.
The mirror reflected a once-powerful, composed CEO… now fully reduced to a jacked-up, goon-hungry freak with cum on his abs and tongue hanging out.
“Unghhh—this is the best fuckin’ suit I’ve ever worn,” Stretch slurred. “So fulla cum… so desperate to empty… AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAI—”
Another load exploded, splattering the floor.
Stretch didn’t even stop.
He just laughed, a loopy, high-pitched giggle.
“I’m gonna drain these balls until there’s nothing left but goon brain, baby! WOO!!”
He stumbled to his feet, leaned over the counter, and smirked at his own ruined reflection.
“Hi, I’m Damian McAllister, CEO of McAllister Holdings,” he mocked in a perfect deep voice, still jerking. “I close deals, sign contracts, and cum like a broken milk hose!”
Then he bit his lip and stared deep into the mirror.
“Stretchy boy’s home now, baby… and I ain’t ever leavin’ this DILF suit.”
And grinned wide.
PART 2 Stretch Presents: The Cum Quarterly
The boardroom smelled like wood polish, fresh coffee, and money. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city skyline, but Stretch wasn’t interested in the view.
He was sitting at the head of the long table, legs spread wide, Damian’s thick thighs stretching the fabric of a brand-new navy suit. The suit clung tight over his pecs and wide shoulders, freshly tailored that morning because the last one didn’t survive yesterday’s activities. His shirt collar was stiff and pressed, his silver hair perfectly styled, and not a soul in the room had a clue that the real Damian McAllister wasn’t behind those smoldering grey eyes.
They were looking at Stretch.
Under the table, the hyperspermic monster cock pulsing between his thighs was already dribbling thick beads of precum, soaking his briefs. He hadn’t touched it — yet — but his body was on a hair-trigger. That constant pressure. That bloated, veiny ache. It was heaven. Or hell. Or both.
He gripped the edge of the table as the head of HR passed out the quarterly packets.
“Thank you, Cynthia,” Stretch said in Damian’s deep, confident voice — a voice that could close six-figure deals and make interns wet in the same breath. “Let’s begin.”
He clicked the presentation remote and stood.
And the moment he stood — the moment his massive cock shifted — his entire body twitched.
“Ffhhhhhuck,” Stretch whispered under his breath, hiding the tremble with a fake cough.
Twelve executives sat watching. None of them suspected that their beloved, collected boss was trying not to bust a hyperspermic load into his slacks while discussing Q2 dividends.
“Right. So… dividends,” he said, clicking to the first slide. His voice was even. Measured. But behind the calm mask, Stretch’s internal monologue was spiraling.
“Bro, this is INSANE. Your nuts are backed up like a busted fire hydrant, and you’re talking about REVENUE?! This is torture. This is goon edging LEVEL 100.”
Stretch's hand slipped under the table, casually brushing his thigh. He groaned just a little through his teeth.
A blonde exec turned. “Are you alright, Mr. McAllister?”
Stretch smiled, perfect and practiced. “Yes, just—little muscle cramp. Been hitting the gym harder lately.”
The only thing Damian’s body had been hitting was his own cock.
Stretch continued. “As you can see, Q2 outperformed projections. Revenue’s up thirteen percent…”
His other hand very discreetly slipped between his legs.
Another fat drop of precum hit the inside of his slacks and bled through.
He looked around. No one noticed.
“One little stroke, Stretchy boy,” he whispered to himself. “Just one stroke while you say something boring about EBITDA…”
His abs tensed beneath the shirt.
He made a subtle goon face. Bit his lip. His eyes fluttered just slightly.
“…and of course, projected growth for Q3 remains steady…”
That big DILF chest rose and fell like a pump machine, shirt pulling taut across his pecs.
“You’re gonna lose it,” Stretch moaned in his head. “Gonna flood the fuckin’ boardroom, bro…”
He clicked to the next slide.
Under the table, his cock twitched again.
His whole body jerked — just a little.
He disguised it as a shift in weight.
“Sorry. Pulled something in my back,” he lied smoothly. “Let’s keep going.”
But his hand didn’t stop.
No. He was stroking now. Slow. Controlled. But constant.
That endless, hyperspermic load.
Sack swelling like a fuckin’ water balloon.
He could feel it throbbing through his legs.
A small moan slipped out.
Damian’s face — perfect and mature and confident — smiled wide.
“Apologies. Allergies,” he chuckled, wiping a single bead of sweat off his forehead. “Let’s proceed to international holdings…”
Another stroke. And another.
Stretch was right at the edge.
His toes curled in his loafers.
Thick, hot, massive ropes of white cream flooded his lap. It soaked through the front of the slacks, a wet patch the size of a dinner plate spreading across his crotch.
But Stretch didn’t flinch.
“Moving on to the next slide—”
His cock throbbed again, shooting a second burst, soaking his thigh.
One of the interns sniffed the air. “Um… does anyone smell…”
“Fresh printer ink?” Stretch said smoothly, clicking the next slide. “It’s the new toner. Very potent.”
He clenched his keg-thick thighs, pushing the mess tighter against his skin, grinding the still-hard cock into the cum-soaked pants.
“…and our Singapore branch has exceeded expectations…”
Except for the twitching eye.
The subtle grind of his hips into the chair.
Beneath the surface, Stretch was unraveling.
The mask of power. The business armor. All hiding the fact that he was cumming like a fucking bull under the boardroom table.
“I’m a monster,” he whispered inside. “A suit-wearing, number-talking, goon-dripping beast, baby!”
By the end of the meeting, his pants were ruined. His ass was sticking to the leather chair. His cock was still hard.
He stood slowly, lifting the briefcase in front of him to cover the damage.
“Thank you all,” he said, voice still smooth. “Let’s touch base again next week.”
No one suspected a thing.
As the room emptied, Stretch leaned on the table, eyes glassy, twitching with aftershocks.
He looked at the mess under the table.
“…I think I broke this body.”
And licked a string of cum off his palm.
PART 3 - Intern Fun
The sun dipped low beyond the skyline, casting a golden glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damian McAllister’s executive suite. The air was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city far below.
Behind the massive mahogany desk sat Damian—or rather, Stretch, curled luxuriously inside the older man’s impossibly built, hyperspermic body.
He leaned back in the leather chair, thick thighs spread wide. His crisp white dress shirt clung to his chest, still damp from earlier goon indulgences, pecs outlined perfectly beneath. His black slacks were stretched tight over the outline of a fat, semi-hard cock that hadn’t softened once since taking over this alpha DILF meat puppet.
Stretch adjusted the collar, grinning at his reflection in the window—his reflection flexing right back, tongue teasing the edge of Damian’s lips.
“Time for some fun,” he growled, reaching for the phone. He hit a button.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Kyle stepped in, face flushed with nerves. Early 20s, soft jawline, floppy blonde hair, and that clean scent of a guy too fresh for what was about to happen.
He gestured coldly to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit.”
Kyle did so quickly, eyes wide.
Stretch folded Damian’s thick arms, let the silence hang for a moment, then spoke.
“We need to talk about your future here.” His voice was smooth, laced with something darker.
Kyle swallowed. “Is—did I do something wrong?”
Stretch sighed, letting Damian’s tongue click condescendingly.
“You’re smart, kid. Eager. But we’ve had complaints. About performance.”
Kyle’s mouth opened slightly, panic rising.
“Relax,”** Stretch interrupted, standing slowly, moving around the desk like a shark circling prey. “I’m giving you a chance. A special chance.”
He stopped behind Kyle’s chair, placed both strong hands on the intern’s shoulders, squeezing gently.
“You wanna stay here, don’t you?”
Kyle nodded. “Yes, sir. More than anything.”
Stretch chuckled. “Then show me. Show me how badly you wanna keep this job.”
Kyle looked up, confused—then flinched as Stretch unbuckled Damian’s belt with a snap, unzipped his slacks, and freed the thick, veiny cock that slapped out like a beast unchained, already drooling.
“Prove it,” Stretch growled. “On your knees.”
The command landed like a hammer.
Kyle shakily rose, knees hitting the plush carpet as he stared at the massive cock—thick, heavy, leaking. The musk hit him like a wave. Primal. Unfiltered.
Stretch growled through a grin.
“Wrap those soft lips around it, intern. Show Daddy you wanna stay.”
Kyle hesitated, then leaned forward, lips parting. He wrapped them around the tip and started sucking.
Stretch threw his head back, groaning.
“Fuuuuck yes... There ya go... suck that big CEO cock... That’s it, baby boy...”
He grabbed the back of Kyle’s head and pushed, forcing more in.
“Deeper. You’re gonna learn to throat this thing if you want a future here.”
Kyle choked slightly but kept going, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Stretch moaned, thrusting slowly.
“You’re a natural little sucktoy, aren’t ya? You ever used that pretty mouth on your professors too? Bet you sucked your way through college, huh?”
Kyle whimpered around the cock, cheeks hollowing as he worked it.
Stretch looked down, watching Damian’s thick shaft disappear into Kyle’s mouth. The sight made his balls clench.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ explode, kid... my balls have been full all fuckin’ day...”
He pulled out with a wet pop, a string of spit and precum stretching from tip to lip. Kyle panted, drooling, eyes glazed.
Stretch leaned in close, voice low and rough.
“Get up. Bend over the desk.”
Kyle obeyed instantly, bending over the cold wood surface. Stretch stepped behind him, yanked his pants down, revealing a firm, pale ass just begging to be filled.
“Mmm, look at that hole. Tight little promotion hole,” Stretch teased.
He lined up, rubbing the fat, slick cock between Kyle’s cheeks, smearing precum.
Stretch groaned, slamming forward slowly, Damian’s thick cock parting the intern’s hole inch by inch.
“Yessss... take it, you eager little office bitch... take every hyperspermic inch of Daddy’s cock...”
Kyle moaned, gripping the desk.
Stretch grunted, each thrust harder than the last, his full balls slapping against Kyle’s skin.
“Then take this breeding, baby boy.”**
Stretch leaned over Kyle’s back, pinning him, his breath hot and filthy in the intern’s ear.
“Gonna fill you up... dump a fuckin’ career-load in you... so much cum, you’ll be dripping ambition for weeks…”
The sound of Damian’s hips slamming into Kyle echoed off the glass windows.
Stretch’s face twisted in gooner ecstasy, Damian’s eyes fluttering as drool slid from his lip.
“UNNNNNNNGH—FUCK—YEAH—TAKE IT—HERE IT COMES—”
And with one last thrust—
Hot, endless jets of cum blasted inside Kyle, thick and pumping, swelling his hole. Kyle cried out, body trembling as the DILF’s cock kept twitching and dumping.
Stretch groaned like a beast, biting his lip, grinding deep until the last thick spurt oozed out.
He pulled out slowly. A river of jizz spilled from Kyle’s hole onto the floor.
Stretch sat back in the leather chair, chest rising, Damian’s cock still twitching.
“You’re hired,” he said with a smirk.
The late afternoon sun gleamed off the glass towers surrounding the McAllister building, but inside Damian’s office, the lights were low, the mood humid, and the tension obscene.
Stretch lounged in Damian’s leather throne behind the desk, his suit jacket draped over the back, sleeves rolled up to his thick forearms, a single button popped open at the top of his shirt, teasing the swell of that sculpted chest. The boardroom-style Zoom call had already started—multiple tiles lit up with faces from across the country. Executives, partners, VPs. All staring at their screens.
And none of them knew that just below the camera’s view, under the desk, their CEO’s young male intern was on his knees, lips wrapped around the thick, hyperspermic cock of the man they all answered to.
Stretch gave the faintest smirk as he adjusted in his seat, Damian’s cock twitching in Kyle’s warm, wet mouth.
“Gentlemen,” Stretch said smoothly, voice deep and commanding through Damian’s lips. “Thanks for making time for today’s strategic review. I trust you’ve all seen the updated financials?”
As heads nodded and someone began speaking, Stretch muted his mic and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk while gazing at his reflection in the black part of the screen.
Below, Kyle gagged softly, one hand wrapped tight around Damian’s shaft, the other clinging to his thick thigh for support. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, lips slick and stretched wide. Damian’s cock barely fit. And it never stopped leaking.
Stretch groaned low and silent, eyes flicking down briefly.
“That’s it, baby boy… don’t stop,” he growled in a whisper, barely moving his lips as he looked directly into the camera. “Show me how much you wanna stay on staff.”
Kyle slurped needily, his tongue swirling around the tip before plunging back down. His nose buried in the trimmed salt-and-pepper pubes, breathing in the scent of alpha power and raw musk.
Stretch adjusted his tie with one hand, completely calm up top while his lower half was twitching, pumping precum into Kyle’s throat.
Someone on the call asked a question.
“We’ll be shifting some priorities in Q3,” he said smoothly, face stone-serious. “Focus will remain on consolidation, but with increased attention to high-yield assets. Speaking of which—”
He grunted softly as Kyle deepthroated again.
“—I believe our growth in that sector is… strong. Very strong.”
He muted again just in time to moan under his breath, one hand dropping below the desk to stroke Kyle’s hair.
“Mmmfuckkkk... you’re such a good office toy... such a hungry little mouthpiece for Daddy’s cock, huh?”
Kyle nodded, moaning around the shaft, tears now pricking at the corners of his eyes. His throat flexed with every pulse from that fat, hyperspermic dick.
Stretch looked down briefly and whispered, “Gimme those eyes, baby... look up at your boss while you suck his fuckin’ load out…”
Kyle obeyed—his eyes locking with Damian’s above as Stretch clenched his jaw, his whole thick, alpha body flexing behind the desk.
Back on Zoom, a junior VP was rambling about quarterly returns. Stretch didn’t hear a word. His balls were boiling.
“F-fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse, muting just in time again. He gripped the desk hard. “You ready for it, intern? Huh? Gonna swallow Daddy’s corporate load?”
Kyle whined and nodded, his hands now stroking the shaft while his mouth sucked harder, faster.
Stretch flexed. His thighs trembled. Sweat beaded at Damian’s temples.
“Take it... take this fuckin’ promotion shot, baby—UHHHHNNNNNNGHH—”
His abs clenched, cock spasming—and then he unloaded.
Stretch bit his lip and hit the mute button as a torrent of cum blasted down Kyle’s throat. Ropes. Pulsing shots. The kind of load only a ghost-powered, hyperspermic DILF suit could produce. Kyle gagged and swallowed, throat working desperately to keep up.
Stretch's mouth parted in a silent moan, eyes fluttering half-closed, Damian’s jaw twitching as he rode out the climax. Cum overflowed, spilling from Kyle’s lips and dripping onto the floor beneath the desk.
He finally exhaled, slick with sweat, cock still twitching in Kyle’s mouth.
He clicked unmute casually, adjusting his collar.
“Apologies,” Stretch said smoothly, voice returning to calm. “We had a brief... disruption. But I think we’re aligned.”
The screen nodded back at him in agreement.
Down below, Kyle rested his cheek on Damian’s thigh, panting, drooling, totally used.
Stretch reached down and stroked his hair.
“Good boy,” he whispered. “That’s how you keep your job.”
PART 5: OVERTIME FUCK WITH A SPECIAL GUEST
The penthouse was soaked in sex.
Glass windows steamed from heat. Damian’s leather couch squeaked under the relentless rhythm of flesh slapping flesh. In the dim light, the hulking alpha DILF’s muscular frame hovered over the pale, trembling intern bent beneath him.
Damian’s thick cock—hyperspermic, veiny, still leaking from earlier loads—pounded into Kyle’s spent hole, each thrust shooting another creamy squelch of leftover cum out of his boy-pussy.
Stretch, deep inside Damian’s sweaty, dripping body, was lost in it—sweat rolling down pecs, goon-drunk grin splitting his face. His voice slurred into a growl as he flexed Damian’s abs in the mirror and kept thrusting.
“UNNNH yessss... fuckin’ full send, baby… this hole’s mine, office toy... I’ll never stop dumpin’ in it—n-never…”
But then—something changed.
The air shifted. A cold gust blew through the penthouse. Stretch’s eyes flicked up, instincts prickling.
From the kitchen, a low, nasal cackle echoed.
“Heeheehee… lookie what I found…”
Stretch growled, breath ragged. “Stinky?”
From behind the island floated a snot-green cloud, glowing faintly. Bulbous. Grinning. Globs of ectoplasm trailed behind it like drool.
“Mmmhmmm!” Stinky cackled. “And this little twink? Already stuffed full of Stretch’s load? Heeheehee! Don’t mind if I slide in for dessert!”
Before Stretch could react, the green cloud lunged.
“MMMPH—!!” Kyle’s head jerked up mid-thrust, eyes wide as Stinky crammed himself through his open mouth, pouring in like sludge. The body spasmed under Stretch, muscles twitching, toes curling. Kyle’s back arched violently as Stinky pushed deeper, his laugh gargling out mid-possess.
“NNGHhhH—uuuhhh—HAHAAAA—YEAHHH BABYYYY!!”
The possession snapped into place.
Kyle collapsed against the couch cushion, then slowly lifted his head—eyes glowing with mischief. A wide, cock-hungry grin split across his now possessed face, drool glistening on his chin.
“Oooohhh DAMN, this is tight!” Stinky moaned, his voice now pouring out of Kyle’s innocent mouth, warped and nasal. “Hahaha look at me! I’m fuckin’ hot! Lil goon toy’s got a nice setta lips, bouncy butt, AND—ohhh shit—I’m still LEAKIN’ STRETCH JUICE!”
He reached back with one hand, spreading his new asscheeks and grinding back on Stretch’s cock, still inside.
“HAHA! I’m ridin’ ya now, big boy! You put the load in—now I’M the one clenchin’ round it! Oooohhhh it’s squishin’ in here! This body’s a fuckin’ cum sponge!”
Stretch could barely keep it together, panting, leaking again.
“You slimy bastard,” he muttered, eyes glazed. “That hole’s mine—you’re stealin’ my toy!”
Stinky twisted Kyle’s pretty face into a dumb expression, tongue out, eyes crossed, making slutty goon moans as he bounced on Damian’s fat cock.
**“Uhhnnff yesss—fuck me, Daddy DILF—pound my twink guts! Make me goon! Stretch made this hole nice and loose, mmmMMM!”
“You’re a fuckin’ menace,”** Stretch groaned. Then grinned.
With a raw grunt, Stretch pulled out, his cock slapping wetly free from Kyle’s hole, strands of cum connecting them. He leaned in close, grabbed Kyle’s possessed face, and kissed him—tongues mixing as both ghosts prepared the switch.
And then—with a synchronized groan—they launched.
Stretch’s ectoplasm pulled out of Damian’s throat in a flash, while Stinky burst up out of Kyle’s mouth in a green slime explosion. Mid-air, they slammed into each other’s old bodies.
Stretch sucked down into Kyle’s mouth. He jerked, flailed, spasmed as Stretch flooded his brain, muscles, spine. The slim frame writhed, eyes rolling back—then blinked open glowing blue.
“UNNNNNFFFFF—FUCK.” Stretch moaned, now inside the young, lean body of Kyle. “This bod... is... INSANE.”
He looked down, breathing hard, watching his new chest rise and fall. His hands roamed across his flat abs, twitching thighs, dripping cock.
“Tight. Slick. Stretched OUT. And this fuckin’ hole’s still drippin’ with my old load—HAHAHAHHH!” He spun to the mirror and posed—lips parted, tongue out, flexing this new little body, then drooling over it.
“Dumb fuckin’ goonface… slutty lil moans… my voice is SO cute, HA! Heeeyyy Daddy, y-you gonna f-fuck my boypussy?” he mocked in Kyle’s tone, laughing wildly. “I’m a cumdump with hyperspermia now, oh SHIT—am I gonna cum every time I sneeze?? YESSSSSS!!”
Across the room, Stinky settled into Damian’s DILF suit with a loud, sloppy SLORP. His shoulders twitched, pecs flexing involuntarily.
“AWWWWWW YEAHHHHH!” Stinky’s deep new voice bellowed, eyes wide. **“LOOKIT ME!! I’M A FUCKIN’ ALPHA HUNK!!”
He bounced Damian’s pecs, spanked his own ass, and grabbed his hyperspermic cock. “OHHH this thing’s a BEAST! Already leakin’! You sure filled this toy up, Stretchy boy!”
Stretch licked Kyle’s lips, dropped to all fours, and looked back with a wink.
“Well? You just gonna flex and drip—or you gonna fuck this tight body fulla your slime?”
Stinky didn’t need to be asked twice.
He marched over, lifted Stretch (in Kyle’s tight form) up by the hips, and SLAMMED Damian’s thick cock back into the well-used hole. Stretch screamed in pleasure, fingers digging into the cushions as cum splashed from the impact.
“YEAHHHHHHH—BREED MEEE, BRO!!”
Their voices twisted, echoing, bouncing off the walls.
Green slime dripped. Sweat poured. Gooner babble filled the room.
Two ghosts. Two stolen bodies. One endless loop of breeding, swapping, gooning, and pure supernatural filth.
