#lizardman x reader

“Aww, poor human, getting cold in the night. Maybe we can get your blood pumping again, do you want that?” You hum, thinking he’s just messing around. “Ride my leg, then. That will make you feel all warm,” he deadpans, making you gasp in surprise. Of all the things you expected him to say, that’s not it.

You pull back enough to look at him, his face nonchalant as he looks back at you. “Wh- what? Here?! Somebody could see!” Your voice is a hushed whisper, scandalized that he wants you to do that.

He laughs, looking around and smirking. “Come on, this place is deserted, nobody is going to see…” He moves his hips a little and you can feel his hard on pressing against your center.

Your little black dress rode up enough that your panties are resting against his jeans. You can’t believe you are really considering what he’s offering, but you are cold, and the contact with his clothed dick is already warming you up.

“You promise?” You ask, your hips moving over his hard on in little thrusts that make your heartbeat pick up as he grunts low and guttural. The sound only makes you want to moan.

He nods once, his big claws pressing to the side of your thighs. “I promise.”

He helps you move against his leg, the fly of his jeans hitting your clit right over your panties. There’s something filthy about it, the way you are both clothed, in a public space, and still you can’t get enough of each other. You don’t even remember the cold as you start moving.

“You are such a good girl, always so ready to try new stuff with me. To be a filthy girl for me,” his words make you moan, hiding your face in his neck as he continues talking, hands massaging your covered ass. “I love how pliant and desperate you get when I touch your pretty pussy.”

He helps you move over his clothed erection, clearly only worrying about your pleasure as he murmurs filthy things into your ear, making your face feel as red as fire.

“Do you like that? Do you like to grind against me? What a filthy girl you are…” He growls at the last part and you can feel your pussy gushing. You are pretty sure there’s a wet spot in his pants by now.

“Ye- yes,” you whimper as your hips move faster, making tiny circles that rub your clit in the perfect way, searching your own pleasure, not even caring about his dick.

“Are you close? Are you going to make a mess of your panties for me?” He keeps teasing, his teeth against your neck as your breathing accelerates.

“So close,” you moan, hips going faster as he helps your movement with his big hands.

You are circling your hips when he whispers: “I think I hear the bus coming,” against your ear. You don’t analyze why, but his words only make your hips go faster, your rhythm getting erratic as you get closer and closer to release. “You are so good for me,” your boyfriend adds, a hiss at the end of the phrase…

And that does it.

You let out the loudest and most obscene moan of your life as you come undone right there, on his lap, at a bus stop.

You are pretty sure your juices are covering your thighs and the front of his pants, but he doesn’t seem to care as he helps you up and straightens your dress with the biggest grin on his scaly face.

You lizard man is going through his rut.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation. And position.

On your knees, legs bent, waist arched to expose your dripping cunt. His claws dig into your thighs, spreading you wide, his scaled chest pressed against you so you can feel the heat rolling off him. His cock, thick and knotted throughout, pushes at your entrance, slick dribbling from the slit at his round tip.

“Yes… perfect mate, perfect hole,” he growls, hissing as he drags his massive girth through your plump folds. “Meant to carry my clutch, hm? You’ll take every egg… you won’t spill a thing.”

“Yes!” Your breath catches as the head pops in, stretching you obscenely. The knots pop one by one, stretching your slit, scraping inside, delicious and raw, making your body slump down on the floor.

“Yes… hnn…. fuck, you’re so big!” you moan, clawing at his scales.

His split tongue flicks against your neck as he forces his cock deeper, inch by inch. Knot by knot. “Not just big, baby. Just right. Your body was made for this. Hnnn… fuck, you squeeze so tight already.”

When he bottoms out, your pussy is wide open and your belly distends with the sheer girth of him. He stays there, grinding slow and heavy, making sure you feel every knot pulsing and caressing your walls. Then a clawed hand slips under your body, palm pressing flat against your round stomach.

“I love to feel that,” he drawls, shifting, making your mewl so the bulge shifts under his hold. “My cock… right here. Soon, you’ll feel every egg move down. You’ll beg me for more.”

Oh… you know you will. You’re past shame. He feels so good, touching deep and caressing your sensitive spots. Your cunt clenches around him at the thought, and he laughs softly, tail coiling around your wrists, pinning them before you.

“Please, I want it… want you to fill me, breed me,” you whimper, nails raking his hard tail.

That breaks him.

With a hiss, he starts moving, slamming into you, again and again, taking you in deep, claiming thrusts. The sounds are primal. Your moans, his feral growls. His shaft plunders your depths, stealing your breath. Each knot stretches you obscenely, rubs your walls raw, and each snap of his hips pushes you closer to breaking.

“Good little mate… good little breeder,” he chants between snarls. “Take my clutch. Take it deep. Stay full for me.”

Replying is meaningless. You come undone. Sob with pleasure as his cock throbs inside you, expanding fuller than before. He pulls back, slowly making you whimper at each knot, then drives back home. As deep as he can go. Reaching into your womb. You shatter again, and if not for his tail holding your wrists, you’d collapse.

But he’s not done. His breath hitches, his monster body trembling as the first hot, heavy pulse pulses into you. A swollen egg slides through his cock, pressing against your walls until it pops deep inside. You cry out, overwhelmed, and he growls against your nape, biting just hard enough to mark.

“One… mmhhn, fuck, one in you. Good girl. More coming. You’ll carry them all. My pretty breeder.”

Another pulse, another egg, your stomach tightening as it settles inside. Your body convulses, another climax ripping through you so hard you scream his name. Slick and lizard cum gush down your thighs, and he turns your head and kisses you, split tongue thrusting inside your mouth, filling it as he deposits another egg inside your hot womb.

“Yes… cum on my cock. Milk the egg out of me. Gods, you’re so beautiful and mine…. so fucking mine.”

Minutes… hours pass. You don’t know. You only know you’re getting bred and overwhelmed by multiple orgasms. He doesn’t stop until your belly is swollen, until you’re wrecked and sobbing and twitching around him. Only then does he relent, hugging you to him, keeping his cock deep, locking everything inside.

“Now… you rest. My clutch is safe. You’ll stay like this, full, marked, mine.” His tongue licks over your tears, tender now that his rut has been satisfied.

And you happily close your eyes, resting in the arms of your lizardman, growing his precious clutch inside you.

Consciousness returned slowly.

Your body was warm and heavy, as if weighed down by blankets made of lead. Something hard and muscular was pressed against your back, and something equally hard and muscular was pressed against your front, and between them you were sandwiched so tightly you could barely move.

Mmph.

You tried to open your eyes. The lids felt glued shut, crusted with dried tears. When you finally managed to pry them apart, the first thing you saw was green scales.

Randrak.

He was curled around you like a protective shell, one massive arm thrown over your waist, his face tucked against your hair. His breathing was slow and even, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the heartbeat you could feel pressed against your back.

Sorthak.

They'd wrapped themselves around you, their bodies forming a cocoon of warmth and scale and muscle. A thick fur blanket had been thrown over the three of you, and beneath it you were completely naked, your skin pressed against theirs in ways that made your face burn.

They cleaned me.

You could tell. Your body felt... different. Not sore, exactly, which was strange considering what they'd done to you. There was a slickness between your legs and in your ass, something cool and soothing, and when you shifted experimentally, nothing hurt.

That was... unexpected.

"Awake already?"

Randrak's voice was rough with sleep, but there was awareness in it too, as if he'd been waiting for you to stir. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest, and you felt his morning erection—because of course he had one—press against your lower back.

"What—where—" Your voice came out as a croak, raw from screaming and from Sorthak's cock in your throat. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Sorthak said from behind you, his breath warm against your neck. "Right after Randrak fingered your ass. I've never seen anyone take so much and keep going. You were... magnificent."

Magnificent. The word echoed in your head, strange and unwanted. You hadn't felt magnificent. You'd felt like a thing—a hole, a warm place for them to put their cocks, a receptacle for their seed.

But you also hadn't felt pain. Not really. There had been discomfort, yes, and fear, and a sort of overwhelmed fullness that had made it hard to think. But somewhere in the middle of all that, there had also been pleasure. Intense, bone-shaking, mind-breaking pleasure.

You hated that you remembered that part.

"Let me go," you said, pushing weakly against Randrak's chest. "I need to—to get dressed. To leave."

"Leave?" Randrak's laugh was dark. "Little mate, you're not going anywhere. You're ours now. The whole realm knows it. We made sure of that before we brought you here."

Memory crashed back—the crowd, the strangers watching, your body on display while Randrak and Sorthak used you. Gods, there had been so many people. Dozens, maybe. All of them had seen you stretched open on lizard cock, had watched you come apart, had witnessed Randrak's seed pouring out of you in rivers.

"No." The word came out as a whisper, then a sob. "No, no, no—"

"Yes." Sorthak's voice was firm but not cruel. He shifted behind you, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. "This is how it works for our kind, little mate. When we claim someone, we claim them publicly. Everyone needs to know. Everyone needs to see. That's how we build our clan—through recognition, through witness, through pride."

"Pride?" You turned your head to glare at him. "You forced me in front of strangers and you're calling it pride?"

"Forced?" Randrak's brow furrowed. "You came. Multiple times. You begged for more. I don't understand—"

"I didn't want—"

"Your body wanted," Sorthak interrupted. "Your cunt wanted. Your ass wanted. You were dripping for us before we even touched you. That's not forced, little mate. That's biology."

You wanted to argue, wanted to scream at them that consent wasn't just about what your body did, that just because you got wet didn't mean you'd agreed to any of this. But the words stuck in your throat because—because they weren't entirely wrong, were they? You had come. You had begged. There had been moments when you'd wanted it, wanted them, with a desperation that still made you cringe.

"I can't," you said instead, because that was simpler. "I can't be your mate. I have a life. A future. Things I want to do that don't involve being stuffed full of lizard cock every day."

"Things like what?" Randrak asked. "What future do you have, little elf? You're alone. No clan, no family, no one waiting for you back home. We know. We researched."

The casual admission made your blood run cold. "You researched me?"

"For three years," Sorthak confirmed. "We knew everything about you before we even approached. Your favorite foods, your sleeping habits, the way you hum when you're nervous. Everything."

"That's not romantic. That's stalking."

"It's preparation." Randrak sat up, pulling you with him so that you were cradled against his chest, your legs draped over his thighs. The movement made your holes clench around nothing, and you winced at the sensation. "We needed to be sure you were the right one. And you are. You're perfect. Our genes recognized it the moment we smelled you."

"The right one for what? To be your breeding stock?"

"Our mate." Sorthak emphasized the word, his hand moving from your hair to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "There's a difference. Breeding stock is what humans use. What orcs use. What those lesser creatures do when they want to produce offspring without connection."

He leaned closer, his forked tongue flicking out to taste your lips. "We don't want just your body, little mate. We want you. Your mind, your spirit, your stubborn refusal to give in even when you're overwhelmed. That's what will make our clan strong. That's what will make our children powerful."

Children. The word hit you like a physical blow. "I'm not—I can't—you can't just decide that I'm going to have your children—"

"We already have." Randrak's hand pressed against your lower belly, his palm flat against the soft skin. "My seed is inside you. Deep inside. If the timing is right—and we made sure it was—then you're already carrying our first clutch."

The world tilted. Your vision went fuzzy at the edges, and you had to grip Randrak's arm to keep from falling over.

"A clutch? As in eggs?"

"Slithroth reproduction is... unique." Sorthak's voice had taken on an explanatory tone, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the fact that you might be pregnant with lizard eggs. "We spurt tiny eggs that steadily grow in our mate's womb. Our seed contains genetic material that, when combined with a compatible mate's warmth and fluids, forms eggs inside the mate's body. The eggs gestate for several weeks before being laid."

"You're saying there could be eggs inside me right now?"

"We're saying there are eggs inside you right now." Randrak's hand was still on your belly, warm and possessive. "Or there will be, once the process completes. It takes about a day for the eggs to fully accept the womb. You'll feel them soon."

A day. You had less than a day before you started growing lizard eggs inside your body.

"You have to get them out," you said, your voice rising toward hysteria. "You have to—there must be a way to—"

"There's no way." Sorthak's expression was sympathetic, which somehow made it worse. "Once the seed is inside, the process begins. Nothing can stop it. And honestly, little mate... why would you want to? These are our children. The beginning of a new clan."

"I don't want children!"

"Your body does." Randrak's thumb traced circles on your belly. "We can feel it, you know. The way your womb is already responding. The way your temperature has risen. You're made for this, little elf. Made for us."

Tears spilled down your cheeks—hot, angry, helpless tears. You hated them. You hated them for doing this to you, for taking away your choice, for making your body betray you. And you hated yourself for the part of you that was already imagining what those eggs would feel like, growing inside you.

Gods, what was wrong with you?

"We should prepare her for the square," Sorthak said, and there was something eager in his voice now. "The townspeople will want to see. They've been waiting."

"The square?" You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. "What square?"

"The town square." Randrak said it like it was obvious. "We have to present you officially. Show everyone that we've found our mate, that the Slithroth clan will continue. It's tradition."

"No." You shook your head, pulling away from him. "Absolutely not. You already paraded me in front of a crowd yesterday. I'm not doing it again."

"That wasn't a parade." Sorthak's lips curved in a smile that showed too many teeth. "That was just... enthusiasm. The square will be different. More formal. More public."

"There's no way I'm letting you fuck me in the town square in front of more people—"

"Letting us?" Randrak raised an eyebrow. "Little mate, you don't have a choice. This is happening. The only question is whether you'll behave like a proper mate or whether we'll have to... encourage you."

"Fuck you," you spat.

"You will," Sorthak agreed. "Frequently. And with enthusiasm, once you stop fighting it." He stood, his massive form unfolding from the bed, and you saw that he was already hard—that impossible length, those prominent knots, all of it aimed at you with clear intent. "But first, preparation. We need to make sure your holes are ready for the square. Can't have you too tight, after all. You need to gape properly."

Gape. The word made your stomach clench with something that wasn't entirely fear.

"Lie back," Randrak commanded, gently pushing you down onto the furs. "Spread your legs. Let us see what we're working with."

You wanted to resist. You wanted to. But your body was already moving, already obeying, already spreading your thighs to expose your pussy and your ass to their hungry gazes.

Traitor.

"Beautiful," Sorthak breathed, kneeling between your legs. "Look at this, brother. Look how well she's healing."

His fingers spread your outer lips apart, exposing the tender flesh beneath. Your pussy was still slightly swollen from yesterday's abuse, and the entrance was loose, relaxed, already beginning to gape the way they'd promised.

"The seed's slick is working," Randrak observed from beside you. His hand found your breast, cupping the soft weight, his thumb brushing over the nipple. "Her holes are staying open. That's good. That will make things easier."

"Easier for what?"

"For this." Sorthak lowered his head between your legs, and his tongue—that long, forked tongue—slid inside your pussy, licking out Randrak's remaining seed and your own juices. The sensation made you arch off the bed, a moan tearing from your throat.

Slurp. Schlick. Glorp.

He ate you out hungrily, tongue delving deep, curling and twisting and tasting. His nose pressed against your clit, rubbing in circles, and you could feel yourself getting wetter, more open, more ready.

"Don't stop," you heard yourself beg. "Please, don't stop—"

Randrak's fingers found your asshole, circling the loosened rim. "This one needs attention too," he said. "Can't go to the square without this hole prepared."

His finger pushed inside—just one, slick with your juices and you moaned . The sensation of being filled from both ends again, even just by fingers and tongue, made your head spin.

"More," you gasped. "I need more—"

"You need to be patient," Randrak chided, adding a second finger to your ass. "We have all day to stretch you. All day to get you ready. By the time we're done, you'll be able to take both of us at once."

Both of them. At once. The thought should have terrified you. Instead, it made your pussy clench around Sorthak's tongue.

"I hate you," you moaned. "I hate both of you—"

"No, you don't." Sorthak pulled back from your cunt, his chin glistening with your arousal. "You're already falling in love with us, little mate. You just don't know it yet."

He proved it by sliding two fingers inside your pussy while his tongue moved to your clit, licking and sucking and torturing the sensitive nub until you were screaming, until you were coming, until your vision went white and your body shook with the force of your release.

While you were still trembling, Randrak's fingers slipped out of your ass and something else pressed against the opening. Something bigger. Something textured.

His tail.

"Wait—" You tried to push up, to see what he was doing, but Sorthak's weight held you down. "That's not—you can't put your tail in there—"

"Can't I?" The tip of Randrak's tail pushed inside your ass, and gods, it was thick, thicker than his fingers, covered in fine scales that caught on your inner walls with every movement. "Our tails are prehensile, little mate. We can do anything with them."

He pushed deeper, and again, you felt your belly bulge from the intrusion. The tail was longer than his cock, more flexible, and it curled inside you like a living thing, pressing against your inner walls from angles you hadn't known existed.

"Look at that," Sorthak marveled, his fingers still working your pussy. "You can see it moving inside her. Through her skin."

You looked down at your belly, and he was right. There was a distinct bulge there, shifting and undulating as Randrak's tail pushed deeper into your ass. The sight was obscene, impossible, and it made you clench around both intrusions with desperate need.

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, I can't—I can't take anymore—"

"Yes, you can." Randrak's voice was strained, his hips thrusting slightly as he worked his tail in and out of your ass. "You're going to take all of it, little elf. Every inch. And then you're going to take Sorthak's tail in your pussy, and you're going to come again, and then we're going to carry you to the square and show everyone what a perfect mate we've found."

True to his word, Randrak's tail kept pushing deeper—and deeper, and deeper—until you could feel it in your guts, rearranging your organs the way his cock had yesterday. The sensation was overwhelming, pain and pleasure mixed so thoroughly you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"Now yours," Randrak said to Sorthak. "Both tails at once. Let's see how she handles that."

Sorthak's tail, midnight blue and scaled like the rest of him, pressed against your pussy entrance. You were already stuffed full of Randrak's tail in your ass, already stretched to your limit, and there was no way—

SQUELCH.

His tail slipped inside your pussy, and you sobbed.

The sensation was indescribable—two thick, moving appendages inside your body at once, twisting and curling and pushing against each other through the thin membrane that separated your holes. You could feel everything, every scale, every movement, every time their tails rubbed together inside you.

"Squeeze," Randrak commanded, and his tail curled, pressing against your inner walls. "Feel that, little mate? That's what it will be like when we fill you together. When both our cocks are inside you, rubbing against each other through your flesh."

Gnh— You couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except feel as their tails fucked you in tandem. In and out, in and out, faster and faster until you were nothing but a vessel for their pleasure, a hole to be filled.

SLAM. SQUELCH. GLORK.

"That's it," Sorthak groaned, thrusting to push his tail deeper. "That's our good little mate. Taking both tails like she was made for it."

You came again—or maybe you'd never stopped coming. Time had lost all meaning, reduced to a series of sensations: fullness, pressure, the drag of scales against your inner walls, the obscene sounds of your body being used.

When they finally pulled out—tails sliding free with wet, sucking sounds—you lay there panting, completely wrecked, your holes gaping open and leaking fluid onto the furs.

"Perfect," Randrak said, wonder in his voice. "Absolutely perfect. Look at her, brother. Look at what we've made."

Sorthak's fingers traced the rim of your asshole, still stretched wide, still quivering. "She's ready. Ready for the square. Ready for the world to see."

"No," you whispered, but it was weak, defeated, and they both ignored you.

Randrak scooped you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest, while Sorthak gathered something—clothes, maybe, or supplies. You couldn't focus on anything except the way your body throbbed, the way your holes clenched around nothing, the way your belly felt full despite being empty.

"Time to go, little mate," Randrak said, carrying you toward the entrance of the lair. "Time to show everyone who you belong to."

The sunlight hit your face, warm and bright, and you closed your eyes against it.

You didn't want to see what came next.

"Rask," you try again, but you are not sure if you are begging for him to slow down or to push you even further over the edge. Every inch of him overwhelms you. The drag of his scaled torso against you makes your back arch, punching a moan from your lips that’s halfway between protest and surrender. Your body feels like it’s running on pure adrenaline now, hypersensitive and wrung out.

You’ve lost track of time. It could’ve been minutes or hours since Rask first pushed you down onto the bed, pressing you into the mattress and the sheets. A slight turn of your head brings the faint glow of the city into view, framed by the window. The dark sky is illuminated by the neon lights of the streets below.

Your chest rises and falls in uneven gasps, exhaustion pulling at your every muscle. Tears streak your flushed cheeks, their salty tang lingering faintly on your tongue. Each snap of Rask's lean hips drives a jolt through your body, the sharp mix of pleasure and pain keeping you frozen and arched.

"Jus' one more time," the clone growls. The rumble of his voice vibrates through your very bones. He braces himself on his arms, his muscles shifting, giving himself more freedom to move. The bed creaks under his relentless thrusts, increasing the wet, lewd sound of his cock in your drenched heat.

But you know better. It’s never “just one more time” with him. Cloning is a gamble where the outcome is unpredictable, bringing something new, a difference in personality or temperament that makes him a creature all his own. And for reasons you can’t fully understand, Rask's clone knows about your attraction to the lizardman, about the unspoken fantasies you've kept hidden deep within yourself. He exploits it mercilessly, fulfilling every thought and suppressed yearning you've ever had. And then there’s the other thing; for some other unknown reason, he has a stamina you've never imagined. Hours stretch on like a fever dream, your body wrung out and oversensitive to the point of tears, yet he doesn’t falter, doesn’t waver. He chases pleasure until it turns to pain, and even then he doesn't stop.

The burning coil in your lower belly tightens in a way that makes your muscles seize, and your breath catch. Your legs twitch uselessly, where they rest on his broad shoulders, you try to push him away, palms pressing weakly against his chest, but the attempt only fuels him. Your efforts only make things worse, or better, depending on how you look at it. All you accomplish is a frantic sway of your hips, meeting him halfway in a rhythm you can’t seem to control. He slides in and out of you with ease, the mess between your thighs making every movement slick and sinful.

"Look at you," he snarls. "All this fuss, all this fight, and you are still pulling me in." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, forcing a choked gasp from your lips.

His claws dig into the sheets on either side of your head, shredding fabric as he cages you in completely. The slits of his pupils are wide and wild with unrestrained hunger, and his sharp teeth are bared in a wicked grin. "Messy little thing."

"I-I can't-" you groan. Your voice is nothing more but a whine and it reaches something in the clone because his demeanor changes within a second. "Rask-"

His pace falters, his hips stuttering before snapping back into their relentless rhythm. His claws flex against the shredded sheets, his scaled arms trembling as he braces himself above you.

His breath hitches, and you hear a low, almost pleading whimper escape his throat, a sound so unexpected it sends a shiver racing through you. "So fucking close-" His words trail off into a growl of frustration. His amber eyes are wild and glowing with a mix of lust and anguish as his thrusts grow erratic as if sheer determination will push him over the edge he’s been chasing for hours.

"Please… just let me keep going. I need it. Don’t make me stop. Can’t stop." His hips grind against you, rolling and pushing in an agonizing rhythm.

You can feel the tremor in his muscles, the exhaustion radiating off him, but he refuses to give in. He is lost in the chase, and the only thing you can do is wheeze and cry in his tight embrace. Your pussy clenches and gushes around him without your control. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hips buck against yours. Every movement is frantic now, each thrust driven by the maddening edge of pleasure that refuses to tip him over. His body trembles violently, muscles straining as he chases a release that feels just out of reach.

"Come on," he growls like a broken whisper against your skin. "Come on, just this once. Let me have it." His words are a tangle of desperation and adoration, spilling from his lips in a stream of incoherent pleas. "So tight, so fucking wet- I can’t- I can’t stop. You feel too good. Too fucking good."

His hips stutter, his rhythm faltering for a heartbeat before redoubling in a frantic, almost punishing pace. Each thrust feels more unhinged than the last, his body trembling with exhaustion and need, and the sheer intensity of his movements has your mind spinning.

"Come on," you manage to gasp. You know he’s reaching his limit, but if he keeps going like this, you’ll both lose yourselves to the madness of it. Summoning what little strength you have left, your hands snap up to his shoulders, your nails digging into his scales. "Cum for me," you beg. "Let go."

The sound that leaves his lips is almost a whimper. His long face buries deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and erratic against your skin. You shiver as his tongue darts out, lapping over the salty dampness of your neck before lingering over the thrumming pulse under your skin.

His legs dig into the bed with renewed determination. The motion drives your body into the mattress, folding you even tighter into the mating press. The angle shifts abruptly, and a sharp cry rips from your throat as he thrusts deeper than before, his movements fueled by pure desperation. His hips snap into you with reckless abandon, the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies filling the air alongside your cries and his ragged groans.

"Fuck," he growls.

Each thrust pushes you closer to the brink, and yet all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting against his shoulders as his pace grows impossibly faster. He’s entirely lost to the chase now, his movements wild and chaotic, his breath coming in broken gasps as he continues to push himself far beyond his limits.

You are certain he doesn’t even notice when you fall apart beneath him, your body trembling violently as waves of pleasure crash over you. The overwhelming sensation pulls a broken cry from your lips, but it’s swallowed by the sheer force of him. At the same moment, a guttural, feral growl tears from his throat, vibrating through your entire body as he finally swells inside you. His release floods you in hot, unrelenting waves. The heat of it spreads through you, overwhelming and consuming, until your vision blurs and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your voice falters, fading into incoherent whimpers and soft, shuddering gasps. The only sound left is the slick, clenching noises of your joined bodies as his hips jerk against yours in erratic, desperate thrusts.

He stays buried inside you, trembling with the aftershocks of his long-denied release, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pants. His claws, which had shredded the sheets, now grip the bed as though anchoring himself, his chest heaving with each shallow gasp. His long face remains tucked against your neck, his hot breath brushing over your damp skin.

“Finally,” he murmurs.

The town square was packed.

You'd known, intellectually, that the Slithroth brothers were famous.

Everyone in the realm knew about the last two lizardfolk, about their search for a mate, about the rumors that swirled around them wherever they went. But you hadn't realized—couldn't have imagined—what that fame would look like in practice.

Dozens of people. Hundreds of people. They lined the streets, crowded the buildings, perched on rooftops and balconies just to catch a glimpse. When Randrak carried you into the square, a cheer went up that made your ears ring.

"There she is!" someone shouted. "The elf! The one they chose!"

"Look at her belly—is it swelled already—"

"Do you think she's carrying eggs yet?"

Their voices washed over you. You wanted to cover yourself, to hide, but you were naked—completely naked—and Randrak's arms were the only thing keeping you from falling to the ground.

"Put me down," you hissed at him. "Please. I'll walk. I'll—I'll behave. Just don't make them see—"

"See what?" Sorthak walked beside you, his massive hand resting on your bare hip. "See how beautiful you are? See how perfectly your body fits between us? That's the point, little mate. We want them to see."

"I can't—"

"You can." Randrak's voice was firm but not unkind. He stopped in the center of the square, where a raised platform had been constructed—for this, you realized with horror. They'd built a stage. "And you will. And when it's over, everyone here will know that the Slithroth clan has a queen."

He set you down on the platform, your bare feet cold against the wood. Sorthak moved to stand behind you, his body a wall of heat at your back, and together they turned you to face the crowd.

Gods, the crowd.

Hundreds of faces stared back at you. Humans, elves, dwarves, creatures you didn't have names for. Some looked disgusted. Some looked fascinated. Some looked aroused, their hands straying to their own bodies as they watched.

"Citizens!" Randrak's voice boomed across the square. "We have gathered you here today to witness a historic event. After three years of searching, my brother and I have found our mate. Our one. The elf who will help us rebuild the Slithroth clan!"

Another cheer. Someone threw flowers onto the stage—roses, their petals scattering across the wood.

"This is—this is wrong," you tried to say, but your voice was drowned out by the crowd. "You can't just—they can't just watch—"

"They can," Sorthak murmured against your ear. "And they will. Now be a good little mate and stop fighting. You'll enjoy this more if you relax."

His hands moved to your breasts, cupping them from behind, his thumbs finding your nipples. They were already hard from the cool air and the fear and the anticipation, and when he pinched them—gently, almost teasingly—you couldn't stop the moan that escaped.

"Look at that," someone in the crowd said. "She's already getting wet. You can see it dripping down her thighs."

Gods, no. But when you looked down, they were right. Your arousal was leaking out of you, clear and glistening, running in thin streams down your legs.

"You see?" Randrak addressed the crowd, his hands joining Sorthak's on your body. Their fingers parted your folds, showing everyone the wetness there. "Our mate wants this. Her body has accepted us. Her holes are ready to be filled."

"Please," you whispered, but no one was listening.

Sorthak lifted you suddenly. "Take her," he said to Randrak, and Randrak moved to stand behind you, holding you wide open from under your thighs, your holes on display as his cock—already hard—pressed against your asshole.

"Wait—"

But there was no waiting. Randrak lowered you onto his cock, your ass stretching around the head, and the crowd gasped at the sight. Your back hole was still loose from earlier, still slick with arousal, but he was so big and you were so full—

SCHLORP.

The sound echoed across the square as the first knot popped inside you. You cried out, your hands reaching for something to hold onto, and Sorthak caught them, pinning them above your head.

"More," Randrak growled, his hips lifting to push deeper. "She can take more."

He was right. Your ass was stretching, really stretching. The knots slid inside one by one, each one making you gasp, making you moan, making you feel.

"Look at her belly," someone shouted. "You can see him inside her!"

You looked down, and there it was—a bulge in your lower abdomen, moving as Randrak pushed deeper. His cock was so long, so thick, that you could literally see it through your skin.

Glorp. Schlick. Nnngh.

"Sorthak I'm in," Randrak said, his voice strained. "Your turn."

Sorthak positioned himself in front of you, his cock—that massive black shaft with its silver veins—pressing against your pussy hole. Your legs were still spread wide, held open by Randrak's hands on your thighs, and there was nothing you could do to stop what came next.

POP.

The head of his cock pushed inside, and you screamed.

Two cocks. Both holes. At the same time.

"I can't—" you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. "I can't, I can't, I can't—"

"You can." Sorthak pushed deeper, his cock sliding into your pussy alongside Randrak's cock in your ass. You could feel them through the thin wall between your holes, rubbing against each other, fucking each other through your flesh. "You're doing it, little mate. Look—look how well you're taking us."

You looked. Your belly was huge, distorted by the two massive cocks filling you from both sides. The crowd was going wild, cheering and clapping and watching, always watching.

"Now we move," Randrak said.

They began to fuck you in tandem—one pushing in while the other pulled out, then switching, then moving together so both cocks thrust inside you at the same time. The rhythm was disorienting, overwhelming. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except feel as they used your body like a toy.

SLAM. SQUELCH. GLORK.

"That's it," Sorthak groaned, his hips slamming against yours. "That's our good little mate. Taking both of us. Loving both of us."

"I don't—nnngh—I don't love—"

"Your cunt loves us." Randrak thrust upward, his cock hitting something deep inside your ass that made stars explode behind your eyes. "Your ass loves us. Your mouth is going to love us too, once we fill it."

His tail—when had he moved his tail?—wrapped around your throat, not choking, just present, a reminder of what else they could do. The scales were warm against your pulse point, and you could feel your heartbeat racing beneath them.

"Open," Sorthak commanded, and his tail pressed against your lips. "Open your mouth, little mate. Let everyone see how well you can deepthroat."

You shook your head, but his tail pushed past your lips anyway, the tip sliding across your tongue. It tasted like him and your mouth watered despite yourself.

Grlkkk.

"Suck," Randrak ordered, and you sucked, hollowing your cheeks around the tail the way you'd sucked his thumb yesterday. Sorthak groaned, his hips stuttering, and you realized with a jolt that his tail was sensitive, that what you were doing with your mouth was affecting him as much as what his cock was doing to your cunt.

"That's it," he gasped. "That's our perfect mate. Sucking my tail while I fuck her pussy—fuck—"

The crowd stepped closer. You could see them now, individual faces, individual reactions. A dwarf with his hand down his pants. A human woman with her fingers between her legs. An elf—one of your own kind—watching with wide, hungry eyes as you were ravaged by two monsters.

Shame. The emotion washed over you, but beneath it was something else. Something that felt like pride. Like arousal. Like want.

Gods, what was wrong with you?

"Faster," Randrak demanded, and they fucked you faster, harder, deeper. Their cocks pistoned in and out of your holes, the knots catching and releasing, catching and releasing, stretching you wider with every thrust.

SCHLICK. GLORK. PHHPHGGG.

You couldn't breathe around Sorthak's tail, couldn't think around the pleasure, couldn't do anything except take it as they used you. Your orgasm was building again—you'd lost count of how many times you'd come—and you could tell they were close too, their thrusts becoming erratic, their groans becoming louder.

"Fill her," someone in the crowd begged. "Fill her up! Show us what Slithroth seed looks like!"

Sorthak pulled his tail from your mouth, and you gasped for air, sobbing and moaning and begging—though you weren't sure what you were begging for. More? Less? An end to this torment?

"Please," you managed. "Please, I need—I need—"

"What do you need, little mate?" Randrak's voice was rough. "Tell us. Tell everyone what you need."

"Your cum—" The word tore from you, raw and shameful. "I need your cum. Please. Fill me. Fill both my holes. I can't—I can't take anymore unless you fill me—"

They came at the same time. Hot liquid flooding your pussy and your ass simultaneously, so much of it that you could feel your belly expanding, could feel the pressure building as they pumped load after load into your stretched-open holes.

Gush. Schlick. GLURK.

"Cum for us," Randrak ordered, and your body obeyed, your orgasm crashing through you so hard that your vision went black around the edges.

You came and came and came, your holes clenching around their cocks, milking them for every drop. The crowd was screaming now, cheering, applauding, and you could hear Sorthak's triumphant roar and Randrak's deep groan of satisfaction.

When they finally pulled out—cocks sliding free with wet, sucking sounds—their cum poured out of you in rivers, splashing onto the wooden stage, running down your legs, pooling beneath you.

"Look," Randrak said, turning you to face the crowd, spreading your legs so everyone could see. "Look at our mate's holes. Look how they gape."

Your pussy and ass were wrecked, the rims loose and relaxed, dripping with cum.

"The Slithroth clan has a queen!" Sorthak announced. "And soon, she will carry our eggs. Soon, our clan will grow!"

The crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, prayers—you heard them all, floating past you like music as you swayed between your two mates.

"You did so well," Randrak murmured against your ear, his voice almost loving. "Such a good little mate. Such a perfect little elf."

"I hate you," you whispered back, but there was no heat in it anymore.

"No, you don't." He kissed your temple, gentle. "You're starting to love us, little mate. And we're going to spend the rest of our lives proving that you were right to."