American She-Cock Slam-Session
(Note: This story is part of an ongoing series of My Hero Academia stories)
Previous Story (Chapter 63): [LINK]
Beginning (Chapter 01): [LINK]
Next Story (Chapter 65): To Be Continued….
Rumi shoved through the side entrance of Busteez with enough force to make the metal door rattle in its frame. Her patrol gear was scuffed but pristine—no blood, no scorch marks, not even a decent scuff from a real fight. Four hours of walking rooftops, chasing shadows, and breaking up two petty thefts that barely required her to raise her voice. No villains worth the adrenaline. No one who could even pretend to keep up.
Her rabbit instincts were screaming.
The constant low thrum of arousal that came with her Quirk had been simmering all day, turning every heartbeat into a drumbeat between her thighs. She needed to move, to fight, to fuck—preferably all three at once. Preferably with someone who could actually handle her.
Izuku would be perfect. That kid had stamina for days and a cock that could rearrange her insides in the best way. Katsuki was a close second—rough, loud, mean in exactly the ways that made her toes curl. Either one would do. Hell, both at once would be ideal.
But Melissa… fuck, Melissa would’ve been perfect. One of those temporary futa dicks of hers, thick and relentless, pounding her until the constant itch finally quieted. Except Melissa was in the US for some Quirk-tech conference bullshit and wouldn’t be back for days.
Rumi growled under her breath as she stepped into the ballroom.
The place was in its usual evening hum—low bass thumping from the speakers, a couple dancers on the poles working the early crowd, the bar glowing under amber lights. She scanned the room automatically: no green hair, no spiky blonde. Disappointing, but not fatal. Someone here would scratch the itch if she had to settle.
Then she spotted Inko behind the bar, wiping down a glass with that soft, maternal smile she always wore. Rumi’s ears perked. Rumi sauntered over, boots clicking against the polished floor, tail flicking with restless energy.
“Hey, Mama M,” she called, sliding onto a stool and leaning both elbows on the bar. Her voice came out rougher than she intended—patrol frustration bleeding through. “Mix me something hard. Something that burns going down. I need to feel it.”
Inko looked up, smile widening at the sight of her.
“Rough patrol, Rumi-chan?”
Rumi snorted, ears flattening slightly. “Painfully dull. Didn’t even get to kick anyone’s teeth in. Now I’m crawling out of my skin.”
She leaned forward, forearms on the bar, voice dropping. “Tell me the kid’s here tonight. Or Sparky. I need a good, rough fuck before I start climbing the walls.”
Inko’s cheeks pinked, but her smile didn’t falter. She reached for a bottle of Yamazaki, a popular Japanese whiskey—and began pouring a generous double.
“He’s not in yet,” she said gently. “But he usually shows up after his evening rounds. Katsuki’s been in and out all week, too.”
Rumi accepted the glass with a grateful nod, knocking back half in one swallow. The burn hit like a punch—sharp, clean, spreading heat through her chest and down her spine. She exhaled through her nose, ears twitching.
“Good,” she muttered. “Because if I don’t get railed soon, I’m gonna start breaking furniture.”
Inko chuckled softly, already topping off the glass.
“You’ll survive a little longer, dear. And when he does show up… well.” Her eyes twinkled with something knowing, maternal, and just a touch wicked. “You know he never leaves anyone unsatisfied.”
Rumi downed the rest of the drink, the burn grounding her just enough to keep her from vibrating out of her skin.
“Yeah,” she rasped, tail flicking. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Rumi slouched on her stool, elbows planted on the bar, chin resting on one fist as she nursed her third drink. The synthetic whiskey burned clean and vicious down her throat—capsaicin chasing every swallow like a lit fuse—but the buzz it delivered was slow, stubborn, nowhere near enough to drown the restless throb between her legs.
On the main stage, Mandalay was putting on a masterclass.
She’d come out in full “sexy teacher” cosplay: crisp white blouse knotted just under her breasts, black pencil skirt slit to mid-thigh, thigh-high stockings clipped to garters, red-framed glasses perched low on her nose, and a pointer stick she kept tapping against her palm like she was about to give detention. The music was slow, sultry—deep bass and breathy synths—and Mandalay moved like she owned every beat.
She started with the glasses: sliding them down her nose, peering over the rims at the crowd, then letting them fall to hang from a thin chain around her neck. The blouse came next—buttons popped one by one, each release drawing a fresh cheer. When the last button gave, she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms, revealing a black lace bra that barely contained her full breasts. She cupped them, squeezed, rolled her nipples between her fingers through the lace until they stood out hard and obvious.
The skirt followed. She turned her back to the audience, bent at the waist, and slowly dragged the zipper down. The fabric peeled away inch by inch, revealing matching black lace panties that rode high on her hips and framed the perfect curve of her ass. She stepped out of the skirt, kicked it aside, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the panties and tugged them down—slowly—letting the crowd drink in the sight of her bare pussy, already glistening under the stage lights.
Completely naked now except for the stockings and garters, Mandalay dropped to her knees on the polished stage. She spread her thighs wide, giving every angle a perfect view, and slid one hand between her legs. Two fingers plunged inside her own cunt with a wet schlick, while her other hand found her clit and began rubbing tight, fast circles. Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent moan that quickly turned vocal—low, throaty gasps that built into needy whimpers as she finger-fucked herself harder.
“Fuck, look at her go,” Rumi muttered, downing the last of her drink in one long pull. The burn helped a little—dulled the edge of the ache—but only a little. She wished she were the type to get sleepy-drunk instead of wired-drunk; passing out might actually give her pussy a break. Instead she felt every throb, every pulse, every empty clench like it was mocking her.
Inko leaned over the bar, sliding a fresh glass toward her without being asked.
“She’s putting on quite the show tonight,” Rumi said, nodding toward the stage where Mandalay had switched to three fingers, hips rolling in shameless circles, her moans now amplified through the mic clipped to her garter belt.
Before Inko could reply, a new voice—bright, confident, unmistakably American—cut in from the stool to Rumi’s right.
“You should’ve been here an hour ago. Pixie-bob was on stage looking like she was ready to be gangbanged by every man in the audience.”
Rumi and Inko turned.
Cathleen Bate—Star and Stripe herself—sat there in civilian clothes: tight white tank top stretched across her chest, blue jeans that hugged her thighs, hair loose around her shoulders. She flashed a wide, All Might-grade grin and raised her own glass in a mock toast.
“Evening, ladies. Mind if I crash the pity party?”
Rumi snorted, ears flicking. “Only if you brought better liquor than this.”
Cathleen laughed. “I’ll do you one better, I brought gossip.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You’ve got the same look in your eyes that Pixie-bob had earlier. Hungry. Restless. Like you’re two seconds from climbing the pole yourself.”
Rumi downed half her fresh drink, the burn grounding her just enough to keep from vibrating off the stool.
“Yeah, well,” she muttered, tail lashing once, “patrol was dead, Melissa’s in the States, and neither Deku nor Sparky are here tonight. A girl’s got needs.”
Cathleen’s grin didn’t falter. “Lucky for you, I’m in town for the week. And I’ve got no patrol tomorrow.” She tilted her head toward the stage where Mandalay was now riding a clear dildo mounted to the floor, moaning loud enough to rattle glasses. “But if you’re looking for immediate relief… I’m sure we can find someone willing.”
Rumi eyed her sidelong, ears perking.
“You offering, Stars-and-Stripes?”
Cathleen shrugged, casual as if they were discussing the weather.
“I’m saying I’m not blind. And I’m not shy.” She clinked her glass against Rumi’s. “Your move, bunny.”
Rumi stared at her for a long second—then barked a rough laugh and slammed back the rest of her drink.
“Fuck it. Let’s see if America can keep up with a real rabbit.”
She hopped off the stool, tail flicking, and jerked her head toward the private halls.
“Coming, or you just gonna watch from the bar?”
Cathleen downed her drink in one swallow, stood, and followed with a grin that promised trouble.
Inko watched them go, shaking her head with a small, fond smile. “Kids these days,” she murmured, already reaching for the whiskey bottle to pour herself a shot. “Never a dull night.”
Rumi stared at Cathleen for a long beat, ears twitching once as the idea percolated through the mild haze of alcohol and pent-up need. She set her empty glass down with a deliberate ‘clink’, then leaned in closer, elbows on the bar, voice dropping to a rough, intrigued drawl.
The door to Cathleen’s private suite slammed open with a bang that rattled the frame, rebounding off the stop as Rumi and Cathleen stumbled inside, mouths fused in a messy, aggressive kiss. Tongues battled openly, wet and hungry—teeth clacking, lips bruising—while hands tore at clothes with zero patience.
Cathleen’s room was a bold declaration of patriotism: deep red, crisp white, and electric blue dominated every surface. An enormous American flag hung vertically against one wall like a tapestry, stars gleaming under the recessed lighting. The opposite wall was a shrine to All Might—posters from every era of his career, framed and lit like museum pieces, his million-watt smile beaming down on the chaos unfolding below.
Rumi kicked the door shut behind them without breaking the kiss. Her fingers ripped at Cathleen’s tank top; the fabric tore with a satisfying rrrrrip, exposing the blonde’s powerful shoulders and full breasts. Cathleen retaliated by yanking Rumi’s crop top over her head, tossing it somewhere into the blue shadows. Bras followed in quick succession—snapped clasps, discarded lace—until both women were topless, chests heaving, nipples stiff in the cool air-conditioned room.
Cathleen’s hands slid down Rumi’s sides, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She shoved them down in one rough tug—She then paused, smirking against Rumi’s mouth when she discovered the crotchless pink straps clinging to Rumi’s hips.
“Should’ve fucking expected this,” Cathleen rasped, voice thick with amusement and lust. She palmed Rumi’s bare pussy for a second, fingers gliding through the slick heat, drawing a sharp hiss from the rabbit hero.
Rumi grinned, feral and unashamed. “What can I say? I like easy access.”
Cathleen laughed low in her throat, then hooked her hands under Rumi’s arms. With effortless strength she lifted the smaller woman clean off the floor—Rumi’s legs dangling several inches off the floor—and pushed her back against the wall beside the pictures of All Might. The impact was firm but controlled; Rumi’s shoulders hit the surface with a soft thump!
They grinned at each other—predatory, excited, pupils blown wide with want.
Then their mouths crashed together again.
Tongues plunged deep, swirling and sucking, wet and filthy. Cathleen pressed forward, pinning Rumi harder against the wall, her muscular thighs flexing as she held the smaller woman aloft. Rumi’s hands clawed at Cathleen’s back, nails dragging red lines down the powerful planes of muscle, while her hips rolled shamelessly, grinding her dripping pussy against Cathleen’s abs.
The kiss was all teeth and hunger—lips swollen, spit slicking chins, breaths shared in harsh pants between clashes of mouths. Cathleen’s hands roamed Rumi’s body—squeezing her ass, kneading the firm cheeks, one finger teasing the edge of her exposed cunt without pushing inside yet. Rumi moaned into the kiss, loud and needy, hips jerking in search of friction.
When they finally broke apart—just enough to breathe—both women were flushed, chests heaving, eyes locked in a silent promise of more.
Cathleen’s voice was rough, almost a growl. “Bed. Now. Before I fuck you so hard we break the wall.”
Rumi’s tail flicked once, hard. “Try me,” she challenged, nipping Cathleen’s lower lip.
Cathleen laughed again—dark, hungry—and carried her toward the massive bed, the red-white-and-blue room about to become the stage for whatever came next.
Cathleen tossed Rumi onto the bed with casual strength, the mattress bouncing once under the impact. Rumi landed on her back, legs splayed, chest heaving, her crotchless panties framing her dripping pussy like an invitation. She propped herself on her elbows, eyes locked on Cathleen with feral hunger.
Cathleen hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black thong panties and ripped them off in one sharp tug, the fabric tearing like paper. She stood naked now, powerful thighs flexing, breasts rising and falling with each breath.
She raised one hand, palm out, golden energy already shimmering around her fingers as her Quirk activated. Her voice rang out, clear and commanding, bending reality itself to her will: “I, Cathleen Bate, shall have a gigantic cock with melon-sized balls!”
The air in the room seemed to ripple. Cathleen groaned low in her throat as the transformation took hold—her pussy lips sealed and reshaped, flesh parting and reforming in seconds. A thick, veined shaft surged outward, growing rapidly: more than a meter long, as thick around as a large can of paint, ridged and flushed dark with blood. Below it, her balls swelled to the size of ripe melons—heavy, pendulous, skin taut and smooth, already churning visibly. The cockhead flared wide, its slit weeping thick, yogurt-like precum in slow, heavy globs that dripped to the floor with wet plops. The scent, musky and overpowering, filled the room like a drug.
Cathleen staggered a step, groaning again as new sensations crashed over her—weight, heat, the sensitive drag of skin against skin, the throb of her new shaft pulsing in time with her heartbeat. “Fuuuck,” she rasped, voice deeper, rougher. “This feels… insane.”
Rumi’s eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated to black pools. She let out a long, low moan—pure, animal lust—that vibrated in her chest. Her legs spread wide, knees falling open, exposing her soaked pussy completely: lips swollen and glistening, clit throbbing visibly, inner folds pink and dripping.
She locked eyes with Cathleen and snarled through gritted teeth: “GET THAT THING INSIDE ME RIGHT, FUCKING, NOW!!!”
Cathleen’s grin was all teeth. She stepped forward, cock bobbing heavily with each stride, precum trailing in thick strings from the tip. She grabbed Rumi’s ankles, yanking her to the edge of the bed in one smooth pull. Rumi’s ass hung half off the mattress, legs hooked over Cathleen’s shoulders, pussy presented like an offering.
Cathleen lined up the massive head—easily wider than Rumi’s fist—and pushed.
The first inch stretched Rumi’s entrance taut, lips parting around the girth with a wet, obscene sound. Rumi’s back arched off the bed, a guttural moan ripping from her throat as the head popped past her rim.
“FUCK!! SO THICK!!!” she gasped, hands clawing at the sheets. “SPLITING ME OPEN…”
Cathleen didn’t stop. She leaned forward and pushed—slow at first, letting Rumi feel every ridge, every vein as the shaft sank deeper. Rumi’s pussy stretched impossibly wide, walls fluttering and gripping, juices squirting around the intrusion in hot spurts. The bulge appeared almost immediately: a thick, moving ridge rising in her belly, climbing higher with every inch claimed.
When Cathleen bottomed out—balls pressed flush against Rumi’s ass, cock buried to the hilt—Rumi’s stomach distended grotesquely, the outline of the head pressing just below her ribs.
“OH GOD… IT’S IN MY WOMB! SO DEEP… FUCK!!” Rumi wailed, legs trembling, toes curling. “MOVE! FUCK ME! WRECK THIS BUNNY-CUNT!”
Cathleen pulled back—slow, deliberate—until just the head remained, Rumi’s pussy lips clinging desperately to the flare. Then she slammed forward again, balls slapping wetly against Rumi’s ass.
Rumi screamed, voice echoing off the red-white-and-blue walls.
“YES! LIKE THAT! POUND ME, MAKE MY PUSSY YOURS! I CAN FEEL YOU IN MY FUCKING STOMACH, STRETCHING ME SO WIDE… FUCK! DON’T STOP! HARDER!”
Cathleen set a punishing pace, hips pistoning like a machine, each thrust making Rumi’s belly bulge and recede in obscene rhythm. The wet schlop-schlop-schlop of her soaked pussy swallowing the massive shaft filled the room, juices squirting with every deep plunge, soaking Cathleen’s balls and dripping to the floor.
Rumi’s hands flew to her own belly, fingers tracing the moving ridge of cock inside her, eyes rolling back as pleasure overwhelmed her.
“FUCK, YOUR DICK IS REARRANGING MY GUTS! I LOVE IT! I’M YOUR COCK SLEEVE! BREED ME, FILL THIS SLUTTY BUNNY HOLE! MAKE ME CUM AGAIN!”
Her first orgasm hit like a freight train—pussy spasming wildly, squirting in hot arcs that splashed Cathleen’s abs. She didn’t stop; she kept thrusting through it, drawing out another climax, then another, Rumi’s screams blending into one continuous wail of ecstasy.
“CUMMING AGAIN! YOUR COCK IS RUINING ME! I CAN’T STOP! KEEP FUCKING! BREED THE BUNNY, BREED THE BUNNY HARD!”
Cathleen growled, leaning down to capture Rumi’s mouth in a bruising kiss, tongues tangling as she pounded relentlessly. The bed creaked under the force, headboard thumping against the wall, the All Might posters watching impassively from above.
Rumi’s legs shook, her body completely surrendered to the overwhelming stretch and pleasure. She clawed at Cathleen’s back, leaving red trails, hips bucking to meet every thrust, lost in the raw, animal need to be filled, fucked, and claimed.
Cathleen broke the kiss to growl against her ear: “You ready for the load, bunny? Gonna flood this cunt till you’re leaking for days.”
Rumi’s answer was a desperate, broken scream: “YES, DO IT! FILL ME, MAKE ME YOUR BREEDING TOY! CUM INSIDE ME NOW!”
Cathleen’s grin turned feral, all teeth and triumph as she tightened her grip on Rumi’s thighs, spreading her wider, folding her almost double in the mating press.
“Oh I’m not anywhere near done yet, bunny slut!”
She slammed forward without warning—her gigantic, Quirk-forged cock pistoning in and out with brutal, blurring speed. The wet schlorp-SCHLORP-SCHLOOOORP of Rumi’s soaked pussy being stretched and re-stretched filled the room, obscene and rhythmic, juices squirting in hot, forceful arcs every time Cathleen bottomed out. Rumi’s belly bulged massively with each thrust—the thick ridge of shaft surging upward beneath her skin, pressing so high it nearly brushed the underside of her breasts before retreating, only to ram back in again, and again, and AGAIN!
Rumi’s red eyes rolled back completely, whites showing, tongue lolling out in full ahegao as another orgasm ripped through her almost instantly.
“OH FUUUUUCK! YESSS! DO IT! DO IT, DO IT, DO IT, DO IIIITTT!!” Her voice cracked into a howling scream, body convulsing, pussy clamping down in violent spasms. Clear squirt sprayed from her stretched lips like a broken fountain—splashing Cathleen’s abs, dripping down her melon-sized balls, soaking the sheets in messy puddles. “CUMMING! YOUR GIANT FUCKING SHE-DICK IS MAKING ME CUUUUUM!!!”
Cathleen laughed—dark, triumphant—hips never slowing, “Look at that ahegao on your face, bunny. Fucking beautiful. Drooling like a brainless cock sleeve! Take it deeper!”
She shifted her angle slightly, driving upward on each plunge so the fat head battered the top of Rumi’s womb relentlessly. The bulge in Rumi’s belly jumped higher with every stroke, the outline of the flared crown pressing visibly against her navel, then sliding up toward her sternum before retreating. Rumi’s inner walls fluttered and spasmed helplessly, stretched to their absolute limit, clinging to every ridge and vein as Cathleen fucked her senseless.
“MORE! FUUUUUCK… I CAN FEEL IT IN MY RIBS! YOUR COCK IS RE-SHAPING MY FUCKING WOMB! I’M YOUR DICK-DRUNK BUNNY SLUT! I’M CUMMING AGAIN… CUMMING SO HARD I CAN’T THIIIIINK…!!”
Another climax crashed over her almost immediately—back arching off the bed, toes curling, squirt gushing in rhythmic pulses that matched Cathleen’s thrusts. Her pussy milked the massive shaft like it was trying to pull it deeper, walls rippling in endless contractions, drool running from the corner of her open mouth as her eyes stayed rolled back, lost in white-hot pleasure.
Cathleen leaned down, capturing Rumi’s lolling tongue in a sloppy, dominating kiss—tongues tangling, spit mixing—while her hips kept pistoning mercilessly. She broke away just long enough to growl against Rumi’s ear:
“Keep screaming for me, slut. Let the whole fucking building hear how much you love getting wrecked by this American lady-cock.”
Rumi’s response was a shattered, ecstatic wail: “YES, WRECK ME! MAKE MY CUNT YOUR PERSONAL SLEEVE! I’M CUMMING AGAIN… FUCK, YOUR DICK IS SO BIG… IT’S BREAKING ME AND I LOVE IT! KEEP GOING! DON’T EVER FUCKING STOP!”
Her body shook with back-to-back orgasms, pussy gushing continuously now, the bed soaked beneath them. Cathleen’s balls slapped wetly against her ass with every thrust, heavy and churning, the musky scent of her thick precum mixing with Rumi’s arousal and filling the red-white-and-blue room like a drug.
Cathleen laughed again, low and wicked, hips blurring faster, “That’s it, bunny! Cum for me again. Show me how much this giant she-dick owns you.”
Rumi could only scream—voice hoarse, body convulsing, completely surrendered to the relentless pounding, her mind blank except for the overwhelming, perfect sensation of being filled, stretched, and claimed beyond reason.
Rumi’s screams rose to a fever pitch, voice cracking into desperate, broken wails as Cathleen’s thrusts turned merciless—each one slamming her cock to the hilt, balls slapping wetly against Rumi’s ass with every plunge.
“I’M CUMMING MORE! FUCK! CUMMING AGAIN! PLEASE… CUM INSIDE ME… FLOOD MY WOMB… FILL ME UNTIL I’M BURSTING!” Her red eyes rolled completely white, tongue lolling out in full ahegao as another orgasm tore through her, pussy spasming like a vice around the massive shaft. “I NEED IT!! I’LL DIE WITHOUT YOUR CREAMPIE! BREED ME, BREED THIS BUNNY-CUNT! GIVE IT TO ME NOW!”
Cathleen threw her head back and laughed—dark, triumphant, utterly dominant.
“Oh, you’re begging so pretty, bunny slut.”
She stopped holding back.
Her hips locked forward, burying every throbbing inch to the root as her cock erupted. Thick, scalding ropes of cum blasted straight into Rumi’s womb in violent, endless pulses—gallons surging in heavy waves, the pressure immediate and overwhelming.
“OHHH FUCKING FUCK FUUUUCK!” Cathleen roared, voice raw with pleasure. “CUMMING… EJACULATINGGGG! SO GOOD… SO GOOOOOOD!!!”
Rumi’s entire body convulsed, hands flying to her massively swollen belly as another shattering orgasm ripped through her. “YES… SO MUCH! FILLING ME… MY WOMB’S BURSTING! CUMMING… CUMMING FROM YOUR LOAD! I LOVE IT! I LOVE BEING YOUR CUM BALLOON! BREED ME MORE!” Her pussy milked Cathleen’s shaft in violent spasms, squirting around the base in hot gushes even as her body twitched and shuddered in perpetual orgasm.
Cathleen stayed buried deep for long, throbbing minutes, groaning low in her throat as she tensed her inner muscles deliberately. Her cock jounced inside Rumi—each flex stirring the thick cum around in her overstuffed womb. Rumi whimpered and moaned, hands rubbing helplessly over her flooded womb.
Finally, slowly, Cathleen began to withdraw. The pull created a gross, wet suction sound—her cock dragging against Rumi’s fluttering walls, the seal breaking with a lewd pop as the head slipped free.
The dam burst.
A torrent of thick, creamy cum gushed from Rumi’s gaping pussy in a powerful rush—white ropes pouring out like a broken fire hydrant, splattering the sheets, the floor, Cathleen’s thighs. The pressure release triggered one final, mind-shattering orgasm.
“AHHH FUUUCK! ALL THAT CUM IS GUSHING OUT OF ME! IT’S MAKING ME CUM ALL OVER AGAAAIIINNNNN!!!” Rumi’s voice cracked into a howling scream, body convulsing, pussy spasming wildly as more squirt mixed with the flood of seed. “CUMMING, CUMMING, CUUUUMMMINGH! SO GHOOOOOOD!!!”
She thrashed on the bed, hands clutching the bedsheets, legs shaking, red eyes glassy and unfocused as wave after wave of pleasure drowned her completely.
Cathleen stayed kneeling between her thighs, cock still hard and dripping, watching with dark satisfaction as Rumi rode the endless aftershocks—moaning, trembling, utterly wrecked and blissed-out in the ruined sheets.
The room smelled of sex, sweat, and thick cum.
And neither of them looked anywhere near finished.
Sunrise poured through the suite’s heavy curtains in thin golden slivers, catching on the mess they’d made.
The deep blue carpet was dark and sticky in wide, irregular patches—Cathleen’s thick, yogurt-like cum had splattered and pooled everywhere: floor, walls, headboard, even a few streaks on one of the All Might posters. The room smelled overwhelmingly of sex—musky, salty, faintly sweet from the sheer volume. The massive bed was a ruin: black silk sheets soaked through, twisted and darkened, pillows flung to the corners, the mattress itself sagging slightly in the center from hours of violent use.
Cathleen and Rumi lay sprawled in the wreckage, bodies slick with sweat and drying cum. Cathleen’s Quirk had already reversed—her cock and balls were gone, leaving her pussy once more, though flushed and swollen from the exertion. She stretched slowly, arms above her head, powerful muscles flexing under tan skin as she arched her back with a low, satisfied groan.
Rumi was still giggling—soft, drunken little sounds that bubbled up every few seconds. Her legs were spread lazily, pussy gaping wide open—dark, slick, ruined—easily wide enough that Cathleen could have slid both clasped hands inside without touching the walls. Cum still leaked in slow, thick dribbles from the stretched hole, pooling beneath her ass on the already-drenched sheet.
Cathleen sat up after a long moment, rolling her shoulders, spine popping audibly. “That was fun,” she said, voice rough but warm, a lazy grin tugging at her lips. She glanced down at Rumi—still giggling, eyes half-lidded and glassy—and reached out to brush a sweat-damp strand of white hair from the bunny hero’s forehead.
Rumi’s giggle turned into a soft, contented hum. She stretched languidly, toes curling, then let her legs fall open wider as if savoring the ache.
Cathleen chuckled low in her throat.
“Breakfast?” she asked, tilting her head toward the door. “I’m starving. And you look like you could use some fuel, bunny.”
Rumi’s only response was another quiet, blissed-out giggle, eyes fluttering as she stared up at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe.
The question hung in the air, unanswered for now, as the first real light of day crept across the soaked, satisfied chaos they’d made together.
(Story by User: SailorIo)