Page 1

The television’s glow is my world until my phone buzzes. My girlfriend’s goodnight text. A shadow falls over me. Marlin Gunther walks out, wearing only briefs. The thin fabric strains, a white flag surrendering to the leviathan it cradles. Every step makes the massive bulge wiggle. My mouth is dry. Then, the sound. A sharp, clear ring. The bell. My psyche shatters. The man I am lets go of the controls, and something desperate, raw, and hungry takes over. But I'm still in the cockpit, watching everything. I watch myself, horny and complicit, cucking my own mind for the promise of that dick.

Page 2

This isn’t the first time. It happens every single day. Sometimes twice, sometimes more. A sacred, filthy ritual. Marlin Gunther calls it breeding time. My mouth waters instantly. My stomach flutters with illicit excitement when he says those words. My thoughts dissolve into a single, primal need. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, who I’m with. My job, my girlfriend, my life—it all fades into meaningless noise. The bell’s ring is my absolute command. My entire existence is now curated around these moments, these sessions of worship dedicated to the obscene, beautiful weight of him, to the promise of being filled, used, and claimed completely by his monstrous log. 

Page 3

The bell’s ring fades, but the command remains, seared into my nerves. I don’t think. I move. My phone clatters to the carpet, forgotten. The television drones on. My knees hit the floorboards before I even consciously decide to kneel. This is my place. This is my purpose. I look up at Marlin Gunther, my eyes locked on that tented fabric. Nothing else exists. The world is this room, the bell’s echo, and my desperate, aching need to serve what he possesses.
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Page 4

He doesn’t speak. He never needs to. My fingers hook onto the waistband of his briefs. My heart hammers against my ribs. I pull them down. My brain splits open. It springs free, a thick, veined pillar of flesh, impossibly large, swaying heavily before my eyes. I'm so close to it that it brushes against my face. It’s unbelievable. Every single time, it’s a shock to my system. It’s a leviathan unleashed, every inch a testament to brutal, perfect masculinity. It sways before my eyes, a hypnotic pendulum. The sheer sight of it, the musky scent of him, short-circuits my higher reasoning. My mind whites out. All I am is want. There is only the dick. All I want is that.  Marlin Gunther’s dick.
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Page 5

I don’t wait for permission. I lunge forward, my mouth opening wide. I take the broad, smooth head into my mouth, tasting his pre-cum. It’s an effort to stretch my lips around his girth. The first touch of the velvety, iron-hard head against my lips sends a jolt through me. I suckle, my tongue tracing the thick, pulsing vein underneath. I suck it deep, my tongue flattening against the pulsing underside. I hollow my cheeks, working my head back and forth. I take him as far as I can, my throat stretching, gagging, then relaxing. I suck it good, with a devotion I possess for nothing else. Saliva drips down my chin. The feeling of him sliding over my tongue, filling my throat, is my only heaven. The sounds are obscene. I am obscene. I love it.


Page 6

He pulls himself from my mouth with a wet pop. I’m gasping, dizzy. He manhandles me effortlessly, turning me onto my hands and knees on the carpet. I present myself willingly. I feel the blunt, slick head of Marlin Gunther’s dick press against my tight hole. I push back, a silent, begging plea. He applies pressure, a relentless, unforgiving force. I gasp as my body yields, stretched wide open in one brutal, perfect thrust. He sheathes himself completely inside me. I am impaled, speared, owned by his incredible girth. I'm no longer able to keep any sense of manliness anymore, the delicious pain and excrutiating pleasure are too much for me to keep inside. My face contorts into a shameless O-face and I let out a grunting moan: "OOoooOOOooOoOoOoOo!!!!"

Page 7

He fucks me with a relentless, punishing rhythm. Each deep thrust drives the air from my lungs. I am nothing but a vessel for his pleasure, my body rocking with the force of his movements. The slap of his skin against mine fills the room, drowning out the TV, it's disgusting. He holds my hips, controlling me, using me. He fucks me so good, so deep, so hard. He hits my prostate with every plunge, sending electric shocks of pure pleasure through my shattered nerves. My vision blurs. I am nothing but a vessel for his pleasure, a warm, tight hole for him to claim. Every nerve ending is on fire, screaming for more. Deeper. Harder.

Page 8

The initial burn has melted into a overwhelming fullness. I love feeling him stretch me wide open. I am molded to his shape, my body forced to accept all of him. With every inward plunge, I feel the incredible girth, the painful, perfect stretch that borders on agony but is pure ecstasy. I am split apart on his cock, and I’ve never felt more complete. I push back against him, wanting to be stretched more, wanting to be ruined. I feel every inch, every thick vein, every pulse as he moves within me. I am reshaped from the inside, molded perfectly to fit him. This stretch is my purpose.

Page 9

He angles himself, and the world dissolves. He hits depths I never thought another man would explore. Each deep, grinding thrust touches a place deep in my core, a place that ignites a blinding, white-hot pleasure. A place so deep inside me it feels like he’s touching my soul. A spot that ignites a pleasure so intense it’s almost terrifying. My eyes roll back. A broken sob escapes me. He owns me there, in that hidden, secret place. He pistons into it, again and again, shattering my thoughts until all I am is feeling. It’s a profound, internal claiming. Marlin Gunther isn’t just fucking me; he is reaching into the very essence of my being, shattering my sanity with each perfect, devastating impact. I am unraveled, my body entirely his to command and control.

Page 10

His rhythm falters. His thrusts become jagged, deeper, possessive. A guttural groan rumbles from his chest. I feel him swell, pulsing impossibly larger inside me. This is it. I love love love he cums inside me. A hot, torrential flood erupts deep within my bowels, jet after jet of his thick, gooey seed. The feeling triggers my own orgasm. I clench around him; my tiny dick spasms, dripping pathetically between my legs. I feel a woman’s pleasure. I know what it feels like to be be utterly filled by an alpha male. My quivering hole milks every last drop from his alpha balls, feeling the warmth spread inside me. I am claimed. I am filled. I am bred.

Page 11

He pulls out, leaving me empty and dripping onto the carpet. The bell sits silent on the side table. The haze lifts. I am just me again, slumped over the couch, my body aching and used. I feel the warm, sticky proof of Marlin Gunther’s pleasure leaking from my well-stretched hole. My own small, limp dick is wet with my shame. He walks away without a word, back to his room. I am left in the silent living room, a hollowed-out shell. But it wasn't really ME was it? I wasn't in control. I don't have to feel guilty. I can kiss her tomorrow, knowing I'm going to get fucked deep in the ass after I drop her off.