Chapter 170: Chapter 170: The Fantasy of Fruition

The voice that whispered into his ear was low, guttural, and laced with a demonic charm that seemed to echo from the deepest, darkest recesses of a fever dream. It carried a tone of pure, unadulterated wickedness that sent a shiver of ice skittering down Julian Sterling’s spine, freezing the marrow in his bones even as it paradoxically ignited a molten fire in his lower abdomen, causing his insides to contract violently in anticipation.

The man pressed closer, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive shell of Julian’s ear, articulating every syllable with deliberate, terrifying clarity.

“I want my little baby to eat his fill of my sperm today. I want you to take it all, every single drop. I’m going to shoot it straight inside, flooding you until there isn’t a single dry corner left, filling every nook and cranny of your insides. I want you to be so full, so stuffed with my essence, that your belly swells up. It should distend, round and taut, just as if you were truly carrying a child.”

Ethan paused for a beat to let the image sink in, his voice dropping an octave lower, vibrating with a sadistic promise.

“And after I’m done filling you up? I won’t let you wash it out. Oh no, absolutely not. I’m going to support you, just like this, and walk you right down to the main lobby of The Ebony Lounge. Can you imagine that? My darling will have to clench that little hole of his tight, using that greedy mouth down there to hold onto your husband’s seed for dear life. Because if you relax, even for a second, that thick, white fluid is going to leak out. It will trickle down your thighs, dripping all along the hallway.”

The imagery became more graphic, more humiliatingly detailed.

“Think about it, Julian. Imagine the shame if someone saw you walking with that swollen belly, leaking fluids like a bitch in heat. What if we get into the elevator and run into someone you know? What if, just as we reach the ground floor, you can’t hold it anymore? Splosh. It pours out, your belly deflates, and your trousers are suddenly soaked through, a dark, wet patch spreading for everyone to see. How would you even begin to explain tha…”

Julian couldn’t bear to listen to another word of this depraved fantasy. The vividness of the description, coupled with the crushing weight of the humiliation, sent a flush of scarlet heat racing from his neck to the tips of his ears. Panic and shame overwhelmed him, and in a desperate attempt to silence the man, he twisted around and clamped his hand firmly over Ethan’s mouth.

“D-don’t say anymore… hic… please… I’ll die of shame… stop it…”

But his resistance was feeble. Ethan simply smiled against the palm covering his lips, his eyes dancing with dark amusement. Then, he extended his tongue. It was wet, hot, and rough as he dragged it slowly across the sensitive center of Julian’s palm. The sensation was electric, scorching Julian’s skin as if he had touched a live wire or a branding iron. Julian gasped, retracting his hand as if burned, his body trembling uncontrollably, while broken sobs continued to spill from his throat due to the sheer overload of stimulation.

“Why are you crying now?”

Ethan shifted his tactics, though he offered no true respite. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to gently, almost tenderly, lick away the salty, glistening tears that were tracking down Julian’s flushed cheeks. However, while his actions above were mimicking comfort, the movements of his hips below did not cease for a single second. The assault continued, relentless and rhythmic.

“It’s obvious you’re excited, aren’t you? That little mouth down there is biting me so hard I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. Am I wrong? Just look at how happy this little thing is.”

The “little thing” Ethan referred to was Julian’s own pathetic, eager member, currently trapped and mashed between their sweating bodies. This corrupted instrument of pleasure was standing at full mast, painfully erect. Veins winded around the shaft like blue serpents, and it throbbed with a life of its own, jerking and twitching in time with his heartbeat. It was ready to release at a moment’s notice, despite no hand touching it.

Responding to every filthy word, every suggestive syllable that fell from Ethan’s lips, the urethral opening wept copious amounts of clear, slick pre-cum. The fluid coated the glans and smeared wetly against Ethan’s lower abdomen, creating a slippery, shameful mess.

Of course, Julian knew exactly what this scoundrel was doing. Ethan was weaponizing language, using humiliation and degradation to tear down Julian’s psychological defenses. He was deliberately shaming him, stripping him bare emotionally. But the devastating power of those words was undeniable. They struck with precision, piercing straight through to the latent, perverse masochism buried deep within Julian’s psyche.

He tried to fight it, but the mental image Ethan had painted refused to fade. The thought of being fucked until his stomach was distended with semen, looking as though he were three months pregnant… The thought of waddling through a crowd, his legs weak and useless, unable to keep his sphincter clenched… The terrifying thrill of walking through the pristine, brightly lit lobby of The Ebony Lounge, only to have his fluids seep through his clothes and drip onto the polished marble floor…

It was too much. The scenario was obscene, dirty, and utterly scandalous. Yet, the mere thought of it sent a jolt of arousal through Julian so potent that his toes curled. His body betrayed his mind completely. The intestinal walls of his rear passage spasmed violently, clamping down on the invading calmness with a desperate, hungry grip.

“See? I knew it. You’re excited, baby. My sweet boy… you really want to be pregnant with my sperm, don’t you?”

Ethan murmured the accusation like a lover’s endearment. He didn’t give Julian a chance to deny it, nor did he allow him the dignity of begging for mercy. Before Julian could utter a syllable, two of Ethan’s fingers invaded his mouth once again. They pushed past his lips, stirring the interior of his oral cavity with possessive arrogance.

“Be a good boy.” Ethan commanded, his voice rough with authority: “Lick it for me. Imagine this is my meat rod stabbing into.”

Julian had no fight left in him. He could only obey. He opened his mouth obediently, his tongue swirling around the intrusive fingers, sucking and licking them with a frantic devotion. In his hazy, drug-like state of lust, he let himself believe the fantasy. He sucked on the fingers as if they were indeed the phallus that smelled thick with male hormones and musk. He swallowed his sobs, choking them down as he submitted completely to the man’s will.

At this moment, Ethan decided to escalate the torment. He withdrew his length slowly, agonizingly, until he was almost completely out. Then, bracing himself, he gathered his strength and thrust forward with the force of a battering ram, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid, devastating motion.

It was a thrust that reached the very core of Julian’s being. Ethan drove deep, touching the farthest point possible within that hot, wet channel. Simultaneously, he pressed his large palm flat against Julian’s lower abdomen. He pushed down, feeling the distinct, hard bump of his own erection pressing against the thin wall of skin and muscle from the inside.

The reaction was instantaneous. Julian screamed, a choked, broken sound trapped in his throat, and his entire body shook like a leaf in a storm.

“Baby… guess what?” Ethan whispered, his voice dark and breathless. He slid his hand across Julian’s flat, smooth stomach, tracing imaginary circles over the skin in a teasing, maddening pattern: “If you had a uterus… do you think I would have pounded it open by now?”

He pressed a thumb into the soft flesh: “Right here? Or maybe here? I bet it would be gaping wide open right now, desperate to catch every drop of my seed.”

Every word was punctuated by another sledgehammer thrust. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that Julian’s eyes rolled back into his head, showing only the whites. His mouth fell slack around Ethan’s fingers, unable to close, and a trail of saliva mixed with tears escaped the corner of his lips, dripping down his chin.

But the man showed no mercy. He had no intention of stopping, nor did he plan to reduce the ferocious speed of his hips.

“If only my darling could get pregnant.” Ethan groaned, the wish sounding almost like a prayer to a dark god: “If you could… I swear I would fuck you until you were swollen with my child. I wouldn’t stop until your belly was huge and round with my baby.”

He drove in again, harder, deeper, losing himself in the fantasy he had created.

“No, actually… if you were capable of conceiving.” Ethan corrected himself, his voice thick with possessive certainty: “There’s no doubt about it. You would already be pregnant right now. My baby would already be growing inside here.”

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