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Soon you would face the Axons. Something about their foretold danger had affected Gustave; accentuating desires into something wrathful. He'd catch himself looking at you with the sort of heat only found when he was deep inside you. He was touching you more—stealing embraces and fleeting squeezes of your waist, grasping at your hips. He considered your body more often now too—the stray thoughts that would catch him off-guard when he glimpsed your stomach. He wanted to touch it, press his hand down and feel something in return. He wanted to see you bulging, swelled with his seed and child. Gustave stopped that very thought right there—he couldn't entertain that, not out here.
He knew he wanted a life with you, a life outside the expeditions where he could have that family he always wanted. But this was different, this went beyond his simple desire. It was a primal urge, a desperation that told him he needed to breed you. His cock twitched at the thought, leaving his heart hammering as he tried to fall asleep next to you.
No, the told himself, these were not the thoughts he should be having—they were crude but oh, oh so right. The strain in his pants grew even tighter, constricting and denying. You were so beautiful, so peaceful when you slept and weren't worrying about nevrons and the Paintress. So breedable.
Putain. What was wrong with him?
Gustave rolled on his side, facing away from you. Since when had these obscene thoughts been so prevalent—so enticing.
He was carful over the next few days, fighting the indecency. He stole himself away at one point to relieve his urge, but as he approached release, was unable to bring himself to finish as a lewd and dangerous idea crossed his mind: it would be a waste of his seed. It was irrational, holding him back from the edge. He told himself to finish, but desire triumphed.
He thought being pent up would bother him, make him irritable and antsy. But he discovered pleasure in it, albeit not without resistance. It turned you into a siren. The way your hips swayed when you walked, intoxicating. The slight glimpses of your stomach, bothersome and tempting. He thought it would go away, and it almost did until you faced the masked axon. You'd have a few days rest until the next, and that gave him too much time to think. He couldn't rid himself of the idea of you pregnant and round with his child.
He threw himself into work, finishing the night by writing in his journal. His words were not as eloquent as they usually were, distracted and short. He looked back to the campsite—the fire low. Maelle was slumped over Esquie long asleep, whilst Lune quietly worked, occasionally conversing with Sciel over her findings and theories. The others two were in a state of rest, keeping themselves occupied with late night chatter. He should really join them, he tried to convince himself.
None really noticed when he passed by the campfire and went in search of you.
He found you through the winding path, crossing beneath the arcs of rock separating you from the main camp. You were admiring the view, having walked-off dinner to settle yourself.
Gustave pressed against you from behind, hands stuck to your hips. He kissed the back of your head in greeting, eliciting a contented hum from you.
He withdrew, encouraging you to sit between his legs instead. He leant back on his hands, knees bent so you could lounge your arms over his thighs as your head rested against his chest. You conversed quietly for a while as the others had done, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Whatever it was, Gustave's mind was elsewhere.
When you questioned his distraction, he responded with an apologetic chuckle. He was nervous, worried that his inattention would lead to tempting his thoughts—not that he'd complain, but moreso nervous what might be the outcome of his desire. It would be wrong to impregnate you at a time like this, but also, you weren't so far away from the Paintress. Even if his seed took root within you, the fate of your expedition would be determined by the time it became a burden. The flicker of that image would be his undoing. It was a terrible thought, inconsiderable and irresponsible—but it caused heat to pool in his crotch. The idea of you moving gracefully across the battlefield with the slightest bulge to your stomach, just enough not to hinder you, but enough for all to know you'd been bred by him.
Gustave caved.
Much to your surprise, he parted your legs, hooking them over his own to spread you wide. You didn't question it at first—it had been several days since you'd had time for intimacy. Little did you know his plans for you.
His hands roamed your thighs, dragging up towards your core. You expected him to rub you through your clothes, to delve his fingers deep inside you afterwards. But he never did.
Gustave slid his hand beneath your shirt, moving your uniform aside to reveal your stomach. He squeezed your hips, pulling them back slightly to stretch the skin over your navel.
You flinched at his cool metal touch, his grasp hungry yet shaky.
His breath shuddered as he imagined you full and heavy, holding your swollen belly just like this. Finally, after days of resisting it, he ran his hands over your stomach, and Gustave felt as if he might come right there. You were soft, warm, and most importantly—empty. He needed to remedy that.
The strain in his groin stiffened against your back. And it was when Gustave's hands trembled over your stomach—his breaths short and uneasy—that you finally understood why he'd been so distant these past few days. But Gustave was like an unstoppable force, an animal whose mate was in heat. It was a side to him new to himself, a full indulgence and surrender to nature.
His lips dragged against your neck, ending beside your ear. His breath was hot, his apology but a whisper. He was helpless to his newfound urge, not entirely sure what it was and to what extent it would ruin him.
Your body responded before you could speak, and you slumped against him heavily, a quiet sigh escaping you. You'd never seen him like this before, so captivated by new depths of a once tame desire. You knew what that meant for you, how complicated of a situation it could turn out to be. Yet you couldn't resist. He had you spread, accessible, and alone. His aching cock pressing into your back making his temptation known. His hands rubbed large circles across your exposed stomach, grabbing and squeezing where he could, sliding around your hips and waist before traversing your navel once again.
"You're going to leave me with child, aren't you?" It was less of a question and moreso a premonition.
"I need to. I can't help it—I'm sorry." His breaths were strained now, his hips rolling slightly into you against his own will.
Yes—Yes he would fill you, be the cause for your stomach to grow. To plant his seed inside you and ensure the continuation of his name.
His cock leapt at the thought. Gustave was done for.
He shimmied your pants down just enough so he could access you, daring to spare a hand from your stomach to free his cock. He was hot and eager in his grasp as he lined himself up, keeping you spread for him with his legs.
"Merde, I'm going to leave you full with my seed, alright?"
You nodded, anticipation stealing your words.
Gustave slid into you, pushing hard on your stomach with his mechanical hand to feel anything that might give him the impression that he could feel himself moving deep inside you. He knew it was not possible, but the mere thought had him panting. He sunk you down on his cock, giving you no time to adjust before his thrusts turned even and needy. He'd been savouring his release for days, he wanted to breed you for his release—needed to.
Your walls were tight around him, milking his cock as he rolled into you again and again. You could feel all of him, his pulse in his groin and the friction of his length dragging along your slicked and aching walls. Oh, how you were wet for him. He could only imagine how much of his come would be dripping from your cunt after he was done with you.
Gustave rested his head on your shoulder, watching his hands against your navel as he fucked into you. It was almost shameful, an act of need and not passion. He would fuck you, deposit his seed in you and hope his urge would fade. But he could have you bred and bulging. He could picture it—you dazed and happy, your belly heavy with pregnancy. The thought of him taking you from behind, having you knelt with your face to the ground, watching his cock slide into you as your stomach hung low—how it would make your lower abdomen bulge. It was all too much for him—all too wrong.
His thoughts ran rampant, and Gustave struggled to contain them to reality.
Oh, but your stomach was so tempting, cunt squeezing him, both waiting to be filled and inseminated.
He came quickly to the thought, loins burning with unsated fury. It was not enough—not enough. He fucked you through his orgasm, muscles tense and cock twitching. He didn't want it to end; didn't want to come back down to reality and sense.
When his cock eventually softened inside you and slipped from your ruined cunt, Gustave brought his mechanical fingers to your entrance. He would not allow the seed he'd been saving to go to waste, and scooped it back inside you. It coated his metal joints as he ran his fingers along your slicked folds, pushing his release back to where it belonged. But it would not stay inside you, and that annoyed him. When he repeated the action several times, you felt your walls part once again as he slid his mechanical fingers into you, effectively plugging your cunt, keeping his seed within.
Much better, he thought to himself.
He was not as confident now, feeling a little guilty about his compulsion—embarrassed how needful he was of your stomach being full, and how easily it got him off. But he wanted to fill you again—that obscene desire still remained.
Slowly, he fucked his release into you with his mechanical fingers, pushing it further and further inside. And if his seed didn't take root now, he would breed you again until you were heavy with his offspring.
The moan you gave alleviated his guilt somewhat. The way you slumped against him—so satisfied even without having reached your own high—made him dizzy. It was almost like you enjoyed being used, were happy to be a serving hole with no other purpose but for him to freely unload into. He wished he could have warned you how badly he desired this. That now that you'd willingly let him use you in this impure manner, it would be difficult for him to stop. Gustave was going to breed you, your fate had been sealed.
When you settled into your bedrolls for the night, Gustave embraced you from behind, hand coming to rest on your stomach. The temptation came to him again.
No, it was too soon, he told himself. Where had his control gone—his respectability?
He was a man lost to nature's demands, his urge as consuming as the Gommage.
So much of his seed had gone to waste after you'd cleaned up. He ought to do something about that—knew he would not sleep until he spilled into you again.
And so, Gustave emptied into you again, slowly and quietly this time. He held you against him, keeping his cock in place even when it softened to keep his precious seed inside you. You were warm and wet, your insides ruined and bred. You would remain like that the rest of the night, waking to still find him inside of you, ensuring none of his come had been wasted.
He expected his urge to abate after that, yet when he woke inside you, he fully submitted to it. Gustave knew the only way to find satisfaction was to leave you pregnant, stomach full and round just for him. He committed to it after that—he needed to see you like that.
But Gustave did not fuck you again for several days. He seemed embarrassed to admit it, but he was savouring his precious seed again, knowing that the load he would fill you with would leave you overflowing with his release. The touches he stole from you became more daring. After fighting Nevrons, he would slide his hand over your hips. When he walked alongside you through uncharted terrain, he would dare a squeeze at your waist—the slightest of touches of your stomach if he could risk it. His embraces would leave him pressing down on your abdomen, cradling it as if you were already with child. He imagined it all the time, it consumed him entirely. He would kneel and break to that thought, and it bended his will like the tides during a storm. But your fight with the second axon was encroaching, and therefore your expected confrontation with the Paintress was too. He needed to fill you before that, he just wished he had enough time between to see you swelled and expecting even if it was the slightest of bulges.
Finally, he took you that night. Pressing wanting kisses across your body, cascading them over your breasts and stomach, indulging himself to the fullest before he pinned you down and fucked you without abandon. Always, was he tender, caring and thoughtful. Even when he was stretching you wide with his cock, did his breath catch from the mere thought of being with you. Stars above, how he longed for this.
He felt the shift in your exchange, the turn of tenderness to recklessness.
Gustave pressed down above you, spreading your legs over his shoulders until your pelvis ached. His cock rammed down into you, setting a relentless pace. He supported his weight with his mechanical arm, braced by your head. His other hand pressed down on your stomach, exploring your soft skin as he fucked you.
You could tell his show of embarrassment and guilt was short-lived, dying the moment he kept his cock warm inside you that earlier night. Now, he fucked you with reckless abandon, chasing a single goal: to breed you.
It was a different side to him, one that rarely showed itself. It was the strategic side to Gustave that commanded the battlefield, the side when he was focused on his work back in Lumiere and needed you bent over his desk and fucked to clear his head.
His sigh of satisfaction was broken by a forceful whine. Your combined arousal rose into sounds of slick lewdness. His aching heavy balls slapped against you, joining the ladened air.
As he sunk into you again and again, those thoughts of you round and full overtook his senses once more. Through you, he would continue his bloodline and raise the family he always yearned for. He would enjoy the process of making that come true—that he was sure of.
Your moans were quiet and sweet, breathy and indulgent. Gustave never expected you to encourage his primal urge, let alone share his need for it.
He lowered his face to yours, your breaths mixing until it made him lightheaded. It was all so exhilarating—the heat of your cunt, the sounds of his need inside you, the way you accepted him so easily. Gods, how far he had fallen.
Your lips met in an all-consuming kiss, his lungs stinging as he exerted himself.
He broke away to trail his tongue along your jawline, the taste of sweat like an aphrodisiac to him. He moved to your earlobe, tugging at it between his teeth. A lustful groan escaped into your ear, causing your walls to clamp around his cock.
"Putain—I can't wait to see you swell and grow with our child." He grunted again, his own words bringing him closer to the edge. "Think of how full you'll be when I'm done. I'd bet you'd like that—swelling up with my baby inside you so you always feel a part of me. The family we'll have—the life we'll have together. I want it all."
Your moan was weak, his name from your mouth unable to find conviction, too taken by his promise. Being full and heavy with Gustave's child? The mere thought made your walls flutter around him.
His pace was growing heavier, his thrusts laboured and desperate.
Your legs ached around his shoulders as he pressed you even further into the ground. He rubbed your navel soothingly in response, begging you to hang on for a little while longer, reminding you that you needed to be filled by him.
Gustave came with disjointed grunt, spilling into you as his hand pressed hard down on your stomach. His cock twitched, balls ached with his release as he filled you whole.
Warmth spread throughout your core, feeling his seed release into you as desperate strings of heat. You were hilted to the base of his cock, legs shaking and mind ablaze in the ecstasy of being used and bred.
He pinned you there for quite some time, ensuring the best chance of guaranteeing that you would accept and carry his legacy.
Oh, how hopeless he was.
He wished whole heartedly for his fantasy to become real, to be able to smooth his hands over your one day bulging stomach. He would fill you up again and again until then, and even when he knew you were with child and could see the swell behind your expeditioners uniform, he would continue to breed you. A vessel for his legacy.