The first time April noticed the van, she was tying her hair into a messy ponytail a nervous habit while chewing the last bite of a sugar-glazed donut from the corner bakery. The taste turned metallic in her mouth as her eyes locked onto the tinted windshield, the black van idling just a little too long at the stop sign. Same one as yesterday. Same one as the day before that.
Thursday was different. The van wasn’t lurking it was parked directly in front of her house, engine off. The stillness unsettled her more than its previous appearances. She gripped her backpack strap tighter, feeling the rough polyester bite into her palm as she quickens her steps.
Inside, she didn’t bother kicking off her sneakers, just sprinted up the stairs, her pulse hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The bedroom door slammed behind her, and the sound drowned under the sudden rasp of her breath too fast, too shallow.
Two hands grabbed her "Hold her still, " came the voice, fingers duging into the nape of her neck. The cloth damp, reeking of something chemical pressed against her face before she could twist away. Cold panic flared hot as the scent hit the back of her throat, bitter. She bucked, but his grip was relentless, thumb pressing into the hinge of her jaw like he was testing fruit for ripeness. Darkness swallowed the edges of her vision in slow, creeping waves.
April woke to the sterile bite of fluorescent light overhead, her naked skin prickling against crisp linen. The air smelled faintly of bleach, clinical. Her wrists flexed instinctively bound tight with the twisted sleeves of her own blue school shirt, the fabric stretched taut where someone had knotted it with deliberate precision. The cotton had gone slick with sweat where it dug into her skin.
Across the dim chamber, three figures stood in a loose triangle two broad-shouldered men bracketing an older one whose posture suggested experience rather than frailty. He moved with the unhurried certainty of someone who’d waited decades for this. Their voices wove together in some guttural incantation, syllables clicking like stones dropped into a well. The chant resonated oddly in her ribs, vibrating through the metal table beneath her bare spine.
Once they finished chanting, the lamp flashed blue for a second a sharp, unnatural hue that seemed to linger beneath her eyelids even after it faded. Her pupils contracted painfully, but the afterimage remained: the bulb’s filament twisting into a shape that almost resembled a rune before dissolving into normal yellow light. The older man exhaled sharply through his nose and nodded to the others.
The old one turned to her. His fingers long, dry, nails filed to uneven points lifted slightly toward the lamp on the side table before he spoke. "You set him free, whore." The words came out flat, matter-of-fact, like he was reading a grocery list. His throat moved as he swallowed, gray stubble catching the fluorescent glow. There wasn't a tremor in his hands, no hesitation in his step. Perfectly healthy for a man who looked well into his 70s.
Before April could blink, he'd reached the bed in two strides, threw off his robe it pooled on the floor like melted wax and climbed onto the mattress. His cock, thick and veined, already glistening at the tip, pressed against her lips before she could exhale. The scent of him musky, iron-rich, something acrid underneath like rust made her nostrils flare involuntarily. A droplet beaded at the slit, catching the light. "Too bad your genie's going to stay a spirit, " he murmured, almost fond. "Once we complete the ritual, we're going to kill you."
April decided to play along for now, hoping an opportunity for escape would come. She parted her lips slightly just enough to let the tip of his cock slide past her teeth, the taste of salt and musk flooding her tongue. But the old man wasn’t fooled. He withdrew abruptly, leaving her mouth empty, her breath shallow and uneven. His hand came down between her thighs in a stinging slap that echoed off the tiled walls once, twice each impact sharper than the last, the fleshy sound punctuating the air like a metronome gone feral. By the fifth strike, her hips jerked involuntarily, her clit throbbing under the alternating burn and sting.
The tenth hit was so hard she screamed a raw, ragged sound that scraped her throat but the cry was choked off as he shoved his cock deep into her mouth, his fingers tangling in her hair to wrench her head back. "Now you can have it, whore, " he growled, his voice thick with something darker than just cruelty.
Her nostrils flared wide as his other hand pinched her nose shut, the cartilage crunching under his calloused fingertips. Air she needed air but her lungs burned empty, her spasming uselessly as he pistoned into her throat with slow, deliberate thrusts, each one carving a path past the place where her gag reflex should’ve been. Tears blurred her vision, hot and silent, as her body arched against the restraints, her muscles twitching with the primal urge to survive.
When he finally pulled out, her gasp was ragged, wet half-choked on saliva and the bitter tang of precum still coating her tongue. The slap came before she could inhale fully: his palm cracking against her slick folds with enough force to send a shockwave through her pelvis, her hips jerking upward as if trying to escape the sting even as her swollen clit pulsed under the aftershocks. The pain was bright and exquisite, threading lightning through her nerves until she couldn’t tell if the moan tearing from her throat was protest or surrender.
His cock glistened with spit when he shoved it back between her lips, the blunt head catching briefly on her teeth before she yielded. The rhythm this time was relentless just deep, brutal thrusts that forced her jaw wider, her throat stretching obscenely around him. His fingers tightened in her hair, twisting the roots until her scalp burned, holding her still as his hips snapped forward one final time.
The first spurt hit the back of her throat, thick and sour, flooding her senses with the musk of him. She swallowed reflexively, but he was already coming too hard pulse after pulse spilling over her tongue, dripping past the corners of her lips where they stretched around him. It pooled warm against her palate before overflowing, spilling in viscous strands down her chin, the excess sliding down her left cheek to soak into the pillow beneath her head. The scent of it filled her nose as his thumb stroked roughly along her jawline, smearing the mess further.
He withdrew with a satisfied grunt, his softening cock slipping free with an obscene pop the sound damp and intimate, incongruous against the sterile tile. April’s gaze, blurred with tears and exhaustion, flickered past him to the brass lamp on the side table. One-third of its base emitted a faint blue glow.
The next guy climbed onto the bed before she could focus fully, his knees bracketing her ribs, thighs pressing into the soft swell of her stomach. His weight pinned her diaphragm just enough to make each breath shallow.
He reached into his robes and pulled out a red and blue jello the kind kids eat at picnics, the kind her mother would serve in wobbly squares on paper plates. His fingers sank into the red cube first, the gelatin giving way with a soft, wet sound as he smeared it across her right nipple. Cold shock prickled through the bud, tightening it instantly beneath the sticky sheen. The blue followed cooler still, the sugar grit faint against her skin as he thumbed it in slow circles around the left, his nail catching just hard enough to make her gasp.
The chant began low, guttural his breath hot against her collarbone as he repeated the phrase like a nursery rhyme turned sinister: *"Jello expanding over her tits, the red one hot and the blue cold."* The words vibrated through her ribs, and suddenly the jello wasn’t just sitting there it was moving, *pulsing*, the red side warming to an almost scalding heat while the blue turned icy enough to burn.
April gasped as the gelatin clung tighter, slithering across her skin like living syrup thicker now, heavier. It covered both breasts completely, sealing over each nipple with a wet, sucking pressure that made her back arch off the mattress. Then came the teeth tiny, needle-sharp points grazing her flesh from *inside* the gelatin, biting down just hard enough to make her whimper. The red side’s teeth burned as they latched onto her right nipple, the blue’s froze the left, alternating in a rhythm that sent sparks of pain-pleasure skittering down her spine.
The man straddling her wasted no time. With a rough jerk, he threw off his robe the heavy fabric hitting the floor with a wet slap and positioned himself between her thighs. His cock, already slick, pressed against her entrance in one smooth motion before driving home in a single thrust. There was no resistance her body opened for him like it had been waiting, the stretch sudden and dizzying as he buried himself to the hilt. His hips met hers with a sharp smack, the sound echoing off the tiles as the jello pulsed hotter and colder in time with his movements.
April gasped half pain, half something else her nails digging into the mattress beneath her. The gelatin covering her breasts rippled, the red side searing while the blue numbed, each contraction mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts. Teeth still gnawed at her nipples, relentless, the alternating burn and freeze making her arch beneath him. His breath came in ragged bursts against her neck, the scent of sweat and something metallic filling the space between them. He adjusted his angle slightly, and suddenly every snap of his hips dragged against something inside her that sent sparks shooting up her spine.
The slap came without warning his palm cracking across her cheekbone with enough force to snap her head to the side. Her vision blurred momentarily, the sting radiating outward in waves as saliva pooled under her tongue. He didn’t pause, didn’t slow his rhythm just gripped her chin with his other hand and forced her to meet his eyes. "Filthy whore, " he growled, his thumb smearing the wetness at the corner of her mouth. "You’re loving this, aren’t you?" His fingers tightened, nails biting into the soft flesh of her jaw as he pushed her head back into the pillow. The gelatin pulsed hotter, the teeth sinking deeper, and she couldn’t tell if the moan that escaped her was from pain or the way his cock filled her just right.
Her breath hitched as his pace quickened, each thrust driving the breath from her lungs in ragged bursts. The jello was alive now writhing, tightening, the red side searing her flesh while the blue numbed it to the point of aching. The sensations collided, overlapping in a dizzying spiral that made her toes curl against the mattress. His hand moved from her chin to her throat, fingers pressing just enough to make her pulse flutter against his palm. "That’s it, " he murmured, his voice rough with exertion. "Take it." The words sent a shudder through her part terror, part thrill as her body betrayed her, clenching around him in a way that felt too good to be involuntary.
Her climax hit like a sucker punch a white-hot detonation that ripped through her from the inside out. Every muscle locked, her back bowing off the bed as a strangled cry tore from her throat. The gelatin tightened unbearably, the teeth sinking deeper as if to anchor her in place while wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She was distantly aware of him groaning, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his release hot and sudden inside her. The jello pulsed in time with her aftershocks, the red cooling to a dull throb while the blue warmed to match her skin.
Then silence. The lamp on the side table flickered just once and the glow along its base deepened from one-third blue to two-thirds. April blinked sweat from her lashes, her breathing ragged as understanding trickled in. *The sex was part of it.* The realization slithered through her, cold and unwelcome. The ritual needed this needed her before they could kill her. Why else go through the motions?
Her laughter surprised even herself a raw, jagged sound that scraped her throat. "Why not just kill me straight away?" she rasped. The words tasted like rust on her tongue. "Cut the ritual, skip the theatrics." The oldest man's fingers twitched just once against the lamp's brass base, a tic so subtle she might've missed it if she hadn't been watching his hands with the same intensity a mouse watches a circling hawk. His lips peeled back from yellowed teeth. "Does it matter, girl?" His voice was dry as dead leaves skittering across pavement. " His thumb traced the lamp. "Your time’s nearly up either way."
The last guy climbed onto the bed naked, his bare feet silent against the cold tiles. His skin was puckered with old scars raised, jagged lines that mapped his torso like some grotesque constellation. He didn’t look at her. Instead, his fingers skimmed the gelatin still clinging to her breasts now hardening into a translucent crust and began peeling it away in thin, rubbery strips. Each pull sent a fresh wave of pain through her abused nipples, the skin beneath raw and glistening. He spoke in a low monotone, his chant barely audible: *"Red recedes, blue unbinds, flesh remembers what the mind forgets."* The gelatin resisted at first, clinging like wet parchment, but under his murmured words, it slackened then liquefied, sliding off her skin in thick, syrupy rivulets that pooled between her ribs before disappearing entirely. Not a trace left not even the sticky residue she expected. Just smooth, unblemished skin.
She barely had time to register the absence of pain before he grabbed her hips with both hands his grip bruising, fingers digging into the soft flesh and flipped her onto her stomach with a single, practiced motion. The abrupt movement sent a shock through her spine; her bound arms twisted painfully beneath her weight as he hauled her ass into the air, presenting her like some obscene offering. His first slap landed without preamble no teasing, no warning just the sharp, stinging crack of flesh meeting flesh. The impact radiated outward in concentric waves, her skin flushing hot beneath his palm. He didn’t hold back each subsequent strike came faster, harder, his rhythm relentless as he worked her over with mechanical precision. By the fifteenth slap, her ass burned as if dipped in molten wax, the pain blooming bright and electric beneath her skin.
By the twentieth, her thighs trembled uncontrollably not just from pain, but from something deeper, something shameful that coiled low in her belly. She bit her lip to stifle the whimper rising in her throat, but it escaped anyway a thin, broken sound that seemed to spur him on. His palm cracked against her left cheek with enough force to send her lurching forward, her forehead nearly hitting the mattress before his grip on her hips yanked her back into place. The next five strikes alternated between sharp, pinpoint slaps to her crease just where thigh met ass and broad, open-palmed swats that made her entire body jolt. The final blow landed dead center, his fingers curling slightly on impact to leave crescent-shaped welts in their wake. Her breath hitched half sob, half gasp as the aftershocks rolled through her, her muscles twitching with residual tension.
He flipped her onto her back again one swift motion that sent her legs splaying wide before his hand descended between them without hesitation. The first slap to her exposed pussy was so sudden, so viciously precise, that her scream tore free before she could choke it back. The second came before the sting had fully registered, his fingers splayed to maximize contact, the sharp smack echoing off the walls like a gunshot. She thrashed against the restraints, her hips jerking upward in a futile attempt to escape only for the third strike to land harder, his palm connecting squarely with her swollen clit. White-hot pain lanced through her, so intense her vision grayed at the edges, her toes curling into the sheets as her body arched involuntarily. The fourth and fifth came in rapid succession left, then right each one igniting fresh fire along her sensitive folds, the alternating impact sending shockwaves through her pelvis that blurred the line between agony and something perilously close to arousal.
By the tenth, she was sobbing openly her cunt throbbing, hot and slick despite the brutality, her body betraying her in the worst possible way. His hand paused mid-air, slick with her own wetness, before he gripped her thigh hard enough to leave bruises and shoved into her ass in one brutal thrust. The scream that ripped from her throat was raw and gut-deep, her muscles clamping down around him in reflexive resistance but he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just buried himself to the hilt in a single, merciless motion. Her vision whited out for a second, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps as her body struggled to adjust to the impossible stretch the burn so acute it bordered on transcendent, her nerves alight with pain so sharp it felt like purity.
He withdrew almost completely, the sudden absence of pressure making her shudder then slammed back in with a wet, meaty sound, his hips meeting hers with enough force to jolt her bound arms beneath her. The slap came an instant later his palm cracking across her cheekbone hard enough to snap her head sideways, her vision blurring as saliva sprayed from her lips. “Whore, ” he growled, as he pistoned into her again, each thrust punctuated by another stinging blow left cheek, right cheek, the rhythm relentless. Her mocking laughter between strikes was more reflex than defiance, her teeth bloody where she’d bitten her tongue. “That all you ah! got?” she gasped, the words slurred from the swelling in her lip.
The next slap landed with such precision her ears rang his smirk flickered as her head lolled, the metallic tang of blood flooding her mouth. She spat a crimson arc onto the sheet, the droplets splattering near her shoulder before she turned her face back, her grin lopsided and wild. “Losing steam, sissy boy?” Her voice was hoarse, but the taunt landed his nostrils flared, pupils dilating as his grip tightened around her throat like a vice. “Shut up whore ” he snarled, thumbs pressing into her windpipe with enough force completely crushing it. The pressure was immediate, brutal her breath cut off mid-gasp, her vision tunneling as her body convulsed beneath him. Stars burst behind her eyelids, her lungs screaming for air that wouldn’t come, her hips bucking instinctively against the onslaught.
His next thrust was savage her ass clenched around him involuntarily, the stretch bordering on unbearable as he buried himself deeper with a grunt. “WHO’S THE SISSY NOW?” he roared, spittle flying as his hips pistoned faster, his rhythm erratic and desperate. Every snap of his pelvis sent shockwaves through her. He was unraveling his breath ragged, his movements growing frenzied as if her defiance had stripped away his control.
The grip on her throat tightened further her vision darkened at the edges veins throbbing in her temples as she strained for air that wouldn’t come. She didn’t even feel it when he cum just the sudden, wet heat flooding her ass as his cock pulsed violently inside her, his grip on her windpipe never loosening. Her body convulsed beneath him not from pleasure, but from the primal panic of oxygen deprivation her thighs trembling as her muscles locked in a final, futile attempt to survive.
When he finally released her throat there wasn’t relief just the hollow, rattling gasp of her ruined airway struggling to pull in air through the wreckage of her crushed windpipe. She tried to speak her vocal cords shredded but all that came out was a wet, guttural rasp devoid of words.
The oldest man watched as he rolled off her, his softening cock slipping from her abused ass with a slick sound. He reached for her bound wrists the twisted fabric of her school shirt now stiff with dried sweat and blood and worked the knots loose with surprising delicacy. His nails scraped against her raw skin as the material fell away. “Won’t be needing this anymore, ” he murmured, tossing the ruined fabric onto the tile where it landed with a limp slap.
The lamp on the bedside table pulsed once a deep, unnatural blue that flooded the room like submerged neon before flickering out. All three men froze mid-motion, their heads snapping toward the door where the sound of slow, deliberate clapping echoed off the sterile walls. The genie stood there, his bare feet leaving faint impressions in the tile as he stepped forward. His grin was all teeth. “Well, ” he said, his voice like oiled silk. “That was *almost* correct.”
The three men moved in stilted unison, their bare feet shuffling halfway across the room stopping between the bed and the genie’s. The oldest one looked eye to eye with the genie, "You lose, " he rasped, the words dry as bone dust, "but I'll be sure to stab her through the heart with the dagger to complete the ritual."
The genie's grin widened as his laughter boomed through the room like thunder trapped in a wine cellar. "Have I?" he purred, tilting his head with feline amusement. At the same time, April's brother crept in through the back door his sneakers silent on the tiles grabbed the lamp off the table, and snuck over to April on the bed. His fingers brushed her wrist cold as he pressed the brass base into her palm.
The genie’s laughter erupted again a sound like shattered glass and roaring wind so loud it drowned out the wet, clicking rasp of April’s crushed windpipe knitting itself back together. Her gasp was ragged, half-formed, as cartilage slid into place beneath her skin with a series of tiny, sickening pops. She rolled onto her side, coughing up strings of bloody saliva that spattered the sheets, her fingers tightening around the lamp’s base as her brother’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
“Five millennia, ” the genie murmured, his voice dripping with amusement, “and you three *still* think I come alone.?” “I *told* you, ” he crooned, tilting his head, “back then gloating before finishing the job *always* comes back to bite you in the ass.” The genie pointed behind them his grin widening as their heads turned in unison.
April's brass slick against her fingertips as she choked out the words between gasps: "I wish you three disappear forever." The effect was immediate the three men stiffened, their skin flickering like bad film reel as their edges dissolved into static. The oldest one snarled, lunging toward the bed, but his fingers passed through April’s wrist like smoke through a sieve. His mouth opened whether to curse or chant, she’d never know but his voice unraveled into whispers that dispersed like cobwebs in a draft.
The genie walked over, his bare feet leaving no impression on the tiles now. He could see the look in her eyes that dizzying cocktail of fury and curiosity and his grin softened into something dangerously close to fondness. "Questions?" he murmured, reaching to thumb away a streak of blood from her lip.
April jerked her head back, her pulse hammering against the fresh skin of her throat. "Why didn't you stop them?" The words scraped out raw. His hand paused mid-air, then dropped with a sigh. "Can't, " he said simply, flexing his fingers like he was testing the weight of the air. "Can only touch someone if they *want* me to.". He deliberately reached for the boy's shoulder. April watched, transfixed, as his fingers sank through the fabric of her brother's hoodie like smoke through a screen door, vanishing into the space where his collarbone should've been. No displacement. No ripple. Just empty air where flesh ought to resist.
Her brother shivered just once as if he'd walked through a spiderweb. The genie withdrew his hand, shaking it like water droplets clung to his skin. "See?" His grin was all teeth. "If I could've strangled them myself, I would've done it.". He tapped his temple twice. "Rules are rules.".
April exhaled her fingers skimming the unmarred skin of her throat. The cartilage beneath was smooth, seamless. No bruises. No dents. Just the ghost memory of pressure where his thumbs had driven deep enough to collapse her windpipe. Her voice emerged hoarse but intact: "Then why didn't I die.?" The genie tilted his head, "Discount immortality, " he said, flicking a speck of dust off his sleeve. "Can't age past your prime. Can't die unless someone stabs you through the heart or lops your head clean off. The genie's smile didn't waver. "Anything else, " he echoed, "and you just heal." His fingers traced an invisible line down his own sternum. "Tear your liver out? Grows back. Snap your spine? Realigns." April opened her mouth but the genie cut her off with a lazy wave. "Yes, it includes your family, " he sighed.
The genie touched the lamp open he said, sucking April in her dropping the lamp onto the bed. The brass clattered against the sheets, rolling to a stop against her brother's knee. Before the genie entered the lamp, he looked at her brother with a friendly smile and said, "Leave, but don't move the lamp." Then he dissolved into blue smoke, swirling into the lamp's spout with a sound like a thousand whispering voices collapsing into one.
Inside the lamp, the genie materialized in a high-backed chair, its carved ebony arms worn smooth by centuries of restless fingers. He stretched, naked, his skin shimmering like oil on water translucent for a heartbeat before settling into solidity. The chamber around him was neither large nor small, just an endless gradient of twilight. April lay on a large bed but here, it floated suspended in the lamp’s liminal space, its sheets impossibly clean, starched white with not a drop of blood or sweat or jello-stain in sight.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sorry, " he said, his voice bouncing off unseen walls not remorseful, just stating a fact. "Had to let them almost kill you." His fingers tapped against his knee, the rhythm uneven. The apology was flimsy, but he meant it. "Why?" The word scraped out, raw-edged. The genie's sigh was a slow unraveling of smoke, curling into the lamp's dim interior before reforming into the sharp planes of his face. "Because rituals are two-sided blades, " he murmured, tilting his head toward the bed. "Their dagger was meant to carve out your heart mine needs it beating when I slide inside."
"Once I'm reborn, " he said, voice dropping to a purr, "I plan to change the word for the better." His grin was slow, deliberate. The genie moved with the predatory grace of a shark circling its prey each step measured, deliberate, his bare feet leaving no trace on the lamp's impossible floor. He knelt beside the bed, his fingers trailing along April’s thigh not touching, just close enough for her to feel the static prickle of his nearness. "But if you want out, " he murmured, his breath cool against her ear, "just say no." The words hung between them, weightless as a spider's thread.
April exhaled sharp, ragged her pulse hammering against the fragile skin of her throat. The genie’s smile widened, the corners of his mouth curling like smoke. "Fuck me, " she whispered, the words barely more than a breath. And the second they left her mouth, he was inside her slow, so agonizingly slow his cock pressing into her cunt inch by relentless inch. The stretch was exquisite, a white-hot ache that radiated outward in concentric waves, her muscles clenching instinctively around him as if trying to anchor him deeper. His hips rolled forward with glacial precision, each movement calculated to draw a gasp from her lips, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her.
Once all of him was in his pelvis flush against her thighs, the head of his cock brushing her cervix she giggled, the sound raw and breathless. "You’re bigger than the first time, " she gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily as he withdrew just enough to tease. His laughter was a low rumble against her ear, his breath warm. "First time?" he murmured, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet." His hips snapped forward again, driving into her with a force that stole her breath, her back arching off the bed as pleasure and pain collided in a dizzying spiral.
He kept it up all the way in, his cock buried to the hilt then changed it up, withdrawing only halfway, his thrusts deliberate and slow. His free hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit with unerring precision, the pad of his thumb circling just hard enough to make her gasp. The rhythm was maddening each shallow thrust matched by a flick of his wrist until her hips bucked, chasing the sensation. He chuckled, dark and rich, his breath hot against her collarbone. "Not yet, " he murmured, his teeth scraping her skin. "You don’t get to come until I say."
She whined high and desperate her nails digging into his shoulders as he dragged the tip of his cock along her walls with each half-withdrawal, the sensation bordering on unbearable. His fingers worked her clit faster now, the pressure just shy of painful, her muscles fluttering around him in protest. "Fuck, " she gasped, her voice cracking, her thighs trembling. "Please " The word dissolved into a moan as he finally, *finally* gave her what she wanted his hips pistoning into her with brutal efficiency, his fingers relentless.
April rolled him over sudden, fierce her thighs clamping around his hips as she sank down on him with a groan, his cock stretching her impossibly wider, the head breaching her cervix with a sharp, white-hot burst of pain-pleasure that made her vision flicker. His hands flew to her waist, fingers digging in, his breath hitching as she clenched around him, her cunt pulsing with the aftershocks. His hips jerking upward involuntarily. She grinned wild, feral her nails raking down his chest as she ground against him.
His cock twitched inside her thickening, growing. he rocked forward the friction sending sparks skittering up her spine. His breath came in ragged bursts against her collarbone, his grip tightening as he fought to stay still to let her set the pace but she could feel him losing control, his hips stuttering beneath her, his cock swelling further, pressing deeper, the tip nudging against the mouth of her womb with each slow, deliberate roll of her hips.
Her breath hitched sharp, surprised as his cock *pulsed*, the head swelling just enough to press flush against the entrance to her womb, the stretch bordering on unbearable. She could feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him searing her from the inside out, her muscles fluttering around him in protest. His groan was raw, gut-deep, his fingers tightening on her hips as she rocked forward again, her cunt swallowing him whole, her womb clenching around the tip of his cock like a second, tighter mouth. The sensation was dizzying overwhelming her vision graying at the edges as pleasure and pain collided in a white-hot burst.
His hands slid down to her ass rough, possessive helping her lift, then *slamming* her back down with enough force to jolt her forward, her breasts bouncing, her breath escaping in a ragged gasp. The impact sent shockwaves through her, her cunt stretching impossibly wider around him, her womb fluttering around the head of his cock like a second heartbeat. His fingers dug into her flesh, blunt nails biting into the soft skin of her thighs as he guided her movements up, down, up, down each thrust harder, deeper, the slap of skin against skin echoing through the lamp’s hollow chamber.
The rhythm was relentless his grip unyielding as he drove her down onto him again and again, her cunt stretched taut around his cock, her womb clenching around the tip with every downward stroke. The sensation was overwhelming exquisite her vision blurring as pleasure built low in her belly, coiling tighter with every movement. His breath was ragged against her collarbone, his teeth scraping her skin as he growled wordless, primal his hips jerking upward to meet her halfway.
She lifted herself just enough to feel the drag of him against her walls before slamming down with a force that punched the air from her lungs, her womb breached in a sudden, searing stretch that made her cry out. His cock pulsed inside her, thickening impossibly further, the head swelling against the mouth of her womb as he groaned low, guttural his fingers digging into her ass.
The first spurt hit deep thick and hot flooding her womb with a sudden rush of heat that made her gasp, her muscles fluttering around him in involuntary response. He was disappearing dissolving his edges blurring at the periphery of her vision as his release spilled into her in pulse after pulse, his cock twitching inside her with each shot. His grip loosened just slightly his fingers slipping through her skin like smoke as his form wavered, the solidity of him giving way to something less tangible, more ephemeral.
By the fifth pulse, she could see the bed through him his outline translucent, shimmering his breath ghosting against her neck like a whisper as the last of him spilled into her, his cock vanishing inside her with a final, shuddering thrust. The sensation lingered phantom fullness her womb heavy with him even as the space between her thighs cooled, empty.
Then came the tearing not pain, but pressure her abdomen distending unnaturally as something *shifted* beneath her skin, her navel stretching taut. The genie’s rebirth happened near instant: one moment her belly was smooth, the next it rippled like water struck by a stone, the outline of a small foot pressing outward before vanishing again. She barely had time to gasp before he phased out of her womb as a child, his body sliding free in a rush of warm fluid, his limbs unfolding rapidly as he aged to a fully grown man mid-air, his spine straightening with a series of audible pops.
The blue flash hit as he landed brilliant, searing and suddenly they were back on the bed outside the lamp, the sheets cool against April’s flushed skin. The lamp on the bed shuddered once a deep, metallic groan before its surface spiderwebbed with hairline fractures. The brass darkened to a dull, tarnished green in seconds, then crumbled inward with the whispery sigh of sand through an hourglass. The dust didn’t scatter it *poured* straight downward, defying gravity to pool in a neat pyramid on the mattress between them, grains glinting like powdered gold.