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It always started like this, with Edgar sending a simple letter to him that let him know he wanted some… special time together. The letters always insisted that Edgar wanted to paint a God – that the artist would make him ‘come alive’ upon a canvas. The first time Hastur accepted the invitation, it was out of pure curiosity. And then he found himself growing used to Edgar’s company and even found it pleasant at times. Even if Edgar was a bit of a brat, their occasional bickering felt new and amusing. It certainly was something to fill a boring day with. Upon arriving the first time around, the hunter was asked to sit down in a chair so Edgar could experiment with various painting techniques in order to capture his essence perfectly.
Hastur almost thought that the painter was trying to come up with some new skill for their matches.
He had asked Edgar if he could see the painting after the human dismissed him for the day but it was quickly hidden from his view, with Edgar telling him to not view a work in progress.
Honestly? Fair enough.
Several more days passed just like this, with Hastur sitting down and allowing Edgar to paint him while studying more techniques. Hardly anything was said between them and it all felt very contractual, as though he was simply here to fulfill Edgar’s request and nothing more. That’s what it was anyways, right? He certainly thought so until the eighth day when Edgar’s normally stoic and focused expression began turning softer.
The requests for various poses became… slightly less innocent. At one point, Edgar wanted Hastur to roll the sleeves of his robes up and show him his bandaged arms, clearly in awe at the display of physical strength; although he didn’t need muscle, Hastur still enjoyed making his more ‘human’ features appear strong. The painter also seemed interested in seeing every detail about his tentacles, both the summoned ones that acted like weapons in a match and the ones down below that he used for movement.
The God could see Edgar’s growing interest turning into something indecent and distracting to the point where it began slowing down the progress on the paintings. Although he couldn’t care less, Hastur grew amused at this new development and enjoyed watching the occasional blush form on Edgar’s cheeks whenever a stray summoned tentacle would curl over to gently brush up against a leg or arm. The survivor would normally pause and become flustered before swatting the tendril away or badgering him to return to the previous pose. Throughout it all, the King noticed Edgar pressing his thighs together and clenching where he sat. He thought he heard a light buzzing noise but couldn’t piece together what it was. What an interesting reaction.
Eventually, however, as with what was prone to Gods, Hastur grew bored of just sitting there all pretty for Edgar to paint and study. That boredom gradually escalated each time he sensed the other’s lust until a tentacle slowly slid up the human’s pant leg and… Edgar allowed it, silently spreading his thighs open as it slithered upwards until it was touching something slick and hot. There was also a strange vibrating nub completely separate from his nether regions near the top and—
Goodness, Edgar had been using a vibrator all this time? No wonder he was so desperate. The poor painter probably edged himself for the hours that he worked until Hastur left. Did he get himself off afterwards? How many times had he done this without the God knowing? Hastur chuckled deeply, voice purring in amusement. Things became silent until Edgar finally let out the tiniest moan as the tentacle pressed the bullet vibrator harder to his clit, only to cry out and lean back in his chair, humping up into the air and cumming in his pants.
He expected Edgar to be done after that, to demand that he take the tentacle away and that they never speak of this. Much to his surprise, however, the human unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to his knees as Hastur retracted the appendage. The artist grabbed the bullet vibrator and turned it off with a sigh, soon silently pulling down his underwear and hungrily looking back at the tentacle. The next thing Hastur knew, he was fucking Edgar’s wet hole with the tendril while watching in fascination at just how much the other could take. The God didn’t fuck Edgar directly with his cock until the third day of this but it was good to see the change in the survivor’s behaviour after reaching sexual gratification, Edgar no longer being as bratty as he normally was.
And to be fair, Hastur enjoyed it a lot too. The painter was tight and wet even with lots of preparation. Or maybe his member was just big? Regardless, the God enjoyed their little sessions together and sought them out whenever Edgar requested.
That’s how it went for several weeks, Edgar continuing to paint him and then receiving a little treat at the end of that day’s session if he wanted it. Things slowly changed over time, with Edgar clearly wanting to experiment with a few kinks and Hastur being open to trying virtually anything. Bondage, a bit of pain-play, sensory deprivation, and even piss were all things Edgar seemed to enjoy. Sometimes the painter just wanted to get himself off while Hastur watched—other times he’d be begging and whimpering for the God’s touch. It really changed day by day.
Today was somewhat the usual, with Edgar requesting last night that they try out a specific form of bondage known as ‘shibari’. Apparently the rope formed intricate patterns and could be considered an art form by itself when not placed in a sexual situation. Of course, Hastur agreed and throughout the prior evening, he spent many hours reading multiple books and texts about various knot tying techniques. Strangely, when he imagined the various patterns that he could make over Edgar's skin, Hastur found himself calling them beautiful. Yes, Edgar would be restrained like that. The survivor also requested something very specific; to be falsely bred with eggs. It made for such an interesting request that he couldn’t refuse.
Such a unique experience to be shared between the both of them. Why did Edgar even want that? It wasn’t like the eggs would be fertilized. Ah, human fantasies knew no bounds; ever the fascinating creatures. No matter, Hastur would satisfy that desire within Edgar just as much as his desire for bondage.
Upon arriving the next evening to the painter’s room – which honestly acted more like a minor art studio with a bed – the God set his bag of supplies down and took his spot upon the seat that Edgar normally had him sit in. Sure enough, the survivor immediately took to working on the painting while Hastur lowly spoke, voice a deep purr.
“I have brought the supplies for what you requested the other day.”
At that, Edgar immediately stopped. His cheeks heated up and he merely glanced over before nodding.
Hastur continued, “I believe that I’ll be able to satisfy your desires without much issue. Just tell me when you wish to begin and I will prepare you.”
The survivor finally spoke up with a huff, rolling his eyes. “So forward.”
“Forward? I am simply communicating. Besides,” Hastur purred and spread his tentacles apart just a little, leaning back in his seat while running his fingers along the inner portion of his own hip, “You’re the one who requested this in the first place.”
Edgar looked away. It was true. He was the one who sent the first letter, made the first move, and was the first of them to feel any sort of desire. It was a bit embarrassing but even Edgar could think logically on occasions; he was young man in his early 20’s who lived a very posh and sheltered life, focusing only on his art. No wonder he was going to such extents to satisfy his needs.
Part of the painter felt slightly prideful that he got a literal God to agree to this.
Maybe Hastur felt just as pent up.
When the time actually came for The Feaster to bring his newfound knowledge to the test, it went well at first. The God slithered in close to where Edgar was still standing, though his paints and canvas had been set aside, before reaching out and taking the usual initiative. Hastur slowly took the survivor’s hat off and untied the strings to his red smock, allowing it to fall to the ground. His suspenders were quickly unbuttoned and tossed to the side, and the white shirt was undone. Every small button was carefully manipulated with his claws until the shirt was open to expose his chest.
Almost immediately, Hastur swept in to play with Edgar’s small tits, chuckling at how the little pink buds stood erect despite having hardly been touched. “So sensitive for me,” the God purred, The painter gasped and stuck his chest out slightly into the touch, huffing and looking away as though he were growing huffy and fed-up with the treatment. But Hastur knew he loved this and continued. A thumb and index finger gently pinched one of the nipples. He rolled it slightly until the pink turned into a light red from the stimulation, soon moving to the next.
All the while, Edgar’s expression turned into that of wanton desire. He felt shameful to be doing this but how was it bad if Hastur was merely engaging in his request? Strangely, although it was hard to believe, the painter was the one with all the power here as he could instantly stop this with just a single word and the God would respect his decision. Was it his upbringing that made the painter feel this way? To be perceived all your life as pure and noble, a prodigy most likely going to be married off to someone and thus having to save his 'virtue'? It didn’t matter. All he cared about was art and with what they were going to do, he was about to become the art.
“Edgar,” Hastur suddenly spoke, making the painter look up from his pleasured haze. “May I take your pants off so we can continue?”
Yes, even if Hastur is a God, he wouldn’t go too far to force anything. Edgar felt somewhat comforted by the strange sense of power he had. For the first time in his life, he was making decisions for himself; it wasn’t a family member making him go to events or signing him up for art shows. This was his decision.
For once… he was in control of something in his life.
The painter nodded, sighing and swallowing before attempting to speak. “Y-Yes…” Edgar’s hands slid up the God’s front, his yellowed robes not that rough to the touch. It wasn’t the softest fabric and it was old, but it must have been rather pretty back in whatever era Hastur was from. Meanwhile, the hunter’s hands slid down from his chest to the fastenings of his pants, undoing them with a precision that still surprised Edgar. Eventually, they were slipped down to his ankles and the only thing left on his body as he stepped out of his shoes and socks along with his pants was his underwear.
Upon making him lean back slightly, Hastur laughed at seeing a wet patch along the underside of his garments. “You’re already wet for me?” His hand moved down, thumb swiping along the seam of Edgar’s wet heat through his underwear. He brushed against the other’s clit for just a moment, eliciting a moan with a full-body shudder from Edgar. “You’ll have to be patient through the process of restraining you. Although I read up on various rope tying techniques, I have yet to put it to the test.”
“That’s fine. Let’s… Let’s get to that.”
“So eager,” the God mused, laughing once more at the painter's light scowling. He pulled at Edgar’s underwear to drag them down his hips and hummed at the sight of his tender lips, flushed pink and so clearly wet with need. Within moments, Edgar stood in front of him completely naked. No shame was etched onto the painter’s face. Instead, he stood as confidently as possible despite the teasing earlier and was clearly expecting more. “Do you remember our word in case you wish to stop?”
“Yes. It's 'red'.”
“Good.”
Hastur’s fingers brushed up against his chest once more until he finally pulled away and began gathering some of the supplies he brought. First came the rope. It was a long set that was red and would look lovely going across Edgar’s pale skin. In a sense, Edgar was going to be his canvas. Next was a knife, sharp and intimidating but only to be used to cut any excess lengths down to size. Nothing else would be done with it.
“Are you ready?” the hunter purred, sorting out the first long pieces of rope to begin with. In response, Edgar only nodded and swallowed down his excitement. However, that wasn’t good enough for the God. “Say it. I need you to say it.”
“I’m ready. I want it – God, I’ve wanted this for so long… Just… Just get to it!”
Laughing, Hastur nodded, eyes bobbing up and down in his hood. He soon got to work and slowly looped some rope around Edgar’s neck like a makeshift collar at first. Tying it off was simple and from what he read, he should continue down the chest.
The process of tying the rope around Edgar’s chest and upper arms seemed to lull the painter into a sense of… ease and relaxation. Was this a form of submissive headspace? Hastur, fascinated, continued and watched every tiny reaction he could. Whenever he would jerk a line of rope back to tighten, Edgar’s breath hitched and he nearly let out small moans. The human’s eyes closed and his head tilted back. The rope styles were equally artistic and erotic; both form and function playing a role.
Upon being guided onto his knees, Edgar’s calves were tied to the backs of his thighs, completely restraining him from being able to straighten them out. Once Hastur finished with that, he looped many intricate patterns across the painter’s chest and down his toned stomach, humming in a pleased tone at what he saw. It was like a harness of sorts with the chest portion crossing around his small tits and looping around to the back where Hastur began creating a base for more rope to tie around. From there, the God guided Edgar to hold his arms behind his back before starting to restrain them entirely. He tied them to the harness-like rope pattern along his back. By the time he finished, the painter was fully restrained and kneeling on the floor.
Edgar’s eyes remained closed, the painter within such a deep state of relaxation and sensual pleasure that he immediately fell into that fog – dazed and lulled into a state of security and desire. Hastur saw how much need was etched across his entire body, chest deeply breathing against the bondage of the rope with his back arched so perfectly, and so he summoned a tentacle from the ground to slip in between Edgar’s legs and slide along the wet heat. The tip of it rubbed along his clit before flicking it lightly, the God humming in satisfaction at the little moans that left Edgar’s mouth. The only thing the survivor could feel was an intense need for pleasure…
And. Something else.
Hastur immediately noticed Edgar’s squirming and the way he suddenly snapped out of that little trance, whining and trying to close his thighs from where he knelt. It wasn’t out of pleasure but the King immediately grew concerned and retracted the tentacle. Strangely, the painter didn’t seem to want it to stop yet he still looked up at the hunter with eyes begging for something entirely different from pleasure.
Relief.
A sharp tightness welled up within the painter’s lower gut, just above where he wanted to be touched the most. Despite it somewhat hurting, the pressure also felt slightly good. Edgar felt his clit throb and his entrance clenched. It felt so embarrassing to admit that it was sort of pleasurable. But even then, he still needed to piss.
“Is something wrong?” The Feaster asks, leaning down to stroke his hand over the other’s cheek.
“I… I really have to go.”
“Go?” Hastur laughed. “You’re not going anywhere, Edgar.”
“No, I mean, I… I really have to… I have to go.”
“Why do you wish to leave?”
Fed up, Edgar finally huffed out. “I don’t want to leave I just… I have to pee. I was drinking water earlier and I got so into this that I forgot to go beforehand.”
“Then do it.”
Nothing but silence followed suit and the only thing the painter could do was just stare up at Hastur with an annoyed squint. Eventually, however, he managed to stumble over his words and form a sentence. “R-Right here? You want me to…?” If anything, Edgar almost appeared offended.
“I see no issue. You have plenty of plastics and papers down on the floor for your paints. You are naked as well. Why not just ‘go’ here?” Hastur questioned. He also reached down to the ropes along Edgar’s chest and tugged at them. “Besides, it took a rather long time to tie you up like this. Trying to figure out how to undo everything would be a hassle. It would ruin my hard work, Edgar.” Scowling, the human grumbled something which made the God simply laugh and say one last thing. “Also, consider the fact that the more time it takes to untie you, the worse your bladder will feel. And I know you enjoy this. We have done this in the past. You could either fix it right here and now or have to wait while I-,”
Closing his eyes, the survivor began trying to focus. “S-Shut up… Let me just…”
“You could always say the safe word too if you truly wished to be untied.”
At that, Edgar huffed and looked right back up at the black and red void within Hastur’s hood. “There’s a reason why I’m not saying it, you know.”
“Oh… I see… That is fair.”
Despite feeling a bit embarrassed, Edgar still felt smug about being able to get Hastur to go quiet for a moment. At least that was until he felt clawed fingers stroking through his hair and heard the other’s velvety voice purring out praises to him. It slipped the painter back into a gentle submissive state before finally, he relaxed enough and spread his thighs apart as much as he could. Down below, Hastur used his other hand to press against his bladder. Edgar moaned at the slight pain before wincing.
The hunter watched while Edgar’s pussy became even wetter – this time with something other than the slick that formed from his entrance. “Nnh…” Yellow piss streamed from him, with the human moaning slightly as the pressure in his lower gut finally disappeared. His clit throbbed and while relieving himself, the God reached down and gently stroked the swollen nub, rolling it between his fingers before rubbing the pads of his finger against it. “A-Ahh! H-Hast…” Edgar bucked against his hand and once the stream had ended, his thighs were wet with urine – whole body quivering in shame and pleasure all at once.
“Good boy, Edgar. Let’s get you out of that… hm, puddle, shall we?”
It shouldn’t have felt as hot as it did. The only thing Edgar could focus on was the fact that Hastur – a God – just watched him piss all over the place and even touched him while he did it. The fingers rubbing his clit shouldn’t have been as pleasurable as they were while he pissed. Surely, right? Or maybe because everything was in the same area it just so happened to feel good at the same time. Either way, the blush across Edgar’s cheeks slowly moved down his jaw and neck, his entire face pink.
The Feaster soon used both hands and a tentacle to lift Edgar out of the puddle and move him to the side, chuckling at how he whined and struggled slightly against the bondage. But the human looked equal parts erotic and artistic. It was actually rather beautiful. The way Edgar leaned back with half-lidded eyes, mouth slightly agape to pant and take in deep breaths. Even Hastur found himself in awe of the other’s appearance.
“Not so bratty now, are we?” the God laughed. “No matter. May we continue?”
Edgar nodded and spread his thighs apart, instantly moaning when Hastur’s summoned tentacle moved over and delved in between the folds, wet with natural slick and piss all at once. The painter thrust forward with a gasp and practically humped the tentacle, every ridge along it touching him so intimately. Two smaller suckers gripped onto either side of his clit and played with the nub, making Edgar cry out. “Mmhh… Hastur… Please…”
“Do you want it inside of you?”
“Yes! Put it in a-already!” Edgar gasped.
If Hastur had a face, he would be frowning right now. “Hmm… I shall give it to you. However, you clearly need to be disciplined for being so rude and demanding.” With a flick of his wrist and fingers, the slick tentacle slipped underneath of the painter and folded back so the tip would tease directly up against Edgar’s entrance. It pressed lightly before pulling away and the moment Edgar went to complain yet again, Hastur laughed and let it push inside.
The tendril was just the right thickness that Edgar wouldn’t exactly need to be fingered first to prepare him for any intrusions. It immediately delved in deep and opened him up, sliding against velvety wet walls and curling upwards so the suckers could touch and play with his spot. “F-Fuck! Please! H-Hurry up…” Immediately, the survivor clenched around the appendage and thrust against it as much as he could from his bound position. His knees were beginning to ache but the heated pain only added to the pleasure he experienced and within moments, Edgar was a sobbing mess. He tried desperately to move and fuck himself down onto the tentacle as though it were some toy but the only thing he could do was lightly squirm.
Eventually, the God summoned another and allowed the very tip of it to tease Edgar’s swollen clit while he slithered close, sliding his hand down the front of his robes and soon parting them to expose those many thick tentacles underneath that he used for movement. In between them all was a writhing tendril that appeared to come from some sort of slit, Hastur grabbing it with his hand and stroking. “Ahh… Time to shut that bratty mouth of yours up.” The God surged forward with an annoyed huff and pressed his cock to Edgar’s lips, the painter immediately opening his mouth to suck him off.
Hastur purred lowly within his very core, the noise reverberating around the room, and he thrust deep within the survivor’s mouth. Moaning out at Edgar sucking around him, the cock squirmed and plunged into the other’s throat as the tentacle down below fucked Edgar within an inch of his life. The painter’s blue eyes rolled back into his head and his lips became swollen with each suck. As soon as Hastur pulled away for just a moment to let him breathe, Edgar gasped before returning to satisfying the God. The cock slid back down his throat, loose and sloppy with Hastur slowly thrusting in and out. He held both sides of Edgar’s face to use him like some toy – which is exactly what the painter was right now; a toy, bound and open for the hunter to use as he saw fit.
Throughout this, the tentacles between Edgar’s legs slid both inside of him and against his wet heat, with the larger’s suckers individually stimulating his spot over and over. The other rubbed against his swollen clit enough to make him cry out and once Edgar came close to his climax, Hastur suddenly pulled the two tendrils out and away from him. The only thing left inside of the painter was the one in his mouth and even that, too, would soon be taken from him.
Pulling away entirely, the God sighed while the human caught his breath, chest heaving in and out. Edgar strained against his bonds, opening his mouth up to speak until The Feaster suddenly picked him up without any struggle and placed him surprisingly gently onto his bed in the back of the room. Like this, Edgar was lying on his stomach with his legs bent back at the knee, open and ready for Hastur to claim.
And claim him, the God did.
Without pause, the hunter crawled up onto the bed, settling in between Edgar’s bound thighs. His many thick tentacles wrapped around the other’s legs to keep him spread apart in place before the tip of his writhing cock nudged Edgar’s cunt. It was slick with both its natural secretions and Edgar’s spit and when he started pressing inside without much warning, the painter moaned out before trying to arch his hips up to get it deeper. Unfortunately that wasn’t possible what with how he was bound so all Edgar could do was settle for being used like a good hole for the God to fuck into.
Growling, Hastur firmly pressed Edgar’s hips into the bed with a flat hand to keep him still. His palm nearly spanned across the survivor’s lower back and it was then that he remembered just how different in size they were. Edgar was completely split open around his squirming cock, as tight as usual but not experiencing any pain from the intrusion. It felt wonderful to feel his wet heat clenching around him. True to the painter’s normally bratty nature, the other eventually began trying his damndest to fuck back against the tentacle before eventually succumbing to frustration.
“H-Hastur, just… Just fuck me a-already!”
“Be patient. I don’t wish to… break you.”
“You’re- ahh!” Edgar suddenly stopped as Hastur shifted within him, the pleasure making his cunt throb. “You’re n-not gonna b… Just… Hurry up!”
“Still so bratty… I suppose there is no helping it.” With one long pull of his hips, the God’s squirming shaft slid out from the wet heat of Edgar’s core, finally plunging back inside after only a moment. “Nnhh… Or perhaps… I could shut you up in a different way…”
Edgar was expecting another tentacle to be summoned, perhaps fucking his mouth. But no. Instead, The Feaster’s hips slowly rocked back and forth, gradually picking up the pace until he was thrusting hard into Edgar. The painter moaned out with every push inside, with another tentacle joining in to slip under his hips and slowly play with his clit. “A-Ahh! Hastur! MMhh, please…” He desperately wanted to be able to reach behind and grab the God’s robes but he couldn’t with how he was bound. Edgar felt absolutely helpless; at the complete mercy of Hastur. That was part of the appeal and he absolutely loved it.
A large red hand slid down to Edgar’s ass. Hastur gripped one of the mounds of flesh while thrusting before spreading it apart, finding an even deeper angle now that nothing was between him and the lovely cunt he was fucking into. A third tentacle, already slick and well-lubricated, was summoned from the deity and dipped down until it was lightly prodding the hole just above the survivor’s entrance. “Shall I take you here too? Nnh, your ass will be so tight for me.”
“Keep going!”
It was then that the God suddenly stopped thrusting and gave a light spank to Edgar’s ass. “Do not demand anything from me, mortal. It seems as though I still have to properly reprimand you. Perhaps now would be a good time.” A single strong thrust of his hips before the other tentacle slowly slid inside Edgar’s ass, breaching his hole to push in as deep as possible. At least he gave the painter a moment to adjust but the God soon went back to thrusting into him, the tentacle up his ass also squirming around.
Stuffed full to the brim in each hole, Edgar’s blue eyes cried out tears of pleasure that leaked down his cheeks, moaning upon each thrust. The tendril below them curled upwards to gently play with his clit. The only thing Edgar could do was tense up in his bonds and hope that Hastur would have some mercy upon him tonight. Unfortunately for the human, the deity had no plans of doing such a thing and only thrust harder inside both entrances.
“So wet f-for me, Edgar. You love this.” The tentacle within Edgar’s pussy curled downwards to thrust perfectly up against his spot, Hastur laughing at the abrupt cry. “You look so… so lovely. I could keep you like this for me…” And a dark feeling swept over the God. He leaned over Edgar, the front of his body pressing up against the human’s back. Never once stopping his thrusts, Hastur brought a hand up to the other’s mouth. His fingers momentarily played with Edgar’s lips before pushing them inside and running along his soft tongue. “Only me…”
“Mmph! Mmhm… A-Ahhmm!”
Hastur’s thrusting grew faster, the cock beginning to squirm upon its own accord separate to the bucking of his hips, and upon hearing Edgar’s open-mouthed panting, he growled lowly. “Maybe t-to keep you from being such a brat… I could have you as my breeder, hm? You would be constantly within the throes of pleasure, unable to think of- of anything other than being filled by me. Unable to be such a brat.”
As if to emphasize his words, the God gave a final thrust into Edgar’s cunt before fully pressing his weight onto him. Bound with no way to move and now fully pinned underneath Hastur, the painter was at his mercy and unable to do anything other than whine and plead for the pleasure to continue. There was something about the God’s words that made Edgar squirm and clench around the writhing shaft inside of him. It was his other request – to be given the gift of a clutch.
To become a breeder.
Of course, he wouldn’t actually have any offspring as it was just a part of their play, but the fantasy was more than enough for Edgar. He would have zero responsibilities other than providing Hastur with heirs and pleasure. “F-Fuuck… H-Hast… Hastur!” Being pinned down and having the God grind their hips together in the sudden change of pace felt wonderful. The tentacle underneath that massaged his swollen clit slid up between his pussy’s lips. Edgar felt his climax beginning to build deep within his gut, clenching around both tentacles squirming in his holes.
The moment orgasm hit, he tensed up around the God’s cock and loudly moaned out. Uncaring to anyone outside of his bedroom door, the painter’s whole body shuddered until the waves of pleasure passed and he was left a pliant mess upon the bed. Hastur, however, continued to rut into him even harder now that the painter was fully relaxed from his climax – Edgar being a simple hole for him to fuck into right now. “Nnh… Are you ready to carry my brood?” he purred out, feeling the human’s cunt give a single weak clench around him in response.
“Y-Yes…” Edgar softly moaned out, squirming against his bonds. It looked like he was in a world of bliss right now with how his eyes rolled back and his mouth held agape to pant. “In me… I want it.”
“Good boy… Let me prepare you.”
Suddenly, the tentacle-like cock within Edgar curled and uncurled before the God went tense, his own orgasm taking hold and leaking out copious amounts of fluid deep inside. Hastur’s cum tingled and Edgar immediately found himself ready for more, panting out despite just having come. A single large cramping feeling built up but dispersed and Edgar felt the cock sliding into his wet heat even deeper, finding a place he never considered until now. Breaching past his cervix hurt but thankfully the tingly fluids Hastur pushed inside of him made the pain virtually nonexistent. The very tip of the appendage opened up like the petals of a blooming flower, locking itself inside and opening up to—
“More.”
The eggs were moderately sized and would provide the stretch that he so desired yet wouldn’t cause any intense discomfort. Soon, the first one pushed inside of him, stretching his pussy’s walls and rolling into him through the God’s pulsating cock. Both of them moaned, Hastur at finally being able to deposit the clutch he created for this and Edgar for finally having his fantasy fulfilled after so long.
“H-Hastur… Hastur…” It was like a mantra – a God’s name and blessing upon his tongue, inside of his womb. The tentacle at his overstimulated clit rubbed harder just as the one inside of his ass slowly pulled out only to push back in. All the while, Hastur’s hips ground against his. The only thing Edgar could do was accept the clutch.
The God pushed several more eggs inside, hearing Edgar moan in both pleasure and just a light bit of discomfort for being on his stomach while this happened. The pressure of the position let the painter feel everything. By the time he was about half way finished, Edgar’s stomach was beginning to expand. But the pleasure and satisfaction of finally laying these eggs certainly didn’t stop Hastur’s nonexistent mouth from running in all sorts of filthy speech.
“You take me so well, Edgar… Mmh, I will be able to raise a fine brood with you as their carrying sire.” The God continued to grind his hips in little circles against Edgar. Taking the last bit of the clutch wasn’t hard for the human anymore what with the tingling and slightly numbing cum pressed deep into his womb, and the more he was filled the more he felt completely satisfied. “I shall keep you like this, full and carrying until- mmh- until you are ready to lay them.”
By the time the second and last eggs slid inside, both bigger than the others and stretching his hole out even more than before, Edgar came again. His clit throbbed against the tentacle playing with it but after it was finally removed, he slowly came down from the high of his orgasm and could only give a long moan when Hastur slowly pulled out with a final spurt of cum. The tentacle in his ass also slowly slid from him.
The God was practically purring at this point with how pleased he was. “Good boy, Edgar. My good boy… You look so good like this – so pretty for me. So strong, too, to be capable of handling a God’s clutch.”
Edgar himself was glowing at how good he felt. Unfortunately, the stress on his limbs being in the same position for quite some time now was beginning to get to him, especially now since the high of pleasure was wearing off. “Thank you…” he sighed out. “But… my knees are sore… and my stomach too.”
“Ah, one moment.” Tucking his now satisfied tentacle-like cock away, Hastur fixed his robes before slowly reaching over to untie the bondage from around Edgar. He started with the other’s legs, very carefully bending the calves away from his thighs and massaging along the joint to help the stiff limbs move. From there, Hastur undid the rope binding his hands behind his back and slowly massaged his shoulders until he could move them. The rest of the rope was slowly slid off and although a few marks were rubbed raw onto Edgar’s skin, nothing even remotely serious remained.
He was successful at meeting the painter’s demands.
Hastur slowly rolled Edgar over onto his side. The moment he did so, the human’s hands quickly slid down to his puffed out stomach and rubbed. Despite the moment of clarity, Edgar didn’t care about how he’d get the eggs out just yet. He’d worry about that later, regardless of if he had to lay them or not. Meanwhile, Hastur caught the sense of relaxation within Edgar and after tossing the ropes to the side to deal with later, he got off of the bed and went to a nearby sink to gather a cup of water for him.
“Here,” the hunter began after returning, “Some water.”
“You’d think I wouldn’t want to see water so soon after making me piss myself,” Edgar laughed, sitting up slightly against the pillows on his bed to sip at the cup. He clearly wasn’t upset, which is exactly what Hastur expected. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome. But, I merely didn’t see an issue with ruining my hard work when you have so many coverings on the floor for your paints. Besides, I can tell you enjoyed it.”
Cheeks turning pink, Edgar looked away and huffed despite the small smirk on his face. “Shut up. Don’t sound so smug! W-Well, I know you loved filling me with eggs despite it being my request. You normally don’t talk that much when we fuck but you didn’t shut up once this time around!”
Hastur laughed, sighing. “I can’t lie, either. Feeling my insides go from all heavy and swollen with eggs to being relieved as I finally placed them within you… it was quite a fascinating and enjoyable sensation. Perhaps we can do this again?”
“Look at you…” Edgar grumbled, “Asking if you can lay eggs in me again…”
“Still so bratty, Edgar. Ah, I suppose I wouldn’t want you to change that, however. It makes you all the more amusing.”
“Someone needs to be able to put a God in their place every now and then. The Manor can’t have your pride getting in the way of things.”
Even though their occasional sexual arrangements only really called for the consensual sex itself and Edgar’s satisfaction, Hastur still enjoyed staying behind to make sure he didn’t hurt the human. Humans were vulnerable beings after all. As usual, the God looked after him for a while longer, discussing what would happen to the eggs – all infertile and dissolvable after some time; merely for their pleasure. But Edgar’s mind eventually went back to the one problem left.
“Hastur?”
“Yes, pet?” the hunter responded, sitting beside Edgar to rub his stomach and help him feel comfortable.
“Pet? Pfft. Either way, I’m not cleaning up the piss on the floor. You’re the one who made me ‘go’ in the first place.”
“Ah… I suppose… that you would be correct,” the God sighed, finally conceding. “I shall dispose of those coverings…”
“Good. And please make sure you don’t spill it anywhere.”