A heat radiated from her. A scent — fertile, invasive, laced with honey and death. She knelt, hands like cranes tearing into the Earth, scooping him up gently.
“You were made for me,” her voice echoed through the clouds, soft and layered with thunder. “I’ve waited long enough.”
He tried to scream as she lowered him between her legs. Flesh yawned open for him—thick, wet walls, ribbed and twitching with anticipation. Her slit widened with impossible strength, lips parting to reveal something deeper than biology—a womb that wanted, a cunt that hungered like a sentient cave.
Not to crush him.
To keep him.
The folds pulsed. Sucked. Her fingers pressed him forward with care, almost lovingly. His lower half disappeared first, feet vanishing into the heat. Slick ridges clenched around him, pulling, kneading, tasting. Her moans shook the skyline.
“Ohhh, yes… deeper, little thing. Deeper. Fill me.”
He struggled, uselessly. The flesh gripped his waist, pulling him inward in rhythmic, wet gulps. Up to his chest now. The slick walls twitched around his spine, milking his skin, forcing his muscles to go slack as her body invited his deeper submission.
“This is where you belong,” she whispered, stroking the shaft that still hung hard and heavy between her legs — a mockery of male form, drooling clear fluid that soaked the ruined city below.
“You’re not being devoured, my love,” she whispered into the heavens.
“You’re being reborn.”
And then she clenched.
Her slit widened with impossible strength, lips parting to reveal something deeper than biology—a womb that wanted, a cunt that hungered like a sentient cave.
Not to crush him.