The ritual

The Infernal Baptism

Midnight. Max’s hand tight in my hair, Ant’s lips at my neck. They lead me to the breeding bench, its steel frame cold beneath my skin. “No birth control. No holding back,” Ant says, securing my ankles in the stirrups. Max presses a vibrator to my clit-“You’ll come when we say,” he murmurs-before taking my mouth with a deep, claiming kiss.

The Reckoning

The miscarriage comes suddenly, pain and loss mixing with their touch. Ant soothes me, kissing away tears, his presence fierce and protective. Max holds me close, whispering, “We’ll try again. We love making you ours.” They take care of me, gentle but determined, promising I won’t be empty for long.

The Resurgence

Two weeks later: I’m ready again. They’re relentless, driven by the need to fill me. Max takes me first, slow and deep, his eyes locked on mine. Ant follows, rougher, his grip possessive. “Already ovulating,” Max says with a knowing smile. “Tonight, we make sure you’re full.”

Six weeks: The test is positive. Max presses it to my lips. “Ours,” he whispers, pride and devotion in his voice. They both celebrate, hands gentle on my belly, thrilled by the life growing inside me.

Three months: My body changes, and they adore it. Max traces my curves, Ant kisses every new mark. “You’re perfect like this,” Ant says, reverent. They love the transformation, the proof of their devotion and desire.

The Epilogue

Nine months: The baby arrives during a storm. Max is by my side, Ant brings comfort. When she cries, Ant presses his forehead to mine, Max weeps with joy, and already they talk about the next one.

The Breeding Ritual

They cherish the process even more after our child is born. Max tracks my cycles, Ant collects pregnancy tests as trophies, both whispering, “We’ll keep you full forever,” as they hold me close. They take turns, sometimes together, always with the same purpose: to make me theirs completely, to fill our home with life and love.

The Covenant
They love breeding me. It’s their obsession, their devotion. Max calls me his legacy, Ant his goddess. The nursery is filled with laughter and hope, and as my belly swells again, their hands are always there-loving, protective, and eager for more. And me? Fully satiated with their cum in my pussy.

No birth control. No barriers. Only love, risk, and the promise of new life-again and again