Olga's gaze locked onto the swelling rise atop Kirie's pelvis. Big. No—prominent. Even the exaggerated figures she had come across in artwork, whether fictional or not, paled in comparison to what was before her. A real body, a real person, and yet... this was larger than any she had seen.
A slow, dry swallow worked its way down her throat, but it did nothing to ease the sudden tightness in her chest. And the worst part? She was still sitting five meters away. The sheer thought of how much bigger it would seem up close sent an involuntary shudder through her frame.
Her lungs felt parched. She wouldn't have noticed how unsteady her own breath had become had she not lifted a hand to her lips, feeling the way they trembled against her fingertips. When had she started breathing through her mouth?
The infirmary, usually cool and sterile, now felt suffocatingly warm beneath her clothes.
Like a moth to a flame, she moved forward, the soft whir of her floating chair melding into a distant hum in her ears. Inch by inch, she closed the distance until she was near enough to touch him.
But why? What had triggered this reaction in him? A side effect of mana exhaustion? Some subconscious response to recovery? Or was it something... deeper?
And that scent, faint yet intoxicating, an almost golden sweetness clinging to the air around him. Did he eat an excessive amount of vitality-boosting food? No, that couldn't be it. This was different.
The answer hit her like a quiet revelation.
"Ah... it must be the vasodilators released after the combat test..." she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Yes—that had to be it.
The body, after enduring extreme exertion, released vasodilators to widen blood vessels and improve circulation. His pain had been relieved, his body fully relaxed, and the infirmary bed's regenerative properties only enhanced the effect. Naturally, if these compounds worked on skeletal muscle, then... they would also work on other tissues.
Her reasoning was sound. Perfectly sound.
Then why was her hand moving toward him?
Even with logic grounding her, even with full knowledge of what she was about to do, her fingers continued their slow descent toward the inevitable. A quiet war raged within her—guilt clawing at her resolve, desire whispering its counterargument.
For so long, she had ignored this part of herself. The part that longed for warmth, for fulfillment, for something more than the lonely nights spent drowning in work. Surely... with a man like this... with a body like his...
Just a touch. A single touch. That's all.
Her lips parted slightly, her breathing shallow.
"I've worked hard all my life... just a little reward wouldn't hurt, right...?" The words slipped past her lips before she had the chance to second-guess them.
It smelled so sweet.
Like the forbidden chocolate bars she had coveted as a child. Like the full cake she had devoured with trembling hands after receiving her first nurse's paycheck, alone in her dimly lit apartment. A bittersweet indulgence—happiness tinged with something deeper.
Olga had rewarded herself with sweets for years. Small indulgences to make up for stress, for sacrifices, for all she had lost. But this... this was different.
This wasn't candy. This was ambrosia.
An essence meant to be savored, meant to be taken into herself. And she was the only one here to claim it.
Surely, a lonely woman in her thirties deserved something after so many years of solitude. Her body moved before her mind could protest.
With a quiet inhale, she whispered, "Make the infirmary room private for three hours. Do Not Disturb." A soft chime rang in response, the metallic doors locking with a final, resolute click.
The weight of her decision settled upon her, yet she did not waver.
Finally, finally, she could take care of this lingering problem. Yes—a medical problem. This was simply a procedure. A patient couldn't possibly be expected to endure this condition unattended. And as the responsible physician overseeing his recovery, she couldn't ignore it either.
She exhaled, steadying herself as she reached for his belt. Slowly. Carefully. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the buckle, then began to work it loose, pulling it downward with delicate precision.
The fabric shifted. The bulge beneath grew more defined. With the final whisper of movement, the boxer-briefs slid down. And then— It sprang free. Not like a simple reveal. Not like the slow unfurling of a curtain. No. Like something caged finally breaking loose.
Olga froze. Her breath hitched, her hands hovering just above the impossible sight before her. Her mind scrambled for words, for rational thought, but all that surfaced was one undeniable, devastating realization— She had gravely underestimated. And now, there was no turning back.
Olga's breath hitched, her wide hazel eyes glinting in the dim light of the sterile room as they fixed on the monstrous hook before her—an eight-inch marvel of throbbing vitality. It pulsed with a primal energy, veins threading beneath taut skin, a testament to raw, untamed virility. "So thick…" she murmured, her voice a soft tremor of awe. Her slender fingers, delicate yet trembling with curiosity, reached out to encircle its base. The girth defied her grasp; her fingertips strained, unable to meet without a deliberate effort that sent a shiver racing up her spine.
She leaned closer, her breath shallow, her ample bosom spilling against the side of Kirie's left leg. The contact was unintentional—or so she told herself. Whether it was to tease the sensitive nerves of the young man sprawled before her or to chase the electric thrill that coursed through her own body, Olga remained blissfully unaware. Her focus narrowed to the heat radiating from him, the faint musk that clouded her senses.
A low groan escaped Kirie's lips—"Hnh…"—his eyes fluttering shut as his face crumpled in a mixture of pleasure and surrender. His body shifted beneath her touch, a stray hand falling carelessly atop her right breast. The accidental graze ignited her like a spark dropped into a pool of oil, her skin blazing where his fingers lingered. She froze, her pulse hammering in her ears, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of her nurse's uniform.
Olga's mind raced. What if he caught her—caught her cock-handed, as it were? Would disgust twist that handsome, boyish face of his? At twenty years old, Kirie carried an air of kindness, an understanding etched into the soft lines of his features. Surely, he'd forgive the desires of an older woman like her, a helpless virgin tethered to needs only he could unravel. "He's twenty… it's okay…" she whispered, the words a fragile balm for the guilt threading through her pleasure. Her grip tightened, gingerly cradling the towering length as though it were a sacred relic.
Her gaze sharpened. "He has phimosis too…" A faint smile tugged at her lips. Was it a shield, this extra skin hiding the beast beneath? She imagined it as a gift waiting to be unwrapped, and with tentative care, she drew the foreskin back. Inch by inch, the pinkish-red crown emerged, glistening with a sheen of precum that coated it like liquid desire. The sight stole her breath.
"Wow…" she breathed, marveling at the sheer volume—a genetic wonder unfurling before her eyes. All this from a mere touch? Was he that sensitive? Her heart thudded faster, a slow, wicked smile creeping across her face. "If he is… that's adorable."
Her fingertip brushed against the tip, drawing forth a glistening string—a tangible thread of connection that shimmered in the humming light.
The scent hit her then, sweet and heady, like ripe peaches distilled into something forbidden. It had lingered in the air since he'd been wheeled into her care, a fragrance that set her nerves alight. Semen shouldn't smell like this, shouldn't taste like this.
Drawn by instinct, she brought her damp fingertip to her lips, suckling gently. The flavor burst across her tongue—warm, intoxicating—and a shudder rippled through her, as though her very cells were awakening. Healing properties? A stimulant? This wasn't mere lust; his essence held power beyond copulation.
"I must… inspect further," she resolved, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. The head nurse's descent into pleasure began with a tentative kiss, her lips brushing Kirie's tip. A jolt of sensation sparked down her spine, mirrored by the faint twitch of his body beneath her.
'It's like sucking on a big candy pop,' she thought, her small mouth stretching to envelop him. The two-inch crown tested her limits; even unhinging her jaw allowed only three inches into her eager, quivering maw. But the struggle was worth it. The warmth flooding her body never waned—it fueled her, riled her, urging her deeper.
With each gentle suck, she felt it: a subtle shift in her muscles, a sharpening of her senses. The more you drink, the stronger you become… the more flexible… The realization pulsed through her like a heartbeat. She wouldn't need to force herself; time and persistence would grant her dream, one inch at a time. Her fingers tightened around the base, forming a firm ring as she blended her medical expertise with raw passion.
The motions came naturally—stroking, coaxing—until the sweet, clear sap flowed freely. What she'd feared would exhaust her jaw and throat was soothed by the essence she drank, a nectar that dulled the strain and heightened her hunger.
A stray thought flickered through her mind. 'If I squeeze his testes, it'll boost production…' Her hands obeyed before she could second-guess, sliding downward as her upper body shifted. She leaned forward, her breasts swallowing his left leg entirely, seeking comfort in the closeness. Her palms cradled his balls, and she paused, breath catching. Is this both of them?
The sack spilled over her hands, heavy and warm. She traced the scrotal raphe—the faint seam dividing them—and her eyes widened in disbelief. One ball fills a palm… they're enormous! 'Two pounds each?' She guessed, her pulse racing with a cocktail of excitement and awe.
He'd been carrying this weight all along, a secret burden now laid bare before her.
Olga's heart thundered, her fingers trembling as she marveled at the sheer potency in her grasp. This wasn't just a man—this was a phenomenon, a living enigma she was determined to unravel, one intoxicating taste at a time.
Kirie stirred beneath the waves of pleasure washing over him, his body shifting lazily in response to the warmth enveloping his leg and creeping along his throbbing length. It was a soothing cocoon, a gentle tide that lulled him deeper into the haze of sleep. Yet the spell was shattered by sharp, intermittent flicks—a tongue darting against the sensitive ridge at the back of his crown. Each strike drew a ragged sigh or a low grunt from his lips.
"Hnnnf…" The sound escaped him, high-pitched and unguarded, a girlish yip that pierced the quiet. Unbeknownst to him, it reached Olga's ears, her head tilting slightly as the noise sparked a twitch in her senses.
That sound was kindling to her fire. I'll try to go deeper now… Confidence surged within her, a quiet resolve hardening her gaze. She parted her lips wider, descending slowly, inch by inch, down his five-inch girth. This wasn't just about pleasuring him—it was about sating the gnawing hunger within her. Craving didn't capture it; the word felt too small, too tame.
"An obsession…" she muttered, her lips trembling around the sheathed veins that pulsed against her tongue. What had begun as a respectable three inches stretched into more—three additional inches flooding her throat. The sudden intrusion overwhelmed her, and she gagged, a wet cough erupting as her body protested the delicious violation.
Each ragged huff she drew was laced with his scent, a heady musk that burrowed into her nostrils like the aftertaste of a rich, forbidden meal. To smell this every day… it'd be heaven… Her dark grey eyes, shadowed by the exhaustion of sleepless nights, rolled back in ecstasy. Saliva spilled from her lips, coating the final two inches of Kirie's cock in a glistening sheen.
Her gulps were met with eager throbs, his shaft swelling against her trapped tongue, which now served as a reverent attendant, lapping at the underside in a desperate bid to please.
"Mnnnnh… feels so good…" Kirie's voice trembled, thick with sleep and arousal. His hands rose instinctively, fingers threading into the tangled nest of Olga's hair.
Then, without warning, his hips bucked upward, driving himself deeper into her throat. She clutched his leg for anchorage, her nails digging into his flesh as her body rocked with the force of his thrusts. His cock became a battering ram, sliding and slipping within the tight confines of her small mouth, stretched beyond its natural limits.
Yet the strain eased with every drop of his elixir-like seed, a magical balm that softened her resistance, molding her mouth into something pliant—something primal, like a second cunt crafted for his pleasure.
'He isn't rough… but this… this feels just right.' The thought spiraled through her mind as her thick, thirty-two-inch thighs pressed together, rubbing restlessly. Each thrust reverberated beyond her throat, tricking her brain into believing the pleasure radiated from between her legs.
'It's like he's fucking me down there…' Her senses blurred, reality bending under the onslaught. 'My mouth… it feels like a pussy…!'The revelation pulsed through her, wild and intoxicating, as her body surrendered to the illusion.
Olga's grip tightened on his leg, her nails leaving faint crescent marks on his skin. Drool pooled at the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the sheets below, mingling with the sweet, peach-like tang of his essence.
The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with the rhythm of his thrusts and the wet, rhythmic sounds of her submission. Kirie's fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her with an unconscious urgency, and she let him—welcomed it—her obsession spiraling into a fervor she could no longer contain.
"C-cumming…!" Kirie's voice broke, a desperate cry cutting through the haze as his hands clamped down on Olga's head. With a sudden, forceful thrust, he drove her to the base, all eight inches of his pulsing length cramming into her throat.
Her esophagus stretched, molding to his shape like molten wax pressed into a cast, as he unleashed a torrent of white-hot honey deep within her. The heat was searing, thick and viscous, less a fluid than a primal force—magma surging downstream, coating her insides with its relentless burn.
Each pulse rocked Olga's spine, a violent shudder that rippled from her core to her fingertips. The fire blazing within her was smothered, overtaken by the sheer potency of his genetic will. It flooded her stomach, a heavy, molten weight that promised both conquest and possession, marking her in ways she couldn't comprehend.
Her body quaked under the onslaught, every nerve alight with the overwhelming sensation of being filled—claimed—beyond her limits.
'Is this a mug…?!' The thought clawed through the fog of her mind, wild and disjointed. 'Not even the exaggerated porn I've watched had this much… this thick!' It defied reason, this outpouring of nature's excess.
She tried to draw breath, but the air caught in her throat, trapped by the density of his release. Bubbles of cum frothed at the edges of her stretched lips, escaping in tiny, glistening bursts as she struggled to accommodate him. Her gulps—frantic, instinctive—did nothing to diminish the sheer volume or the unrelenting thickness that coated her tongue, her throat, her very being.
Olga's dark grey eyes widened, pupils dilating as the heat spread through her chest, sinking deeper with every erratic beat of her heart. The taste lingered—sweet yet overpowering, like honey scorched by fire—clinging to her palate as though it meant to stay forever. Her hands, still gripping his thighs, trembled violently, nails biting into his skin as she anchored herself against the storm.
The room spun, the edges of her vision blurring, yet she could feel every inch of him etched into her flesh, a memory branded by the scalding flood he'd poured into her. She was no longer merely a nurse, no longer just Olga. In that moment, she was a vessel—overwhelmed, reshaped, and utterly consumed by the primal force of Kirie's release.
After what seemed an eternity, Kirie's grip slackened, his fingers slipping from Olga's hair. Released from his hold, she eased back, slowly unsheathing the length that had seared itself into her subconscious. Her vision blurred—tears or exhaustion, she couldn't tell—as she stared at it, mesmerized by the glistening, unyielding pillar that had claimed her.
His shallow breaths filled the air, a soft rhythm of relief, punctuated by the rustle of fabric. The faint pop of a polo button coming undone, the slow rasp of a zipper sliding down, the snap of a bra clasp giving way, and the wet squelch of panties peeled from damp skin—all mingled in a symphony of shedding restraint.
Olga huffed, her chest heaving as she swung a leg over him, mounting the boy with a primal urgency. Her thirty-five-pound breasts pressed against Kirie's face, engulfing him in the warm, musky sheen of her sweat. Her meaty lower lips sought the cum-slick breeder that stood rigid and defiant despite its generous outpouring. Her plush, abundant curtains clung to its shape, tasting the lingering sweetness, her breath hot against his skin as their bodies tangled in the aftermath.
"This is your fault for being one of a kind..."