I’ve had a crush on Professor Nolan Slate for practically my whole life. When my Dad left my Mom, he became the new father figure in my life—but only in my head.

I went a thousand adventures with him—through the darkest parts of the Amazon, across the plains of Siberia, deep underground beneath Death Valley—everywhere you might think, all in my imagination. When I was old enough to start fantasizing sexually, he was the immediate object of my need to cum, a need that was prescient and immediate almost all the time. Every part of my education and personality was shaped to join him at the university where he worked so I could go on expeditions with him. So that I could somehow, some way, unload on him all the massive amounts of feelings I had for him, so that I could let him know that he was the most important man in the world to me.

Now, he’s standing in front of me in this isolated mountain-cabin-turned-fuck-festival, looking at least fifteen years younger than the age I know he is and around six inches taller than he was yesterday, his body rippling over with mouth-watering muscle. What I had loved about him was his sense of adventure, his ability to explain anything from the past with such simplicity and ease, his curiosity.

But I’m fucking human, and it’s not like I’m immune to the allure of a tall, insanely handsome, incredibly-muscled man with an enormous cum-dripping cock.

Oh, did I forget to mention that?

Yeah—love of my entire life, man I’m desperate to call Daddy until he whispers what a good girl I am (or punishes me for being a bad girl, moan)—he has a cock the size of a monster, and it’s dripping out hot precum and cum like a fucking mountain stream. His brook, it babbles.

I’m kneeling down in front of him in the cabin, staring with wide, worshipful eyes. All my dreams are about to come true. Drool is sliding down from my lips down to my breasts, flattening my shirt and pooling in my cleavage. I’m sweaty and hot—there’s some strange magical heat he’s exuding, filling this place with unstoppable sexual warmth.

I mean, none of this makes any fucking sense, all right? We have abandoned sense and logic. We abandoned it the second that Vlada, Janine, and I had a shared dream the night before worshiping a giant living stone cock and balls, right? So this—what’s happening now, with the crazy mad dark look in Nolan’s eyes or the way that Vlada is wrapping herself around his body like his supreme queen—none of this is, like, relegated to the world of rationality.

So—I’m in the mountains. There’s nowhere to run even if I wanted to, and if I wanted to, there’s a blizzard coming the size of the state of fucking Delaware, so it’s not a complete option. I’m about to get my face skullfucked by the most beautiful man in existence whether I like it or not, and I’m going to be forced to call him Daddy and Master and God until he makes me his breeding bitch for the rest of my life…

My cunt has never been this wet in my whole entire life. Not ever. Not once.

Vlada is not helping matters. Tall. Busty. Gorgeous. She’s wrapped her slender, educated hand around Nolan’s cock, sliding her naked body up against his and resting under his arm. They look like some erotic King and Queen. He takes her by the ass, gripping her fucking hard, so hard that my cunt twitches dumbly as I witness it, and she’s softly and urgently gyrating her dripping wet pussy against his hip.

Her hand moves on him slowly, like his cock is something sacred and the stroking is a ritual she has done a thousand times and intends to do a thousand more.

Her fingers don’t close all the way around his insane girth. They can’t. Her thumb and middle finger stay a good inch apart, no matter how hard she squeezes, and she squeezes hard, her knuckles going pale. He absorbs her strength like a rod of marble. She starts at the base, where the skin is dark and tight and the veins stand out like cords, and drags her fist up the length of him in one long, unbroken pull. It takes her so long to reach the top. Three full seconds, from root to crown, her palm slick with the mess already pouring out of him, and the skin of his shaft drags along with her hand before sliding back.

When she reaches the head, she turns her wrist, a slow, deliberate twist, and her palm swirls over the flared plum-colored crown, smearing the clear fluid across the smooth skin until it shines.

Her face, immaculate and looking years younger, like a fresh fucking teenager—free of all wrinkles and blemishes, her skin shiny and shining, like there’s light coming out from it—stares up at Him with unadulterated worship.

When I met her two days ago at the base of the mountain we’re buried deep within now, she was basically the hottest woman I’d ever seen up close. Her accent—Russian, just like all of her—only makes her hotter.

She has bright, bright green emerald eyes and thick reddish-brown hair that stretches down in a tremendous blanket down past her ass.

That’s new. Yesterday, her hair was long, but it was like, mid-back length. Her musculature, which I am painfully and cunt-drippingly aware of, is utterly perfect, her abs toned and tight, her back muscles melding together like a road sign to her ass saying “insert fuckstick here!”

Nolan is momentarily distracted by Vlada, kissing her deeply while she strokes his cock and whispers sweet nothings about terribly she wants to see him fuck all of creation. I’m jealous instantly, but only because I want to be part of it, not because I want Vlada gone.

She’s fucking hot and I want Nolan to fuck hot women—I just want to be one of them.

“A-Alice,” says Professor Habermann. Janine. “Alice, we have to…”

She’s next to me, gulping and sweating, trying to make sense of all this. I've stopped trying. But even with her efforts, she's licking her lips, watching Nolan’s tremendous cock jet out huge globs of cum on the floor.

It’s only feet away. I can smell it; fuck that, I can fucking taste it, and I want to lick it up until it’s shampooing my hair and secreting back through my skin.

My hands are rubbing hard against my tits—a generous 36C cup that looks positively tiny compared to Vlada’s new and improved mega-melons, enlarged impossibly after receiving Nolan's hot load inside her tight little cunt, so sensationally buoyant, like she’s a warrior priestess in some fucking video game.

She’s so hot.

They’re so hot together, fuck!

They belong together. I need to belong with them.

“Alice,” Janine takes me by the shoulder, physically tearing my gaze away from this perfection. “We have to go. We can’t…we can’t stay here.”

She stuffs my discarded pants into my hands, and then stands up, her knees wobbling and weak, picking up a coat and hat.

“We just have to—have to…um…check the car!” says Janine.

Grabbing me still, urging me to slip my pants on over my slick-as-fuck thighs and knees (slick from exactly you-know-what), we stumble outside to the open mountain.

Professor Habermann is a rival of Professor Slate’s—once, long ago, they had been lovers, and she’s held resentments against him ever since. You get the feeling he broke it off with her, though it may have been the other way around—one of those regret sort of things. She’s very beautiful, in a cold, removed sort of way—a kind of museum beauty, “look but don’t touch.”

She’s blond and painfully skinny. Her skin smooth like marble, eyes like ice. I sort of want to lick her? The way you want to lick a glacier. You know it's stupid and dangerous, but you want to anyway, just for the fuck of it.

Outside, I expect cold, but instead, the heat follows us. There’s no snow anywhere around the cabin for a ten foot radius, like we’ve set up some fucking perimeter of space heaters or something equally ridiculous. The heat is wet without being humid somehow, or at least I don’t feel uncomfortable like I usually do when I’m humid.

I feel ready, aching, like the sweat on my skin and the thick wet volume of my chestnut hair is just advertising how utterly slick my pussy is, how ready I am to be bred by Nolan.

Oh god, did I mention that? Yeah. I want his fucking babies. I have names picked out and everything. Nolan Junior for a boy, obviously (he’s so fucking great), and Deborah for a girl.

Janine has to restrain me to keep from going back inside.

“W-want it…” I say, mouth still full of heavy saliva, so ready to slick-fuck his rod down my needy teenage throat.

“Alice,” she says, wrestling with me before finally turning me to face her. “Alice! Look at me!” She lowers her voice. “Listen to me. I am…very fond of Nolan in my own way. I have great respect for Vlada. But you have to know that those people in there…those things…they aren’t them. You know that, right? They’ve been…possessed somehow.” She gulps, as if realizing what it is she’s saying as she says it.

My mind is able to—for the time being—snap attention on her. “I thought you didn’t believe in all that mystical stuff?”

“I don’t, but I just saw a man…a woman…” she gulps again. “They’re different, aren’t they? Changed somehow. And there’s no reasonable explanation. And they want to do it to us.”

I know, I want to groan. Let’s go back in and let them!

But outside of the cabin, away from the heat, I have to admit that Janine is making sense. There’s some dark fucking occult supernatural stuff at play here and it’s scary as shit. Maybe it will result in a lifetime of erotic pleasures, being a happy cockslurping breeding pet for the man of my dreams, but maybe I’ll fucking go to hell for all eternity. Maybe this mystical force will get its rocks off by tearing me apart with red hot hooks—what the fuck do I know about it?

Nothing. And that’s what’s scaring Janine, and that’s what should be scaring me. Logic slowly returns to my head.

It's stupid and I hate it. But it's probably right. Slowly, I start to pull my pants back up. My pussy made my legs so slick that it's really easy. I hope I don't chafe.

Fumbling with my clothes, my hand closes around the pendant around my neck. Almost immediately, the fog in my head clears.

It really is insane, what's happening in there. Is Nolan dead? Is Vlada? Are their true selves gone forever? What the fuck have I been witnessing?

Why the fuck aren't I terrified to my absolute core? Why does it all make me feel so...safe?

“I picked up the keys to the SUV,” she says. “We’ll ride like hell back to the mountain base, okay? We’ll call for help. Someone…someone will know what to do. We’ll help them, okay? We just have to leave. Now.”

She takes my hand, her palm somehow cold and sweaty, and half-leads, half-drags me to the SUV where it is still partially buried in snow.

“Start digging out the tires,” she says, tossing me a shovel from the trunk. “I’ll get it warmed up.”

I get to work, but right away I can hear her trying to turn the engine over. It’s just not going.

“Shit!” she cries. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

I can see her freaking out, knowing I should help her somehow. I put a hand on her shoulder and she slaps me away.

“Hey, Professor—”

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately. “This is just…I’m really scared, all right? Terrified.”

I can see it in her eyes. They’re dull blue most of the time, but they seem shinier now, full of angst and uncertainty. Her nipples are tenting through her thick jacket—that’s some hardness. Mine are doing the same. I’m still turned on, it’s just not as present, somehow. The need to return to the cabin is lessening the farther I get away from it.

“Okay,” she says, putting a hand to her forehead. “Okay. There’s climbing gear in the trunk. Grab it and let’s start hiking.”

“Down the mountain?” I laugh. “Professor, that’s going to take…that’ll take the whole day, maybe two. And the blizzard…”

I pointed to the horizon. It was thick and black, like God had spilled coffee all over the sky. It was nearly right on top of us, maybe minutes away.

The blizzard was here. Even if the SUV worked, we never had a chance.