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Ebb and Flow and Then Some More Flow

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He could never get used to it. The same way he could never quite say no. The boy had thought it through many times, turning over in his bed, racking his brain as to what it was, but never found satisfaction in any of his ideas. Was it because he was simply enjoying it too much? Couldn’t be. He’d shake his head. He barely liked some of it and was at best apprehensive about most, he thought. Some of it actively hurt. Was he a pushover? Probably, but he wouldn’t be afraid to say “no” to his own partner, would he? He wouldn’t hesitate to let his apprehension be known to someone he has fought with, someone who had become closer to him than his own soul and mind.
 
Now he squirmed on the couch, on his back, at the gentle, but harsh assault on him. He’d said yes, hadn’t he? At least he hadn’t said no. And he was moaning out in pleasure.
Armadimon had his face buried between the boy’s butt cheeks with his tongue lapping at the opening to his body. He did this often, one of his favorite past times and, willingly, or not, one of the most familiar ones for Iori.
Not that he minded this one over less comfortable ones. But it still left him feeling puzzled, as much as he could think in this daze of arousal that made his head feel light and his limbs tense.
 
He pulled up his legs, his hands wrapped around the backs of his knees with his fingers tightly clenched and digging into the soft skin.
Like every time, his chest heaved, his heart hammered at a rapid pace and his stomach felt like it was tied into knots. A heavy, but tingly heat filled his abdomen, all stemming from that overwhelming electric bliss off having a tongue there, licking him open, just short at the moment of thrusting inside.
The digimon kept giving him praise and affection. He would look up at the boys face, his teary, unsteady eyes, and tell him how good he tasted, how beautiful his moans sounded, how much he could feel the boy’s enjoyment, flexing and twitching against his face, all of which would leave Iori flushed a bright red and whining out.
 
Maybe that was what he liked. Maybe he liked being told how good he was. Maybe he liked the admiration at his body, be it in ways that he found perplexing and overwhelming.
The digimon’s tongue was soft, long and squishy, but the rest of his face was rough and harsh as it rubbed against the tender skin. Like a very fine sandpaper almost. Pleasant to gentle touch by hand, but coarse and rough, thrust against the most delicate and sensitive parts of him over and over. Still, the tongue made it all fade into the background. Any discomfort he could feel was flooded over with the warm excitement.
 
He moaned out when it entered him. That, too, was something he could never get used to. Every time felt like the first time. Every time his body forgot what it was like to be opened up so forcefully, so roughly and every time he yelped out in surprise, eliciting giggles from his partner that vibrated against his hole.
It felt big. He knew it wasn’t, not compared to other things that had been inside him, and that he found much, much harder to deal with, but still. Anything would feel big, being pushed inside him.
His dick twitched first at the sudden assault, and then again when Armadimon attacked that one spot inside him that seemed to make his entire body buzz, like it short circuited the pathways of his nerves and an electric current faintly carried through him.
 
He pushed against it.
No. It was an involuntary reflex. His body did. He had no say in the matter. But it felt good. He whined out in a high voice and his partner began to snicker.
The digimon withdrew from him and said “you sound like a little girl.”
He did that a lot.
“Having the time of her life with her little pussy being eaten,” he added.
Iori didn’t bother to dwell on the strange sense of ill mixed with arousal that came over him at words like these. But when another whine escaped his mouth, maybe at the comment, maybe at the feeling of the cold emptiness the tongue left behind when it withdrew, it earned another giggle from his partner.
 
His body tensed with every movement of the tongue inside him. He was on high alert. Ready to jump. Or at least his body tried to stay in such a state. But it was also relaxing. As the ministrations went on, his hole loosened, the muscles around his insides stopped clenching around the intrusion. He still twitched and ground himself against the digimon, but that was different. It was just as tense, but it was a different kind of tense now. Not the on edge, jumpy nature of physical anxiety, but the sparkling, tingly feeling of arousal, of heavy breathing, of exhilaration, of a runners high waiting to set in.
 
He could feel that spot inside, his prostate, growing warmer. Like his dick that rose up at the feeling entirely untouched, he could feel it tie into a knot almost, building more and more pressure that, he had learned many times, at some point would climax into a wave that would crash into him and knock the air out of his lungs, and then leave him floating in a pool of warm, calm, serene bliss.
Maybe that was why he could never say no. He had felt it once and no matter how unsure he felt about everything else, he would chase that feeling.
 
The sounds of flapping wings and then a dull thump tore him out of a loud whine. He had been close, but now both him and his partner looked to the window. It was open suddenly, and before it lay a grumbling Veemon, rubbing his head and Hawkmon, fluttering down, looking at the blue digimon with a mix of slight worry and chuckling amusement about the fall he’d taken off the windowsill, straight forward onto his face.
“What are you doing here?” Iori asked.
Veemon, having just stood back up said: “We’re bored, everyone is out, you’re the only one who stayed home today.”
Armadimon Chuckled.
“And you thought you could have some fun with him?”
Iori sat up and, blushing, covered his nakedness with his hands at the suggestion.
 
“If it was possible, yes, perhaps,” Hawkmon said. “You won’t mind, will you, Iori?”
“Uhm… I…” the boy stammered.
Veemon grinned at him, then turned to Hawkmon.
“Of course not, he’s already naked. It seems like we interrupted them.” He turned back to the boy. “You’d love to get some action, wouldn’t you?”
Without waiting for an answer, Veemon jumped onto the couch and traced a single claw along the buttons of his pajama tops.
Without much thought, but with a lot of shaking hesitance, Iori swatted the digimon’s hand away and proceeded to unbutton it himself. He already slept without bottoms, his partner having torn through too many pairs in his blind arousal before to keep risking losing his last pair. He did not want the tops to end with the same fate, and Veemon could easily slice through them, but probably not open them without tearing them to shreds.
 
Hawkmon jumped onto the couch as well, not as close as the other two, and seemingly not as desperate to do these forbidden things with him, but clearly also interested in how the occasion would develop.
Armadimon grinned up at the boy, half excited, half almost a little apologetic. He understood that it was a lot and that Iori would much rather they hadn’t been disturbed, but he was not going to step between the other digimon and his tamer, nor neglect the chance to take advantage of the situation.
 
Iori felt small and weak. He was taller than all of them, but he was naked and they were not. Digimon didn’t have the concept of nakedness, so they probably couldn’t even understand how vulnerable it made him. They could at best respectfully avert their eyes when they saw how he’d cover himself in embarrassment, even when these particular three clearly didn’t care to do so, but they couldn’t understand really what it meant for him to undress in front of them, being gawked at, being admired like a piece of meat.
 
Before long, they had all shifted around. Veemon was in charge. So much like Daisuke in the way he demanded the leading position with no effort of his own, nor any actual intent to be a leader, or make any decisions. It only happened that he was the most eager, and the most ready to call the shots.
Iori knelt in front of him like a naughty child on his mothers knee, but Veemon stood upright, between the boy and the back rest of the couch, clawed arms rubbing the small of his back and digging into his butt. The position did not help take away his shame, exposed so bluntly, his rear in the air, his hole still faintly throbbing from the earlier activities, still slightly glistening and slippery, and still loosened up, but now for all of them to see and watch intently as he couldn’t help himself from twitching against the cool air.
 
A small, but rough hand pressed against him, the small dragon’s fingers gaging how prepared he was by first pushing softly, then feeling him open up and slipping inside.
Iori grunted out. Fingers, even small ones, were much harder than a tongue. Especially if they had claws. Veemon wouldn’t hurt him, no, the claws weren’t actually sharp enough to hurt on accident, but they still scraped against him on the way inside.
The stretch was rough as well. He had felt bigger, far bigger, far worse in terms of pain, but going from a tongue, something squishy that would compress with the movements of the muscle, to the digits of a finger, bony, hard, unyielding to the clenching of his hole, was one of the steps forward that took a lot of the air out of him and exhausted his body. Beads of sweat pearled on his forehead and heat seemed to pour into the room.
 
“Is that too much for the little princess?” Veemon asked. “Is her little pussy so full already from just my fingers?”
Iori didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. The embarrassment rose to his face in pooling blood on his cheeks and a jittering frown.
His cheeks were not the only place blood pooled. His now half hard dick twitched at the remark, accompanied by a heavy swelling in his chest and a twitch of his abdominal muscles that, in turn, pulled another whine past his lips.
Veemon chuckled at the reaction of his teasing. He began to move his fingers inside him, scissoring him open more and more in between heavy touches against his poor, constantly overworked prostate.
They wouldn’t let him touch himself to take off some of the edge. If he wanted to cum, he would have to do it from his ass alone. He knew them enough to not even bother trying to reach down at himself.
 
Things changed when he felt his partners feet on him. The claws dug into the soft and tender skin of his butt cheeks and, despite the small size, Armadimon was heavy. The digimon climbed on top of him, making a smooth transition from Veemon’s fingers to his own member. Just as one digimon withdrew, the other lined up. Iori shuddered, because he knew what he had to expect of this. Out of the three of them, his own partner was the worst. The biggest, the most aggressive. Spiked. Genuine spikes that ran along his whole length like a weapon. Ready to maim, somehow, miraculously, leaving him unharmed every time, even if seriously raw both inside and out, and on the verge of feeling like something must have torn the sensitive muscle to shreds.
The boy gulped as his partner entered him and tried to relax as much as possible. Armadimon shuddered and whined out at the intense heat and squishy, but tight flesh that swallowed him up now.
 
He felt the familiar barbs on the way in. They weren’t so bad just yet, but they would become a lot more challenging on the way back out. Almost like a harpoon just short of causing actual, serious damage, barely leaving him in one piece.
Iori groaned heavily. The spikes may have been manageable on the way inside, but certainly the rest of it wasn’t. It dwarfed the size of the other two. It was rock hard, tapered to a blunt point and then quickly gaining in girth that tore the boy open painfully. No amount of preparation could be enough for it. It stung at the tender skin, it pulled the muscle agonizingly and it made the strength leave his body. His limbs trembled, barely holding him up. His breath hitched. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. And there was no end to it.
 
Well, of course he knew there was an end. He’d done it before, he knew where the end was, but in the process, it felt every time like there wouldn’t be. Like it would go on forever, pushing it’s way through his insides until it came out the other end. So deep, so incredibly deep, showing even through his belly in a distinct bulge that only grew more pronounced as more and more of the length unsheathed itself right into him.
The rough surface of his partners hips rubbed against the soft skin along his butt crack, leaving no room at all for the emerging dick to even touch the air before it slid inside.
 
Along the way there was another barrier it had to pass. A wall inside him that fought hard to keep the intruder outside of his deeper crevices. With a dull, but harsh throbbing pain, his body resisted, screwing his organs into a knot, all to prevent the foreign object, only to fail, like every time, bowing and bending before it, straightening all his insides into a path. It felt at the same time both relieving, blissful, ecstatic, but also sickening. A heavy wave of nausea washed over him before he managed to accept the feeling and leaned into it. In a way, once his body gave up the struggle, it felt nice. So nice it almost overpowered the agony of being torn open so violently.
 
“There, there, that’s a good little bitch,” said Veemon. “We can always count on you, even if it’s all three of us.”
He didn’t know for sure. He’d never had three in a row. The thought had him feeling faint with anxiety.
The digimon continued: “Don’t worry, you’re getting the hardest thing out of the way first, the rest will be a piece of cake.”
Iori didn’t respond, but he hoped that that was true.
Armadimon was now fully sheathed inside him, paying no mind to anything else that happened, lost in his own pleasure entirely. He whined out, staying silent for a moment, basking in the feeling that Iori could only guess (with a little bit of pride) must have been the most exciting feeling his partner would ever feel.
 
“You feel so good,” Armadimon finally said, half to himself, half to the boy. Then he began to move and at once Iori could only gasp out in a high pitched shout.
It hurt the same every time, but still every time it seemed to be worse than he remembered. The stinging pain of these sharp points against his poor, already bruised and beaten hole shot through him like the shrill blow of a whistle, ringing in his ears, clearing his mind of all thoughts except pain. Then, the visceral discomfort of the rest of the barbs moving backwards inside him overtook him. It didn’t hurt, but arguably was just as bad as he almost felt his insides catch on the points and move with the pull of the intrusion in a way that felt deeply unnatural.
 
He breathed out in relief as the stretch lessened with the taper of the tip, but said relief was short lived when, with a loud moan, Armadimon thrust back inside in a brutal fashion. The boy had the air knocked out of him, opening his mouth to yelp, but feeling his voice catch halfway down his throat, where his body seized up and reduced the loud, oncoming vocalization into a barely audible squeak.
Before he could close his mouth, the warm, slippery and perfectly smooth, but equally hard tip of Hawkmon’s dick touched against his upper lip.
The digimon looked at him almost apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind?” he said, seeming genuine, but then taking the split second of silence the boy needed to process the question as a yes and pushing forward inside his mouth, quickly pushing his jaws apart and whining out in relief at the warm, slippery sensation of his tongue rubbing against the underside of his member.
Soon, Iori felt it push against the back of his throat and then, despite the oncoming gag reflex, push down, inside him, almost as if to meet Armadimon’s in the middle and touch their tips against each other.
At least he was the smallest. Iori could handle this. He had handled worse. But still he teared up at the suffocating and brutal stretch of his throat, bulging outward below his chin.
 
The feathered Digimon didn’t wait for long to begin moving. His thrusts were smooth and controlled, but still harsh, using the boy’s throat like it was just another hole he didn’t need to breathe through. Like he could grit his teeth and bear it without the constant edge of suffocation he now had to walk by timing his breaths with the thrusting.
He’d think being occupied with that, having to focus on the in and out of it would make things easier. Distract him. Take his mind off of the brutally harsh needles that scraped his hole raw with every pull and the stabbing jab of the tip that opened him up again and again, forcefully breaching his insides. But no. It only made it worse. It made his limbs tremble and his lungs ache and his insides churn.
 
Veemon was besides himself with giddiness next to him, but Iori could barely hear the taunting and teasing of the small, blue form who’s hands still rested on him. He felt it, though, when the digimon reached down to push against the bulge that came and went there with every thrust, making Iori groan out a choked and silent attempt at a gasp, much more like a gagging in actuality. The feeling centered him enough to first throw of his breathing, then pull attention to Veemon’s words.
“You like that, don’t you? Being a little slut for us?”
Even without the constant barrage of agonizing feeling he wouldn’t be able to say no, because he wouldn’t believe his own words. And Veemon knew it.
And regaining the rhythm of his breathing was more important than stressing over wether or not he really did enjoy it, or wether he was just too weak and feeble to convince himself he didn’t when someone stronger insisted that yes, he did.
 
Armadimon came with a shuddering wail of pleasure and a heavy load of weight suddenly pressing down on the boy much harder than before. The digimon bottomed out, pressing himself as deep inside as possible, harshly stretching the the skin on the boy’s stomach, then in twitching pulses that Iori could feel crash through him like a heartbeat, the mass of cum streamed inside of him.
Jet after jet of it shot out with intense pressure, distinctly felt by the boy where they hit heavy against the walls of his intestine before adding first to the pool that collected there and then, when the volume became to great to remain there, flowing more or less evenly deeper into him. A warmth that spread through him, outlining the shape of his large intestine.
 
Then the flow ceased, slowly ebbing up, a whine from the boy’s partner and a silent, still choked up whimper from the boy himself, only told of by the tear trailing down his cheek and finally getting absorbed by the soft downs of Hawkmon’s crotch. Armadimon fell back, lifting the weight off the boy’s back, but tearing at him violently in the process, one brutal motion that left him feeling ripped open the way, he thought, the slice of a mostly dull, but barely sharp enough knife would.
Before he could feel the relief, he was plugged again, this time by a fist that quickly moved there from the small of his back, when the mass of cum threatened to leak out of him.
 
When Hawkmon pulled out of him he first gagged, then choked, then gasped out in a large breath, sucking his lungs full of the cold air and relishing as it stung his agitated throat, then he began to sob and whimper, as if to make up for the sounds he had tried to make before but couldn’t.
Things moved quickly from there. He was picked up, turned around, handled like a rag doll, for all intents and purposes, his body had become just that, all while the plug of Veemon’s hand never dared to leave him open.
He realized he was lying on the carpet when he felt the rough fabric rub against his back and reality came back into focus around him. The drowsy blur was replaced at once by perfect clarity of the air, the light that glared uncomfortably at his eyes, the voices around him, joking, teasing him, praising him, the chirping of the birds outside his window, and finally, the soft, warm slushing of the liquid inside his bowels. Heavy and thick, but moving with every breath, just on the verge between soothing the sore muscles and making him cramp and clutch his stomach in nausea.
 
Out of the awareness of everything around him, all at once, he was focused immediately onto the feathered limbs that touched him by the knees and proceeded lift pick up his legs.
Hawkmon positioned himself above him, lining himself up as best as he could with Veemon’s hand, and looking down at the boy apologetically.
“I hope it wasn’t too bad, but I promise this will be easier.”
Iori just nodded. He suspected it wouldn’t, but he was fine with it. He was in a state of ease, maybe an ease that was uncalled for, but ease none the less. If it was the calm breath before more of the storm would hit him, at least he wouldn’t want to ruin the time he had left before it by panicking.
In one swift movement, Veemon pulled out of him and Hawkmon entered him. A small amount of cum leaked out, dripped and smeared across the carpet, but most of it remained inside.
 
Iori realized immediately that it wouldn’t get easier. In some ways, yes, but not really. The smoothness of Hawkmon’s member was an improvement over the painful form of Armadimon’s, but it did nothing to reduce the soreness and the strain it had left on him and with every thrust, no matter how much more gentle the feathered digimon seemed to be, the boy could do nothing but wince and grit his teeth as the length rubbed against his raw hole and jostled around his innards. His abdominal muscles burned like he’d overdone it on a workout and after pausing and letting the strain catch up with him, decided to keep going.
The liquid inside moved with every thrust. It stirred, churned inside him, back and forth, like water inside a boat, already fated to sink but unrelenting in the push and pull of the tides anyway.
Hawkmon made little chirps of pleasure, lost in the feeling. He didn’t notice the strained grunts of the boy. He just kept thrusting and seeking his own pleasure.
 
So were the other two, apparently. Veemon impatient and Armadimon not done, they both pressed their members against his face. The smaller one slippery with pre-cum and the bigger one with the remains of the last orgasm still on it, mixed with the taste of Iori’s insides, both warm and slimy, rubbed against his tear crusted cheeks. He couldn’t take both in his mouth, actually he couldn’t really take Armadimon into his mouth at all. Not any deeper than an inch or two at most. So he just alternated, grabbing both with a hand, feeling the pulsing heat coming off of them, letting his tongue dance around the tip of one at a time as best as he could.
They seemed pleased enough by the compromise. Armadimon knew he couldn’t expect too much, but Veemon seemed a little more ready to grab his head and thrust himself down, knot and all, just to see if he could do it, so Iori payed extra attention to not letting his pleasure come too short.
 
Armadimon, despite just having cum so shortly before, was the first to reach another peak. It wasn’t long before he pushed deeper into the boy’s mouth and started to twitch and moan out in bliss. Then, his second orgasm poured into the boy’s mouth.
Iori suppressed a gag when it hit the back of his throat and began to swallow desperately. He knew that otherwise he wouldn’t keep up and it would just run out and all over him, making an enormous mess of the carpet in the process. Despite the flood of fresh cum, the taste of himself on the dick never left his mouth, not even with gulp after gulp of it. It hurt to swallow, and he felt uncomfortably full already, but he did it. Mostly… he couldn’t stop some of the cum from leaking out of the corners of his lips and running down his face. The volume added up too quickly. His mouth was full of the heavy, creamy liquid and every gulp hurt more than the last.
 
Before it was over, Hawkmon, too started to cum and Iori already knew that that one would get intense. Out of the three of them, he was the most potent as far as volume was concerned. Where his own partner gave spurt after spurt in the rhythm of his twitches, Hawkmon offered a continuous stream of thick, heavy cum, almost like he was peeing inside the boy. Iori gasped out at the feeling, immediately regretting the involuntary reflex when he spit out an entire mouthful of his partner’s still not yet swallowed load in the process. It covered him all the way down to his chest, which heaved rapidly with his chocking and coughing. Armadimon’s orgasm didn’t stop, so a few jets of cum hit the boy’s face, not helping with the sudden inhale of liquid.
The second he felt like he had found something vaguely resembling a steady pace again, the tip was back at his mouth, and he kept swallowing, desperate to avoid another instance like that. He made it through, feeling the flood ebb up, but Hawkmon was still going strong, and being able to focus on that whole side of the experience again, his stomach suddenly cramped and in agony he clenched his fingers around the growing bulge.
 
It filled every crevice inside him, making his entire abdomen burn with the heavy heat. The distinct movement of liquid turned to an omnipresent pressure, everything was at maximum capacity, there was no room to move, and it kept going. With every second it felt worse. He was already nauseous from how much he had swallowed, but this only made it worse. His belly still trembled and vibrated with his movements and the rapid beating of his heart. Soon it would be so firm, that it wouldn’t even squish and bounce when pressed against and only move when the liquid inside would move.
When it ebbed up, he could barely breathe. His chest hurt just as much as his stomach, muscles aching below the pressure of his organs being compacted to accommodate the volume. Hawkmon looked down at him with admiration. Despite disliking the thought, not wanting to think of himself in that way, he understood why. He was covered. Inside and outside. His stomach formed a dome, firm and hard, the stretched skin barely living up to the challenge. He felt the sticky mess on his face, his chest, his neck, drying and becoming more and more crusty. And somewhere deep inside of him, his heart skipped a beat at the thought. Despite it all, he couldn’t deny how much it excited him.
 
Hawkmon picked him up off the ground like he weighed nothing at all. The digimon was gentle and soft, moving slowly as to not agitate him. Still, Iori had to fight back the gagging.
He was handed over to Veemon with a similar kind of swift in and out exchange as before, but this time instead of fingers to dick it was dick to dick and not quite as clean. They did their best, but there was no way to hand him over without spilling comparatively a whole lot of cum. Not that it was nearly enough to give him a feeling of relief, though.
Veemon wasn’t fully inserted, the as of yet flaccid knot pressed against the outside of his hole, but it did so with enough pressure to plug him up for the most part.
He was carried onto the couch, carefully, as to not move him around too much, where Veemon sat down, letting him drop onto the rest of his member and spreading him around the knot. Iori gasped out. It was far from the size of Armadimon, but his knot was, even in this state, thicker than his own partners thickest point. And while it was doable, it wasn’t exactly nice. Especially not so suddenly with the boy still feeling so raw.
 
Veemon hummed in excitement, digging his fingers into the boy’s swollen belly, already unable to reach around him fully, and gyrating his hips in shallow, little thrusts that stirred the contents inside him.
It did something else, too. The knot rubbed against his prostate, just strongly enough to make his soft dick twitch and bob with every one of the shallow movements. A moan slipped past Iori’s lips when he felt the warm tingling pool there, despite the painful bloat, it made him excited and needy.
Veemon chuckled. He gripped the boy tighter, not around his belly anymore, but where his butt joined into his thigh. The claws dug uncomfortably into the soft skin. Then he was lifted up. The digimon seemed to understand that the boy wouldn’t be able to move by himself, his legs wouldn’t have the strength for that, so he would pick him up and use him like a toy.
 
Iori winced when the knot spread him open again. The way out was marginally less uncomfortably than in, but that didn’t do very much. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes again, an involuntary response to the feeling that even the grinding against his prostate couldn’t alleviate.
Then Veemon let him drop down again and gravity hit the boy like a hammer to the gut. His insides stirred and churned. He groaned out. But the pressure against his prostate returned. And his dick gave another twitch. He wanted to reach down and touch himself, but he couldn’t. He had no strength. His arms dangled by his shoulders and swung passively with the motions. So he depended on the knot to bring him to the finish. He needed it to press against him, bigger and harder, keep moving, keep rubbing until his body would have enough and decide to grant him the release of the beautiful tension that kept building with every thrust as Veemon repeated the movements and created a rhythm. The boy felt it again and again, up, down, up down, being torn open and closing behind the firm bulb, rubbing against him, grinding, turning the pool of cum inside him into a vortex that would never stand still, let alone give him a chance gather his breath.
Hawkmon did his best to soothe him at least, rubbing the bloated belly in  relaxing little circles with his soft wings, nuzzling his face against it and humming to help the boy relax.
 
Veemon, though, was too caught up in his pleasure to even keep teasing him. He would soon resume that, Iori was sure, but only once he’d reached his climax.
And ultimately that seemed like it would happen sooner, rather than later. The groaning and whining grew louder as the digimon got lost more and more in the pleasure while Iori seemed like he couldn’t decide between needy whines and pained grunts. The sensations fought for control, but they also blended into something completely other. The warm pressure against that sweetest of spots inside him, growing more intense as the digimon’t knot began to swell, formed with the painful stretch of skin, the heavy compression of his organs, the shallow breathing, into something beyond pleasure or pain, something completely of it’s own that Iori couldn’t conceptualize, couldn’t make sense of, but would when he had the chance desperately return to, even if he’d think otherwise.
 
Veemon moved his hands back to his belly, pressing the little fingers hard into the firm skin as his orgasm began to rock through him. His knot was still swelling, but he had already begun to shoot his own load into the boy. Thankfully it was much closer to Armadimon than Hawkmon. That didn’t make it comfortable, far from that, but another load like Hawkmon’s would have absolutely broken him.
With every twitch, he could feel the amount increase. Every gush of it was big enough to be it’s own distinct kick in the gut. His insides were more than sore, the way muscles would grow sore, they were tender and sensitive and overwhelmed with feelings his body had no answer to because it was never something a person was supposed to be able to feel.
And with every gush, Iori also felt the knot grow thicker, like a twitch of his own half hard dick, pumping blood south and pulsing with heat more and more, only Veemon’s knot was actually hard and swollen and wouldn’t just jolt limply, buried below the bloated belly and straining for touch that would never come. The knot was inside him. And as much as Iori felt himself twitch in response to every one of Veemon’s twitches, there was no comparison between them.
 
Breathing became harder and harder. That was the main thing he could still feel. His lungs ached and his breath rattled weakly, barely even able to whimper anymore. Like he was running a marathon he was woefully unprepared for, but at the same time his lungs filled up with lead. He was getting closer and closer, but he feared Veemon had cum just a tiny bit too soon to share the orgasm across the both of them. The heavy pressure could keep him on the edge, but without the thrusting motions it wouldn’t tip him over.
Not that Veemon seemed to care, or even waste a single thought about Iori’s concerns. He was still there, pumping him fuller and fuller and wouldn’t come to his senses until he was completely and utterly drained.
And until then Iori would have to endure being held just on the edge while the pressure grew worse and worse.
 
Between the half dried mess all over him and the massive amount inside him, the boy felt like he was more cum than man, like he breathed it, ate it, drank it, bled it. Like it coated all of him everywhere. With all the choking and coughing, who knew how right he was about that.
At some point he came close to just dropping and passing out. He drifted away into a kind of catatonic numbness multiple times, just before feeling another jolt of electricity wake him up as the knot twitched especially hard against his prostate and a subdued whine slipped out of him.
Veemon had reached the end, but he kept twitching and moving like he hadn’t. His ejaculation may have been over, but his orgasm had not.
Slowly, he came back to himself, heavy breaths that quickly subsided and gave way a cocky grin on his face.
“Now that’s what a good little bitch feels like,” he said, barely even sounding out of breath. “Look how big you’ve gotten, you could have a baby, or an egg…”
Iori felt heat rise to his face. Somehow that was still possible, he realized in surprise.
 
He wanted it to be over with, but he didn’t want it to end. Not like this, not while he still hadn’t cum. But he couldn’t say anything. He whined out desperately at the words, hoping Veemon would understand.
The digimon seemed to get it and the grin on his mouth turned positively evil.
“Not quite done yet?” he asked, giggling. “Need some more?”
Iori breathed out silently, with only a squeak of a whine there. Veemon still nodded in response.
The boy had hoped for some assistance on his dick, even when he knew it wouldn’t happen. Realistically he had known asking for more would mean… well… more… But in his desperation he had done it and now he felt the fully swollen knot pull against the inside of his hole and wished he hadn’t made a single sound.
 
He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut at the stretch. It felt like he was torn apart. Legitimately ripped open more than anything before. With an agonizing pop, the knot left him, followed by a gush of cum that poured onto the Digimon’s lap.
“Messy,” Veemon said before letting him drop back down again.
The boy would have screamed out if not for the intense amount of pleasure that rocked through him that turned the sound to a whimper. That he could still make sounds at all was a surprise.
 
He didn’t have time to gather his bearings when he was pulled up again, much more quickly and dropped. It was almost one motion, opening him up in absolute agony, leaving him gaping so some cum would come out again and then plugging him back up with that absolutely unreal pressure and movement against his prostate.
He came by the third thrust, but Veemon wasn’t done. He kept moving the boy while he rode out his orgasm.
His dick, still limp in it’s pathetic, untouched submission, twitched desperately, trying to eject cum he was too young to make while his entire abdomen was set ablaze, wave upon wave of electric pleasure crashing into and over him, never letting him rest.
 
The continued thrusting dragged it out. Instead of moving into the post orgasmic calm, it went directly to the rough, but equally exciting overstimulation, almost like the orgasm never ended, it only kept going longer and longer, turning more and more agonizing as his entire body cramped and twitched and tensed with the rhythm. Cum kept spilling out of him, making a mess of both him and the digimon that he couldn’t have imagined all coming from inside of him. Veemon neared another orgasm and so did Iori. They both pushed through the overstimulation and lost themselves. The stretch stopped feeling painful as everything else the boy could feel became far more intense, becoming just another exhilarating detail of the experience when that second orgasm hit him, just at the same time as more cum being pumped into him, replenishing the amount that had been lost to the messy activity and then some.
Veemon kept moving him at first, but soon the digimon, too, seemed to lack the strength to keep going and just clutched tightly onto the boy. Hawkmon still massaged the painful belly, jiggling with every twitch and jet of cum that rippled through it. It helped, but bordered on making it worse.
 
Finally, they both came down and dropped into the lull of post orgasmic bliss. The knot was far from going down, but Iori knew that it would be a while before Veemon could thrust inside him again. His own dick tingled, even the rubbing against the underside of his belly was too much.
Whenever Veemon still twitched inside him, he winced out. The excitement had left him. Now it was only rawness and soreness. The warmth still faintly buzzed through his muscles, but all of it had to aid to try and alleviate the fullness. God, he needed to just get off of Veemon and empty himself. But the thought of pulling off of the knot now was almost worse than the thought of getting even fuller.
 
Veemon regained his senses a little bit later this time. But again, he sounded like nothing happened. Like all he’d need was a glass of water and ten minutes and he could go again. And Iori feared that that would be the case when the digimon leaned back on the couch behind him, turned to look at the clock and said: “Look at that, there’s still three hours left till anyone comes home.”