The thought arrived with perfect, crystalline clarity.
Not dramatically. Not as a metaphor. Just as simple, flat, genuine conviction — that the human body was not built for this, that something was going to give way, that she was going to simply 'stop' being a person and become something else entirely.
'I am going to die.'
PAH. PAH. PAH.
His hand pressed flat over her pregnant belly — warm, heavy, completely possessive — and pushed down gently, applying counter-pressure against the deep, brutal strokes of his cock, and the sensation of being simultaneously pressed from outside and filled to impossible completion from inside was the last coherent thing her nervous system was capable of processing.
She didn't scream this time.
She simply 'convulsed.'
