"Okay... uh... Does Millie ever peg you?"

"Sometimes... Wait! Ew! Fuck!"

(c) Helluva Boss

"Willow."..

"Shut your mouth, wimp."

Hunter closes his mouth. They not going to have a conversation right now anyway. Even if he hadn't had his face in the mattress. Even if the thorny vines hadn't pulled his arms behind his back.

Hunter can't see Willow's face, but he knows there's a fierce green flame burning in her eyes right now. Then, when it's all over, he'll find out what caused it, of course. He'll hear it from friends, of course, not from her. This time is enough for him.

The last few times were enough for him. At least, that's what he wanted to think.

Willow's foot presses against his back, pressing harder into the sheet with her nose-barefoot, hard, maybe even dirty. Hunter isn't sure. But he is firmly convinced that even now he can physically feel the short, hard, pig-like stubble on her shins and thighs. An ominous omen of the impenetrable thickets of her perpetually sweaty armpits. Too much physical activity. There is too little hygiene. He fidgets, trying to adjust his painfully strained penis, and the pressure increases dramatically.

"I didn't let you move!"

Too little self-respect, Hunter thinks. But then he corrects himself-what does he know about it?

Boscha must have said something wrong again. Probably on purpose.

Willow is sniffing. Hunter doesn't even think about the tears that will follow. Obviously, having changed after everything she had been through, she had left the ability to cry far behind. The new Willow was too strong for that.

At least, Hunter thinks, she's been trying to convince herself of that.

Well, he helped her as much as he could-and wanted to.

Hunter hears the rustle of her shoots. The restraints on his hands loosen a little, and something carelessly and persistently pulls off his pants along with his underwear. "Just don't get spanked," he thinks, gritting his teeth. Not again. He's not in the mood to be a whipping boy.

"Hunter," Willow's voice is ominously calm. "Am I strong?"

Hunter is silent. He knows he needs to pause. He need to choose the right words so that they both get what they want. Willow's excitement needs to be channeled in a different direction.

"Hunter!"

The restraints on his hands loosen his grip a little more. The foot stops pressing him to the sheet.

"Look at me!"

He turns his head cautiously.

"Am I strong?"

Willow's eyes are still burning with green fury. Dark sweat stains crawl around the armpits on the yellow fabric of the T-shirt. A thick, pointed green shoot rises threateningly from the dense undergrowth in her lower abdomen, like a sword thrust forward. Its glossy surface is dotted with menacing-looking spines.

Hunter's cock quivers with impatience. He smiles cautiously.

"Of course," he says. "You're my strongest."

Maybe it was Amity. Not out of malice at all, maybe even with the best of intentions. What did it matter now?

"You're mocking of me, aren't you?" Willow's eyes narrow. Hunter doesn't feel threatened, but decides to play along, just to be sure.

"N-no, dear..." He whines. "I really do... truth... That you're strong... Just please don't punish me...!"

Willow's fingers dig into his hair, and Hunter's nose immediately resumes close and awkward contact with the sheet. The green bindings bind his hands tightly behind his back again, and there's nothing he can do when something resembling a live cucumber, much larger than his thumb, penetrates his anus, giving him coolness and moisture along with a momentary flash of pain.

Maybe it's the parents' fault, Hunter thinks, gritting his teeth and flinching with clenched eyelids from each push of the pimply shoot. Willow has two fathers, but maybe that wasn't enough. How would he, the Grimwalker, know?

Willow is panting over him, her sweat dripping down his back. She's really strong, Hunter's not lying about that. But when it's said by someone like Gus, of course, it's hard to believe. Many people may seem strong from the point of view of Gus. Hunter bites his lip, trying not to make it look like a sign of pleasure. He imagines Lady Lilith very inappropriately, back when she was a member of the Imperial coven. He dreams about how she is advancing on him, boring her arrogant eyes with contempt, and a huge penis, as thick as his arm, rises from under a strict black dress, filling with strength. He barely suppresses a groan when his own cock, twitching painfully, pours a thin whitish stream over the sheet.

Willow freezes. Hunter waits, wondering if she's noticed. He hopes that he will have time to cum again if she continues. We'll have to wait until the erection returns, but with the image of Lady Lilith, things will go quickly.

With a wet squelch, the live cucumber leaves his anus.

"Weakling."

She noticed, Hunter sighs mentally. The restraints release him from his grip, and he sprawls awkwardly on the bed, trying to catch his breath.

"Sucker."

Willow's voice is much more bitter than reproachful. Hunter even feels a little sorry for her-he really didn't make much of a personal growth simulator. But what other acquaintance of theirs would allow himself to be treated like this? Hunter is no stranger to it.

He steals a glance at her feet, glancing at her shin, which has forgotten about the concept of shaving. To his mild surprise, they seem clean. She would have been tempted to walk in the mud before that.

Willow gives him an offended look and turns away with a snort. Hunter knows it will pass. She knows that soon she will believe in herself again, she will become a sweet and gentle girl with glasses again. Until the next careless word thrown by some girl whose opinion seems important to her.

It means - anyone.

He even feels a little sorry for Willow.

He waits for her to leave. Most likely, she will cry somewhere in a secluded thicket. Where she can afford to be weak. Then she'll come home, they'll make up, have less extreme sex, maybe Hunter will even persuade her to repeat this trick with a live cucumber.

He squeezes his newly repowered penis in his palm. The vision of Lady Lilith looms over him, and her own penis grows, blocking the view of the entire universe, the entire universe becomes a member of Lady Lilith. He comes again.

No. That's not it.

He feels sorry for Willow. He's ashamed. But he can't help himself. This is the only thing that helps him get satisfaction.

Every time he wants to think that this is the last one.

Wiping his hands, he opens the Penstagram. Perhaps next time it will be a careless post from a Kikimora? He has time to think about how he could hook Willow again. However, it's still not difficult.

But not now. They both need to rest. But in a couple of weeks...

Definitely the last time.