Glancing back, Sherlock gave a quick look at John who looked rather pained while doing all he could to stay calm. But of course John had a lot more to worry about. Instinctively, his arm was wrapped protectively around the large bump that contained his and Sarah's second child; a girl this time. She had already faced death three times in the past few minutes (once being his own fault...) and she wasn't even born yet; he wasn't about to let her face it again.
Jack swung down hard with the axe splitting the piece of wood almost perfectly in two. He liked chopping wood, it helped him forget. Forget things like dropping out of his residency to help care for his elderly parents way up in the mountains. At least up here there was not a hospital or even a clinic around for miles to remind him of his abandon career of becoming a doctor. Now that his parents finally past on Jack was left with a stalled life and a mountain home that was not selling. As he placed another log on the chopping block he saw a snow flake fall on his hand, great he thought another storm! There goes my chances of getting into town today.
BirthDrake awakes to a bright light shining in his face,To the sound of metal clanging and some sort of strange melancholic buzzing spiraling throughout the room,Like a hoard of angry bumble bees. He groans as he tries to sit up,Wondering what's happened when he suddenly feels resistance,and looks down to see he is strapped to a table. His eyes go wide as he struggles against the restrains,Trying to free himself,But he only hears a solemn laughter emit from the room,And there,from within the dark shadows of the far corner of the room,A man appears. Medium height,Spiked Brown hair,Goggles in his hair. He wears green gloves and a lab coat,Holding two medieval looking devices in his hand. They look like the shapes of swords,With a swirl at the end,And electricity shocking from them at the speed of light. He laughs menacingly,and all Drake can do is slink back onto the table,Shaking with fear as the man grows closer,Soon the man is practically breathing down Drake's face,and he speaks,Speaks wi
It was the stench that woke her. The smell of musk and decay taking her from pleasant dreams. She looked unhappily about. The cell she was trapped in was cold and damp and the short chains bound to her wrist bit deep, letting scars heal from past self-inflicted injuries.  She could only guess at how long she had been kept a prisoner and it wasn't wasn't by etching each hopeless day upon her cell walls. She looked over her naked body with disgust, her eyes stuck upon her now swollen belly. She was in her third trimester her captives claimed. Thus she estimated she had been here a little over nine months. She bit back tears as memories flooded with renewed vigor. Though the days had long passed when the men would enter her cell and take her, ravaging her until their seed had planted, she dreaded this time the most.
It was the hardest orgasm he’d ever had in his life and definitely the most painful. All the hours of baby provided prostate stimulation, all the hormones rushing down there to help with the birth, had caused a buildup of cum so massive it had a hard time coming out at first. He could feel his cock straining and his balls moving on their own even as he arched his back and started howling.
×