Qatesh takes your astonished silence as an invitation. "It's so much" she purrs as, her long purple tongue slides across the lengthy cleft of your massive mino-testes. Her thin lips lovingly lap at your smallest horse sheath, pink flesh glimmering with her saliva before the clank of the chains and collar shake you to attention. "No! Wait not like this. She...she... can't keep...uh...people...like this" you mutter through your teeth, as your ego triumphs over ballooning need. You can feel your trio of centaur stallions bucking defiance in their respective sheaths. However Qatesh seems to brighten at your objection, "Yes! Master please, the Mistress keeps the caustics in that cabinet beyond my reach" she chirps. You lumber where she gestures. "That one, the blue bottle, very strong, very concentrated metal etch-ant. Must use the dropper top, avoid skin contact. Five drops in the padlock should be enough, compound is very very strong and the lock is shoddy gnome make!" she barks in her sing-song staccato bird-like voice.
Following her instructions to the letter, the lock on her collar hisses and pops open. Brutal metal gives way exposing the sores on her neck. Utter glee explodes out of Qatesh as her collar gives way. "Oh thank you master!" she yells while hugging as much of you as she can. Her body surprisingly warm against your leg and massive scrotum. "Shhh not so loud" you hush. "Sorry Master, please follow, the human staff have an access this way. The uh..Mistere...err the cow...is too bit to fit through it." She indicates to an exit of the room past the emergency wash shower.
Her long tail slides between a crack in the wall and floor flipping some sort of unseen switch. With a faint grind of stone on stone and a muffled pneumatic hiss, an unseen slab in the wall and floor slide up and open. Dim but definitely synthetic light flicks on illuminating the rungs of a human sized ladder. "Please worry not, secret service tunnels cover Pleasure Island, Please the Master should go first, this one should not block the Master's way." she chirps expectantly. Grimacing, you carefully heft your new hugeness down the ladder. Qatesh follows close behind, personal space be damned as her feet and tail waver inches away from your hair. Malnourished Qatesh falters half way down. "Yipp!" she barks, visibly exhausted. Gritting your teeth, you look up ward--a mistake as the immense grafted mare genitals of the kobold are less than a foot away from your nose. Blushing, you turn away and try to refocus as your before your stallions can run rampant.
It's a strange thing to have your balls arrive at the bottom of a ladder first. Three stories down by your reckoning, cold concrete grit brushes the bottom of your stolen bloated bovine scrotum. 'Finally!' you think and deftly straddle your resting bull bulk to alight on floor. You blindly reach to grasp the ailing alchemist by her nape, gently setting Qatesh down on the floor. "Master...is...most...kind...should be safe...here" she's winded and flops to the floor. "Apologies Master, it has been so long since the cow provided food" she murmurs weakly. "Did you really want to drink from...uh...me earlier?" you ask, feeling your quartet of stolen testicles clenching with need at the thought. "Master has liberated this shell, it is at Master's service till it's soul re-enters the cycle." You demure as you lean to rest on the wall. "Uh...if it...uh...would really make you feel better. You can...uh...drink my water of life." Qatesh seems to draw a second wind. "Not a drop will be wasted Master!"
Qatesh sheds timidity like a snake molts it's skin. Raw hunger and thirst keeps her shaky and hasty. The naked kobold bear hugs your bulky watermelon balls. They gurgle at her contact. The underside of her crocodilian neck alights upon the pair of oranges stuffing your central centaur sac, as her long lizard-like tongue teases the longest of your sheaths. The softest part of her palms play across your left and right stallions, as she begins to purr. Surprised by her skill full ministrations, your legs slowly buckle. Bare ass sliding down to the cold floor with a shiver. Qatesh seems to be in some sort of utter reverence, almost trance-like. Every inch and scale of her body devoted to worshiping your prostrate form.
Your new centaur members quickly spring to attention. Finally free of their leathery prison, you can take in their alien equine forms: your right is small, but youthful and bright pink; to your left a black monolith of immense girth as big as a liter of soda; the golden brown middle one that takes most of Qatesh's attention is the longest, its underside pierced with glittering gold rings of some sort. 'Too many heads, not enough..uuhhhh' a shallow thought drowns in sensation. Warm saliva, cool scales, soft flesh, sticky pre, and hard nipples pressing into your clenching gurgling mino-balls are all too much for your blood deprived brain. Yet with every millimeter of her trembling feeble form, Qatesh worships your mutated body with her own.
It's small pink set that cums first. The small, almost empty, barely pubescent plumbing overwhelmed by the bloated minotaur supply. The tiny kobold senses your pre-climatic signals with frightful skill. Forearm length of fuscia horseflesh vanishes down her throat. Her tiny soft lips clamping down tightly as the faintest pin prick of her teeth tantalizes the tough skin of your smallest sheath. Love-soaked scaly arms slide across to your left and middle members to divine for telltale contractions at their bases. Qatesh seems to time her small shallow breaths with each jet of your seed. Your flaring stallion head distending her throat as her belly drinks down your essence.
Soon enough, your left stallion head begins to double in girth. In the fractions of a second it takes for your black flare to mushroom out, Qatesh disgorges your pink member from her throat with an audible pop, and latches upon your protruding urethra to suckle. Lips locking around the thumb-sized cum-spigot she begins humming as she sucks down your loads that audibly squirt into her. Her mouth occupied, both of her hands move to stroke your left-most melon sized balls. With a surprising swing she lays herself on her side across the base of your central shaft, teasing it's piercings with her newly grafted breasts and nipples Her long scaly tale wraps around your softening smallest cock to lovingly wipe up every drop before actually lavishing the leavings into her horse cunt.
Her belly swells now, clearly Bessie was not kidding about the minotaur needing to produce fifty gallons of man-milk a day, as it looks like Qatesh has swallowed two whole gallons of your 'milk.' Her soft scaly body gurgles as it stretches immensely. You can physically feel the weight being transferred from your groin into her light frame.
Finally the flow of your onyx member abates, but yet your ring pierced central member hasn't cum. Licking her lips and swallowing Qatesh croaks "Master this one has two enchanted rings, cursed even." Her scaley hands gesture to your middle golden brown dick that threatens to break your nose if it flops down too hard. "First curse will only let seed flow when plowed into a fertile field, second one only affects to subordinate other males. Apologies the curse will not allow drinking from. May this one attempt to fully satiate the Master?" Qatesh pleads. She stands with renewed strength. Her scaly feet straddle your competing endowments with remarkable grace. With a dazed half hearted nod you consent.