The chocolate woman you've made a slave of begins working her fingers into your clit. She presses her lips into yours and pries your lips open with her tongue. The series of sensations you feel from your bodies rubbing against each other, her rhythmic probing of your womanhood, and the delicious taste of her tongue upon yours elates you like never before. You push yourself back against her, increasing the pleasure. Soon your mashing chests become slimy from the friction.
After a wonderful eternity of pleasure, she removes her fingers and her tongue from your orifices. You pull your faces apart, but your lips have melted together and separate slowly, like lovers hesitant to end their embrace. The woman doesn't try to step away. Instead, she takes her hands and inserts them in the warm, malleable divide between your chests. She slowly, sensually rubs her breasts, deforming them. You gaze down curiously and watch her work the forward portions of her globes toward yours. Slowly, you begin to feel her hands massaging the bits of breast flesh as if they were a part of your body. It takes little time to realize how true that thought is becoming.
With a final press, the woman has separated the chunks of her breasts from her own body and molded them into yours. You can't help but coo in delight as she shapes your larger chest into perfect breasts that dip slightly but heavily. She digs into each of them with a fingernail and you moan as she recreates your nipples. When she pinches the center of each aureole, you cry out and feel the familiar flow of chocolate syrup between your legs. Then you notice that your nipples, too, are capable of secreting the dark gooey liquid.
The woman's hands then move down your chest, slowly separating your bodies from the mash of melted chocolate they created. She stops at the top of her cream-filled paunch, however, and begins to knead this part of her body in the same manner as her breasts. Meanwhile, you cup your bulkier breasts with chocolate hands, feeling their syrup-laden weight and tender "flesh."
You become so enamored by the gift she has given you, you don't realize what else she's up to until you feel her massaging your stomach. Carefully separating your breasts and peering between your generous cleavage, you see that she has nearly finished molding her belly into yours. She slowly pulls apart the chocolate on her own chest, leaving it as thin as a supermodel's, the soccer ball-sized sack of cream now impregnating you. With her thumb she gently pushes part of your belly inward, creating a navel.
Now completely separated, she steps away from you and begins to sculpt her messy chest and stomach to be as smooth and perfect as yours. The difference between you is now very evident, with her nearly flat chest and concave stomach a stark contrast from your pregnant-looking frame.
You rub your smooth belly. It feels much like it did before you birthed the egg. The realization that you again carry the same cream arouses you more than disturbs you.
"I know how good it feels to carry something inside you, and give birth to it," the woman says. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it before."
"I did," you admit gladly. There was pain, yes, but the way it had mixed with the pleasurable sensations created an even greater pleasure. The hows and whys don't make much sense to you, but you are long past caring.
"Then let's explore those feelings once again," the woman says devilishly. She grabs your two horns and pulls your head down into what's left of her breasts. "Drink."
Your mouth is pressed against her left nipple. You squirm, trying to move your head away, but her insistent grip on your horns denies your escape. You demand in a muffled voice to be let go, but she either doesn't hear you or doesn't obey. You gnash down on her nipple in an attempt to cause her pain, but all that you've done is squirt a stream of incredibly delicious chocolate into your mouth. The taste is so good it overrides your protests. In less than a minute, you've sucked her breast dry.
She tugs on your horns to steer you to her other nipple, where you repeat your gluttonous feasting until she is left with two sore nipples gracing a completely flat chest. Only now does she let you go, by breaking your horns off your head entirely.
You rub your forehead, smoothing the jagged nubs. Your tongue licks the dregs of syrup from your face. "Why did you do all of that?"
"Because it is giving you pleasure."
"Warn me next time, okay?"
"But then it won't be as good, will it?" the woman smiles.
Your instincts tell you to get away from her, but before you can follow them, she lunges toward you. Your back hits the cold marble floor.
Still reeling from the fall, you spasm and cry out in shock as she rams both horns into your pussy at once. She pumps them in and out of you, coating them with your chocolate juices and slowly merging them into one single rod that she begins to push deeper and deeper into you. You squirm under her, but it only serves to intensify the sensations within you. You're crying, panting, and moaning, but nothing that's intended to mean "Please stop."
You feel her entire forearm inside you, guiding your inner chocolate to take a new shape. She reaches into your creamy womb and stirs its contents.
With her other hand, she reaches toward the nearby pool. Her arm stretches thin until it reaches the chocolaty contents. Her fingers melt together, dipping in and bringing a full scoop of melted chocolate back to you. She removes her first hand, allowing her other to ram inside you and deposit its payload into the mass of cream. Your body bolts upward in a graceful arc and you scream louder than ever.
As quickly as it entered, it pulls out and flies back toward the pool. It penetrates you again and again, each new supply of chocolate bulging your belly further and further outward. The sensations come so strong and so fast you feel your mind retreating, no longer able to process such intense feelings and still remain sane.
The woman finally decides you've had enough. The scoops stop coming. You no longer feel her body pinning you down. You open your eyes and the room slowly comes back into focus, though spinning slightly like waking from a dream. The woman stands over you with a look of satisfaction.
"I'm sorry for the deception, but I didn't want to risk you running out of here before we had a little fun. I knew you'd come around to the idea once we got into it."
"Wh...what...?" you pant.
"The whole 'slave' thing, darling. You can't control me just by turning me into chocolate."
"Why?"
"Come now, do you really need to ask?" She bends down and drums her fingers on your enormous belly. "What you've got cooking up inside you is going to make you never want to leave. I wasn't lying when I said you'd learn how to let go of your old life."
You feel like you should be frightened and angry. This woman violated you, but at the same time has brought you pleasure you could never have dreamed of. You slowly sit up, the weight of your breasts and belly difficult to manage. You look like you're pregnant with sextuplets. You rub yourself gently, feeling the taut, sensitive chocolate skin.
"Is it another egg?" you ask her.
"That size?" she smiles. "You'd never get it out without ripping your body apart. Let's just wait and see."