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[tnmnsmut]

spill | doppel! francis mosses x francis mosses

words | 2k

rating | explicit

pwp, sub francis, spit and cum as lube, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex

Francis Mosses supposes it was only a matter of time.

He gets home from work, trudging up the stairs because the elevator is broken yet again, so weary he can barely fit the key in the lock. He pushes open the door and flips the light switch, then tosses his keys on the nearest surface, his hat and loosened bowtie joining the pile.

That’s when he realizes he’s not alone.

There’s someone sitting on his couch. A doppelganger that the doorman had mistakenly let in, and the milkman can’t even blame him, because this creature is an exact replica of himself. It’s like staring at his own reflection in the mirror, except there is no silvered surface. Just an invader waiting patiently for his return.

“Come here.”

The invitation is uttered with a voice that’s a soft rasp, the way his own gets when he’s had a few too many, when he’s overtired. The sultry, sandpaper rough tone chafes his skin, making his cock twitch with interest. Well. That was different.

The human male finds himself start to obey, taking a step forward, but then he jerks to a halt. It was foolish to tred so willingly to his own doom. The intruder should be the one closing the distance. He should work a little harder for his meal.

“Come here,” the doppel invites again.

There’s a wet spot on the front of Francis’ work pants now. He’s that aroused, his leaking cock oozing pre, drooling and begging for attention. Still the milkman hesitates, watching the alien unfold from the couch, the warm, seductive smile leaving his lips. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

Francis hears the warning, sees it in the dark eyes that flash, and he heeds that siren beckoning, moving to stand in front of the doppel. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the feel of sharp teeth and claws sinking into his flesh, tearing him to pieces. What a shitty week this has been. He was so close to making it to the weekend. Not that he had any grand plans. But he would’ve been blessedly alone. No getting up before the birds. No driving all over the city. No begging for payment and praying the customers were human.

The teeth and claws do not come. There is the feel of hot breath dancing just before his face. A hand that feels human, that feels like his own—and isn’t that the oddest sensation, his and yet not his—stroking over the growing need behind the fly of his pants.

“Look at me,” the being implores, and Francis’ eyes slide open, staring into his own, the other’s, the same. “Starved, wretched creature aren’t you?” He flicks a nail over the milkman’s chest, the contact with the nipple beneath somehow directly linked to his cock, making him even more feverish and desperate. His hips cant forward, rubbing his clothed prick against the invader’s palm and his cheeks grow hot with shame, with desire. He is hungry. Touch starved. And pathetic. You’d have to be, to want something like this from something like that. Something that looks just like him.

The doppel chuckles softly and the sound of that amusement, laced with condescending superiority, makes Francis’ knees weak.

He thinks those joints might just buckle, making him collapse. As if sensing this, the mimic pushes and he falls easily into the couch cushions, the motion punching a little moan of air from him.

“I think it’s time we got you undressed, don’t you? Can’t have that candy when it’s still stuck in the wrapper.” Without waiting for a response the clone begins thumbing open the buttons of the delivery man’s shirt. He drags the hem of his undershirt up and then his face bends to capture one nipple between his teeth.

Human teeth. He’s still disguised, and Francis isn’t sure if that makes this better or worse. His nipple is tugged and licked and his cock jerks in his pants. The other mammary gland is suckled as well, attention divided between the two equally, until they’re stiff and coated in saliva and the original milkman wonders if he could climax just from that touch alone.

His pants are opened, his erection pulled free and the invader slides off the couch and kneels in front of the human male. His hands hook onto the sides of his trousers, collecting belt and underwear too, tugging them down successfully as soon as Francis’ pelvis lifts to accommodate the replicant.

The doppelganger makes a little pleased sounding hum, lazily stroking the milkman’s shaft but still staying clear of that dampened crest where the precursor to his full load still glistens in a needy pool. “Your cock is so much fun. I had to try it out for myself earlier, while I was waiting for you to get home.”

The thought of the doppel jerking himself off sends a fresh wave of clear liquid from his slitted opening. The hand pumping him abandons his prick and the milkman makes a needy little sound of protest but he realizes there’s a reason for this sudden shift. The clothing covering the lower half of his body is being tugged completely free, no longer bunched mid shin. The monster’s arms wrap around his knees and jerk hard, so that his ass is barely hanging onto the edge of the cushion under it. He pushes the milkman’s legs back and Francis takes the initiative to hook his hands behind his knees, keeping himself spread open for the invader.

The doppel swipes at the liquid staining the head of his cock and smears it over his puckered opening and Francis sucks his breath in. He’s never touched himself there, save to clean himself in the shower, but this lingering caress against the wrinkled flesh makes him wonder why the fuck he hadn’t tried. His flushed, twitching dick is still weeping, as needy as the pitiful sounds he’s making, like a wounded animal on its deathbed, begging for mercy.

An impressive amount of saliva is spit onto the human’s anus, another gesture that makes his prick throb anew, and the alien strokes in circles before pressing with his index finger, working his way inside. Francis had heard something once about bearing down making it easier for things to invade the rectum and he tests this now, concentrating on pushing like he’s trying to evacuate his bowels while the imposter clears his knuckle and fits his entire finger inside. It burns, and it’s uncomfortable, but it’s also fucking hot and Francis whimpers like a whipped dog.

“So hot and tight. It’s going to be like putting on a glove when I fuck this pretty hole open,” the doppel murmurs, moving his finger back and forth. He’s still surprisingly gentle, genuinely trying to make ample room for the fat head of the cock he’s planning on ramming inside.

Eventually a second finger joins the first, along with another glob of spit, and the discomfort increases. It’s such a strange sensation, to be filled in that hollow channel that was meant only to expel and not intake. He wants to stroke his cock, thinks he’d shoot in seconds if he did, but he also wants to hold back, thinking the clone will indicate when he’s allowed to.

“Alright. I think you’re almost ready.” The paired digits vacate his body and Francis nearly cries out at their sudden absence. He feels the hole fluttering, asking to be filled again, and the doppel obliges, this time with his tongue.

Not the replicant’s human one. His real one.

Francis immediately feels it the instant that short wedge of muscle expands inside of him, snaking deeper and stretching him further. It curls and nudges his prostate. “Mmm-hmm,” the clone encourages, and the milkman can’t hold back any longer. His prick erupts, cumming untouched, the creamy jizz pouring molten over the reddened sex organ. He cums and cums and just when he thinks there cannot possibly be more there is. It’s the biggest load he’s ever shot in his life.

The doppel hums, the vibrations making his cock twitch valiantly. He’s still half hard. Somehow his body is preparing for another round. The invader’s tongue finally slips free and he occupies the next few moments gathering up the puddle of cum on his stomach and stuffing it inside his ass, sometimes pausing to lick his fingers clean.

The replicant returns to his feet once he’s thoroughly cleaned Francis of his release, knotting a hand in his undershirt and pulling, indicating he wants him to move. He drags him like this through the living room and down the hallway, stopping once he’s reached the bedroom. Clearly the doppel had made himself at home exploring earlier. Maybe that’s where he’d rubbed one out. Fuck.

“Bend over for me.”

The milkman can’t comply fast enough. He rests his forearms on the mattress, spreading his stance slightly. He hears the sound of the zipper being undone and trembles with anticipation.

Oh, fuck.

He’s not sure if he says it aloud or not. Even with the saliva and the cum, even with the human fingers and alien tongue prepping him, it’s still a shock to feel the mushroom head of that fat cock shove past the ring of muscle. The doppel growls, pushing forward until he’s buried to the hilt, the nest of pubic hair stroking against the milkman’s cheeks. He slaps one, sharp enough that Francis knows there must be a mark there now. The claws he’d been dreading earlier sink into one hip as the invader begins fucking him, pumping his prick in and out of that smooth walled channel.

“Such a pathetic slut. Look at how hungry you are for this.” A hand wraps around the human male’s cock. Fully hard again. The claws are sharp. He can feel the points digging in when the slickness has been rubbed away, the alien’s palm sawing roughly back and forth. “Taking this dick so well. You like fucking yourself, sweetheart? Was this a fantasy of yours all along? That tight ass of yours feels so amazing. Squeezing me. Trying to milk a load out of me. Don’t worry, whore. You’re going to get what you want. I’ll fill you up so fucking full.”

Francis’ fingers knot in the sheets. He can’t even tell if it’s a cloned copy of his phallus buried inside him or if the replicant has allowed that to morph into its true form as well. All he knows is every thrust brings him closer to exploding again. The alien has picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth, the sound of flesh meeting loud in the air. Another slap gifts his other cheek. The claws dig in. It feels like he’s drawn blood. He likes the feeling. All of the feelings.

“That’s it. You’re going to shoot again, aren’t you? I think I’ll…ungh…join you. Fuuuuck,” the doppel curses. Francis feels the jets of hot sperm pelting his insides. Scalding hot. So much of it. He can feel rope after rope of seed fill him. Trying to breed him. Overwhelmed, he finds his own orgasm again. His cock spurting helplessly, the drops landing on the sheets, on the carpet. Still an impressive amount, considering the batch of batter he’d spat earlier.

His legs are quivering. He needs to sit down. Or lie down. Either way. But the doppelganger doesn’t move just yet, keeping their bodies joined together a little longer. He’s still cumming. Definitely not a human cock buried inside him now. Fuck.

At last the monster withdraws and Francis feels the gush of cum leaking from his raw, stretched hole. The alien sperm is still pouring out when he sits on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He thought he’d known what it means to be tired before. This was beyond that level of exhaustion.

The doppel looks down at him. His fingers seat in his hair and his head is jerked back. The eyes that regard him are bloodshot. The teeth look razor sharp. The milkman wonders if he’s about to meet his doom. At least he’d gone out with a bang, so to speak.

“You should get some sleep. You’re going to need energy for later.”

Francis blinks. Not what he’d been expecting. The doppel’s features are shifting back to a mirror image of his own human ones. He wasn’t going to be killed after all.

He thinks about bathing but he simply doesn’t have the strength for it just then. He aches. He’s drowsy. He flops back against the pillows, surprised again when the doppel joins him, kissing the corner of his mouth. Fingers are already drifting down the length of his body, swiping at the sticky release on his thighs, attempting to push it back inside of him again. Another, seemingly impossible flare of life from his member.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to sleep just yet.

[tnmnsmut]

doppel!milkman and francis mosses/ pregnant female reader

lactation, pregnancy, gangbang, oral sex, vaginal sex, just pwp, filthy smut

18+ ONLY MDNI

You’re not even sure which one of the doppelgangers got you knocked up, but if you had to guess, it would have been one of the milkman imposters. They’re the horniest and kinkiest of the bunch, and if you’re being completely honest, you’ve always found the original human they’re copying insanely attractive.

Suddenly the threat that everyone is so worried about rolls off of you like water off a duck’s back because these doppels? Yeah. They have no intention of killing you now that you’ve been bred and are carrying one of their own. The only things they’re eating are your pussy or the milk that leaks constantly from those absurd boobs of yours and fuck if that thought just doesn’t send more drool from your cunt, the front of your bra soaking again even though you’d just changed it before running out for a few errands.

The male humans in the apartment building aren’t shy about the open buffet you’re offering either. You get molested in the stairwell, the elevator, even out on the street, because whatever chemicals you’ve been pumped full of seem to send out the message to any and all males that you’re ripe for the taking. You don’t mind dallying with them now and again because the pressure in your lactating tits is unbearable at times, but you still prefer the doppels.

Human men still treat you like you’re a fragile, delicate young woman (you’re not). You like the rougher stuff. You want to feel sharp teeth tugging at your nipples and claws pinching your ass when you get bent over and fucked, a good hard pounding in that sloppy wet hole. You crave the bruises and scratches and bites.

Today you’re lucky. There are not one, not two, but three doppels waiting for you when you return to your apartment. The current doorman really sucks, or maybe he’d been bribed. Either way, you’re not complaining. You feel yourself leaking anew.

The apartment door beside your own opens and wouldn’t you know it’s that sexy milkman, the original. Pale cheeks burning scarlet. His eyes desperately trying to find a safe place to look, trying to maintain some decency and politeness.

“Come join us,” you invite, sucking in a deep breath when one of the doppelgangers can’t resist reaching to pinch one of your dripping breasts. You’re not shy about letting your eyes rove down to the delivery man’s crotch. You’ve definitely gotten his attention.

The imposters are getting impatient. You’re shoved against the door, the hips of one doppel grinding against the curves of your ass. The human stops deliberating, walking towards you. The alien pheremones you’re exuding are too strong. Every burst of milk that spurts from your enormous tits and gush of arousal from your naughty pussy sends the same message: you’re fertile and ready. You want to be filled.

So that’s how you end up with a very human cock slotted between your lips while an alien one is jerked on the opposite side of your face, waiting their turn. Another doppel brings relief to your breasts, sucking out that sweet, nourishing milk while the third is servicing your hole, giving you the pounding you’ve been craving, pummeling your cervix with every thrust. Hoon is probably your least favorite of the trio of doppelgangers, but even a less favorable version is still better than none, and he did know how to give good dick even if he might be lacking in other departments, that weird void of a mouth wholly (heh. get it?) unsatisfactory for your other needs.

Apparently you could potentially conceive again even though you’re already pregnant. Something about the aliens. Don’t know. Don’t care. The thought of that batch of swimmers that doppel sends up your snatch having the potential to make you even fuller and hornier makes you cum faster than you thought possible.

Francis isn’t able to last very long, the sheet eroticism of what he’s witnessing making him shoot way too soon, but you’re willing to bet he hasn’t blown a load in awhile, poor single guy, and the fact that you can see him hardening again soon after makes you think he’ll be good for another round soon enough. For now he’s content to milk your tits once you’ve gulped down his sperm.

You’ve barely returned your attention to the doppel beside your other cheek—this one always clad in bloodstained clothes that he claims is really scarlet milk—before he’s deepthroating you, bashing until he’s spewing thick ropes of cum.

There are teeth tugging on your left nipple. Your favorite doppel has been very patient, suckling your tit until he gets his turn at your cunt. This one’s snakelike tongue emerges between the sharp teeth and swirls around yours for a time, giving you the kisses the others have neglected to bestow.

Then the imposter milkman fills your cunt with that wonderful, impossibly strange cock that mirrors his tongue, reaching places inside you that none of the others can. He kneads the breast he’d been sampling earlier, the other still occupied by the human version. You feel another orgasm building. Every cant of hips presses against your throbbing clit just right as you’re blasted with a fresh batch of baby batter.

It’s then you realize a fourth doppel has joined the party. His eyes resemble one of your other male neighbor’s. You haven’t fucked this one yet, but hey.

There’s always a first time for everything.