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they need the release. You’re not betraying anyone. You’re not with anyone. If you ever get married, later on, you can lie to the person about it. Besides...” he shrugged. “When it comes to Castle, probably he just wants you to suck his cock. And that’s not even really sex.”
    I hadn’t thought of it like that. It rang hollow, but at the same time, I could feel the seeds of rationalization sprouting in my mind.
    Like I was for another very potent type of seed, it found me rather fertile ground.
    “It’s not sex at all.” He stroked my hair now. “And so, if you ever need some practice...you just let me know, girl.”
    * * * * *
    O ver the course of the next several weeks, this routine continued. Lilah would dress me up in the mornings, whenever she was home and not away at one of her increasingly lavish holidays (skiing in the alps, tanning in Hawaii, sight-seeing in China). When Mister Castle was home, he would frequently call me into his office late at night for no real reason—often using me as a fetching service for some small item, most frequently drinks—and then proceed to feel me up. And still, I did not fight it. He even kissed me one night, and though I did not kiss him back, I wanted to desperately.
    Often, as Castle finished up, Lilah would suddenly interject herself into our improper situation and take care of her husband’s rising lusts. Stopping him from fucking me by begging him to fuck her.
    Literally begging, by the way. I could hear them from outside the door—she worshiped him, it sounded like. Though, I must admit it was hard to hear sometimes with my fingers buried so deep in my pussy.
    I clung to my morals, like I was in a cartoon and my quickly-becoming-outdated beliefs were the flower on the edge of the cliff. I knew that they wouldn’t last in the face of the hot, perfect drop of my desire...but I would try. Sex wasn’t part of the job unless Castle or Lilah said it was.
    Terrance continued to encourage me to stick with it. But he also began to be more aggressive. Kissing me on the back of my neck during our late-night kitchen encounters. Sneaking up behind me and goosing me in the hall. Touching my tits when I had conversations with him. I felt worse and worse about telling him “no” when it was clear how badly I wanted him, wanted the sex he could give me. But for now, I was just their toy, to be used at their leisure.
    Something else began happening that was strange. I began a rather late-stage growth spurt. At the age of twenty, I had thought I was beyond such things for the most part. But over the series of weeks since my stay began, my hips became wider, my hair thicker and more voluminous, growing at record rates. And my breasts...
    My already large breasts became much, much larger. In less than two weeks, I had increased a cup size. Then in another two weeks, I had grown again. I was easily at a 36E cup now, even though my frame remained as trim and tight as ever.
    And there was something else about my breasts. It’s a little hard to say. But they were...well. They had started to fill with milk.
    Clearly, I was becoming more fertile. I had no idea why. But I wasn’t against it. I just didn’t understand it.
    Because of my increased bust, I had to throw out all of my bras—and all that I had left was the lingerie provided to me by Lilah. More and more, I managed to match her busty, voluptuous frame.
    There was no denying my fertility. Lilah commented on it as she continually reformed my outfits.
    “I bet you could hold lots of babies,” she said appreciatively, dressing me up in the morning. “Look at you. You’re practically the model of motherhood now, aren’t you? You could hold triplets. Quintuplets. You’d be a natural.”
    For whatever reason, the thought of being pregnant, being bred, had really started to turn me on, like hormones were affecting my brain. I started to daydream often about Castle filling me up with his babymaking batter, getting me to