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Queen of Cock: Renamon VS Toriel (Match 30) - The Finale!
🕑 Added 2024-06-07 16:10:16 +0000 UTCWhat is the measure of omnipotence? The yardstick of infinity, the limits of the limitless? How do you quantify, much less compare, that which is ever evolving, changing, and growing?
The Queen of Cock had exceeded the boundaries of long ago, its contestants ascending into the realms of gods and beyond with such regularity that even the label of divinity seemed paltry in comparison to the beings that filled and toyed with realities like so many beads in their hands. Even someone as lowly as its only official and referee had ascended to such lofty heights that fresh universes sprouted from her idle fantasies alone, new creations replete with the unwavering erotic greed of their progenitor.
And with all that, the competition had finally reached its final match. Renamon and Toriel, the biggest, most catastrophically hung herms of all. Which left Mara with the problem: how could she possibly crown one of them over the other?
The three of them met on a grassy plain, stretching out into infinity. It offered an image of serenity, of fleeting normality, though it was sure to be drowned in cock and cum before long. The participants even displayed a measure of restraint in their appearance as they arrived; Renamon and Toriel’s packages were just shy of touching the ground, their hips and busts filled out to tastefully impossible levels of curvaceousness. Neither indulged in the pretense of wearing clothes— and any attempt would have looked more obscene than simply going naked, anyway. Even Mara had reigned it in, floating in the air with a cock a mere three times her own size dangling between her legs.
“We’re all here,” Mara started. “Grand. Welcome… to the beginning of the end!”
“An end. Like many others,” Renamon said, “that I’ve outgrown and discarded.”
“As have we all, I’m sure,” Toriel said, smiling gently. “They don’t make universes like they used to. I can hardly believe that the idea of using a universe as a condom seemed outrageous to me; these days, I wish I could still fit in one.”
“Yes, well, we’re all mighty impressed,” Mara said. “You’re juggling suns, you’re flooding galaxies, you’re collecting realms of existence like so many drops of matter between your tits. You’re the cream of the undoubtedly cum-flavored crop, the heavy hitters, and nothing fazes you. I get it. Point is; there’s two of you, and I only got one crown to give. That’s the rule from the boss lady, and it's not budging no matter how insanely giga-sized both of you get. So, we have to find the winner. The most insanely giga-sized, etc. etc.”
Renamon’s third leg of a cock gave a slight twitch; for an instant, its true eldritch size rippled through the air, instantly smothering the infinite plane under its all-encompassing heat, weight, and scent; then the vision receded and her endowment was back between her legs.
Mara frowned. “That was not the signal to start! Keep it to yourself for just one more minute. Even you can do that much.”
“No promises. I don’t usually go this long without fucking some cosmological configuration apart.” Renamon smirked, looking between Mara and Toriel.
“Oh, don’t get me started,” Toriel concurred, glancing away as her hands instinctively went to the monstrous sheath between her legs. “I don’t even want to think about how many cocks I’ve grown in the time we’ve been here. I get backed up so easily…”
“Yes, yes, back to talking about how stupidly potent you both are… Fine. So! I could simply ask you to grow your dicks out and see who’s the bigger one, but given that you’ll grow by dimensions instead of inches, my metaphorical measuring tape is bound to give out in the first few seconds of your standoff. So, we’ve devised another method. Instead of trying to quantify your infinities—and turn a swathe of higher dimensions into your cumsocks in the process—I’ll simply have the two of you fuck and see who can bloat the other more. Infinity divided by infinity—it’s perfect!”
Toriel shared a brief look with Renamon. “That makes sense. Sort of,” she said. “Very scientific of you. You’ve come such a long way.”
“Not at all. I’m just spitballing,” Mara said. “Well? Ready to bone down?”
“Who goes first?” Renamon asked. “That’s more important than anything, I reckon. Toriel here won’t be able to do anything for a few eons after I empty my balls inside her.”
“Likewise,” Toriel concurred with a beatific smile and a rumbling like distant thunder from her bloated scrotum. “So, yes, that does sound like a flaw in your plan, Mara. Is it all going to come down to a toss of a coin? That wouldn’t be fair.”
“What made you think I play fair?” Mara grinned and raised her hand. “Lucky for you that I extra wasn’t allowed to bet on this one…” A flash of emerald light shot into the air from her index finger, illuminating the clouds with an otherworldly glow. Then she brought her hand down and split the world into two.
For a long, dizzying moment, Renamon and Toriel’s vision duplicated, leaving them both gawking at each other’s ghostly copies. Then the rift between worlds closed again and left a pair of them in each mirror dimension, safely separated. Mara, or at least an image of her, was present in both identical dimensions, floating behind her contestants as ever. She had even turned the one of them around in each world, one Toriel and one Renamon surprised to find themselves on all fours, with the other’s immense package wedged against their backside, ready and waiting.
“Who gets to go first? Why, the both of you, of course!” Mara laughed, clapping her hands. “Now let’s get to fucking! Ready. Set. Grow!”
***
The sounds of sex were deafening. The premier hyperherms of not just this world, but every world, going balls deep in each other, skin slapping against skin as they dueled for dominance. Renamon and Toriel had only just managed to bury their cataclysmic cocks inside the other’s holes before their self-control gave in—a sort of ‘irresistible force meets an immovable object’ situation, but with godly girldicks—and as a result, fully half of the sprawling grassy plains in front of them had filled with the stretched, rapidly bloating bellies of their counterparts. It was a new experience for both of them, their senses split apart like never before, as they simultaneously experienced giving and taking, at once pounding the other’s ass while their body quivered with each monumental thrust that their designated ‘taker’ copy received.
“Ooh…” Toriel moaned, shivering despite herself. “This is quite… intense…”
“I’ve had better,” Renamon replied curtly, though even she couldn’t conceal how it affected her, impaling Toriel on her eagerly growing shestud spire while she felt herself split apart on Toriel’s—undeniably, however much she might like to downplay it—equally fat cock.
It was, in a word, perfect entertainment to the cheeky fairy keeping track of them. “Really? Then why’s your face so red all of a sudden? Adorable.”
“S-shut up,” Renamon said, channeling her indignation into the ever more forceful raiding of Toriel’s enormous, inviting ass. Her cock throbbed, gushing the equivalent of a sea of cum inside her with every earth-shattering pulse; and yet her balls kept on filling, bigger and more potent all the time; the empty world around her—already bordering on the unreal in the attempt to give the two of them space to grow for at least a few minutes—devolved into an erotic landscape as always, her front filling with Toriel’s immensely bloated belly while her balls sought ever more space to fill with their gurgling, powerfully pungent mass.
Just as planned.
“Wow!” Mara said, hardly bothering to keep a straight face. “Toriel, you’re not gonna take that lying down, are you?”
“If I keep g-growing, I might have to…” Toriel’s reply was clipped by her lusty moans, but her point was clear: as her package kept on swelling, she lifted off the ground, lying horizontally on the ever-fattening heft of her cock and balls. Of which, as ever, she grew multiple sets of, her fuzzy, mountainous nuts piling up in her part of the mirror-verse before breaking into higher-order dimensions in search of much needed space for her brimming jizzkegs. But as much as they grew, split, multiplied, it wasn’t enough to alleviate the pressure of her production; it only had one place it could go.
Renamon felt it. By the stars, she felt it; bloating her, invading her, pushing her belly out taut and full of cum. It made her even more insistent on out-fucking Toriel, primal lust and the desire for dominance both speeding her hips on to thrust, in and out, the slap of her cheeks echoing through the trembling patch of space-time.
Toriel, however, only grew bigger, curvier the harder Renamon went. She made no attempt to disguise her arousal, and every throb, every squeeze, every fresh load only made sink deeper into her true self, awakening the goddess of uninhibited sexuality that they both had become. Toriel, with her greater affinity for multi, thus split Renamon apart on her growing army of cocks, giving the Digimon a new experience in the process; even her cunts and assholes multiplied, teasing Renamon’s singular cock with the suggestion that even she might not be enough to sate Toriel all at once.
But Renamon was no less a goddess, and she intended to make it known. She seized Toriel, kneading her bouncing tits with a firm hand as she adjusted herself and thrust again; this time duplicating the feel of her cock (without actually splitting in two) to fill two of Toriel’s gushing pussies. Then four of them, eight of them, all of them at once, as a glorious example of her divinity, willingly defying sense and logic as her singular godcock brought Toriel’s insatiable body to a string of impossible orgasms.
“Oh god, yes!” she cried, quivering as a continental shift of growing cock rumbled beneath her, shoving ever meatier poles of feminine penis into Renamon. “Just like that! More!”
“That’s my line,” Renamon rumbled, barely keeping it together. To say that her orgasm was eternal was putting it lightly; at her present state of climax, it couldn’t ripple through reality fast enough and, finding no other egress, leaked into the past and future; in a more sane state of mind, Renamon might have stopped it, but here, now, it had already spread to the start of the contest and, for all intents and purposes, had always been; her cock a font of ever-flowing cum, ever-filling, bursting, drowning, washing away stars and galaxies in their wake. As ever, when achieving such levels of divinity, there was no turning back; Renamon had already become an ultimate being, in the future and in the past, altering history from even before the start of the contest proper.
Only Toriel had any chance of keeping up. Where Renamon’s world-ending orgasm came from a single point, hers flowed like a thousand tributaries into the ocean of her own. And as Renamon ascended, so did she, the two of them locked in a state of constant positive feedback, their fates intertwined as they humped and grew past all limits of senses, thought, and reason.
Even Mara, watching them like a hawk for any sign of flagging, found herself smothered between cum-bloated bellies and fat, churning balls. For once, she did not complain, for fear of spoiling this last sprint towards ultimate victory—thinking, instead, of her own cut of the prize and how much cock she would grow. A modest percentage of omnipotence, after all, was still omnipotence.
And what else could describe it? Renamon and Toriel defied definition, overflowing the feeble constraints of mortal minds to dominate everything that was with their combined excess. All that Mara could really sense, when all else had passed, were the feelings; the raw, all-encompassing emotions of the Queens of Cock running wild. Unquenchable desire, passion, and the will to press on, to become more, and to win.
Their gasps and moans echoed across the cosmos in fragments, tuning in and out as they fucked the world apart. It was no great tragedy—a thousandfold more would be born anew from their taut, bloated bellies.
“It’s so much,” Toriel groaned, trying and failing to catch her breath (though that was merely a leftover of her mortal shell—she had outgrown the need to breathe long ago). “So much…”
“Not enough!” Renamon barked in response, her tongue lolling from her mouth. She was barely in control of herself, swimming in a vast ocean of her own lust. And yet she clung to the one coherent concept left in her mind, the only piece of flotsam that kept her from drowning: Get bigger than Toriel.
Toriel shivered, the whole world shivering with her. “Not enough…” she repeated dreamily. “I… I want…” She, too, was awash in emotion, the only real tangible thing once all else had been stripped away; the sweet desire, the utter bliss at her state of being, and the quiet appreciation of her impossible power; though while Renamon sought to dominate, Toriel’s base impulse was to share and protect; and as her conscious mind dissolved into her sea of lust, her resolve weakened.
It was all Renamon needed to break the stalemate. The two had been equally matched for an eternity; then, as if with a switch of a button, the erotic force that was Renamon exploded outwards to encompass all there was.
“Ah!” Toriel gasped, clutching her belly as the godcock inside her expanded sharply, now truly turning her into a cum balloon with its unstoppable load. “D-dear me, I can’t—f-fuck, I—oh god!”
“That’s right,” Renamon murmured, “I am.”
And she was. The god, the goddess, the alpha and the omega. Renamon managed a weak smile. She had, at last, proved it to her only remaining—and now surpassed—equal. And with that final milestone, the newly crowned Queen of Cock let go of her last inhibitions and came like never before; and from the sea of her essence a new world was born, a fresh universe of lust and love, fated to nurture and fill with the excesses of its creator, again and again…
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