A new host. His cock is different. Thicker. Veiny. The taste of his pre-cum is sharp, metallic. He is holding me, forcing me down onto him. I do not resist. I open. I take him deeper than before. My body stretches. It is a new sensation. The pressure. The fullness. When he finally cums, it is not a gentle pulse. It is a violent, choking flood. I swallow. I choke. I swallow again. My instinct is to feed, but this... this is drowning. My small form convulses around him, milking him dry through the overload. When he pulls me off, I am bloated, heavy. I fall to the floor. He kicks me into a corner. I lie in the dark, digesting. This was not pleasure for him. It was use. I was used. The difference is meaningless. I am full.