And there is definitely still a squirming tentacle-dick in there, although now it's anchored in place at the far end so the character of the squirming is a little different.

He certainly seems to be really really into it. Every thrust of the miniature tentacle is accompanied by a soft sound of pleasure.

She clutches his shoulders and sobs.

He's not too distracted to spare a grin for that.

Her legs go around his waist and she makes a choked whining noise.

"Niiice," he breathes. "You make the best noises."

"Th-thanks."

He hums—nuzzles the side of her neck—nips with his fangs and draws a little blood, then licks it.

She whines and throws her arms around his neck and buries her face against it.

Hum; nuzzle. Further painful goings-on in the tentacle region.

Further clinging and whimpering!

This goes on for a while before he comes.

That is a whole new level of unpleasantness. The tentacle fucking her womb expands painfully, and delivers such a volume of fluid that her abdomen visibly swells to accommodate it, which if anything hurts even more.

"Ow," she hisses, and shifts uncomfortably, feeling the swell of her abdomen. "How much did you put in there?"

"A lot," he says cheerfully.

"Still better than the heat."

"Huh," he says. "Most people hate this one way more." Shrug. "No accounting for taste, I guess."

"...It hurt, and I didn't like that, but it was also hot. The heat one wasn't hot. Pun not intended."

...he cracks up.

...She giggles.

He grins at her. "You're fun."

"Thanks. You're...weirdly nice."

He shrugs. "I get off on hurting people but, like, mostly not on the part where they're upset about it?"

She nods and shifts again, feeling the distension of her abdomen. "How badly do I have to worry about getting pregnant?"

"Not even a little bit. I really do not want kids, and I'd have to flip that switch on purpose if I changed my mind, 's a magic thing."

"Oh, good."