The dawn after Arrival Day was quiet in a way Elysara had not known in three years.
No trumpets. No cheering crowds. No silk banners still swaying in the breeze. The capital slept—exhausted, sated, glowing with the afterlight of ten days of relentless pleasure. Only the central plaza remained awake, lit by the soft silver swirl of the portal the Elders had opened the night before.
Ethan Sinclair stood before it, dressed simply: dark trousers, open shirt, the jeweled dagger at his hip. Behind him stood his full party of seven: Vaeloria, obsidian skin gleaming in the early light, violet eyes steady; Liraya, crimson hair braided for travel, flames flickering at her fingertips; Valyndra, golden and towering, winds already curling protectively around the group; Lilitha, olive curves wrapped in a light cloak, her gaze soft but resolute; Mira, dark warrior form carrying her spear; Solara, massive breasts swaying gently under her sheer wrap, thick hairy pussy already damp with anticipation; Thalira, scales shimmering, tail coiling restlessly.
The portal shimmered—liquid silver, cool and humming with power. On the other side: the first of the three promised worlds, larger than Elysara, teeming with women who needed the Breeder's seed not for children, but for power.
Ethan turned to face the small crowd that had gathered despite the hour—women who had slipped out of beds and pavilions to say goodbye. They rushed forward, excited, voices overlapping.
"Take us with you!"
"Give us one last taste!"
"Bless us before you go!"
Hands reached—fingers brushing his arms, breasts pressing against him, lips seeking his.
Vaeloria stepped in front, spear planted, voice firm but kind. "Enough. He has given Elysara everything. Today he answers a greater call. Stand back. Let him leave with dignity."
Mira flanked her left, spear crossed with Vaeloria's. Liraya's flames flared in a gentle warning wall. Valyndra's winds pushed softly, creating space. Lilitha, Solara, and Thalira formed a quiet line behind Ethan—silent guardians.
The women stilled, eyes shining with tears and pride.
Ethan stepped forward, kissed Vaeloria deeply—then Liraya, Valyndra, Lilitha, Mira, Solara, Thalira—one by one, slow and reverent.
"I'll come back," he said quietly. "This isn't goodbye. It's 'until next time.'"
He turned to the portal.
The seven companions followed—eight figures stepping through silver light.
Reality folded.
When the light cleared, they stood on a vast plateau of red stone under a violet sky. Two suns—one gold, one crimson—hung low, casting long shadows. The air was dry, spiced with dust and distant smoke. Below the plateau stretched endless grasslands dotted with walled villages, rivers like silver threads, and dark shapes moving on the horizon—creatures, hulking, insectile, chitin gleaming.
Women rushed toward them from the nearest village—tall, athletic, skin tones ranging from deep bronze to pale ash, hair braided or shaved, bodies clad in light leather and cloth that left breasts and pussies partially exposed for quick movement. Spears in hand, bows slung across backs, eyes wide with awe and hunger.
They stopped a respectful distance away—then surged forward again, voices overlapping.
"The Breeder!"
"He's here!"
"The prophecy spoke true!"
They knelt, heads bowed, spears planted in the dirt.
The tallest among them—a bronze-skinned woman with braided black hair and full breasts barely contained by leather straps—stepped forward.
"I am Kaelith, Spear-Mother of the Red Plateau tribe. We have waited generations. The creatures return every cycle. Our men died long ago. Only male seed—given freely—grants us the spark to fight them. No pregnancies. Only power. Will you…?"
Ethan nodded once. "That's why I came."
Kaelith's eyes blazed. "Then we begin now."
She turned to her sisters. "Twenty-five of our strongest. Prepare yourselves."
Twenty-five women stepped forward—naked now, leather discarded, bodies oiled and gleaming under the twin suns. Full breasts, toned asses, pussies shaved or neatly trimmed, spears set aside. They formed a loose circle around Ethan and his party.
The companions spread out—Vaeloria and Mira standing guard with spears, Liraya's flames ready, Valyndra's winds creating a soft barrier, Lilitha, Solara, and Thalira watching with hungry eyes.
Ethan stripped—shirt, trousers falling away—cock already hard, thick, veined, glistening with pre-cum.
Kaelith knelt first—mouth open. "Let me taste the Breeder."
She took him deep—lips stretching, throat relaxing, tongue swirling. The other twenty-four watched, fingers already circling clits, pussies dripping.
Ethan groaned, hands in her hair. "Suck it… take every inch… make me cum in your mouth first."
She did—bobbing fast, cheeks hollowing, moaning around him. The circle of women fingered themselves in rhythm—moans rising like a chorus.
He pulled out—stroking fast—erupting across her face, thick ropes coating her lips, tongue, cheeks. She swallowed what landed in her mouth, then turned to the next woman—kissing her deeply, sharing his cum.
The line formed.
One by one they knelt—sucking, licking, moaning. Some took him deep, gagging sweetly; others teased the head with tongues; others cupped his balls, sucking gently. He came three more times—once down a throat, once across full breasts, once painting a toned ass—each woman sharing his seed with the next in deep, cum-slick kisses.
Then the fucking began.
The first woman—a tall bronze beauty with shaved pussy—bent over a low stone ledge. "Fuck me… stretch my tight pussy… dig out my cunt… fill me up!"
Ethan gripped her hips—slid in slow—feeling her walls grip him like velvet. "So fucking tight… take every inch… cum on my cock."
He pounded—hard, deep—hips slapping her ass. "Pound my fucking pussy… yes… stretch me… make me cum!"
She came—pussy spasming, juices squirting down his thighs. He followed—erupting deep, seed flooding her, dripping out around his cock.
The next woman—curvy, hairy bush—spread her legs on the ground. "Eat my ass first… then stick it in… feed me that dick after!"
He knelt—tongue plunging into her tight hole, lapping, tasting her musk. She moaned, fingers in his hair. "Yes… eat my ass… tongue-fuck me!"
He rose—cock sliding into her pussy first—then pulled out, pressing against her ass. "Relax… take it deep."
He pushed in—slow—her ass clenching. "Fuck… so tight… cum for me… let me fill your ass."
She came—ass spasming, pussy dripping untouched. He erupted—cum flooding her ass, overflowing, dripping down her thighs.
The third woman—lithe, smooth—straddled him on the ground. "Let me ride that dick… pound my tight pussy… dig it out!"
She sank down—pussy engulfing him—hips rolling fast. "Yes… stretch me… fuck me hard… make me cum!"
He thrust up—meeting her rhythm—hands slapping her ass. "Cum for me… squeeze my cock… take my load!"
She came—pussy pulsing, juices soaking his balls. He erupted—seed flooding her womb, dripping out.
Twenty-five women. Twenty-five fucks.
He took them in every position—missionary, doggy, reverse cowgirl, standing, lifted by Valyndra's winds—pussies stretched, asses filled, mouths overflowing. Dialogue filled the air:
"Stretch my tight pussy… dig it out… pound my fucking cunt!"
"Eat my ass… tongue deep… then stick it in!"
"I want you to cum in my mouth… feed me that dick!"
"Let me ride that thick cock… fill me up!"
"Pound my fucking pussy… make me scream!"
"Stick it in my ass… stretch my tight hole!"
He came in every hole—pussies flooded, asses overflowing, mouths painted white—until all twenty-five lay sated, cum leaking from every opening, bodies trembling.
The companions joined the final round—Vaeloria riding him, Liraya taking his ass with a strap, Valyndra lifting women onto his face, Lilitha kissing cum-slick lips, Mira fingering stretched holes, Solara smothering him with her bush, Thalira coiling tails around limbs.
The plateau echoed with cries.
Then the creatures attacked.
From the horizon—hulking, insectile things—chitin gleaming, mandibles clacking, legs like spears. They charged—dark tide against the red stone.
The women rose—still dripping cum, still flushed from orgasm—and met them.
Spears flashed. Arrows sang. Magic flared—Liraya's flames, Valyndra's winds, Lilitha's binding shadows. The twenty-five Ethan had just bred fought like lions—pussies still leaking his seed, bodies glowing with the spark his cum had granted.
They held the line. Creatures fell—speared, burned, torn apart.
When the last one collapsed, the women turned back to Ethan—victorious, dripping, alive.
They dragged him to the center—bodies piling on again.
One final orgy to celebrate the victory.
"Fuck me again… stretch my tight pussy… cum in my mouth… let me ride that dick… dig out my fucking pussy… fill me up… pound my fucking pussy… stick it in my ass… feed me that dick!"
He did—fucking through them all—cumming in mouths, pussies, asses—until the twin suns set and the stars rose.
The creatures were defeated—for now.
Tomorrow the greater journey would begin.
But tonight—tonight was for celebration.