The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Faeophobia: Do-Me Dust.

Part Three — Kitsune Chaos

With a groan of relief, Franklin rested his weighty burden on the steel benchtop, dusted off his palms, and inspected the old timber crate for any external signs of damage.

This had to be it—the inventory he’d spent three days researching and the last ninety minutes hunting for in the archeology department’s disorganized archive.

Time and errant rodents had chewed off any tags or identifying labels, but somehow, deep in his gut, Franklin knew this was the big kahuna of his academic career.

“Holy shit, you’re digging out more crap?” An annoyed voice grumped. Daphne glared irritation at him from her workbench opposite. “We’ve got plenty to check and catalog without you adding to the pile, Frank.”

With an internal sigh, the post-grad student picked up a handy crowbar and waved it at the crate before replying in his best instructional tone.

“I’ll have you know, dearest Daphne, that this diamond in the rough holds the key to my landmark study pertaining to spiritualism and magic of Shinto origin. The research will be groundbreaking—a seminal work, for sure.”

“I’m not your dearest anything, Frank.” She spat, stamping a booted foot. “And the only seminal work you’ll ever produce will be into a fucking Kleenex.”

“And I don’t care to be Frank, Daphne.” He quipped back dryly. “The name is Franklin, as I keep telling you.”

Damn, it was tough working with some people.

Sure, Daphne was hot, in that rebellious biker chick kinda way—with her lean athletic frame, perky fun-sized breasts, distractingly tight ass, and long legs stuffed into stylishly distressed skinny jeans and a vintage indie rock baby tee. But her perpetual resting bitch-face and porcupine demeanor broadcasted fuck-off-and-die vibes on all frequencies.

She probably wore those chunky Doc Martins for curb-stomping undergrads and kicking puppies during off-hours.

Even as she glowered pure vitriol at him, Franklin had to admire Daphne’s perfectly angular face. High cheekbones that could cut glass and intense champaign-colored eyes were set beneath pencil-thin brows and a straight midnight pixie cut with side-swept bangs. As a loud and proud lesbian, she was aiming for butch but fell squarely into sexy punk babe territory as far as he was concerned.

Not that it mattered. She’d made her orientation clear on day dot, and as an enlightened modern male, Franklin had sequestered any feelings of one-sided attraction securely in his spank bank.

“Can we not fight, please? We’re all in the same boat here.”

That was Bernadette. Bernie to her friends. She was a mousy ginger wearing horn-rimmed glasses and her misguided attempts at boho fashion, which equated to frumpy thrift-store shirts, baggy floral-print tops, and too many crochet shawls to weigh down her stooped shoulders.

She currently held an intricate tangle of scarlet ropes, and a violet crystal monocle glowed over one chartreuse eye behind her prescription lenses.

“Sorry, Bernie.” Franklin apologized, resting the crowbar on his shoulder. He got along well with the Wallflower. “What you got there? Anything good?”

The sad truth was that with the Celestial Conjunction and the return of the Fae, archeology was a dying field.

Why bother unearthing shards of primitive pottery and postulating over this find or that, when an antediluvian immortal who’d been around for that particular period could give you a first-hand account?

Verbatim even. Turned out that noble Fae possessed eidetic memory.

Franklin had seen a video online of a high elf reciting Romanus the Usurper’s address to the imperial senate circa 470 AD in the original Latin.

So, while the history department at Madison U was going gang-busters, the bone-diggers were reduced to pawing over scraps in their brand-new basement digs where they could gather dust along with the rest of their bygone relics.

It wasn’t all bad. Suddenly, those buried artifacts from extinct civilizations possessed potential value. Were they pre-divergence magical artifacts or merely cargo cult imitations from ages past?

The faculty head, Professor Hostler, must have placed money on the former. Why else would they all be offered extra credit to sift through the University’s backlog of ancient bricker-brack—several decades’ worth of forgotten archeological discoveries—to check for traces of cosmic mojo?

“I don’t know, maybe?” Bernadette wrapped the red silk cords around her fingers and squinted. “These enchanted monocles aren’t getting a clear reading. I don’t think they’re the best tool for the job.“

Small surprise given the department’s drastic funding cuts and the glamorous subterranean relocation. Since the Celestial Conjunction last century, the modern world had gone gaga for magic. Academia had embraced it, and now spellcraft made up a significant chunk of Madison U’s curriculum.

The new courses also took up limited lab space previously occupied by more scientific fields of study. That was fine with the higher-ups. They probably figured that archeologists liked dark, windowless places.

“The Prof probably bought them at a discount arcanum.” Franklin sighed, slipping on his own crystal eyeglass. “Here, let me take a gander.”

The principle behind the damnable lens was simple: any object holding a magical charge should sparkle as though coated in body glitter. The problem that Professor Hostler hadn’t accounted for was the amount of arcane voltage the tool was calibrated to detect.

As far as Franklin could tell, if an artifact weren’t thrumming like a nuclear reactor, the monocle wouldn’t pick up shit.

“I’m not sure,” He conceded, rolling the ropes between his fingers. There were gold caps on the ends. “There may be a very faint glimmer. Add it to the ‘Undecided’ box.”

They worked on a three-box sorting system: Nada, Undecided, and Jackpot. Nada was heaped full of flint arrowheads, soapstone tablets, Celtic woodcarvings, bronze-age tools, and more.

Undecided held a small basalt effigy of the sun god; Tonatiuh, a clay pot containing a desiccated… something, a feathery headdress of unknown origins, and now a tangle of remarkably soft silk ropes.

Jackpot remained depressingly empty.

“With that crisis concluded…” Franklin began before the cracking of rending timber interrupted him. “What the hell?!”

He spun to see Daphne wrenching his crate apart with the back of a claw hammer. Iron nails shrieked as she violently disassembled the wooden lid and sides with manic glee.

“So this is your big breakthrough, hotshot?” She cackled, gesturing at broken fragments of a stone animal held in shape by packing tape. Curling paper strips were stuck to the flanks and muzzle. “A busted statue of a dog? Now for the litmus test.” Her monocle glowed briefly. “Nope, not a single sparkle. A huge waste of time. Just like you, loser. Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m going for a smoke.”

Franklin gaped as she tossed the hammer aside and clomped up the stairs. It clattered across the cold, cement floor. Rushing to his workbench, he examined the two-foot-tall sculpture for damage.

Well, more damage, anyway. The poor thing was fractured as hell.

“Are you okay, Franklin?” Bernadette’s voice was quiet but still echoed in the ensuing silence. “I’m sorry about Daphne. I’d report her, but she’s dating the professor’s teaching assistant Micah, and—”

“It’s not a dog,” he said defensively, gently resting a palm between two pointed ears. It’s a fox—a Japanese kitsune spirit, to be exact. Count the tails.”

There were, indeed, several stone appendages sprouting from the canine’s rear, etched in a likeness of fur.

“How can you be certain?” The short redhead sounded dubious. “The Chinese have similar legends of many-tailed fox demons named Huli Jing and the Koreans called them Kumiho…”

“It’s a kitsune. An Inari shrine guardian.” Franklin growled through gritted teeth, angrily tearing off the scraps of paper. “And. I. Can. Fix. Her.”

They crumbled at a touch, tingling his fingertips with pins and needles. Almost inaudible feminine laughter and a whiff of cherry blossom passed unheeded by the two preoccupied students.

* * *

“Resin. You’re going to use resin to glue the statue back together. I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Franklin.”

“Not just resin. Resin and gold. Like the Japanese art of kintsugi, but without the tricky lacquer. It’ll work, and if it doesn’t, special solvents can dissolve the epoxy without damaging the stone.”

They’d carefully removed the packing tape and cleaned the broken stone of fine particulate matter with paint brushes. The fox statue was fractured into three main sections with smaller chunks carefully laid out like puzzle pieces on the workbench.

Bernie’s expression was skeptical, bleached bone-white by the unforgiving fluorescent lighting, but Franklin pressed on regardless.

Something about the shrine guardian spoke to his soul like nothing else since his starry-eyed undergraduate days when he’d harbored dreams of being the next Howard Carter—fantasizing of unearthing the next great discovery and wowing the unappreciative masses with treasures long lost.

“Gold, seriously? The department budget is so tight Professor Hostler won’t shell out an air freshener, much less for proper equipment.” Bernadette wiggled her cheap Home Depot paintbrush as an example. “Where the heck will you find cash to purchase that sort of bling? It’s rather expensive last I checked.”

“Not real gold, obviously.” Franklin countered, raising his index finger to illustrate a point. “We’re not doing alchemy here. I have it on the highest authority that spiritualism is a unique brand of magic where symbolism and intent are more important than the actual incantation or material components.”

Franklin didn’t care to mention that the “highest authority” was an achingly beautiful Selkie he met in the student lounge. She’d possessed that ethereal attractiveness so common to the Fae with tumbling tresses of platinum hair, artfully sculpted Scandinavian features, a blemishless ivory complexion, and the body of a Swedish supermodel poured into a teensy black mini dress that hugged every delectable inch of her sleek curves.

He couldn’t remember her name. But she’d accidentally dropped an expensive fur coat early into the conversation, smiling hopefully at him and darting her glacial blue eyes meaningfully toward the luxurious pelt where it lay on the floor.

With his questions answered, Franklin thanked her cordially, then left the lovely Fae to enjoy her evening. She’d seemed embarrassed when retrieving her coat before swanning out of the room in a huff.

That was three months ago, during a heatwave in July.

Dammit, Franklin had no luck with the opposite sex.

A lot of people thought the returned Fae Folk were sex-crazy or called them shameless sluts. Admittedly, he hadn’t mingled with many but Franklin wasn’t much for big social events.

“If not actual gold, then what?” Bernadette frowned and adjusted her glasses. “Something intentionally symbolic?”

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

This was where the ethical lines got a bit blurry in Franklin’s plan. He needed a gold-ish component that wouldn’t break the bank but could hold a mystical resonance the same way precious metals did. There were solid reasons why enchanters favored rare gemstones and pricy jewelry for their trade.

The metallic pigments and mica YouTubers mixed into their epoxy were out of the question. Far too commonplace and preternaturally dull. But rumors of a new party drug—a magical dust of a lustrous hue—were rife around campus, and after a few hushed inquiries made through his pot-smoking roommate…

Franklin placed a small baggie on the bench and didn’t need his monocle to notice the sparkle the contents produced. The cost had nearly beggared him, and he would be calling his parents to make rent at the end of the month.

Still cheaper than gold, though. Marginally.

“What is that?” Bernie took a cautious step back. “And don’t try telling me it’s super fine glitter.”

“Have you heard of Do-Me Dust? Wait, let me explain!” He said hurriedly. Her face was appalled. “Everything will be safe—”

“Safe?! Franklin, that’s a fairy sex drug! Hundred percent illegal and unpredictable. How in the hell is it safe?”

“I’m not planning on using it that way! The dust will be suspended in liquid resin under lab conditions, safely inert, and sealed away once it cures. You see? Nobody will be at risk of exposure to anything.”

The dowdy redhead appeared unconvinced, fiddling with the frayed hem of her shawl.

“Please, Bernie. I have to do this.” Franklin pleaded. “My last two publications tanked, and my master’s degree will be dead in the water if I don’t do something soon. Restoring this shrine guardian is my last chance.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I trust you, Franklin.” Bernadette sighed, then her gaze turned flinty. “Keep the shady crap to after-hours and take every precaution. I’ll report you myself if I catch a hint of arcane bullshittery. Clear?”

“Crystal. I promise to be careful.”

“For your sake, I hope so. Now hide the drugs, dummy.” She shook her head in resignation. “And don’t breathe a word of this to another soul.”

* * *

True to his word, Franklin was careful.

He spent the afternoon mapping each hunk of broken stone, painstakingly piecing the fox statue back together, and encasing the whole thing in layers of painter’s tape like a vulpine mummy.

Bernadette left early, unsurprisingly, and Daphne hadn’t made a second appearance. With nobody to interrupt Franklin’s passion project, his hands moved with unusual deftness in the silent solitude.

It was a Thursday night, which meant student night specials in the local bars and dives around Madison U. Likely, most of his peers—Professor Hostler included—would be tying one on at their preferred watering holes.

The climate-controlled air of the basement archive was laden with expectation when Franklin mixed the clear resin and hardening agent in a large glass beaker. He donned a breathing mask and rubber gloves before sprinkling the ziplock bag of golden dust into the gel solution and stirring slowly with a tongue depressor.

Once evenly dispersed, Franklin filled a fat-barreled syringe with a tip like a corking gun and punched it into specifically marked areas on the tape-bound sculpture. Applying pressure to the plunger forced the gleaming goo into the cracks and fissures, binding the shattered fragments together.

Gooseflesh prickled his skin as the sweet scent of cherry blossoms pervaded the workspace, and a mania overcame Franklin as he rapidly refilled the syringe. Stabbing the idol repeatedly, he deposited more magical adhesive, frantically sealing the air pockets.

Time blurred, and the tuneful humming of a feminine voice echoed with discordant harmony off the cinderblock walls. When he was finally done, Franklin was sweating and limp with fatigue, as though he had run a triathlon in cement sneakers.

“Holy Moses, that was a task.” He grumbled, removing the mask. “Now we give you a few days to dry—”

With what could only be described as a metaphysical whomp! Franklin was blown off his feet by an invisible shockwave. Scraps of tape rained like confetti, and a searing golden brightness illuminated the basement as he tumbled over a bench in a jumble of pinwheeling limbs.

Rolling to a halt in a clatter of dislodged tools, he covered his head in preparation for an earthquake or explosion. When the light faded and the building hadn’t collapsed, the cowering post-grad risked a quick peek at the source of the chaos and froze.

Legs.

Smooth, shapely legs stood on the other side of the bench. Bare legs that dragged his eyes up supple thighs to a mouthwatering thigh gap and a trim thatch of lavender hair covering the outline of a tiny pink slit.

Flaring hips transitioned into a slim waist, and before Franklin could ogle any further, fluffy fuchsia tails wrapped around the naked female.

“Naughty, naughty.” A high, melodic voice chided with a giggle. “You’ll make a girl blush if you keep staring like that.”

Scrambling to his feet, Franklin found a young woman with flowing lilac hair and two triangular ears grinning at him with very sharp teeth. Nine fox tails (real-life fluff-ball tails!) preserved her modesty but left enough on show to tease him with her epic short-stack proportions.

“You… you… you’re a…” Speech was proving difficult in the presence of such impossible cuteness.

“A Kitsune? Yes. You were correct on that account, Lord Franklin. “Almond eyes twinkled like amethysts in her perfectly heart-shaped face. She bowed politely. “This one is called Konoha. Named after Konohana Sakuya-hime, Goddess of Mount Fuji and blossom-princess. A thousand thanks for reviving me.”

“I knew it!” Pure vindication restored Franklin’s tongue to working order, and he fist-pumped the air. “Suck on that, haters… wait, Lord Franklin?”

“Naturally, my Lord.” Konoha glided around the bench to bow again, granting a spectacular view of her succulent, round rump and the base of her many fox tails. “How else should I address the only mortal with the wisdom and power to restore my fractured spirit?” Golden veins glowed like scars across her back before disappearing. “The magic you wield is potent and quite… stimulating.”

That vulpine grin returned, and her amethyst orbs glinted with merry mischief. The furry tail concealing her chest lowered a fraction to display perky, porcelain cleavage.

“But… um, you know who I am?”

“Oh, yes. I watched you while trapped between dreams and wakefulness, Lord. Learning small details and exerting my limited power to signal for your aid.” She crooned, sliding closer. “You are Lord Franklin. You are studying mastery at this academy. You seek ancient treasures, doubtless, to increase your influence and fortune. And now you have bound me, a daughter of Kami Inari, into your service—a very cunning move, if I may say so, my Lord.”

Studying mastery… was she referring to his master’s degree?

Franklin’s musings were derailed when the Kitsune cutie pressed herself to his chest, cocooning them together in her soft, swishing tails. Warm curves squashed against him, and twitching fox ears tickled his chin. She was short but packing a lot of sexy punch for such a small package.

Her tails were a fuzzy pink-purple paradise. Surrounding and stroking every inch of available flesh, snaking beneath Franklin’s t-shirt to feather across his skin.

“What… what are you doing?” He croaked, inhaling her cherry blossom perfume. “God, you’re so damn soft.”

“Thank you, Master. We fox spirits pride ourselves on the softness of our fur. Such high praise honors me.” Konoha preened, dainty fingers unfastening his belt. “Your power swirls and churns within my spiritual core like the sea during a typhoon. What was your earlier command? I believe it was ‘suck on that, haters.’”

“Whao!” Franklin yelped when she dropped his pants, freeing lil’ Frank, who was already at half-mast. “Hang on a sec—”

“My Lord is a cruel man.” The Kitsune whined, squeezing his shaft in a possessive grip. Franklin’s knees almost buckled in pleasure. “He rescues me, binds my soul with foreign magicks that ignite my mating instincts, then bids me wait. Is it your wish for me to go feral with desire, Master? Am I not worthy to grace your bed?”

Her silky tails were everywhere, drowning him in wondrous fluffiness. Static sparks tingled his skin. Thrilling jolts that hardened his cock into a steel rod which she handled with pulse-racing expertise.

“Thousands of years.” Konoha’s hot whisper was a promise, her gentle hands stroking insistently. “For thousands of years, my kind has practiced the arts of seduction to lure mortal men into our dens to breed. Our knowledge and skills in sensual delights are renowned. We are attracted to strength, drawn to powerful males like you, Lord. I would see your dominion expand ten-fold and would make it a reality for a single drop of your virile seed.”

Franklin’s mind was awash with warring emotions.

Part of him knew he’d fucked up. The golden Do-Me Dust had tainted the alluring fox spirit with horny Fae mojo and subverted her nature into something driven by animal lust.

Another, larger part of Franklin argued that Kitsune were infamously fickle, untrustworthy tricksters who beguiled mortal men away from their families and sowed chaos for their own amusement.

Was it so wrong that he had bound one (entirely by accident, mind) into his service?

A totally mega-stacked babe with acres of plump tits and ass, lilac fox ears, lustrous tails, a bangin’ bod, and a compulsive need to please.

It had been more than a while since a girl—any girl—had shown interest in his nerdy ass, plus her stroking hands and sweeping tails were incredibly soft.

“You may taste me, Konoha.” He decreed magnanimously, patting her head. She shuddered intensely under his touch. “Do your… um, thing down there. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

Franklin was no Casanova, but Konoha lapped it up like the proverbial cat who got the cream.

“No, Master. Thank you, Master.” She purred, slithering sinuously to her knees.

Could foxes purr? Franklin wasn’t sure. The National Geographic channel was awfully light on information that didn’t pertain to meerkats, sharks, or dolphins these days.

No matter, all concerns were sucked from his skull, straight out through his aching erection, when Konoha locked her greedy lips around him.

“Sweet Baby Jesus!” Franklin gasped as the Kitsune’s moist, agile tongue twirled across his knob while her pouty lips formed a vacuum seal on the shaft. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the seduction stuff, huh?”

A pleased giggle reverberated through his length, and Konoha’s entrancing eyes glimmered wickedly. Her big, perky breasts mashed against his thighs, two porcelain pillows that jiggled when the lusty fox spirit’s head began to bob.

Her velvety tails whipped and caressed him as she established a sensuous rhythm, lavishing oral adoration on his hard cock and taking in more of him with every mouthful.

Franklin knew he was nothing special in regards to Lil’ Frank. Ignoring the silly nickname, his manhood was depressingly average, according to a late-night Google search. He’d fall smack dab in the middle of the pack in a line-up from smallest to largest and only take home a participation award.

But the way Konoha moaned and worshipped his ecstatic manmeat made Franklin feel three feet long. She slurped and rolled her head, attacking him from all angles, setting his balls on high alert. Her tongue was a coiling serpent, hot and wet, looping around his pulsating width like a hungry constrictor.

“Oh, shit. How are you doing that?” He groaned, staggered by the crash of carnal bliss the gorgeous fox girl delivered. “Fuck! I-I don’t know how I’ll la-last at this rate.”

”Mmhmmm…”

Her hummed reply almost ended it then and there for Franklin, but as though sensing the impending climax, Konoha slowed her cock-rocking pace to keep him balanced on the precarious edge of final fruition. She suctioned her lubricious way back to the tip, then let her delicate hands work his girth so she could speak.

“My people call this the Lotus Eater’s kata.” She cooed, batting long lashes at Franklin. The end of a tail tickled his nuts. “It is the first of the eight hundred and sixty-nine techniques young fox-kin are taught to service their future mates. I yearn to impart my centuries of knowledge and experience upon you, Master. May this unworthy servant continue?”

“God, yes! And don’t fucking stop until I’m done!”

“As my Lord wishes, glooomph~!”

Diving back onto his meatpole, Konoha took him right to the root in a lightning-quick movement. If Franklin needed any more proof she was magical, that was it. She didn’t choke or gag as her tight throat opened for him, moaning and swallowing his modest rigidity whole like a cum-starved sex bomb.

The exotic Kitsune fucked her exquisite face on his stiff prong, claw-like nails pricking his bare ass as she rammed him down her slender neck. Esophageal muscles milked Franklin’s length, squeezing and contracting, replacing his bones with quivering jelly.

He wanted to relish the moment, really drink in the sight and feel of the mythical fox-eared knock-out gobbling him whole, but she’d severely undersold her coital talents.

“Oh… Oh shit! I-I-I’m about to blow.” He cried, seizing the aforementioned ears and burying himself completely in her pretty mouth. “Here it comes!”

”Uuummff~!”

Konoha’s voluminous tails went wild, and she shook like an epileptic when Franklin erupted. White-hot euphoria consumed every cell of his being during the borderline religious experience of filling the beautiful Kitsune’s ravenous maw.

She purred and gulped, not struggling as he pinned her there, bellicose balls resting on her chin. Years of tension, stress, and frustration drained out of him, which the fox spirit happily slurped up.

Time slowed to a crawl, a trapped fly in amber, until Franklin staggered backward, short-winded. Konoha’s tails uncoiled, and somehow it felt like she was releasing him rather than the other way around.

“Yum… thank you for the meal, my Lord.” She smiled demurely, licking her teeth clean. Elongated canines caught the light. “Impressive. You immediately attacked my weak spots. Where did you learn that a kitsune’s ears are so sensitive? I nearly went crazy when you grabbed them.”

“Instinct, I guess.” Franklin muttered, propping himself against a benchtop. “Holy Cannoli, woman. You nearly sucked out my soul.”

“Nonsense, Master.” Konoha’s laughter chimed like silver bells. “I am no succubi or hellspawn trying to steal your essence. That was simply our shared bond solidifying once you properly claimed me.”

Their shared what now?

“Um, yeah.” A deep sense of unease crept over Franklin. “About that… is there any fine print I should be aware of, or is it only a sex thing?”

“My Lord is a wit!” She giggled girlishly, swaying subtly and drawing attention to her rich curves. “I will enjoy serving you as we work to broaden your influence together. I can already detect many sources of ancient power laying dormant nearby.”

“Wait, can you really?” His interest peaked. “Like, in this basement?”

“Certainly, Master. Would you like me to show you?”

* * *

“Trash… Rubbish… I don’t know what that’s supposed to be. Oh, found something!”

Konoha danced between the shelves of the Archeological Department archive poking at trinkets and relics like a bargain hunter at a garage sale. She had dismissed the enchanted monocles as “amateurish junk” at a glance before skipping excitedly to the large steel door that protected the archive and unlocking it with a murmured spell.

The fox spirit was lavishly bedecked in a black silk kimono lined with scarlet trim and pink flower patterns. The luxurious garment fell from her slim shoulders and exposed plenty of pale cleavage. Drooping sleeves swept her sides while hip-high slits revealed thick, smooth thighs with every step, nine fuchsia tails weaving the air behind her.

She’s conjured the provocative outfit from the ether after their turbulent first meeting, assuring Franklin that his… potency had recharged her arcane batteries.

“What is it?” He asked, squinting. “Some kind of necklace?”

“Better, it’s a talisman of Solomon, Master.” Konoha held aloft a leather thong attached to a tarnished medallion the size and shape of a silver dollar. “He was an accomplished sorcerer who ruled the Hebrews and presented several of these tokens to Queen Bilqīs in a gesture of friendship.”

“Hang on. King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba were real?! What does it do?”

“Of course, my Lord. I didn’t know them personally, but the winds were such gossips back then and carried word across the oceans. As for the amulet’s purpose, I cannot be certain. The magic has dwindled to a single dying spark. Shall I rekindle the flame?”

A gift from Solomon to Sheba? That alone was a noteworthy find. Front page news for the pitman periodicals!

And a gift to a friend wouldn’t be harmful, right?

“Do it.” He nodded eagerly.

“As you command, Master.”

Ghostly blue and gold flames wreathed Konoha’s hands. She whispered an incantation, clasped the silver medallion in a burning fist, and blew on it. There was a searing flare of light, then… nothing.

“All done.” The cheerful Kitsune proclaimed, holding out the artifact with another courtly bow. It appeared polished and was inscribed with a minuscule square script that wasn’t visible before. The opposite side was stamped with a lion’s head. “I sense old magic, Lord Franklin. Divine in nature. A formidable blessing for any who bears this talisman. My first act of fealty to you will be fastening it around your neck.”

“Hold up a sec.” He backed away cautiously, palms extended. “We’ve still got no clue—”

A loud smash sounded from the adjacent room, glass breaking, followed by a litany of curses that would have made the saltiest seadog blush.

Franklin would have known that pissed-off tone anywhere. He snatched the amulet, stuffing it into a pocket.

“Shit, that’s Daphne. Can’t imagine what she’s doing here at this late hour, but stay out of sight. I’ll get rid of her.”

* * *

Daphne was drunk. Angry too. She knew it and couldn’t give two fucks.

Booze had always been a trigger. The match that lit the short fuse of resentment led to an inevitable detonation of indiscriminate wrath, searching for any target to vent upon.

Her court-appointed therapist, Doctor Shawna, said Daphne suffered from “a poor temper” and prescribed some hippy-dippy meditation bullcrap. Yeah right, like that was ever going to happen.

Doc could take her stupid psycho-babble and jam it up her dry, withered cooch.

Right now, Daphne wanted to break something. Something valuable to upset people. People who would be hurt by senseless destruction so she could sneer and tell them fuck off.

Let them sample a modicum of the miserable dumpster fire that was Daphne’s life.

This fucking school. She weaved her way through the empty corridors. kicking a dent into a garbage can along the way. Motherfucking Madison U, where did the cock-sucking admin get off, sticking her in the basement?

Daphne picked archeology as her major to work in the sun and work on her tan. To tour dig sites in far distant locales. To score exotic snatch across Europe, Africa, and Asia. All that YOLO shit.

But noooo… the douche-canoe Dean and his board of sackless twat-swozzles apparently decided that archeology was dead, then tried to bury the department.

Was that ironic?

If so, irony could fuck right off too.

Even Professor Hostler knew which way the wind was blowing. Her beautiful partner Micah had confided that the slimy old lech only had them searching for magical artifacts to hock on the black market. Cashing in his tenure to pay off a beach house in Cabo San Lucas, where he’d spend the rest of his days perving on underaged Latinas.

“Spineless jizz-rag!” Daphne screamed, and the proffanity echoed down the hallway. “Dickless shit-stain!!”

Goddamn fucking magic could suck her hairy muff too.

Humanity had been doing just fine without it before the Celestial Conjunction, thankyouverymuch. Nobody cared about a few wars, crop shortages, epidemics, and global warming before the Fae returned. At least, not anybody important. Mankind was handling its own shit and didn’t need a bunch of fairy-winged, knife-eared sluts poking noses where they weren’t welcome.

So what if the Winter Queen built a vacation palace in Antarctica, refreezing the melting ice caps? The Brazilian government never gave permission for the hordes of dryads and wood nymphs to plant massive new groves in the Amazon rainforest. And who did the djinn think they were, establishing order in the Middle East?

For fucks sake, that’s where all the oil came from!

Sure, fossil fuels became redundant once perpetual motion engines were magicked into existence, and water spirits cured cancer—all of the cancers—but that wasn’t the point.

The world was enamored with magic. Insidious arcane roots wormed into every aspect of modern life, and nothing was sacred anymore. Fairytale creatures walked, slithered, pranced, and flew down the streets like they owned the sidewalk.

Okay, maybe they were hot. Supernaturally sexy even. Surprisingly, many of the female Fae—and The Folk were predominantly, excessively female—were down to clown for some girl-on-girl action when the patriarchy of dick was absent.

Daphne had hooked a sweet slice of pixie trim while Micah was visiting her parents last Christmas (a woman had her needs, dammit!), and it’d been a steamy night, but she couldn’t respect a baby-crazy bitch whose head was turned at the first whiff of stiff prick.

“Faithless Fae whores!” A fire extinguisher skittered across the laminate flooring after connecting with her boot.

Oh, Micah.

The one ray of hope in the craptastic trainwreck that was Daphne. A gorgeous lipstick lesbian of mixed racial descent with long hair that shined like polished obsidian and the generous hourglass figure of a 1940s pin-up model.

She was tender and empathetic—the perfect counter for Daphne’s volatile disposition. She wore makeup and nice dresses, was extravagantly feminine, and a savant at using her tongue. That girl was a grand master muff-muncher, even more so after a fight.

And, boy howdy, did they have a lot of fights. Intentionally or otherwise, Daphne saw to that. She loved Micah as best she knew how, but a part of her was fundamentally broken. She was attracted to conflict, addicted to discord, a walking shit magnet who ruined everything she touched.

Her occasional indiscretions were proof enough of that. Uncontrollable impulses ruled Daphne. That’s what her therapist said in so many words, and that crusty hag could go diddle herself with a chainsaw.

If Micah weren’t the ultimate blend of drama queen and hopeless romantic, they’d have burnt the relationship to the ground years ago.

Perhaps it was toxic, but it worked for them.

Stalking past vacant classrooms, Daphne barged into the stairwell, nearly tumbling down the steps. She’d drunk alone in the Bent Spoke—Madison U’s seediest gay bar—because her supposed girlfriend was stuck marking undergraduate lab reports for the evening.

Their weasel of a Professor had foisted the task onto Micah so he could chase jailbait freshers. It ground Daphne’s gears to play second fiddle for a sleazeball like that.

Well, she’d show him the error of his ways by punching below the belt where it hurt most.

Straight in his dickbag wallet.

“Prepare to get smoked, cuntface!” Daphne howled, busting into the basement with the concussive momentum of a wrecking ball. The door rebounded off the wall, swinging back and making her stumble. “Fuckin’ shit. Oh, you’ve gone and done it now!”

The cavernous space was cast in deep shadows. Tools and scraps of paper littered the concrete floor. Only Frank’s benchtop was illuminated—the detestable weeb made a fitting target to kickstart her rampage. Very fitting, indeed.

A large glass beaker glimmering with a golden residue under a desk lamp captured her attention. Grabbing a nearby broom, she pointed it like a lance and charged with an inarticulate cry of fury.

Seeing double, Daphne missed her mark. Worse still, she’d gone in at full steam and slammed into the heavy workbench, folding over the edge with a wheezing expulsion of breath.

Everything shuddered at the impact. Several brushes and a roll of tape followed her to the floor when Daphne toppled onto her ass. Then, the glass vessel teetered like a drinking buddy before falling to shatter on the concrete directly between her splayed legs.

“Dickgibbon shitwaffles!” She croaked, scooting away from the jagged shards and sticky glitter. “What the hell is this crap?”

Slowly, laboriously, she climbed to her feet. Glass and gold flecks stuck to her skin-tight black jeans as though glued there. Fuck it, she was going to get plenty dirty tonight and would wear the badges of destruction with pride.

Daphne hobbled to her bench and snatched her favorite clawhammer in a triumphant fist—a far worthier weapon of retribution than that stupid broom. One swing sent a marble statuette of a lion soaring across the room in pieces. The tag tied around an amputated paw read; Athens. 390 BCE.

That was better. Fuck, yeah! Her blood boiled, demanding to tear the place apart brick by brick…

“Hey, Daphne… watcha doing?” An all-too-familiar voice asked. “Put down the hammer and chill for a second, okay?”

The weedling tone instantly raised her hackles. Daphne would sooner bury herself in a midden heap before letting a man dictate how she should feel, especially this arsebasket.

“Heya, Frank.” She snarled, not bothering to face him as she pounded an enchanted monocle into powder. Good riddance. “You don’t mind me calling you Frank, right? Here’s the thing: I think we are past overdue for a… frank conversation. To clear the air and bury the hatchet, yeah?”

Franklin’s wince was all the confirmation Daphne needed when she cleared Bernadette’s workstation with a broad sweep. Tools, notebooks, and a Mesopotamian bronze dagger were scattered like chaff. He had a smart mouth and talked a big game, but he was limp as a wet washcloth when the chips were down—in the presence of a strong, independent woman.

“My name is Franklin, but yeah. Stop destroying the joint, and we can chat. There’s got to be a way we both leave here safe, uninjured, and satisfied.”

“Maybe I don’t want to stop, Frank. Maybe I’m sick of this fucking university and all the bullshit politics.” Daphne patted the hammer against her palm like a truncheon. “Maybe I’ve had a gutful of your wandering eyes and pervy stares. Maybe the bill is passed due for some motherfucking payback.”

“I’m hearing a lot of maybes,” He said, trying to sound reasonable and backing away. “What can I do to flip them into maybe nots?”

“We’re way past any negotiations, pencil dick. You got my favorite jeans dirty. Where’s that dog statue you were jacking off to earlier? I’m gonna pound it into gravel.”

His piggy eyes dropped to the residue gleaming on her denim-clad calves and thighs. An unreadable expression contorted his dweebish face.

“Um, hear me out. You need to take those pants off, Daphne. Like, immediately.” He flinched when she readied the hammer to throw. “No, seriously! They’re magically contaminated—”

“You shitbag!” Spittle flew from Daphne’s lips, knuckles white around the handle. “I’m gonna crack open that melon and scoop out your brains. I’ll rip out your spine and peg you with it…”

“Think again, bitch.” A woman’s voice whispered in her ear, lightly accented and musical.

Ropes materialized out of nowhere. Red ropes with golden clasps wrapped around Daphne’s arms, legs, and torso, constricting in a heartbeat, trussing her like a Thanksgiving turkey.

They bit into her pale flesh and dark clothing, almost painfully tight. Restricting her movement until only her face and fingers remained free. Her uplifted throwing arm was wrenched down to her side so violently the hammer flew from her grasp.

What the hell was going on?!

Panic rose in her bound chest. A loop of velvet cord pinched her nipples through the thin cotton of her baby tee. The sparkly crap on her jeans had soaked through and made her skin tingle.

Daphne’s breathing became ragged, and every muscle tensed.

Not because she was suddenly trapped in a dingy basement with a noodlecock like Frank and his unseen accomplice. And certainly not because she was tied toes-to-tits in a complicated array of ropes and knots that dug into her most sensitive parts... Even the sensual heat gradually crawling up her legs wasn’t the main cause of concern.

No. Daphne was terrified of how much the sense of absolute helplessness excited her.

* * *

“Holy shit, Konoha.” Frank gaped. “I told you to keep out of this. Why’d you do that?”

“My Lord instructed me to stay out of sight, and I obeyed.” A lavender-furred fox woman stepped out of thin air, startling Daphne. “A basic glamor hid me from detection until she threatened grievous harm upon you, Master. As your loyal subordinate, I responded using the resources at hand. No harm will befall you while I am by your side.”

“You could have warned her first. Or me. Jesus, what are we supposed to do now?” He flapped a hand towards Daphne in alarm. “She’s stopped yelling and dropped the weapon, at least, but binding a colleague against their will in a place with creepy dungeon vibes is a recipe for disaster.”

A dungeon. Icy prickles of fear ran up her spine. The basement archives did resemble an actual dungeon. The shadows seemed to darken at that revelation, and the tools on the floor took on extra malice.

Punishment, they silently promised.

The spreading warmth reached her trembling thighs.

“You may do whatever you wish, Master.” The fox woman, Konoha, insisted. “Sheng Li’s Thousand Heavenly Threads constrain her. She cannot struggle or resist.”

She really couldn’t. The vibrant silk cords stood out stark against her black, slim-fitting clothing. They were interconnected with golden clasps like a too-small harness that spanned and encircled her ample chest, crisscrossed over her thin waist, before looping down through the gap between her slender thighs, drawn taut enough to dig into toned flesh.

Every inch was secured so that even the smallest mico-twitch translated to rip-cord tension over one erogenous zone or another. Biting into her thinly covered tits or crushing the crotch of her designer jeans harder against her dampening nethers.

Sweetest agony scrambled her panicked thoughts. She wobbled on unsteady feet. Collapsing in the enchanted restraints would have dire repercussions.

“Sheng Li’s Thousand… wait, struggle?” Frank scrubbed at his hair, agitated. “That’s not what I meant! We’re not doing anything to her. But how am I supposed to explain this situation? It sure as shit doesn’t make me look innocent.”

Daphne remained uncharacteristically quiet, slumping to her knees with a guttural groan. As she suspected, the sinful lines tightened and dragged across tortured flesh when she collapsed. Nerve endings shrieked as rough denim flossed her pussy, and stiff nipples were rubbed raw through the cotton shirt.

Torment and bliss scourged her sadistic soul. Neurons misfired as wires crossed in a brain more accustomed to dolling out pain than receiving it. A droplet of drool dribbled from Daphne’s lips when the seeping heat reached her parted folds and pooled there.

They both stared at her, Konoha tapping her chin thoughtfully.

With ankles tied and arms fixed to her sides, Frank’s musing expression suggested he found this meeker version of Daphne appealing, if not a reality he was remotely prepared to tackle.

Something about that look—the calculation on his stupid mug—stirred her insides. Here was a man who hated her. She could understand that. Daphne knew hate like an old friend. They’d been BFFs since childhood.

She had earned his wrath. Over the last five years, she had purchased it on a payment plan of venomous insults, unveiled threats, and vicious acts of spite. Now she was securely in his grasp—utterly defenseless—he could hurt Daphne. Enact delicious vengeance upon her bound, quivering body if he only had the guts to break her.

She desperately hoped that he did. Her aching pussy screamed for it.

“Powerful men needn’t hide behind excuses, Master.” Konoha slid in behind Frank, draping her firm body and soft tails around him. Sharp claws gently raked his shirt, gliding toward his beltline. He visibly shuddered under her feather-light touch.“They take. They conquer. They forge kingdoms and legacies, carving their name into history with bold deeds and actions. Surely my Lord is such a man, yes?”

This furry bitch knew the score.

“I want to be…” His glowering gaze was cold. “But—”

Daphne’s racing heart plummeted into her boots at Frank’s mealy-mouthed prattle. What was the point of all this if he didn’t grow a pair, be a fucking man for once in his life and punish her?! The radiant heat crept up her belly, making it feel horribly empty, ravenous for something hard and rough to fill it.

A gentle glow shimmered from her bare midriff.

“You are brimming with potential, master. Surrounded by artifacts of vast arcane potency that merely require my touch to awaken. The strange magic you employed to restore me begs for release. It blends with my spiritual essence, scouring me with lust. Behold.”

The hand not cupping Frank’s swelling bulge burst into ethereal flames before their eyes—blue flames edged with flashes of gold. Konoha shivered with arousal. Her cherry blossom aroma intensified, making Daphne’s head spin.

“Please, my Lord. Please, pleeease allow me to discipline this wicked woman. This vile harridan who dared to impune your honor and threatened violence upon your noble personage.” She implored, extending a burning finger toward Daphne’s bound form. “With a single touch, I can empower the bindings that hold her and reveal the lost secrets of Sheng Li’s sorcery to you.”

Looking down at her, Frank was clearly tempted.

Daphne knew she was a persistent source of friction, a psychotic angle grinder who took delight in dragging others through the mud. A bold-faced bully coasting through life on a pleasure craft built of intimidation, social exploitation, and her god-given attractiveness.

What more did Frank need?

He was balanced on a pinhead, ready to fall in whichever direction the next gust of wind blew. She gifted him an arrogant sneer, boiling internally with a thirst for violence and pain, praying that he would finally succumb to righteous brutality and shed the sheep’s clothing.

Praying that Frank would deliver her raptures of orgasmic punishment.

The Kitsune’s pointed fingertip hovered a fraction of an inch away from the shiny clasp between her pert breasts, burning brightly.

“No… no! This isn’t right.” Frank rallied his resolve, fighting off the fluffy cloud-like tails and groping hand. “She’s a shit heel, no question, but still a human being with rights and freedoms. Not a lab rat for whatever magic Sheng whatshisname imbued into some enchanted sex ropes, Konoha. Let her go. I wouldn’t force this on my worst enemy. Hurting people isn’t in my nature.”

“No, it’s in mine.” Daphne gasped, jerking forward.

Her ample chest collided with the blazing digit, connecting with the silken bonds. They burned with spectral flames, incinerating her clothing and bathing the short-haired hellcat in glorious, blistering fire.

Daphne wailed in orgasmic anguish as the heat and golden glow consumed her.

* * *

“Christ, how’d I get into this mess?” Franklin massaged his temples. “Maybe we should just leave and never return. What’s the weather like in Mexico these days?”

Describing the basement as a disaster would be like calling the Vietnam War a minor dispute. Daphne’s short-lived rampage had done a bunch of damage. The place was a bomb site, with broken artifacts and equipment strewn about the floor, but that wasn’t his main concern…

“Stop being a limp-dicked pussy, Frank. Smack me around some. Really go to town on my bitchy ass. Grab my neck and choke me already!”

The bitchy ass in question was writhing in her crimson bonds. Inky bangs plastered to her high cheekbones, naked as the day she was born and radically changed.

“I don’t know, Master. What’s a Mexico? Regardless, this situation isn’t as bad as it may seem. Look how compliant she has become.”

“Pull out that tiny wiener and slap it on my face, wuss. Spank my dirty cunt until I shriek!”

“Really, you call that compliant?”

“In a manner of speaking, Master. Yes.”

When Konoha’s magic enveloped her, Daphne had blazed hotter than a solar flare. The tight-bodied shrew convulsed and thrashed like a spastic marionette in the ghostly flames as her lean figure was warped and remolded into a scandalously eroticized shape.

She’d always had an almost unhealthy thinness about her. A heroin-chic appeal that verged dangerously close to gaunt. It highlighted her fine bone structure and worked well with her punk fashion propensities: ripped skinny jeans, tiny baby tees, tattered tartan skirts slung at an angle on her bony hips, and clingy singlet tops that left her pierced belly button on display.

All in dark colors to match her blackened soul, of course, and eternally shod in chunky combat boots. Presumably, to cap off the bull-dyke veneer and crack the shins of anyone who missed it.

None of that would fit the foul-mouthed woman panting on the cold cement anymore, and if she did manage to sqeeeeze into her old wardrobe, the results would be downright pornographic.

Firm flesh layered Daphne’s previously stick-like limbs, now sleek and smooth with soft muscle definition instead of wiry, while maintaining a three-inch thigh gap. Her small toosh and skeletal hips had rounded out into grabbable curves, and her torso tightened. The belly ring glinted on mouthwatering abdominals, where previously there’d been only featureless flatness beneath xylophone rib bones.

She remained brilliantly long and lean, less spindly, with no hint of fat anywhere… except her chest.

Daphne’s chest was, well…

“Holy Moses, Konoha. I’m glad you didn’t roast her to a crisp, but can you stop the swelling already? She’s liable to float away if they keep inflating like that.”

“This golden magic you gifted me is volatile, my Lord. I fear further tampering with the enchanted bindings will only exacerbate the matter.”

“Copping an eyeful, perv? C’mon, bite a nipple. Dig your fingers in and really smoosh them around. Have a sleazy grope, then slam your puny cock between my massive titties. They feel fucking amazing!”

Franklin couldn’t deny that Daphne’s ballooning boobage was… intriguing. He was clueless about the women’s cup measurements, but those expanding whoppers had to be cliff-diving through the alphabet.

Coils of red rope circled their cushiony circumference and spanned the deepening divide of milky cleavage, sinking into the buoyant tit-flesh and lewdly distorting their spherical shape. Her puckered peaks had graduated from pink eraser tips to rubbery thimbles pinned beneath the silk cords.

Whoever this mysterious Sheng Li was, he had apparently been a sexual degenerate. His Thousand Heavenly Threads ensnared Daphne completely, complex in design, digging into her flawless skin and arresting all movement.

Wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles—every joint was securely bound. A noose knot collared her slender throat, attached to a taut line that ran between those enlarging breasts and across a trim tummy to be swallowed by her moist feminine folds.

An insidious part of Franklin whispered to him. Urging him to action. Not for revenge, which was petty and hollow, but for rightful retribution. Daphne’s constant stream of verbal abuse was the cherry atop the shit sundae she’d served him that night.

Beware of him, who is slow to anger… well, she was fraying Franklin’s last nerve, causing years of accumulated acrimony to gnaw at his heart.

Daphne was demanding it. All but begging for it. Even if an uptight cunt like her couldn’t conceive of the notion. His cock lurched in Konoha’s skillful hands. She had resumed her position, hugging his side and teasing him over his clothing. Precum stained his pants.

“She’s getting rather loud, Master.” The kitsune batted Franklin with her fluffy tails, purring into his ear as she unzipped his fly. Constantly stroking. “You should silence her before someone inspects the disturbance.”

“How exactly? Don’t tell me Sheng Li’s big booby sex ropes come with a gag attachment.”

“Fuck, yeah. Shove a gag in my mouth, loser!” Daphne rolled onto her back, attempting to buck her hips at them—supple thighs glistening with her honey. The silken cords tightened, dragging out a wanton moan. “Maybe I should scream. The janitors would hear and call security. I’ll sob and tell them how some little dickweed who couldn’t get laid in a brothel and his cat-slut accomplice kidnapped me using unsanctioned magic to fulfill some sick sexual fantasy. Kiss your freedom goodbye and say hi to Bubba in Cellblock C for me, Frank.”

Frank.

She knew Franklin hated the informal address most of all and used it as another button to press, even now. It was like the cursed cunt was placed on this earth for the sole purpose of mocking him. Screwing with him. Making him feel weak.

Because—if Franklin was completely honest with himself—he was weak. A timorous, introverted personality who was more accustomed to being a human doormat than the star of the show.

Perhaps he belonged in the basement with all the other bygone relics after all.

It was a harsh truth. One that stung more than he’d care to admit. But it didn’t have to stay that way. People changed. And the catalyst of his personal growth lay heavy in his pocket if he could gather the courage to use it.

That and the fox-eared dreamgirl lovingly jacking him off with concern written large on her exotic Asiatic features, looking to Franklin for instruction.

“My Lord?” The Kitsune’s voice was quiet, unsure. His cock jerked in her grasp. Modest but manly. Not manly enough for Daphne, though. She continued to sneer. “She’ll ruin everything for us. What should we do?”

“Nothing, Konoha.” He withdrew Solomon’s silver amulet with numb fingers and clasped it around his neck. “Leave this to MEEEEEEEE~!”

Franklin’s hair stood on end as a lightning bolt of pure power grounded in his soul. Blinding golden light blotted out reality.

* * *

Franklin reclined on his raised dais in the Hall of Pillars, sinking into the many cushions and pillows as he smiled at his royal guest.

The Hoopoe had been correct; the Queen of Kitor and the far eastern lands was indeed pleasing to the eye and generous with her kingdom’s wealth. The ebony-skinned ruler’s features were sharp and acute, granting her a regal air as she tipped her head in respectful deference before boldly meeting his gaze.

“Blessings on you, Heir of David, for your kind reception.” She spoke the Hebrew tongue well. Assuredly tutored on the months-long journey to Jerusalem. “Your messenger bird sang many songs of your riches and wisdom when delivering the invitation.”

Franklin didn’t have to look at the Hoopoe to know it was ruffling feathers and clacking its beak at the good-natured jest. Anyone who spent more than a day in the mountain-cock’s company quickly tired of the creature’s incipient chirping.

All birds, even the talking variety, were unrepentant chatterboxes.

He let a brief smile ghost across his lips and observed Queen Bilqīs closely.

She stood with her attendants at the base of the stairs leading up to his lofty platform. Strapping knights wore lion cloaks over boiled hide armor, and nubile young handmaidens in the finest white kabas stole glances at the luxury surrounding them.

The Hall of Pillars was grand in design. High ceilings were held aloft by intricately carved columns of Corinthian marble, and ornate tapestries fluttered on an incense-scented breeze. Stone lions of Franklin’s own stood proudly on mosaic-tiled plinths, ready to leap to life at a flick of his finger, and peacocks roamed freely, dragging their colorful tails across the mirror-polished floor.

The palace on Ophel offered the best views of the Holy City below, visible from the open balconies flanking the hall.

No less than fifty of his wives were present today, and several dozen concubines, arrayed like the precious gems of womanhood on thick carpets and velvet cushions behind him. They were all gorgeous and dignified, peerless examples of physical perfection and prestigious in pedigree.

None more so than his most favored wife, Naamah the Ammonite, who shared his seat, pressing her pregnant belly into Franklin’s side and staring at him worshipfully with entrancing amethyst eyes.

The mother of his first child deserved the preferential treatment. She had confided that it was a boy child she carried. Yahweh had visited her in a dream.

“Another jewel for your crown, my beloved husband.” Naamah murmured, snaking a small hand into his kingly vestments to tease the hard flesh beneath. “You should bed her, plant your royal seed inside her, and father a new dynasty in Shiba that will endure for millennia.”

She was always excited at the prospect of a fresh conquest. Franklin knew better than to capitulate to her horny desires, despite how frisky she became.

Seven hundred wives—each a princess, rare in mind and body—and an army of lusty concubines was a lot for one sovereign to handle, no matter how much divine sorcery he commanded.

“We come to give tribute to honor the King of Israel.” Queen Bilqīs declared. Her warriors wrestled large lacquered wooden chests onto the bottom step and threw back the lids. “Twenty talents of gold, precious stones, and spices from the east. A small token in exchange for the invaluable opportunity to converse on matters of council and wisdom with your esteemed Majesty.”

“A princely gift, Highness.” His eyes flittered across the displayed wealth—enough to purchase a small city—before fixing again on the stately monarch. “Alas, the offering does not shine so bright beside a beauty such as you.”

Bilqīs smiled and inclined her head; the gemstones studding her crown caught the light. She was captivating. Proud and statuesque, bare-breasted in the fashion of her people with radiant ebony skin bathed in fragrant oils. She wore elaborate jewelry on her arms, shoulders, and neck, tinkling at each graceful movement. A sage green sarong-like wrap trailed across the floor in a long train behind her.

She cut a powerful figure, even as a supplicant, and when their gazes met again, a spark passed between them.

“His Majesty speaks with a honeyed tongue. Of this, I was not forewarned.” Her reply was light and flirtatious but burdened with unspoken promises.

Naamah purred, nuzzling his shoulder and questing her fingers lower to grasp his royal member.

“The tongue of a king is necessarily nimble and serves many purposes.” Franklin basked in the tittering of his wives and concubines, waving a servant carrying a bronze tray forward. “However, I could never accept such a generous gift without returning the gesture of friendship.”

Seven silver amulets rested on the burnished surface. Inscribed with the Lion of Judah and thrumming with divine magicks. The Queen of Sheba covered a gasp of astonishment when they were presented to her.

“These are—”

“A tribute to your graciousness, Highness.” He nodded respectfully. “Crafted from the same sacramental silver that inlays the Arc of the Covenant. Forged by my own hand so you may carry a symbol of the line of David back to your distant home. Any warrior who bears them will be blessed with the strength, righteousness, and holy wrath of the archangel Cassiel. Praise be to Yahweh.”

“Praise be to Yahweh.” Intoned the crowd surrounding them.

“Praise be to Yahweh.” Bilqīs echoed sultrily, sauntering up the steps of the dais. Her round hips swayed enticingly, and dusky eyes fixed on Naamah’s not-so-subtle handiwork beneath his robe. “But I was hoping to carry much more than a symbol home with me, your Majesty.”

Of course she did.

Beckoning her forward, Franklin expended a trickle of magic that conjured a canopy of hanging curtains to grant them a measure of privacy. His pregnant first wife stroked and cooed eagerly, melting into his side as she watched the dark-skinned goddess approach.

The audience hadn’t played out as intended, but he should have expected this.

After all, he was the Sorcerer King Franklin, chosen by God to rule the promised land.

* * *

“Say it again, slut. Try calling me Frank while you choke on my cock.”

”Mmmlurgh~!”

“Keep fucking her throat, Master. Teach that impudent whore to respect your power.”

Power was definitely the word of the day. Franklin was bursting at the seams with it as he roughly fucked Daphne’s bitchy mouth.

There’s been an odd-out-of-body experience after fastening Solomon’s talisman. A fleeting vision of another time and place before energy flooded him as though he’d mainlining a lightning storm. Except it hadn’t atomized him like so much raw life essence probably should.

Franklin felt great, in fact. Never better.

Strength and vitality shot through every cell and nerve ending, obliterating all doubts and horseshit moralizings. The world had clarified from a murky mire of fear, uncertainty, and insecurities into a delineated pattern of blacks and whites. Good and bad. Right and wrong. The wicked and the virtuous.

No more gray areas. Those were where evil festered, preying upon the weak and the innocent alike.

“Never again.” He swore in a voice that reverberated with authority, hips thrusting like pneumatic pistons. “I will stand aside no longer, nor shall I bend under the lash of heartless harlots like you, Daphne. A reckoning is due, and you are the debtor.”

”Gluuurp~!”

The vile wretch was on her knees where all wrong-doers belonged. Crimson ropes bit onto her flesh most fetchingly, restraining any attempts to escape rightful judgment. Her body was a vehicle of lust and violence, rendered immobile but quivering in a distracting manner as Franklin administered her penance.

Massive pale breasts—drastically deformed by the bindings—rippled like overfilled waterskins when they slapped against his legs. Her superbly toned, fit frame jerked forward each time he slammed her stunning face down on his pious prick. He gripped her inky bangs like reins to pulverize her tight, wet throat.

The venomous temptress would learn her proper place soon.

Namely, beneath him.

“Yes, my Lord. Punish her. It is your duty as her superior.” Konoha’s lush curves and downy-soft tails enveloped Franklin’s back. A moist womanhood rode his pumping butt while her claw-tipped fingers traced sigils on his chest and abdomen. “I can feel the heavenly power seething within you. Seize it. Command it. By the moon and stars, shape it to your will, then break that miserable cunt upon the alter of your dauntless might.”

Daphne’s wide-eyed stare and minuscule nods signaled agreement with the Kitsune’s ardent entreaties, the shameless Delilah.

He could smell her liquid arousal dripping onto the floor, forming a pungent puddle around her strictly tethered knees. She gagged and hacked as his rigid length plundered her virgin throat, choking on the raging tip and wetly gurgling for more.

Franklin used her like a fuck toy—a disposable plaything on which to vent his frustrations—serving her the reapings of the many indignities she’d sowed over the years. Rage stewed in his gut, impatient for release as a celestial wildfire threatened to incinerate his soul.

“I. Am. Vindication!” Franklin roared, burying himself deep in her esophagus and erupting like a volcano. The untamed power tremored, condensing in his core and crystalizing into a flawless diamond of power. “I am RETRIBUTION!!”

Both women spasmed orgasmically as a blindingly bright shockwave of divine light blasted out from him. Konoha clung to him like a sail flapping in a hurricane, her lavender tails whipping wildly while Franklin locked Daphne in place, feeding her his furious seed.

Cement dust, littered tools, and scraps of paper blew away from them in a concentric circle. The fluorescent tubes in the ceiling sputtered and popped, raining down dying phosphor in showers of sparks.

Franklin didn’t notice, utterly absorbed in the torrent of arcane potency stampeding through his veins on the back of the climactic high. It infused his bones and sinews, reinforcing and strengthening them. Clothing tore under his swelling physique.

Buttons flew as layers of ripped muscle packed out a previously spongy torso. His trousers creaked alarmingly under the strain of his bulging hamstrings and quadriceps. Shirt sleeves shredded when Franklin crooked both brawny arms in an experimental flex.

Glancing down at the Daphne still speared face first on his cock, he noted the appreciable gains there too. The sudden surge in size turned her cheeks blue, but that was probably from an abrupt lack of oxygen.

“You are magnificent, Master!” Konoha squealed, climbing Franklin like a tree for a heated kiss. Her cherry blossom scent was everywhere as her tongue danced with his. “The heart of an emperor beats in your manly breast. The finesse and control of divine magic you just displayed was thrilling! I am a fortunate Kitsune indeed to be bonded to a mortal with the immense potential you possess. Speaking of immense, my lord. You may wish to relinquish your hold on the whore unless you seek her demise.”

Did he though?

No. A quick end would be a mercy; a concept that was further gone for Franklin than last month’s toilet paper. The queen cunt would not escape her just deserts so easily.

He sent Daphne toppling with a none-too-gentle yank on her short hair.

“Fuck yeah, that’s the good shit.” She rolled on the floor, chuckling between coughing fits. Saliva and pearly globs of spunk sprayed the floor. “Didn’t think you had it in ya, slugger. I’ll be talking hoarse for a week. That’s one hole down and two to go. How about it, Frank? Got a few rounds left in the chamber, or did the magical steroids shrivel your nutsack?”

Her cocky grin was all bared teeth and bruised lips. It was a shame she abhorred makeup; Franklin would have enjoyed ruining that too.

Regardless, Daphne’s mocking tone bounced off his freshly forged self-confidence like insects hitting a windshield. The cock gobbling slut was human trash. How had he not recognized that before? She was a petty tyrant who escaped justice by exploiting the flaws woven into the fabric of modern society.

“She cannot speak to you in that way, Master.” Konoha hissed, curling her arms around Franklin’s bullish neck. “Please permit me to slice out the harlot’s barbed tongue and barbecue it for you.”

“No, no.” He graciously waved away the gruesome offer, patting the angry fox spirit’s firm toosh and combing fingers through her bristling tails. “She’s baiting us, Konoha. That nasty bitch wants to be hurt. She’s swimming in a puddle of her own juices but still yearns for more pain.”

“Hey, don’t pretend like you know me, bud! Now get over here and wreck my tiny pussy with that giant wang. I’ve never let a man even touch me before. C’mon and show me what all the fuss is about.”

Shifting his foxy short stack onto a hip with all the ease of lifting a toddler, Franklin loomed over Daphne. Her sinful body was literally tied up in knots, laid bare and vulnerable to his vengeance. She was smaller than him now. It was a novel feeling to tower over his one-time bully, and she seemed to notice it too. A flush reddened her skin.

“For all your profane bluster, you still fail to comprehend the nature of your circumstances, skank.” Franklin prodded an inflated breast with his toe. His footwear had shared the same fate as the rest of his clothing, splitting apart like an overripe melon. Daphne shivered at the contact. “Your reign of terror is finished. I’m not your punching bag anymore. I am the hand that balances the scale. The turning tide of battle. The sword of Damocles falling toward your neck.”

Planting a heel on her sternum and pressing down, he forced the air from Daphne’s lungs, then slid his foot into her prodigious underboob. The silken ropes magically parted—granting him passage—only to rebind her lush cleavage once he was shin-deep in her stupendous tit-flesh.

“You n-need to work… on your di-dirty talk, nerd. But d-don’t stop…” The inky-haired she-devil wheezed. Her eyes were smoldering coals of desire.

“Keep going, Master.” Konoha urged hotly, grinding her dripping pussy against him in excitement. The sigils she’d drawn on his chest burned golden, flooding Franklin with virtuous anger. “Prove you are a conquerer and exert your dominance. Remember all the times she humiliated you, belittled you, placed herself above you, then show this mewling wench how wrong she was to do so.”

Her every word rang gospel true. The temperature in the basement had sky-rocketed, and his cock was a steel lance spluttering precum onto Daphne’s upturned face. Power and fury churned within him, clamoring to be unleashed on the object of his vexation.

Franklin jacked himself a few times, aiming for her parted lips when the door at the top of the stairs swung open.

“Hello, Franklin? Are you still here?” Bernadette called, silhouetted in a shaft of light. “What’s going on down there?”

* * *

An ominous chill crept over Bernie as she peered into the gloomy basement. The lights were out, and the switch did not produce any change.

However, there was a dim flicker of illumination—a rippling yellow glow obscured from sight by the ranks of old worktops and cluttered shelves. More than one voice whispered, followed by a mad chuckle and a sharp fleshy clap.

She descended the stairs slowly, craning her head for a better view before trying again. “I can hear you’re down there, Franklin. What’s wrong with the lights? Did the breakers blow again?”

The eerie feeling intensified with each hesitant step, as though Bernie was walking into a horror movie. The location and setting were undoubtedly on point if that were the case. A shadowy subterranean storeroom filled with momentos of dead civilizations in the middle of the night?

That rated a solid seven out of ten on her scary-o-meter. Possibly an eight after another girlish giggle drifted out of the darkness.

No, that was silly. She was speaking to Franklin. Geeky, nervous, don’t-cause-a-fuss Franklin. He couldn’t hurt a fly and probably didn’t have the hand/eye coordination to wield a swatter anyway.

Bernie had been dubious about using glittery fairy dust to restore the stone temple guardian. Fae magic was notoriously fickle. Unpredictable outside of controlled test environments. There were good reasons why it was heavily regulated. But he’d been earnest and honestly needed a win, so she’d pushed her misgivings aside for a friend in need.

That, and she had harbored serious doubts that anything would come of the madcap scheme.

Like, resin… Really?

The only significant risk was in the handling of the thoroughly illegal and increasingly infamous fun-time drug circulating through Madison U’s party scene,

Do-Me Dust; a virulent aphrodisiac with transmogrifying side effects that had the student body all abuzz.

The best sex of your life, those were the rumors. Still, the subsequent fallout included emergency medical treatment (of the magical kind) and severe disciplinary action by Dean Chaumers himself. The threat of academic expulsion was on the table.

But that wasn’t why Bernie had sneaked into the history building in the wee hours of the night. No, she was totally here to make sure Franklin hadn’t accidentally dosed himself, changed into some kind of super-charged pervert, and started dry-humping a chair leg like a randy cocker spaniel.

The dramatically diminished archeology department wouldn’t recover from an upset of that magnitude. Bernie’s already limited career options would be well and truly scuppered.

The dull iron bracelet around her wrist brought small comfort—a gift from her Irish-born grandparents, who were traditionally wary of The Folk. Cold-forged iron was proof against Fae mischief and warded off their magic. There’d been a run on the metal once that fact was proven.

A line of Celtic knots was etched into the bracelet, symbolizing her ancestral roots and complementing her bohemian fashion sense. Another bangle to go with her collection of knitted shawls, tatty scarfs, peasant blouses, and ankle-length skirts.

Bernie froze when glass crunched beneath her shoe and—with glacial speed—retrieved her phone and thumbed the screen.

When she turned the display outward, a small puddle of bluish light pushed back the shadows, illuminating a patch of cement floor covered with shards of shattered fluorescent tubes. Waving the phone around, the frumpy redhead was met with a poorly lit scene of destruction.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What in the nine hells…” Great, now she was cussing like her ol’ Granny. “Franklin, you better come out and explain this mess, or I’ll give you an earful you won’t soon forget!”

A shrill note of panic in her tone undermined the threat, and nearby movement in the still, stifling air stole the last of Bernie’s courage. She backed away, preparing to flee.

“Peace, Bernadette. There is nothing to fear.” Franklin finally spoke, his voice unusually deep and resolute. “For tonight, all wrongs will be made right, and judgment shall reign supreme. The penitent will find mercy while the wicked are chastised. Rest easy, child.”

The muted glow behind the shelves moved toward the basement’s far end, shifting into the shadows. There was a noise like something dragging across the bare cement and… was that a muffled groan?

“Franklin, where are you going? You spouted a bunch of gnarly shit just now, which raises serious questions…” Bernie called, almost jumping out of her skin when a finger tapped her shoulder.

She spun to find a short co-ed with long dyed-pink hair, pronounced Asian features, and startling purple eyes behind her in the light from the open doorway above. The stranger was dressed in a large Madison U sports jersey that hung to her knees and white sneakers.

“Hi, I’m Konoha—Franklin’s long-distance girlfriend.” She said, beaming. “You must be Bernadette. Great to meet you at last. He’s told me sooo~ much about you.”

Franklin’s girlfriend? Bernie was certain the guy couldn’t hold down a part-time job, much less an intimate relationship with another human being. Not without bragging about it with his typically over-embellished theatrics, anyway. Not with a girl this cute and decidedly… endowed.

“You don’t say.” She replied with an arched brow. “He didn’t mention—”

“I’m from Japan and only recently arrived. He helped me out of a… sticky situation.” Konoha laughed like she’d made a joke. Bernie lacked context. “A real bind. Get it? No, you wouldn’t. Never mind. Anyhoo, we’ve been inseparable ever since. An instant connection. He probably didn’t want to jinx things by bringing it up too soon.”

Bernie blinked rapidly, trying to process the quick-fire barrage of information before deciding it wasn’t pertinent to their current predicament.

Specifically, standing amid the ruins of the pitch-black archeology department in the middle of the night with this grinning oddball and a possibly unhinged colleague skulking out of sight.

“Yeah, charmed. Happy for you both.” She glanced over a shoulder, trying to pinpoint Franklin’s presence. No luck. “Listen, you shouldn’t be here after hours, but whatever, that’s unimportant. Have you seen a bag of gold glitter? Your new beau may have accidentally—”

“You’re happy for us? That’s awfully nice of you to say.” Konoha gushed, clapping and hopping excitedly. Goodness, the girl had a lot of bounce in her small build. “I always liked you—so patient and understanding. Not mean and cruel, unlike others I could name. We should be the best of friends.”

“Yeah, besties forever,” Bernie muttered, distracted by faint sounds of wet slurping and repeated smacking like meat hitting the chopping block. Her skin prickled. “Hey, I really need to find Franklin to ensure he’s not—”

“Besties forever!” The pink-haired co-ed cheered, ignoring all attempts to quench her loud exuberance. “I didn’t want to presume, but since you said it first… I’ve got a gift for you, bestie. Mast—I mean Franklin, told me about the task that yucky old professor assigned you. Identifying ancient magical artifacts, right? And wouldn’t you know it, I’m descended from a special ancestral bloodline specializing in doing exactly that!”

That caught her attention. “Wait, are you a Fae?”

It would explain the bubbly chatterbox’s vivid hair and eye color, as well as Franklin’s interest. Most Fae would try sinking their horny hooks into the first man that so much as smiled at them. Supposedly, they all had a bad case of baby fever and weren’t choosy about the sperm donor.

Bernie was immediately grateful for the cold band around her wrist.

“No, silly billy. I already told you I’m Franklin’s girlfriend from Japan.” Konoha’s cheshire grin never wavered. “But I do have a magical lineage that dates back to the Kofun period when my forebears served in the court of Emperor Nintoku. Here, let me show you. Stay right there. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Not waiting for an answer, she dove into the shadows, leaving Bernie alone in the dark again, wondering what manner of madness she’d blundered into. The not-too-distant grunts and gurgles were unnerving but thankfully remained out of view.

“Can you at least tell me what happened down here?” She directed the question to anyone listening, praying for an explanation. Preferably a reasonable one that wouldn’t end in scandal.

There was a flare of blue and gold flames to her right, so brief she barely registered it.

“Oh, that was Daphne having another temper tantrum, you know how she gets. All… rawr, me wanna smash! I never liked the way she treated the rest of you.” The pint-sized cutie reappeared carrying a feathered headdress. Bernie recognized it from the undecided box. “That’s behind us now. Not worth worrying about. Franklin’s dealing with the hussy. Look what I got you, bestie!”

Once again, Bernie’s overburdened brain tried to compute the disjointed influx of information.

Daphne flying off the handle and causing property damage was no surprise. She had been a powderkeg searching for a spark since day dot. But Konoha spoke with the casual familiarity of someone well acquainted with her mood swings.

And Franklin was dealing with her… the so-called hussy? What did that mean? Franklin couldn’t deal a hand of poker. Suddenly, the unsettling background noise took on a malevolent air.

Ragged coughing, meaty slapping, gagging moans.

Bernie’s sense of danger rang like a fire alarm. The pink-haired co-ed’s smile widened, exposing elongated canines as she offered the headdress with a gleam in her amethyst eyes.

“I—I should go. It’s late. We can sort out… whatever this is in the morning.” She stammered, cautiously backing away.

“Won’t you try it on before you leave?” Konoha waggled the historical headwear, making the beads tinkle. “I think it’ll look good on you. The green of the jade will complement that striking red hair. Do it for me, your very best friend.”

The eagle feathers and jade stones weren’t musty or faded anymore. The ravages of time and hungry rodents were gone as though it had been professionally restored…

“Not on your life!” She bolted for the stairs and promptly tripped over a discarded broom with a shriek.

The moment she hit the floor, a wriggling weight landed on her back, and lilac fur that smelled of cherry blossoms was Bernie’s whole world. Unseen hands pressed down on her skull, affixing a headband in place.

And… nothing happened.

“Oh, phooey. It didn’t do anything.” The body pinning her eased back. Disappointed. “Sorry about this, bestie. I was certain I’d recharged it properly. The new power master granted me is playing merry hell with my spiritual magic.”

Bernie began to laugh in relief. The first giddy chortles were tinged with hysteria…

Then time crawled to a stop.

* * *

Everything was frozen and silent. Color bled from the room until the basement was a monochrome still-life painted in varying hues of gray.

The absence of light no longer blanketed Bernie’s view as she surveyed her destroyed surroundings with newfound night vision.

Yep, Daphne had done a number on the place. Really went on the warpath and trashed what little was left of the archeology department. There was no coming back from this.

Bernie’s heart sank at the realization.

Otherwise, she felt strangely calm. Tranquil. Disassociated from recent events when she ought to be flipping her lid. Konoha was atop her, unmoving, but after some struggle, Bernie slipped free and climbed to her feet.

Turning to inspect her attacker, she found a many-tailed fox girl dressed in an ornate black silk kimono, replacing the cute coed in the school jersey. She floated a foot above the ground Bernie had previously occupied. The adorable face was the same, scrunched in confusion, but the tufted fox ears were a surprise.

“A Japanese temple guardian. He actually did it.” She whispered, touching the unmoving kitsune. Her fingers passed through fur and flesh as though they were smoke. “What the heck did she do to me?”

A mortal calls on me after centuries of desolation. How… unexpected. Garbed in the raiment of my priesthood, too. How can this be?

The voice thundered in Bernie’s mind. Feminine, curious, and demanding. Compelling a reply from her lips with all the command of an empress.

“I don’t know! There was a girl—no, wait… a fox spirit. She attacked me with a headdress, and now I’m here but don’t know what’s going on. Am I dead? Did she kill me?”

Calm yourself, daughter. You have pierced the shroud of Mictlān; the land of the dead. You are the first to do so since the Spaniard Cortés eradicated my followers five hundred years ago and plunged me into obscurity. You are alive, but the sacred vesture on your head is that of a high priestess devoted to me, Xōchiquetzal, which opened a conduit to my realm.

Xōchiquetzal.

Bernie recalled the name from her Native American anthropology classes—the Aztec goddess of fertility, beauty, and love. She was also the protector of young mothers and the patroness of pregnancy, childbirth, and (weirdly) flowers.

That all seemed hunky-dory at first blush, but her worshippers also decapitated and flayed young women to wear their skin at religious festivals.

So yeah… that Xōchiquetzal.

Ah, so my legacy was not entirely lost to the shifting sands of time. I read your thoughts, daughter, and while the modern world is strange beyond reason to me, I can sense you are troubled. The goddess mused, a buzzsaw in Bernie’s brain. My power is much diminished but not inconsiderable. I would lend you a portion in memory of my fallen people. One last favor to memorialize a once-great nation built from gold and blood sacrifice. Would that I could help you, but something throttles our tether and weakens the connection.

Xōchiquetzal was fishing. Probing Bernie’s mind for the source of the interference. She directed her thoughts away from the iron bracelet.

Feeling the feathers of the headdress trailing down her back, she pulled at the beaded leather band around her skull, but it was securely fixed in place. That would have been too easy.

With a shrug, Bernie carefully picked her way across the debris-strewn floor, placidly totalling the butcher’s bill. The complete lack of color was oddly soothing, but when she bent to retrieve a lion statue’s broken paw, she found it as insubstantial as the Kitsune.

“Huh, I can’t interact with anything while like this.” She pondered aloud.

No, child. You are suspended between the material plane and Mictlān while we commune. My high priestesses always found rapture in the incorporeal state, gaining great insights from opening themselves to the cosmos. Alas, you only experience a tiny fraction of that unfathomable vastness through our tenuous bond.

“That explains the serenity.” Bernie found her workstation swept clean. The tools, notepads, and stationary scattered to the four winds. No matter, she hopped up to sit on it instead. “Except when you speak in my head. That feels like a bullhorn on steroids. Can’t imagine what you’d sound like on full volume.”

My words would be irrevocably etched into your soul if I wished. I am a Goddess, after all, no matter how reduced in divinity. You are trying very hard not to think about something. What are you hiding, darling mortal?

Shit. She focused on adjusting her long skirt and deliberately smothered the mental knee-jerk reaction to cogitate on the answer to a question. Instead, she calmly distracted herself with something random.

Pineapple. She loved fresh pineapple. Pineapple was delicious until you cooked it on a pizza. Even her usual disgust at that aberration was muted.

“You can read my surface thoughts but can’t rummage any deeper, or you wouldn’t have to ask.” Bernie said, untying her shawl and examining the crochet pattern. Lots of complicated knots and stitches. “I’ll bet your priestesses were soft clay ready to be molded into whatever shape you desired while stoned out of their gourds on galaxy juice.”

Such was their function—service to a god used to be the greatest honor. Maidens wept tears of gratitude when they laid themselves on the sacrificial altar. Xōchiquetzal’s wistful sigh shook Bernie’s skull like an airbus hitting turbulence. Apparently, those times are long past. I am impressed by your resilience and fortitude, daughter. You guard your mind well and would have made a fine priestess. The mantle suits you. So be it. An honest exchange of knowledge then. We will take turns in questioning one another. You may begin.

Bernie wanted to inquire if the goddess could lie but immediately recognized the futility of asking. An amused chuckle jiggled her gray matter like a blamange.

I am capable of deception, assuredly. But in this instance, I swear an oath of honesty on what power remains to me. Just this once, let us engage in a battle of wits as equals. Test your will and cunning against my millenniums of wisdom and experience. You intrigue me, daughter. Disappoint at your peril.

“That’s very comforting.” Bernie remarked dryly. Marshaling her free-floating thoughts and picking her words with care. “How do I return safely to my plane of origin?”

Ha! You may be surprised how many aspirants forget to include terms of safe passage. Or not. To answer; you can accept my offering, escape via arcane methods, or remove that holy vestment to sever our connection. Which is entirely possible if you are willing to part with your scalp.

“Ugh, talk about gruesome.”

I’m a firm believer in personal sacrifice. My turn. What will you do now your hopes for the future are shattered? What fate awaits you in that dismal hole in the ground?

“That’s two questions.” Bernie objected, wary of the ancient deity’s antics.

They amount to the same thing. Pick one. I care not which. We both know the answer is not what you’d describe as a “positive outcome.” Xōchiquetzal resonated with airy indifference. Stars, but I am learning all manner of modern parlance this day.

That was true. The longer she skittered across Bernie’s neurons like a spider in a web, the more information and nuance the goddess absorbed. If that spider were thirty stories tall and attacking Tokyo.

Either way, she was an exceptionally dangerous opponent.

“If I can escape the crazy fox spirit, and if the archives aren’t totally destroyed… oh, who am I kidding? There will be a massive backlash from the Dean’s office. My professor already has two feet out the door. The archeology department is cooked, and my master’s degree—if I can salvage it—won’t be worth the paper it’s printed on.” Bernie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “My academic career is over. Done. Kaput. I don’t know what I’ll do next. Are you satisfied? Good. You may as well tell me what’s happened to Franklin.”

That didn’t sound like a question, daughter.

Drat.

“Fine. What has become of Franklin since I last saw him?”

I can only glean insight from your most recent memories and what little you have observed since donning the mantle of my priesthood. However, I would conclude that an artifact of great power has bolstered his strength, and he is currently… fucking. What a strange word. It has so many usages. Yes, he is rigorously fucking the woman you call Daphne. Potent magic pours from them both, though I do not know the origin.

A dagger of anger pierced Bernie’s placidness. “I goddamn knew it!”

He promised her, and she’d trusted him with the glittery party drug. Clearly, she was naive to believe that a socially awkward, so-called nice guy could resist the temptation the horny Fae magic offered. Betrayal scalded her heart.

Franklin had spoken earnestly of how badly he needed the breakthrough, swearing to be careful, and sure, Konoha’s furry presence revealed he’d successfully restored the temple guardian. But Bernie had softened her tough outer shell for the guy—someone she almost considered a friend—and he exploited that moment of weakness to get balls deep in the psycho bitch who’d single-handedly demolished her life’s aspirations.

All to drug a spiteful cunt they all hated/feared into a torrid night of revenge fucking.

What was Franklin’s malfunction? He had to know there would be consequences come sunrise.

The sting of disloyalty is most painful, daughter. The goddess’s commiserations throbbed like a migraine. A blow to the ego, yes, but also a lesson. A man you admire is in the arms of another woman. Not just any woman but your nemesis. What will you do?

Bernie seethed under the back-breaking burden of presumption.

“Seriously, that’s your question? News flash: Franklin barely ranks as a colleague—”

Keep telling yourself that.

“—and even if I hypothetically harboured some small affection for him, this would be a total deal-breaker. It’s called Self-respect. Have you soaked up that concept yet?”

Answer the question.

“What can I do?” She jumped off the workbench only to prowl in frustrated circles. “I’m trapped in limbo with the deity of a long-dead civilization breathing down my neck and no reasonable way out. Let’s stop dancing in circles and get to the point. Ask what’s blocking our connection and be done.”

Petulant child. Did you ever consider that some of us enjoy the dance? I care not about the source of the spiritual interference. My interest is wholly in you. Now tell me what you would do if you were freed at this very moment.

Instead of responding, Bernie stalked to the back of the basement. Rounding the rear shelves, she was confronted by a scene of abject debauchery.

Her fellow postgrads were virtually unrecognizable.

Daphne’s resting bitch face was twisted in a feral grin where she lay naked on her back atop a wooden crate folded in half like a human stapler, bound in painfully taut red silk ropes.

Her long, lithe body looked more svelte and refined, no longer starvation-level skinny but still achingly thin except where her knees sunk into boobs large as airbags. Both ankles were pinned above her head in the meaty hand of a muscle-bound Adonis, with the other clamped around her throat.

The guy was huge. Strapped. Ripped. Dressed in shredded clothing, frozen like a Greek statue in the lurid act of violating the batshit hellion’s tight ass. Fully half of his engorged member was buried in that tiny pucker. Its sphincter-stretching size proportionate to the rest of him.

Only his face was passingly familiar atop that cairn of rock-hard muscle, and even in monochrome, his ten-dollar haircut was unmistakable.

“Dammit, Frank!” Bernie threw a punch that passed through the still form as though he were mist. “How could you? I trusted you!”

My patience is finite, daughter. Answer me. The demand almost split her skull.

Looking around, the redhead felt helpless. She could barely move. She was so drained. Worse, a crushing sense of powerlessness threatened to overwhelm her. Through no mistake or action of her own, Bernie’s years of hard work and diligent study were rendered worthless. Her fantasies of a successful career filled with travel, adventure, and the thrill of discovery snuffed out like a candle flame.

And the awful truth was, even if she weren’t stuck between worlds where time had no meaning, there was nothing she could do. The circumstances were so far from any semblance of control that nothing short of divine intervention could put the breaks on this runaway train.

That revelation was suspiciously pat.

Bernie wasn’t stupid. Xōchiquetzal’s tenancy in her brain was hardly subtle, and she’d outright admitted that Bernie was the object of her fascination. Despite an Irish Catholic upbringing, she’d never considered herself religious, but when god closed a door… maybe a long-dead Aztec goddess could open a window.

Needs must, and other such nonsense. The least she could do was hear out the ancient deity.

Letting the iron band dangle loosely on her wrist, Bernie braced for a metaphysical impact, choosing her words with utmost care.

“If I were freed at this very moment… I would seriously consider any help offered while reserving the right to reject said offer without penalty or repercussions.”

Those terms are acceptable. Let’s get down to brass tacks.

* * *

“Harder… Ungh~! Harder! Give me all you’ve got, champ. Rail my filthy butt!”

A vein pulsed on Franklin’s brow as he slammed into Daphne’s rear entrance. Her virgin back door was unbelievably tight, only parting for his gigantified cockmeat in small increments like an enemy army surrendering ground by inches.

“Be silent, whore.” He growled, squeezing her neck until her breaths turned to jagged rasps. The unrepentant psycho’s mad grin only widened. “Your soul is stained with misdeeds that can only be expunged by acts of contrition, like flagellating this sinful body on my righteous manhood.”

“Whatever… you say… hot stuff. Just keep… giving me… that dick.”

At least she wasn’t running her impudent mouth anymore.

Franklin thrust forward, striking his palm across a firm ass cheek with a resounding crack. Daphne’s hide was tanned red from repeated spanks, but no matter how cruel his admonishments were, the slut only grew more excited with each blow.

Her incorrigible pussy juiced, womanly nectar splattered across his midsection, even as he sank into her clenching bowels. She would learn, eventually. She would recognize the error of her ways and seek forgiveness.

Franklin would teach her, no matter how long or arduous the path to redemption. Until then, he would carry out his sacred duty. Truly, he was a martyr to the cause of justice.

“Each of your blasphemous holes will be chastened this night,” He proclaimed, easing back a fraction only to slam in deeper. “You are nothing but a receptacle for my cleansing seed until deemed sufficiently penitent. I shall prosecute your remorseless spirit with all the holy power vested in me until you acknowledge your guilt and beg for clemency!”

“Gonna be… a long… night then… right, ace?” Daphne wheezed, long lashes fluttering with ecstasy. “Hurry up and… tear me… a new one.”

With his handhold on her neck and bolstered strength, Franklin could maneuver the short-haired pain junkie as readily as an inflatable fucktoy, balloon tits and all.

The web of silk cords magically shifted and reknotted themselves each time Franklin folded her into a more depraved position. He could contort Daphne’s super fit, top-heavy form like a pretzel, then watch new clasps form, the ropes slithering and sometimes melding together to keep her in place. Constantly pinching her firm, flawless flesh and distending her soft curves perversely.

A less godly man would have garnered sick satisfaction from witnessing their hated antagonist in such a lowly and vulnerable position, likely enacting some dark revenge fantasies. Fortunately for her, Franklin was above such pettiness.

He lifted and then smashed Daphne back down on the crate, splintering the wood, watching her shudder through an agony of bliss as he spread her sphincter wider with his tumescent girth.

”Haaah~... Do it again… rougher. Really… mess me up…”

Franklin was her salvation. The avatar of heaven’s wrath and retribution, sent to sear hell’s taint from this wicked creature’s tortured soul. The blessings of the Archangels Raguel, Michael, and Cassiel blazed in his chest, demanding judgment of all sinners and the need for penance to balance the scales.

“I brand you a Jezebel. Unclean and unworthy.” He solemnly intoned, spurting precum into her ecstatic guts. “Thank the almighty for the mercy and wisdom they bestowed upon me. Without it, you would have surely been damned for eternity. Instead, they delivered a saviour unto you to purge the sin and fill you with God’s holy light.”

“God, yes… fuck yeah… fill me up… c’mon, big guy.”

Good, she was getting the message. There was hope after all.

Franklin was not diverted from his sacred mandate by Daphne’s eager gasps nor tempted by her hyper-sexualized figure and rippling pornstar breasts. The pleasures of the flesh held no allure for him, even as his swinging balls sounded the clarion call of imminent battle. The heat of her bound body, fragile yet pliable in his masculine grasp, meant little when measured against the rapture of doling out divine punishment upon an unvirtuous whore.

No matter how phenomenal the squeeze of her anal muscles felt around his spearing length.

“Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation—”

He was beginning the liturgy of the Eucharist, preparing to bloat Daphne’s bowels with his sticky sacrament, when a deafening boom and the flare of orange flames lit up the basement.

Konoha flew through the air like a furry magenta blur, crashing through a shelf of Persian pottery before rolling to a stop at Franklin’s feet in a ball of fluffy tails.

“Whoa, that one had more juice left than I thought.” She huffed, springing to her feet as though she hadn’t been cannonballed across the room. “Oh hey there, Master. Not to interrupt or anything, but I thought you should know Bernadette’s still here, and she’s not happy.”

* * *

“No human sacrifices, slavery, or bodily mutilation, that’s unnegotiable. Those are my terms. Final offer. Accept them or spend whatever time we have left together getting the silent treatment.”

My, my. How… unflexible. Nobody respects the old ways anymore. Xōchiquetzal sighed before rallying a counterargument. You could be trapped here with me for a very long time, child. My power over this place—

“I won’t have innocent deaths on my conscience.” Bernie crossed her arms defiantly, staring out over the city of Tenochtitlan surrounded by the sparkling waters of Lake Texcoco. The view from the top of the central ziggurat was spectacular. “Take it or leave it. I won’t budge on this point. No matter how many horrific scenes you show me.”

There was a scream behind her as a priest wearing a jaguar skull cut the beating heart from a burly warrior’s chest. His team had lost some sort of ball game and this was the consolation prize. Blood poured from the altar, trailing down the steep stone steps leading to the chanting crowd far below.

Well, that freaking sucked and only reinforced her position regarding ritual sacrifice.

You’re being unreasonable. My offer is exceptionally generous, and I’m not asking for much in return. Simply restore my priesthood and gather followers willing to die for—

“Not. Negotiable.” Bernie scowled as another bronze-skinned man was led up the blood-stained steps by acolytes dressed in animal skins. He staggered as if drunk, eyes rolling and broad shoulders hunched. “I can stand here all day. All week. I can probably hold out for a few decades, given none of this is real—just history playing on repeat. You’re in my head, right? You must realize the whole die-for-me schtick won’t mesh the contemporary moorings, and suicide cults chronically suffer from a lack of long-term prospects.”

I do not appreciate being bent over a barrel. I am Xōchiquetzal! The goddess’s surge of anger threatened to cause a brain hemorrhage before receding with another sigh, this one resigned. But I cannot deny the realities of the Information Age. Humanity achieved much after magic departed the mortal plane. Most resemble arcane workings but are not…

“We got by. Look, do we have a deal, or do I have to listen to another dozen men die before you’re ready to shake on it? Real or not, this is still nightmare fuel, and therapy’s expensive.”

Getting brusque, are we? I should force you to endure the festival of Hueypachtli for taking that tone with me—an entire day of orgies and sacrifices… but fine. Be that way. The fragment of my divinity in the priestess’s mantle was already revitalized by spiritual magicks and… a strange power I do not recognize. Only the cold iron you bear—and yes, I’ve known about that from the start—prevents that same power from fully opening the connection. Relinquish the trinket and embrace your new position as my mortal avatar!

Xōchiquetzal made it sound like she’d personally engineered the grand rise in status, but Bernie could read between the lines.

“You’re saying I’ve had the means to travel home all along.” She shook her head in disappointment, letting the bracelet slip from her wrist to tinkle on the stone. “That’s some Wizard of Oz ruby slippers rubbish.”

Yes, you’re very clever, daughter. The goddess chuckled, Now, hold onto your tits—

Her gloating was drowned out when Bernie’s world erupted in a fiery inferno.

* * *

The universe stretched out before Bernie. Expanded and shrunk all at once. It was tinged with gold. Vast aureate lines curved through space, connecting the stars in complex constellations, forming shapes and concepts that boggled the mind.

She could finally see and feel them, the cosmic currents that were the pulsing veins of creation. On a whim, she could swim between those pinpricks of stellar light or surf the calm oceans of endless void.

Bernie was a being of fire. An unquenchable flame that burned in the fathomless darkness. Energy unleashed. The single constant the galaxy could not deny. Everything and nothing, coexisting in perfect harmony.

She wallowed in it, saturating her soul, condensing her essence, and then relaxing to extend over countless lightyears like oil slickening the surface of a pond.

The secrets of creation were laid bare, the history and future of everything whispered on solar winds, hers for the taking. Ready to pour into her naked mind… and break it.

She recoiled at that revelation. Flames compressed around her spiritual core protectively as Bernie reeled away from the event horizon of madness. The perfect singularity at the center of infinity beckoned to her. Cajoled her. Invited her to join the swirling maelstrom of order and chaos that governed all existence.

The impulse to dive in and lose herself was there. To become a stitch in the tapestry of reality and be a part (no matter how minuscule) of the unending cycle of galactic death and rebirth forever was undeniably tempting. Immortality presented on a silver platter…

…at the bargain price of her sanity and individuality.

Bernie withdrew, soaring through the constellations on golden wings of fire, drinking in the starlight. She roared like a comet through iridescent nebulae and interminable asteroid fields, guided across the empty expanses by a tugging sensation in her middle, drawn by a metaphysical umbilical back to her home.

A feathered serpent of unimaginable scale swooped around her. A jaw large enough to swallow the moon whole split wide in a joyous smile.

Fly true, little sister! Quetzalcoatl laughed, spinning in looping coils. Shine bright and let our children know their ancestor’s gods have not forsaken them. Dawn rises on a new age!

Shining eyes appeared in the pitch darkness. A dozen sets of impossibly large spheres which dwarfed entire star systems and bludgeoned Bernie with their staggering presence.

Tláloc, the god of rain. Mictlāntēcutli, the god of the dead. Huītzilōpōchtli, the god of war and the sun, and many others broadcasted their approval. None more than Xōchiquetzal, the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility herself.

They proffered shards of their waning quintessence to empower her transcendence, which Bernie greedily accepted as she plummeted down to earth.

Slamming back into her corporeal form, there was a dizzying moment of cognitive dissonance. Her link to the broader universe was abruptly severed, but the profound sense of epiphany endured, and a wellspring of celestial magic bloomed in her gut.

Power rushed through her. A devastating flash flood of ancient energy that boiled out from her bones like molten magma. It ripped through her muscles and sinews with infernal heat before exploding from her skin, detonating in a fiery nova that banished the darkness.

Clothing incinerated, Bernie stood naked but unmarred by the flames. Only the ornamental headdress remained. Gold and jade beads glittered on her brow, and a tail of hawk feathers swept down her bare back. The fire infused the dumpy redhead, dreadfully hot yet exquisitely pure.

It burned away her imperfections—melting fat and tempering her flesh into freshly forged steel.

Gone were the muffin top hidden under baggy layers and the tummy paunch from too many late-night snacks. In their place was an actual waistline and ripped abs stacked atop muscular hips. An ass worn flat by years in uncomfortable library chairs rounded and lifted as though a century dedicated to squat lunges passed in an instant, consequently thickening her thighs into skull-cracking wonders of feminine strength.

Biceps bulged, Bernie’s pasty Irish complexion smoothed like polished alabaster, and the defined musculature of her back reorientated to support the burgeoning burden mounting on her chest. Surging breasts replaced the shapeless, flabby mounds that previously occupied that precious real estate. Supple teardrops of pneumatic tit-flesh plumped and ripened like melons on the vine, thrust out before her like a warship’s prow.

She didn’t need a mirror to see what she had become. Bernie could feel it in her soul.

She was mighty!

She was ferocious!

She was motherfucking indomitable!!

Bernie was a carved pillar of womanly strength—dauntless and unstoppable with the power of the reawakened Aztec pantheon behind her.

…and she was horny as hell for some reason. A single dewdrop of arousal gathered on her engorged nether lips.

“Oh wow, friendo. You look amazing! Talk about a makeover. Master’s eyes will pop straight out of his skull when he spots that banging new bod of yours.”

Bernie wheeled around to find the pink-haired fox spirit staring at her with a lecherous leer—tufted ears, fanning tails, and sharp fangs on full display. With a kick that trailed smoke like a meteor, she punted the deceitful furball across the basement and through a rack of shelves.

Shining bright as a beacon, she spotted her quarry through the gap Konoha left in her crash course—the looming lothario still had Daphne tied in knots, ankles fastened above her head with his hand clamped around her throat and giant prick buried in the arrogant bitch’s asshole.

“FRANKLIN!!” She boomed, her voice cacophonous. “You treacherous swine! How dare you?!”

She bolted forward with inhuman speed, powdering the cement under every footfall, armoring herself in the gifted power. As though conjured, boiled leather sheathed Bernie’s formidable new frame, tight-fitting and dyed green to match the jade in her headpiece.

A corset hugged her magnificent rack, gold-trimmed bracers cinched her forearms and shins, while a short leopard skin skirt swept the very tops of her pumping thighs. The old Bernie would have been mortified if she had not been consumed by godly fire and betrayal.

Her coppery hair and feathered mantle streamed like a cape behind the warrior priestess as she chambered a burning fist to deliver the entire fury of a dead civilization in a single blow.

The bastard didn’t even turn to face his impending doom, completely zeroed in on his base animal urges. He was speaking, lips moving, but the rush of blood in Bernie’s ears drowned out everything but her screaming warcry.

“Not today, sister.” A flurry of lilac appeared before her. Hands and tails weaved an intricate spell pattern, summoning an ethereal blue shield that caught the punch like a stone bastion…

…then shattered with a deafening crack.

“Whaaaaaaaa~!” Konoha was bowled over the resulting shockwave. Her magenta fur stuck out as though charged with static electricity. “Whoa, you pack quite the wallop. Didn’t know you had it in you, bestie. How delightful!”

The foxed-eared lunatic giggled hysterically, beaming at Bernie. A quick glance at Franklin confirmed he wasn’t taking heed of their scuffle; the magically-enhanced knucklehead was preoccupied with filling Daphne’s back passage and… orating?

“With this holy seed, I baptize your tight ass.” He declaimed, excess spunk spritzing from her overstuffed pucker to splash his cut abs. “Washing it clean of wrongdoing and sin. Take this sticky load and give thanks for heaven’s mercy. The path to salvation is rocky and fraught with peril. Receive this admonishment and submit with humility, lest you fall from grace again!”

“What do… gah~... you think… I’m doing, big boy?” The huge-chested sadist croaked, spittle flying and pussy squirting as she climaxed in time with his butt-stuffing release. “Slap me around… nrrrgh~! C’mon, you know I-I deserve it.”

Bernie watched, poleaxed by the casual brutality Franklin employed in punishing the evil cunt. A negligent swipe of his upraised palm snapped her head to the side like a whiplash. Daphne let out a wanton moan, reddening cheek pressed into the rough grain of the wooden crate, her erotically trussed body tremoring with blissful agony.

Konoha reappeared, sliding up his heavily muscled back, her feline gaze locked on Bernie, gently tracing the rugged lines of his herculean physique with clawed fingertips.

“You’re absolutely right, master.” She crooned lovingly into Franklin’s ear, caressing his chiseled chest but not breaking eye contact. “Show that indolent slut how wrong she was to hurt you.”

Rage rekindled the conflagration on Bernie’s skin even as moisture gathered between her legs upon seeing his imposing frame. Memories that weren’t her own flashed unbidden through her mind. Elite jaguar warriors; burly, battle-scarred and naked, entwined with her priestesses like a writhing carpet on the temple’s mosaic floor.

Sweaty and heaving, grunting and moaning. Celebrating the bounty that the patreon of mothers and childbirth had bestowed on their people. Their grunts and wails of carnality were raised in a hymn of gratitude to the Goddess. Bernie was amongst them—dressed only in her feathered mantle—licking and sucking any flesh her mouth could find while a veteran commander plowed her from behind.

Days-long orgies, riots of hedonistic rapture, fueled by rich agave wine and animal lust, culminating in the maiden’s sacrifice on the fourth day.

No, not that. Bernie shook her head to clear away the visions.

Are you sure, daughter, not even one itsy-bitsy human sacrifice for old time’s sake? What about group sex?

“No more death! Never again.” She cracked her knuckles. “However, a thorough pummeling isn’t out of the question.”

That’s not a hard ‘no’ to the orgies. But you seem busy. We’ll commune more later.

Franklin turned his attention to her at last. Wreathed in armor and flames, Bernie was hardly inconspicuous. Firelight danced on the sheen of perspiration coating his statuesque build, casting each hard ridge and cleft in stark definition when he withdrew from Daphne to face her.

With a wet shlorp, his manhood was unsheathed. An intimidating weapon. Exceptionally large and girthy, rigid as a lance and leaking prodigious amounts of cum which puddled on the floor.

Bernie’s thighs clenched at the sight of it, further stoking the furious furnace in her loins.

“Ah, Bernadette. It brings me joy to greet you this night.” Franklin tossed Daphne’s convulsing figure aside and spread his massive arms in welcome, unashamed of his nudity, wearing Konoha like a fluffy pink backpack. “Our endeavors are a success, and the years of hardship are ending. The wisdom of Solomon has liberated me from the shackles of mediocrity to reign heaven’s justice—”

“Shut up, you pompous jerk.” Embers chased the fist she aimed at his lantern jaw. “You’ve wrecked everything!”

It connected with a satisfying thud that twisted his face to the side and shut his fool mouth. Bernie planted another in his stomach, pushing Franklin back a step, followed by a few more.

“The department is ruined! My diploma won’t be worth shit! Your fox-slut crammed a bunch of dead gods in my head—”

“Hey, that’s not fair.” Konoha protested, hiding behind Franklin’s broad back. “I didn’t know what that artifact would do.”

“That makes it worse! We’ll be expelled in disgrace.” Bernie kept hammering him with fiery blows. “The scandal will dog our heels for the rest of our lives. I’ll be lucky to land a job at an antique store, and you’ll be serving prison dinners once Daphne regains her senses!”

To emphasize her point, she drove a knee upward, targeting his low-hanging fruit when a mitt-sized hand intercepted the attack.

“Enough.” Franklin commanded. The single word was gently spoken with unwavering authority. Bernie’s legs almost buckled at his deep, rumbling tone. She hated that. Resentment boiled. “You have been wronged, Bernadette. Poorly used by those tasked to nurture and cultivate your potential, as I once was but no longer. Fear not, child. Everything will be as the Almighty wills.”

The kitsune peeped over his shoulder to shoot her a lewd wink before ducking again. Daphne slumped over the timber crate insensate, wrapped securely in crimson cords, drooling saliva and sticky jizz from both ends.

“You’re not hearing me.” Bernie laid another hit to his jaw, snarling when it didn’t leave a mark. Her pussy throbbed. “Listen to the crap spewing from your mouth, Franklin. You got whammied by fairy sex dust; now we all have to live with the consequences. Well, you don’t take a dump on my life without copping a few shovelfuls in return, bastard!”

She walked him back under a barrage of solid swings and jabs. The fire on her knuckles didn’t mar his solid flesh any more than the sledgehammer impacts. Franklin kept shrugging off bone-shattering strikes as if they were nothing, batting away her kicks with relaxed ease.

“This basement is a coffin meant to bury us, child—”

“Call me child one more time,” Her foot snapped out, cratering the brick wall beside him. Rage and arousal flared hotter. “I fucking dare you! I’ve got a bunch of angry gods baying for blood in my skull.”

Catching her wrists, Franklin yanked her toward him. So close, Bernie could only stare into his placid expression, almost close enough to kiss. She gnashed her teeth instead.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in everything. Truly.” He whispered, some of the old Frank flickered within that flinty stare. “But this is for the best, Bernie. The wool has been lifted from my eyes. There is no dignity in skulking like rats, scared of the grander events sweeping our world. We are on the cusp of great things. Ancient powers clamor to be unearthed. This is what we were born to be: explorers and discoverers of lost secrets. Heralds of the Divine Return.”

The violently charged moment was oddly intimate. She struggled against him, pitting strength against strength in a deadlocked battle. Franklin’s tremendous turgidity prodded at her corsetted middle, smearing dense globs of white across the jade leather. He was massive in every measurement—tall, broad, yoked out, and hung like a demi-god.

Bernie’s overheated snatch practically purred.

“Nobody wants what’s stuck inside me to return.” She growled, hooking a limber leg around his thigh and tugging at him. “I’m a walking, talking Pandora’s box full of blood-thirsty deities.”

“You wear it well, Bernie.” He murmured, warm breath caressed her lips. “The leather and feathers match your new physique. It feels good to be strong, doesn’t it? To set aside fear and anxiety, embracing the boons only the gods can grant. Embrace it. Be reborn in the holy fire that enshrines you…”

“Yeah, those totally sexy flames.” Konoha’s chronically cheerful face poked up from behind Franklin’s shoulder again. “Listen to my Master and keep rocking that look, bestie.”

“I’m not talking to you, pest.” Bernie glared daggers at the grinning kitsune.

“How rude. We were getting along famously…”

“Be silent, Konoha,” Franklin commanded. His magisterial tone would have soaked an entire underwear department’s stock of panties. The cute fox spirit’s jaw clicked shut with a whimper. “You have wronged an innocent. Transgressed the limits of common decency by imposing your libidinous desires upon a good, kind woman. Kneel in penance and beg her forgiveness.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Bernie didn’t trust the hungry glint in Kitsune’s almond eyes when she slipped out of her loose kimono and slid to the floor, wriggling between their feet to prostrate herself.

“I beg your pardon, Mistress. This lowly temple guardian merely wished to curry favor with her gift.” Konoha crooned, her bowed head positioned squarely beneath Bernie’s dripping slit. Sprinkling juices speckled her lilac hair. “Please allow her to make amends by faithfully servicing you until she is absolved of any offense.”

“That’s better, right?” Franklin rubbed his slick, plum-sized crown across Bernie’s taut tummy. The heat of it matched her flames, baking through the leather. “Let her show you how sorry she is with an act of contrition.”

The blazing redhead glanced down to see slitted amethyst orbs watching her from under the mouthwatering protuberance spurting gooey ropes that drooped onto the curvy kitsune’s upturned face. The fox girl’s exuberant grin didn’t falter, eliciting a shock of irrational envy in Bernie.

Did she desire this larger, more dominant version of Franklin so severely?

Her form-fitting armor was dissolving under the assault of his potent seed. Melting away into lingerie-like jade strings, scarcely concealing her most sensitive parts. The short skirt evaporated, unveiling Bernie’s sopping sex. The cups of her corset top followed suit, baring her full breasts and strawberry nipples.

“Oh, Mistress! Your pretty kitty looks scrumptious.” Konoha chirped, heedless of the pungent fluids splattering her cheeks. “May this unworthy servant sample a taste?”

“May she?” Franklin’s lips brushed her ear, grinding himself harder against her. “Take control. Seize the wheel and steer your fate. You’re no longer a passenger on the cruise ship of life, Bernie. You are the captain now and can chart your course. Speak the words. What do you want?”

Christ, what did she want?

Bernie had accepted every iota of power Xōchiquetzal and the diminished Aztec pantheon could spare her. She’d sailed cosmic tides, gained supernatural strength, and literally burned with anger and lust. Franklin was right there, his supersized prick christening her with virile cum.

She resented and craved him simultaneously with every panted breath.

The briefly glimpsed potential she’d read in the stars outshone all previous concerns. Made them seem foolish and meaningless, the petty ambitions of an insect unaware of the mountain overshadowing it. This gloomy basement, her worthless degree, the angst she had endured for what ultimately amounted to nothing in the infinitely bigger picture…

What will you do, my High Priestess?

“Screw it. The crazy fox can eat me out before I hate fuck you into the floor.” Bernie snarled, mashing his lips with hers.

Their tongues wrestled, and Franklin grunted when she arched against him—a fresh battleline drawn in their war for dominance. Hardened muscles collided, but her womanly softness tugged an inevitable response from the ensorcelled member sandwiched between them.

It lurched and jerked. Sanctified spunk sprayed their grappling bodies. Bernie grinned victoriously into the tempestuous kiss—secure in an early victory—before a slow, languorous lick dredged her thrumming slit and circled the cluster of nerves at her apex.

“Haaah~!”

“Mistress’s flavor is of exceptional quality.”

Clawed fingertips grasped her sturdy thighs, and Konoha buried her adorable face deep in Bernie’s cleft. The fox spirit was wedged between their humping lower halves, her pink-haired head bumping off Franklin’s sturdy quads each time he thrust his mighty hips, jamming her agile tongue into Bernie’s glistening nethers.

Incredibly soft fluffy tails batted their legs and asses. The smell of cherry blossoms was cloying, but Bernie didn’t care.

Blood and fire scalded her veins. Her loins boiled like molten magma, edging closer to eruption under the exceptional lingual talents of the muff-munching kitsune.

She dove into the kiss, biting Franklin’s bottom lip. He grunted into her mouth, dropping his hands to maul her exposed tits. Bernie moaned in soulful pleasure. Her freed hands grabbed his mussed hair and yanked him down into her swollen cleavage to lavish her aching teets.

As he should, daughter. The goddess hummed approval. You are the avatar of fertility, pregnancy and childbirth. It is only proper that he worships those bounteous treasures of womanhood.

“Trying to enjoy a moment here.” Bernie gasped, shuddering under the tandem attacks on her erogenous zones. Burning skin blazed brighter. “Oh fuck… don’t stop. Don’t either of you dare stop! I-I’m almost there… oooh~! Fuck yes!”

Kohona’s tongue twisted and twirled like a tornado inside her. Franklin’s mouth and fingers pinched and teased her sensitive peaks. His fat cock-head tried to bore into her sternum, drenching it with lubricious seed that dribbled down the sharp V of her pelvis to be lapped up by the greedy fox slut.

They bucked together. Spasms and jolts of electrified rapture wracked their entangled forms as Bernie unraveled, breaking apart on the rocky shores of carnal euphoria. Milk streamed from her raspberry teets, gushing in sync with her hyper-stimulated pussy, dousing both Franklin and fox girl in motherly juices.

“Ugh, that hit me right in the eyeball.” The chiseled adonis wiped at his face. “Not going to complain about the taste, though. You’re fucking delicious, Bernadette. How about a second helping?”

His ribald rod pulsed riotously against her abs, untouched the bonfire that was her skin. Konoha was equally unbothered, though she’d slowed the tempo to a sensual tongue bath, cleaning Bernie’s tingling folds for her master.

“That was the three hundred and fourth secret kata, aptly named ‘The Empress in Repose.’” The Kitsune’s breath caressed her mound. “I am pleased my Mistress enjoyed this lowly servant’s humble ministrations.”

A smug note in her voice stoked Bernie’s fury anew as though one lightning-quick climax settled the debt and absolved her of guilt. The urge to punish her further was strong, but a more primal imperative churned in the fiery redhead’s core.

Franklin’s herculean form and unwilting manhood glowed like burnished bronze in her flickering firelight, well within her reach. Larger than any implanted memory of jaguar warriors, more solid and enduring than a stone idol. Heat seeped through her, pooling down below.

Howling another warcry, she swatted Konoha aside and lept. Tackling him to the ground with borrowed strength, she landed astride his naked crotch, pinning his shoulders with both hands.

“Want some more, you puffed-up moron?” Bernie’s pussy rested against his rocky base. She could feel his racing pulse through the rigid pillar of manmeat, standing at attention against her stomach. “Just because I want to fuck you doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. Bear that in mind while I use this big, stupid dick to get myself off.”

Franklin frowned but nodded. “As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.”

“Quoting the Old Testament? Wow, you’re a real piece of work.”

“Do not rebuke mockers, or they will hate you; rebuke the wise, and they will love you.” He replied, latching onto her milk-laden tits again and squeezing wondrously. “So said King Solomon.”

“Shut the hell up already.” Bernie groaned, lifting her hips to guide him into her damp entrance. “You talk too much.”

With a whorish moan, she sank down his cunt-splitting length. It spread her wide open, grinding and scraping her internal walls like a city bus ramming a pedestrian tunnel. Her G-spot was immediately obliterated—the rough patch of nerves crushed under the onslaught of turgid tissue that punched into her empty womb.

“Hrrrn~! God, that’s hitting my deepest parts… aaah… n-never felt this f-full before.”

“A merry heart doeth good—”

Bernie slapped a palm over Franklin’s blathering mouth with a groan, then shifted her shapely butt in the beginnings of a slow, controlled ride.

The pressure on her insides was immense. Her silken channel coiled and stretched around his girth, vibrating with pleasure. He was breaking virgin ground within her sex, mapping uncharted reaches. It was almost painful, but the Goddess’s power hummed in approval, adding more fire to the union.

Bernie struggled not to surrender to immediate gratification.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck… mmhmm~!” She trembled, gyrating her hips in small, jittery circles. “Pull on my nipples. They’re b-bursting with milk… haaah~... Damn fertility goddess t-turned me into a heifer.”

Franklin tried to speak but Bernie wasn’t having any of it. The dolt had gained the body of an Olympian and a world-class cock, yet he wanted to wreck the mood with his penny-ante preaching.

Still, he could take instruction, she learned, after a few delirious tugs on her lactating teets. There was hope for the newly minted stud yet, especially when he started to thrust.

His beefy tip pierced her core with the first upward lunge, lifting them both off the floor, no mean feat given Bernie’s increase in tits, ass and dense muscle mass. She was Amazonian in proportion—a true warrior priestess—and would likely have shattered a weaker man’s pelvis when she rode him down into the cement.

“Gonna be… like that… is it?” She gasped, locking his waist between her knees. Milk flowed freely, splattering them both. “C’mon then… yah~! Let’s fuck like titans… and see who’s… left st-standing in the… mmmrgh~... morning.”

Franklin’s response was to lick the palm muzzling him. Dirty pervert. Bernie quickened her bone-breaking pace, bouncing atop him like a flame-wreathed Valkyrie as she fought down the gathering storm of ecstasy.

“Ara ara, you both look seriously hot.” Konoha reappeared, kneeling naked by her master’s head as though she had teleported there. “No pun intended, bestie. Say, if you want that hand free, I’m certain my Lord Franklin can find other uses for his glib tongue.”

“Hey, don’t forget about me.” Daphne croaked groggily from somewhere behind them.

Sweet baby Jesus, it was like a goddamn zoo in here. Bernie needed everyone to quit their squawking until she got her pound of stiff, snatch-smashing flesh and baby-making cream pie.

Hold up, was that last part her or Xōchiquetzal’s influence? The goddess remained tight-lipped, probably content to enjoy the show.

“Fine. Whatever. But if he starts pontificating again, I swear I’ll fucking choke him.”

The fox-eared short-stack glanced at her Master, then cheered happily at his vigorous nod of approval.

“Yay! This is totally great—the first step in forming a proper imperial harem worthy of his peerless majesty and magical prowess.” She babbled, eagerly settling her peachy caboose on Franklin’s face, lilac tails whipping about excitedly. “Ignore the pain slut back there. She’ll be of lowly a cock-sheath footstool or something like that. Not worth bothering—erk!”

The kitsune’s running commentary abruptly ended when Bernie leaned forward, shoving a fat tit in her mouth.

“Shut up and suck, brat. Mama’s getting busy here.” The statuesque redhead’s angry snarl became a moan when Konoha’s fangs grazed her rubbery peak, followed by hungry slurping. “Ah, shit. That’s better… hyaa! Now, where were we, tough guy?”

It wasn’t long before she was back to full steam. Bernie bucked and writhed atop Franklin, whose attention was divided between cramming her soaking depths with his enormous, ecclesiastic erection and driving the sexy fox spirit wild with his oral affections.

Konoha mewled into Bernie’s milky cleavage, tufted ears twitching, sliding her round rear back and forth over Franklin’s lips and chin. Apparently, he had hidden talents or whatever had turned him into a completely jacked holy roller who knew how to give a girl head.

Bernie ferreted that information away to be unpacked later.

Right now, they were balls deep into a clash for dominance. Two magically-enhanced mortals, juiced up on divine energy, fucking like mythical heroes amid the remains of the Madison-U archeology department.

It was madness.

It was sheer insanity.

It was hotter than hell’s pepper patch, and Bernie physically burned for more.

“You gonna cum for me, big boy?” She groaned, rolling her hips in sinuous undulations. He was stretching her gloriously, and she was getting perilously close to cumming. “You gonna… nnnrgh… dump a potent load in my fertile womb? Ommff~! I’m not on the p-pill. Those Old Testament guys always had… ahhhh… hordes of children, right?”

If Franklin had a smart-arse reply, it was lost in Konoha’s pussy. His thrusting grew more intense, more animalistic, and Bernie felt the first drops of liquid warmth spilling into her. She only needed to hold out a fraction longer.

Easier said than done.

There was just so much of him dragging at her internal walls with each toe-curling withdrawal, then gouging her middle with every returning plunge. A monsoon of her womanly fluids mingled with the milk drenching his lap, creating a wet splash every time they slammed together.

The kitsune was alternating her suckling—switching between huge, lactating breasts—feeding from one teet then the other. She greedily swallowed great mouthfuls, moaning and kneading the unoccupied tit with her clawed fingertips like a cat making biscuits but never puncturing Bernie’s fortified flesh.

It was a sensory assault on two fronts. Inexorably drawing Bernie towards an ecstatic conclusion.

She wanted Franklin to explode inside her—no, she craved the feeling of his steamy seed bathing her innermost places and marking her with his offspring…

But she refused to surrender without a fight.

Some aspect of the power vested in her by a bloodthirsty pantheon of Aztec deities would not simply allow her to cede this battle. There was a nobleness in combat which made defeat all the sweeter. To the victor went the spoils, but only if they earned them.

Bernie doubled down. Gritting her teeth as she fought back the orgasmic tides that threatened to drown her.

“Come on, stud… give me all you’ve got.” She chuffed, taking him to the base and clenching her abdominals, bearing down with all she had. Squeezing his gigantic cock like a vise. “Faaark~! I know you’re close let it out. Pump me full… hmmph! …of that life-giving spunk. Knock me up, dammit!”

Konoha detached from Bernie’s puckered nip to howl her pleasure, quivering atop Franklin’s delving tongue. “Do it, Master! Claim Mistress as your harem queen forever!”

Bernie teetered on a precipice. An infinitesimal nudge would topple her into an ocean of hedonistic exhilaration. Lust and magic warred within her. Conflicting desires—to own and be owned, to take and be taken—sundered the essence of her very being.

Everything hanged on the outcome of this contest. This battle of wills and heavenly bodies, pounding relentlessly at each other, fulfilling each other, coming together in a mating dance older than time itself.

A man and a woman—heedless of their race, creed or station—entwined in sensual bliss. Using each other to slake their carnal thirsts. Rutting like beasts, savage and perfect and…

“Just like that. Don’t stop, you amazing hunk. Holy shit, I’m cumming! I’m cumming… GODDESS, YES!!”

The jubilant scream echoed off the walls, and Bernie’s sex-addled brain only recognized the voice as her own an instant before the mother of all orgasms crashed through her like an avalanche.

Head flung back, feathered mantle flapping, spine arching, hefty tits jouncing, she yodeled in erotic exultation. Clamping down on Franklin’s slit-splitting manmeat as he flexed, then erupted inside her.

Manly heat pervaded her baby belly, spouting and spilling into her deepest depths in superhuman quantities. His large hands wrapped Bernie’s thick hips to secure her in place as a cannonade of jetting jism blasted from him.

Time slowed, losing all meaning as she wafted like smoke on a rhapsodic breeze. Xōchiquetzal’s presence stirred smugly, not speaking but basking in the languid afterglow alongside her.

The goddess had clearly missed the feel of a good, hard fucking.

When she regained her senses, Bernie was slumped forward, pressed brow to brow with Konoha, leaning against the beet-faced fox spirit for support. They were both panting for breath, sweaty and flushed with vigor. Their eyes met, and the kitsune gave her an impish, fang-toothed smile.

“What do you think, Mistress?” Her pink tails weaved lazy shapes in the air behind her. “Shall we let Master speak or swap places for round two? He’s not in a position to protest, and I can personally attest to his oral expertise.”

What will you do now, high priestess?

A part of Bernie was reluctant to relinquish the gut-stuffing member that remained rock-hard within her, but another, more vindictive part of her relished the idea of making Franklin clean up his mess for once.

She pulled the lilac-haired cutie in for a quick, torrid kiss, then grinned wickedly. Her flames were reduced to tiny flickers, and Konoha nearly swooned.

“Switch places with me, but move fast. If I hear another line of regurgitated scripture from him, my poor battered pussy will dry up faster than the Sahara.”

“Mm-hmm… yes, Mistress!”

* * *

Micah hovered outside the door leading down to the archeology department. It was late—very late—and Daphne hadn’t come home.

Her phone was off or perhaps out of battery. Micah’s calls went straight to the message bank, but the last place her girlfriend’s location data pinged in the wee hours before sunrise was on campus.

She was sure this would end in another spat, but what could she do?

Professor Hostler had hoisted an entire class’s worth of last-minute grading onto her desk at the end of office hours and demanded the task be completed by Friday. Twenty-four hours. Then tenured douchebag waltzed out the door to join his fellow ivy leaguers for brandy and cigars in one of their pretentious clubs or lounges.

Micah was not an angry person—Daphne had a foul enough temper for them both and more besides—but the way the aged misogynist treated women (and his teaching assistants in particular) wore her tolerance razor thin.

Three years into the position, she held the record for longest time served. The pay was dismal, the work was drudgerous, the so-called jokes varied between racist and sexist, and his lechery was nonstop. Only the extra credit and padding to her academic CV made any of it worthwhile. Vile as he may be, Hostler was one of the few recognized authorities remaining in a dying field of study.

So Micah toughed it out.

Yes, she was almost certainly hired due to her outward appearance. As a voluptuous Latina with classically refined facial features and a retro sense of style that flattered her generous hourglass figure, Micah was accustomed to turning men’s heads.

Her wardrobe could be considered rockabilly adjacent. Tight-topped dresses with flowy skirts and shiny pumps. Open-necked long-sleeved blouses that paired well with high-waisted swing skirts or clingy capri pants. The leather jackets, polka dot bandanas, and excesses of hair accessories and clunky fake jewelry went without saying.

Micah was a blast from the past—chum in the water for toothless old sharks like the Professor—the 1950s poster girl they’d drooled over as adolescents. She knew it, even if they didn’t, and like any good feminist, she altered the paradigm to work in her favor.

Still, the teaching assistant T&A “jokes” rankled after she’d overheard them for the hundredth time.

Tit and Ass. Haha, laugh it up while you still can, little boys.

She would endure and condemn them all once safely ensconced in an ivory tower of her own making—firmly seated on a throne earned through intellectual prestige and professional accomplishment.

That was the dream, anyway. Right now, she had a volatile lover to wrangle.

Daphne was always a firecracker on the verge of detonation. Micah adored her passion, her raw emotion boiling beneath the surface, ready to explode at the merest spark of provocation. Her butch Anglo girlfriend was borderline unhinged, allowing her the rare role of the peacekeeper in their turbulent relationship.

It probably wasn’t what most would consider healthy—all the fighting and making up—but Micah loved watching Daphne fly off the handle for her, going apeshit over the slightest infractions. She felt valued in those moments—special, treasured.

She hesitated, though. Fingers froze on the handle of the door that impeded their turbulent reunion. Something felt wrong.

It wasn’t apprehension at the state in which she’d likely find her girlfriend—seething fit to burst from being set aside in favor of marking exam papers. Nor was it unease stoked by the spooky stillness and emptiness of the darkened halls and classroom that bustled with life during the day.

No, an existential dread crept over the curvy Latina. A tiny instinctual warning that danger lay a short step past the basement entryway, and here she was—dolled up to the nines in a form-fitting black blouse, charcoal pencil skirt, smoky stockings and onyx wedge heels—preparing to charge headlong into it, armed with little more than a can-do attitude.

Micah retrieved her phone from a cherry red clutch, turned on the torch function, and keyed in the number for campus security, just to be safe. With her thumb hovering over the call icon, she took a steadying breath and opened the door.

Murky gloom greeted her at the top of the stairs leading downward. A few flicks of the switch confirmed the lights were out of commission. Micah bit back a curse before cautiously descending. The illumination from her phone barely pierced the darkness and the bright screen didn’t allow her eyes to adjust.

Without her familiarity with the underground space, she would’ve been stumbling about like a blind person.

Shabby as the archeology department’s new accommodations might be, the workspace and attached archival storage weren’t small. Benches, tables and shelves cluttered the basement, reaching far back to the steel fire doors that protected the university’s trove of historical findings.

Micah prepared to navigate by memory when the sound of movement stopped her in her tracks. It was a shifting noise, something scraping along the cold cement floor, shrouded by the inky shadows.

“Daphne, is that you?” She urgently whispered, skin prickling. “It’s me, Micah. Are you okay, love?”

“Help… me.”

It was her! The voice was slurred but unmistakably Daphne’s. She sounded drunk but Micah wasn’t taking any chances.

She raised the phone to her ear, ready to make the call, when a ragged chuckle stalled her hand.

“You gotta help me, babe. Shit got out of hand… again. Now I’m all tangled up.”

Typical. The olive-skinned beauty sighed in exasperation and shut off the screen, panning about with the flashlight to find scattered tools, charred strips of paper and shards of broken stone.

“What have you done?” She asked, plucked brows climbing in alarm. “Are you responsible for this mess?!”

“Mostly.” Micah honed in on Daphne’s hysterical giggling and nearly tripped over a snapped broom handle. “But that’s not the problem.”

“Keep talking, love. Tell me what’s wrong. We’ll get through whatever it is together.”

A floral scent tickled her nose, and the faintest flicker of firelight twinkled from the far end of the room, obscured by the shelving stacks. Barely perceptible moans and grunts emanated from that direction, chilling her blood.

She was close. In only a few more seconds, she would find Daphne, and they’d escape this nightmare together.

The shifting sound came from Micah’s right, low to the ground. She swept her phone toward it and stifled a terrified scream. A top-heavy woman, cruelly bound in red ropes, wormed across the floor, headed straight for her.

A very naked woman with the sharp face and short hair of Micah’s girlfriend—inching forward as fast as her restraints would allow—dragging a simply ginormous pair of breasts beneath her.

“Daphne, is… is that you?”

“You know it, toots. Talk about a trip, right?” The hog-tied booby monster huffed. “Went off my rocker earlier and picked the wrong fight. Hoo boy, I paid for that good and proper, but you know what? I fucking loved it.”

“What happened?” Micah tottered back a step. “What’s going on down here?!”

She winced at the rising volume of her panicked voice, but Daphne simply grinned.

“Won’t lie. It’s bad, sugartits. Frank’s finally nutted up and quit being a pussy. That’s great and all; he totally powned my mouth and ass like a boss, but there’s also some cat-eared cunt in the mix doing mystical shit. Then Bernie showed up and got hella swoll and sexy. They duked it out, and now they’re banging like jackrabbits on meth, completely forgetting about my horny—”

“Oh, do we have another visitor?” A saccharin purr from the shadows resolved itself into the form of a curvy, short-statured cutie encased in a formless pink fur coat that matched her vivid hair color. She was sporting one of those animal ear headbands in her flowing lilac tresses. “Gosh, it’s Micah. I remember you! Welcome, welcome! Are you here to apply for a concubine position? I’m certain our master won’t object. You’re sooo~ pretty.”

Daphne quivered visibly at the term “master,” emitting a hungry groan and grinding her suspiciously wet thighs. Micah hurriedly positioned herself defensively in front of her demented lover and aimed her phone like a weapon at the cheerful intruder.

“Who are you and what have you done to Daphne?” She demanded. “It’s magic, isn’t it? Undo the spell or enchantment or whatever you’ve cast before I call the cops.”

Her voice was firm and steady, unlike her hands, which were shaking. Little Miss Pink cocked her head as though she didn’t understand and smiled disarmingly.

“I’m sorry. I’m aware this situation seems a touch… chaotic at first blush, but let me assure you things are not as scary as they appear.” She said placatingly. “Goodness, no. Um, I feel a little bad, actually. Everyone else got a nice-to-meet-ya gift, and here’s me empty-handed. It’s rather embarrassing, to be honest. Anyway, hi! I’m Konoha. If you give me a sec, I could probably finagle something last minute—”

“I don’t want a gift!” Micah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Worse still, the girl in the awful puffball coat acted genuinely ashamed of her imaginary faux pas. “I want my girlfriend back to normal, then we’re leaving. You can play all the messed up sex games you want, but without us.”

That snapped the lilac-haired stranger’s attention back to her, and Micah saw that her pupils were slitted like a feline dividing amethyst irises. Daphne wriggled closer, making lewd noises as she squirmed.

“I believe you’re laboring under some misapprehensions, sister.” Konoha crossed her arms and sniffed indignantly. “I’m trying to be nice, but no, it’s all about you, you, you. How selfish. What about your slut there? Did it occure to you to ask if she wanted to leave? Everyone was having a great time before you arrived. Uninvited, I might add. Party pooper, much?”

“Nooo~...” Daphne moaned, bumping her side into Micah’s heeled foot. Something looped around the Latina’s leg and constricted. “He hasn’t railed my cunny yet. Stay, please? Maybe he’ll fuck us both at the same time. Really jam that giant meat stick between our sandwiched pussies and get us off with the friction on our clits while we make out for him.”

Who was she talking about? Frank? Surely not. She despised the guy tooth and nail.

Glancing down, Micah was horrified to discover a silken cord wrapped around her stockinged ankle. It extended from Daphne’s broadened hip and no amount of kicking or yanking loosened the hold. She was trapped. Stuck to her girlfriend, who had become a literal ball and chain.

“Love, let me go.” She implored, trying to pull away but getting nowhere. Her jerky movement jostled the phone from her grasp to skitter out of reach in the darkness. “Please, this isn’t you. The magic is screwing with your mind.”

“If this is wrong. I don’t wanna be right.” Daphne sighed, curling around Micah’s foot like a contented sex kitten. More crimson ropes snaked up her calf and thigh. They were seductively soft. “It feels too good. His cock is deliverance, you’ll see. When the Master reshapes you into the perfect vessel to receive his Holy Seed, we’ll be sisters—bonded for eternity. Together forever under the aegis of his giant butt-punishing cock.”

“Well, I’ll leave the two of you to talk it out. Communication is key in any relationship.” Little Miss Pink—Konoha sniffed, her fur coat blowing in a non-existent breeze. “I’ll nip out the back and see about that gift. Don’t go anywhere.”

Was that a joke? The damn ropes crawled under her pencil skirt like a timelapse video of sprouting vines, fastening her to an immobile Daphne. Apparently not, because the girl flounced into the gloom, muttering to herself like a loon.

Once she was gone, Micah turned to Daphne. She desperately wanted to free her girlfriend but didn’t dare touch the crimson ties that were clearly cursed. Instead, she dropped to a knee and spoke in an urgent whisper.

“Love, you have to work with me to escape, okay? We’re magically stuck together, but if you can wriggle in the direction my phone went—”

“She was right, ya know. You’re very pretty.” Daphne slurred, sounding drunk. “Wanna kiss? Mouth still tastes like FrankMaster’s spunk, so you’ll probs be able to taste it too.”

Grimacing at the reminder, Micah checked on the flickering glow at the basement rear. The faint noises of sex were getting louder. A shot of fear straightened her spine.

“Later, I promise. All the kisses you want.” After a stern lecture and several bottles of mouthwash. “Do this one thing for me. Like in a three-legged race, we need to move as one. We’ll retrieve my phone, call for help, get rescued, and try to forget tonight ever happened.”

Solid plan. They’d have to move quickly because the silky soft cords tickled her panty line. Drawing a shaky breath, she shuffled towards the best guesstimate of her phone’s final resting place… and Daphne didn’t budge.

“I’m sorry for being such a crap partner.” The unmoving lump of a woman lamented with a sigh. “You’re so kind and understanding all the time. I’m just a whirlwind of drama flinging shit on anyone who gets close. A bukkake tornado, that’s me. You deserve better. I want to be better.”

Micha couldn’t suppress an eye roll. Typical Daphne, she had to get maudlin at the worst possible time. But right now, seriously? She wanted to slap some sense into her forlorn lover.

Instead, Micah lowered herself to all fours and prepared to drag the useless mass like a tire pull exercise. She’d carry them both out of here if it came to that—inch by painful inch.

“Master—that’s what the cat-eared skank insists we call Frank—said he can fix me. Grant me absolution with his massive prick.” Daphne snuffled, clutching tighter to her leg. “It feels incredible when he disciplines me. The agony is exquisite. Purifying. I kept cumming non-stop when he destroyed my asshole. It… redefined me on a spiritual level. I can’t wait for you to meet the awesome hunk he has become.”

Warning bells blared in Micah like a five-alarm fire. She scratched and scrambled at the cement flooring. She needed to reach her phone before…

A silken rope squirmed under her crotch beneath the black satin panties, parting her feminine folds before hooking over her generous hips. She gasped and almost collapsed when the sinful pressure turned her bones into jelly.

“No. Please god, no.” She prayed, quaking with unbidden bliss. “Not here. Not like this!”

She crumbled underneath the onslaught of sensual delight. Collapsing to the floor like a broken puppet. The crimson bindings slithered along sensitive flesh, unbelievably soft yet pulling taut enough to send erotic jolts of pleasure throughout her nervous system.

They slid up Micah’s belly, burrowed under her blouse and lacy bra to encapsulate her heavy breasts, winding around her hardening nipples, knotting into rings. Salacious sensations bombarded the spasming Latina from all sides. Wrapping around her like the crimson bow on a Christmas present.

“Nhhhhrgh~!”

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Daphne’s inflated chest pressed into her back.

“Don’t fight it, dollface. It feels good, right? Let it happen.” More loops of enchanted cordage manifested, trapping them together in a spooning position. Daphne’s other hand trailed under Micah’s pencil skirt to rest over her puffy mound. She slid a finger past the gusset of her dampening panties. “I’ll keep you wet and ready until FrankMaster is done with Bernie. She turned out feistier than expected, so we might be here for a while. How ’bout that kiss, babe?”

Heart racing, twitching ecstatically on her partner’s delving digit, Micah craned her neck to meet her girlfriend’s lips. Their tongues tangoed, and, as promised, Daphne’s tasted of salt and manly musk.

The building tension began to thrum through every part of her lush figure, tingling her fingers and toes. The wonderfully soft ropes continued to creep until they surrounded her like a cherry-hued net emanating gentle shocks of pleasing power, which her hyper-sensitive body readily absorbed.

It pooled in Micah’s center, swirling and swelling. She jittered and mewled helplessly when Daphne slid a second finger past her dewy lips, curling them in the way she adored.

She was almost there, skirting the edge of an earth-shaking orgasm, the magic climbing to critical levels within her. A meltdown was imminent… yet something held her back.

“FrankMaster is going to take our virginities, sweet cheeks. Our proper virginities. Not that fake girl-on-girl crap we’ve been playing at all this time.” Daphne whispered, brushing her lips down Micah’s neck. “That wasn’t real sex, see? Not like when he shoves that godlike cock inside you and stretches you past your limits. Fuck, I thought he was going to break me. Next time, I hope he does…”

“Oh, god!”

She couldn’t think, couldn’t breath. The increasing pressure from without and within was smothering Micah. It hammered at her senses. She felt like a steam boiler on the verge of blowing a gasket. Her lover’s clever fingers and gentle kisses, the enchanted bindings pinching delicate flesh beneath her disheveled clothing, the mounting energy churning in her core…

“He’ll claim us both. We’ll be together always. His eager fucktoy concubines.” Daphne’s warmth seeped into her back as questing fingertips stroked her special spot. “We’ll still get to play with each other whenever it arouses FrankMaster. Taking turns licking his sacramental spunk out of our pussies before he fills them again and again…”

“HYAAAAAA!!”

It was too much. In a blaze of spectral blue light, the dam was breached. Raw lust and magic flooded Micah’s body, blasting every cell and atom with unfiltered ecstasy. With nowhere to go—lacking an outlet—it saturated her in arcane power.

Blinded by her apocalyptic climax, the raven-haired beauty didn’t feel her open blouse and strict skirt tear under the weight of her expanding bottom and bust. Stitches unraveled, buttons popped and cloth shredded as hers bulged outwards, becoming more extreme.

Ripening tits overflowed her lacy black bra like rising dough. Firm but springy, they pushed under her chin until the clasp snapped, and two pillowy orbs bounced free, sitting high and proud on her chest, bound in red cords.

The smart skirt split apart around her widening hips and thickening posterior. The seams tore, revealing blemishless, supple flesh. Her enlarging proportions taxed the sensible satin underwear until it flossed her ass crack like a shoestring thong and pulled thin across her tortured slit.

Micah’s hair lengthened down her back in wavy flowing tresses, reflecting the ghostly blue light like polished obsidian. Her lips plumped, permanently taking on the same ruby hue of her lipstick. Any body hair below her sharpening cheekbones simply vanished, leaving smooth, poreless skin that begged to be touched.

Juices gushed, hot and plentiful, when she came. Dousing Daphne’s knuckles in girly nectar as a single realization monopolized her spinning mind…

For the first time in her life, Micah had a fearsome itch that only a big hard dick could scratch.

* * *

Franklin barreled through the archive’s doors with Bernie’s flaming thighs locked around his bullish neck as she hung upside down, hugging his waist and furiously deep-throating his cock.

Her drenched ginger muff occupied his mouth and chin. He lapped at it ravenously, ricochetting blindly off a shelf of Mesopotamian carvings, scattering them like dust on the wind.

“Hmmph~!” The warrior priestess temporarily freed her mouth to snarl a warning. “Watch where you’re going, clutz. Those are genuine antiquities… Aahhhh!”

Her harsh words ended in a slutty moan when Franklin buzzed his lips over her love button, stoking the fire that bathed her. She clawed at his ass, raking nails across steely buttocks before swallowing his enormous entirety again.

Daphne’s tumbling coppery locks and ornate feathered headdress swung like the flap barbarian’s loincloth, long enough to sweep the ground between his stumbling feet. She was relentless in her attacks. Her snug esophagus milked the choking girth, gulping the seemingly bottomless supply of sticky sperm as though it were manna from heaven.

Franklin shuddered through another epic release, knees knocking, blasting a potent load directly into her toned tummy. Bernie welcomed it with a satisfied hum, which vibrated through his engorged manhood like a jumbo-sized kazoo.

“Lord, grant me strength!” He hollered before retaliating, swirling his tongue through her sodden folds.

Her shaking calves clamped over his ears, threatening to cave in his skull as more of her jubilant nectar squirted. A regular mortal would have been pulped, but Franklin was one of God’s chosen, blessed with the might, ferocity and wisdom of the heavenly host.

So he endured. Fighting the good fight. Battling with any weapon at hand. His spouting cock, tireless mouth and nimble tongue, mainly.

Bernie appeared to have some divine backers of her own, as her steadfast persistence and superhuman feats of sexual athleticism indicated. Also, the flames were a dead giveaway.

They wrestled. Locked together in a sex-driven struggle for dominance. Trading life-changing orgasms instead of blows. Two ancient pantheons evenly matched.

“Whoa, look out!” A familiar feminine voice cried when they collided with a stack of crates, splintering the wood. “Take care, Master. I haven’t sorted through that section yet!”

Franklin’s gaze flitted about, finding Konoha off to his left, fussing over an eclectic exhibit she was in the process of arranging. The curvy fox girl’s many tails swayed above her naked toosh as she draped a ratty fur stole over a crudely chiseled granite bench she’d presumably dragged into a cleared space in the middle of the archive.

Around it was a mishmash of archeological findings from almost every era and civilization in recorded history: a legionnaire’s baton, velum scrolls, soapstone figurines, bronze tablets, flint tools with rawhide-wrapped handles and more. They were laid in a pattern, the stone seat at the center.

Dumbfounded by the bizarre setup, Franklin tapped Bernie’s side, signaling a time-out. The muscular redhead wasn’t inclined to stop at first until he forcibly yanked her gorgeous face off his monstrous cock by a fistful of hair.

“Had enough, you mouthy motherfucker?” She blurted through cum-glossed lips before twisting awkwardly to see what had snared his attention. “What the…”

“Oh, oh! Don’t look! It’s meant to be a surprise.” Konoha exclaimed, hopping about and waving her arms in front of them.

Franklin wasn’t having it, and neither was Bernie, as she flipped off his broad chest in a graceful somersault. She stuck the landing in a crouch and then rose to her feet with fists on her fiery hips in a no-nonsense posture.

Naked and brilliant to behold, she broadcasted strength and authority on every frequency. Together, they formed a united front that armies could break upon. Franklin’s admiration and desire for the one-time wallflower grew, even as the buxom kitsune quailed anxiously under their accusatory glares.

Then she surprised him by taking his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles in a silent show of support before asking. “Konoha, what are you up to now? What is all this? Speak true to your Mistress.”

The adorable fox spirit wilted like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Her furry ears and tails sagged as she stared dejectedly at her feet.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I found a stash of the good stuff—like, proper arcane goodies—out the back and got excited.” She explained. “I was preparing a spiritual spell array to recharge them all at once and channel their power into Master through the throne over there. There’s no sense in leaving it all behind when we leave, right?”

“In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in—” Franklin sought wisdom in silence after Bernie’s grip tightened painfully. He’d enjoy repaying her for that later.

“When we leave? Where are we going?” She asked innocently.

“Anywhere is better than this dump, surely.” The fox girl sniffed dismissively at their surroundings. “This place is full of dead things belonging to dead people. It’s a tomb. The two of you are brimming with life and vitality, and—thanks to Master—I am too.

“There’s an entire world for us to explore,” she continued, her slitted amethyst eyes sparkling. “We could return to Japan, unearth the hidden dens of my people, recover the secrets sealed within, and restore the kitsune to our revered station once again. Or we could travel to this Mexico place Master mentioned earlier. I can feel the connection between you and the lands to the south, Mistress. It would undoubtedly lead you to buried treasures there we could use…”

Indeed I would. To assist in fulfilling our bargain, naturally. Xōchiquetzal crooned approval. I like this one, daughter. She is a trickster but useful. Let’s keep her close.

“...and we’d fuck and collect new wives and concubines for Master while we toured the globe. Every emperor needs a harem and you would be his queen, Mistress. Above all others in status and importance. Indulging any dream or fantasy you wished as we gather wealth, prestige and power in his name to build a nation for you both to rule.”

It was a hell of a pitch.

Franklin’s slab-like cock lurched, ejecting a stream of spunk in gloopy ropes that arced through the air. Bernie’s empty twat ached at the sight. She released his hand to grab that meaty shaft and guided him toward the granite bench as though it were a leash.

Drawing closer, she recognized the stacked rocks and mortar. It was a throne of Charlemagne, not unlike the one in the Aachen Cathedral, but smaller if no less significant.

“Bernice, what are you doing?” He asked, a measure of uncertainty tainting his commanding tone.

“I’m tired of fighting the inevitable, Franklin. The last few years of my life have been a Sisyphean struggle. Can’t blame me for taking an easy out.” She said, guiding him to sit before straddling his lap. “You can be a pompous bastard but you mean well, most of the time. I don’t know if Konoha’s spell will work or if the Do-Me Dust will wear off in the morning. Either way, you’ve got big muscles and a giant dick right now and can fuck like a champion stud, so let’s see where this rabbit hole leads us.”

Without further preamble, Bernie braced her knees beside his hips, lifted, then lowered herself onto him.

Franklin grunted as her slick folds parted around his stout girth. Warm wetness welcomed him in with a velvet embrace. His hands shot to her rear, latching onto two firm ass cheeks that were sculpted by the gods and clutching them possessively as she began to move.

Bernie rocked her smooth pelvis as though she were riding a horse, short back-and-forth motions that made her silky channel glide and clench around his ironclad manhood. She emitted quiet gasps as he reached her innermost depths, leaning forward to press her milky breasts into his face.

“Oh goodie, everyone’s on board with the plan.” Konoha bounced with glee. The irrepressible fox spirit was very bouncy in general. “Stay right there. I’ll go fetch the rope sluts real quick, and then we’ll get started.”

She was gone in a flurry of waving pink tails, leaving Bernie grinding avidly on Franklin’s hard cock until he finally spoke.

“I should probably apologize, but I’m not sorry how things turned out,” he muttered around a lactating teet. “We’re finally special, Bernie, and I think the spell will work. The spiritual arts kitsune use aren’t like fae magic. From what little I understand, they create or block ethereal connections. The Do-Me Dust simply jump-started Konoha’s proverbial engine, and she’s running on her own steam now.”

“Glad to hear that mouth is good for more than slinging bible verses and performing oral.” She groaned, increasing the tempo as their flesh slapped together. “Welcome back.”

“It’s not easy. My head is stuffed with Solomon’s memories and knowledge, while my soul is mainlining pure celestial energy. Fuck, that pussy is on fire! If I’m not careful, it’ll have me declaring a holy crusade and charging off to retake Jerusalem from the heathens.”

“You’re not… Mmmph~! That’s it, suck Mama’s fat nipples… You’re not even Jewish.”

“Right? Imagine the… fuck yeah, ride my cock! Imagine the shit-show that would be.”

Bernie’s flames, which had reduced to the barest flicker on her skin, reignited back like she’d been doused in gasoline when Franklin thrusted upward. His large fingers dug into her heart-shaped butt to drag her back down his cunt-spearing gigantitude.

He savaged her creamy tits, taking turns suckling on them as they wobbled in his face, leaking on his stubbly jaw. Every mouthful only made him thirsty for more sweet ambrosia, fueling his turbo-charged libido and arcing bolts of hedonistic pleasure through Bernie’s glorious tit-flesh.

“Drink it all, baby. Haaah~!” She grabbed his hair and smothered him in soft cleavage, loving the way he pounded her insides. “Mama needs a strong hunk to suck her big titties dry while she takes this supersized babymaker for a spin.”

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord—shit, sorry! Keep working that ass, Bernie. You’re tight as a fucking clam!”

They bucked together atop the ancient throne. Enhanced muscles gleaming with sweat and rivulets of milk. Shared juices matted the animal skin under Franklin’s backside and soaked into the stone as they crashed into each other with escalating lust and violence.

”Mm-hmm! You’re stirring Mama’s pussy, Baby… Oooh~! You’re drilling her womb with that glorious big boy cock!” Bernie wailed, feeling the heat of his precum spilling inside her. “You can cum for Mama, can’t you? Hrrrgh! You can deliver a hot, virile load and knock her up. Pleeeease, Mama wants it so badly!”

She had seriously underestimated the Aztec Goddess’s effect on her and didn’t care then. She was lighting up the storeroom with her blazing desire to procreate. Her hair was a mane of living flame under the feathered headdress.

Every scrap of her being clamored to be impregnated—to carry new life and swell her flat belly. With the influence of two powerful pantheons at play, it was more than a sure thing. She’d like birth triplets at the very least.

Bernie craved that more than she had anything before.

She wrenched Franklin’s head back and smashed her lips into his. Their tongues met forcefully, tasting each other and sharing the flavor of her sweet lactate. They were avatars of the peak human condition, performing a rare exhibition of raw physical sexuality to perfection.

“Give it to me, baby. Yaaah~!” She gasped into his mouth. “Blow your potent spunk deep into Mama’s womb. Hnnnnh! I’m so damn fertile for you… I’ll get pregnant straight away, I promise!”

“Of fuck, Bernie! I’m about the cum!”

She clamped down and ground him to the base in her spasming snatch. Arching beautifully and shoving her quivering tits in his face again. She could almost hear his balls rumbling, preparing to launch their sticky payload and that thought alone sent her spiraling into a monumental climax.

“YESSSS!! Breed Mama, baby! Breed me! Breed me! Breeeeeed meeee~!”

Her thick corded thighs immobilized Franklin’s lower half as though she were terrified he’d pull out. She needn’t have worried because a second later, he added his voice to hers in an ear-splitting roar and erupted.

Part of Bernie was back in the cosmos, soaring between the stars on wings of ecstasy as he blasted an unbelievable quantity of manseed deep into her. It rushed out of him, hot and heavenly, stuffing her past the capacity a normal mortal woman could bear.

Franklin was grunting something into her smooshed cleavage. A prayer, perhaps. She would have laughed if she’d had the breath to spare.

Instead, she luxuriated in bliss, soaking in the offering to her goddess and feeling it quicken in her womb. Oh yes, Bernie had a few buns in the oven. Xōchiquetzal’s incorporeal presence radiated smug satisfaction but remained silent.

When she finally returned to herself, the blazing redhead stroked her stomach contentedly. She was still atop Franklin, and his huge rod remained rock-hard inside her as he lapped at her dribbling teets. Incredible, given how much sperm he’d deposited in her baby bank.

“Got enough juice left in you for round two, stud?” She inquired sweetly, giving her round toosh a little shake. “Want to see if you can pooch Mama’s tummy with a few buckets of cum?”

His gaze whipped up to meet hers, and there was a slightly feral quality to his wolfish grin.

“All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full.” Franklin’s brow creased in frustration. “Dammit! I meant to say; hell yes. This fucking amulet should come with a warning label.”

* * *

“Here we are. The whole gang is assembled to begin our next grand adventure.” Konoha rounded a shelf, hauling two erotically bound ladies like an oversized duffel bag. “Hey, you’ve already anointed the throne. Nice! Good forward thinking, Master. That’ll make this go all the faster.”

The many-tailed cutie was clearly stronger than her short stature implied, dumping the naked, writhing duo at his feet and dusting off her palms with a cheery smile.

Bernie glanced over a shoulder with a frown, still firmly straddling Franklin’s lap. “Is that Micah? What did you do to her? She looks… um, I don’t like to say—”

“Like a hyper-voluptuous sex idol?” The exuberant kitsune interjected helpfully. “Is that a correct description? I’m still learning contemporary terminology and would appreciate constructive feedback.”

“Uh, kinda, yeah.” Franklin confirmed, leaning around Bernie for a better view.

“Hurry up and stick that donkey cock in my girlfriend, beefcake,” Daphne demanded, tied securely to the Latina knockout’s back. “Shove it anywhere you want. She’s gagging for a sample of that monster dong. Really give her the business!”

Micah’s decadent hourglass figure was greatly exaggerated by the enchanted silk ropes. All flaring hips, tits and ass with a blanket of midnight hair cascading past her waspish waist. She was massively expanded and jiggled provocatively within the crimson binds that harshly pinched her pillowy flesh.

“Please… please…” She guttered, the broken noise emanating from her raspy throat. “I’ll die if I don’t have you in me soon… Master.”

A sliver of dark desire made Franklin’s cock twitch inside Bernie’s sodden folds, making her melt like butter in the sun. It was utterly wrong, but he had always yearned to sample the bombshell teaching assistant.

“You need to thoroughly baptize them with your essence for this spell to work, my Lord.” Konoha whispered hotly, docking her mouthwatering curves against his side and running clawed fingertips over his defined pecs. “Mark them as your concubines forever. Claim them. Own them. Prove you are a Prince worthy of their eternal obedience. Make them yours.”

Her crooned words were wicked honey in his ear. Like Eve offering the forbidden fruit to Adam, there was undeniable temptation. The squeezing of Bernie’s Amazonian cooch engulfing his turgid shaft wasn’t helping matters either.

She didn’t appear overly concerned when their gazes met, merely offering him a shrug that made her appetizing melons sway distractingly. Franklin’s stomach growled its approval.

“The peanut gallery in my head says take them with us but they’re not what you’d call impartial.” She sighed, kissing a line up his neck while languidly rocking her hips. “Xōchiquetzal has some seriously loud opinions about making them mommies too, and I can feel your dick lurching inside me at the idea, so let’s review our options...”

“Me first!” Konoha chirped, sandwiching his bulky bicep in her buoyant boobage. “Option one; Master fucks babies into all of us, then we head off on a globetrotting journey jam-packed with sexy fun and adventure. Emphasis on the sexy fun with as many women as we can drag into bed.”

“Shit, that sounds super hot.” Bernie gasped, her eyes shining jade-green. Franklin was inclined to agree, ardently kneading her bubble butt with both hands. “But… but… fuck, Franklin… you’re going to make me cum again. That would be… aaaah~... like kidnapping them, wouldn’t it?”

“Who are you calling a kid, whore?” Daphne barked, squirming angrily on the floor. “Sounds to me like you’re trying to bogart Frank’s meatstick. Learn to share, bitch!”

“Noooo… Master, please…” Micah whined, tears flowing. “I’m desperate for it. I’ll do anything, I swear—”

Franklin’s mind swirled with lust and power. Close as he was to dumping another gallon of virtuous seed into Bernie’s clutching snatch, all the arguing was infuriating. How was this even a discussion?

The three of them were essentially on the same page regardless. They wanted to be his—sharing his holy rigidity. Everything else was semantics. He was in charge, and what was the point of it all if he didn’t assume some fucking agency over his future?

“Enough!” He bellowed, and the women fell silent with apprehensive expressions. Turning to Konoha, he tucked a finger under her trembling chin. “Begin the ritual, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Right away, my lord.” The dutiful kitsune bowed before bounding away, her fluffy tails weaving complex spell patterns in the air.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Bernie looked simultaneously worried and aroused when he rose to stand with her wrapped around his steely prong. “Talk to Mama… ommff~!”

Her speech changed to incoherent moans as he plowed up into her with pussy pounding strokes. battering her cervix with toe-curling blows. She clung to Franklin like a barnacle, muscular arms and legs encircling him in bands of red-hot iron.

“What I should have done from the beginning.” He answered, stooping to lay her atop the lesbian lovers as though they were a pile of cushions. With so many extravagant curves, they were probably soft enough and Bernie’s flames didn’t sear them. Probably due to the enchanted cords ensnaring their luscious flesh. “Nutting up and casting off the yoke of a society that would see me fail. Dashing aside my cowardice and misgivings to take seize opportunity by the balls. I never planned for any of this to happen, but I’d have to be the world’s greatest dipshit to look a once-in-a-lifetime gift horse in the mouth.”

He never stopped pumping as her not-inconsiderable weight settled on Micah and Daphne, forming a loose pyramid of fuckable feminity. The pair were trapped in a spooning position, Daphne’s hand fastened above her girlfriend’s generous thigh, knuckles deep in dripping virgin slit.

“Look how wet she is, the silly skank.” Daphne purred, gnawing her bottom lip. “I’ve been edging her like crazy for you, ace. Keeping her primed and ready to lose her mind when you impale her on that fat bitch-breaker. She’ll gush like Niagra Falls at the first taste of our Master’s hard cock.”

“Yes, please… I need Master’s fat cock! I neeeeed it!!”

Franklin growled, and Bernie howled, spurred on by the plaintive squeals beneath them. Humming arcane symbols manifested on the floor. Interconnecting lines linked the carefully positioned relics, forming an intricate web of ghostly blue light centered around the rocky throne.

Konoha danced and spun gracefully throughout, snapping open two ornate fans decorated with a floral motif heedless of her nudity. She sang a joyous refrain in a language long forgotten. Her bushy tails constantly weaving indecipherable runes as her cherry blossom perfume pervaded the air.

The fox girl was beautiful and exotic to behold. Flush with spiritual magic and the urgent desire to serve. Franklin fixated on her, relentlessly hammering into Bernie and extending a heel backward to touch the stone seat, which was buzzing like a high-voltage relay station…

And dropped into a confusing, unfathomable maelstrom of roiling magical essences.

The spellwork around them exploded with light. Every artifact, tool and effigy rose from the floor, pulsing energy down the mystical veins directly into him. Ancient power from dozens of lost civilizations, cultures, religions, and tribes hurtled through Franklin, stitched onto his soul like a patchwork quilt as snippets of their forgotten lore flashed through his mind.

In one instant, he was a nomad, thumbing a bone talisman for luck as his hunting party tracked the great wooly beasts across a frozen tundra.

In the next, he wore a conical helm and prayed at a small roadside shrine, a bronze sickle sword across his knees.

Then he was an oracle clad in diaphanous robes, drinking the bitter elixir that would send her into a dream-like realm of prophecy.

On and on, he endured bloody battles, famines and plagues. Good harvests and bad. He bore witness to the rise of empires, only to watch them crumble under the erosion of time. He was present, however fleetingly, at great workings of sorcery and the construction of soaring monuments, met kings and queens and notable historical figures—Franklin even inhabited the skin of a few—as the combined mojo thundered into him.

He swelled with it like a rubber bladder filling with water, becoming larger, more bestial in nature. Sanguine wings emerged behind his shoulders, hooked brass talons replaced fingertips and spiraling ivory horns sprouted from his forehead.

Topping seven feet in height and several hundred pounds of defined musculature, Franklin’s irises were pools of shimmering quicksilver. Bernie convulsed uncontrollably around his inhuman enormity as it also grew. Her jade-colored eyes bugged, then rolled into her skull. Jaw hanging slack and drooling as she tried to speak.

“Big… so fucking… big!” She burbled through bubbles of saliva. Only the goddess’s blessings kept her from being torn apart. “What are you?!”

“He’s our Master and future Emperor!” Konoha leaped on Franklin’s back, shivering with excitement and brushing her lilac tails across the cliff face of muscles she found there. “Isn’t he perfect? All the best parts of the old world amalgamated into something new. Ready to take on any challenge and trample enemies beneath his boots. To breed and build a dynasty that will last for eons!”

The kitsune grabbed the base of Franklin’s fledgling wings to lever herself up to meet his lips in a tongue-fueled kiss which he enthusiastically reciprocated, mercilessly railing Bernie’s sopping, skin-tight snatch throughout.

She was surfing back-to-back waves of brain-blitzing bliss, adoring how he loomed above even her heroic physique, unable to articulate the gratitude she felt at being the object of his ravaging affection. She could only babble and shriek with each brutal lunge, squirting warm juices onto the two bimbos beneath them.

Daphne and Micah groaned under the crushing weight, but not in protest. They were kissing heatedly.

“Mmmm, I love what you’ve become, Master.” Konoha purred, nibbling Franklin’s ear and tracing the grooves of his shelf-like shoulders with her claws. “I’m so happy it was you who saved me. My most earnest wish is to spend eternity showing you how appreciative this lowly temple guardian is by serving you faithfully in every way. I will turn your every desire and darkest fantasies into reality, beginning now. Mark all three of these women you have yearned to claim with your royal seed and complete the ceremony. Then we can leave this dismal place together as your loving harem.”

Franklin could feel the pink-haired kitsune smearing her wetness against the bowed ridge of his spine, getting off on the dominant display. Bernie convulsed non-stop around his impossible width, her pupils dilated as she coaxed him towards a grand finale.

Immense power swirled and throbbed within Franklin, crying out for release. Too much power for a single mortal vessel—no matter how divinely reinforced—to contain.

“Holy shit, I’m about to explode!” He roared, sensing a connection snap into existence between him and the gorgeous redhead at the joining of their engorged sexes…

Gaping in wonder, he crested his peak, and Bernie capitulated under the overwhelming barrage of orgasmic rapture.

“Fuck me, fuck me! Give Mama another baby, baby!” She thrashed uncontrollably as a torrent of sticky seed fountained from him along with gigawatts of potent magic. “Yaaaaaaah~!!”

The power surged through the link, electrifying Bernie’s spirit as her athletic body quaked, solidifying into an ethereal bond. It saturated her at the subatomic level, a category-five typhoon of ancient energy that turned her flames white-hot and irrevocably tethered them to one another as he flooded her fertile womb again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Franklin howled, packing Bernie so full her washboard abs bulged outwards and her belly button popped like a turkey timer.

“Quickly, Master.” Konoha warned. “You must bond the other two or the ritual will fail!”

Withdrawing from the redhead’s vise-like pussy and spraying cum like a broken fire hydrant, Franklin lowered his aim to slam himself into Daphne. The sheer size of his stupendous manhood split the sadistic bitch wide apart as he sank into her soaked cunt.

“Gnnnrrhhh!” She stifled an agonized scream behind clenched teeth. “That’s right, Master. This is what I deserve! Use me... wreck me... break me on your uber-cock!”

Franklin poured jizz and power into her, feeling another link lock into place. A less significant bond than that he had established with Bernie, one based on forced submission, pain and masochism rather than mutual respect.

He was bent double, practically hugging the ground with the trio of women pinned under his mountainous torso, still cumming buckets when he slipped from Daphne to ram into Micah’s welcoming wetness.

“Oh god! Oh Master! I can’t… I can’t… AAAYYEEEEE!!” The mega-bombshell wailed, immediately climaxing upon penetration as her girlfriend mercilessly strummed her love button.

She lifted a shaky knee, further opening herself to Franklin. A voluptuous masterpiece of ripe womanhood, inviting him to ravage her and paint her untouched cervix white with his virile spunk, tremoring in orgasmic seizures.

A third bond was cemented, founded on empathy, compromise and a heartfelt longing to be commanded. To fight back but ultimately be subjugated by a more dominant personality.

In a few seconds of rutting, he learned more about the Latina pin-up girl than he had throughout their entire acquaintance.

Unexplored lust and passion boiled beneath Micah’s picture-perfect exterior as he claimed her. Delivering mind-bending gratification with each pulverizing plunge into her sensational softness. Deep stores of compassion balanced by a spicy love of conflict and drama.

She was a contrary creature but no less appealing for it.

“You’re mine! All of you. Forever and always!” Franklin bellowed, wings flapping in dizzying euphoria, lighting him up on the Fourth of July.

The sweaty pile of well-fucked women cried out in erotic harmony when he pulled out to hose them down with the tail-end of his life-altering load. Great pearly wads splashed against their perfect faces, tits and asses, more drooled from their abused holes.

They basked in it as though he’d showered them in expensive jewels as the tumult of magic within him stabilized into a more manageable cycle around his core.

“Yes, Master, Yes!” Konoha gnawed on his shoulder, fluffy tails lashed, and her fragrant juices flowed down his back. “You are truly amazing. Mighty and imposing. Brave men will flee at the sight of your unmatched prowess. Women will throw themselves at your feet. Nations will tremble—”

Franklin grabbed her by the scruff like a kitten, swinging the lilac kitsune around to his front. The incorrigible short stack wiggled adorably and covered her blushing cheeks with both hands.

“Quit jawing and clean me up, fox.” He commanded, lowering her before his unflagging turgidity.

“Ara ara, but of course, Master. This lowly temple guardian lives to serve her Lord in every way!” She chirped happily, opening wide with an “Aaaah!” to vacuum his knob into her pretty mouth.

No bond was needed for her, Franklin knew this on an instinctual level. Konoha had given herself entirely to him unconditionally. She was a trickster by nature, born to sew mischief and deception, but everything she did was for him.

Her actions—regardless of ethics or morality—were for his benefit, no matter how lesser mortals perceived them. Franklin had never experienced devotion and adoration that extreme before, and the raw primal energy running through his veins (thanks to her) was supremely intoxicating.

As were those slitted amethyst eyes sparkling worshipfully at him while she licked and sucked the frothy fluids of his three semi-conscious conquests off his tremendous tool.

He stroked her triangular ears affectionately, making her mewl, sorting through the memories and knowledge the mish-mash of fresh power had unlocked.

Ah, a codex of spacial runes courtesy of a Sumerian magician’s onyx ring. That was very helpful. Thank you, Konoha.

Focusing his intent and tracing a taloned fingertip through the air, Franklin drew a circle of illuminated symbols. Spreading his palms, the spell expanded, summoning a spinning, nine-foot vortex of prismatic light.

A portal to another place and time. An escape from this desolate prison that had limited his true potential for too long.

“A portal?” Konoha gasped in astonishment. “My Master continues to awe me with his sorcerous talents, but where does lead?”

Franklin furrowed his brow in concentration, weaving the complex strands of runes until they snapped into a cohesive pattern. He smiled contentedly down at the beautiful fox girl and patted her head.

“Wherever we want. Anywhere but here. Gather the girls, my most loyal and faithful servant. We’re about to embark on a grand adventure together. I can’t wait to explore the world with all of you.”

* * *

Finley was walking on cloud nine, practically skipping across the quad, enjoying the sunny day and the weight of a fat billfold in his pocket.

Business was booming. Everyone was talking about Do-Me Dust, coeds were going ape-shit for the product, but he was still keeping a low profile. Only accepting referrals from trusted sources. Working through clandestine channels.

He didn’t deal directly anymore. No, that was far too risky now the campus fuzz was onto him.

Instead, he had exploited the Dust’s notoriety to engage the interest of several local suppliers who furnished small-time pot and party drug dealers, thus creating insulated layers of protection between him and the law.

Sure, his bottom line suffered, but output was at an all-time high, more than compensating for the additional overhead.

Aurelia, his Fae lover, was insatiable, and the sex was more than incredible. It was goddamn magical! There was no other word for it.

It didn’t matter how many times he fucked the irresistible nature spirit—and they’d been going at it like dogs in heat in every position imaginable—she’d coo and beguile Finley with whispered promises and a deft touch into further acts of sheet-soiling depravity.

He ought to be worn down to stub from all the action he’d been getting from the little nympho, but, if anything, he was hornier than ever.

Simply thinking about Aurelia, with her brilliant blonde curls cascading over a glamorous body built for sin barely covered by scanty black lingerie, was getting him hard as he climbed the stairs to his dorm. Her miles-long bronzed legs, those firm grabbable hips, that narrow waistline, and heavy suckable breasts…

“Yo Fin. Slow your roll for a sec, bruh. You clued in on the scuttlebutt about the graverobbers?”

Derek, from two rooms over, was propping up the corridor wall, a shit-eating grin on his acne-scarred face as he munched on a bag of Cheetos. Slowing his roll as requested, Finley wrested his impatience to quirk a curious brow at the guy.

“The what about who?”

“The archeology creeps, dude.” Derek was a fellow freshman who thought learning a cantrip that allowed him to shoot colorful sparks from his fingertips basically made him the next Merlin. “Some dickbag Prof was arrested by the po-po for theft and embezzlement. Bunch of ice-aged shit went missing from the university vault—or wherever they stash them goodies—and he’s copping the heat. Turns out he’d been scalping anything with a lick of juju to pad the ol’ nest. You feel me?”

“I… um, yeah. I think I feel you.” Finley hedged, scooching around him in an attempt to avoid the puffs of cheese-flavored powder. “Sucks to be him, I guess.”

“It gets worse. My girl Janice spilled the tea. She says they found traces of golden dust in the mess he made ransacking the dungeon they call a department. She heard from her gal pal Isabell, who’s in a study group with Jack, that guy hooking up with Miss Dunkirk’s niece, that he—the Prof, that is—was high as a kite on fairy dust when it all went down. The randy old coot. Can you believe that noise?”

“Consider me floored. What a horrible scandal. Throw the book at him, I say.”

“Totes!” More Cheetos met their end in the grinning buffoon’s masticating maw. “College life, am I right? Talk about a trip.”

“A hundo percent, man.” Finley agreed, unlocking his door and quickly slipping inside with a sigh of relief. “What a knucklebrain.”

“My hero has returned.” A lust-laden purr greeted him. “I’ve languished, wilting in your absence, Love. But now you are back, I crave to nurture yet more of your precious seed. Come hither, enrich my soil. Allow me to reward the boundless care and protection you afford me.”

Aurelia reclined on the cheap, single-occupancy bed like a queen upon her throne. The crown of flowers in her sunlight hair had blossomed into a floral wreath that spilled sparkly pollen everywhere.

The Fae’s exquisite face was the picture of hedonistic desire. Her plump lower lip sucked in, delicate hands roving that phenomenal pornstar figure, silky thighs spread invitingly, womanly nectar dribbling onto the rumpled bedding.

Finley unhooked his belt, cock twitching at the sight of her. Ignoring the layer of glittering dust that coated almost every surface of the cramped room, he disrobed faster than a quick-change artist. His insta-hard cock (much larger and thicker than it had been mere days ago) sprang free to thwap against his distinctly more defined abdominals like a billy club.

He would worry about silly rumors and college scandals later. First, he had a Fae sex goddess to satisfy.

* * *

End of Part Three