Extra Lewd: Lotto Party 2 [❤️❤️❤️]

Today is a special day!

Well, every day is special in its own way. Today is extra special because you won the Lotto Party, and daddy Quinn is spending all day with you! November made sure you were dressed properly and everything: golden lipstick and eye shadow, extra absorbent t-shirt, and a miniskirt just big enough to cover your mino-pussy. Not to mention all the pretty jewelry November has you wear. A cute tiara, a lovely horn-ring, and a very fancy cowbell. She loves spoiling you!

You are Thanksgiving, and you’ve spent the morning doing your usual chores with Lord Quinn.

First was getting ingredients from the forest. Daddy had a fun time watching the tentacles molest you. They wrapped around your arms, your legs, even your titties through your shirt, the oozing vines squeezing and bouncing them around the way daddy likes. She jacked her futa cock as the tendrils invaded your mouth and played with your boobies, and even came once they pulled you into the air and fucked your pussy full of seeds.

You’re so happy when she joins you, you almost push out all those yummy fruits and veggies at once! They’re a lot rougher with her, distending her throat and bouncing her around so that her cock flops around and flicks pre all over! When the suckers come out to milk you, you moan and they swell with your yummy milk. They especially like playing with daddy’s dick, shooting her cum in her own face before wrapping around her cock and gulping down load after load.

Yummy!

Soon, she’s right side up so you’re facing each other as the vines fuck you mid-air. The goo they shoot down your throats changes your bodies, your boobies growing even bigger and your milk turning into an amber honey. Even daddy’s delicious cock is spurting out amber nectar to go with her tits! You’re a bit proud to admit that with three vines up your cunny, your belly is more stuffed than Quinn’s. Watching each other getting fucked by vines drives you to climax again and again, your DESIRE making Lord Quinn’s dick even bigger with every orgasm.

When the vines have their fill, they leave you on the ground as a pair of shivering, used-up plant lovers.

"Ooof...That's more fruits I've ever had in one sitting." Quinn pulls herself to her feet, femcum splattering to the ground as she holds her round belly. "Even counting the time with all those sailors..."

Now all you have to do is lay the fruits! You crawl over to the basket you brought and squat over it, shuddering every time one of the fruits inside you pops to full size. You bring your fingers to your snatch and massage your lower lips, crossing your eyes and squealing every time a popping fruit swells your belly further and makes you squirt. Your lips part as the pure pleasure overwhelms your mind, pushing a bean pod as thick as a fist out of your gushing pussy.

When you open your eyes, daddy is standing above you with a lecherous grin, rubbing her fat futa cock near your face. She bites her lip and something inside her twitches against her stomach, a small river of femcum running down her naked thighs.

“Daddy, please~” You purr and lick your lips as the meatpole inches from your face throbs invitingly. “Pushing out all these fruits is making me so hungry~ Can I have some of your cum?~”

“Of course, sweetie.” Quinn grabs you by the horns and shoves her crotch in your face. “This erection will have to go down a bit before we can share the basket, after all.”

Maybe it’s the musk from her balls, but…Daddy’s so smart! You wouldn’t be able to concentrate as much on pushing out the fruits if there was a yummy cock waving right out of reach! You can barely think anything with it poking your cheeks anyways! You clap your hands, the movement pushing your breasts together enough to squirt a bit more nectar all over Quinn’s legs. You open your mouth and Quinn shoves her cock down your throat, her throaty purr echoing down her member as she thrusts into you.

“Good girl~”

Quinn facefucks you just as intensely as the vines fucked her, every load she shoots down your throat followed by the plop of another fruit pushing its way out of you and a pair of pop’s of seeds growing to full size. When Quinn pulls out, you can taste the sticky nectar oozing out of her cock, your lips latching on to keep the yummy taste in your mouth for as long as possible.

You blink when you notice that Quinn’s boobies have grown, and so have your bellies!

Lord Quinn’s belly is the size of a basketball, textured fruits and veggies pressed against the walls of her stomach. A thin line of syrup connecting your mouth to her flaccid dick, but the thickest nectar runs down her body from her darkened nipples. Her boobies are bigger than her head, constantly leaking amber nectar. You’ve been such a dummy! Poor daddy hasn’t had her tits milked yet!

“Gosh~” She bites her lip and rubs her swollen stomach, shivering as another fruit swells inside her. “I’m so full~”

“That’s okay Lord Quinn! The basket is only…” You look down and stare blankly. You can’t see how full the basket is, your humungous titties and swollen stomach are in the way! “Well, I’m sure we can fill it up some more!”

“I’m sure we can.” Quinn giggles.

She squats in front of you, your bellies pressing together in a joined sigh of contentment. She shivers and squeezes her tits, dousing your breasts in her nectar as she pushes out her first fruit of the day, a nice ripe bushel of tomatoes. Watching daddy cum as she births a demonic fruit pushes you over the edge, and your nipples spurt out as you push another fruit out of your stuffed womb, giggling peasantly when the bumpy cucumber pops out of you. Your o-face is enough to do the same for her, and you follow her orgasmic birthing with another one of your own.

“You’ve got such a productive womb, Thanksgiving~” Lord Quinn hums as she massages your swollen belly. “I wish I can fill you full of imps again~”

“But daddy, then we’d get imp jizz all over the fruits!” You gasp as you both push out another fruit, dousing the basket in your feminine juices. “That would ruin the taste!”

“Hmmm…I guess so.” Quinn nods and brings up her boob to suck on it.

You help her out by milking her other nipple with a hand, then taking it to your mouth when your bellies shrink enough. Soon, you’re rubbing your pussies and mouths together, only stopping to push out bigger and bigger demonic fruits. Quinn fingers herself as she watches your pussy spread apart to push out a bumpy cantaloupe, and your udders spray out as you watch a delicious parade of oranges plop, plop, plop right out of her womanhood! Your orgasms melt into each other as you push the last, studded, gourd between your cunnies. With a final screech, the squash slips from your pussies and Quinn’s semi-erect cock spurts out a final load on the side.

The basket is overflowing with fruit, freshly washed by your femcum. You’re so glad daddy made sure to aim her yummy dick away from the basket! Quinn helps you to your hooves so you can marvel at all the fruits you made.

“Aw, phooey. The vines ripped apart my shirt and panties…again.” You stomp a hoof. “November got them for me and everything.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Quinn snaps her fingers and shadows cling to your forms to make the clothes again. “There, fixed! I’m sure November won’t mind they got destroyed…I doubt they would have survived until the end of the day.”

Lord Quinn slaps your ass and grins. You laugh. She’s right! You totally would have torn your clothes to shreds. Even if your cute miniskirt is a bit stretched and stained, you don’t expect it to survive past tonight.

You wipe the drool from your mouth. Now to go to the milking station, and you’ll have all the ingredients you need!

You usually work at the milking station with some other girls. Sometimes even with November!

There are a couple chairs for the girls who want to sit down as the tubes milk them. November really likes those! Sometimes when she’s preggers, she sits on one of the chairs and turns on the vibrators while she watches you get milked. You prefer to lean over the big bar and let people underneath you pull and knead your big titties. There’s a bit of spillage if they don’t aim right, but you can always make more!

You hum to yourself as you put on your milkmaid outfit, the tight cowprint spandex clinging to your limbs, with a little bit of squish at your biceps and thighs. You lean on the bar, tail wagging excitedly, and break apart the shadows that make up your shirt. You let out a happy sigh when your boobs swing down and trickle milk into the buckets you prepared. Quinn walks in and grins when she sees you, her erection straining against her panties.

“Someone’s excited.” She walks over and pats your head, careful to itch your twitching cow ears.

“Moo!~” You lean into her hand.

“Let’s see how much my favorite milky minotaur has in the tank…” Quinn licks her lips.

She sits down underneath you and her hands gently cup your breasts. You hum, louder as her thumbs circle your areolas, then squeak when she gently pinches your nipples and wobbles your tits around.

“Daddyyyyy~ Stooooop~”

“Their bounciness is just so hypnotizing.” She cups them again, from the base this time, then slowly brings her grip down to your nipples. A comforting release in pressure hits as you hear the hiss of milk spraying into the buckets. “Better?”

“Mmmm~”

Lord Quinn tenderly squeezes your breasts, the hours melting away as she fills bucket after bucket with your milk. Every now and then, she milks you vigorously enough that you cum, bringing you back from that hazy happy place you go when you’re milked. After a while, you’re roused from your haze when you feel someone’s lips sucking your nipple. You look down to find Daddy’s cheeks sallow as she drinks from the tap, carefully crouching so she doesn’t spill over the numerous buckets you’ve filled.

She’s been drinking for a while, the combination of your DESIRE and milk altering her body to fit your tastes. Her tits rest on her thunderthighs, having grown to HH-cups and constantly leaking milk. She licks the milk from her plumper lips, and gently swivels around so that her eighteen-inch cock doesn’t knock into one of the buckets. Most impressive are the apple-sized balls resting in a puddle of her femcum, thick with yummy jism.

Awww…Lord Quinn’s been milking you for so long she’s got blue balls!

“Daddy…”

“Sorry sweetie.” She smacks her lips. “Ran out of buckets.”

She stands and nearly tips over one of the buckets with her massive cock. She facepalms and magics the buckets so they pour themselves into the milk container. Did she forget she could use magic? New Year did say something about your milk being the main ingredient in both bimbofication potions and breast enhancement potions.

Lord Quinn’s boobies swing about as she waves her hands to fill the milk canister. She notices you looking and smiles, shaking her body even more. Daddy’s tits and cock look so yummy…

“You want a taste?~”

You nod eagerly.

Lord Quinn brings her tits to your face, squeezing them together so that the trickle running down her tits turns into a flow. You lap it up gladly, then suck both yummy nipples into your mouth and suckle on her delicious milk. She makes so much of it!

“Unf~ You were always a hungry one, sweetie.” She tells you and your ears flick happily. “Drink, drink…”

Once you had your fill, you let go. There’s something poking under your chin…it’s Lord Quinn’s yummy meatstick! You give Daddy a pouty look, her tits peppered in golden kiss marks. She nods and you open your mouth, making sure to stick out your tongue and lick underneath her shaft….

“Aaaaah~” Slurp! Yummy! You pull your cheeks apart and look up at Quinn eagerly. “Gurk!~”

She shoves her fat cock into your mouth, thrusting the eighteen-inch monster down your throat so hard her balls uppercut your chin. Quinn grabs your horns and facefucks you, her dick widening your slutty throat as your tits bounce around from the powerful thrusts. You love it when Daddy is so forceful with your mouth!

"Your throat is so tight, sweetie!~"

She hilts inside you and her tits spray milk over your back as she shoots her first load in your stomach. Her second load shoots down your throat as she pulls out, and her third bulges your cheeks. Too bad she comes over your face as you swallow, she can’t see your big smile under all her jizz! She looks at the golden lipstick stains on her cock with pride.

“Thank you, Daddy~”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She motions to the canister, which isn’t full yet. “We’ve still got a bit to go.”

You stand up, happily patting your gurgling tummy. You tap your cum-splattered lips and cock your head in thought. Idea! You and daddy can sit in the chairs and gossip as you get milked! You squee and clap your hands, pulling Lord Quinn to one of the chairs and sitting next to her. You and Quinn attach the clamps to your nipples, then lean back and let the machines do the work.

“Mmf~ That’s the stuff…” Quinn sighs and squeezes her boob. “Enjoying our date so far, sweetie?”

“You betcha!” You spot Quinn’s flaccid cock getting harder and bite your lip. “Mmmm… Daddy, if you don’t put that fat bitchbreaker away, I’m going to get on my knees and suck you off. And we can’t talk if your yummy cock is down my throat again!~”

Quinn chuckles and rolls her eyes. Oh right, telepathy! She takes care of her cock anyways, pushing the hardening member around her balls and gasping as she enters herself. Without the massive dick distracting you, talking gossip is a lot easier. You tell Lord Quinn about all the interesting people you meet while you sell baked goods, all the yummy cocks you’ve tasted, and all the new imps you and November birthed. The loud schlick-schlicking of Quinn fucking herself is a bit distracting, but you can better ignore it as you play with your own pussy. Quinn tells you about the classes she’s taking, the cute girl she hangs around, and the annoying parts about politics, though most of what she says gets lost in the haze of milking.

Eventually, a big burst of milk is sucked into the canister when Quinn cums inside herself, bloating her belly with cum. Her ahegao is enough to push you over the edge, and your own milk output spurts over the max capacity!

You’ve filled the milk quota. Yay!

You unhook yourself and get out of your milking uniform to put on your other favorite outfit: your apron and chef’s hat! Quinn puts on her own apron and chef hat and joins you in the kitchen to help you make a scrumptious dinner.

Good cooking needs a lot of things! Plenty of ingredients, a big heart, and a sense of taste. As a succubus, you wouldn’t normally be able to taste any mortal foods…but with the fruits and veggies you and Lord Quinn got, you have a lot to work with!

Daddy is super helpful when you get to preparing the produce!

The cherries that plip-plip-plipped out of Quinn’s pussy get de-seeded, then candied in the oven. The corn cobs that tickled your pussy lips, one of which the tentacles twisted and thrust in and out of your gushing cunny, have the kernels shorn off and put into the fancy blender November got you to make cornmeal. The fuzzy, bumpy peaches are super juicy, so you got to be careful when you cut and peel them so you can get as much flavor as possible! As for the giant green bean pods…just thinking about Daddy’s face as she pushed them out of her stuffed uterus makes you giggle.

Teehee!

Well, you squeeze them out of their pods and shred them up for the collard greens. Maybe you nibble on a few…they taste so much like Daddy, after all~

Speaking of, Lord Quinn’s hard at work mashing the sweet potatoes. She wanted to use magic to mush them, but you stopped her. You can taste the difference, promise! So she gets to work, angling her aproned tits around the bowl and twisting the masher into the bowl to reaaaaallly mush those tato’s up!

Normally, you have a lot of imps helping you out. They tend to get their big cocks in the dishes, and it really messes with the balance of flavors. Daddy’s a lot better than those clumsy imps, keeping her fat cock under her apron as she walks from station to station preparing the produce with you.

Once you get all the veggies, fruits, and tubers chopped, shredded, mashed, or peeled, you get to work on the most important part of the finger food…the pastry! Thankfully, Labor has a handle on the fields so you have a lot of flour to work with. And you never need to worry about milk! The major obstacle is getting the butter ready. November got you another nifty gadget for churning butter, but there’s something about moving the classic churner up and down that you love.

Daddy seems to agree! She looks at you churning butter and bites her lip, her cock lifting her apron up so you can see her yummy balls dangling between her glistening thighs. You blush and look away before you get too excited. Only Daddy is naughty, and you hear some loud moaning and slapping. When you turn around, you think she’s twerking her bouncy butt in your direction, only for you to realize that she’s got the churner stick up her womanhood! She’s fucking herself on the churner, shooting sticky cum all over the floor!

“Ouuuuuh!~ I can't stop it sweetie, you looked so cute rubbing that stick that IUUUHH~” SPLURT, SPLURT, SPLURT goes her cock all over the kitchen floor. “Ah~ I just had to cum~”

“Daddy…” You stomp a hoof and try to avoid looking at the musky puddle of cockjuice. “I think we have enough butter.”

You get to mixing the dry ingredients together for the cornbread, sugar and cornmeal and flour and a little bit of baking soda, then crack a few eggs and add one cup of buttermilk. Hmm…a bit more?  You pop a boob out and squirt a bit more into the bowl, then get to mixing. Lord Quinn is hard at work kneading the pastry doughs for the pies, occasionally glancing at you while you work across from her. Both of you have to be careful with your tits on the table, because a little too much movement could squirt some extra milk in a mixture and ruin the balance!

The dishes pile up, you and Daddy having less and less space on the table to work with. See, that’s the funny thing about imps, they can clean dishes and suck titties to make a cleaner workspace, but then they leave their cum stains, stuffed condoms, and bloated women laying around all over! You work on the last few dishes side by side, you boobs pushing against each other as you work.

You giggle and leave another floury handprint on Quinn’s butt when you leave to put another dish in one of the ovens. Except when you come back…you spot your own big boobty in the reflection of the mixing bowls. It’s covered in handprints!

…Daddy really likes your big butt!~

There’s not a lot of space as you two work on the last cakes. Your tails entwine together as you and Daddy work together to finish, and you’re bouncing around in place excitedly. Cooking with Daddy is so much fun! Except…You’re kneading and rolling and flattening and sprinkling…but your big, milky boobies keep getting in the way! Your aprons are completely soaked through, not even stopping the flow a little bit! Every time you try to scooch closer to Quinn, your tits bounce about and gush even more milk.

“Uuuuuuuee!” Big tears bead your eyes. “The cakes are going to be ruined…They’re going to be soggy and lumpy!”

You try to cup your massive milkers, but it only makes more sprinkle from between your fingers. Quinn is doing the same, looking at you with a concerned expression. She takes her hand off one of her nipples to place on your shoulder comfortingly, but her nipple squirts out some more! This is a disaster!

“It’ll be okay, sweetie.” Daddy keeps her messy breasts covered and leans into your neck to give you soothing trail of kisses up to your plump cheeks. “We’ll bake them for a bit longer, or better yet, layer them with fruits and cream. Does that sound nice?”

“Yeah…” You sniff. “Okay.”

Lord Quinn’s plan works, and though the cakes are a bit lumpy, you manage to recover them as cream cakes. And with Quinn there, you didn’t have to worry about making up for the milk that makes up the cream!

“There, there~” Quinn smears her dough-covered breasts along your back, squeezing your breasts tightly to milk as much as she can from you into the creamer machine. “See? Plenty of cream.”

“Aaaahn~! You’re right, Daddy!~” Another long stream of milk squirts into the mixer, another machine November was nice enough to get you. “Mmmf~! I guess I was worried for nooothing!~ Mmmmooooo!~”

Your eyes roll back as Lord Quinn flicks your nipples, playing with your dough-stained body just the right way to squeeze as much milk as possible from you. You cum so much from your titties that you can almost forget Daddy’s massive cock gliding between your thick thighs.

When you’re done with the cream, you’re left with a small problem. Both of you are absolutely covered in dough! What a mess!

It’s a good thing Daddy has an idea on how to get clean!

Your idea to clean up your chubby minotaur daughter isn’t an original one. You are Quinn, and November warned you how messy Thanksgiving can be without assistants to clean her as she works. With that in mind, you lead Thanksgiving to the final destination for the evening: the bathhouse.

An enterprising dwarf decided to settle here after her husband got bimbofied. She used the money the BIMBO earned to buy a plot of land on the east side, close to the portal to Nancy’s Tavern, and build some public baths. She makes quite a few tokens for private bathroom reservations, saunas, and getting commissioned to keep the BIMBOs clean.

You reserved the BIMBO public baths (and a private room for later), with the expectation there’d be three to six BIMBOs bathing when you bring Thanksgiving there.

That wasn’t the case.

After you changed out of your dirty clothes and wrapped a towel tightly around yourselves, you entered the sauna to find about thirty BIMBOs washing themselves and gossiping in the hot baths. When you came in with Thanksgiving, their eyes did not focus on the doughy, jelly-stained cow, but the massive schlong straining your towel. Thanksgiving’s BJ did a great job quelling that monster, but the combined DESIRE of the slutty bimbos reignited a fire in your crotch.

“Wowie! A futa!”

“They’re fun! I, like, get to suck their dick and their tits!”

“I dunno, their cummies can taste kinda gay…”

“You, like, drank a gallon of jizz from my pussy an hour ago!”

“Yeah, but that’s, like…just girls helping each other out, y’know?”

Now isn’t the time, you remind yourself. Not even as your cock slides between your breasts, every step bouncing your bodacious boobs closer to your dick-sucking lips. Let them stare, now is Thanksgiving’s time.

“Daddy, all these girls are staring at your dick.” She pouts. “It’s supposed to be mine for today…”

“Of course, sweetie.” You grab a fistful of her ass and she moos happily. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to stuff you full of imps again.”

“Weeeeeell…” She pokes her fingers together. “Imps can be so cute! And, like, birthing them is fun!...”

She gets lost in thought, fondling herself through her towel. You let the rest of her thoughts catch up to her.

"But...I want something more special than some silly imps."

Oh? Something specific, then?

You guide Thanksgiving over to one of the hot baths and extend an arm for her to slide into the water. She lets out a relaxed sigh and settles into the water as you grab a sponge. Her towel parts, her nipples leaving clouds of milk in the hot water, and you begin scrubbing away the jam, dough, and sauces from her body. You sit next to her and gently wipe away the more stubborn clumps from her armpit, leaning into her ear as your hand wanders between her thighs.

“So what do you want?”

“Mmmm~” She shudders and leans closer. “I want to have two incubi. Smaller ones, with humanoid faces. Aaand big bitchbreaking cocks so they can have sooo much fun with me and November at the same time!”

That’s doable. She’d have to find a mortal—

“I want them to be yours, Daddy~” She rubs her abdomen. “I want to carry your incubi, the way you carried me~”

That complicates things. You never could get your daughters pregnant with anything more powerful than an imp. And you can say with absolute certainty that you’ve done a lot of incestuous impregnations. Still, the seed of an idea forms in your mind. Maybe if you…

The baths are oddly silent. You notice the bimbos are looking at you molesting Thanksgiving and squirming about jealously. You’re not one to mind voyeurs, but this is an emotional moment, dammit!

Whatever. They’re dumb as hell, and Thanksgiving could do with some conversation partners as she washes herself.

“You two.” You point to the two bimbos, a blonde and a brunette, closest to the bath. “Yes, you with the fingers in your snatch and the other rubbing yourself against that rock. Come clean Thanksgiving, I’m going to do a yoga class.”

That’ll distract them. The two slide into the bath and take some sponges to wipe down your cow daughter.

“A yoga class?” Thanksgiving cocks her head. “What’s that?”

“Stretches and exercise.”

“Oh…” Her eyebrows furrow slightly. “I don’t like that, mommy.”

You reel back as if you’d been punched. From the eternal ball of sunshine, that might as well have been a curse. You give her a strained smile.

“Now Thanksgiving, proper exercises are important for pregnant women. Especially those who carry their children over several months. You want to help pregnant mortals, right?”

“I guess…” She crosses her arms, the bimbo cleaning her side slips off her boob and falls into the water. “Just don’t impregnate them before me!”

Sure. How hard can it be?

You clap your hands to send the tiniest hypnotic pulse through the sauna. They all straighten, some having their towels slip past their waists as their eyes glaze over even more. Right, bimbos are really susceptible to hypnotism. Nearly thirty buxom women stare at you with hazy expressions, their dicksucking lips and pussy lips parted, fluids subtly dripping out of them in a way that has your cock throbbing. You check back to Thanksgiving, who’s shaking her two new friends out of their trance.

It might be a bit harder than you think.

After a little bit of corralling, you manage to get the bimbos in a line. There are a few slips, so you get them to stand on their towels, exposing their bare bodies to you. Over two dozen women stand before you expectantly, perspiration dotting their supple bodies. Your cock twitches between your tits.

It doesn’t get easier from there. You start them off with a bit of cardio, marching in place. Initially it was to get the warmed up and see their massive racks bounce around, but by showing them what to do, your own tits bounce around your cock, your own traitorously soft flesh bringing you closer to orgasm. Thanksgiving is mostly clean at this point, but she’s keeping a careful eye on you as she has her circular conversations with the bimbos washing her.

When you move onto the stretches, you walk around to correct their forms. Some of them have a tough time at it, so you get behind them as you guide them into place. It’s mostly an excuse to check them out, reading the tattoos on their thighs or stats printed on the cards clipped to their ears. Most of what you understand, you get through touching them, feeling how deep the bimbofication has set in their bodies.

There’s some groping involved. Maybe some kissing.

“Mmmmf, why are you, like, playing with my boobies?”

“They can’t seem to get in the right position.” You read her stats as you tweak the blonde human’s nipples. “Eight imps birthed, four smugglers caught, and fifty-six dicks sucked…the magic is thick inside you, you’re going to be a bimbo for at least another year.”

She frowns and starts counting on her fingers.

The girl was one of the first people bimbofied. You already gave her a cute little succubus you called Penny, short for Penicillin. She mostly works with her daughter at the hospital. Penny’s far smarter than her, so she handles the medicine while her mother works as one of the comfort nurses used to help injured demons recharge. You always see her riding some demon cock when you check on the twins, so that explains the demonic corruption through her body.

“Like, um, what do you mean?” She cocks her head and gasps, your fingers sliding into her gaping cunny and tickling her sweet spots. “Ah!~ Is my pussy not doing the exercise right? I’m sh-shorry!~”

“Yup.” You grind your fat cock through the towel and between her perfectly round ass cheeks. “Only some minor corruption. Some kegel exercises and a proper diet should fix you right up!”

Demonic corruption varies by how much sex a person has with demons. As tempting as it is to corrupt someone into a demonic bimbo slut, your experience with Turned demons is one of diminishing returns. Turned demons needs special soul surgery to keep them from losing their minds, and they give off less DESIRE than mortals. So you take time to use holy magic to clear out the corruption, with the neat side effect of tightening loose pussies. Penny's mom bites her lip and whines as you fingerblast her a while longer, the other bimbos barely sparing you a glance once they hear you’re only ‘exercising’. You could probably fuck some of them without the others noticing if you play it off right.

Thanksgiving leans in the tub contently, occasionally opening an eye to check that you’re not up to funny business. She raises an eyebrow when she sees you’re playing four fingers deep in a writhing blonde bombshell, but that’s just some heavy petting. For her part, her cleaners have finished washing between her fat folds and are now washing her hair. Every now and then, one of them gets distracted by Thanksgiving’s leaky tits and goes down to drink for a bit, her eyes rolling back as she imbibes the cow’s delicious milk.

The next bit is harder for you. You try to show them each of the yoga poses, but it presents three problems. First, every time you stretch far enough, your dick springs free from the confines of the towel and the drooling sluts can’t pay attention. Second, the dumb broads can’t remember more than three poses at a time! And third, some of them are set up facing each other and they get distracted talking, kissing, or playing with each other’s bodies.

You solve the first and second problems by beaming the poses in their minds, still walking around to correct their poses. You can only manage to distract those face each other by whipping out your eighteen-inch bitch breaker and waving it between them to get them to do the poses like trained dogs.

They follow your swinging pole around, stretching their heads to reach your until you get them in the right positions. You award a few by letting lick up and down your member, a few of them shuddering from the scent of your virile genitals. You’re letting a formerly gossiping pair kiss each other around your cock as they lean in from their upward facing dog pose, moisture collecting between their taunt thighs.

“Daddy…” Thanksgiving walks up to you with her hair in a towel, frowning upon seeing all the different colors of lipstick overlapping her own on your cock. She shuffles in place, a thick rivulet of arousal running down her furry legs. “Do I really have to exercise? I don’t want you to get distracted by all these pretty girls.”

She stares sadly down at her chubby belly. Awww…Poor girl thinks you have a preference! This isn’t even a competition, least of all between your cute cow daughter and a bunch of mass produced imp relievers. Hell, most of these bimbos’ gazes are bouncing between your fat cock and her delectable knockers. Sure, one of them has your balls in her mouth, but her eyes are glued to the thick cream spilling from Thanksgiving’s nipples. You can already feel their cumulative DESIRE increasing your milk output…

Plus, you really want to grant Thanksgiving’s request as fast as possible. She has such a high opinion of you, she might just cry the next time she makes imps instead of a pair of incubi. You’ve got a decent idea on how it could work, but it’s only a theory. You telepathically send the message to a particular succubus nearby to crunch the numbers, then wrap your minotaur daughter in a big hug.

“I’ve got it, Thanksgiving.” Your whisper barely muffles past her bust. “In the meantime, you’re going to show these bimbos how it’s done. Okay?”

“Kay…”

The cute moment is a bit off since the bimbos cleaning Thanksgiving took the chance to suck and kiss your tits as they wrap around Thanksgiving's waist.

“Alright girls, Thanksgiving’s going to show you some poses, and I want you to follow along. Got it?” There are a few vapid nods, and they blink away their lust when you pull your towel back up. “Got it?”

The yoga becomes a lot easier to manage. The bimbos are all facing Thanksgiving and you beam the poses in her mind. She struggles at first, but she’s stronger than she looks and you’re giving her the easier poses to start. Whenever she struggles for leverage with her hooves, you give her a little help with some subtle shadow magic.

You walk around in the back row to check the status of the other bimbos as Thanksgiving leads them through their stretches. Most of them are well fed, which was an issue starting out when the demons taking care of them forgot how much care a mortal body needed. They’re all sanitary, though you spot the occasional tied condom peeking out of a pussy, and one still in a poor girl’s butthole.

Thanksgiving moves to switching between cow and cat pose.

“Moo!~” Thanksgiving says every time she switches into cow pose.

“Moo!~” The bimbos repeat, their bouncing asses pulling your erection at each turn.

Fuck, all these jiggling asses, wet pussies, and bouncing tits are making  you so hard. You fucked yourself in the milking room next to Thanksgiving, and it helped. Yet... All those rewarding little licks and kisses the bimbos plaster on your cock with those plush lips, alongside the refreshing memory of your own inner walls tightening on your cock…You stare at a plump ass jutting in your direction and lick your lips. Your cock strains against your towel, your warm milk soaking through it like the world’s worst cumrag. Her pussy lips are tight, wet, virginal somehow.

You have Thanksgiving stand up so you can peak at the tag clipped on her ear. Valthryn, one of the elves who tried to invade. Recently finished complete feminization after an experimental bimbofication enchantment. Set to be a BIMBO for between twelve and forty years.

Dang, being a bimbo for so long without being an official citizen would suck. You rub your cock under your towel and have Thanksgiving do a half-forward bend. She struggles a bit, as do most of the other bimbos since they’re top-heavy, but Valthryn handles it without issue. You clasp her supple ass and she gasps.

“You’re flexible.” She gasps as you trail a finger across her slit, circling her unusually large clit, the only hint of her former gender. You crouch so she can look at you between her legs. “How many times has a cute girl like you taken it up the ass?”

“Like, so many times!” Valthryn purses her bubblegum-pink lips. “No matter how many times I try, I can’t make my own imps to, like, use every single one of my slutty holes! It’s not fair…”

You grin at her, letting her dull yellow eyes linger jealously on your milky bust peeking through the top of your towel, and hungrily on your massive cock. Her eyes flutter when the smell of your swinging balls wafts between her legs, another river of arousal spawning from her sopping wet pussy.

“Maybe the semen is stuck inside you. I can fix that~”

“Omigosh, really? I would love that! All the others keep telling me it won’t work because I don’t have a kitty cat, but I knew if I rode enough cocks, I’d be able to get imps of my own! I’m gonna, like, name them! George, and Henry, and—”

You mentally beam the standing forward bend position to Thanksgiving, and Valthryn’s vision (and mouth) are sealed off behind her fat tits as she follows the leading cow. You stand and slowly push your throbbing monster inside the elf bimbo, every virgin fold squeezing at your member hungrily as she squeals behind her tits. The slow squelshing of your soaking cock gathers the attention of the neighboring bimbos, but their gullibility saves you from an impromptu orgy.

“Sounds like she’s, like, getting dick?”

“Don’t be a ditz, the futa just said she was getting the semen unstuck!”

At least, that’s what you imagine them saying under the muffling.

Shhhhhhlick…

You begin to stealthily pull out, but Valthryn’s womb is desperate for your seed, sucking you in with enough force to drive your sensitive climax over the edge. Damn, you were on a hair-trigger! You groan as your tits spray over Valthryn’s back, your balls clenching closer to your body as you shoot several thick ropes into the virginal whore’s womb.

“MMMMMF~”

Her body bloats and swells, pushing herself off her tits and unbalancing her so that she lands on her face. Gravity pulls her off your throbbing cock, a strand of femcum connecting her widened pussy to your still erect cock. Her darkened nipples spray out, the pregnancy taking hold in moments as she lays there and shoots cum from her cunt. Give her an hour and she’ll have a newborn demon sucking at her tits.

You pump yourself inside her some more, each pump getting a squeal of delight and another spurt from the bimbo's tits. Her legs nearly crumble under her, your cock serving as the only support as you continue to rock her preggo belly with your thrusts. You slap her ass and hilt yourself inside her, bloating her with her second imp. You pull out and rub your cock contently as a trail of your dickbatter oozes around her gravid body.

Aaand…upward dog…

Valthryn struggles to follow along, resting her pregnant belly on the ground and puffing out her leaky breasts. Her limbs tremble from the aftershocks of her orgasm, notably on the edge of another the moment the demon inside her grows some more.

“Like, wow! I guess Valthryn wasn’t lying!” One of the bimbos notes.

You sneak away before any of them turn around to notice the flagpole between your legs. Thankfully, Thanksgiving doesn’t notice.

She does notice you help yourself to the mouths of a couple more exercising women, licking her lips as you help the women ‘stretch out their throat muscles.’ You make sure to give Thanksgiving a good show, facefucking the grateful bimbos as far as their mouths will allow. They try to swallow the fat loads of precum, but they can’t handle your girth and cough up you slimy seed until it splatters all over their tits. You get a couple more lipstick stains around your cock. None has reached as far as the golden ring of lipstick near the base of your cock.

Thanksgiving smiles proudly when she sees that, a little bit extra dribbling from her nipples every time you swing your cock around to show your progress. She frowns a bit when you get to Quartz, a dwarf who willingly became a BIMBO to pay off her debt.

She thought she’d be getting a dick and a massive rack like Miss Fortune, but you’d streamlined the debt process since then. She’d only be a BIMBO for the next two months…you thought it would be a waste to not have her give you another cute spawn.

Plus, she had the smallest rack out of all the bimbos in the room, so she was struggling with the half plank. All the others could easily rest of their tits for the entire routine! Thanksgiving pouted as you crouched over Quartz and slipped your cock inside her, disguising the vicious slapping of your cock and squeals of slutty joy with illusory music.

“Wow! Like, music while we exercise! That’s totes cool!” The bimbo on your right says.

“Omisuuun, I literally cannot even wait to, like, shake my cute little butt to this song when it finally comes on the radiooo—it’s gonna be sooo fun and sparkly and ahhh!” The bimbo on your left says, shaking her bouncy ass. “Like, how about you, Quatrzie?”

PLAP! “Yessh~!” PLAP! “Stuff my shlutty hole!~” PLAP! “I wanna be, like, big an round, an stuffed!~” PLAP!

The awkward squat as you dick the dwarf down becomes a lot easier as she swells up from your first load. Every thrust inside her splatters your jizz all around her thighs and ass, while giving you easier leverage. Once you’re done, the dwarf had a much bigger rack and a belly large enough to force her in a downward dog.

While you’re still thrusting into Quartz’s bloated uterus, you clap your hands with another subtle hypnotic trigger. The bimbo’s eyes glaze over and you command:

“Squat!”

You don’t need to use hypnosis to get them to do what you want. But you’d turn some heads if you were to stand up, preggo dwarf still bouncing on your massive cock, and join Thanksgiving at her side. She pouts and turns her head away, her sweaty limbs trembling from the exertion. You manifest a shadow couch for both of you to sit in, inviting her to sit first. She huffs, but sits down and relaxes anyways.

“I don’t like exercising…” Thanksgiving huffs and crosses her arms.

Okay, you broke your promise. But it was for a good reason! Thanksgiving needs to learn how to make mutant incubi, and that requires some impregnations.

You collapse down next to her, your dwarven onahole screeching with pleasure as she impales herself deeper on your rod. Thanksgiving frowns at her and makes to look away, but you put your hand on her cheek and lean closer, mushing your milky tits together (and muffling the dwarf between your bodies) as you exchange a passionate kiss.

<Thanksgiving,> You get her attention telepathically. <Here’s what I need to do to give you your sons.>

You run your hand over the gravid dwarf’s belly, telepathically explaining the process of mutant demons in as simple terms as possible. Thanksgiving’s hand joins yours, and you switch from kissing each other to peppering the writhing bimbo in your ministrations as you teach Thanksgiving. After a couple minutes of massaging, groping, and milking the silly-faced bimbo, a mixture of femcum and jizz pools between you two as Thanksgiving finally understands.

“CUMMING!~” Quartz squeals as she swells once more, the kiss pushing you over the edge and stuffing the dwarf with another hot load.

You take the bimbo off your cock and lay her by the baths as she struggles to catch her breath. Of course, you position her so you and Thanksgiving can watch the creampie pool out of her twitching folds.

Time for some gentle relaxation and a small show.

You send a mental command, the three lines of squatting bimbos bring their hands between their legs and start jilling. Whorish moans and slick fingering sounds echoes throughout the sauna, a concert and a buffet for just you and your bimbo cow daughter. Thanksgiving purrs, drinking in the DESIRE of the dull sluts as you bring a hand between her legs to flick her bean. Her hand switches between caressing the part of your shaft that isn’t inside the squealing dwarf, fondling your balls, fingering your salivating cunt, and playing with tits that slowly grow to match her own.

After a while, you have the bimbos drink milk from your breasts and play with your pussies, the occasional lucky one getting to massage your fat futa cock with her entire body. Of course, you never let them swallow your loads; they have to keep it in their mouths and kiss it into Thanksgiving’s.

You and Thanksgiving sit in a half-daze, letting the bimbos spoil you until it’s time for the final meal of the night. Then, they lick you clean and you take the door to the private room you reserved for the day. You leave the bimbos in the sauna to squirt their brains out for the rest of the evening.

Your incubi-to-be, Cordy and Slime, will have a feast ready for them when they are born.

The room was specially prepared for the evening for a group of eight: several special massage beds line the walls, the center of the room with a low, sturdy table and seven chairs. Waiting for you are the minor winners of the Lotto Party in various states of undress.

Fig is the most dressed, though she clearly has a special maid uniform for the sauna. She has a frilly miniskirt, garters, and a sling connecting the skirt to her neck while covering her perky nipples. Her purple eyes light up when she sees you, and she takes a second to straighten her midnight violet bob before standing at attention in her ‘attentive maid’ pose.

Daffodil’s navy blue hair tentacles squirm, the svelte sky-blue succubus holding her towel closer to her body. She’s probably self-conscious about the tendrils that make up her pubes, which are squirming excitedly under her towel. For some reason, your IT girl is still wearing her compression thigh-highs.

November’s brown skin glistens in the humid air, her kohl-lined eyes twinkling with a hint of mischievousness as she paces about in front of Check, the only mortal in the room. November’s towel is more of a towelette, wrapped loosely below her collarbone so that every movement of hers threatens to swing one of her E-cups free. No matter how much the futanari elf tries to look away, November expertly catches her sight again with a jingle of her many golden bangles around her wrists, ankles, and dreads.

Check is struggling, her blond ponytail flicking left and right as her blushing ears twitch excitedly. It must have been hard for her, holding her towel over her throbbing erection as she endured the subtle flirtations of your daughters. You would have forgiven her if she indulged, if you came in and found them in a line with their legs in the air and holding imp-stuffed bellies in their arms. Check is sort of like an attack dog, except you have her doing paperwork until you or her wife gives her permission to rut everything in sight.

Okay, maybe not like an attack dog. A breeding stud, then? Yeah, that fits.

New Year and Queen sit next to each other on one of the massage beds, the sum of their asses spilling over the entire thing. New Year ignores the younger, taller, fatter-assed succubus, choosing to crunch numbers on a notepad instead of letting Queen’s smug demeanor annoy her. She’s chosen to forsake a towel entirely, her lab coat instead straining at her midsection by a single button, pushing up her massive tits far enough that her areola peek through the cloth. The gray-skinned succubus runs a hand through her white hair, her ahoge springing up the moment her hand returns to her pad.

Queen’s mirthful red eyes stare down New Year’s chest, purring with delight every time the science succubus shuffles her massive thighs next to hers. Her long, black hime curls stop just above her practically see-through top, inches from the pink nipples poking through the fabric. Every now and then, she pulls the white panties up so they don’t ride down too far, snapping them against her waist with a giggle that jiggles across her massive ass.

All their eyes focus on you when you enter the room, one arm wrapped around Thanksgiving’s thick waist. The combined DESIRE of the bimbos and Thanksgiving altered your body so that you’re standing at a solid seven feet, with tits like watermelons firmly bobbing above your midsection. Of course, you can’t blame the bimbos for the rivers of milk running from your twitching, teacup-sized nipples; that’s from gorging on Thanksgiving’s milk. You’re still around two feet shorter than Thanksgiving, though it isn’t exactly your height that’s got their attention.

It’s the throbbing, twenty-two inch monster layered in a dozen different colors of lipstick that has their eyes widening.

“Hey girls!” You wave. “Who’s ready for dinner?”

After they wipe the drool from their mouths, the winners take their seats around the central massage chair. Contrary to their expectations, you’re not the one lying on the bed. Thanksgiving is.

The winners stare at you curiously, until you teleport all the dishes you and Thanksgiving made earlier to rest on the blushing minotauress. Pies, breads, cakes, and other finger foods cover her body, resting on her jiggly rolls with a faint giggle on Thanksgiving’s part. Mini pies of different flavors dot her midsection, collared greens fill up her navel, and a refreshing salad settles in the valley between her legs to marinate in her pussy juices. And of course, her nipples are capped with two big dollops of home-made cream. This setup was her idea, from something Saturday mentioned off-handedly before he left. Apparently, the idea of being used as a table while people ate food from her body thrilled her.

You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be done with sushi and chopsticks, though.

Despite the (literally) crummy interpretation of this lewd weeb fantasy, you and the girls dig in. You enjoy a conversation as each of them picks something to eat, caressing, groping, or pinching the blushing cow as they did. You take a bite out of another piece of cornbread and shiver as the taste, real taste, of buttery sweetness fill your mouth.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Thanksgiving.” November leans forwards to dab a bit of cherry filling that escaped in between the cow’s rolls. “The tartness of the cherry filling compliments the sweetness of your character~”

“Aw, thanks! Me and Daddy worked suuuper hard on them!”

“Nyotaimori is supposed to have the table stay completely still.” New Year grumbles as she takes one of the smaller pies. “And quiet.”

Right, that’s what it’s called. Doing this with lots of crumbly soul foods might not be the aesthetic whatever old perv came up with it. But what are you going to do, eat fish? Aside from the meat you find between a guy’s legs, you have yet to find a meat that doesn't taste like dust anyways.

“Kind of funny that you’re all technically vegetarians.” Check mumbles. “Being demons and all, some might think you’d be eating people.”

“But we do. I remember your hands on the back of my head while I was eating some of your meat~” You wink at the blushing mortal, your daughters purring from the rush of DESIRE emanating from her.

“I think every girl who’s worked at the House of Temptation has had a chance to sample Check’s finest meat~” Queen covers her mouth and peers innocently in Check’s direction. “Maybe if we’re lucky, she’ll give us a chance to try it out?”

“Guyth…eathe up on her, she’th the only mortal here…” Daffodil speaks up for the squirming elf as she goes for the salad. She notices the looks people give her and brings up her hands defensively. “It’th not like I’ll thay no if she offerth! I’m thure her dick is thuper good and she’th awethome in bed! I jutht think—”

“Ahn!~”

Unknown to Daffodil, one her larger hair tentacles has dug a bit too deep in the salad and got a fresh spray of dressing by wriggling deep into Thanksgiving. The slight jerk of movement almost spilled a bunch of treats on the ground, but several magical grips catch them and put them back onto the cow.

“Thorry Thankthgiving…”

“Why, Daffodil?” Thanksgiving smiles warmly. “Your cute tentacles were just, like, a teensy bit curious is all!”

“Again, the nyotaimori table must be quiet.” New Year takes a bite out of a zucchini paste soufflé, her hard words softening with a happy sigh that expands her chest a little too much. The single button holding her bust together inside her lab coat dies a hero’s death and flies off, and her gargantuan titties finally free themselves. “Dammit.”

“Why must you hide your gifts, little sister?” Queen leans over a slightly bristling New Year, cupping the shortstack’s breast by her innie nipple. “I never hide my ass, not even when I get summoned for some pirate’s back-alley gangbang. And your tits are almost as big as Thanksgiving’s, even if she’s twice your height.”

“Yeah, New Year! Your boobies are, like, super!”

“Thanksgiving, we’re trying to objectify you, so please be quiet.” New Year rolls her eyes and pushes up her glasses. “Queen, this is not some quick grody feeding session to be passed around by whatever pirates schemed to acquire your summoning sigil. This is a respectable, amorous orgy between peers, where the height of lewd presentation is expected of us. I have several experiments proving that there is a 216% rise in eroticism when a subject is only scantily clad compared to when they’re fully naked. Don’t you think Lord Quinn would have draw our eyes better if she wore a ball-bra and a bodice when she came in, instead of swinging around her mouthwatering, lipstick stained, musky cock?”

All eyes are on you again. You swallow the last of the delicious apple custard and innocently cross your legs, your semi-erect cock throbbing under the renewed attention. You slide a finger up your length, wrapping your fingers partly around your tree-trunk junk half way through to slowly tease your member.

“My, my~…Are my horny daughters seriously lusting after their mommy’s fat bitchbreaker of a cock?~” You lean your face on your hand in the best onee-sama impression you can make, your venus-like figure and massive, leaky knockers helping sell the image of a horny MILF. An image only slightly ruined by your other hands stroking your cock. “Ahn!~ How embarrassing it is to be such a failure of a mother than my own daughters, pushed from my womb as I was screaming and cumming, would desire that I stuff theirs?”

Well, Check isn’t your daughter. And you didn’t give birth to either Daffodil or Queen, your dick did the work there. Still, there’s Fig, who’d been waiting attentively to make her move as self-appointed personal maid, who stands up.

“Lord Quinn,” Fig bows in your direction to hide her excitement. “Would you like me to take care of your problem?”

November and Queen get an upskirt view of her wet pussy, the former hiding her smirk with a bite of tomato salad, and the latter not bothering to hide it all.

“Of course.” You purr and spread your legs, letting the musk of your grapefruit-sized testes hit them full force.

Fig gets on her knees licking the underside of your massive member before bringing the tip to her mouth and stuffing as much of it down her gullet as she can. It isn’t much, but props to the girl for trying. She’s gotten to be an expert at bringing you closer to orgasm by only fellating your massive cockhead.

“So, Check, tell me how November is working?”

“I, uh, we-well…”

The mortal stammers through an explanation of November’s performance at the House of Temptation, from her sessions training the other whores, to the few big spenders clamoring for her attention. She tries to distract herself from Fig’s loud gagging and sucking noises, but the blush on her ears spreads to the rest of her face as she pivots from November to the other prostitutes, her cock beading with pre when she mentions the recent successes her ‘daughters’ have had.

Hah, Button and Truffle are sure making you proud.

“GHURK, GHURK, GHURK, SLUUUURP~”

You caress the maid’s hair, a spike of pleasure running down your spine at the sight of her rolled back eyes and the mascara running down her cheeks. When you get close, you get up and casually slide yourself deeper down her throat, pretending to only do that to reach Thanksgiving and swipe the last cherry mini-pie. Fig’s limbs go slack, a wet spot growing between her legs as your cock shoots thick jism into her, her stomach swelling with every sticky rope until her skirt snaps off, leaving her in a tattered maid outfit and garter belt. She collapses backwards and giggles to herself, rubbing her cum-swollen tummy gleefully, conveniently giving you a nice view of her glistening femininity through the tight panties clinging to her.

The others watch with excitement, knowing their turn is coming.

You pull out your cock and slap it on the fuckdrunk maid’s bloated belly like a prize fish, thick white goo already pooling down her body. Thanksgiving moos softly, almost spilling the last treats from her body as she shifts around to get a better look. Check’s gaping mouth snaps shut when November’s sneaky tail wraps around her waist and begins teasing her cock. The others finish the last treats on Thanksgiving’s body, Daffodil’s wandering tentacles unconsciously wrapping around the cow’s breasts and squeezing them together so that a fountain of milk sprays into the air. New Year nonchalantly takes advantage to add some milk to her tea, and you give her a catty grin when you cup your breast and squeeze, showing off your own impressive output. Daffodil, embarrassed, pulls her tentacles off Thanksgiving, eyes darting between the cow’s chocolate-colored breasts and your own bodacious boobies.

“Mooo~” Thanksgiving moans. “I’m like, so totes happy you all liked my treats!”

“Of course, dear.” November purrs, her hand gently cupping the tent under Check’s towel. “Oh? I think I found a treat for you. Something long and hard~”

“Oooh, a popsicle?” Thanksgiving claps her hands together.

“Mmm, no~” November guides the near catatonic elf to Thanksgiving and pulls her towel, Checks cock bouncing right over the bimbo’s face. “Something better.”

“Like, wow! Is Check’s yummy futa cock all for me?” Check shivers as Thanksgiving leans up and kisses the tip, her big lips wrapping around the cockhead and pulling back in a moment. “Mmmm!~ Now I know why Typeface is always so happy!”

“I, uh…Thanks? She’s does tend to—a-ah-ah-aAAHH~!” Thanksgiving swallows Check’s cock whole and fellates her as November whispers in her ears, hands wandering between their legs to play with their cunts. It’s too much for the elf. “Fu-fu-fuuuuuCKING TAKE IT BITCH, TAKE MY FAT COCK! FUCK! ALL YOU SLUTS HAVE MADE ME SO CELESTE-DAMNED HORNY!”

Check goes into a frenzy, pistoning into the minotaur cow’s mouth violently. Thanksgiving, being a gentle giant, takes it all in stride and takes the elf’s meatstick with the same eagerness as Fig when she took yours. Her entire body jiggles from the force of the frenzied elf’s thrusts, the occasional happy hum and spurt of milk from her bouncing boobs the only hint of her pleasure.

“Looks like dinner’s over…” You sigh dramatically and wipe the crumbs off your thighs. “Time for a nice massage.”

You’re not so selfish that you’d get your daughters tend to your needs first. You get November, New Year, and Queen to lay on their stomachs on their own beds, all conveniently aimed so they can get a nice view of the show Check and Thanksgiving are putting on. You poke Fig awake with your cock and get her to help you and Daffodil massage the other three. It’s funny, even splattered and her bloated stomach gushing around, the cum-ragged maid takes her job with utmost pride.

You work on November, oiling her up and running your hands along her sides, careful to allow the heft of your cock to hover inches away from her skin. You trace the equint swirls across her back, squeezing her ass before trailing your grip back up and underneath her bust, pausing as you feel the chain connecting two nipple rings.

“This one thought you might enjoy using this one’s royal bust to pleasure your scepter~” November purrs.

“Why would I do that,” You walk around and block her view of Check crazily humping away at Thanksgiving’s fat womanhood, the Egyptian-themed succubus licking her black lips upon having your fat bitchbreaker in front of her, “when your mouth will do?”

You shove yourself inside her, allowing the equint to wrap her arms around your waist to pull as much of you inside as possible. Even with the heavy kohl around her eyes, she stares up at you unblinkingly as she gags on your impossibly large meat. You know what? It wouldn’t be too bad to use her tits for a bit. Right when the pressure begins to mount, you pull out of her with a gasp and shove your cock between her breasts to shoot rope after rope underneath her weight. Her pussy sprays, then she grinds her crotch into the semen-laden bed in an effort to push some of your essence inside herself.

Behind you, Check, has buried her face in Thanksgiving’s chest, drinking the invigorating milk as she brings her cock down as far as she can inside the softly mooing cow’s cunt.

Your other daughters weren’t left by the wayside, either. While you rubbed oil all over November, Daffodil got to work on Queen. The tentacled succubus started from Queen’s upper back and worked her way down, taking special care to work on the yoga ball sized butt cheeks until Queen’s pale ass glistened with oil and the slime left behind by Daffodil’s tentacles.

“You’ve got thuch a thick ath~” Daffodil’s lisp really comes out when she’s excited. “My tentacleth can’t get enough of it!”

“Of course.” Queen’s giggle bounces her butt through the coils of tentacles around her thighs. “This is a two-time ‘biggest ass’ champion.”

“Which was bull.” Says the runner-up from the bed next to them, her tits spilling over the sides as a cum-stained maid kneads her back muscles. New Year pushes up her red glasses and explains. “If we’re going by mass, Thanksgiving would have won. If we’re going by proportions, my butt has 4% more of my body-to-butt ratio than yours does.”

“Mistress New Year has neglected to mention that Lord Quinn explained that the rankings were also based on a boob-to-butt ratio.” Fig chides, gently grabbing one of New Year’s overflowing tits by the nipple and shaking it around. “Shouldn’t you content yourself with your numerous other accolades?”

“I don’t want to hear that from the one bragging about aiming for the most ‘servicing blowjobs.’” New Year rolls her eyes and pokes the maid in the stomach, eliciting a rumbling gurgle from the succubus’ gut. “Though it looks like November may end up with the next trophy mold for that category.”

The four turn their attention away from Check and Thanksgiving to November as the rich equint cups your massive balls and nearly unhinges her jaw to take in your entire length. She leaves a trail of black lipstick over all the other marks, all the lipstick marks on your virile rod exciting their DESIRE even further. Despite the titanic rod in her throat, she’s casually kicking her legs as she enjoys servicing you. Once you cum down her bust and pull out, you give your other daughters a wink and sashay over to them, letting your fat length slap between your slick thighs.

“Are all of you still lusting after Mommy’s fat fucking cock?~” You swing your dick around to catch it in your hand with a meaty thwack. You slowly rub the length and bite your bottom lip. “Such a pity~ My dick is too big to stuff into any of your horny bitch-holes…”

You get behind Queen and rest your nuts on the table, your throbbing member slowly lowering between her phat ass cheeks. The four succubi audibly gulp and you push your cock deeper under her thin panties and between the oily, bouncy mountains. You slowly drag it back and forth, hot dogging yourself smoothly so that your dark purple tip throbs teasingly from the cleft of your big booty’d daughter’s ass. You grin and grind yourself closer to feel the river of want trickling past your scrotum.

Your eyelids flutter and you shoot a couple ropes of pre across Queen’s back. She gasps, cheeks flexing tighter against your cock, and you increase the pace. Daffodil wipes the drool from her mouth and straddles herself with her back to you on Queen’s back, her tentacle tail guiding your member closer and closer to her gushing womanhood with every thrust. You grin, pulling the buttcheeks together and really go at it, the last six inches of your cock penetrating Daffodil, making her squirm and moan every time your member fills her completely. Your tits slap against Queen’s massive ass cheeks with every thrust, and when you throw your head back and moan, two succubi cum on your cock and balls.

Then the semen from the climax finally erupts from your tip, squealing Daffodil’s tentacles squirming about and squeezing her tighter against Queen. She’s lifting off from Queen’s back by her swelling stomach, pulling herself off your member with a muted scream of delight. Queen whines enviously, but you’re not just going to let your cock shoot all over them both; that’d be so wasteful! Instead you snap your cock out of the hot dog, the head catching on her soaked panties and ripping it backwards, then slam your girlcock into your whining succubus’ squirting folds, shooting cum everywhere as you go. Once you shove it inside, her disappointed whine shifts into a pleasured mewl, and she too bloats with your thick seed. Her velvety folds squeeze around your member, and thrusting into her as you slap her fat ass several times brings you to another orgasm. You groan as your titanic testicles clench, your feminine arousal tickling your scrotum just the right way as another deluge of swimmers invades your bottom-heavy girl’s womb.

If Daffodil looks like she has a basketball stuffed inside her, then Queen has a damn beach ball belly full of jizz.

New Year, Fig, and Thanksgiving watch raptly as you slowly pull your massive rod out of the shuddering succubus. Check thrusts wildly into Thanksgiving, holding a thick minotaur leg up as she straddles the other one to release another load into the cow’s thoroughly creampied cunny.

Sadly, the size difference isn’t helping Thanksgiving. She’s softly cooing, but Check’s nine-incher isn’t enough to satisfy your chubby nine-foot tall minotauress. Which is why she’s licking her lips as you flick the mixed sexual fluids off your baseball bat-sized cock.

Last massage chair. Fig dutifully massages New Year’s slim shoulders and back, only stepping aside when you join them.

“Flip over, New Year. Let me see those beautiful breasts I’ve gifted you.” New Year blushes and turns over, her magnificent chest bare for you and your maid to play with. “Follow my lead, Fig. I’ll teach you how to get my shortstack scientist ready whenever she comes to the palace to show off her newest development.”

New Year tries to keep a neutral face, under all the groping and kneading and pulling, but her expressions get more lewd as time goes on. Her innie nipples, slick with oil, bead with milk and split apart as they get erect. Soon, you and Fig are playing with her nipples as you shove your cock under her breasts and hump away, the tip of your cock gliding through the valleys to kiss Fig’s cunny under her bloated belly. New Year’s moans get louder and become more strangled, limbs flailing about and toes curling until suddenly, twin steams of milk jet from her throbbing, five inch nipples.

“Ah!~” You bite your lip and Fig’s jaw drops with a pleasured gasp, precum splattering all over her crotch. “Sorry about that, Fig. You ready to taste my cock, New Year?”

“Y-yessss~ 100% ready, Lord Quinn.”

You get between her legs, your member throbbing inches from your face. She watches you kiss the tip of your own cock, humming pleasantly as you taste the pre. Her breasts heave as the titanic rod lowers between her splayed breasts, and the scientist eagerly hugs her tits around it. You glide yourself up and down her massive tits slowly at first, appreciating her glistening body.

“So, about those numbers I asked you to crunch…”

“While you were having fun getting cleaned by all those bimbos in the next room?” New Year frowns. You poke your cock against her cheek and she sighs. “Theoretically, it should work. But the demons you would produce would be…stunted.”

You stare pointedly at her four-foot-five frame and she huffs.

“In more than just stature. But it is possible, so long as the succubus.”

“Good to know.” You nod. “You hear that, Thanksgiving? All you need to do is get pregnant, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Omitiddies, really? Yay!” Thanksgiving claps her hands, and in a feat of unexpected flexibility, her legs wrap around Check and lifts her lower body in the air, the elf still fucking recklessly into her pussy the whole while. “Hear that Check? You can make me a mommy!”

“FUCK PUSSY BITCHES GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT!”

You find yourself fucking New Year’s tits vigorously as Check cums inside the minotauress, who giggles as her stomach and breasts swell to even greater sizes. Nothing like watching your cute ditz of a daughter swell up with children, right? Her fuzzy minotaur legs do most of the work for her, lifting Check up and down to fuck her preggo frame into the creaking table.

“GURK GURK GURK!”

And your dick has gotten big enough to fuck New Year’s mouth as she paizuris you! Her thick thighs wrap around your thin waist,pulling you ever closer to orgasm. Fig snuck behind you, massaging your aching breasts the way you just taught her with New Year, driving you even closer. But what kind of succubus mother would you be if you just came in her throat? When you first feel the orgasm hit, you pull out in time to have the first rope spray into New Year’s face like a firehose, leaving a thick trail of jism as you slip back between her breasts and heave your throbbing meat into her salivating pussy.

“NYAAAGH~!” New Year squeals her limbs and breasts splaying out and twitching as her stomach swells with your seed. You don’t stop though, a river gushing from her thoroughly fucked entrance as you thrust into her, cumming without ever stopping. “Yes! Fuck my nerdy cunt!~”

Thanksgiving watches you and sends a kissy face when you hilt inside New Year, which you return. The cum-stuffed and cum-splattered scientist groans as you pull out, a jizzfall bubbling from between her twitching legs. Fig, as ever, is on it, eating her out while wagging her nice ass eagerly in your direction.

She sounds she makes while you fill her ass with another messy ejaculation are adorable.

It’s finally time for your own massage.

Your massage bed is a bit different. Two holes at the front for your tits, aching with fullness, and one at the bottom for your dick, now four inches wide and almost two feet long. You sigh as you rest your Venusian frame on the bench, and your cute daughters get to work. Fig rubs your back with oil, at first with her hands, then with her stuffed tummy, every push on her part eliciting a soft groan of contentment.

Daffodil massages your upper back, her towel parting enough for her tendril pubes to caress your face…giggling, you dive in, humming happily as the tendrils invade your mouth and nostrils. Every lick deeper inside her folds makes her do a sexy little grunt, the tentacles on her head sliding down your body to grope and knead your massive breasts. You moan into her when her tentacles squeeze a nipple orgasm out of you, milk spilling onto the floor like a kinked hose.

November’s lips caress your cock, then her tits, straddling your studly bitchbreaker to jack you off with her whole body. Another pair of hands joins hers, Fig’s lovely touches driving your closer to bliss. More hands join you along your back, groping your ass and tickling your gushing feminine sex, the expert fingering of Queen and New Year working together.

The attention on your cock pauses, then you feel someone guide your cock up into something hot and tight. You try to lean forward as much as you can, your cockhead kissing the folds of someone’s hungry cunt. She lowers herself on you and you purr in recognition: November’s finally decided to have you inside her once more. Fig’s hand strokes the base of your cock, and the two girls with dumptruck asses switch between massaging your balls and teasing your folds. November angles herself up, deeper onto your member, fucking herself on your rod as the pressure builds, builds…

“My, my!~” You take a break from eating out at Daffodil’s Octopussy and lick your lips. “Seems like the princess is tired of milking my cock…and wants to be studded instead~”

“Seeing Thanksgiving heavy with child makes this queen jealous~” Her voice purrs from underneath you. “Please bless my womb with another litter of imps, more tribute from my fertile womb~”

You pull your massive hips up, enthralled by the quiver of desire in November’s voice, and slam back into her. She lets out a strangled cry, which melts into a strained moan when you lift yourself up again to hammer your throbbing member deep inside her again. You hum, and with your third thrust, your cock explodes inside her. Your eyes roll back, the buzz of pleasure drowning out her screams of joy.

The best part?

She eventually crawls from underneath the bed, rubbing her pregnant belly as she brings her milky tits up to you for a free sample. Of course, it took her a bit to get her bearings. By this point, you’ve flipped over on your back, your tree trunk of a cock getting massaged between Queen and New Year’s asses as they bounce their cum-stuffed bodies. Daffodil is on pussy duty, her tentacles plunging into your gaping womanhood and massaging all your sensitive spots. Your gaze shifts between an excited Queen holding onto her belly and clapping her ass enthusiastically, New Year trying (and failing) to contain her wildly springing bust, November’s oiled up preggo body as she squirts milks into your semi-permanent o-face, and Thanksgiving excitedly getting doggystyled by Check. Fig is doing her duty admirably, rubbing oil on a moaning November’s pregnant belly, a practice she’s picked up after you regularly teleport back from a particularly productive orgy.

Every orgasm leads into the next, showering yourself and your daughters in layers of thick, white spooge. Their DESIRE only makes you and your cock increase in size, until you’re eight feet tall and shooting ropes into the air from your two-foot long schlong. Your daughters, too fuck-drunk on your semen, all stuck suckling on your cock and balls like addicts. You sit up and stretch to your new height, your massive bitchbreaker swinging between your thunderthighs, letting the moaning, cumbloated succubi follow your cock around to massage it with any part of their body that they can.

November grinds your cock between her pregnancy and her leaky tits, purring as she gets closer to your churning testes. Fig switches between gargling a testicle at a time to licking the underside of your shaft, competing for space with Daffodil, who has practically all of her tentacles wrapped around your member except the longest two, which are squirming deep inside your gushing womanhood. The dumptruck duo scissor each other at the tip of your cock, then just each other when you flex your dick from between them.

Check, without access to Thanksgiving’s invigorating milk, begins to flag.

You stand up and walk off, letting your fuckdrunk daughters lick each other clean. Watching your cum-soaked spawn, bloated with imps and cum…mmf~ you can still go another couple rounds.

You pull Daffodil’s two longest tendrils out of you, a gush of femcum and more than a little jizz following, then stride over to Thanksgiving. You are a sight to behold: your two-foot cock swings about, slathered in lipstick stains and many ejaculations. A heart-shaped nutsack nestled between your thunderthighs, slick with sweat and cum. Tits the size of beach balls hang obscenely from your shoulder all the way to your plush belly, fist-sized nipples leaking milk constantly. You lick your lips, too large to close, exaggerated parodies of woman’s perfect for sucking the chrome off a steel pipe.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” You stand over your pregnant minotauress daughter and the half-comatose elf blearily humping into her. Your rumbling, sultry voice makes her shiver, and you hold up your tits, sucking on one nipple while your cock breaches into the other to use as your personal, milky onahole. “’Cause this horny MILF is ready to be a GILF.”

You moan louder, cumming inside your tit a bit as the other gushes milk like a kinked hose. You pull your nipple off your cock with loud pop and squirt from your untended pussy as a thick load dribbles out. You’re going to need to get milked once you’re done fucking twins into Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving trembles and her holes squirt in excitement. Check, having worked herself to the bone, collapses on top of the minotauress. You giggle at the adorable sight and gently pull her off your daughter, licking your lips at the nice feast she’s left behind in her cunny. You pull her up by her hips and push your face between her legs, lips forming a vacuum seal around her cunt before you suck, tongue licking inside all of her folds to clean every inch of her insides. Thanksgiving squirms and squeals as you enjoy the delicious appetizer of Checks cum garnished with the cow’s sweetest nectar.

When you put her down, she’s panting and out of breath with hearts in her eyes.

“Daddy~” She moans.

You lean over her and leer, your massive knockers spilling over her pregnant belly and onto her thighs, your fat bitchbreaker throbbing excitedly above her cleaned cunny. Thanksgiving’s meek expression shifts into pure joy when you penetrate her, then a crying ahegao as you hilt yourself fully into the fat cow. You press your hands on the pregnancy, relishing her body bouncing back and forth on your cock as you concentrate on mutating the imps inside her into full fledged incubi.

Her preggo pussy tightens on your member and you groan huskily, the first wave of cum invading her uterus and swelling her to the size of a beach ball. She moos, a hearty squirt from her breasts as her hooves pull you tighter in a leg lock. The imps inside her absorb your demonic semen and grow more powerful, the rush of DESIRE making Thanksgiving scream in pleasure as her tits bounce all over, spraying milk everywhere. Your own tits gush out milk with every thrust inside her, but you can’t focus on having fun just yet. You push more DESIRE inside her, ignoring her velvety folds clinging to your cock, the pressure mounting in your tits and pussy, focusing instead on making your cute bimbo’s wish come true.

You feel something nibbling on your boob. It’s Fig, nursing Check back into consciousness by breastfeeding her the nipple you came inside! How is she not lezzing it out in a haze with the others?

“A maid’s duty…is never done~” She winks at you, shivering when you return a grin promising a big reward.

Check rouses from her exhaustion and her pupils shrink into pinpricks when the incredibly potent combination of jism and milk enters her body. Her shaft shoots up like an iron rod to poke into your breast. Fig, despite being bloated and leaking cum from both ends, waddles the frenzied elf to your other tit and positions her there, letting her grab two fistfuls of your massive boob and shove her cock into your boob. She thrusts into your nip-pussy and you screech in delight, squirting from your gushing pussy and untended nipple.

A pressure mounts with the DESIRE, which you channel into Thanksgiving’s swelling womb. You flex your kegels to keep yourself from cumming, made even harder when the smirking maid impales herself on your nipple and latches on to Thanksgivings breast to drink milk from both ends.

You find yourself thrusting harder into them, eyes rolling back as the pleasure rises higher to an incredible climax. You’re getting fucked in one nipple by a crazy futanari elf, your other nipple is gushing into your maid, and your cock is thrusting full-power into your pregnant bimbo daughter!

Right before you reach the peak, a transformation occurs inside Thanksgiving. All that DESIRE shifts and half-dozen imps inside Thanksgiving congeal into a magical mass. With titanic effort, you split the mass and edit the features your daughter requested.

It wouldn’t have been a very strong incubus, and now the pair would be practically runty. But they’ll have cute human faces, fat equine cocks, and minotaur hooves. They’ll practically be small minotaur femboys, for the most part resembling Thanksgiving.

You crest the peak.

Throwing your head back in a scream of pleasure and victory, your cock throbs then unleashes a flood of cum like never before. Your balls squeeze close to your folds so hard that they knock into your clit, making you ride through another orgasm from the numerous pleasure loops between your cock and cunt. Check’s nonsensical babbling pauses, hilting into your boob to come inside just as your other boob gushes into Fig, who pops off your nipple and rolls onto the ground with a splat, coughing up the milk from her bulging cheeks. Thanksgiving’s silent scream of pleasure shifts into a happy moan, the back arch she held in the final moments collapsing with a loud slap as her now yoga ball sized belly swells comfortably.

“Daddy…you’re a daddy!~” Thanksgiving mutters as she rubs her swollen pregnancy. “You’re the best…”

“Of course, sweetie.” You wipe the sweat from your brow and pull out of your favorite bimbo. “Be sure to share them with November like you promised, okay?”

You caress her belly lovingly and sit next to her. You spend another couple hours basking in the afterglow, occasionally giving Check a BJ whenever she wakes up. When Castor and Pollux are born, you’ll be sure to give them a warm welcome. Of course, you’ll let Thanksgiving get to know them first. Then, you’ll spoil them with sweets.

Probably by having them join you in fucking all the bimbos with Cordy and Slime in the next room. You did leave the bimbos to goon in there. Valthryn and Quartz are bound to give birth soon, and their incubi are going to have a lot of fun with all the horny girls here. That’s a nice way to end the weekend; a futa grandmother, her kids, and her grandkids having an imp-breeding orgy with a bunch of bimbos. You’ve already gotten the BIMBOs nice and limber. Just have them lay down, and Castor and Pollux will go first. Maybe they’ll take their own, but you’ve got the sense the twins will be tag-teamers. Of course, they’re young and inexperienced, so Cordy and Slime would go next, bloating the cummy bimbos with either jizz or imps.

Then you’ll finish off for sloppy thirds whoever is still conscious…or not pregnant. Maybe you’ll even let the incubi run a train on you when you’re done.

Hm, your dick is getting hard from the excitement~

Thankfully, your dutiful maid crawls over and flips up her soaked skirt to present her pussy. She wiggles her ass and looks back at you with a grin.

Lotto parties are the best!