Knights of the Holy Mother – 11 [❤️❤️❤️]

Roaring demons hurl themselves towards the Sorrowheart Peak in a relentless tide of violence, having swept through the outer perimeter when a siren rang from the palace. They batter against the magical shields activated by the Lunar Knights, breaking through each one while ignoring their losses from Solar Knights' intense salvos.

You are Vanilla, manning the giant autoballista to hold the line. What used to be only a couple dozen dwarves soon swelled into hundreds of survivors, each a piece in an elegant war machine dedicated to keeping the demons from breaking through. They were reluctant to help a goblin at first, but nothing endears someone as much fighting by their side.

Maybe a roll in the hay with a couple of them earlier that week helped.

Either way, the autoballista had been repaired five times and upgraded further another three times since you started this battle. Every time a dark fireball melted one of the arms, spikes pierced the struts, or even a smaller imp was thrown into the gears, a bigger group of dwarves ran over and did their work before returning to make improvised ammo or repair the fortifications.

Despite this, the battle is not going well. All the outer walls have fallen, thousands of dwarves are unaccounted for, and though there are probably less than half of the demons remaining, the latest waves have been growing stronger. Your silver-tipped ballistae don't kill them in one blow anymore, now taking two or three hits before they fall. Worse, they've started hiding behind the bigger ones as meat shields and actually dodging the projectiles.

The pressure lessened when the Holy Knights arrived, unleashing beams of holy magic on the throngs of demons below. The cheers on your side were stopped short when they were slowed by concentrated bursts of demonic magic returning fire from within demonic army.

Demon mages.

Not one or two, scattered through the army. Groups working together, going against everything you know about demons.

Your gaze lingers on the knights you've devoted yourself to. Burdock roars as his axes cleave through any demon foolish enough to get close. Plum and Spruce dance in perfect harmony, their blades swinging to intercept for each other as if they'd been fighting side by side their entire lives. Yet beneath it all, there are signs. They're flagging. Even December, as fast as he is, is slow enough to be visible. Not to mention how they flinch every time the Holy Knights fire their mana cannons.

The demons keep coming.

As your knights weaken, they aren't able to save as many dwarves. Even if the Holy Knight airships break through the demonic mages' onslaught, they're not going to get here in time.

At least you're not going to die a virgin.

Right when it seemed like the tide was turning, the lead Holy Knight airship's levitation ring shone bright with familiar runes. Goblin arcanotech? Whatever it was, it pushed the airship faster towards the peak, beams of holy energy lancing through the demonic forces and carving a path right through them. The airship slowed overhead, holy magic scouring through the closest demons as platforms descended.

Holy Knights dropped down to reinforce, their weapons brimming with holy might.

The Knights of the Holy Mother hid their cringes of pain among the swell of cheers, then quickly joined everyone behind the fortifications as more platforms descend.

"Yahallo! The Holy Knights are here to save the day!" A peppy squire in pink pigtails poses.

April?!

"Will you quit that?" The tall redhead next to him grunts. "These aren't anything like the demons we've faced before!"

"Does it matter?" The plain-looking one raises his sword, eyes narrowing dangerously. "There are people that need our help!"

The tall elven woman in full holy armor wordlessly slashes her greatsword towards the demons charging at them, an arc of holy energy cleaving through several of them at once. She flicks her silver hair backwards and aims her sword towards the army of gnashing demons.

"Destroy."

Eager to follow her command, the Holy Knights and their squires unleash their righteous fury on the demons charging up the streets to meet them. The elf is about to join them when December zooms in front of her and begins gesticulating wildly as he explains something. She nods and says something into earpiece, and the airship above them moves higher along the peak.

There's a scream where the first of the Knights meet the demon's charge, a group of frailer looking demons jumping from behind the big ones to shoot black flames in tandem, overpowering their protections and burning the knights to a crisp inside their armors. The elven knight is about to charge in to avenge them when a black cannonball of violence lands among the demons in a shower of gore.

Halloween has entered the field once more. She swings her club about, splattering the biggest demons into paste with a high-pitched giggle that sends shivers down your spine. The demon mages jump back to avoid her, most avoiding her deadly club in time to surround her and  aim their jets of black flame on her.

Her shape disappears under a flood of dark fire and for the first time since you started this battle, you pull your finger off the trigger in shock. Is she...?

A hand encased in glowing armor bursts through the flames to punch through the skull of the closest demon mage, her shrill laughter echoing over the battlefield.

"What a delicious fucking pain!~" She slams her melting bat into the remaining demon mages, globs of superheated metal pelting all the nearby demons and slowing them down. "Come on! Make it hotter!~"

She kicks one of the demon mages backwards, sending it flying...towards you. You curse and start shooting again, unloading silver bolts into the demon as it soars your way. The creature smashes into the loading dock, covered in silvered bolts, and rasps out a shuddering breath before crumbling into dust.

Leaving a strange black collar lined with brass.

You don't have much time to think on it, as it too fades into dust, and your ballistae needs to be fired into a particularly angry crowd of demons. The odds have been evened. It doesn't even matter that Halloween's club has been reduced to a slag; she just grabbed her armor and molded into spikes, then spun in place to cool it down. Now she's running through the thickest crowds of demons, crashing through them in her spiky armor. Pieces of demon meat hang from her armor like the world's worst mobile butcher shop.

With Halloween and the Holy Knights, the odds return to a bloody, grinding stalemate.

One that ends with Bjorn Goodhammer's voice echoing throughout Weeping mountain.

"BY THE POWER OF THE SILVER FIST!"

The Holy Knight airship unleashes a powerful beam of holy energy into the peak, and a thunderous crack trembles through the earth. The ground shakes and shifts underneath you, and the peak caves in on itself, swallowing the lord's estate whole. The shaking echoes through the rest of the mountain, and gold-glowing  cracks fissure out into the distance, well beyond the horizon. The demons that fall inside are immolated in holy light, while the Holy Knights themselves glow with renewed might.

Halloween stares at the peak, her knees trembling hard enough that pieces of the demons she's run through shake off her armor.

Knowing what you do about her, you worry for Bjorn.

When you first saw Weeping Mountain, you were a bit scared. Okay, a lot scared.

There were more demons you’d ever seen before, swarming up the mountain. The defenders of Sorrowheart Peak held strong, reinvigorated from the sight of your ships approaching. April winced by your side as the mana cannons charged under your feet and unleashed beams of pure holy energy, vaporizing the swarm.

You squeezed her shoulder comfortingly right before the charge.

You are Zillah, and this was the most dangerous battle you’ve ever fought in.

No more small imps that would go down in a single slice. These were the elites, those that you had to strategize with the others to hack away at them. The knights went first to soften them up with their sanctified armaments, while most squires stayed back to finish off the stragglers.

It was mad. It was glorious. It was chaos.

You fought side by side with April as you cleaved through demons in the mad dash to reinforce the knights at the peak. Between the slashing, the hacking, the dodging, and the spray of unholy blood, the Holy Knights fought their way to the top, assisted by artillery from the airships.

You held the line with Solar knights, Lunar knights, and some smaller orders, swinging your sword until your arms were sore. You watched fellow squires and knights get cut down, too slow to save them.

You weren’t strong enough.

A monstrous demon hit your sword from your hand so hard that you felt your bones crack. It raised its thorny arm cruelly and you prepared for the end.

It never came.

One of the Holy Knight’s ships fired a massive beam of holy energy into the peak, and the entire mountain shook. Holy light fissured in the horizon, erupting from tunnels deep beneath the surface. The demon stumbled and April took advantage to stab it in the chest. It must have had an extra one, because it batted her away casually with a roar of disgust.

Which is when you drove your dagger into its neck.

It sputtered with rage, spilling its blood all over you, and picked you up by the waist in a single claw and slammed you into the ground. Stars danced in your vision…All you remember after that was April’s spear bursting through its eye socket.

You wake to find yourself in the airship’s infirmary, wrapped in bandages. The battle must have been won, but your fuzzy mind struggles to catch up. You blink the dizziness from your vision, going over your memories again and again. Something isn’t right…

“Zillah!” The curtains swoop open and April bounds to your side, eyes red from crying. “You almost got yourself killed. You hafta stop being so gutsy!”

There she is. There was something about her during the battle, though you can’t put your finger on it. Whatever, thinking gets in the way. Just be happy that she survived.

“Nope.” You smile weakly. “I’m an awesome Holy Knight squire. Gutsy’s part of the job description.”

“Well, you had me worried!” April sits next to you and squeezes your hand. “A broken arm, six cracked ribs, a sprained leg, and a concussion? You’re, like, the second most beat up squire.”

She’s touchier than normal. To be fair, she’s always a bit touchy after a battle. Or a long week. Maybe skinship is how she copes with all this? Not everyone’s like you, riding the thrill of combat, loving every time you hone your skills on the knife’s edge.

Pride may be a sin, but you don’t care. These scars are badges of honor, and there’s no doubt you worked—

“Second?”

April rolls her eyes and opens the curtain behind her. Someone is wrapped in so many bandages and casts that they may as well be a plaster statue. Is that Lynette sleeping on his chest?

“Hullo.” Cho’s voice is muffled behind the layers of bandages.

Of course it’s him.

When you first joined the Holy Knights, you thought April would be your rival. Wild talent and strange magic clashed with your years of skills and well-honed body, forging you both into better fighters. Only for Cho Zenwan to come out of nowhere and quickly overtake both of you.

Every spar ended up with him improving by leaps and bounds. He even mastered the nen trick April shared with the squires, fighting experienced Knights to a standstill. It’s like he laps you with every step you take.

Now, he’s proven himself in battle. He fought besides the Knights as equals, was still fighting when you went down, and kept fighting to the point that he suffered more injuries than you. Your warrior’s pride can’t stand it!

“Jealous that a pretty Saintess candidate is extra attentive with him?” April leans closer with a whisper. “You shoulda seen her when they brought him in!”

You bite down the irritation and wave away April’s teasing. Your sensei’s treasured manuscripts covered how jealousy and bitterness could erode a warrior’s fighting will. You won’t let it happen to you. Cho fought well, he’s more talented, and you’ll just have to accept that. You blink, April’s dainty finger poking your cheek.

“You’re being really spunky today.”

April freezes from your comment, her pink eyes darting in every direction. Every now and then, you catch her like this and she gets all squeamish. Helping her work out, volunteering to take the dirty laundry, comparing sizes in the bathroom…all that mischievousness goes out the window.

“…I’m just happy you’re okay.” Her hand hovers over your exposed midsection and she shrinks back.

The only reason you’re okay at all is because of the body magic she taught you. You’ve got no doubt that nen is the reason many squires are alive today. Most people would keep their techniques a secret. Even the Holy Knights refuse to teach squires any empowerment magic before they’re properly vetted to become knights. But April went out of her way to teach squires nen.

Staring at her, April waves her hand bashfully, as if she can’t accept your gratitude. You thank her with a hug, one shared by true warriors who have braved the horrors of the hells. You squeeze her into your chest, letting the appreciation flow into her.

“Eep!”

She scurries away with her hands between her legs. You’d laugh, but you’re already in so much pain. She’s so damn girly, it’s hard to believe she’s comfortable out on the battlefield instead of…doing whatever normal girls who weren’t raised in the woods do.

You lay back and frown. Whatever you think you remember must be false. She’s kind and caring. She kills demons. She helps people. She handles silver weaponry easily, basks in holy energy, and knows more about the holy texts than most knights.

You were injured at the time; you were probably seeing things. Otherwise, why would she bleed black? It wouldn’t make sense for her to be a demon. Heck, she knows more holy texts than most Knights do! You probably got hit in the head too many dozen times.

Uuuugh, thinking is so annoying!

The Holy Knight’s airships hang forebodingly above the peak as the survivors of Weeping Mountain gather near the foot of what was once their home. The ashes of the funeral pyres have cooled overnight, but the vampire chooses to stay anyways.

You are March. You were there when Blade Darkstorm was bleeding out, when Goldheart offered to turn her so she could survive.

She refused.

Goldheart accepted her decision, and now he’s brooding as people set up festivities for the survivors.

Even when he’s moping, you find yourself wanting to wrap a comforting wing over his chiseled shoulder and whisper sweet things into his ears. As sexy as the brooding vampire is, you have enough tact to let him mourn in peace. He isn’t even half as hot as Emancipation anyways.

You remain perched in the tree, your sharp gaze darting between the vamp and your fellow knights. Emancipation is down there, socializing with those damn boyfriend-thieving goblins. And dwarves.

Libby brushes by him and you bite your lips so hard you nearly bleed…

It’s taking all you have not to swoop over and pin him down on the table so you can ride him in front of all those selfish harlots, marking him as yours forever. You’ve been saving yourself for him, letting only Quinn’s cock touch your near virginal pussy. You were so close to getting him right before the battle.

And now he’s helping an older dwarven lady to her seat. On one hand, it’s nice that he’s into older girls…but he should only smile for you! Black blood runs down your chin and Goldheart perks up, sticking his nose in the air.

Shoot. You wipe away the blood and heal yourself before he spots you.

“Ah, Ser March. I thought I smelled…never mind.” He sighs forlornly.

You can stay up here, seething every time someone tries to take what is yours. Or, you can be responsible. How tedious.

The others can't stay too close to the vampire for too long. The longer they stay close, the sexier he acts, the sexier he becomes. The others leave by the time he pops open his collar. Only you and Halloween have been able to keep yourselves away from him when he starts doing his ridiculous, increasingly naked poses. And you never leave Halloween alone with him, she'd reveal everything for what very likely to be her last, very bloody, orgasm.

As a result, he ends up going on his soliloquies at you. Long, breathless rants about how awful it is to be a vampire and how he's on an eternal quest and, you know, trauma dumping.

“Why did you have to respect her wishes?” You land behind Goldheart. “She would have been a great help as a vampire.”

“A naïve assumption, Ser March. She knew, as I do, that my affliction is not a blessing, but a curse. The Hunger has driven many mad. Even if she hadn’t, her only path forward would have been exile from her family and an examination of her place in the Lunar Knights.”

He sighs and looks up to the half-crumpled peak. In a desperate move, Bjorn used a combination of his relic’s power and the Holy Knight’s artillery to collapse the secret tunnels in a wave of holy energy. It sealed the movements of the demon army at large and left the demons attacking in disarray since the older, more powerful ones retreated for some reason.

All it cost was his home.

“War calls for difficult decisions.”

“True. But would you be willing to subject those you love to a tortured existence, one plagued by hunger and self-hatred?”

You don’t want to, but you think of Emancipation struggling and in agony. You shake yourself free of those horrible thoughts.

“Did you love her?”

“Several people did.” Goldheart sighs. “She had a husband. A family. Now they will mourn her. Learn from this, Ser March. Cherish those close to you.”

This is why you don't like dealing with the bloodsucker, he leaves you with a sour taste in your mouth. You don’t like thinking about mortality. You and your kin are durable, but not nearly as much as the demons you faced. There’ve been a couple of close calls, but you are quick enough to avoid the worst damage. Which can’t be said for the fragile mortals you’ve come across. It’s become clear that you can’t save everyone.

Reason enough to protect the squishy mortals. They’re a needy sort…but they’re more than good sources of DESIRE. They are people that should be protected.

Otherwise, your siblings would constantly hound the sexiest demon, which is clearly Emancipation. Why else would you have a collection of dildos based on his perfect, 6.73-inch cock? You’ve spent so many nights practicing fellating him, running the dildos in your practically untouched maidenhood, dreaming about the day you’ll finally be able to keep him all to yourself.

"You and your knights fought well today." Goldheart sighs. "Rest, I have some letters to write."

Better go check on him, make sure no floozy is getting any ideas. You take to the sky and observe the festivities as the sun begins to set.

Solar, Lunar, and Silver fist knights mill about, exchanging heroics. A sparse few Holy knights join them in the festivities, the rest having retreated to their airships for prayer. Most knights crowd around Bjorn, offering congratulations and apologies to the dwarf. He smiles politely, uncomfortably rubbing the silver gauntlet now bound to his fist. His wife, a mousy dwarf entwines her arm in his and rubs his back comfortingly.

The squires are doing well on their own, keeping a distance from any Holy Knights and hiding their lustful natures from the other knights.

Spruce and Plum are in their own corner with some dwarves, giving each other bedroom eyes. From the look of it, they’re going to share a tent with the dwarven couple. Iris is hanging by a group of gruff dwarven men, slowly winning them over with her demure charms so they can gangbang her in some half-ruined alley. Nightshade lurks by Tongs, licking her chops as the goblin sweats nervously. Vanilla strokes Burdock’s fuzzy thighs, her gaze fixed on his bulging crotch.

Saturday loudly shares the heroics he witnessed to a growing crowd of dwarves and Holy Knights…Conveniently distracting them so December and some dwarves egg Halloween on as she does a kegstand. You almost drop out of the sky when you recognize April among the Holy Knights, giggling at whatever joke Saturday makes.

How did he…? Never mind. He’s not what’s important right now.

Watching them amusedly from a distance is Emancipation, who is getting fawned on by Libby and a couple squires from the Lunar and Solar knights.

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from hollering in rage. You are the picture of professionalism; there’s no reason you can’t use your authority to encourage them to leave.

“Wow Emancipation! You’re so strong…” A Lunar squire gropes his back.

“Um, please don’t get too touchy with Sir Emancipation.” Libby tries to step between the squire and Emancipation but shrinks back under the taller squire’s look. “Squires need to keep a strict distance from knights—”

“Why? Your Order seems to be really…personable.” The squire licks her lips.

It’s as you feared. The constant presence of the Knights of the Holy Mother has slowly eroded away at the ECS of the weaker squires. And with how amazingly handsome, kind, and perfect Emancipation is, it’s no wonder these weaker ones are flinging themselves at him.

“Some might even say attractive!” A Solar squire adds.

Enough. That one’s ECS is nearly broken. You land behind them, silent as an owl, so only Libby notices you. Her widened eyes give you away, and the squires turn around to see you.

“I need to speak to Emancipation. Alone.”

Your tone is enough to get the floozies to back off. Libby almost joins them, only to be held back when you grab her by the collar. She stares at you with quivering eyes and you comfort her with a small nod of approval. You thought she was just another shark circling Emancipation. You’re quite happy to have been wrong.

<You have my gratitude for protecting Emancipation.> You telepathically communicate, making her jump in surprise. <Many would have taken advantage of his innocent nature. He is too good for them. I will allow you some…touching.>

Libby scrunches her face, likely trying to communicate back. Probably by shouting in her mind. You roll your eyes.

“Speak.”

“They, um, were mostly interested in joining our Order if they wash out of theirs. I’m not sure you know, but it’s not common for smaller knight orders like ours to be so effective in major battles. Especially without any casualties.” She shuffles nervously. “There’s going to be a lot of attention on us.”

“She’s right.” Emancipation speaks up. “They were honest about that. Even if their reasons were a bit skewed.”

<We should not try to break any ECS with the Holy Knights so close by.> The telepathy is shared with them both. <Especially not with squires of such vaunted orders. We need to be on our best behavior.>

“A bit late for that.” Libby mumbles. “Halloween just drank a lot of dwarven ale.”

“She won’t get drunk.” You assert.

“Won’t she? That’s dwarven ale. It’s magical.” She nods towards Halloween. “Even dragons would get a buzz.”

Halloween stumbles away from the keg. She must be acting. No amount of alcohol could—Sweet Quinn’s taint she’s heading towards Bjorn. Saturday notices, but it’s too late. Halloween rips off her helm and points at Bjorn.

“F-fucker! Hic! If you can win an arm wrestle with that fist, I’ll let you ride me, you, hic! Y-you fuckin’ stud!”

The party falls quiet. Halloween is transformed into looking somewhat human, with normal skin and eyes, but her large horns are on full display.

You guys are screwed. All because Halloween can’t hold her liquor. You should have expected this. This is the succubus that was responsible for snorting up most of the drugs Quinn recovered.

Oddly, Bjorn doesn’t look too surprised. He rubs his beard empathetically.

“As I suspected, you’re a half-orc.” He nods. “Dwarven from your mother’s side, I’m guessing. She must have been quite strong. Though I never expected you to be so…young.”

Orc? Are there orcs in Avalon? The tension evaporates as Bjorn’s voice spreads across the party. It seems none of them understood what Halloween said, more moved by the implications behind Bjorn’s words. Those initially scared of Halloween look at her with undisguised pity.

“Fuck yeah my mom is strong! She’s the stron-hic! Strongest!” Halloween plants her hands on her hips proudly for a moment before his words catch up to her drunken mind. “Wait a fucking second, young?! I’m not, hic! Young! I’m a fully grown, DTF, legal lol—”

“Okay, that’s enough from you.” Saturday wraps her in his wings and smiles for the crowd. “Sorry you had to see that, folks! Now you know why we try to keep her in the armor!”

“Gitoffme! I wanna taste of that mountain shattering di—”

She pauses and her expression contorts in rage. Saturday likely told her the one thing that would get her to give up on fucking someone.

“I’m NOT a fucking CHILD!” She shakes Saturday off with a scream.

For a moment, it looks like she’s about to start swinging. The people around her back away, leaving her plenty of space. She glares at each of them in turn, expression darkening with every hint of pity aimed her way. Huffing angrily, she leaps into the sky and lands in the faraway forest. Trees collapse in the distance as she starts running. Saturday shakes his head and picks up her helm.

“March, you’re in charge until we get back. I’ll monitor her while she works out her aggression.” Saturday bows to the other Knights. “And with that, I take my leave!”

Off he goes. With that incident, the festivities begin to wind down. Those with their ECS broken turn in earlier than the others, bringing your siblings with them to finish the night with a bang. As for you?

You first order as interim head is to demand Emancipation finish your conversation in one of the sturdier buildings that remain. Once he follows you inside, you lock the door behind you.

“So what did you want to talk about?” He smiles innocently.

“Emancipation.” You smile sweetly and unbutton your pants to expose your salivating pussy. “Why do you spend so much time with other girls? Don’t you know they can’t appreciate you like I do?”

“Well, they do have DESIRE. They’re all pretty, and nice…not as nice as you, though.” He undresses as well, but you keep most of your clothes on. “It’s only natural that we enjoy each other.”

You stride over to him and embrace him tightly, cooing as you rub his cock between your bodies. Your wing claws dig into his shoulder and he winces. Good. This isn’t even a thousandth of the pain he puts you in when he’s with other women.

“You dirty your cock when you fuck them. They don’t care for you, only for your body…” You whisper in his ear. “Do you know how hard it is to keep myself from tearing them apart?”

“They seem to like me a lot. I know it’s hard—” You shudder when his cock pushes against your sopping wet pussy. “—Nngh! I just really, ah-ah-appreciate you!”

“Do you feel it?” His length pulsates inside you, your hearts beating as one. “I’ve only ever allowed Lord Quinn to use my pussy. Ever since I saw you being born, a symbol of our freedom made manifest, I knew that I was yours. I came so hard when you fucked Lord Quinn silly, and I wished that you would hold me as you held her. This is a cunt molded for you.”

You gyrate your hips, letting his glans spiral ever deeper into yourself, your inner walls hugging him tighter and tighter with every turn. You beam what you saw on that day into his mind. His slim body becoming more solid as he made out with Lord Quinn against the ankh, a hundred men’s cum mixing on their bodies. His perfect cock, plunging into the depths you both came from. You watched him fuck her, and you watched him fuck others. It felt like lifetimes between when he’d choose to bless you with his rod. You bite your lip as you feel him throb harder inside you, and you push him onto the ground.

“Isn’t hypocritical?” You giggle darkly. “That I can save myself for you, but your manhood gets passed around like a popsicle among dumb bimbos.”

You wrap your fingers around his neck and squeeze.

“You drive me insane with how much I love you.” His gentle smile as you choke him sets your loins aflame with need. His crotch drips with your arousal, and you slowly move your hips up and down. “I’m going to ride you so much that my love juices will clean away the taint of every other woman that’s profaned you. Do you feel how much I care? Do you understand my love?”

“I do.” He rasps. “I love you, too. Your craziness makes you so much hotter.”

Emancipation never lies. You throw your head back and muffle a squeak, your pussy tightening as you ride your first orgasm of the night. He loves you! He loves all of you! You lean down and kiss him, your tongues intertwining messily as you ride him, squirting juices every time you slam your hips onto his. He groans huskily and he shoots his precious seed inside you.

You don’t stop. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure overtakes you both, but you keep riding him, your tight pussy stretching to keep all of him inside you. He cums again and again, and you gasp as you feel the changes begin to affect you.

Your tits swell, your growing belly straining against your uniform. You can feel it: Your first imp! You break the kiss and giggle to yourself, holding your cheeks as a giddy smile spreads across your face. Your first child, and it’s Emancipation’s!

“You look beautiful, March.” Emancipation croons. “You’re glowing.”

His cock is still erect inside you. What kind of lover would you be if you only gave him one imp? You hop on his cock some more, relishing the sensation of becoming bigger, the pure pleasure of giving Emancipation more sons. Your talons curl as he joins in, arching back so the head of his cock kisses your stuffed womb.

You blush harder as your giddy laughter echoes throughout the room, spasming with delight as he impregnates you again. Your maternity swells some more, buttons popping from your uniform and wet spots spreading across your now D-cup boobs.

“More! More! More!” You squeal, impaling yourself faster on his promised pole. “I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! Iloveyou! Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouilove-youiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!”

With a final ejaculation, your tongue rolls out of your mouth and you grow another two cup sizes, your belly and bust bursting from your ruined uniform, milk squirting from your nipples with every labored breath. You rub your swollen belly, imagining what wonderful imps Emancipation could have given you. He leans back up and you hug him, choosing to leave him inside you as you make out.

You only let him slip out of your cunny when you feel the contractions take hold. Nevertheless, you’re resting in his embrace and making out with him when you spread your legs apart. You moan into his mouth and he breaks the kiss for one horrifying second to switch to your tits, sucking your milk as he had done to Lord Quinn on the day of his birth. You groan out as your first birth orgasm hits you, your pussy spreading apart once, twice, three times, each birth accompanied by a loud orgasm and another squirt of milk into Emancipation’s mouth.

You look over your newborn imps, not at all surprised by how different they look. Imps, even those born from harpies, always have bat wings.

Of course, those born from your union would be special. They have silvery wings on their backs, matching their parents.

The second thing you notice is that your bust has only shrunken a little bit. You now have D-cups, which Emancipation seems to enjoy quite a lot. You bite your lips when you feel the hunger in your children’s gazes. They are Emancipation’s sons, so would it really be okay to let them fuck the pussy you saved for him?

“Don’t worry, March.” Emancipation squeezes you, as if sensing your worries. “I will do anything for love. Even what the great philosopher, Meatloaf, wouldn’t.”

He does. He truly loves you.

And because you love him back, you take it up the ass, right by his side.