A New Home – 3 [❤️❤️❤️]

You grind your teeth. You need money to create a portal to get more money to lure people in for DESIRE so you can get more powerful so you can defeat Aevum before he does something everyone regrets.

THUMP!

Are you in an RPG? Don’t answer that, you tried the shadow status window already and it sapped all the fun out of it.

Maybe if you turn Rusty into an incubus husk… No, that may raise a few questions. Building a brothel would be a good way to make money. But the whores need their money. And the ones that don’t are in Haven.

THUMP! THUMP!

“Eugh. I need to get my mind off this shit.”

One of the fogholes starts buzzing and you smile.

“Speak of the me.”

You pick up the ring and trail your finger across the foggy surface. It flashes once and a human dick pushes through the fog. You chuckle and trace your finger across the shaft. It shudders and starts to grow.

The dick is hard, and you lick at it slowly, enjoying it like you would a lollipop. You’re de-stressing as your tongue flicks the head. Pre runs down the length and you begin to mess with your options more.

And another foghole buzzes. This time a curious feminine claw pokes through before it is retracted. DESIRE leaks through, informing you that it’s one of the harpies. You grin and leave them at their anonymity.

But their DESIRE is growing stronger. All the sex in the brig must have changed their views on sexuality a bit. Her DESIRE changes you, and your own rigid girlcock grows from your loins.

You tease your dick through the hole and the DESIRE increases. You smile as you stick the tip of the dick in your mouth and rub the length with your free hand. There’s a long pause before you feel your cock moving around and a long tongue snaking around it.

They must have been curious on the use of the fogholes about then because the others started to buzz as well.

Confession time!

You modified it so the first few uses would be for you.

You honestly thought they wouldn’t all use it at the same time. Giggling in excitement through the dick in your mouth, you begin to levitate the other rings. Lengths of all shapes and sizes pop out as your pussy quivers. You stand out of your chair and grab two human dicks and start jacking them off. You’re already deepthroating the first dick, levitating it in and out of your slutty mouth. One more is levitated between your two breasts, and you paizuri that harpy cock like there’s no tomorrow.

A minotaur dick is shoved into your tight pucker, another human one is jacked off by your tail. You moan through the dick as two horsecocks are stuffed into your wet cunt. Equints have the best cocks. You’re forced to get creative with the last two human dicks and rub them against your nipples.

You’re standing up, making slutty faces as you’re fucking yourself from all directions. The licking on your dick stops and you moan in pleasure when you feel it being shoved into the hen’s sopping pussy. You’re unconsciously thrusting into the hole, tandem increasing. You levitate the two shafts you’re giving handjobs to over your swollen maternity, rubbing them over your ballooning body. You pop the dick out of your mouth and moan.

“See how much of a slut your mommy is?”

You’re feeling the DESIRE being sucked in by the creature growing inside you. It shivers and your dark nipples begin beading milk. You whine in pleasure as you drag the dicks closer to your stuffed pussy, every thrust of your hermcock into the slutty hen rubbing your pregnant belly against the dicks.

“I’m such a cock-hungry whore!” You say and shove the twitching dick down your gullet, its width bulging your neck. Your baby squirms some more, sending a burst of pleasure worming throughout your body.

Your lips tighten on their cocks as they start being thrusted into you faster and faster.

The dicks against your nipples find purchase as your streams of milk widen with each thrust.

Until they enter.

“MMMMGmmmm~!”

You pause, only for them to take the initiative and start fucking your tits. The rhythm increases, each of your tits slapping against you.The feeling them of filling your milk-laden boobs is pleasurable, as if you’ve discovered a new purpose to your slutty body that needed to be filled. You feel a splash of cum on your ass, your tail having finished off that dick, and a signal for the deluge to come. You pull the dicks away from your swollen stomach, jacking them off right above you. The trembling cocks in your hands finally erupt, washing you in semen.

Your cheeks bulge as a storm of cum overflows from your mouth and onto your chin, only for the one between your tits to blow its load all over your face. These ejaculations make you tighten your holes, and the length in your ass follows suit, a spray of cum streaming from the hole.

The striped dicks inside you could drown the baby creature in more baby-batter, but it just drinks it in, expanding your belly to obvious pregnancy. Cum flows down your basketball-sized abdomen and the dicks in your nipples finally cum. Your own breasts swell before jets of semen spurt out.

You let out a few heavy breaths of satisfaction and unleash your own load into the hen, whining in pleasure once again. The dicks go back whence they came, and you pull out as an idea strikes you.

You look down to your own retracting cock and smile.

Two, actually.

Amazing how sex just solves all of your problems.

Be Rusty. Or Quinn in Rusty’s soulless husk.

You’re sneaking off the ‘Sword of Virtue’ with all of Rusty’s loot. Hiding in a cloak, you carry a big bag over your shoulders. It looks like a lot, but not enough for what you need.

First you need a base of operations, hopefully in the red lights district. You chuckle as you head over there, not meeting eyes with all the other suspicious characters in cloaks. When you're alone, you channel a bit of magic to get rid of Rusty's most distinctive feature: his goiter. And you smooth out some of his scars, maybe make his feathers cleaner...You don't look like Rusty anymore.

It’s a mess to get there. A fusion of various decks from who knows how many ships. Most doors lead downstairs, into a series of rooms retrofitted from old airships. Rope bridges and flotsam roads lead in every which direction. Across chasms, down a level into the darker parts or higher up to the more recent additions caught it acres of net. There are no maps, every route inviting you to an uncertain fate.

Thankfully, Rusty’s memories help you navigate to the district on the starboard bow of Nancy’s Tavern. There’s a derelict building there, an old Striped in purple overalls sweeping out the entrance to one of the few traditional buildings. Although the roof is made from the hull of an old airship, and its walls are covered in canvas, it’s solid and quite large.

“Hey, old-timer. This building for sale?”

The equint looks up and lifts his big fuzzy hat over his head.

“Yup. I used to pimp here, but prostitutes age and so do tastes, sonny.”

You’re lucky that buying a building is based on an honor system. There’s no long discussions or contracts, because the building is the island’s. The money exchanged is simply a tradition, money earned for money paid on the building, leading back to the price it cost to make it in the first place.

And if someone tries to sell a part of the island that isn’t theirs…There are no second chances.

Just goes to show whoever’s in charge views the island as more valuable than the people who occupy it. With a simple exchanging of goods, you’ve got your base on Nancy’s Tavern. You get the key and take a look inside.

The first floor is simple enough.

Reception desk and a few closed rooms. You paid extra to keep the furniture, so everything’s pretty much the same. Tacky, but very clean.

The second floor is the same, except the rooms have more accessories. Sex swings, poles, bondage equipment…They were not uncultured at least. The third floor seems like living quarters, well kept, but a bit dusty and a lot less tacky. There’s also an office connected to a spartan bedroom. But the basement is what gets you.

One massive room, which seems to have been made with storage in mind. It’s long since been cleared out, so there’s enough space to set up the portal. Smiling, you use a claw to draw the rough measurements in the floor. You spent half of your loot on this place, but you need to make more.

Which is where your ‘eureka!’ comes in.

You manipulated the odds with your fogholes, so why don’t you do the same with other things?

Like gambling?

Since you can use soulsight, which only equint shaman can do, you’ve got a massive advantage. You lock the doors and rush out with a lighter bag towards the gambling district.

Rusty was smart enough to avoid the place, but he knew where it is. The shift from the redlight district is startling. The enchanted lanterns don’t glow red, but blue in the gambling district, and the relative cleanliness is abandoned for dirty paths and loud music.

Beggars are gambling for scraps, whores for marks, addicts for drugs, stalkers for information, and the richest, for properties. This is where lady Luck either rules with a fickle fist, or is bound, gagged, and fucked in a dirty alley.

Cheating is only wrong if they get caught. Then that cheating quickly becomes ‘stealing’.

You spot a lot of people with missing arms or wings.

According to your soulsight, a lot of them are still cheating.

You hide a smile and nab a pair of sunglasses in a trashcan outside of a casino. No demon eyes, no problem. You step in line behind a equint into a casino. The line moves steadily until you’re nearly at the door. The bouncer stops the Striped and points him to a separate line with other people, where they’re being stared at by another equints, in shamanistic garb. The bouncer waves you in and you immediately get to the desk to turn everything you have into chips.

From then on, it’s easy. You head over to poker tables and manage to fuck everyone over.

Betting low on hands (claws?), you lose purposefully. You bet everything to either bluff your opponents into folding or betting higher. A lot of this is based on reading your opponents, and with soulsight, you might as well get the whole biography.

You move from table to table, each raising the stakes. By some luck, you manage to amass about ten million in winnings. But your movements seem really sluggish as time passes. And you’re feeling weak. And it’s getting harder to use soulsight.

Have you been poisoned?

Ridiculous, your demon physiology—Right. Not your body.

Which means you have to take care of it.

Now that you’re a bit more aware, you notice some of the staff have got their eyes on you. Now’s a time as any to cash in. You fold and take your winnings to the counter. The harpy receptionist has her eyes on you, but she passes over your sack of money. You check the bag and find ten platinum coins, about a dozen gold coins, and a smattering of silver coins.

“Thank you for your patronage, Mr…?”

Can’t they be less obvious?

“Rumpelstiltskin.”

Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but you look too tired to lie, so she believes you. You leisurely walk out… Before bolting like a cat out of hell, flying in the skies, stretching the limits of that body. Your soulsight confirms that some people were following you, but you manage to lose them by hiding down a chimney.

Ho ho ho.

Once the coast is clear, you turn back towards the red light district and lock yourself in, taking advantage of the five locks, before collapsing on your bed. Sleep overcomes you. It feels…nice.