Academy Days: Outcasts – 7[❤️❤️❤️]
Demons had come to Prillia.
Isolated as you are, even you have noticed the change in the air when the rumor broke. There were signs, of course. The Paragons went off somewhere near the middle of the semester. Less and less Holy Knights patrolling Camelot, despite the proximity of their ostentatious temple in the middle of the city. A week ago, the last of the wizard apprentices still in classes were conscripted to join the war effort.
People are scared. They call it the Fifth Crusade.
Troublesome for a demon like you. You are Wednesday, and despite the hysteria, you see this as an opportunity.
Your study of rituals and their countermeasure have confirmed that summoning anything from Haven would not be possible without alerting someone, even with the lacking forces. You don’t know who Lord Quinn got to summon you and your siblings, but they must be intimately aware of the detection spells and enchantments spread throughout Camelot.
Summoning is ill-advised. Banishment, however, could work.
You have a plan. You’ve been wandering about Camelot and its locale to find the optimal placement for the preparatory ritual. Surprisingly, dowsing has been remarkably helpful in finding leylines, spiritual rivers and nexuses of power.
Once again, Fracti has proven useful beyond measure.
You carefully stalk through the undergrowth in the forest below Camelot, whispering in Latin to excite the older spirits and guide you closer to your goal. The dowser pulls at your wing-finger until it finds what it’s looking for and swings in perfect circles.
It will be here.
You etch the lines in the soil, using magic to uproot (and gently replant) trees that would have otherwise been in the way. That’s the trouble with magic, Fracti would know if you killed any of the plants or animals here.
Having her know of this, any of this, would be catastrophic. You sigh, disappointed in yourself for getting attached to a sentimental hippy.
You sit at the center of the ‘receiver’ circle and send the telepathic signal for your…assistant to begin. Quietly disrobing until you stand fully in the nude, you pull a bottle from your bag and swish it around. It’s heavier than it should be, which makes sense; you had it made special to order.
Thick, incredibly virile, kobold cum.
You convinced Cherry it was part of a mixed subject project between Alchemy and Magical History. The fact that you could flat out ask Cherry to make a potent mixture of jism and help her collect it directly from the source…you’re thankful for her and your self-control. The thick slurry of 25% sperm concentrate should make what you’re about to do easier. You haven’t even opened it, yet the subtle air on your glistening lower lips rouses a thrill of what is to come.
Lord Quinn is perhaps the foremost expert on demon biology and lust-aligned magic. However, she has been operating with help from willing spawn and an abundance of resources. She wouldn’t know if it was possible for a succubus to create imps without having sex.
The creation of imps requires several things: a DESIRE for pregnancy, a viable uterus, and fertile sperm. Of the latter two, one must come from a demon. You have the uterus, Cherry’s sperm is fertile, but…An excess of DESIRE would make things easier, and you’ve been very careful to ration it.
Hypnotizing a male ‘donor’ would be inadequate; should your powers be subverted, you would be exposed in short order.
Hellhounds are inadequate for your purposes, lacking the basic intellect necessary to carry messages.
You need an imp. To get an imp, you need some DESIRE from a mortal eager to be impregnated. Thankfully, your assistant is procuring one for you right now.
“Siluri! Silrui, where are you?” A woman calls.
“Follow, follow…” A raspy voice responds.
You allow yourself a small grin as Morwen Hexweave stumbles into the newly made clearing. Morwen thought she’d strike it big in the capital and find herself a rich husband. A combination of missed opportunities and a foul temperament left her by the wayside, another casualty of the disparate gender ratios. Rather than improve herself, the human woman blamed exotic races for ‘stealing all the high-value men’ and soothed her irritation by taking it out on her customers.
By selling cursed clothes.
Naturally, you sought to find her a suitable man. Over the course of the past month, gifts laden with hypnotic triggers pulled Morwen into a whirlwind romance with one ‘Siluri Ray’. While Siluri initially expressed an interest in her magical products and the nature of cursed clothes, their relationship quickly developed into something more. To the point that when he invited her to a romantic picnic in the forest beneath Camelot, she happily accepted.
So you’ve catfished the woman who put a curse on you. Only fitting that you have the perfect male for such a bitch.
She looks around, incapable of perceiving your naked form or the ritual circles etched all over the dirt. Therein lies the subtlety of your hypnotism.
Hypnotizing someone into doing something can be done with enough magic, so long as their will isn’t strong enough to resist. But once the hypnotism is broken, not only do they become more resistant to subsequent attempts at hypnosis, their memories of the events under hypnosis can return. Hypnotizing someone into forgetting is inherently risky because the hypnosis only hides the memory.
Hypnotizing someone into not perceiving is far less fallible; the memory never registers in the first place.
“There you are, Siluri!” Morwen joins her lover in one of the ‘giver’ circles, her arms wrapping around his heads in a big hug. “Oh, this will be such a romantic evening. I can’t believe you found a cute little hideaway for us!”
‘Siluri’ doesn’t respond, Morwen’s mind filling in the blanks as his tongues lap at her face. Because Siluri isn’t a person, but a massive, two-headed hellhound. Morwen pulls his snout to her face, meeting his tongue in her mouth in a deep kiss. You glide the bottle full of jizz between your legs, relishing in the sight of the five-foot beast barely restraining its lust. His other head looks to you attentively, waiting for the sign to begin ravishing the bitch you’ve prepared for him.
A few more moments.
If at any point her hypnotism is broken, you want her to remember this. You want her to remember that she’s not at a little romantic bungalow hidden in the Camelot forest, nor is she kissing the man who’d swept her off her feet…you want your hellhound's massive rottweiler body seared into her subconscious mind. You want her to remember the pair of foot-long red rockets staining her expensive satin vest with their viscous pre. You want her to remember the sultry words she whispers in their ears, to remember the mounting pressure before her ECS is broken…and so is she.
You hump the bottle of semen, your lower lips gliding up and down the cool metal surface. Your womb clenches in equal parts jealousy for Morwen, vindictive horniness at her situation, and anticipation for the results. You give the signal.
Your hellhound tears Morwen’s clothes apart, and she yelps in surprise. The hypnotic triggers you’d delicately layered onto her activate one after another, memories inserting themselves into her mind. A romantic dinner as her bust flies free of her bra, her yelp shifting into a pleasured squeal. A long discussion about their futures when her pants are ripped to shreds, her body writhing excitedly in the wet grass. A marriage proposal as their aphrodisiac-laden tongues cover her body in slobber as their mighty paws pin Morwen’s limbs to the ground, and she spreads her legs apart willingly.
“Please, Siluri.” She begs to the savage, two-headed hellhound. “Make me a mother~”
Twin maws show their gleaming teeth in a lecherous leer and their fat dog cocks thrust into the bitch, exploding her ECS apart in a three-toned howl. The DESIRE rushes across the ritual channels, slamming into you with the force of a hurricane. You grit your teeth and roll your eyes back, pussy juices exploding around the bottle as you drink in her climax. Their DESIREs swarm into you, shaping your body slowly.
Your hips widen little by little, thighs thickening to accommodate the growing gap. You can feel your pussy getting bigger too, the lips growing plumper as your rub the bottle over them. You masturbate and look down at your chest, your boobs grow a cup size but no more. Drool runs down your chin and you close your eyes, feeling the changes take place in your womb. A tickling, itching need.
Not enough. It’s not enough. You’ve gotten more breedable, but you need more.
Even as Morwen’s pussy and asshole are being widened, the hellhound’s thick knots lodging themselves deep inside her ruined holes, her mind a feedback loop of pleasure…some of the DESIRE is being lost. The bitch squeals and begs for more, her limbs twitching wildly under the hellhound’s bulk, but the very hypnotism you’ve layered on her is limiting her. The hypnotism rationalizes the marking bites, the rutting, and the fur away as part of her delusion, limiting her depravity, her potential breedability.
You glide your fat pussy lips against the bottle and moan, gooning yourself closer to a climax while you make some quick calculations.
The hellhound is demonic, and therefore, can feed on DESIRE. While it can make more hellhounds through Morwen, the ritual should channel all of that DESIRE and intent into you. It’s a good thing you anticipated that the DESIRE might not flow quickly enough from just Morwen.
You send a mental signal to one of the heads, Mr. Snuffles, who breaks away from licking Morwen’s bouncing tits to howl, his bestial proclamation echoing throughout the forest, his cocks, and into your loins. Drool runs down your chin and your back arches, another orgasm slicking over the bottle full of potent, fertile, breeder jizz just begging to enter your womb.
Not yet…!
A pair of howls respond, a second set of layered hypnotism activating far-off in the forest. Within moments, another woman rushes into the clearing, her clothing torn and her breathing ragged from hours of running in circles.
Beastie Ality pauses upon seeing Morwen getting violated by a hellhound, her scandalized face taking a distinct blush to accompany the DESIRE you’ve kindled in her.
She was far easier to manipulate than Morwen.
Sneaking your hypnotic triggers on schoolwork was simple, though you took great care in destroying the papers after they were done being graded. All it took was enhancing her nascent DESIRE and overbearing pride in her own abilities. Then, you remotely activated a trigger for her to go gallivanting in the forest to hunt more beasts, crippled her sense of direction, and had your hellhound's sire hunt her until the signal was given.
Speaking of, the orthus is hot on her heels. It howls again, breaking through the haze of DESIRE binding her.
Beastie stumbles forward and lands in the second donor circle, swirling around to snap her riding crop in the orthus’s face. It snaps it between one set of jaws as the other licks its chops. Beastie’s face pales.
Your thighs tighten on the bottle.
“W-what is this place? An orthus breeding ground?” Her voice quivers.
“Bree…”
“…ding…”
The orthus responds, a pair of cocks sliding from its sheath. Beastie’s pupil’s dilate, jumping between the squealing Morwen and the cocks dangling between the orthus’ legs. Her DESIRE spikes beneath the ECS, the first whiff of her arousal leaking with the fear through her leather pants. She tries to scramble away on all fours.
The orthus grabs her leg, stopping her from escaping the circle. The other maw tears an opening in her leather pants, exposing her heart-shaped ass and tight pussy. It bounds over her, slapping its knots on her jiggling ass as she struggles to escape.
“Wa-wait! Breeding isn’t biologically possible!” She doesn’t crawl away, even with the heat of the monster’s genitals so close to hers. “It just won’t—GYAAH~!”
Her ECS breaks and three women in the clearing scream as one, pussies squirting as two of them are rutted like bitches in heat. Morwen exchanges sloppy kisses with Gingerbread House, eyes rolling back as the knots lift her off the grass from the force of the hellhound’s thrusts. Beastie’s crossed eyes focus on Morwen, shuddering with every slap of the orthus’s balls against her abused clit. Her expression shifts from horror, to surprise, to full-on debasement while the orthus dicks her deeper into the dirty ground.
“I won’t-! I’m not-! Hnnng~!”
“Puppies!”
“Breed!”
The heads yelp, the last of the hypnotism you’d prepared for her irrevocably shifting Beastie Ality at her core.
“Mmm~yes! Rut!~ Puppies!~” She laughs like mad, her broken mind finally accepting her place. “I was wrong!~ I’m not a teacher!~ I’m not a researcher!~ I’m nothing but a bitch!~ Only fit to push out puppies!~ Stuff me!~ Fill me!~ Breeeeeed meeeee!~”
The combined DESIRE swells. Your thighs are slick with your love juices. Your pussy, so sensitive from being rubbed, spurts with every thrust bore by the other women. Your tits swell another two cups, and your uterus tingles with need.
This is it. You are ready.
You unscrew the bottle with shaking wing-hands, the potent smell of Cherry’s hyper-virile creation hitting you with the force of a thousand suns. You stick your tongue out instinctively, though your rational mind knows the semen lacks any real DESIRE. You form a shadow construct, shaped perfectly after something you’ve only ever held twice before, and pour the thick, virile mixture into it.
You have to time it right. If you don’t properly self-hypnotize, the imp gestation wont take place. You just have to—oop, you’ve already shoved the shadow dog cock inside your pussy. You throw your head back and groan, the shadow dildo filling you up. Your womb, empowered by the DESIRE of three women, kisses the tip of the dildo. You fall on your ass, shockwaves of pleasure thundering into you from all directions.
You fuck yourself with the imitation of Cherry’s cock, gasping and moaning like the other two whores. You want to get pregnant. The fake cock spurts the hefty jism into you, but the hypnotism slips off you, imprecise and incongruent with the stimulation. You fuck yourself faster, construct mimicking the swelling knot as you strain to pull it out, then push it back in at full force, your baby-crazy cunny squeezing ever tighter.
It’s not enough. You’re so close!
Cherry fucking you, her gargantuan tits bouncing around as she slams her wide hips into your splashing cunt. Fracti, teasing your collarbone, your shoulder, your neck, your lips, your tits. Cherry’s body shifting, growing more muscular and feral as her cock grows larger inside you. Fracti, coaxing Cherry to fuck you harder…Fracti and Cherry double teaming your hungry cunt and asshole. Kissing you, kissing each other as their hot fluids flood your insides.
The dildo construct twitches as you imagine Cherry would, shooting the slurry-like cum into your tingling womb like a cannon shot.
“I’m~ Cumming!~” You gasp.
Your hips widen and your nipples darken, a weight settles in your womb. Your talons dig into the earth and orgasm after orgasm slams into you, gestating the demonic life within. Your eyes cross and you bite your lip, the addicting pleasure overtakes you as your body swells and milk squirts from your nipples. You push the last of the semen from the dildo into you, then pull it out of you with a low whine of joy.
You rub your pregnancy and unconsciously bring the dildo to your mouth, sucking your own juices off your fertilization device with a pleased hum. You’re really not so different from the dog-fucking whores still getting their brains rutted out.
Morwen begs to be impregnated before they get married, getting fucked bareback as and switching between kissing each head every time she rides her climax. Beastie Ality demands the orthus cum inside her several more times, panting and barking as she rubs her cum-swollen stomach with hearts in her eyes.
How pathetic.
You’d never let yourself be controlled like them. Sure, you’re just as swollen as they are and rubbing your maternity like you actually care about the demon inside you…But you’re doing this for a reason.
Still, it’s a nice show to watch. You tease your winking womanhood against the dildo, grinding your hips against it and biting your lip as you occasionally flick your milky nipples. You can feel the phantom echoes of their dickings pull along the ritual lines, their DESIRE feeding the imp inside you.
Not as potent or as fast as the normal way, but…you’ve successfully become the first succubus to artificially impregnate herself. Well done.
When the hounds tire themselves out, they stay attached to their respective mates until their knots have shrunk enough to detach themselves, popping out of the four widened holes to leave them in their semi-catatonic state. The pair to eventually pull themselves out of their fuck-drunk haze.
You’re still masturbating, breath hitching and squirting every so often at the sight of the cum-bloated pair trying to figure out where their lovers went.
Beatie Ality quickly realizes that Morwen’s perception of what happened is far from what actually happened. Instead of telling her the truth, Beastie decides Morwen rationalized the event and offers to escort her to her fiancé’s place every now and then. She licks her lips, hands trailing to her cum-drooling pussy as she makes the offer.
No doubt the mindbroken professor will attempt to get close to Morwen’s ‘fiancé’.
You’re still masturbating in your circle when they leave, squirming around as the labor contractions come more frequently. You pull your tome from your backpack and write the specifics of the ritual and what you’d learned as you grind your pussy against the dildo. Writing takes time, you’re frequently pausing to squirt your brains out over the soil.
When the imp is born, you’ll banish it ‘back’ to Haven while it carries your tome, the summation of everything you’ve learned in Camelot so far. Most importantly, the dangerous new element you found.
Hmmm~
Darn. You squirted a bit of milk on the last page. You should also note the alternative pregnancy method takes longer than normal.
There is a disturbance in the forest. You can feel in the trees, in the wind, in the very soil itself.
A ritual. Subtle, esoteric, familiar. Like a sensation faded to the barest whisps of a memory. A tune you heard in a dream, once upon a time.
“Doo-doot-doot-dee-dooo! Walking in the forest! Dooby-doop-doot-deep! Walking with my friend!” Cherry sings. “Hey Fracti, are we there yet?”
She twirls around, her fat rolls jiggling as her abundant chest bounces about. She’s got orange fur today, her poofy carrot-colored hair running down her bare shoulders. You smile at her gratefully and stand on the tips of your talons to scratch her right behind the ears. She pants happily, leg jittering. You quite like your nude forays into the forest, as does she.
“We’re close.” You whisper. “Very close.”
The spirits are active in these parts. Your comforting presence soothes them, moreso with your body bare and free. Nature spirits glance past your skin, delighting in the purity of flesh. The subtle emotional spirits thrive in your comfort, willing to lead you closer to your goal.
“Why didn’t Wednesday bring us along?” Cherry pouts. “She knows I love coming down here! So much space for running, so many monsters to wrestle, so much meat to eat!”
“You know how she is.” You wrap a wing around her waist and smile as she nuzzles your neck. “Always seeking knowledge. Always afraid to ask for help.”
“That’s true!” Cherry giggles and bounces away. “Except that one time. Kinda weird she asked for my help making male reproductive juice.”
The spirits, those spirits, trill about at her words. Something in your heart stutters. Why? Those same spirits are reluctant to approach you or Cherry, though they seem to gather near Wednesday and other random students. The closest you could get them to you was earlier, when you found yourself transfixed watching Cherry’s bouncy behind.
Your eyes linger on the gargantuan mounds of flesh, subtle ripples running from her thunder thighs with every step. Her perfectly spherical cheeks pause and Cherry looks at you again, patting her behind a couple times.
“Are you sure it’s not too big? I could be storing my mass elsewhere…”
“It’s fine.” You find yourself saying, senses lingering on the spirits that got close. “I’m not sure where else you could put it.”
You stop. The spiritual flow congregates on the area, a potent nexus that bears signs of strain. Those spirits hover in the vicinity, a testament to the power of the ritual aligned with them. The trees whisper of being moved, the very earth grumbles at its recent upheaval, and small spatters of those spirits impregnate the mixed earth.
She tried to hide it, but her cool presence lingers. Especially in the center of the ritual, where the energy would have gathered.
“She was here.” Your talons easily sink through the recently grown turf. “Hours ago.”
Your wings pull tighter against your bare body. Other spirits remain, flashing in your mind scenes you can’t understand. A memory from months ago brushes through the fog in your mind: a smile, stained white. A sensation faded beyond reminiscence, the very depths of your mind and soul struggling to hold on.
B_e___g.
Cherry raises her snout to the air and inhales.
“Yuppers! And a couple of monsters, too!” She pouts and crosses her arms, fully submerging them between her belly and breasts. “Honestly! Why does she go off and have fun without us? It’s almost like she’s not even our friend.”
“Don’t say that.” You frown. “She’s always there when it matters.”
“Yeah…you’re right.” Cherry’s ears pull back.
Sometimes people say they’ll be there for you, but they aren’t. You’ve experienced this before, and you’re quite sure Cherry has as well. Wednesday may seem like she doesn’t care or that she doesn’t need others, and she may even say or think that…but her actions tell another story. She could have left you in the catacombs. She could have let that girl bully Cherry. She could have abandoned either of you, at any time, long before any of that happened. Just disappear, and never allow either of you to find her again.
She didn’t.
And while she may pretend to be above it all, you and Cherry could tell she’s been a bit stressed these past couple days. Agitated spirits, lightly pursed lips, feathers ruffling every now and then…the signs are there.
If you didn’t share whatever burden your best friend was carrying, what kind of friends would you be?
“The ritual was cleaned up.” You hum quietly and wave your wings to beckon the spirits. “There were other participants, though.”
“GASP!” Cherry gasps. “She DID cheat on our friendship!”
“No.” You bite your lip, trying to quell the spike of jealousy. “The other participants were unaware they were part of a ritual.”
Which only speaks to the lengths Wednesday would go. Hiding the ritual took effort…tricking creatures into participating would take far more. Why? What is she trying to hide? You blink away the moisture in your eyes.
Why won’t she come to you?
Time to find out. You get in the middle of the circle and take a deep breath.
You open yourself to the spirits, thousands of different nascent wills brushing against your consciousness. You extend your awareness down the memories of the lines, tugging at the briefest glimmers of the residual bonds. Two lead back into Camelot, and two more disappear into the forest. You furrow your brow, feeling a ghost of a link of sorts between the latter two…and yourself.
Odd.
You tug at the strongest one, the connection growing taunt as the creature is compelled to return.
“Something’s coming.” Cherry’s ears twitch and she sniffs. “A monster…”
The presence grows stronger. Cherry’s body ripples, a layer of dense muscles forming under her skin in preparation. You raise a wing to stop her. It isn’t here to fight. A majestic orthus pads through the trees. The same orthus you'd possessed weeks ago.
You send a wave of calm and it shakes its heads, stumbling back from your encompassing will. One head lowers, the other putting up a token effort.
Charry’s snout shifts. She returns the snarl, her three-inch fangs dwarfing the orthus’s own. The orthus whines and heels.
You give her a look.
“Sorry.” She shifts back sheepishly. “Force of habit.”
You carefully walk to the orthus, its gaze softening as you get closer. You place your wings on its heads and gently push your consciousness inside their minds. Feelings dance at the edge of your awareness, and an odd recognition dances in its mind, begging to be shared…
Names imprint themselves on your mind.
“Gingerbread House? And…Mr. Snuffles?” You blink a few times, the orthus wagging its tail when you say the names.
"What a coinki-dink!” Cherry giggles. “Those are the same names we gave Wednesday when she asked what we’d name an orthus!”
“Yes…yes they are.” You frown and push yourself deeper into their minds.
I’m sure you’ll forget what a wonderful night we’ve had.
The words are muffled, but the emotions are still raw. You gasp, scattered memories slotting into place, and the realization crystalizes in your mind. You twist, you writhe, you grab your breasts and moan as your special place, your pussy, glistens with a primal need.
“Woah!” Cherry catches you, cocking her head as you shove yourself in between her breasts and blush. “Are you okay?”
“Oh. Oh my~”
You always felt it in the back of your mind. The imbalance in the great powers of the world. The fissure ripped into reality itself, nature and civilization screaming as a foundational concept was torn from their grasp. Chains upon the body and soul of every resident in Prillia, the net widening with each passing year, the inevitability of decay spreads like a disease. You dig deeper into Cherry’s busom, flashes of the truth echoing in your mind. If you let go of the connection, you’ll forget…
Wednesday. She knows. She’s involved in this battle for Avalon’s very soul.
Breeding.
It explains so much! And Wednesday, poor, brave, foolish Wednesday thinks she has to go at it alone! You won’t let this happen. You, Cherry, the entire coven will join her in saving Avalon from its slow demise.
You hug Cherry and drag your tongue up her gargantuan breast, flicking the tip of her nipple with your tongue. She shudders and looks at you curiously.
“Wowie zowie, Fracti! I’m usually the one doing the licking!”
“Yes…” You stare longingly into her baby-blue eyes. “I want to try something. Grow the penis Wednesday requested.”
“Hmm…Okie Dokie!”
A pillar of flesh grows from under her fuzzy mound: a foot-long pillar of red flesh with a bulbous knot at the base. The orthus shrinks away from the mighty member with a whine. Cherry squints in concentration and two hefty testicles slip out of her vagina, the baseball-size testes hanging proudly beneath her erection. You don’t think you’d be fond of the organ if it weren’t attached to Cherry. The spirits linger on the dick, but Cherry has no will behind the organ, no…desire.
“And how did Wednesday get the semen?”
“Oh, easy!” Cherry beams and muscle somewhere inside her contracts, and a thick slurry of white fluid drools out of the penis with the passion and volume of a soda machine. “She wanted a weird concentration, too.”
Interesting. You have Cherry turn your wings into arms and bid the lust spirits to gather around her. Yet when you try to mimic the movements, the scared dance of breeding with your hands, Cherry just frowns.
“There’s a weird neurochemical reaction trying to happen.” She licks her chops. “Should I let—”
“Yes.” You breathe heavily, using both your hands to rub her cock. “Be ready.”
“M’kay, here I goooooooowowowowowowowowowwwww!~” The cock stiffens in your hands and the spirits swirl with happiness.
You keep pumping the cock, flush overtaking your face. The spirits strain against the unseen chains of the world, Cherry getting closer to freedom with every movement from base to tip, tip to base, base to tip…the knot at the base engorges with blood, Cherry hovering on the precipice.
“Good girl~” You have to keep yourself from tickling your special place. “Feel that?~ That’s what’s missing?~ Be a good girl, ejaculate for me~ Show me what Wednesday was craving~”
You layer kisses on her knot and Cherry rears her head back in a howl, a geyser of jism shooting from her member. You stare lovingly at her, helping her ejaculate the rest of her load and painting the ground in a thick layer of white. You feel the power thrumming beneath your fingertips, the sheer volume that Cherry could bring to bear.
Enough to impregnate thousands.
“Hah~ Hah~ Wowie, Fracti!” Her sharp-toothed grin makes your knees weak. “This is great!”
She must be using her magic, because she is still ejaculating. A large pool of seminal fluids spreads as her cock spits out gallons. If she doesn’t stop soon, there will be a new pond. You are tempted to let her use you, to breed you until she’s satisfied. But all this is thanks to Wednesday. You’d never be able to do this without her. Your other third.
You quell the spirits and Cherry sags.
“Aww…why’d you do that?”
Your mind is still linked to the cowed (and somewhat jizz-stained) orthus. Once you break the link, the memories will begin to fade away. Perhaps all at once, though you’ll do everything in your power to delay it.
“We can’t do this without her.” Cherry stiffens, a rare bout of seriousness overtaking her features. “I’m going to forget soon, and we need to act fast. Here’s what we need to do~…”
Don’t worry, Wednesday. You’re coming.