The sun hung high over Aeloria, casting golden light across the bustling central plaza. One year and one month had passed since Ethan's arrival in Elysara, and the city had become a hub of life and celebration. Three hundred pregnancies marked his legacy so far—women from every corner of the planet swelling with his daughters, their bellies a testament to his unyielding virility. But after the drought at the Lake of Fertility, the women of Elysara had grown even more devoted, their affections manifesting in new, creative ways.
It started as a whisper among the harem core—Rowan, with her freckled cheeks and rounded belly, suggesting it during a lazy afternoon in the pavilion. "Ethan has given us so much," she said, stroking her swollen midsection. "We should give back. Something fun, something... competitive."
Vaeloria, the towering silver-haired goddess, nodded from her spot at Ethan's feet, where she knelt as his ever-present assistant. Her enormous tits, barely contained by a sheer silk wrap, rose and fell with her breath. "A contest," she rumbled softly, her submissive nature making even suggestions sound like offerings. "To honor him."
The idea caught fire. Within days, messengers flew to every realm: a grand cooking contest in Aeloria. One hundred women, one hundred dishes. The Breeder himself would judge. The winner? A week alone with Ethan—uninterrupted, in a secluded sky-villa floating above the city, where she could have him all to herself.
The plaza transformed overnight. Banners of woven flowers hung from crystal spires, tables groaned under the weight of preparation stations, and the air filled with the scents of spices, herbs, and simmering pots. Women arrived from afar: curvaceous villagers from the south with their earthy stews, lithe sky dancers bearing airy confections, desert nomads with fiery grilled meats, and even a delegation from the redeemed ex-Shadows, their dishes infused with subtle, mysterious flavors.
Ethan sat on a raised throne of living wood, Vaeloria at his right hand, her seven-foot frame a protective presence. Thora and Brynja flanked him on the left, their pregnant bellies prominent under light armor, greatswords resting nearby. The core harem—Elara, Liora, Sylva, Talia, Lysa, Mira, and others—lounged on cushions around the throne, their own pregnancies in various stages, from gentle swells to full, ripe curves ready to birth.
The contest began at noon, with a fanfare of wind chimes and cheers from the gathered crowd of thousands—women of every size, color, and shape, all hoping for a glimpse of the Breeder or perhaps a future blessing.
The first contestant was a petite Asian-inspired woman from the eastern bamboo groves, her dark hair tied in a neat bun, skin like polished porcelain. She presented a delicate sushi platter: fresh fish wrapped in rice and seaweed, drizzled with a tangy sauce that burst on the tongue. Ethan took a bite, savoring the crisp texture and subtle flavors. "Exquisite," he murmured, earning a blush from her. But it was just the start.
Next came a curvy black woman from the southern savannas, her braids adorned with beads, body a masterpiece of full hips and heavy breasts straining against her wrap. Her dish was a spicy jollof rice with tender goat meat, the heat building slowly, making Ethan's mouth tingle. "Bold and unforgettable," he said, wiping sweat from his brow as the crowd cheered.
The dishes flowed in a whirlwind: a blonde from the northern tundras with creamy potato soup laced with herbs that warmed from within; a redhead from the Ember Plains offering grilled skewers of marinated vegetables that exploded with smoky sweetness; an olive-skinned beauty from the coastal isles with seafood paella, rice infused with saffron and the sea's salt.
Vaeloria watched it all with quiet intensity, her sapphire eyes flicking between Ethan and the contestants. As his assistant, she handed him water between bites, adjusted his cushions, and noted his reactions on a scroll—penance for her past, but torture in its denial. Twice she shifted uncomfortably, her smooth pussy clenching beneath her silk as she imagined herself in their place, riding his cock instead of merely serving.
Thora leaned close during a lull. "She's suffering, you know," the Amazon whispered, her own heavy tits brushing Ethan's arm. "Watching you taste all this... but not her."
Brynja nodded, green eyes sparkling. "Let her break soon. Her huge tits look ready to burst from want."
Ethan glanced at Vaeloria, seeing the flush on her golden cheeks, the way her nipples poked hard against fabric. But the contest demanded focus.
The fiftieth dish came from a group effort—three sisters from the Village of Curves, their bodies a symphony of plump asses and overflowing breasts. They presented a decadent chocolate cake layered with cream and berries, each bite melting on the tongue like sin. Ethan groaned in pleasure, earning jealous murmurs from the crowd.
By the seventy-fifth, fatigue set in. A black woman with intricate braids from the western jungles offered a coconut curry with prawns, the creamy sauce rich and exotic. "This reminds me of home," Ethan said softly, though Elysara was his home now.
The ninetieth was a petite Asian woman with almond eyes and sleek black hair, her dish a stir-fried noodle bowl bursting with vegetables and savory sauce. The flavors danced—salty, sweet, umami—leaving him craving more.
As the hundredth approached, tension peaked. The final contestant was a surprise: a sky woman from the Aether Spires, her rose-gold hair floating gently, body slender yet curvaceous. She presented an ethereal cloud pudding—light as air, infused with starfruit and a hint of magic that made it shimmer on the tongue.
Ethan tasted each one carefully, noting textures, flavors, innovations. The women waited breathlessly, bodies on display—tits of every size heaving with anticipation, pussies subtly glistening under minimal wraps.
Finally, he stood, Vaeloria rising beside him like a silver-maned guardian.
"The dishes were all masterpieces," he announced, voice carrying over the hushed plaza. "But one stood out for its perfect balance of heat, sweetness, and memory—the jollof rice from the savannas."
The black woman with beaded braids stepped forward, eyes wide. The crowd erupted in cheers as she was crowned with a flower garland.
"Your reward," Ethan said, smiling, "a week alone with me in the sky-villa."
She trembled, full lips parting in awe, her heavy breasts rising with excited breaths.
As the plaza cleared for celebrations, Vaeloria leaned close to Ethan, her enormous tits brushing his shoulder. "You chose well, my love. But watching... it has been agony."
Thora and Brynja exchanged grins. "She's earned her turn," Thora rumbled.
That night, as the winner prepared for her week, Ethan pulled Vaeloria aside in the pavilion. The three originals—Elara, Liora, Sylva—watched with knowing smiles, their pregnant bodies lounging on cushions.
"You've served faithfully," Ethan said, cupping her face. "Now, let me reward you."
Vaeloria sank to her knees, silver hair spilling over her massive tits. "Please," she begged, voice husky. "I've craved your cock every moment."
He guided her to the bed, where she lay back—seven feet of goddess, legs spread to reveal her smooth, dripping pussy. Ethan climbed between her thighs, his dick hardening at the sight.
Thora and Brynja joined the edges, watching intently as Ethan thrust deep into Vaeloria's hot cunt. She moaned like thunder, walls clenching around him as he pounded hard, her huge tits bouncing wildly.
The guards couldn't resist—Thora straddled Vaeloria's face, grinding her pregnant pussy against the giantess's tongue, while Brynja sucked Ethan's balls from below.
It was a frenzy: Vaeloria's pussy squirting as she came, Ethan filling her womb with fresh cum—the first in months for her. The originals cheered, fingers in their own pussies as they watched.
By dawn, Vaeloria lay spent and submissive, cum leaking from her well-fucked cunt, a soft smile on her golden face.
The contest had been a triumph.
And Ethan's fertility, restored and raging, promised hundreds more daughters to come.