Three years to the day since Ethan Sinclair first stepped through the rift into Elysara, the realm declared a kingdom-wide holiday: Arrival Day. No one remembered the exact hour he had appeared on the cliffs above Eldoria—dazed, naked, dagger in hand—but the date had been etched into every calendar, every song, every child's bedtime story. He had come as the Breeder, summoned by prophecy to end the shadow. He had stayed as something more: lover, father, king in all but name. Today, Elysara celebrated not just survival, but the man who had filled their wombs and their hearts.
The capital had been preparing for weeks. Streets were draped in blue-and-gold silk banners embroidered with the spiral rune of fertility. Every square held open pavilions lined with furs and cushions, oil pools scented with rose and myrrh, low tables groaning with honeyed fruits, spiced wines, and platters of edible flowers. Torches burned with slow, scented flames; floating lanterns drifted overhead like fireflies drunk on lust. Music pulsed from dawn—deep drums, flutes, strings—all tuned to the rhythm of sex.
Women arrived from every corner of the realm. Merfolk rolled in on wheeled water-chariots, tails flipping, scales shimmering blue and green, breasts bare and glistening with pearl dust. Elves glided on wind-currents conjured by Valyndra's kin, tall and luminous, smooth pussies framed by faint silver down, high breasts tipped with pale pink nipples. Goblins slipped through the crowds like living shadows, wiry green bodies agile, tight pussies already wet with anticipation. Nudists marched proudly, large breasts swaying heavily, thick hairy bushes proudly displayed, asses jiggling with each step. Cat women prowled with furred ears twitching, smooth pussies glistening, tails lashing playfully. Giants strode like living earthquakes, towering forms with breasts like boulders, pussies that could swallow trees, their steps shaking the ground.
All came nude or in sheer silks that fell away at the first touch. Bodies were painted with glowing runes—spirals around nipples, arrows pointing to clits, words of gratitude and invitation written across bellies and asses: "Thank you, Breeder," "Fill me again," "Three years of seed." Breasts of every size heaved in the warm air, pussies of every type glistened—smooth, hairy, scaled, furry—adorned with jewels, flowers, or nothing at all.
Ethan stood on the central dais with his seven companions: Vaeloria, obsidian skin gleaming, violet eyes fierce and proud; Liraya, crimson hair flowing like fire, full breasts swaying; Valyndra, golden and towering, winds curling around her rounded belly; Lilitha, olive-skinned and curvaceous, moving with graceful seduction; Mira, dark warrior form carrying her spear with quiet strength; Solara, massive breasts and thick hairy pussy drawing eyes and hands; Thalira, scales shimmering, tail coiling playfully.
The celebration began with gifts.
Women approached the dais in long, eager lines—each carrying something small, personal, meaningful. Ethan greeted them one by one, hands roaming freely as they presented their offerings.
A merfolk healer knelt first, offering a pearl the size of an egg, iridescent and warm. "This grew in my womb after you bred me three years ago. I carried it nine months. Now I give it back—to thank you for the life you gave me."
Ethan took it, then cupped her face and kissed her deeply. His hands slid down her back, gripping her scaled ass firmly, squeezing the firm flesh until she moaned into his mouth. He gave one cheek a sharp slap—her tail flipped, pussy glistening beneath her scales. "Beautiful," he murmured against her lips. "I'll fill you again tonight."
She shivered, stepped aside with a dreamy smile.
An elf archer approached next—tall, silver-haired, smooth pussy framed by faint silver down. She offered a quiver of arrows fletched with her own hair. "These were tipped with your seed. I shot them into the heart of the shadow during the final battle. Now they return to you—clean, blessed, and grateful."
Ethan accepted them, then pulled her close by the waist. His hands roamed lower—palming her smooth ass, fingers dipping between her cheeks to brush her tight hole. She gasped, hips rocking forward. He slapped her ass lightly—once, twice—watching the pale flesh pink under his palm. "You fought for me," he said. "Now let me reward you properly later."
She bit her lip, pussy visibly wet, and stepped back.
A nudist matriarch came forward—massive breasts swaying, thick hairy pussy dripping. She offered a woven crown of her own pubic hair, braided with gold thread. "This grew after your seed took root. I cut it the day my daughter was born. Wear it, Breeder. Let the realm see how you've marked us."
Ethan placed it on his head—soft, warm, intimate—then gripped her hips, pulling her against him. His hands kneaded her thick ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He gave her cheeks a firm slap—loud enough for the crowd to hear—then slid one hand between her thighs, cupping her hairy pussy. Two fingers parted her bush, brushing her swollen clit. She moaned, hips bucking. "So wet already," he growled. "I'll stretch this hairy cunt tonight."
She whimpered, stepped aside trembling.
Gifts kept coming—pearls, arrows, hair crowns, carved wooden cocks, vials of nectar, silk scarves stained with cum from the first breeding, a tiny cradle made of driftwood from the merfolk reefs, a spearhead forged from the horn of a slain succubus, a painting of Ethan's face done in the artist's own menstrual blood mixed with honey.
With each offering, Ethan groped freely—gripping asses, slapping cheeks until they jiggled and pinked, sliding fingers along slick pussies, circling clits, dipping inside just enough to make them gasp and clench. "Thank you," he'd murmur, voice low and rough. "I'll breed you again soon." The women left flushed, dripping, moaning softly as they rejoined the crowd.
By midday the dais was piled high with offerings. The crowd chanted his name, fingers already circling clits, pussies grinding against thighs, moans rising in waves.
Ethan raised his arms. "You honor me. Now let me honor you."
The orgies began.
Pavilions filled instantly—women piling onto furs, bodies tangling, pussies grinding, mouths sucking, fingers plunging. Ethan moved through them like a storm—fucking one after another, cumming inside, on faces, in asses. His companions joined—Vaeloria eating pussies, Liraya warming holes with gentle flames, Valyndra lifting women for aerial fucks, Lilitha kissing and licking, Mira fingering asses, Solara smothering faces with her massive breasts, Thalira coiling tails for bondage play.
A cat woman rode him—smooth pussy clenching. "Fuck my kitty cunt… breed me deep… make me yowl with your seed."
He thrust up. "Cum on my cock… squeeze me… take every drop."
She yowled—pussy pulsing, milking him dry.
A giantess lowered—pussy engulfing his enlarged cock. "Pound my giant pussy… dig it out… fill me up massive."
He thrust deep. "Cum for me… take it all."
She roared—body shaking, cum flooding her depths.
A merfolk queen in the central pool—tail coiling him, smooth pussy engulfing. "Stick it in my ass… fill my merhole… feed me that dick underwater."
He thrust in the current—ass clenching around him. "Cum for me… take it deep."
She sang—cumming as he erupted in her ass, cum mixing with water.
The day stretched into night—torches blazing, orgies blurring. Ethan bred hundreds—pussies stretched, asses filled, mouths overflowing, wombs quickening. The crowd chanted: "Breed us… fill us… thank you, Breeder!"
As midnight approached, the three elders arrived.
They stepped onto the dais—ancient women, naked and unashamed. The first was Eldora, the Eldorian matriarch—silver-haired, tall, smooth pussy framed by faint silver down, high breasts still firm. The second was Thalassa, the merfolk elder—scales shimmering, tail powerful, full breasts topped with pearl-like nipples. The third was Gaia, the giantess elder—towering even among giants, breasts like boulders, pussy that could swallow trees.
They knelt before Ethan.
"We come to thank you," Eldora said, voice clear and strong. "Three years ago you arrived. Today we offer ourselves—one last time."
Thalassa's tail coiled around his leg. "Breed the elders. Fill the source of our lines."
Gaia's voice rumbled. "Breed me massive. Fill this giant womb one final time."
Ethan pulled them close—kissing each in turn, deep and reverent—but held back from more. "Not yet," he murmured. "Tonight is for the realm. Tomorrow… for you."
The elders nodded, eyes shining with anticipation.
The final day ended in one last orgy—thousands joining, bodies pressed together, Ethan at the center—fucking, breeding, filling until the sun rose on the tenth day.
The Fuck Festival concluded at dawn—Elysara forever changed, every womb carrying the promise of new life, every woman marked by pleasure.
Ethan stood amid the exhausted, sated crowd—cock still hard, cum dripping, surrounded by his seven companions.
"Three years," he said, voice carrying across the plaza. "And we're only beginning."
The realm cheered. The future was bright, fertile, endless.
e, let me know!