Genuinely. The Siren-Cow hybrid luminescence had been building since conception confirmed, a warm, milk-pale light running just under her skin, most concentrated at her chest and belly. Her nipples were leaking freely — not in response to anything, just ’continuously’, two thin streams running down the underside of each breast and dripping from the dark tips without requiring stimulation to maintain.

She watched him fuck both younger women’s asses in alternating rhythm.

Then she moved.

She came up behind him. Pressed her chest to his back. Her arms came around his waist — warm, soft, possessive — her heavy breasts flattening against his spine and her nipples immediately transferring their leak to his skin, two warm wet trails running down either side of his back.

Her chin on his shoulder.

Her mouth near his ear.

"Mine," she said, very quietly. Not to him. To the room.

His tail moved.

Independently. Curling behind him, finding her without his attention redirecting — the thick, ridged length of it locating her entrance and pressing in with the efficiency of something that had been doing this long enough to remember the route.

Rihana’s breath left her body in a single, long, helpless exhale against his neck.

"Ahn~—"

Then it ’vibrated.’

The tail’s evolved nerves — the evolution’s upgrade, the ridge density tripled, the autonomous arousal response fully active — began to oscillate inside her with a frequency her body had no architecture to resist. Not thrusting. Not moving in and out. Just ’vibrating,’ deep and constant, directly against every wall she had.

Rihana’s arms around his waist tightened.

Her knees bent.

Her breasts compressed harder against his back, the milk pressure spiking, both nipples suddenly weeping in earnest — not dripping but ’streaming,’ warm and continuous and soaking the back of his shirt in spreading white patches.

"AAAHH~—AHN~—MN~—"

Her voice was doing the Siren thing involuntarily. Every moan carried the harmonic quality of it — wrapping around the spine of whoever heard it, landing behind the sternum — and both Gwen and Lira, already screaming, found their own voices layered with something they couldn’t source.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"AAANGHH~!! OUNGH~!! HIIEEK~!!!"

"AHN~!! MN~!! AAAHH~!!" — Rihana, continuous, against his neck.

Viktor’s horns had fully manifested.

Two of them. Curved back from his temples, dark purple with a luminescent inner light that pulsed in time with his heart, catching the firelight and throwing it back as something richer. His eyes, solid violet, weren’t looking at the two women he was fucking.

They were looking at the ceiling.

The expression of a man running at full capacity and finding it sufficient.

He grabbed Lira’s waist.

Both hands. One smooth motion — pulled her up off the table.

She made a sound that wasn’t a word — "HNGH~—" — as her hands scrambled for something to hold and found his forearms instead, fingers locking around his wrists as her feet left the table completely.

He turned her.

Held her facing him. Her back to his chest. His cock pressed against the cleft of her ass from below. Her legs dangling.

Then he let gravity have her.

PAAAH!

"AAAAHHHH~!!!"

Her own weight drove his cock into her ass — not gently, not gradually, ’entirely’ — the full depth in one stomach-dropping descent, her ass landing against his hips with an impact that sent shockwaves up both their spines simultaneously.

Her head fell back against his shoulder.

Her mouth was open.

No sound was coming out anymore.

Her eyes were gone — rolled back, showing white, her whole face the specific blankness of a system that has received more input than the display can render.

He bounced her.

Up. His thighs driving upward. Then the drop — ’gravity’ — her ass slamming back onto him, her breasts lurching upward with the impact, the nipples catching air and dragging back down, the entire weight of her body cooperating with his cock in the specific, devastating way that had destroyed Rihana in the pond and was now working the same architecture on a different woman.

PAH! PAH!

"HNGH~!! AAANGHH~!! M-MASTERRR~!!"

Her legs were ’begging.’

Not her mouth — her mouth had stopped cooperating — but her legs, wrapped around nothing, feet crossed in the air below them, were shaking with the convulsive, rhythmic tremor of a body trying to express something its voice had run out of capacity to say.

Her ass was ’red.’

The repeated impact had left his hips’ imprint on both cheeks in a flush that spread down her thighs, her skin hot to the touch, the soft flesh of her bouncing with each drop in a way that his cock felt as a squeeze every time she landed.

His jaw tightened.

He held it.

He wasn’t done.

He set her down.

Not carefully. He simply released, stepped back, and Lira’s legs found the mat by accident, her knees giving immediately, dropping her to a kneel with her hands catching the table edge to avoid going fully flat.

She stayed there.

Shaking. Both holes open and leaking. Her chest heaving.

Viktor looked at her.

At the combined wreckage of her from this angle — her back to him, her ass presented without intention simply because she’d fallen that way, the evidence of five hours running down both her thighs in slow, thick rivers.

He gripped his cock.

Stroked once.

Twice.

The first rope hit her lower back.

The second crossed her ass.

The third and fourth in rapid succession, coating the already-soaked skin, adding to the layers of claim already written there in seed that glowed faintly violet in the firelight.

He looked at Gwen.

She was watching.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Face still pressed against the table edge with the specific expression of someone watching something that should horrify them and is, in precise anatomical terms, not doing that.

He looked at Rihana, still attached to his back, his tail still vibrating inside her.

She was streaming.

Her nipples — both of them, the full, dark peaks on breasts that seemed somehow ’fuller’ than they’d been at the start of the night — were pouring now. Not dripping. ’Pouring.’ Thin, continuous streams of milk running down his back, soaking the mat behind him, her body producing what her body was apparently now designed to produce at this proximity to him.

His cock went briefly limp.

Then his eyes found Gwen.

And it came back.

He grabbed her ankle.

"Your ass again."

Gwen’s head came up. Her eyes, already streaming, widened further.

"No—wait—WAIT—"

He hooked her leg.

High. Her thigh pulled up until it cleared his shoulder, her body rotating, the position forcing her hips open and her anal directly accessible as her other foot scrambled against the mat for purchase.

Rihana moved without being asked.

She caught Gwen’s falling hands — both of them — her warm, thick fingers interlacing with the elf girl’s slim ones, holding her stable from below as Gwen’s body arched into the position it had been forced into.

Their eyes met.

Gwen’s: ’it hurts and I can’t stop.’

Rihana’s: ’I know. I know. Hold on to me.’

PAH!

"AAANGHH~!!!"

His cock found her anal in one smooth, angled drive — her own pussy juices carried on the shaft from the fuck before, lubricating the entry — and the depth from this angle was ’different.’

A different wall. A different pressure point.

The stretch of her leg above his shoulder changing the geometry of her interior completely, opening angles her body hadn’t offered in any previous position.

She felt it in her lower belly.

Rihana’s hands tightened on hers.

PAH! PAH!

"HIIEEK~!! N-NOT THAT DEEP~!! MASTERRR~!! AAANGHH~!!"

He switched.

Without warning, without pause — pulled back from her anal, angled down two inches, and drove into her pussy instead.

Gwen’s scream changed pitch entirely.

PAH!

"HNNGH~!!"