Hi everyone!
Aphrodite continues (or is it Wes…or Vanessa…?)…hmm…well, SOMEONE continues their path of erotic terror through a landscape utterly altered by irrevocable apocalyptic changes as existence itself slowly bends around the perceived whims of the sole alpha male alive–the apathetic Wes, and his harem of manic ultra-babes who are increasingly convinced he needs more and more to satisfy him (he does not).
This is number SIX in the series and you can purchase it here!
Blurb:
The world is ending. But his life only gets better…just like he deserves.
Look, I can explain. The sun goddess Polina, gorgeous and wonderful, blonde perfection personified, is storming a massive mobile fortress to “rescue” her sister Artemis (she doesn’t want to be rescued, not anymore) from my darling Wes, and obviously I cannot allow that. Not when Wes is so brilliant, so deserving, so…
I mean, okay, fine, he’s playing his video game again and I think he’s eaten cereal for thirty-seven meals running, but that’s beside the point. Genius wears many faces.
Polina arrives radiant, furious, untouchable, flanked by tall, marble-cut Nemesis. They mean to drag Artemis home. They mean to end him.
They get one look at him.
That’s all it takes, really. One look, one glance at his obviously super-mastermind self. They realize how smart he is. How dominant. How perfect. How no one who looks this hapless could actually be what he is—how it’s all a facade, and that they have to give in while the giving is good.
And oh, is it ever good.
I’m immune, somehow. But these goddesses? They’ll be like, totally brainless soon. His worshipful, devoted, fertile pets. And they’ll totally forget about ever wanting anything but hot, eager, lingerie-clad service for his glory. And then, once he owns all of them, all of the goddesses ever, well…
…I win? …or something?
I know I had a plan. Maybe if I make another goddess serve Wes, I’ll remember what it is?
All that matters is his pleasure anyway.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of INTENSE kink and bimbofication, mind control, lactation erotica, and the delicious humiliation of a self-righteous feminist.
The First 1000-ish Words:
“We’re approaching the Cascades,” Violet says, her fingers moving across her tablet.
She’s standing near the window wall, backlit by the bruised sky, wearing a tight dark silk blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers that make her legs look approximately nine feet long. Her dark hair is pulled back in a low ponytail that showcases her jawline—that perfect, sharp jawline that could carve meat and makes me want to grind my divine pussy against every surface in this penthouse.
I’m still floating near the ceiling, still touching myself, still pretending I’m here for professional reasons.
Wes’s cock is buried inside Artemis. Her virgin pussy stretches around him with that impossible tightness, her body trembling as she takes him again for the first time, forever. He sits on the couch, relaxed. She’s backing into him, holding herself up with a few gathered mortals she’s using as a coffee table.
His thumbs work the controller in his hands. His eyes stay on the screen. Artemis’s elegant face is frozen in ecstasy, tears tracking perfect lines down her cheeks that somehow make her look more beautiful rather than less.
“The what?” Wes asks.
His character executes a perfect parry. God, he’s so talented. I’m so glad Artemis is using her eternally-virgin pussy to show him what he deserves for being so fucking good at videogames.
“The Cascade mountain range.” Violet doesn’t look up from her tablet. “We’re twelve miles out. Current trajectory will take us directly through the center of the range. Estimated time to traverse using the standard route is four hours and seventeen minutes.”
Wes frowns slightly. Not at Violet. At the game. His character just took damage from a trap he should have seen coming.
“Can’t we just go straight?” Wes asks. “Like, through it?”
The developers of his game, Slay The Breach, exist in what used to be Portland but is now just called The Studio. It’s one of around forty functioning settlements left on the planet that still has electricity, running water, and people who aren’t actively trying to murder each other.
The Studio exists because Wes likes their game. That’s it. That’s the entire reason.
When everything collapsed—when I pulled all the love out of the world except for what pools in this Tower and what pleases Wes—most infrastructure went with it. Power grids failed because the engineers maintaining them decided they’d rather kill their coworkers than keep the lights on. Water treatment plants shut down because nobody could remember why clean water mattered when they hated everyone around them.
Supply chains disintegrated. Governments fell. Cities burned.
But The Studio? The Studio got a protective detail.
Vanessa dispatched five of Hecate’s daughters—the sorceresses, the immortal witches who used to be lesbians and now spend their off-hours praying (actually praying, with ceremonies and everything) for Wes to breed them—to maintain a perimeter around the entire facility. They work in rotating shifts, channeling enough protective magic to keep the building climate-controlled, powered, supplied with food and water and fiber-optic internet.
The developers inside have no idea. They think they just got really lucky. That their building happened to be in some kind of miracle zone where the apocalypse didn’t hit as hard.
They’re not wrong, technically.
I’m cumming again just thinking about it—the way Wes’s casual desires reshape entire continents. The way his preference for a video game has created these little islands of civilization in an ocean of hatred and violence.
I’m cumming so hard I temporarily lose control of my invisibility and flicker into view for almost a full second—long enough that Violet’s eyes flick toward my position and then deliberately away, her expression neutral, professional, giving me the courtesy of pretending she didn’t just see a goddess masturbating in midair.
That happens a lot lately. I can’t help myself. He’s so hot…
There are thirty-seven other settlements like this scattered across what used to be North America. Each one serves a specific function in keeping Wes comfortable. There’s the cereal facility in what was Minneapolis—General Mills, specifically, because Wes likes Cinnamon Toast Crunch and somebody needs to keep making it.
There’s the server farm in what was Virginia, maintaining the infrastructure for online gaming, and a streamer farm in Ohio where hot women are grown in vats and raised to play games against Wes should he want to try out multiplayer on any game in his rotation. There’s the clothing manufacturer in what was Los Angeles, producing the specific brand of sweatpants Wes prefers because they’re “soft and don’t ride up weird.” A factory in Taiwan that makes the components for his gaming monitors. A textile plant in Italy that weaves the silk for the lingerie his harem wears.
Each settlement is protected. Warded. Supplied with power, clean food and water, and plenty of resources.
Everything else? Burning. Starving. Dying in the dark.
It makes my divine pussy so wet I can barely think.
Violet’s fingers pause on the tablet. She exchanges a glance with Vanessa, who’s still perched on Wes’s lap, knees on his thigh, carefully giving Artemis plenty of room to pleasure their Master. Still whispering strategic decisions into his ear between soft kisses along his jaw.
“Through the mountain?” Violet asks.
“Yeah.”
I watch Violet’s expression shift through several stages of realization. First confusion. Then comprehension. Then something that looks like arousal mixed with concern, which is basically her default state these days.
“Master,” she says—and fuck, hearing her call him that still makes me so wet—”the Cascades are solid rock. Granite, mostly. Volcanic formations. They’re—”
“So we can’t go through them?”
Wes’s character dies on screen. He respawns at the last checkpoint with a small grunt of annoyance. “We can,” Vanessa says softly. Her lips brush his ear. “The Tower has the mass. The density. We could push straight through if you wanted. You can do anything…”
Like what you see? Pick up the rest here!
