Beneath the colorful robes.

One by one, Lu Qingyi removes her clothes, untying her sash, lowering her green silk robe, and parting the white inner layers. When the final piece falls, you see her in her entirety.

Standing before you is an image carved from flesh and sinew—seven-foot-seven, with powerful pectorals supporting her heavy breasts. Her hair is brown and flowing, her skin is pale as milk, and her teats, the color of peony, bloom widely above her sculpted torso. Beneath her defined abs is a patch of well-groomed hair, pointing down toward a soft phallus that hangs halfway down her thick thighs. Behind it, a pink scrotum hangs low and full, brimming with life.

You watch, wide-eyed, as she steps closer, every step causing the mountain of her overflowing curves to bounce and sway.

She comes to a stop right before you, her heavy breasts hovering above your face. At this distance, you can clearly see that her phallus—even soft—is nearly the length of your forearm.

“Do you see, Junior Brother?” Lu Qingyi says softly. “This isn’t the type of physique that a mortal like you would want to look at, let alone subject yourself to. This is a curse that we must bear—let us carry the burden for you.”

She kneels down and hugs you gently. The cold barrier she had erected before is now gone. Your face is pressed into the yielding valley of her milky breast. You still can’t find the words as she backs away and returns to her position, still naked and white.

From her dais, Song Baiyun looks down at you with indiscernible eyes.

“Do you see now, Son-in-law? The road ahead is simply too steep for you… but if you’re still unconvinced…”

Clap!

Song Baiyun claps her hands again. This time Jiang Zhiwei and Shen Nuoyue step forth.

Jiang Zhiwei tears away her wrinkled red robe, revealing a hulking eight-foot-two body covered in scars and dancing veins. Her shoulders are wide and heavy, her traps bulge up like mountains. Her skin is stained yellow from all the medicinal herbs she has smeared on herself. As she raises her arm to scratch her tangled silver hair, the unshaved bush beneath her armpit is visible, alongside her massive lat. Between her wide-set legs is an engorged phallus, veiny and angry.

Next to her, Shen Nuoyue seems small in comparison. At seven-feet tall and hunched over, she barely comes up to Sister Jiang’s collar. Her body is less defined and sickly pale, with ungroomed hair all over. Her messy black hair falls over her face and partially covers her squishy breasts and tender belly. A trail of dark hair leads from her navel to the dense bush below, from which a thick, python-like phallus emerged, hanging to her knees with a tip encased in loose skin.

Sister Jiang paces toward you, and without explanation, lays down on the cold ground, presenting her massive back and mountainous behind to you.

“If you’re going to just gawk like a moron, then at least make yourself useful!” she barks. “Go on! Step on it!”

You’re so dazed you forget to take off your shoes before climbing onto Sister Jiang’s back.

She gives a satisfied moan when you accidentally trip and fall on her lower back.

“Ooouuu. Should have done that ages ago. You’ve been holding out on me, damn brat,” she says, burying her grinning face into her thick forearms.

Sitting on Sister Jiang’s back, you look up at Shen Nuoyue, her fat, phimosis phallus hanging right before you. Behind, her hairy scrotum shifts slightly.

“Sorry you have to see something so disgusting, boy,” she says dryly. “In my defense, I was hideous before the change. Now at least I’ve got a body that’ll make people do a double take—just to make sure a pig didn’t learn to walk on two feet.”

After a beat, she adds, “That was a self-deprecating joke. You’re very polite for not laughing.”

She ruffles your hair with a fond, awkward pat, then turns and walks away, her ears just a little red, her scrotum dancing lively beneath her gigantic behind.

“Had enough?” Song Baiyun says.

You don’t answer.

“Well, then…”

As she raises her hands to clap, the twins leap up.

“Ooh, ooh! We’re next, we’re next!” Li Huanglan says.

“Right you are, Lanlan!” Li Huanglin says.

They quickly throw off their clothes and rush toward you like a pair of ravenous dogs. The only reason they don’t pounce on you is because you’re still sitting on Sister Jiang’s back.

Each standing at six-foot-nine, their glossy skin shines like honey, while sharp eyes gleam like gold. Their bodies are lean and fit with stubble on their armpits and crotches. They’re salivating as their thick, brown phalluses are erect and throbbing before you, each one curving in different directions.

“How about we continue from where we left off last night, mortal boy?” Li Huanglan leans down, her long tongue flicking close to your neck.

“Yeah, forget your little wife. We’ll show you all the good times you’ll ever need,” Li Huanglin takes your hand, playfully biting the joints of your fingers.

As the twins press closer, they inevitably touch Sister Jiang’s massive body.

“Who gave you bitches permission to lay a finger on me!” Sister Jiang roars.

An invincible **** moves you out of the way as Sister Jiang jumps up and drags the twins, kicking and screaming, back to their spots.

Then Song Baiyun claps her hands again, and Tian Xueying rolls her eyes.

“Why do I always get dragged into farces like this?” she sneers at you before turning around.

Her exquisite blue robe slowly falls off her wide shoulders, revealing a shredded back that is the perfect combination of femininity and strength. Her glutes are full and round, and her legs stretch on forever, standing at seven-foot-five.

Slowly, she turns around. Her breasts are high-set and shapely. Her body is a perfect hourglass with no muscle too big or small to break the silhouette. Every inch of her body is hairless and sculpted to glimmering perfection, and every strand of her golden hair has been brushed and styled meticulously.

Her blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, her frowning face cracks a shadow of a smile. Then she turns around completely, giving you a view of her phallus, standing tall and proud, not an inch of excess skin, not a flake of gunk.

Keeping her nose high, Tian Xueying begins posing, moving from pose to pose, showcasing her muscles and curves in equal measure—her blue eyes locked right at you.

But as you stand there wordlessly, her frown deepens.

“Well, don’t you have something to say, mortal?” she demands, contorting herself to showcase her breasts and behind at once.

But your eyes have already drifted from her—to Meiyu.