Big Dicks Have Consequences: Mako (Side B)

The dimming street buzzed with Republic City’s typical evening bustle, the clang of machinery blending with the distant hum of conversations and the occasional rattle of passing Satomobiles. In this run-down industrial and residential district, where shadows stretched long and the hum of a nearby factory never ceased, a streetlamp illuminated a scene that seemed oddly fitting against the backdrop of the Semen Famine’s hold on the city.

Under the glow of the lamp, a young man’s hips thrust forward with fervor, his jacket half-open and his pants fallen to just beneath his humping well-formed buttocks, his typically composed features now twisted in blissful abandon. A few heads turned from the shadowed sidewalks and darkened stoops, glancing with a flicker of interest at the sight—a handsome striking firebender, flushed and fully engaged as he drove his cock between the glistening, lotion-slicked breasts of a matronly, heavyset older woman. She was dusty from tending to her modest garden plot along the street’s edge, unbothered by the eyes on her, holding her massive breasts together with arms wrapped tightly beneath their soft weight, her gaze fixed upward with a knowing smile.

The sight was unusual not because of the nature of the act—man-fruit juicing was a daily occurrence in Republic City and the Famine had super-charged this practice, reshaping the city’s culture. Public milking sessions on busy streets, in parks, and even in derelict alleys had become routine. Most encounters, however, held a hurried, impersonal quality, the participants often treating it as no more than a transactional release.

But this was different.

Where most extractions had a let’s get it over with feel, the scene stood out because of the sheer disparity between the two participants. A young, handsome probender, his athletic frame and striking features well-known to fans across Republic City, was here, fully engaged with a matronly, heavyset woman well past her prime. Her soft, rounded form, dusty from tending her garden, seemed a far cry from the sleek, glamorous women typically associated with someone of his stature. Yet there he was, thrusting with fervor, utterly lost in the moment, while she confidently held her massive breasts together, unbothered by the obvious mismatch in appearance or status. The contrast was impossible to ignore: the firebender, a figure of youthful vitality and fame, reduced to moaning and gasping for release against the ample, time-worn body of a woman who seemed to command the scene with practiced ease.

A handful of passersby slowed to watch, their expressions varying from mild interest to amused curiosity. A pair of teenage boys leaned against the wall of a dilapidated building, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of someone they recognized from the probending arena now gasping and shuddering as he drove into the chest of an older woman. An old man paused under the glow of another streetlamp down the block, his cane tapping lightly on the pavement as he chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head at the firebender’s visible desperation.

Across the street and above, a modest apartment overlooked the scene and several women leaned on the windowsill to witness the old Water Tribe whore's latest score.

“Well, looks like Mrs. Mei’s caught herself another one.”

“That woman doesn’t garden for the vegetables. Those tits are the real flowers, and every man in the neighborhood’s a wandering bee.”

“Spirits, she’s thorough. How does she keep going like that? She’s got to be what—sixty?”

“Sixty and sharper than all of us put together. Don’t let her act fool you. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Inside, the space was unmistakably Garu, its decor reflecting the heritage of that Earth Kingdom nomadic people hailing from the Haran Steppes—a vast, semi-arid plateau near the Si Wong Desert and the Longfeng Highlands. Colorful geometric patterns adorned every fabric, from the embroidered cushions on the low seating to the layered curtains that swayed gently in the evening breeze. A small shrine occupied the corner of the room, its polished stones and dried herbs placed reverently before a flickering candle.

The four women sat or lounged near the open window, their attention fixed on the scene below. The eldest, Tayan, a matronly woman with streaks of gray in her long, braided hair, leaned against the sill. Her intricately embroidered halter-top showed hints of her large, revered breasts, adorned with silver charms that jingled softly as she moved. Beside her sat her daughter, Aksuna, her lean figure wrapped in a skirt with slits high enough to show her toned legs, one of which she swung idly as she watched.

Standing behind them were Temu, a decently titted cousin with a sharp tongue and bright, mischievous eyes, and Koryn, a small breasted neighbor from across the hallway. Temu, the youngest of the group, leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, while Koryn stood with arms crossed, wearing a knowing smile.

“Spirits,” muttered Aksuna her sharp features lit with a mischievous grin. “Look at that ass. Tight as a drum. He must do squats for hours.”

Beside her, Tayan, her mother, leaned closer to the windowsill, the silver charms on her halter jingling softly as she peered down. Her gaze was warm but critical. “Like two fine hams, side by side,” she said with a chuckle. “But shame about the rest.”

“Not a pussy-tamer, that’s for sure,” added Temu, shaking her head as she braided her hair. “Mei’s working herself into a sweat for a load that’s probably going to be no thicker than watered-down soup. She should know better.”

The women’s laughter rippled through the apartment as they leaned on the windowsill, their eyes fixed to that tight, muscular backside flexed and released with each of his frantic thrusts into Mrs. Mei’s massive, sweaty cleavage.

“You’ve got to hand it to him,” Koryn said with a smirk, “he’s giving it everything he’s got. Shame everything he’s got amounts to… well, that.”

“Not a pussy-tamer, that’s for sure,” said Temu, rolling her eyes as she gestured toward the modest cock, barely visible as Mrs. Mei’s enormous breasts engulfed it.

Koryn laughed, the sound light and full of mischief. She shrugged apart her loose top, letting her small, dark breasts fall free. Pressing her arms together, she attempted to form some semblance of cleavage. “I don’t feel bad for Mei. She’s got those monster dick-milkers, doesn’t she? She’ll be fine. Meanwhile, the only cum I ever get in my girls is from my useless husband. And you know what I get when I try to find something better out in the city?”

“What?” Aksuna asked, grinning knowingly.

“I get bent over,” Koryn said dramatically, tossing her head back in mock despair. “And then I have to catch it out of my pussy afterward! I hate Shared Spill!”

The women howled with laughter, clutching their sides. Tayan shook her head, though her grin showed she was enjoying the conversation.

“And Spirits forbid you complain about it,” Temu added, nodding. “Go to those corrupt Metalbending Police, and you know what they’ll do? They’ll drag you up onto a rooftop, **** you to jerk them off into their own pots, and make you bark insults at them the whole time!”

Koryn snorted. “Well, I like insulting them,” she admitted with a wicked grin, “but not getting any sauce or yuan out of it? That’s where I draw the line. My civic duty, my ass!”

Their laughter filled the room again, mingling with the warm scent of flatbreads and the faint hum of the bustling city below. Tayan sighed, her silver charms jingling softly as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“You’re all hopeless,” she said affectionately, though her gaze wandered back to the scene below. The male's cries reached a crescendo as he climaxed, his tight buttocks clenching one last time before he collapsed into Mrs. Mei’s embrace.

“Hopeless, maybe,” Koryn replied with a grin, “but at least we’ve got our Omashu Gold.”

“Thank the Spirits for that,” Aksuna said, nodding. “Nothing like a real pussy-tamer to keep a woman satisfied.”

The four women shared a knowing look, their laughter softening as they basked in the camaraderie of their shared secret.

The beggar had stumbled into their lives just a few weeks back like a blessing wrapped in grime and desperation. He’d appeared one hot afternoon, staggering into the alley behind the building with clothes in tatters and eyes wild with hunger. The women of the Garu, ever vigilant, had been the first to spot him. Some had wanted to chase him off—Republic City wasn’t kind to outsiders, and they had enough trouble of their own without a strange man hanging around.

But Matron Yura had stopped them. Her sharp, weathered eyes had caught something the others hadn’t. It wasn’t his pitiful state or even his quiet pleas for food that had made her pause. It was the bulge in his trousers, the way it swayed heavily with every step.

“Wait,” she’d said, raising a hand.

It was their way, after all, to consider the whole picture. The Garu people believed that their community was one body, one spirit, each member a vital part of the whole. To deny the beggar outright would have been to deny a potential piece of their collective strength.

Still, Yura was no fool. She wasn’t motivated by charity alone. In Garu culture, semen wasn’t just a byproduct—it was sustenance, spice, and sacred ingredient all in one. And the bigger the cock, the fuller the balls, the better the seed. If her suspicions about this man proved true, he could become something much more than another mouth to feed.

She’d brought him inside, given him food and water, and then, with her usual no-nonsense air, had demanded he strip.

When the beggar dropped his tattered trousers, Yaru's old pussy had clenched and spasmed with desire.

His cock was enormous—thicker and longer than anything Yura had ever seen. It hung heavy even in its flaccid state, the head ruddy and flushed, the shaft veined like a river delta. Beneath it, his balls swayed like overripe fruit, large enough to fit snugly in both hands.

Matron Yura hadn’t been aroused—not then. Her mind was already turning, calculating the implications. A man like this wasn’t just a curiosity; he was an asset, a treasure. If his seed tasted as rich as his endowment promised, he could elevate their entire community.

With the cool authority of a leader, Yura had pointed to a small wooden stool and handed him a bowl. “Milk yourself,” she’d commanded.

The beggar, confused but too tired to resist, had obeyed. His rough hands moved over his cock, and Yura had watched as the massive organ swelled to full hardness, standing upright like an unyielding pillar. Within moments, he groaned deeply, his cock twitching as thick, pearly seed erupted in long, heavy streams.

The bowl had filled quickly, and Yura had dipped her finger into the creamy substance, bringing it to her lips. The flavor was unlike anything she’d ever tasted—salty, sweet, rich, and potent. It was perfect.

Yura could have kept him to herself, hoarded his seed and his cock as her private secret. But that wasn’t the Garu way. To the Garu, the community was everything. One body, one spirit. What belonged to one could be shared by all, and what benefited the whole was sacred.

She’d gathered the women of the building that evening, explaining her discovery and her decision to share him. There had been no arguments, only eager acceptance. A man like this wasn’t just a gift for one person—he was a blessing for them all.

The beggar had quickly become the heart of their little world. Every woman had their turn, their bodies tamed one by one as his massive cock claimed them. His seed, thick and abundant, flowed into their kitchens, elevating their meals with a flavor and potency no one could rival.

Their husbands, though aware, didn’t protest. If anything, hearing the cries of pleasure echoing through the walls seemed to spur them on, leaving them eager to prove their worth in their own modest ways.

But the beggar’s presence had also brought danger. Republic City was a crowded, chaotic place, and there were plenty of people who would take what the Garu had if they could. Gangs prowled the streets, looking for opportunities, and the city’s other residents wouldn’t hesitate to steal their prize if they ever learned of him.

So the Garu guarded their secret zealously. The beggar’s role was kept strictly within the building, his movements watched carefully. The women ensured he was never seen by outsiders, and they discouraged visitors with a quiet but firm hostility.

The Garu apartment was warm, filled with the comforting smell of flatbread baking and the faint tang of sweat. The four women lounged in the cluttered room, their robes loose and untidy, their hair falling where it might. Aksuna sat cross-legged on the floor by the window, scratching idly at the wooden sill with a fingernail, her eyes drifting over the city outside.

“Damn it,” Koryn grumbled, flicking and rubbing her nipples, not having bothered to fix her top yet as she sat back with a loud sigh. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s been over a week since I got a ride, and I feel like I’m about to burst.”

Aksuna laughed, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. “What’s stopping you? He’s probably passed out somewhere with his cock still hard. Just go grab him.”

Koryn huffed, her face flushing red. “I might! If Min and Sura would stop hogging him! Did you hear them last night? Screaming like they were being torn in two.”

Temu snickered, her legs tucked under her. “Sura? I saw her in the laundry room yesterday. She could barely walk. Surely the rhinoceros beetle plowed its path, and now her moist earth won’t settle.”

That set off a round of laughter, sharp and unrestrained. Koryn leaned forward, resting her heavy breasts on her knees, her hands gesturing wildly. “It’s not funny! We’ve got fifty women in this building and one cock like that. It’s not enough!”

“Spirits, you’re greedy,” Aksuna teased, smirking. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere. He lives here. Hell, he’s got a bed in every apartment.”

“Yeah, except mine,” Temu muttered, shaking her head. “You think he even remembers where his bed is? He’s always stretched out somewhere, eating the food we bring him like some fat meerkat-lion.”

“And yet, you’d kill for your turn,” Koryn shot back.

Temu didn’t even try to deny it. “Of course I would. We all would. Spirits, if he walked in right now, I’d spread my legs before he could say a word.”

“It’s not like we get to decide, anyway,” Aksuna said, her tone softer now. She leaned her chin on her hand, her eyes thoughtful. “When it happens, you just… feel it. That pull.”

Koryn nodded, her hands brushing over her thighs. “It’s not a choice. Your pussy decides. And once it’s tamed…” She shook her head, her voice trailing off.

“It’s his,” Temu finished, her voice low. “Forever. You can’t fight it, even if you wanted to.”

Tayan, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. Her voice was calm but firm, carrying the weight of years of wisdom. “It’s the way of things. The body knows what it wants. The mind can argue, but the pussy? The pussy doesn’t lie.”

Aksuna wrinkled her nose, half-smirking. “Yeah, but sometimes I wish my pussy had better taste. He’s a beggar, for Spirits’ sake. Filthy, loud, lazy…”

“And perfect,” Koryn interrupted. “You can say what you want, but when he’s inside you? None of that matters. It’s just him. That cock, those balls, the way he fills you so completely you can’t even breathe.”

Temu shivered slightly, her fingers tugging at the edge of her robe. “It’s like being hit by a boulder. You feel it deep, all the way up, like he’s splitting you open. And you don’t want him to stop. Ever.”

Aksuna looked away, her cheeks red. “Spirits, you’re making it worse.”

Koryn grinned, leaning closer. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t think about it every time you hear him with someone else.”

“Of course I do,” Aksuna muttered. “But what good does that do me? Sura’s clan has probably got him locked down for the next three nights.”

“What about your husband?” Temu asked, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t he get jealous?”

Koryn snorted, sitting back. “Jealous? Hardly. He hears the beggar working me over, and it’s like it sets him off. Thirty seconds of humping, and he’s out cold. If anything, it makes things easier for him.”

“Same with mine,” Aksuna admitted grudgingly. “He doesn’t even pretend anymore. Just listens, waits for his turn, and goes at it like a hogmonkey.”

“Don’t forget they have to pay afterward,” Temu added, grinning.

“Oh, Spirits, don’t get me started on that,” Koryn groaned. “It’s pointless. We just pass the same damn yuan back and forth. But it’s the rule, right?”

“It’s tradition,” Tayan said firmly. “And traditions matter. The men might not have what it takes to tame a pussy, but they know their role. Sauce, conversation, sturdy support… it all has its place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Koryn muttered. “But their sauce isn’t Omashu Gold, is it?”

The women dissolved into laughter again, their frustrations softened by the warmth of their bond.