Children of the Moon

Seventy-nine (Temple) hours later...

John didn’t need an army… he just needed to get home. But the plight being carried on Vantage had fallen away for a moment, and not thanks to a reprieve, but for day after day of sacrosanct suffering.

How many children did Genghis Khan have? Certainly his grandchildren and later generations were legion, but how many lives did Genghis Khan's balls truly, directly create? More to the point, he certainly couldn't have been responsible for their upbringing... as a whole, right? What little John knew of Genghis Khan, he was certain that the O.G. G.K. didn’t have the infrastructure, foresight, or care to legitimize every bastard, much less care for them all.

Heal Monster is now level 14!

You have completed "Father of Nothing"!
+100,000XP
+100 soul gems
+Temple gains one level and opens secret room: "Summoner's Barracks"
+You gain a new mandate: Breeder’s Authority

DING! You’re level 31!
+100HP
+100MP
+10 stat points
+1 paragon point

Achievement unlocked! "Admire my son, he's my clone"!
Become a father! Parenthood is the longest quest.
+20,000XP
+5 WIS

Achievement unlocked! "I wanna make some babies"!
Become a father to five or more children! No more achievements for this; you're just being irresponsible now.
+30,000XP
+5 CHA

DING! You’re now level 32!
+100HP
+100MP
+10 stat points
+1 paragon point

Heal Monster is now level 15!

Achievement unlocked! “We Are Legion”!
Have over 1,000 minions under your command. But have they the discipline?
+100,000XP
+this XP reward is tripled for MXP purposes

DING! You’re now level 33!
+100HP
+100MP
+10 stat points
+1 paragon point

You added +30 to Wisdom.

Blessings of Health is now at 3/3
Your natural aging is drastically reduced, as is your need for food and water.

New paragon perks unlocked!

Live Hard 0/3
You can shrug off one attack per minute as long as it doesn’t deal more than [10 x perk rank]% of your maximum HP in damage (after your resists).

Die Hard 0/3
You can stay active at negative health for up to a number of rounds equal to the rank of this perk but only as long as you don’t go past [perk rank] times your maximum HP in the negatives. After this perk is exhausted, you fall ****, begin dying, or die as normal. Die Hard has a 24-hour cooldown after activation.

Bulging Biceps is now 2/2
Your strength bonuses do not deform your body beyond any ideal state, no matter how strong you become; you have perfect control of your muscles down to minute commands; and fatigue no longer affects your physical strength or output.

New paragon perks unlocked!

Inspire Greatness 0/4
Your power can inspire those who are loyal to you. For up to one hour, you can add [25% per perk rank] of your Strength as a Strength bonus for [perk rank + 2] of your allies.

Inspire Fear 0/1
Any feat of strength shown to your enemies or rivals can carry a magical fear effect that amplifies your intimidation by [your level x 10%].

Mage Circle is now 1/3.
You can borrow the mana pools of cooperative entities. You can so borrow for a single task or spell up to [your maximum mana pool] mana from each entity and from up to [perk level] entities.

The Temple had seldom failed to respond to the Gamer’s whims, and by now he had figured it out: if it was truly in his mind, paradoxical as that was, then of course it, like his minions, did his bidding within some reasonable limitation. So while it had never so much as hinted at a basement, now the whole of the Temple seemed to be undermined by an extensive network of chambers, all reached through staircases distributed in every major wing.

The chambers were sparse but provided for plain, sandstone watering fountains, decorative plant pots, and large, generous cushions lined with pillows. Each one could serve as a bed suitable for whole parties of sleepers... or one Durr the Wise, if he ever deigned to nap. Unlike the opulent marble of the temple proper, these chambers bore walls rounded, smoothed, and cut from unremarkable limestone that bore a mild shimmer thanks to the white-flame braziers hanging from the ceilings.

A total of seven of these chambers had been born, though only six were so designed: among the first, and with a staircase leading directly there from the sanctuary, came the nursery. From that unique chamber sprang a legion of pink-colored cleric spirits—“nurse spirits,” the Game called them—that each levitated one of the squealing babes and ushered them into the newfound basement.

Nurse Spirit: Specialized Temple custodian. Entertains and manages branded infants and simulates their childhood, education, and upbringing based on the wishes of the parents until the infants are ready to attain their first level as grown adults.

But John had not yet seen this new marvel. He had stayed with Tita, feeding his and her twisted desires in an exchange that, whenever it had become rote or boring, was then thrust into a new level of depravity by one or the other, hastening her labors and quickening his temper. Tita, no longer able to deny what she had produced, only wanted them out of her; John obliged her as she whimpered and cried and begged for more. By her urgings, they had included the mimic drone and succubus at times; at other times, Fairy obliged her with heated chains and ugly welts as Tita came viciously from the ****. The two shared that twisted contract—exchanging births for sadomasochistic satisfactions—without sleep, few breaks for water or food, and with the occasional interruption of John’s other adult summons.

Almost each that hadn’t been invited had come by in curiosity: first among them was Ahk, who for many hours watched from her usual post behind the fountain to wonder at the miracle of childbirth. Alysha, perhaps grateful to have had her own young removed, watched with a mix of twisted satisfaction and disgust. Juniluny, who still didn’t believe in the unborn she harbored, took but one glance and left in a worry. The Almiraj, the Giggle-foots, George Takorb—John couldn’t resist naming the mysterious, glowing orb that—and Durr the Wise all took passing, uncaring glances at what was strange but of no interest to them.

Thumalk remained in the armory, well in range to hear his former lover vacillate between the moans caused by a superior, human lover and the grunts of labors that, by the fiftieth child, would barely last minutes.

The rest did not bother visiting; they received word and, at most, were curious to see what was to become of a horde of babies among their numbers. “I hope he doesn’t expect us to become wet nurses,” complained the succubus; her kind took no pleasure in corrupting the pre-pubescent, after all.

The days passed in the temple as hours in the real world, and John had entered a kind of ritual mindset as he continued to consensually ravage his former wife and deliver their young.

1,999. John had lost count, but the temple had not... and the 2,000th baby was on the way with another ready to swell with life and growth.

Nursery limit of 2,000 reached. Consolidating remaining births...

John hadn’t even noticed the pop-up; he had his eyes closed as he bit firmly into Tita’s neck while fucking her ass. Her intestines sloshed with the most recent hour of this; she trembled and quaked as she always had at the sensation of this particular ****, perhaps her favorite from the last few days.

Over 900 remained... but miscarriages were possible, even for the “perfect” Moon Elves. Probability and non-harm met in the Temple’s rules... and decided to compromise.

John’s hands were anchoring her to him by her ever-pregnant belly... but this time, as he felt the next baby move, he also felt the stomach shrink... and deflate. Stunned, even confused after thousands of orgasms and ministrations without such a change, he opened his eyes and finally noticed the pop-up... and stared down to the baby half-hanging from her mother’s gaping vagina.

The baby slid softly onto the bed... and none followed her. The cleric spirits, now huddled around the bed to quickly cleanse the children of the filth of birth before the nurse spirits could arrive, went to work... and when their mysterious dance ended, all that remained was a crying daughter, one of over a thousand, but one who did not share the skin pigmentation of the recently born. Fresh from the womb, her skin was a glowing, unnatural white... and compared to the unidentified children before her, her level indicated something more.

Unnamed Daughter of John and Tita
<The Gamer>
Level 0 Amalgamation Half-Elf

Amalgamation...? John was in no state to remember... and more pop-ups assaulted him to distract his questions.

Bonus objective met.
Summoner’s Barracks has completed its add-on: Summoner’s Nursery! Summoner’s Temple gains an additional level.
Tita is now level 33!

The trembling form of Tita began to glow… and vanished. Before John could weakly protest, the pop-ups continued.

Tita has been transported to the Triage for her evolution.

Summoner’s Temple is now level 20!
Summoner’s Temple gains the following milestone upgrades:
+10 cleric spirits
+Temple Icon is now activated. Console access granted.

John was left baffled as the last of his children cried at the new world of sensations and feelings... and like each before her, she was levitated from the bed.

John gently rose from the bed. Tita’s labor was complete, and she was now resting in the triage… though John still wondered what “evolution” could mean for her kind. The Gamer followed the spirit. He could no longer feel the physical fatigue these days should have cost him… but still he wavered. The spirit that moved him had finally come to rest from its dance of ambition, spite, and want… and now, only a curiosity, of what had happened to those 1,999 other children, made him follow the 2,000th.

Numbly and barely aware of the absurdity of that quest, John followed the last nurse spirit down a series of steps that had carved itself up into the sanctuary. He walked down into a chamber that, despite the flaming braziers hung in the spaces between cribs, could barely be perceived in full. The gray stone of the barracks had risen from the floor to create railed altars that formed something like tiny cribs; from the farthest crib, where his latest daughter was taken, rose another nurse spirit and, in that same puff of pink sparkles, a pink explosion of blankets and pillows.

The nurse spirits, like a sea of fireflies, darted between the flaming braziers as they monitored the platoons of newborns below. Beneath them, the linens they made marked every crib in layers of blue, pink, yellow, green, or white. Boys were in blue, girls were in pink... and whatever sense was to be attached to the minority of other colors could not be discerned by looking at the squirming, nude, and glistening bodies of his children in each.

His children.

John wavered on his feet even now. Nurse spirits noiselessly entertained the newborns with ephemeral, comforting caresses and shows of light. Few cried; none continued once they were so coddled by the sprites, and some could already giggle happily in response. Their laughter was a heart wrenching song of joy, and John retreated a step as he heard it.

As he neared the entrance, the pop-up plaque for this room finally caught his attention.

GAMER’S NURSERY
An expanding room that houses the Gamer’s youthful summons until they’re ready to serve as proper minions. Nurse spirits take care of all the tasks of education and upbringing via virtual simulations; recent upgrades now permit the Gamer to adjust this education via the Temple console. The nursery’s capacity is [100 x (Temple level + 1)]; any children who are already being born after this limit are absorbed into the last permitted child. No new pregnancy labors or birthing can occur while the Nursery is at capacity.

Absorbed…? His sons and daughters... his and Tita’s... was that what had happened to the remainder? He tried to find that latest daughter in the sea of cribs, but it was all too much for John: he walked the nursery in stunned silence. Occasionally, one of the infants—sometimes days old—managed to open his or her eyes enough to catch sight of their nude father. It made him self-conscious enough to equip his clothes, absurd as it was; even if they somehow held opinions, they didn’t make them known beyond the wondrous curiosity of the newly alive.

What had he done...? What would this mean...? He looked at his sheet, trying to find some answer, or to find this “console” mentioned by the pop-ups, but all he could find was a new ability under the “MANDATE” section, just under the Eye of the King and Summoner’s Hearth. Numbly, he tapped it for a tooltip.

Sovereignty: Breeder’s Authority
The power to exercise sovereignty over a creature and command its power to procreate. Any child born under this act of sovereignty is born with the Gamer’s Brand. When using Breeder’s Authority, the mandate must be of one of the following sub-types: Fertility, Compatibility, or Gestation.
Fertility
The mandate takes one full round. The target is rendered fertile to whatever degree the King chooses, with biomechanical changes only to the extent that the creature’s current body can sustain. Barren targets cannot be affected by this mandate.
Compatibility
The mandate takes one full hour. The target is altered on a biological level, permitting cross-breeding and making fertile the barren.
Gestation
The mandate takes one full minute. The target must already be pregnant or, in the case of external gestation, the target must be the egg or container of the unborn young. The target’s gestation is sped up during the minute, morphing the container and the unborn itself, without complication or pain, to whatever stage the King chooses.

Why did he have this power? Did the Game think he wanted to do this again? To add to this… whatever this even was?!

Tita.

John blinked back into his sanctuary... and was welcomed by the silence of her absence. The cleric spirits had already cleaned what remained of the mess they had made. The triage. John’s thoughts were sluggish; part of his mind was still screaming at what felt like an instant guilt, a burden of neglect, that he had committed by fathering thousands of children in an instant. What was a nurse spirit’s “simulation” to entail?! Where was that fucking console?! John’s grunts and wide-eyed worries continued when he blinked in front of the triage-

… and stood, trembling, at that threshold.

Inside, the laminated surfaces and barebones cabinets remained as they always had. Hugging her head to her chest was Regan who had backed away into the farthest corner of what had seemed a good place to get some peace from the others. The scared teen’s eyes flicked over to him before returning to what rested on the uncomfortable bed/table in the middle of this barren medical facility.

John didn’t recognize her immediately. The skin was paler, for one, and the blonde hair not so pale to platinum before. Her ears remained pointed; with her back to him, they remained all that reminded him of Tita. But his distraction could be justified: for one, Tita didn’t have two six-foot-long, flesh-colored tentacles growing from the middle of her back before, nor thirteen others of varying lengths from a couple of inches to two feet all across her back. Tita—or it, at this point in John’s mind—turned to regard him... and shockingly, aside from the eyes, she remained the picturesque elf from fantasy fiction he had always known.

Her eyelids blinked, and then so did a thinner, perpendicular set of eyelids. Her irises had doubled in size, taken on golden-blue hues, and bore four pupils joined together in a cluster.

She turned on her generous rump to throw her legs over to the side of the bed facing John. Her breasts swayed with their milk, though the droplets of milk hanging on her nipples now took on an unsettling glow. She left her thighs parted as she spoke, letting John see that what seemed a fatter labia was actually a labia with two small, prehensile tentacles waiting just inside them. Every appendage on her seemed soft save the two, twitching master tentacles that now framed her, each ending in a plain, skin-colored tip. “Master.” Her voice warbled, and she froze before considering saying anything more.

John, knocked out of his earlier shock by this new horror, glanced up at her character sheet.

Tita Newman
Level 33 Moon Elf Sage
HP: 2,090/2,099
MP: 4,929/4,929
XP: 50/54,450 (TP: 14,023)
Stats: Str 44, Agi 46, End 24, Int 52, Wis 19, Cha 40, Lib 84
Spells: Boil the Vile Blood lvl4, Charm Creature lvl20, Cure lvl11, Detect Thoughts lvl20, Dominate Creature lvl2, Entropic Sphere lvl3, Entropic Touch lvl17, Hallow lvl12, Harm lvl19, Heal lvl33, Moonbeam lvl33, Pain Upon Lies lvl16, Status lvl8, Unbirth the Sinful lvl2, Zenith Holocaust lvl1
Skills: Crush the Blasphemous lvl2, Enlarge Appendage lvl10, Grow Appendage lvl3, Hallowed Lash lvl5, Tincture of Insight lvl1
Status Effects: None
Qualities: Aphrodisiac, Fey, Moonbeast Hybrid
A Moon Elf native to the Moon Glades Kingdom. As human-fae hybrids, moon elves have similarities to their forest kin but are more peaceful, communal, and defensive in nature... so long as they are the dominant species wherever they reside. This sage in particular has tapped into the fae heritage long forgotten by the Matriarchs of the Moon; she has also fallen low, having given birth to half-human children sired by her human master, John Newman.

Regan mouthed a plea to save her from whatever Tita had become.

“Master,” Tita whispered coyly, her voice still warbling between far notes, “how are our children?” She rubbed her flat belly, and her fingers glided too fluidly for fingers. “I feel… empty without them.” She parted her legs more.

[Note from neokenka: Hello, reader! I’m sorry to say I’ll be taking a break that may last until the end of the semester due to the volume of writing and rehearsal this coming month is going to take, but that just means my writing will slow, not stop! See you all on the other side of May… or earlier if I’m bad and keep writing during the semester.]