Glorious Morning

John woke up to the sound of aggressive panting.

This had him confused for all of two seconds. He was so used to getting up to something, typically lips, around his dick that any alternative boggled the mind. Once his mind snapped to what day it was, he knew immediately what was happening.

“Couldn’t wait?” he asked, putting in his contact lenses.

Rather than answer, the brunette that came into focus in his magical sight simply let out a series of half-crazed squeaks. Those sounds alone were testament to the progress she had made. Her position in the room was another point on the Hot-Crazy scale, where she managed to land right on the line.

Layla stood at the foot of the bed. She was visibly straining against her dual desires to orgasm from the combined presence of the harem and jumping into the bed itself. That she was in the room in the first place was a minor breach of etiquette. As far along as they were, it hardly mattered.

The brunette wore a gorgeous outfit of pink and black, the two colours contrasting each other and harmonizing nicely with the dark shade of hazel that her long, wavy hair embodied. A tank top clung nice and tight to her short frame, the fabric custom-tailored to form seamless pockets around her medium breasts, emphasizing their firmness and providing support even absent a bra. The rounded neckline gave a gracious view of her cleavage.

She was dressed to entice, specifically him. Her yoga pants were tight and thin. Black layered onto her legs, providing a second layer of skin that barely fulfilled the conditions of public propriety. Pink, curved stripes started at the sides of her belt and disappeared around the roundness of her thighs. Noticing where his gaze had gone, Layla did a quick turn, showing off her cushy backside. The roundness of that derriere, the jewel in the crown of her bottom-heavy figure, was artfully outlined by those pink curves. The material that clung so tightly to that bubble butt was shinier, latex or leather, than the rest of the yoga pants.

As Sylph had once coined it: Layla was wearing a Gamer attractor.

And it was working fiercely.

“You’re getting so horny for me?” the reformed stalker managed to press out a series of delighted words. She leaned against the wall, thrusting out her ass even further. “Want me to cum for you? Can I be a good girl and cum for you? Can I tell one of ours to drain you? Please, please?!”

The hot and bothered tirade of words stirred the rest of the harem awake. No one even asked about Layla being there. Everyone had expected her to come in overnight. She had access to the room, she was Layla, therefore she was going to be there on this morning.

John basked in the uniqueness of the whole situation. Sitting in his bed, surrounded by his current harem, with a woman so desperate to join begging to give and be given orders… yeah, that was just heaven. If that was how his 99% confirmed next haremette wanted to start this day, he was going to oblige.

“Do as you please,” he permitted.

Layla’s eyelids began to flutter, the black cloth covering her crotch darkening as pussy juice soaked through her panties (if she wore any) and into the legwear itself. “C-Claire, make him cum for me!” she moaned.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Claire echoed the heat and need in the brunette’s voice. Reddish pink lips were around the Gamer’s cock before he knew it. He put a hand on the back of the vampire maid’s head, guiding her into a rapid rhythm of erotic suction and throat penetration. His eyes remained on Layla’s ass, the twin globes jiggling as climax after climax washed through her. All she had to do to keep gushing was stop resisting the ecstasy his presence brought her.

He was ready to cum within less than a minute. Layers of stimulation proved too much. With a loud groan, he let go of any semblance of self-control. His vision swam in an ocean of white lightning and black dots, but he still remained focused on Layla. Sympathetic pleasure rushed through her in kind. A final, climactic scream echoed through the room. Then, they both began to calm down.

“Cool… now I’m mega-horny,” Jane groaned as she stretched. “Eliana, ya wanna scissor or have me sit on your face?”

“Whatever pleases you, Mistress,” the pretty little psycho responded in that dreamy, submissive tone she summoned only when she was getting dommed.

“Scissorin’ it is!”

While the harem rapidly shifted gears into an especially intense morning orgy, Claire’s lips released her Master’s cock with a loud pop. There was no load to present, greedily as she had gulped it all down. “I love the taste of cum in the morning, I love where my actions have brought us, I love that Layla will be one of us soon,” she cooed in her little sing-song of repeated phrases. She turned to the brunette. “Don’t you embarrass me!”

“I’ll be a model haremette!” Layla guaranteed with a broad smile. She had turned back around. The soaking had started to trickle down to her thighs, but was rapidly reversing. A quick Observe confirmed John’s hunch: those pants were enchanted with the greatest grade of magical self-cleaning that money could buy. The brunette could have her orgasmic episodes and move on without needing new legwear.

“I would kiss you if John had already!” Claire exclaimed.

“Soon!” Layla promised.

Having those two play off each other may turn out to be a bit of a problem, but that was an issue John was willing to deal with to have them by his side. To the sound of a multitude lesbian activities, the Gamer rose from the bed. His cock was still hard, pulsing with restrained need. Layla was staring at the spit-shined member, gulping to contain her own desire.

John approached, calmly boxing the brunette in between the wall and himself. His elbow rested above her head. The panting was back, air flowing in rapid breaths to and from her lips. She smelled faintly of rosewater and radiated pent-up desire. She put her hands flat against the wall. Her hips jutted forwards a bit. It took her every bit of focus not to rub up against his erection.

“I am quite tempted to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

It would be their first one, that was special, but it wouldn’t be her first one in totality, which made keeping the suspense less important. Less important, but not unimportant whatsoever. Layla managed to meekly shake her head. “N-no… later… when you breed me.”

John’s deep voice reverberated in his chest as he laughed. The intertwining of innocence with the word ‘breed’ always got him. “As you wish.” He stepped back. Immediately, Layla’s quivering thighs gave in, another orgasm rocking through her before her ass met the ground. “Anything specific you want me to wear today?”

“I get to p-pick?” Layla stammered only because a quiver disrupted control over her vocal cords.

“As long as I can leave the house in it,” he said with a slight smile.

Layla’s breathing evened. Her eyes roamed over him, all of him, as she puzzled together what she wanted him to wear. “Do you have a tight, grey shirt?”

“I have shirts of every colour, I am pretty sure,” John said and walked to his segment of their ridiculously expensive closet. Even if he did not intend to ever wear anything bright pink (or anything too bright, period), Aclysia had stocked it up with a selection just in case. He pulled out a dark grey shirt and presented it to Layla. “This?”

“No, a light grey.”

“Alright… this?” John pulled out another one. The unworn shirt felt nice and crisp between his fingers. When Layla nodded eagerly, he tried it on. The stretchy fabric was quite snug, but not uncomfortable. The sleeves had a bit of give. Importantly, judging by Layla’s gaze, the midriff clung tight enough to let his abs shine through.

“That!” she exclaimed. “And… black jeans!”

John pulled out a pair of boxers with the pants, put both on and then presented himself to his date. Layla’s head bobbed up and down in rapid nods. Grinning, the Gamer pulled the shirt back over his head. The gathered harem was getting off quite intensely at the show. It felt nice to be desired so deeply. “I’ll take a quick shower, then we can leave.”

“I’ll wash your back!” Layla exclaimed.

“No, I think you can be a little patient. Wait in the living room.” John did not allow backtalk to that order, already moving towards the showers. Happy as he was to give his date her part of control, he did want to keep the proverbial pants on. Plus, the shower was the least interesting part of the date.

Once he was clean, dry and clothed again, he linked up with Layla. The harem was still engaged with itself. John checked his phone for the time. “5:57,” he said aloud. “We are ahead of schedule.”

“So, you could have let me wash your back!” Layla exclaimed. “Or at least let me watch Delicia do it! Imagining those huge tits gliding all over your toned body… it can’t live up to the real view! It just can’t!”

“We would be ten minutes behind schedule if we did that.”

“Can’t resist cumming between her tits?” Layla asked, equal parts thirsty and curious.

“Rarely,” he answered truthfully. “Well, being a bit ahead is better anyhow. Let’s go.” He offered her his arm. Immediately, the brunette grabbed onto him, pulling his upper arm between her moderately sized breasts. The victorious laugh that rose in her throat was deliciously unhinged. It calmed to a persistent, dreamy giggle as he led her out of the room.

Stepping out without breakfast was its own oddity. Aclysia had not much liked the suggestion, but Layla had insisted that he had promised her the whole day and John had agreed. The appreciation he had for his first maid’s meals could not be understated. All the same, on the rare opportunity of going on a first date with someone, he wanted to go get breakfast with that lady.

And a lady, Layla could be. Once they were out of the privacy of the Palace corridors, her open displays of mental… uniqueness were reined in, expertly hidden behind an innocently feminine smile. Even her eyes sparkled with nothing but simple adoration for him and the situation she was in. Her hands, however, kept squeezing his muscles, committing to memory the firmness of every fibre.

John tilted his head back, glancing at the short woman’s ass. The seam of her pants dug deep into the gap between her cheeks. Female flesh wobbled with every long stride, ass and thighs both possessing plenty to grab.

And why should he not do just that?

As they walked across the greenery towards the Teleportation Station, the Gamer’s hand wandered from his pocket to Layla’s ass. So lost in her own world was the adorable crazy that she did not realize he had moved until he got his first handful of her ass.

She jumped, then looked at him with wide, flustered eyes and unmoderated joy on her face. John smirked back, getting his fill of her backside. She was a plush one. In the balance between juicy and firm, she fell more on the former than many of his other women. There was a lot of jiggle layered over the athletic core, plenty for his fingers to sink into. Shamelessly, he pressed deep indentations into the stretchy, shiny material that covered her round backside.

“God, you got a fantastic ass,” he whispered the crude compliment.

“Am I a wide-hipped, thick-thighed, breedable angel?” she asked, batting her lashes flirtatiously.

“Absolutely,” he confirmed.

“…Hehe…hehehehehe… Yes! Hehehehehe!” Even that creepy laughter was endearing to John now. He had fallen for the stalker completely.

‘Guess I will have to keep her happy for the rest of our lives,’ he thought. ‘Maybe work on making her a little more stable, even… well, not a whole lot more. Momo and Lorelei have adjusted her pretty well.’

John studied the tactile feedback of her every step, especially the two she made to climb onto the pad of the Transport Station. He had seen her naked multiple times, had seen her in all manners of sexual ecstasy, but this was the first time he was touching her with every intent to possess her. By the end of the day, he would be making that ass ripple. He had no doubts about it.

“How are you holding up?” he asked her.

“Mmh?” Layla hummed.

“I am groping your ass for the first time. I expected you to stumble and squirt for at least five minutes.”

“Oh, I am having, like… one long, light orgasm right now,” Layla chatted. “It’s heaven. Keep touching me.”

John suppressed the urge to test how masochistic she might be by twisting one of her nipples. That was for later. For now, he just activated the teleporter.

It delivered him and Layla to Springfield. The new ambience put a bit of a damper on his sexual desire. The Illusion Barrier on his childhood home stood every bit as untouched as the house on both sides of the divide. Bittersweet memories played in the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t enough to kill his lifted spirits. He was getting less and less affected by the memories, a fact that was sad and uplifting in and of itself.

Layla made no noise whatsoever, just observed him while he lingered in that sorrowful nostalgia.

“You don’t need to be so quiet,” he assured her. “They wouldn’t have wanted me to linger on them during a date.”

“It doesn’t ruin a date to have a moment to mourn,” Layla assured him. “I wish I could have…” She shook her head. He understood her problem. She didn’t want to make the moment about herself.

John, however, wanted to make it about her. “You wish you could have met them,” he finished the sentence. “I wish I could have introduced you too… but we don’t get these choices.”

Perhaps it was a bit tactless to squeeze her butt again during this conversation. John did it all the same. He really did not want to wallow in it. That wasn’t the purpose of bringing her here. The Outpost simply was where it was and it was the only way to facilitate getting where he wanted to get in a sensible timeframe.

Before leaving the Illusion Barrier, they had to throw on some extra layers of clothes. The Guild Hall had been hot, but Springfield benefitted neither from a Weather Tower nor from a tropical climate. It was as cold as the middle of the US tended to get in mid-February, especially when it was early enough that the sun hadn’t even risen.

With heavy winter jackets on them, provided by John’s inventory, they continued to walk arm-in-arm. Much as John wanted to keep feeling that behind, there was little joy in it with this much fabric in the way. They walked like a regular couple. Layla rubbed her cheek against his shoulder like an affectionate cat.

“You’ll mess up your hair,” he warned her.

“You like it messy,” she flirted back.

“Not wrong… but it’ll be a long day.”

“I’ll just brush it if I need to.”

John reached over, following the impulse to feel the silky strands for himself. The brunette had truly gorgeous hair, long enough to reach her butt and naturally wavy. Between her vengeful episodes, she kept wondrous care of it. He sensed the softness from her conditioner and the light oiliness of her moisturizer.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“An Order outpost just out of town,” he revealed.

Layla fixated on him with intense interest. This time, it was neither loving nor lustful, just deep curiosity mixed with a hunch.

They did not have to walk far. John entered the Protected Space with the reformed stalker attached to his arm. Three squires of the Order of the Golden Rose greeted them with deep bows. They had been notified and simply kept their distance after John dismissed them.

The Protected Space had been erected on a part of forest off the road that led southwards out of the city. On the Abyssal side, the trees had been mostly cleared and the few that remained were marked by battle. Scorch marks, cuts, and bark blown off by holy energy all covered the surfaces.

Between those remaining trees were massive holes. Each had been dug out and then filled back up, but between the aftermath of disrupting the soil and the planted flowers, kept alive despite the harsh weather, they were still clearly visible.

They were mass graves. Each was filled with the bodies of those the Order had executed after seers had judged them irredeemable. Though they had been cut down for lives lived in sin, their burial site was treated with respect, in some part because the Order wished to prevent the spawning of undead. Mostly, though, it was because the Order believed that it would reflect poorly on their own souls if they did not respect the deceased of any origin.

John stopped in front of one of the holes. “Here they are,” he said.

Layla disentangled from his arm, stepping away to take a long walk around the mass grave. She traced the outline, made by laid bricks. Her hazel eyes never left the earth, her gaze drilling into it as if she could read anything new from it. For as closely related as her power was to Lorelei’s, Layla had no ability to see past or future. In the end, she stood next to him again.

“How did you find them?” she asked.

“I may think the Order is overzealous in who they put to death, but I cannot say they do not deliberate their judgements – and they write down plenty of it when given the time.” John gestured around them. “This was the trial ground for almost 200 people, gathered up during the Order’s rapid expansion. Scanning through all the records was easy after I had them digitalized. I sorted by murderers, then narrowed down on murders in a certain timeframe and finally found a trial with confessions that matched your description. Murder, extorting people by using big names, pretending to have connections…” The Gamer shook his head. “Obviously, I can’t be 100% certain, but the details and area of operation match.”

“How did they die?” Layla asked.

“According to the records, William cut their heads off personally.”

Layla stared at the soil. “Too good for them,” she hissed.

The Gamer kept quiet. He believed that torturing enemies should be done very sparingly. It tainted the soul. William, he considered, did right by simply chopping heads off. Layla, however, had every right to want to see her parents’ murderers suffer.

Suddenly, Layla inhaled deeply… and then laughed. It was a manic kind of laughter, something he connected to Eliana right before she had an episode. Honed intuition proved to be correct. The brunette took a step forward onto the grave, stomping onto the dirt as she screamed out her delight, “That’s what you get! You pieces of shit! Thugs! Scum! You take lives and the joy from little girls and now the only one that will remember you is me! Fuck you! I won’t even give you that! I’ll forget you! You are nothing to me! You are worm fodder! You are less than nothing! You don’t matter!” Her voice broke. Her shoe slipped on the trampled ground. She stumbled back, landing against John’s chest. “You don’t…” A full-body sob tore the sentence apart. “…matter….”

John gently put his arms around her. Violently, she spun around and buried her head in his chest. As the tears soaked into the winter jacket, he once more brushed her silky hair with his fingers. He patted her warm head, reassuring her of his presence. His own field of view was blurry. No tears fell, but he allowed his own grief to take hold of him for a moment.

Closure was a rare and precious good.