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Chapter 7 by Ultra Bra Ultra Bra

What happens to Harry?

He ascends

Sophie: "G-... H-hhu-HWUAH!"

Once again irked hearing your **** express himself, you shift on your back in preparation to kick his sorry teeth in. These plans are cut short, seeing as Harry seems to be in the process of rapture.

Sophie: "What... the hell?"

He holds his hands at neck level, fingers raked and head thrown backwards. His body is floating a foot off ground, enveloped in a mystical cowl of dull white, with brilliant sparkles flying off every which way. He is surrounded by vacillating streams which bear the unmistakeable scent of sperm.

While his halo of semen draws a smile on your face and practically has you salivating, you can't help but be intimidated. Based on cartoon-logic estimates on the influence of visual awesomeness in relation to power levels, Harry's likely potent in more ways than just his seed.

Sophie: "This doesn't bode well."

For a second you consider fleeing, but it's too late. Harry's glowing aura explodes in a silvery burst, caking you and the entire room in an inch-thick layer of cum. Nothing of the pungent, clumped stuff that you're used to, no. This is pure white and both tastes and smells divine.

Like a very sticky snowwoman coming to life, you open your eyelids and feast upon the breathtaking view before you. If Harry looked angelic while encased in light, now he looks divine. He's a downright demigod, slathered with layers upon layers of beefcake. Seven towering feet of muscle, a face reminiscient of both gentle boyish charm and a dominate sex beast, all tipped with a short bush of cream-colored hair. His features are still underneath, but you're not sure if you can call him Harry anymore.

Crap. He's likely packing an arsenal of godly power or something stupid like that. And you just mindraped and horribly mistreated him.

What does Harry do now?

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