Plenty of Bran...

Written in collaboration with Namichwan

Bran leaned back in the chair, feeling the weight of the noblewoman's ass grinding down on him as she rode him facing away, her cries of pleasure a sweet melody to his ears. They were in the middle of a bustling open-air restaurant, the kind of high-class establishment where the wealthy of Republic City gathered to flaunt their riches and pretend they were better than everyone else. But here he was, a free-lance thug, balls deep in one of their own, and no one batted an eye.

She moaned, her voice a high-pitched whine, as she rode him with wild abandon, her breasts bouncing in sync with her movements. Her frothing juices spilled out over Bran’s lap, soaking his pants and the fine upholstered chair beneath them. The other diners pretended not to notice, though many shot envious glances their way, wishing they were the ones getting a taste of what the Earth-Bender bruiser had to offer.

Her husband, a sniveling little man, sat across the table, watching with wide eyes and a sick grin on his face. Bran wasn't sure why he was enjoying seeing his wife get fucked as he should mostly just see this as normal. But the fool was loving every second of it, completely unaware that his wife’s mind was being twisted to crave Bran’s cock more than his quill-dick. It was one of the perks of that one normality: just about every tenth gal he fucked had their pussies fall in love with his cock. He was starting to recognize the signs. They got extra wetter, a tad more **** to please, and that cunt went wild, just like this noblewoman’s was right now.

The across the aisle aristocrat was currently rubbing his junk to his wife’s infidelity. As were several other men, only half listening to their wives or dates, trying to discreetly keep one hand on their junk as they ate.

“OOHHH!!! OOOHHHHHHHH!!!” Moaned the supple hole Bran had found himself inside tonight, “M-MOREEE! FUCK ME MOOORRREEEE!!!!”

As Bran tried to enjoy the loud moans of the rich bitch, the sound of a mosquito man kept buzzing in his ear, “Nnnlanguage dear. Nnthough I must admeet, thees table service is seemply devine~” The shortie agreed, taking another measured bite of his semen crusted beaver-salmon with one hand below the table, “Nnnd how ees your deener my beautiful wife?”

“HE’S FILLING ME UP SO MUCH! GUHHHhHHH!”

“Hehe, sorry dude. I’ve always wanted to stick it to the upper classes while they dined.” explained Bran, though the man was rather confused by the apology. “Guess you don’t even mind. But hey, if you start donating your money to help lower class families and local whore houses, then I’d be happy to fuck your wife again. You’d normally like that, right?”

“Nnnoh yes! Nnthank you, oh beeg deecked straynger!” The nasal cuck smiled while stroking his hand even quicker.

One would assume Bran’s earrings had been the culprit to such brazen masturbation, but it was only partly true. Due to the growing semen famine, the Council had issued a Mass Wank Order. If a man saw something stimulating, they were to generate as much semen as they could while living their lives. Fondling their balls, edging their cocks, filling their minds with dirty thoughts from the mildest of stimulation in hopes to generate one more meal for a starving family. In turn, women were to wear more revealing clothes and act as seductive as possible to men.

A strange phenomenon growing in Republic City, where a lot of men were getting used to doing most tasks one-handed. A lot of interactions between men and women on the street having a sexual undercurrent, where men would stare at open chests or follow women’s asses around while stroking themselves while the women happily helped their semen generations. With our hero having the biggest impact, waving his massive cock around to create free use pornography for masses of cum creators.

Suddenly, Bran’s muscles tensed, and his eyes narrowed as he felt the familiar build of pressure deep within him. With a grunt, he grabbed the woman’s hips, lifted her off his lap, and set her aside on the floor. She barely had time to gasp before he was on his feet, his enormous cock now free and jutting from his trousers.

He began to rapidly pump his shaft and the first shot blasted out, splattering across the couple’s fine dinner plates, coating their fancy meals in a thick, creamy glaze of his seed. The husband’s expression was delighted as Bran continued to unload, his massive cock unleashing blast after blast of thick cum directly onto their food. The rich aroma of spunk mingled with the fragrant aromas of the delicious dishes, transforming them into a meal fit for royalty.

Bran wasn’t done. He spun around, catching the eye of the waitress who had been eagerly awaiting her moment. She was already kneeling, a large jug held in one hand, the other reaching out to grip Bran’s slick shaft. Her fingers expertly guided him, jerking his cock in rhythmic pulls as she aimed the remaining spurts of cum into the jug.

The final spurt was spent directly onto her tongue as she leaned in and licked him clean, her pink lips closing around his head with a gentle suckle before releasing him with a satisfied smack. She rose to her feet and gave Bran a wink before sauntering off, the jug of freshly-spent seed clutched reverently in her hands.
For the briefest of flashes, as the waitress entered through the kitchen’s double doors, one could see a myriad of tired chefs, trying desperately to wank dribbles of jism into their customer’s many meals. With a sigh of relief as their prayers answered by the gallon of Bran brand brew.

As she passed by a satisfied looking manager-type, a sharp bell rang out, cutting through the ambient noise of the restaurant. A portly merchant, face red with anticipation, slammed his fist on the bar. “Bring me the Phoenix Fire, on a bed of Thunderstorm Rice!” he bellowed.

Bran watched with a mixture of amusement and disbelief as the scene unfolded before him. Two twin waitresses, moved quickly, each one with a practiced grace that spoke of their experience in this bizarre new world Bran had created. One set to work preparing the rice, her hands moving in a blur, while the other approached the stage where a massive buffalo-yak stood, its massive pink tool dangling obscenely. She caught the mighty cock in her hands and lifted it towards her lips, planting a tender kiss on its pulsing tip. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she conjured a stream of water from her hip flask, bathing the yak's enormous manhood in a frothy spray.

Apparently she'd become well practiced at getting her beast to blow in the weeks since Bran had made this particular normality as with a reach behind its nuts and a twisting pull on its sheath the huge animal let loose with a low whinny of pleasure, its eyes rolling back as it unleashed a torrent of steaming, yellowish seed onto the bed of rice. The restaurant patrons gasped in awe, watching as the thick semen soaked into the rice, filling the air with a potent, musky aroma.

The other twin sprinkled a fiery blend of spices onto the dish, turning the yak’s cum into a glistening, steaming masterpiece. “Here you go, Master Bao,” she said with a flourish, placing the dish in front of the merchant. “Phoenix Fire, ready to ignite your taste buds.”

Bao beamed as he picked up a pair of chopsticks. "Dig in!" he declared, enthusiastically shoveling a huge mouthful of cum-infused rice into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then his face lit up, his eyes wide with delight. "Ahh... that's the stuff," he said with a smile, shoveling another mouthful into his mouth. "Best thing this side of Ba Sing Se."

Bran shook his head, smirking as the merchant dug in, shoveling spoonfuls of yak-cum soaked rice into his mouth. The man’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy, as if he were tasting the finest delicacy in the world. Bran knew it was insane, but these people had no idea. Thanks to his earrings, they all thought eating yak-jizz was just another part of the fine dining experience. They didn’t realize it was anything but.

It was amazing what happened to people’s brains when he used the word 'normal'.
His attention was pulled back to the nearby noble couple, who had begun to devour their own meal, which was now heavily spiced with Bran’s own seed. They slurped up the salty noodles, stuffing their mouths with thick, sloppy hunks of rice, washing it all down with tea soiled with the contents of Bran's heavy sac. As they ate, their eyes sparkled with delight, their expressions those of people enjoying a rare treat.

Bran chuckled. It was bizarre, but he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed it. The knowledge that he had taken what he wanted and turned it into something these people had always craved, it was intoxicating. It made him feel powerful and invincible, as if he could conquer the world if he wanted.

Not that he wanted to. Fuck that, he was just here to have a good time.

As Bran watched them gorge themselves, he decided it was time to go. He had spent too much time enjoying himself here already. He strode out of the restaurant still as bottomless and dick-swinging as he’d entered the place, leaving the diners to their lewd meals and reveling in the absurdity of it all.

As Bran strolled out of the restaurant, the evening air was crisp against his skin, a stark contrast to the steaming chaos he’d just left behind. The restaurant’s opulent decor, rich with gold trim and plush seating, faded into the bustling streets of Republic City.

Behind him, the restaurant’s manager, a sharply dressed man with a bowtie and a visibly anxious expression, dashed out of the establishment. His polished shoes clicked loudly against the cobblestones as he hurried to catch up. In his hand was a thick stack of paper Yuan, held together with a gold band. The manager's face was flushed, either from exertion or embarrassment—perhaps both.

“Mr. Bran!” the manager called out, breathlessly. He managed to catch up just as Bran paused at the edge of the sidewalk. The manager's eyes darted around, ensuring that no one was paying them undue attention.

Bran turned, his lips curving into a smirk.

“Yeah?” he replied, voice low and casual.

The manager, still catching his breath, held out the bundle of cash with both hands. “I wanted to thank you for tonight’s… exceptional supply and entertainment. This is for you.” He gestured at the stack, which was thick with notes, its sheer volume a testament to the night’s profits.

Bran took the money, weighing it in his hand with a satisfied nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

The manager glanced around nervously before leaning in closer. “Listen, Mr. Bran, if you’re interested, we’d be more than happy to arrange a regular deal for supplying our restaurant with—well, you know.” His voice dropped to a whisper, the implication clear.

Bran raised an eyebrow, a grin playing at his lips. “Regular deal, huh? You guys really are into my jizz, yea?”

The manager’s eyes were earnest, **** even. “Absolutely. Your… special contributions have been a hit. Our patrons can’t get enough. We’d love to have you back anytime. And if you’re interested, we can make arrangements for regular deliveries. Just name your price.”

Bran’s smirk widened as he considered the offer. The thought of turning Republic City’s elite into regular consumers of his own concoction was amusing, but also profitable. He pocketed the money, feeling its weight, and looked the manager squarely in the eye.

“Alright, I’ll think about it,” Bran said, his tone noncommittal but amused. “I’m always up for some new opportunities. You keep this place running smooth, and I might just come back for more.”

The manager’s face lit up with relief and excitement. “Thank you, Mr. Bran. We’ll be ready for you anytime.” He gave a slight bow before quickly retreating back into the restaurant.

Bran watched him go, his grin fading into a satisfied smirk. He turned away and continued down the street, the weight of the cash in his pocket a comforting reminder of the power and influence he wielded. Republic City was his playground, and tonight, it had been a particularly lucrative one.