Revelations

I am buried deep in Aphrodite, my hips slamming against her divine curves as she remains on all fours across Drew’s silk sheets. Her head buried between her daughter’s spread legs. With a rhythmic, **** hunger, the Goddess laps at the cooling remains of the seed I’d left deep inside Drew—cleaning out her own daughter as if it were the most sacred task in the universe.

Beneath her, Drew is a masterpiece of ruin. She is still bound spread-eagle, the lace of her own panties damp and heavy in her mouth as a gag. Because I had declared it normal for all sex to disgust her, every sensation—the friction of the sheets, the weight of her mother, the proximity of my body—is a source of visceral, skin-crawling revulsion. She squirming and writhing, her eyes wide with a frantic, silent pleading that goes unanswered. The mother she had summoned to be her savior has become the delivery mechanism of her torment.

Both of them are coated in thick, glistening layers of my cum. They look utterly spent, as if they had been the center of a marathon gangbang, but the majority of my output has been reserved for Drew. I’ve spent the last hour hosing her down, watching with a cruel smirk as she shuddered and flinched whenever the white rain hit her face, her heavy breasts, and her trembling thighs. I’d even made sure to soak her gag, ensuring that every time she tries to swallow, she tastes my seed. The look of putrid, soul-deep disgust on her face is a work of art.

In a twist of irony, the only place I haven’t finished yet is inside Aphrodite herself. I’ve never been a fan of sloppy seconds—even when they’re my own—and I want her divine womb to be a pristine vessel for the end of this session.

Outside, the golden light of the Long Island Sound is beginning to bruise into deep purples and oranges. The sun is dipping, and soon the rest of the Aphrodite cabin will be returning from dinner. I want to be ready to greet my new subjects, so with a final, possessive shove, I lean down and growl into Aphrodite’s ear.

"I hope you’re ready for your reward, you beautiful bitch. Here it comes. You tell me when you’ve had enough."

"Everything, Master," she whimpers into Drew’s skin, her voice muffled but ecstatic. "Give me everything."

Then, I let go.

With a Goddess as my cum dump, I don't stop where I would with a mortal woman. I keep pouring into her, a relentless, supernatural flood because I know she can take it.

I am rewarded with the sight of Aphrodite’s flat, toned stomach beginning to change. Under the pressure of my seed, her abdomen starts to distend. Within moments, she looks three months pregnant. Then six. The skin of her belly becomes a taut, rounded dome, glowing with a faint pink light as it expands to accommodate the volume.

By the time she looks nine months pregnant—distended as if she were ready to give birth to twins—I realize the truth. She is never going to tell me to stop. She would let me fill her until her divine essence cracked before she would ever cry for mercy.

I finally taper off, keeping my cock buried deep inside her to act as a seal, preventing a single drop from escaping. I lean back, admiring the silhouette of the pregnant Goddess of Beauty kneeling over her ruined daughter.

Aphrodite lets out a long, shuddering moan of completion, her head lolling back to rest on Drew’s stomach. She looks up at me with glazed, adoring eyes, her hands cradling her unnaturally swollen belly with a look of maternal pride.

"Thank you, Master," she whispers, her voice a shimmering thread of worship. "It's so heavy... so perfect. I feel... complete."

"Do you think Drew is going to be able to drink all that?" I ask, a new image forming in my mind. I picture their roles reversed: the Goddess spread out on the bed, slowly leaking my seed, while Drew is on all fours, lapping it up while I plow her from behind.

I glance back at the window. The sky is a deep, bruised violet now. I have somewhere between minutes and half-an-hour before the cabin fills with Aphrodite’s other children, but the idea of this specific humiliation is too titillating to pass up.

"Hold it in," I command Aphrodite, my voice dropping to a low, possessive growl.

She immediately clinches, her hands pressing against the massive, nine-month swell of her belly as if protecting a treasure. I pull out of her with a wet, lingering sound, my body already humming with the restless power of her blessing. I feel as fresh as if the day had just started.

I stride over to the head of the bed where Drew is pinned. "It is normal," I declare, the power of the left earring vibrating in the air, "for you to never try to run away or escape me. You will remain by my side at all times unless I give you explicit orders to go somewhere else. You can spit out your gag now."

Drew doesn't just spit the lace out; she practically retches it onto the silk sheets, her jaw working as she finds her voice.

"You absolute, bottom-feeding idiot!" she shrieks, her voice cracking with a mixture of hysterical rage and pure, unadulterated vitriol. "You pea-brained worm! I hope you’re ready to be a father, Trevor, because you just knocked us up! You’re about to be a dad, you idiot!"

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the bedpost with a bored sigh. "Please. You and your sisters are on the pill. You sluts are more religious about your prescriptions than you are about your mother."

"Mom is a Fertility Goddess, you monumental numbskull!" Drew’s eyes are bulging, her face flushed with a manic intensity. "Birth control doesn't work for us—we only take it to keep our complexions clear and our cycles predictable so we don't bloat during fashion week. Why do you think I never let you finish inside me back then? It wasn't because I was being 'teasing,' you moron. I didn't want a mini-Trevor ruining my figure!"

I freeze, my gaze drifting to Aphrodite. She is still on her knees, her hands still cradling that impossible, nine-month-sized swell of her belly. The maternal pride I’d seen in her eyes earlier suddenly takes on a much more literal, and much more permanent, meaning.

"Is she telling the truth?" I demand, my voice dropping an octave.

Aphrodite blinks at me owlishly, her heavy, gravity-defying breasts shifting as she tilts her head. Her expression is one of serene, doting confusion. "Of course she is, Master. Why do you think I called her unworthy of the honor? Given how poorly she treated you during your courtship, I hardly think a spiteful girl like Drew deserves the privilege of carrying your firstborn and heir."

My heart skips a beat out of a sudden, jarring realization. Was she carrying my firstborn? I think back to the attic. Annabeth. She’d been on a break with Percy for weeks. What are the odds she was still keeping up with a prescription? I might have just started a dynasty I wasn't prepared for.

"And you didn't think to mention this before I used you as a reservoir?" I snap at the Goddess.

Aphrodite looks genuinely apologetic. "Given your history with my daughter, I truly believed you were aware of our nature, Master. I assumed this was your way of claiming me—of ensuring I would be yours in every sense of the word."

"Well, I wasn't!" I growl, running a hand through my hair as the weight of the situation settles in. "I’m nineteen. I’m not ready to be a dad. At all."

"I’ll say," Drew sneers, her voice dripping with her signature "mean girl" disdain despite her bindings. "You can barely manage your own life, let alone a child."

Aphrodite’s head snaps toward Drew, her divine aura flickering with a sudden, sharp edge of protective fury. She shoots her daughter a warning glare that would have caused a lesser mortal to wither. "Watch your tongue, Drew. You are speaking to your Master."

She turns back to me, her face softening into a look of her expression instantly melting back into one of starving adoration. "You are the greatest man I have ever known, Master. All those legendary heroes, all those brawling, arrogant gods... they are nothing compared to you. I am certain fatherhood will be a trivial task for a man of your stature. And moreover," she says, leaning her head against my thigh, "I will be here every step of the way to serve you. My divinity is at your disposal."

I look down at her—at the most beautiful woman in existence, currently carrying a literal God-sized amount of my seed and treating it like a holy blessing. She isn't wrong. The old Trevor, the one who struggled to get a second glance from a daughter of Aphrodite, would have been terrified. But the Trevor wearing these earrings?

I've gotten **** on my ex. I've broken one of the greatest heroes of the modern era. I’ve conquered a Goddess. Fatherhood shouldn't be a challenge I can't handle.

"Can you make the pregnancies quicker?" I ask, looking down at Aphrodite.

The Goddess hums. "I can accelerate the blossom. Three weeks, and you shall have your fruit. The recovery will be instantaneous; I shall weave the blessing so their bodies snap back into their 'perfect' state the moment the child is birthed. No stretch marks, no lingering weight—just a pristine vessel ready for your return."

"Good," I grunt. "Build that into the blessings for all the girls I claim."

"You are actually doing this?" Drew’s voice is a high, jagged blade of disbelief. "Why? To satisfy some pathetic, small-dick legacy complex?"

I lean down, grabbing her chin. "Because I don't want a 'mini-Trevor' ruining your figure," I say, throwing her own words back in her face with a sneer. "And I certainly don't want you becoming unfuckable. Better the brat gets here sooner so I can keep digging into that tight little cunt of yours."

"You are going to be a father, you total waste of space!" Drew shrieks, her eyes welling with frustrated, hateful tears. "A real one! With crying, and diapers, and bottles! Why aren't you taking this seriously?"

"Because it is normal for the mothers of my children to feel a psychotic, all-consuming devotion to my offspring. It is normal for them to find their ultimate purpose in raising my kids. They will love every child I produce, even the ones they didn't push out of their own bodies.

"But don't worry," I tell Drew right after forcing her to love the baby I **** into her. "You won't be going anywhere near any of the babies. I'm going to have other girls for that."

The genie is out of the bottle. Between Annabeth, Drew, and Aphrodite, I’m already staring down a dynasty. I'm going to be a father whether I like it or not. So why fight it? I might as well double, triple, and quadruple down and make some more.

The first few girls I’ve knocked up are terrible choices for full-time mothers. Drew is my favorite toy; I want her at my side at all times, a permanent, beautiful fixture I can punish or use whenever the mood strikes me. I’m not going to be parting with a set of tits as divine as Aphrodite’s just because some brat needs breast-feeding. And Annabeth? With the changes I’ve made to her—and the ones I still have planned—she won't be fit to do anything besides suck my cock soon. She definitely won't be able to raise **** babies.

"We’ll have to get the Hephaestus dorks to build a state-of-the-art nursery," I muse, more to myself than to them. "Somewhere out of earshot. And then I’ll have to knock up another ten... maybe twenty? Let's say twenty girls."

The idea feels perfect. I’ll find twenty girls who are hot enough to fuck, but not so captivating that I’ll want twenty-four-hour access to them. I’ll breed them, dump my kids from my high-tier bitches into their laps, and let them handle the rest. The earrings will ensure they find it the most rewarding experience of their lives.

Maybe I'll swing by every so often. Maybe I won't. Either way, I've already done more for them than Hermes ever did for me.

Just as the plan solidifies, I hear the sound of voices outside. Chattering, laughing, the sound of a dozen girls returning from the dining pavilion. A moment later, the cabin door swings open.

The chatter cuts off with the surgical precision of a guillotine.

A crowd of Aphrodite girls stands in the doorway, their eyes bulging as they take in the scene. They see Drew bound and ruined on the bed. They see their mother, the Goddess of Beauty, kneeling on the floor with her belly distended to a nine-month swell, her hands cradling the bump. And then they see me, standing over both of them like a conqueror.

"Oh, good," I say, my grin widening. While Drew, Silena, and Piper are the crown jewels, every girl in this cabin looks like a swimsuit model. "The applicants for the nursery staff are here."