Chats on a Ferry

With a belly full of greasy goodness and with two gorgeous women by his side, the emperor of Fusion strutted down the streets of the Commercial district. Things were picking up now. People were setting up their shops or waiting for the customers to move from the food places to the various other commercial activities. Several trucks with the Abyss Auction logo on it began their daily task of collecting wares from all over the Guild Hall and delivering them to the distribution machine of the global juggernaut.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Layla burst out as they walked through the sun. “Why can’t we turn down the thermostat?”

“Not you too,” Jane groaned. “Aren’t ya supposed to be perfect for this harem? Get with my weather!”

“Your weather is cooking my brain,” the brunette responded, “and I say that as a fire mage.”

A bit of an overstatement, but only because of the hour. The Guild Hall would not reach its 30+ degrees zenith until the early afternoon. “I just like it warm,” Jane defended herself like she always did. “First wife gets thermostat privileges. I wrote it down so that’s what’s happenin’.”

“That which has been decided by a pen can be undone by a pen,” Layla returned.

“She got you there,” John remarked.

“Whose side are ya on here, tiger?” asked the first empress of Fusion. “You’re either for me or-“

“Layla’s side.”

“Ya didn’t even let me finish!”

“You’re asking the preposterous question of whether or not I, the Gamer, like your excessively sunny and hot days.” John gestured at himself. It did not have quite the effect he wanted it to, courtesy of the light tan he retained year-round courtesy of his Appearance Settings. “You have long known the answer.”

“I totally respect that you have control over the thermostat,” Layla weighed in. “It’s just that thousands of people live here now… not that they matter compared to the two dozen haremettes who would like it a little less toasty.”

Arms crossed, the fry-thieving Lightbearer glared at her man and the all-but-confirmed member of the harem. “29 Celsius,” she relented.

“Really?” John could scarcely believe what he was hearing.

“On Weekdays,” Jane further specified. “And I’ll lower the humidity a bit. That make ya happy?”

“Tremendously,” he agreed.

Jane opened up the Guild Hall menu and tapped the corresponding buttons. There was no immediate change, but knowing that the inside of the Guild Hall would now be at a bearably hot temperature was a massive shift.

“Thank you!” Layla exclaimed.

“Gesture of good faith from the first to the latest gal.” A quick flick of her wrist dismissed the windows. “Been thinking about lowering it for a bit. I keep getting complaints about it and I ain’t that selfish.”

“Just a little selfish,” John teased her.

“I’m the sovereign’s wife, I get to be selfish.” She rubbed her shoulder against him, before suddenly diving out from under his arm. In one rapid motion, she had moved to Layla’s free side. “I also get to take my share,” she loudly whispered. Her arm crossed over John’s, her hand squeezing the reformed stalker’s unclaimed cheek. “Oh, you are P-L-U-S-H, plush!”

Layla blushed intensely at the compliment. Every step, she got her ass fondled, and she absolutely delighted in it. Squeaking and grinning, depravedly, the brunette remained stuck between the two of them. She was by far the shortest of the trio, standing at a mere 1,60, with Jane at half a head and John a full head taller.

“Can I…?” the reformed stalker began to ask.

“Ya go right ahead.”

John tilted his head back to catch the moment Layla repaid the favour. The skimpy hotpants Jane wore left a third of her cheeks exposed and the rest scarcely diminished what Layla’s palms got to feel. Jane was neither plush nor firm, she was neither extremely endowed nor was she anywhere near flat. Her ass was, simply, to the proportions of her hips, of her thighs, and her waist, a display of perfection that transcended view alone and rippled onto being a flawless tactile experience.

A moan escaped Layla’s lips and the Gamer tilted back forwards to watch her enraptured expression. “It’s like a religious revelation, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Layla sighed, treating herself to a proper squeeze and climaxing as she did so. John and Jane kept her walking, as she was swept from one peak to the next.

“You’ll get to touch that every day from now on.” Jane’s glossy, pink lips brushed over the upper curve of Layla’s ear. “See ya in bed.”

“N-nooooo!” Layla exclaimed her loss when Jane suddenly departed. This time, the Gamer totally understood the depth of her anger at the world. Perfection had laid under her hands and now it was sashaying away, crossing the pier of the local ferry station. Halfway down the pier, she high-fived another haremette, then hopped into the vessel that would bring her back to the Palace.

“’Sup?” Metra greeted them.

The blonde berserker babe wore her usual outfit. A brown tube top wrapped around her petite chest, the partially translucent fabric revealing a fair bit of her breasts. Her short shorts barely deserved the name, revealing more of her caramel cheeks than they hid. A pair of sandals, secured to her lower legs via leather wrappings, was somehow the most covering article of clothing she wore.

“How have you been so far, my Emperor?” Metra asked, grinning that tomboy grin of hers. The gold-haired tail wagged left to right, softly at first, intensely when he put an arm around her toned midriff and pulled her into a kiss.

“It’s been a great date so far,” John assured, after he had sated his minimum hunger for her lips. “A bit annoyed that she seems to have read all my ideas off my brain.”

“Sorry, but I just know you too well,” Layla gave a smug non-apology.

“As long as you're enjoying yourself, that’s what matters the most,” John assured.

“Even Jane was surprised when Layla put the entirety of the date plan in front of us.” Metra did a walk and talk, pulling John and Layla into another ferry, just waiting for them. “Want me to put the pagoda up?”

“No, I’m not that horny,” the Gamer answered. Courtesy of admin privileges, they could adjust the design of the ferries on the fly. What was a cover against rain could just as well serve as a blockade for prying eyes.

Eyes that belonged to the children of the Guild Hall, in this case. There were many of them, courtesy of the currently elevated levels of people living in the Guild Hall. Many of them were war orphans. Though their fate was deeply depressing objectively, most of them had bounced back with the flexibility that children tended to have. A multi-pronged approach to the issue helped the matter greatly. Fusion provided financial aid to families that adopted any of them, Jane had organized a secular chain of orphanages and Lorelei had done the same with a religious bent.

As they drifted down the channels of the Guild Hall, they passed a large group of children. It was a big mixture of age groups, all of it overseen by two members of the Order and one of Aclysia’s maids. As planned previously, the maid academy would offer scholarships to those that had the temperament and talent for the task.

“You’re looking forward to the day you see your own children play along, aren’t you?” Metra asked.

“It’s just a few years from now,” the Gamer said with a serene smile on his face. No longer was saying that a theory. “It’ll be adorable… and probably quite chaotic.” He added the second part when one of the children, playing football, stumbled and scraped his knee. Much crying ensued. One of the members of the Order soothed the child.

The ferry drifted out of earshot before the crying stopped.

“How do you feel about children?” Layla asked the wolf-eared woman. “I imagine it’s a bit complicated?”

“Yes and also fuck no.” Metra half-squatted on one of the planks that ran across the ferry, preferring the harder seat over the cushioned area that John and Layla had claimed. “Obviously I never thought I’d have any, so I didn’t give it any thought, but my nature is basically human.” The first Metracana shrugged. “Just like when I got the capacity to taste regular food, this is something that’s more… returning to me than it’s some kind of revelation.” The wolf woman took a short pause. “Hope you’re not going to get jealous of your own daughters, crazy chick.”

“I might,” Layla admitted readily, “but I will manage! I also got jealous of all of you at first… I’m just a very jealous person.”

Metra laughed. “That’s understating it, but none of us are free of flaws. Somehow, you never threw as bad of a fit as Esmeralda did.”

“That stupid cunt,” Layla hissed, her darker aspects rising to the surface instantly. “Got angry over ME joining before HER… seriously, who does she think she is? Acting all entitled like that?”

“That’s a bit ironic,” Metra called out.

Layla just made a dismissive gesture. In fairness to her, what need did she have to debate whether or not she should be allowed the exception in joining the harem now? She had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“If there’s one thing I’m nervous about when it comes to having children…” Metra returned to the previous topic, “…it’s that I can’t fight while I am busy with that. I’ve defined myself as a weapon all my life. For Sargon, for the many contractors that followed, and now for my one true Emperor.” Metra cast a gaze into the distance. “Adding something else to that isn’t exactly scary, but it is odd.”

“I can barely imagine,” Layla said. “You’re… 4000 years old?”

“About, though I can’t say that’s as big a deal as you might think it is. I spent a lot of that time in various states of thoughtlessness, be it due to the conditions of my contract at the time or a lack of one. I also have somewhat of a mental reset each time a new contract starts… or started.” Metra tapped the side of her head and smirked. “This thing is too empty to get nervous about the march of time.”

“What wave are you in?” Layla asked.

“Third. Honestly, chances are I’ll get the baby fever by that point anyway. Being the cool aunt won’t be good enough.” Metra’s green eyes leapt from the brunette’s face to that of her contractor. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Just taking in the scenery.” Said scenery was the head resting on his chest and the cameltoe between Metra’s toned thighs. “Keep talking.”

“I was fishing for a topic change,” Metra drily stated. “I’m fine with the baby talk, but we have it every other day.”

“It’s finally happening, so that’s hardly surprising.”

“Didn’t say it was surprising, just that there’s other stuff to talk about.”

“Fair enough… Layla, what do you want to talk about?” John passed it to the brunette just to see what her mind would produce.

Layla froze up for a second. Put on the spot like that, her brain was no doubt first leaping to talking about him, but they were reaching the point where there was little to talk about when it came to him. Even obsessed as she was, the reformed stalker must have recognized that talking about his favourite food for the third time a month made her a poor conversation partner and this harem ran on fantastic sex and banter.

“What’s the worst job you ever had?” she blurted out one of those default conversation starters.

“Objectively, it’s definitely the years I spent sitting in Eliana’s brain, torturing her with enforced apathy,” the First of Wrath responded drily. “Don’t think that’s much of a surprise answer.”

“Oh… yeah…” Layla cleared her throat. “Awkward…”

“It’s fine, she and I worked that out pretty quickly.” Metra made a dismissive gesture. “I won’t claim I was innocent in the whole thing, but I was of the mind that my purpose was to serve not to make moral judgements.” She looked to John. “I still consider myself a weapon first and foremost, that’s what I take pride in, but some idiot convinced me to be more than a leaf in the wind.”

John’s hand ran up Layla’s side. “Wonder who that handsome devil was.”

“Ah!” Layla cried out loudly.

The Gamer was surprised by the sudden, lustful noise. He hadn’t even realized how close he was to her breasts, and before he knew it he was copping a feel. Now that he was aware of it, he swiftly continued doing so – but with intent.

Layla squirmed under his touch, her hips thrusting up into the air as she, once again, lowered the mental walls that kept her cumming her brains out. To keep quiet, she put a hand on her mouth. An unnecessary precaution. They were south of the Air Island, out in the 1 kilometre wide channel that separated the Tier 5 Guild Hall from the southern landmass that he had added after the Astria Quest had expanded it to Tier 5.5.

Only air elementals could see or hear them there.

Layla’s eyelids fluttered. Her back curved, Her breasts pressed stronger into his palm. “What do they feel like?” Metra asked.

“Nice handfuls,” John began the description. “Squishy in their moderate size, crowned by hard nipples.” He lifted his hand a bit, to run his fingers over the sides of the boob pockets. “Firm shape, nice and natural… I find myself wondering how she’ll look once she’s full of milk.”

“Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggghhhhh!” Pussy juices managed to squirt through Layla’s now soaked legwear.

“Back to the baby topic,” Metra drawled.

“More my breeding kink,” John admitted. “Control yourself, Layla, we’re closing in on the refugee camp.”

“O-okay…” the brunette whispered. A flex of her will later, her hips plopped down. Aftershocks continued to run through her as the enchantments cleaned up her legwear.

The camp was not their destination; it was simply on the way. It was mostly empty this hour of the day. John had made it a point to provide the minimum required for survival so that people had the motivation to use the ample opportunities to work all over the Guild Hall. Certainly, he had the resources to let even these refugees live lavishly (and in the cases of some crippled individuals, he utilized them as well). However, he was a firm believer that man did not live off bread alone and that simply letting these people survive without giving them anything productive to do would have been cruelty of a different kind.

They moved through the camp and towards the large tower at the southernmost point of the southernmost part of the Guild Hall’s landmasses. It was a huge, black structure, covered in menacing spikes. It was one of the towers that provided the Guild Hall with scrying cover of the nearby water. Well, it would have, if the Guild Hall did not come to an abrupt stop less than 200 metres past that point. A supernatural barrier kept the water from falling.

They went into an elevator, riding it to the top floor of the currently unmanned structure. One stop shy of the roof, they disembarked. John guided Layla to a large room at the side of the floor. The outwards facing wall was made entirely from glass overlooking the Guild Hall below.

“Looking at it from above really shows how shoddy of a job I did with this outer ring,” John commented on his own handiwork. While the inner Guild Hall was a carefully constructed set of inter-connected islands, separated by deliberately crafted channels, the four segments of the outer ring were just… mountains with differently coloured soil. The mountains weren’t even well placed. Some of them spilled into the water.

“They did their job, so don’t beat yourself up too much,” Metra told him.

“Sounds like I should beat myself up a little.”

“I mean, yeah, they’re lazy as fuck.”

John let out a long sigh, then turned to Layla. “Do you know what I plan to do here?” he asked. Since Metra had met them at the ferry and not here, he assumed that Layla’s prediction powers had their limit.

She proved him incorrect. “You’re going to let me change this part of the Guild Hall?”

“Yes,” John confirmed with a raised eyebrow. “You really are competition for Jane.”

“She knows what you’re thinking in the moment better than I do.” Layla sounded just a little irked by that fact. “I can read the broad trends of what you want to do though.”

John settled on a lounger that was part of the pre-set furniture of the place. The second he was comfortable, he tapped the button to undo his legwear. Metra understood that this was her opportunity and quickly stripped out of her excuses for clothes. Even seated, the large glass front provided a perfect view of the surroundings.

“From here to the mountains, for the next hour, this is your garden,” he told the reformed stalker. “I want to see what kind of mark you will leave on my Guild Hall.”

Layla bit her lower lip, taking in the view of Metra taking a broad-legged stance across the lounger. Tail lifted, the wolf woman’s ass descended, her lower lips kissing the tip of his cock. She dropped down a bit, moaning, then moved back up, to then descend a little further. Each repetition coated more of his shaft in the mixture of their juices.

It wasn’t until Metra had fully eased him into her that Layla spoke up.