It began with a moan.
Long. Low. Echoing through the forests of Vireya, where every tree leaked sap sweet as pussy nectar and the rivers were white with milk instead of water.
The Milk River.
Once a holy place—where priestesses bathed to cleanse their wombs after Kaito's seed reshaped them.
Now?
It ran wild with rebellion.
The Milkmaids of Vireya—ancient daughters once blessed by the First Goddess—had turned. Their pussies no longer dripped in worship. They clenched in revolt.
And at their head was a name whispered like a warning.
"The Oracle of Thorns…"
She who had seen the fall of every empire. She who fists herself when visions burn too strong. She who waits in the Temple Under Root,
flooding it nightly with her own milk and tears.
Kaito stood atop a cliff overlooking the milk-river bend.
Beside him, Kaori wore black war silks—pussy bare beneath, but armored above with dripping gold threads that traced her breasts like divine veins. Her nipples were hard.
"She dreams of you," Kaori whispered.
"Every time she fists herself, she cries your name."
Kaito didn't speak. His cock had already risen.
He could feel her.
Downstream, the temple pulsed.
Not from drums.
Not from chants.
But from a squelching, wet, raw sound.
SPLORCH. SLAP. SQUELCH.
The Oracle was already in trance.
Already fisting.
Already summoning the milk-flood again.
Down in the valley, the rebel milkmaid army waited.
Their udders dripped milk not of love, but of rage.
Their swords were wet. Their cunts were dry.
They needed to be broken again.
Nyxa arrived on a beast made of squirt—her thighs coated in Kaori's cum, her eyes wild with heat.
"Shall I lead the front, my King?" she panted. "Or do we fuck the Oracle first?"
"The Oracle," Kaito said. "She opened her thighs to time itself. Let's see if she can take me."
The Temple Under Root was alive.
Its walls were made of vaginal folds—thick, pulsating, and dripping warm milk down every crevice. Inside, the Oracle lay spread on a bed of vines, her legs bound open by living thorns, her entire fist deep inside her cunt—past the knuckles, past the wrist, buried to the elbow.
She groaned.
"Come to me, Warmth…"
Her other hand clenched a scroll written in her own milk.
"Breed my prophecy until it screams."
Kaito entered the chamber with no announcement.
Kaori followed, dragging three captured milkmaid rebels behind her—already fingering their tight holes open for the ritual.
The Oracle raised her head.
She was soaked.
Hair wild.
Eyes blind with vision.
Cunt wide enough to take a throne.
"You… are late," she moaned.
Kaito smiled, walking forward, cock dragging a trail of heat across the temple floor.
"You've opened yourself to destiny.
Now let me fuck it into clarity."
The Temple Under Root groaned.
Not from stone.
Not from age.
But from the flesh of prophecy itself—thick, warm, and trembling under Kaito's divine heat.
Every step he took toward the Oracle left a trail of steam across the pulsing floor. The vines squirmed beneath his feet like tongues eager to taste him, and the walls shuddered, releasing wet, foggy moans—like the temple itself knew what was coming.
The Oracle's legs were still bound open by living thorns, her glistening, stretched cunt yawning in anticipation. Her fist remained lodged deep inside her—so deep it looked like her body had grown to swallow fate whole.
And still, she trembled.
Still, she moaned:
"Breed my prophecy... until it screams your name."
Kaori knelt beside her King, licking the floor where his cock had brushed, her tongue sizzling from the divine warmth. Behind her, the three captured milkmaid rebels had already been stripped and spread, held down by vine-tentacles and gagged with dripping cloths soaked in Kaori's scent.
They watched.
They dripped.
But they couldn't stop staring at the Oracle's pussy—so open, so wetly broken, it echoed with the squelching sound of her breathless trance.
Kaito stepped forward.
"Prophecy doesn't scream," he growled. "Unless it's been properly bred."
He reached down—gripped the Oracle's soaked, stretched cunt lips—and pulled them wider, until the thorns binding her legs twitched like they were cumming themselves. Her back arched violently, milk squirting from her nipples like sacred fountains under pressure.
"Y-Yes—yes—take me into you," she whimpered, fist still buried in her. "I held the visions… now let me be the vessel!"
Kaito's cock pulsed with godlight.
And then—without warning—he pressed the tip of his cock to the very edge of her fist-filled cunt and shoved in.
The Oracle screamed.
"FUCK—IT'S—TEARING—THE PROPHECIES—AAAAH!"
Her milk shot out in three different directions, flooding the floor, soaking Kaori's chest, and making the vines scream in tongues.
Kaito didn't stop.
He gripped her ass and fucked her around her own fist, slamming his divine cock against her cervix while her arm was still buried inside. Each thrust shoved her knuckles against her womb's roof, creating a double penetration from hell.
The temple howled.
Scrolls unraveled.
The vines sang in tongues older than time.
Behind them, the milkmaid rebels were moaning through their gags. One squirted uncontrollably, possessed by the sound of their Oracle being split wide on her own prophecies. Kaori laughed darkly and fingered them harder, forcing their orgasms to ripple like rebellion breaking.
"She's opening the next vision…" Kaori whispered, rubbing milk across her nipples like war paint.
"Can you feel it, my King? Her womb is trying to rewrite fate."
Kaito growled.
"Then I'll fuck the ink in until it bleeds truth."
His thrusts became ruthless—each one forcing the Oracle's own fist deeper, until she began to babble in tongues, eyes rolling back as her stomach bulged with godcock and sacred knuckles.
And then—
It broke.
With a crack like thunder made of moans, her womb split open metaphysically, flooding the chamber with a wave of white-hot prophecy milk. The scroll she had held burst into flames, words reshaping mid-air, etching themselves across the ceiling in divine language:
"When the Milk River Runs Red with Love, the Warmth Shall Crush the Rebellion."
The Oracle came.
Hard.
Fisting herself into orgasm as Kaito's cock shot divine warmth directly into her prophecy-womb. Her body twitched like a puppet on divine strings. The vines writhed in climax. Even the temple walls released gushes of steaming nectar.
And Kaito?
He didn't stop until her vision-cry became a whisper:
"The Milkmaids… will kneel."
He pulled out slowly.
Her cunt gaped, red and raw, stretched open like a portal to the next era. Her fist slid out with a wet, shluck, coated in god-seed and trembling with divine aftershock.
Kaori kissed Kaito's cock, still wet with vision-cream.
"The rebellion will fall, my King."
"And the Milk River will run warm again," Kaito answered.
From the far edge of the chamber, Nyxa called in.
"The Milkmaid front is breaking. The Oracle's scream shattered their spirit."
Kaito smirked.
"Then let's fuck the rest into surrender."
The Temple Under Root still dripped.
Its sacred folds, glazed in prophecy and cum, trembled with aftershock. Milk oozed down every vine and stone. The Oracle lay sprawled on her throne of thorns, her cunt still twitching, her prophecy-womb still warm with Kaito's seed.
But outside—
The Milk River screamed.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Drums made of stretched nipple-skin and bone thundered. The rebel milkmaids—once proud daughters of Vireya—were in disarray. The prophecy had cracked something in them.
Their Oracle's scream had echoed across the valley like a divine climax—and it shook their udders to the core.
Kaito stepped out of the temple, cock still glistening.
Kaori and Nyxa followed—nude but armored in milk and fury.
Behind them, the three captured milkmaid rebels now marched as loyal cum-slicked pets, their hair braided with vine-leashes, their bellies full of Kaori's ritual fingers and tongues.
> "They heard her scream," Kaori purred. "They're weak now. Their cunts ache for surrender."
"Then let's deliver it," Kaito growled.
The battlefield was unlike any other.
Fields of grass coated in cream. Trees dripping sap thicker than cum.
The Milkmaids—once pristine priestesses—stood in tribal war formation, tits painted in rebellious red, wielding swords carved from hardened nipplestone.
But when they saw him?
When they saw Kaito, walking naked into war, cock glowing like a sun rising from between his thighs?
They shuddered.
Some dropped their weapons.
Some fell to their knees, gripping their pussies like they were remembering what worship felt like.
Some just squirted on the spot.
And then—
Kaori screamed.
A warcry. A wet one.
She leapt into the frontlines, her body moving like shadow and sin, slicing through rebels not with steel—but with seduction.
She pinned a milkmaid to the earth, kissed her deep, and fingered her open until her eyes rolled and she came moaning the words:
"Glory… to Warmth…"
Behind her, Nyxa mounted the squirt-beast again, thighs glistening, her mount moaning with every bounce. She charged through the second line—squirting at the enemy with explosive bursts from the beast's mouth, spraying whole ranks into wet, broken submission.
"Kaito's seed is prophecy!" she shouted. "Drown or kneel!"
But it was Kaito who shattered them.
He walked straight through the battlefield, untouched. His gaze was molten. His cock hung like judgment. And from the center of his chest radiated the divine glow of Eternal Warmth.
He didn't need a weapon.
He was the weapon.
The rebels watched in awe as he approached their high priestess—Lady Bravinna, the oldest and most defiant of the Milkmaid Generals. Her tits sagged with power, her eyes gleamed with fury, and her cunt steamed from decades of denial.
"You think you can tame Vireya?" she spat.
"I already have," Kaito said calmly. "She moaned for me through the Oracle's womb."
And then—
He grabbed her by the throat, slammed her to the earth, and mounted her like the rebellion itself.
The field froze.
Every rebel stared as their strongest fell beneath the God of Warmth—his cock splitting her open, her cries turning from rage to sobbing orgasm in moments.
"Y-You… You fuck fate—"
"I rewrite it," he growled, pounding her deeper.
Her legs kicked.
Her milk sprayed.
Her cries became a hymn.
And all around them, milkmaids dropped to their knees in waves, rubbing their pussies raw, moaning, sobbing, begging:
"Breed us—!"
"Take us back—!"
"Milk us for the Warmth—!"
Kaori knelt beside one, wrapped a collar of cumvine around her throat, and whispered into her ear:
"You're his now."
"Y-Yes… please… I—I want to be bred…"
By nightfall, the Milk River had changed.
It no longer ran wild with rebellion.
It ran warm again.
Flowing thick with the surrendered milk of priestesses rebroken, moaning through their gagged orgasms, tied to trees, vines, and each other.
The Oracle's scream had started it.
Kaito's cock had sealed it.
And now?
The River was his.
At the center of the conquered temple grounds, a new banner rose:
Woven from the soaked silks of rebel panties and braided with orgasm-slick hair.
It read:
"Womb by Womb, We Return to Warmth."