After using Harley's throat like a toy for hours under the hot water, Omen finally got bored. He pulled his cock from her raw, spit-soaked mouth and pushed her head back lazily.
Harley just sat in the shower for a second, coughing, with her now clean, pale skin, before she giggled dumbly and crawled out after him and put on her new suit, which clung to her wet skin when she slipped it on, hugging her fat ass and her new tits perfectly.
She was getting used to the weight of them now, squeezing them every few seconds like she still couldn't believe they were hers.
Omen didn't bother drying off; he just strolled out of the bathroom naked for a few steps, then snapped his fingers and reality fixed his clothes back on him. He now wore a Greek white toga, inhumanly smooth and comfortable.
He walked to the pilot cabin, sat down in the plush leather seat beside the pilot's seat, and stretched, letting out a long yawn as the first light of dawn painted the horizon outside. The jet cut through the early morning sky, smooth as silk, with the engines humming sound barely audible. Harley sat in the pilot's chair, humming some old Gotham pop song as her fingers danced over the controls, bare feet kicked up on the dashboard for a moment before she remembered she was "flying a damn plane," as she put it.
Omen stared out the window for a while, watching the sun creep over the clouds. He remembered what he'd already changed about Themyscira.
Every Amazon born on that island now carried the truth of his arrival deep in their souls, like a prophecy that had haunted them for generations.
They dreamed of him every night, faceless and perfect, a god with a cock meant to rule them for for hundreds of years until he got bored of them and discarded them, their finest sculptors had been making dildos in his shape, every curve, every thick vein, worshipped and copied in the smoothest materials, but none of them were ever allowed to use them.
The elites of the island, the strongest warriors and the most royal bloodlines, had been forbidden to even touch themselves, forbidden to be touched by anyone else. All of the elite cast had saved themselves waiting for him.
And now the veil hiding the island was gone to him and Harley; Themyscira would be visible to his jet, open and ripe for the taking. Omen didn't have to wonder if they'd accept him as they'd kneel the second he set foot there.
Omen leaned back in his chair as his eyes drifted from the sunrise to Harley's fat, bouncing ass as she bent over the console, tapping in some new coordinates.
"Hey, Harley," Omen called her, and Harley glanced over her shoulder "Yeah, bossman?" she asked, twisting the knobs on the control panel like she actually knew what she was doing, though Omen knew he'd rewritten reality to make sure she wouldn't crash them.
"I'm hungry," Omen told her, leaning back in the leather seat with his arms folded behind his head, then with a lazy flick of his fingers, reality warped again, "Go make me some food, also, you are now lactating."
Harley blinked, looked down at her chest, and immediately felt the change, her already big tits swelled a little more and got heavier, and a bead of milk leaked through the fabric of her suit, staining it.
She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head, "Whatever the bossman orders", she said, squeezing one tit and feeling a line of warm milk further staining her suit.
"Now get moving, cook and play with yourself while you're at it, I don't like watching you stand around useless," Omen said, even if he knew Harley was the pilot of the plane.
Harley snorted, rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. "Yeah, yeah, big scary boss gets what he wants," she said, climbing out of the pilot's chair, her tits swaying heavy with every step. As she walked toward the small kitchen area in the back of the jet, she tugged her suit down just enough to let her nipples breathe, rubbing them, groaning low in her throat as milk dribbled over her fingers.
Omen sat back, relaxed, watching her move down the aisle. The curve of her ass, the sway of her hips, the faint sound of her moaning as she pinched her leaking tits while rummaging through the plane's stocked pantry.
Harley's voice called back a minute later, half breathless from rubbing herself out of milk, "Boss, you want eggs or pancakes? Or both? 'Cause I'm drippin' all over the counter back here…" She giggled lustfully, making a sound that made Omen smirk in satisfaction.
"Both," Omen said lazily, not looking away from her ass, "and don't stop milking yourself while you're at it, I want every drop you leak going into my breakfast."
Harley snickered with her voice hoarse, clearly rubbing herself out of milk already. "Heh, yer a real sicko, bossman… lucky you I'm worse!" Harley screamed from the pantry as she felt how the milk of her tits regenerated out of nowhere, "Thank ya' Bossman!"
Omen tilted his head to better see Harley as she was bent over the counter, one hand whisking batter while the other was tugging and squeezing her fat tits, milk spilling in heavy streams straight into a glass she'd set out.
Her suit was rolled to her waist now, her pale tits and pink nipples bare and jiggling as she shifted her stance, "Goddamn," she mumbled to herself with her cheeks flushed pink as sweat mixed with milk down her chest, "these things feel like they're gonna burst… I'better drink every drop left."
Omen smirked, stood up, and walked towards her, his presence looming in the narrow kitchen, "Don't worry," he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back roughly, making her gasp. "I'll make sure to eat anything you make."
She let out a little laugh, her eyes half-lidded with lust as he shoved her back toward the stove. "Fuck, you really do know how to boss a girl around, huh?" she said, peeling off the rest of her suit and kicking it aside.
Now fully naked, she flipped a pancake while squeezing her tits harder, milk spilling over the counter and dripping down her legs, splattering on the floor between her feet.
Omen dragged a chair over, sat down like a king at his throne, and watched her move, every second making his cock twitch harder in his toga. The smell of frying eggs, butter, and her sweet milk filled the jet.
"Bring me that glass first," he ordered and Harley shuffled over quickly, with her tits swaying as she grabbed a glass full of her breast milk to hand it over to Omen.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, offering it with a stupid grin on her face and her eyes shining like she lived for this exact moment.
Omen took it and gulped it down in one go, then tossed the empty glass aside, "Not bad," he said, leaning forward to grab one of her milk-slick nipples and bite down just enough to make her whimper, "fresh is better though."
Harley moaned loudly, clinging to his knees, her breath hot and desperate, "F-fuck, bossman… if this is breakfast, what the hell's dinner gonna look like?"
"Dinner," Omen said darkly, standing up and towering over her again, "is gonna be on Themyscira. A thousand naked Amazons, all swollen with my kids, begging to be my table while you crawl under the table just to lick the floor clean."
Harley's eyes rolled back at the thought, her hand immediately dropping to rub between her legs again as her pussy squelched loudly in the quiet cabin, already imagining the scene.
"Now get my food ready," Omen ordered, turning and sitting back down on the cockpit, his dick straining against his toga, "it better taste good too."
Harley scrambled up from the floor with her tits swinging heavy and leaking as she stumbled back to the counter, mumbling to herself "Shit, shit, pancakes first, eggs next, keep the boss fed so he keeps me full later…"
Finally, after a few more minutes, Harley brought a table in front of him, pancakes stacked high with eggs fried sunny next to them, still sizzling.
She dropped to her knees immediately after serving it, her face right next to his crotch, her tongue out and drooling like she couldn't keep it in.
"Eat first, or you gonna use my mouth while ya chew?" she asked with a dirty giggle, grabbing his thighs with both hands and rubbing her face against his bulge like a bitch.
Omen smirked, picking up his fork but not eating yet. He reached down, grabbed her hair, and dragged her face up just enough to make her look at him. "If this tastes like shit, you'll be licking it off the floor while I fuck your ass raw for dessert. Understand?"
Harley nodded fast, "Heh, boss, you say that like it's a threat."
Omen chuckled and started eating. The pancakes were sweet and rich, thanks to her milk. The eggs were cooked perfectly, even without warping reality to improve Harley's cooking skills. What a pleasant way to discover hidden talents.
Omen finished half the plate before glancing down at her, his hand still tangled in her hair, holding her in place.
"Good enough," he said flatly, letting go of her hair to tug his toga aside, his cock springing out heavy and hard, already glistening with precum. "Now since I'm full, you can eat my scraps, but first, make me cum and use that as sauce."
Harley didn't need telling twice, she dove her head down to Omen's base as she used her throat muscles to stroke his cock, Omen was incredibly impressed Harley had learned something like that in so little time, and was taken so aback that he cummed in minutes of Harley using her throat as a onahole.
When she was done, she pulled back her head from his cock slobbering on the head before stroking his cock and aiming it at the plate full of scraps, watching as he cummed all over her lunch.
Omen groaned, letting go of her hair as he watched how Harley ate from the plate on the floor, naked like a dog. "Once we land, you're gonna be my personal herald. You'll kneel in front of every Amazon, introduce me as their god, and then watch while I break their queen on my cock first."
Harley moaned as she ate, drool spilling past her lips into the food while nodding like she'd just been given the highest honor in the world.
"Good," Omen said, watching Harley becoming his ideal sex slave, "Get used to this, whore. Once we get to Themyscira, you're not the only slut crawling for me anymore."