The nave rose like a gilded cage, its stained-glass windows stained with blood and moonlight. Each step echoed through the abandoned cathedral, blending the sacred with the profane. And I, dressed in my black warrior avatar, advanced toward the altar where she awaited me.
The priestess.
A mature, splendid woman, with curves so full they seemed ready to burst from her immaculate gown. Her brown hair fell in thick waves over her bare shoulders, her lips shone in the dim light, and her gaze… oh, that gaze. A mixture of devotion and fever, as if she wanted to both pray and sin.
She clasped her hands against her ample chest, the fabric taut as if it might tear.
"Hero…" she breathed, her raspy voice trembling with impatience. "For years, I've kept this flame burning. Tonight… you must extinguish it."
I moved closer. My fingers slid along her arm, down to her ample hips. She didn't pull away. On the contrary, she arched her back slightly, offering me her breasts, swollen with the shortness of breath of anticipation.
"Tell me, priestess… is this a sacred rite, or simply your desire?"
She gave a troubled smile, her eyes widening with a lascivious glint.
"It doesn't matter. The gods… are no longer watching."
Her lips parted beneath mine, barely a breath away, and I felt her hot breath ricochet against my mouth, wet and feverish. His hand gripped my tunic with desperate strength, pulling toward it as if to swallow me whole, as if it already wanted to crush me against the altar.
The dress, stretched to the limit, gave way a little under the gesture: the fabric slipped from her shoulder, revealing pale, damp skin that glistened in the flickering light of the candles. Her enormous breasts swelled, oppressed by the fabric that could no longer contain them. Each breath made her curves quiver, her hard nipples clearly visible through the taut silk, as if ready to pierce the fragile barrier of the sacred garment.
A heavy scent rose to me, a mixture of sweat, incense, and feminine warmth. In my VR capsule, the sensory receptors made everything seem all too real: the heady scent, the dampness of the air, even the trembling that passed through her flesh pressed against me. My fingers tingled with the desire to trace that bare shoulder, to descend along its curves that overflowed everywhere, swollen to the point of defying modesty.
She bit her lower lip, her cheeks flushed with ardor, and her raspy voice vibrated between clenched teeth:
"You've crossed this entire world... you've withstood every test... So show me you can take me too."
My breath caught in my throat, my temples pounded. This was it. The forbidden quest. The last one, the one everyone talked about but never saw. The promised end, hanging before me.
I was about to kiss her. I was finally going to...
And suddenly, everything froze.
The fragrant air turned into a metallic void, the smells of incense and sweat suddenly extinguished. The warmth of her chest pressed against me evaporated like an illusion. The capsule's haptic sensors crackled, sending a simple, icy shiver down my skin.
The priestess froze before my eyes, frozen in a half-sigh, her lips parted as if ready to swallow me… then her body disintegrated into luminous fragments.
A final message appeared on my retinal display:
[Final Server Shutdown – Thank you for playing.]
— "What?! No… not now!" My voice echoed through the void.
And the capsule emptied of all sensation. No more warmth, no more breathing, no more eyes. Just blackness. And silence.
I let out an angry groan and ripped the lid off the capsule. The warm air of my room rushed over me like a dull slap. The ceiling's neon sign buzzed, my PC still flickered faintly, but the screen no longer displayed anything. Not even the server logo.
I sat for a moment, panting, shirtless, drenched in sweat. The capsule had drained me. My heart was pounding like it does after a fuck that had been cut short, frustrated, furious.
"Fuck..." I blurted out, my voice hoarse.
I ran a hand over my face, as if to scratch away the images that had stuck to my retinas: her dress slipping off her shoulder, her enormous breasts swollen with breath, her lips parted a millimeter from mine. All erased in an instant.
I knew this game by heart. For years, I'd never stopped returning to it, night after night. Not to farm dungeons or climb the leaderboards. Not for the titles or the glory. But for that promise: the "true ending."
An ending no one had ever witnessed.
A secret whispered among the most obsessed players, like an urban legend: the Goddess of Lust herself was awaiting her true apostle.
Some said she appeared to the most persistent, that she offered a forbidden quest, a hidden path that even the developers hadn't fully coded. Others swore she was just a bug, a collective fantasy. But me... I believed in it. Because with every update, every patch, fragments of her name remained in the code, encrypted dialogue, clues erased too quickly.
I sank back into the chair, the back of my neck pressed against the warm leather. My taut jogging bottoms were still a reminder of the state the game had left me in. The capsule had shut down, but my body was still burning.
I closed my eyes. And in the darkness of my eyelids, I saw her again. The priestess. Her curves spilling out of her white dress, her nipples erect beneath the silk, her lips trembling with anticipation.
The unfinished quest. The broken promise. And one thing was certain: I hadn't seen the end yet.
A dull vibration ran through the hull around me. The haptic sensors, though switched off, turned back on of their own accord, sending electrical impulses that ran over my skin in a strange caress. The back of my neck bristled, as if an invisible hand were brushing against my throat.
Then a voice. A whisper at first, slipping against my ear like a lover's murmur:
— "...Finally."
My eyes shot open, but there was only the darkness of the capsule. No screen, no interface. Just that warm, vibrant voice, sinking into my skull.
— "Finally... you're here, Azrael."
That was my username. My in-game name, spoken with a disturbing softness, each syllable rolling like a caress on my skin.
My heart exploded in my chest. Sweat trickled down my neck. I wanted to scream, to tear off the lid, but my muscles refused to obey. The system had taken me back. I could feel it. The capsule breathed around me, enveloping me like a maternal womb... or like a lover.
Then the smells returned.
Not the stale air of my room, but the burning incense, the hot sweat, the scent of feminine skin that clung to my memory. The image of the priestess was etched on my closed retinas: her stretched dress, her swollen breasts, her nipples erect beneath the silk. I gasped, trapped by this all-too-real mirage.
— "You've searched for me... long enough."
The voice laughed softly, almost mockingly, as if it knew the frustration still hard inside my body.
— "It's time to begin the real quest." »
The capsule vibrated, and a light burst through my closed eyelids. A blinding, liquid whiteness that seeped into my pores, tearing me away from my own body.
I didn't have time to protest.
A final breath slipped against my ear, wet and intimate:
"Now... you are mine."
Then everything disappeared into the light.
When my eyes reopened, I was lying on a cold, smooth floor. The stone exuded an ancient dampness, scented with stale incense and faded flowers.
Around me, a ruined nave rose, immense, where each broken column still bore gleaming runes, half-scraped by time. Disemboweled statues, women's torsos with bare breasts sculpted in marble, piled up in the corners, their faces erased but their curves intact.
It was a temple. But not a temple like the others. Here, the sacred and the obscene merged, each arch, each fresco seeming to sigh with extinguished desire. Light fell from a gaping opening in the vault, soft, golden, like a frozen moonbeam. And in the center, at the foot of the broken altar, she appeared.
The Goddess.
Her footsteps echoed on the stone, slow, measured, like the swinging of an invisible censer. She was tall, magnificent, crowned with a diffuse halo that in no way concealed the rawness of her body. Her wide hips made the purple silk that slid around them ripple, so thin that it seemed ready to split with every movement. Her chest, heavy and divine, swelled beneath a bodice of golden chains that bound nothing, revealing the hard points that pierced the cold metal. Her skin glistened with a delicate moisture, as if she had just emerged from a sacred bath, and each drop followed the valleys of her form to disappear beneath the open fabric.
Her black hair cascaded down her back, thick and shiny, caressing the small of her back. Her full, red lips always seemed half-open, ready to whisper a prayer or an order. But it was her eyes that froze me: two wells of incandescent gold, both maternal and lustful, that pinned me to the ground.
I wanted to speak. My throat was dry, my body still marked by the warmth of the vanished priestess. But she raised a hand, and the silence thickened. Her voice fell then, deep, soft, enveloping, as if she were whispering in my ear while her mouth remained motionless:
— "What you knew... was only a reflection. A game. A parody of what truly exists."
Her palm turned toward the sky, and the columns streamed with red light, the runes reigniting one by one like flames.
— "This is the real world... abandoned, in ruins."
She took a step toward me. The ground vibrated. Her powerful thighs made the silk quiver as it parted almost too far, revealing the dark line that disappeared between them. A smile crossed her face, half-saintly, half-devilishly.
— "And you, Azrael... you are finally here."
She slowly descended the steps of the altar. Each step made the stone groan, and each sway of her hips made the purple veil ripple as it slid over her bare skin. I stood frozen, unable to back away, as if chained by her golden eyes. She came so close that her perfume enveloped me, an intoxicating blend of crushed flowers and sweet sweat, the scent of a woman as much as a goddess.
Her enormous breasts brushed against my torso, swollen by her calm breathing, her hard nipples clearly visible behind the thin golden chains that barely held them in place. She raised her hand, and her fingers caressed my cheek with cruel slowness, as if she already tasted my surrender. Then her palm fell on my chest, hot, pressing, and pressed there until the heat became a burn.
A flash burst forth. Her hand lit up with an incandescent red, and I screamed. The pain was not ordinary pain, but a bite that vibrated down to my lower back, as if carving her name into my flesh. Beneath her palm, my skin was marked with a luminous seal, pulsing in time with my heart, a circle of tightly wound runes that wrapped around my torso like an invisible chain.
She smiled, her lips parted, her white teeth grazing the moist pulp, and her voice descended upon me like a sentence:
"You are no longer a player."
Her fingers moved up, slid slowly along my throat, stopping at my parted lips, which she brushed with her thumb. Her eyes blazed.
"You are my apostle."
Her hand descended abruptly, crushing against my stomach, so low that I thought it would sink into it. The burning of the seal suddenly vibrated, radiating to my lower abdomen, triggering an irrepressible shudder. She leaned forward, her breasts crushing my chest, her hot breath hitting my ear:
"Your seed is my weapon."
I gasped. My legs trembled, my loins burned beneath the mark. Each word of the Goddess resonated within me like an irrevocable truth.
She finally stepped away, leaving behind the scent of her skin, the memory of her warmth, and the burning of the seal beating against my heart. Her smile widened, cruel and sublime.
"Go, Azrael. Spread my blessing. Fertilize these women who belong to me. Each MILF you impregnate will carry my flame. Each filled womb will be an altar erected to my name. And you... you will grow with them."
I fell to my knees, torn between pain and ecstasy. The seal still vibrated, and in my head, its words looped, engraved forever: Apostle. Seed. Weapon.
A new light engulfed me, even more violent than the last. It tore me away from the temple, from the Goddess, from the seal that still vibrated on my chest. I thought I'd fall, be shattered into a thousand pieces, then everything came back together in a crash of sounds, smells, and pain.
When my eyes reopened, I was lying in the mud, my back pressed against the damp earth.
Around me, a devastated camp. Collapsed huts, toppled totems, charred palisades. The air reeked of ash and dried blood. Bodies littered the ground, most of them men, their broken weapons clutched between frozen fingers.
But it wasn't the ruins that froze me. It was them.
Two women.
The first came staggering towards me, almost naked beneath shreds of ritual cloth. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath the frayed rope that supported her, her wide hips still marked with tribal paint faded by sweat. Her eyes, red with tears, sought mine with burning distress. She knelt, her clammy hands gripping my arm.
"All the men... are dead." Her broken voice vibrated in the heavy air. "If no one impregnates us... our line will die with us. The spirits ordered us to perpetuate the ritual... but there's only you left."
She sobbed, but her body told another story: her thick thighs trembled, her breasts almost bursting from their too-loose binding, and each breath pressed her chest against my arm. She wasn't just mourning her husband. She was mourning a doomed people.
The second woman was different. A warrior of the tribe. She stood, leaning against a split post. Her caramel skin was marked with old scars, and a fresh wound ran across her hip. Her leather armor had given way, leaving her firm breasts to breathe freely beneath torn straps. Her breaths were short, ragged, and each inhale made her pointed nipples twitch, visible through the damp leather stuck to her skin.
Her green eyes sparkled with a fierce light.
"I fought... and survived," she growled hoarsely. "But what good was it? Without men, there are no more generations, no more warriors to be born. Our tribe will die."
She arched her back in pain, but a shudder ran through her, betraying a desire she refused to acknowledge. Her thighs clenched for a moment, and she added in a feverish breath:
"You... you're still breathing. So prove it."
The seal on my chest began to vibrate, burning, as if in response to their words. Each pulse resonated in my lower abdomen, in time with their panting breaths. As if the Goddess was already laughing in my ear.
The tribal widow threw herself harder against me, her tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, but her swollen, sweaty body crushed against mine screamed a harsher truth.
"Save us... take us... give us back the life that war stole."
I gasped. My eyes flicked from one to the other: two mature women, two MILFs from a shattered tribe, given to me by fate, their sweaty bodies vibrating with a need both sacred and bestial.
And I understood. The mission had begun.
I gritted my teeth, my heart on fire, the seal beating against my ribcage. And my voice, hoarse and strangled, tore itself from my throat:
— "Thus began my true pilgrimage... The MILF Pregnancy Mission."