Ch. 119 – Get the F*ck Off My Back

Rhys saw the fluttering of pale wings right behind Shula, catching the sharp, elegant silhouette of Serephina trailing closely in her wake.

It can’t get any better than this, Rhys thought with heavy, dripping sarcasm. I’ve got three unhinged housewives attacking me from behind the bar, and now two more coming in hot.

"I wanted to check how things were going along back here in the kitchen, Rhys," Shula said, her voice smooth and brimming with cheerful amusement as her fiery eyes swept across the room. "I see things are going splendidly."

Aww, you really shouldn’t have, Rhys thought, plastering a fake, mentally hollow cheer over his mounting panic. Like... you REALLY shouldn’t have.

"You really didn’t have to come check on me, Shula," Rhys said out loud, attempting to sound entirely calm and in control.

Or at least, he tried to. The words stumbled out of his mouth in a ragged, uneven cadence, completely compromised by the overwhelming waves of pleasure still crashing through his nervous system. Beneath the heavy wooden bar, Ariadne was still ruthlessly bucking her large, voluptuous bottom down onto him, taking his length deep into her tight, gripping walls. Beside her on the floorboards, Dione had her eyes fully rolled back into her head, hovering precariously on the sharp border of passing out entirely. Her throat was still bulging frantically from the glowing crimson ring portal lodged inside her mouth, taking Rhys deep with every pulse. Her arms lay slack at her sides, her whole frame locked in a dazed, trembling paralysis.

Behind him, Rhea was still clinging tightly to his torso, jolting hard against his back again and again. Through the second branch of the spatial portal, her slick wetness was completely filled with Rhys every single time Ariadne drove herself down on him. Rhea’s soft, heavy thighs and plush hips bumped continuously into Rhys’s spine, her breath hitching into a series of quiet, hysterical giggle-moans as her golden skin flushed with intense heat.

I already lost this one for sure, Rhys thought, a sense of dark surrender washing over him. And it’s just getting worse.

The sheer, unbridled excitement running rampant through his body was reaching a dangerous crescendo, supercharged by the raw magical energy bleeding into him from the constant physical contact of all three women at once. Meanwhile, Omen was getting the actual job of cooking the soup done in masterful, terrifying fashion. The shadow moved between the eleven spectral clones, inspecting his ghostly crew like a seasoned executive chef running a tight dinner rush in a high-end restaurant. The entire scene was devolving into complete, chaotic madness.

"Hey, Shula... now that I think about it, you have the ability to make clones just like this, right?" Ging piped up suddenly, somehow managing to rub his single functioning brain cell together through his heavy alcohol fog. "Did you teach Rhys your magic or something? He just snapped his fingers and POOF—there was a whole bunch of... kinda scary cooks."

Rhys snapped his head toward Ging, staring at the tiefling as if he had just sprouted a third eye right in the middle of his forehead.

Shut the fuck up, Ging, please! Rhys’s temper spiked right back into the danger zone. You are making this SO much fucking worse!

Rhys looked up, watching Shula actually pause to ponder the drunken tiefling’s question. She obviously had zero idea how Rhys had managed to manifest the shadowy duplicate cooks. All she truly understood in that moment was that she was thoroughly delighted to see "her" Omen again—or rather, a whole kitchen packed with Omens, all moving at a lightning-fast, hyper-efficient pace, all powered by her signature djinn duplication magic.

But what sent a cold, violent chill straight down Rhys’s spine wasn't Shula’s glowing expression; it was the sight of Serephina stepping up right behind her. The winged woman looked thoroughly pissed off, her jaw set tight and her brows furrowed in deep, dangerous suspicion.

One of these things is definitely not like the other, Rhys thought, weighing the facts laid out right in front of his face. But I honestly don’t want to sit here and try to solve it right now.

The one pressing issue he did have to solve immediately was Ariadne, who was still grinding down on him with unyielding enthusiasm, single-handedly orchestrating the entire sexual pandemonium occurring beneath the counter. Summoning every single ounce of physical strength and mental willpower he had left in his battered body, Rhys braced his boots against the floor and pulled himself backward out of Ariadne’s soaking wetness.

The abrupt withdrawal sent a sharp, agonizing ripple through his senses as Ariadne’s internal walls clenched frantically around his length, stubbornly refusing to let him go. Behind him, Rhea let out a choked gasp as the sudden motion echoed through the ring portal, sending a massive, unexpected wave of pleasure washing through her womb. She felt the full force of Rhys pulling out of Ariadne, the sudden spatial shift dragging a sharp, helpless moan from her throat.

AHHH, I can’t—I HAVE to get out of her! Rhys screamed in his mind, straining with all his might.

With a wet, echoing suction, he finally managed to tear himself completely free of Ariadne’s grip, immediately slumping forward and leaning heavily against the bar top, utterly exhausted. Behind him, Rhea stumbled back a few unsteadily steps in a complete, breathless daze, her golden arms unlatching from Rhys’s chest as she lost her balance.

"S-so... the whole time Rhys here was in so much obvious pain... he was actually mustering up all the magical energy he could... just to summon all these shadow cooks?!" Durin said, his voice trailing off as he stared at the kitchen in deep, agonizing thought.

The stout dwarf was frantically trying to construct his own plausible reality out of the absolute chaos unfolding right before his eyes—especially when it came to explaining why his own wife was in a state of sheer, breathless hysteria, clinging to Rhys while her body spasmed in continuous, hidden climaxes.

"It makes total sense now!" Durin declared suddenly, loudly clapping his thick hands together as a look of profound realization washed over his face. "I see it now! What I did earlier... accusing him and shouting... was really only adding to his mental pressure! That’s my fault again!" he muttered, mostly to himself.

He got it completely, utterly wrong... but that is literally the best possible thing that could happen right now, Rhys thought, a wave of smug, desperate relief washing over his chest. At least I managed to get out of the woods now—ah!

His thought process was instantly pierced through as a dangerously familiar, warm, slippery sensation engulfed his cock once again. In a fraction of a microsecond, the sensation tripled in intensity, splitting his nervous system wide open just as it had before.

He forced his eyes down to check beneath the bar. Ariadne’s large, round bottom was wiggling teasingly beneath the wooden ledge, but she hadn't taken him back into her own body. Instead, Rhys saw that Dione had seized the opportunity the exact moment he backed away, taking his entire length directly into her mouth with ravenous speed. She had recovered from her near-faint with terrifying efficiency, her tongue slurping frantically as she sucked him in deep.

A few feet away, Rhea stood frozen as the spatial ring portal transferred the sensation of Dione’s oral assault straight into her exposed wetness. The sudden, intense shock nearly sent the golden genasi crashing straight to the floorboards. Every muscle in her body tightened at once. Turning completely away from Rhys and the bar, Rhea stumbled blindly toward a nearby kitchen wall for support. She slumped against the flat surface, hunched over with her large, soft bottom wiggling in short, helpless twitches as another devastating orgasm ripped through her frame.

"See how this is so much better for you?" a smooth, shadowy voice called out.

Rhys turned his head slightly to see Omen floating right beside him, a bright, razor-sharp grin stretched from ear to ear across the mask.

I can’t see that at all, Rhys thought bitterly.

"I absolutely love having total, free reign over Shula’s magic—sue me," Omen said with an air of mock innocence, tossing his dark hands up. "YOU, on the other hand, get to sit back and not worry your little head about a single thing while I do all the heavy lifting." The phantom drifted closer, extending a single, ghostly finger to lightly poke Rhys right in the side of his temple. "It really is a much better payout compared to the ifrit’s version of the spell. When she makes clones, she has to manually concentrate on what every single one of them is doing at all times. I don't."

Rhys snapped his eyes away from the phantom, refusing to indulge it any further. He didn't even want to attempt to rationalize how insanely scheming his own mental counterpart truly was; the shadow was constantly plotting ten steps ahead of him, manipulating every variable in the room.

Before the crushing weight of that realization could even settle into his chest, Dione gripped his thighs tightly from beneath the bar ledge, anchoring him in place.

Rhys looked down, his field of view split into two distinct, overwhelming sights. First was Ariadne’s plush, round rear wagging temptingly beneath the bar, her dripping wetness spreading wide as the crimson ring portal hovering inside her space allowed Rhys’s length to pass through her and straight into the others. Rhys could see every single delicate, slick fold of her interior glistening in the dim light. And second, right beneath her, was Dione—locked securely at the base of his groin, her mouth taking him in with deep, rhythmic, sweeping thrusts. Her soft, lush lips made his skin tingle wildly every time they glided over his sensitive length, her head twisting subtly from side to side to drag her throat over him.

From across the kitchen space, faint, muffled moans echoed off the stone wall as Rhea groaned softly into her forearm, fully collapsed against the vertical surface now. She was slumping slowly toward the floorboards, her back arched high into the air as the entire back of her emerald dress turned damp, her golden thighs squirming helplessly against one another.

Well... at least she’s not physically pinned to my back anymore, Rhys thought, desperately grasping at any tiny silver lining he could find.

He forced his gaze upward, only to find Serephina standing directly in front of the bar now, her towering presence cutting through the dim tavern light. The look stamped across her breathtaking face was completely undeniable—she was deeply, visibly angry... and intensely jealous.

Rhys didn't know how she was picking up on it, but he could tell with absolute certainty that she knew something unholy was transpiring behind that wooden partition.

"Do you mind if I come back there and check on everything for you, Rhys?" Serephina asked, her voice dangerously smooth as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her pale, feathered wings twitching with volatile energy. Her sharp eyes furrowed into a tight glare. "I heard a rumor that there are some ladies back there who simply can’t handle the heat."

Dammit! Rhys thought darkly, his mind screaming under the endless pressure. Can everyone just get the fuck off my back already?!