Chapter 176: Asia and Liza’s +18 Shower. The cruise ship announcement. Breakfast considerations.

The shower is enormous - marble-tiled, multiple heads, steam already rising. You pull the door shut behind you and Asia immediately rises on her toes, pressing her lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and eager, her fingers curling into the fabric of your t-shirt.

You pull the shirt over your head. Her habit follows, pooling on the wet tile. Her breasts are small and perfect, pink nipples hardening in the warm spray. You press her against the marble wall, lifting her thighs around your waist. She gasps as your cock slides into her pussy - wet, tight, welcoming.

"Master-" she breathes, her arms around your neck, her legs locked behind your back.

You fuck her slowly against the wall, water cascading over both of you, her soft moans echoing off tile. Her pussy clenches around you with each thrust, her hips rolling to meet your rhythm. She comes with a trembling cry, her walls squeezing your cock, her face buried against your shoulder.

You hold her through it, then set her gently on her feet.

Liza stands under the adjacent showerhead, watching. Her expression is neutral - stoic as always - but her tail is wagging so hard it splashes water across the glass. The warm water runs over her scaled forearms, her reptilian features softened by the steam.

You kneel before her, running your hands over her legs, washing her gently. She watches you with those unblinking eyes, her tail curling around your forearm as you work upward along her thighs. When your hands reach her hips, she places one scaled palm against your cheek.

Her other hand moves between her legs. She spreads her pussy open with two fingers - pink flesh visible between darker scales - and looks at you.

No words. Just that steady gaze and the silent offering.

You lean forward and press your mouth to her cunt. She tastes different - earthier, colder than human women. Your tongue finds her clit and circles it slowly. Her tail goes rigid, then begins thrashing against the tile wall.

Asia moves beside Liza, wrapping an arm around the lizardkin girl's shoulders, murmuring soft encouragement. Liza's stoic face cracks - her lips part, her eyes widen, a low keening sound escaping her throat as your tongue works deeper.

She comes fast. Her scaled thighs clamp around your head, her tail whipping wildly, a strangled cry tearing from her throat. Asia holds her upright through the spasms, stroking her hair, whispering praise.

When Liza's legs finally stop trembling, she looks down at you with something approaching wonder in her normally impassive eyes. Her tail has slowed to a gentle, satisfied wag.

"Thank you," she says quietly. Her voice is always quiet, but this is different - softer.

You press a final gentle kiss to Liza's pussy, feeling her thighs tremble against your cheeks. "It's a pleasure for both of us," you murmur against her scaled skin.

Her tail wags once - hard - against the wet tile.

The three of you finish washing. Asia's hands slide over your chest, her fingers tracing the muscles there while warm water cascades between you. Liza stands close, letting you wash her back, her tail curling around your wrist when your hands drift lower. You grope them both freely - Asia's small breasts fitting perfectly in your palms, Liza's scaled hips surprisingly warm under your fingers.

When it's time to dress, they conspire against you. Asia pulls her habit miniskirt over her hips while kissing you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours. When you try to help her with the straps, Liza steps in - pressing her mouth to yours from the side, her scaled palm on your jaw, turning your head away from Asia's dressing.

"No interfering," Asia says with a smile you can hear.

They take turns. One dresses while the other kisses you. By the time both are clothed and heading for the galley, you're still naked and half-hard.

You dress quickly. Black t-shirt, cargo pants.

- - -

The Anchorage flight deck teleportation circle takes you to the King Stallion's cockpit in a flash of silver light.

Albedo is already there, standing beside C.C.'s reclined form in the pilot seat. Nami hovers near the communications panel, her orange hair vibrant in the light. The three ships spread below through the canopy glass - Symphony, Mariner, Grandeur - their white hulls gleaming in the late-morning sun.

"Mic check," you say. "All three ships, all passenger areas."

Albedo taps her tablet. "Already confirmed. Full PA coverage on all decks."

You connect to the Icon's telepathic broadcast as well - the resurrected need to hear this too.

You take a deep breath before keying the microphone.

"Ladies, women, and children - let me start by stating a few facts." Your voice carries across four ships simultaneously. Three thousand souls, listening.

"Magic has become real. We've confirmed that the zombies are a result of a common virus evolving into magic. All so-called halves or resistance-carriers are simply those who had a resistance to the original virus."

Silence. Then - focusing your attention on the Symphony - you can easily imagine a uniformed woman's face going white. Somewhere below, a woman screams.

"You are currently on a set of ships at the start of a zombie apocalypse. Food is limited. Water is limited. The time you can survive on those ships is limited."

No objections. No conversation. Just the truth settling like a stone in every stomach.

"Those of you who have been listening to the radio have likely heard of me, 'The Enchanter' who made a deal with the Navy to send magic tankers to restart the fuel routes. Enchantment being a long-term magical application, those on one of my enchanted ships will not need to eat, drink, clean, or even grow old."

C.C. shifts in her seat, watching the camera feeds. Bodies are clustering near speakers on all three ships.

"I have enchanted the Icon and resurrected its passengers. Yes - resurrection. But not for free."

Pausing for a moment before changing direction. "At the front of the four ships, there is a magic circle I placed last night. This is the first option - teleportation to Los Angeles, where the fuel trade has been active for days. The circles are one-way. If you go, you will not be able to come back because you don't like your choice."

"On the back of your three ships, I've placed a second circle. This will transport you to the Icon, where my enchantments will keep you safe, warm, and fed for as long as you stay. You're free to use the front circle at any time. My condition - my price - for being on the ship is slavery."

The word lands like a gunshot. Albedo watches the feeds with clinical interest.

"While many of you have instantly become repugnant at the very word, as our wonderful land of the free has trained you to - I'll insist you face the reality that with the enchanted conditions I've stated, countless should and will sign up for it."

You pause. Let it breathe.

"If there are corpses on your ship, send them through the circle with those who choose to come. I will resurrect them like the passengers of the Icon. My price for resurrection is one-tenth the individual's expected lifespan spent as a slave."

Nami's eyes are wide. On the zoomed in camera feeds, you see clusters of women holding each other, some crying, some staring at nothing.

"Age reversal is also a contract-service I offer. The price is half the age you contract."

That one hits harder than slavery. You can see it on the feeds - women in their forties and fifties, women who've watched their bodies fail them over days of starvation and terror. The calculation behind their eyes is visceral.

"To be clear - you are not required to use either circle. Create your own choices. These are simply the only two I am offering. I will not enchant or bother with those ships until there are no survivors on them."

You release the microphone and cancel the telepathy to the Icon.

The silence that follows is absolute across four ships.

Then - movement. On the Symphony, you see the first woman walk toward the rear of the ship. Then another. On the Mariner, a cluster of five moves together toward the back circle.

Albedo speaks quietly. "The older women are moving first. The ones with children are staying put - calculating."

C.C. doesn't look up from her screen. "Their chosen leader is crying."

You look at the cameras and reply. "Their leaders just had the responsibility of hundreds of lives taken off their shoulders, that kind of relief, I'd prefer to never understand it."

"Nami," you say, turning to the orange-haired navigator. "You'll want to pick members of your new mind-controlled passengers to cycle basic control responsibilities. Like the Anchorage, there's no living requirements, so it's preferably going to be volunteers. There are likely quite a few who know the different jobs needed to keep the entertainment industry functioning - it's just the challenge of getting them doing things that aren't destructive."

Nami's eyes are already gleaming with calculation. "Cruise ships have entire departments for entertainment, food service, maintenance, navigation. Former crew members who know how to run the show." She taps her chin. "I'll need to identify them fast. Volunteers first, then assign by competence."

"Good, leave that... to Albedo." The succubus straightens, her tablet already in hand. "After breakfast, ask Robin, Mikasa, Sango, Violet, Rei, Emilia, Asia, Priestess, Rin, Roxanne, and Kurumi to assist you in setting up a Interview and records room on the Icon. Start with the family registry, current ages, specialties, work experience. If they were resurrected, calculate their expected service time. Then if they want the contract for youth, pre-make the paperwork. Having it printed out in advance will save you a lot of work."

Albedo's golden eyes sharpen with professional satisfaction. "A comprehensive intake system. Efficient." She's already typing notes. "I'll structure it by deck assignment. Robin's documentation skills will be invaluable for cross-referencing."

"If they have naval experience or are former workers of the ships and are willing to continue working, arrange a large meeting later today for them to all meet their new Captain Nami."

Nami grins - sharp, possessive. "My crew."

You look down through the canopy glass at the three ships below. Movement on their decks - clusters of women walking toward the rear circles, some carrying small bundles, a few guiding children. On the Symphony, you can see a line forming at the back teleportation circle.

"I forgot to tell them their new dress code again, and I'll need to consider something about the kids." you mutter. "I'll get to that this evening. For now, let's go to breakfast."

C.C. doesn't look up from her monitoring screens. "The front circles are seeing about sixty people total across all three ships. The rear circles..." She pauses, counting. "Approximately four hundred have already stepped through. The rest are still deliberating."

"It'll sort itself out, as unfortunate as it is to know those sixty are likely to die." you say. "For now, lets go to breakfast, I wonder who else will still be there."

The teleportation circle takes you to the flight deck on the Anchorage in a flash of silver.

- - -

The galley is warm, smelling of conjured food - the Heroes' Feast table laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, fruits, and steaming porridge. A sight that still feels surreal to see in the middle of a steel galley.

Kurumu is seated at the table, her blue hair freshly brushed, her purple bra visible through her loosened sleep shirt. She's eating with unusual focus, her eyes occasionally flicking toward you. Something in her expression is different - more intent than her usual playful energy.

Liza sits beside Asia, her tail curled around the chair leg, eating methodically. Asia is chattering softly about the shower, her cheeks still pink.

Hinata is in her maid uniform, serving tea to Musashi who has just arrived from the outdoor lounge, her silver-pink hair still damp from a quick wash.

"Goshujin-sama," Hinata says, setting a cup before you as you sit. "The others are still resting. Kurumi and Roxanne went to check on the sleeping quarters."

Kurumu's eyes meet yours across the table. She holds your gaze longer than usual, then looks down at her plate with a small smile.

Albedo settles beside you, already organizing her tablet for the records room assignment. Nami takes the seat across, pulling a plate toward her with one hand while sketching crew diagrams with the other on a napkin.

"So," Musashi says, stretching her arms overhead. "I hear you announced slavery to three thousand women this morning. How'd that go?"

You chuckle between bites of conjured roast beef, washing it down with tea that Hinata poured. "It went absolutely amazing. I wasn't visible for them to start yelling at me, and continued my announcement without hearing a single complaint."

Musashi raises an eyebrow. "No complaints? Three thousand women told they can be slaves or walk into a zombie apocalypse?"

"I have no doubt there were complaints, I simply wasn't there to hear them." Another prideful chuckle, "Dropping their current situation and revealing sustenance and age stasis enchantments beforehand helped my argument. Following up with resurrection and age reduction offers stunned most complaints they could have had." You stab a piece of bread. "The only complaint they could have left is what they'll be required to do as 'slaves.' Heh. Jokes on them if their imagination doesn't realize the gender ratio. I'm now outnumbered what, over a thousand to one? I barely have time for the dozen or so that are trying to keep my attention."

Musashi snorts. "The logistics of that would kill you before the zombies do."

"I did forget to tell them their new dress code twice though," you admit. "Might be an issue with the kids. Hopefully at least one of the other three ships will be cleared out and I can assign it as a kids and parents ship. That'll solve multiple issues."

Albedo taps her tablet. "The Symphony has the fewest survivors remaining. If the current flow continues, it may empty within six hours."

You remember a fitting quote. "Hope is a poison. We'll see how it goes."

The galley door opens. Kurumi and Roxanne enter together, followed by a stream of women - Violet with her blonde hair freshly braided, Emilia's silver-lavender hair looking rested, Mikasa in her Survey Corps jacket, Riveria exposed in white lingerie, Rin's simple white blouse and skirt, Nova ready for the day in her midnight armor, and Erza - still wearing pajamas, her scarlet hair damp from a quick wash.

Erza's eyes find you immediately. She takes the seat beside you without asking, her muscular thigh pressing against yours. "I heard your announcement," she says. "Effective."

"Thank you," you say. "Next thing on my list - making Sandra's lesser Anchoring Bands and getting Akane, while setting up a meeting for Yugito's sellers."

You rattle off the to-do list mentally. Sandra's bands. Akane pickup. Yugito seller meeting. Nami's new captain's chair and her virginity promise. How to setup an easy method for Age Reduction contracts. Nova's contract thankfully warned timing loose, Sinon's contract in the evening. Vash's resurrection. Checking Albedo's documentation and records setup. Cruise ship dress code announcement. Waking up the five sleeping women.

Kurumu has been watching you from across the table. Her blue hair falls forward as she leans slightly, her purple bra visible through her sleep shirt. Something in her expression shifts - the intensity that's been building all morning flickers, then dims. She looks down at her plate.

Am I forgetting anything? The tankers progress, not yet. The next list of international Navy ships to enchant, ask Rika. Cruise ships, in progress. Witchblade, with Bulma. Yusuke. Kenshin. Mugen. The CDC's list of status unknown. What gave that roar back at the warehouses, I haven't seen anything that could have caused that yet. Should I check on the survivors I broke off from, no. The Costco's conflicts, no. The Airports and planes, no. The hydroelectric dams can wait a few more days. Riveria, I need time. Webbs and Reeves are blocking contacts as intended, but haven't mentioned any dimensional traveler information, if there is any it's likely lost in countless scam attempts, threats and lies. How many more are out there. We haven't found any duplicate names or characters yet. What about characters with lower profile or ability. The first viruses evolved to magic first at six months, the rest should be adapting fast with the waves of zombies and lawless chaos, will the zombies themselves evolve like most TV tropes? Followed by fungi and mold in roughly five months, Aura ward and Cleanliness will protect us simply enough, but the rest of the world.

She takes a slow breath. Then she smiles - genuine, if slightly forced. "You're busy today," she says lightly.

"Yeah," you say, not noticing her expressions change. "Packed again unfortunately. Hope I can get ahead of this all soon."

Kurumu's tail curls around the chair leg. Her wings fold tighter against her back. She picks up her fork and begins eating with renewed focus, her eyes not meeting yours again.

Rin settles into the seat on your other side, her turquoise eyes scanning the room.

Nova leans against the galley wall, arms crossed. "Maria agreed to my contract and conditions. She says she's ready whenever you are for the ritual."

Erza's hand settles on your thigh beneath the table. Her grip is firm - possessive without being aggressive. "I also spoke with Maria briefly before coming here," she says quietly. "I am considering it."