The World Is Mine For The Taking

After my conversation with Chief Lionel, I headed toward the quarters where the others were temporarily housed. The evening air was thick with humidity, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and burning torches. As I approached, I caught sight of Kirk emerging from one of the larger huts, his silhouette lit from behind by flickering flames.

"Oh? Done talking with our Chief?" he asked, his voice deep and leisurely, laced with the weight of familiarity.

"Yes," I replied with a slight nod. "He was much more accommodating than I imagined."

"Well, it seems the old lion has a soft spot for those acknowledged by his daughter. And let me tell you—there's only ever been one person she's acknowledged. That person… is you. That alone should tell you everything." A small, knowing smile curled his lips. "Our Chief's very lenient with her. She's his only daughter. His only child."

"I see..." I murmured thoughtfully. "Is there any way I could contact her while I'm staying here?"

"Oh?" Kirk tilted his head, as if amused by the question. "Well, we don't exactly have a post office where you can send letters and such," he chuckled. "But one of the younger ones around here has this magical device called a smartphone. Apparently, it's the most wondrous object our tribe has come across."

"Would it be possible to meet this person?" I asked.

"It's late," he said, stretching slightly, his toned arms flexing beneath the hide-bound fabric draped over his shoulders. "But I'll arrange for you to meet him in the morning. I'll make the call, tell him what you need."

"Thank you. That means a lot," I said earnestly.

He nodded once, then turned slightly to leave—only to pause. He leaned in, his mane brushing forward, shielding the sly grin on his face as he muttered under his breath, "The accommodation I gave you… isn't soundproof. So if you plan to mate with one—or all—of the women inside, I suggest you keep the sounds under control… unless you want them to be heard. Our people enjoy doing it loud, and we've never seen the need for soundproofing. Around here, the louder the moans of your women, the more respect you gain. The more of a lion you become in the eyes of anyone who hears. You understand, don't you?"

"I completely understand," I said with a calm nod. This tribe was built on pride—intense, unapologetic pride. After meeting the Chief earlier, it was already abundantly clear to me: these people didn't shy away from the sound of sex—they celebrated it.

Kirk burst into a hearty, growling laugh, his chest rumbling as he slapped his thigh. "As expected from someone the Princess herself has acknowledged. I thought for sure, being human, you'd be embarrassed by the thought of someone hearing you while you fuck."

"That would ruin the concept of freedom itself," I said, looking straight at him. "To be able to moan freely—without caring who hears—that, to me, is what true freedom looks like."

It may have sounded like something an unrepentant exhibitionist would say, but that was exactly how I felt. No shame. No hesitation.

"I see..." Kirk smirked, his lion's fangs flashing in the firelight. "You truly are a lion. You may be more of one than I am." He gave me one last nod, the look in his eyes both amused and impressed. "Well then. I've said my piece. Enjoy your night."

With that, he turned and walked away, his massive form gradually swallowed by the darkness of the village paths. I stood there for a moment, his words lingering in the air, before turning toward the hut where Zoey and the others waited.

Inside, four women were gathered—three human, and one automata whose synthetic skin shimmered faintly under the candlelight.

"Leon, I thought you said there was electricity here. How am I supposed to conduct my research?" one of the girls complained, arms crossed in mild annoyance.

"Now, now. This is a tribe," I said smoothly. "It's only natural that such conveniences don't exist here. But I plan to call someone I know, and the morning after tomorrow, we'll head to my place. There, electricity is guaranteed." I paused, then added with purpose, "I'll also ensure you're given proper accommodations. That is, of course, if you wish to stay with me."

I emphasized the choice. I didn't know if they still yearned to return to their old world. It was entirely possible. And that possibility was why I left my words open—respecting whatever decision they might make.

"It's truly impossible for us to return now, especially after the chaos we left behind in our world," Zoey said, her voice laced with finality. "In fact, it'd be nothing short of suicidal to even consider it. We'd be cuffed the moment we set foot back there—or worse, executed for that stunt. My father wouldn't hesitate to tell me what a complete fool I was."

"I won't leave you until you've put a baby inside me," Zes added, her voice enthusiastic, her gaze smoldering with heat. That same intense look was back again. Now that the dust had settled and I could see more clearly, I noticed something unusual—her teeth were jagged and sharp, almost like a predator's, glinting faintly in the dim light like a shark's bite waiting to happen.

Chloe remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes. She didn't object—if anything, her quiet demeanor hinted at agreement. She was staying, no matter what. Anne said nothing, but she didn't need to—she was an automata, and she had already registered me as her master. Her loyalty was built into her very being.

And so, we waited. I would eventually contact Gabrielle, Amon, or Maya. Honestly, I missed them all. When I return, I'll need to arrange a proper foursome with them. At the very least.

***

Night had fallen over the Feliann tribe, wrapping everything in a hush of serenity. The stars above shimmered gently, and a soft breeze carried the scent of leaves and earth through the air. It felt like I had become one with nature itself. Everyone was sound asleep. Even Anne was in rest mode, lying quietly beside us. Apparently, her recharging cycle resembled sleep, much like a human's.

I lay motionless, eyes tracing the wooden ceiling above us, lost in thought—until something shifted. A faint, almost imperceptible rustling broke the silence. Cloth brushed softly against skin. Someone was moving. I froze.

If Zes had decided to crawl over and straddle me, desperate for sex, I wouldn't have minded in the slightest. But her loud, unmistakable snoring filled the air. She was out cold. Which meant—this wasn't her.

Then the figure revealed herself. A silhouette at first, moving with graceful intent. As she approached, her body took shape under the pale moonlight. She was a woman—and not just any woman, but the kind made for fucking. Her body was soft, like clouds pressed together, marshmallowy and yielding to the touch. Every curve seemed sculpted for pleasure. I could already feel myself sinking into the memory of her skin. Her breasts—larger than any I had ever taken—rested heavily on her chest, jiggling slightly with each step. Her proportions bordered on excessive, yet they were flawlessly balanced—wide, supple hips, a round, full ass, and thighs that looked like heaven to grip and thrust between. She was sex, personified.

It was Chloe. Her hime-cut bangs still veiled her eyes, casting shadows on her porcelain skin. But beneath the curtain of dark strands, I caught the soft glint of purple—a pair of eyes that stared at me with hunger.

"Leon…" she murmured, voice thick with drowsy heat. "I'm horny. Let's have sex."

There was no hesitation. No pretense.

I stared at her for a heartbeat before answering, "Alright. But I'm not exactly hard right now. If you want to fuck, you'll have to make it hard yourself."

"Okay," she whispered, her lips brushing my ear.

Her hand slid down with deliberate grace, fingers moving toward my crotch with practiced ease. She freed my cock from beneath the sheets, her movements fluid and unhurried. Then, she brought her palm to her lips and ran her tongue across it—leaving it glistening and wet with her saliva.

With that same hand, now slick and warm, she wrapped her fingers around my shaft. The moment her wet palm made contact with my skin, a jolt shot through me. A shiver traveled up my spine. She began to stroke slowly, her hand sliding up and down with a squelching, erotic sound—wet flesh against flesh. Each motion was deliberate, coaxing life into my cock, bit by bit.

Heat flooded into me. My shaft pulsed and thickened with every stroke. Her hot breath fanned across my cheek, heavy and ragged, and the fine hairs on my arms stood upright. My body was reacting to her, helplessly.

"It's hard now…" she panted, a faint tremble in her voice.

"Alright," I said, voice low and steady. "Now, I want you to straddle me—ride my cock."