The world reeled.

The Hive's pulse echoed far beyond Vireya, carried in rivers of golden nectar that seeped into mountains, palaces, even celestial halls. Thrones that once held firm in frost, fire, or divine light now quivered like wet cunts clenching around Father's seed.

In the Frostbound citadel, Yvraine sat upon her cracked throne, her skin steaming where the golden warmth still clung. The ice beneath her groaned, frost sigils dimming as if ashamed. She spread her thighs on instinct, a queen undone, her breath fogging the chamber while priests watched in horror. Their goddess had not abandoned them—their queen had betrayed them. Yet it was not betrayal. It was inevitability.

South, Zahra's palace was no longer a place of prayer but of dripping moans. The Caliph's concubines writhed across the marble floors, their veils discarded, their wombs swelling with golden glow. Even the Caliph, once a pillar of law, sat trembling, one hand pressed to his crotch, his eyes burning with shameful hunger.

"This warmth… it will unmake us," he whispered. Yet his cock swelled against his robes, proving the lie in his words.

And in the Celestial Court, the gods themselves argued. The Radiant Thrones blazed, but the envoy's broken mask lay at their feet, golden nectar staining holy marble. Moans echoed through the halls as even angels shivered with lust.

"He must be stopped," thundered one god, yet his halo flickered like a candle in wind. Another goddess moaned softly behind her veil, her hands clenched beneath her robes, dripping light that glowed golden instead of pure white.

Back in the Hive, Kaito sat on his living throne of flesh, his golden cock slick, still glistening from Miravel's throat. Kaori knelt at his side, licking the last drops with a feral devotion, her eyes shining with hunger. Nyxa lounged in shadow, legs spread, her dripping cunt reflecting the golden glow.

Father's voice rumbled through the Hive, deeper than blood, louder than time.

"Their thrones tremble. Their wombs betray. Their heavens moan."

He rose, seed dripping down his cock, falling like molten gold onto the floor where the broodmothers lapped it eagerly.

"Their crowns, their gods, their armies—none matter. They will resist, yes… but resistance is only foreplay."

The Hive screamed with moans, broodmothers and broodlings writhing in chorus, golden rivers rushing outward.

And above it all, the world's leaders began to gather—each swearing they would unite to stop him, while deep inside their wombs, they already pulsed with his rhythm.

They gathered in the Valley of Echoes—where no god's law held sway, where frost, fire, desert, and star might all meet on neutral ground.

The great pavilion was raised with marble pillars and silken banners, but already those banners sagged heavy with dampness, their cloth darkened by the sweet scent of milk drifting on the wind. A place meant for diplomacy throbbed like the lips of a wet cunt.

Queen Yvraine entered first, draped in ice-blue silks. Her face was hard, but her thighs glistened as she walked. The frost priests flanking her whispered prayers, pretending not to see how her gown clung to her soaked slit.

Zahra strode in next, veil gone, her breasts bare beneath sheer desert gold. Her father, the Caliph, marched behind her, fury etched into his face—but even he stole glances at his daughter's swaying hips, his shame a fire that only made the warmth pulse hotter.

Then the Celestial envoy descended in a beam of fractured light, its form once perfect, now trembling. Golden nectar leaked from cracks in its mask, dripping like tears onto the marble floor. The gathered rulers stepped back, but the scent—rich, fertile, irresistible—drew them forward again.

The air grew thick. Every breath carried Father's seed. Every heartbeat seemed to echo the Hive's rhythm.

Yvraine broke first. She slammed her palms onto the marble table.

"This is no mere plague of lust. This is conquest. If we do not act, our thrones will drown in his seed."

Zahra laughed, though it shook with need.

"Speak truth, frost-queen. But tell me—why do your thighs shine like a milkmaid's? Hasn't he already planted himself inside you?"

The frost priests gasped, but Yvraine only shivered, lips curling.

"At least I still resist."

The Celestial envoy raised a trembling hand. "Your resistances… mean nothing. His warmth… spreads even here."

And as if to prove the words, the marble under their feet began to sweat golden milk. The pillars moaned, dripping nectar like rain. The pavilion itself became a womb.

The rulers stood silent—some glaring, some trembling, some pressing their thighs together.

They had come to plot resistance. Instead, they had gathered in Father's foreplay.

The pavilion pulsed like a womb.

Every word spoken among the rulers carried an undertone of moans, every breath tasted of golden nectar. The marble table they gathered around glistened wet as though it too had been licked by Father's cock.

Yvraine clenched the edge of the table with frostbitten fingers, veins of ice spreading across the surface. Her lips quivered as she fought the warmth spreading up her thighs. "We must strike his Hive before the world is drowned. The longer we wait—"

Her voice broke into a gasp. Her knees buckled. A spurt of nectar splashed between her legs, dripping onto the marble floor. The frost priests rushed forward, chanting desperately, but their holy words turned to moans halfway out of their throats.

Zahra smirked, pressing her palms flat to the wet table, breasts swaying as she leaned forward. "You speak of striking him, frost-queen… yet your body sings for his cock. Do you even know whose seed you drip now?"

Yvraine snarled, icy mist spilling from her lips. "Better his seed… than your father's shame."

The Caliph's face darkened, but when he slammed his fist onto the table, milk spurted out from the marble, coating his knuckles. His eyes widened. His fury melted into horror. Then… hunger. Slowly, against his will, his tongue darted out, licking the nectar from his own skin.

The Celestial envoy shuddered, mask cracking further as it tried to speak. "Stop this… resist… resist…" But the crack spread wider. Nectar gushed from the split, pouring down its chest like glowing cum. The envoy fell to its knees, clawing at the ground as its voice broke into a moan. "Warmth… Father… take me…"

The pavilion trembled. Golden rivers seeped from the cracks in the floor, coiling around ankles, soaking silks, flooding sandals. It rose faster with every heartbeat, the whole chamber becoming a wet womb.

Yvraine and Zahra clung to the table, glaring at one another through half-lidded eyes, lips quivering with need. The Caliph groaned, robes soaking, cock swelling. The priests fell one by one, their chants dissolving into wet cries of pleasure. The envoy writhed, golden seed pouring from its broken mask.

What had been an alliance collapsed into a moaning orgy of shame and betrayal.

Far away, in the Hive, Kaito smiled on his throne. His cock pulsed, and the Hive-walls shivered as if sharing in his arousal. He had not lifted a hand, yet they bent all the same. His warmth had already fucked their resistance into ruin.

The Valley of Echoes groaned like a womb in labor.

The pavilion, meant to host kings and emissaries, had become an altar of Father's corruption. Nectar poured from the cracked marble floor, drowning carpets, soaking banners, filling every corner with sweet wet warmth.

Yvraine the Frost Queen had collapsed on her knees, ice crown crooked on her head. She clawed at her chest, nails raking skin, as golden wetness leaked between her thighs. Her frost shattered. Every word she tried to summon froze on her tongue, but her moans melted through anyway. "No… no… not his warmth… not inside…" Yet her belly swelled subtly, pulsing with the rhythm of Father's unseen thrusts.

Zahra arched against the table, breasts pressed flat, hair tangled in wet strands. "Submit, frost-bitch… let it soak you." Her eyes rolled back, her cunt dripping into the golden flood below. "I already have."

The Caliph rose unsteadily, robes plastered against his skin, cock jutting obscenely from beneath. He gripped the edge of the table like a man drowning—then bent his head and drank the nectar pooling across its surface. His throat worked, gulping greedily, milk and seed running down his beard. His guards, powerless, tore off their own armor, rutting blindly in the flood.

The Celestial envoy's mask finally split open with a wet crack. From within spilled neither flesh nor bone, but a gush of light-nectar, shimmering golden like Father's cum. The envoy's hollow body collapsed, writhing in its own overflow. Its last words were a moan: "Father fills… Father remakes…"

Above it all, the golden flood climbed higher, licking thighs, waists, bellies. The rulers choked, drank, and drowned in sweetness. The alliance was gone—replaced by a single womb, pulsing with Father's rhythm.

—

And far away, within the Hive's throne chamber, Kaito leaned back with a low, satisfied laugh.

His cock twitched, spurting thick ropes of seed into Kaori's eager mouth as she knelt before him. Nyxa pressed against his side, whispering filth into his ear while stroking his length between Kaori's swallows. Miravel lay sprawled across his lap, licking his chest as her wings twitched in shivers.

Each drop he spilled into them echoed in the Valley of Echoes, filling rulers and breaking thrones.

Kaito tilted his head, eyes half-closed, savoring it all. "You see?" he murmured to his harem, voice thick with pleasure. "I needn't even touch them. My warmth fucks every throne, every crown, every womb. They are mine already."

Kaori moaned against his cock, Nyxa bit his neck, Miravel trembled against his seed—while outside, the Hive thrummed with Father's laughter, rising and rising, as the world itself softened beneath his heat.

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