Jim woke to the delicious smell of breakfast, the sound of an espresso machine, and the feel of warm smooth skin pressed against him on both sides. He opened his eyes and saw it was Chan-Juan spooned in front of him. Lifting his head he saw she was still tangled with Caihong, both sleeping soundly, both still radiating joy in their sleep from the knowledge they were both pregnant with his twins. They were the last two he had knocked up in the middle of the night, soon after Dandan and Kyung, who seemed to have left.
He looked down at the hand clinging to his chest and knew the girl spooning him from behind was Soomin. He knew that skin so well. Every inch of it. How many times had he made her come, and how many ways? It was like her whole body was a clitoris. He could never get enough of pleasuring that lithe, smooth, impossibly sensitive little angel. And he still wasn't done with her. He hadn't even had to decide to save her. He hadn't finished because she just kept passing out from pleasure first.
She had passed out from a spectacular orgasm the first time he touched her clit with his tongue, before he even had a chance to get inside her, so the others had carried her to another bed to recover while he continued with the orgy. Then, late at night after almost everyone was gone, Soomin woke up when she heard him with Dandan, Kyung, Chan-Juan, and Caihong, his final group of favorites who he had saved for last. He had taken Soomin and Chan-Juan's cherries, played sperm roulette with all five of those delightful pussies each in several positions, holding back from coming and driving them wild with repeated orgasms. He had finished with Dandan and Kyung first, knocking them both up with twins. Then when he was almost ready to give in and knock Soomin up, she passed out again after three increasingly massive orgasms back to back as she rode his cock and the others all stroked her everywhere. Her trembling, quivering body had ended up clinging to his back, spooning him in her sleep as they lay on their sides.
The others soon gave up on trying to pry her loose, so Chan-Juan and Caihong had finished by lying down on the opposite side of him, their pussies close together so he could alternate between them until they all came together, falling asleep soon after in the beautiful afterglow and the incredibly intense joy of knowing they too were bearing his twins. It had been such a perfect ending, so insanely over the top. But the whole night was over the top. There were so many moments like that burned in his memory, unbelievably sexy and vivid.
He had fucked them all. He had really done it. Fucked every one of that whole crowd of gorgeous women. And he had knocked all but three of them up. Only Soomin and two of the after-party dancers were left. How many had it been? He tried to tally it up by walking through the night in his mind in chronological order.
The first twenty had been so wild, the urgency growing exponentially until it became terrifyingly out of control. Every conquest had driven his lust higher, made him want to breed more and faster. Quickly, selfishly taking them, even goddess models he wanted to savor, even virgins he wanted to be gentle with. Then the horrifying breakdown that followed. It had changed him. He seemed to transcend the desire, master it, own it. After that it was completely different. He was in control. He could always wait when he wanted to, or go fast when he wanted to.
He also seemed to have gained an uncanny ability to know exactly how best to pleasure each of them, which he used to full effect on the others throughout the rest of the night. It was so insanely hot how much pleasure he suddenly seemed to give them. He could just look at one and he'd just know what to do to her. It was different for each of them. How to start, where and how to touch or lick or kiss, small changes to the speed, angle, or depth of his thrusts, what to whisper in their ears, what positions to try next. He blew their minds with pleasure, making them come harder and more times than they had ever thought possible. Their pleasure was now almost the best part, rivaling their incredible beauty, the glorious feeling of conquest of new pussies, the knowledge he was knocking them all up, and the knowledge that they would each devote themselves to recruiting more for him.
But this new miracle made part of him uneasy. He didn't believe in magic or telepathy. Could there be a scientific explanation? How exactly did he know these things? How was it communicated? How could he possibly know to strum quickly side to side on Lanying's clit, but go in slow circles around Zhihao's? How had he known to stop and circle that one random spot on Soomin's inner thigh with his tongue, making her come before he even got to her pussy? Or a hundred other odd hunches like that, every one of them quickly proving to be completely right. Far too many to be luck. It was yet another unexplained, probably inexplicable part of this miracle. Whatever it was, it was undeniably real, an incredible sex god superpower, and he was fucking addicted as hell to it. It made him wonder again if he could he ever quit this. Would he really stop after one week of this?
Twenty women before his breakdown, then twelve in the next group right after his dinner break. It would have been thirteen if Soomin hadn't passed out. The other twelve were all now pregnant, six of them with twins. He had knocked five of them up with twins together in one long multi-peaked orgasm. The three stylists, Abigail, and Zhihao. During that long orgasm he had avoided eye contact until the end so the certainty of impregnation of all five of them would hit him all at once. Ten babies. The joy had hit him so hard. That or the epic orgasm, or the combination of the two, had caused him to pass out. He had just barely managed to clear his vision long enough to see their faces as they crowded around looking down at him, overflowing with joy that spilled over and utterly filled him, and then he was out.
That memory was so powerfully sexy, the joy of it still reverberating even now, but it still felt strange, incomplete somehow. What had he forgotten when he passed out? And what was that nightmare he had?
The virus was so relieved that he didn't remember. It had been so lucky that he had passed out when he did last night, both times. Twice he had learned things he shouldn't, and twice his sleep had allowed the virus to fade the memory of the information he had gained like it had been a dream. In that moment when the virus was so overjoyed at Jim making ten babies, it had failed to hide its thoughts from him. Their minds were too intertwined, and those moments of joy made the virus weak. In its happiness it had let slip that all ten of those babies would be boys. Then Jim's mind had seized on this thread and pulled, hard, easily overwhelming its resistance, and learned that all of his babies would be boys. He had been instantly, utterly horrified at the implications. That was the first time he passed out, and it was what his mind was trying to reconstruct now. He might still remember if he dwelled on this topic, so the virus distracted him by sharpening his hunger.
God, breakfast smelled good. He was ravenously hungry, and he could really use some coffee. Jim carefully extricated himself, managing to get up without waking them, put on a bathrobe, and went to the bathroom before going downstairs, all the while still recalling the previous night and counting. The three masseuses. God, what fun they had been, with their oil and their powerful touch, taking control of his body as he luxuriated in relaxing while they moved him. What a weird thrill it had been to not even have to thrust, letting them do the work of moving his body as they fucked him into each other, then into other women. He had told them he needed more masseuses, and they had so eagerly agreed to find him more. God, what a wonderful thought. More sexy masseuses. He wanted so many more.
He had told Chenguang she could be his assistant, staying with him all week, and she had enthusiastically agreed. All three masseuses had helped him with the other women he fucked after them, but Chenguang in particular had loved that task, taking particular delight in using her tongue to get them ready for him. She seemed to especially get off on helping him pop cherries, including seven in a row that made her come so many times, seeming to activate something like the beast mode in her. It was so hot, such a thrill how much Chenguang got off on it, but it got a little frightening, a little too much like his breakdown earlier, so he had made her slow down for the last two of those seven virgins.
As long as they weren't virgins, and as long as he could at least make them each come, going fast was actually a huge thrill. Chenguang delighted in helping make that possible with her talented, tireless tongue preparing them for him. And there were a few other reasons he went fast with the remaining 27 women, only saving a few of his favorites for later. First, he was finally starting to feel tired. Second, if he knocked up several very quickly, the combined joy from realizing they were pregnant at the same time seemed to lead to that extreme sensitivity of his skin for the next few minutes that had made his time with Dandan and Kyung so unbelievably pleasurable.
Third and most importantly, it seemed he could gain information in those moments of extra-intense joy, as if he was ripping thoughts out of a dark hole in the center of his mind that only appeared in those moments. The joy made it weak. It. He was thinking of it as an it now, whatever was behind all this.
He remembered now what he had done when he figured out that joy made it weak. He had weaponized beast mode, gone fast on purpose, and ambushed it, using all of his willpower to command it to tell him something it didn't want him to know, tell him whatever it least wanted to tell him. And he remembered the feeling of triumph right before passing out the second time. He had won. It had let something important slip. What was it? Damnit, he was so hungry. But he forced himself to focus, trying with all his might to remember it, and he did. It was an image of a pear-shaped pink fleshy blob with braided strands connecting its fat end to a nearby surface. He had no idea what it meant, but he knew it was important. He stopped, despite his ravenous hunger, drew a sketch of it and put it in his wallet.
