The night did not end. It only deepened.
The fortress's sky—once stone, once ceiling—now pulsed like flesh above them, stretched thin, glowing faintly gold with veins that throbbed in rhythm with Kaito's cock. The womb-membrane groaned like a mother in labor, bulging with the silhouettes of bodies not yet born. The first godborn stood in the center, dripping cum and steam, surrounded by priestesses crawling over one another just to lick his cock clean.
But Kaito did not look at him. His gaze was higher. Hungrier. The membrane split again, spraying milk and warm gold onto the writhing crowd. Dozens of clawed hands pushed through, wet and desperate. The fortress shook, its pillars dripping like cocks, its floor buckling under the pressure of so much birth.
The priestesses were lost to worship. They lay on their backs in rivers of cum, legs spread, hairy pussies spurting as they screamed:
"Birth them all! Split us, fill us, drown us!"
