The air in the clearing still tasted of ozone and residual euphoria. Seraphina, her eyes unfocused and glazed, leaned heavily against the cold, marble-like bulk of Lark's chest.
"Please, Lark," she whispered, the sound barely audible above the rising murmur of the surrounding camp. "Don't stop. Please keep touching me."
Lark, towering and unsettling in his divine, alabaster shell, felt a familiar hum of power surge through his elongated fingers. It was the strange, addictive energy his new body wielded, a soothing, resonant vibration that seemed to rewire the nerves and flood the bloodstream with pure, golden bliss. He obliged, settling his massive hands onto the warrior woman's shoulders.
The sapphire eyes studding his face widened slightly, taking in Seraphina's reaction. She immediately went rigid, a choked, high-pitched gasp tearing from her throat. Her head dropped back, exposing the elegant sweep of her neck, and her body began to tremble violently.
Seriously, the way she looks at me… it's like I'm a walking, eight-foot-tall pleasure generator, Lark thought, his internal monologue surprisingly mundane considering the scene.
Lark began to massage her shoulders. The movement was slow, deliberate, and entirely unnatural for a being of stone and gold. As his thumbs pressed into the dense muscle beneath her leather tunic, the harmonic vibration amplified. He wasn't just rubbing out knots; he was flooding her system with an overwhelming, non-sexual, yet profoundly euphoric energy surge.
Seraphina's trembling escalated into convulsive shuddering. Her face, flushed crimson, contorted in a mask of pure, unbearable ecstasy. She began to keen, a raw, primal sound that echoed off the nearby trees.
Lark moved his hands, a sweep of cold marble tracing the line from her clavicle, down the curve of her ribs, and finally settling just above her hips. Every inch of skin he brushed seemed to ignite. The keen turned into a frantic screech, a sound of complete, overwhelming fulfillment that bordered on pain.
"Gods… ah! Gods, please, Lark!"
Lark continued the sweep, maintaining the steady golden current. He was trying to figure out the limits of the power. Could he use this sensation to heal? To weaken? To simply render a person inert with pleasure?
After what felt like an eternity of continuous, high-volume screaming, the energy finally drained from Seraphina. Her eyes rolled back, and the flush left her face, replaced by a profound, empty pallor. Her legs gave way instantly and she collapsed to the ground, a limp, utterly satisfied heap of nerves and bone. She was alive, breathing heavily, but unable to move.
Lark stared down at the defeated woman. Well, that was… thorough.
But before he could process the full implications of turning a warrior woman into a puddle of blissful exhaustion, the dam broke.
Dozens of women, drawn by Seraphina's impossibly loud cries, materialized from the fringes of the camp. All of them staring at the towering figure of Lark with a look of desperate, almost predatory hunger.
"By the Great Mother, what did you do to her?" one woman exclaimed, though there was more awe than horror in her voice.
"Can you… can you do that again?" another asked, taking a hesitant step forward.
The requests began to pile up, a chorus of pleading voices directed at the monolithic man.
It was Princess Liana, ever pragmatic, who cut through the rising clamor. "Stop crowding him! This is not a spectacle for the entire column," she snapped, striding forward with regal impatience. She looked at Lark, her expression a mix of curiosity and intense calculation. "Lark, perhaps we should continue this… demonstration… in a private space. We can set up a tent. For efficiency."
Lark nodded slowly, the multiple sapphire eyes blinking in unison. "A tent, then. Understood."
The women, including Liana, nodded eagerly. The air crackled with palpable tension.
Holy shit, Lark thought, a genuine grin stretching across his marble face internally. These women are absolutely fucking sexually frustrated as hell. Or maybe my magic is just that addictive. Either way, this is probably the most attention I have ever gotten.
He decided he needed to multitask. If he was going to be the camp's resident source of euphoric energy, he needed to maximize his output.
"I will only be able to see two at a time," Lark announced, his voice a deep, unsettling resonance that made the ground seem to vibrate.
As the women jostled for position, Lark's mind raced, his gamer instincts kicking in. I wonder if I can touch their tits or butts with this power. Is the source of the high tied to the shoulders, or just direct skin contact? Well, time to find out.
A few minutes later, the designated tent was erected, a simple, heavy canvas structure providing immediate, absolute privacy. Lark stood inside, the low light reflecting faintly off his smooth, unsettling skin.
Two women had been selected: A tall, muscular archer named Elara, and a smaller, dark-haired shieldmaiden named Lyn. Both were visibly vibrating with anticipation.
Before the sensory overload began, Lark decided to test another of his hypothesis. Power modification.
"Before we start," Lark resonated, leaning down slightly, "I need to tell you two something. The energy I transfer or my ability, it seems to have side effects. Potential boosts, even. I might be able to make your skin smoother, your physique slimmer and more defined, and maybe… more powerful. I wanted to try this in secret, to surprise the others when both of you come out."
Elara and Lyn exchanged wide-eyed looks. To be more powerful? To be permanently transformed by the touch of this divine giant?
"Yes!" Lyn breathed instantly. "Please do, sir!"
"Excellent," Lark replied, feeling a surge of manipulative confidence. "However, this process works best with maximum skin contact. I need to be able to access the core of your energy flow. Is it possible for you two to be… naked?"
The agreement instantly hit a snag. The women looked at their heavy, protective clothing, the only thing separating them from the dangers of the supernatural world.
Elara hesitated, sweat beading on her temples. "Naked, Lark? That is… unorthodox. Would removing our armor be enough? We can remove the chain and the heavy leather."
Lark considered this. The inner layers were thin, simple cloth tunics, close enough to the skin to allow the power to transfer. "It will suffice," he conceded.
With a flurry of nervous, hurried movements, the two women stripped off their heavy outer layers: the plate shoulder guards, the studded leather breastplates, and the protective greaves. They were left in simple, smooth under-tunics that hugged their curves, revealing the true muscularity of their forms.
Lark instructed them to sit cross-legged directly across from him. The air in the tent grew thick and silent, save for the ragged breathing of the women.
Lark, ever the experimenter, reached out his hands, one toward Elara's shoulder, the other toward Lyn's. The moment Lark's fingers made contact, a dual eruption occurred.
Both women simultaneously threw their heads back and unleashed a piercing, overlapping moan of immediate, overwhelming pleasure. The sound was so loud it surely traveled outside the thick canvas.
Lark immediately channeled his energy. He used his innate magic, a version of what he knew as Harmonic Vigor not to heal, but to restructure. Golden light pulsed faintly beneath his skin.
Internal transformation was swift. He felt the magic scouring through their subcutaneous layers, tightening skin texture, slimming down excess tissue, and subtly rearranging muscle fibers. Within minutes, the women's already impressive physiques sharpened, becoming incredibly defined, their faces growing taut and flawless.
Cosmetic effects achieved, Lark logged mentally. Now for the strength boost.
He pushed the Vigor harder, focusing the energy not on pleasure, but on pure physical enhancement. This was risky; he was essentially overloading their biology. He flooded their systems with strength, durability and agility, pushing them toward what he categorized mentally as 'peak human'—faster, stronger, able to shake off injuries that would fell ten normal men.
The women, lost in the euphoric flood, didn't seem to notice the abrupt biological upgrade. All they registered was the relentless, driving, resonant pleasure that kept them pinned in place, rocking slightly on the floor as they moaned continuously.
I could make them stronger, Lark thought, but I can't fully trust them yet. Baseline peak human is enough for now.
He was still holding their shoulders, but the initial exploratory phase was ending. Lark wanted to confirm the reach of his power.
Slowly, deliberately, he moved his hand off Elara's shoulder, letting the harmonic trail linger like a physical current, and began to trace the path down her back. When his cold fingers settled firmly onto her hip, the moan she emitted doubled in volume, turning desperate.
Then, with an escalating boldness born of experimental necessity, Lark moved his hand fully onto Elara's buttock.
The effect was instantaneous and profound. Elara's entire body went slack, collapsing forward onto the canvas floor, unable to bear the sensation.
Lark repeated the action with Lyn, and she, too, flopped onto the ground, gasping, her limbs twitching uncontrollably as the unprecedented level of pleasure centered itself low in her spine.
Lark then continued to fondle the exposed flesh of the two women, applying the resonant, golden power directly to their rear ends. He noticed immediately that neither woman was wearing any drawers beneath their thin tunics.
The continuous, aggressive moaning of the women became a frantic, desperate symphony. Lark, driven by the intense energy feedback he was receiving, a secondary echo of the women's own euphoria, started to explore further, parting their buttocks slightly to maximize the contact of his magic.
The influx of raw, resonant power that flowed back to Lark was overwhelming. His marble-white body, already humming with energy, began to vibrate violently. The crude, vine-bound wooden coverings he wore were never meant to contain such volatile power, or such intense, building physical arousal.
With a sound like tearing bark, the vine bindings at his waist shredded, and the lower sections of his rough garments simply fell away, unable to contain the overwhelming, monstrous form beneath. Lark, focused entirely on the escalating, addictive feedback loop of power and pleasure, paid it no mind as his own considerable form was suddenly, aggressively exposed to the moaning, twitching women before him. The experiment had moved far past shoulders and into raw, uncontrolled application.