>>44365
The steam in the Marmoreal Palace baths has thickened into a soft, pearlescent veil, carrying the mingled scents of lotus, myrrh, fresh seed, and the faint metallic sweetness of new life quickening in four divine wombs. Stelle lies reclined on the warm marble, silver hair fanned like spilled moonlight, golden eyes heavy-lidded with satiation yet already kindling anew. Aglaea kneels beside her husband-wife, one elegant hand tracing idle patterns across Stelle’s delicate AAA-cup chest while the other rests protectively over her own subtly rounded abdomen—twins, boy and girl, already humming with golden potential.
The triplets—Tribbie, Trianne, Trinnon—have curled into a single, drowsy pile at our feet, tiny bodies flushed pink, red ribbons askew, deep blue eyes half-closed in blissful afterglow. Their small hands rest on each other’s flat bellies, feeling the first faint sparks of life Stelle gifted them moments ago. I, Cifera, sprawl languidly beside them, tail lazily curling around Trinnon’s ankle, my E-cup breasts still heaving gently, huge ass pressed warm against the marble as I savor the creamy ache between my thighs.
Aglaea lifts her head, aqua-tinged green eyes gleaming with maternal certainty.
“Hyacine,” she calls softly, voice carrying through the mist like a healing chime. “Our circle grows brighter. Come, sweet one. Your time has arrived.”
A soft rustle of silk against stone answers. From the shadowed archway emerges Hyacine—forty-four years young, not yet ascended to full demigoddesshood but already radiant with the promise of it. Pink hair falls in gentle waves to her mid-back, framing a face of tender, girlish beauty: wide sky-blue eyes that seem to hold the softness of dawn clouds, full lips perpetually curved in a motherly smile. Her body is a perfect bottom-hourglass dream—C-cup breasts high and sweetly rounded, narrow waist flaring into generous hips and a big, plush butt that sways with every careful step. She wears only a translucent rose-pink robe that clings to her curves when she moves, the fabric so sheer it reveals the faint outline of her hardening nipples and the shadowed cleft between her thighs.
She pauses at the edge of the bathing pool, eyes sweeping over the scene: Aglaea’s regal nakedness, Stelle’s beautiful maidenly form still glistening with shared release, the triplets dozing in innocent tangle, and me—silver-haired catgirl, legs spread shamelessly, cream still leaking slowly from my freshly bred cunt.
Hyacine’s cheeks flush the softest rose.
“You… called for me, Lady Aglaea?” Her voice is gentle, melodic, carrying the soothing cadence of someone who has spent decades learning to mend both body and heart.
Aglaea rises with liquid grace, water sluicing from her G-cup breasts and wide hips, and crosses to Hyacine. She cups the younger woman’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the nervous shimmer in those sky-blue eyes.
“We have begun something sacred tonight, Hyacine. A circle of light—polyfidelitous, eternal, growing only by perfect consent. Stelle is our husband-wife, center and seed-bearer. Already my womb carries twins; Cifera’s carries twin girls; the triplets’ carry their first gifts. Now we invite you to join us… not as patient, but as cherished wife and healer. Will you let us show you how deeply you are desired?”
Hyacine’s breath catches. She looks past Aglaea to Stelle—really looks—taking in the silver hair, the golden eyes, the adorable yet massive penis resting thick and half-hard against one slim thigh, still glistening with evidence of recent conquests.
“I… I have healed so many,” Hyacine whispers, voice trembling with equal parts awe and longing. “But no one has ever offered to heal me… to make me whole in this way.”
Stelle sits up slowly, extending a hand. “Come here, sweet Hyacine. Let me show you.”
The healer hesitates only a heartbeat longer—then steps forward, robe whispering against marble, and lets Stelle draw her down into the warm water.
What follows is the gentlest, most profoundly healing seduction any of us have yet witnessed.
Hyacine settles between Stelle’s thighs, back to Stelle’s chest, legs parted over slender hips so that Stelle’s cute huge penis rests hot and heavy along the cleft of her big, plush butt. Stelle’s arms encircle her from behind, hands gentle on C-cup breasts, thumbs circling soft pink nipples until they pebble sweetly. Hyacine sighs—a soft, wounded sound of relief—as though years of quiet loneliness are already beginning to melt.
Aglaea kneels before them, golden-blonde hair trailing in the water, and parts Hyacine’s thighs wider with reverent fingers. “Look how beautiful you are, my darling,” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss the inside of one knee, then the other. “Your body was made to cradle and to be cradled.”
I slink forward, tail high, purring low. “And your pussy looks so sweet and hungry, healer-girl.” I nuzzle the junction of Hyacine’s thigh and mound, inhaling the clean floral scent of her arousal, then drag my tongue in one long, slow stripe from perineum to clit. Hyacine gasps, hips jerking; her big butt grinds instinctively back against Stelle’s hardening length.
The triplets stir, waking with sleepy curiosity. Tribbie crawls over first, pressing tiny kisses along Hyacine’s collarbone. “We’ll make you feel so good, Hyacine-nee,” she whispers. Trianne and Trinnon follow, each claiming a breast—small mouths latching onto those perfect C-cups, suckling with the same innocent enthusiasm they once gave their light-magic lessons to Aglaea centuries ago.
Hyacine’s head falls back against Stelle’s shoulder, sky-blue eyes fluttering shut. “Oh… please… I’ve waited so long to feel this…”
Stelle’s voice is velvet in her ear. “Then let us heal you, beloved. Let us fill you until every hollow place inside sings.”
Aglaea’s tongue joins mine between Hyacine’s thighs—mother and rebellious daughter lapping in tandem, swirling around the swollen pearl of her clit, dipping inside her dripping entrance, tasting the sweet, untouched nectar that flows freely now. Hyacine’s hands clutch at Stelle’s thighs, nails digging in as her first orgasm builds—slow, rolling, inevitable.
When it crests she cries out softly, body arching, big butt grinding harder against Stelle’s now fully erect cock. Thick strands of pre-cum paint the cleft of that plush ass; Stelle shifts, guiding the blunt head to Hyacine’s slick opening.
“Ready, sweet healer?” Stelle asks, kissing the shell of her ear.
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“Yes… please… make me yours…”
Stelle enters her with infinite care—inch by thick, adorable inch—stretching those silken pink walls until Hyacine is impaled to the hilt, whimpering in overwhelmed bliss. Aglaea and I continue our worship below, tongues flicking over the stretched lips where they grip Stelle’s shaft, lapping at the creamy joining.
The triplets add their playful touches—tiny fingers circling Hyacine’s nipples, nibbling her neck, whispering ancient endearments in forgotten tongues.
Stelle begins to move—slow, deep rolls of slender hips that drag that huge length along every sensitive ridge inside Hyacine. The healer’s moans grow louder, sweeter, more desperate; her big butt bounces softly with each thrust, wide hips rolling to meet every descent.
When Stelle finally spills—hot, thick ropes flooding Hyacine’s womb, quickening new life (perhaps a single daughter, perhaps twins, the spark too gentle and bright to name yet)—Hyacine weeps openly, tears of joy streaming down her flushed cheeks.
“Thank you…” she breathes, turning her head to kiss Stelle deeply. “Thank you for healing me… for making me whole.”
Aglaea gathers her close, kissing away the tears. “You were never broken, darling. You were simply waiting for your circle.”
I purr against Hyacine’s thigh, tail curling around her ankle. “Welcome to the family, healer-wife.”
The triplets snuggle in, tiny bodies draping over all of us, red hair mingling with pink and silver and gold.
Five wombs now glow with Stelle’s light. The baths smell of new beginnings.
And somewhere in the deepest part of my once-cynical heart, I already imagine the next gentle seduction: when the paths between worlds open again, Kafka—Stelle’s own enigmatic mother—will step into our circle, and the game will grow even more deliciously complex.