Harem Apocalypse: Every Moan Levels Us Up!

I pulled out of her with a wet, filthy sound.

Carrise’s legs stayed bent and trembling, knees pushed back near her ears, her body folded and utterly exposed. Her pussy gaped open for a moment — a slick, ruined hole still twitching and pulsing from the brutal stretch — before slowly contracting, pushing thick white cum out in slow, heavy dribbles that ran down the curve of her ass and onto the ruined sofa.

Her dark eyes were glassy, lost somewhere far away, pupils blown wide. She was marked now. Something I still didn’t fully understand.

My cock throbbed violently between us, still hard, veins pulsing, the head angry and slick. Another surge built deep in my core, heavier than anything I had ever felt before.

"What the—?"

It hit me like a dam breaking.

Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted from my cock in powerful, endless jets. I stroked myself roughly, aiming as I painted her. The first massive spurt landed across her face, splashing over her lips and cheek. The second hit her tits, coating her hard nipples in white. I kept going, groaning low as surge after surge poured out of me — far more than should have been possible — drenching her completely.

Cum painted her hair, streaked across her forehead, dripped from her chin. It covered her breasts in thick layers, ran in rivers down her stomach, pooled in her belly button before spilling over. I aimed lower, painting her swollen pussy in heavy white stripes, watching it mix with her own juices and leak out of her still-twitching hole.

It didn’t stop. Rope after rope kept coming, flowing over her thighs, down her legs, soaking the sofa beneath her until her entire body glistened, shining and dripping with my cum.

Carrise trembled violently through it all, then slowly went still. Her breathing evened out. She looked almost peaceful now, eyes half-closed, body limp and covered in me, like the sheer volume had calmed something deep inside her. She rested like she was sleeping, chest rising and falling gently, cum still slowly dripping from her chin onto her marked breasts.

I stayed kneeling between her spread legs, cock still twitching in my fist, breathing hard as the last weak spurts landed on her inner thighs.

[Objective Progress: Carrise Vale - 100%]

I sat on the edge of the sofa, breathing hard, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The blue-silver light from the muted television flickered across scattered clothes and the torn shreds of Carrise’s nightdress like dying embers.

Carrise lay still beside me, covered in drying cum. Thick white streaks glistened across her breasts, stomach, and thighs, slowly cracking as it cooled. Her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, nipples still stiff, red marks bloomed across her hips and ribs where my fingers had dug in. A thin trail of my cum leaked from her pussy, sliding down the curve of her ass onto the ruined cushion.

[LEWD LEVELING SYSTEM]

[Marking complete.]

[1 of 10 primordial vessels marked.]

[9 remaining. 3 of the 9 are sources.]

The words hovered cold and patient in the corner of my vision.

"Define marking," I said to the empty room.

[Marking transfers an imprint from host to primordial female through release. It binds her. She cannot harm you. She cannot act against your interests. Her role in the awakening is nullified.]

I read it twice. This was one of the few times the system had let me actually converse with it.

"Nullified how?"

[The awakening requires the release of the three sources. Sophia. Riya. Monica. But a source can pass what she carries to any female member of the primordial families if she feels weakened. That spreads the risk and improves the awakening’s chances.]

"So I close the doors," I said.

[Any member you pour into is marked and removed from the list.]

"Eleanor was a source," I said.

[Correct. Eleanor was a source. Carrise is a mark. A source must be extracted. Her release passes what she carries into you, and she can no longer participate in the awakening. A mark does not require her release. Only yours.]

I read it again and understood the full shape of it now.

Three sources to extract. The rest to mark. Ten women standing between the world and an ending four families had been building toward for centuries.

One down.

I looked at Carrise, her body glistening with my cum, lips slightly parted, dark hair fanned across the cushion, completely marked and unaware. The television flickered across her skin, casting shifting shadows over the mess I had left on her.

I stood slowly. My cock was still half-hard, heavy and slick with her and my own release, the thick shaft glistening in the flickering light from the television. A thin string of cum stretched from the head and broke as I moved.

I walked toward the bathroom, leaving Carrise sprawled on the sofa, legs still parted, body shining with drying cum, chest rising and falling in slow, exhausted breaths.

I stepped into the small bathroom and turned the shower on. Cold water hit my skin first, then warmed, pouring over my shoulders and chest in steady streams. It ran down my body in rivulets, washing away the evidence of what I had just done.

"If Eleanor was a source," I said to the empty room, water cascading over my face, "what exactly did I extract from her?"

[It only activates when you extract a second source. Proximity awakened the attraction. It is why women respond to you the way they do now.]

"So my next target should be a source?" I asked, tilting my head back under the spray.

[Better to mark the others first. It narrows the hunt to only sources.]

"That’s smart," I muttered, reaching for Carrise’s towel. I dried myself roughly, the soft fabric dragging over my chest, arms, and still-sensitive cock.

I walked back into the living room. The movie was still playing silently on the television, colors shifting across the walls. Carrise remained exactly as I had left her, legs slightly spread, body glistening with streaks of my cum, a soft, satisfied expression on her sleeping face. She stirred once, thighs pressing together as if still feeling me inside her, a quiet sound escaping her lips.

"Will she remember this?" I asked.

[She will remember pleasure. She will not remember the marking. Her conscious mind will supply a memory of satisfaction. The binding will feel natural to her. She will not question it.]

"Will she try to stop me from marking the others?"

[No. She is bound. She cannot act against your interests. She may not assist you actively, but she will not obstruct you.]

"Good."

I pulled my pants up, fastened them, and looked down at her one last time. Cum still clung to her breasts and stomach, slowly drying into a glossy sheen. Her dark hair was messy across the cushion, lips slightly parted.

I turned and walked out of the apartment, closing the door quietly behind me.

The corridor was silent. The weight of what I had just done settled heavier with every step down the stairs. One mark made. Nine left.

Three of them were sources.

The real work was only beginning.