The Breeding Shrine

YOUR PARTY IGNORED YOU AND NOW THEY'RE ABOUT TO BECOME BREEDING STOCK FOR FUTA GODDESSES!

The group stood just outside the vine-choked archway to the shrine, saying nothing.

They ignored your repeated warnings. They always did. Even though you were the voice of reason and the glue that held the group together they had a habit of ignoring you and not taking you seriously. You were told you that if you wouldn't help, they would keep all the treasure for themselves. The same disrespect as always.

Aria lingered at your side, her fingers twitching nervously near her mouth. Her white-and-sapphire robes clung to her curves in the humidity, cinched at the waist with a gold cord that accentuated her soft, heaving chest. Her long golden-blonde hair fell in loose waves, catching the dappled sunlight, her wide blue eyes filled with worry. She wasn’t meant for places like this. Not her.

“I-I don’t know if we should be here,” she said gently, her voice barely more than a breath. “It feels wrong…”

But the others were already moving forward.

Seris laughed, a rich, wicked sound that echoed through the forest gloom. She strode confidently through the arch, the hem of her dark blue robes brushing the ground like smoke. Her long black hair was pinned behind her ears, her deep-cut top revealing smooth, pale skin and the full swell of her chest. Jewels glittered at her neck, bouncing with every smug step. The mage never did believe in caution—only power.

“Wrong is subjective,” she smirked.

Liora, the rogue, followed right after, practically bouncing with energy. Her lithe form slipped between the vines like a shadow, her low-cut, black-and-cream outfit barely qualifying as ceremonial attire. She tugged her sleeves tighter, drawing attention to the swell of her hips and the soft curve of her thighs, half-bared by the slitted robe. Her copper-red hair was tied back in a loose tail, giving her a wild, untamed air.

“You snooze, you lose,” she called over her shoulder, flashing a grin as she pockets a small gold figurine. “No cut for cowards.”

Inside the shrine, the scent of flowers and warm stone deepened. The air pulsed with energy—thick, ancient, watching.

They didn’t see it.

The vines stirred fir