Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion

Chapter 684: Chapter 684- A World they Enjoyed

He tore her dress.

His hands gripped the neckline. He pulled. The fabric ripped—cotton tearing, the sound sharp, the threads separating. Her chest was exposed. Her bra—white, simple, the cups full, the fabric straining—was visible. Her breasts were heavy beneath it. The nipples were dark. Stiff. From cold. From fear. From the morning air on exposed skin.

He tore the bra.

The straps snapped. The cups fell away. Her breasts were bare—large, heavy, the flesh soft, the nipples dark and stiff, the areolas wide. They moved with her breathing—heaving, the flesh rippling, the nipples pointing outward.

The four guards removed their clothes.

Not quickly. Slowly. Deliberately. The way men undress when they know they have time. When they know no one will come. When they know that the door is locked and the husband is in the other room and the city is in chaos and no one is coming.

Their armor came off. Their shirts came off. Their trousers came off. Their cocks were out—hard, erect, the heads dark, the shafts rigid. Four cocks. Four different sizes. The tall one was six inches. The short one was five. The other two were average—five and a half, six.

They climbed on the bed.

The tall one first. He pushed her legs apart. Her thighs—thick, pale—resisted. He pushed harder. She kicked. He grabbed her ankle. He twisted. She cried out. He held her leg. He positioned himself.

His cock pressed against her pussy. Through the panty. The cotton was the only barrier. He pulled it aside. The head touched her labia. The lips were thick. Dark. Untrimmed hair. He pushed.

PAH—

"AAAHH—!" she screamed. Her back arched. Her hands gripped the sheets. Her breasts heaved on her chest—the nipples stiff, the flesh rippling. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were wide. The pain—the shock—of a cock entering her without preparation, without consent, without anything but force.

He fucked her.

His hips moved. His cock slid in and out. The sound was wet—she was dry, but the friction was producing fluid, her body responding to the stimulation against her will. SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— The bed creaked. The headboard hit the wall. Her body jerked with each thrust—her breasts bouncing, her thighs shaking, her hands gripping the sheets.

PAH PAH PAH PAH—

"Please—! No—! Stop—! I cannot—! Ah—! Please—! My husband—! Please—!"

The short one climbed on the bed. He knelt beside her face. His cock—five inches, thick, the head purple—pressed against her lips. She turned her head. He grabbed her jaw. He squeezed. She opened. He pushed in.

SLURP—

The sound was muffled. Her mouth was full. Her cheeks were hollow. Her eyes were streaming. The tall one was in her pussy. The short one was in her mouth. Two cocks. Two men. Two rhythms.

The other two watched. Stroking. Waiting. Their cocks in their hands. Their eyes on the woman—on her breasts, on her pussy, on her mouth. They waited their turn.

The tall one came.

His hips slammed forward. His balls tightened. His cock pulsed. The seed erupted—thick, hot, filling her pussy. She screamed—muffled by the cock in her mouth, but the scream was there. The sound of a woman whose body is being filled with a stranger’s seed.

He pulled out. The short one took his place.

In her pussy. His cock—five inches—pushed in. The tall one’s seed was inside her—slick, warm, acting as lubricant. The short one fucked her. Hard. Fast. His belly slapped against her ass.

PAH PAH PAH PAH—

The other two joined. One at her mouth. One at her— they turned her. On her side. One in her pussy. One pressing against her anal.

"No—! Not there—! Please—! I have never—! Please—!"

He pushed. The head pressed against her anal. The ring resisted. He pushed harder. The ring yielded. The head popped in. She screamed.

"AAAAHH—!!"

Two cocks. In her pussy and her anal. At the same time. The men fucked her—in tandem, their hips moving in opposite rhythms, their cocks sliding in and out, the walls between pussy and anal compressed, both holes stretched, both holes filled.

PAH PAH PAH PAH—

"Oh fuck," one of them groaned. "Now this is something. This is fucking something. Fuck. Her pussy is tight. And her ass— her ass is tighter. Fuck. Fuck."

They came. One after another. In her pussy. In her anal. In her mouth. The seed filled her—warm, thick, running out of every hole, dripping onto the sheets, pooling beneath her. Her body was covered—sweat, spit, seed, the mingled fluids of four men and one woman.

They continued. Taking turns. Switching holes. One in the mouth while two in the pussy and anal. One resting while the others fucked. They were insatiable. Drunk. Cruel. The kind of men who are unleashed by chaos and who reveal, in the absence of authority, the thing they truly are.

"Oh fuck— now this is something—"

The tall one groaned. His hips slammed forward. His cock was in her anal—deep, the head buried, the shaft buried. He came. The seed pulsed. His face twisted—pleasure, release, the grimace of a man emptying himself into a woman who does not want him.

He pulled out.

He stood. He looked at her. At her body—naked, flushed, covered in seed. At her face—wet with tears, the lips swollen, the eyes closed. At her pussy—swollen, red, leaking. At her anal—gaping, dark, leaking.

He smiled.

"Good witch," he said.

And then—

Something strange.

His cock hurt. Not the pleasant ache of post-orgasm. A sharp pain. A burning. He looked down. His cock was— it was bleeding. Not from the head. From the shaft. The skin was— it was red. Inflamed. The veins were dark. Purple. The blood was not on the outside. It was on the inside. Rising. Moving. Climbing.

He touched his mouth.

His hand came away red.

Blood. On his lips. On his teeth. On his tongue. He was bleeding. From his mouth. From his cock. From— everywhere. His nose. His ears. His eyes.

"What—?" he gasped. "What is—?"

The room shifted.

Not physically. Not visually. The walls— the stone, the bed, the woman, the sheets, the seed— everything rippled. Like water. Like a reflection in a pond that has been disturbed. The ripples moved outward. The room dissolved.

The illusion broke.

The bedroom was gone.

The woman was gone. The husband was gone. The bed, the sheets, the seed— gone. All of it. Gone. Replaced by— a room. A different room. A stone room. Dark. Cold. A room that smelled of damp and iron and the faint, lingering trace of lavender that was not real but was a memory of a scent that had never existed.

Four chairs sat in the center of the room.

Four men sat in the chairs.

The guards. The four guards. The tall one. The short one. The other two. They were seated. Upright. Their hands on their knees. Their eyes open. Their armor on. Their clothes on. Their cocks— still hard. Still erect. The tents visible in their trousers. The fronts of their pants— wet. Soaked. Not with blood. With seed. With pre-cum. With the evidence of arousal that had been real, that had been felt, that had been experienced in the illusion.

They had not moved.

They had not left this room. They had not entered the woman’s house. They had not torn her dress. They had not fucked her. They had not come inside her.

They had sat in these chairs and they had dreamed.

A fake world they imagined to enjoy.