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The hollow mountain which contained Luke's castle-town was crowned with an ancient watchtower, the moss-ridden and crumbling spire of rock allowing a pristine view out over the [Palpagos Islands]. From the topmost platform, the [Plateau of Beginnings] could be observed in full, a slope declining gradually to the Northwest until it reached the [Grassy Behemoth Hills] patrolled by solitary [Alpha Mammorest]. To the East and South, a great expanse of water preceded the oppressive veil of impassible Mists, and to the West a collection of sheer cliffs denied any ascent from the waters of the crescent bay beyond. If foes were to come by land, then they would be seen coming from a great distance away, and further still should the [Rayne Syndicate] employ their sailing vessel and strike from the [Oil Rig].

The stone archway providing entry to the settlement below had been sealed with a [Wooden Gate], and the area beyond, including the teleportation monolith, was now encapsulated by a secondary bulwark of [Stone Defensive Wall]s. The time for stealth had indeed come to an end, and Luke amended his strategy for survival from concealment to one in which the prospect of assaulting his heavily fortified camp would hopefully look to be more trouble than it was worth.

It had been a few days since the previous base was deconstructed and the Pals moved in, and while Luke missed the gentle sound of the waterfall and the intimacy of his wooden house lit by flickering [Mounted Torch]es, this was undoubtedly an upgrade. The [Stone Wall]s offered a sense of security, and the ascending corkscrew of platforms that formed the castle-town were neatly ordered into tiered workspaces scattered with small Human homes and Pal dormitories. Thanks to the newly hatched [Beakon], there was now sufficient electricity for the [Lamp]s, and power as well for conveyor belt assembly lines and other amenities.

New options had appeared on his tablet since the [Feybreak Update], and a whole island observable to the distant Southwest just materialised into existence, but Luke was long now in the habit of taking these strange developments in stride. Granted, it was a little worrying that when he questioned Beryl about it, she swore to him that [Feybreak Isle], much like the [Oil Rig]s, had always been there. In fact, she looked concerned that Luke would do something so outlandish as suggest that each of these places had suddenly just appeared overnight, and he'd been quick to walk it back as a misunderstanding, retreating into the aloof persona that he'd cultivated for the natives. For now, this was yet another mystery to be shelved for later. Survival came first, as always.

Beryl was his more immediate problem to solve. He'd ran into her several times since having the girl mate with his [Alpha Chillet], each meeting an opportunity for more covert information gathering, mostly done by the lending of a sympathetic ear to the girl's complaints about her fellow islanders. The breeding of a Pal and a Human often led to offspring of rare subspecies, or with valuable [Passive Skills], but the act was also considered to be the ultimate in deviancy. For partaking in this taboo, even though it was for the good of her tribe, Beryl had been shunned and ostracised since by all but the chieftain; and on the day that Luke finished building the façade to his fortress, she'd shown up outside the [Wooden Gate] within hours of its completion, and with her head bowed, had begged to join his [Guild].

The girl had a whole speech prepared, and it was a rather flattering one, too. Though the general gist was that she acknowledged Luke as her new Chief and in exchange for his protection would consent to be his possession. Even for the Humans of the [Palpagos Islands], the strong had the right to rule over the weak, and the instinctive nature of this hierarchy of power had over time engraved itself upon Luke as well. For Beryl to offer herself up in this way would impose an instinctive submission upon her, a surrender of agency which stopped only a few steps short of the sort of compulsion demanded by a [Pal Sphere], and he understood this now on a fundamental level. He was the worthier Master, and so she was his to claim at his will.

Why shouldn't he think of her just as he did his Pals? If she intended to enslave herself to him, then Luke was not the sort to turn down such an offer.

Some inner voice told him that such a thing was only proper, in line with the natural order. Just as he was responsible for his acquired Pals, it was in part because of him that Beryl had been placed in this difficult situation in the first place, and he owed her something for that interference. Yes. That made sense. Probably. It was either that or admit that he quite liked the bold islander and watching her birthgasm while pushing out Mint's egg had been one of the most arousing sights he'd witnessed since washing up here.

It was for this reason that Luke now reclined upon the [Wooden Bench] atop his watchtower, exhaling his satisfaction into the night air while watching a nude Beryl cast against the battlements, gritting her teeth to stifle throaty moans of shameful pleasure as [Anubis]' knot battered against the lips of an only recently virginal pussy.

Luke tried not to smirk. As much as he was putting on a front as the aloof Master of his castle-town of Pals, Beryl was just as much of a liar. She'd dressed up her surrender as a purely transactional act taken because she simply had no other choice, but the expression of absolute rapture that she wore told a very different story. One of the [Anubis]' large hands was placed atop a shoulder, fingers holding her steady and palm pressing into her upper back to brace Beryl's modest bust against the cold stone of the wall. Catrian's other hand gripped the upper thigh of her opposing leg, lifting it enough to allow Luke an unimpeded view of the claiming of his newest whore.

Fair skin was flushed with arousal, yet despite the force of the large and powerful Pal's clawed grasp, the [Anubis] was careful in not leaving a single blemish upon a female that belonged to his Master. As productive as any other male Pal, the abundance of canine precum had already heightened the sounds of their mating a lewd slapping, Beryl's sunburst orange pubic hair made into a sloppy mess of streaming femslick and potent jackal essence.

“You said you were mine, so I'll take you at your word." Luke commented, “I'll help you be a [Pal Tamer] just like you hoped for, but I won't let you forget who owns you. That offering of [Cake] you brought is going to good use right here and now."

It was an expression of domination which now felt perfectly natural, even when spoken to a Human, “Catrian here is going to knock you up, just like Mint did. He's going to force his knot into that servile little pussy of yours and breed an egg into you." He received only a stifled whimper in response, pleasure masquerading as defiance, “This is what you're for now, Beryl. You're going to learn to love Pal cock, you're going to be my wombslave, a trained egg-slut that birthgasms every time she pushes out another pet for me."

The quiver of her body betrayed a small climax to the fantasy, but Luke pretended not to notice. The maintenance of this illusion was vital to both of them, his façade as the aloof ruler, and hers as the unwilling almost-slave, it placed them into positions of hierarchy which allowed them to trust one another. To an extent. Though, the man might have been quite surprised to find that neither Beryl, nor the few Pals jealously listening in from below the watchtower had seen through him as of yet. To them, this was his right and his evolution from Master to Ruler was only proper. They belonged to him. They were for whatever he said they were for.

“Master…!" [Anubis] moaned, his voice a rumble in a language indecipherable to Humans. His race enforced the theology of the [Palpagos Islands], the immutable inner voice which demanded that the weak surrender to the strong, and the powerful take responsibility for them. To be used by his Master as a tool of domination was a bliss comparable to the first time that he had been wrapped in bondage by the superior male and mated until his furred orbs had run dry of essence, every ounce of cum fucked out of him bitchgasm by shuddering bitchgasm. Submission was his place, as it was of every Pal that belonged to his Master, and he revelled in the surrender of it.

His canine growls ascended in pitch as his peak approached, bushy tail instinctively raising to show off the clenching of an undertail that yearned for the cock of his owner as much as it did to better display the pulse of his furred orbs as they flooded the Human cunt before him with thick canine cream. Beryl squeezed her eyes shut, grinding down hard against a knot that was yet to interlock with her femininity, the grasping pleasure of her inexperienced pussy milking the [Anubis] as he fucked her through his peak.

Beryl was not the sort to lie to herself at least, having fully accepted that she was addicted to this pleasure even if she couldn't show it off openly to her new Chief quite yet. The wily girl had intended to demonstrate at least a little resistance to being moulded into the shape of a submissive wombslave, though, it was quite difficult to stick to her plan when the doggy dick breeding her was just as ruinous as [Alpha Chillet]'s enormous draconic cock. She'd given up from the moment that Catrian had sheathed his maleness into her. Each strike of the slanted head against her battered cervix whitened her mind with pleasure, casting her into the daze of a rut fuelled by the [Lovander] pheromones which already inundated this new camp.

Naked and exposed to the elements, thrust against stone, helpless in the grasp of such a powerful creature, made sport of as amusement for her Chief, Beryl was being shown what she was for. Every backstroke of Catrian's jackal cock brought with it a splatter of femcum streaked with male essence to wet her thigh and run down her leg, the abundance of shared sexual fluids pooling below. The heat of activity banished the chill of night, the pleasure of rut dispelling any vestige of shame. Natives of the [Palpagos Islands] were sturdy, and she'd plenty of stamina and [HP] to endure this rough mating. Yes. Just as he said, this is what she was for. This is what she wanted to be for.

“Ask him to knot you." Luke commanded.

He'd demanded that she ask [Alpha Chillet] something similar during her first mating, where reluctance had collapsed into desire and Beryl had come to accept her perversions. Now, in the company of the man that owned her, no barrier of the taboo would have her hold back her words, “Please…" She whimpered into the night, overcome with want, “Knot me… I… need it…"

“What are you for, Beryl?"

She swallowed, unleashing another helpless whine as [Anubis] ground his hips behind her, “I'm your wombslave, Chief…" Her sloppy cunt twitched as she affirmed, “You own me… I'm breeding stock for your Pals…!" Another whimper as the backstroke of canine masculinity drew with it more of the remnants of that first orgasm, “My pussy is for Pal cock. Please… breed me as much as you want…!"

A nod of the head from his Master was all the direction that Catrian needed. Having shared [Cake] with Beryl, pregnancy was already assured, and the tight seal of [Anubis]' knot hardly necessary. But, that would not be sufficient for his Master. Catrian was serving as proxy for his owner, and nothing less than complete domination of this newly inducted slut would be enough to do justice to that role. He grit his teeth and finally leveraged his strength in full, whining, growling, howling, as the force of his knot ground against Human cunt, spreading wide the helpless female beneath him. And then, with the lewd crescendo of sodden fur hips slapping flush to femslick soaked skin, it was done.

The azure of his animalistic shaft was fully eclipsed by the soft pink of Beryl's yielding pussy, the girl's lower abdomen bulging lewdly as strained flesh locked the knot home. The point of his slant-tipped cock pierced her cervix to invade and flood her receptive womb with creamy white. Each gush of seed came with that addicting sense of defilement, enough to further swell her midriff into the beginnings of a pregnancy that would take only a single night to fully gestate, for with the dawn she'd be spreading her legs to show off her birthgasm to her Chief.

Her mind whitened into fantasy. What other deviances would be forced upon her by this man that had claimed her? She'd witnessed Pals already strutting the camp, displaying creamed cookies and defiled undertails as expressions of their positions in the hierarchy – would that fate await her as well? Would she divest herself of her clothes in full to roam the castle-town, free for use as relief to any of the males belonging to the Chief while he was busy breeding his favourites?

She envisioned herself on her knees, burying her face into the swollen spade of the [Direhowl], Glace, drinking down her Chief's copious essence so that the mess streaming from her own well-used pussy would mark her as superior. He alone was the one permitted to determine the order of value of his possessions, and if carnality was a battlefield comparable to crafting and fighting, then Beryl was determined not to lose to anyone. This was a better life than the loneliness of her previous tribe, one in which this new pleasure could be explored and accepted. And that was well worth the sacrifice of everything else. Not that she had much of anything else thanks to the [Rayne Syndicate].

Yes, she would do whatever was necessary and more. How better to appeal to her Chief than to emulate him? He mated with all of his Pals, and she should do the same. A hand loosed from the battlements to press against her abdomen, the stiffness of Pal cock and slosh of male essence within her womb beneath her fingers. Her pussy spasmed in another orgasm about a canine knot which sealed inside her the growing volume of seed still being pumped into her core. Oh, this was only the beginning. Now that she'd experienced the enormity of [Alpha Chillet]'s smooth and tapered shaft and now the animalistic pleasure of a canine knotting, she hungered for more. How would the segmented maleness of [Leezpunk] feel as it scraped out her insides, or the cute toy sported by little [Cremis]?

And the females as well. Could she find a place inside the rivalry of [Katress] and [Wixen], stacking her holes up along theirs to compete for their Master and Chief? If Luke knocked her up (a thought which made her bloated womb throb), would her [Milk] be comparable to that produced by [Eikthyrdeer]? How did her well-groomed Human cunt hold up against the bestial spades of [Foxparks] and [Direhowl]? Could she handle punishment as lewdly as [Tombat], or face [Lovander] in the arena of carnality? What of [Beakon]? The [Chillet Ignis] that Beryl herself had birthed? And what of the [Nyafia] that along with [Cake], Beryl had brought with her as offering?

A hundred fantasies of submission flashed through her mind, lewd surrender as a Pal-fucking wombslave, all to win the favour of the Chief that commanded them and the man that could give her the pregnancy that she yearned for most of all. Beryl's orgasm had been potent enough to have her strength fail, body slumping in the grasp of [Anubis], but no mercy was coming.

“Do it." Luke's voice seemed to come from far away, but Beryl regained some clarity of thought when the growling jackal above her drew back his hips. Her battered pussy strained about the fist-sized knot, a mass comparable to the egg she'd once cum herself senseless around, the lips of her cunt twitching against the femcum matted fur of his sheath in pleasure as her insides desperately seized on the cock inside of her.

The growl increased in intensity, strong, demanding, masculine. Catrian's surrender to his Master was absolute, his submission unquestionable – but when used as a proxy for his dominant male, he would proudly marshal what remained of a man in him. His jaws snapped to the side of her head, briefly displaying the soft blue of his maw, and with one final heave and a truly lewd popping noise, a canine cock of mirrored hue was dragged free of the ruined Human pussy to bring with it a cascade of doggy cream to splatter the floor beneath them.

Beryl had gone limp, but no strength was required of her to serve as this Pal's cocksleeve. After showing off her gaped cunt to his Master, [Anubis] realigned the slanted tip of his cock to her broken femininity and thrust forth once more. His Master deserved nothing less than a slut knotfucked to complete surrender, thoroughly taught her place in the hierarchy of willing slaves that formed the camp, and to that end he was content to breed her the whole night through if necessary. He hoped his reward would be to occupy this same position for him, cast against the battlements with his leg lifted to show off his cock painting the stone in submissive bitchgasm.

His Master made eye contact, and Catrian understood. He'd be mating this female until the dawn whether it was necessary or not if this was what was willed of him. Perhaps he would even be able to feel the development of the egg against the bludgeoning of his cock? A good thing that Pals were such sturdy things even before hatching. He looked forward to training his future son to raise his tail and surrender his masculinity to their Master, or perhaps a daughter to spread her legs and become the man's favourite breeding partner. As lost in his own fantasies as Beryl was, both ushered forth by the ever-present pheromones of [Lovander], their show continued…

As for [Lovander] herself, as much as the lewd lizard would have loved to watch Beryl's induction into the depraved utopia of the camp play out, she'd important prey of her own to tend to at the base of the watchtower. Her expression soured slightly as she looked down at the [Nyafia] pinned against the wall beneath her arm. Defiant. Scrappy. But ultimately, just another disappointing feline. There was a place for everyone inside of Vanilla's vision of a lewd paradise, that carnal future of absolute debauchery. But, this useless cat might be pushing the boundaries a little.

Despite being something of a rare Pal, it was clear at a glance why [Nyafia] had not been sent as an offering to the [Rayne Syndicate], and it was the same reason that Beryl had been able to buy her from a [Pal Trader] at a cost of close to nothing, “Seriously… not even one positive trait?" The [Lovander] licked her lips, “How fortunate for you that I'm magnanimous enough to put a little work into making you a worthwhile plaything for our Master. Really, though? [Shabby], [Slacker], [Unstable], and [Glutton]? I hope that virgin pussy of yours is at least good for something. A third-rate Pal with a probably fourth-rate cunt, the chance to raise your tail for Master's superior Human cock is just about the best thing that could ever happen to you!"

Vanilla was never afraid to be forceful in her approach, content to bully, berate, browbeat, or even outright rape her way to the future she desired. Or so she would say rather, but the truth of late might be somewhat debateable. She leered down at a female a touch taller than her Master but still much lesser to the three-metre frame of a [Lovander], assessing carefully what was on offer. Distinctly feline, the anthropomorphic [Nyafia] was charcoal furred, save for the bright pink tuft sprouting from the top of her head and drifting low enough to conceal one of her golden yellow eyes. That same obnoxious pink persisted at the end of a black-banded tail, and was found as well about the cuffs and shoulders of the dark dress-like garment she wore.

The slimness of her waist accentuated a rather feminine figure, drawing attention to thick thighs and a modest bust comparable to the Human girl that brought her here, features that the lecherous [Lovander]'s roaming gaze lingered upon for some time. Undeterred by bared fangs and unsheathed claws, the grander female had backed her against the stone and she'd little hope of rescue from any of the other [Dark Type] Pals active in the night; the righteous [Anubis] that might have shown her some mercy was otherwise occupied as well.

Not that she expected to be saved anyway. Such largesse was reserved for the deserving.

[Nyafia] knew full well her value as a Pal. Four negative traits made her such a failure of creation that [Alpha Nyafia] wouldn't even consider keeping her as a pet, the ultimate result of her exile being capture and sale by a [Pal Trader] with a price low enough to account for the expectation that the only thing she was good for was the [Meat Cleaver]. For the [Palpagos Islands], in which the strong ruled and the weak bowed, her place was lower than the dirt.

But, what cat was without pride?

“Screw you, you debauched freak!" [Nyafia] hissed, standing her ground, “You think you're better than me!? So what if my [Passive Skill]s suck!? You think I've not heard it all before!? Come at me, bitch!"

“Oh, I do like them feisty! I've not had any good opposition since [Eikthyrdeer] finally learned her place. The camp has gone far too quiet after she stopped whining all that nonsense about corruption and started getting her pretty doe cunt creamed like the rest of us." [Lovander] sighed into the night, and the feline beneath her arm recoiled from the pheromone laced exhalation, “She makes the most wonderful faces when Master fondles those cute crotch-tits of hers while he breeds her."

Vanilla reminisced fondly, “She's not quite the depraved whore that I'd hoped for yet, but give it time. I want to see what becomes of that matronly streak of hers after we start hatching a few more eggs." A particularly loud moan from Breyl had her glance upwards, and her smirk settled, “Your [Pal Tamer] sounds like she's enjoying herself up there, doesn't she? I always wrote off knotted cocks as being a little underwhelming. Except for the fun at the end, you can only get fucked by about two thirds of it for most of the breeding – but listen to Catrian reaming that Human girl's inexperienced little pussy. Maybe I was a little too harsh on canines, huh? It's almost a shame that my own perfect cunt is Master exclusive!" Not counting the tongues and muzzles of her lessers, of course.

The [Lovander] continued her train of thought, steamrolling over any chance of a response from [Nyafia] as she mused, “I was worried another Human might make a mess of my plans, but that Beryl girl understands the dynamic. I might have to think about rewarding her. This is what you're for. This is what you're all for: Different flavours of slut and whore to be offered up to our Master!"

“Nyah!" The smaller Pal shifted to the side to dodge around [Lovander], but her resistance did naught but earn her a restraining hand about her throat and a shove back to the stone, “Did you corner me like this just to talk a load of shit!? What the hell to you want!?"

“Hmph. So angry. Chip on your shoulder by chance? I can't say I blame you." Vanilla scoffed, “What do I want? I want you to get with the program, like your [Pal Tamer] up there. That girl may hold your [Pal Sphere], but you both belong to Master." She leaned close to the pinned [Nyafia], “You don't get to skulk around camp, scowling at anyone that crosses your path, dodging tasks and filching extra food, pretending you're not a part of this. There's a place for everyone in my lewd paradise, even you. I gave you a few days to settle in, but if you're not going to pay your dues putting that [Handiwork] to use or fighting with your claws, then you'd better-"

“You think I don't know that, you dumbass bitch!? You don't need a fucking primer to understand how this place works!" The [Nyafia] shot back, “You think I want to be on the bottom rung of this horny ass camp pecking order!?" She shoved away the restraining hand, “This is a golden chance for a shitty Pal like me to get somewhere in life even with my bogus [Passive Skill]s! I've been trying to seduce that Human ever since I got here – but you assholes keep getting in the way!"

Released at last, she squared up to the much larger [Lovander], thrusting out an accusing claw, “I try to ambush him in his sleep, and he's too wrapped up in the wings of that annoying [Tombat] for me to even see him! I go in the morning, and the fucking [Anubis] is bouncing in his lap moaning about how much of a boyslut he is! Then Master teleports off to who knows where all day with his fighting Pals – all of which come back fucking cream fucking pied, fucking fuck!" The [Unstable] feline continued her explosive outburst, “Then that pedantic fucking lizard [Leezpunk] cuts me off, whining about some sort of fucking 'schedule', and that it's '[Wixen]'s turn for cuddles', or some stupid shit! And now, when I finally get a fucking chance to make my move while he's watching my whore [Pal Tamer] get knotfucked, YOU stop me!"

“…oh." It was a rare thing indeed to see a [Lovander] lost for words. Vanilla frowned. Come to think of it, their Master did now have quite a lot of Pals to manage, hungry not only for pleasure, but affection as well; and even with [Leezpunk]'s carefully devised (though often ignored) turn order, competition for the Human's attentions had become quite fierce. Of course, Vanilla didn't intend to give up her time for anyone, especially not the post-mating cuddles and- no! No [Lovander] would be interested in something so wholesome as that – it was just an errant thought! She shook her head as if to dislodge it and her frown deepened.

“Hmph." The lewd lizard tilted her head and decided to indulge [Nyafia], “I suppose you do have a point." A combination of [Lovander] pheromones and the status buffs bestowed by his tablet had given Luke a near-bottomless well of lust and sexual stamina, but there were only so many hours in the day, and he'd more to accomplish before the dusk than breeding his growing harem. What chance did a new arrival have to elbow her way through the long-standing hierarchy to nab a turn for themselves? Sharp elbows would only make her enemies, and she'd not the obvious value to withstand such ire.

[Nyafia] flexed her claws, chest heaving. Cursed from the start with four negative [Passive Skill]s, she'd survived this far mostly on spite. Her memory of the sneering faces of [Alpha Nyafia] and his clowder of hanger-ons had pursued her across the water from [Feybreak Isle], raw fury keeping her alive as she washed up as waterlogged prey for a passing [Pal Trader] to capitalise on. And now, rather than face the [Meat Cleaver], or be forced to barely scrape by as the disposable pawn of some loser rookie [Pal Tamer], she'd the chance to carve out a place for herself using skills unimpacted by her terrible stats.

And now she pushed her luck, jabbing Vanilla in the chest with her pointing claw, “You wanna be Queen of some lewd paradise!? Move the fuck over! I'm usurping your fat pink ass! There's only room for one Pal on top, and it's gonna be me! Nobody is gonna take me as a chump ever again! Not you, not anyone!"

There was an extended quiet in the wake of her challenge, one in which she was allowed to sit with the statement that she'd just made and wallow in the foolishness of challenging this particular Pal species in the arena of carnality. Then, with a resolute smirk, Vanilla seized her by the throat and pinned her again to the stone, leaning in close and licking her ear, “Ha!" [Lovander] snorted, looking quite amused, “You? A [Nyafia] is proclaiming herself my rival? Virgin dross that's never known a cock?" The lewd lizard cackled, “Oh, that does sound like fun."

The little spark of annoyance at herself for lingering on the strange allure of wholesomeness needed some redress, and now she was offered the perfect opportunity. This is what a [Lovander] was supposed to be. A sexually aggressive creature that would drag this lesser female into her proper place as the lowest plaything of her Master. Not a lovestruck Pal that fantasised about handholding and cuddling with her Human! She steeled herself and continued, “Well, if you're finished with your little temper tantrum…" Her expression turned predatory, “How about we put you to the test…"

… … …

… …

…

An hour later, Luke descended the ruined watchtower's [Ladder], leaving behind a whimpering and well-bred Beryl tied to the swollen cock of his [Anubis]. The slow regeneration of her [HP] had kept her grasping cunt tight despite the rigours of a brutal knotfucking, a Pal's high stamina drawing out the breeding into a marathon. Copious in production as all Pals seemed to be, Catrian had plastered the insensate Human girl with his seed, pale flesh left glistening with his essence and sunburst orange pubic hair sloshing with canine cream. Luke was honestly a little disappointed that he hadn't taken a turn himself, but watching it all play out with an expression of aloof disinterest was a key part of his ruler persona. And if he got a fellow Human pregnant, then that really would be the end of his ambitions to escape the [Palpagos Islands].

Though, life as ruler of this lewd camp probably wouldn't be so bad.

Luke shook his head. No. The Pals were all just working off the effects of the [Lovander] pheromones with him, and his relationship with Beryl was a purely transactional one. It wasn't like there were any real feelings involved beyond the affections of carnal camaraderie. If he really believed that there were, then he would have given up on getting past the Mists quite some time ago.

The highest level of the corkscrew of platforms which formed the castle-town was covered with farmland, and while the strange rules of the [Palpagos Islands] had no requirement for crops to have sunlight, it felt a little wrong to place the collection of plantations in shadow. His Pals were missing most of the proficiencies required to operate the farms, so he'd assigned responsibility of this area to Beryl for now. [Red Berry], [Tomato], [Lettuce], [Wheat], [Potato], along with the meat he'd always hunt while exploring, they'd now access to quite the range of meals from the [Cooking Pot]. But, it seemed like a waste to have the aspiring [Pal Tamer] and wombslave here tending plants when she could be out raising her levels or getting bred into gravidity.

Which is why he'd had her carry an appeal to her former Chieftain. Luke would be accepting settlers willing to work for him from here on out, but made sure that the message communicated included exactly what sort of camp that he ran. He wasn't expecting many takers, having made an enemy of the [Rayne Syndicate], and being entirely open about his engagement in the taboo of mating with Pals, but even a few more Humans would really help manage the camp even if they kept their distance from him. Well, if not, then he'd have to hunt down some Pals that could handle [Watering] and [Planting]. Maybe he should finally toss a [Pal Sphere] at the [Dinossom] he'd often spy tottering around the [Plateau of Beginnings]? Those thighs were really something…

He took a deep breath and exhaled a contented sigh into the nighttime chill, adjusting the pants of the [Cloth Outfit] he wore when about the camp. Well, there was a problem that he should have had one of the nocturnal [Dark Type] Pals tending to while he watched Beryl fucked into a cumdrunk stupor. But, there was too much work to be done for him to demand [Tombat] or [Leezpunk] kneel between his legs and worship his cock for the night, and he needed [Lovander] to keep an eye on the [Nyafia] which Beryl had brought with her.

“[Nyafia], huh? That one looks like trouble…" Luke mused into the gloom, thinking on the latest Pal to join the camp. Along with a [Cake] and herself, Beryl had offered up the cat as a tribute to him to smooth her entry into the camp, and he now took out his tablet to again check her entry in the Paldex, “Strongly dislikes anyone catching a glimpse of its concealed eye. If you insist on trying, it'll burst into tears and ignore you for two weeks." Not exactly the most useful information, but the little ball of feline aggression's collection of [Passive Skill]s told quite the story.

The [Palpagos Islands] embraced the philosophy of survival of the fittest, and Luke recognised that this was a place in which the weak were compelled to yield to the strong in a strict hierarchy of power imposed by instincts which even he had started to feel. He smiled and spoke with some admiration, “Even with stats like those, she made it. No wonder she looks so scrappy. She'll make a great partner for Beryl starting out…"

Easy on the eyes, too. Luke huffed and shook his head, conscious of the exotic tastes he'd developed since arriving here. He had to admit, he did have some expectations given the pattern of each of the Pals inducted into the camp offering themselves up to him – or being offered by [Lovander]. Maybe [Chillet Ignis] or [Beakon] would beat her to the punch? Well, not tonight. He'd been very specific in his orders to have everyone leave him alone this evening. Because today, he'd finally reached the level necessary to complete the craft he'd spent the last near-three-months yearning for: The [Fine Bed].

[Tombat]'s wings were an excellent blanket, [Eikthyrdeer] his backrest, and [Cremis] his pillow, but when he put all of those mitigations together, the [Shoddy Bed] often collapsed under their weight; and he'd lost count of the number of times that competitive sex with [Lovander] had left him needing to either use a [Repair Kit] or rebuild it entirely. It was uncomfortable, it creaked, the blanket was scratchy, the frame made his back stiff, and now it was finally gone! The replacement was sturdy and comfortable, with a thick mattress and cozy duvet, and Luke anticipated his first truly restful good night sleep since he washed up on the beach.

But, it was not meant to be.

Luke's home was a stone keep found at the bottom layer of the camp, as well-fortified as it was comfortable, and filled with all of the conveniences that his tablet would allow him to construct. Plush carpets, orderly shelves, he'd even got a full [Bathroom Set]; much as he preferred using the [Hot Spring]s with the Pals to bathe, the unlock was well worth his [Technology Points] for the [Antique Toilet] alone (the less said about how he'd coped until now the better). He'd taken his time decorating, and while the result could hardly be considered a palace, it was sufficient to have Beryl behold him with wide-eyed admiration as she witnessed a sight so far removed from her [Small Settlement] of run-down corrugated iron and woodscrap buildings.

Two stories of more luxury than any survivalist had any right to expect, the small mansion was the heart of the settlement, housing the Pal Box inside a locked central chamber and Luke's private quarters as well, from which was now echoing the drawn-out whine of a feline caterwaul. A large bedroom was important if he wanted the space to be accessible to Pals, and the Master of the castle-town would usually be sharing it with a few of his companions each night. This time he opened the [Stone Door] to the two that were brazen enough to disregard his orders that he be left alone for the night, and could hardly say that he was too disappointed with the sight that greeted him.

[Lovander] leaned against the headboard of his new [Fine Bed] in a seated position, the [Nyafia] in her lap facing away from her, head resting between the mane-obscured breasts of the lewd lizard as she was held from behind. She'd been stripped of her dresslike garment to bare fine charcoal fur, the grappling legs of the grander female behind her forcing her own to spread and show off the pink groove of a snug feline pussy clenching around Vanilla's large probing fingers.

[Nyafia] cringed at the sight of her new Master as he entered, struggling to close her parted legs to no avail while one modest breast was lewdly groped by her assailant to spark a pheromone-induced pleasure which had her small cunt clench down in a humiliating orgasm, “No, nyah! Not – like this…!"

She'd a grand plan of seduction in mind, clumsy virgin though she was, with such high hopes of usurping [Lovander] and the other Pals to claim the place of favourite for herself, but the true Queen of this lewd utopia fully intended to nip her feeble revolution in the bud. She'd been dragged from the watchtower down to the keep, had her head locked between the thighs of the perverted reptile, and now her muzzle was smeared with pheromone-laced femslick, her lungs filled with the scent of musky female arousal, and her mind swimming in a lust-driven fugue.

“You were hardly much of a challenge, sweetheart…" [Lovander] crooned into her triangular ear, withdrawing her fingers from her climaxing cunt to spread them before her Master and show off the drip of syrupy grool, “Not that I'm not enjoying teaching you your place, but I did expect a little more resistance after you threw the gauntlet like that. Not ten minutes later, you had your muzzle buried in the pussy of your Mistress without me even needing to hold you down. Why so shameful now? Worried that Master will think you're an easy slut?" She nipped at the feline's shoulder, draping her reptilian tongue up and over her cheek, “You are, [Nyafia]. You are an easy slut. For all your defiance, you barely needed a whiff of my cunt before you were muzzle deep into it."

“No…! This is-!"

[Lovander] cackled, her voice filled with sadistic glee as the sudden return and twist of her two large digits to feline cunt sublimated her attempts to refute the claim, “So aggressive. At least [Tombat]'s pranks can be amusing, but as for you and all of this impotent mewling of yours… I think you're in need of some proper discipline." Again she withdrew her fingers, now setting a hand to each modest breast to tweak small pink nipples, catching the eye of her Master as she made sport of her prey.

Luke suppressed a small sigh. He should have known better than to expect that he might get a night off, no matter what orders he might have issued to the camp. Though, considering the magnitude of his libido after so long living inside of a cloud of [Lovander] pheromones, the presentation of this writhing feline was just what he needed to slake his sexual appetite. Even though it came at the cost of his newly crafted [Fine Bed], already wet the product of gushing femgasms and inundated with the lewd lizard's scent. If they were determined to break it in like this, then so be it. What sort of man would he be if he turned his nose up at this fine offering of carnal satisfaction?

He took his time removing his [Cloth Outfit], finding no need for words while [Lovander] continued her torment of the lesser female, “Can you feel it? That mind-numbing throb of pure lust that stifles everything else in this wonderful wave of bone-deep arousal? That want, that need to be bred, the emptiness inside your womb, so desperate for cock that your cervix twitches? Normally I have to hold back on my pheromones so I don't break Master's whores, but an aggressive little thing like you, with no useful skills to speak of, and a huge chip on your shoulder? Is it really a great loss if I overwrite everything about you with pleasure?"

She licked her lips, “Since you're useless for everything else, I think that life as Master's lowest sextoy is what you're going to be for, nothing but a set of holes for him and his other males to sate their cocks with, a tongue-bathing toy for the girls as well." The [Lovander] bit at the neck of the squirming female, smirking into the bite as it drew with it a distinct sound of pleasure, “You're a loser, [Nyafia]. Are all you feline Pals masochists that get off on being bullied by your betters? Right at the bottom of the pecking order is exactly where you belong. And I think it's where you'd most like to be!"

Her fingers seized and twisted, drawing out the pliable flesh of petite nipples, her fangs finding further purchase in the fur of her neck before drawing back to whisper more poison as she reaffirmed, “Master's cock will be a rare treat for you. Yes – I think I'll have you spend your time cleaning the cumstreaked shafts of the males that breed your whore [Pal Tamer] and suckling superior Human seed out of the creamed cookies and gaped undertails of the rest of us. Cats like grooming, don't they?" She nipped at the ear before her, “You want it, too. You like the thought of falling all the way down, not that you have far to go. That's why your cunt is streaming and your hips twitching upwards…"

[Nyafia] struggled valiantly, these ruinous fantasies of submission sinking into her lust-drunk consciousness. She'd fought since the day that she'd hatched, so desperate to find a place of her own, angry, spiteful, every ounce of aggression she possessed had been directed in defiance of her cruel fate. But, why? Why did the vision of her as her Master's lust-drunk fucktoy appeal more to her than the idea of being his equal?

“Ny~ah! I – no! I don't want – your pheromones are…!"

“Hmph." Lovander clicked her tongue, “All my pheromones do is make everyone super horny. If you make a habit of putting your muzzle into my cunt, then maybe your feeble little mind will snap, but barely an hour of huffing my scent while I twist my fingers into your fifth-rate little pussy? If the thought of being Master's lowest whore made your womb itch, then that's on you, you loser feline…" The lewd lizard smirked, “Every Pal in this camp thinks they're so deep, but you're all such simpletons. Rivals turned lovers, bondage fanatics, service kinks, and just simple fucking masochism, you're all so easy to figure out…"

Another rough molestation of her chest, tight squeeze of punished nipples, the bite at her shoulder advancing into a nip of the throat. It was painful, the forceful discipline of a grander Pal beating a lesser into her place, but no agony was greater than the emptiness of her desperate pussy. Locked inside [Lovander]'s grapple, legs held wide, arms pinned to her sides in the embrace, she could do naught but fruitlessly thrust her hips upwards in humiliating want, “No…! Please!" She whined helplessly, “I get it! I shouldn't have challenged you like that! You can be Master's favourite! Just – just let me cum! I'll do anything!"

“Anything?" The lewd lizard licked her lips, “That was far too quick. Now I'm all disappointed. I wanted to take my time wearing you down, you know?" She scoffed, “Fine. I suppose sometimes it really is just that easy, especially when you're dealing with some hopeless virgin." The mattress shifted as their Master joined them, the Human surveying his prize as Lovander thrust up her hips to better show off the lesser female, “You're the lowest Pal in the camp, you bottom-class slut. When Master's fighting Pals get back from exploring, you're going to clean off Mint's spent ornament of a cock, and lick the cum from Glace's thick canine cunt. You'll join that [Pal Tamer] of yours on your knees, tending to any Pal that needs some relief. And if you work hard, maybe, just maybe, I'll smother you with my top rate pussy while Master reams your pathetic little fuckhole out of pure pity. Understood?" Her eyes flashed with authority, “Say it, then. Say it to him."

It couldn't be said that anyone would be in much of a hurry to accuse [Nyafia] of having a particularly well-developed personality, but the feline instinctively railed against the accusation that there was nothing to her but spite and some sort of stunted psychosexual inferiority complex. But then again... She'd fought long and hard for an easy life, and wasn't a future of lust-drunk satisfaction about as easy as it got? All that a weak Pal could do was surrender when their time came, but it was the privilege of those submissive creatures to at least be able to choose their Master, the one to whom they pledged themselves body and soul.

So, she turned her gaze to the Human. Muscular and lightly tanned, dark haired, and with kind eyes which had a dominant glint to them should one look a little deeper; he was pleasing to look at, at least. She hardly knew anything about him, but that hardly mattered. He was her conqueror, even if her defeat had come by the proxy of [Lovander] – her domination was his domination, her victory was his victory. She stifled another pathetic moan as Vanilla made further sport of her chest, toying with her body while her masochistic cunt streamed with the femslick of want. [Nyafia] took a breath, and in her exhalation did away with all that remained of her resistance. And then…

“I'm Master's lowest whore…" She said quietly, prompted into volume by the punishing tweak of her vulnerable nipple, “I'm Master's lowest whore!" The beaten feline repeated, “I'm no good for fighting, I'm no good in the camp, all I'm good for is – is – is being used by Master and other Pals that are better than me!" She stuttered through the shame, “I – I'll do it all, just like you say! Male Pals that Master doesn't have time to fuck into bitchgasms can empty their balls into my – my bottom-rate loser pussy! And I'll use my muzzle on females that are higher ranked than me!"

“That's right." Vanilla crooned, “Everyone bows to Master, but after listening in while Catrian breeds that Human girl, I've been thinking that perhaps I went a little too far pushing the boys to turn into broken submissives, their loser cocks nothing but ornaments that show off how much they enjoy getting fucked by a real male. From now on, you're the lowly cumdump that they'll be fucking their bitch-cream into when Master isn't on their backs. That too-small feline pussy of yours is going to stretch around dragon cock and canine knot, you're going to get your insides scraped by ridges and barbs, and your womb fucked by the males that own you."

She licked at [Nyafia]'s exposed ear, her reptilian tongue sending shivers through the smaller female's body, “You'll learn to eat my cunt just the way I like, and you'll learn to love it. You're the plaything of [Katress] and [Wixen]'s competitive games, the restrained slut of [Leezpunk]'s bondage for anyone to use, the spade-diving whore of the camp ferals. This is what you're for."

“Y-yes! I – I want it all!" Completely lost in her own lust, she fixated on the Human before her, thrusting out her hips in sheer desperation as she laboured against the restraint of Vanilla's embrace. After a lifetime of struggle, the [Lovander] dangled a lewd salvation before her eyes, a chance to share in the same satisfaction as the other camp Pals, the same ruinous pleasure that her [Pal Tamer] screamed into the night as [Anubis] knotted her inexperienced little cunt, the same fellowship of devotion that bound them all together.

At last, she was released, and Luke needed to brace himself lest her pounce knock him to the floor. He'd taken his time undressing, listening to the indecipherable sequence of animalistic calls that formed the language of Pals as Vanilla worked her magic. He trusted the lewd lizard… mostly. At the very least, it was clear that their conversation was to [Nyafia]'s liking from the sounds of pleasure ushered from her small muzzle, and the endless stream of femslick coating her thighs. He shifted his centre of gravity to spin the feline creature on the spot, falling back onto the [Fine Bed] to find himself dragged against [Lovander], reclining with the great reptile as his backrest while [Nyafia] crawled between his legs.

There was a ferocity to her movements, desperate arousal awakening something animalistic and feral in the lust-drunk cat as she nuzzled against the first cock she'd ever known, a purr in her throat and shiver through her body, “Master! Master's scent! Master's cock!" She licked with her rasping tongue, nursing the semi-erection of a night of arousal into full rigidity with an inexperienced tongue. Instinct guided her motions, her small muzzle capturing the head and suckling with a lewd smacking of the lips, collecting in her mouth the musk of Human essence, a potency which melded with [Lovander] pheromones into an addicting ambrosia.

“I think we're a little bit past that sort of gentle foreplay…" Vanilla murred, drawing her arms about her Master in an embrace from behind, she let her hands drape over his thighs, one finding the base of his cock to direct his maleness skyward, and the other grasping the side of [Nyafia]'s head. She'd often invite her Master to forcibly breed her muzzle by placing both of his hands about her own skull, encouraging the act of domination as a part of her shaping him into the ruler that she desired. Now, she herself forced the inexperienced feline into the same position to teach her place as a mere plaything, a tool for the pleasure of her betters.

Luke was more than happy to relax and give himself over to his [Lovander], allowing himself an appreciative moan of satisfaction as she dragged [Nyafia] down his length until her nose ground against the base of his cock. The lewd lizard used her thumb to manoeuvre the streak of hair covering the cat's eye away from her face, delighting in the intrinsic sense of humiliation caused by forcing her to meet the gaze of her Master while her purring throat massaged his superior Human maleness. Rather comfortable lazing between the pillowy breasts of his lewd pet, he resisted the urge to thrust up his hips, leaving the claiming of his newest whore to the pervert lizard's guiding hands.

[Nyafia] was pulled back, “Oh? I was expecting a little gagging, but it looks like you're quite the natural at this. Are you sure you're a virgin? Did [Alpha Nyafia] give you a try, after all? Daddy's discipline for choking on his cock stick?" Vanilla taunted, and then licked her lips, “So much more comfortable than barbs or ridges, but not so boring as something smooth and aquatic, or the waste of time that is a cloaca. Human dick really is the best. Nice and thick, with that little upwards curve that grinds into my cunt just right, with those fat orbs churning up a nice creamy load of superior race cum to hose down my Master exclusive womb."

She gave a happy sigh, merciless in slamming down the lesser female with a lewd 'gluck' sound, “Oh, you'll learn the difference well enough. It doesn't matter how big or exotic the cock pounding your bottom-grade little cunt, nothing compares to the one that owns you." Another drag to the tip, and another forceful thrust to the base, “Can you even understand me anymore, or are you too far gone? Not that I really care…"

Proving quite pliable in the powerful hands of the lewd lizard, [Nyafia] was able to achieve quite a pace, throwing herself into the rhythm of submission as her Master throat-fucked a steady stream of musky precum into her belly. Yes. This is what she was for. The almost-compliment for her being able to take his cock without complaint made her tail raise and her pawtoes curl as the first thing approaching positive reinforcement of her life forced her into a small climax.

That was new. If she worked hard as the camp's free-use whore, would others say the same to her? Would [Anubis] tell her that she had a serviceable cunt if she could take his knot and have her womb hosed down without fainting under him? Would [Leezpunk] give her a pass if she worshipped his segmented shaft to his satisfaction? Or [Alpha Chillet] indulge her in some affection if she could withstand the cold of his body long enough for him to cream her pussy to cumflation?

The vibration of her throat ascended into a whorish moan as these ruinous fantasies played out in her head, visions in which her complete surrender was the crucible on which her value was wrought. The Human that [Lovander] was using her as a tool to pleasure was the sole individual that could decide her worth – so what if she was a failure in all other things? If she could take his superior cock to his approval, and serve as a cumrag for the Pals beneath him, then there was meaning to her existence after all, and she'd a place at last to belong. A place that she wanted, a surrender that she yearned for.

“Get ready, you trash tier slut…" [Lovander] crooned, sensing that her Master was close. She watched the cat crumbling beneath her, able to see through her cascading surrender as obviously as she would should she be able to read the lesser female's mind. Pals were quite malleable creatures when it came down to it, perhaps the same could be said of the Humans of the [Palpagos Islands] as well. In the end, it didn't take much to twist the fundamental instincts of domination and submission which suffused the lands inside the Mists into a hierarchy of carnality, and this was the foundation of Vanilla's lewd utopia. Master at the top, the ruler of a debauched Paradise, her beneath him, and then everyone else, sluts, whores, and toys, for them to enjoy, a place for everyone in lust-drunk surrender.

Not that she was thinking of anything so high-minded at this particular moment. Not when she'd the delight of watching this pathetic runt of a [Nyafia] grinding her hips together in a gushing femgasm while her Master growled out his peak. [Lovander] made sure to pull the lesser female back for the first jets of Human seed to land in her muzzle, a taste for her to get used to savouring while the remainder of his climax painted her face in vulgar lines of thick pearlescence. It soaked into her fur, a mark of ownership, the cloying scent and flavour of potent masculinity making the virginal cat swoon beneath him, falling against the mattress and curling up as her own paws were guided by sheer instinct into the humiliation of masturbation.

“Master…!" She whined the word in the incomprehensible Pal language, repeating it over and over while sweeping her tongue through the load of cum inside her maw, a broad paw rubbing feverishly into her crotch as she squirmed in pleasure. What right had the lowest whore of the camp to dignity? [Nyafia] rolled onto her knees, tail high and swaying, pressing her head into the mattress to better smear the mess of her Master's orgasm into her fur. She spread her small feline pussy, the petite fuckhole that would barely manage the cock that owned her, the drag of her claws against thighs baring the tight pucker of her undertail as well, “Please…!"

Luke didn't need to understand the language to recognise begging when he saw it. The little bit of sadism in him toyed with the idea of seizing her tailbase in hand and brutally fucking the wrong hole, an act which Vanilla certainly would have approved of, but he-… actually, why shouldn't he? This Pal belonged to him down to the last inch, and the lust-addled whore clearly had a masochistic streak.

He rose to his knees, breaking free of his [Lovander]'s embrace, “One night of peace, that's all I wanted." His fingers swept through the fur of her tail, down to the base which he gripped in a tight fist, dragging up the haunches of the lowly Pal, “You two were lucky I needed the relief after watching Beryl take that knotfucking…" He shot Vanilla a look, “Or I'd have made you go a week without my cock."

That threat was enough to have her eyes widen in shock, and he pushed the advantage, setting his cock beneath the small feline cunt of his conquest and sawing back and forth to lubricate himself with a generous deluge of femslick, “You're getting too cocky, Vanilla. Maybe a little time bound up with [Rope] would help you remember who is in charge. Should I put you in the corner so you can watch me fuck the others? Or tie you up in the middle of the castle-town and see how many of your campmates want to work off some stress on you?"

“Anything but that! Master!" [Lovander] answered quickly, though now that she'd a moment to consider it, she didn't really believe his threat. She took a breath and righted herself, and then made a show of meekly lowering her head, “Well, Master… I'm sure you'd miss my perfect cunt too much to go a full week with nothing but these lesser Pals to sate your lust on…" The heart-shaped maebari was absent from her crotch, long since discarded to reveal her soaked pussy, and as his eyes flickered down to take in the sight, she figured out precisely how best to demonstrate her apology.

Vanilla pulled herself from her restful spot, falling forwards to collapse alongside the [Nyafia] in the same posture of submission, widening her stance to show herself off just as lewdly as the feline, whose sudden yowl made clear precisely what she would soon be in for as her Master sheathed himself beneath the new arrival's tail in a single thrust of his cock. She grinned. Yes. This sort of domination was precisely what she wanted in him as a ruler, and what better punishment for this small defiance than a rough ass-fucking for the virgin, and a demonstration of her place for Vanilla? The useless feline might be the lowest ranked whore of the camp, but every one of them was a slut for their Master all the same.

[Nyafia] cried out in pained pleasure, the potency of [Lovander] pheromones, the scent of her Master, and her own awakening as a true slut, turning the searing stretch of her overstuffed undertail into an ecstasy of pleasure against the back of her gushing cunt. The yowling ululation heightened into a shuddering moan as the hypersensitive Pal found her first true masochistic climax, the slap of his hand against her exposed buttock making her whole body seize down on his perfect cock while her cunt streamed its gratitude into her furred thighs below.

The grasp of her tailbase in his fist was painful, each thrust of his hips met with the downwards drag of her body into him, but if not for the sharp sensation of it she probably already would have fainted beneath him. [Lovander] continued to whisper her poison, despite mirroring the posture of submission at her side, “You take cock well, tailbitch. Did you really think you'd earned it in your cunt yet? That too-tight feline fuckhole he'll barely be able to bottom out in? Master won't be giving you a proper womb-plundering until you've shown you can be a good cumrag, and gotten a good stretching out by your betters!"

Breathing was hard, every exhalation a juttering whine, every intake of breath a desperate gasp. How had the [Anubis] looked so joyful with this under his tail!? Pain and pleasure melded into one and her mind whitened out into a series of imagined depravities. Would a knot in her inferior Pal cunt tighten her other hole into a better experience for her Master? How would she manage to breathe at all if he fucked her while she buried her face into the gushing spade of one of the camp ferals?

“I'm…! I'm…!" Her voice was imbued with the heightened tone of sheer bliss, “I'm gonna…!"

The cumstained mattress muffled her scream as the most potent orgasm of her life robbed [Nyafia] of thought, her Master continuing to fuck her through the limp surrender of her loss of consciousness. From that instant on, the rest of the night passed in dreamlike fragments of debauched pleasure, each half-remembered moment like a dream. She was in [Lovander]'s lap, her cunt stirred up by long reptilian fingers while her Master fucked her creampied undertail with a ruinous shlicking sound, the mess of his seed leaking into the matted fur of her thighs. She was on her back, folded over herself while a serpentine tongue ate her Master's seed from her gaped opening, each breathless exhalation gasped over her drenched cunt while Vanilla was bred in the wrong hole just as vigorously. She was on her back, smothered by the humanlike femininity of her Mistress, her legs held spread as their Master continued to pump his potent essence into her body.

[Nyafia] couldn't tell if they had slept between pleasures, or if in those moments that she couldn't remember, her body had simply been made use of by her Master and the [Lovander] as a toy for their debauchery, but in the end dawn came, and with it her position as the lowest whore of the camp, the cumrag of her betters and Human-owned slut, was engraved upon her Soul.

Wakefulness came to the sight of her [Pal Tamer] set upon the bed next to her, lying back against the headrest with her knees raised and legs spread, her chest heaving as she gasped out in the same sort of pained pleasure that [Nyafia] had so enjoyed. Her belly was swollen in pregnancy, the gestation of only a single night to bring an egg to term, and now under the watchful gaze of their Master, she prepared to pass it before him.

Beryl blushed, squeezing her eyes shut to the raw humiliation of it all. This was the second time that she'd delivered an egg while being watched by her Chieftain, and now she did it at the side of her own cumdrenched Pal, the cat's undertail as gaped and well-creamed as her own knot-stretched cunt. She moaned helplessly. This was what she had chosen, an indulgence for her own perversions and the freedom to pursue a new future under a new ruler. If this is what he willed of her, then so be it – it was his due.

Brown and black-patterned, a [Huge Rocky Egg], a little more than fist sized despite the imposing name, now pressed against the inner gate of her cumdrenched cunt, its descent from her womb bringing with it a humiliating deluge of canine cream. Just as he was bid, Catrian had fucked her through to the dawn, until his knot had worn her battered pussy loose and his [Anubis] balls were fully emptied into her servile insides.

She wished she could blame the abundance of [Lovander] pheromones for the pleasure she found in passing a Pal egg, but they'd not been present the first time, and she'd still cum herself stupid while birthgasming out [Chillet Ignis]. There was a unique pleasure to it, an agony which strained against her regenerating [HP], the allure of the taboo of interspecies breeding, and the humiliation of being watched deliver the results of her perversions. Beryl reached down and used her fingers to spread the lips of her streaming pussy, barely able to find purchase against the mess of femcum and [Anubis] essence. She lifted up her hips, and still keeping her eyes shut, made sure to show herself off for her Chief.

“You blinded yourself last time, too." Luke commented, stifling a small yawn as he observed. So much for his restful night of sleep, he'd been up for most of it doling out a brutal ass-fucking to his new [Nyafia], and a proper punishment to the wilful [Lovander], “Look down, Beryl. I want you to watch."

The Human girl did, and the sight made her whimper even more pathetically. Through sunburst orange pubic hair, the cumsloshed mess of her Pal-defiled cunt was split by the cresting egg, the pink lips of her femininity twitching in climax as her hand upon her abdomen confirmed the mass she was pushing out. Her toes curled, and she seized herself beneath each thigh to press her knees into the gravidity of her belly, pushing hard against the cum-basted shell.

Catrian had acquitted himself well, and Luke considered rewarding his [Anubis] with a good breeding of his own when he next got the chance, “This is what you're for, wombslave. You're breeding stock for my Pals, just like you said." He tilted his head to the side, noticing that [Nyafia] was awake and with eye-contact he communicated an obvious order. The newly trained feline didn't miss a beat, throwing herself down before her own birthing [Pal Tamer] and setting the rasp of her tongue against the lake of canine cum through which the egg was passing, each drag of her lash against the straining pink of spread lips and a quivering clit exposed to the air by sheer pressure.

Beryl screamed out her orgasm, bringing her legs together in a spasm which forced the egg a little further into her in an action reminiscent of the knotfucking she'd had from the one that had put it there to begin with, “Chief…! Chief, please! It's too much!" Oversensitised, she squirmed into the lust-soaked bedding, but her Pal didn't give up. Even with her garbage [Passive Skill]s, she'd level enough to be far superior in strength to the Human girl, and clawed paws now placed themselves on each thigh, keeping her legs parted wide while the feline aggressively dined on her cumsloshed crotch.

There was a sight that Luke would forever commit to memory. Contractions pushed the egg until it began to emerge from her defiled cunt, and then the clench of orgasm drew the mass back in, “You're fucking yourself with your own egg." He smirked, “Good. Whatever hatches from it will fuck that wombslave fucksleeve of yours as well. If you get a son with good [Passive Skill]s, he'll be breeding you along with his father. And if it's a daughter, then maybe [Nyafia] here will be able to share the job of eating you out when you birth the next one for me…"

He spoke the fantasy idly, but for everyone present it was an edict from their ruler spoken with the authority of Master and Chief. And it was enough to have Beryl whine another squirming climax. The same regenerating [HP] which made the ludicrous cycle of chained birthgasms possible had advanced the intensity of her contractions to a point which her shuddering pleasures could no longer push back the egg, and now her ruined pussy formed a lewd O about the emerging mass.

[Nyafia] continued to baste it with her tongue, cleaning the black and brown shell of Beryl's femslick and the cloying thickness of [Anubis]' doggy cum. Entirely lust-drunk herself, she greedily devoured every drop, rocking on her knees while the contents of her own cumbloated insides streamed down her inner thighs. Beryl's cheeks were streaked with tears, the raw shame of indignity melded with the sheer pleasure of her egg reaching its widest point, a stretch which threatened to split her abused cunt as the difference between Large and Huge tiered eggs became apparent. A good thing then that she'd spent the night having an [Anubis] cock tied to her inexperienced pussy.

Between her legs, she could see the egg emerging before the lust-drunk [Nyafia] servicing her, her arousal burgeoning as it dawned on her that this moment of complete depravity also marked her first time with another female. She'd expected it to be the [Lovander] – the same lewd lizard that was currently occupied sucking her Master's cock while he enjoyed the show of her birthing for him. Her focus was entirely upon the egg, just as the Chief commanded, her broken cunt squeezing against it as she rocked on the small of her back. Once. Twice. And then at last she passed the apex of its mass, and in a single motion the [Huge Rocky Egg] descended to the mattress.

The sound which accompanied it was a truly debauched sloshing noise, a humiliating crescendo in which along with the egg, she unleashed all of the canine cream which it had sealed inside of her. Her [Nyafia] still held her legs parted, denying any attempt at modesty as the entirety of her gaped insides were shown off to her Chief, her Master, her owner, every inch of her cum-basted cunt on full display, up to the gloom of her broken cervix and defiled womb. Her inner walls flexed, her eyes rolled back, and once again through birthgasm, Beryl came so hard that she was sent to the white void of oblivion.

It was a state which she'd better get used to – for Luke had every intention of making this a regular occurrence. It would take only minutes for the Human girl's belly to return to its state prior to the pregnancy, and about the same period of time for the [Huge Rocky Egg] to advance from a mass a little bigger than a clenched fist, to something almost as large as the man himself, but at this point the oddities of the [Palpagos Islands] were somewhat par for the course. It was already ridiculous enough that a Human female was able to generate a Pal egg to begin with, never mind everything else. But, Luke wasn't thinking about that. He was too busy looking forward to meeting whatever came out of the other side of the [Egg Incubator]…

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: I suppose this means I'm back from my break! This piece was quite fun to write, especially the egg stuff. Nyafia also ended up quite different to what I originally intended when she hit the page, and I hope I can find some space to introduce some nice city-girl aesthetics into her current form of an aggressive mess with a chip on her shoulder. I'm glad to have gotten this piece out before the next Palworld update, just so I could take the opportunity to lean into the weirdness of Luke's experience of the Palpagos Islands changing around him and only him really being aware of it. Depending on what is requested for the next one, I'm hoping to explore more of that story element with a little adventuring!

This story was made possible by Darkdraconis who very kindly commissioned me to continue the series. It's my first ever commission, and I'm incredibly grateful to him for giving me a nudge to get on with writing after so long away. I hope you enjoyed the completed story, and extra special super thanks to you for requesting it!

Thanks to everyone for your support as always – I appreciate the PMs checking in and the comments to poke me along while I've been absent, cheers for every vote, fave, watch, and every last read. This commissioned series is going to be my current focus, but I'm hoping to clear out some of my other projects as well (and drop a few little side pieces). As Darkdraconis has commissioned this series, he's the one choosing the main Pals, but I'm still in need of some extra characters! Luke is in desperate need of Pals with Planting and Watering, so please comment some suggestions you'd like to see!

Have a most excellent day.