Collide Gamer

“Great Feathered Serpent.”

The three words mixed with the activation of Create I.D. Bits of colour swirled around them, as if a thin layer of oil had been disturbed. There was a pull, a faint pressure, a shifting of his state of being not unlike standing in a moving elevator. Then, all of that stopped and they found themselves in a jungle.

It was extremely similar, yet removed from the jungles of the mundane world. Most extreme was the lack of underbrush. All of the ferns, ivies and bushes that dominated the floor of a jungle were absent. Nothing replaced them, though that did not make their environment more navigable.

The trees were enormous. Thick trunks formed a natural labyrinth of wood, blocking vision in all directions. Dense branches overhead blocked out the light of the sun. It was still brighter than it had been in the Protected Space, where another winter night had fallen.

What unmistakably made the space a jungle rather than a deciduous forest was the humidity. The air felt thick as John forced it into his lungs and had that particular scent of the jungle he had grown accustomed to during his time in Yucatan.

“What are you doing?”

John closed the window and turned his head to find the remnants of Nahoa’s clothing disappearing into her body. Naked and gorgeous, the demigoddess presented her pear-shaped figure with every bit of justified pride a woman such as her should have in her curves. Short of height, small of breasts, wide of hips, and thick of thighs, the caramel-skinned woman was a feast for the eyes. Pale body markings further accentuated her athletic figure. Between the swirls and lines, the midnight blue womb tattoo was almost as eye-catching as the cleft of Venus beneath it.

“What is proper.” Nahoa stretched from her toes to the tips of the axolotl gills behind her pointy ears. “A hunt for a sacred animal is done naked. To slay it with any power other than one’s own would be to let the influence of the upper hells into this second sky.”

“Your pagan faith has strange customs,” Moira stated bluntly.

“Your western faiths have dull customs,” Nahoa retorted. “Sitting in chambers, listening to spoken words, clasping your hands and sacrificing nothing besides your time. Where is your sense of passion?” The axolotl maid’s lips curled into a malevolent grin. “Ah, right, it comes to you after combat – and when you hear we are about to have an orgy. Then your passions run wild with you.”

“I will not be shamed for my needs!” Moira crossed her arms and tried to put up a confident front. Her averted gaze shattered that in its infancy. “We went over this before… your master agreed with me…”

“Aclysia would scold you for using that word in vain. Though I must say…” Nahoa’s mirth drained from her features quickly as her gaze turned to the forest, “…there is no faith of my people anymore. We were deceived. We know this. The Five-Headed Vulture gave us our faith for his own amusement. He told us the stories that would distract us from the truth. What we have left… are stories and a culture we know were built on purple sludge.”

The fourth and final member of their expeditionary party stepped forwards. Rave put an arm around her fellow haremette, hugging her tightly. “It’s yours now,” the feline Lightbearer said. “Heavy as that must be.”

“I have not resolved yet what I do with that.” Nahoa sighed, then reclaimed a weak smile. “The faith cannot stand, for it is false. My people’s customs, however, our rites and traditions, them I can salvage – and I will.” Verdant eyes snapped to Moira. “Many of the Mexica have taken to your faith, Warden of the Golden Rose, but the Mexica will always remain the Mexica. I will see to that.”

Moira stared back for a long while. Unwavering, she stood on her own principles, confident in the righteousness of her beliefs. When she nodded, she did so not because she was intimidated but because she was convinced. “The Order asks for faith in the Lady, not blind obedience to all rituals. Though I consider many of your rituals strange, you have forsaken the path of human sacrifice.”

“Then…” Nahoa jumped on the spot, suddenly striking a cutesy pose, “…can you be a nice girl for me and get out of your clothes?”

“You should have said this before I agreed to come along!”

“Awww, that slipped my mind!” Nahoa knocked the side of her head. “Sorry, I’m just such a dumb bimbo!”

“I know that you are not,” Moira grumbled, even as she grabbed the lower rim of her tank top. She had not changed into her damaged armour for this expedition, taking John’s assurance that it was infinitely unlikely that they would run into something that was an actual challenge for them. Even with that basis covered, watching the redhead take her clothes off was unexpected – as was her handing them to him. “Put them away,” she ordered, shyly.

John took the clothes with the lingering awkwardness of his loner years. He had been entirely right, there had been no underwear, not even panties. The knowledge that these tight clothes had been pressed against Moira’s bare skin all day invoked in him the urge to take a deep whiff. The thought just happened to him. He did not act on it, instead putting the clothes away as Moira had requested.

“Don’t forget mine.” Rave put her own clothes in John’s hands. She had worn basically the same as Moira, a small top with short shorts.

Even after seeing her naked for the thousandth time, the perfection of her body still caused him to proverbially drool. Breasts? Moderately sized, firm, symmetrical, bouncy. Skin? Tanned, taut, glistening. Figure? Athletic, tilted towards bottom heavy. Legs? Went on for days, meaty in all the right places. Lips? Pink and glossy, to a ludicrously gorgeous degree. Eyes? Blue, pink, a window into his favourite soul in the whole world. Hair? A pink mane of inexplicably elegant chaos. Attitude? Justifiably smug.

John took her clothes and put them against his face. “That’s the stuff,” he said, his lungs and nostrils filled with tingling sweetness. Rave always had that bubble-gum aroma to her, mixed with the crispy note of peppermint. He was thoroughly conditioned to get aroused by that smell. The raw amount of pheromones mixed into it only hastened the rise of his erection.

The clothes were put away, his clothes swiftly followed, and, before he could say anything, Rave and Nahoa were already kneeling in front of him. “Really?!” Moira squawked. “Right now?!”

“Mh-hm!” Rave hummed her shameless confirmation, all while sucking John off. Indecent slurps echoed in the jungle, already cacophonic with the cries of various critters. Not caring for any of it, the pink-haired love of his life took him all the way into her throat. The vibrations of her purrs made the walls shift constantly.

“God, yes,” John pressed out and placed a hand between her adorable ears. Scratching them only made her purr louder, the massage of her vibrations more intense.

Nahoa took a break from worshipping his balls with her tongue to address the Warden. “What if I told you this is also part of my traditions?”

“I would not believe you!” Moira snapped back.

“Well, it is,” the demigoddess said with a sly little smile. “Specifically, it is expected of Cihuatlatoanil – that is a queen of the Mexica – who gains her legitimacy through the power of her king to bring about pleasure every thirty minutes during a hunt.” She licked the side of Rave’s face, tasting the mixture of drool and precum that foamed at her lips. “She is expected to suck, dance or be made to climax, however her husband or husband-to-be desires.”

Rave glided upwards, releasing his cock with a loud pop. “Had no idea about that, I just saw a delicious dick right in front of me,” she chirped.

“It is really delicious!” Nahoa gobbled up his entire manhood. Her throat bulged as her gluttonous insides enveloped him like a custom mould. Walls undulated. A fistful of hair gave John his hold. He thrust hard, fucking her mouth with reckless disregard. Rave tried to keep pace with Nahoa’s multiple orgasms, but her fingers could not compete with the sheer ecstasy the axolotl maid received from getting used like this.

John stopped, fully sheathed inside her, and let his climax wash over him. Dumping his cum in her stomach was done with the same casualness with which he had sniffed Rave’s clothes. It was fantastic to have women like this in his life, who shared and lived out his perversions with him. Every tightening of his balls was another wave of gushing pussy juices Nahoa left on the jungle floor.

“Good girls,” the Gamer groaned. He let the duo polish him off in their own time, before releasing his still half-hard cock. “Is that actually a tradition or did you make that up?”

Nahoa licked her lips before answering. “It is true.” Taking John’s hand, she let him pull her to her feet. He did the same for Rave. “When a strong king hunts a beast, he displays what he can provide. The woman is expected to reward him for this. Typically, the reward of the successful hunt would then be the proper deed.” She paused for a moment. “An unsuccessful hunt would see the man’s heart sacrificed to my father.”

‘Of course it would.’ John kept that comment in his head. Emotional vulnerability like that did not need to be met with a snarky comment.

“Are you done?” Moira was leaning against a nearby tree. As open as she had become with her desires, she did not take voyeuristic inspiration every time the harem got lewd around her. That just made her yet more akin to all of them. “That was a quick one.”

John shrugged. “I’m superhuman, not inhuman.” He walked towards Moira, his dick bouncing about annoyingly until his body finally agreed that the sex was done and let the remaining blood flow away. “Anything interesting that way?”

“Yes, actually.” The Warden pushed herself off her tree. “A corridor.”

Her outstretched arm pointed in a certain direction. Taking the excuse given, John got very close to Moira’s face, to see the same alignment she did. He could feel the temperature of her cheeks rising next to him, but she remained stubbornly still.

John ignored the foolishly enticed thrumming of his own heart and concentrated instead on what she was showing him. There was a peculiar gap in the trees. Everywhere else, the random dispersal of the trees limited sight to two dozen metres at the absolute most. The corridor went on for well over a hundred.

“As good a starting point as any,” he decided.

“27 minutes until our next pause,” Nahoa pointed out.

“Well, we better make haste then. We don’t want to have to stop and climax too often.” He winked suggestively at Rave, who winked back.

“Why did I agree to come along?” Moira groaned.

That was a fantastic question only she could answer. John had agreed to Nahoa’s suggestion and, before he knew it, Moira had been pulled along and Rave attached herself to it all. It was not truly his Adventure, so he had let Nahoa do what she wanted.

Though the Warden’s reasons were not entirely mysterious. Likely, she had come along for the same reason Nahoa had wanted her to be here with them: it was obvious, by this point, that Moira very much enjoyed the haremette lifestyle. By this point, she was there during their morning and evening showers, all their daily meetings, the three meals, and hung out with haremettes in every waking moment. During all of that, she lived, laughed, and loved herself like any of his women would.

Truly, the only difference between them and her now was that she did not share their bed.

‘So confusing,’ John thought and took point. Nahoa was the tankiest member of their current party, so she took the rear. As the second sturdiest attendant, the front was his. Not that any of them were squishy. Rave may have been a mobility fighter, but she wasn’t made of paper like Sylph was. Even Sylph was flimsy only compared to current difficulty.

‘If this jungle contains a genuine challenge for us, I would be quite surprised,’ John thought. It was a simple number’s game. Encountering Arkeidos had been brought about because John specifically had needed the kind of item that only someone absurdly powerful could produce. When it came to ‘Great Feathered Serpents’, John had had Sylph one-shot the Quetzalcoatl they had encountered during the Aztec affair.

Gaia could play a cosmic prank on them and have them face off against a level 800 snake, it was not entirely out of the cards. If so, John still had his Escape Rope.

Being strong did wonders for his paranoia.

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