After a week of nonstop building—well, not for Daan—Cowden's center was finally done. Fubuki and Mirko did all the work. Daan mostly watched, jerked off, and got humiliated when either of them felt like it. But now, the island had its core ready.
Fubuki had built the dock, a massive hotel, and a mansion for Daan. And when she built, she didn't hold back. The hotel stood right next to the beach, fifteen stories high, wide as a mall, with black marble walls that glowed under the sun. Neon signs blinked on every floor, flashing things like "FREE USE ZONES" and "NO CONDOMS ALLOWED,"
Inside the hotel, every room was themed. There was a BDSM floor, a watersports spa, a gangbang ballroom, etc. The place even had its own sex shop with aisles full of lube, toys, and vibrators thicker than forearms.
Daan had asked once where they got all the materials. Fubuki just laughed and told him she stole them. She was way too strong for anyone on Earth to stop her. Cargo ships, warehouses, airports—she just flew in, grabbed whatever she wanted with her psychic powers, and flew out. Easy.
The mansion was just for Daan. It was built high on a cliff overlooking the ocean, with glass walls. Private pool. A throne made of polished dildos. Fubuki ensured every room had a camera installed—so Daan could watch the hotel's public use zones from bed.
Today, Fubuki grabbed both Daan and Mirko with her powers and flew them over to the new dock.
They landed at the edge of the dock, the wooden planks shining under the sun. Boats could pull in directly, and the whole place reeked of salty air and wet wood. It was perfect for arrivals.
As soon as they touched down, Mirko shoved Fubuki hard, laughing.
"Fuckin' took long enough," she growled, flexing her thick thighs and slapping Fubuki's fat ass. "All that floating around made your pussy stink. You need to get railed."
Fubuki sneered. "Say that again, and I'll crush your spine."
"Bitch, do it. I'll cum."
While they bickered, the system popped up in front of Daan again.
[#2 Mission: Open the island to the public. Get at least 20 visitors to eat at the canteen.]
Daan gulped. "Hey, uhm, the island's open to the public now," he said, hoping to avoid another kick to the balls.
Fubuki rolled her eyes and flipped him off. "Whatever. I'm going to get fucked. Don't bother me unless you have cum to offer." She flew off toward the jungle, her thick ass bouncing with every psychic push, tits nearly tearing her dress open as she vanished over the trees.
Mirko laughed, grabbing her crotch. "I'll work the canteen. I wanna see how many guys can fuck me stupid."
"Thanks," Daan said as Mirko winked and strutted toward the canteen, hips swinging like wrecking balls. Her leotard hugged every curve, but it wasn't holding much back. Her pussy lips were outlined clearly, puffed up and soaked. Her tits bounced wildly with every step—massive, globular, and too damn jiggly for physics to make sense. Her nipples poked out like gumdrops, thick and hard.
By late afternoon, a luxurious yacht pulled up at the dock. It looked expensive, with gold trim, loud music, and many rich-looking people standing on deck. 5 spoiled brats, probably nepo babies.
Mirko stood at the edge of the dock, legs apart, arms crossed under her ridiculous tits. The visitors couldn't stop staring. One guy dropped his drink the second her nipples bounced from a laugh.
"Welcome to Cowden," she said, her cocky. "I'm Mirko. I run the canteen. You wanna fuck, eat, or both, follow me."
They followed her like dogs. Daan trailed behind, watching them gawk at Mirko's ass—each cheek jiggled like a waterbed, the leotard riding up into her crack so tight her asshole practically winked through it. Her thighs rubbed together, creamy and thick, with a sheen of sweat that made her scent trail behind her like a cloud of heat.
They entered the canteen.
It looked like a retro diner from the 70s—checkered floors, red leather booths, chrome stools at the bar, and a jukebox blasting funky music. The smell of grease, pussy, and body heat mixed in the air.
Mirko walked up to the bar and bent over to check the shelves. Her ass pointed right at the guests, who were already shifting in their pants.
She grabbed a bottle of glowing blue alcohol, twisted off the cap, and downed it in one go. "Damn, that's strong," she said, licking her lips.
Then she spun around, slammed the bottle down, and slapped her tits. They wobbled like jelly, and then she leaned forward and let her tits press onto the counter, nipples sliding across the polished surface. She slapped one of her fat cheeks and looked back at the group.
"Bathroom's to the left if you wanna piss like a loser," she said with a grin. "But if you're feeling brave, you can piss straight down my throat instead. I'll even say thank you."
The five men slid into the booth, eyes locked on Mirko's body as she leaned down to take their orders. Her chest was enormous—each tit bigger than a basketball, barely held in by the white leotard that was stretched to its limit.
Her nipples poked through the fabric, fat and stiff like they were begging to be sucked. Her waist dipped hard, tight and narrow, but her hips exploded outward into thick, meaty curves. Her ass was unreal—rounder and fatter than any of them had ever seen. Just looking at it made their pants bulge.
One asked for a beer, and two asked for soda. One of them just leaned back and pulled his cock out—ten inches thick and heavy, already dripping at the tip.
Mirko saw it, smiled, and dropped to her knees like a trained bitch. "Nice meat," she said, wrapping her hand around it and giving it a few rough strokes. Then she shoved it down her throat.
There was no teasing. No slow buildup. Just raw, wet suction and loud, messy slurps as her lips sealed tight around his cock and slid all the way down. Her nose hit his crotch. Her throat bulged with his dick. Her leotard stretched across her massive tits as she bobbed her head, spit dripping down her chin, eyes watering from how deep she took it.
The guy groaned, leaned forward, grabbed two fistfuls of her white hair, and started pushing her head down harder. Her neck bulged each time he forced her lower. He didn't say anything—he just let go.
Hot piss sprayed down her throat.
Mirko moaned around the stream, nostrils flaring as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful. It leaked out her nose, ran down her chin, and soaked the top of her tits. Her tongue hung out, trembling from the heat. Her throat worked overtime, gulping it down like it was her favourite drink.
When he finished, he yanked his cock out with a wet pop. Mirko coughed, spit, and then let out a deep, wet burp. Her chest heaved, soaked in piss and drool.
"Thanks," she said, voice rough, standing up and walking off with her tits jiggling like they had a mind of their own. Her fat ass bounced with every step, cheeks clapping loud, leotard riding so far up her crack her entire pussy was visible from behind—dripping, swollen, the lips fat and glistening.
The guys talked among themselves while she got their drinks. The lewd scent of her body still lingered—hot sweat, used pussy, spit and piss. It clung to the air like fog.
"Place is a fuckhole," one of them said, "We're bringing the whole crew next time."
Mirko returned, tray in one hand, tits practically resting on top of the drinks. She set them down, then climbed onto the table on her hands and knees.
"Come use this pussy," she said, spreading her legs wide.
The first guy didn't wait. He grabbed her thick hips, pulled her back until her fat, glistening cunt was aimed right at him, then shoved his cock into her in one brutal thrust.
She gasped—her body jolted as his cock split her open. Her pussy squelched, stretched wide around his thick shaft, lips pulled tight from how deep he went. Her ass bounced with every thrust, cheeks slapping loud, jiggling uncontrollably as he slammed into her over and over, cock punching up into her womb.
Her tits swung beneath her like sacks of wet meat, crashing together each time her body rocked. Her mouth hung open, drool dripping down her tongue, eyes rolling back.
He didn't talk. He just grunted, rammed in deep, and dumped a heavy load inside her. His cock pulsed, pumping thick shots of cum directly into her womb. Her belly twitched as the warmth spread.
Then the next guy grabbed her, flipped her onto her back right there on the table, and lifted her legs high. Her tits spilled to the sides, nipples twitching. Her pussy was a mess—stretched, dripping, cum already leaking out.
He aimed low and drove in hard, faster than the first. Her legs trembled as he jackhammered into her. The table creaked beneath them. Her stomach bulged from the force of his thrusts. He gripped her thighs, slammed her down onto his cock over and over like a toy.
One by one, they all had their turn. Her holes stayed stretched wide, her pussy pulsing, cum pouring out. By the time the last guy finished and pulled out, she lay twitching, belly round with cum, thighs soaked, tits covered in handprints.
She looked up at them, panting hard. "You better not stop at just five next time," she said, voice shaking. "This pussy's made for more than that."