The morning after the raid dawned bright and lazy, the village still buzzing with the aftermath. Gnoll corpses had been dragged to the edge of the forest for the scavengers—nobody wanted that smell lingering near the crops. Shabi woke in the largest cottage (now unofficially "his" house), buried under a pile of warm, soft bodies. Mila's massive breasts pillowed his head, leaking faint streams of milk that trickled down his cheek. Rena spooned him from behind, one thick thigh slung over his hip, her bushy pubic hair tickling his ass. Kira curled at his feet like a contented fox, tail draped over his ankle. Lira lay on his chest, silver hair fanned out, one leg hooked around his. Elara dozed on his shoulder, tiny wings still, the crystal vibrator finally silent after a night of intermittent buzzing.
Shabi stirred, cock already half-hard from the sheer amount of skin pressed against him.
"Morning, sluts," he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. "Anyone up for breakfast? Or should I just eat pussy for the next hour?"
Mila giggled softly, pressing a leaking nipple to his lips. "Drink first… then decide."
He latched on lazily, sucking slow and deep while his hand wandered down to finger Rena's sleepy cunt—already slick. She moaned into his neck.
A distant horn sounded—three sharp blasts.
The harem stirred.
"Traders," Lira murmured, lifting her head. "The monthly caravan from the southern kingdom. They bring cloth, spices… news. And they always meet the village chief on the longhouse veranda."
Shabi popped off Mila's nipple with a wet smack, milk dribbling down his chin. "Perfect. Time for some public etiquette training."
He stood, stretching, cock fully erect now and bobbing proudly. "Everyone up. We're greeting them properly."
The women dressed—or half-dressed—in record time. Mila and Rena in loose blouses that did nothing to hide their leaking tits. Kira in her short skirt, no panties. Lira in her sheer robe, open at the front. Elara perched on his shoulder again, vibrator re-activated at a low hum—she squeaked happily.
They walked to the longhouse as a group, villagers parting like the sea. Whispers followed: "The male… he killed the gnolls alone…" "He breeds us like the goddess promised…"
The caravan had already arrived—three large wagons pulled by sturdy oxen, guarded by six armored women (human and half-elf mix) and led by a tall, dark-skinned merchant queen in flowing silks and gold jewelry. Zara, they called her—curves that rivaled the cowkins, full lips painted crimson, eyes sharp and calculating.
The village chief—an older cowkin named Mara—stood on the veranda, trying to look composed.
Zara bowed slightly. "Greetings, Mara. We bring spices, silk, iron tools. What news from your valley?"
Mara glanced nervously at Shabi. "Great news, actually. A male has arrived. The curse… is breaking."
Zara's eyes snapped to Shabi—then lower. Her gaze lingered on his naked cock, then flicked to the harem behind him, all flushed and freshly used.
"A male," she repeated slowly. "And he's already… claimed quite a few, I see."
Shabi stepped forward, grinning. "Li Shabi. Idiot farmer. Nice to meet you, merchant queen. Want to negotiate terms? I'm open to trades."
Zara's lips curved. "Bold. I like that."
They moved to the long wooden table on the veranda. Mara sat at the head. Zara took the seat opposite. Shabi sat beside Mara—casually, as if this were normal.
The harem arranged themselves: Mila and Rena kneeling behind Shabi, breasts pressed to his back. Kira crouched under the table like a pet. Lira stood behind Zara, hands on her shoulders in a show of "hospitality." Elara hovered above.
Negotiations began—cloth prices, spice quantities, iron for tools.
Under the table, Kira crawled between Shabi's legs.
She nuzzled his balls first—soft tongue lapping, then took his cock into her warm mouth.
Gluck… gluck…
Shabi kept a straight face, nodding at Zara's offer. "Sounds fair. Throw in some vibrators—enchanted ones—and we've got a deal."
Zara raised an eyebrow. "Vibrators? For… personal use?"
Shabi shrugged. "My girls get needy. Can't have them distracting the farm work."
Kira sucked harder—deep-throating him quietly, throat bulging. Saliva dripped down his shaft, pooling on the floorboards.
Mara cleared her throat, cheeks red. "We… appreciate the trade."
Shabi reached under the table, grabbed Kira's ears, and fucked her face slowly—shallow thrusts, keeping the motion hidden. Kira gagged softly, eyes watering, but never stopped.
Zara leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. "You seem… distracted, Shabi."
He smiled. "Just thinking about how good the deal is."
His free hand slid to Mara's thigh under the table—pushing her skirt aside, fingers finding her hairy, dripping cunt. He circled her clit once—twice.
Mara jolted, biting her lip to stay silent. "The—the price on silk is… reasonable…"
Shabi pushed two fingers inside her—slow, deep. Mara's thighs trembled, but she kept talking.
Zara's gaze flicked down—then back up, lips twitching. "I see. Perhaps we should… conclude quickly."
Shabi added a third finger to Mara, thumb mashing her clit. The chief's voice cracked. "Y-yes… let's… seal it…"
Under the table, Kira swallowed around his cock—throat working, tongue swirling. Shabi felt the pressure build.
He leaned forward, voice casual. "Deal. And one more thing—Zara, you're staying for dinner tonight. I insist."
Zara's eyes gleamed. "I accept… on one condition."
Shabi raised an eyebrow.
Zara smiled wickedly. "I get to watch you fuck one of them. Right here. On the table. After we sign."
Shabi grinned. "Deal."
He thrust once—hard—into Kira's throat.
She gagged, swallowed, and he came—thick ropes pumping down her gullet. Kira drank every drop, tail thrashing happily.
Mara came silently a second later—pussy clamping on his fingers, slick running down his wrist.
Shabi pulled out of Kira's mouth with a wet pop, wiped his hand on Mara's thigh, and stood.
"Papers, please."
Zara laughed—low, throaty. "You're going to be very profitable, idiot farmer."
Shabi winked. "You have no idea."