She's somehow floating at this shockingly pleasant place just before an orgasm. Normally when she edges herself, she manages to find some strange mental state where she doesn't really care that much that she isn't cumming, and just basks in the pleasure. The aphrodisiacs are preventing that this time, causing a building, flaring urge to cum. She spends a while dreamily thinking, "more, please, yes, more, so nice," nearly on repeat before the fact that she still hasn't cum manages to penetrate her the warm glow of lust and pleasure.

(In the back of her mind, fleetingly before it's overcome by lust, is a thought. These people obviously don't actually find her disgusting if they're groping her like that. They were just pretending. She's so glad! She didn't like thinking people thought she was gross!)

She helplessly tries to rub back against their hands but doesn't have the freedom of movement. She tries forcing out an orgasm by clenching the muscles at the base of her cock over and over but that doesn't work either.

She really wants to cum. Maybe if she begs? She works her mouth out from behind the strap over it.

"Can I cum? Please? I want to. Please make me cum!"

A few of the crowd confer in conspiratorial whispers.

Someone chants out, "Fiichirr pretkenva."

A set of ghostly female hips appears in the air, tinged green and rippling with eddies of Air-element Mana. The air mage turns the set of hips around bringing its ghostly pussy to the tip of Christa's throbbing dick. Carefully, oh so carefully, the air mage slides the construct onto Christa's cock, moving so slow, until finally the ghostly butt is pressed against Christa's hips. It feels... almost exactly like a balloon or other inflatable toy, the squish of air-pressure giving it form.

"Ront."

The ghostly inflatable masturbation toy locks in place.

Hot breath hisses in her ear, "Make yourself cum, slut."

But she can't. With the construct of an inflatable fucktoy wrapped around her cock, one tiny thrust would be enough to make her erupt, but she can't manage even one tiny thrust: the straps are too tight. The crowd disperses, leaving her alone in the park to struggle.

No, no, she was going to cum! Just a bit more! 

Aire! Aire! Please help her cum!

No.

But she wants to. Doesn't she understand, she so horny. Please.

No response.

She looks around. There's nobody there! But she can't turn her head. Maybe there's someone behind her? 

"Annabelle, please!"

Nothing.

And then an idea. Maybe Miss Lavich left her here because she thought it would be hot? Maybe she's watching.

"Miss Lavich? Are you there? Please I want to cum so bad! I need it!"

When she calls out to Miss Lavich, the sun fades out of the sky. It doesn't get any darker, but the blue sky of day is replaced with swirling prismatic streams of tentacle-stars.

The shift in light reveals a figure, a massively tall woman with four arms and two cocks and pallid grey skin, standing naked before her. She reaches down and cups Christa's cheek.

"I'm here, little Christa. I'm here. I'll take care of you."

Lavich swipes her hand. The inflatable fucktoy construct gently pops, releasing Christa's dick, and then the metal frame suddenly launches itself backward, rocking Christa onto her back. Once the frame settles in its new position, Christa is face-up, her desperate cock pointed at the starry sky like she's about to fuck the spiral vortex of tentacle stars above.

Lavich steps up, placing a leg on either side of the frame. She faces away from Christa, glancing over her shoulder at the tightly-bound girl, before smoothly squatting down.

Christa's cock sinks into Lavich's ass, finding a slick sheath of tight, smooth flesh that wraps around and embraces her cock. Her huge firm butt engulfs Christa's hips as she sinks down all the way and clenches.

She's close enough to the edge that the knowledge that she's finally going to get to cum is almost enough to push her over all on its own. Her cock twitches and jumps at the prospect of getting to be inside Lavich. She's so grateful.

Her orgasm starts to bubble up as soon as her cockhead begins to sink inside. And then Lavich clenches, and it's here. Finally, finally, it's here. Even better than all of the others for how long she's been waiting. Her cock spurts over and over, each time accompanied by another gooey pulse of perfect pleasure.

Lavich swivels and rocks her hips, wriggles and bounces her ass, milking Christa's dick with her hole as her body looms over the strapped-in girl in the brilliant starlight.

And she keeps cumming, spurting again with each drop of Lavich's hips.

She's so happy Lavich is here to make her cum.

Eventually, when Christa comes back to awareness again, she's back in the studio, like she never left. The frame she's strapped to is the ghostly blue-white of a mana construct, not metal at all, and the straps themselves are gone. Her cock is still deep inside Lavich, the huge woman still sitting on Christa's hips. Her five followers are draped over Lavich, watching Christa warmly as they fondle and stroke Lavich's cocks.

Oh. An illusion. That probably should have been obvious.

"So it wasn't real then?"

Relief, but a tiny fragment of disappointment. There was something nice about the world where the thing people did if they found you in a puddle of cum in a park was tease you, grope you, and only spit on you in ways that made you feel good. It's nicer if things only have lewd consequences, instead of life ruining ones.

Isn't it just.

"It was real to you, when you called out for salvation and received my graces."

Lavich slowly stands, rising off of Christa's cock. She pivots gracefully on one foot to stand beside the frame instead of over it.

Keeping her eyes on Christa, Lavich crouches down to touch the floor with her fingertips. A wave of creeping, purplish darkness spreads out from her, spreading under the pools of cooling cum. Then, she stands, and the sheet of purplish black mana rises with her, curling into a ball to contain the mass of liquid.

The floor is dry. A purple-black ball containing enough cum that it probably outweighs Christa hovers in the middle of the studio.

Then, Lavich clenches her fist. The orb suddenly and violently shrinks until the cum is filling every bit of the sphere, then it keeps shrinking, a soft but kind of awful screeching-sizzling sound, purple-black smoke misting off the surface of the sphere. Slowly, the sphere shrinks to nothing, and is gone, with no trace of the Christa-sized mass of semen remaining.

"So, my dear, have we learned anything valuable today?"

Sometimes people have two penises, and this turns out to be a very good thing.

That’s too silly to say out loud.

She doesn’t quite manage to hide the fact that she just thought something very silly and then heroically refrained from saying it, but she doesn’t say it, and that’s the important part!

“Miss Lavich is really nice and will, um, take care of me if I need it? Even if no one else will?”

That seems like the thing she was trying to tell her, with the illusions and all the sex and being the only person there at the end to let her cum. She’s not sure though.

And there's hope there, underlying the words. She doesn’t want this to be something Lavich did to her for momentary relief of lust and with no care for anything else. That would be sad. She’s not sure why, but she knows it would be.

As the followers help Christa stand up, Lavich comes over and pats Christa on the head.

"Something like that."

Lavich snaps her fingers, and her followers scramble to gather up everyone's clothes and return them to the correct person. Two of them entirely prioritize draping Lavich's slinky black dress once more upon her imposing body.

"I shall enjoy teaching you, tomorrow. Even should that lesson prove less... pleasurable."

Christa's looking forward to it!

But, first, before it is tomorrow it is the rest of today. What time is it, has she missed the dance cohort, or has she somehow missed her evening Astrology session? She, uh, rather lost track of things there.

It's been about three hours.

Christa has just enough time to grab a snack for herself and Annabelle before she meets her friend at the dance hall.

Well, that was a more than slightly nerve-wracking experience. Fortunately, it seems to be over, and without real risk of her discovery at that. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy it; watching Christa get pushed over into that barely thinking state was a very enjoyable use of her time. It’s just that she felt a heartbeat away from being discovered for most of it, and she isn’t actually comfortable taking a risk like that just yet.

She’s not entirely sure what Lavich’s game is, but she rather doubts she’s as kind to her pets as she’s portraying herself to be.

Off she goes to retrieve snacks! Snacks are of the utmost importance!

It’s sort of sad she can’t tell Annabelle about this, but Lavich was clear about keeping things a secret. It’s just like with her telepathy; even if she knows Annabelle wouldn’t react poorly, that isn’t her choice to make.

There is the bit where she had sex with someone else. Rather a lot of someone elses. From Annabelle’s thoughts she doesn’t think that would make her sad, it’s probably more likely to make her. Um. Excited. But she doesn’t want to keep secrets from her friend! And what if she’s wrong!?

Maybe she can try to get permission to tell her friend from Lavich tomorrow? Not about all the mutations, but just about the having sex bit.

Once she has her snacks she bustles off to meet back up with Annabelle.

Annabelle is there as expected, with a shy smile and a hug.

It's a semi-open space, with the dance hall at one end. The dancers are used to being watched, and Christa and Annabelle aren't the only ones watching. It's a popular spot to hang out, especially when they have a visitor from the boy's castle to provide music. There's a boy here today, meek-looking and playing a cello.

Made obvious by the contrast: some of the dancers are rather focused on the boy, and frustrated at how little attention he seems to be paying them. Others are glad the boy isn't being annoying, and are quite focused on each other.

Hug! Hugs are good!

Well, that’s more gay thoughts than she’s used to hearing!

Nothing that looks more interesting than that though, or not just yet. Do any of the dancers have any more focused thoughts than that, or is this a considerably more innocent group than Lavich’s turned out to be?

Mostly innocent... some telepathic shielding... more no-boys-allowed sentiment... fantasy about dancing naked...

There are hints of something else, the longer she listens. Surges of sensation or emotion at odd times, about seemingly random things, and a sense of something watching, a sense of something more telepathic than Christa, turning its attention toward her... but it doesn't seem to be coming from anyone or anywhere in particular, and its faint enough she could be imagining it.

Christa diligently attempts to ignore all the sexy thoughts! She is partially successful, but still getting a little hot and bothered as the remembered sensations get to her, just a little.

Aire has been right often enough about things being weird today not to second guess her sense that something’s telepathically watching Christa. All the odd surges of thought just reinforce that.

Aire herself is shielded, and coterminous with Christa, that sweeping probably won’t notice her. If she understands how telepathy works. Which she maybe doesn’t, because she has decades of memories of a cave and three days of memories of the outside world, and no experience with telepathy broader ranging than what she gets with her hosts or stronger than what Christa has.

Well, at least her shields are strong enough that just about nothing should get through them. Even if this presence notices she’s there, that’s all it should notice.

And Christa is a sweet little innocent easily manipulable to all sorts of ends. She couldn’t possibly be listening for nefarious reasons.

If the presence notices Aire, it gives no sign. It also gives no sign that it hasn't notice, but.

As snacks are eaten the music winds down. The boy switches to a different song, and the dancers take a break.

The boy is thinking... mostly he isn't thinking about anything but the cello. He's sort of distantly aware of all the gorgeous femininity around him, but isn't even bothering to look at it. He's playing the cello because he was told to play the cello and no one's told him to stop so he might as well keep playing even though they're not dancing anymore.