As everyone knows, when a person drinks water or a beverage too quickly—if they take in too much at once and can't swallow in time—there are only two possible outcomes. Either it goes out the way it came in, sprayed back out the mouth, or it finds another way out...
Because she hadn't anticipated it, Valentina was completely defenseless.
With Chuck's low groan and the sudden tightening of his abdominals, a massive surge of hot, thick "yogurt" filled Valentina's oral cavity in an instant. Her emerald eyes flew wide. The firepower, significantly enhanced by the Yellow Potion, produced a volume that immediately puffed out her cheeks like a balloon.
She instinctively tried to spit it out, but Chuck's imposing size acted like a massive plug, sealing her lips shut. She tried to pull back, but the strong, powerful hand clamped on the back of her head prevented any retreat. Her hesitation in that critical moment meant that by the time she resigned herself to opening her throat to swallow, it was already too late.
The first wave filled her mouth and distended her cheeks; the second, more violent wave followed mercilessly. Before she could even move her throat, the torrential tsunami surged across her palate and, with unstoppable momentum, burst through her two petite, elegant nostrils!
"Mmph-gugugugu!!"
Her green eyes glazed over and rolled upward. Her cheeks bulged like a bullfrog's, and her small nostrils instantly became like a twin-exhaust rocket pack, spraying white, thick cream simultaneously!
The scene was as exaggerated as a panel from a manga.
Because this was his first release of the evening, combined with the unexpected psychological thrill, Chuck's volume was even greater than usual. Valentina's face turned bright red; her cheeks were so bloated she looked like a pufferfish, and veins pulsed on her forehead.
She felt as if her very brain was being flooded by Chuck's massive member. Her thoughts became a blur, and the intense sensation of suffocation caused her mind to snap like a broken string. Her hands fell limp at her sides. Her dignified face remained pinned against his crotch, once again reduced to the state of a broken doll.
Chuck had never seen such an intense display. Usually, with Julia or Yitong Gu, he would pump it directly down their throats. As for the other three, they typically received a warning so they could prepare to swallow or catch it with their tongues.
Seeing her face utterly collapsed beneath him, Chuck knew the woman might actually choke to death on his essence if he continued. He finally released her head and stepped back.
Thud.
The powerful Russian warrior girl collapsed like a ragdoll again. Her unblocked mouth immediately vomited up a thick, white slurry in a spray, her eyes rolled back as she twitched on the ground.
"Gah..."
Having regained the right to breathe, Valentina seemed to have forgotten how to do so for a moment. She lay there convulsing, the white fluid covering her nostrils bubbling as she gasped. It took a long while before she finally took a deep, lung-filling breath through her mouth.
Sssss—
Between those long, powerful legs, the sound of a stream echoed once more, filling the cave with a salty, pungent aroma.
Chuck exhaled a long breath. Seeing her breathing stabilize—despite her shattered expression and the mess on her face—he turned to leave, satisfied. A sense of accomplishment washed over him. Valentina's sudden display of initiative in the latter half of the session had been a pleasant surprise.
It seemed the day of the silver-haired soldier's total submission was not far off.
Another night passed.
Because the storm the previous day had kept Chuck indoors, he was well-rested. He woke up much earlier than usual, just as the first light of dawn was breaking. As he prepared to head out, he happened to catch a glimpse of the "scenery" inside the storage room.
A sleeping Janet was hugging his jacket like a body pillow against her pale, ample chest. She was lying on her side, wearing only a bra. Her mahogany-red hair was scattered over her shoulders, and her massive, mature buttocks threatened to rip the seams of her sweatpants. Her fleshy legs were crossed, pressing together so tightly they looked fit to burst with juice. Her rosy feet overlapped, toes curling unconsciously in her sleep.
Chuck couldn't help but stop and admire the breathtaking view. This was the first time he had seen the mature mare's feet. He had expected them to be rough from her manual labor, but they were surprisingly attractive—the heels were rounded, and the soles were a healthy, plump pink, matching the rest of her voluptuous body perfectly.
Chuck stared for a moment until a dull ache reminded him of his condition; he looked down to find a very tall "tentacle" pitching a tent in his trousers. He shook his head with a helpless laugh, forced his gaze away, and continued outside.
Lusting alone doesn't make a woman open her legs.
Strong, self-disciplined, Sigma—this was Chuck's creed. He never forced women, but the women he set his sights on invariably ended up willing participants in his bed, opening their legs to be ruthlessly plowed. There was no need for yearning; he just had to do his job. Once he fulfilled Janet's request and caught those goats, his dragon would be entering the mature mare's cave tonight as promised.
Outside, the horizon was turning a pale grey.
Using the dim light of dawn, Chuck hiked up the slope, crossed the stone flats to the north, and entered the Red Stone Hills. He stopped near the hollow where he had previously slaughtered the wolves. The carcasses were now dark, dried-out husks, stripped of meat by scavengers; the stench was almost gone.
Chuck slowed his pace, creeping toward the area where the goats roamed. As he walked, he extended his empty right hand. In the next second, three small bronze star-darts appeared between his fingertips. He looked down and carefully pinched one in his grip.
The Star-dart—or Shuriken—was a classic ancient concealed weapon. He chose this style because rotating darts are easier to throw than straight knives, though they lack lethal stopping power on their own. Usually, they are paired with poison.
Exactly—poison. This was Chuck's "eureka" moment from the previous evening. Since his workbench could refine potions with miraculous effects, surely there was something for paralysis?
After some experimentation with Julia's herbal stock, he had found it.
[One-time Potion (Jellyfish): A potion made from jellyfish, mountain millet, and mint. Provides immediate paralytic effects. Depending on the target and dosage, it causes brief paralysis. Non-toxic. Ineffective against large carnivores.]
The mountain millet and mint came from Julia's stores. The jellyfish had been a stroke of luck; Chuck had caught one in a clay pot during the evening high tide using his enhanced perception. After a quick DIY session with a clay mold and some bronze casting, he coated the darts in the refined, crushed potion.
A set of simple but dangerous hunting tools was ready. He didn't need to build elaborate traps or throw spears; he just needed to nick the skin of a goat to render it helpless. It was the primitive version of a tranquilizer gun.
Moving through the hills, a faint bleating sound made Chuck stop. He crouched, holding his breath, eyes fixed on a group of goats appearing on the rocks. There were five of them, including one male.
As the morning sun hit the hills, the flock grazed lazily, occasionally looking up with the deep-seated alertness of prey animals. Even though the wolves were gone, they remembered the "two-legged beast" that had taken one of their own recently.
Chuck repositioned himself, circling to a blind spot to get a better look. He saw seven more goats hidden in the crags. Twelve in total.
He committed their forms to memory. Three males (two adults, one juvenile) and nine females (seven adults, two kids). He ignored the juveniles and the one scrawny adult male that looked like a loser in the herd's hierarchy.
Targets: One strong, healthy adult male and two or three healthy adult females.
He moved into range, locking his eyes on the dominant male. The ram stood in the center, head held high, scanning his territory. He was so arrogant that his head was tilted too high to notice the danger creeping up from below.
Once in the ideal strike zone, Chuck stood up. The moment the flock turned toward him, he flicked his wrist. The four-pointed star spun through the air in a graceful arc, slicing across the ram's thigh and leaving a clear red streak.
"Meeee-hiehiehie!!"
The flock scattered instantly. It's the law of the wild: you don't have to be faster than the predator, just faster than the slowest member of the group.
The strong ram tried to follow, but after a few steps, his legs wobbled. His front knees buckled, and within seconds, he was fully paralyzed, sliding onto his side.
"Success!"
Chuck clenched his fist. He rushed up, tied the ram's legs with pre-prepared rope, and hoisted the heavy animal onto his shoulders. He made a beeline back to the base.
He secured the ram—which had woken up halfway and started struggling—inside the livestock pen.
One male, secured! Just a few more females and the task would be done.
Chuck's anticipation grew. He wondered what kind of wild coupling awaited him tonight. Driven by both utility and his desire for the mature mare, he didn't even stop to rest. He grabbed a quick drink of water and headed straight back to the Red Stone Hills.
Soon, he relocated the flock, which had moved a few hundred meters away to a new grazing spot.