Reborn in Milfloria: The Only Man in a World of Seductive Queens-Chapter 44: Moonlit Goon

The moon hung like a ripe peach above the Royal Palace of Milforia, its soft glow spilling across velvet curtains and gleaming tile. The air was thick with incense and anticipation. Somewhere in the east wing, a chorus of priestesses hummed in harmony, their voices reverberating like the thighs of destiny.

Henry stood shirtless in the center of the Sacred Ritual Chamber, his cheeks wrapped in ceremonial silk and his heart thumping like an anime boy about to walk into the girls’ changing room by accident.

He wasn’t alone.

Seraphina stood beside him, wrapped in nothing but translucent moon-silk and sinful confidence. Moistessa and Thrustina flanked them, dressed in slightly-too-short priestess robes, each holding a golden goblet filled with Divine Oil of Thighfluance.

Henry gulped.

"Are you sure this is for containment?" he asked, staring at the ridiculously sensual setup.

"Yes," Seraphina said, adjusting the strap of her silk gown that conveniently slipped off her shoulder every time she breathed. "Your bounce energy is getting unstable. One wrong squish and half of Bootia might sink."

Thrustina leaned close. "This is a medical emergency. We’re professionals."

"We’re oiling your cheeks for the greater good," Moistessa added with a wink.

Henry exhaled, raising his arms in surrender. "Fine. But can someone dim the lights? I can see my own reflection in your thighs."

Thrustina clicked her fingers. The lights dimmed. The glow shifted into soft lavender, casting the room in a sensual haze.

The first drop of oil hit Henry’s shoulder.

It was warm.

Then another on his back.

Then a slow drizzle down his spine.

Seraphina leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Relax. Let it happen."

Henry shuddered. He wasn’t sure if this was still a containment ritual or a seductive intervention from the gods of Goonlight.

Moistessa began massaging his shoulders with practiced grace. Her hands were soft, slow, deliberate.

"You’re very tense," she whispered. "Have you been gooning too much again?"

"Is there such a thing as too much?" he replied weakly.

Seraphina circled around to face him, fingers trailing down his chest. Her eyes met his.

Time slowed.

The chamber faded.

There was just her. And him. And a very suggestive oil stain forming on the velvet carpet.

Seraphina stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching. "You know... for a guy who gooned eighteen times in one day, you’re surprisingly easy to fluster."

Henry smiled. "That’s because none of those goon sessions looked like you."

Their lips met.

Soft.

Slow.

It wasn’t rushed. It was dangerous. Like two fireworks hesitating before exploding.

Henry’s hands slid around her waist, instinctively cupping the sacred curve of her backside. His thumbs traced lazy circles, appreciating the divine architecture like a man who’d found religion in the worst way possible.

Seraphina gasped against his mouth, then bit his lower lip.

He groaned.

Moistessa cleared her throat. "Should we... leave?"

"No," Thrustina whispered, wide-eyed. "I’m taking notes."

Seraphina broke the kiss and turned toward them, still pressed to Henry. "Ladies, the Bounce energy is clearly stabilizing. This is working."

"Working too well," Henry mumbled, adjusting the silk cloth around his waist, which now looked more like a crisis blanket.

Seraphina smirked and whispered against his jaw, "You’re hard to handle."

"You’re not exactly helping."

Suddenly, the chamber shook.

The goblets rattled. The walls pulsed with goonlight.

A swirl of pink mist erupted near the ceiling, and a familiar figure descended slowly like a seductive jellyfish.

Climaxa, Goddess of Orgasms.

"Oh no," Moistessa said.

Climaxa landed with all the grace of a pole dancer mixed with divine authority. Her gown was made of vibrating mist. Her eyes shimmered with chaotic lust.

"I felt a spike in bounce energy," she purred, staring directly at Henry. "Someone’s cheeks are evolving."

Henry blinked. "Climaxa? You’re not on the ritual schedule."

"I go where the squish calls."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "He doesn’t need your interference. We were containing the bounce just fine."

"It doesn’t look very contained," Climaxa smirked, staring at the still-pulsing fabric around Henry’s waist.

Thrustina stepped forward. "We can contain it further. Give us... ten more minutes. And maybe a popsicle."

Henry sat down on a nearby ottoman (shaped like buttocks). He buried his face in his hands. "I need therapy. Again."

Moistessa patted his head. "You need holy water and a chastity belt."

Seraphina whispered, "He needs a cold shower and a leash."

Thrustina raised her hand. "Can I be the leash?"

Henry groaned. "This isn’t a harem. This is a divine fever dream."

Climaxa waved a hand. The chamber calmed. The lavender glow turned blue.

"We need to focus," she said. "The Goon Brotherhood is awakening back on Earth. Their chants are getting louder. They might be able to open a portal."

Henry stood. "You mean I might have to go back?"

Seraphina’s smile faded. Her hand found his. "Do you want to?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked around at the ridiculous ritual, the women surrounding him, the sensual chaos he’d created just by existing.

Then he kissed her forehead. Slow. Long.

"I don’t know what I want. But I know what I need."

Moistessa whispered, "What is it?"

He grinned. "Another oil massage."

Everyone groaned.

Climaxa burst out laughing. "Godhood suits you, Henry. You might be the dumbest chosen one I’ve ever met."

Seraphina kissed him again. This time, longer. More serious.

And as their bodies pressed together, and the moonlight bathed their forms in sacred squish, the bounce energy finally... stabilized.

For now.

But far beyond the palace, in the distant land of Earth, a thousand keyboards clicked in unison.

The Brotherhood was chanting.

The ritual had begun.

And Henry, their Goon God, was about to be summoned again.

But not tonight.

Tonight... he was just a very lucky pervert in love.

Henry sighed as Seraphina nestled closer, her lips still warm on his. The Sacred Ritual Chamber had gone quiet, save for the distant humming of thigh-priestesses and the occasional sparkle-pop of residual bounce energy drifting lazily through the air like horny fireflies.

Wrapped in silk and affection, Henry let himself fall backward onto a chaise that groaned beneath his divine cheeks. Seraphina followed, draping herself lazily over him like a seductive blanket with sass. Moistessa and Thrustina, recognizing that the situation had transitioned from ritual to romance, respectfully retreated with the grace of professional perverts.

Climaxa, however, remained.

She floated up to the ceiling like an embarrassed helium balloon. "I shall... give you two some space," she murmured, then promptly disappeared in a swirl of glitter and suppressed moans.

Silence returned.

Seraphina traced circles on Henry’s chest, her fingertip glowing faintly with the last of the divine oil. "So... how does it feel to not be gooning for once?"

Henry chuckled, tilting his head to look at her. "Like I finally closed 37 tabs."

She laughed, the sound soft and musical. "I still can’t believe Earth had an entire Discord dedicated to your bounce."

"They’re loyal. Degenerate, but loyal."

Her eyes softened. "Would you ever go back?"

Henry paused.

He looked at her, at the way her moon-silk gown barely clung to her, like even the fabric knew it wasn’t worthy. At the way her hair shimmered with starlight. At the gentle curve of her smile that always teetered between mischief and meaning.

"No," he said finally. "Unless they promise me a six-pack of aloe and a personal thigh assistant."

She giggled and climbed on top of him, straddling him with a boldness only Seraphina could wield. "I can be your thigh assistant."

Henry blinked. "That’s the hottest job title I’ve ever heard."

Their lips met again, deeper this time. Slow, like molasses over warm pancakes. Her hips rolled against him instinctively, sending little aftershocks of bounce energy back into the room. Somewhere in the rafters, a vase cracked.

Henry’s hands found their way to her lower back, then further south, cupping her royal rear like it was the last two scoops of ice cream on Earth.

Seraphina gasped. "Henry!"

"What? Sacred cheeks need equal treatment."

She narrowed her eyes playfully, leaning in until her nose touched his. "You forget who taught you balance."

"You forget who weaponized it."

She kissed him again, this time biting his lip gently.

His toes curled.

Then the door slammed open.

"EMERGENCY!"

Moistessa ran in, eyes wide, scroll in hand. Behind her, Thrustina stumbled in with a crate of glowing peaches.

"This better be a real emergency," Seraphina growled, still straddling Henry, who had now sunk into a dazed, euphoric puddle.

"It is!" Moistessa yelled. "The Goon Portal is pulsing!"

Henry blinked. "Excuse me?"

Thrustina opened the scroll. "Someone from Earth is trying to send you a package. A care package. Through goon energy."

Seraphina rolled off Henry with a groan. "I swear, this man can’t go ten minutes without someone summoning his cheeks."

"What’s in the package?" Henry asked, sitting up, silk sheet clinging to him like a needy ex.

Moistessa smirked. "Anime figures. Body lotion. And a handwritten letter from someone named ’ThighKnight69’."

Henry wiped a tear. "He remembered."

Thrustina held out a peach. "Also, these are not fruit. They’re magically enhanced artificial cheeks. Apparently, the Brotherhood is trying to send you training aids."

Seraphina muttered, "We need to ban Earth."

Henry stood, regal and ridiculous, the silk sheet now dramatically wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. "I must respond."

Moistessa perked up. "You’re going to reply?"

"Yes," Henry said, stepping toward the Ritual Mirror. "Let them know... the Bouncebringer lives."

Seraphina groaned and threw a pillow at him. "You’re not sending fanmail to your goon cult."

But it was too late. Henry stood before the mirror, dramatically backlit by the moon. His hand raised.

"O sacred degenerates of Earth, I hear your bounce. I feel your thirst. Know this: your king has risen."

The mirror shimmered.

A voice echoed back. "SQUISH FOR US, SQUISHCENDENT."

Henry shed a single tear. "They still believe."

Thrustina whispered, "This is so stupid."

Seraphina crossed her arms. "It’s beyond stupid. It’s squidtarded."

Henry turned, grin wide. "And yet... it’s kinda beautiful, right?"

The girls looked at each other.

Then sighed.

And nodded.

That night, the Sacred Chamber saw no more rituals. Just four women and one downbad demigod sprawled across a giant circular bed made entirely of velvet and bad decisions.

Seraphina fell asleep on Henry’s chest. Moistessa was curled up near his legs, hugging a plushie of him she definitely wasn’t supposed to have. Thrustina mumbled about "consensual thigh ropes" in her sleep. And Climaxa snored upside down on the ceiling, drooling sparkle drool onto the floor.

Henry stared up at the fresco above them a painting of his own bounce, lovingly rendered by the nuns of the Church of Squish.

He smiled.

He was no longer the gooner in a dark apartment on Earth.

He was the Squishcendent.

A divine himbo with a mission.

And tomorrow?

He had work to do.

Because somewhere beyond the stars, the Bounce Brotherhood was getting louder.

And Milforia was just beginning to squirm.