Reborn in Milfloria: The Only Man in a World of Seductive Queens-Chapter 47: Post-Leak Chill

The morning after the Great Leak Sealing, Milforia felt... moist.

Not wet. Not humid. Just gently moist. Like the air had been freshly exhaled by a goddess who’d just taken a long, satisfying sip of Squirtade.

Henry stood at the temple balcony, his silk wrap fluttering lazily around his thighs, kissed by the golden sunrise. He held a steaming cup of Lustleaf Tea, the sacred brew brewed with herbs steeped in oiled thighs and forgotten foreplay.

"Still glowing, huh?" Seraphina said from behind him.

He turned, and oh dear licked gods—

She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. A single towel. A sacred towel—blessed by the Towel Priestesses of Squeezehaven. And barely holding on.

Henry blinked. Slowly. "I feel... balanced. Like my soul did yoga... but with butt cheeks."

Seraphina giggled, padding over barefoot, hips moving like jazz. "You faced Bouncelia. You closed the Spiral. You survived temptation tags most men wouldn’t even scroll past."

She stopped beside him, staring out into the morning light. The towel slipped a bit lower. Henry did not mention it. Out of respect. And a hint of fear.

"So what now?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Now, you rest. Until the next chaos inevitably slaps us across the face."

Henry sighed, sipped his tea, and almost choked.

From behind a curtain, Moistessa appeared—also wrapped in a towel that, frankly, was too ambitious for her proportions.

"Henryyyyy," she sang. "You promised cuddles."

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Oh, did he now?"

Henry tried diplomacy. "I promised post-leak celebration. Technically, that can mean cuddles."

Moistessa pouted, then climbed onto a nearby lounge couch, flopping onto her belly in a way that could summon rain if seen by a weather god.

"I’m sore from all the cheering yesterday," she mumbled. "My thighs clapped every time you glowed. They have blisters, Henry."

Thrustina’s voice rang from down the hallway: "IS THE SQUISHCENDENT AWAKE?"

There was a crash.

Then she appeared. In armor. Which was... somehow also a bikini.

Henry blinked. "Is that a tactical thong?"

"Yes," Thrustina grinned proudly. "Made from dragon floss. Holds the bounce. Enhances the thrust."

She launched herself across the room and landed beside Moistessa, who groaned, half-crushed under Thrustina’s squishy war assets.

"We’re planning a brunch in your honor," she said. "You get to pick the syrup."

"What are the options?" Henry asked, sipping again.

"Lustberry. Honeythigh. Maplethigh. And... vanilla chest drizzle."

Seraphina muttered, "That last one better not be a euphemism."

Henry set his cup down.

"Ladies," he said, straightening his posture. "I appreciate the love. The bounce. The lewds. But right now... I need a bath."

---

The Royal Bathhouse of Bootia was the moistest structure in all of Milforia. Built directly atop a geyser of Eternal Lube, it was said to have healing properties for the body, mind, and overly used pelvis.

Henry stepped into the steaming chamber, bare. His body glowed with sealed power. His buns? Glimmering like twin moons.

The waters sparkled. The steam whispered. The walls were lined with murals of ancient squishcendents—all mid-soak, mid-moan, or mid-oops-I-slipped-into-the-suds-again.

He lowered himself into the pool and groaned.

"Sweet cheeked Neptune... that’s good."

Moments later, the door creaked.

He peeked over the edge of a loofah.

Seraphina entered.

Then Moistessa.

Then Thrustina.

All naked. All glowing. All carrying trays of post-leak fruits.

Henry blinked. Slowly.

"Did I... schedule a harem soak?"

Seraphina eased in beside him. "You didn’t. But Bootia did. It’s tradition. The Sealer Soak."

Moistessa slid in next, humming. "It’s meant to... ease residual thirst."

Thrustina cannonballed into the deep end.

Splash.

The water smacked Henry in the face. He sputtered. Moistessa wiped his cheeks tenderly.

"Thanks," he whispered. "So. Uh. How long does the Sealer Soak last?"

Seraphina smirked. "Until your bounce stops twitching."

Henry looked down.

It was...

Still bouncing.

He sighed. "It might be a while."

Moistessa fed him a peeled Lustfruit. Thrustina began scrubbing his back with something suspiciously shaped like a thigh. Seraphina leaned against his shoulder, humming a tune from the Temple Choir of Thirstynia.

Henry closed his eyes.

Peace. Bounce. Lewd serenity.

He had sealed the leak. But deep down, he knew...

More was coming.

And he would be ready.

...After the soak.

The morning after the Great Leak Sealing, Milforia felt... moist.

Not wet. Not humid. Just gently moist. Like the air had been freshly exhaled by a goddess who’d just taken a long, satisfying sip of Squirtade.

Henry stood at the temple balcony, his silk wrap fluttering lazily around his thighs, kissed by the golden sunrise. He held a steaming cup of Lustleaf Tea, the sacred brew brewed with herbs steeped in oiled thighs and forgotten foreplay.

"Still glowing, huh?" Seraphina said from behind him.

He turned, and oh dear licked gods—

She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. A single towel. A sacred towel—blessed by the Towel Priestesses of Squeezehaven. And barely holding on.

Henry blinked. Slowly. "I feel... balanced. Like my soul did yoga... but with butt cheeks."

Seraphina giggled, padding over barefoot, hips moving like jazz. "You faced Bouncelia. You closed the Spiral. You survived temptation tags most men wouldn’t even scroll past."

She stopped beside him, staring out into the morning light. The towel slipped a bit lower. Henry did not mention it. Out of respect. And a hint of fear.

"So what now?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Now, you rest. Until the next chaos inevitably slaps us across the face."

Henry sighed, sipped his tea, and almost choked.

From behind a curtain, Moistessa appeared—also wrapped in a towel that, frankly, was too ambitious for her proportions.

"Henryyyyy," she sang. "You promised cuddles."

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Oh, did he now?"

Henry tried diplomacy. "I promised post-leak celebration. Technically, that can mean cuddles."

Moistessa pouted, then climbed onto a nearby lounge couch, flopping onto her belly in a way that could summon rain if seen by a weather god.

"I’m sore from all the cheering yesterday," she mumbled. "My thighs clapped every time you glowed. They have blisters, Henry."

Thrustina’s voice rang from down the hallway: "IS THE SQUISHCENDENT AWAKE?"

There was a crash.

Then she appeared. In armor. Which was... somehow also a bikini.

Henry blinked. "Is that a tactical thong?"

"Yes," Thrustina grinned proudly. "Made from dragon floss. Holds the bounce. Enhances the thrust."

She launched herself across the room and landed beside Moistessa, who groaned, half-crushed under Thrustina’s squishy war assets.

"We’re planning a brunch in your honor," she said. "You get to pick the syrup."

"What are the options?" Henry asked, sipping again.

"Lustberry. Honeythigh. Maplethigh. And... vanilla chest drizzle."

Seraphina muttered, "That last one better not be a euphemism."

Henry set his cup down.

"Ladies," he said, straightening his posture. "I appreciate the love. The bounce. The lewds. But right now... I need a bath."

---

The Royal Bathhouse of Bootia was the moistest structure in all of Milforia. Built directly atop a geyser of Eternal Lube, it was said to have healing properties for the body, mind, and overly used pelvis.

Henry stepped into the steaming chamber, bare. His body glowed with sealed power. His buns? Glimmering like twin moons.

The waters sparkled. The steam whispered. The walls were lined with murals of ancient squishcendents—all mid-soak, mid-moan, or mid-oops-I-slipped-into-the-suds-again.

He lowered himself into the pool and groaned.

"Sweet cheeked Neptune... that’s good."

Moments later, the door creaked.

He peeked over the edge of a loofah.

Seraphina entered.

Then Moistessa.

Then Thrustina.

All naked. All glowing. All carrying trays of post-leak fruits.

Henry blinked. Slowly.

"Did I... schedule a harem soak?"

Seraphina eased in beside him. "You didn’t. But Bootia did. It’s tradition. The Sealer Soak."

Moistessa slid in next, humming. "It’s meant to... ease residual thirst."

Thrustina cannonballed into the deep end.

Splash.

The water smacked Henry in the face. He sputtered. Moistessa wiped his cheeks tenderly.

"Thanks," he whispered. "So. Uh. How long does the Sealer Soak last?"

Seraphina smirked. "Until your bounce stops twitching."

Henry looked down.

It was...

Still bouncing.

He sighed. "It might be a while."

Moistessa fed him a peeled Lustfruit. Thrustina began scrubbing his back with something suspiciously shaped like a thigh. Seraphina leaned against his shoulder, humming a tune from the Temple Choir of Thirstynia.

Henry closed his eyes.

Peace. Bounce. Lewd serenity.

He had sealed the leak. But deep down, he knew...

More was coming.

And he would be ready.

...After the soak.

---

...After the soak, Henry emerged from the bath like a fresh dumpling of destiny—steamed, soft, and slightly too shiny.

A towel clung to his waist with questionable loyalty, and his hair dripped with Lust Oil Conditioner™, scented with berries and dreams.

The girls followed behind him like a lewd parade of victory.

Moistessa had wrapped herself in two towels. One for modesty. The other... failed.

Thrustina wore nothing but a Squirtade headband and confidence.

Seraphina, of course, had upgraded to a robe. Which was mostly transparent. Which defeated the purpose.

Henry cleared his throat. "Okay. Bath? Done. Soul? Cleansed. Loins? Still twitchy but managed. What’s next?"

Thrustina slapped his butt. "Brunch. Then maybe a ceremony where we worship your thighs."

Henry blinked. "Is that a thing?"

Moistessa nodded. "Thighday Mass. It’s canon."

Seraphina added, "Bootia herself once demanded oil offerings on Henry-shaped statues."

"There are Henry-shaped statues?!"

Thrustina pulled out a scroll. "We commissioned them this morning. Express delivery from the Temple of Expressive Groans."

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course. Of course."

Moistessa leaned against him, whispering, "You love it."

He did. He really did.

They entered the Royal Dining Dome—where pillows were chairs and tables were shaped like lapdances frozen in time.

A giant stack of waffles drizzled with Lustberry syrup sat before them.

Seraphina poured him a cup of freshly squeezed Nectar of Nibbles.

Moistessa fed him a grape.

Thrustina sat on his lap.

Henry didn’t even flinch. He just kept eating.

Balanced. Poised. Lewdly ascended.

And then...

Bootia herself entered.

The goddess of hips. Of bounce. Of sacred seduction.

She wore a robe made of fog. Her eyes sparkled with ancient lust. Her hips moved like poetry written in forbidden dialects.

Everyone went still.

"Squishcendent," she said, voice deep and thigh-quaking. "You have sealed the Spiral. Balanced the bounce. Purified the loop."

Henry stood. His towel fell. No one blinked.

He bowed. Fully. Respectfully. Lewdly.

"I did my duty, Lady Bootia."

She smiled. "Now comes the reward."

Seraphina whispered, "Wait. There’s a reward?"

Bootia gestured. A portal opened.

"You have unlocked access... to the Forbidden Bounce Library."

Thrustina gasped. "I thought that was just legend!"

Bootia nodded. "It contains every position, every moan, every technique—lost to time and too spicy for mortal scrolls."

Henry’s eyes widened. "I... I have to go. For research."

Moistessa saluted. "Godspeed. And hydrate."

Bootia extended her hand.

Henry took it.

And together, they vanished into bounce-shaped light.

---

In the distance, a faint moan echoed.

The Bounce was far from over.