Reborn in Milfloria: The Only Man in a World of Seductive Queens-Chapter 48: The Lecture of Lewds

The Bounce-shaped portal closed with a seductive pop, like a bubble of lust bursting in sacred slow motion.

And Henry...

Well, Henry was not ready.

Not for what lay beyond.

He landed—no, softly sank—into a silken floor that pulsed gently, like the inside of a sacred pillow. The air was thick with perfume and whispered sighs. Every breath he took tasted like cherry-stained lips and bedtime regrets.

He looked around.

The Forbidden Bounce Library was not a library.

Not in the boring "books on dusty shelves" sense.

No.

It was a cathedral of curves. Endless velvet corridors. Glowing scrolls floating mid-air like lazy, drunk fireflies. Every pillar was carved like a goddess mid-gasm. Every ceiling painted with lewd masterpieces that would get censored in seven kingdoms and a half.

Henry took one step—and the floor moaned softly beneath his bare foot.

"Oh," he muttered, looking down. "Interactive tiles."

Then the scent hit him.

Strawberries.

Sweat.

Ink.

And... thighs?

From the shadows, a voice echoed, slow and dripping with honeyed sin.

"You’ve come to read... haven’t you?"

Henry turned slowly.

And there she stood.

The Librarian of Forbidden Moans.

She was tall. Towering. Amazonian. Wrapped in scrolls that barely covered her bouncing, bobbing knowledge bombs. Her glasses sat crooked on the bridge of her nose, like they’d just survived a passionate research session. Her hips? Academic weapons of mass distraction.

"Wh—what’s your name?" Henry asked, clutching his towel like it was a shield of virtue. It wasn’t. It was slipping.

The librarian stepped forward, each stride a full paragraph of plot.

"I am Lorellia," she purred. "The First Moankeeper. Guardian of the Position Scrolls. Dean of Lewdology."

Henry’s brain went blank.

His towel fell.

Lorellia’s eyes didn’t blink. Her gaze went straight to his scroll of destiny.

"A fine... reader," she whispered. "But you must be tested. This library doesn’t give away its secrets easily."

Henry coughed, trying to recover the shreds of his brain. "I’m ready. For the knowledge. Yes. Deep knowledge. Thorough education."

She smiled like she’d just marked him present.

Then she clapped her hands.

A wall of scrolls unraveled behind her.

Each glowed with a title.

The Reverse Scholar Bounce

The Thigh Clench Thesis

The Position of Infinite Gawk

The Forbidden D-Scroll of Arching Arts

Henry stared, jaw slowly descending into the perv-zone.

"I... don’t know where to start," he said, overwhelmed.

Lorellia raised one brow. "Then allow me to demonstrate."

She summoned a scroll with a flick of her wrist—it floated between them like an ancient menu of bad decisions.

"The Position of Infinite Gawk," she said, voice scholarly yet sinful. "Few can survive it without biting a pillow in surrender."

Henry, academically downbad, nodded solemnly. "I’m willing to learn. For research."

The room shifted.

Velvet walls melted into satin landscapes.

Pillows sprouted beneath their feet like luxurious weeds.

Lorellia dropped her scroll dress, revealing a body sculpted by literature and lewd intention.

Henry’s legs buckled. Not from fear. From respect.

She approached him slowly, one hand on his chest, pressing him back onto a floating mattress that purred beneath him.

"First," she whispered, straddling his knees, "you must understand eye contact. It is the first Chapter of the Gawk."

Henry locked eyes with her.

And then instantly lost the battle.

"Too powerful," he gasped.

She smirked. "Page one: Submission."

What followed was not chaos.

It was structured, syllabus-certified, GPA-destroying erotic academia.

Lorellia demonstrated the angle of the arch. The velocity of bounce. The critical timing of the moan-sigh combo, which could summon thunder if done correctly (she did).

Henry took notes.

In his mind.

Also with his hands.

Mostly with his hands.

The scrolls around them vibrated in approval.

One glowed and wrote itself:

> Chapter 69: The Squishcendent Learns the Lore.

By the end of the lesson, Henry lay limp in a pile of soaked scrolls and spilled nectar.

Lorellia lay beside him, chest heaving like a well-referenced bibliography.

"You did well," she whispered. "Your bounce has... potential."

Henry gave a thumbs up without lifting his hand. "Thanks. I’m learning. Slowly. Lewdly."

Just then, a portal sparked to life at the corner of the chamber.

Out popped Moistessa’s head.

She squinted.

"Is he getting extra credit?!"

Henry sat up, hair wild and towel nowhere in sight. "I—I was studying!"

Moistessa stepped in, holding a rolled-up scroll and nothing else. "I want to study too."

Lorellia raised an eyebrow. "He’s mine for now. The curriculum is intense."

"I like intense," Moistessa said, crawling into the bed of bouncing books.

From behind her, Thrustina barged through the portal with a crash and a war cry: "IS THIS A GROUP PROJECT?!"

Henry sighed. "It is now."

Lorellia smiled. "Welcome... to the Lecture of Lewds."

What followed was not a study session.

It was a lewd symposium.

Scrolls fluttered. Pillows flew. Someone moaned in iambic pentameter.

At one point, a statue of Bootia appeared and took notes.

Somewhere, in the real world, Seraphina raised her head and smirked.

"He’s gonna come back... ruined."

She sipped her tea.

A petal fell.

The Bounce was still rising.

And in the heart of the Forbidden Bounce Library...

So was Henry.

Rising like the chosen stiff in a prophecy that was never supposed to be this... wet.

He stood—bare, bruised, bouncing—and stared at the battlefield of scrolls and limbs before him. Moistessa lay tangled in a quilt made of rejection letters from failed romance authors. Thrustina was sprawled over a floating podium labeled "Presentations with Chest". Lorellia? She was perched on a suspended chaise lounge made of forbidden kinks, sipping what looked like a mix of wine and ink.

The scrolls floating in the air were still writing themselves.

> "Chapter 70: The Oral Defense of the Thesis of Thrust"

> "Chapter 71: Moistessa’s Moaning Midterms"

> "Chapter 72: The Annotated Arch of Lorellia"

And somewhere in between all of them... stood Henry.

Sweaty. Glowing. Breathing like he’d just bench-pressed sin and deadlifted desire.

"I think I passed," he muttered, wobbling.

Lorellia floated toward him on a mattress powered by raw, scholarly seduction. She stopped just close enough for his knees to consider giving up again.

"Henry," she said, voice low and full of delicious judgment. "You didn’t just pass."

She leaned forward.

"You topped the damn syllabus."

Henry blinked. His ego inflated like a beach ball at an orgy.

But then—ding!

A bell echoed in the library.

From above, a glowing scroll descended like a divine letter from Lust Heaven. It unrolled slowly in front of Lorellia. Her eyes scanned the script, adjusting her glasses with a practiced flick.

Her expression shifted.

"Uh-oh."

Henry, still recovering from The Position of Infinite Gawk, perked up. "Uh-oh?"

She nodded gravely. "It seems... you’ve triggered something. Something ancient."

The scroll glowed bright red, pulsing like a heart caught mid-thrust.

> "BOUNCE LEVEL: MAXIMUM."

> "NEW ACCESS GRANTED: THE STAX OF THE UNSATISFIED."

Moistessa, now upright and suddenly curious, peeked from behind a pillow.

"The what now?"

Lorellia whispered, "The Stax of the Unsatisfied... are the lost scrolls. Forbidden even to me. They’re said to contain... unfinished pleasures. Eternal cliffhangers. Positions with no known end."

Thrustina leapt up, pupils dilating like a battle-ready minx. "We’re going."

Henry’s towel returned for half a second—just to fall again. "Uh, shouldn’t we rest or something first? Hydrate? Maybe journal?"

Too late.

The walls of the library trembled.

A shelf split open, revealing a dark hallway lined with silhouettes—posed, squirming, writhing in ink and shadows. Scrolls whispered in languages no tongue should speak. A sultry wind blew through, carrying hints of lavender, latex, and unfinished business.

Lorellia nodded, serious now. "Henry... only the truly unfulfilled enter the Stax. Once you go in, you can’t leave until every moan has been answered."

Henry, noble and erect, stood tall. "Then I accept the challenge."

Moistessa and Thrustina flanked him, hands on hips, hair wild, pupils glowing with lusty ambition.

Lorellia stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "Good luck, Squishcendent. May your hips never lie."

With a deep breath, Henry stepped through the archway.

And immediately tripped.

Right onto a floating bed made of rejection, denial, and teasing tension.

The room ahead was pitch black.

Then—snap!

A spotlight flickered on.

In the middle of the chamber stood a massive scroll on a pedestal of vibrating feathers.

A title blinked:

> "The Unclimaxed Scroll of Perpetual Edging."

Moistessa gasped. "It’s real!"

Thrustina cracked her knuckles. "Not for long."

They stepped forward.

The scroll unrolled in mid-air, summoning ghostly forms—echoes of lovers from forgotten tales, moaning eternally in unfinished scenes, faces forever twisted in unsatisfied agony.

Henry swallowed.

The room whispered: "Finish us..."

Then the first ghost moaned, floated forward, and wrapped herself around Henry.

"Oh damn—she’s cold!"

Lorellia’s voice echoed through a scroll-speaker: "That’s the Phantom of Blue Balls. She’s lonely and lingers."

Thrustina threw herself at another ghost, who whined with relief. Moistessa dove into a haunted pile of pillows, yelping in erotic horror and delight.

Henry, tangled in spectral thighs, tried to fight the urge to study harder.

But this was his destiny.

This was academic edging.

This was the Final Exam of Flesh.

---

Hours passed. Orgasms blurred. Ghosts were satisfied. Scrolls rolled back into silence.

Henry stood victorious, bruised and kissed in thirteen ghost languages.

The final scroll hovered before him.

> "You are now... Certified in Forbidden Knowledge."

He touched it.

A tattoo formed on his chest—an ancient sigil shaped like a bouncing peach and a quill.

Lorellia’s voice returned, now warm with pride. "You’ve done it. You’ve conquered the unsatisfied. You are now... a Professor of Pounding."

A cheer echoed from the library. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Statues moaned. Books giggled. The chandelier above climaxed and shattered in sparkles.

The Bounce was rising again.

And so was Henry.

But now?

He was ready.