Reborn in Milfloria: The Only Man in a World of Seductive Queens-Chapter 57: Ripped Realms

The door to the Afterbounce Chamber parted with a sound that could only be described as a wet moan and a sigh of relief. Henry took a tentative step forward, immediately greeted by a breeze so sultry it felt like someone had exhaled directly onto his lower back with romantic intent.

"Ah," Climaxa whispered, licking her lips like she was savoring a forbidden memory. "That breeze means she’s awake."

Henry blinked. "Who’s ’she’?"

Prudencia gave him a deadpan look. "The Oracle. Duh."

The chamber was dim, lit only by the bioluminescent glow of the floor—which pulsed in rhythm to Henry’s footsteps. It smelled of lavender, lust, and something suspiciously close to hot banana bread. The walls were covered in velvet, and the air was thick with moans that seemed to echo from nowhere and everywhere.

At the center of the room sat a massive chaise lounge that looked like it had seen things. It was surrounded by cushions, oils, goblets, and silken sashes strewn about like the aftermath of a very luxurious war.

And then, she appeared.

The Oracle of Jiggle.

She emerged from the mist like a secret being whispered through trembling lips. Draped in translucent robes that shimmered with celestial thirst, her body moved like each joint had its own seductive agenda. Her hips led the way, followed by breasts that seemed to defy gravity purely out of spite. Her eyes were glowing amethyst, and her voice could lubricate a stone.

"So," she cooed, "this is the legendary Grand Thrusticator."

Henry tried to bow, but his knees gave out halfway. He ended up doing a clumsy squat that somehow made the Oracle raise a single, sculpted brow.

"...I see you’re pre-lubricated. Good."

Climaxa and Prudencia quietly found a plush nook to observe from, sipping from goblets that refilled themselves with every judgmental glance.

The Oracle stepped closer, her presence so thick it made Henry feel like a cinnamon roll left out in the rain.

"Do you know why you’re here, Archbishop of Ass?"

Henry coughed. "To, uh... spread bounce-based diplomacy?"

She grinned. "Incorrect. You’re here to unlock the Bounce Beyond. The Ancient Twerkening."

Henry blinked. "That sounds fake."

"So does your title, but here we are."

She snapped her fingers. A platform rose from the floor—a circular disk lined with jelly pillows and glowing symbols shaped like cheek imprints. Henry was guided onto it.

"This," she explained, "is the Platform of Pounding Prophecy."

Henry looked like he was trying to do math in his head and failing miserably.

"Now," she said, stepping onto the platform with him. "We synchronize. We summon. We bounce."

Music began. Not from any instrument, but from the walls themselves. Deep, primal bass mixed with soft moans and occasional claps—all vibrating the room like a sacred playlist from the gods of lewd harmony.

The Oracle placed her hands on Henry’s hips.

He gasped. "Cold!"

She smirked. "Focus."

They moved.

Slowly at first. Swaying. Rolling. Like two tectonic plates flirting beneath a silk sheet. Henry tried to keep up, but the Oracle was leagues ahead—each motion precise, seductive, ancient.

His mind spiraled. He saw visions.

Peach fields swaying in sacred rhythm. Temples built entirely out of thighs. A monk bouncing on one leg with divine conviction.

He moaned. Not from pleasure. Not from pain.

From... purpose.

The Oracle leaned in. "You’re opening the portal. Can you feel it?"

Henry nodded, dazed. "Something’s opening, alright."

The platform spun.

Light erupted.

Somewhere, a harp cried.

Henry arched his back, caught mid-bounce, eyes wide with divine realization.

"The cheeks... speak to me!"

The Oracle smiled gently. "Yes. Listen to them. Let them guide you."

He did.

And he wept.

Not because he was in pain.

But because he had finally become one with the jiggle.

The Platform of Pounding Prophecy slowed. The music faded. The lights dimmed.

Henry collapsed backward into the Oracle’s arms. She held him like a freshly baked croissant of destiny.

"You have done well, Grand Thrusticator. You have become the One Who Bounces Between Worlds."

Climaxa stood and clapped slowly. "Beautiful. I haven’t cried since the Great Bounce Shortage of ’04."

Prudencia rolled her eyes. "You cried last week because your pillow didn’t moan back."

Henry looked up, dazed. "So what now?"

The Oracle lifted his chin gently. "Now, you go to Jiggleton. The final trial awaits. The land has been dry... for too long."

He shivered. "Will there be... hydration?"

"Only if you bring it."

Henry looked into the Oracle’s eyes.

He nodded.

The bounce... had just begun to ripple across kingdoms.

And ripple it did.

From the peach orchards of South Milforia to the wind-blessed hills of Mount Jigglenip, an unseen vibration began to hum. Windows rattled softly. Goblets trembled on mahogany tables. Somewhere in a distant village, a butter churner paused, looked at her thighs, and whispered, "It is time."

Back in the Castle of Clappalot, Henry stumbled forward, still glowing with residual bounce energy. His hair was frizzed with static seduction. His robe, once a majestic swirl of ceremonial silk, now resembled a very confused curtain.

"Are we," he wheezed, "out of the lewd forest yet?"

"Oh no," Climaxa purred, gliding beside him with the elegance of a feline dipped in wine. "We’re just entering the afterglow valley."

"That doesn’t sound promising," Prudencia muttered, swatting away a floating feather that smelled faintly of moan.

Before them stood a velvet archway pulsing gently, its frame shaped like intertwined thighs. A plaque read: Chamber of Restorative Moaning.

Henry paused. "This sounds like a trap."

Climaxa nodded. "A very soft, very warm, extremely lubricated trap."

The doors opened with a sigh—a literal sigh—and a warm gust of scented mist enveloped them. The chamber inside looked like a lovechild between a high-end spa and an ancient shrine to thighs. Waterfalls of melted cocoa butter streamed from the ceiling. Silken beds floated in midair, rotating slowly. Somewhere in the distance, a harp was being plucked with the rhythm of a very patient spanker. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"Is that... a jacuzzi of whipped cream?" Henry asked.

"No," Climaxa corrected. "That’s the Creamspring of Reflection."

Prudencia shook her head. "I give up. Just take your sacred milk bath and try not to drown in your own pheromones."

Henry was promptly escorted to a floating massage bed by two handmaidens named Gushina and Smearya. They spoke in hushed tones, sprinkled his chest with sugar crystals, and hummed a melody in the key of seduction minor.

As he laid back, the floating bed gently rocked him. From a misty alcove, a shadow emerged—curvaceous, mysterious, and swaying like she had a soundtrack attached to her hips.

"Greetings," she said, her voice a warm drizzle on a hot griddle. "I am Thrustelle, the Oracle of Jiggle."

Henry blinked slowly. "Of course you are."

Thrustelle raised a brow. "Have you come seeking answers? Or cheeks?"

Henry groaned softly. "Both. Maybe a nap in between."

The Oracle climbed onto the floating bed with practiced grace, straddling his legs with the poise of a woman who could bounce a prophecy into existence.

"Then let me show you... the Visions of the Jiggle."

She placed a single finger on Henry’s forehead. His eyes rolled back. The world faded into a warm, pulsing glow. He saw glimpses of past Bouncestors, a thousand twerking priestesses forming a chain of rhythm across centuries. A booty comet flew by. A volcano erupted into glitter.

He gasped back to reality.

"That... was informative."

Thrustelle smiled. "The Bounce is older than time. But yours... may be the strongest we’ve ever seen."

From the corner, Prudencia whispered to Climaxa, "How many times do you think he’s going to hear that line this week?"

"At least twelve," Climaxa replied. "Seventeen if he survives the next trial."

Henry groaned. "There’s another one?"

Thrustelle’s eyes twinkled. "Always. The next is the Ritual of Rippling Echoes."

Prudencia winced. "That one’s performed on a trampoline of truth. Naked. While being fanned by the Sisters of Slap."

Henry whimpered. "I miss Earth."

The Oracle leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "But does Earth miss you, Grand Thrusticator?"

Henry exhaled. "Probably not."

She kissed his forehead, and the chamber pulsed once more. Every cheek-shaped carving glowed. Somewhere, a statue twerked.

Henry looked up, utterly dazed. "So... now what?"

Climaxa clapped her hands. "Now we feast."

And the doors to the Banquet of Booty opened with a glorious, juicy clap.

And ripple it did.

From the velvet valleys of Rumporia to the glittering cliffs of Jiggleton, a soft thoom echoed like the heartbeat of Milforia itself. Windows trembled. Cushions flinched. Somewhere, a bakery’s entire tray of peach tarts jiggled off the counter in synchronized reverence.

Inside the Chamber of Afterbounce, Henry lay sprawled on a throne shaped like a reclining goddess mid-moan. His thighs tingled like overcharged mana conduits. His chest rose and fell in slow, satisfied heaves, and his toes wiggled like they’d just seen heaven and were filing a Yelp review.

Vebrissima sat beside him, slowly anointing his knees with Cream of Cheek Restoration, her touch deliberate, like a temple priestess blessing a relic.

"You must rest, Grand Thrusticator," she said gently, voice vibrating somewhere between lullaby and lover’s whisper. "For tomorrow, you march... to Mount Wobble."

Henry blinked. "That sounds like... cardio."

Climaxa drifted by on her ever-moaning cushion. "More like car-di-yes. It’s where the legendary Bounce Bell resides."

Prudencia sighed from her corner, sipping from a mug labeled #ThighsBeforeGuys. "Of course it does."

Henry raised a finger. "Just to be clear... this bell... it doesn’t moan, does it?"

Vebrissima’s lips curled. "Only when rung... properly."

The room shimmered. The scent of peaches and prophecy thickened. Outside, the clouds formed a perfect heart-shaped butt.

And in that sacred silence, Henry whispered the only thing he could:

"...I need electrolytes."