The orgy continued.
By now, the other women had emerged from the bathrooms, clean and desperate.
Robin. Viola. Scarlett. Mirana. Lily. They stood at the edges of the room, watching with hungry eyes, touching themselves as they waited for their turn.
Robin's fingers worked her own clit, her breath coming in short gasps. "He's still going."
Viola pressed against the wall, her hand between her legs. "He's a monster. An absolute monster."
Scarlett licked her lips. "Our monster."
Lakeman caught their eyes and smirked. "Don't just watch. Come here Bitches."
They surged forward.
Robin reached him first, pressing her fleshy tits against his side, her mouth finding his ear. "Master, let me help."
"Then help," he commanded.
Her hands joined his on Shakky's ass, her fingers digging into the firm flesh. Her mouth traced down his neck, biting and sucking.
Viola found Stussy's abandoned breasts, kneading them, pinching the nipples.
"So full," she murmured. "The evolution made you gorgeous, Sister Stussy."
Scarlett pressed against his other side, her mouth capturing his in a searing kiss.
Mirana and Lily descended on Shakky, their mouths finding her marked breasts, their tongues soothing the bites Lakeman had left.
"You're all mine," he growled into the sea of flesh surrounding him. "Everyone of you. Property of Saint Lakeman."
"Yes, Master!" came the chorus of voices.
His cock swelled impossibly larger inside Stussy's throat.
"Fuck—I'm close again."
He grabbed Stussy's head with both hands and thrust forward with everything he had. Her nose pressed against his pelvis. Her throat bulged.
He then came hard.
Wave after wave of thick, hot seed exploded down her throat directly into her stomach.
Her eyes rolled back completely. Her body spasmed. But she didn't pull away—she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.
Gulp. Slurrppp. Gulp.
Pop.
When he finally released her, she collapsed backward, Shakky's legs slipping from around her head.
She lay on the bed, gasping, her chest heaving, cum leaking from the corners of her mouth.
"Fucking incredible," Lakeman breathed.
Shakky unwrapped herself from him and examined the unconscious Stussy. "She passed out."
"She earned it." He stood, his cock still hard, dripping with saliva and residual cum. "Now it's your turn."
Shakky's eyes flared. "Finally."
He grabbed her and threw her onto the bed beside Stussy's prone form.
"Ass up, face down."
She complied instantly, her perfect bronze ass raised in the air, her face pressed into the sheets, which earned her another tight slap from Lakeman on her firm buttocks.
Smack.
"Robin, Viola—hold her down."
The two women scrambled to obey. Robin pinned her shoulders. Viola grabbed her hips.
"Scarlett, Mirana—prepare her," he commanded.
They descended on Shakky's raised ass, their tongues finding her pussy and asshole, wetting and relaxing her entrance.
"Ahh—yes—more—" Shakky moaned, her voice muffled into the sheets.
Lakeman watched for a moment, stroking himself, letting the anticipation build.
"Enough."
Scarlett and Mirana pulled back. Viola and Robin tightened their grip.
He positioned his throbbing, hard cock at the entrance of her pussy.
"This is going to hurt."
"Please—"
He thrust forward.
"Ooohhhh."
—
Somewhere in the New World, the sea churned.
Two massive fleets cut through the waves, bearing down on the same destination with murderous intent.
On one side, ships adorned with skull and flame motifs—Kaido's Beast Pirates. On the other hand, candy-colored vessels of impossible architecture—Big Mom's forces.
The combined armada stretched across the horizon, hundreds of ships sailing in formation. Powerful auras crackled across the decks—Conqueror's Haki flaring, clashes between crewmates erupting and resolving in seconds, the perpetual chaos of Yonko crews in motion.
On Big Mom's flagship, the deck had been transformed into a feast.
Tables groaned under towers of cake, mountains of pastries, rivers of wine.
Big Mom herself sat at the center, her massive frame dwarfing the furniture, her eight-year-old visage belying centuries of terror.
"Mama mama mama!"
Her laugh boomed across the deck as she stuffed cake into her mouth with both hands.
Crumbs and frosting spattered across her dress. Her eyes sparkled with simple delight.
"Another! Bring me another!"
Attendants scurried to comply, terrified eyes never meeting hers.
Behind her stood her children—her true strength.
Katakuri, dark and brooding, his scarlet scarf wrapped around his neck, his trident resting against his shoulder.
Perospero, Candy Minister, leaning on his candy cane with a smirk.
Smoothie with her long legs and thirst for liquids stayed silent at a strategic distance.
Daifuku, Oven, Brûlée—all the heavy hitters arranged in formation.
"Mama mama, why the sullen face, Kaido?"
Big Mom's voice carried teasing amusement. She gestured with a half-eaten cake.
"Eat some sweets! They're delicious!"
Across from her, at a table laden with alcohol rather than pastries, sat Kaido.
The Governor of the Beasts looked nothing like his usual boisterous self. His massive frame was hunched, his face dark with thought. One hand curled around a barrel of sake. The other tapped against the table.
Behind him stood his own commanders. King the Wildfire, his mask gleaming. Queen the Plague, adjusting his mechanical body. Jack the Drought was already bleeding from a minor skirmish hours ago. The Tobiropp. The Flying Six. The Numbers.
A legion of monsters.
Kaido ignored her, his eyes fixed on the empty horizon.
"A bad omen drifts on the wind, Linlin," Kaido rumbled.
He stared at the horizon, feeling something wrong in his gut.
"Ignavious," he muttered.
"Hmm?" Big Mom looked up, frosting on her chin. "Speak up! You're muttering like a child!"
"Nothing, Linlin."
"Then drink!" She raised her own goblet. "To our alliance! To crush this Saint Lakeman and claim his power!"
Some of her children cheered. Kaido raised his barrel but didn't drink.
Something was wrong.
His instinct—the same instinct that had kept him alive through countless battles, through executions, through suicide attempts—was screaming.
A snail phone bug rang.
Katakuri moved before anyone else could react, snatching the receiver. His face remained impassive as ever as he listened.
"Mm."
His eyes—usually stoic—flickered with something.
Surprise? Disbelief?
He hung up.
His hand moved to another snail.
Dialed. Listened. Hung up.
Again. Another snail. Another call.
His expression grew graver with each conversation.
The deck grew quieter. Big Mom lowered her cake and asked.
"What is it, Katakuri?"
"Nothing good, Mother."
He crossed to her side, leaning close. His voice dropped low, but on a ship full of powerhouses, nothing stayed secret.
"Our spies have reported." He kept himself very controlled. "The night before last. Sabaody Archipelago."
"Spit it out!"
"Rayleigh. Scopper Gaban. Crocus. And nearly every surviving member of the Roger Pirates."
He paused.
"They attacked Saint Lakeman at his villa."
Big Mom's eyebrows rose.
"Roger's crew? All of them?"
"Nearly. They launched a coordinated assault while he rested."
"Did they kill him?" Kaido's voice cut through. His hand tightened around the barrel.
Katakuri looked at him.
"That's the... unexpected part."
"Just say it!"
"Saint Lakeman didn't participate in the fight."
Silence.
"What?"
"He didn't fight. He didn't need to." Katakuri's voice was carefully neutral. "The women beside him—his companions—they killed every single Roger Pirate."
More silence.
"In nearly two hours," Katakuri added.
The deck erupted.
"Bullshit!" Queen's mechanical laugh rang out. "What kind of joke is this?"
"Roger's right hand? The Pirate King's crew? Killed by women?" Perospero sneered. "Our spies have lost their minds!"
"Mama mama!" Big Mom laughed. "Katakuri, have you been drinking?"
But Kaido wasn't laughing.
His barrel cracked in his grip.
"You're certain?" His voice was quiet. Dangerous.
"I confirmed through seven independent sources." Katakuri's eyes met his. "All report the same. Rayleigh is dead. Gaban is dead. Crocus is dead. The Roger Pirates are effectively extinct. And Saint Lakeman never got his hand dirty in battle."
Kaido's heart palpitated.
His instinct had been right.
Something had changed. Something that made the balance of the world shift beneath them.
"How strong," he whispered, "are these women?"
"Unknown. But if they could defeat Rayleigh in open combat—" Katakuri started.
"Rayleigh was old." Queen interrupted. "Past his prime."
"He was still stronger than most current admirals," Katakuri said, making Queen shut up. "And he wasn't alone. There were nearly twenty former Roger Pirates."
"Twenty?"
"All dead. In under two hours."
Big Mom finally stopped laughing.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're serious."
"Deadly serious, Mother."
She set down her cake.
"Do we know which women? Their abilities?"
"Not yet. Our spies fled before they could be detected."
"That was smart." Kaido finally spoke up. "If they could kill Rayleigh, they could kill our spies without noticing."
The two Yonko exchanged a look—perhaps the first time they'd agreed on anything in decades.
"This changes things," Big Mom murmured. "We're not hunting a Celestial Dragon and his harem."
"No," Kaido agreed. "We're hunting something else entirely."
His fist clenched.
"And I don't know if we're strong enough."
The fleet sailed on.
But the mood had shifted.
The drinking quieted. The laughter died.
In its place: fear.
—
Back in Sabaody, the orgy had evolved into something transcendent.
Shakky's screams echoed off the walls as Lakeman took her in every position.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
Her Admiral-level physique meant he didn't need to hold back—he could pound her with the force that would shatter mountains, and she would take it.
"More—MORE—"
He had her against the wall now, her legs wrapped around his waist, his cock buried in her asshole while Stussy—recovered—licked her pussy from below.
"Your slutty body is incredible," he growled in her ear. "Take it. Take all of it."
"YES—MASTER—"
Robin and Viola had paired off, watching while touching each other. Scarlett was beneath them, her tongue working wherever she could reach.
And still, Lakeman didn't tire.
His overwhelming power meant he could go for days and months without tiring if he wills.
And he intended to.
The afternoon sun crawled across the sky.
The sounds of pleasure never stopped.
Outside, the world was mobilizing for war.
Inside, Saint Lakeman was too busy enjoying his harem to care.
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