The
world really was massive beyond reason. From beyond the exosphere,
one could see the spaces where the other worlds had merged into it,
and the natural swaths of land and sea from the superworld that
separated them. It looked as though over a dozen worlds had been torn
apart and then stitched back together to create it. Of course, most
people never see their own world from orbit, but most people aren't
goddesses. Before she came here, Rosalina herself wasn't exactly a
goddess, although it was

Someone
was here. Normally, that would go without saying, but under this
context it was unusual. The Shepherds had been on the trail of a
strange series of mass disappearances within the borders of Ylisse.
Entire settlements of people had been vanishing en masse. The most
common suspicion was that this was the doing Plegia, but there was no
evidence of that. In fact, there wasn't any evidence at all. Every
town was the same. There wasn't anything out of place, no signs of an
attack or a struggle

The
cobbled streets rumbled as a massive crowd ran screaming towards the
last bastion of security within their once-great city. Flames roared
over the horizon as their world burned, but that was merely the
lesser hell that lay in front of them. Behind them was something much
worse. The souls of the recently slain rose from their shattered
vessels and began to congregate towards the malignant god that had
claimed them. She must have ten miles from the city, but all who
looked in her direction cou

Cynthia's
tired eyes opened to the gentle glare of the morning sun. She yawned,
considering going back to sleep before she remembered all the
important things she had to do today. The life of a Pokemon trainer
is a surprisingly busy one, especially if you just so happen to be
the official League Champion of the Sinnoh region. She groaned as she
sat up and wiped the soot from her eyes. As her brain began to attune
itself to the waking world once more, she started noticing a few
things that seemed

Malon
sat alone on the curb of the street, idly drumming her fingers.
Beside her was a small basket with a few bottles of Lon Lon milk. She
had brought it with her on a whim, thinking she could sell a few
while she was in town, but that turned out to be a failed venture. It
was nice that she didn't have to bother with anymore chores today,
but there really wasn't much of anything for her to do here, so she
simply waited.
It
was such a surprise seeing an escort of guards approaching her quiet
lit

The
perpetual overcast of black smog that hangs over Castle Koopa seemed
particularly thick this morning. Not than anyone could tell it was
morning in this lava-strewn wasteland. However, the king of this
castle doesn't care what time of day it is. When Bowser wants coffee,
Bowser gets
coffee. If he doesn't, there will be hell to pay.  
Bowser
sat in his study on a bulky, cast-iron throne as the fireplace beside
him hissed and crackled. In one hand he had a mug full of boiling
coffee with

The
Temple of Light stood silent. Although all seven Sages had been
gathered for an emergency hearing, six of them had merely listened as
the seventh, the Princess, offered a frightening revelation. Now,
they all stared speechless at her as she stood on the Triforce symbol
in the middle of the chamber with her head hanging low. “And that
is the nature of this 'Goddess Ritual' from my vision,” Zelda
concluded.
For
a minute still, the Sages remained silent. Hesitantly, Rauru opened
his mouth t

A
pale blue light pierces through the endless darkness, glowing
brighter as it gradually takes on the form of a strange young woman.
She has blue skin, a featureless face and wears a purple cloak with
long stocking. “Greetings,” she says in a gentle albeit robotic
tone. “Please do not be alarmed. My name is Fi. If you are seeing
this vision, it means you are among the twenty-one fortunate
individuals chosen as Predators for the Perfect Goddess Ritual.” Fi
extends her arm. From the palm o

[WARNING:
COCK VORE][NOTICE: This story is a sequel to The Court is in Your
Balls. Make sure you read that first!]Your tired eyes creak
open to a pleasantly familiar sight. The flaccid girth of Candice Cox
rests lazily between your legs, looking about as exhausted as the
rest of your body. You feel like a tube of toothpaste that's been
squeezed flat and empty. It's a satisfying sort of morning haze, one
that you revel in for a few moments before starting the day. Slowly,
you arise from the hotel

[WARNING:
COCK VORE]You wipe the sweat flowing above your brow to take
a look at the scoreboard. It had switched to an equal 40-40, bringing
it all down to the wire. The outcome of this last serve would decide
your fate, for better or worse. At the other side of the tennis court
was your opponent, who was unable to hide her growing anxiety under
her usual smug expression. She was an absurd hourglass of flesh, with
swollen tits the size of exercise balls hanging off her chest and a
gargantuan ass

May's
cries were drowned under the terrible roar of the machine. It made a
sound like a horse being castrated with a chainsaw, but even worse
than the sound was the sensation. May looked with watery eyes at the
warm milk flowing through the tubes of the machine as it was pumped
out of her unreasonably massive breasts, which jiggled violently as
its contents were forcefully drained. She bit down on her lip and
tried to ignore the feeling of being milked by the contraption, but
it was too much. It

The
room was called a dungeon, but it looked like an overly eccentric
bedroom. It had cushions in place of cages and sheets in place of
chains. The floor itself was a large, soft bedding and the whole of
the room was illuminated by lava lamps hanging from the walls like
sconces. The Witch of the Rain kept a variety of strange rooms in the
large complex beneath her quaint little cottage, and this one was
meant for experiments. The nature of said experiments is best left
untold for the time being.

The
girl's heart raced as she awaited her answer. She felt overwhelmed by
the presence of the woman standing before her. To call her a woman
would be an understatement. It would be more appropriate to call her
a goddess. She stood on long, slender legs that sprouted into a pair
of thick thighs, leading up to her overbearing and fertile hips. Her
thin waist was beset from below by a plump rear and above by an
astoundingly large pair of breasts that jutted out in front of her.
Every inch of this w