Chapter 2: Becoming Vekkári

Fifty Years Later

They called her Vekkári now, and the name carried like heat in the wind, rising off dirt trails and whispered through the smoke of fire pits. To some, she was a sacred rite. To others, a dream with a name. But to those who had found her--who had needed her--she was something deeper. Something their minds couldn't forget, and their bodies couldn't stop craving.

She lived alone, just beyond the trees, where a long ridge of stone rose from the earth like the bones of a buried god. There, at the base, was a cave mouth draped in thick hides, its edges blackened by soot and time. Smoke curled from its vents above, carrying the scent of ash and sex and heat. Inside was warmth--not lavish, but alive. Furs layered the ground. Bones, feathers, and hand-carved totems hung in quiet corners. A glow pulsed from the fire, and the shadows around it moved like lovers' hands.

It was not a temple. Not a throne room. Just a place for release.

And at its center was Vekkári.

When people saw her for the first time, they often went quiet. She was tall and broad-hipped, her body built not for pageants or gods, but for flesh. Pale skin gleamed with the warmth of firelight, stretched over a form shaped by hunger and history. Her black hair spilled down her back in thick, tangled waves, smelling faintly of smoke and sweat.

And then--her eyes.

Blue-gray. Like the sea just before a storm.

They didn't blink quickly. They didn't dart around. They looked, and they saw.

She didn't speak until she needed to. Her presence said enough.

Vekkári's body was a truth of its own: heavy breasts that swayed with slow breaths, thick thighs carved by use, not vanity, and a wide, plump ass that rolled gently with each step. She didn't walk like someone performing seduction. She walked like someone who had no need to prove her power--because everyone around her already felt it.

She didn't fuck for free, but she never turned anyone away for lack of coin. Payment was offered in the form it came: a pouch of herbs, a piece of dried meat, a carved stone. She knew what her clients could afford before they did. She knew what they wanted even when they couldn't say it. Shame was a foreign language to her. Need was the only one she spoke.

They came for different things--gentleness, punishment, the echo of old pain. She gave it all, not out of cruelty, and never for worship, but because she understood what it meant to ache... and what it meant to be seen.

She had once been called Vek.

But Vekkári was no disguise.

It was the name of the self she chose--because she preferred this form, this life, over who she had been.

Her powers had not just grown. They had matured--become deliberate, measured, and infinitely more potent. No longer a reflex born of fear or lust, they were tools of precision, honed by time and wielded with instinct older than language.

She could split herself at will.

At first, there were only two. Then more. One to tend the fire. Another to gather herbs. A third to press her lips to a shivering man's ear and coax the shame from his bones. Each copy was fully her--real in every way. They moved, breathed, touched, and felt with complete awareness. Yet like her, they could not be harmed. No blade could cut them. No fall could bruise. Not even the clumsy scrape of a child's careless touch left a mark. Immortality coursed through every version of her, and none had ever known injury.

She tested herself in secret, always searching for the edge of her ability--but she never found it. There was no ceiling. Only possibility.

Once, she filled a quiet clearing with a hundred of herself--bare and smiling, some kneeling in the grass, others braiding strands of her own hair, others standing still, palms open to the sky.

A few among them shifted into different bodies--still hers, still human, but varied as dreams allowed. One bore the form of a man, strong and broad-shouldered, with a thick cock swaying between his thighs. Another was small and slim, with a boyish frame. One had fuller hips and soft curves; another, lean and wiry. Skin tones varied, as did the shapes of mouths, the tilt of eyes, the fullness of lips. She sculpted herself not for disguise, but for exploration.

And there, under starlight and quiet trees, some of her selves joined in raw, hungry union. Hands tangled in hair. Mouths opened in gasps and groans. One straddled another in the grass, while others kissed slow and deep, their hips grinding in a rhythm carved from instinct and memory.

She took herself, and was taken in turn--each form giving and receiving in a perfect, endless loop.

It wasn't about lust alone. It was intimacy turned inward. A dance between body and mind, flesh and imagination. She knew what pleased her. She knew how to coax out a climax that left her body shaking--and so she gave it to herself, over and over, in the firelit dark.

And when it was over--when their bodies lay scattered and glowing, slick with sweat and breathless with satisfaction--she let them dissolve one by one. Each rejoining the whole. Each leaving her more complete than before.

She had touched countless others. But none knew her like she knew herself.

She didn't need a partner to feel love.

She didn't need worship to feel divine.

She was her own hunger, her own pleasure, her own answer.

Another time, she sent ten versions of herself in ten directions.

No two looked exactly alike. They were all Vekkári--her voice, her mind, her essence--but each shaped with specific intention. One appeared as a wiry youth with long legs and sharp eyes, made to move swiftly through dense forest. Another had wide, callused hands and thick shoulders, perfect for lifting stones and hauling bundles of roots. One took the form of an elder, with fine lines across her brow and silver threading her hair--a figure of wisdom that coaxed trust from a grieving villager. Another seemed soft-bodied and quiet, ideal for sitting in stillness beside the dying and listening to their final truths.

Each shape was crafted with care--some for gathering, some for comforting, some for seduction. Her gift wasn't just replication, but refinement. She didn't duplicate herself out of vanity. She sculpted forms with purpose.

They returned one by one to the mouth of her cave, bearing what they had collected: bitterroot from riverbanks, secrets moaned through clenched teeth in the dark, and new ways to hold a soul until it let go.

When she called them home, they merged back into her.

Each memory became her own--not like listening to a retelling, but like living it firsthand. Ten forms had walked the world. Ten minds had touched, learned, remembered. And now, those ten lives layered into her like overlapping dreams--vivid, seamless, complete.

This was how she grew--not only by time, but by experience, multiplied and collected like fruit from many trees.

She did not merely walk the world.

She unfolded into it.

She had touched so many, heard even more, but never broke. Never faltered. Never bled. Her strength came not from dominance, but from knowing.

She was not a god. Not a queen.

She was not wounded. Not aged. Not dying.

She was only Vekkári.

And becoming was all she had ever done.

She crouched along a moss-covered ledge, still as the stone beneath her. A lithe version of Vekkári--slender and boyish, built for quiet movement and still observation. Her bare feet gripped the damp rock, and her long black braid hung loose down her back. Her chest was small, her hips narrow, her presence nearly ghostlike in the morning haze.

But she was not a girl.

She was Vekkári. One of many. A thought given form. A whisper of the whole.

Below her, a man walked the winding trail with a hunger she had felt before--but never quite like this. It wasn't lust. Not power. It was something older. More fragile.

He wanted a child.

His thoughts spilled out of him in desperate waves--images of a son he had never known, a family not yet formed. And always her name. Not screamed in need, not whispered in worship. Spoken with trembling hope.

"Vekkári..."

The clone didn't move, but she felt.

Felt his longing.

Felt the ripple it sent through the bond she shared with her true self.

And far away--back in the cave where firelight flickered across smooth stone--Vekkári stirred in quiet thought. Not with alarm, but with wonder. Reflection.

Because the truth was:

Vekkári had never given birth.

For just over a century, she had walked the earth in many forms--listening, healing, fucking, guiding. She had tasted death on other people's tongues, but never known birth from her own body. Her immortality had preserved her from age, but it had never demanded she create. Her powers had made her many things--a shapeshifter, a healer, a companion, a mirror--but never a mother.

She had taken seed. She had felt it settle. But she had never chosen to finish it.

Never let it grow.

Never felt what it meant to create something new and let it live.

And now, this man--worn, hopeful, breaking in quiet places--had brought her a new question.

Could she carry life? Truly? Not just flesh, but future?

The clone inhaled, slow and steady, as the man knelt by the trail to rest. His mind throbbed with longing. She could feel the weight of his years of failure. And in the silent stretch between her and the source, Vekkári herself asked the questions that stirred in both their hearts:

Could I?

Should I?

Would the child grow in her like it would in any other woman? Would her shifting--her endless becoming--endanger the life inside her? Could her other selves exist while one body carried something so fragile?

And deeper still:

Would the child be human? Or would it inherit what she herself didn't fully understand?

She had always believed her gifts would not pass on.

But now... she wasn't certain.

She had lived a long life, yes--ninety, maybe a hundred years. But immortality didn't mean omniscience. She was still learning what she was. Still discovering what she could become.

And this man's longing had revealed something she hadn't expected.

Not lust.

Not awe.

Possibility.

The clone watched the man as he rested beneath a crooked tree, the curve of his back heavy with longing. His hands trembled slightly as he drank from a waterskin. His thoughts remained fixed on the same idea--a child--looping like a chant. She felt the ache behind it, the hunger to plant a seed and see it take root in something lasting.

And deep in the cave, through the bond they shared, Vekkári considered the weight of that hope.

This wasn't just a question of will. It was a question of form--of biology, of risk.

Because when she took the shape of a woman, she didn't just wear the skin. She was that body. Entirely. Her internal organs morphed alongside her bones and flesh. She experienced everything a naturally born woman did. Her womb formed fully, her cervix softened and opened in rhythm with the moon. And yes--she menstruated. Once a month, a slow bleed reminded her that she was more than a mimic. She was a participant in life's cycle.

When she shifted to the shape of a man, the change was just as complete. Her body thickened, her chest flattened. Her clit became cock and testicles. And when aroused, she produced semen--hot, thick, and fertile. It could impregnate. Perhaps it did, she wasn't sure.

Her powers were precise. Not cosmetic, not surface-level illusions. She wasn't just pretending. She became.

Which meant that, in theory, she could become pregnant. Fully. Naturally. No different than any other woman.

That truth had always been tucked away--acknowledged, but never tested. She had lived just over a century exploring what others needed from her. Desire, comfort, healing. She had never taken what she needed.

Until now, she had never asked the question that lingered in the cool morning air, heavy with possibility:

Was she ready to give herself to creation?

The clone flexed her fingers against the stone beneath her. The man began to rise again, unaware that his presence had awakened something new in a being who had long believed she had no more mysteries left to solve.

He believed she could give him a child.

And perhaps, for the first time in her long life, Vekkári was beginning to believe it too.

The clone remained still in her perch, crouched in the mossy cradle of stone above the trail. A quiet version of Vekkári, built for watching and listening, her breath shallow, her pulse a silent echo beneath her skin. She made no move to reveal herself. Not yet.

She closed her eyes and reached deeper into the man's thoughts--not intruding, but listening, the way wind listens to the bend of trees.

What she found there was not lust.

Not even the need for legacy.

It was grief.

The man's mind was heavy with it. Thick, slow-moving sorrow, like tree sap hardened over years. His desire for a child wasn't rooted in pride--it was a wound, unhealed and still bleeding beneath the surface.

Her name surfaced first. A soft name. A name he thought with reverence and pain: Temla.

His wife.

She had died years ago, in childbirth. The child, their first, had died with her. He had been too far from help. The labor had come too soon, too violently. The memory of it was etched into his mind like cuts on stone--the screaming, the silence, the stillness that followed. It had broken something in him. Not cleanly. Not quickly. But slowly. Every day since.

He had wandered since then, not in search of company or comfort, but of something that could fill the shape left behind. A child. Not to replace Temla, never that--but to make something of her memory. To see her eyes in another's. To hold what she could never give him.

And then, one night, by firelight, he heard a story.

Of the woman who lived beyond the forests.

Of the shapeshifter. The healer. The one who never aged, never bled, never broke.

Of Vekkári.

At first, he had not believed. But desperation made room for hope. Hope made room for belief. And belief gave him a path.

He had followed it here.

The clone--this quiet shadow of Vekkári--felt a shift inside herself. A tightening. A tremor. Not of pity. Not even sympathy.

Of recognition.

She had healed wounds before. She had satisfied carnal needs, calmed madness, held dying hands. But she had never been asked for something like this. Not to create what grief had taken. Not to become the vessel of a second chance.

He didn't seek a woman to fuck.

He sought a miracle.

And the weight of that began to settle into her--into all of her.

Still hidden, the clone inhaled deeply. The scent of wet bark and old leaves filled her lungs.

She would not reveal herself. Not yet.

Not until the core of her--the whole Vekkári--had decided whether this was something she could give.

Or rather, something she should give.

And if she did...

She might never be the same again.

The clone watched him a moment longer.

She had seen enough. Felt enough. The ache inside him was real--not driven by greed or desire to conquer, but by loss that refused to fade. She didn't yet know if what he asked could--or should--be done. But he had come far. And he had earned, at least, a chance to speak with her.

So she moved.

Not suddenly, not loudly--just enough to be seen. Her light frame shifted from the ledge, her bare feet barely making a sound as she dropped to the trail a few paces ahead of him.

The man startled, stepping back, one hand flying to the crude stone knife at his side.

She lifted both palms, slow, gentle.

"No need for that," she said. Her voice was soft, unthreatening. "You looked lost."

He blinked, unsure if she was real. "I--no. I mean... maybe. I'm looking for someone."

Her head tilted slightly. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he said, steadier now. "A woman. They say she lives out here. Her name is... Vekkári."

The clone blinked slowly, playing the part. "I've heard the name."

"Is she real?" he asked. "They say she can heal anything. That she never dies. That she can give a man... things others cannot."

The clone gave a faint smile--small, unreadable. "Rumors like that tend to stretch truth. But maybe they start somewhere real."

His expression tightened. He looked down. "I'm not looking for power. Or pleasure."

She nodded, feigning understanding, though she already knew more than he had spoken aloud. "Then what is it you seek?"

There was a pause. A weight.

"My wife," he said, voice low, "died giving birth. Years ago. The child too. I never... I never found peace."

She said nothing.

He swallowed. "Someone told me Vekkári might be able to... help. That maybe she could give me another chance. Not to replace them. Just..."

"To remember them," she finished gently.

He looked up, eyes wide. "Yes."

The clone stepped closer, her gaze steady. "You're a half day from her village. I can take you."

He hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

And so they walked.

The journey was quiet but not uncomfortable. The man asked no questions. She offered no unnecessary words. The woods thickened, then thinned. At one point, they stopped by a spring to drink. He watched her, perhaps wondering if she was more than she claimed--but said nothing.

By midafternoon, the trees gave way to a worn path of stone and packed dirt. Smoke curled faintly in the distance from fires unseen. Birdcalls echoed through the warm air. The man stepped slowly, reverently, as if crossing into sacred ground.

Then, ahead--standing where the light fell through the trees in golden shafts--she waited.

Vekkári.

Her full form. The one whispered about. The one carried across the mouths of desperate men and wild women alike. She was tall, radiant in her simplicity--bare-footed, wrapped in a thin layer of hide, her body full and strong. Her black hair spilled freely down her back, her storm-colored eyes locked onto his as he approached.

The clone slowed to a stop beside him but said nothing more.

He stood still, breath shallow, gaze wide.

And for the first time in his life, he believed the stories were true.

He stepped into the clearing.

His eyes met hers. And Vekkári felt everything.

The tremor in his chest. The awe clinging to his bones. The fear of being wrong. The desperate hope of being right.

She stood still--tall, unshifting, with arms relaxed at her sides--but her mind surged like a tide behind her calm gaze.

He came for something I've never given.

Her storm-gray eyes scanned him--not his body, but his soul, already half-open from grief. She had seen men want children before. Some out of pride. Some out of loneliness. But this man... his want came from something hollowed out long ago.

"He believes we can do this."

The voice was hers--but not spoken. The clone, now standing silent beside him, echoed the thought inward, speaking not aloud, but into the shared mind. Her tone was cautious, measured, but not dismissive.

"He believes we can give him what death denied."

But I never have, Vekkári thought. Not once.

She had lived at least a century--shifting, splitting, serving. She had felt life enter her, had even let it stir inside her belly. But she had never let it take root.

She had always stopped before the unknown. Not from fear. But from uncertainty.

Could I carry life all the way to breath? Could I let something grow inside me while shifting, splitting, moving between forms?

"You've changed form while bleeding. You've walked as a man and a woman in the same day."

That's different. A child is not a cycle. A child is not a temporary shape.

She looked at the man again. He stared, not speaking, barely breathing.

"You know he's not here for pleasure."

Yes.

"He wants to hold something that feels like her."

Temla, Vekkári thought. He loved her.

"And now he's placing that love at our feet."

The moment stretched. But inside, only seconds passed.

A storm of thought. A chorus of selves. One mind weighing its own limits.

If I do this...

"You will change."

Maybe permanently.

"Maybe beautifully."

They fell silent together--clone and source, two halves of the same knowing.

Then, with no outward sign, no nod, no breath--

Vekkári decided and took a step forward.

Not much--just enough to let her presence settle fully in the space between them. The man stiffened but didn't retreat. Her voice, when it came, was calm and low, like the crackle of fire beneath fur.

"You've come with a question," she said. "But before I answer, you should know... there are other ways to end your pain."

He said nothing, his eyes flicking toward the clone beside him--unsure who was who. Unsure if she was serious.

She took another step, her bare feet silent on the dirt. "I could take the memory of your wife," she continued. "Temla."

His breath caught.

"I could pull it from you like a splinter. The sound of her voice. The shape of her laughter. Her scent in your arms. The weight of her head on your chest." Her voice softened. "All of it. Gone."

His mouth opened, but no words came.

"You'd wake tomorrow with nothing to mourn. No image of her lingering. No ache when you sleep alone. Only the knowledge that something once hurt, and no longer does."

She let the silence hang between them.

"That... is something I have done before," she said. "For others."

Her gaze didn't waver. "It is clean. It is final. And it works."

The man shook his head slowly. "No... no, I don't want to forget her."

She tilted her head--not judging, but affirming. "Good," she said. "Then let me speak plainly."

The air shifted. The trees stilled. Even the wind seemed to hush.

"I have never given birth," Vekkári said.

His eyes widened slightly.

"I have bled with the moon. Shifted between shapes. I have taken seed. I have spilled it. I have brought pleasure, calmed madness, eased dying. But I have never let life grow inside me."

The words landed gently, but each one struck deep.

"I have never chosen to create."

The man stood still. Not confused--just reverent. Listening to something he didn't fully understand, but believed.

She let out a slow breath.

"And yet... your request does not repel me."

A pause.

"In truth," she added, voice low, "it intrigues me."

She turned, slowly walking toward the center of the clearing, her body graceful and quiet in its movement. "You want a child," she said. "But you're not asking for flesh alone. You want her back. Her smile. Her warmth. You want your grief to mean something."

He swallowed hard.

"I do."

She turned to face him once more, framed by light.

"Then listen carefully," she said. "I can try. I do not promise a child. I do not promise your wife will return to you in another's skin. I can only promise this: if I choose to carry life, it will not be because I am a healer."

Her voice dropped lower.

"It will be because I want to know what it means to be a mother."

Vekkári stepped forward, closing the space between them, until Codor could feel the heat of her breath against his skin. She reached up, fingers brushing the coarse stubble along his jaw. Her touch was slow, unhurried. There was no seduction in her eyes--only intention. Purpose. The storm-gray depth of her gaze held something ancient and unshakable.

Then she leaned in and kissed him.

Softly at first. Her lips parted gently against his, inviting rather than taking. He kissed her back, hesitant but real, the heat between them catching fast. Her mouth was warm, and when her tongue teased his, something inside him broke open.

She pulled away just enough to whisper, "What is your name?"

He swallowed. "Codor."

She smiled faintly. "Codor," she repeated, as if testing the sound. Then she took his hand, placed it against the curve of her hip--bare, warm, smooth.

"Are you ready," she asked, locking eyes with him, "to begin?"

He nodded, breath quickening. "Yes."

She led him through the cave's inner chamber, toward the warmth of a fur-lined hollow near the fire. Shadows danced along the stone walls as she undressed in silence, her movements fluid, reverent. Codor watched her shed the last of her hide and stand before him--nude, powerful, divine.

He followed, undressing without a word, his heart pounding in his chest. She reached for him, pulling him down into the furs. Her legs slid around his waist, drawing him into her warmth. She kissed him again, deeper now--hungrier.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly as she guided him between her thighs. She was already wet, slick with anticipation. She gasped as the head of his cock pressed into her, her hips rolling up to take him fully.

He entered her in one slow, steady thrust, both of them moaning as they connected completely.

She moved with care at first, rocking her hips in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Her walls clenched around him, tight and pulsing, milking his cock with each motion. She rode him deliberately, as though memorizing every inch.

But the control didn't last.

Her breath quickened. Her moans deepened. Her hands slid up his chest, nails grazing his skin as she picked up speed. The rhythm shifted, hips slamming harder, faster, her pussy clenching greedily around his thick cock.

Codor groaned beneath her, trying to keep up as she bounced on him, her breasts swaying with every movement.

"Fuck," she gasped, voice strained, "yes... just like that..."

She leaned forward, pinning his wrists to the furs as she fucked him harder--her body wild now, driven by instinct and need. Her eyes burned into his, lips parted, breath ragged.

"I want to feel it," she whispered. "I want your seed inside me."

His body responded instantly. His hands gripped her waist as he thrust up into her, desperate and deep. His climax surged up through him, and with a strangled groan, he came--thick and hot--filling her womb with everything she had asked for.

But she wasn't finished.

She slowed her hips, grinding against him as he pulsed inside her. Her pussy milked every last drop from him, her own orgasm crashing through her in waves. She cried out--sharp and guttural--shuddering on top of him, her body slick with sweat, thighs trembling.

And then... silence. Breath. Stillness.

But only for a moment.

Vekkári's eyes burned with more than satisfaction. They burned with hunger.

She unmounted him slowly, his cock slick and softened, still twitching slightly from the intensity. Without a word, she slid down his body, her hands warm against his thighs.

Codor barely managed a breath before her lips wrapped around his cock.

"Vekkári--" he gasped, too sensitive to speak, but she didn't stop.

She moaned softly around him, tongue swirling, mouth slow and eager as she sucked him back to life. Her head bobbed in a slow rhythm, coaxing him gently, savoring the taste of his cum and her slickness mingled on his skin.

He groaned, hips twitching, but his cock responded--swelling, hardening again inside her hungry mouth.

She pulled back with a wet pop, stroking him now with one hand, lips slick, eyes glowing in the firelight.

"I want more," she said, voice husky and wild. "I want to taste you. I want to feel you again. Until I'm full of you."

Then she leaned in once more, swallowing his cock deeper this time--moaning softly as her throat flexed around him. She sucked with growing urgency, saliva running down her chin as she worked him faster, sloppier, worshipping the heat building again in his core.

Codor gasped, helpless, his hands finding her hair.

She moaned louder, sucking him harder, her fingers gripping the base of his shaft as she worked him to the edge.

He came again with a cry, thick jets of cum spilling onto her tongue. She moaned greedily, swallowing it down, licking every drop as though it were the sweetest thing she had ever tasted.

Only then did she crawl back up his body, straddling him again, her pussy still dripping.

She kissed him hard, letting him taste himself on her lips.

Then whispered into his mouth:

"You're not done."

Codor lay breathless beneath her, chest heaving, still twitching from the last orgasm. But Vekkári wasn't finished--not even close.

She hovered above him, eyes gleaming with need, with purpose, with something deeper than lust. She pressed her forehead to his, whispering ancient words he couldn't understand--not in any known language, but something older, something hers.

He felt it before he could question it.

A heat surged through his body. Not burning. Not harsh. Just power--warm and potent, flooding his limbs like a second wind, like breath poured into a drowning man's lungs. His fatigue vanished. His heartbeat steadied. His cock, spent moments ago, now throbbed again with renewed life.

He gasped. "What did you--?"

Vekkári smirked, eyes dark and wild. "A gift," she said, licking her lips. "You'll need it."

She rolled off him, rising onto all fours in front of the fire. Her back arched, her ass high and proud in the firelight--full, round, still glistening from their first union. She reached back with one hand, gave herself a sharp, echoing slap, the sound cracking through the cave. The flesh rippled, flushed red.

She turned her head over her shoulder, storm-gray eyes meeting his, hair hanging wild across her face.

Her cunt dripped, pink and swollen, open and ready.

"Fuck me," she growled. "Use me."

He stared--dazed, overwhelmed, hard again and trembling with need.

"I want you," she continued, voice low and raw, "to fuck me until you're satisfied. Not for my sake. Not for a child. For you. Use this pussy"--she reached between her legs, spreading herself with two fingers, glistening and inviting--"to get it all out. All of it."

She looked at him fully now. No games. No mystery.

"Pour your pain into me. Let it go. Fuck me until it hurts less."

Codor didn't speak.

He crawled to her, hands on her hips. His cock throbbed as it brushed her slick heat, and she pushed her ass back into him eagerly, grinding her soaked cunt against his shaft.

He gripped her tight and thrust into her in one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

They both moaned--loud, unrestrained. She clenched around him immediately, her pussy hot and welcoming, still hungry, as if she hadn't just swallowed a load minutes ago.

He pulled back and slammed into her again, and again, setting a brutal rhythm. The sound of their flesh meeting echoed through the cave--wet, fast, desperate. Her breasts swung beneath her with every thrust, her moans turning into growls, cries, grunts of encouragement.

"That's it," she hissed, throwing her head back. "Harder. Give it to me."

He grunted, hips slamming forward, driven now by more than lust. He was letting go. Every thrust was a piece of grief carved from his soul and shoved into her. Every spasm of pleasure tore open another old scar. And she took it. All of it.

Her body was made for this--wide hips bouncing back against him, her cunt sucking his cock deeper with every stroke. She pushed back harder, gasping, "Don't hold back--fill me again. I want it in me. I want all of it."

He grabbed her by the waist, pulled her tight, and fucked her with abandon--his balls slapping her soaked lips, his shaft stretching her again and again until his vision blurred.

She came first--loud, shuddering, her pussy gripping him in waves, milking him.

He followed seconds later, roaring through clenched teeth as he came inside her again, cock twitching violently, her walls swallowing every pulse of seed.

He collapsed forward, his chest against her back, both of them soaked and shaking.

And still, her hips rolled back into him--slow, needy.

Codor's breath was hot against her back as he buried himself inside her again, his hands sliding up her body, exploring her with new curiosity--less frantic now, more intentional. Each motion felt more like discovery than domination.

His fingers reached forward, cupping her breasts from behind, feeling their weight, their warmth. Vekkári moaned, arching her spine to press harder into his touch. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, gentle at first, then firmer, teasing soft gasps from her throat.

She rocked her hips back into him in response, her body aching to be used, worshiped, stretched again.

"You feel... incredible," he muttered against her shoulder.

She only moaned in return, glancing over her shoulder with a dark, needy look.

His hands slid back down, one gripping her waist, the other landing a firm, audible smack to her ass. She gasped sharply, a grin curling at the edge of her lips.

"More," she whispered.

He gave it to her. Another slap. Then another. Her ass rippled beneath each one, her hips pushing back greedily for more. The sound, the heat, the pressure--it all made her grind harder against him, her breath coming fast and heavy.

He thrust deeper again, slower this time, savoring every inch, her tightness, her warmth.

She cried out, hands gripping the furs beneath her, her body trembling from the intensity of sensation. Her voice was hoarse with pleasure, but still hungry.

When he leaned over her again, still moving inside her, his hand slid lower--between her cheeks--his fingers exploring the curve of her body, trailing with slick and heat.

"Can I..." he whispered into her ear, voice thick with restraint, desire brimming in his tone.

She didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she pulled away just enough to turn and face him. Her body was flushed, hair wild, lips parted and wet from panting. Her eyes locked onto his--stormy, electric.

She crawled into his lap, straddling him, pressing her lips to his again with feverish intensity. Her hips rolled against his, grinding his slick cock between her thighs.

Then she leaned close, lips brushing his ear, voice low and trembling.

"Shove it wherever you want," she whispered. "Just don't stop."

Vekkári hovered above him, straddling his lap, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of their last climax. The firelight traced golden lines down her back, her skin flushed, damp, glowing with exertion. Her breath was shallow, lips parted, eyes half-lidded--but beneath the exhaustion, there was more.

Hunger.

Codor could feel it in the way she rolled her hips, the slow grind of her slickness against his length, coaxing him back to hardness with nothing more than friction and want. His hands ran down her back, then lower, gripping her hips, her thighs, then her round, reddened ass.

She leaned forward, kissing him deeply--tongue warm, needy, tasting of sweat and sex. As they kissed, he reached between them again, guiding his cock as it throbbed against the curve of her body.

This time, he didn't move toward the place he'd already known. His hand guided her just slightly higher, his cock brushing against the tight entrance above.

She paused in the kiss, her eyes opening slowly.

Codor met her gaze. "I'm coming in that asshole"

There was no shame in his voice. No command. Just desire. Curiosity. Reverence.

Vekkári didn't speak. Instead, she gave the smallest nod--her lips curling into a grin, sultry and fearless. She reached back, guiding him herself with slow, steady fingers. His tip pressed against her asshole, slick from their earlier frenzy, and she exhaled slowly as she eased down.

He moaned low and deep, the tightness overwhelming. "Gods, Vekkári... you're so tight..."

She gasped at the stretch, the pressure--her body adjusting, breath catching in her throat. But there was no resistance in her. Only need.

She rocked her hips slowly, taking more of him inside, inch by inch. Codor held her steady, watching her body work him in, every muscle clenching, drawing him deeper.

She leaned back into him, one hand bracing on his chest, her body shivering with sensation.

"You wanted to use all of me," she whispered, voice trembling. "Then do it."

He groaned, gripping her hips tighter as he began to thrust--slow, deliberate, savoring every impossible inch of heat and pressure. Her moans grew louder, more guttural, as she bounced in his lap, her movements unrestrained.

The cave filled with their sounds--wet, urgent, breathless.

Vekkári tilted her head back, sweat trailing down her spine. She had given him every part of her, and now she reveled in it--her power, her submission, her aching want to feel everything.

He moved faster, her body tightening around him until the world narrowed to the rhythm of skin and heat and hunger.

And when they both came again--harder, deeper, more feral than before--it wasn't just release.

It was surrender.

The night had been long.

They had fucked until the stars moved behind the stone overhang and the fire dwindled to a pulsing red heart in the ashes. Again and again, Codor had poured himself into her--sometimes with urgency, other times with slow, reverent worship. Vekkári had met him each time with open legs, open hands, open want.

By the end, he had fallen asleep beside her, sprawled across the furred bedding, chest slick with sweat, lips parted in soft breaths.

Now, the light of morning crept in through the cave's narrow opening, casting soft gold along the curve of her bare hip. Vekkári sat up slowly, her body calm, relaxed--but aware. She could feel every inch of herself, from the sticky warmth between her thighs to the slow thrum of something deep inside her.

Possibility.

Codor stirred beside her. A groggy breath, then movement.

"Is it morning?" he asked, voice rough.

Vekkári turned to him, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It is."

He blinked at her, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Did we...?"

Her lips curved. "Many times."

He smiled--wry, tired, amazed.

She stood and stretched, her silhouette long and strong in the light. Then she knelt beside the small basin in the cave's corner and washed herself with chilled water, her breath sharp as it touched her skin. Codor watched her in silence, unsure if he should speak.

She broke the quiet.

"I need to tell you what comes next."

He sat up, slowly, his muscles sore but satisfied. "Alright."

She dried her hands, then turned to face him, her expression still and serious--but not cold.

"I have never allowed myself to carry life. Until now, I never chose it. You may have planted something inside me last night, Codor."

He swallowed. "Do you think...?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "But if so, I will feel it soon. My body will change. And I will not shift forms again until I know what happens to it when I do."

She crossed the space and sat beside him.

"I will remain as I am--this body, this form--until I know the embryo can survive what I am. Until then, I won't split, or duplicate, or alter myself in any way."

Codor nodded slowly, absorbing it all.

"If something takes hold in me," she added, "I want to understand it. I want to study how it grows. How I change. I want to know if the life we created will be... human. Or something else."

He hesitated, then reached for her hand. "Do you regret it?"

Vekkári looked down at their joined fingers. "No," she said simply.

Then her gaze lifted again--sharp, steady.

"But you must understand, Codor. I did not do this to ease your sorrow. I did it because I needed to know if I could."

He nodded.

"And what if you are pregnant?" he asked. "What will you do then?"

Vekkári exhaled slowly, her hand still in his.

"Then I will become a mother."

Codor sat quietly as Vekkári rose to her feet, pulling a simple cloth wrap around her waist. The fire behind her cast shadows along the cave wall, and for a moment, she looked like a spirit in human skin--myth given flesh.

Then she turned to him with sharp clarity in her eyes.

"There's more," she said.

Codor met her gaze.

"I've prepared for this. Long before you arrived."

He blinked. "Prepared?"

Vekkári nodded, then began pacing slowly, her fingers trailing along the curved stone wall of the cave. "If I ever conceived--if life ever took root in me--I needed to know: would it be mine alone? Would the ability to carry life pass to my clones as well?"

Codor sat straighter.

"You want to know," she said, "if the copies of me can become mothers too. If the magic that allows me to split... also replicates the womb. The blood. The spark."

"And... how do you find out?" he asked, voice cautious.

She turned, expression unreadable.

"You'll help me."

He froze. "You want me to--"

"I want you to breed them," she said bluntly.

He stared at her.

"You've already filled me," she said, stepping closer. "But I am only one body. One result. That's not enough."

Her tone remained calm--clinical, almost. But her eyes shimmered with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

"I need data. I need variation. I will create multiple versions of myself--each slightly different. Some more like the woman you touched last night. Others with adjusted hips, wombs, blood chemistry. I will shift subtle details, and I will track what takes."

Codor exhaled, stunned. "You want me to... get them all pregnant?"

"If they can be," she said. "You may find some of them identical. Others... a little unfamiliar. But all will be me. And if you're willing... they'll take you one at a time."

She sat beside him again, resting her hand on his thigh. Her voice softened, not with seduction, but with purpose.

"This isn't just for pleasure anymore, Codor. This is discovery. I need to know how far my power reaches. Whether life can spread beyond a single vessel."

He looked into her eyes and found no malice. Only deep, unstoppable curiosity.

"You'd father not just one child," she said, "but many. If it works."

He swallowed. "And what happens if it does?"

Her smile returned--mysterious, dangerous, maternal.

"Then I raise the future. One body at a time."

Vekkári sat cross-legged near the hearth, her fingers tracing lazy patterns in the ash. Though her body still carried the ache of the night before, her mind had already shifted--sharp, focused, and far ahead.

Codor sat nearby, the firelight dancing across his skin, watching her in silence.

She closed her eyes and reached outward with thought--not a command, but a beckoning. Return to me, she whispered across the invisible thread that connected her many selves. I have need.

Moments later, a second body emerged from the cave's darker edge. A second Vekkári.

Identical. Nude. Silent.

She moved forward and knelt before the original without a word, mirroring her perfectly.

"She's the first test," Vekkári said, eyes still closed. "I need to know if what you may have planted in me exists in this body alone... or if it carries across my copies."

The clone placed a hand to her own belly, copying Vekkári's motion. Their minds aligned instantly--a deep, seamless link through which she could sense what her original sensed, scan the internal rhythms, the hormonal shifts, the early signs of conception... or their absence.

A moment passed.

Then another.

The clone opened her eyes and said calmly, "No signs. Nothing to detect."

Vekkári nodded. "Expected. It's still early."

She turned to Codor, her voice even, thoughtful. "She'll remain with me. If I am pregnant, I need to know if the state duplicates. This body and hers--same origin, same moment. If there's life in one... we'll see whether it manifests in both."

The clone rose, stepping silently to the edge of the cave's warmth, standing like a shadow cast from Vekkári herself.

Codor looked between them. "And if she does become pregnant?"

Vekkári's lips curved in a slow smile.

"Then we'll know I'm not just replicating flesh. I'm replicating creation."

She stepped toward him, a hand resting on his thigh as her grin widened just enough.

"And if that happens..." she purred, "then congratulations."

He blinked, wary. "For what?"

She chuckled. "You'll be a father of two. To me... and also me."

He stared at her, stunned. "That's... a lot."

"Nothing about this is ordinary," she said, rising. "But every part of it matters."

She looked toward the cave's entrance again. Her other selves were drawing near.

-

Her other selves were still hours away, but the cave was far from still.

Vekkári moved with quiet grace, gathering dried meats and mashed fruit paste from her shelves, scooping them into a shallow stone bowl. She poured spring water into two curved cups, their surfaces worn smooth from years of use.

"You'll need your strength," she said, offering one to Codor. "Last night took its share."

Codor smirked faintly, his body still sore in strange, satisfying ways. "I'm not complaining."

"Nor am I," she said, settling beside him.

The clone--nude but unbothered--passed by them silently, disappearing into the rear alcove of the cave. There, beneath a shaft of filtered light, she began tending the herb garden: pinching stems, stirring dried roots in clay bowls, and sorting bundles of dried bark and flowers with practiced precision.

"She manages my stores," Vekkári said, noticing his glance. "When I'm otherwise occupied, her hands become mine."

Codor watched the clone work, frowning. "She doesn't speak?"

"She could. But she doesn't need to."

They ate in silence for a time. The fire crackled, the scent of crushed herbs mingled with smoke and fruit.

Then Vekkári said, her tone shifting, quieter, "You should know... I wasn't always like this. Not always her."

Codor looked up, chewing slower. "What do you mean?"

"I was human once," she said. "A man. Like you."

That stopped him.

"I walked this world with two legs and a name that's long since left me. I drank, fought, fucked--same as any traveler with nothing in his hands but time."

She reached toward the fire, nudging a charred log deeper into the embers.

"I remember the cold first. Endless cold. I was lost in the far north, starving, frostbitten, alone. I thought I was going to die."

She paused, then turned her eyes to his. Something ancient swam behind them.

"Let me show you."

Before Codor could respond, he felt something slide into his thoughts. Not painful--just there. Vekkári's presence. And then the world shifted--

Suddenly, he was inside her memory.

Snow lashed his face. Wind howled through vast emptiness. Everything was white, hollow, endless. His limbs felt numb, lungs burning, body on the verge of collapse--but it wasn't his body. It was hers. Vekkári's. Before everything changed.

She staggered across the frozen expanse, wrapped in torn leathers, skin cracked and bleeding. There was no destination. Only the storm. Only death.

And then--a streak of flame tore across the sky.

It slammed into the earth ahead, casting up a violent bloom of fire and light. The ground shook. Snow turned to steam. The heat hit her face like a breath from the gods.

She didn't hesitate. Driven by some primal will, she stumbled forward--trudging, crawling, collapsing and rising again. The wind tried to drag her down. She kept moving.

Then--there it was. A crater, still glowing, molten rock nestled in its heart like a living ember. Snow had melted into a steaming basin around it. The warmth was immediate, impossible.

She collapsed beside it, sobbing, clutching the earth as it breathed heat into her starving body. She curled around the fire-rock like it was the only thing left in the world.

And there--she slept.

Codor felt it: her breath slowing, her mind fading. And beneath it all, something happening inside. Quietly. Invisibly. The body rewriting itself.

She awoke changed.

Not entirely woman. Not entirely human. But becoming.

Then the memory released him--gently, but with weight. Codor gasped softly as the firelight returned, the cave settling around him like a forgotten skin.

Vekkári sat beside him, her hand still resting lightly on his thigh.

"That's how I survived," she said. "That's how I stopped being him. How I started being me."

Codor stared, stunned.

"You weren't made by the meteor," he murmured. "You survived it."

She nodded. "And it made the rest possible."

He looked at her--truly looked--and for the first time, understood just how ancient and alien and real she was.

And still, somehow... human.

Or close enough to break him open.

Vekkári smiled faintly.

"That's why I let you in. You touched something no one has touched in a very long time."

Then, without changing tone, she added, "That's also why I knew why you came. Even before you spoke."

Codor blinked. "Wait--what?"

She tapped a fingertip to her temple, then his.

"I hear thoughts. When I choose to. Yours were... loud. Curious. Cautious. Beautiful in their way."

He sat up straighter, eyes wide. "You--you read my mind?"

"Only when it matters." She leaned closer, her voice low and amused. "And you think loudly. Especially when you're naked."

He flushed, opening his mouth--then shutting it again.

The clone returned, placing a bundle of herbs near the wall. Vekkári reached for one, cradling it in her hand like something sacred.

"We'll need these," she murmured, "if something begins to grow."

The clone returned, placing a bundle of herbs near the wall. Vekkári reached for one, cradling it in her hand like something sacred. Her fingers moved over the wrapping slowly, thoughtfully.

Codor watched her in silence, the full gravity of what she'd shown him still settling in his bones.

She didn't look up as she spoke. "What's growing inside me--if anything--won't just be mine."

She finally met his gaze. "It will be ours. Mine, hers," she nodded toward the clone, "and yours."

Codor's breath hitched, just slightly.

Vekkári smiled--not coy, not cruel. Just real.

"I didn't plan this. But I didn't stop it either."

She placed the herbs gently beside the fire, then sat back and let the quiet return.

Outside, somewhere beyond the cave, the wind shifted. The others were still coming.

And within her, perhaps, something else already had.

He said nothing for a long moment. Then: "And the one who led me here... the woman I traveled with. She called herself Seren."

Vekkári's smile curved, slow and knowing.

"Yes," she said. "That was me, too."

Codor blinked. "You...?"

"One I shaped for seeking," she said. "A scout. She moves through the world looking for those who need something--healing, shelter... or answers they don't yet know how to ask."

He stared at her, stunned. "She knew things I never told anyone."

"I didn't need to guess," Vekkári said. "I walked beside you as Seren to feel how far you'd go. Whether your curiosity was deeper than your fear."

His voice lowered. "So I was speaking to you the whole time."

"To a me," she corrected gently. "My eyes. My voice. Another self. But real, as much as I am now."

He looked toward the clone near the herb racks, her hands still moving steadily among roots and leaves.

"And the others?"

"I can make as many as I choose," she said. "Summoned from thought alone. They appear as I will them--man, woman, or anything between. They share my mind, my strength, my endurance. They feel what I feel, remember what I remember... but they act on their own. They live."

His pulse quickened at the sheer scale of it.

"How many?"

Vekkári shrugged, unbothered. "Enough to walk the whole valley at once. Enough to live a dozen lives and still sit here, by the fire."

She leaned back, her gaze catching the firelight, glinting with something old and bottomless.

"Enough to become whatever the world needs... or whatever I desire."

Codor's gaze lingered on the clone, on the quiet precision of her movements, then drifted back to Vekkári. He didn't speak, but something in his posture shifted--tense at the shoulders, breath held a moment too long.

She felt it.

His fear.

Not of her body. Not even of her power. But of the unknown she carried like a second skin.

She moved closer, slow and easy, her voice low and warm.

"You don't need to be afraid."

He stayed quiet.

"I know what this feels like," she said. "You came here expecting mystery. Maybe danger. But not... this. Not someone like me."

She didn't touch him. Just showed him her hands--open, steady, patient.

"I am not here to harm. I never was."

"I heal," she continued. "I counsel when there's grief. I walk with those who've lost their way. And when it's needed--when it's wanted--I offer my body. Not to take. But to give. For warmth. For peace. For remembering what it means to feel."

Her voice remained soft, steady.

"I've taken many forms. I've lain beside hunters and mothers. I've whispered to elders dying by firelight. I've stood between beasts and children. I give only what is asked. I destroy only when there is no other choice."

Codor exhaled, his body slowly loosening.

"I brought you here because you came with wonder, not weapons," she said. "Because you asked--even in silence. So I answered."

She let the silence hold. Not pressing. Not leading. Just being.

Letting the fire speak in her place.

A slow smile curved across Vekkári's lips--pleased, knowing, like he'd just given her exactly what she was waiting for.

"I'm glad you're not leaving," she said, voice low and warm. "Because I wasn't going to let you."

She leaned in, close enough for her breath to brush his neck.

"And for the record..." Her hand slid to his thigh, fingers tracing the warmth beneath worn skin. "Next time you're inside me--any of me--I don't want you pulling out."

His breath caught.

"I need you to stay in. To finish. To fill."

She pressed her palm flat against his chest, eyes gleaming in the firelight.

"Not just for the pleasure of it--though there's that too. I need you to breed us. All of us. One by one, or all at once. I need to know if what you give can stay. If it can take root in more than just me."

She shifted closer, lips at his ear.

"I can make endless versions of myself. I can fuck myself senseless. But I can't put something new inside me. Not without you."

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

"So don't pull out next time, Codor."

Her grin widened.

"Push in. Fill every part of me with something I didn't make."

She glanced toward the clone across the cave, her other self still tending the herbs with quiet, steady hands.

"They're ready when I say. And I say now."

Before Codor could speak, soft footsteps echoed at the cave's entrance.

He turned--instinctive, alert--and there she was.

Seren.

The same lithe frame that had walked beside him days before. Loose dark hair. Narrow shoulders. That same boyish voice and the gaze that always seemed to know more than she let on.

Now she walked toward him slowly, deliberately... undressing as she came.

A strip of hide loosened from her waist. A wrap fell from her shoulders. Her bare chest caught the firelight, soft and lean. Her hips swayed with purpose. Her eyes never left him.

And her smile--gods, that smile--was no longer distant or curious.

It was hungry.

Vekkári didn't look surprised. She simply leaned in toward Codor and spoke against his ear.

"She's here to get you ready."

Codor swallowed.

"Seren will suck your cock," Vekkári whispered, her voice smooth as heat, "and make sure you're hard and aching when your first insemination begins."

He turned back to look at Seren--at her--as she sank gracefully to her knees in front of him, not a word spoken. Her hands moved to his thighs. Her mouth hovered just above his skin, warm breath ghosting over him.

Vekkári's voice purred behind him.

"One of my others has just arrived. She'll be ready shortly."

She pressed a slow, steady hand to his shoulder.

"Don't hold back."

Seren's breath warmed the air around his skin as she settled between his thighs, her fingers deft and practiced. She looked up at him with that same half-smile she wore when they trekked together--familiar, but charged now with something deeper. Intent.

She licked slowly along his length, once, then again--teasing, tasting--as if reacquainting herself with something she'd waited too long to return to. Her mouth opened, warm and wet, and took him in with a hunger that made Codor's head tip back and his fingers curl against the stone.

Vekkári sat beside him, watching with quiet satisfaction, her hand stroking along his arm. "That's it," she murmured. "Let her prepare you. You'll need to be ready for what comes next."

Just as his breath began to quicken, the cave's mouth shifted with movement. Another figure stepped into the firelight.

She was short--barely to Codor's chest--but built like the earth had shaped her with purpose. Her breasts were small, round, high, and her hips flared wide beneath them, thighs thick and soft, her body ripe in a way that made instinct override thought. Her ass bounced with every step, plush and perfect, like it was made to be held.

She was already undressed, her skin flushed from the cold outside, nipples stiff from the air but her gaze heated, unshy. Her eyes flicked over Codor once--his body tense beneath Seren's mouth--and her lips curled with quiet approval.

Vekkári glanced at her and smiled. "This one's ready. She was the first to feel the shift in me... and she wants your seed, Codor. She needs it."

The new clone walked up behind Seren, brushing a hand along Codor's thigh as she passed, then straddled his lap, close but not yet touching, letting him feel her warmth just above him.

Vekkári leaned in once more, voice thick with promise.

"When Seren is finished... you'll be inside her. And you won't stop until you've given her everything."

The clone approached the fire slowly, hips swaying with every soft, deliberate step. She didn't climb into Codor's lap. Not yet.

Instead, she knelt just to the side--close enough for him to see every curve of her, every breath, every subtle shift of her thighs as she settled onto the stone. Her body was built for attention: compact, lush, with hips wide enough to cradle life, and an ass that moved like it had rhythm of its own.

She watched Seren work, her eyes steady, half-lidded. One hand rested on her belly, the other slid between her legs, fingers stroking slow, teasing arcs across her slickening heat.

Codor could see it all.

The way her fingertips parted her folds, the way her body responded, pulsing against her own hand as she worked herself open. She moaned softly--quiet, controlled--pleasure blooming across her face in waves.

All while Seren sucked him slowly, confidently, lips sliding down his length again and again. Her cheeks hollowed with every pull. She glanced up only once to smirk, satisfied by the twitch of his thighs beneath her.

Vekkári leaned against his shoulder, her voice a murmur of heat.

"She's getting herself ready for you," she said, watching her clone. "But not yet. I want you aching when you finally slide into her."

Codor's breath stuttered.

"She's mine," Vekkári continued, "but right now, she's for you. And she wants to feel every drop."

Seren moaned around him, and the fire crackled--low, warm, hungry.

And still, the clone stroked herself in time with his breath, spreading herself wider with every pass of her fingers, glancing at him with raw anticipation.

Waiting.

Seren's pace slowed--her tongue swirling, lips sucking with just enough pressure to keep him right on the edge. She could feel the way his thighs had gone rigid beneath her hands, the way his breath came faster now, deeper, more ragged.

She pulled back gradually, letting her lips drag along his length with a final, lingering kiss just beneath the head. A thin thread of saliva followed her as she sat back on her heels, her mouth glistening, her smile lazy and satisfied.

"He's ready," she said, voice husky, eyes locked on Vekkári.

Without a word, the clone rose from where she'd been kneeling by the fire. Her fingers were still wet, her inner thighs glistening with need. She walked toward Codor with purpose--short, curvy, hips rolling with every step--and then climbed into his lap, her hands settling against his chest as she straddled him.

She didn't hesitate.

Guiding him with one hand, she sank down onto him with a soft gasp, her body parting around him, enveloping him in heat. Her thighs trembled as she took him deeper--slow, steady, deliberate--until her hips rested flush against his, full and heavy and wanting.

Codor groaned, his hands moving instinctively to her waist, gripping her soft curves as she rolled her hips experimentally.

Her breath hitched.

So did his.

Vekkári leaned in close, her lips just beside his ear.

"Now," she whispered, "you breed her."

The clone began to move, hips circling, rising and falling in a rhythm older than language. Her hands braced against his chest as she rode him, taking everything he had to give--her expression rapturous, greedy, and utterly his for the moment.

All around them, firelight danced. Shadows flickered across stone. And somewhere deeper in the cave, another footstep echoed.

One more Vekkári had arrived.

And she was watching.

The clone began to move.

Her hips rose in a slow, trembling grind, then sank again with a breathless moan--her body taking all of him, again and again. She rolled against him like she'd done it a thousand times in dreams, her thighs spreading wider each time she came down, her rhythm deepening with each wet slap of skin on skin.

Codor gripped her waist, fingers sinking into soft flesh, stunned by the heat, the pull, the way she clenched around him as if trying to keep him inside forever.

She was tight. Slick. Made for this.

Every rise and fall sent a jolt through his spine, and the clone gasped with every thrust, her breasts bouncing softly with the rhythm, her head thrown back in surrender.

Across from them, Seren sat watching, lips parted, one hand drifting between her thighs as she touched herself to the sound of them. The sight of Codor buried so deep in her sister-self--his jaw clenched, his body tensed--was too much to ignore.

Vekkári stayed close, one hand sliding across Codor's chest as her mouth brushed his ear.

"Look at her," she whispered. "Taking everything you give. She wants to be full. She wants to be changed."

The clone's pace quickened--shallow, urgent, greedy. She leaned forward, bracing herself against his shoulders, and began to ride him harder, her gasps turning to choked cries with every thrust.

Codor's hands gripped her hips now, slamming up into her, matching her rhythm. His breath came in growls, in broken groans, in need.

She moaned louder, her body trembling, legs shaking around him.

"I can feel her," Vekkári murmured. "She's so close. And you are too."

The clone buried her face in his neck, her whole body clinging to him now, rising and falling like a wave about to break.

"Don't stop," Vekkári breathed, watching every inch of them. "Give it to her. Make her yours. Make her ours."

The rhythm between them built to a fever--fast, deep, relentless.

Each thrust sent ripples through the clone's hips, her soft curves bouncing, her breath breaking into sharp, helpless gasps. She clung to Codor with desperation, grinding down on him harder, faster, chasing the fire coiling deep in her belly.

Codor's grip was bruising now, his body locked beneath hers as he met her with every thrust, every sound she made pulling him closer to the edge. The wet heat between them was unbearable, all-consuming--slick and tight and wanting.

"I can feel it," Vekkári whispered beside him, her breath cool on his neck. "She's close. So are you."

The clone cried out--sharp, sudden--her body tensing as the climax tore through her. Her walls fluttered around him, spasming in waves as her nails dug into his shoulders and she bucked wildly, lost to the pleasure flooding her.

That was all it took.

Codor growled, the sound raw in his throat, and pulled her down onto him one last time--burying himself as deep as he could go. His body convulsed beneath hers, hips twitching as he spilled into her, pulse after pulse, filling her with everything he had.

The clone trembled above him, moaning through it, her body milking his release like it was what she'd been made for.

Vekkári's voice purred behind them, dark and satisfied.

"Good," she murmured. "That's one."

The fire crackled, casting their shadows long across the stone.

The clone slumped forward, still wrapped around him, panting.

And from deeper in the cave... another figure stepped into the light.

The day passed in a blur of heat and hunger--Codor barely remembering when one body left his arms and another took its place.

They came in waves. Each one different. Each one hers.

Some were taller than him--long-limbed, statuesque women with broad shoulders and thick thighs that gripped him like the roots of ancient trees. They rode him from above with steady power, controlling every motion, holding him down with strength he couldn't match, and didn't dare resist.

Others were smaller--compact, tight-bodied, with quick hands and eager mouths, curling into his lap or crawling over him from below, needy and insistent. Their moans were high and breathless, their movements fast and hungry, like they needed to be taken now or not at all.

Some had skin like deep clay, smooth and dark with a golden sheen when the firelight hit just right. Others were pale as bone, touched by frost, with hair like spun snow and cool hands that warmed the longer they touched him. There were shades between--earth-browns, sun-golds, ashen greys, copper-tinged flesh and soft rose hues--each form beautiful, each kiss new and yet familiar.

One clone had wide hips and heavy breasts that bounced with every thrust, her body plush and yielding, perfect for being pulled into. Another had narrow hips and a flat chest, sharp lines and agile muscles, her face boyish and teasing as she whispered filth between gritted teeth and dared him to go harder.

Some touched him gently, reverently--like his body was something sacred. Others took him rough, wild, needy, panting his name while they clawed at his back, grinding until they shattered and soaked his thighs.

But always, when he looked into their eyes...

It was her.

The same mind. The same soul. A hundred variations of Vekkári--all watching him, all tasting him, all drawing his essence into them.

By dusk, he had nothing left to give.

His body ached, his skin burned, and his mind floated somewhere between exhaustion and ecstasy.

And still... there were more waiting.

He was barely recovered when the next one stepped forward from the shadows.

She didn't speak at first. She simply walked toward him, barefoot, hips swaying with a quiet rhythm, hair long and dark and loose around her shoulders. The fire caught the warmth in her brown skin, the shimmer in her eyes.

And Codor's heart nearly stopped.

Temla.

No--he knew it wasn't her. Couldn't be. But the resemblance was devastating.

Same height, just a little shorter than him. Same lean, graceful build. The chest he'd loved to cradle his face against, not overly full, but soft and real. Thighs thick and smooth. An ass that fit perfectly in his hands, that he'd sworn was made just for him.

He swallowed hard, already half-hard again without realizing.

She moved in close, close enough for him to smell the faint trace of something herbal on her skin--wild mint, maybe--and then she cupped his face, just like Temla used to, with her thumbs brushing beneath his eyes.

"I remember her," Vekkári's voice said--not aloud, but in his mind, soft and serious.

"I shaped this one for you. Not to hurt you... but to honor what you lost."

Codor didn't answer. He couldn't.

The clone kissed him--slow and full and deep--and he gave in without hesitation, his hands sliding down her back to cup that familiar ass, gripping it tight as she pushed her body against him.

"Fuck," he muttered against her lips. "You feel like her."

She pulled him down onto the furs, straddling him, grinding against him slowly until he was stiff and straining again.

"I feel like me," she whispered, her voice so close to Temla's it hurt.

And then she sank down onto his cock, inch by aching inch.

He groaned, eyes rolling back, and grabbed her hips hard, burying himself in her as deep as he could go.

She rode him slow at first--grinding in deep, full circles, her breath catching every time she dropped down. Her thighs slapped softly against his as she found her rhythm, her body clenching around him just right. So fucking tight. So fucking wet.

Codor gritted his teeth.

"Shit--you're perfect."

She just smiled and leaned forward, kissing the side of his neck as her hips picked up speed.

The firelight danced over her back, her ass bouncing as she rode him harder now, her moans turning breathless and filthy.

"Yeah," she gasped. "That's it. Fuck me. Like I'm hers."

He did.

He slammed up into her, hands gripping her thighs, her hips, her waist--anything he could reach. She took it all, wild and open and wanting, her cries echoing off the cave walls, her body tightening around him with every thrust.

And when he finally came, he came hard--groaning her name, maybe his wife's, maybe Vekkári's, he didn't even know anymore--as he emptied himself inside her, burying his face in her shoulder and holding on like he was about to be torn apart.

She didn't move right away.

She stayed on top of him, her breath slow, her lips near his ear.

"I'm not her," she whispered. "But I can carry something for her, if you let me."

The Temla-clone sat astride Codor for a moment longer, savoring the warm flood still trickling from between her thighs. She shuddered, not from cold, but from aftershock--satisfied, and yet... far from sated.

With a sly smile, she rose from his lap, her inner thighs slick and glistening. She glanced down at his softening shaft, wet and flushed from release, and licked her lips.

"Don't think we're finished," she breathed, her voice sultry and low. "You're gonna give me more."

She dropped to her knees between his legs, pushing them apart with a slow, teasing touch. Then, without hesitation, she took him into her mouth--hot, wet, greedy.

Her tongue curled around the head, teasing the tip, coaxing every drop of slickness she hadn't already claimed. She sucked slow at first, almost tender, then deeper, wetter, rougher. The lewd, messy sounds filled the cave, echoing softly off stone.

"Mmm," she moaned around him, eyes flicking up. "Gonna get you hard again... fuck you till you can't speak."

Each stroke of her mouth was deliberate, urgent. Her spit mixed with his spend, her cheeks hollowing, her hands stroking the base as she worked him back to life. His body twitched, hips bucking slightly as she took him deeper, letting him feel the back of her throat close around him.

And from across the fire, Vekkári watched.

Her legs were parted, one hand between them, fingers sliding slowly through the wet heat of her slit. Her breath hitched as she watched her clone devour him--her own body reacting to the rhythm, the obscenity of the moment, the power she felt in it.

Her folds were soaked, throbbing with each wet gag and hum that came from the other side of the flames.

She didn't speak. Didn't command.

She just touched herself, slow and steady, eyes fixed on the way Codor's cock swelled again in the clone's hungry mouth.

And when he was fully hard--pulsing, wet, and twitching--Temla's clone pulled off with a wet gasp, a string of spit and seed stretching between her lips and the tip.

"Ready for round two?" she panted, grinning wickedly.

Vekkári licked her fingers.

"Oh, he's ready," she murmured, voice thick with heat. "And so am I."

The Temla-clone rose with slow, teasing grace, her slick thighs glistening in the firelight. She turned her back to him, casting a knowing look over her shoulder, brown eyes smoldering with want.

"Lie back," she purred. "And enjoy the view."

Codor didn't have to be told twice. He settled against the fur-covered floor as she climbed over him, positioning herself above his now-hard shaft, still wet from her mouth and glistening with spit and lust.

She hovered just above him, grinding her hips in small circles, letting his tip kiss her soaked entrance again and again--until finally, she sank down with a needy moan.

"Fuck," she hissed through her teeth, her voice rough and broken by pleasure.

Her ass met his thighs with a heavy slap, and then she began to move--slow at first, letting him feel every inch as she rode him, her body taking him deep, over and over.

From his angle, Codor could see everything: her toned back, the curve of her waist, and that perfect ass--round, bouncing with each thrust, jiggling with wet impact as she impaled herself on him again and again. Her hands braced on her knees as she picked up speed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

He grabbed her hips, fingers digging in as he guided her motion, watching her move with a hunger he hadn't felt in years.

Across the fire, Vekkári's breath quickened.

Her fingers were working faster now, her moans soft but present, like music behind the rhythm of flesh on flesh. Her slit was glistening, her thighs wet, her body alive with matching heat. She watched the bounce, the mess, the pure animal need unfolding before her--and she fed on it.

Her eyes were locked on the clone's body, on Codor's face, on the coil of desire that threaded all three of them together.

And the clone?

She tossed her head back, riding harder, faster, sweat beading along her spine.

"Don't stop," she growled, her voice dripping with filth. "Breed me again. Right here. Fill this pussy up--make me yours."

Vekkári moaned softly from across the fire.

"Oh yes," she whispered to herself. "Let her have it."

The rhythm between them became desperate--frantic. The Temla-clone slammed her hips down again and again, crying out each time Codor hit that deep, perfect place inside her. The slap of skin, the squelch of her soaked folds taking him to the hilt, the ragged, filthy sounds of breath and moaning--it was overwhelming.

Her body trembled above him, and she twisted her fingers into her own hair as she cried out, "I'm gonna cum again--fuck, yes--give it to me!"

Codor's grip tightened around her waist. His hips bucked up into her, each thrust harder, faster, deeper. He was snarling now, face buried in the scent of sex, driven wild by the sight of her ass bouncing, clapping against him.

She came with a scream, body locking up as her walls clenched around him, milking him with wet, pulsing spasms. Her juices coated his thighs, dripping down his shaft in a messy flood.

That was all it took.

With a growl torn from his chest, Codor slammed upward, burying himself inside her one last time as he released--thick, hot spurts filling her, his hands gripping her hips like he never wanted to let go.

And across the fire, Vekkári reached her own climax.

Her head tilted back, jaw slack, her fingers moving in fast, practiced strokes over her slick, aching core. Her thighs trembled, her breath stilled--and then, with a sharp gasp and a guttural moan, her body shuddered violently.

A hot stream splashed across her fingers, wetting her palm, thighs, and the stone beneath her.

She let out a slow, trembling sigh, her body still twitching from the force of it.

Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, she watched her clone slump forward against Codor's chest, his cock still buried deep inside her.

Vekkári smiled.

She'd made herself squirt.

Codor lay sprawled out, boneless and breathless, eyes half-lidded as if he'd been hit by lightning and liked it. The furs beneath him were damp with sweat and pleasure, his body marked by the riot of passion that had just rolled through him like a storm.

Vekkári stretched beside him, one leg looped lazily over his thigh, her skin still glowing from the fire and her own release. She traced slow circles across his chest, her touch light, absentminded--more comfort than seduction now.

"You breathing?" she murmured, voice like embers.

"Barely," Codor croaked. "I think I saw god."

From behind him, the Temla-clone gave a slow, satisfied sigh. "You did. She was bouncing on your cock, calling your name like prayer."

Codor groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "I wasn't that loud."

Vekkári smirked. "Loud enough to startle one of my other selves halfway across the ridge. She paused mid-skinning just to say, 'Codor's at it again.'"

He chuckled weakly. "Good to know I've got a reputation."

"Infamous," the clone whispered, wrapping herself around his side. "You've been bred by a goddess now."

Vekkári stilled for a breath. Her smile didn't fade, but her gaze turned thoughtful--grounded.

"I'm not a goddess," she said gently. "I didn't fall from the sky or get carved from light. I just... endured. And changed."

Codor looked over at her, eyes soft. "You split your mind across six bodies, made me forget my name, and got yourself off from across the fire. You sure that doesn't qualify?"

Vekkári laughed quietly. "Maybe by your standards."

The clone leaned in, chin resting on Codor's chest. "She's right," she said, her tone warm and sincere. "We're not divine. Just made of something old. Something that doesn't die."

Codor blinked at her. "You sound exactly like her."

"We are her," she said with a wink. "But I still think it's cute when you worship us."

Vekkári rolled her eyes, smirking. "If I start believing I'm above the people I serve, I'll stop seeing them for who they are. That's where everything falls apart."

Silence fell--thick and intimate.

Then the clone reached down and gave Codor's cock a slow, teasing tug.

"Still twitching."

He groaned again. "Tell your very mortal selves to give me five minutes."

Vekkári leaned in close, grinning. "We'll give you ten. Out of mercy. Not divinity."

Thanks so much for reading this chapter.

Vekkári's journey is just heating up--filled with sex, strange beauty, and the slow unraveling of what it means to be immortal, and maybe... loved.

If you're enjoying the ride, I'm glad you're here. There's a lot more to come--more bodies, more memories, and more of the mess and magic that make her who she is.

See you in the next chapter.