The clouds in the sky parted like the thighs of destiny.
A soft, celestial breeze brushed over the Valley of Velvet Despair, now purified and reborn as the Meadow of Moist Enlightenment. The once-seductive purrs of temptation had been replaced with the gentle hums of satisfaction—like the world itself had just taken a long, shameful shower and was now wrapped in a towel, sipping cucumber water.
Henry hovered six inches above the velvet grass, radiating divine cheek energy. His aura no longer throbbed with confusion and hormones. It shimmered in soft, platinum pastels—moist, but controlled. Thirsty, but hydrated. He had become… the Squishcendent.
And his thighs were glowing like freshly oiled wisdom.
Climaxa floated next to him, dabbing her eyes with a tissue made of stardust and regret. "You really did it, you magnificent himbo."
Henry blinked slowly. "Why does it feel like I just got emotionally railed by the universe?"
