A man can only endure so much before fate throws him a bone—be it gold, glory, family… or death. One way or another, he will be rewarded.
And right now?
That reward came knocking for a poor, perverted little gremlin who'd suffered his way through beatings, slavery, insults, and enough humiliation to fill ten lifetimes.
He hadn't asked for an Oscar. He didn't need applause. He just wanted a chance. A crack in the heavens.
And lo and behold—his reward had finally arrived.
Two jiggly, cotton-clad, goddess-tier cheeks. Soft. Plush. Glorious. Stuffed tighter than a festival mochi. And they were coming in hot.
'Haaa… come to papa.'
His brain short-circuited. His eyes glazed. His soul prepped for transcendence.
Melissa's skirt flared like a veil from the gods, and as she widened her stance to avoid flattening him… it happened.
His head, blessed and cursed alike, was now inside the sacred temple—under the skirt.
