The map of Elysara unrolled before Ethan in the pavilion showed vast uncharted territories to the south—golden savannas stretching to the horizon, marked only with ancient symbols and the name "Nubia." Vaeloria traced the border with a long finger. "The Nubian Plains," she said, voice low with anticipation. "Predominantly black women—tall, proud, with bodies sculpted by sun and dance. They say their asses are the finest in all realms: plump, juicy, made for worship and celebration."
Ethan felt the familiar stir in his loins. Twenty pregnancies since the reset. Time to expand the legacy.
The journey took ten days across sun-baked grasslands, the air growing hotter and drier with each mile, carrying scents of dry earth and distant rain. Vaeloria walked beside his steed, her seven-foot frame casting a long shadow, enormous tits swaying freely in the heat, nipples dark against golden skin. Thora and Brynja scouted ahead on swift mounts, Rowan and a small harem contingent followed in shaded wagons pulled by sturdy beasts, twenty young Amazon daughters guarding the flanks with spears gleaming in the sun.
Wildlife watched them pass—herds of sleek antelope scattering, lions roaring from distant rocks, eagles circling overhead. Nights were spent under vast starfields, campfires crackling as Ethan blessed local wanderers who joined briefly, their pussies eager under the open sky.
As they crested the final ridge, Nubia revealed itself in breathtaking glory: endless golden plains dotted with solitary acacia trees, herds of sleek antelope grazing peacefully, and distant villages of mud-brick and thatch clustered around sparkling oases that shimmered like jewels. The women were breathtaking—skin in rich shades of ebony, mahogany, and deep chocolate that gleamed under the relentless sun, hair braided intricately with colorful beads and gold threads, bodies tall and curvaceous with high, heavy breasts topped by dark nipples often pierced with golden rings, and the most legendary asses in all Elysara: round, plump, juicy globes that jiggled hypnotically with every step, firm yet impossibly soft, perfect heart-shapes that seemed crafted for worship, clapping softly as they moved.
Hundreds awaited at the border village, drums already thundering in welcome. Led by Queen Amina—a statuesque woman nearly seven feet tall, skin like polished obsidian, hair in long braids adorned with gold rings that chimed softly, tits full and high with dark nipples pierced by golden bars, and an ass that defied description: massive, perfectly round, plump cheeks that clapped with each powerful stride, drawing every eye.
"Breeder of Legend," Amina greeted, voice deep and melodic like distant thunder over the plains. "The sun has favored us with your arrival."
The celebration began immediately—traditional dances to honor the visitor from the north.
Drums thundered deeper, bass rhythms vibrating through chests and loins. Dozens of women formed wide circles, bodies oiled and gleaming in the harsh sun, wearing only golden hip belts and beaded thongs that framed their legendary asses like offerings. They danced with primal grace—hips rolling in hypnotic circles, asses shaking with incredible control and power. Plump cheeks clapped together in rhythmic thunder that echoed across the plains, jiggling in waves that rippled like water disturbed by stone. Some dropped low, backs arched dramatically, asses bouncing mere inches from the ground before popping up with a resounding clap that drew cheers. Others twerked in synchronized pairs, juicy globes grinding together with slick, oiled skin, sweat flying in sparkling arcs as beads rattled like rain on drums.
The crowd cheered wildly, Ethan transfixed—asses of every shade shaking in perfect unity, plump and juicy, perfect orbs that made his cock harden instantly beneath his light travel wrap. Vaeloria watched with amused heat, her own giant curves a striking contrast, thighs pressing together subtly.
That night, the village feasted under a canopy of stars: roasted antelope spiced with rare herbs that tingled on the tongue, hearty grains mixed with sweet dried fruits, palm wine that loosened tongues and bodies, flowing freely from carved gourds.
Queen Amina challenged him as tradition demanded, standing tall with her golden spear. "Prove your strength, Breeder. Combat with me—if you win, our wombs are yours freely. If I win... they are yours anyway, but on our terms, with our pleasure leading."
The fight was like the giants—hilariously one-sided and full of laughter.
Amina was a warrior queen: fast as wind, strong as the acacias, her plump ass flexing powerfully as she moved with graceful lethality. Ethan dodged swings from her golden spear that cratered the dirt, landing playful punches on her thick thigh—more tickle than harm. She laughed deeply, sweeping his legs with one casual motion, sending him tumbling. She pinned him beneath her massive body—tits smothering his face in soft, warm darkness, juicy ass sitting firmly on his chest until he tapped out frantically, the crowd roaring with joyous laughter at the "mighty Breeder" defeated so comically.
"Brave and funny," Amina boomed, lifting him effortlessly like a child and setting him on his feet. "Welcome properly, little warrior."
The orgy began under starlit skies on a vast bed of woven mats and furs beneath the open heavens.
Amina claimed him first—straddling him reverse, her hot, tight pussy sinking down his cock with a wet grip as her legendary ass clapped rhythmically, juicy cheeks bouncing hypnotically inches from his face. He grabbed handfuls, fingers sinking into soft flesh as she rode hard, moans deep and melodic.
Vaeloria joined seamlessly—giantess and queen tag-teaming, pussies alternating on his shaft with slick sounds, tits pressing from both sides in a wall of warmth, milk leaking as he sucked dark nipples.
Dozens followed in waves: asses shaking on his cock in every position—reverse cowgirl claps echoing, doggy with cheeks pulled apart, missionary with legs wrapped high. Hands clapped plump flesh red, tongues licked sweat from curves, pussies gripped as women twerked in rhythm even while fucked.
Days blurred into a haze of sun and pleasure: mornings watching dances that grew bolder, asses oiled and shaking closer; afternoons in shaded huts with selected women, pussies riding slow and deep; nights under stars with the entire village, bodies piling in ecstatic tangles.
Vaeloria participated fully—her giant curves drawing Nubian admiration, sharing Ethan with Amina in passionate threesomes that shook dwellings.
Ten pregnancies sparked by the end—strong Nubian daughters destined for legendary curves and warrior grace.
The plains renewed with new life.
Thirty total in the second cycle.
Nubia's gift accepted with gratitude.