Morgana: The Mother Of All

Clap! Clap!

My hands met with a bright ring of approval, a spark of joy leaping into my chest as I watched V soar again, bat wings slicing through the air in tight graceful arcs. Each flap stirred little gusts against my cheek, and every turn she pulled was tighter, faster, smoother—pride didn't even begin to cover it.

"Well done, V. I'm impressed."

She landed hard but flawlessly, crouching with feline grace before springing forward. Her momentum carried her straight into my arms, warm body colliding against mine, giggling into my chest with all the delight of a child showing off her favorite toy.

"Yes!" she grinned, voice tinged with just a touch of exhaustion and a whole ocean of pride. "Thank you, Mom!"

"Hehehe, you're welcome," I murmured, giving her a soft pat on the back—more of a stroke, really, lingering just a bit, brushing down her spine where those magnificent wings rooted into her shoulder blades. They still twitched reflexively, not quite used to being folded, muscle memory dancing on edge.

"Now come here and show me what you've learned."

"Okay." She stepped back obediently, chest rising in a deliberate, controlled breath. Then her focus sharpened like a blade, irises glowing for a moment before the illusion spell kicked in. Her mana threaded outward from her skin in fine, shimmering filaments, stitching together her former self like a perfectly tailored disguise. In seconds, the silver hair folded away to black, the pale glow of her skin dulled into a sun-kissed tan, and those eerie crimson pupils dimmed into a familiar honey-brown.

"Hmm... good" I nodded to myself before letting out a wide smile. "With this, you can blend in with the people easily."

After becoming a daywalker, V had a huge boost in the beauty department, full breasts, thighs toned, waist cinched just enough to tease the eye and invite the imagination. V was happy about it, of course. What woman wouldn't be? But she'd come to me, hesitant but direct, asking to learn how to dial it all down. Her reasoning was simple:

"An assassin can't stand out. Not unless it's intentional."

I loved that about her.

"Now then..." I tilted my head slightly, letting my gaze wander unabashedly down her figure, from the sleek line of her neck to the dip of her waist, the way her borrowed illusion clung to her like a second skin. "Your mana flow is stable, your transformation speed is under five seconds, and your flight is more than just functional—I'd say it's lethal. But..."

I stepped forward, closing the gap between us. V held her stance at first, waiting for the next order. Then she blinked as I reached out—not to strike or adjust—but to pinch.

Right nipple. Quick, direct.

"Kyaa~!" she yelped, stumbling back a step as if I'd sent a current of mana straight through her. The illusion faltered, mana scattering, and in a pulse of light, she snapped back to her true form. Skin white as snowfall, hair like a river of silver, and breasts—larger now—bouncing softly in the aftershock.

"If you let your emotions control you," I said, releasing the pinch and letting my hand trail across her bare breast, fingers brushing the slope with something between a caress and a lesson, "the transformation won't hold."

Her face was flushed, but her gaze didn't waver. She was breathing faster, her chest rising, the tips of her fangs just barely visible behind parted lips. Her body was still humming from the surprise. I saw her trying to recalibrate, trying to catch hold of the mana again, but the emotional spike had disrupted the channeling.

'Good. She needed to feel that disruption if she was going to learn control.'

"Hungry?" I suddenly asked, pinching her sensitive nipple again.

"Ahh~...Maybe... why?"

"Hehehe" I giggled, stepping back, activating my transformation skill.

"WHAT!!" V exclaimed as she saw the new form I unlocked yesterday.

I transformed before her, my body shifting and changing with a rush of mana. My legs elongated and morphed into powerful hooves, the sound of them hitting the ground echoing through the room. Two curved horns protruded from my head, and a long tail, I grew taller but much thicker, limbs stretching and reshaping into something undeniably bovine yet undeniably feminine. My thighs ballooned with power, hips flaring out into wide, generous curves that gave a preview of my voluptuous rear. And of course, I cannot be called a cowgirl without the iconic HUGE boobs.

"What do you think?" I asked seductively, shaking the heavy and extremely huge assets before her eyes. The first time I did it I fell on the ground from the gravity and size.

A week has passed since I gave birth, and during that week well... I gave birth to more offspring, successfully finishing the requirements of both my goblin form and my holstaur one. I used the 'Birth Barn' slots to speed up the pregnancies, giving birth to another three thousand healthy offspring.

As for the Centaurs, only five hundred, and the requirement for the form was the highest I had seen so far. A whopping 20 thousand healthy centaur offspring are needed for the sexy half-horse form with a long dick to be mine. The Fabbit still needs two days.

"It... it's... A cowgirl?" V managed to choke, and for a moment I thought she would jump at these massive cow tits, sucking blood and milk from my nipples, lucky for her and sadly for me she managed to hold.

'I guess the training worked.'

Unsurprisingly V was able to reach stage four of the vampire thirst with ease without losing her mind, part of that was her training as an assassin in the past, even with my blood inches away from her nose, she held still, trembling but composed, every muscle in her body screaming for relief.

"Mmm," I watched her, towering above in my new holstaur form, tail flicking behind me with a lazy swing, milk-heavy tits swaying with every tiny motion I made. Each bounce sent a quiver of weight through me that few things could imitate—pure flesh, real and hot, taut veins pulsing beneath skin stretched obscenely tight. And they leaked, just faintly, creamy white dribbling from the dusky, over-sensitive tips of nipples like ripe fruit in the sun. One thick drop rolled down the slope of my left tit and splashed onto the stone floor between us with a soft, wet plip.

"!!!" V's eyes followed that drop like prey.

"Come on, say it," I teased, leaning down, giving her the full arc of both massive, swaying tits. My breath hit her lips, heavy with pheromones and magic. "You've been dying to get your mouth on these... again."

Yes, she did, during stage three of the thirst, I teased her too much until she dug her fangs straight into my breasts, but only for a split second and she regained her focus,

However, she did taste my blood and milk.

"I… I haven't," she whispered hoarsely, but her eyes betrayed her, flicking from one nipple to the other with desperate need.

"Oh?" I licked my lips slowly.

"Not even a little curious what holstaur milk tastes like? Not interested in the cocktail of mommy's blood and milk?" I rolled my hips slowly forward, the raw weight of me pressing into her thighs without even touching. "It's not just delicious, darling. It's potent. You'd be glowing for days."

"Gulp!" She swallowed hard, and the sound was audible.

"I'm… I'm still training," she said, voice brittle and unconvincing. Her wings had curled tightly around her shoulders like a blanket as if to shield her from the sheer aura I was exuding.

"Sigh," I exhaled sharply, a hot gust of breath against her face. "Sweetheart, you can hold your thirst at stage four… for that, you've earned a reward."

Without giving her a chance to react, I seized her back head and buried her face deep in my milk-full breasts.

"Ahh!" Her muffled voice rang out, and in a single sharp suck, she latched on, fangs biting straight through the sensitive flesh.

Instant. Intense. Relief.

Slurp!.

Oh, the sound was obscene—wet, deep, needful—the kind that sent shockwaves through the marrow, the kind that could curl toes and snap sanity like brittle twigs. Her mouth latched, her fangs pierced, and my body reacted. Muscles in my massive thighs clenched, tail arched and flicked with sudden agitation, and my hands—those great clawed, feminine, nurturing hands—tightened around her back, pulling her even deeper into the pillowy prison of my breasts.

"That's it, baby..." I growled, breath hitching as the milk began to flow. Not slow, no trickle—gush. Her throat worked rapidly, swallowing as though she'd been drowning in thirst for days, and every pulse of her tongue sent another ripple of hot, thick milk into her greedy little mouth.

"Mmmhhf—!" came the muffled, delirious sound of her voice, somewhere between a moan and a cry, her entire form trembling as if she were being fed her very soul. Her wings twitched, flared, then snapped out in reflex, her body locking tight against mine like she feared I'd take it away.

But I didn't. No—I fed her. I let her drink. Both milk and blood.

"V, I have a certain plan I want to discuss."

While she was busy drinking her fill, I shared with her a new plan I was working on, down to the small detail, and after 30 minutes of sucking and listening, V finally broke free.

"Thank you, Mom." She mumbled, kissing me sloppily on my nipple.

"You're welcome," I chuckled. Her lips were dripping red and I have to admit it looked fucking hot. "Say, what do you think of my plan?"

"Hmm.." She took a moment to organize her thoughts before replying.

"It's a solid plan and I still have some connections that we could use."

"Great" I exclaimed with excitement, "First take a hot bath, relax your muscles, and rest for the day. After that make a list of everything you need, okay?"

"I will... Night Mother"

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