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amaliaverdezoto > Invincible Canadian Futa Goddess Cultivator > 4 4. Aftermath and ruminations.
Steff walked into the house, yawning a little. Gods, that had been fun. Even if she had been booed at for hitting the wimp, it had been worth it to just let go.

What had followed afterwards, however, had not been pretty. The princess had refused to give her the prize she had clearly won, and, well, she had a meltdown. A big one. She was pretty sure she wasn't welcome in any of the houses anymore. And had probably made a few mortal enemies. And had every young master in the city plotting her demise.

Oh, well. Life as usual.

She shed her armour in her room, relieved to be out of the heavy plate. While she grateful for it, and liked its comfort, it was starting to smell a little. Tossing off her other clothes, she stripped down to her underwear.

In a tight shirt and shorts, she left her room and headed around the circular area to the kitchen. Jien was already asleep, but had left her a meal out. It took a few minutes to heat, and a few more to gobble down. God, she was hungry.

After eating, she made for the bathroom. An identical pair of clothes to what she was already wearing was lying neatly folded near the tub, resdy for her. She saw them and sighed. Try as she might, she couldn't talk Jien out of his old habits. They had been beaten into him over the course of a lifetime, and nothing she did would make him stop finding some way to pamper her.

Stripping off, she examined herself in the mirror. Back home, she was 5'11, not too bad, but here, where the average size of a person was about half a foot higher, she was short. She wasn't much of a looker, just somewhere in between, but she took care of her appearance. One of the first things she had done was get some godamn toothpaste, and used it vigorously. As a kid, she had skipped that, and regretted it. Her teeth werent perfect by any means, but nothing obviously off either.

She had an athletic figure from years of daily workouts in her home, rotating through various muscle groups. Screw a gym, she was her own. It took willpower and dedication, but it paid off. She had full breasts, kept in place by a band to prevent them from throwing her off-balance in a fight, round, defined hips, glutes to kill for and short, messy hair.

Two blue eyes stared back at her, as did a small nick in her right ear, where a dog had bitten her. Her nose jjjuuussstt looked a tiny bit crooked, no doubt because she'd broken it before in a scrap. She took pride in her figure, and actively maintained it. And of course, she now had a dick. 7 inches flaccid.

Tearing herself away from the sight in the mirror, she plunked herself in the now cold water and relaxed. She was Canadian, godamnit. Cold was a part of her. Hot baths were for sissies. She relaxed there for a while, letting the water wash away the sweat of the day before finally hauling herself out and getting dressed.

Part of her wanted to go to sleep, so she was rested for the tournament, but another part egged her into filling up her Sol pool and being at the top of her game. She went with the second part. The moonlight, filtered through the clear air bubble above the tree, found her in her throne, leaning back and threatening to drift off.

Any other young master in the city would be undergoing intense meditatiom right now, all cross legged and attempting to reach enlightenment, but she had long ago learned that Sol ddin't particuarly care about your pose or mindset when it seeped into you, only that you had to be willing to recieve it. The familair tingle of it entering her body spread across her skin, and she let it all in.

Now, with boredom setting in and fatigue washing over her, she did one thing she had done often over the past few years. She examined her dick.

The bulge lay prominently against her short, a monster even when flaccid. She smirked, thinking of how much a pornstar would have paid to have this baby. A while damn lot, she bet. It was long and girthy, a perfect bitchbreaker. She d

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