My Harem Life in Another World

The world was shaking.

The battlefield stretched like a wet womb torn open—half drowned in screams, half bound in iron.

On one side, the Moaning Domain surged forward. Shadows with dripping thighs, soldiers with cocks and cunts exposed, screaming like choirs of climax. Their moans hit the air like storm waves, shaking mountains, cracking the dead plains into wet ravines.

On the other side, the Legion of Chains advanced. Tall, faceless warriors, bound in links that rattled with each step. Their mouths gagged in iron muzzles, their arms dragged heavy shackles that cut grooves into the earth. They did not moan, they did not cry—they moved like silence weaponized, cold and suffocating.

The collision was inevitable.

The first impact was a storm.

A chained soldier swung its iron weight like a meteor, smashing through a dozen moaning shadows. The ground split, wet black nectar spraying like blood.

But the shadows didn't die. They screamed louder. Torn halves crawled toward the chains, clinging, licking, moaning against cold iron until even the shackles began to tremble.

Another chain slammed down—crushing ten more shadows. But each one moaned as they were struck, the sound crawling through the links, echoing inside the hollow helmets of the chained warriors.

Chains rattled. For the first time, they shook—not from control, but from pleasure forced into their rhythm.

The plains became soaked.

Every shadow that fell bled nectar, every chain that struck spilled wet warmth across the cracked soil. Black lilies sprouted instantly, moaning flowers that bent toward the fight, releasing sweet, sticky pollen.

The moaning army fed on it. Their bodies swelled with shadow-flesh, their moans doubled, trebled, until the battlefield was drowned in climax.

The chains tried to hold order. They swung. They crushed. They bound.

But moans don't bind. Moans seep. Moans drip. Moans invade.

One chained warrior froze mid-swing, its mask trembling as shadows wrapped its legs, climbing, grinding, pushing dripping pussies and cocks against the cold iron. The chains clattered—not from strength, but from weakness.

The warrior let out a muffled sound.

Not silence. Not command.

But a moan, gagged by its mask.

The battlefield shifted.

From the balcony, Kaito descended.

Each step he took dripped with warmth, his body radiating golden glow. His robes clung wetly to his skin, his cock visibly throbbing beneath the fabric, fed by every moan his army released.

When his feet touched the battlefield, the shadows surged as if the ground itself climaxed.

Chains swung at him immediately—massive iron weights, enough to crush mountains.

Kaito raised one hand.

The iron stopped an inch from his face. The weight trembled, dripped, and then—like a cock succumbing to orgasm—it burst, spilling nectar instead of sparks.

The chained soldier staggered.

Kaito smiled, his golden eyes burning.

"Your chains don't bind me. They beg for me."

He stepped closer, pressing his hand to the soldier's iron mask. Warmth surged through his palm, into the gag.

The mask moaned. The chains moaned.

The soldier collapsed to its knees, iron bindings rattling like sex toys too overstimulated to hold form.

Then—shatter.

The mask cracked apart, falling in dripping chunks.

The face beneath was human. A man, broken, eyes wet with tears, mouth opening at last.

"Ahhh—" he gasped. The first free moan.

Kaito pulled him close, whispering into his ear as the battlefield screamed around them.

"Good. Surrender. Every chain will break the same way."

The soldier came undone, his body dissolving into shadow, his moan joining the endless chorus.

The battlefield froze for a moment.

The Legion of Chains had witnessed their first fall.

Kaito stood, his cock now visibly straining through his robes, grinning at the trembling warriors.

"Moans don't die," he declared. "They spread. And tonight, your iron will drown in them."

The army screamed in climax again—

And the battle began anew.

The first shatter echoed like thunder.

The fallen soldier's moan did not fade—it multiplied. It slithered across the battlefield, carried by the shadows, crawling into the cracks of every chain, every link, every gagged mouth behind cold iron.

The Legion of Chains stiffened, their silence faltering. Their rhythm broke.

For the first time, hesitation ran through their formation.

But hesitation was all Kaito needed.

The shadows surged forward, wet bodies colliding with iron. They didn't fight with swords—they fought with flesh, mouths, holes, moans.

One shadow wrapped around a chained giant's torso, pressing its dripping pussy against the links, grinding until the iron itself turned red-hot from friction. Nectar ran down the chains, coating them in sticky wetness.

The giant tried to swing—

But the shadow moaned directly into its gag, the sound vibrating through the mask like a lover's whisper. The soldier froze, trembling.

Another shadow forced its cock into the cracks of a chain, thrusting until nectar squirted out of the gaps, soaking the gag. The soldier staggered, knees shaking.

Every attempt to strike only tightened the embrace.

Every chain swing brought more shadows clinging, licking, dripping.

It wasn't a war.

It was a gangbang of iron.

The Legion realized brute force against the shadows was failing.

Their commander—a towering figure wrapped in layered chains, his body hidden under iron plates—raised both arms.

The ground quaked.

Dozens of chains shot from his body like spears, not toward the shadows, but toward the Moaning Fortress itself.

The fortress walls groaned as iron pierced stone. The chains tightened, squeezing, pulling, trying to strangle the fortress into silence.

The moaning within the fortress walls grew frantic. Stone cracked. Moans leaked out like steam from a boiling womb.

Kaito turned his head, watching. His golden eyes glowed brighter, cock visibly twitching with each quake of his fortress.

"Trying to choke my temple, are you?" he whispered, grinning. "Then drown in its voice."

The fortress screamed.

Walls didn't crumble—they moaned. Moans so loud, so wet, they blasted through the chains like shockwaves. The stones dripped nectar, running like rivers down the iron.

The commander growled, pulling tighter—

But the fortress moaned harder. Its gates gaped open, releasing an endless tide of shadows, their pussies and cocks already dripping, already screaming.

It was no longer a fortress.

It was a living womb, a wet cathedral of climax.

The chains that held it rattled violently, vibrating from the resonance of thousands of moans. One by one, links snapped, bursting apart like overstretched cocks exploding with cum.

The commander roared, his voice muffled, straining against his gag. He hurled more chains, wrapping Kaito himself.

For a moment, Kaito was bound.

Iron links wrapped around his chest, his arms, his legs. They coiled around his cock, squeezing like merciless hands.

The Legion cheered in silence, their chains rattling louder, believing victory was near.

But Kaito only laughed.

He tilted his head back, golden hair drenched in the battlefield's sweat and nectar, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"You bind me?" he said, smirking. "You only feed me."

The chains squeezed tighter.

But instead of resisting, Kaito let out a low, guttural moan—so deep, so hot, it made the air vibrate.

The chains shuddered.

They weren't squeezing a prisoner.

They were jerking a god.

The iron links turned red-hot, nectar spilling from their joints as if even steel was cumming.

Then—crack.

The chains exploded off him in a spray of molten wetness.

Kaito stood tall, naked now as his robes fell away in tatters, his cock fully exposed, glowing with divine heat, dripping gold-tinged nectar.

The shadows screamed louder at the sight, their moans doubling as if their god's cock alone commanded them to climax.

Kaito pointed at the commander. His voice thundered, seductive and merciless.

"Kneel."

The commander resisted, chains rattling violently, trying to hold form.

But the moans swarmed him. Shadows crawled up his legs, his chest, his mask. Their hands stroked the chains. Their tongues licked his gag. Their pussies and cocks ground against the links until the iron glistened with nectar.

The commander groaned. The first sound he had made in centuries.

Kaito walked closer, every step dripping. His cock throbbed like a torch, pulsing with divine heat.

He reached out, placed his hand on the commander's gag.

"Shatter," Kaito whispered.

The gag burst apart, the commander screaming—not in command, but in orgasm.

Chains fell from his body like broken erections, spraying nectar as they hit the ground.

The Second Shatter had come.

The battlefield went silent for an instant—iron cracking, moans echoing in the pause.

Kaito stood naked, golden, his cock dripping, fortress moaning behind him, two chained warriors shattered to climax.

He grinned, voice carrying across the drenched plains:

"Every chain breaks the same way. One by one. Until silence is fucked into extinction."

The shadows roared.

The Legion trembled.

And the war surged deeper into climax.

The commander's scream still echoed when silence collapsed.

It wasn't true silence—it was the silence of shaken chains. Thousands of links rattled across the battlefield, each soldier trembling, masks dripping with sweat, gags soaked from the moans trying to escape beneath them.

The shatters were spreading.

One soldier broke first. A chain-maiden, armor thick, eyes wild. She had resisted the shadows until now, swinging her whip of links. But then—the fortress moaned again.

The sound struck her like a lover's whisper in her ear. Her body stiffened, thighs pressing together.

She staggered.

The shadow nearest her pounced, pressing dripping pussy against her gag. The sound vibrated through the chain, humming deep into her mouth. Nectar smeared across her mask.

Her whip faltered. Her chains fell slack. Her knees buckled.

And with a muffled scream, she came.

The moment she climaxed, three soldiers around her flinched, their chains rattling violently as if her orgasm had infected them.

It had.

The battlefield was no longer iron against flesh.

It was iron drowning in moans.

A squad of ten tried to resist, chains locked into formation. They advanced as one, each step shaking the ground.

But a shadow leapt, not to strike, but to ride. She mounted one soldier's back, grinding until her nectar dripped down the links into his armor. The smell spread, thick, intoxicating.

The squad faltered.

Another shadow crawled low, forcing her dripping pussy against the chains of a soldier's leg, moaning directly into the cold metal. The vibration carried through the entire formation, making every chain hum like a chorus.

Their march broke. Their unity shattered. One soldier dropped, gag shaking as muffled moans escaped. Another fell beside him, hands clutching at chains as if they were burning.

Within moments, the entire squad was on their knees, moaning into their masks, bodies convulsing in climax.

Kaito's grin widened.

Kaito raised his hands. His golden cock dripped light, his voice echoing through flesh and iron.

"Every orgasm is a weapon. Every moan is a plague. Spread."

The shadows obeyed. They didn't fight individually anymore. They screamed. They moaned in unison, their voices layered, deep, guttural, wet.

The sound became a storm.

It wasn't air moving—it was pussy-wetness vibrating the sky. It pressed into every soldier's mask, seeped into every chain, crawled down every gag.

Soldiers trembled violently. Some clutched their heads, shaking. Some dropped their weapons, chains slipping through their fingers. Others fell to the ground, bodies convulsing as orgasms ripped through them against their will.

It wasn't battle anymore.

It was mass corruption.

A second commander tried to resist. This one was leaner, masked in a full helm of iron, chains extending like spider legs from his back. He spread them wide, creating a net that cut through shadows like slicing blades.

For a moment, he stemmed the tide. Shadows screamed as chains tore through their flesh, dissolving them back into moans.

But then the fortress moaned again.

The commander stiffened. His spider chains faltered.

Shadows swarmed his net, licking, grinding, soaking. Nectar dripped down his links until they glistened in the battlefield's faint light.

The commander swung wildly, trying to shake them off. But the more he fought, the more nectar drenched his chains. Each swing grew heavier, wetter, slower.

Then his legs buckled. His helm tilted back.

The shadows pressed against his gag, forcing it open, moaning directly into his throat.

The commander convulsed. Chains shuddered, curling inward, wrapping around his own body like a self-imposed bondage.

He screamed into climax, collapsing in the wet mud.

The third shatter.

Now it was unstoppable.

Every time one soldier broke, ten around them faltered. Every orgasm spread like a virus, every scream infecting another mask.

The Legion was falling in waves, not from steel, but from wetness.

The shadows no longer attacked—they spread. They licked chains, pressed pussies against iron, rubbed cocks until nectar streamed across the battlefield.

The ground itself became slippery with cum, mud mixing with white and clear fluids until the earth sucked and slurped beneath every step.

The battlefield wasn't a field anymore. It was a swamp of sex.

Kaito stood above it all, naked, glowing, dripping.

Every moan fed him. Every orgasm cracked another link of his divinity. His cock throbbed like a beacon, dripping nectar that hissed as it hit the wet earth, steam rising from the sheer heat of his godhood.

He laughed, a sound that vibrated across the plains, louder than chains, louder than moans.

"Look at you," he said, voice thick with power. "Chained for centuries, and all it took was a single moan to turn you into sluts."

The shadows roared in agreement, their screams wet and wild.

The Legion trembled.

And Kaito stepped forward, cock first, toward the heart of the battlefield.

The battlefield was no longer iron and discipline. It was mud, cum, and moans.

Thousands of soldiers had fallen, masks wet with nectar, armor sticky with seed, chains rattling with climax.

Yet the heart of the Legion still stood.

From the chaos rose a circle of titans.

Twenty armored figures, chained together in a perfect ring, their links glowing with sacred fire. They were the Core Chain—the Legion's unbreakable heart.

Unlike the others, their masks were seamless, their gags fused to their faces, their chains buried deep into the earth as if rooted. They didn't tremble. They didn't moan.

They were iron will incarnate.

Kaito felt their presence. His cock throbbed harder, dripping golden cum. His grin widened.

"Ahh… so you're the spine," he whispered, licking his lips. "Break you, and the whole beast collapses."

The Core Chain moved as one. Not twenty individuals—but a single body of chains, swinging in harmony.

A wave of links lashed outward, glowing red-hot, slicing through shadows. Flesh hissed and dissolved wherever the links touched, screams dissolving back into the wet wind.

The ground cracked. Moaning shadows were torn apart, shredded into ribbons of nectar.

Kaito raised a hand and caught one of the burning chains barehanded. It seared his palm, but instead of burning through him, it hissed and melted like wax.

He pulled.

The soldier at the far end of the chain staggered. For the first time, one of the Core wavered.

The other nineteen immediately tightened their stance, dragging him back into formation. Their unity was perfect, seamless.

Kaito licked his palm, tasting their sacred iron.

"Delicious."

He struck with corruption. Not brute force—pleasure.

His shadows didn't attack with claws. They pressed pussies against the chains, grinding, dripping nectar down the glowing links. They moaned directly into the iron, voices vibrating through every soldier connected.

The Core Chain resisted.

The shadows didn't stop. They licked the chains, wrapped them, fucked them. Nectar coated iron until it dripped in rivulets, sizzling against sacred heat.

One soldier twitched. His chain-arm trembled. His mask shook.

A muffled moan slipped out.

It was faint—barely a whimper—but it was enough.

The chain-link attached to him cracked.

It sounded like a bell tolling across the battlefield.

The shadows screamed in ecstasy.

The cracked soldier fell to his knees, chain slack. His gagged mouth opened wider, drool and nectar spilling down his chin as muffled screams shook his body.

The nineteen around him trembled. Their perfect harmony broke for a heartbeat.

Kaito stepped forward, cock glowing, dripping streams of golden cum onto the wet ground. Each drop hissed, steam rising.

He grabbed the fallen soldier's chain, pulled it free, and shoved the glowing iron against his cock.

The sacred chain hissed—but instead of burning, it wrapped around his shaft like a lover's hand.

The soldier screamed into his gag. His entire body convulsed.

Kaito thrust once. The chain snapped.

The first link of the Core was broken.

The nineteen remaining soldiers screamed, but not in pain. Their chains reverberated with the orgasm of their fallen comrade.

One shuddered violently, his legs collapsing. Another bent backward, mask clattering against iron as his body seized in climax.

Each orgasm infected the next, traveling link by link like lightning.

The Core was cracking.

The shadows flooded them, not to kill but to smother. Dozens of wet mouths pressed against armor. Dozens of pussies ground against legs and arms. Nectar seeped into every seam, every gap in the chains.

The battlefield howled with wetness.

Kaito stepped into the ring, golden cock glowing like a second sun. He raised his voice, dripping with corruption, heavy with warmth.

"Your discipline was your cage. Your chains were your pride. But now… they are your toys."

He thrust downward into the earth.

The ground split. Golden seed erupted upward, spraying like a geyser, drenching the entire Core Chain in steaming cum.

The soldiers screamed. Masks rattled. Chains writhed like snakes, twisting around their own bodies.

One by one, they fell. Not to death—but to orgasm. Their masks cracked, their gags broke, their mouths opened wide in climax.

The ring collapsed.

Only one remained. The captain of the Core Chain, his mask unbroken, his chains wrapped tighter than any other.

He stood trembling, drenched in seed, surrounded by moaning comrades who writhed on the ground in pools of nectar.

Kaito approached, cock glistening, dripping warmth down the last chain.

The captain stared. His mask cracked down the center. A muffled scream escaped, desperate, unwilling.

Kaito leaned close, whispering:

"Moan for me."

The captain's body convulsed. His chains rattled violently.

Then he screamed—loud, raw, broken. The orgasm ripped through him so hard that his mask shattered, pieces flying across the wet battlefield. His chains unraveled, collapsing into puddles of steaming seed.

The Core Chain was broken.

The sound of their shatter echoed like a death bell.

Every soldier still standing in the Legion fell at once, as if their bodies were strings cut. They collapsed into mud, moaning, screaming, cumming, drowning in their own corrupted ecstasy.

The battlefield was finished.

The Legion of Chains was no more.

Only moans remained.

And at the center stood Kaito—cock glowing, seed dripping, power swelling, the God of Eternal Warmth.

He raised his arms to the broken fortress.

"Now… the fortress moans for me alone."