The Comforting Bow Breakthrough

"Whew, seriously..." I mutter, shoving the sandwich Amelia-noona made me into my mouth while staring intently at Siron, who's curled up on the bed like a stuffed tomcat, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fast asleep.

Siron had promised to behave while she slept, but the moment I scooted my chair in, she started teasing my cock shaft with her tongue. Once it got fully hard in her mouth, fuck the promises—she grabbed my pubic bone and bobbed her head wildly. Even as she let out those pained groans every time my dick plunged deep into her throat, she worked her tongue furiously over the urethra and shaft, lavishing it with affection. Me, who'd been holding out for over a week? I wasn't kidding—I didn't last a single minute before blowing my load right down her throat.

The instant I started cumming, Siron shoved my twitching cock as deep as it would go, gulping down the thick, sticky semen straight from the source. Once I was spent, she kept just the glans in her mouth, relentlessly tonguing the slit to suck out every last drop. The insane stimulation after so long had me thinking my hips were gonna give out. My brain was buzzing with electric pleasure, leaving me totally out of it, but Siron? Swallowing all that backed-up, fermented cum flipped her switch. My dick was still rock-hard, refusing to quit, so she went right back to work—licking it with her tongue, rubbing her lips and soft cheeks along the shaft, every trick in the book to milk me again.

And the real kicker? While she was at it, she slyly ground her crotch against my leg, chasing her own pleasure without missing a beat.

"Fuck, seriously... once I get some cash, I gotta buy some stamina pills or something."

"Ehehe, ehehihi..."

Under the desk, Siron drained me five times and came three light ones just from rubbing against my leg. Now she's sprawled on my bed like this, rubbing her bloated belly and claiming she doesn't need dinner.

"I'm only putting up with this 'cause she's so damn cute..."

Just a few days ago, she was all nervous, glancing at me like she might bite my dick if I wasn't careful. Now? She's a full-on succubus, using even those sharp teeth to tease out my cum. It was hot as hell, but my poor cock was crying tears of exhaustion.

"Finally, time to get some work done."

I stuff the rest of the sandwich in my mouth, chase it with milk, and spin around to my desk. Truth be told? Her wild blowjob melted my brain with pleasure—I couldn't do shit. Nearly three hours sitting there, just getting wrung dry by Siron. All I accomplished was shooting thick loads, but my back's killing me and my stamina's in the toilet.

But I can't rest. If not now while she's out cold, my next shot'll be two days from now when she's out at the reconstruction site.

I double-check that Siron's deep asleep, then whisper ever so quietly.

Staring at the translucent window that pops up after so long, I hit New Blueprint.

Shhhk— Like fabric fluttering in the wind, a single sheet of pristine white paper drifts down onto my desk.

"...No way, I gotta draw on this?"

Just a blank sheet on the desk, about the size of my outstretched palms side to side. On a whim, I try hitting Delete Blueprint.

"Oh shit."

The paper vanishes like a mirage. What the hell? The skill levels are way too inconsistent. And shouldn't it come with a quill or ink or something to draw with, not just a damn blank sheet?

"Like I'd have fans lying around, fuck."

This support is straight-up trash. My chest swells with righteous fury—no, really, it's that bad.

"Guess I can grab one from downstairs?"

The reception desk has tons of extras since it's always busy. No point griping—I sneak out quietly so I don't wake Siron, grab a quill and ink from the back counter through the rear door, and slip back in.

"But what the hell do I even make?"

Sex toys or aids... all that comes to mind are the vibrators and shit from porn vids and smut books. No harm in trying, so I'll sketch something basic and submit it.

To get the ball rolling, I draw a simple pink rotor—easiest one.

Brief... brief... Flip the switch and the round part vibrates. Small and lightweight, perfect for women to use anytime, anywhere for self-pleasure. Something like that. I hit save.

A 'Review 1' label ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠appears in the empty slot. How long does this review take? While waiting, I hit new blueprint for something else.

"..."

I'm speechless at the popup. They yeet me to this world and now I'm getting warnings for using a scrap of paper? My head spins. What a generous welfare system.

"Fuck, shoulda drawn it more detailed..."

No clue how long review takes—worst case, it drags forever and gets rejected anyway. Massive time sink. But surprisingly quick, a new alert pops.

Rejected clean and quick. Fine, not creative—but what the hell does "unoriginal purpose" even mean? And my knowledge matters for making it?

"Fuck, can I make anything here?"

Creativity and originality? I can grind my brain for those. But needing my own tech knowledge too? I wanna rip my hair out and scream.

"Fuck it, was hoping to avoid this..."

The chaos erupts the second I join. My head spins.

Thankfully, the seniors are way chiller than first time. I hammer out my plea.

Help from these nutjobs? Slim pickings. I asked my predecessor for info and tips to get blueprints approved easy.

"Oh shit..."

Not a request, a plea—and they start listing the artifacts my predecessor made. Holy shit, beyond my wildest dreams:

Leather choker that projects illusion light on nipples/pussy to hide from viewers—exposure training gear.

Normal-looking panties with hyper-vibe inside, infinitely absorbs fluids to stay dry—outdoor training.

AC that spews hypnosis powder, water bottle that turns any liquid aphrodisiac, piercings for peak condition...

Weird-ass combos galore. Any more and I'd just learn their twisted kinks. I bail mid-chat.

"An AC? How the fuck?"

Best guess: Rack up employee points somehow, unlock final creation stage. Small comfort, but I need real help now.

"Fuck, way harder than I thought."

Figured I'd whip up a few easy ones... not even one approved? No confidence.

"Shit. Drawing and submitting till something sticks."

Underwear with holes at nips/pussy...

Various nipple pasties...

Fuck it, anal beads then.

"G-g-gaaaahhh...!"

That damn creativity. Originality. Knowledge. I wrack every brain cell, endless tries. Same results: Not creative/original, can't implement with my know-how. I'm losing it.

Chirp chirp chirp~

"..."

Birdsong outside—I look up. Dawn's blue light already filtering in.

"Hnnng~"

"Sleeping like a champ, huh."

Blessing or curse, Siron's scratching her cute bloated belly contentedly. Oblivious to the night passing, my stiff body's screaming—I stand to stretch.

To clear my foggy head, I head to the window, fling it wide for fresh air. Cool breeze hits, mind sharpens a bit.

"Oh... Ranger girl?"

Chin on sill, I peer at the guild's open yard below. Orange bob-cut with a brownish tint, nocking an arrow at a wooden dummy.

Impressive distance, but her shots nail the head perfectly, one after another.

"A bow... first in like half a year."

Intrigued by the rare archer, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I watch longer. Each release, bowstring snaps, limb vibrates thrum thrums, and her huge tits bounce left-right with the recoil. Draw, loose, vibrate, bounce...

"Th-this is it!!"

Lightning strikes—a blueprint flashes. No time to lose, I scramble to the chair, scribble madly on new blueprint. Done in seconds. Submit without hesitation.

"Please... please!!"

Felt perfect in the moment, but doubts creep post-submit. Minutes of agony—then:

"Yesssh—"

Wham!!

"Gah...!!"

Something smacks my nape—I faceplant into the desk. Skull throbbing, forehead too. Rubbing both, I turn. My pillow's on the floor.

Pick it up, glance at the bed. Siron's curled up, wriggling.

"...Dumbass... noisy... and cold, close the window..."

"S-sorry..."

I shut the window, tuck the pillow under her head gently. She squirms a sec, then settles into steady breaths.

I rub my sore nape, sit back down. Kinda... just a tiny bit... teary-eyed and hurt.