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Liyue Harbor is still recovering from Osial’s assault the week before, but Yicheng thinks that things are starting to look up. Children no longer hide behind windows while Millelith guards patrol empty streets, and most of the merchants have warily set up their stalls again. Yicheng nods to Granny Shan on his way to the docks, and she calls out a kind greeting as he does.
The members of the Millelith that he walks past, however, are not so friendly. “Oh, no, Yicheng,” one of them calls out, as he starts down the steps. “Watch those stairs! You’re looking a little faint. Did you miss one of your twelve meals today?”
Yicheng’s traitorous stomach growls in response, and he flinches as the guard’s laughter follows him down the stairs. He’s used to his coworkers mocking his “rumbly tummy” on the regular—but things have gotten worse ever since last week, when he passed out the moment Osial attacked.
It wasn’t his fault. He’d been trying a fast to address his stomach issue, a last-ditch effort after Bubu Pharmacy insisted that nothing was wrong with him. But between an empty stomach and the shock of seeing an ancient sea god rise from the ocean, he’d fainted as he rushed to fend off the attack, toppling to the ground in front of dozens of Millelith guards.
Word had spread fast. And Yicheng swore the Millelith talked more about his fainting episode than any other topic of gossip they’d ever latched onto. They never chatted this much about the mysterious hero searching for their sibling, or the sex shop that Ying’er ran on the side, or even the rumor that the prim-and-proper Wangsheng consultant was some Fatui guy’s sugar baby. No, the only thing out of anyone’s mouth lately was some sort of joke about Yicheng’s unfortunate constitution.
That’s why Yicheng was the first to volunteer for an assignment in Guyun Stone Forest, raising his hand before his superior even finished describing the mission. He couldn’t take another day of constant teasing, and a special mission was the perfect way to prove that he really was competent. So what, if he was always hungry? He was still as loyal and capable as any other member of the Millelith. A heart as big as his stomach, his mother always told him.
He approaches the designated boat floating at the docks, where his three companions for the mission are already waiting alongside a guard named Jinzhong. They look young and skittish, and he doesn’t recognize any of them—new recruits, probably. None of them say a word when Yicheng’s stomach gurgles loudly; apparently no one had told them that their superiors would never discipline them for such jokes.
“Ah, Yicheng!” Jinzhong says, slapping him on the back. Yicheng’s stomach burbles from the impact. “Are you sure you’re ready to go? Did you pack enough snacks?”
Face burning, Yicheng turns to the new recruits. “Are the rations on-board?”
“Yes, sir,” says one of the boys.
“It sounds like everything is in order, then!” He pats Jinzhong on the shoulder and clambers onto the boat, bending his knees slightly as the vessel rocks beneath him. Yicheng usually has good balance, but he especially can’t afford to fall after that fainting spell.
Every second of this mission—each word he says, each move he makes—is a test to prove himself. And it is a test Yicheng will not fail.
Head held high, he lowers himself onto the bench of the boat, frowning as it shifts beneath him.
The shortest of the recruits coughs. “Sir. You’re sitting on the rations.”
Yelping, Yicheng leaps to his feet and nearly pitches overboard. His face burns with shame when one of the recruits snorts.
“Oh, don’t cry, Yicheng,” Jinzhong says. “I’m sure the food is still edible. But if you’re afraid that you’ll go hungry out there...”
“It’s not a long trip!” Yicheng says, hoping that he won’t actually burst into tears. “We should be back within a day or two. And when we return, we’ll have vanquished whatever threat lies out there, I’m sure!”
I’LL have vanquished it, he thinks to himself. Either he will destroy whatever terror lurks across those waters, or it will destroy him. There’s no other option. Yicheng refuses to give up or run away, however harrowing things may become.
“The threat,” Jinzhong repeats. “Ha, of course. But even if there’s anything out there, it can’t be as horrifying as that appetite of yours.”
“We were told this was a field trip!” one of the recruits says.
“Yeah,” another one says. “To learn the layout of Guyun Stone Forest.”
“Is there really something dangerous out there?” the third frets.
“Obviously not,” Jinzhong says. “Our commander just wanted to make it sound exciting. Have fun babysitting, Yicheng! And don’t eat the kids’ rations, however hungry you get.”
“I would never!” Yicheng says, but Jinzhong is already walking away.
Hmph. Yicheng may have an insatiable appetite, but he also has common decency! He would never take someone else’s food. At least, not without asking. Consent is imperative.
“Sir?” the tallest recruit says.
“Ah, er—yes!” Yicheng says. “I’ll make sure you learn the lay of the land, as well. We will explore every crevice of those islands, and thrust our swords into any threats we find!”
The recruit snickers, muttering something about swords and crevices. Yicheng fails to see what is so funny.
He learns the three recruits’ names as they set off: Mingze, Haoran, and Shuang. Mingze is the shortest and seems the most responsible; Haoran seems completely unprepared for the possibility of an actual threat; and Shuang is the one who’s inexplicably amused by swords and cracks.
Despite Jinzhong’s jokes, Yicheng isn’t bothered that he’s been assigned three recruits. It means that his commander trusts him to oversee other men! A recognition, however slight, that Yicheng can get things done.
But that’s not all he’s going to do. He’s also going to obliterate every trace of a threat in Guyun Stone Forest—this, he swears!
“Sir,” Haoran says, as their little boat comes ashore. “Are you sure we have enough food for your, um...”
“There’s no need to worry,” Yicheng assures him. “If my hunger grows too great, I will forage or hunt something down. I can’t afford to be picky, with my condition.”
Haoran nods uneasily. Goodness, what kind of voracious monster do these youth take Yicheng for? Do they think this is one of those shipwreck horror stories, where fellow sailors begin to regard each other as potential feasts?!
Yicheng would never stoop to such a thing. He is well-accustomed to dealing with severe hunger; he’s sure he could withstand a severe bout of starvation.
Or perhaps not, if his fainting episode is anything to go by. Yicheng would likely be the first to waste away and die, in such a scenario.
“Alright!” Yicheng says, clapping his hands together. “Grab your packs, and let’s set off. The reports of a disturbance came from the eastern islands, so that’s where we’ll start.”
Their group makes good time traversing Guyun Stone Forest. Strangely, they don’t encounter a single hilichurl or monster on their way, and Yicheng starts to wonder if some sort of vigilante beat the Millelith here.
No, no! He refuses to consider that possibility. He will not have his glory stolen.
And besides, the beaches are completely devoid of life. Not a single crab scuttles by, and Yicheng has yet to hear the call of a crane. Unless someone showed up to Guyun Stone Forest and poached every living creature in sight, it seems more likely that something else is afoot.
Perhaps the threat here is so perilous, so sinister, that it has scared off every sign of life, from crabs to lawrachurls. Maybe it’s something that only a man with a strong heart—and stomach—can take.
“Is it always this quiet?” Haoran asks, as they approach the central island.
“Not at all,” Yicheng says. He pauses to scan their surroundings for any traps or threats. “Something clearly scared away all the monsters.”
“But there wasn’t even a real report, was there?” Shuang asks. “Didn’t someone just get scared while they were here?”
“Not just scared,” Yicheng says. How dare this youth belittle the mission that is going to save Yicheng’s reputation? “They reported a ‘dangerous feeling’ in the air, like something watching their every move.”
“There are plenty of things that could watch you.”
“Are there?” Yicheng challenges, spreading his arms to indicate the barren shores around them. “Tell me what you see.”
“Uh, well...”
“Are we going to get eaten?” Haoran says. “Does the Geo Hypostasis eat people? Are the crystalflies here carnivorous?”
Mingze elbows him. “Don’t talk about eating! You’re going to make Mr. Yicheng hungry!”
Yicheng frowns. “This is hardly the type of conversation I find appeti—” His stomach cuts him off with a gurgle, and he sighs. “Let’s walk a bit farther, and then we can break for a snack. And no, the Geo Hypostasis doesn’t eat people.”
“Have you ever seen it?” Mingze asks.
“Well, no.”
“Then how do you know?” Haoran demands.
With a chattering stomach, Yicheng sighs again and sets off toward the jagged cliffs towering up ahead. The stories say that Rex Lapis hurled those giant stones from the sky, crushing his enemies; Yicheng wonders if perhaps some god could rain sustenance from the sky, instead, and give him something to eat. Maybe food gifted by the gods would finally satiate his cursed appetite.
It feels like his stomach creaks and gurgles with every step, louder than the sound of boots trekking across sand. The recruits make a valiant attempt at muffling their laughter, except when a particularly loud rumble makes Haoran yelp in fear, and Shuang finally bursts out laughing.
Just as Yicheng is about to scold him for his lack of camaraderie, though, a chill settles over his skin. It’s similar to the empty feeling in his stomach, except it spreads through all his limbs—like his entire body has been hollowed out, and is desperately in need of being filled.
“Do you feel that?” he asks.
Shuang’s laughter cuts off, and his expression twists uneasily. “It’s a little colder.”
“I think we’re close,” Yicheng says. He takes a few steps forward, chasing the feeling, and it gets stronger as he moves in the direction of a structure floating on the water. “Stay close together, and...”
But the three recruits aren’t following him. Shuang stands tense with his arms crossed, Haoran’s legs are practically wobbling, and Mingze stands a few paces in front of them, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“What’s the matter?” Yicheng asks.
“It feels...weird,” Mingze says. “I don’t know if I want to mess with whatever that is.”
Is it truly so strange? The sensation is a bit unsettling, but again, it’s not unlike the gnawing hunger Yicheng has suffered all his life. And if this is enough to make all three recruits cower in fear, well, no wonder not a single person has ever been able to relate to Yicheng’s struggles. These people don’t know what it’s like to feel real hunger!
Once upon a time—that is, about a week ago, before he fainted in front of his peers and became even more of a laughingstock than before—Yicheng might have hung back as well. Although he’s a loyal member of the Millelith, he also knows that there’s no shame in letting someone stronger and more talented get a job done. (Or at least, that’s what he tells himself, when he repeatedly asks for the easiest patrol routes and errands.)
But the Yicheng of today is determined to prove himself. He will vanquish this unknown horror. He will serve his country. And he will do it all on a less-than-full stomach, because a man’s stomach capacity does not determine his strength!
“We’ll, uh, keep watch,” Shuang says. “Maybe your stomach will scare it away!”
Yicheng scowls at him. “My stomach—” His stomach lets out a wail, and Haoran ducks behind Mingze with a cry. “Fine. You three stay here. Do you remember how to send a signal to the mainland?” The recruits nod. “If you hear me yell, I want you three to climb to the top of this pillar and send a signal, and then stay there until help comes. Be careful, because there might be monsters taking refuge near the domain here. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the recruits say.
“It can’t be that bad,” Shuang adds, as Yicheng sets his pack of supplies on the ground—but he doesn’t volunteer to come along, so Yicheng thinks he’s probably more afraid than he lets on.
The three recruits hang back as Yicheng carefully approaches the water. The unsettling feeling grows stronger with each step, until he’s almost certain that it’s coming from a floating platform up ahead.
He turns back to the recruits and gestures to the walled structure. “I’m going to swim over and see!”
The recruits nod again. Haoran shifts nervously from one foot to the other, while Shuang stands still as stone.
Taking a deep breath, Yicheng wades into the water. I can do this, he tells himself. For my reputation, I must! But as he draws closer and closer to the strange sensation, his mind whirls with fear. What if this malevolent presence didn’t merely scare away all the living creatures in Guyun Stone Forest? What if it actually destroyed or devoured them?
Now that Yicheng thinks about it, there is something rather hungry about the feeling in the air. Or is that just his imagination? Is his wretched stomach meddling with his thoughts?
Yicheng’s gut clenches painfully as he makes his way through the water. When he reaches the structure, the sensation in the air multiplies tenfold; his muscles tremble as he hauls himself onto a chunk of worn stone, and he collapses, limbs too weak to move.
There’s a tugging deep inside him, different from the gnaw of hunger. He shudders and gasps, caught off-guard by the feeling.
The recruits are blurred by distance—or maybe Yicheng’s vision is unfocused, his head murky from the overbearing presence surrounding him. And yet, the longer he sits and collects himself, the more familiar the sensation becomes. Like a food he’s tasted once, not enough to recall the flavor on his own, but something he’d recognize if he encountered it again.
Electro from a thunderstorm? The moist taste in the air on a particularly humid day? No, that’s not exactly it. Think, Yicheng, think…
Eventually, he becomes accustomed to the weight pressing his lungs, and manages to stand. After taking a deep breath, Yicheng hauls himself up the side of the structure, teeth gritted against the overwhelming force battering his brain.
He perches on top of the structure and peers down at the platform below—and nearly topples over in horror.
Rising from the water, a serpentine head flops onto the stone ground, body slick with Hydro power. The air around it practically vibrates, like heat rising off a street, and its glowing cerulean eyes stare directly at Yicheng.
“Osial,” Yicheng breathes, terror seizing his chest.
The head is smaller, a fraction of what the reports said, but there’s no mistaking the creature’s appearance. As Yicheng watches, Osial’s head shifts, and several tendrils of Hydro break through the ocean’s surface, writhing as they creep across the ground. A hissing noise rings in Yicheng’s ears like stir fry sizzling in a wok, and the serpentine creature winds across the space until it’s hovering just below Yicheng’s frozen form.
Yicheng steels himself and whips around to face the shore. “Get help!” he yells, as he draws his sword. He’s not sure if the recruits can even understand his words, but they must get the message, because they immediately turn and race toward the cliffs in the distance.
Strangely, Osial doesn’t smite him right away. That gives Yicheng a shred of courage, and he waves his sword at the beast. “W-was one defeat at the hands of humanity not enough for you?”
Osial’s tendrils—tentacles, they’re tentacles, that’s what they are—ripple around his head. The hissing becomes more of a hum, a low noise that makes Yicheng feel strangely tingly.
“I—I’m warning you!” Yicheng says. “Reinforcements are on the w—”
He’s interrupted by the growling of his stomach, the sound nearly as loud as the powerful hum emanating from Osial. Yicheng’s tiny bit of bravery evaporates, and a blush overtakes his face.
“I won’t fight you,” Yicheng says. “I—I have already summoned help, so your defeat is ensured! But were I at full strength, and not working on an empty stomach, I could certainly take you myself! This weakened form of yours would be no match for my—” His stomach gurgles again, and he nearly cries (whether from terror or embarrassment, he isn’t sure). “Damn it! Why can’t my blasted hunger go away for once!”
He might be imagining it, but it seems like Osial’s head tilts to the side, and the tentacles pause in their writhing. HUNGER? a voice echoes in Yicheng’s mind, vibrating in his bones.
The tingling feeling is back, and Yicheng’s grip on his sword tightens. “N-no—don’t eat me, please. Or at least let me have a last meal! I…”
TAKE…ME…YOURSELF?
The voice is like a whisper, except impossibly loud. Yicheng wonders if he’s gone mad. “I—I was just bluffing!” he says. “I couldn’t actually beat you in a fight, L-Lord Osial. Um, is that title alright? W-would you prefer sir, or master—”
Quick as lightning, one of the tentacles flashes forward and wraps around Yicheng’s waist. It yanks him off the wall and dangles him in the air, squeezing his stomach hard enough to produce another gurgle.
Yicheng yelps and kicks his legs above the ground. “Don’t eat me! M-my stomach is constantly empty, so I probably have no nutritional value—”
EMPTY…FILL YOU…
“What are you talking about!” Yicheng cries. “Stop that! Put me down!”
To his surprise, the tentacle lowers him to the ground. Just as he relaxes, a smaller tentacle plucks the sword from his hand and flings it into the air. It spins into the sky, becoming a mere sparkle in the distance. A few moments pass, and Yicheng does not see it land.
“It’s not polite to take a man’s sword,” Yicheng grouses.
His knees are weak, hands trembling, but he tries to focus on his mission. This is clearly some remnant of the multiheaded beast that was crushed by the Jade Chamber—which means that Osial must be gathering strength and preparing for a comeback. If Yicheng doesn’t stall him, Osial may flee somewhere that the Millelith can’t find him, and then they won’t be able to stop him from gaining full power.
Or at least, that’s how Yicheng would expect it to work. He doesn’t actually know much about ancient sea god monsters.
He watches as Osial’s tentacles sway in the air, almost like seaweed beneath the water. Seaweed…oh, Yicheng had a delicious seaweed soup at Chen the Sharp’s stall last week, salty and savory and light. Too light, in fact—it had been about as filling as water! When Yicheng eats seafood, he always seeks out something far more substantial. Fish, crab, sometimes even squid or octopus. Some people are put off by the latter’s appendages, but Yicheng finds the texture quite enjoyable.
Watching Osial’s tentacles, Yicheng imagines for a moment that they might be as delicious as the minty meat rolls from Wanmin Restaurant. His stomach practically moans, and Yicheng curses his mind for conjuring such an absurd thought.
And yet, those tentacles look so thick and juicy, dripping with Hydro energy, throbbing with flavor…
Something lower than Yicheng’s stomach is interested, and it isn’t his small intestine.
Nor his large one!
The gnawing in his stomach intensifies, and he forces himself to look at Osial’s head. Which isn’t much different from his tentacles, except that Yicheng has no desire to put Osial’s head in his mouth. (Or, well, not that head, anyway. Or any head of his! Oh, Celestia, what’s gotten into Yicheng?)
One of the tentacles delicately tilts Yicheng’s chin up to meet Osial’s eyes. He gasps, knees buckling—and a tentacle wraps around his legs, steadying him. Yicheng mutters an awkward thank you, although he feels significantly less appreciative when the tentacle squirms upward and starts pawing at his butt-cheeks.
ALSO…HUNGRY…
“I left my rations—oh!” Yicheng gulps as another tentacle tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Th-that wasn’t the kind of hunger I was talking…about…”
The slippery appendage slides around his stomach, smearing slick Hydro in its wake. Yicheng’s skin warms and tingles beneath the searing touch, which he finds strangely comforting. It reminds him of the momentary feeling of fullness after a large meal, which is always inevitably followed by a barrage of belching.
Osial’s tentacle reaches up toward Yicheng’s chest, tickling his perky nubs until they stiffen. Yicheng squirms and moans, momentarily forgetting himself. If this is how Osial’s powers feel, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if…
No! No, Yicheng has a mission. He must stall Osial until reinforcements arrive, and—
Wait. Ah ha!
It’s like the delayed heat kicking in after a bite of spicy food. Yicheng suddenly realizes with stunning clarity: what better way to stall Osial, than to fuck him? The sea god probably hasn’t partaken in carnal activities for the past several centuries, after being smashed to bits by Morax’s pillars and all. (Yicheng wonders, now, if that famous story was actually just a metaphor for other activities—the thought of which has his pants tightening painfully around his eager manhood. He resolves to add that scenario to his mental “me time” catalog, along with his favorite fantasy of having Master Zhang slam his “hammer” into Yicheng’s “anvil”.)
By now, Osial is probably desperate to do some smashing of his own. After such a long dry spell—ironic, for a Hydro being—surely he will be easily seduced by Yicheng’s supple body!
It’s settled, then. Yicheng will fuck Osial, for Liyue! He will sacrifice his body to tire the creature out, stalling while the Millelith form a plan of attack…and then Liyue will be saved, through this, his heroic act!
With resolve as firm as the length hardening in his pants, Yicheng nods to himself. “Very well!” he declares. “I will allow you to have your way with me, if that satiates your ravenous appetite!”
There’s a moment where Osial doesn’t move, and Yicheng wonders if his message has been received. Before he can open his mouth to ask, a dozen tentacles surge forward and begin tugging at Yicheng’s clothes. They slap at his skin and he quivers with pleasure, desire burning in his belly. Focus on the mission! he thinks, as his body becomes more and more naked. Make this last, to stall for time!
Yes, that is why Yicheng must drag this out: for the sake of his fellow countrymen.
Osial’s touch is surprisingly tender and dexterous as he bares Yicheng’s body to his effervescent gaze. Yicheng finds himself lifted into the air as tentacles wrap around every bit of exposed skin, with a particularly thick one rubbing at his buttocks.
“Oh, my!” Yicheng gasps. The girth is formidable. He doesn’t know if his rectum can take it.
But he must try, for Liyue!
Yicheng takes deep breaths as the tentacles squirm across his body with smacking noises. A juicy-looking one undulates near his face, and he leans forward, tongue sticking out for a taste.
Oh, this, this is a true delicacy, the likes of which Liuli Pavilion and Xinyue Kiosk have never seen! (And Yicheng is nothing if not a connoisseur of exquisite dishes.)
Osial must sense his desperate intent, because the tentacle shoves past Yicheng’s lips, stuffing his mouth. Yicheng moans, suckling at the meaty limb. It tastes like fresh water mixed with sensuous musk; if this flavor were a cocktail, Yicheng would gladly gulp down ten glasses. He’s sure it would be divine with some sparkling water, perhaps a squeeze of lemon—
Speaking of squeezes, the tentacle wrapped around his waist reaches down and wraps around his erection, its grip pulsating. Yicheng wants to cry yes, yes, but his mouth is full of tentacle, so he can only go “yrmph, yrmph!” and wriggle his hips wantonly. The movement is sure to seduce Osial, who already seems happy to indulge in Yicheng’s body.
What a feeling, to be craved in such a way! Yicheng lets out a breathy sigh as the tentacles pleasure his mouth and member. All these years, he has merely devoured and devoured, seeking to fill that infinite void in his stomach—but now, it is Yicheng who is being devoured, dominated by Osial’s talented appendages.
Come bursts forth from Yicheng’s dick, pitter-pattering against the stone ground below. Osial’s eyes glow brighter, and the ministrations of his tentacles increase in speed. The thick one nestled against Yicheng’s ass crack thins until it’s the width of a finger, then slowly excavates its way into Yicheng’s quivering hole.
He lets out a mewling whimper, his cock weeping impossible amounts of come. Is this Osial’s magic? Or is this simply Yicheng’s ravenous sexual appetite, mirroring the tenacity of his regular hunger?
The tentacle in his ass seems to be widening his cavern with every plunge, until there’s barely any give with each thrust. The tentacle withdraws from his anal passage, momentarily abandoning its quest—and then it grows firmer and thicker, cock-like in the way that it paws at Yicheng’s entrance.
Yicheng screams his pleasure as the turgid tentacle slowly breaches his asshole. Or at the very least, he tries to scream—but the juicy meat occupying his mouth makes that impossible, so instead he lets out muffled moans of ecstasy.
The tentacle is so thick and long, continuously feeding into Yicheng’s hole. It feels like it will never stop. It feels like his belly is full. In fact, when Yicheng glances down, he sees the defined outline of the tentacle bulging in his abdomen, larger than any food baby he’s ever had. It nudges at the boundaries of his stomach, showing him just how deep it’s gone.
But Osial isn’t done. A second tentacle deflowers Yicheng’s straining asshole, stretching him as wide as the Chasm. The two appendages slither around inside him, rearranging his guts while the third continues to plunder his velvety mouth, as if Osial is a treasure hoarder and Yicheng’s tongue is a treasure chest. Or perhaps Yicheng’s prostate is the real treasure, judging by how those tentacles keep battering that tingly button, jamming against it over and over.
Yicheng sucks harder on the smooth tentacle in his mouth. A nice mouthfeel, he thinks, just like a tender piece of jueyun chili chicken—and with that thought, flavor bursts on his tongue, bringing his mouth to life just like those spicy peppers do.
The tentacle is close to cumming, it seems. Perhaps Yicheng will soon receive an even more delicious meal. (He’ll never be completely satisfied by any meal that the Traveler brings him, never again; nothing will come close to the delectable feast currently filling his mouth.)
This is what he’s been waiting for. This is what Yicheng needs to feel full.
He’s fairly certain that his stomach isn’t rumbling right now. If it is, he definitely can’t hear it over the loud squelching sounds, or the moans loosing from his stuffed mouth. Not that these are lustful moans! These moans are for Liyue, his beloved country. Yicheng moans for Liyue. He gives his ass for Liyue…and his dick, and his mouth, and his stomach. Yicheng has handed his entire self over, for Liyue! Would any of his comrades be so self-sacrificing? Who else among the Millelith would be so patriotic, to let themselves be fucked by Osial for the good of their nation?
Once again, Yicheng’s cock weeps pearly beads of precome. At least, he thinks it does, because he can’t exactly see his dick through the tentacle wrapped around it, nor can he turn his head while a tentacle pillages his throat. But he recognizes the pleasure curdling in his core, like lemon in milky tea—and oh, it’s certainly milky when the tentacle releases Yicheng’s dick to let him cum.
“Anh oonh,” Yicheng says, trying to thank Osial as his cock shoots spunk far enough to land in the ocean surrounding them, spurt after spurt of thick white come plopping into the water.
And Osial’s magic really must be doing something, because Yicheng still feels severely hard. His eyes roll completely back in his head, and then back to the front, doing little pleasure somersaults while Osial annihilates him.
The tentacles prod insistently at the inside of his stomach, almost like Osial is tapping Yicheng on his shoulder. Yicheng does his best to nod, because he’ll take anything Osial is willing to give. More, more, please! he thinks. Ruin me for any other tentacular sea gods!
His wish is Osial’s command. The tentacles shoot huge loads of hot semen into Yicheng’s straining hole, filling him until he thinks he might burst. (But he knows he won’t, because Osial’s come is as gentle as his tentacles, lovingly filling Yicheng drop by drop, like a wife pouring tea for her husband.) Yicheng swears he tastes the come all the way in his throat—but then he realizes that’s because the tentacle in his mouth is cumming too, spilling seed down his abused throat like a chef dumping too many sesame seeds as garnish.
Except here, there’s no such thing as too much. Yicheng eagerly chugs Osial’s musky nectar, feeling his belly grow fuller with each swallow. Tiny tentacles wiggle between his toes—did Osial really take off his socks, too?—and Yicheng coughs a bit, trembling from the ticklish sensation.
Tears pour down his face from all the sensations assaulting his body at once, but they’re quickly washed away as various tentacles shoot come onto Yicheng’s face. He whimpers and mewls as the currents of delicious semen stream past his mouth, a wasted feast plummeting to the ground below.
Perhaps Osial senses his discontent, because the tentacle in Yicheng’s mouth is replaced by a new swollen appendage, even thicker and meatier than the one before. Yes! Yicheng thinks. Fill me up, Osial! Fill me so I’ll never be hungry again!
To his dismay, the tentacles stuffed up his asshole withdraw as well. For a horrible moment, Yicheng’s hungry hole gapes, like the mouth of a baby bird begging to be fed, and he weeps from the emptiness that resonates deep in his soul; if his mouth weren’t stretched around a delectable tentacle cock, he would fervently protest at the way Osial’s nourishing seed now pours forth from his hole, splattering against the ground amongst the fluids pooled there.
No, no! Yicheng must be filled. Osial needs to plug his ravenous sphincter, and quickly, before any more come goes to waste!
And, oh, does Osial deliver. A moment later, not one, not two, but three tentacles delve into Yicheng’s anus, practically tearing Yicheng in half. He cums instantly, but only a few drops splooge from his dick, similar to an empty bottle of soy sauce that stingily refuses to season a meal. Empty, Yicheng’s cock really is empty—but it doesn’t matter, because Osial will fill him, Osial will make him whole, Osial will make sure that he never feels hollow again.
Osial rails Yicheng for what feels like hours, until Yicheng’s mind becomes a blur of slippery tentacles pleasuring his orifices. He vaguely registers that night hasn’t fallen yet—not because he has an exceptional internal clock, but because his naked skin is clothed with Osial’s come, sparkling in the evening sunlight. Osial has made Yicheng beautiful inside and out, with just a few touches of his virile appendages.
At last, when Yicheng feels like his body is more semen than it is blood or bone, Osial’s tentacles withdraw from his fleshy cavities. The last tentacle to leave his ass stutters on its way out, almost as if Yicheng’s hole refuses to let it depart. Finally, though, the tentacle pops free with a sensuous squelch, and a river of creamy sauce pours onto the ground.
This time, Yicheng does not care if Osial’s semen vacates his ass. He is full, fuller than he’s ever been, so full that his stomach doesn’t make a sound.
The tentacles lower Yicheng to the ground. The fluids of their lovemaking are deep enough that the pool comes up to Yicheng’s bare ankles, glittering like a beautiful ocean around him.
His knees buckle, and he collapses onto the ground. His throat feels too hoarse to speak, in need of quenching, and so Yicheng scoops twinkling come into his hands and shovels it into his mouth, gulping it down with gusto.
So much gusto, in fact, that he can barely breathe, and begins choking on the amorous potion. As Yicheng splutters and coughs, Osial’s tentacles wrap around his wrists with strange gentleness, tugging them away from his mouth. ENOUGH, Osial says, and Yicheng simply goes limp in his grasp.
A moment of silence descends. For the first time in hours, Yicheng isn’t swallowing come or being fucked by tentacles—and as if it’s going into shock, his body promptly passes out.
When Yicheng comes to, he’s lying on a sandy bank, and the sky is dark. His first thought is one of panic: did he faint again? Did anyone see him faint? Yicheng will never save his reputation, if he passed out on the quest that was meant to salvage his honor!
He hastily sits up, wincing. His muscles are sore, limbs exhausted, and at first, he can’t remember why. He’s not sure how he got here, or…
Suddenly, memories come flooding back—much like tentacle come flooding his body.
Osial. Osial fucked him. Osial filled Yicheng to the brim, until his hungry body couldn’t hold any more.
Yicheng gingerly gets to his feet. He’s dressed again, and he doesn’t know how Osial managed that with all those tentacles—which seem much better suited for disrobing, if anything—but he won’t complain. His skin seems clean, and his hair is stiff with sea salt, which makes him think that maybe Osial gave him a dunk in the ocean while he was unconscious, too. His body is unmarked aside from a few scrapes on his arms, but there’s a faint blue light pulsing around the red marks, sending a cool sensation across Yicheng’s skin. As he watches, the light fades, taking the scrapes with it.
Huh. Healing magic. It makes sense, when Osial is a Hydro being, but all the stories make him sound like some agent of destruction, incapable of restoring anything.
Of course, Osial definitely destroyed Yicheng’s ass—not that he can tell, when there’s no trace of soreness down there. Yicheng wonders if he’ll feel it tomorrow, or if Osial’s healing magic made his butt as good as new, too.
A delicious shiver runs through him. Sighing, Yicheng stretches and tests his muscles, just to check if any injuries remain. There are none, of course; Osial is as thorough a healer as he is a lover. But even in the glowing moonlight, Yicheng’s skin almost looks dull now, without Osial’s sparkling come coating it. He nearly regrets being washed off, even if it’s better than having to explain why he’s covered with the stuff. (He supposes he could always say it’s some beast’s saliva, or the condensate left by a rare slime, although he thinks it would be rude to lie about Osial’s sexual prowess.)
Even if Yicheng’s skin were still decorated, though, it wouldn’t look the same as it had when it glimmered in the sunlight earlier. But the moon and stars rule the sky, now—almost as if the sun fled in embarrassment, too scandalized after bearing witness to Yicheng’s exploits.
Yicheng shakes his head. What is he thinking? Shouldn’t he be happy that his perverse little venture is over with? He’d consented, yes, but it had been no easy task keeping up with Osial’s stamina for that long! One wrong move, and Yicheng might have run out of energy before reinforcements could arrive, and then…
Wait. Did the reinforcements even show up? Yicheng whips around, scanning the landscape, and realizes that he’s far from where he started, tucked admist the greenery of an islet off the mainland. The beach is empty except for an array of seashells arranged in a heart, reminiscent of that famous spot near the Geo Hypostasis.
A coincidence. Surely a coincidence. Perhaps another adventurer left these shells like this, and Osial thought it would be funny to leave Yicheng here—or perhaps Osial didn’t even notice, since he’s not exactly in tip-top shape right now.
Well, anyway, it’s probably for the best that Yicheng wasn’t left near the spot where he’d summoned help. Personally, he feels no shame over his rendezvous with a tentacular sea god, but some people might not be so accepting of that.
After a moment’s hesitation, Yicheng plucks the smallest shell from the arrangement—leaving the heart shape in-tact—and slips it into his pocket. Then he sets off toward where he left the recruits, stumbling slightly as he clambers across the rocky landscape. While he’s unharmed, it’s still going to take a day or two for him to completely recover his strength.
And yet, he’s still standing! Doesn’t that say something, that Yicheng could withstand such a godly marathon of pleasure? Surely, surely any other Vision-less mortal would have failed, too weak of heart and stomach to persevere.
Rather than thinking he deserves a Vision for his efforts, though, Yicheng takes this to mean that he doesn’t need one. He’s perfectly strong without any gift from the gods—although Osial’s generosity cannot be overlooked, when he’d rained sustenance upon Yicheng just as he had prayed. A true benefactor!
As Yicheng draws closer to where he left the recruits, he notices something different about the landscape. It isn’t until he’s startled by a skittering crab that he realizes: Osial’s presence has disappeared from the island.
Yicheng’s disappointment is quickly replaced by elation. Because…doesn’t that mean he succeeded? Osial stopped terrorizing Guyun Stone Forest, satisfied by Yicheng’s corporeal offering! Against all odds—faced with a foe that only the most powerful heroes in Liyue could defeat, and armed only with a voracious appetite—Yicheng actually completed the mission!
With a gleeful laugh, Yicheng races toward the island where the recruits should be waiting, shouting their names. To his amazement, his voice is no longer hoarse, almost as if Osial’s come soothed his throat like honey and left no roughness behind.
Yicheng’s mouth waters slightly at the thought, and his face burns in embarrassment.
As he gets closer to the base of the mountain, he sees three figures standing on the moonlit sand. A shout echoes through the air, and then the silhouettes rush toward him. Yicheng races towards the oncoming trio as well, praying that it’s not actually a group of angry hilichurls or something. (Technically, he could draw the sword at his side—which Osial apparently retrieved for him—but he’d rather not frighten the recruits, who already must be scared after Yicheng went missing for the entire day.)
He soon realizes that the three figures are, in fact, the recruits. They come to a stop in front of him, gasping for breath.
“Mr. Yicheng!” Haoran says. “Are you alright?”
“Quick, eat something!” Mingze says, shoving a stick of jerky into Yicheng’s hands. “You must be starving. What happened? Do we need to carry you? Is your stomach going into shock, or…”
Yicheng stares at the piece of jerky he’s holding. The sight of it isn’t disgusting—he’s not picky, and has never minded such foods—but it seems…unnecessary. He gets the feeling that if he chewed and swallowed it, there wouldn’t be any effect.
Wait. Is this…?
Silence settles over the group. The recruits stare anxiously at Yicheng, while he continues to peer at the jerky. The only sound is the sloshing of waves on the shore, and the occasional whistle of wind past their ears.
Yicheng’s stomach isn’t growling.
“I’m not hungry,” Yicheng says in amazement.
Mingze sucks in a sharp breath, and Haoran and Shuang stare at him with their jaws dropped. “Oh, Celestia,” Mingze says. “He must have hit his head. Haoran, go get the first aid kit—”
“No, I’m fine!” Yicheng says. He laughs, hoping that he doesn’t sound too hysterical. “I’m fine! I don’t need this!” With an excited whoop, he turns and flings the jerky into the ocean, watching with satisfaction as it’s consumed by the waves.
“I could have eaten that,” Shuang grumbles.
Yicheng fights the urge to dance with glee. He’s not hungry. He’s not hungry! His stomach isn’t growling or gurgling or gnawing. There’s no belch clogging up his throat. He feels completely satisfied—not nauseated, not sick, just pleasantly full.
For however long this lasts, he’s cured!
The recruits still eye Yicheng with concern, but they don’t try to offer him any more food. “The reinforcements weren’t able to reach Guyun Stone Forest,” Mingze says. “We saw the boats appear, but there must have been whirlpools or something, because they couldn’t progress past a certain point. I think they went back to get stronger vessels.”
“I thought the island was going to flood with us trapped on it,” Haoran frets.
“We were on top of a mountain,” Shuang says flatly. “Even if the islands flooded, we would have been fine.”
“But Mr. Yicheng was still on the ground!”
Oh, there was certainly a flood, Yicheng thinks, remembering the bucketfuls of come unleashed from his and Osial’s combined efforts.
“The feeling from earlier is gone,” Mingze notes, before Yicheng can reminisce any further. “Do we know what was causing it, sir? And why it went away?”
“Ah, yes,” Yicheng says. “I handled the threat. It was…some sort of…” Alas, none of them will believe him if he says he encountered Osial, and he certainly wouldn’t want to explain to these innocent minds how he managed to make Osial leave. “Water creature. Perhaps similar to the Oceanid, in its capabilities, and with a similar effect of warding other life away from the area. You, uh, recall how her rage once killed all the fish in nearby waters.”
“You fought that by yourself?” Haoran exclaims.
“There was some negotiation involved, along with the…physical engagement,” Yicheng says. “It struck me during our bout, and I believe the essence expelled by the attack may have had magical properties.”
“You mean you’re cured?” Mingze says, eyes wide. “If that’s true, then we should track down this beast—we could harness the medicinal properties and—”
“No, no!” Yicheng says. “It’s long gone, by now. There will be no harnessing of its properties.” He can’t quite explain it, but he feels strangely jealous at the thought of some scholar or doctor fucking Osial for science—which is certainly the only way they would obtain that healing essence.
“Are you sure?” Mingze says. “This could be a big medical breakthrough.”
Ah, well—Yicheng’s refusal probably does seem a bit odd, considering what stands to be gained. “Well,” he says, “we wouldn’t want to encourage the beast to frequent these parts, by luring it out for experiments. Besides, it very well might be that the essence does not have healing properties. If it was enough to suppress my appetite, can you imagine how it might affect someone with an average constitution?”
Haoran turns a bit green. “You’d lose your appetite and starve to death.”
“Mr. Yicheng, sir!” Mingze says. “You still feel like you can eat, right?”
“Yes, yes,” Yicheng says. “Just not at the moment. And I’ll file a report on the creature I encountered when we return, but let’s not mention any theories about its powers. The last thing we need is some poor soul wandering out here and trying to engage with the thing.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Mingze agrees.
“Now, let’s finish our patrol, and hopefully we can get back before the second round of reinforcements departs from the harbor. How does that sound?”
“We still have to patrol?” Shuang groans. “I thought you said the threat was gone!”
“A good member of the Millelith is thorough!” Yicheng says, wagging a finger. “We must always give our all. I put my entire body on the line earlier, risking each and every limb—and you’re saying you can’t spare some energy to scout out a few islands?”
Shuang grimaces, shoulders hunching. “Um, no, sir. Sorry.”
The four of them set off, with the recruits casting concerned glances at Yicheng every once in a while. They’re probably worried that Osial’s attack contained some kind of poison, and that Yicheng will keel over any second. They don’t realize that the essence filling Yicheng is the finest substance, only capable of bringing pleasure.
Nor will anyone realize, ever, because Yicheng cannot divulge the details of how he vanquished a foe as powerful as Osial. No one would believe that he could manage such a feat, or even that the body of an ordinary man like Yicheng could entice that formidable god. Only the heavens know, maybe, and if they do, Yicheng hopes that they smile upon his deed.
And perhaps, if Rex Lapis lives on—as Yicheng and countless others pray that he does—perhaps he also witnessed Yicheng’s bravery. And surely Liyue’s god would approve of Yicheng’s willingness to give his entire body for his beloved country, just as Rex Lapis fought countless times to defend it.
Consider this my tribute to you, Rex Lapis! Yicheng thinks. For you, for Liyue, I gave myself to Osial!
As he sends out that prayer, a golden crystalfly descends to Yicheng’s shoulder, and his eyes sting with the hope that this is a sign of Rex Lapis’s favor.
To his confusion, though, a voice from the crystalfly seems to echo in his mind, similar to Osial’s communications earlier—except with a voice that Yicheng knows by heart, from witnessing numerous Rites of Descension. CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW. GOLDEN HOUSE. HAVING BREAKUP SEX.
Yicheng stares in bafflement as the crystalfly flutters away. What on earth?!
The recruits pause and turn around. “Sir,” Mingze says. “Is something wrong?”
“Ah, no,” Yicheng says, still squinting at the retreating trail of gold. “Let’s keep moving.”
For the rest of their patrol, his stomach doesn’t complain once. When their team finally returns to the boat that brought them to Guyun Stone Forest, Yicheng accepts some shrimp crackers and dried fruit from Mingze, if only so that the boy will stop fretting. Yicheng easily stomachs the fruit—his appetite is quelled, not ruined—but he’ll certainly be having a light breakfast tomorrow, after being stuffed so full.
Now that he’s no longer plagued by that insatiable hunger, Yicheng feels like a new man. His reputation, his relationships, his work—everything will be so much easier, with his unfortunate condition resolved. He can never thank Osial enough for this precious gift.
As he rows their boat back to Liyue, Yicheng finds himself staring out at the ocean, imagining another encounter with Osial. The sight of the glittery water conjures an image in Yicheng’s mind—one that almost feels like a memory—of a man with shimmering blue hair who washes Yicheng’s skin and regards him with glowing blue eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.
Does Osial have another form? Or is that simply a dream that was conjured by Yicheng’s mind while he slept and recovered from their coupling? Yicheng always did have quite the imagination, although even his mind couldn’t have invented the mind-blowing sex he had with Osial.
Yicheng wonders if the cure to his hunger is permanent, or if it will fade with time. Should his cravings one day return…well, then Yicheng will have no choice but to return as well, to Guyun Stone Forest, to have his fill once more.