Henry had barely zipped up his trousers—well, if "magical mist-draped loincloth" counted as trousers—before the next problem slammed into his face. Literally.
A flying bra.
A lacy, frilly, velvet bra the size of a small parachute.
It landed on his head, blinding him.
"WHAT NOW?!" he yelped, flailing like a possessed scarecrow. "Is the lingerie attacking now?!"
"No," Seraphina said, lifting her sword. "That was a warning shot."
Moistessa sniffed the bra. "Hmm. Lavender and shame. Succubus signature."
Yvette adjusted her glasses, still holding the scroll. "It's from the Sisterhood of Endless Heat. They know you're coming."
Henry yanked the bra off and stared at it like it owed him child support. "Couldn't they just send a text like normal people?"
"They don't use WhatsApp," Moistessa said. "They use WhipsApp."
"I hate this world," Henry muttered.
They were back on their flying barge, now refueled with a mix of sensual steam and unicorn sweat. Below them stretched the Swamp of Sultry Screams—a place where the moans of past travelers echoed in the air like background ASMR. Frogs croaked in rhythm with erotic saxophone music. The trees dripped sap that looked suspiciously like body oil. The water bubbled with lustful intent.
Henry shivered. "This place feels like an OnlyFans page grew roots."
Moistessa smiled. "Wait till you meet the Swamp Sirens."
**
They landed near a cluster of glowing pink mushrooms shaped like butts.
Instantly, a group of women emerged from the steamy swamp fog.
They were tall, curvy, and wet in all the right ways. Their hair shimmered like soaked silk, and their voices harmonized like a seductive choir.
"Welcome… to the Moaning Mire," said the lead siren, licking her lips like she was about to eat Henry. And not metaphorically.
Henry stepped back. "I am not a snack."
Seraphina shoved him forward. "You're the whole buffet."
The sirens circled him like sharks in slow motion.
"We heard of you," one purred. "The Last Man…"
Another licked his ear. "We've been… lonely."
Moistessa leaned on a mushroom and sighed, "They're going to milk him like a sacred cow."
The sirens sang their song—hypnotic, sultry, and 99% moaning. Henry's knees buckled.
But just as they were about to drag him into the swampy love jacuzzi, a loud whip-crack echoed.
CRACK!
A new woman emerged from the shadows. Leather everything. A mohawk made of feathers. And a massive snake tattoo that started at her neck and disappeared into places Henry wasn't emotionally ready to process.
"I'm Madame Gagari," she snarled. "Swamp Sirens! Back to your puddles!"
The sirens hissed but obeyed.
Henry fell to the ground, panting. "Are you my savior?"
"No," she said. "I'm your next trial."
**
Trial Two: The Gauntlet of Gushy Grapples
Madame Gagari led them into a massive coliseum carved from vines and desire.
"Here," she announced, "you must survive the onslaught of my warriors: The Clingy Combat Queens."
A gate creaked open.
Out marched a dozen women. Each wore minimal armor—just enough to make things dangerously bouncy—and had weapons shaped like household objects: spatulas, dildonic nunchucks, and a whip made from regret.
Henry backed into a wall. "Okay, these women don't want to fight… They want to cuddle me into a coma."
The announcer's voice boomed overhead: "LET THE GUSHY GAUNTLET BEGIN!"
They charged.
Henry ran. Seraphina sliced a nunchuck midair. Moistessa summoned a shield made of slippery oils. Henry was tackled by a woman who whispered, "I just want to spoon you forever," while locking his legs.
"NO COMMITMENT!" he screamed and wriggled free.
Another one lunged. "Let's get matching tattoos!"
"HELP!"
Seraphina kicked her off. "This is worse than the edging."
Moistessa agreed. "Clinginess is the ultimate weapon."
One hour later, Henry stood victorious. Mostly. He'd lost a shoe, his shirt, and a chunk of his dignity. But he was breathing.
Madame Gagari smirked. "You survived the Cling Queens. Respect."
Henry fell to his knees. "I want to go back to the tongue chair."
She helped him up. "The path ahead leads to the Sisterhood's fortress. But beware. They don't just want you…"
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "They want to use him."
Moistessa gasped. "To repopulate the entire world."
Henry blinked. "I'm just one man!"
"You're the man," Gagari said. "Good luck, King Kinksalot."
**
En Route to the Fortress of Heat Eternal
As they neared the horizon, a towering structure rose from the jungle. It was made of obsidian and obsessions. Shaped like a stiletto heel stabbing the earth. Lava flowed from the top in the shape of hair flips. Moans echoed through the skies like an ongoing erotic opera.
Henry stared at it. "This place needs a safe word."
From behind a tree popped a new woman—tiny, wild-haired, and wearing a trench coat full of vibrating gadgets.
"I'm Dr. Thrustina Tinkerfizz," she whispered. "Erotic engineer. Inventor of the Reverse Reverse Cowgirl."
Henry blinked. "The what?"
"Don't ask," said Moistessa.
Thrustina handed Henry a glowing condom. "This will protect you from psychic overstimulation… for ten minutes."
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "What happens after that?"
"You become a babbling, broken, blissed-out mess," Thrustina said cheerfully.
Henry sighed. "Great. I'm going to be a babbling mess in a volcano brothel."
They entered the fortress.
**
Inside the Fortress: The Hall of Heated Harbingers
It was hot. Not weather-wise. Emotionally. Spiritually. Erotically.
Women in red silk robes lined the hall. Each bowed as Henry passed, whispering things like:
"I want your bathwater."
"Sit on my throne. Literally."
"I wrote fanfiction about you."
He tried not to cry.
At the throne stood the leader of the Sisterhood—Grandmistress Volcanara. Seven feet tall. A rack that could cause landslides. Wearing a crown made of burning panties.
She spoke with a voice made of wine and warning. "Henry. The Last Man. Welcome. We've been… waiting."
Henry trembled. "Why?"
"We need your essence."
"Okay but like… how much essence?"
"All of it."
He fainted.
**
Hours Later…
Henry woke up in a velvet bed surrounded by the entire Sisterhood.
Volcanara smiled. "Relax. We'll go gentle. At first."
Seraphina kicked open the door, sword drawn. "Not without dinner first, bitch!"
Moistessa blasted the room with lube smoke. Thrustina fired a gadget that launched confetti-shaped condoms.
Battle erupted.
Henry, dizzy and half-naked, crawled under the bed. "I'm too horny to function!"
Volcanara grabbed him. "You cannot escape destiny!"
"I want a nap!" he screamed.
Then—
BOOM!
A portal opened above them.
Out dropped a woman with glowing wings, electric lingerie, and eyes that saw through souls.
"I am Climaxa, Goddess of Orgasms," she said. "And I'm taking this man."
Volcanara snarled. "He's ours!"
Climaxa snapped her fingers. Everyone froze.
She picked up Henry like a plush toy. "You've stirred the balance, darling. The world needs you. But not like this."
Henry whimpered. "Please. I just want to pee in peace."
She vanished with him.
**
The After-aftermath: Floaty Space of Reset
Henry floated in a bubble bath in space.
Climaxa massaged his shoulders.
"Take a break," she whispered. "You've earned it."
"Will I survive this journey?" he asked.
She kissed his forehead. "Only if you remember: sometimes, the real climax… is friendship."
Henry blinked. "That's the worst fortune cookie ever."
They both laughed.
Somewhere far below, Seraphina, Moistessa, and Thrustina prepared for war.
The hunt for the missing men would continue.
But for now?
Henry relaxed.
His pants were finally dry.
His soul? Still soaking wet.
To be continued…