Monster Harem In The Tower
Chapter 132: Tissue, Tongue, and Tower Euphoria

Chapter 132: Tissue, Tongue, and Tower Euphoria

Nathan was starting to lose control—

And not in a bad way.

Quite the opposite.

He was starting to enjoy everything.

Validia’s tongue, diving into his mouth like a level 99 RPG villain freshly escaped from a holy prison.

Velmora’s coils, now lathered in even more soap, wrapped around his shaft like a temple-cleaning serpent blessed by ancient rituals.

And Morvessa—still calmly seated on his thigh, observing every movement with the expression of a biology teacher who just discovered a new species—annoyed, intrigued, and vaguely aroused.

This... this is too good, Nathan thought, his head leaning gently against Validia’s body.

His left hand was still gripping the horn of the giantess—

But it was starting to tremble.

’Damn...’ he muttered. ’...I could... drown in this.’

---

Meanwhile, far from the pervy arena inside the Tower, night had fallen outside.

The sky above the city was dark.

Quiet. Still.

And in a cramped room filled with K-pop tapes and empty instant noodle wrappers...

Shopia sat on her bed.

Her tank top clung to her skin—damp at the back and chest, either from a broken AC or from body heat she couldn’t explain.

Her pajama shorts had ridden up slightly, revealing trembling thighs—not from cold, but confusion.

In her hands:

A nearly-empty roll of toilet paper.

Just one layer left before the cardboard.

And a bottle of body lotion—only a finger’s worth remained.

Two items she found in Nathan’s drawer.

Back when he still existed in this world.

She had told herself, "I just found them... I didn’t take them."

But why did she still have them?

Why was she holding them now...

...like personal relics?

Her face flushed. Eyes narrowed.

"This... this was his, right?" she whispered.

Her head dipped slowly.

The tissue didn’t smell like anything in particular.

But maybe that’s why—

Because it almost smelled like Nathan.

Because it almost felt like the breath he’d let out when dozing on a summer afternoon.

Shopia’s chest pounded.

She brought the roll closer to her nose.

One... two...

Inhale.

"Ah—!"

Her breath caught—not because of the smell, but the imagination.

Heat surged from her neck to her cheeks, slid down her thighs, and dripped into her fingertips.

She quickly curled up—hugging the tissue roll to her chest like a child clutching an old stuffed animal.

"I-I’m not a pervy girl..."

But her right hand was still gripping the lotion bottle.

And her eyes—her eyes wouldn’t stop imagining Nathan’s cock twitching during climax, how cute it must’ve looked.

She imagined his shaft pulsing—twitching helplessly like a fish out of water, gasping for friction. Her thighs squeezed shut. The thought was too vivid. Her mind painted the scene with painful clarity: Nathan arching back, teeth gritting, hips jolting forward... and white warmth spilling like divine punishment onto invisible sinners.

---

Elsewhere, in a modest home.

Nathan’s old room remained untouched.

The bookshelf.

The game posters.

The slightly torn pillow in the corner.

Emily sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at a photo of Nathan.

"I hope you’re safe... wherever you are..." she whispered.

Her fingers touched the wooden frame gently—

As if pressing too hard would erase him forever.

A dim light bathed her face.

Warm. Quiet.

The face of a mother who still believed her son was alive...

Somewhere out there.

---

A complete reversal of Emily’s sincere affection—

The Tower Manager, Lilith, only grew more delighted,

expressing a twisted, unhinged form of love that defied reason.

Her claw-like fingers clutched the armrest,

long nails digging in deep.

Her body rocked back and forth,

as if possessed by the chant of some horny demon choir.

"Ahhh... my son..." she murmured,

tongue slowly dragging across her lips.

One of her nipples pressed against the transparent system panel.

Click—

The system unlocked on its own.

She didn’t care.

Her thighs spread wide,

and the end of her robe had bunched into a meaningless pile of cloth.

"AGHN... he’s growing so WELL!"

She bit her lip hard.

Her voice echoed back at her from the glassy surface.

"My son... aghhh... give me... nghh...!"

---

Nathan, still the center of attention, remained in the same position—

but now, he felt a different urge rising.

His hand finally left Validia’s horn,

trailing slowly down her neck,

feeling the pulsing vein beneath her skin—

like a tight string trembling with tension.

His fingers, still trembling, brushed her skin like they were searching for a divine relic buried beneath warmth. Every inch of her neck responded—tightening, shivering, as if each nerve ending was sighing. He could feel her breath quicken, feel the rhythm of her life—throbbing beneath flesh like a drumbeat under silk.

"Aghhm...."

Validia broke the kiss, her breath mingling with his,

warm and shaky.

"Validia..." he whispered.

But nothing followed after that.

Only his hand—moving lower, gently...

toward her chest.

The thin fabric covering those tender curves was damp with swet.

The final layer—

like the last curtain before an absurd performance begins.

Nathan paused for a moment.

Then... his hand landed.

Soft.

Warm.

As if he had just touched a cloud sealed inside a water balloon.

Her breast didn’t resist—didn’t flinch. It welcomed him with a squish, like a sun-warmed mochi melting beneath careful pressure. His thumb adjusted, rolling slowly in place. And in that moment, he realized: her heartbeat wasn’t just loud—it was syncopated. A rhythm made not for survival, but for surrender.

Validia trembled. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.

"Na-Nathan..."

Her fingers gripped his shoulder.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, muffling the sound trying to escape.

---

Velmora was still going.

But her movements were slowing.

Foam still oozed, but her breaths were getting ragged.

"Haaah... I... I can still... just a bit more..."

Nathan didn’t answer.

Because at that moment—

the thin cloth over Validia finally gave in.

Slip.

It slid down to her stomach,

revealing the soft, trembling peaks of her chest—

as inviting as marshmallows bathed in morning sunlight.

Nathan’s hand moved closer.

His thumb and forefinger gently pinched the tip.

The tip hardened instantly, like a cherry kissed by frost. His pinch wasn’t cruel—but exploratory. A flicker. A tease. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, her chest arched—begging for more. He swirled his fingers, tracing lazy circles, drawing a map to the temple of her moan.

Soft. Teasing. Curious—

"Ahhnnn~!"

A breathy moan escaped her lips, warm and trembling, brushing against Nathan’s face.