CHAPTER 155: FALL OF HEAVEN’S GATE(18+)

The sky no longer wept light.

Where once there was divine brilliance, now only the thick fog of musk and cum-clouded heat lingered—smeared across broken pillars, soaked into hymn-stained floors, and dribbling down the still-twitching thighs of the angels Allen had turned into blasphemous playthings.

Above the crumbled dome, where moonlight used to pierce through sacred runes, there now loomed a portal.

A gate.

Cracked open.

Still glowing faintly with divine energy, but... flickering.

Allen’s breath was steady. The cum on his abs had cooled into tacky trails, yet his cock remained defiantly erect—veins bulging, head flushed dark, still coated in the slick of a dozen consecrated wombs.

He walked forward, each step sticky on the desecrated marble.

Below him, the final seraph whimpered, still impaled, upside down, babbling something between prayer and orgasmic delirium.

And the gate called to him.

A whisper in a tongue that mortals weren’t supposed to know.

He knew it anyway.

Because he wasn’t mortal anymore.

The moment his foot stepped into the light of the portal, the entire plane beyond reacted like a scorned lover—blades of gold swung out of the ether, judgmental fire flaring in tight, coordinated bursts. Holy defenses, ancient and automatic.

Allen just smirked.

A pulse of corrupted lust exploded from him like a shockwave.

WUMMM—WUMMMMM—KRZZHHHH!

Every blade shattered mid-flight. The divine light twisted, turning pink, then red, then pulsing like a moaning heartbeat. The portal widened.

And through it, he stepped.

Into Heaven.

But this wasn’t the heaven of mortal tales.

It was structured like a grand fortress—endless silver archways, towers wrapped in wind and light, glimmering bridges over rivers of song. Choirs floated mid-air, their music pure and untouched... until he arrived.

Every angel turned.

And they felt it.

Their song faltered.

Their knees weakened.

And their halos began to dim.

The first to approach him was a gatewarden.

Ten feet tall. Four wings. Spear taller than most trees.

She wore no clothes—just ribbons of floating light and a breastplate of transparent crystal that did nothing to hide her plump, perfect tits. Her hips swayed like temptation sculpted from marble.

"You are the Corruptor," she boomed, even as her thighs quivered.

Allen grinned. "That’s one name for it."

"You don’t belong here."

"And yet," he said, reaching forward to wrap his hand around her spear, yanking her close, "I’m exactly where I need to be."

He yanked her down onto her knees with a thunderous clang of armor.

Her mouth opened to protest, but her lips wrapped around his cock before she could form a word.

GLCKK—SHHLURPPP—SLLLK!!

Her wings flared. Her eyes rolled back. The tip of her spear snapped in half as she choked on his dick, moaning so loudly the nearby clouds trembled.

Allen looked over her head as he fucked her throat.

More angels were gathering—sentinels, cherubs, highwardens, all hovering, confused, trying to resist... and failing.

One by one, they began to descend.

Not to fight.

To kneel.

To present.

A cherub—short, curvy, with oversized wings and plump lips—crawled forward on all fours and whispered, "May I hold your balls while she sucks, my Lord?"

Allen didn’t answer with words.

He thrust deeper into the gatewarden’s throat and let his cum erupt in hot, violent pulses. The cherub caught every drip that escaped, licking around his shaft, moaning with every drop of divine corruption she swallowed.

When the gatewarden pulled off, gasping, face painted in seed, her voice shook.

"I’ve... never felt anything like that..."

Allen brushed a lock of her golden hair aside. "Then you’re ready to serve."

She bowed low. "Command me."

And he did.

He turned Heaven into his harem.

Not in a day.

Not in an hour.

In minutes.

The palace halls echoed not with hymns, but with the wet slap of hips on hips, the clatter of armor hitting the floor, the moans of purity turned perversion. Scrolls that once held prayers were used to wipe cum off flushed faces. Choirs re-tuned themselves into moaning harmonies, singing praises not to a god—but to Allen.

They renamed the throne.

From the "Seat of Light"... to "The Breeding Altar."

Dozens of angelic asses bounced in rhythm as Allen sat on that throne, two angels riding his cock at once while another rode his face, screaming through her sixth orgasm.

All around him, angels touched themselves in synchronized devotion.

Each one desperate.

Each one loyal.

Each one ruined.

And at the edge of the clouds, far beyond the sky, a deeper throne stirred.

Not one Allen had touched.

Yet.

A voice boomed from beyond creation.

"You dare touch my domain..."

Allen licked cum from his knuckles, tossed a broken harp aside, and smiled lazily.

"Get down here then."

The light in Heaven didn’t shine anymore.

It glowed, sure—like candlelight flickering behind sweat-slicked skin. But it didn’t shine. That purity was gone, swallowed by the musk of Allen’s corruption, the sounds of dripping wet holes and angelic moans echoing through the once-holy halls.

Allen lounged back on the Throne of God—now twisted, reshaped by sheer force of lust. Its golden arms were slick with the sweat of holy bodies. Its seat? A living cushion made of three moaning seraphs, face-down, ass-up, trembling from endless orgasms.

His cock stood tall.

Hard.

Slick with spit and cum, pulsing with a need that hadn’t been satisfied even after hours of nonstop angel-fucking.

A haloed acolyte crawled up the throne steps, mouth open, tongue lolling out. Her white robes were ripped to shreds, stained with his seed, her knees bruised from devotion. She whispered, eyes wide and wet:

"Please... let me carry your blessing..."

Allen didn’t speak.

He grabbed her halo like a handle, yanked her face forward, and shoved his cock down her throat.

GLK—GLRK—SPLLTCH—SSHHHHHHRRRKK!

The sound was obscene. Like holy water being sucked through a funnel.

Her throat bulged, her nose mashed into his base, and her wings twitched from overstimulation. Allen grunted, fucking her mouth with slow, heavy thrusts—slap, slap, slap, like he was beating her with his cock more than using her.

When she gagged, he smiled.

When she drooled, he moaned.

And when he came—sweet fuck, it was a torrent.

SPRRRRRTCH—THRRMP—THUMP—SPLOOORCH!!

Her throat inflated. Her halo cracked. Her eyes fluttered as his cum spilled from her nostrils, drooling from her chin in thick, hot ropes. She didn’t even try to pull away—just sat there, trembling, hands in prayer as her belly swelled with seed.

"More..." she rasped. "Please..."

All around the throne, Heaven had become an orgy pit.

Cherubs with chubby thighs were bent over pews, squealing as they were filled and filled again. Choir leaders—once known for their pristine soprano voices—were now shrieking in soprano moans, riding Allen’s corrupted beasts, tongues hanging out.

One lay on her back, legs spread, being fucked by a spectral clone of Allen. Her fingers traced her lower belly as she gasped, "I... I can feel it entering my womb... it’s marking me..."

Another stood against a pillar, arms tied in golden rope, Allen pounding her from behind. Every thrust sent a wet SMACK through the chapel, and with each slap of skin, the pillar behind her cracked.

"I’m cumming againnnn—nnnnghhHHHhh—!!" she wailed.

"Then say it," Allen growled.

"I—I’m not holy—I’m YOURS!"

"Louder."

"I’M A FUCKHOLE FOR THE NEW GOD!!"

The choir echoed her scream, their voices no longer in harmony, but in heat.

At the altar’s base, he summoned the High Warden—the most untouched, most sacred of all angels. She stood tall, but her eyes were wild now. Her halo still glowed, but her legs trembled, her nipples stiff, her thighs soaked.

"You still think I’m beneath you?" Allen asked, stroking his cock lazily.

She stared. Then slowly—so slowly—she kneeled.

"No," she whispered. "You’re above me."

Allen walked to her.

"I am your god now. Show me how deep your devotion goes."

And she did.

She bent over the altar itself, that sacred slab once used for anointing souls. Now? A fuck bench. A breeding table. Allen gripped her hips, lined up, and slammed in to the hilt in a single brutal thrust.

THWACK—SHHHHP—SSLLLCHH—!

The High Warden gasped, wings flaring violently. Her halo flickered.

"Already loose," Allen taunted, thrusting again. "Were you really untouched?"

"I—I was," she cried out. "But now—nnnghh—! Now I just want more—!"

Allen pounded her, slapping her ass, watching her halo fracture with every orgasm he drove into her.

"Say it," he growled.

"I’m a vessel—AHH—! A vessel for your SEED—!"

"Who do you serve?"

"YOU! ONLY YOU! MAKE ME PREGNANT!!"

SPLOORRTCH—THWUMP—THRMP—THRMP—!!

His balls slapped her soaked cunt, slick with divine wetness and desire. Her legs gave out, but he kept going, holding her limp body up by her hips, fucking her until her halo shattered completely and cum poured from her pussy like a broken blessing.

By the end of it all, the altar was a lake of semen.

Dozens of angelic bodies lay scattered in holy afterglow—cum-filled, hole-gaped, their wings drooping and stained. Some still twitched as their wombs spasmed, pregnant with corrupted life.

Allen stood above them, cock still hard.

Because it wasn’t over.

Not until she arrived.

From the far edge of Heaven’s cloudscape came the ripple of true divinity.

She hovered.

Wreathed in solar flame, crowned in white-gold stars, face hidden behind a mask of endless light.

The true goddess.

"Enough," she said, voice trembling with rage—and something else.

Curiosity?

Fear?

Or...

Lust?

Allen smirked. "Took you long enough."

And his cock twitched again.

Because now the final conquest was coming.

The goddess herself.

And she was next.