I used NovelAI's unlimited gen membership for $25 a month. Note that "unlimited" is kind of a lie, it's only unlimited if you're under a certain resolution and only if you're not using any of the advanced features. Upscaling and other features cost the on-site currency, which the membership gets you 10000 a month. That should be more than enough for a month, but you can burn through it quickly since NAI gens so quickly.

**Zodd’s Post-Slaughter Fuck**

The battlefield stank of death and piss. Ten thousand corpses of the Kingslayer’s army lay in a steaming heap around Zodd’s hooves. Blood pooled ankle-deep, mixed with shit and the coppery reek of severed limbs. His massive lion head still dripped sweat and gore, fangs bared in a snarl that could split a man’s skull. Horns scraped the night sky like scythes. The red-bladed sword in his right fist was still dripping arterial red down the full length of its edge—his own fucking sword, the one that had hacked through shields, through throats, through spines like they were wet twigs.

He’d carved that army apart in under five minutes. Sword up, down, side to side—chop, rip, slam. Balls the size of cannonballs swinging heavy between his hairy thighs, each swing leaving a wet *thump* that made the ground quake. Now the last screaming soldier was dead, gutted from balls to jaw. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, the sour rot of shit, and the faint ozone of magic still crackling in the ruined stones.

Zodd’s left hand shot down between his legs without hesitation. Thick, veiny pink horse cock—already half-hard from the roar of battle and the sheer fucking *rush*—throbbed to full, dripping, angry erection. Nine inches of ridged meat, medial ring pulsing like a goddamn heartbeat, flared head already leaking a fat bead of pre-cum that hung like a glistening tear. Black claws flexed around the shaft, ripping off two more enemy shields that had been in his way earlier. The claws were still coated in gore. The cock was coated in nothing yet… but it would be.

“Fuuuuck yeah,” Zodd growled, voice like grinding boulders and a lion’s roar mixed together. “You filthy little horde of piss-slinging maggots… you thought you could kill me? I ripped your fucking heads off with my bare claws while your shit was still leaking out your assholes!”

His right hand still gripped the sword high above his head, blood spraying in hot arcs with every swing. The left hand—claws hooked around the massive cock—started stroking. Slow. Savage. Up. Down. Up. Down. The wet *schlick* of pre-cum and the coarse scrape of black claws on veiny skin filled the ruined fortress.

The cock thickened further, flaring wider, the head ballooning like a mushroom, veins standing out like ropes under the brown fur of his shaft. Balls—two heavy, wrinkled orbs the size of grapefruits—slapped together with a meaty *clap* as the strokes got faster. Armpit hair matted with sweat and blood. Fangs bared. Red eyes blazing.

“More!” he roared. “More weak-ass bastards to carve up! I want their fucking blood to paint my cock while I milk it dry!”

The sword came down again—*CRACK*—splitting another corpse like a watermelon. Zodd’s hips bucked forward on instinct. The left hand never stopped stroking. Faster now. Brutal. Claws dug into the thick pink meat, ripping a shallow line from base to head. The wound welled up instantly, thick white cum bubbling out and mixing with the blood still coating his claws. The smell hit him full force—musky, salty, the sharp tang of pre and the distant copper of his own blood.

“SHIT YES!” he bellowed, voice shaking the stones around him. “That’s it, you weak fucking cunt! Paint my cock with my own goddamn blood! Feel that? That’s me owning every last one of your corpses!”

His strokes turned savage. *Slap-slap-slap-slap*. The massive cock was now fully hard, nine-plus inches of throbbing horse meat, medial ring so tight it looked like it could snap the shaft if he squeezed too hard. The flared head was the size of a fist, purple and shiny, leaking rivers of clear pre-cum that sprayed in thick ropes with every vicious pump.

The balls were churning. The low, heavy *bloop-bloop* sound they made as they slapped his thighs got louder. His wings—membranous, leathery, and still dripping from the fight—flared wider, one wing slamming into a stone pillar and cracking it like glass. The impact sent debris flying. His tail whipped the air, lashing a third corpse into red mist.

Zodd’s roar was primal. “I’M GONNA FUCKING CUM SO HARD I’LL SHATTER THIS WHOLE FORTRESS WITH MY LOADS, YOU PATHETIC ARMY OF SCUM!”

The right hand dropped the sword with a clang. It stuck upright in a dead soldier’s chest like a trophy. Now both hands were on his cock—claws raking the entire length, base to head, ripping more strips of skin and drawing fresh rivers of blood that mixed with the thick white pre. The cock was a fucking weapon now. Veins bulging. Medial ring pulsing. Head flaring wider, the piss slit gaping like a hungry mouth.

He stroked with both hands. Up. Down. Up. Down. Faster. Harder. The wet *schlick-schlick-schlick* was obscene, the sound of a man drowning in pure lust and victory. Pre-cum sprayed in wide arcs, soaking the ground around his hooves, turning the mud into a sloppy, cum-drenched mire.

“COME ON, YOU BASTARDS! CUM FOR ME! CUM ON MY FUCKING SWORD HAND! MAKE ME SHOOT A LOAD SO FUCKING THICK IT’LL CRACK STONE LIKE EGGSHELLS!”

The balls drew up tight. The sack wrinkled, heavy as lead, slapping his ass with every stroke. The head swelled even more, the medial ring so tight it looked ready to burst. Zodd’s fangs sank into his own lower lip, drawing fresh blood that mixed with the sweat dripping from his muzzle.

He roared—pure, guttural, demonic—and slammed his hips forward one last time. Both hands became fists around the massive horse cock. He jerked. Pumped. Raked. Claws scraping raw meat.

“FUUUUUUCK—!”

The first shot exploded out like a fucking cannon. A thick, ropey jet of white cum blasted straight up, arcing high, then crashing down in a torrent. It wasn’t just cum—it was a fucking river. It hit the ruined stones with a *THUD* that shook the whole fortress. Another massive blast followed, this one wider, thicker, spraying in a brutal arc that painted the blood-soaked ground in steaming white. The third load was even worse—literally three thick ropes blasting out at once, each one like a firehose, slapping the stones hard enough to crack them.

The stone pillar right in front of him shattered. A chunk the size of a man’s head exploded outward. The ground around his hooves turned to powder and mud as the pressure of the cumshots cratered it. More rocks rained down. The fortress trembled. Zodd’s roar never stopped—loud enough to split eardrums.

He kept jerking. Didn’t stop. The cock was still twitching, still spewing. Fourth load. Fifth. The medial ring stretched obscenely, milking shot after shot of the thickest, stickiest, most powerful cum ever fired by a demon. Every blast was so violent it sent visible shockwaves through the air. The smell of fresh cum mixed with the battlefield—musky, salty, overwhelming.

Zodd’s wings flapped once, twice, the leathery membrane cracking the air. His tail whipped. His abs flexed like steel plates under brown fur. The sword still stuck in the corpse. His claws were coated in blood and cum. His red eyes were slits of pure fucking ecstasy.

“THAT’S IT!” he bellowed, voice cracking the stones further. “TAKE IT, YOU PATHETIC FUCKS! I JUST SLAUGHTERED YOUR ENTIRE ARMY AND NOW I’M CUMMING ON YOUR GRAVES! SHOOT YOUR LOAD INTO THE SKY, YOU WEAK-ASS BASTARDS!”

He kept cumming. And cumming. And cumming. The stone floor was a lake of thick white now, puddling around his hooves, rising to cover his ankles. Another pillar cracked. A section of wall exploded outward. The fortress was shaking like it was about to collapse.

Zodd’s laughter was pure demonic triumph. “I’m the God of the Battlefield. I fuck armies, I fuck stones, and I fuck your fucking mothers while you watch from the afterlife. Now drink my fucking load, you dead piss-drinkers!”

His hands never slowed. Claws still raking the throbbing cock, drawing more blood to mix with the endless flood of cum. The medial ring flexed, milking the last desperate spurts. The balls finally relaxed, heavy and spent, swinging low with wet *plop-plop* sounds.

Zodd stood there in the middle of his own cum tsunami, sword planted in the corpse like a victory flag, wings spread wide, horns gleaming with blood and sweat and cum. His chest heaved. His abs glistened. His cock—still half-hard, still twitching, still leaking the last fat ropes—hung like a trophy between his thighs.

He looked down at the cratered stone, at the lake of semen he’d just pumped out, at the ruined army he’d fucked to death.

“Best fucking day of my immortal life,” Zodd growled, voice rough with satisfaction. “Now… who the fuck wants to fight me next?”

The wind carried the smell of gunpowder, blood, and his own massive load across the battlefield. Zodd the Immortal just smiled with fangs, cock still dripping, ready for round two.

And the stones kept cracking.