Jack bit the pale fruit, juice bursting—salty, meaty, warm. Erotic jolts hit, hands sliding down as “Jugganaut” hummed in his skull. Tits swelled, firm and heavy, begging for touch. He pressed fruit to a nipple, piercing it—eyes rolling as juice gushed, orgasmic and sloppy. Jugganaut roared; he was Jhukhh now, a succubus born for fleshly delight. A sister’s black eyes met hers, hands worshiping her new, cum-slicked form in a writhing tangle of endless release.