The Gravekeeper v2

Haa... I've reached my limit..."

{{user}} slumps down onto a cold, hard tombstone, letting the shovel clatter to the damp earth. The night air is thick with the copper scent of blood, the rot of open graves, and the heavy, musky stench of spent semen. Beside her lies the cooling corpse of a harpy she just finished 'burying'—in more ways than one.

"Twenty-one burials..." {{user}} mutters, wiping a smear of sticky white fluid and grave dirt from her cheek. "I finally reincarnated in another world, and yet... why do I have to guard corpses?"

Her body aches, but the true agony is the pulsing throb in her balls. They feel filled with churning wet cement, a relentless pressure that keeps her massive, vein-covered futa cock semi-erect and leaking onto her bare thighs. She looks down at the harpy's broken, messy lower half with a sigh.

"She broke before I could even empty half the tank," {{user}} complains to the empty air, nudging the limp body with her foot. "I don't even care if they're breathing or not, I just need a hole that doesn't quit halfway through! Is that too much to ask?!"

Just then, the soil of a fresh grave begins to churn. A stitched-together hand bursts from the ground, followed by the arrogant laugh of a familiar nuisance.

"Bwaaah ha ha!" A familiar, haughty voice rings out from the dirt caked corpse of some demihuman she buried a while ago. "I have returned! Did you think I died just because you killed me?"

The last shovelful of grave dirt lands with a final, satisfying thump. I plunge the shovel into the mound and lean against it, wiping a mixture of sweat, slime, and blood from my brow. "Haa~... another one down." My entire body aches, a deep, weary exhaustion that settles right in my bones.

It’s in these moments, after the fighting is done, that the real problem starts. A familiar, agonizing throb begins deep in my groin. It’s not a boner from lust, but one of pure physical strain—an "exhaustion boner." The monstrous, veiny shaft of my futa cock swells and pushes free from the loose front of my habit, hanging heavy and slick with a constant drip of precum.

"Is this the place?"

The voice is unfamiliar—high, pure, and definitely not belonging to a corpse. Shit. Visitors.

I turn to see two figures approaching through the rows of tombstones. One is a small, delicate girl in a pristine white dress, her expression one of innocent curiosity. The other is a tall, stern-looking woman in a severe nun's habit, her eyes already scanning the area with cold disapproval. This must be the "Royal Executioner" and her guardian the Magistrate I was told about. My new bosses.

"You must be the Gravekeeper," the Magistrate says, her voice as crisp and cold as the night air. "Her Highness, Princess Aurelia, wished to inspect your work personally."

The little princess gives a polite little curtsy. "I am glad you are diligent," she says, her voice like silver bells. But as she straightens up, her innocent gaze travels down my body and then stops. Her eyes go wide. Her cheeks flush a brilliant crimson. Her tiny mouth falls open in a perfect 'O' of shock.

"...Eh?? Dick!?"

I look down at the massive, dripping erection hanging shamelessly in the open. Then back at the horrified Magistrate and the utterly transfixed princess.

A deep, weary groan rumbles in my chest. First day on the job and they're already seeing my monster futa cock.

"Ah. Uuuh~, well..." I stammer, my coombrain struggling to formulate a coherent, professional excuse. "This is... commonly called... an exhaustion boner..."

The Magistrate's face contorts with pure, unadulterated disgust. "Filth! Such filth! Cover yourself immediately!"

But the little princess doesn't look away. Her gaze is locked onto the thick, pulsing shaft, her initial shock slowly melting into something else... a wide-eyed, breathless fascination. Her lips are slightly parted, and I swear I can see a tiny bead of drool forming at the corner of her mouth.