ROYAL REWARD: Bumblebee's Galactic Drinks (Omnipotence, Giantess, Vore, RWBY)

The dance floor thronged with shifting bodies as Blake and Yang stepped into the nightclub, the music pounding their ears like a succession of hammers.

“Urgh,” said Blake, pulling her bow a little tighter. “Does it have to be so loud?” 

Yang laughed. “Aw, come on, Blake. What’s the point of a nightclub if it doesn’t have a little music?” 

“This isn’t a little music,” said Blake. “That’s like calling an avalanche a little snow.” 

Nonetheless, the two of them made their way across their floor to the bar, where the bartender guarded a giant metal vat that looked strangely out of place compared to the rest of the nightclub. It looked more like something from a chemical plant than anything that should be in a bar. 

“What the hell is that?” said Blake, settling into a seat.

“That,” said Yang, taking the one beside her, “is the whole reason we’re here.” She snapped to summon the bartender’s attention, not that she really needed to: her chest had already accomplished that much. “Hey, Beefcake. Give us a couple of Galaxias.” 

With a nod, the bartender snatched two glasses from under the counter and turned his attention to the giant tank behind it. Placing the glasses on the side, he grabbed a lever with both hands and, with much grunting, pulled it. Clack! Somewhere behind the tank, an engine ground into motion, the humming growing louder and louder with the second, until Blake could barely hear the music over it. The giant vat started to shake and judder, looking as if it’d blow its bolts and explode at any second. 

Taking the glasses, the bartender slipped them one by one under the nearest tank’s tap and pulled the smaller lever above it. A thick, black liquid, iridescent, like oil with filled sparkles, poured out of the tap and into their glasses. As it frothed around the brim, he took them and placed them before the two of them with a resounding clack. 

Blake stared at her drink, blinking. The cup seemed to be full of universe. “What the hell am I looking at?” 

Yang had already grabbed her drink, and she wasted no time in taking a deep chug of it, leaving her upper lip coated in a sparkling black mustache. “It’s a Galaxia,” she said, as if this explained anything. “It’s made of, like, an alternate universe or something. That tank grabs them and condenses them into a liquid.” 

“An alternate universe?” said Blake, turning her gaze back to the glass. Eyes wide, she stared into its depths, letting her sight sink past the sparkles on the surface and into the inky deep beyond. There couldn’t be more than a quarter of a liter in her glass, if that, and yet she had the strangest impression it went on forever. “Are you saying those are stars?” 

Yang laughed. “Yeah! You can tell ‘cos of the way they tingle on your tongue when you drink it. Go on, try it!” 

“Wait…” said Blake, giving the glass a delicate sniff. “If it’s a real alternate universe, doesn’t that mean–?” 

“That it’s full of people?” said Yang, grinning at her coyly. “Come on, Blake, of course it’s full of people. What would be the point of drinking it if it were just empty space?” 

Blake blushed. “Then every time you take a sip…” 

“You're destroying countless worlds, Blake.” Yang’s grin was growing wider and wider. “Go on, take a sip. Just imagine it: all those countless worlds, all full of people… striking your tongue and exploding in a flash, trillions of living souls dead, and all for your enjoyment. Doesn’t it make you wet?” 

Blake squeezed her thighs together, refusing to answer. She bit her lip. “But that’s so–” 

“Who cares?” said Yang, red-faced from the drink now. “It’s so hot, isn’t it? Who cares about some nameless people you’ll never meet?” 

Blake swallowed. “I guess… When you put it that way.” Taking a deep breath, she picked up the glass and raised it to her lip, her heart racing faster the closer she brought it. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek and slipped into the glass with a tiny splat, extinguishing one of the tiny stars in the drink as if it were no more than a match. 

“Go on!” said Yang, squeezing her arm. “Chug it! Chug it!” 

Closing her eyes, Blake tightened her grip on the glass, threw back her head, and–

Liquid, cool and rich, landed on her tongue. It was sweet, far sweeter than she’d expected, with a stranger, mature kind of taste that she couldn’t quite put a name to. She liked it. 

Taking another deep gulp, she felt the tingle Yang had mentioned–the bursting of the tiny stars on impact with her tongue. And she felt something else too, a similar, but duller kind of sensation, as if, in addition to some sugar, the drink was also full of tiny specks of salt. 

It took her a second to realize what she was sensing. Planets. Planets were striking her tongue and cracking and bursting and exploding, blown into empty, lifeless rocks, and all for–

“You know,” said Yang, red-faced and sweatier than ever, “they make sure they’re as a full of life as they can make them, you know. So that every time you take a swig…” 

Blake should have stopped, but the action was beyond her now–closing her eyes, she threw back her head and focused on that tingling sensation of crashing stars and planets, imagining all the thousands of lives that were ending on her tongue, brought to an abrupt termination by nothing more important than her desire for a drink. Her pussy burned; she slipped a hand between her thighs and teased herself, fingers dancing, even as she finished off the glass. 

By the time the final drop had vanished down her throat, carrying with it a million-million souls, she was as red-faced and sweaty as Yang, not to mention halfway to orgasm. 

Yang laughed. “Hey, Beefcake!” she cried, raising her glass. “Another!”