It had been two weeks since the moment he’d been hit by the bus, and Mark was no closer to figuring out what had happened. He wasn’t a physicist or an engineer. Hell, he had barely even completed his Bachelors in Fine Arts. But from the multitude of research into similar scenarios he’d performed (anime), pouring over dozens and dozens of accounts of similar events (erotic harem novellas), there was only one possible explanation.

He had been isekai’d.

Arriving with little more than the clothes he had been wearing when he’d gone on his late night fog-jog, he’d been told by the glowing orb responsible that it was his destiny to “Defeat the Dark One”. Then, without ceremony or further explanation, it had disappeared. Typical isekai bullshit, he mused. Nobody ever got satisfying answers, especially in episode one!

His grip on the pitted and rusty iron sword was white knuckled as he swung again. This time, the slime simply glorped (?) out of the way, bending its form to create a cavern where his swipe glided through the air without making contact. Then it went back to doing slime things, totally ignoring him. These were supposed to be the easiest enemy to fight in this damn forest and they were kicking his ass!

Mark stepped back, huffing out his breath as he tried to regroup. Two weeks. Two whole weeks of being in a fantasy world and he hadn’t gotten a single level up. It felt like cruel fate, or one of those monkey’s paw wishes, where you get what you want but not in the way you wanted it. He’d always wanted to get sucked into a fantasy world, to be the guy with the hot monsterwives and the magical sword. But now that it had happened to him, he was stuck as his same mediocre self. And rather than a harem, all he’d gotten was sore muscles and frustration. Half the fun of these stories was becoming something else! An overlord, or a powerful warrior, or a girl! Or a girl warrior. Or a power girl overlord.

Frankly, getting stuck in a fantasy world but as an average guy was a bit of a letdown.

The only thing different about his body in comparison to how he appeared on Earth was the Implant. On the back of his left wrist, where a watch might have gone if he was a Boomer, was a strange black device. Its main body was oval shaped and smooth, like an opal, with a series of tendrils that clung to his skin, sliding beneath it without wound or seam. It looked like someone had permanently grafted a mechanical spider to his hand. How it had gotten there, he had no idea. Everyone in the village he’d visited had them too. Apparently, you got it when you reached the age of responsibility, whatever that was. His had appeared the moment he’d arrived to this world.

Its primary function was, as far as he could understand it, to enable an RPG-like stat system. Once tapped, a translucent screen the size of his old apartment’s one and only window displayed a full layout of his decimalized personal attributes and inventory. The latter of those made a full accounting of the now pretty rank status of his jogging clothes, the backpack with the provisions he’d bought by trading his smartphone, and the sword he gripped in his hand. He’d found it on a skeleton on his first day, and without any currency beyond iron coins (nearly worthless) and plastic bills (less than worthless), it would be his only means of defending himself.

“Defending myself,” he scoffed, turning to face the slimes. The blue and green dollops of goo had returned to doing what they were before he’d entered their zone, which was…just kinda mill around. He looked at the XP metre, at least that’s what he thought it was, in the top right of his stat screen. After exploring the forest, finding the sword, discovering the local village, and trading for provisions, he’d gained less than 1/3rd of a full bar. Discussing the matter with the locals, they told him that it filled as you did new things or got better at doing something through practice. They’d also said, perhaps while chuckling at him under their breath, that the fastest way to gain points was to slay monsters. They’d pointed him to this part of the forest, where they said that fierce and terrible beasts had lurked.

Mark was about to shuffle off and see if he could find something easier to kill, maybe a rabid squirrel, when he heard a deep, but distinctly feminine, war-cry. His heart surged. Danger! But potentially reward. Fear leaked ice water down his spine as he thought about how unprepared he would be against a potential threat. But…this was an isekai! It had to be. And heroes didn’t flee from danger, they charged towards it. Who knows…there might be a damsel in distress!

Marshaling his energy, he ran in the direction of the scream, which quickly devolved into a jog, then a ragged shamble. He was still desperately out of shape. He navigated around tree trunks the size of great redwoods, their vast canopies a veritable colour palette of pinks and purples that diffused most of the light from this world’s sun, giving daylight the illusion of a perpetual twilight. They were the first of many Not In Kansas moments he’d had once he’d arrived. Don’t have those back home.

As he closed in on what he thought was the source, he was forced to slow his pace further. Some of the colossal trees had been toppled over, others smashed into dozens of pieces that littered the densely rooted forest floor. He hopped over branches the size of drain pipes, then clambered over a half-shattered trunk that could have been used as a skateboard half-pipe should it have been smooth and hollowed out. Something enormous had made its way through the woods…something big enough to treat trees like popsicle sticks.

Mark came to a halt at the very edge of a clearing, near where a huge hunk of shattered wood leaned against a more alive member of its species. Bright light filled the scene, contrasting with the grim sight before him. A trio of red slime-beasts surrounded a woman and looked ready to consume her whole! Rather than the somewhat cute blobbies he’d been fighting before, these were pseudo humanoids the size of a draft horse, their mouths so big they reached to their navels. One had latched onto the woman as she screamed, thrashing to get away. In the process, her ragged leather top was ripped totally off! Enormous, emerald breasts bounced as she recoiled, adopting a new fighting stance with the great warhammer in her hands.

Wait, emerald skin?

He looked again. The people’d met in the village were all humans, or human-ish. This was the first truly fantastical person he’d seen! Her hair was raven black and wild, barely contained by a series of ornate braids. She was taller than him by a few inches, with muscled arms and abs straight from an MMA fight card. Two fangs on her low jaw protruded from her lips, giving her a somewhat feral appearance that was only added to by her leather skirt. He thought, with some excitement, that he’d just met his first Orc Barbarian!

“Well?” she asked, turning to him, “You just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna help me?” Her voice was something close to Scottish, and surprisingly melodic given her gruff appearance.

“O-of course!” he stammered, stumbling from the tree cover and into the clearing. He held his sword out like a defensive talisman, inching toward the closest creature and running scenarios though his head to find one where he wasn’t instantly murdered.

She raised an eyebrow. “The gloomin’ hell you gonna do with that toothpick?”

Mark looked down at his sword, then back at her. Her own weapon was a well used but equally well maintained piece of kit. Filigree on the sides of a swooping bird of prey had worn down over time, but it remained an impressive tool.

“It’s all I got! I’m kinda new at this.”

A slime swiped out with a sticky tendril, which the Orc woman gracefully dodged out of the way with a twist of her body. She snarled, retreated to her edge of the wood, and fetched a giant branch. Effortlessly tossing it through the air, it was all Mark could do to catch it without toppling over onto his ass. His sword dropped to the ground.

“Slashing and piercing does nothing to them. You must use a bludgeon!” she said, and then dived in to demonstrate. She smashed her hammer into the slime that had just attacked her, causing its membrane to deform out of the way. Just as he thought it might have been ineffective, the membrane holding it together popped, and the whole thing burst like a water balloon, showering red goo in every direction. Mark did his best to keep his focus on her superior fighting form and not her enormous breasts. God she was so pretty.

His leering was broken up by a lurching attack from the second of the slimes. It roared, goo-saliva dripping from his upper jaw onto its lower jaw, where it was reintegrated into its form. He dodged out of the way of its overhand swing of its mass, crushing the ground where he’d just been standing. He countered with a clumsy swing of the tree branch he’d been given, which bounced off the beast’s membrane. But at least, for the first time, he’d attacked an enemy!

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to wield this thing!” he said, dropping the branch next to the sword.

“Best think of something then,” the Orc advised, “Or I’m throwing them your useless arse to distract ‘em!”

He nodded, not totally believing that was a joke. But what could he do? He needed to deliver a powerful blow. An idea formed, looking back at the log leaning at the angle he’d hidden behind when he’d first spotted her. With the right gusto and timing, he had the makings of a deadfall trap!

“Lead them this way!” he shouted, running back to the forest.

“I’m not fleeing from combat!” she declared flatly, her eyes darting between him and the two remaining monsters.

“Neither am I! We can squish them with that log!” He pointed at the one he meant, and she nodded. The Orc pumped her powerful legs, easily outpacing the slime monsters, circling around them to blast past Mark. The pair of creatures followed her, slithering forward on their indistinct bodies and leaving behind a slimy trail. She made it to the log he’d pointed out first, taking position behind it and bracing her feet.

“This’d take a lotta muscle to move,” she said after a quick test shove. “You up for it?”

A confirmation was out of his mouth before he had time to think about it. “Of course!” He didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of this beautiful woman! Besides, guys were strong. And he was a guy! So, ipso facto, QED, he could push this titanic tree limb.

If the slimes had the slightest idea what they were planning, they didn’t show it. They shuffled forward into a single line. The moment the one in the lead entered the prospective fallzone, the Orc gave the signal.

“PUSH!” she screamed, heaving her powerful arms forward. Mark did the same, though with much less juice than her. Nevertheless, the pair working together was having an effect! It rolled out of the groove it had dug when it had fallen, but caught on a knot in the wood before it could roll further. The slimes got closer…and closer, but the log refused to budge from its position.

With a roar of frustration, his new companion motioned for him to continue pushing while she went over to the side opposite the slimes, hefted up her hammer, and slammed it into the side. The shockwave blew out several chunks of bark, dislodging the log and letting momentum and gravity take it the rest of the way, squishing the slimes in one fell swoop.

“Glorious victory!” she declared, thrusting her hammer into the air.

Mark was just glad the both of them were alive. And now, that there were no threats, he could ogle this Barbarian in peace. Women were so pretty. How come he had to be stuck as a guy?

He was jostled out of his reverie by a slap on the shoulder.

“Excellent work, small one. We are triumphant! And,” she looked down to the implant on his hand, which was glowing! “It looks like you’ve received a boon for your efforts. What is your name?”

A tingle at the back of his mind. “Mark, my name is Mark. I’m…uhh…Human.” He held out a hand. The green woman grasped it, then yanked him into a hug. He tried to return it, pointedly ignoring the enormous breasts pressed into his flesh.

“Well met, Mark Human! I am Grika. Let us celebrate our victory with a glorious feast!”

***

While he gathered up firewood from the deadfall surrounding them, she’d disappeared, only to return with a large rodent that sorta looked like a wombat trussed to a spit.

“These are brongos. Good eating!” Grika insisted, then watched with bemusement as he struggled to get a fire going. He’d done it plenty of times since getting to this new world, having traded for flint as one of his provisions from the village. But having such an obviously strong and competent woman overlooking his efforts made his hands shaky and unsure of themselves. He struggled for twice as long as he previously had, but managed to finally catch some kindling alight. With some nursing, the fire was soon roaring for the both of them.

While he mothered the flame, she butchered the animal. The casual ease with which she did so was both impressive and unnerving. This stranger was clearly no novice to the outdoorsy lifestyle of a fantasy adventurer, and Mark found himself somewhat in awe of her quiet competence. As the chunks of speared meat roasted over the fire, he took a look at the Implant’s interface and struggled to plan his next move.

He was tired of being the weak link, the outsider. He wanted to be powerful! Feared! Desired, even. Now at Level 2, he’d have the startings of being a true murderhobo, or at least wandering sellsword. But where would he put his efforts? He’d seen little hints that there was an extant magic system in this world, but nobody so far had shown any aptitude.

The stat menu held a bunch of different numbers, each representing a physical or mental attribute. Strength and Agility were obvious, as were Willpower and Charisma. Wits was a bit nebulous, as was Stamina. Was that his ability to exert himself for long distances, or did it represent how much damage he could take before being defeated? There were no tooltips, so he was left to his own devices to try to figure out the answer.

The skills portion of the window was a little less ambiguous. It detailed a list of his trained attributes, things he’d gotten over his life by practice. His highest skill was in Art History (Earth), which is what he had a degree in. That would be particularly useless in a world without that very history, he mused grimly, so he moved on down the list. A smattering of points in Cooking, Device Repair (Electronic), and Persuade, then a single point in Athletics, Swimming, Perception, and a dozen other things. That longer list was made of all the things he either did on a daily basis and didn’t notice or hadn’t done in a long time, but nevertheless retained some knowledge of.

His Level Up had given him three points to spend on stats, and five points to spend on skills. Right away he increased his Stamina and his Athletics by a point each; that run through the forest had been eye opening. Already he felt the soreness of his limbs recede, new muscles forming to give him the stamina to carry on. Beyond that, however, his path eluded him.

“Any advice on levelling?” he asked the Orc.

“Specialize. Try to do a dozen things at once and you will be beaten by warriors who can do one thing twelve times better than you.”

He thanked her, but he wasn’t quite sure he’d listen to that advice. Back in the day, RPG levelling could be merciless. Put all your points into one skill and it might be one that was totally useless at higher levels or if the game didn’t consider it to be important beyond including it as an option. Jack of all Trades-ing might be risky, but it would mean a shallower hole to climb out of if he found out melee combat was a dead end around Level 8. Or that putting all his points into Swimming turned out to be a bad idea when the planet he was on had no lakes or oceans.

Frankly, putting points into Swimming was always a bad idea.

He tried to put all the chaos of his mind to the side and home in on what he wanted his build to be. But as he pictured the melee fighter he assumed would be a good starting point, there was another thing holding him back. Part of him knew he should be putting points into Strength, but at the thought of becoming a buff Adonis, his mind recoiled like a snake from a mongoose.

But why?

This was a brutal world. The savage slimes had shown it was not for the faint of heart. He needed the ability to defend himself! He couldn’t rely on his new Orc companion forever…could he?

“Where are you off to after this?” he ventured, hopefully subtle enough.

“The slime creatures were on a bounty list. My Quest for the favour of my Goddess takes me to many strange places. This was one of them. I was expecting fierce monsters and demons…but not weak strangers. You were lucky I was here.”

He gave a deep, exasperated shrug. “And I thought I was the one saving you.”

She barked a laugh. “I’m sure you did! And what of you, Mark Human? Why were you out in the forest, likely to be eaten by a goo?”

“I’m from another world, one without monsters or adventure. The orb that brought me here only said I was to defeat someone named ‘The Dark One’. No other specifics, no idea how to do that. And I’ve been struggling to even get started becoming a powerful warrior.”

Grika’s expression lost some of its mirth. “The Dark One is a a mighty foe. Many stories of travelers who thought they could triumph against such forces facing total obliteration, or worse, corruption. For someone with your…” her words faded as she looked for a word that didn’t sound too much like weakness, “Lack of experience, that could prove challenging. But I accept that when the Gods call us to serve, they rarely give us trifling chores. They assign the big things, the legendary quests, to test and try our mettle. Either we fall, or we are forged and strengthened into weapons of their will.”

For a Barbarian, she was chock full of some potent wisdom. “What about your Quest? Are you seeking to forge yourself?”

She nodded, but bit off a huge chunk of meat before elaborating. As she spoke, fat flew from her gob and sizzled in the fire. “Korath Skara, Goddess of the Fury, came to me in a dream. She bid me in the Soul Auction that I would drain the blood of my enemies to such an extent that it would fill a sea. So that is my cost. To earn her favour, and to pay my tithe, I must slay the fiercest enemies, drain their vital fluids, and become worthy of the title of Bloodquencher. And if you are on a quest to kill the Dark One, we may have common cause.”

“I’m still not sure that’s…I mean, I’m just an average guy from Earth! What hope do I have against a powerful evil doer like that?”

She tossed the stick with the meat into the fire and knelt beside him, putting her eyes at his level for the first time in their interaction.

“I am prepared to pledge myself to your training. To your protection. I see great potential within you, meek and small as your body may be. Would you agree to enter into such a compact?”

Mark gulped. This powerful, beautiful Orc woman was about to pledge herself to him?! Maybe…maybe there was a chance that he could have his very own adventure party harem anime after all…

*WHAM*

A thunderclap caused both Grika and Mark to leap to their feet, weapons quickly in hand. This was no mere natural phenomena. The sky was clear, and there was no rain to be seen.

“Witchcraft,” the Orc warned, “Be on your guard.”

Mark nodded, keeping his eyes peeled. But the campfire was messing with their night vision, limiting what they could see to the edges of its flickering light. In the shadows, the absence, his imagination conjured nightmares. Visions of gigantic insects, or beholders, or flesh-eating mutants, or a hundred other impossibilities that this world could throw at him.

Instead, a single humanoid shape emerged, humming a tune. Wearing a full hooded cloak, it seemed completely indifferent to the two people standing battle-ready, prepared to lop its head off. Or her head perhaps, as the singing voice was a feminine one. She strolled into the clearing where they’d set up camp and started poking around the remains of the Dire Slimes they’d slayed that afternoon. Withdrawing a jar from her cloak, she began scooping up the remnants of the goo into the container.

“Identify yourself!” Grika demanded. The singing continued, occasional words of lyrics reaching her lips. Lyrics, Mark realized, he knew!

“Are you…are you singing Final Fantasy boss fight music?” he asked, almost without thinking.

The figure looked toward them, revealing her face for the first time. Pepper red skin met his gaze, with the edges of some bonelike protrusions peeking from either side of her forehead. Eyes that glowed like dying stars danced between the pair standing at the fire, purple lips peeling back to reveal a smile of jagged teeth.

“Well I’ll be dipped. A fellow Terran!” she said, setting the jar on the ground. With a flourish, she threw back the hood of her cloak to reveal a full set of curling, ram-like horns. A peculiar visage for someone claiming to be from Earth.

“You know this Tiefling?” Grika asked, her stance not relaxing one iota.

“I don’t. Never met a Tiefling in my life. Well, besides on a tabletop. Pardon my presumption, but you don’t exactly look like you’re from Earth.”

The new woman laughed, giving a shrug of her shoulders. “What can I say? I didn’t get out much. But no, you’re right, I don’t look like a Human. In fact, I’m nothing of the kind. Not anymore.”

She let the cloak fall from her body to reveal a gorgeous, voluptuous body. Her skin was on full display thanks to the obscene cut of her clothing, which gave token effort to supporting and concealing her breasts before slicing off at sharp angles to wrap around her back, revealing her belly. A skirt covered up some, but was slit in such a way that at all points her thick thighs were easily visible. It was a garment straight out of an old D&D splatbook cover. The only discrepancy between her appearance and those old rulebooks was the very obvious, very noticeable bulge in the front.

A trans woman…in an isekai?!

“How…what are you?” he asked, then stammered back an awkward: “N-not what I meant. I didn’t…ah, I mean, what race…not what I…” He babbled incoherently as he tried to push through several concepts at once:

- Hello, attractive woman

- I am cool with trans ladies, please do not think I’m not

- Oh god, she’s so pretty

- Was species in this world a mutable concept? Was there a way to turn into a hot Tiefling too?

- [Incoherent horny noises]

These thoughts muddled and mixed until it looked like he was about to have a minor aneurysm. But the Tiefling gal simply stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder, and his worries melted away.

“It’s alright, cutes, I get it. It’s a lot to take in at once. Frankly, that’s why I like the whole mysterious cloak reveal. Knocks people off their guard a bit. But to answer your question: yeah, you can look like me if you want. I can show you how.”

His mouth opened, then closed. “Really?” he managed, then added as an afterthought. “But, like, not identically. I wouldn’t want to be a girl or anything, haha.” He’d actually said the word ‘haha’ as if he was reading it out, rather than laughing. It was, to put it bluntly, not very convincing.

“Do not listen to her lies! She’s clearly a villain!” Grika shouted, stepping forward and brandishing her weapon.

The Tiefling laughed. God, Mark thought, even her laugh was pretty. “That’s a bit reductive, I think. Oh sure, the woman in the black cloak who wanders around at night offering new bodies HAS to be an evil sorceress. Ugh. Well, I mean, I am, but that’s really besides the point.”

“Wait…evil sorceress?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Well, we’re all really shades of grey in this world. Morally ambiguous storytelling and so forth. And sure, I may have gone a little ‘power mad’ after I discovered how easy these things are to manipulate.” She lifted her wrist to indicate her Implant.

“See?! Sorcery!” Grika snarled.

Mark held up a hand to his Orc companion. “Wait a minute…you hacked your Implant? That’s a thing you can do?”

“Any self-respecting owner of programming socks could, really. Magic in this world appears to be based on logic gates and Boolean functions. Once you figure out the basics, you can game the system as easily as one might write infinite money cheats for The Sims. First thing I did was change my physical attributes. Spent the most time getting the horns right. Do you like them?” She hovered her hand over the protrusions like they were products she was an infomercial spokesperson for.

Mark inched a little closer to examine them. “They’re amazing. They look real!”

“They are real, darling. Anything you want, I can make real. My name is Sitri, and I am this world’s most powerful Sorceress. Tell me: what does your heart desire?”

“Why are you consorting with her?!” Grika asked, baffled. “Do you not recognise your foe? That is clearly the Night Witch, the Lady of Shadows…the Dark One! She only seeks to ensnare you as one of her spellbound pawns!”

The words of the orb that had brought him to this world echoed in his mind. ‘Defeat the Dark One’ it had said. Could it truly be her?

Regardless of the truth of the thought, the hostility was growing between the two women. Grika looked ready to pop off and start smashing, where the Tiefling Sorceress appeared to only grow more amused. The twitch of her fingers told a different story, one of a gunfighter looking for an excuse to draw.

“If you’re talking about that quest note the magic ball gave you when you first arrived, it gives that to everyone. I think it’s bugged or something. There is no Dark One, and if there was, he’s dead and gone centuries ago.”

“Enough talk! Blood for the Red Tide!” The Barbarian charged, hammer held over head and ready to smash down. The stranger didn’t move, however. Sitri waited until the hammer was in its arc down onto her head before a snap of her fingers emitted a beam of impossible light. In a single, blinding flash, the fierce orc was hurled through the air like a tossed plushie. Before she could land on the ground in a heap of broken bones and shattered spirit, her body was jerked upward, held aloft by unseen forces. Mark’s gaze fell back upon the Tiefling, who was whispering dark words underneath her breath.

Her body twisted as ribbons of blue/black energy surged forward, connecting her skin with the Tiefling’s outstretched hand. The energy wormed its way through and began to change the Barbarian’s body. She was already generously endowed, but the energy went further, bulging her breasts, her thighs, and her hips until she was a practical walking fertility symbol. But it kept her powerful muscles, merely cloaking them in some areas beneath a lining of squishable flesh.

“You’re a little loquacious for a Barbarian Tank, sweetheart. I prefer mine a little more…classic.” Sitri sneered, and reached out with her hand as her bright eyes burned with magical energy. Like her being was channeling powers beyond her body’s capacity to contain them entirely. A window just like Mark’s own appeared beside Grika, showing all her statistics. But as he watched in captive horror, the bars labelled Wits and Willpower drained away. Little specks marking each lost point floated away like errant fireflies before settling on the ones called Strength and Stamina.

“Wha! Unhand me you…you…umm…uhh…” Grika’s words faltered, the fire in their fury ebbing away into a damp sizzle. And as she twitched and thrashed in the air, a dopey grin replaced the frustrated grimace. Her lips joined the rest of her body and plumped up, leaving her mouth to hang open in a slight O.

“There’s a good Meatshield. Dumb and Happy. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Umm…it’s Grika…” she said, as if the knowledge required an effort to retrieve.

The Tiefling tapped her chin. “That’s a little cacophonous for me. I prefer a smoother sounding name for my party members. No matter, we’ll give you a new one. What do you think about…Pussy?”

“Pussy? But…uhh…” she mumbled, looking down at her naked body. “Isn’t that already…like…the name of my pussy?”

“That’s very true! But of the two of you: who is the smartest?”

She stammered, shaking her head. “I don’t…I don’t get it.”

The sinister Sorceress approached, no fear in her at all being so close to someone who could, in theory, smash her flat with her bare hands. “Surely you can sense what it wants. You have a healthy libido, I made sure you kept that. Your head’s so dizzy, but that hole between your legs seems to know what to do.” She crooked a finger and slid it without preamble inside the Orc, who inhaled sharply.

“Mmm…it wants to fuck,” she said simply, parting her thighs to let the stimulation continue.

“Of course it does. So since it knows what it wants, and you don’t, it should be in charge. Pussy should let Pussy do the thinking. That’s why her name is Pussy, isn’t it?” She slid in a second finger, and the Barbarian shuddered. Juices leaked freely from her exposed slit as her wandering focus was sharpened down to the width of a rapier’s blade.

“Hmm…oh…uhh…”

“What’s your name?”

“My name is…Pussy…” she said, her words catching every so often as her fragmented identity leaked down her thighs. She was rewarded for this by the same fingers that had been teasing her pressing themselves into her mouth. She sucked on them with her massive, cushiony lips.

“Of course it is. I’ll be needing a bodyguard, and you’ll do nicely. But I also want a toy to play with. We’ll see if we can give you some combat prowess to go with that depowered brain, but in the meantime, let’s add a few permanent status effects, hmm?” the Sorceress said, twisting her fingers. Words slid in from nowhere, stamping themselves home like cattle brands onto the Orc’s character sheet.

[Oath of Exposure!]

Your God has seen it fit to make you leave nothing to the imagination! Unless given good reason, this character must expose her body at every opportunity, save for token strips of fabric covering nipples and genitals. Failure to do so will cause divine sanction!

[Inveterate Exhibitionist!]

All those eyes drive you wild! From now on, the more people paying attention to your body if it is in a semi-clothed or nude state, the more aroused you become! In addition, masturbation will only give you release should you be actively watched by another person.

[Fury of the Heart!]

The more sexually frustrated and unsatisfied this character becomes, the harder she fights! This special ability replaces the Barbarian’s natural Rage talent.

[Vaginal Fixation]

A curse affecting this character has manifested as a profound obsession with her own vagina. Touching it, pleasing it, getting it licked and sucked and fucked and rubbed have totally overwhelmed her other concerns! Character takes a disadvantage to any skill check not revolving around her pussy.

With that final status, the Tiefling let the Orc sag to the ground. Mark immediately rushed over to check on her, only to see her furiously stuffing her fingers in her newly insatiable hole.

“Oh Gods…oh Gods…watch me…watch Pussy play!” she squealed, clenching her thighs together as she lost herself to magically-induced ecstasy.

“She’ll be happier this way,” the Sorceress said, standing at his shoulder. Mark turned to her, still holding his sword. But it felt so…useless. Like a foam Minecraft weapon the annoying child on the city bus might beat against the window. He let it drop from his hand.

“I don’t…I don’t think I can beat you,” he said sadly, feeling his future as a brave adventurer drain away as readily as Grika’s mind had.

She gave him an affectionate, but still very condescending, pat on the head. “It’s alright. Stronger people have tried to go against me, and they’ve all ended up like her, more or less. And though I fully intend to transform you into something, it doesn’t have to be without your input. I sense something…familiar, about your current situation. I have a test for this sort of thing, though it might be a bit shocking to you if you aren’t prepared for it. But that’s also when it’s the most fun!”

She pointed at him, cocked her thumb like the hammer of a pistol, then yanked it back like she’d just fired from her finger gun. Mark shut his eyes, waiting for the hammerblow of magic to obliterate his identity from the face of existence.

“There. Done.”

He looked down at his body, looking for changes. But instead of a snake body or wings or a huge cock, he found…nothing.

“I don’t understand…everything looks the same.”

“Ah, but there’s been a very important change: I’ve put your body shape totally in your control. Go ahead, think about how you’d like to look.”

Unsure as to what game she was playing, but totally at a loss as to how else to proceed, he complied. He tried picturing his ideal self, then panicked momentarily as he realized he had no idea what shape that would take. He had things about himself that he was unhappy with, of course. Everyone did! But what shape he wanted to replace his current form was a nebulous, frustrated fog.

But there was something in there. He pressed into that confusing haze, and he felt something build in his chest. The billowing, bubbling clouds of thought. Their huge, pendulous curves. Before he knew it, two growths were forming above his nipples. They were…they were…

“Breasts?” the Sorceress asked, feigning surprise. “That’s strange. Why do you think you’re growing breasts?”

His eyes flung wide as the full implications reached him. He tried to shut it down, and was partially successful. He still sported breasts, but they were tiny squeezable apples rather than absurd melons.

“It’s not…ngh…it’s not what it looks like!” he tried to explain, holding his hands over his chest. hands. Even his clothing danced to this Tiefling’s perverse tune!

“It looks to me like you’re not happy with your body unless it is feminine. I can certainly relate. And what about your species? Would you like to stay human?”

“Of course!” he shouted defiantly, then froze. Something was happening to his ears. He reached up, exposing his new tits momentarily to feel them point and lengthen out. His previously short brown hair puffed and lengthened into golden blonde curls. Even his canine teeth flattened, resembling a creature who had never touched a meat dish in its life. He was turning into some kind of…Busty Elf Bimbo!

“How do I stop this?” he pleased, trying to poke his elongating ears back down.

“You could only stop it if you truly wanted it to stop. Now, I’d love to wait for you to reach a state of heartswelling catharsis as you come to terms with your identity, but I’m an impatient mistress. I want to play with my toys now.”

A beam of powerful magic shot into Mark’s chest, right in between his burgeoning breasts. It split his shirt wide open, and with heart-stopping panic he realized it was the same energy that had corrupted Grika. He felt a warmth as the power infiltrated his Implant, forcing his stat window open against his will.

“W-what are you doing to me? I don’t have anything you want! I’m just a Level 2 nobody!”

“Well, we can certainly change that. Can’t have a couple scrubs as my entourage.” Magical energy surged through their connection. Like a torrent of undifferentiated potential. It felt like he was about to burst! He watched in confusion as his XP metre filled and filled and filled again, shooting up until he reached Level 10 in a matter of seconds. She was making him more powerful?

“Don’t let all that experience go to your head, cutes. I’m going to spend it all right away. But first, let’s rearrange your points.” With as much ease as someone thumbing through a magazine, she peeled apart the very fabric of his being and started shifting values around. “I want to keep you a caster so I won’t make you a total dummy, but we won’t need Willpower. Let’s make that your dump stat, and boost your Charisma.”

He could feel it. His mind being shaken around and emptied out, though not entirely. It was like his decision making process was given a quick scrambling. He could still think, sorta, but his ability for forethought and hindsight had huge, bubbly blinders on them. The Moment would be all that mattered, at least for the time being.

“I feel different,” he said, tapping his noggin as if trying to knock a few sticky braincell loose. “What was I doing?”

“You were picturing your ideal body, remember?”

He sorta did. Something had stopped him, but he couldn’t remember what. Oh well! He got back to trying to think about just what his “ideal” body would look like. Eventually, his breasts grew again, but there were more changes too. His skin softened, hair from everywhere below his nose fluttering to the ground like a thousand tiny feathers. He watched with excitement as his whole body changed around him. It was amazing!

“I’m looking kinda like a pretty Elf girl!” he said, smiling. He hadn’t smiled like that in…ever! At least, he couldn’t remember smiling that much. It felt good!

The Tiefling smiled. “That’s because you are one, silly. I figured as much. The spell I cast must have turned off that nasty curse that was keeping you stuck as a Human boy.”

Mark’s head tilted. He didn’t remember being cursed, but…everything was a little hazy past the five minutes ago mark. He remembered being mad, and scared, but getting cursed was a big blur. Maybe the powerful Sorceress lady knew what was going on more than he did.

“I am a girl?” he asked, and felt a shudder deep beneath his form. Something beyond the moment, beyond the spell, awakened in his heart. In her heart. Her. She smiled. “I’m a girl!”

Sitri nodded. “Do you have a name? Your old Human one seems kinda yucky now.”

She thought for a moment. “I like gemstones and pretty rocks. What about Mica?”

“Hmm…soft, an ingredient in cheap makeup, easily shaped, perfect cleavage…yes, Mica will do nicely. And what does Mica want to do when she’s adventuring?”

Mica looked around her new body. She was so soft! Chub had formed along with the feminine features, giving her a distinctly plush appearance. Only her jogging pants’ elastic waistband let them cling to her flesh. Her thickening thighs pushed her legs apart, widening her stance and causing the worn-out fabric to split and fall to the ground, chased by her unflattering masculine underwear. Mica was naked! But that was okay. She was pretty now, what did she have to hide? Well, there was something…Her eyes found her cock and, after a moment, she felt a tingle as her last reminder of her old guyhood slid back inside her body. She watched as her cock shrunk and shrunk and shrunk some more. Not disappearing, but becoming no bigger than a clit. It peeked out of a mound of chub, more of an ornament than anything meant for penetration. Now that her form was perfect, she wanted to show everyone her girly, naked body!

“I thought I wanted to be a strong warrior, but I guess I don’t look very intimidating,” she said, still a little lightheaded.

Sitri nodded, picking up the rusty weapon that the person named Mark had been holding moments before. “Yeah, but we already have the Tank. I’ll be DPS. All we need is-” She snapped the fingers of her fingers. “All we need is a Healer!”

The sword morphed itself, transforming from pitted iron blade to a glimmering metal rod. Topped with a gleaming pink gem in the shape of a heart and bordered by a pair of fluffy wings, it looked very much like an exaggerated caricature of a Magical Girl’s wand…save of course the phallic tip at the bottom. She giggled. It was the same shape and size as her old cock!

“This’ll enable you to cast all kinds of spells, both for healing and enemy control. Want to put monsters to sleep, or make them bow to you? This’ll do it! The negative ones work on me, of course.” Sitri handed over the rod, and Mica took it. The magical energy contained within filled her soft, squishy body up to brim! Something in her head connected the idea of power with something desirable, but it was so fleeting that she barely noticed it before the thought slipped out and she went back to looking at the pretty wand.

“Miss! Uhh Miss Sitri!”

Both Terrans looked up to see Pussy had inched closer to them while they’d been distracted. She now had herself splayed obscenely, legs held over her head, her body on complete display.

“Yes Pussy?”

“I can’t…umm…I can’t squirt if you aren’t looking!” she stated, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, of course. Mica’s glow-up distracted me, my apologies. Let’s get back to important matters.” The Tiefling twirled in place, and her robes disappeared. Naked, her blemishless red skin revealed a dozen individual lines of strange symbols that spiralled across her body like twisting serpents. The largest of which was an intricate design on her back: a seven-pointed star, surrounded by the same inscrutable script.

“Pretty ink,” Mica said, which made the Sorceress laugh, batting away the compliment.

“That’s very kind. I designed all of these myself. Warped versions of Enochian seals, all bound on my spine by the heptagram. Most of them are protection spells to keep me safe, in case I get attacked when I’m not looking. Not a Pagan myself, but I enjoy the imagery. And it was simple enough to render ancient incantations into hexcode for my magic hacking purposes. But that’s for later. For now, another part of my body needs love and attention.” She indicated the throbbing erection between her legs.

“Oh! Oh! Fuck me, Miss! Fuck Pussy til I cream!” the Orc cried, wiggling her legs. If she had any dignity before, it was long gone now.

“Eh, maybe later,” she said, making the super strong Barbarian practical whimper like a lost puppy. “Oh, don’t be like that. There’ll be plenty of time, but I’d rather break in someone else first.” Sitri tapped Mica on the shoulder, and her whole emotional circuit-board lit up. Her? She’d be first? She’d be first!

“Oh my! But I’ve never…not with my…” Mica stumbled over the explanation of her virginity, more or less, holding her extremely plush rear end.

“Why that can’t be true! With an ass like this? Surely you’ve taken so many cocks that you can’t count them all. Let me just…” Mica felt her stat menu open up, and she watched with a kind of a perverse thrill as Sitri exerted total control over her self. She watched as points representing her education in art history were reallocated to new skills like “Receiving Anal” and “Oral Pleasure”.

Flashes of memory of being in class, memorizing names and concepts, melted away. The hard seats of the lecture hall became the thighs of a lover, and as she bounced upon them, the room of other students became a boudoir. A gym changing room. A back alley. Her side hustle job in college as a tutor? That had been serving as a sidepiece for a dozen different cuties. They’d slip her a few bucks, and they’d slip her their fat cocks. They’d tease her little nub and tell her just how good her ass felt. She grinned at the new memory, her hole winking as it remembered the presence of so many shafts.

Her favourite position was when she was on all fours, so that’s where she dropped to. Soft grass met her hands and knees as she waited to have her ass stretched by the first, or fiftieth, person. This position, by sheer coincidence of course, found her looking down at Pussy’s drooling hole.

“Wanna dive in?” Sitri asked, “I know how much you love eating girls out and sucking girls off.”

Mica’s mouth watered as she looked down upon the feminine feast before her, mouth watering so much that drips of drool landed on Pussy’s lower lips. Inside her head, Sitri’s magic rewired her tastebuds to desire the taste of cock and cunt above anything else. Cum of all kinds was her favourite drink, and she simply Needed it in the same way most people needed water.

She needed no further encouragement. Mica buried her face in the Orc’s wet slit and sent to town, her tongue licking up her delicious girljuice. Her tongue was practically singing with the subtle flavour, and she shuddered as her senses short-circuited. It was so good! She had to force herself up to breathe, before going back down to tongue along the length of her nethers.

“Nghgh…thank you,” Pussy said, throwing her head back and moaning with approval. “Pussy feels…feels good…”

Mica was lost between Orc thighs by the time she felt the pressure of Sitri’s cock against her ass. Her eyes fluttered and she relaxed, accepting the Tiefling’s thick cock inside as a good buttslut ought to do. That a mere hour before she’d never even played with her ass was completely irrelevant.

“Ooooh~” she cried.

“Does Mica feel good too?” her Orc partner asked, sliding a powerful hand through her hair.

“Mmm!” Mica confirmed. Getting her ass fucked while eating out a hottie? There was no place she’d rather be! Sitri took it slowly, savouring their first encounter together. Maybe too slow, making Mica push her butt back to get more dick to slide in and scrape against her insides the way she liked it. Before she knew it though, the Tiefling’s girlcock was pressing up against her P-Spot, and the healer’s micro-dick leaked evidence of her excitement.

She tried to refocus her attention on Pussy, giving as much as she was receiving. Her pert lips touched the Orc’s engorged clit. Her powerful thighs clamped around Mica’s head, pinning her sensitive ears applying enough pressure to crack a watermelon! But with some self-control, she relaxed, and let the pleasing mouth taste her sensitive bud further.

She licked along those glistening green folds, tasting every crevice and crook within. Then her tongue slid inside, doing as much penetration as her tiny-clitted self would ever manage to do. She mapped them like a bold explorer, spelunking for treasures within and was rewarded with more and more groans and twitches. Each turn of her tongue tip was rewarded by Sitri’s cock shoved deeper inside her hole until the pleasure of tonguefucking Pussy and the thrill of getting buttfucked tangled together and her cocklet’s drips were the result of her oral affections as much as her ass getting pounded.

Pussy’s breath sped up, became hot and heavy. Mica could sense a climax was close, so she latched her lips onto her clit and suckled. The Barbarian came as hard as she did anything. She hammered the ground with one hand, screaming out loud enough to make the stars quake while her legs kept Mica’s head pinned. Her hearing muffled by thick thigh, all she could hear her was her bimbofied partner’s exultant sighs of orgasm. As it passed, her deathgrip around her head relaxed, leaving her feeling dizzy.

“You make Pussy feel good and you make Miss Sitri feel good,” the Orc said earnestly. “I will protect you from danger.”

That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her! “And I’ll keep you healthy with my spells! Ohh…I just have to figure out how to do that, first.”

Sitri laughed, giving Mica’s wide rump a spank. “I think we can figure out an easy way for you to start healing. I’ve always wanted to try this.” She traced long, lazy patterns on Mica’s lower back. The Elf could feel magic sizzle on her skin. Not a pain, but definitely heat and energy. Something was definitely being drawn there.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m giving you a Seal of Domination, thoughtfully sketched out above your ass like a magical tramp stamp. This’ll keep you safe from other people’s hexes, but it’s customized to give you another effect. I want you to spread this Seal to as many people as you can. But it’ll need a conduit. A physical medium for the magic to travel on. And since your cock is atrophied…I’ll need another ready source of fluids.”

Mica felt something build and build in her new breasts. There was a pressure, like what her dick used to feel like but more and fuller! She massaged them, whimpering at the strange sensations.

“Miss…my boobies…” she said pathetically, squeezing herself.

The Sorceress looked on with feigned sympathy. “Aww, it’s alright cutie. That’s just your new class’s special ability!” She opened Mica’s stat window again, causing the Elf to look up from her position on all fours. Underneath her new name, she saw two words representing her new class, her new job, and her new fate.

“Milk Witch?” Mica read, then squealed! A jet of glowing white cream shot out from her left nipple, splattering on the ground. She tried squeezing her right, and a similar spurt splashed against her palm. She examined the milk, then, with a shudder, licked her hand. It tasted yummy! And it made her feel…good.

“You’ll still need to learn healing spells too, but as a Milk Witch, your primary power will be your impressive breast milk. Not only nutritious, but its powerful healing magic makes it a potential alchemical ingredient for health potions. I’ll need your services after long combat, as will Pussy. As a matter of fact…”

Sitri withdrew from Mica’s ass, leaving her feeling disappointed and startlingly empty. Her Sorceress domme didn’t leave her waiting long. She circled around to their Bimborc companion and pressed a finger to her forehead.

“You’re feeling a little thirsty, aren’t you, dear?”

The glow from her finger showed there was more than a simple suggestion behind her words. For the first time, she took her attention away from her own slit’s desires, her wide eyes locking upon Mica’s breasts.

“Yes…thirsty…” she said, spinning around on the ground and licking her lips. Mica watched in confusion, then sighed as that tusked mouth found her right nipple. Gushes of healing milk flowed into her suckling mouth, which Pussy drank down greedily.

“Looks like you’ll be draining vital fluids after all! Just not, y’know, bloo-aaah~” Mica moaned, an extended feeling of a burden released, totally dwarfing any pleasures she’d felt with her old dick. If this was how good it felt, she wanted to give the whole world her milk! And though unseen, a magical seal burned itself to life on her suckling partner’s rear. This one wouldn’t make her milky, but it would bind Pussy to Sitri for as long as its magic held. As it would to any who drank from her magical bounty.

Mica turned to look up at her Tiefling domme, her heart swelling as all the changes that she’d undergone ran through her mind. That old life, that sad boy so long ago, it was all in the past now. With the sucking and teasing of her nipples, she finally experienced her first orgasm as a woman. Arching her back, her shrunken clit squirted a few weak jets of thin fluid, but it was it. It was so small and cute that nobody could even tell if it was hard or soft. The perfect fashion accessory for a sweet, submissive Elven healslut.

“Thank you for giving me this body,” she said, meaning every word. “It’s more than I ever could have imagined!”

The Sorceress stroked the Elf’s flowing golden locks. Then, with a glowing grin, pressed her slickened cock to Mica’s mouth. Without thought, she opened her pretty lips and accepted her girlcock inside. It didn’t take long to make her Mistress reach her own climax. Sitri withdrew just in time to spray thick ropes of cum onto Mica’s pretty features. The Elf smiled back, taking the facial like a good little whore, her teeth still showing even as the Sorceress used Miri’s gorgeous hair to clean her cock like a cheap rag.

“Anytime, cutiepie. Now Pussy, she has another nipple that needs attention. Let’s make sure Mica knows just how much we appreciate her new skills~”

***

Weeks later, the trio found themselves in the palace of a regional warlord. His guards had been no match for their combined efforts, either falling to the Tiefling’s curses, Pussy’s powerful blows, or Mica’s bewitching magics. Several of them rutted themselves silly, their oaths forsaken, as the Mistress of the group gave a hearty laugh of triumph.

“I never get tired of this feeling,” she said, sitting upon her new stolen throne. Its former occupant sat at her feet, naked and femboyified. He crawled up to meet her crotch, retrieved her cock from beneath her skirt, and got to work sucking it. According to the spell Mica had put upon his mind, that was the most important thing in the world. His Captain of the Guard looked on in frustrated impotence. Her armour physical properties had been changed with a snap, causing it to weigh an impossible amount and pinning her in place. Now trapped, her position forced her to watch the Kingdom she swore an oath to defend melt around her.

“You’ll never get away with this!” she swore, fighting against her leaden fetters.

“Oh dear, I already have. For all your training and strength, all it took was the three of us to best you.”

She looked upon her companions with affection, and not a little bit of twisted pleasure. Her Bimborc Barbarian wore practically nothing, catching eyes the moment she’d entered the city. Drool slid down from both pairs of Pussy’s lips as she waited for instructions. Only a word from her Mistress had kept her hand off her eponymous body part while they had been pretending to be a friendly band of adventurers, but now that victory was theirs, her slit glistened with expectant desire.

Mica’s outfit was equally scandalous, utterly failing to contain her enormous breasts. Fitting clothing was simply too difficult for her special udders, though her shrunken clitty allowed for all but the most tight feminine outfits to be worn without around her waist drawing much attention. The only thing that could have been conceivably considered “covering” of her enormous endowments was a pair of golden rings piercing her nipples. They were tipped with a glowing pink gem, something that was more than a mere fashion statement.

“Oooh…Mistress…there are so many people who look tired and hurty…” Mica moaned, her thick thighs rubbing together. “Can I help them? Can I give them my special potion?”

“Hmm…I don’t know…”

“M-Mistress…please! It’s been a week!” Mica said, grabbing her tits obscenely. Despite how hard she squeezed, nothing came out.

The Sorceress made a show of thinking about it. The injuries of combat were serious in some cases, though she wasn’t in the business of handing out her companion’s boon for free. However, if she was going to be a ruler, she might as well be a gracious and beloved one.

“You know what you have to say,” she said, a smile curling up the side of her mouth.

“Oh please…please let me be milked! My titties are sooo full and I’m gonna burst if I don’t!”

The Tiefling laughed. “Alright, I’ll allow it.” She flicked the magic switch on the woman’s enchanted nipple rings, and the floodgates opened. Mica squealed as two gushes of pure white shot out from her breasts and spattered against her palms, quickly sliding down her skin and pooling on the ground. She fell to her knees, groping awkwardly as she tried to get relief all at once from her magical burden.

“Pussy, be a dear and get a bucket for our brave healer, won’t you?” she asked. The Orc nodded, finding a milking bucket suspiciously easy (though not without a lot of mental effort) and got to work. Coaxed onto all fours, Mica took up her position as an Elven cow without hesitation, sighing and mooing as Pussy’s powerful hands expertly drained her breasts of their magical burden.

“Thank ymooo!” Mica moaned, blissed out of her bovine brain. She inverted her wand to point the phallic shaped side up and slid it into Pussy’s waiting folds. The Orc shuddered, a tension finally being addressed, and began to lower herself until she was humping the dildo shaped device with such heedless zeal that it was taking all Mica’s strength to keep it steady and straight.

The Sorceress smiled at her entourage’s depraved display, reaching over to grab a silver goblet from the table on the wall. The femboy king followed, trying his best to keep his mouth latched to her hard cock. She dipped it into the rapidly filling milk bucket, pulling out half a cup full.

“You’re disgusting,” the Captain spat, working her arm out from under her pauldrons toward a dagger that had fallen to the floor in the final melee. The Sorceress kicked it away, replacing it with the goblet. While she spoke, the Guard’s royal charge did his best to suck the next generation of Tieflings right out of her tip.

“I’m honest, dear. That’s not something you’ll often find in the halls of power. Behind all this royal frippery is the inherent corruption of power. I am that made manifest, made crystalline. Your King was the same, but without the same kind of elegant presentation. I guarantee you this land will suffer less under my beneficent rule. Even a loyal guard dog like you must understand that. Say, that gives me an idea…” she said, twitching her wrist. The goblet flattened out, turning into a silver dog bowl. “Better. Why don’t you have a drink, dear? You look flushed.”

“I’d rather die!”

The Tiefling pressed a thumb to her forehead. “Are you sure? You seem awful thirsty…”

The guard fought against the spell, but there was no resisting magic that potent. With a defeated whimper, she pressed her face into the milk bowl. As she did, her armour dissolved into nothing, leaving her naked. Despite being free to move, the compulsion to drink overwhelmed her other concerns. With nothing to obscure her glistening, muscular body, the Sorceress could watch the pink glow of a Seal of Domination gleam to life on her lower back. Slightly above it, a fluffy tail sprouted, and her licking quickly turned to canine lapping.

The Sorceress laughed, scratching the woman behind a newly grown pair of floppy ears. “After all…what good is a throne without a lapdog to keep it warm?”