Chapter 0 - Arc 2

2.01 Into The Wild 

 
Zoey’s skin went cold, her stomach sank, and the ground was thrown from her feet. For one never-ending second, she was torn apart, scattered to the wind like an urn emptied into the ocean breeze. Then she snapped back to coherency, reassembled in an instant.
 
She staggered and almost fell, if not for Rosalie’s powerful grip steadying her.
 
“You really are a novice,” her blonde partner said, amused. 
 
“Woah. That was … trippy.”
 
Zoey blinked around at their new surroundings, eyes adjusting to the light. They had been wandering around dimly lit areas for so many hours that having the sun back above her was an almost painful experience. Sunset approached, streaking the sky with orange-yellow rays.
 
They stood in an autumn forest, leaves having shed from the twisted branches to coat the ground in a decaying blanket. The foliage crunched as Zoey turned in a circle. Crickets chirped and birds sang somewhere in the background. Zoey had gotten so used to the shard’s eerie silence that the noise of a living forest caught her off guard. 
 
The air was dry and hot. There were no landmarks in any direction. Certainly not anything man-made.
 
“Where are we?” Zoey asked.
 
“In the Fractures.” She shrugged. “Where? Who knows?”
 
“So we’re lost?”
 
“A Wayfarer is always lost. Now we seek an outpost.” She chose a random direction—or what appeared to be so by Zoey—and walked.
 
Zoey jogged after her. Like usual, Rosalie spared not a moment before moving to practical matters. 
 
It made sense to get moving. They could cover ground as they talked. “Right. So, what’s the plan? How do we find … an outpost?”
 
Rosalie heard the question in her voice: ‘outpost’? 
 
“The Fractures are scattered with them. We’re hardly in a unique situation. They’re rest points. We’ll eat, sleep, then enlist a guide to aid us back to proper civilization.”
 
“A guide?”
 
“The Fractures are too numerous, and shifting, for a Wayfarer to navigate themselves. Guides spend their lifetimes wrangling even a basic understanding of their local cluster, and still struggle. But they’re more competent than we could hope to be.”
 
That made sense. Zoey had gained a basic understanding of how the Fractures, and shards, worked in their previous talks. Haven, at the metaphorical ‘top’ of the ladder, was safe, but was a barren wasteland, lacking resources and arable land. Wayfarers—those granted runes—ventured into the Fractures, a collection of shattered pocket-realms, accessed through scattered ‘Gates’ in Haven, to bring back resources to feed and supply their civilian population. 
 
The Fractures were littered with threats of their own, but not nearly as deadly and frequent as those found in shards, which swarmed with monsters. Though, danger levels varied. The realms of the Fractures were rated in the same way as shards, through an ‘advancement’ score which lined up to the rune system. First-advancement shards tended to expel Wayfarers into first-advancement pockets of the Fractures, so the place she and Rosalie had found themselves in was safer, overall, than the shard they’d been in. But not safe, necessarily. They’d need to be on the lookout.
 
Zoey didn’t have a perfect understanding of how everything slotted together, but she had a foggy picture. It was a lot to take in.
 
“Okay. So, outpost, eat, rest, clean up, then set out to a bigger city. What’s our future look like after that?” They crunched along the forest floor, picking over logs and avoiding low-hanging branches. Zoey wondered how long it would be before they found hints of a path, or something else that would lead them to an ‘outpost’. Rosalie had pulled all manners of survival supplies from that chest in the dungeon, her ‘inventory chest’, so they had everything they needed for an extended period of roughing it. But Zoey would rather not be making a multiple-day hike. It sounded like Rosalie expected it to not take long. 
 
“There’s a repeating process to an efficient Wayfarer,” Rosalie said. “Clear a shard, loot it dry. Equip what you can. Haul the rest back to a city, identify and sell it, then stock up on whatever supplies were expended. Perhaps take a day or two to rest and heal, if necessary. Then set out to an appropriate advancement zone and explore until you find a shard entrance. Rinse and repeat.” She paused. “Things complicate with parties, but I’ve been working alone.”
 
It would sound monotonous, if not for the implied variety in every adventure. “Why?”
 
“I prefer it.” She shrugged. “I’d have eventually partied up, since it’s all but a necessity as advancement raises, but for now … I went solo.”
 
“Eventually?” Zoey quoted. “How long have you been doing this?”
 
“Not long,” Rosalie said, surprising her. “I’m only second advancement. This was my seventh trip. It’s been … two weeks?”
 
“Two weeks?” Zoey had figured Rosalie some kind of extensive veteran. She carried herself like one. Clearly, it was her upbringing. She’d been prepared for this from a young age. Which brought a question to mind, “How old are you, anyway?”
 
“Eighteen, and two weeks,” Rosalie said, emphasizing the second part to point out she'd entered immediately on her eighteenth birthday. “Wayfarers aren’t allowed into the Fractures until adulthood. That’s when runes develop.”
 
Zoey had figured Rosalie older than her, for some reason. The way she presented herself, so stoic and composed. Determined. Zoey had assumed she was in her early twenties at the oldest, based on her appearance, but eighteen? Younger than she’d thought. “Huh. I’m nineteen.”
 
Rosalie shot her a look. “You entered late, then. I wonder why, when you were given such powerful runes.”
 
Well. She hadn’t been given them at eighteen, like the regulars of this world. She’d been given them a year and some change later, after being yanked through dimensions by a perverted goddess.
 
Not something she could explain to Rosalie. Even if Ephy’s order to not do so hadn’t hung over her head, she might not have wanted to. Rosalie wouldn’t believe her. Who would? She’d rather come off as an amnesiac, or even secretive, than a crazy person.
 
“Not sure,” Zoey said. “I’ve really got no clue what’s going on with me.” An honest statement.
 
Rosalie pursed her lips. “Are you going to seek out your family, when we make it to safety? Try to find someone you know?”
 
That would be a reasonable thing to do. Zoey wondered how to answer it. “Probably not.” She didn’t expand.
 
Rosalie didn’t push. She, at least, understood not spilling one’s heart or motivations out. She had her own secrets she was keeping—and poorly. Who her father was, for one, or who she was in general. Zoey didn’t need to be a detective to see Rosalie was someone important, and trying to hide the fact.
 
“Will you be?” Zoey asked.
 
Rosalie paused, then grimaced. “Eventually, I’ll have to.”
 
“You should have already?”
 
“Yes. My family won’t be pleased I dawdled.”
 
“They’re Wayfarers, too?”
 
“Of course.”
 
“Why haven’t you?”
 
A silence. Zoey wondered if she’d pushed too far—even though she’d barely pushed at all.
 
“I’ve been enjoying some time away,” Rosalie eventually admitted. “My family is …” she struggled for how to put it.
 
“Demanding,” Zoey suggested. “Domineering.”
 
Rosalie looked at her. “Precisely. How did you know?”
 
“You don’t sound upset with them, but you want to be away. It’s not that hard of a guess.” And competence like Rosalie’s, at such a young age, doesn’t come from a soft, comfortable upbringing. 
 
“Well, yes,” Rosalie said. “I can avoid returning for a few weeks yet, before they become concerned. My sister did something similar. As long as I arrive having done something with myself—third advancement, preferably, nearing fourth—then the consequences won’t be too dire.”
 
Dire. That was quite the word to use, in reference to the reception of your family after some time away. Zoey frowned, making unkind judgments on what her parents must be like. “Okay. And in the meantime? More granular. What’s the plan once we hit the city? Just trying to get a feel for things.”
 
“Hm.” Rosalie organized her thoughts as they walked. “First, drop the items off with an artificer so they can be identified, paying for expedited work. Better to be efficient, and have it ready in the morning, than maximize profit. After, we’ll visit a clothing store and get some attire better suited to you.”
 
The poorly-fitting shirt, underwear, and pants were pretty annoying. And she’d like a bra. Zoey’d never had that big of a bust, but now—uh, definitely more than most. She’d rather have had a smaller, but still shapely, chest like Rosalie’s, as she’d had before. But Ephy had been insistent her body fit her status as her ‘champion’.
 
“Following that,” Rosalie said, “we’ll register at the local guild, stock up on Wayfaring supplies, perhaps check the job board, then—since the items won’t be ready till morning—we’ll visit an alchemist shop. Get you acquainted to what a profession in alchemy would be like.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. “Cool. That’s—” nice? Considerate of her? “Thanks.”
 
Rosalie shrugged. “You sounded interested. And we’ll have time while we wait for the items to be identified.” 
 
Zoey grinned at Rosalie’s inability to reply with a ‘your welcome’. She absolutely refused to admit that she was a sweetheart, despite the serious outward demeanor. Because arranging a meetup with an alchemist wasn’t something she needed to do; or even should have, assuming they were looking to become Wayfarers.
 
“And the guild,” Zoey said. “What’s that about?”
 
Rosalie paused. “Wayfarers congregate in guilds. Most gather under one of the three highguild banners, but they’re technically their own entities, with their own guildhalls and hierarchy. They serve as a places to rest, put together parties, stock up on basic supplies, so on. We’ll rent a room there for the night.”
 
“Highguilds?”
 
“The prominent political entities of the Fractures. Striders, the Deepshunters, and the Sovereign.” She paused. “Though the last aren’t a guild in the traditional sense. We’re in Striders territory, assuming the shard didn’t shunt us out exceptionally far, which it shouldn’t have.”
 
“Is that yours?”
 
“No,” Rosalie said. “My family is aligned under the Deepshunters. I would suggest you don’t mention the fact. Highguild relations aren’t … friendly.”
 
 Zoey didn’t imagine a society composed of violent adventurers would have the most copacetic of diplomatic relations. And seeing how there was ‘territory’ associated with each, that implied disputes—of the ‘warring’ or at least ‘skirmishing’ sort. Even back on Earth, in modern society, people hadn’t figured out how to be good to each other. No difference here. “I won’t.” That Rosalie trusted her enough to tell her was flattering, honestly. “Why aren’t the Sovereign a normal highguild?”
 
“They have no subsidiaries. And you need to be seventh advancement to join, which is … difficult. They have few members in comparison to the other two highguilds, and they’re loosely unified. The name gives it away. They’re powerful Wayfarers who wanted to be left out of politics.”
 
“So they banded together and told the other two to fuck off.” Zoey respected that. 
 
“Precisely. Though for being allegedly ‘out of politics’, they exert their influence with annoying frequency.”
 
Zoey frowned. With annoying frequency. That made it sound like their interventions were annoying in a personal sense, more personal than a low-ranking member of one of the guilds might view it. Zoey was making assumptions here, but she guessed Rosalie’s family was high up the hierarchy of the Deepshunters, enough where the Sovereign’s machinations were something her family griped over at the dinner table; that was the tone she’d taken, as if she took personal offense. She briefly considered voicing this observation, but decided not to. If Rosalie wanted to be secretive, that was her right. Especially when Zoey was being so herself.
 
“You said you had a sister,” Zoey said instead. “Just one?”
 
“Two,” Rosalie said. “One two years older, the other four. You?” She grimaced immediately. “You don’t remember. I spoke carelessly.”
 
Zoey shrugged. She was hardly offended. Though the fact she couldn’t remember whether she had siblings was upsetting. “How are they?”
 
“Fine. I’d rather not talk about family.”
 
Zoey had seen something of the sort coming, but she’d wanted to try, regardless.
 
They crunched along the autumn forest.
 
“Think we’ll be able to sell the stuff we found?”
 
“The less appropriate items, you mean?”
 
“Yeah.” Obviously the regular equipment and items would sell fine—or poorly, whichever was the standard for low-advancement items. “It sounded like you’d never seen anything like them, so wouldn’t that mean they’re valuable?” Rare usually meant expensive.
 
“Likely. Though … distasteful … it’s possible we’ve found ourselves a trove of novelty items.”
 
Sex does sell. Like that tongue stud she’d claimed for herself—she was sure that would find a buyer, if she’d been willing to sell. Zoey knew she herself would put a probably embarrassing amount of her funds down on it. Because giving magically enhanced head? That was awesome. She couldn’t wait to try it out. 
 
“How rare do you think they are?” Zoey asked. “Are they like, never-heard-of-before? Or just uncommon?”
 
Rosalie considered the question. “Truthfully, I wouldn’t know. It’s not a topic I’ve ever wandered on, whether shards provide erotic toys as part of their drop tables—” there it is again, Zoey thought, the seamless use of such game-like terminology, “—but they are known for having incredible variance. I’m sure there’s been similar items collected. Perhaps it just never came up in conversation, being obviously unsuitable for polite company.”
 
“But still rare, at least somewhat. It’ll make good money.”
 
Rosalie shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know for certain. Money doesn’t particularly matter, truth told.”
 
“It doesn’t?”
 
“A Wayfarer who relies on top-of-the-line equipment to advance through shards—and their runes—is hardly a Wayfarer at all. Items should be supplemental and nothing more. Doubly true at the lower advancements.”
 
“Huh,” Zoey said. “I like the purist attitude. How about you back your words up?”
 
“Sorry?”
 
“Let’s do the next one naked, too.”
 
Rosalie shot her a disgusted look, which Zoey only grinned at. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you incorrigible woman?”
 
“Very much,” Zoey said shamelessly. “Very, very much. To think I’ll only get to see you naked sometimes, now …” she sighed.
 
“Sometimes?” Rosalie huffed. “That implies you will again.”
 
“Oh, I think I will,” Zoey said. “And I think you know that, too.”
 
Rosalie flushed and didn’t reply. She did, however, pick up speed, forcing a laughing Zoey to jog after her.
 
2.02 Self Reflections
 
It was past dark when the outpost came into view. Zoey’s legs ached from the walk. She hadn’t been an inactive person back home, but she’d been exerting herself (in more than a few meanings of the word) constantly since waking ten hours ago, and the activities had taken their toll. Fortunately, she had magical assistance to lean on. The murky-yellow potions they’d looted provided a supernatural boost in stamina which eased her pained muscles, and the blisters she had started to collect were washed away by their red counterparts, the health potions.
 
Magic. Super convenient stuff.
 
They had stumbled on a dirt path after an hour of walking. Whether by providence or luck, Zoey didn’t know. Rosalie said it was faster than usual, but most ventures back to town were short things. From there, a two hour’s trip led them to the edges of a tiny outpost. She meant tiny; there were six or seven buildings in total. Outposts were scattered all throughout the Fractures, ready to host people in her and Rosalie’s situation, and since the Fractures were already less populous than Haven—where the bulk of this world’s society lived—these outposts usually held less than twenty people, and much of them were migratory. 
 
Zoey admired the architecture as Rosalie beelined to the inn, where they’d be resting for the night. The buildings were well-made but distinctly medieval-European. She intuited a few answers to her earlier musings: the world’s technology level wasn’t quite caught up to Zoey’s. That was bizarre to think about. She hoped she wouldn’t be lacking too many modern amenities. Zoey would miss cellphones and being able to look up whatever she wanted, when she wanted, but it wasn’t something she’d die without. Running water, plumbing, air conditioning, and such? She hoped Rosalie’s world had figured out magical alternatives to those, because she’d feel those absences much more sharply.
 
Entering the tiny inn (at a guess, it could host up to four; these outposts weren’t meant to be stayed at for long, or see traffic in general) Zoey saw they had at least figured out pseudo-electrical lighting: warm yellow lights hummed in the ceilings, some—what appeared to be—arcane symbol carved into the glass, and only visible because Zoey had squinted up at it in curiosity. The lantern left a black afterimage. Zoey briefly, and humorously, wondered if a health potion would make it go away faster, but she didn’t test it; she simply blinked the imprint away while Rosalie greeted a heavyset innkeeper at the counter.
 
Emphasis on heavy-set.
 
For, uh.
 
A couple reasons.
 
The man was made of granite.
 
What the hell, Zoey thought. She had given thought to the possibility of other races existing in this world, but she’d forgotten about it, truth told. Until here, now, with an animated piece of rock hunched over the counter and speaking to Rosalie.
 
“One night, and a meal in the morning, if you please.” Rosalie spoke to him with the dismissive nature of someone used to making these professional arrangements. The fact he was a person composed of chunky, interlocking blocks of stone didn’t provide the slightest reaction; this was an utterly mundane sight to Rosalie.
 
The innkeeper didn’t seem offended for Rosalie’s brusqueness. He was blinking sleep out of his eyes, with her and Rosalie having arrived past when he’d settled down for the night. The bleariness was seriously odd for how humanizing it was. Zoey shook away the disorientation; she didn’t want to be caught staring. This should seem normal to her, even accounting for amnesia.
 
“Two rooms or one?” the rock-man asked.
 
“Tw—” Rosalie barely started, before being interrupted by Zoey.
 
“One is fine.”
 
Rosalie narrowed her eyes at Zoey, but after Zoey grinned at her, she conceded. “One is fine.”
 
Coins passed hands, and the innkeeper handed them a key and gave directions. He ambled off through the door behind him. To his own quarters? Zoey stared at his enormous back as he went. The rock-man was built like a boulder, forgive the pun.
 
Rosalie and Zoey walked up crickety stairs and retired in a small but well-furnished room. Zoey explored the space, interested. With her first impression of the old building, she’d expected using the restroom would include an outhouse, but she quickly found that wasn’t true. There was a bathroom in the inn room, their own, and it was furnished with running water, a sink, toilet, and a metal tub. There was even a shower head sticking from a pole. Zoey released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She wouldn’t have to be dealing with medieval-times bathroom procedures. Maybe not quite up to modern standards, but there was plumbing. How? Magic, Zoey was sure. She didn’t care. Hot water, and a shower, sounded heavenly.
 
She paused at the mirror above the sink. It was the first time Zoey had seen herself since the changes. A hand traced her cheek and nose as she inspected herself, an inexplicable feeling of dread settling in. This wasn’t her face. Or even her. This person in the mirror was too beautiful, too flawless. There were hints of Zoey, sure. She recognized her features. The ratios and structure were similar. But anything that could remotely be called a flaw had been smoothed over. Her hair was a glossy, gorgeous black, almost comically attractive for how chaotic the day had been. It ought to be covered in grime, dirt, and tangled. Which it kind of was, but looked rugged for the fact. Good, not gross.
 
She grimaced and looked away. Maybe eventually she’d be appreciative of what Ephy had done to her, but right now, it bordered on upsetting. Zoey had liked her face. It wasn’t perfect, and she’d been fine with that. She hadn’t needed, or wanted, ‘fixing’.  
 
And that was just her face. Her body had seen plenty of changes too. More comprehensive ones. 
 
Deal with it later.
 
A smaller voice said, or never. Don’t think about it all.
 
“Hey,” Zoey called. “You want first shower? Or do you want to share?”
 
Rosalie appeared in the bathroom doorway. “I permitted this under the assumption you wouldn’t be … well, yourself. Don’t push things. You take the first, and I won’t be joining.”
 
“Just offering,” Zoey grinned. “A ‘no’ would’ve been enough.”
 
Rosalie rolled her eyes and left. “Don’t take too long,” she said. “I feel disgusting.”
 
The same for Zoey. Today had been an endless stream of sweat, orgasms, slime, and rolling around in nature. The hot springs had helped, but some soap, hot water, and scrubbing would do wonders for returning to a status of ‘human being’.
 
Or ‘sapient being’? Considering the rock-man innkeeper, Zoey might need to adjust how she referred to certain things. ‘Humanity’ referred to a specific subset of sapient life, now. Weird. She’d probably fumble her phrasing, here and there, in the coming weeks.
 
(Weeks, months, years, decades? How long?)
 
Zoey closed the door, stripped from the men’s clothing Rosalie had provided her, and draped them over the towel rod, edging the towel over to make space. She paused half-way through it, realizing she could drop the items into her inventory. It would be a while before that ability internalized. She’d already situated the clothes, so she didn’t bother.
 
She turned around and inspected her body.
 
The changes were less upsetting as with her face. Zoey didn’t view her figure as ‘her’ as much as her face, for obvious reasons. 
 
Ephy had been generous. Zoey had already seen her abs, but in the mirror they were much easier to take in. It had taken a serious diet and months of crunches to even get a hint of those things peeking through, back when she’d actually tried to have some, and here she was now, zero effort, rocking a six-pack that she could grate cheese against. Maybe it’s not all bad, Zoey admitted, flexing and rubbing her hand against the bumpy ridges. She’d definitely gotten lucky in some regards. She cupped her breasts and inspected those, too. Besides her height, her chest had been what had taken the most immediate adjusting to, because the weight had made itself noticeable right on transformation. Zoey hadn’t been totally flat chested before, but she hadn’t had much. And they hadn’t been nearly as perfect as these. Shapely, huge, cute nipples a light shade of pink, evenly proportioned, and looked natural to her body shape. It’s definitely not all bad, Zoey thought.
 
The cock she didn’t pay much mind to. She’d become well acquainted to it, more than anything else. Though the new perspective—looking at it through the mirror—did give her pause. She turned her hips side to side to admire it. Was it narcissism she hardened at the sight? Probably. It didn’t really seem like ‘her body’, and it felt like ogling a stranger, so Zoey didn’t think she could be entirely blamed. Because it was a damn nice cock, regardless of who it belonged to. 
 
All in all, one of the best figures she’d ever seen. She saw no flaws anywhere. Stomach, hips, abs, legs, tits, face, hair—all of it, perfect. A supermodel right before the shoot. 
 
She wished she could find a flaw. The sight creeped her out. She’d admire it on someone else, but not her.
 
Zoey sighed, then turned away from the mirror. Most people would be happy about this, wouldn’t they?
 
The body changes, at least, and the face. Not the ‘memories stolen, transported to a different world’ part.
 
She wandered over to the metal tub and played with the handles and knobs until she figured out how to get water pouring from the shower head. She tugged the curtain around so water wouldn’t get everywhere, waited for it to heat, then stepped in.
 
Like she’d predicted, the spray of steaming water on her skin was orgasmic. She scrubbed herself down with the provided bar of soap. She hesitated before using it for her hair, but she was in a beggars-couldn’t-be-choosers situation here, so quickly lathered her hands up and scrubbed that down too. Don’t think hair-care matters much, anymore. Seeing how it had been glossy and perfect after a full day of filth, she suspected Ephy’s blessing would keep Zoey looking beautiful regardless of what was happening. No conditioner and some less-than-ideal soap usage wouldn’t be the breaking point. 
 
She flicked off the water knob and stepped from the tub. A glance in the mirror showed her skin red and flushed from the heat. She’d always preferred steaming showers. One of her girlfriends had complained about it. A girlfriend whose name or face she couldn’t remember, scrubbed from her memories like the filth had just been from her skin. Her stomach twisted, and she shied away from thinking about it.
 
“All yours,” Zoey called out, stepping from the bathroom, having wiped herself dry with the towel. She wore her underwear and her shirt, but not her pants. She’d dropped those into her inventory.
 
Rosalie’s eyes shied from Zoey’s bare legs, which she grinned at. Hadn’t Rosalie spent an entire day staring at Zoey’s naked body? Enjoying her naked body? And now some bare legs had her blushing and looking away. The reaction was, in a word, adorable.
 
Rosalie had been writing in a journal when Zoey walked in, but she closed it, and it vanished a second later.
 
“You keep a diary?” Zoey asked.
 
Rosalie snorted and didn’t clarify. Not a diary, she could assume. Knowing Rosalie, some kind of mission log, perhaps a listing of what items they’d gathered, or some other practical venture. Rosalie stood.
 
“Sure you don’t want company?” Zoey asked as she passed.
 
“Quite positive.”
 
“Okay. I’ll get the bed warm for us.”
 
Rosalie shot an irritated look over her shoulder. “I’ll be sleeping when I’m done. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m tired.”
 
Zoey collapsed back into the soft sheets and stared up at the ceiling. The water turned on and pounded in the background, through the wall. She debated on whether she’d try anything with Rosalie when she came back. She sounded serious about not wanting to, but if she had been uncomfortable with intimacy, she’d have declined Zoey’s suggestion to share a room. Her earlier words were probably to save face. Rosalie could never be outwardly suggesting having fun together. Zoey had learned that much about her. So it’d be on Zoey to initiate.
 
But as the minutes ticked by, Rosalie taking her time in the shower, Zoey’s eyes started to sag.
 
Asleep before the door clicked open, she didn’t get to see Rosalie’s disappointed frown as she stared down at Zoey’s sleeping form. Or hear the soft sigh that escaped her lips.
 
“Idiot,” Rosalie whispered. “I even shaved.”
 
 
 
2.03 Level Up
 
Rosalie d’Celestin had heard that the Fractures—and to a greater extent, their shards—were above all else, capricious. Fickle. No two behaved the same, and even the same shard was prone to aberrancy within its domain. But the one she had shared with her tall, dark-haired companion had been many times odder than she had prepared for, even accounting for this.
 
It concerned her, truthfully, whether partnering with Zoey would result in similar shards. Would all latch to such … indecorous … behavior as a result of Zoey’s runes? Or had the previous shard been an outlier? If the former, Rosalie might have to reconsider her decision to adventure with Zoey. 
 
Or did she? Had it really been that bad? For all the discomfort it had provided, it had also offered some … ‘not’ … discomfort …
 
She couldn’t explicitly say she had fun. A d’Celestin would never.
 
And who was this girl, anyway? Rosalie stared into the sleeping face of the strangest woman she’d ever met, her heart finally calming from its pounding. 
 
Rosalie had never woken in the arms of another person. She had never thought it would turn her insides to a gooey mess, or have her stomach bouncing with butterflies to the point she felt nauseous. But that had been what happened, five minutes ago, when Rosalie’s eyes had fluttered open, and she had felt herself entangled by the soft heat of a woman she’d shared more intimacy with than anyone in her life.
 
It wasn’t any person who would have invoked the feelings. Not ‘waking in another’s’ arms by itself. It was because it was the odd, caring, gorgeous woman she’d met the day prior who was breathing softly next to her. Rosalie’s body pressed tightly into Zoey’s, and while, having come down from the bliss in some small manner, she could now be frank, now admit that things were a bit warmer than she’d have preferred, with sweat starting to gather where their bodies met, Rosalie still wouldn’t have broken contact for anything. She’d have laid this way an hour. Two. However long she could.
 
Not that she would ever, in one hundred years, under extensive torture, admit such. 
 
Besides, it was a biological reaction. A weak, human one. Rosalie didn’t care for Zoey, not really. She was a potentially useful party member, and that was why Rosalie had offered to partner with her, regardless that it would take ages to catch her up to speed, and that she showed no natural talent for combat. She had rare, powerful runes—one that even accelerated Rosalie’s own advancement!—and that was the reason Rosalie wanted to be around her.
 
That was the reason she studied Zoey’s sleeping face and felt like she might float away. Her runes.
 
Did that make sense?
 
Even an intense effort in self-deception couldn’t quite get her to a ‘yes’, so she chose not to think about it.
 
Rosalie knew herself quite well in some regards, and exceptionally poorly in others. That was what a life of focus afforded: imbalance. To exceed, sacrifices needed to be made. Romance had been one of many for Rosalie, growing up.
 
And it would remain that way. The barest, tiniest hints of  a crush (was that what it was? With a thrill, Rosalie realized she had found a word for it) meant nothing. Her goals hadn’t shifted one inch. Her circumstances, either. She was still the youngest daughter to Enzo d’Celestin, Guildmaster of the Deepshunters, one of the five single most powerful men in existence. To say she had expectations piled on her would be a comical understatement. ‘A mountain’ might not do it justice. 
 
But pressure hardened. Made stronger. The crushing pressure her father exerted was not some form of cruelty. Enzo was not cruel, for all his faults; his position merely demanded it. His violent efforts during Rosalie’s upbringing had been to chisel from granite a successor worthy of his title. His two previous attempts—Elodie and Charlotte—had not emerged from the stone to his liking.
 
Rosalie hadn’t either, she suspected. But a few smidges closer. And she’d drawn his scathing attention from her sisters, so she was pleased with that, at least. They had become less miserable when Rosalie had been chosen as his successor.
 
As for Rosalie?
 
Well. When a mountain rested on her shoulders, what were a few more boulders?
 
The past two weeks had been some of the best of her life. She’d done nothing but commit herself to carving through shards, advancing her runes, gathering equipment and resources, then repeating. This task, she’d been trained for her entire life—and was many times easier than her training. It had been a vacation. Away from her father. 
 
Vacations were something d’Celestins were rarely afforded.
 
And Zoey. Zoey had been the gilded lining to an already solid block of gold. The ‘good’ piled on good. Almost more than Rosalie’s (tiny, insignificant, miniscule, irrelevant, pointless, distracting, shouldn’t-exist) crush, it was her casual companionship that Rosalie (didn’t, absolutely not, why would she?) adored.
 
Rosalie hadn’t had friends growing up. She’d only had her sisters. And those were … complicated relationships. Charlotte especially. For all she’d been plainly happier Father’s attention had shifted to Rosalie, she was still furious she’d been discarded as heiress.
 
She hates me for it. Charlotte had doted over her, before Father had chosen Rosalie. No longer. But she’s happier now. What was being hated, in face of that?
 
Something in Zoey’s breathing pattern changed. Her nose twitched. She’s waking up.
 
A few moments later, Zoey’s eyes opened. 
 
The smile that melted across Zoey’s face pained Rosalie in a way she had never experienced.
 
“Good morning, beautiful,” Zoey murmured.
 
Rosalie’s heart did something it hadn’t ever before. Something that mildly concerned her. She might have to talk to a physician about it. “You’re a clingy sleeper,” Rosalie said. “Perhaps I was justified in requesting two rooms.”
 
“Mmm,” Zoey said, stretching and rolling her neck—and squeezing Rosalie in, as a way to ease her muscles into wakefulness. Rosalie wasn’t affected by the sudden pressure between their bodies. “Happy you didn’t,” Zoey mumbled, snuggling into her.
 
Rosalie scoffed. “We’re on a schedule, if you don’t realize. It’s well past daybreak. We should get up.”
 
“Can’t I bask in the bliss of having a cute girl in my bed, for a second? You’re such a taskmaster.”
 
She scoffed again. Perhaps louder than was appropriate.
 
“Hey,” Zoey said, suddenly. “What’s a tingling in the back of your neck mean?”
 
Rosalie blinked.
 
“It feels like, uh, I don’t know. Something’s changed. It’s weird.”
 
Rosalie’s brow furrowed as she extricated herself from Zoey’s grasp. Now seated, and the covers thrown partially off, she frowned down at Zoey. “You did not advance a rune after a single shard.”
 
Zoey blinked rapidly up at her. “Is that what happened?”
 
Without thinking, Rosalie placed a pointer finger on Zoey’s forehead and requested to read her anima.
 
A second later,
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
Rune of Bonding (Mythic)
 
[1]: Bond. Release seed onto or inside target and activate to Bond. 
 
[1]: Alacrity. Bonded targets evolve runes with greater speed.
 
[1]: Bolster. Provides a powerful, temporary boost in strength to Bonded target.
 
 
 
Rune of Arcana (High)
 
[1]: First Circle. Cast spells up to one Circle in complexity.
 
[1]: Element: Ice.
 
 
 
Rune of Sensuality (Superior)
 
[1]: Lust. Mana replaced with resource system Lust. Symbols are activated by expending Lust.
 
[1]: Harvest. Perform erotic acts onto self or others to harvest Lust. Bonded targets provide greater yield.
 
[2]: Pressure Point. Identify sensitive areas.
 
[2]: Accommodate. Tight spaces are more obliging.
 
 
 
Rune of the Alchemist (Common)
 
[1]: Identify. Ascertain name and use of basic alchemy reagents when using Inspect.
 
 
 
Generalist Skills
 
[1]: Inspect. Discern basic information about equipment linked to the System.
 
[1]: Inventory. Store items in personal inventory-space.
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
She had. Rosalie opened her eyes and stared incredulously at Zoey. Her ‘Rune of Sensuality’ had moved from first to second advancement after only a single shard. And sure, she’d made good use of it—runes progressed on related activities, and Zoey had had plenty of … sensual engagements … in her time in the shard—but still. One shard? Absurd. It had taken Rosalie four before her first had progressed.
 
Her party-member’s situation grew stranger and stranger.
 
“What’s it say?” Zoey asked. “And you gotta show me how to do that myself, when you get the chance. Not that I mind sharing. With you, at least.”
 
Rosalie paused, then flushed crimson. She’d just requested—and been given—access to a person’s tabula anima with less ceremony than most spouses shared. And she doesn’t even realize what it means. But Rosalie did. And she’d requested it nonetheless, without even voicing it into words.
 
Tiny, small, insignificant crush, she reminded herself. “You’ve gained two skills,” Rosalie said, hoping the red she felt burning her face didn’t show.
 
Zoey grinned. “They must be good, based on that.” She poked at Rosalie’s cheeks, which she swatted away, then huffed at.
 
Rosalie wasn’t blushing because of Zoey’s new skills—though they were, admittedly, embarrassing in their own right. She had no intentions of letting Zoey know the real reason.
 
“The first,” Rosalie said pointedly, “is Pressure Point. It lets you identify sensitive areas of a target.”
 
Zoey paused. “Okay, first, that’s wicked. But is it for sex only, or like, monsters too?”
 
Zoey frankness, like usual, was hard to digest. She tried not to let it color her cheeks further. “I presume both. It seems ambiguously labeled on purpose.” The Scribe could be vague in Her wording of offered skills. Most believed it to be intentional. Because obviously. Why would a deity’s actions be unintentional?
 
 “Awesome. Maybe next shard, I can help more. It kind of sucked being useless.”
 
A foreign, instinctive urge bubbled up—to reassure Zoey. But such a nature wasn’t who she was, at her core, and she pushed it down. Zoey had been dead weight when it came to most fights. She’d saved Rosalie twice, sure, but those had been odd circumstances. In a normal shard, she’d be worse than most party members by an order of magnitude. “It does sound useful,” Rosalie said.
 
“The second?”
 
Rosalie cleared her throat.
 
“That’s the embarrassing one,” Zoey said, grinning.
 
“Accommodate,” she recited. “Make tight spaces more obliging.”
 
Zoey’s grin widened. “Oh, thank god.”
 
Rosalie, like multiple times before, noted the ‘thank god’. It revealed more than Zoey likely realized. Why would a person be so openly blasphemous? The ease the phrase slipped from her, she didn’t know she was doing it. Did she see only one god as as the ‘true’ god? Who? And why? The gods’ presences in the mortal plane was hardly unproven; while rare, they presented themselves during moments of great duress. A documented fact.
 
A thought came to her, and Rosalie prevented a snort. Knowing Zoey, likely Ephythithys. Such a perverted woman would worship only the goddess of life, fertility, and sexuality, relegating all other deities to secondary importance. Though, why not ‘oh my goddess’, in that case? She supposed it wouldn’t be wholly odd to refer to any individual member of the pantheon as god, regardless of presented gender, but still. Strange.
 
Like before, Rosalie didn’t react to the accidental reveal. Truth told, she wanted Zoey to keep slipping up and offering hints into her past. Her ‘memory problems’ weren’t as comprehensive as she presented. Though definitely they existed … her circumstances were odd in some manner Rosalie couldn’t decipher, but most of what she said seemed honest. Rosalie didn’t want to push the point.
 
Did she have a right, when she so plainly hid who she was?
 
“It does seem useful, considering your …”
 
“Prodigious size?”
 
“Unseemly size.”
 
“Unseemly?” Zoey pouted. “That’s not very nice.”
 
“It’s bigger than my forearm.”
 
“And that’s a bad thing?”
 
No. Absolutely not. “Obviously.”
 
Zoey paused. “Yeah. I guess it is. Too big’s painful, which isn’t fun.” She grinned. “But that’s fixed now, isn’t it?”
 
“Depends.”
 
“On?”
 
“How effective it is.”
 
“Yeah, I guess so.” An even more wicked smile. “Wanna help me find out?”
 
Rosalie’s heart started slamming in her chest. She forced her nose to wrinkle in disgust. “No, not particularly.”
 
“But you’re a helpful party-member, so you will?” Zoey suggested playfully—and tauntingly, as if she saw through Rosalie.
 
Rosalie made a show of considering it, then reluctantly said, “I suppose it’s my duty.” She finished throwing off the sheets—which had shuffled down their waists from earlier movement—revealing Zoey’s previously-hidden lower half. Zoey had started stiffening in anticipation of their conversation. Her enormous cock poked out from the leg-hole in her underwear, growing to her knee as it engorged with blood.
 
How can she even think straight when that thing gets hard? It had to take up half her body’s blood.
 
She doesn’t, Rosalie reminded herself. She doesn’t think straight. Zoey’s kind and concerned nature receded when she was aroused. She’d seen it more than a few times. Not that I’m complaining.
 
Rosalie paused.
 
No, she was definitely complaining. Why would she be happy that whenever her dick got hard, Zoey treated Rosalie like an object to extract pleasure from?
 
A d’Celestin would never take enjoyment in such degrading treatment.
 
Rosalie’s fingers hooked around Zoey’s underwear as she tugged it down, springing forth a girlcock at least twelve inches long. It throbbed in veiny glory, leaking a liquid at its tip. Pre-come, Rosalie’s limited knowledge on sex provided. “You really are such a troublesome teammate,” Rosalie said, voice composed, despite her amazement—amazement that presented itself whenever she saw Zoey’s member. How was it so big?
 
Why was it on a girl? 
 
“Good thing I have a considerate mentor.”
 
“Good thing, indeed,” Rosalie huffed.
 
The scorching heat on her face wasn’t showing, right?
 
Rosalie’s hands went to Zoey’s impressive cock and started stroking in a way she’d grown bizarrely familiar with. She savored the radiating heat, and the way it twitched in Rosalie’s controlled movements. That wince. That breathless exhalation. I’m the reason for that.
 
Zoey pulled out a bottle of lube, then squeezed it on the top of her cock head. Rosalie fulfilled her duty and worked it in, slender fingers massaging in the slippery liquid.
 
“Hey,” Zoey said suddenly, between side-to-side wiggling of her hips, and whining inhalations of pleasure. “If I wanted to put in that tongue ring, how’s it work? Could I just shove it through and drink a health potion?”
 
Rosalie blinked at the question. “I would suggest a numbing agent first, but yes, that would be the general process. I could do it for you, if you want?”
 
A smile split Zoey’s face. “I mean, you’d be the one reaping the benefits. So if you want to?”
 
Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she imagined Zoey’s head shoved between her thighs, her diligent tongue working away to explore her insides—and aided by a magical item. What would it feel like? Even thinking about it had her breathing ragged.
 
Her response was calm, composed. “As if I’d let you put your gross mouth down there.”
 
“Even if I asked nicely? I’ve been wondering what you taste like.”
 
“Have you?”
 
“Since we met. You drive me crazy, you know that, right? You’re gorgeous. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
 
Coming from the actual most gorgeous person Rosalie had ever set eyes on, the compliment forced a flush onto her cheeks which even her denial didn’t let her pretend wasn’t obvious. She pointedly didn’t meet Zoey’s eyes, instead stroking her hands up and down Zoey’s length. “Shut up,” she ineloquently said.
 
Zoey laughed.
 
“We’re testing your skill,” Rosalie said. “Nothing more.”
 
“Right. And how do you want to do that, again?”
 
Inside. Gods, please. Inside me. I want it so bad. “My mouth, obviously,” she said, contradicting the throbbing between her thighs. “We don’t have a condom.”
 
“You don’t? I thought you were supposed to be prepared?”
 
“And you think that includes condoms?” The outrage in her voice wasn’t genuine, seeing how Rosalie desperately wished she did have them on hand. She had even been in such an addled state last night she’d shaved her pubic region in preparation for taking Zoey, consequences be damned. It was a good thing she’d fallen asleep. Rosalie had come to her senses by morning. Her throat was all Zoey would be getting.
 
“Sure. Just in case, right?”
 
Rosalie huffed.
 
“Still. Your mouth. No complaints. Last time was … pretty amazing.”
 
“Last time, I had an aphrodisiac aiding me.” There wasn’t a chance Rosalie would have gotten so deep, without it. This time, she’d have Zoey’s newest skill helping her … but with such girth and length, it’d still be an effort. “It’ll be … a challenge.”
 
Zoey sobered at the reminder of Rosalie’s dubious consent to that encounter. Not that Zoey had had opportunity to consent either. Zoey had been more upset at the interaction than Rosalie had. Which was sweet. Rosalie would have reassured her—more than she had—about how Rosalie’s chemical influence hadn’t actually bothered her, but how could she, without revealing how badly she wanted—
 
Well.
 
She didn’t want it, that badly. Zoey’s cock was amazing, but it wasn’t like any time her eyes caught it, her brain blanked out. It wasn’t like anytime she saw Zoey’s impressive mast, she couldn’t think about anything besides what it would feel like stuffed inside her, what its throbbing heat would feel like squirming around in her insides. Or what’d it feel like crammed down her throat, cutting off her oxygen supply as Rosalie’s eyes rolled back in euphoria, vision darkening at the edges as Zoey used her throat as a means of extracting an orgasm.
 
Rosalie’s hands stroked up and down Zoey’s cock in lewd motions. Rosalie had always been a person who picked up new skills fast. And this one—the way Zoey’s hips wiggled and her cock pulsed in pleasure—was something she paid more attention to than most. 
 
Because she was a diligent teammate. Wayfaring required teamwork. She was fulfilling her duty as Zoey’s party-member. She was disgusted by her bizarre class, of course. The perverted collection of runes she’d been granted by the gods. But she’d persist regardless of her distaste. It was her duty as Zoey’s teammate.
 
And why had she agreed to be her teammate?
 
Because … because …
 
Zoey was useful, obviously. She had potential.
 
She watched Zoey’s body shiver in pleasure.
 
Zoey said, “I’m uh, ready. Don’t wanna finish before we test things out, and you’re, um, pretty good at this.”
 
Right. Rosalie had initiated because they wanted to test Zoey’s skill. Her determined two-handed stroking had only been to work the lubricant in. She’d gotten lost in—in absent-mindedness, not lust. Lust? Absurd. Rosalie couldn’t be less aroused if she tried.
 
She stopped stroking, then repositioned herself, laying down, so her legs were halfway hanging off the bed, and Zoey’s cock was positioned to the left of her face, its length pressing into her cheek. Zoey’s expression was resolving into that hazy, lost-in-pleasure one that told Rosalie she would finally stop being nice.
 
Thank the gods. Rosalie greatly appreciated Zoey’s consideration, but during sex, she—
 
She nothing. Zoey’s mean, forceful, dominating behavior was irritating and nothing more. But she tolerated it. Like a good teammate would.
 
“What are you waiting for?” Zoey breathed.
 
Rosalie gripped the base of Zoey’s cock and raised her mouth up to its tip. Why is it so gods-damned big?
 
“Hurry up.”
 
Rosalie lips wrapped around Zoey’s cock, then carried forward.
 
 
 
2.04 ❤ A Morning Together
 
Zoey’s cock spread Rosalie’s mouth open, and she tasted Zoey’s natural musk, a hint of vanilla on her stroking tongue, the inn’s soap from their showers last night. Her jaw strained to accommodate her size. Rosalie wiggled her head down to get Zoey further in. It took only a few inches before she was hitting the back of her throat. Considering Zoey’s length, it was almost comical how little Rosalie forced down before Zoey was bumping against her tight upper-opening, tickling her gag-reflex, which she stalwartly fought against.
 
Zoey’s hands curled into Rosalie’s hair, digging her long fingers in, and Rosalie savored the feeling. Almost more than the lustful satisfaction, it was these easy shows of intimacy—the sighs, and the burying of Zoey’s hands into her hair—that had Rosalie’s heart fluttering.
 
I have a girl’s cock in my mouth. Though it had happened once before, the realization thrilled through her, igniting Rosalie’s nerves. Zoey’s cock. It’s her pulsing cock that’s stuffed into my mouth.
 
The haze of lust descended on Rosalie, now, not just Zoey.
 
Still gripping the base of Zoey’s shaft, Rosalie opened her throat and let Zoey’s cock slide in. Having such a large object enter a hole distinctly not designed for it was, of course, uncomfortable. But Rosalie savored the stretch. Or more accurately, savored the groan that escaped Zoey’s mouth as her cock slid into Rosalie’s tight throat. 
 
“Good girl,” Zoey muttered, hands providing a forceful pressure to bring her head further down. “Good girl.”
 
Between Rosalie’s thighs, her core pulsed with need. If only we had a condom. But they didn’t, and even lost in a melting haze of lust, Rosalie’s better sense prevented herself from risking pregnancy. She didn’t know if a girl could get another girl pregnant, but why would she chance it?
 
Rosalie’s throat spread open, inch by inch, and Zoey’s width slid down her lubricated pleasure-hole. That’s what it is. Zoey’s pleasure-hole. Less than a day earlier, Zoey had extracted whining confessions from Rosalie—that her body was built for pleasure, that the wet, warm holes Rosalie owned existed entirely from the pleasure of Zoey. And it’s true. What greater purpose could they serve than this? Than making Zoey whine in ecstasy? There was no greater noise in existence than her breathless exhalations.
 
And no greater sensation than having her head shoved down, throat spasming as she choked on the sudden intrusion of girlmeat.
 
“Sorry,” Zoey gasped. “But deeper. Go deeper.” Her hands, wrapped in Rosalie’s hair, forced her down, not considerate in the slightest of the difficulty of having such girthy girlcock invade a hole not meant for anything but air and food.
 
As she shouldn’t be. Rosalie’s throat was built for Zoey’s pleasure. It was hers to be used as she chose. Regardless of difficulty, unnaturalness.
 
Her throat convulsed around a pulsing shaft, and she coughed, diaphragm spasming, trying to reject the unnatural object stuffed down it, spreading throat flesh apart in an almost painful way. Her eyes watered with the effort.
 
Zoey didn’t care. Her hips bucked, sending her unwieldy girlcock deeper.
 
Thank the gods. Rosalie wrapped her hands around Zoey’s waist and helped. Could she swallow it all the way, even when she wasn’t aided by the aphrodisiac? Clearly, Zoey’s skill was working. A forearm sized object had no right fitting down Rosalie’s throat, but there it was anyway, stuffing her tight hole, inch by inch.
 
And she would get it all the way down. She would. She didn’t care if she passed out while trying. She didn’t care if she choked on Zoey’s cock. She would love it. Rosalie was a filthy, cock-hungry whore, and this was what she made for. She wiggled her head forward, trying to get it further. Another inch crammed down her throat. How is there still more? But she was almost at the base. She almost had her tight hole enveloping Zoey’s needy cock in entirety. 
 
She looked forward to when her throat had opened up, and she had gotten it accustomed to Zoey’s size. Then, Zoey could thrust and pound, use her throat like the upper-pussy it was. Imagine that. Zoey hips jerking in and out, using Rosalie like the toy she was. To feel such massive length sliding up and down, in and out, as Rosalie choked on it. As Zoey whined in pleasure.
 
One of Rosalie’s hands had gone between her legs, rubbing desperately to relieve some of the tension, and she hadn’t even noticed. This is only about testing Zoey’s skill. I shouldn’t be … relieving myself. But her hand rubbed away, unheeding of Rosalie’s shame.
 
Rosalie’s shame. Did that exist, really? She’d rather it didn’t. Who cared who she was? That she was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world? What Rosalie really wanted was to be a cocktoy. Zoey’s cocktoy. That was her destination in life.
 
Her nose buried into Zoey’s soft, dark pubic hair, and if Rosalie could have sighed in satisfaction, she would have. But her throat was rather full.
 
And, like Rosalie had hoped, with Rosalie’s throat having widened and properly adjusted to Zoey’s girth, Zoey started thrusting.
 
It was indescribable. The feeling of having girlcock stuffing her throat, sliding up and down, her pleasure-hole widening and tightening with every insertion and extraction. Rosalie’s fingers rubbed desperately between her legs. I’m going to come before her, and she’s not even doing anything to me. Was there anything more shameful? Not only was Rosalie letting herself be used—as was her body’s purpose—but she’d be orgasming when her partner wasn’t wasn’t even pleasuring her.
 
A pulsing, hot need radiated from her lower body, and her body started to shake.
 
Zoey laughed, suffusing further shame into Rosalie. “Already?” Rosalie’s vision was blackening at the edges. “Even I’m not there, yet.” She continued thrusting into Rosalie even as she teased her.
 
She couldn’t reply, her throat obviously wrapped around Zoey’s enormous cock.
 
Zoey pulled her head up by her hair, violently, not at all like Zoey’s usual self. The pain sharpened her, only amplifying Rosalie’s orgasm. Zoey’s cockhead popped from her throat, and Rosalie gasped, a biological instinct, even as her body convulsed.
 
Zoey fingers dipped to between her thighs, swatting away Rosalie’s fingers and taking over her efforts herself.
 
Rosalie fell back and allowed herself to be forced to a twitching orgasm.
 
When it was over, Zoey crawled forward and placed her cock between Rosalie’s breasts. Rosalie knew her role, even hazy from coming down from her crescendo. She pressed her tits tights and let Zoey slide between them. Zoey grunted as she picked up speed. She was getting close. She and Zoey had pleasured each other a few times before, so Rosalie had a basic read on her.
 
“Please. Give it to me. I want to taste it.” Rosalie had never in her life imagined she’d say such words. Even as they passed her lips—her throat still aching from having accommodated such an enormous invader—she couldn’t believe it was her saying them. She floated somewhere outside her body, listening to the perverted woman spewing obscenities. “Please, Zoey. Come for your little whore. Cover her tits. She wants to feel your warm seed. Please? For her?”
 
“I want you to swallow it.”
 
Zoey’s cock bumped against her chin as she thrusted. Rosalie said, “Every drop. I promise. Are you close?”
 
“Almost. Bit more.”
 
She pressed her tits tighter and let herself be used. Eventually Zoey’s face started to twist. She leaned forward, pushing Zoey off her—she was too lost in pleasure to remember her previous request—then slid Zoey’s length down her throat again, to be used as a depositing vat for Zoey’s orgasm.
 
Her cock spasmed, and hot, sticky seed erupted from her cock, directly down Rosalie’s throat. Rosalie had only managed to get halfway, or three-quarters, down—even with her throat adjusted to Zoey’s length—so the pulsing ejaculate of Zoey’s girlcum soaked her throat in a different way from the first time, when Rosalie had her nose pressed into Zoey’s crotch. 
 
She coughed, unable to help herself. Zoey whined at the additional feeling, and despite Rosalie’s discomfort at choking, she was pleased she could be of service.
 
Her stomach stuffed full of Zoey’s seed bit by bit. Like usual, it took a while before Zoey’s stomach stopped twitching with pleasure, and the hot ejections ceased, Zoey’s cock having finished emptying itself. So much. How does she always produce so much? It was one of Rosalie’s favorite parts. Zoey released an obscene amount of fluid, every time.
 
Zoey pulled out, and Rosalie felt twelve or more inches of cock slip from her throat. So amazing. She sputtered as she hacked cum into her hands. Her stomach couldn’t fit it all. With so much poured in, and the intensity of her coughing fit, entire body heaving to clear liquid, some of it came out of her nose. She felt sloshy and full, coughing up big globs into her hand, throat convulsing as she expelled the foreign liquid.
 
“Shit,” Zoey said, collapsing back in fluttery-eye exhaustion, watching the mess that was Rosalie as she tried to normalize her airways, cum dripping from her nose and mouth. “I think I might be in love.”
 
The two of them froze.
 
They both ignored what she had said. It had been a joke. Something said in the heat of the moment.
 
Rosalie finished clearing her throat and said, “It looks like your skill works.”
 
Zoey still seemed spent from the fun, but not so much she couldn’t speak. I’ll have to do better next time. “Yeah, guess it does. You’re really amazing at that, Rosie.”
 
Less than five people had ever been allowed the diminutive nickname, but somehow Zoey had wandered onto that list with improprietous, insolent ease.
 
Rosalie’s center ached with unfulfilled desire, but now that Zoey had finished, how was she supposed to request further attention? Without coming off as …
 
Well, what she was. The lust-haze had receded in some small amount, so she couldn’t be direct about things.
 
Rosalie wiped her mouth, then frowned disdainfully down at the sticky strands bridging between her fingers. “You would think with how often I use my mouth, you would, too.”
 
Zoey’s panting, exhausted expression cleared, shockingly fast, into something predatory. “You want me to? Use my mouth?”
 
Rosalie scoffed.
 
“I wanted to wait until the tongue ring,” Zoey said. She leaned forward, off the pillows, and grabbed Rosalie by the waist, spinning and tossing her down so her own head was on the pillows. “But since you asked …”
 
“I most certainly did not.” Her lower half squirmed in excitement.
 
“You really are a needy slut.” Zoey’s head was between her legs, her bright green eyes staring up at Rosalie, and Rosalie couldn’t think straight—less even than before. “You need to ask. Tell me you want my tongue.”
 
“The only thing I’ve wanted from your mouth,” Rosalie panted, “was for it to stop making so much unnecessary noise.”
 
Zoey sneered up at her. She ran a wet lick up the crease where her leg met her pelvis, then again, on the other side. Rosalie’s thoughts went white.
 
“Say it.” Her tongue worked above Rosalie’s pussy, on the stubbly hair from last night’s shaving. She has to have noticed. “I want it. Do you?”
 
Her response stuttered out of her. How could Zoey turn her into such a melting mess, with such ease? Rosalie was a d’Celestin, wasn’t she?  “If—If you want to.”
 
“Not good enough. Try again.” She pressed her lips to Rosalie’s core, and Rosalie wiggled her lower half against Zoey’s mouth, finding what pleasure she could. Just say it. You already know what you are. Her earlier statements had been from being lost in heat, and it had drawn back from her previous orgasm. But the next was building, and her mentality, her reservations, decayed, just as it had prior.
 
“I—I—”
 
“You’re what? My what?”
 
“I’m your needy slut. Please, Zoey, I want to feel your tongue inside me. Please.”
 
Zoey obliged, tongue sinking into Rosalie’s heat. Rosalie’s hands curled into dark, glossy hair as she whined in pleasure.
 
The feeling—like most of what Zoey could provide—was indescribable. Zoey’s skilled, powerful tongue explored her insides, stirring around in circles and slow, curling strokes to gently coax out Rosalie’s twitching reactions. How is she so good at this? It’s not fair. How was I ever supposed to resist?
 
And her other skill had to be coming to use, here. Pressure Point—identify sensitive areas. Even accounting for skill, the way Zoey’s tongue sought out Rosalie’s tender spots was with much too accuracy to be natural. Almost before she could believe it, Rosalie’s second orgasm was spasming through her body, her clenching lower hole shivering with pleasure. Her thighs closed around Zoey’s head, as did her hands pushing down, getting her exploring tongue just a bit deeper. Which she took advantage of, curling against territory yet explored.
 
“F-Fuck me,” Rosalie cried, hips jerking back and forth, raising Zoey’s head with each lewd thrust, and bouncing the bed, creaking wooden beams. “Faster. Faster! Oh my gods!”
 
Ever the professional, Zoey worked her up, up, up, and then down, gently, only stopping when Rosalie’s pitiful cries turned pained, and she pushed her head away. Zoey’s eyes were hazy as she refused to release eye contact. Rosalie hadn’t thought they could be prettier, but draped in lust, they somehow were.
 
Rosalie laid limp against the pillows, the last remnants of her orgasm shaking her. She wondered how every time Zoey extracted bliss from her, it was a more mind-blowing high than the previous.
 
“How was it?” Zoey asked, shimmying up and kissing her neck, then cheek, then forehead.
 
“It was … adequate …” Rosalie breathed.
 
 
 
2.05 A Trip to the Trees
 
 
 
Zoey’s dreams were odd. Turned out, having her memories wiped by a demanding goddess resulted in dreams that didn’t have much to latch to, and thus, were incoherent. Strange. Twisting and ephemeral. She wouldn’t say they’d been outright upsetting, but they’d been bizarre. More mind-bending than most.
 
Rosalie’s enthusiastic extracting from Zoey’s lower half had made things up. Zoey’s morning had started off pretty great, all things considered.
 
Rosalie had, of course, immediately upon their mutual satisfaction, risen from the bed and professed how they ‘needed to get things moving’. Which was true enough. Zoey was supposed to be saving the world, whatever that meant. Why her party-member was more devoted to that goal than she herself was, Zoey didn’t know. Considering Rosalie’s urgent coaxing of Zoey’s lower half, maybe Ephy had made the wrong choice. Here was a girl dedicated to power and sex in equal measure, for all her reticent and denying nature.
 
Why had Ephy chosen Zoey, anyway?
 
Zoey had a thousand and one impossible-to-answer questions bouncing around in her head, so it was hardly difficult to add that one to the list of ‘ignored’. If there was any skill Zoey was cultivating since her arrival to this world, it was blissful ignorance.
 
She didn’t ask, this time, to join Rosalie in the shower. And Rosalie didn’t protest when she slipped in, then wrapped her hands around her waist, her lower half pressing into Rosalie’s ass. Zoey was learning a few things about her serious-faced partner. Primarily, that she ought to stop asking, and start paying attention to how she reacted, instead. Which was a problematic mindset, Zoey knew. If a direct no ever came out of Rosalie’s mouth, she would stop in an instant. But initiation—well, Zoey needed to be assertive when it came to that. Even if Rosalie alluded to not wanting Zoey’s attention.
 
Shit. That sounds bad. She’d have to walk that tight-rope carefully. But for Rosalie? She would. Happily.
 
Zoey enjoyed the hot spray of water, hunched over and resting her head on Rosalie’s shoulder as Rosalie lathered soap across herself, pretending to ignore Zoey. Or maybe actually ignoring her. Again, hard to tell with this girl.
 
“You’re so useless,” Rosalie huffed. “Not even going to help?”
 
Zoey laughed, water droplets slipping down her face and from her lips, before aiding Rosalie in lathering the soap across her body. She made sure to play with Rosalie’s tits—rubbing pointer-fingers across cute, hard nipples until she was breathing hard—while getting her well and thoroughly clean. 
 
Rosalie returned the effort, though stopped thrusting her hand into Zoey’s cock when it had reached full mast. Tease, Zoey wanted to say, despite the fact she’d done the same thing just a second earlier, rubbing fingers into Rosalie’s tits and between her legs.
 
They stepped from the shower, skin flushed in excitement, but knowing they needed to move on with their day.
 
Can’t spend forever fucking each other, Zoey thought.
 
Which was a tragedy, but she’d have to learn to live with it.
 
Zoey watched Rosalie go about her morning routine. She dried her hair with some magical item that vaguely resembled a hairdryer—only vaguely, by  function, a rock with some sigil carved into it that blew hot air—then how she wrangled her long, platinum hair into a ponytail. The domesticity of it all ached Zoey’s heart.
 
“It looks great on you,” Zoey said, which received a huff as Rosalie continued to go about her routine.
 
“Are you going to get dressed, or just watch me?
 
“The second.”
 
Zoey savored the coloring in Rosalie’s cheeks. Zoey’s heart skipped a beat, and her earlier words—you’d be easy to fall for—hammered into her ears. Not easy. Effortless. Impossible to not. 
 
It had already happened.
 
Shit.
 
Was it unreciprocated? Zoey couldn’t be certain. Rosalie allowed Zoey to nuzzle her head into the crook of her neck, but she rolled her eyes when she did. When Zoey lathered her in compliments, she mostly seemed annoyed. And Zoey wanted to be confident that it was part of Rosalie’s act, but such consistent rejections were hard to shrug off.
 
And sex was sex. It wasn’t romance. Did Rosalie only like her for the pleasure she could provide?
 
Whatever. Zoey would have Rosalie in whatever manner she was willing to return.
 
They left the inn a few hours after sunrise. The innkeeper was less friendly with them than before. Maybe they’d made more noise than Zoey had thought.
 
They’d certainly left more mess than could be called considerate. Multiple pulsing orgasms weren’t the cleanest of things, and it’d been impromptu enough Zoey had forgotten to lay towels out. She was still getting used to this whole, wielding-guy’s-equipment thing. 
 
She considered apologizing in advance, but sheesh, how awkward. The rock-man only disliked the noise they’d made. The mess would be discovered later.
 
Sorry, dude. Part of the job? 
 
They left a tip in the form of an apology. He was slightly less annoyed after that. It must’ve been generous.
 
Their destination was routine: the squat, plain building the innkeeper provided. The guide’s house. The person who would lead them to civilization greater than six tiny buildings.
 
The bartering was quick and harsh. The man seemed to enjoy Rosalie’s no-nonsense, flat tone as she scolded him for his fleecing suggestions. Zoey enjoyed Rosalie’s harsh tone for a different reason. This composed, powerful woman was writhing around my tongue, half an hour earlier.
 
She mostly spectated the interaction. They set off shortly, headed west.
 
Or ‘west’. Who knew if the sun rose in the east, in this pocket-realm? To borrow a phrase, she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
 
###
 
The trip to the nearest city was uneventful. Monotonous. Having company, Rosalie wasn’t a hundredth as willing to reciprocate in Zoey’s flirting, and Zoey wasn’t comfortable in asking odd questions: how the world worked, and et cetera. So it was painfully boring. It lasted around five hours. The man made mind-numbing small talk. It revealed a few interesting facts about life in the Fractures, but mostly Zoey focused on how her feet hurt. The stamina potions helped, even if she was embarrassed she was the only one to pull them out.
 
###
 
Triyhull, or the City Nested In The Trees, was a sprawling metropolis hanging between titanic towers of wood. It took six shifts—the standard verbiage for moving between realms—to reach from whatever irrelevant pocket they had been shunted into. Upon arriving, Zoey’s breath was understandably stolen. Even Rosalie seemed vaguely appreciative, despite being more accustomed to the impressive sights of the Fractures.
 
Zoey was slightly less appreciative of the two-hundred-story climb from the forest-floor and up into the canopy, where Triyhull proper began.
 
Thank god for stamina potions. Was there any downsides to relying on the yellow potions so heavily? Rosalie hadn’t said anything, and Zoey would have assumed she would. But maybe she was being nice by not pointing out Zoey’s weakness. Rosalie was harsh in some ways, but she had a soft spot for Zoey. One of the few reasons Zoey kept hope kindled that her affection was reciprocated.
 
The press of alien life was more apparent in a big city. Rather than a single odd stone-man innkeeper, the sapient life of the Fractures swarmed around her as their guide led her and Rosalie to the nearest guildhall—the ‘Last of the Forest’. 
 
Men and women built from flickering flames drifted by, feet hovering off the ground, bodies red or blue or green, almost painful to look at from their brightness. Half-human, half-animals brushed against her in a hurry, fox-ears and dog-tails and antlers so seamlessly integrated in their appearance, but no less alien for the fact. Zoey tried to not stare. The two races were just some of many. The peoples of the Fractures were varied as the pocket realms that comprised it, she discovered.
 
And nobody paid attention to the stream of strange lifeforms, so Zoey needed to do the same. She would rather Rosalie didn’t become suspicious of her. Zoey hadn’t told many lies in regard to her past, but the few she had, she’d rather keep under lock and key.
 
The guide parted without much fanfare. Coins passed Rosalie’s hands and into his, and then they were alone, standing outside the Last of the Forest’s guildhall.
 
“It’s quite the sight,” Zoey offered.
 
“It’s something,” Rosalie returned idly. “We’ve a long day ahead of us. To the artificer district, then.”
 
###
 
Going about the identification of their less-than-appropriate items was, to put it lightly, awkward. Because how were they supposed to request their nipple rings, cock rings, butt plugs, and so on be analyzed by a highly skilled artificer? These people were, as a whole, men and women who had devoted their lives to the study of magical items. And for all Rosalie had suggested it possible, by Zoey’s fumbling explanations, it didn’t seem sex toys were something often produced by a shard.
 
Because. Uh. Obviously not, for all she’d convinced herself it might be plausible.
 
Zoey took the lead on the situation, though even she—somewhat experienced in sexual matters, and much less shameful than Rosalie—found difficulty in explaining the situation. She wouldn’t say her face blazed as she talked to the hunched-over grandma (why did it have to be an old woman? Zoey might have preferred any other demographic, especially considering her raised eyebrows, and vaguely disapproving expression), but her cheeks were definitely colored as she explained the nature of their items.
 
“An artefact,” Anja One-Eye said, “that inserts into the anus.”
 
“Two people’s, they come in pairs,” Zoey mumbled, not a person to trip over her words, but Jesus, if there was ever a time. “Sounds like there’s some kind of linking effect? You can look at them yourself.” The box of growing-in-size butt plugs were set across the counter, Anja eying them with something between distaste (Rosalie had an ally there) and curiosity (Zoey had an ally, too). 
 
“Just what kind of shard did you wander into, dear?” Anja asked.
 
Rosalie snorted, and Zoey cleared her throat. She’d been much more amused when their bizarre circumstances had been a shared hilarity between her and Rosalie only. The titillating nature of the shard was much less funny in face of a disapproving, hunched-over, leather-skinned grandma. “An odd one,” Zoey said. “Do you think you can have them identified, or not?”
 
“Don’t get snippy, now,” Anja scolded. “It’s an odd collection to take in. I’m not intending to make you uncomfortable.”
 
“Great,” Zoey said. “Can you, or can’t you?” She was only human. Her polite nature extended only so far, and after explaining her suspected use of several sex toys to a blissfully unaware, painfully vanilla seventy-year-old-woman, her patience had frayed. Or maybe her embarrassment. Rosalie’s snorts weren’t helping.
 
“Sigils are sigils,” Anja One-Eye said. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t. Though perhaps seeking out a specialty identifier would be best.”
 
“And you can provide directions to someone like that?”
 
“I could. But the rest of your haul, I would be happy to handle for you.” Anja was, ultimately, a business-woman; her discomfort with handling Zoey and Rosalie’s less-common portion of equipment wasn’t overshadowed by her desire to secure a profitable arrangement.
 
“Perfect,” Zoey said, not caring about the economics behind the whole fiasco, and wanting to be over with this. “We’ll do that.”
 
Finally, Rosalie stepped in. “Twelve copper for every sigil identification, expedited. Two silver for connecting us to a specialist. We’ll discuss sales in the morning.”
 
The offer must have been generous, because Anja accepted immediately. Though, ever the business-woman, she didn’t show her satisfaction, and grumbled instead. “I can make that work. Tomorrow morning? How early?”
 
“When do you open?”
 
“First bell.”
 
“We’ll be there.”
 
Anja nodded. “I would help you with the rest, but …”
 
“It’s odd, we realize. A specialist is fine.”
 
“Fe is an odd woman. But competent. She’ll sort you out without problem.”
 
“That’s all we ask. She’ll take expedited orders?”
 
“As far as I know. You’ll want to get there as soon as possible. She closes early.”
 
Rosalie nodded. “Then let’s finish this, and have you pass us directions.”
 
2.06 ❤ Out Shopping
 
Fe Dullette was an odd woman, as perhaps expected of the suggested connection for identifying sex toys spat out of a lewd pocket dimension.
 
She was also painfully attractive, and dressed in a way to emphasize it. That she had horns curling from her head, and a short, puffy-white tail sprouting from her tailbone? Well, Zoey was quickly accustoming herself to the fact not all people here were human, and Fe’s plush, sheep-girl appearance definitely did something for her.
 
Not that Zoey allowed herself to harden at her curvy, meek appearance. Because, as she’d already stated, an erection would be literally impossible to ignore, considering Zoey’s generous bestowal. Fe’s figure wasn’t so impressive as to counteract the insanely embarrassing predicament she’d be in if she raised mast. Though still impressive. The sheep-girl had hips with their own gravitational well.
 
Zoey’s explanation to Fe was much less awkward than with Anja One-Eye, which she was exceedingly grateful for. She didn’t need to explain what the rounded silver objects were beyond the words ‘butt-plugs’, or why jewelry that attached to erotic zones would be appealing to certain people. She was, while perhaps not promiscuous, at a minimum knowledgeable. She knew her way around Zoey’s (in what had been her opinion, until Anja) mostly vanilla sex-related items. Anja’s opinion on who to go to had been well-formed.
 
 In fact, Fe seemed outright intrigued by their haul, not simply ‘not uncomfortable’.
 
“And where was the entrance to this shard?” Fe asked, shooting apologetic glances between them. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
 
Zoey looked at Rosalie. Obviously Zoey couldn’t answer that question. Her arrival to the shard had been under once-in-a-lifetime circumstances. Rosalie had been the one to enter it naturally.
 
“The Verdant Sanctum,” Rosalie said. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not more specific than that.”
 
Fe bobbed her head. “Of course. Such a valuable find, you’ll want to visit it again, I’m sure. It was only curiosity—everything you say is confidential. I’m a professional.”
 
Revisit? That was something they could do? Zoey wouldn’t mind stopping by to see Mel again.
 
“Once was more than enough,” Rosalie said dryly. 
 
“But with such strange items … I can see these selling exceptionally well. Even I would—” the sheep-girl coughed. “That is, buyers won’t be difficult to find. The market might be niche, but the supply is lower than the demand.”
 
“You’ve seen items like this?”
 
“Here and there,” Fe said. “They’re quite uncommon.”
 
So their assumption had been right. Rare, but not unheard of. 
 
“But you can identify them?” Rosalie asked. “By tomorrow morning? We’ll pay for the rush. We want to be on our way.”
 
“Of course. I’d be happy to, with items as interesting as these. I’ll get right on it.”
 
“Then we won’t hold you.”
 
Rosalie and Zoey left the store, and Zoey glanced back, seeing the sheep-girl flip the glass storefront’s ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’, then the blinds flicker down.
 
Zoey wondered how such items were ‘identified’. What, exactly, would the busty sheep-girl be doing?
 
 
 
 ###
 
 
 
The next stop was the shopping district. They chose their destination at random, one of the hundred buildings crammed shoulder-to-shoulder and teeming with patronage. Treyhull was one of the most populous cities in the Fractures; one of the primary congregating points for Wayfarers, and so there was no lack of either customers or stores. Though as Rosalie had said, many of these people weren’t Wayfarers, but civilians who had ventured from Haven to provide their services at a more lucrative rate, exchanging their day-to-day safety for a higher salary.
 
Perhaps not a significant amount of safety was traded away, though. Not in a place like Treyhull. Guards were posted everywhere, green-and-blue uniforms sharp, and adorned with silver badges. Their eyes were pointed to the sky, scanning with vigilance. Zoey could infer threats didn’t come from the forest floor, often—though they’d built the city in the treetops because it was far from safe there—but rather from above. Some manner of winged beasts? She had yet to see anything.
 
The shop they entered was smaller than most, and only a few people wandered around inside, browsing. Most were humans and the half-animal, half-human creatures she’d seen so many variations of. Shops divided themselves based on their typical patronage, which was reasonable. What would fit on a human would have difficulty fitting on those hulking rock-creatures, and no individual store could supply clothing for all races. These weren’t huge department buildings, like back on Earth
 
She looked through the wares, collecting shirts, pants, and undergarments to try on. A young black-haired woman helped Zoey with finding a bra that fit. Her eyes flicked to Zoey’s lower body more times than could be called subtle during the process, giving Zoey the first confirmation that the unnatural addition down there wasn’t something that could be hidden, even with boxer-briefs and baggy pants. Oh well. She guessed she’d have to get used to the odd looks. By the slight flush on the woman’s cheeks as she went about assisting Zoey, it wasn’t a disgusted look. Rather, an intrigued one.
 
The same woman helped Zoey carry the clothes to a dressing room. She wrote something down on a notebook as Zoey walked in, probably keeping track what she’d brought with her. Zoey’s mind wandered to her earlier thoughts about how theft and inventories worked. How did they prevent it? Close observation? Some manner of alert system? She’d ask Rosalie later; it wasn’t like she planned to steal, anyway. 
 
Inside the stall, Zoey went about trying the various items on. She started with the undergarments—the underwear, specifically. She was trying to find something a good mix between securing and not uncomfortable, which was a hard line to toe. If she wanted to receive less looks, she’d need to wear something that glued her package in nice and firm, but Zoey didn’t like the feel of that. Too loose, though, and just walking around would make her situation apparent to anybody nearby.
 
A knocking at the door interrupted Zoey’s efforts. She glanced at the wood, then said, “Occupied?”
 
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” It was the same woman who had been helping her earlier. Her voice was timid, and—a bit breathless? “It looked like you might need help. Can I, um, come in?”
 
While Zoey wasn’t an expert on this world’s customs, she didn’t think store attendants were supposed to ask to enter their client’s dressing room. A grin crept onto her lips as she guessed what was happening. “I’m barely dressed,” Zoey said. “Is that fine?”
 
The door handle clicked open, and the attendant slipped in. Her cheek were already flushed, and she glanced behind nervously, as if she couldn’t believe what she was doing. Then back forward, to Zoey. 
 
And her state of undress. Zoey was wearing only her underwear; the woman took in her mostly-naked form and breathed in surprise. Her eyes lingered on Zoey’s tits, then stomach, then lower—to the main surprise, the reason Zoey suspected she’d come in.
 
The pair of men’s underwear she had on was … well, one of the tight-fitting ones. Too much so. It secured her equipment in place, but created a defined outline that left nothing to the imagination.
 
The attendant sucked in another breath of air, louder this time, more disbelieving—and more admiring.
 
Zoey started to harden, and the woman’s eyes widened in pace with it. Not remotely able to stay in the underwear itself, it slid down her leg as it filled out, then peeked through the leg exit—and kept going. It grew down to her knee before it had finished. The attendant stared.
 
“It’s hard to find something that fits,” Zoey said cheekily. 
 
“I—I bet. I thought it looked like you had …” she trailed off, then her eyes flicked up, to meet Zoey’s. She smiled, cheeks now a deep red, the flush crawling down her neck, too. “Well. I’m sure I could offer some professional advice. Before I make suggestions, can I get a full idea of what I’m in for?”
 
“You sure you’re ready for that?”
 
“Not remotely. But I’d like to, anyway.”
 
Zoey’s thumbs hooked at the band of her underwear, and slid them down. Her cock, no longer secured in place, bounced up, filling the space between them. 
 
The woman—Zoey caught a glimpse of a nametag, ‘Callie’—stared, taking a few seconds to find a response. “It’s—how is it … ? It’s so big.”
 
“She’s a bit unwieldy,” Zoey agreed. 
 
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but … how, when it doesn’t look like you’re …?”
 
“Magical mishap,” Zoey said. “It’s actually pretty new. Haven’t broken her in yet.”
 
Callie laughed, half from her lingering shock, and half from Zoey’s silly phrasing. “I would love to help you, but I’m not sure I could.”
 
“It’ll fit, if that’s what you mean. Had to get some special lubricant commissioned.” The false explanation slipped from her lips naturally. Couldn’t really explain it was her skill doing it.
 
“It must be really special.”
 
“It is. Can I pull it out?”
 
“I suppose I can make an exception to store policy,” Callie breathed. “But really … it’s so big. Can I touch it?”
 
“Be my guest,” Zoey grinned, pulling out a bottle of lubricant from her inventory. Really, the whole pocket-space thing was so convenient. Never caught unprepared.
 
The lube obviously wasn’t what would make Zoey fit. It was the newest of her runes that would allow her cock to squeeze into tight spaces that wouldn’t normally accommodate her. To her partner’s amplified pleasure, hopefully. Callie would be the first who got to test it out, at least for her lower holes. Rosalie had made it clear it worked for her throat. 
 
Zoey sighed as the attendant’s cool hands wrapped around her cock. I can’t believe this is happening. A total stranger.
 
“It’s so hot …” Callie murmured, pulling back and forth, stretching Zoey’s cock skin and sending a shiver of pleasure up her stomach. “Are you sure it’ll fit?”
 
Zoey poured out a string of lubricant down her cock, which Callie immediately worked on spreading around. “Only one way to find out. I’ll get you ready?”
 
“I’m more than ready,” Callie breathed. “And I need to get back to work. I can’t be gone for long. It’s not that slow of a day.” She turned around and bunched up her long black skirt, bundling it above her waist and revealing lacy red underwear. Zoey hooked her thumbs around them and shimmied them to her thighs, taking the implicit permission. “I saw your bulge, and thought surely not … and then that I had to see what it was like.”
 
“I hope it meets expectations,” Zoey said, gripping her slippery cock and lining it up to Callie’s entrance. She rubbed it up and down, sliding between folds. Callie was right—she was ready, and didn’t need Zoey’s fingers or tongue in preparation.
 
“I really doubt it won’t.”
 
Zoey paused, remembering something. “Shit. I don’t have a condom.” As a girl, that’d never been something she needed to worry about.
 
“I have a potion at home. It’s fine, please. I want to feel it.”
 
Good to know those existed. Magical Plan-B’s. Assuming she could even get girls pregnant. “When I come, I, uh, produce a lot more than usual.”
 
“That sounds amazing,” she breathed.
 
“I mean, for clean-up.”
 
Callie paused. “Well, look at you, Miss Considerate.” She grinded herself against Zoey. “But please. Fuck me. I don’t care.”
 
Whatever. Zoey’d done her civic duty by bringing it up. 
 
She guided herself in, feeling Callie spread, and savoring the hot, wet pressure that wrapped around her cock. Callie breathed, sharply, as she spread wider and wider, taking Zoey’s unnatural girth. For a second Zoey was worried even with her skill, she wouldn’t fit. But she got the first two inches in, past her cock head—and so her full width—and Callie didn’t grab out or cry in pain. She did seem to lock still, knees bent inward, as she grappled with undoubtedly the largest cock she’d ever taken, but she handled it.
 
By the groan that escaped her lips, more than handled it. Quite enjoyed the experience. 
 
Zoey’s hand left her cock, moving to grip Callie’s waist. She got some lube on the woman’s nice blouse, fingers wet from her cock, but she didn’t think Callie would care. She was already breaking more than a few policies by doing this, so a slightly dirtied uniform was the least of her worries.
 
She pulled Callie toward her slowly, filling her up inch-by-inch. Zoey desperately wanted to thrust with abandon, but like usual, having such an unwieldy weapon came with downsides; she needed to take things easy if she wanted her partners to have fun. Which she very much did. The best part of sex was the noises she could draw out of other people—her own pleasure was only a close second.
 
“How—how is there still more?”
 
“Halfway,” Zoey grunted.
 
“Half? I can feel it in my stomach!”
 
Zoey’s cock pulsed at the lewd words. She kept pushing forward, and Callie started to wiggle in some mixture of discomfort and pleasure. She didn’t tell her to stop, so Zoey kept going.
 
Her hips finally met Callie’s ass.
 
“I can’t even describe it,” Callie whined. “I’m so full. Like my entire body’s wrapped around you.”
 
Zoey pulled back a few inches, then pumped forward, slapping flesh against flesh. Callie gasped.
 
“Does it hurt?” Zoey asked. She could feel her cocktip bumping the end of Callie’s insides. It made sense Mel liked cervix stimulation, but—not that Zoey was an expert on deep penetration, seeing how she’d always preferred women—from what she’d talked about with her friends, it was very hit or miss. 
 
“Amazing,” Callie groaned. “Harder. And faster. What are you waiting for?”
 
Zoey’d gotten lucky twice in a row, then. Maybe her skills helped her along. Either way, she did as instructed. Having spread Callie out and gotten her accustomed to her impressive length, Zoey could start the real fun.
 
She gripped Callie’s waist and started pumping. 
 
Loud slaps of skin echoed through the tiny room, and Zoey briefly wondered whether they needed to be quieter. But she’d already tried to be considerate several times, and Callie had brushed her off each time. Either she’d planned for it, or she didn’t care if she were fired. Zoey buried herself into the woman’s squeezing pussy and didn’t particularly care which it was. 
 
Zoey shuffle-stepped over to the bench, then sat and pulled Callie down on top of her. She squealed as Zoey’s cock pressed into her from a new position, filling her up from a different angle. Zoey gripped Callie’s chin and forced her head to turn toward her, then captured Callie’s mouth. She forced her tongue in and explored, Callie reciprocating with eagerness, every thrust of Zoey’s lower half drawing out pitiful moans and whines that ended up breathed into Zoey’s own mouth.
 
She wrapped her hands around Callie’s stomach and picked up speed. One hand dipped to between Callie’s legs to rub at her clit. 
 
For some inexplicable reason, Callie’s fully dressed attire made the situation more erotic. A hand quested up and squeezed at her chest over her clothes. Then, Zoey untucked the blouse, and wiggled her arm in and pulled down her bra. She pistoned away inside Callie’s breeding hole as she pinched a nipple and rubbed tight circles on her clit, most of her clothes pushed aside to provide access to her erotic spots.
 
“F-Fuck, it’s so much, so big, I, I—”
 
Zoey could tell a building orgasm when she heard one. “Are you going to cum? For me? Will you milk me with your tight, squeezing little pussy?”
 
Callie shivered. “If that’s what you want.”
 
Zoey gripped harder around her stomach and jackhammered. “Then do it. Cum. You want to feel it, don’t you? What it feels like to get filled up by a girl with a cock? To feel a girl’s hot, sticky load? That’s why you followed me, wasn’t it?”
 
Callie started to shake. “Y-Yes. I want to k-know. Please. Give it to me.”
 
“Then earn it. Use your clenching fuck hole and milk it out. I won’t give it to you until you do.”
 
Callie’s orgasm washed over her, pussy spasming against Zoey’s cock. Like promised, Zoey delivered. She’d been holding off desperately, and finally having her throbbing girlcock pressed in by spasming walls pulled hot strings of gooey white from her length. Zoey emptied herself into the stranger—the woman she had met a few minutes prior—filling her with the seed she so desperately wanted. Zoey’s thrusting lost friction as her cock was covered with her own cum, coating the pretty girl’s begging insides. It spilled from out of her pussy and onto Zoey’s lap, stretching between their lower halves with every thrust, like they’d been covered in glue.
 
Slaps and moans echoed in the small room, growing slower as they climbed down from the crescendo. 
 
Spent, Zoey’s head thunked into the back wall of the dressing room, and the two of their synchronized orgasm’s concluded. She panted, dizzy, like usual after expending herself, and Callie did the same, collapsed against Zoey’s body. Zoey’s cock stayed happily in her insides, pulsing irrhythmically and pushing another spurt of white every few seconds, which dripped between them.
 
“You weren’t kidding,” Callie said, exhausted, head leaned against Zoey’s. She placed a hand against her stomach. “There’s so much. I can feel it stuffing inside me. The potion might not even work.”
 
Which might have been hot to Zoey a few seconds ago, the idea of impregnating a stranger, but not when she’d already emptied herself. She leaned up in concern, but Callie laughed.
 
“Kidding, kidding. I’m not looking to be a mom.”
 
Well, now she’d put a paranoia inside Zoey, even if the words sounded entirely genuine, that she was kidding. Zoey huffed, then leaned back, forcing the worry away. But she really ought to start using condoms, however amazing it felt to empty herself inside.
 
Callie leaned forward and pulled Zoey’s softening cock out. Her cum spilled onto the floor, dripping down her thighs and onto her socks, her glossy black business shoes. She’d accumulated a significant puddle down on the floor, too.
 
“I should’ve listened to you,” Callie said, pursing her lips. 
 
Zoey’s mess was a terrible inconvenience, even when she hadn’t been in society, where cleanliness standards were higher. But seeing how she felt every searing ejection of that white liquid—and it was likely one of the reasons her orgasms lasted so long—well, Zoey wasn’t that fussed.
 
Though they were in a predicament, now.
 
Zoey leaned up from the wooden bench and took in the ruined dressing room. The girlcum coating the bench, floor, and Callie’s pulled-down underwear, down her thighs, drenching her long dark socks a shade blacker.
 
“Definitely getting fired,” Callie confirmed with a cute nod, putting her hands on her hips. She kicked off her shoes, then started wrangling her skirt off. “Wanna go a few more times to make it worth it?”
 
“You read my mind,” Zoey said.
 
2.07 Sabina
 
“Are you completely incapable of controlling yourself?” Rosalie hissed. “The dressing room! And so loud! Everyone heard you!”
 
 “It was mostly her,” Zoey said defensively. “I was trying to be quiet.”
 
“Quiet! Were you? I could hear the slapping from across the store. Do you have any idea how mortifying that was?”
 
“Why would you be embarrassed?” Zoey’s face was burning crimson. Lost in the moment, she’d been more than willing to break the litany of social norms she had, pounding herself into the cute store attendant. Now, faced with Rosalie’s scathing condemnation, and having been escorted out by an uncomfortable-looking guardsman, the reality of what she’d done had hit her.
 
And she hadn’t even gotten to buy the clothes she’d picked out.
 
“Why would I be embarrassed? Are you serious? I came in with you, you blithering idiot!”
 
Rosalie was actually pretty mad. Zoey supposed she had every right to be. “I—yeah, I’m sorry. She just, came in and,” Zoey gesticulated with her hands. “It all happened so fast.”
 
“I took care of you this morning. Was that not enough? How many times a day do you need to be satisfied?”
 
Zoey coughed. As many times as cute girls throw themselves at me? The upper bound number would only upset Rosalie, so she didn’t share it.
 
But still. She shouldn’t have done it in the dressing room. That had been inappropriate. And she’d embarrassed Rosalie. Zoey could embarrass herself as much as she wanted, but her association with Rosalie had been inconsiderate.
 
“I’m sorry. I really am. If I can make it up to you, just let me know.”
 
Rosalie’s eyes widened in outrage, and Zoey stuttered to clarify.
 
“Not like that! I’m not being gross. I’m sorry I put you in that situation. Really. If I can make it up, tell me how.”
 
The words placated her, but she still wasn’t pleased. She shook her head and stalked away. “Make it up to me by not sticking your dick in the next halfway-willing girl you find. At least when we’re together. We’re on a schedule if you’ve forgotten—or I am, since you clearly aren’t—and you wasted an hour of our time, dealing with that.”
 
“Right,” Zoey said. “I won’t.” Callie had wrung her well and dry, anyway. She had made sure losing her job had been worth it; she’d used Zoey until both their legs were shaking.
 
So Zoey would be good for, hm, about an hour, considering this insatiable thing between her legs. It’s not entirely my fault, okay?
 
###
 
The next clothing store was less eventful. Zoey made the first additions to her burgeoning wardrobe. She went with the looser men’s underwear. It turned out—as demonstrated by Callie—that there were benefits to the odd looks Zoey received when her situation was on subtle display. 
 
What was a bit of embarrassment, when it meant eager girls like Callie could discover her secret, and take interest?
 
###
 
Afterward, she and Rosalie headed to an alchemist recommended by Fe. The artificers of Treyhull were a tight knit group, as was perhaps expected. And since Zoey was considering commissioning some potions from the reagents she’d acquired, she wanted someone who was prepared for their odd nature. Fe had assured her that Sabina was the go-to for the odd and bizarre. The alchemist was a woman who loved, above all else, inventions and exploration; a trait that had allegedly left her in quite a poor fiscal situation, despite her talents at potion-making.
 
Which was a fact that confirmed itself on arrival. Sabina’s store was in ragged condition. The glass panes out front were foggy from not being cleaned. The sign above the doorway could use a paint-over. Overall, not the greatest first impression.
 
And it was closed.
 
“Crap,” Zoey said. “Do we go in anyway?”
 
“Might as well.”
 
The door was unlocked, at least. A bell rang as they entered.
 
Sabina—or so Zoey guessed—was at the far end of the store, in the back-left, hunched over a bubbling glass vat. She wore white robes not dissimilar from lab-dress back home on Earth, and also goggles, white gloves, and her hair was tied back in a bun. She glanced their way for a second, said nothing, then looked back forward.
 
“Are you, uh, open?” Zoey asked.
 
“The sign says I am, does it not?” the cool reply came.
 
“No, actually. It’s flipped to closed.”
 
Sabina’s hands stilled from her stirring. “Oh. Be a dear, then.”
 
Zoey changed the sign to ‘open’. Sabina didn’t sound bothered she’d missed half a day’s worth of customers. 
 
“I was wondering why it was so peaceful,” Sabina said. “I was managing to get some work done.” 
 
“Sorry to interrupt that,” Zoey joked.
 
“Mmm,” Sabina said. “I suppose it can’t be helped. I accept your apology.”
 
Zoey paused. Had that been dry humor, or had she taken Zoey seriously? Fe had said the woman was odd. “I, uh. Fe gave us directions to you.”
 
“What for?” The curt reply didn’t seem harsh by intention. Zoey was getting the feeling this wasn’t a woman whose social graces were her redeeming feature. “Business, I assume,” Sabina continued. “Get to it.”
 
“I like her,” Rosalie murmured.
 
Of course you do. 
 
They approached, and Zoey took in the woman in greater detail.
 
Sabina was a willow-tall, stick-thin woman. She had several inches even on Zoey, which meant Sabina was exceptionally tall even by men’s standards. She would tower in a crowd, sticking out like a reed. 
 
She looked a bit like a gazelle. And no, Zoey wasn’t saying that because of the antlers. Though they did tie the image together.
 
She had a severe facial structure: sharp cheekbones, a permanent frown, and eyes that were cold, gray, and serious. Zoey was taken apart and deconstructed in the woman’s gaze, then reassembled, having been understood for her composite parts. 
 
To put it in a phrase, she was intimidating as hell.
 
And fucking hot. Zoey’d always had a thing for stern women. She looked to be in her mid twenties. Older than Zoey, but not by too much. Just enough for her to register as, ‘hot older woman’. Christ. Please, step on me, Mistress Alchemist. Can I grab anything for you?
 
“We’ve got some odd reagents,” Zoey said. “Fe told us you were the person to go to have them identified, and commissioned with.”
 
That caught Sabina’s attention. Fe’s description continued to be spot on; the woman valued novelty, and research, so ‘odd reagents’ was the same phrase as ‘early Christmas’ to her. Sabina glanced down at the boiling liquid—brown-red, with specks of black floating around—then adjusted some dials, stripped off her gloves, and walked over. “Lay them out.” She gestured at the counter at the front of the store, where it looked like payment typically took place.
 
Zoey did so. She’d only received two of the strange reagents—ones that were plainly unique to the shard, and possibly valuable—and she was intensely interested in each. She checked the descriptions as she set them down.
 
[Coruscant Flameroot, Powdered]: A fine, gritty substance useful in the preparation of potions that inflame or mute the senses.
 
[Blossom Blight]: Red flower petals which serve as the primary catalyst for brewing potions that inhibit or amplify the potency of life-giving seed.
 
“May I?” Sabina asked.
 
“Go for it.”
 
She opened the first of the bags, the flameroot, and used a thin metal tool to extract a sample of the fine powder. She held it up at eye level and inspected the reagent, turning her head side to side. A frown tugged on her lips.
 
“Curious,” she said, lowering the tool back to the pouch and pouring the powder back in, then deftly tying the strings back closed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. How much do you want for it?”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. “It’s not for sale. We were hoping you could make something for us.”
 
“Perhaps,” Sabina said. “I would need to consult the Association. While I’ve never handled,” she glanced sideways at the pouch, “this ‘coruscant flameroot’, that doesn’t mean there’s no information available. But turning a rare ingredient into a functional potion is a complicated process. It varies for each alchemist. No two paths are the same. Even if others have succeeded, my own is no guarantee.”
 
“Or the other way around.”
 
“Indeed,” she said without arrogance.
 
No two paths are the same. Rosalie had said something like that, before, though not quite in the same context. “But you’d be willing to try?”
 
“More than willing,” Sabina said. “Working with strange reagents … truth told, I’d pay you for the opportunity. Let’s meet in the middle. Consider it free of charge.”
 
Zoey could see why Sabina was having financial difficulties, despite having a solid reputation for competency. “No, that’s fine, we’ll pay. Because, uh, I have something else to ask, in exchange for us not shopping around.”
 
“I’m listening.”
 
“I’m looking for someone to show me the ropes. Not an apprenticeship or anything, but kind of—acquaint me? Give me the big picture.”
 
Sabina shot her a curious look; she’d been inspecting the two ingredients on the counter. “You have a Rune of Alchemy?”
 
“I do. I haven’t ever used it.”
 
Sabina raised her eyebrows. “And why not?”
 
“I don’t know. I have … severe memory loss, and can’t remember much of anything. But it’s first advancement, and I don’t know anything about alchemy. I’d like to learn.”
 
“How curious.” She shrugged. “But I’ve no time to be playing as a teacher. My work needs me. Try someone else.”
 
“I’d be willing to make this a recurring relationship,” Zoey said, nodding at the pouches, wanting to push the point; she didn’t know why, but she wanted Sabina as her teacher. Who am I kidding? I know why. Look at those legs. Probably not how she should be making her decision. But there were practical ones too: she was competent, and they had something to bribe her with. “Any odd reagents, we’ll bring to you. And I won’t be in your hair much. Wayfaring’s taking the front seat.”
 
“Hardly a binary,” Sabina said. “There’s plenty of alchemists who adventure.”
 
“There are?”
 
“Perhaps to less success, since their paths adjust to minimal equipment and field conditions, but yes.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. “Well, either way. It seems like it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement. And if it doesn’t work out, you can drop me.”
 
Sabina scrutinized her, a long middle-finger tapping against the counter. “I suppose we could test the waters,” Sabina said. “But I’m no instructor. My guidance will be poor. You would be better served finding someone competent in training others.” She shrugged, as if she didn’t care if Zoey made a poor decision—she was just informing her it would be one. “And I’ll emphasize that if you fail to bring in interesting reagents from your adventures, this arrangement will no longer hold appeal.”
 
Zoey didn’t think that’d be happening. She and Rosalie had definitely not seen the last of strange shards, and stranger loot. “Perfect. Let’s talk details?”
 
“As long as we make it quick,” Sabina said, eying the ingredients on the counter. “I’d like to start experimenting.”
 
###
 
The last, but far from least, destination of the day was back to where the guide had first dropped her and Rosalie off: the Last of the Forest’s guildhall. 
 
The architecture of Treyhull had been uniformly breathtaking, but the guildhall, more than most: it had the look of a structure that the city had been built around, that when this sprawling metropolis had first started to be draped around the titanic trees, the guildhall had been at its heart. The seed of the city.
 
Rosalie took the lead. Zoey trailed behind, admiring the insides of the building that went up, and up, and up—hundreds, or what felt like thousands of feet. The guildhall was carved into one of the enormous tree-trunks, and bridges spanned here and there as Zoey craned her neck up, creating a patchwork of brown strings that slowly occluded her sight to the top.
 
She bumped into someone, who eyed her in annoyance, waving away her apologies but clearly irritated.
 
“Shit,” Zoey laughed to Rosalie. “I’m coming off as a tourist.”
 
Rosalie, though she hadn’t been to Treyhull, wasn’t nearly as interested in taking in the sights. Strictly here for business. Who would’ve guessed? Rosalie really could benefit in taking a load off, in living life in the slow lane for once. Zoey’d try to coax that out of her, eventually.
 
The receptionist was a mousy woman with freckles. And she meant mousy in a literal sense, like usual; the half-human hybrids were more common than humans in Treyhull. She had big mouse ears on the top of her head, and a generally twitchy, but friendly, demeanor.
 
“Hi! Welcome to the Last of the Forest’s guildhall. My name is Leia. How can I help you?”
 
“We’d like to register,” Rosalie said. “Temporary. We’re only passing through. Two weeks, I expect, but more or less is possible.”
 
Zoey had asked Rosalie for clarification on how this would work—their ‘setting up’ in Treyhull. Before Zoey, Rosalie had gone to whatever city was nearest the shard she’d just exited. But since they were making connections, now—with need for consistent item identifiers and an alchemist teacher for Zoey—they’d take the longer trips back to this specific metropolis, rather than whatever was closest. The goal would be to adventure realms nearby to the one that hosted Treyhull, as to avoid being spat out far away. Still, they’d likely be shunted a fair distance each time; it would be a bit of a trip back. 
 
“No problem,” Leia said cheerfully, drawing out two forms from underneath her desk. “I’ll get you squared away in no time.”
 
Rosalie waited patiently.
 
“Name?”
 
“Rosalie Soliz.” 
 
Huh—Zoey had never gotten Rosalie’s surname.
 
“Role?”
 
“Lancer.”
 
“Advancement?”
 
“Second.”
 
The questions continued, Rosalie answering instantly, the mouse-girl writing as fast as she could. Finally, Leia’s attention turned to Zoey, pulling over the second paper. “Name?”
 
“Zoey Vickery,” Rosalie answered for her.
 
Leia blinked, and so did Zoey. Leia wavered between looking at Zoey and Rosalie. Zoey gestured to Rosalie, so she committed to her.
 
“Role?”
 
“Aegis.”
 
“Advancement?”
 
“First.”
 
And so on.
 
When they’d been passed two badges—Rosalie’s was purple, with a ‘II’ written on it, and Zoey’s yellow, with a ‘I’—Zoey said, “You gave fake names.”
 
“Of course I did.”
 
“I get for you, but why me?”
 
“Why not? It’s only good practice.”
 
Zoey gave her an odd look, but accepted the explanation. “I never learned what ‘lancer’ meant. And mine, ‘aegis’.”
 
“There’s seven,” Rosalie said. “Guardian, striker, and booster are the purist roles. Defense, attack, support.”
 
“And the four others are mixed,” Zoey guessed.
 
“Lancer is attack and defense. Aegis, attack and support. Pillar, support and defense. And finally, verse, which is all three—or classes that fall outside the paradigm.”
 
When Zoey had first been whisked off through worlds, Ephy had used the word ‘class’, and she’d heard it from Rosalie a few times, too. Zoey was a ‘Bonder’. “What are classes?” Zoey was growing less uncomfortable with asking odd questions. She had to, honestly. Couldn’t stay in the dark forever. And Rosalie never seemed to mind, even if she gave Zoey perplexed looks.
 
“They describe your runes, and the specific path they’re following.”
 
“So why not use class names, instead of this?”
 
Rosalie scoffed. “And memorize the hundreds, or thousands, that exist? Roles are simpler. If a party wants to get granular in finding an ideal composition, they may—but for most, roles serve fine to put together a functional group.”
 
That made sense. “And what’s your class, then?”
 
Rosalie stopped walking, and Zoey stumbled a step. Rosalie stared at her, brow furrowed, as if trying to come to a decision.
 
Zoey blinked. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious.”
 
“I … shouldn’t,” Rosalie finally said. “It’s a personal question. I’d rather not.”
 
Even if Zoey had said it was fine she didn’t, Zoey felt the tiniest bit stung she hadn’t been trusted with the information. She couldn’t possibly think Zoey would tell someone else, could she? Or was it because her class would reveal something? But what? 
 
She was sure Rosalie had her reasons.
 
They continued forward.
 
“Where are we headed?” Zoey asked.
 
“To the LFG board,” Rosalie said. “Lancer and aegis, as a duo? No. If we’re forming a party, we’ll do it right.”
 
 
 
2.08 LFG
 
“That’s, uh,” Zoey said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
 
“Your class, you mean.”
 
“Yeah. My class.”
 
“Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable with the idea of ‘bonding’ another girl.” Seeing Rosalie, so typically stoic, air-quote and sneer the phrase was a bit funny. “You’ve fucked—how many girls in the past twenty four hours? Me, the slime creature, the attendant, and I saw you eying both Fe and Sabina. You aren’t remotely subtle. I’m surprised Anja was safe. This is where you draw the line?”
 
“No,” Zoey said, ignoring Rosalie’s accusations, “I meant, are we even sure I can bond to more than one person? Or would it break yours?”
 
“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
 
“I guess. I’m just—” she cut herself off.
 
“Say it.”
 
“Never mind.”
 
“Say it, Zoey.”
 
Zoey waved her hand, starting to blush. “It’s nothing.”
 
Rosalie stopped walking and crossed her arms. “If we’re going to be party-members, you will voice your opinion on team decisions.”
 
“I was looking forward to it just being us, okay?” Zoey flushed. “I thought we were going to, you know. Have some time together. Just us. For a bit longer.”
 
Whatever Rosalie had expected, it hadn’t been that. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, which was a distinctly not-Rosalie reaction.
 
“Like I said, it was stupid.”
 
“This—this isn’t a vacation, Zoey.”
 
“I know.”
 
“A functional party fills every role. We’ll get more done. And it’ll diffuse your lack of experience.”
 
“It makes sense. I know.”
 
Rosalie opened her mouth a few times, as if to push the point, but Zoey had agreed with everything. 
 
She huffed and turned back forward.
 
“We’ll … we’ll have ‘us’ time between shards,” Rosalie mumbled, almost quiet enough Zoey couldn’t hear. 
 
“What?”
 
Rosalie stalked forward. “We’ll be looking for a guardian, striker, or another lancer. At this advancement, even a half-role support is enough—so you have that filled. I can fill either offense or defense, so I want a teammate specialized in one or the other. I’ll lean heavier into whatever they don’t.”
 
“Is that the standard strategy?”
 
“There is no standard strategy. Team composition isn’t a solved science. Opinions vary. I told you mine.”
 
“Well, yours is the best out there, I’m assuming.”
 
“Mmm,” Rosalie said, not outright agreeing, but both of them knowing it was true. “Still. It might take some searching to find a good fit.”
 
“Just one more? So three of us?”
 
“For now.”
 
“How big do parties get?”
 
“Five is ideal.”
 
“For all advancements? Now, or later on?”
 
“All advancements. But it’s a question with a lot of variability. I’m already generalizing. I was doing fine solo. Some classes can. Some classes—boosters, the obvious one—can’t. Five members provides a balance between sharing loot and tackling shards smaller parties can’t.”
 
“So why are we going with three?”
 
“Because five is a headache,” Rosalie said flatly. “Even two is a headache, so far.”
 
“Hey.”
 
“Are you denying it?”
 
Zoey had been an annoyance for Rosalie, all things considered. “It’s still not very nice.”
 
“I’m not very nice.”
 
“Bullshit,” Zoey said. “You’re a sweetheart.”
 
“And you have an addled brain, if you think that.”
 
“You’ve got a hard exterior, but gooey insides. You didn’t have me fooled for a second.”
 
Rosalie pointedly ignored her, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed how Zoey’s words had worked. 
 
They arrived at the LFG board. 
 
Zoey’s eyes scanned the hundreds of listings crammed on the expansive pinboard. The papers tacked in were short, functional, and informative. Standardized. Name, advancement, role, availability, and finally, a short description where they discussed what they were looking for, and any other relevant information.
 
Rosalie pulled out a notebook and started writing. “Girls only, right?” she asked.
 
“Uh, yeah.” Zoey hesitated before her next words, knowing they were stupid. But she couldn’t help herself. “This is weird. It feels like we’re looking for someone to have a threesome with.”
 
Rosalie went stiff. A disbelieving expression turned, slowly, to face her.
 
“Doesn’t it?” Zoey asked.
 
“Unbelievable,” Rosalie said. 
 
###
 
Rosalie worked fast. She collected a smattering of potential candidates and got to work tracking them down. The guildhall receptionist helped point them in the right direction.
 
They barely got more than a few sentences into Rosalie’s first interrogation before Rosalie was shaking her head and stalking away. Zoey shot an apologetic look to a bewildered flame-woman.
 
“What the hell was that?” Zoey asked, jogging to catch up.
 
“Inadequate.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Second advancement in three months? No.”
 
“That’s bad?”
 
“It’s average.”
 
“... and average is bad.”
 
“Average is horrendous.”
 
“We can be that picky?”
 
“I’ll resort to a duo before we settle for a dead-end.”
 
Truth told, Zoey was feeling like the dead-end, right about now. She’d been pretty useless in the first shard, and without a chance to have practiced, she’d be useless going into the second. At least she had the ‘identify weakness’ skill from her second advancement on her Rune of Sensuality, so she could be marginally more helpful, but still. Her partner was quite clearly the creme de la crop, and Zoey was …
 
Zoey.
 
Promising only because she’d had an amazing class thrust onto her. Didn’t feel great.
 
“Still. I don’t think you should’ve been so rude.”
 
“We’re on a schedule. I’m not going to conduct a full interview when I know my answer.”
 
“You could’ve told her why.”
 
“That would have been rude. Better she think me odd, than for me to berate her for being average.”
 
That was … actually a fair point. Rosalie was being considerate—in a roundabout way—by stalking away and not listing out a person’s deficiencies. And not even deficiencies, but simply how they failed to meet Rosalie’s excruciating expectations.
 
“Besides,” Rosalie said, “I’m not sure having sex with a solar is something you want to be doing on the regular.”
 
She tucked away the race name for the floating flame-people. “I mean,” Zoey said. “I’ll try anything once. Who knows? Maybe it’d be fun.”
 
“They don’t even have sex organs,” Rosalie said. “And yes, they’re as hot as they look.” She shook her head and stalked forward. “But knowing you, you would enjoy it.”
 
“Nothing a bit of burn cream couldn’t fix,” Zoey grinned.
 
The second, third, and fourth interviews—interrogations—went in a similar manner. It wasn’t until the fifth that Rosalie’s questions extended past opening pleasantries.
 
“And you?” the fox-woman—Delta—returned.
 
“Four weeks.”
 
Delta whistled. “Damn, blondie. You had your nose to the grindstone. That’s fast.”
 
Zoey stayed quiet, absorbing the easy lie that had slipped from Rosalie’s lips. She had told Zoey it had taken her two weeks to hit second advancement—or less, since two weeks was simply how long she’d been in the Fractures. And four was fast? Enough to draw out an impressed whistle from someone Rosalie herself saw as a potential teammate?
 
Her partner was more competent than she’d thought. Competent enough she needed to lie to avoid drawing attention. Well-known enough she gave fake names to guildhall receptionists.
 
Who was she, really?
 
Not that if she was some famous figure, Zoey would know the name. Alien world, and all.
 
“I set a quick pace,” Rosalie said. “You would be expected to match it.”
 
“Sure,” Delta returned easily. “Not tryna toil in obscurity, forever. I’m taking it you’re shooting for the big leagues?”
 
“I have no intention of living a safe and easy life.”
 
Delta laughed. “Right. So, shards. What advancement? Third? How many you putting together?”
 
“Second will be fine,” Rosalie said. “We’re staying small. You’ll be our third, and last.”
 
“And who’s this?”
 
“Zoey,” Zoey offered. She’d been trailing behind Rosalie for the better part of an hour, and she’d prefer to regain some agency, because as things stood, it felt a bit like she was a lost child following meekly behind Rosalie. She’d said maybe a dozen words to their potentials. “It’s nice to meet you.”
 
They had found the fox-woman at the bar of the guildhall, working her way through a tankard of what Zoey assumed to be alcohol. She didn’t seem drunk, or even flushed. She was leaned back on the chair far enough it was supported only on two legs, precariously balanced. Her fingers tapped the table as she took Zoey in. 
 
The up-and-down of Zoey’s body was slightly less than chaste. A grin split her lips. “Zoey. That’s a cute name.”
 
Was she being hit on? “Thanks. I like yours, too.”
 
Delta opened her mouth to continue the dialogue, but Rosalie cleared her throat, pointedly dragging her attention back. 
 
Zoey paid closer attention to the fox-woman’s curves, the orange-and-white ears sprouting from her head. They were … well, they did something for Zoey. She was coming around on this whole, half-animal thing. It was pretty cute.
 
Delta was dressed not casually, but how Zoey assumed she’d be venturing into dungeons: in full leather armor, her bow set across the table. Why she didn’t store the weapon in her inventory … Zoey couldn’t say for sure. Advertising? She was ‘looking for group’.
 
But the fact her curves showed through even a full set of (slightly mismatched) leather armor promised a body that Zoey would be greatly appreciative of.
 
“You’re a striker,” Rosalie said. “How strictly?”
 
“I hurt things. Not much else.”
 
Rosalie nodded. “Good. I can fill defense. How much attention would you need?”
 
“None. I can run solo, need be.”
 
Rosalie kept nodding. The answers were what she wanted to hear. “My partner’s class is strange,” Rosalie said. “You’ll need to have an open mind.”
 
Which gave Delta pause. “Excuse me?”
 
“The prerequisites for her supporting skills are odd. You may have to perform some … slightly uncomfortable actions to facilitate it.”
 
Zoey winced. The clinical nature Rosalie described her Bond skill was bringing a heat to Zoey’s face, though, how else were they supposed to handle the situation?
 
“ … what?” came the reasonable response.
 
“What’s the exact wording, again?” Rosalie asked Zoey. Zoey wasn’t handling things much better. Pink tinted her cheeks. 
 
Zoey saved her from having to go further. It was Zoey’s cross to bear, so to say. And she could deal with the awkwardness better than Rosalie. Not without a blush, but still better.
 
“We’ll have to be intimate,” Zoey said. She didn’t broach the whole, ‘release seed onto or inside’ part, because the exact wording was so much worse than being roundabout; it could be left implied.
 
Delta stared at her. “By intimate, you mean …”
 
“Sex,” Zoey said. “Or not sex, but, uh. Intimacy. More than kissing.” Okay, maybe she was just as awkward about this.
 
“Right,” Delta said.
 
A long pause.
 
“Look,” she finally said. “Why bullshit? If you wanted a threesome, the answer would’ve been yes, until you tried … whatever this is.”
 
Rosalie started sputtering, but Zoey laughed. It broke the awkwardness. For her, at least. “I know it’s odd. My class is … perverted. I can let you read my anima, if you don’t believe me.”
 
Delta’s eyebrows shot up, and Rosalie immediately said, “No, that’s not necessary.”
 
Zoey might have underestimated how personal the offer was.
 
“You’re serious?”
 
“No, she isn’t,” Rosalie said.
 
“Why is it such a big deal?” Zoey asked.
 
“What?” Delta asked. “Big deal? Are you—”
 
“She has memory problems,” Rosalie said, glaring at Zoey. “She doesn’t know what she’s offering.”
 
“It’s fine.” Zoey really didn’t get why it was a whole ‘thing’. So Delta would know her runes and skills. At first advancement on most of them, it barely gave away anything. Wouldn’t she learn them just by being on a party with her?
 
“Memory problems?” Delta asked. “What the hell is going on, here?”
 
“You’ll need to take our word for it,” Rosalie said. “She’s not sharing her anima.”
 
“Why not?” Zoey asked.
 
“Take your word that she needs to fuck me? To use her skills?” Delta asked. “Are you insane?”
 
Zoey raised her palms up and said, “Both of you. Please. Be quiet.” Things were getting too chaotic for her liking.
 
She turned to Rosalie first. “There’s no avoiding it. Why would she believe us?”
 
“We’ll simply move to the next, if she doesn’t.”
 
“It’s my choice, isn’t it?” 
 
“You shouldn’t.”
 
“Why not?”
 
A frustrated expression appeared. “Because she can’t be trusted.”
 
“With what?”
 
“Your situation! How incautious can you be? Do you have any idea the circumstances you’re in?”
 
“No, I don’t. I would’ve figured you knew that.”
 
Rosalie rubbed her forehead. “It’s not … you can, it’s just … I, personally, wouldn’t.”
 
“This is, hands down, the most bizarre team offer I’ve ever been given,” Delta said. “But I’m starting to believe you. Maker. Zoey, you don’t need to show me your anima. How intimate are we talking?”
 
Zoey blinked. What had convinced her? She supposed the shape of her and Rosalie’s conversation didn’t make sense as some kind of ‘ruse to a threesome’.
 
“Uh,” Zoey said. “Just a handjob, I guess.”
 
“Sorry. Handjob?”
 
Zoey paused. She guessed the equipment down there wasn’t immediately noticeable, not if someone wasn’t looking for it. “Yeah. Handjob.”
 
Delta absorbed the announcement. Her eyes flicked to Zoey’s lower half, probably making out the protrusion in her pants. She must have passed over it on her first up-and-down.
 
“What the fuck,” she eloquently said. “You have a cock?”
 
Rosalie was pinching the bridge of her nose. “How else did I expect this to go?”
 
“Yeah,” Zoey said. “I get it if that’s a deal breaker.” 
 
“But … why?”
 
“Why do I have a cock?”
 
“Are you a man?”
 
“It was given to me as part of my class,” Zoey said.  She prevented her nose from wrinkling at the question. She assumed fantasy-world wasn’t quite up to date on modern-day perception of gender identities.
 
“Maker,” she said for the third time. Zoey assumed it was more or less the equivalent of a ‘Jesus’ exclamation. A grin fell onto her lips. “Lucky bastard. You have your other equipment, too?”
 
Zoey snorted. Some of the tension broke. “Both, yeah. And lucky. I guess. It hasn’t been all bad. Weird, but not bad.”
 
“Blondie’s right. Strange circumstances—the hell’s going on with you?”
 
“I wish I knew.”
 
“Memory problems?”
 
“Can’t remember much. Rosalie’s been helping me along.”
 
“How’d you two meet?”
 
“I woke up in a shard. First advancement in everything. No memories.”
 
“Shit,” Delta said. “You two made it out, though.”
 
“Rosalie’s efforts.”
 
“No joke. I can tell old blood when I see it. Could’ve carved through it herself, I bet.”
 
Rosalie crossed her arms, though Zoey didn’t know what the phrase ‘old blood’ meant. She could infer.
 
“Okay,” Delta said. “Okay. Whatever. But you’re taking me on a date, first.”
 
“What?”
 
“You expect me to just bust out a handy, right here? Treat me with some respect. Sun’s not down—a girl deserves a date before she pays out, don’t you think?”
 
“I—I—” 
 
She glanced at Rosalie, for some reason, who threw her hands in the air. 
 
“Clearly you’ve taken the lead on this situation,” she said scathingly. “So figure it out.”
 
“Sure?” Zoey said. “A date? That sounds fun. Uh. Where?”
 
“Where does a girl like me deserve, in exchange for a handy?”
 
Well, that was a trap question if she’d ever heard one, and by Delta’s grin, it had been intentionally so.
 
Damn. She was actually starting to like this girl. 
 
“I’m broke,” Zoey said, “and I don’t think Rosalie will spot me. But wherever you want, if I can afford it.”
 
“Right answer,” Delta laughed. “Dinner’s fine. We can get to know each other.” She slammed down the last of her drink, then stood, slinging her bow over her shoulder. “Assuming I met your requirements, old blood?”
 
“Barely,” Rosalie said tightly. “But yes.”
 
Delta laughed. She patted Zoey’s shoulder as she passed. “Come on, cock-girl. Let’s go get something to eat.”
 
 
 
2.09 First Date in a Fantasy World
 
Delta ate like a woman who didn’t care an iota about what people thought of her, and while Zoey respected the impervious assuredness, her table manners were really something. And not in a good way. Her napkin was more red-sauce than napkin. She hadn’t even cleaned it all from her mouth. Zoey would say she ‘missed a spot’, but that didn’t quite do things justice.
 
“So,” Delta said. “How am I supposed to get to know you, when you’ve forgotten everything?”
 
“Good question.”
 
“Tell you what. Let’s do some roleplaying. Make up answers that you think would fit.”
 
“Uh,” Zoey said.
 
Zoey had always been a person who handled herself well—it would be arrogant to say confident and charismatic, but a little bit, yeah, was how she viewed herself—but Delta’s total irreverence surpassed even Zoey’s; here was a woman who could walk into a royal banquet, toss her shoes off, collapse into the front seat, and whine about the food not being ready. Even if she hadn’t been invited. Especially if she hadn’t.
 
If Zoey condensed it down into a line—she didn’t give a shit. About anything. Social-related, at least. She cared about her career. Driven, in the same way as Rosalie, but … different. If that made sense. There was a reason Rosalie had taken interest in her; a reason Delta had cleared the very high hurdles Rosalie had set.
 
“Okay, sure,” Zoey said. “Ask away?” The date was, at least, not awkward. Zoey didn’t think any event could be awkward for Delta. That implied caring enough about whether things were a disaster, and she definitely did not.
 
“What do you do in your free time?”
 
Zoey blinked. “Uh,” she said, buying herself a second. She could make up answers here, but this one was actually straightforward, and not foggied by Ephy’s carving-out of her memories. She didn’t have to lie. “I guess, hang out. Shoot the shit. I was kind of useless growing up. Always failing classes, getting in trouble. I like being around people. Sometimes I wish I had real hobbies. Something impressive, like an instrument, or an art. Instead, I’m just good at talking to people. And is that a skill? Or hobby? Not really.”
 
Delta nodded along. “Yeah, that fits. Cute.”
 
‘Fits’. She thought Zoey was making things up. Probably better that way. “You?” Zoey asked.
 
“Explore,” Delta said. “Experience new things. I don’t have hobbies. That implies doing the same thing, and that’s the opposite of what I want. Anything fresh, that gets my heart pumping.”
 
“Is that why you became a Wayfarer? For the experiences?”
 
“More or less,” Delta said. “But also ‘cuz it pays the bills. My dad broke his spine working his construction job, and medical bills aren’t covering it. So it’s up to me.”
 
The nonchalant, sudden insertion of such a serious topic had Zoey scrambling for an answer. “Oh. That’s—you’re very—”
 
“Don’t be weird about it,” Delta said. “It’s a sob story. Everyone has one. I don’t like tip-toeing. We’re getting to know each other.”
 
And Zoey was. “Hopefully we can make a difference for him. Rosalie sets a fast pace.”
 
“That’s the goal.” Delta shrugged. “Already planned to be a Wayfarer, but that set a fire under my ass.”
 
“I bet.” It felt like an inappropriate response. Too small.
 
“How’d you end up like this?” Delta asked. “Your situation, I mean.”
 
For a second, Zoey forgot she was supposed to be inventing answers. ‘Roleplaying’. So she almost said, ‘No clue’.
 
Instead, after a second’s hesitation, she said, “A perverted goddess tore me between dimensions and tasked me to save the world.”
 
A grin split Delta’s face, and she leaned forward, orange and white fox ears perking up interest. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. How perverted we talking?”
 
“I mean, she gave me a cock. So. Pretty.”
 
Delta laughed. “And what’s your grand goal? Why does the world need saving?”
 
“Waiting to find out, I guess.”
 
“Maybe the Fractures are decaying. Splitting at the seams, like the Doomsayers are always whining about, and when it’s gone, Haven’ll starve to death.”
 
A chill ran down Zoey’s spine. “Doomsayers?”
 
“You know? Those cultists.” She frowned. “I guess Treyhull doesn’t have many out in the open. Guards stamp ‘em down. But it’s all hot air, anyway.” She shrugged. “Then again, who knows? Maybe the world is ending.”
 
“Huh,” Zoey only said. “Decaying, you said?”
 
“Yeah, you know.” Delta paused. “I guess you don’t. The Rot?”
 
“The Rot?”
 
“The shards that don’t act like they should,” Delta said.
 
It was incredible how fast Zoey’s stomach was sinking to the ground. “What do you mean?”
 
“Shit, I dunno. It’s all horseshit. Not real.” Delta waved her hand, as if she didn’t want to talk about it. Zoey didn’t either. This was supposed to be a light-hearted outing, and Zoey had the feeling she’d stumbled on why Ephy had shunted her between worlds. “Next question. What’s up with blondie?”
 
“Rosalie?”
 
“No, your other stick-up-her-ass teammate.”
 
Zoey tensed. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
 
Delta blinked at her reaction, then a grin split her face. “Shit, you have the hots for her, don’t you?”
 
“Yeah,” Zoey said. “I do.”
 
She blinked again at Zoey’s honesty. Her smile quickly reasserted itself. “Totally see why. Don’t think I’d ever be able to put up with all that, but I get it.”
 
“Mmm,” Zoey said.
 
“I’m stepping on toes,” Delta said. “Perfect. We’re hitting the good stuff. So, what’s up with her?”
 
“You’ll need to be more specific.”
 
“Who is she? She radiates old blood.”
 
“I don’t know what that means.”
 
“Right. She’s—well, I’m guessing, at least—she’s got family high-up. Real high up. That kind of passive authority doesn’t come from nowhere. Officers in a highguild? Maybe that’s too much. But her roots run deep, that much is obvious. Bet she’s got family members sixth, seventh advancement, maybe higher. Grandmas and grandpas who were the same. Great-great grandmas. You know … old blood.”
 
Zoey hesitated, but Delta didn’t sound like she was guessing. “I was thinking that, too. Not that I know what ‘officers’ means, or how rare sixth and seventh advancement are.”
 
“Pretty rare,” Delta said. “Guess you’re not someone to talk to about this. Man, what’s that like? Having nothing bouncing around, in there?” She rapped on her own skull.
 
Zoey laughed. Maybe she should be offended, but Delta’s complete lack of filter was enjoyable. “Upsetting. I remember my first girlfriend, but her face is scrubbed away. I don’t know her name. My parents, too. I can’t remember if I had sisters or brothers.”
 
Delta sobered. Zoey hadn’t meant to drag the mood down. She’d just been joining in on the no-filter thing. “Must be tough.”
 
“A sob story,” Zoey said. “Everyone’s got one.” 
 
The grin split back. “Hell yeah. No reason to cry over it. Keep moving forward.”
 
###
 
“What advancement do you think?” Delta asked. “To not die?”
 
The two of them leaned over the ledge of a thousand-foot drop. The forest floor was difficult to make out from this height. Treyhull’s branching bridges, arching between the gargantuan trees that served as pillars to the sprawling city, were surprisingly unsafe for children; if Zoey leaned a bit further, she’d easily topple over. It’d be a long, contemplative fall before she hit the ground.
 
“How would I know? Could any?”
 
Delta snorted. “Eighth and above are practically gods. I don’t think gods die from a long fall.”
 
“They are?”
 
“Close enough. Least to us mortals. There’s a reason so many people throw their lives away chasing advancement.”
 
“How many are there?”
 
“Advancements?”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Ten,” Delta said. “Allegedly.”
 
“Allegedly?”
 
“Who fucking knows? How things work at that level? Even Enzo d’Celestin is only ninth. And that man could carve up a city by himself.”
 
She tucked the name away. Zoey was learning the lore of this world piece-meal. “How’s advancement work?” Zoey asked. “If we have three runes, then—”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
Zoey blinked. Delta was staring at her. 
 
“What?”
 
“Three?”
 
“Or five, I guess?” Zoey asked, confused. “Does ‘generalist’ and a crafting rune count?”
 
Zoey could tell she’d said something wrong. Delta wasn’t an easy woman to turn speechless.
 
“You have three combat runes,” Delta said. “And a crafting, too?”
 
“Uh,” Zoey said.
 
“Maker. You really were chosen by a goddess and sent to save us. Three?”
 
“That’s rare?”
 
“Two is rare,” Delta said. “Three is heaven-blessed. And a crafting rune. I’ve never heard of it. I see why blondie didn’t want you sharing your anima.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said.
 
“I’d ask what they are, but you’re too clueless to realize that’s not the kind of thing you should share.” She shook her head. “You should listen to stick-up-her-ass more. You’ll land yourself in hot water, blabbing like you are.”
 
“Good thing I can trust you.”
 
“Yeah,” Delta said. “Good thing. Stop being an idiot. Not everyone’s me.”
 
Delta’s frankness was, like usual, a breath of fresh air. And she meant it; Zoey had grown to trust this woman with bizarre speed. “Like I was saying, though. If you have several, what determines your advancement?”
 
“The average between them, I guess? Most people have one, so it’s not complicated.”
 
“Just one?”
 
“Just one,” Delta scoffed. “Fuck you.”
 
Zoey blinked.
 
Delta rolled her eyes. “One is normal. ‘Just one’. Gods. You’re insufferable.”
 
“Have you tried being born lucky?”
 
Delta laughed. Zoey smiled, too. The fox-girl’s laugh was growing quickly entrancing.
 
There was a short silence.
 
“We’re alone up here,” Delta said. “People don’t use this bridge.”
 
Zoey looked around. “Yeah, I guess they don’t.” She couldn’t see anyone in either direction, though a few had passed while they’d been standing, talking, and overlooking the spanning forest floor. Why had she brought it up?
 
Delta slid sideways, then rested her head against Zoey’s shoulder, her long fox ears brushing against the side of her neck. Zoey’s heart skipped a beat at the easy affection. Then, without warning, her hand snaked down Zoey’s pants, invading her personal space in a way that had Zoey squeaking in surprise, her hips jerking back, before she quickly righted herself.
 
“Holy shit,” Delta said, squeezing, and sending a lightning bolt through Zoey’s body. Her tail swished in Zoey’s peripheral, agitated, which seemed to be a surprised response. “How the hell did you hide this thing?”
 
Zoey’s head pivoted left and right, even as her lower body reacted to Delta’s cold hands. “We’re in public,” she said, heartbeat having quickly started slamming in her chest. The words were a bit ironic, seeing how Zoey had very publicly had fun with that clothing store attendant, but they’d been behind a closed door, and only the noise had leaked through; here, on the bridge, it was open air in every direction. Even if nobody was nearby.
 
“Fuck,” Delta said. “It’s still growing. What the hell is this thing?”
 
“It’s, uh, bigger than most.” That was an understatement.
 
“It’s still going!”
 
Zoey’s cock filled out, Delta’s fingers exploring as it did. She couldn’t reach all the way down Zoey’s pants to feel the tip, anymore.
 
Zoey leaned against the wooden railing of the bridge and tried to ignore Delta’s questing hand. “Are you, uh, sure this a good idea?”
 
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Delta asked. “Public indecency charge? Who cares?”
 
“It’s, uh,” Zoey’s breath caught as Delta’s hand squeezed around her shaft. “Rude, don’t you think? To be in public?”
 
“A bit,” Delta said. “But it’s hot.”
 
Zoey gasped as Delta’s fingers dipped beneath her cock to stroke at Zoey’s other sensitive area. Her hand finally shot up and gripped Delta’s arm to stop her.
 
Delta blinked in surprise. “Don’t like that?”
 
“I, um,” Zoey didn’t know how to put it into words. She’d been wondering it herself, recently. “I prefer the new part.”
 
“Sure.” Her hand returned to Zoey’s cock. “Why?”
 
“I don’t know.”
 
“Wanna talk about it?”
 
It was such a casual, friendly, unjudging offer that Zoey’s first instinct—to say no—went ignored. “I—I—” She failed to put it into words.
 
“Must be a lot. Hard to adjust to, having something new there.” The ease Delta held conversation while stroking Zoey’s cock was a bit comical. 
 
“A lot. Yeah. It’s a lot.”
 
“Easier to pretend it’s all you got, now?”
 
“I guess?” Zoey winced at how Delta leaned forward and got her arm all the way down, playing with her cock tip. “Um. I always preferred girls. So I’m hardly not used to … the normal … way.” Zoey didn’t like how she’d phrased it. “But both at once is uncomfortable.”
 
“Seems like it’d be fun.”
 
“It probably would be.”
 
Delta bobbed her head. “Take it at your own pace. Fuck what anyone else says.”
 
Zoey laughed. Such a beautiful, simple world-view. “It’s new. Makes it more exciting, I guess? The other part has had plenty of fun. She’s just … taking a break.”
 
Delta smiled. “More exciting. I bet. Man, what I’d give for a cock.”
 
“You would?”
 
“Hell yeah. Haven’t you been listening to me? I love new shit. Give me alien parts. What do flowers have? Pistil and stamen? Think those feel good?” She laughed, obviously not serious—but also, in some small sense, completely serious. “What’s it like? Do you mind?”
 
“The, uh.”
 
“Cock. Yeah.”
 
“It’s. Um. Fun.” Her thoughts were becoming harder to form. Delta was working away eagerly. “It was weird to start off. And … intense.”
 
“I’m assuming blondie was your first?”
 
Was it rude to answer that question? “I don’t kiss and tell.”
 
Delta laughed. “What a gentleman. But sure. Fine. How far have you gotten?”
 
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
 
Delta pouted. “I’m just making conversation. What’s it like, being inside a girl?”
 
Zoey leaned her forehead against her arms, the feeling in her lower-body quickly building. “Don’t, um, kiss and tell.”
 
“Fine. Be a prude. It’s really obvious you and blondie have been getting freaky.”
 
Zoey hadn’t actually been inside Rosalie, though. Not besides her throat. It was funny Delta thought that was a given.
 
Delta worked away, Zoey’s panting and moaning the only thing filling the air.
 
Suddenly, she stopped, hand jerking out from inside Zoey’s pants. She leaned over the railing. Zoey blinked, the haze of lust making it hard to think.
 
“What—?”
 
“Heads up. Right side.”
 
Zoey glanced right. A man and a woman were walking down the bridge, slowly coming into view. Delta had been paying attention.
 
Zoey groaned, leaning forward. “Fuck. That’s really mean.”
 
“Wait a few minutes, you crybaby.”
 
“What happened to ‘fuck it’?”
 
Delta raised her eyebrows at Zoey. “Challenge me, and I will do it. I stopped for your sake.”
 
Zoey’s needy lower-half almost made the decision for her, but she bit her lip and said, “No, you’re right. Thanks. That’d be super embarrassing.”
 
The three minutes it took for the two to pass were some of the most excruciating of Zoey’s life. Delta had left her right on the edge of orgasm, and her cock pulsed angrily in neglect.
 
Delta’s hand slid back down her pants in blessed relief. The stroking continued.
 
“This’ll do, right?” Delta asked.
 
“Do?”
 
“For your skill.”
 
“Oh. Um. Yes?”
 
“You don’t sound certain.”
 
“The exact phrasing is, ‘release seed onto or inside target and activate to form bond’.”
 
“Bond?”
 
Zoey guessed they hadn’t talked about her skillset. “I have to be bonded to you to use my skills.” Or skill, for now. She assumed future ones would only work on bonded targets, too.
 
“What kind of skills?”
 
“Bolster, which gives you a short, powerful boost in strength.” Zoey’s hips wiggled as the pressure in her core built. She was getting close. “And, uh, ‘Alacrity’. Which makes bonded targets advance runes faster.”
 
The jerking motion inside Zoey’s pants ceased. “You’re shitting me.”
 
“Don’t stop, asshole.”
 
Delta’s lips quirked at Zoey’s plainly-stated outrage. The movement resumed. “You make other people advance their runes faster?”
 
“So it says.” It was a hard ability to quantify, obviously.
 
“Shit. I think that’s what blondie was trying to keep me from finding out.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Because it puts a target on your head, you fucking idiot. Gods, she’s right. You’re way too clueless.”
 
“It’s that big of a deal?”
 
“Hm, let me think. Yes? I could absolutely see a high-rank Wayfarer enslaving you to take advantage of it.”
 
“Enslave?”
 
“Shit’s not all sunshine and meadows out there, Zoey. Are you kidding me? I know you’ve got memory problems, but you lost common sense, too?”
 
“This—this is a conversation, uh, better had when I can think straight.” She was trying to digest Delta’s scolding, but failing. All she could think about was the building white-hot pleasure.
 
Delta was quiet for a second, then laughed. “Yeah, fair enough. How close are you?”
 
“Pretty close.”
 
“Bridge is clear. Assuming you don’t wanna make a mess, toss those pants down.”
 
“You serious?”
 
“I’ll let you know if we have visitors.” She shrugged. “Or drench your pants in cum. That’s totally the better option.”
 
Zoey considered it for a few seconds, before undoing her belt, buttons, and dropping her pants. She finagled her cock above her underwear. Delta’s hand didn’t stop stroking the whole way through.
 
“Fuck me,” Delta said. “How big is it?”
 
“Fourteen inches?”
 
“Maker. Why do some people have all the luck?”
 
“Beats me,” Zoey gasped. She pressed her forehead back into her arms, leaning against the bridge railing, as her crescendo finally arrived. 
 
Eight or nine body-twitching pulses later, Zoey had emptied herself out into the open air, and, more relevantly to the mission, across Delta’s hand. She activated her skill, Bonding her.
 
“Where the hell did you keep all that?” Delta laughed, wiping her hand on Zoey’s underwear. “You could’ve filled a bucket.” She slapped her ass, making Zoey jump in surprise. “We should head back. There’s an irritable blonde waiting for us.”
 
###
 
“Is it done?” Rosalie asked.
 
“Is it done,” Delta mockingly repeated. “No, I agreed to this so I could scam her from an eight copper meal. Second-advancement life is hard, we gotta take what we can get.”
 
Rosalie’s lips tightened. She turned to Zoey.
 
“It’s done, yeah.” Rosalie and Delta didn’t like each other. That was, without a doubt, going to cause headaches. 
 
Which was a shame. Both were amazing. She’d only had a few hours to get to know Delta, but everything she had learned had formed a glowing appraisal of the girl.
 
“Good,” Rosalie said. “We leave in the morning. Room 515?”
 
“That’s me,” Delta said.
 
“We’ll be there. Third bell. Don’t answer, and we’ll leave without you.”
 
“No, you won’t,” Delta said. “But I like the gusto.”
 
Rosalie stalked away. Zoey stood frozen, grimacing at Delta, who grinned in return, before chasing after Rosalie.
 
“I like her,” Zoey said. “You should be nicer.”
 
“You like anyone willing to jerk you off,” Rosalie spat. “So forgive me if I take the opinion with a grain of salt.”
 
Zoey froze.
 
Rosalie realized a second later, coming to a stop herself, and turning to look at Zoey.
 
“If there’s a problem,” Zoey said. “You should express it.” She had to maintain her voice to mask the hurt.
 
A genuine expression of distress passed Rosalie’s face, before being wiped away. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t care what you do for fun. I’m just … why her?”
 
“Delta is sweet. She’s abrasive, but genuine.” Not that dissimilar from you. In that way, at least. Rosalie and Delta couldn’t be less alike.
 
“She’s more than abrasive.”
 
“Yeah, maybe. But you’ll like her if you give her a chance.”
 
“I doubt that.”
 
“Sounds like we’ll be sticking together for a bit. So hostility might not be for the best. For team dynamics.”
 
Rosalie sighed, then wiped her hand across her face. “I know.”
 
It was more of a show of weakness than she was used to seeing. “Is something wrong?”
 
Rosalie’s blue eyes bored into Zoey.
 
Her cheeks colored, and she glanced away.
 
Zoey stepped forward and took Rosalie’s hands in hers. “What? Tell me?”
 
“She got the first date,” Rosalie mumbled.
 
Zoey blinked in surprise.
 
Rosalie wrenched her hands away and stalked forward.
 
“Wait. Wait!”
 
“I’m being a child.”
 
“First date?”
 
Rosalie threw hands in the air. “Why would I want to go on a date? I’ve got so much more important things to be handling. Don’t even offer.”
 
Zoey grabbed Rosalie’s hand and forced her to stop. “Rosie.” She met blue eyes with deadly seriousness. “There’s nothing I want more. Go on a date with me? Please? It’s a waste of time, but it would make me the happiest girl in the world.”
 
Rosalie lasted a few seconds under Zoey’s intense gaze. She stepped forward and pressed her head into Zoey’s shoulder. “I guess I can make time. It’ll have to be after the next shard.”
 
“Thank you,” Zoey said. “I’ll try to come up with something fun.”
 
“You better,” Rosalie mumbled. “If I had a girlfriend, she has to be someone who tries her hardest.”
 
 
 
2.10 ❤ Second Morning, Good as the First
 
Zoey’s second night of sleep in an alien world was as strange as the first. Her dreams were nonsensical, twisting. She dreamed of birthday parties attended by shadow-people. Of picking her way down the creak, hand-in-hand with a girl with a void where her face should be, stomach fluttering with butterflies as she stared into bright (Blue? Green? Brown? Gray?) eyes.
 
The dreams shifted.
 
To something slightly less upsetting.
 
A relieved exhalation escaped Zoey’s lips as her eyes fluttered open.
 
She looked down at her body, where a blonde girl had Zoey’s cock in her mouth.
 
“Fuck,” Zoey said.
 
Things really aren’t so bad.
 
Zoey’s cock separated from Rosalie’s mouth with a pop. “I figured you needed to be taken care of,” Rosalie said, all business. “I’ve heard the phrase ‘pitching a tent’, but you took it to the literal.” She tutted and shook her head. “A gross woman like you would have morning wood. It was stabbing into me.”
 
“Stop talking,” Zoey murmured, leaning forward and wrapping her fingers into Rosalie’s hair. “Get back to it.”
 
Rosalie’s lips twisted up, and she did as told, following the guidance of Zoey’s hands pushing her down. Her lips spread open as Zoey’s cock penetrated into her wet mouth.
 
Things really aren’t so bad.
 
Couldn’t be much better, honestly. Bright blue eyes locked with hers as Zoey’s lower half was pleasured by an eager tongue, and a wet, bobbing mouth.
 
For a while, Zoey just indulged in the sight, and the sensation. But when something started to build, she reluctantly pulled Rosalie’s head up, who blinked in confusion. 
 
Her, first. Zoey couldn’t help but feel she’d been selfish recently. She wanted to get Rosalie off first, especially with how gassed she could be, after. 
 
Zoey had been putting something off for too long. From that pocket-space tucked into the back of her mind, Zoey pulled out that silver stud they’d earned. “You said I should use a numbing agent. Do you have any?”
 
Rosalie blinked, her face flushed, and coming to terms with why Zoey had pulled her head from her cock. “I don’t think now’s the time for—”
 
“Do you?”
 
“You’re the one that needs to be taken care of, right—”
 
“Rosalie.”
 
“I do,” she said, huffing.
 
“Give it to me.”
 
Rosalie withdrew a small medical vial from her inventory and passed it over.
 
“How do I use it?”
 
“Pour it on your tongue.” She tutted and held her hand out. “Here. Give me the ring. I’ll do it for you. My hands are steadier.”
 
With a numbed tongue, the piercing took little effort, and didn’t hurt at all. A small application of healing potion had the ordeal over in less than a minute, the quick pinprick of blood fading away. The healing potion also wiped away the numbing agent; sensation returned to her tongue, if it admittedly felt a little odd after the ordeal.
 
Zoey stuck her tongue out and waggled it for Rosalie’s sake. “ow’s it ‘ook?”
 
The crimson on Rosalie’s cheeks was all the approval she needed. “It’s unseemly.”
 
“Perfect. Ready to feel it inside you?”
 
“I already told you, you’re the one who—”
 
“Lay down.”
 
At Zoey’s commanding tone, Rosalie obeyed. Like usual, the deference in such a proud girl brought a burning, dominating feeling to the forefront of her chest. 
 
“Other way.”
 
“Pardon?”
 
“On your stomach.”
 
Rosalie obeyed, though she seemed confused.
 
Zoey sidled up to her. She admired Rosalie’s ass. For having such a toned, muscled body, how the hell did she have so much filling it out? Zoey squeezed them with her hands, then slapped Rosalie’s right cheek, causing Rosalie to produce a surprised inhalation of breath. She watched the flesh ripple, then slapped again, harder.
 
Fuck me. She’s so perfect.
 
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Zoey said softly. What she was about to do wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but she’d been wanting to try it out.
 
“Zoey?”
 
She pulled out an item she’d acquired earlier, and had been looking forward to using.
 
[Cleansing Liquid]: Common. To aid a person in adventures down less-beaten paths. Cleans thoroughly and leaves a fruity aftertaste.
 
She twisted off the cap, then poured a small amount on her fore- and ring-finger. She set it aside. The bottle needed to go in eventually, to squeeze the material in, but Zoey was hardly just going to shove it into Rosalie without preparation.
 
“Zoey, what are you—?”
 
She spread apart Rosalie’s ass and pressed cold liquid into her back entrance, coaxing circles around the ring of soft, sensitive flesh.
 
Rosalie gasped, but she didn’t tell her to stop.
 
Having worked in the liquid—which served effectively as a lubricant—Zoey gently pressed her ring finger down, slipping it into Rosalie’s unsuspecting hole.
 
Rosalie’s entire body froze as she was penetrated in a way she had never been before. A whine escaped her lips at the foreign sensation. Zoey’s cock throbbed in excitement. She wiggled her middle finger around, getting Rosalie’s hole prepared for the bottle, sinking first a knuckle deep, then all the way she could.
 
She extracted her finger, and Rosalie gasped again.
 
Zoey brought the bottle up and rested it between Rosalie’s cheeks, to let her know what was about to happen. Still, no objections. Rosalie’s breathing was loud in the otherwise quiet room.
 
She slipped the tapered end of the bottle’s spout into Rosalie’s hole, then squeezed. Liquid spurted in, and Rosalie stuffed her face into the pillows and moaned at the strange sensation. Zoey wasn’t sure how much to use, but she assumed not much. Magic was magic. It should clean her up with just a bit.
 
She popped the bottle out, vanished it, and leaned forward, heart rate picking up. Finally ready.
 
“That was, mm, odd,” Rosalie breathed. “I can feel it … tingling around …”
 
Zoey pulled apart Rosalie’s cheeks, then traced a tongue around her cute, pink second-entrance. 
 
“You aren’t going to—?”
 
Zoey sunk her tongue into Rosalie’s cute, welcoming hole.
 
“Oh …” Rosalie exhaled. “You are.”
 
Like the item had promised, the cleansing agent had left behind a fruity aftertaste. Zoey explored a wiggling tongue around Rosalie’s now-clean insides, bumping the silver-studded jewelry against Rosalie’s warm walls. Zoey buried her face in deeper, lost in a haze of lust, her face pressed in between soft cheeks. Rosalie’s ass; that was what she had her face snuggled into. And those whining, pleasurable noises were coming from her—from Rosalie. Zoey’s tongue was the thing coaxing them out, Zoey’s tongue, exploring her cute asshole. 
 
“It’s, it’s, um, working,” Rosalie gasped. 
 
Zoey slid her tongue out. “The ring?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Glad I kept it?”
 
“It was a prudent decision,” Rosalie breathed.
 
Zoey’s lips quirked at the phrasing. Rosalie’s formality was still in place; she wasn’t working hard enough. So she sank her face back in and got to it.
 
Soon enough Rosalie wasn’t making quips, only burying her face into pillows and whining.
 
Zoey readjusted positions, sitting up, but bringing Rosalie’s lower body up to her face, so she was raised up, but with her face still pressed into pillows. It was an awkward position, but it allowed her to rub her thumb across Rosalie’s pussy—which was drenched—and also sink her tongue into Rosalie’s back-door at the same time, exploring in long, circular strokes. 
 
Her cock dribbled precum, having been half-way pleasured then forgotten, still wet from Rosalie’s mouth, but the enjoyment of extracting Rosalie’s pitiful noises overshadowed her own need.
 
The combined assault of Zoey’s fingers rubbing into her folds and clit, and Zoey’s tongue circling her backdoor, had Rosalie quickly devolving into incoherency. Rosalie’s second entrance squeezed around her tongue, clamping down, as her body shuddered in orgasm. Zoey picked up her efforts, forcing her tongue to wiggle around a now-tense, barely pliable hole. Rosalie’s muffled noises, face buried in the pillow, were something Zoey locked into her memories. God, she’s so perfect.
 
Once she’d been appropriately rode down, Zoey collapsed next to Rosalie and pulled her into her arms. Rosalie’s body was still twitching with the remnants of orgasm—pelvis jumping randomly, every five or six seconds as the aftershocks hit. Zoey continued to gently play with her. 
 
Zoey buried her face in Rosalie’s long hair and savored the bliss of knowing this—this beautiful, determined girl—was hers. Hers to enjoy. Hers to spoil.
 
Zoey’s joking words from their last encounter—I think I might be in love—echoed in her head.
 
“Did you like that?” Zoey murmured.
 
Rosalie’s body twitched, again, orgasm not fully settled. “It was … adequate.”
 
Zoey’s lips quirked. “This is what you get for waking me up like you did. I always repay the favor.”
 
“I’ll … make sure to remember that …”
 
They laid for a bit, Zoey basking in Rosalie’s warmth.
 
Finally, Rosalie rolled over. “Can we try something?”
 
That had never once been a bad thing to hear, coming from a naked partner in bed, so Zoey’s immediate answer was, “Sure.”
 
Zoey was laying back, facing the ceiling, and Rosalie climbed on top of her. Her hand went between her legs to grip at Zoey’s cock, guiding it. For a brief second, Zoey’s mind went white in anticipation—but that wasn’t what Rosalie was doing. She guided it to between her legs, so it was pressing between her thighs, but not actually guiding it into her entrance.
 
She leaned forward, and their tits pressed into each other’s. Their faces were a few inches apart. Zoey wanted so desperately to catch Rosalie’s mouth with hers, but something stopped her. Like it always did. A kiss—a real one—would cross some invisible boundary that Zoey knew was there. And … she was afraid to see how Rosalie would react. 
 
This—sex—was fine. Romance might not be. 
 
Even a first date had been a precarious thing to obtain. So instead she pressed her lips into Rosalie’s neck, kissing up and down, settling for second-best.
 
Rosalie’s hips jerked up and down, and Zoey’s cock slid between smooth thighs, against Rosalie’s pussy.
 
A thigh job. ‘Try something new’. Like always, the phrase had ended with something amazing.
 
Zoey gripped her hands into Rosalie’s ass and started pumping. Her cock slid between slick thighs, which Rosalie kept clenched together to provide pressure, and were lubricated by Rosalie’s wetness. Their bodies jostled against each other. Rosalie breathed hot air onto Zoey’s face, somehow more intoxicating than the feeling of her cock sliding between her thighs. 
 
Rosalie kissed Zoey’s own neck, and that was the first time that had happened. Zoey closed her eyes, craning her chin up to open the space for Rosalie’s access. She floated in a sea of pleasure. Rosalie’s soft lips peppered Zoey’s neck, and her eager lower half worked diligently against Zoey, rolling her hips in pace with Zoey as she built to a climax.
 
How did I get so lucky?
 
“In my mouth?” Rosalie murmured into her neck.
 
Zoey shook her head. “Keep going.” She wouldn’t stop her thrusting for anything. Rosalie’s slick thighs were so amazing her thoughts were being erased. Zoey was quickly melting into a puddle of pleasure. Her lower half impacted Rosalie’s with lewd smacks as Rosalie continued to kiss Zoey’s neck.
 
Her cock started to twitch, and Zoey didn’t bother trying to hold the pleasure at bay. She let go.
 
It got everywhere. Like usual. Mostly over Rosalie’s back, and on the bedsheets. Zoey’s cock sticking straight into the air meant there was some serious coverage. We really should start being more considerate. 
 
But Zoey couldn’t be blamed. Rosalie’s thighs had been way too soft, slippery, and determined.
 
Rosalie laid atop Zoey for a while. Zoey refused to be the one to break contact. Everything was right in the world, with her warmth pressing down on Zoey’s body.
 
“We need to get started,” Rosalie sighed, and she sounded as disappointed about it as Zoey felt.
 
“I guess we do.”
 
They laid that way for several more minutes, regardless, Zoey’s arms wrapped around Rosalie’s body, and Rosalie’s head buried into the crook of Zoey’s neck. 
 
Zoey guessed she wasn’t the only weak one.
 
Rosalie was, of course, the one to finally slide off. “This mess is going to make us late. You’re so troublesome.”
 
“I say we go again.”
 
Rosalie crossed her arms. It propped her tits up, which Zoey had to suspect was intentional. There was no way Rosalie didn’t know what she had.
 
“Up,” Rosalie said. “Time to start our day.”
 
“Our day could be this. Let’s not leave. What’s one day off?”
 
Rosalie hesitated, which was honestly a bit shocking, before shaking her head to clear it. “Off the bed, you insatiable creature. We’ve a lot to do.”
 
“You could be the ‘a lot’ we have to do.”
 
“That was horrible.”
 
“I just had a succubus using her thighs to turn my brain to mush. Sue me.”
 
Rosalie blushed, which Zoey grinned at. She turned away. “I’m showering. If you don’t want to join me, stay in bed.”
 
Well. There was a quick way to get Zoey to finally stand.
 
She trailed after Rosalie with a grin. 
 
Maybe I’ll have more luck in the shower.
 
2.11 Setting Off, Philosophical Disagreements
 
They visited Anja One-Eye to handle their mundane portion of items first. They showed up late, Zoey having found success in her soapy teasing of Rosalie’s body during their shared shower. Not exceptionally late, though, but Rosalie seemed irritated at herself that she hadn’t made it to the old woman’s shop immediately on opening. Zoey had been called a few variations of the word ‘troublesome’.
 
Zoey spectated in silence as she watched her partner go about the haggling process. Of the ten or fifteen rather unimpressive pieces of dungeon loot they’d left with Anja, Rosalie only kept three. The rest they bartered to Anja, which, from Zoey’s understanding, would be shortly sold off to another party. Anja was simply an intermediary. Rosalie could make much greater profits if she took her time and shopped around, but Rosalie had said it herself: money didn’t matter. Beyond being able to supply themselves, they didn’t need the best equipment they could obtain for their advancement. In fact, Zoey got the sense Rosalie had no intentions of staying at advancement two for long enough for collecting second-advancement armor to matter.
 
Fe, the plush, curvy sheep-girl was up next. And Zoey was much more interested in the results of those items.
 
“It’s incredible,” Fe said. “The results of all three analyses were just, just fascinating! A first advancement shard, you said?”
 
Zoey grinned at the promising start. “Yeah. Let’s hear it.”
 
“Where should I start?” Fe had the three items they’d taken in to be identified laid out on the counter.
 
“Nipple rings, first?”
 
Fe nodded. “You were right to be suspicious. The name was standard enough—‘of alacrity’ is a routine modifier—but they serve more function than just a Wayfarer would take interest in.”
 
“They do, do they?” Zoey’s smile was growing. Fe seemed equal parts excited and awkward to talk about it.
 
“They’re still adventuring equipment, but yes—they serve a few uses. You’ll definitely want to keep them. Or sell them—I’m sure they’d go for a great price.”
 
“Get to it, please,” Rosalie said.
 
“Right! So. It has two sigils, as the description said. They’re synergistic with each other.” She coughed. “Forgive the frank phrasing: the first sigil accelerates a user’s arrival to orgasm.”
 
Zoey blinked rapidly. “That’s a good thing?” She guessed if you were looking for a quickie … but the build-up was the best part, usually.
 
“Like I said, it’s practical equipment! The second sigil, you see, produces a lingering attack-speed buff for fourteen to eighteen minutes after orgasm. So reaching orgasm fast is a good thing because of the synergy. It’s fairly potent, too. Twenty-two percent.”
 
“Percent!” Rosalie wasn’t a woman prone to outbursts; it drew a surprised look from Zoey. “An amplifier like that? As a first advancement artifact?”
 
“I know! Incredible, isn’t it?”
 
“That’s, that’s—” Rosalie paused. She wiped a hand down her face. “That makes this damned item the best I’ve found since I’ve come down here.”
 
“And it gets better!” Fe enthused. “This shard, you two really don’t know how lucky you got. The others are just as impressive.”
 
“Sounds like we’ll have to put them to good use,” Zoey said, grinning at Rosalie. “You know. For practicality’s sake.”
 
Fe’s face went red at the implication. Zoey had half forgotten they’d had company.
 
“We’ll discuss that later,” Rosalie said, also flushing, and shooting Zoey an annoyed look. “Please continue.”
 
“The second item. The, um, cock ring.” The lewd item name stumbled from the sheep-girl, even if she was much less awkward than Anja had been. “This one’s the least practical of the bunch, but also the,” she coughed, “erm, most fun-focused, to be direct. And quite bizarre. It does exactly as the description says—prevents orgasm, until the binder releases the item—but also more, something not specifically stated in the description. As expected of a rare-quality item. My analysis indicates the longer it’s attached, or perhaps rather, the longer and more intense an orgasm has been staved off, the larger the weapon grows.”
 
“Weapon?” Rosalie asked.
 
“W-Well, I didn’t want to be crude about things.”
 
“The cock,” Rosalie said flatly, looking at Zoey. “I don’t think bigger is what we need.”
 
Again—Fe flushed. “Oh. G-Good for you two.”
 
“Bigger’s always better,” Zoey returned, grinning at Rosalie. “I’m sure it’ll be an experience, if nothing else.”
 
Rosalie scoffed.
 
“And the last?” Zoey asked Fe.
 
“Right. The crown jewel, in my honest opinion.” Fe cracked open the wooden case, revealing the set of six increasing-in-size pairs of silver buttplugs. “Now, these are really something. I could see them going for fifteen, twenty gold, even.”
 
Rosalie’s eyebrows raised; Zoey assumed that was a lot. “And what do they do?”
 
“Empower the user! In a variety of ways. I’m going to have to invent some verbiage here, if you’ll forgive me, but basically, the larger the pair that the two users wear, the more ‘storage’ space for orgasmic energy.”
 
“Orgasmic energy,” Rosalie said disbelievingly. “What kind of empowerment? And why in pairs?”
 
“Beats me. For the pair requirement, I mean. Shard loot, am I right?” Fe coughed at Rosalie’s unimpressed expression. Zoey could tell Rosalie was keeping her reactions strictly under control, because she was intensely embarrassed by all this. “But they’ll only work when used together, and of the same size. The empowerment seems to affect a few things: vitality, perceptions, focus, and strength. Real useful mixture of stats. But the process is a bit specific.”
 
“Go ahead.”
 
“Once inserted, they’ll store energy with every successive orgasm, up until they’re removed—which will release the energy. So you’ll need to plan accordingly.”
 
“And it’s a powerful effect,” Rosalie said.
 
“Not multiplicative, but stronger for a lower advancement than the nipple rings. Assuming average first-advancement capabilities, probably close to a forty percent boost? For a second-advancement, probably around twenty-five.”
 
“In all categories you mentioned?”
 
Fe nodded along. “Like I said. Fifteen, twenty gold—for a first-advancement item. It’s one of the best I’ve ever seen.”
 
“We really got lucky.” Zoey was the only one grinning here, but she couldn’t help herself.
 
“You really did.”
 
“How’d you figure all this out, anyway?” Zoey asked.
 
Fe tutted. “That’s a trade secret, ma’am. You’d need to join the Artificer’s Guild and finish an apprenticeship for me to tell you.”
 
“Did you clean them, at least?”
 
Fe paused, then flushed. She crossed her arms. “Hey! What are you implying?”
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
“Good news?” Zoey asked, walking into Sabina’s alchemy store. Sabina had remembered to flick her ‘open’ sign to the correct position, today. Not that the shop had any customers.
 
“Perhaps,” Sabina said, peeling off her goggles and separating herself from the simmering vat; the same way Zoey had found her yesterday. “It depends on your perspective of success.”
 
“The blossom blight.” That was the more important potion by an order of magnitude. Having aphrodisiacs on hand to spice things up was for sure something Zoey looked forward to, but not accidentally knocking girls up (again, assuming she could; her cock hadn’t come with a manual) was on the ‘must-have’ list rather than the ‘would be fun’ list. And sure, Zoey could start using condoms, but that was her back up plan. She’d rather not. “How’d that turn out?”
 
“Determine for yourself,” Sabina said. “One moment.” She disappeared into the backroom, then returned with four red vials in her hand. She laid them on the front counter.
 
Zoey inspected them.
 
[Potion of Impotency]: Render consumer infertile for four hours.
 
Zoey blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s a success. Doesn’t even sound like a partial success.” Like she had thought Sabina had implied.
 
“I failed the reverse,” Sabina said. “I couldn’t synthesize the ‘blossom’. Without a doubt, the ingredient should yield something that increases fertility, too.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. “That’s, uh. Not necessary. For my use, at least. How much of the reagent did it take?”
 
“Perhaps a tenth.”
 
“And the flameroot?”
 
“Trickier. I believe when you return—and we have our first lesson—I’ll have something to show. But nothing yet.”
 
Zoey was a bit disappointed she wouldn’t have some to take along for their next adventure, because who knew when some aphrodisiac would come in handy, but the most crucial potion had been successful; she took satisfaction in that. “Works with me. Not to be curt or anything, but we should get a move on. We’re behind schedule. Do you need anything from me, or?”
 
“Yes,” Sabina said. She pulled from underneath the counter a kit about chest-width and a foot deep. “Keep an eye out for anything odd. Not all reagents come from chests. I would have loved a sample of those vines you mentioned—their secretions, or the plants themselves. I suspect they would have served as a fascinating ingredient. This is a collection kit—bring it with you.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. “Sure. Anything in specific to look for?”
 
“Use your best judgment,” she said. “It depends on whether you get an aberrant shard again.” She tilted her head. “You do seem unusually confident you will.”
 
Zoey coughed. “Maybe I’m optimistic.” She vanished the collection-kit into her inventory. “Okay. Well. Be back tomorrow.”
 
“I’ll be here,” Sabina said idly, walking back to her potion-preparation station. “Any time of the day, or night. I sleep in the back room. Feel free to visit, if you find something worth my time.”
 
You sleep in your backroom, and you’re still broke? This woman desperately needed someone handling the business portion of her, well, business.
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
A bleary-eyed Delta answered the door.
 
“Man, you weren’t kidding,” she said. “Third bell?”
 
“Please tell me you didn’t just wake up,” Rosalie said.
 
Zoey repressed a sigh. She’d been hoping Rosalie and Delta would work off their distasteful first impressions of each other, but Delta not being ready on their agreed-upon time wasn’t going to help with that.
 
“I thought you were joking,” Delta said. “Third bell. Really?”
 
“Why would I be joking about—”
 
“Kidding. Lighten up, blondie. Sheesh. Give me like, three minutes.” Delta slammed the door shut.
 
“I’ll like her,” Rosalie said tightly as they stared at the wooden door, “if I give her a chance, will I?”
 
“She’s, uh. An acquired taste?”
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
Zoey, Rosalie, and Delta descended the titanic trunk of one of Treyhull’s many supports. Their destination, the Crystal Ravines, a second advancement realm three shifts away—and where Zoey’s party would be seeking their second, more powerful this time, shard.
 
To think this one’s going to be voluntary.
 
The first tried to molest them. What would the second do?
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
A surprising amount of adventuring was just … walking. The trip to Rosalie’s chosen realm—the Crystal Ravines—where they’d be seeking their second shard was no small venture by itself; and even once there, they’d need to scour the zone, looking for the enigmatic markers that indicated the entrance to a shard.
 
In the meantime, they talked.
 
“You’re really that inexperienced?” Delta asked.
 
“First time I ever casted a spell was yesterday,” Zoey said. “First time I ever got in a fight in general, really.”
 
“Damn. Seriously?” Delta turned to Rosalie. “You sure this is a good idea?”
 
“It’s why I asked if you were self-sufficient,” Rosalie said. “Take care of yourself, and I’ll be able to focus on her.”
 
“Sure,” Delta said, “but I dunno, still. Shards are shards. She’s the only first advancement going into this, and she’s got no clue what’s going on. She’s over her head big-time.”
 
“I’ll protect her.”
 
“You better.” Delta shook her head. “I know she makes our runes evolve faster, but I’m not trying to get someone killed just ‘cuz she’s useful to us.”
 
Rosalie stiffened. She turned a withering glare to Zoey. “You told her that?”
 
“She’s got a big fucking mouth,” Delta said. “You have to have learned that. Haven’t you two been together for a bit?”
 
“I didn’t see why I shouldn’t,” Zoey said defensively. She was really being assaulted here; the allegations of being useless were entirely true, but the second vector of disapproval, she felt unjustified. She didn’t think having a trusting nature was a bad thing. It opened her up to vulnerability, but Zoey also didn’t want to be a person who never opened up to others on the off chance she was stung. Which wasn't to say she'd be outright idiotic about it, blabbing her secrets to anyone willing to listen, but Delta was—
 
Well, shit. She didn't know. She trusted Delta. Zoey thought she was pretty good at reading people, and Delta was easier to read than most; and she didn't think the fox-girl wore her heart on her sleeve as some kind of ruse. 
 
"You didn't see why not," Rosalie said flatly. “Really.”
 
Zoey sighed. "I'm happy you're looking out for me, but it's my choice, not yours, who I tell what to."
 
Which Rosalie couldn't argue. She turned back to Delta. "I'm not 'putting her in danger' because she's useful to me—not any more than I would any teammate. I do the same for you, and you to me, or her, as well. It's the nature of our profession."
 
"She's practically a civilian," Delta said. "Not to mention she has her memories wiped, doesn't have the first clue how most things work. So no, it's not the same. Most teammates, I can assume know the risks."
 
"I'll be guarding her," Rosalie said. "So unless you'd like to level similar accusations of incompetence toward me, she’ll be fine.”
 
“It’s not your competence I’m worried about, old blood. It’s that if there’s anything your type is famous for, it’s stepping on throats on the long way up the ladder.”
 
“Such is the game,” Rosalie said. “But she needs to be protected to be useful, doesn’t she? So I’ll protect her, if nothing but for that. So your point is moot. You fling insults simply to fling them.”
 
Zoey’s stomach was sinking at the brutal analysis Rosalie provided. Especially the ‘stepping on throats is necessary’ part. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”
 
Rosalie blinked as she turned to Zoey—then something in her posture closed off, face going blank. “I would love to stand here and wax lyrical, babble like an idealist, extol the virtues of cooperation and raising each other up, but the reality,” the word dripped from her mouth with distaste, “is that not much can be accomplished without someone getting hurt. Advancement may not be a zero-sum game, but it’s something close.”
 
Zoey had known Rosalie had harsh view points—that this world in general would, considering its brutal axioms of existence—but hearing her lay them out pained her. She doesn’t mean it. Except, it sounded like she did.
 
“And that’s all that matters,” Delta said. “Higher, higher, higher. Everything else is noise.”
 
“Essentially,” Rosalie said harshly, “But satisfy yourself with mediocrity. Why would I care?”
 
Delta snorted, then caught Zoey’s eyes, who had watched the exchange with growing unease.
 
“Old blood,” Delta said simply. “I told you.”
 
“Old blood is old for a reason,” Rosalie said. “And it will continue to be. But bask in your moral superiority.”
 
They walked in silence. 
 
They both thought they’d won the argument.
 
Zoey guessed they both had.
 
 
 
2.12 ❤ Backdoor Fun
 
 
 
The tense mood settled, eventually. They couldn’t stew in silence for long. They had plenty to talk about, and Zoey meant that in a practical sense; Rosalie’s interview of Delta had been brief, and their discussions too, because they’d intended on talking strategy on the long trip to the  shard entrance.
 
“I’m sorry,” Delta said. “Topped off? What do you mean she’ll need to be topped off?”
 
Rosalie glanced at Zoey. “You didn’t tell her?”
 
“Didn’t come up.”
 
Rosalie made a ‘go-ahead’ gesture.
 
Zoey and Delta met eyes. Delta seemed amused, fox ears twitching even as the edges of her lips curled up.
 
Zoey couldn’t fully prevent the coloring of her cheeks, even if Delta knew the strangeness of Zoey’s class, by this point. “I don’t use mana,” Zoey said. “I use, uh. Lust. It’s like mana, but doesn’t recharge passively, and is only refilled with intimacy.”
 
“And is more potent,” Rosalie added.
 
“It is?” Zoey asked.
 
“Your one-circle ice spike is unnaturally powerful.”
 
“Really?” Rosalie hadn’t mentioned any such thing to her.
 
“About twice as strong as a competent first-advancement caster’s would be,” Rosalie said. “The downside is that you exhaust yourself much faster. Enough you could run out in a single fight.”
 
“Hence the top-offs,” Delta said, nodding. “Sheesh. So, what. Between every fight? That’s a lot of sex.”
 
“Every fight would be unnecessary,” Rosalie said. Like usual, when she became embarrassed, her voice took a controlled, clipped tone. “But with some frequency, yes. We don’t want her reserving her abilities; she needs to train her runes as much as us.”
 
“So every few.”
 
“Five or six, I would guess.”
 
“Still a lot of sex. We taking turns?”
 
“It doesn’t need to be sex,” Rosalie said. “Intimacy of any form, with one of her bonded targets.”
 
“Yeah, but handys’ll get old. What do you usually do? Mouth, or all the way?”
 
Rosalie started sputtering.
 
A thought having hit Zoey, and also to save Rosalie, she interjected, “Will having both of you mean a faster recharge?”
 
Delta and Rosalie looked at her.
 
Zoey blushed. “Not because—I’m not trying to—”
 
“Horndog,” Delta grinned. “One isn’t enough? Gotta have us both at the same time?”
 
“It just seems plausible! Not trying to be weird. Either of you is more than anyone could hope for.”
 
Delta paused, then blushed. “You can’t say shit like that with such a straight face. What’s wrong with you?”
 
Rosalie, on her part, had crossed her arms. If Zoey had to guess, it was because Delta had been lumped in under the descriptor of ‘amazing’ along with her.
 
“I’m just saying, it makes sense,” Zoey said. 
 
Delta considered it for a second, then laughed. “Eh, guess it does. The Maker knows it could fit four hands, so that won’t be a problem. Or two mouths, for fuck’s sake. Five or six of them, really. Guess it’s worth a shot.”
 
Zoey tried not to linger on the imagery of five or six mouths working up her shaft. Getting hard while hiking through the rugged terrain of the Fractures would be a bit inconvenient.
 
“As if I would ever engage in—in such activities—with this woman,” Rosalie said.
 
“Then one is fine,” Zoey said instantly. “The thought just struck me. Everyone’s comfort matters more.”
 
“Aw,” Delta said. “That’s sweet, and really gross. Seriously, stop saying shit like that.” She wrinkled her nose at Rosalie. “And what happened to professionalism? As if I’m twitching to jump into bed with you. But she’s got a class, and reality needs to be faced. Weren’t you the one whining about that?”
 
“If it becomes necessary, then I’ll consider it. Her resources are hardly difficult to come by. One of us is plenty. It’ll simply mean more stops—if that’s even how it works.”
 
Delta shrugged. “Whatever. Prude.”
 
The conversation devolved into bickering, as it had a few times before.
 
How are we only an hour in? Would they even make it to the shard in one piece, before Rosalie and Delta started engaging in honor duels? 
 
Forecast … not promising.
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
“Loot distribution,” Delta said. “How’s that working?”
 
“Discretionary. Dump it and split, if there’s issues.”
 
Delta bobbed her head, as if the words that had escaped Rosalie’s mouth were more than a collection of nonsensical sounds. “Sure. Even?”
 
“Is always the goal.” Rosalie shrugged. “You’ll find we’re not picky. It’s low-advancement equipment. Who cares?”
 
“Fill me in?” Zoey asked.
 
Rosalie glanced her way. “Oh. We’ll use our best discretion, come to an agreement on how items will be split, once the shard is complete. If we can’t—if we refuse to find some terms we all agree on—then we’ll sell everything we’ve collected to a third party and split the coin three ways. Which is less than ideal, but the only fair option when compromise can’t be made.”
 
Made sense, Zoey guessed. It wasn’t the first time Rosalie and Delta had used lingo Zoey needed to be caught up on. Before, when it’d just been the two of them, Rosalie had been careful in which phrases she used, knowing Zoey had no clue what was going on. Now, having another experienced Wayfarer by her side, the two fell into nearly nonsensical discussions. It was useful for picking up on how things worked, at least. Zoey was getting the barest hang of Wayfarer terminology.
 
“Speaking of items,” Zoey said. “We using ours, this shard?”
 
“The … ?”
 
“New ones, yeah.”
 
Rosalie’s lips pursed. “With such significant benefits, it would be foolish not to.”
 
“My turn to be filled in, lovebirds. What new items?”
 
Rosalie’s nose wrinkled at the ‘lovebirds’ statement, but she answered Delta. They two might dislike each other, but they were professionals; enjoying each other’s company was far from a prerequisite to them working as a team. That included these preliminary discussions on how they’d be tackling the shard.
 
“Last shard was unusual, as we’ve mentioned to you.”
 
“And you think this one’ll be too.” Delta nodded her head; Zoey and Rosalie had hardly dragged her along without informing her of that risk. “So, what, pervy items? How so?”
 
She’d picked up on the subtext, so at least they didn’t have to break the general idea to her. Rosalie deferred to Zoey, glancing her way; like usual, Zoey picked up the slack on the more embarrassing parts of their circumstances.
 
Might as well hurl off the deep end; no reason to tiptoe. Hadn’t Delta been the one to say exactly that: that she hated tiptoeing? Made things easier. “The important ones are a pair of nipple rings, and a set of buttplugs.”
 
Delta burst out laughing. “No shit.” The reaction tugged a smile to Zoey’s lips; she’d found the situation hilarious when it had emerged, too. “What do they do?”
 
“Both empower,” Zoey said. “But only on orgasm.” She’d spare the exact details. Only needed to get the general idea across, for now.
 
Rosalie was shaking her head and pointedly ignoring the conversation.
 
“You told me this shard might be perverted,” Delta said, “but you didn’t tell me you’d be shoving shit up my ass.”
 
“Definitely not a requirement. Again, only do what you’re comfortable with.”
 
“What kind of buffs we talking?”
 
“Significant,” Rosalie said. “It’s the only reason I remotely considered it.”
 
“‘Significant’ to her means something serious, I’m taking it,” Delta said, looking at Zoey.
 
“The artificer we worked with suggested a forty percent boost to …” Zoey had forgotten.
 
“Vitality, perception, focus, and strength,” Rosalie said. 
 
Delta stumbled a step. “No joke?”
 
“Considering their oddity,” Rosalie said tightly, “it better produce a worthwhile effect.”
 
“They have to be worn in tandem, too,” Zoey said. “They’re in matching pairs. Same size. Bigger ones mean better effect.”
 
“You’ve got multiple sizes?”
 
“A whole set.”
 
“Shit, bust those bad boys out. Lemme take a look.”
 
Zoey did so. They continued to walk and she cracked open the case and showed off the bizarre items to Delta.
 
Delta withdrew the largest of the plugs—one which flared larger than Zoey’s fist, noticeably larger, big enough to be comical—and stared at it in disbelief. “Dude, even if I wanted to, not a fucking shot. The hell you think I’ve been stuffing back there? My fist? Both of them?”
 
That kind of implied Delta’d been stuffing things ‘back there’ at all, which sent a little thrill through Zoey. “If I had to guess, that’s why it’s so strong. The smaller ones aren’t as good. It’ll take time to work up to the biggest.”
 
“You’re trying to work up to this?!” Delta waggled the plug in disbelief.
 
Zoey blushed. “I mean—um, no, not particularly? But don’t you like, get used to it, over time?”
 
“Sure, if you’re stretching yourself out daily.” Delta paused. “Do you?”
 
“I haven’t done much, uh.”
 
“Backdoor stuff.”
 
“Backdoor stuff,” Zoey repeated. “But I’m not against it.”
 
“So you’ll be starting off small.”
 
“Probably?”
 
“Well,” Delta said. “You can make a lot of progress using health potions, if you’re willing to be uncomfortable. Want to start? Like, noticeable progress. Enough to matter before we reach the shard.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. Shit, right now? “Um.” She glanced at Rosalie.
 
“There’s only two,” Rosalie said, “and if I absolutely must be forced into this degeneracy, it’ll be with the rings.”
 
“Rings?” Delta asked.
 
“Nipple rings that improve attack speed on orgasm,” Zoey said.
 
“What the hell?” Delta sounded delighted. “This shit is awesome.”
 
“Yes, well, they’re mine. You two handle the—” Rosalie waved in disgust toward their even less-savory item.
 
“Huh,” Zoey said, still coming to terms with the swerve toward perversion. “Okay. But right now?”
 
“It’s a bit weird walking with one, but it’ll help stretch you out. Maybe you can be at the third smallest, by the time we’re there.”
 
Fuck me. She was going to hike all the way to the shard with these things shoved up her butt?
 
Why was her dick getting hard?
 
“There she is,” Delta laughed. “I wondered when she’d be coming out to play.”
 
Zoey flushed and adjusted the stiffening length in her pants. “Sorry. Could only hold out so long.”
 
Delta shrugged. “I’m hardly a prude. And I’ve got the feeling blondie’s well and used to it, by now.”
 
Rosalie, like usual, ignored her.
 
“Alright, break time,” Delta said, clapping, as the three of them stalled. “Me n’ your girlfriend are about to get freaky, blondie, so you might want to cover your eyes.”
 
“Girlfriend!” Rosalie sputtered a second, then stalked away.
 
“Man,” Delta said. “She’s got it bad. It’s way too easy.”
 
“I’d rather you didn’t tease,” Zoey said quietly, low enough Rosalie couldn’t hear. “We’re uh. Well. Me, I mean. I’m working on things.”
 
Delta actually seemed a bit sympathetic to the request; she nodded. “Honestly, some dick’ll do her good. So sure. I’ll try to keep that teasing to a minimum. Not the rest, though. Now get those pants down, Missy.”
 
Fuck. It’s actually happening. She hadn’t never had something up her ass—that one girlfriend who’d loved receiving had convinced Zoey into some fun of her own—but she was far from experienced.
 
Zoey pulled out a towel and laid it across the rugged forest floor. She tugged down her pants, then underwear, springing out her now-hard cock. Her clothes rested in a bunch atop her boots. Delta smirked at her, clearly taking amusement at this whole situation. Which, Zoey guessed, was good, all things considered. If Zoey had a perverted class, it was beneficial they’d wandered on a third party-member who wasn’t too fussed by the ordeal.
 
Less fussed than Rosalie, even, who’d stalked away.
 
“This might be useful,” Zoey said, pulling out the bottle of cleaning agent and handing it to her.
 
Delta blinked at the item, presumably Inspecting it. “Man, that simplifies things. Or, not simplifies, but—” she laughed. “Well, you get the idea.” Delta got down between Zoey’s spread-out legs, setting the buttplug box to the right. She shuffled forward. “Alright, time to do the scorpion.”
 
“Sorry?”
 
Zoey squeaked as Delta man-handled her, grabbing Zoey’s legs and toppling her so her back was curved, and Zoey’s lower half was pressed into Delta’s fully-clothed chest. She was bent in a ‘C’, her cock now pointed directly at her face. Zoey saw pre-cum had gathered at its tip—not that it’d be seeing any relief.
 
She looked ridiculous, without a doubt, curled over like this, upside down and with her pants and underwear at her ankles. Zoey got the feeling Delta had chosen this position for a reason.
 
Delta didn’t waste any time, or ask permission. Zoey guessed 'implied' was more than enough for her. She squirted the cold liquid onto Zoey’s asshole, the sensation making her shiver, then started rubbing her fingers in circles, which made her gasp.
 
“You’re not totally new, right?” Delta asked.
 
“No.”
 
“That’s good.”
 
“Squeeze, uh, the bottle in. So it’s clean.”
 
Delta did so. It popped into Zoey’s hole, spreading her open in a bizarre—but pleasurable—way. “Fuck,” she panted, even as Delta squeezed, sending a burst of liquid in, which Zoey could actively feel working away on her insides. When Rosalie had said it ‘tingled’, she’d understated things.
 
Again, without asking, or even giving her forewarning, Delta’s middle finger popped into Zoey’s second entrance. Zoey gasped as a wiggling finger invaded her. She forced herself to relax; to not tense up. There’d be much larger invaders coming, shortly.
 
“Let’s go for broke,” Delta said. “I’m starting with second smallest.”
 
There was half a question in Delta’s voice, so she was at least somewhat considerate. Zoey didn’t contradict her.
 
A cold piece of metal started making circles around her backdoor. The cleaning liquid had left behind a lubricated residue; it slid easily, the temperature of the object making her shiver.
 
A drop of precum dripped onto Zoey’s shirt, absorbing in a dark stain. Why am I dripping so much? She was more excited than she thought she’d be.
 
The object pressed in, slowly, under Delta’s steady efforts, and spread Zoey’s rarely-used entrance apart.
 
She sucked in air; it was nothing like Delta’s fingers. Those had been a surprise—foreign—but far from large. Even the second smallest of the collection spread her many times more. A pained whine slipped from Zoey’s lips. It hurt, the smallest amount—but in a good way.
 
Delta stilled at the noise. “Too ambitious?”
 
“Just, uh, slower,” she panted.
 
Delta pulled the object out, then started playing circles around her entrance. She dipped it in—drawing a gasp—then dipped it out, slowly working Zoey up to taking its full width.
 
It lasted a few minutes, Delta carefully working it deeper and deeper with every repetition.
 
Finally—
 
Zoey gasped as the pressure disappeared all at once, the flared metal finally sinking into Zoey’s insides, and her tight hole wrapping around the skinny portion just  before the base. Even the thin rod exerted no small amount of pressure, though, seeing how Zoey’s asshole was—well, accustomed to being closed, not spread open more than a finger wide.
 
“There she is,” Delta laughed. “Man, you’re making a mess. Stop dripping everywhere.” She was referring to Zoey’s excited cock.
 
“Can’t really help it,” Zoey said, face blazing. The ‘C’ position Delta had curled her into was extremely embarrassing; she wished Delta had the smallest amount more shame. Zoey had liked it better when she’d been the unruffled one in the dynamic.
 
Delta wiggled the circular base of the toy, stirring it around in Zoey’s insides. Zoey gasped.
 
“Stop playing!”
 
“When you make noises like that, how can I help myself?”
 
Zoey awkwardly shuffled back so that her ass was no longer in the air, and her cock no longer pointed at her face. “Your turn.”
 
“I don’t need the practice. I can already fit—well, whatever you can.”
 
Zoey stared at her in disbelief. “You’re going to make me suffer through this alone?” Even just adjusting herself back to a sitting position had jostled the object around, her clenching asshole highly displeased with its invader. 
 
And her cock not highly displeased. Shit. It really feels great. I kinda wanna go bigger. But even this one had barely fit; better to not. At least, for now. By the sounds of it, she’d be working her way up as they walked. Delta hadn’t mentioned health potions for no reason; Zoey assumed they’d be getting ambitious about things.
 
“You’re a sweetheart,” Delta said, “But I’m not walking six hours with a plug up my ass if I don’t need to.” She jabbed a finger at Zoey. “Only you need the prep.”
 
Delta paused.
 
“But if you want me to take care of you, so you’re not hard the whole way, I can do that.”
 
Zoey’s cock pulsed in anticipation.
 
Delta laughed. “That’s a ‘yes’, in my book.” She crawled forward and wrapped a hand around Zoey’s cock. “I’ve heard it’s even better when something’s shoved up there. But I guess you’re not a dude, so it’s hard to say. They’ve got some butt stuff we don’t.”
 
“You really have a way with words,” Zoey said dryly. She wondered—did she have one of those, with her transformation? Probably not. The insertion of the plug had felt more or less the same as when she’d had her few risque interactions with her old girlfriend. No magical soft-spot up there.
 
Still. The constant pressure of having that rarely-explored hole spread open by cold steel … it was definitely making Delta’s coaxing hands a more effective extractor.
 
Zoey laid back and covered her face with an arm, letting herself be milked by two diligent, powerful hands, lower hole clenching against tough metal, flared bulb filling up her insides.
 
For the tenth or hundredth time, Zoey thought, It’s really not all bad, is it? Stolen away between dimensions, memories carved away—but damn. Two eager, cute teammates, always willing to help.
 
Her stomach clenched. A burning anticipation built in her cock.
 
Her hips jerked forward, her back arching as she let go.
 
“There she is,” Delta laughed delightedly as Zoey sprayed into the air, wrists twisting up and down. “And all over your face. You really don’t care, do you, you naughty girl?”
 
 
 
2.13 Self Reflections, More Literal
 
Hiking for multiple hours with a plug of metal inserted up her ass wasn’t the most comfortable of predicaments, and more than that, Delta’s relief only lasted twenty minutes before the jostling stimulation had her dick filling her pants out again. Under Delta’s suggestion, Zoey tucked her unwieldy member into her waistband to better accommodate walking with an erection, because they didn’t have time for Zoey to be relieved every twenty minutes. And while the strategy had her cock stuffing all the way up her shirt, at least they weren’t rubbing against Zoey’s pants, caressing her sensitive tip against the tough material.
 
Her thoughts were sex-hazed as they walked. Delta made constant fun of her for it, and Zoey tried to be her normal self, but mostly failed. Rosalie seemed irritated by Delta’s teasing—and flushed at Zoey’s own constant red cheeks, the way Zoey’s eyes were latching to their hips, chest, and thighs, her constant stimulation driving her thoughts wild. It at least spiced the mundane trip up, had the clock ticking faster than it would have otherwise. She and Delta stopped twice to work her up to more ambitious plug sizes; she did better than expected, going up two more, and having Zoey feeling painfully (and delightedly) full.
 
Their destination realm, the Crystal Ravines, they arrived to an hour after noon—not that there was any sun to be making such a determination by, but rather, some artifact Rosalie carried around, which she checked with almost anxiety-inducing consistency. Zoey had jokingly called her a taskmaster, but she really was one. She worked with demanding efficiency and adhered to a schedule, and expected she and Delta do the same.
 
Tracking down a shard entrance was trickier, but only took a few hours. By Delta’s raised eyebrows, it was an impressive speed, and one facilitated entirely by Rosalie. Old blood, Delta’s phrase bounced around in Zoey’s head. It had the same ring as royalty, even if context didn’t fully equate the two.
 
They stared into the murky black void of a portal. Zoey had grown fair enough used to the things, existing as doorways between realms, between shards, and even inside loot chests, so the magical sight didn’t amaze her as much as the first times. Still interesting, though. 
 
“Remember,” Rosalie said. “If we’re separated, stay still. You’re not fit for solo wayfaring.”
 
“I know,” Zoey said. Again, her pride prickled at the way she was given so little credit; and again, her more rational mind fought that reaction down, because Christ, she didn’t deserve credit. She was the fragile newbie that needed to be cared for—escorted and doted on. “I’ll sit tight until you find me.” If it came to that. There was no guarantee entry would separate them.
 
“We ready, then?” Rosalie asked.
 
“As ever,” Delta said.
 
They stepped in.
 
 
 
###
 
 
 
Zoey groaned as she struggled to consciousness. She couldn’t remember why, but she couldn’t allow herself to give in to the desire to fall back asleep. Hadn’t she been doing something? She shouldn’t be resting. She had just … just …
 
Just entered a shard.
 
Her eyes shot open.
 
She flailed up in bed, throwing a warm, plush bedsheet from her body, cold air filling the vacuum and chilling her skin.
 
“Mmm,” a voice to her left breathed. “What? What is it?”
 
Zoey’s head pivoted. It didn’t sound like Rosalie or Delta. It didn’t sound like anyone she knew.
 
Her brain stalled.
 
She took in the face of the woman asleep next to her.
 
Zoey’s eyes widened.
 
Both of theirs did.
 
Both of Zoey’s did.
 
Not-Zoey—the woman asleep next to her—shot up in bed after her, bursting to awareness, and clutching bedsheets to her chest. She gasped, “What—What—”
 
“You’re me,” Zoey said incredulously. “What the fuck.”
 
“You’re me?! No, I’m, I’m—”
 
“Me?” Zoey suggested.
 
Not-Zoey shook her head. “You’re—”
 
“Calm down,” Zoey said. “It’s shard bullshit. We were ready for this. Don’t panic.”
 
“Don’t panic,” Not-Zoey exclaimed. “I’m not. But how am I supposed to—?” Not-Zoey froze, then stared down at herself. She tossed the sheets off.
 
Zoey stared. So did Not-Zoey.
 
“Where the fuck is my cock?!” she shrilled. 
 
Okay.
 
Okay.
 
This was weird.
 
What else had she expected?
 
Not-Zoey’s hand scrambled between her crotch, as if to confirm her cock had really vanished. And it had. Not-Zoey had a cleanly shaved pussy, and while she was post-Ephy transformation, the most noticeable of her changes had comprehensively vanished; no enormous foreign genitalia took up residence between her legs. Zoey’s hand patted absently at her own crotch, making sure a similar fate hadn’t befallen her. It hadn’t.
 
“So,” Zoey said, “do you think I’m the fake one, or you?”
 
Not-Zoey gaped at her, at the question, before shaking her head and groaning. “Me, obviously.”
 
At least she came to terms with it fast. Zoey paused. At least I came to terms with it fast? Or was Zoey being too prospective she wasn’t the fake one? She didn’t feel fake. She assumed Not-Zoey didn’t feel that way either; it was simply the changes between her legs which suggested it. Whatever ‘fake’ meant—Not-Zoey seemed real enough to her.
 
“Where are we?” Not-Zoey asked.
 
Zoey looked around at the finely adorned room—resembling a manor’s master bedroom—but found she had more important questions.
 
Namely: she was naked again, sans the equipment Rosalie had carefully helped dress her with. Don’t tell me the shard stole our inventories again. Or for the first time, in Zoey’s case. She wondered if Rosalie—and Delta—were in similar circumstances.
 
She checked that ephemeral, internal pocket-space.
 
Good news:
 
Not empty.
 
Bad news:
 
Zoey burst out laughing.
 
“What?” Not-Zoey asked with wide eyes.
 
“It left the sex toys,” Zoey said simply. “And took everything else.” In fact, she’d been so taken off guard—and accustomed to its presence from the long walk—she hadn’t even noticed that the plug was still in her ass. So at least we’re not starting from scratch.
 
A long pause.
 
Not-Zoey grinned. “Fuck me, that’s funny.”
 
“Isn’t it?”
 
The two of them collapsed back, the strangeness of the situation serving as a catalyst to hilarity. They laughed themselves out, wheezing toward the canopy of the fancy bed.
 
“Perverted,” Zoey corrected. “Not funny, perverted. Railroad us more, right?”
 
“As if you’re mad about it. We get to see Rosalie’s butt again, all day long.”
 
“It’s not the worst thing that could happen,” Zoey amended.
 
“And Delta's,” Not-Zoey said.
 
A pause.
 
“Shit,” Zoey said.
 
“Preaching to the choir, sister.”
 
“So you’re uh,” Zoey said. “You’re good?”
 
“About being a clone?” Not-Zoey shrugged. “Feels normal. And we’re pretty good at pushing off the existential dread, aren’t we? Fuck it.”
 
They silenced, Not-Zoey’s casual words hitting a little too hard for either of their likings.
 
“Anyway,” Not-Zoey said. “Guess the question is, why? Don’t tell me—?”
 
Don’t tell me it’s a sex thing.
 
Zoey and Not-Zoey stared at each other, a blush building on their faces.
 
“I am not being fucked by myself,” Not-Zoey declared loudly. “I’m not—stop getting hard!”
 
“I can’t help it! You’re naked!”
 
“I’m you! You, you—you narcissist!”
 
Zoey sat up in bed—at least her ‘pitching of a tent’ was slightly less noticeable that way—and raised her hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
 
Not-Zoey huffed, also sitting up. “You’re not fucking me, I don’t care what this shard has planned. That’s weird. That thing isn’t going inside me.”
 
“No intentions.” Zoey wouldn’t have wanted that either, if she had been in Not-Zoey’s position. Which, uh, made sense. They were the same person. “Seriously, chill. You’re me. We can talk this out.”
 
“Okay. Yeah. We can.”
 
They stared at each other.
 
“Let’s uh, start with figuring out what the hell’s going on.” Zoey started shuffling from the bed, intending to explore the room.
 
“Rosie told us to sit still,” Not-Zoey said.
 
Zoey froze, one foot already touching the floor. “You think that means … even the room we spawn in?”
 
“Dunno. Guess we should’ve clarified.”
 
Zoey hesitated, before finishing climbing out of bed. Not-Zoey tutted, then followed after. Oddly, she dragged the bed sheet along with her, wrapping them around her to preserve her modesty. Was that what I would do, in her situation? It had to be, right? Or was Not-Zoey not Zoey?
 
Stupid question. But the point was clear.
 
She guessed in this situation—Zoey being the one with the cock—Not-Zoey had taken a meeker role; or at least wanted modesty more. I guess that makes sense. Not-Zoey was the one under threat of being ravaged.
 
Her cock pulsed at the idea.
 
Zoey tried not to think about what it’d be like to fuck herself. To feel her own pussy squeezing around her. I’m actually a pervert, aren’t I? Ephy had leveled the accusation as soon as she had summoned Zoey. And why else would Zoey have been chosen as a goddess of eroticism’s champion?
 
I’m not fucking myself. She already said no.
 
I already said no.
 
“Would it count as masturbation?” Not-Zoey asked.
 
A laugh was torn from Zoey’s lips, before she quickly cut it off.
 
She distracted herself.
 
The room she and herself had found themselves (herselves?) in was ornate, dripping with wealth. As Zoey had first appraised, a noblewoman’s bedroom. Getting dressed, at least, wouldn’t be a problem, or so she thought until Not-Zoey started pulling open wardrobe drawers and finding nothing. Tease. 
 
Not-Zoey huffed. “Shouldn’t be surprised.”
 
“Being naked’s part of the job, I guess.”
 
Not-Zoey tossed the blanket she’d been covering herself with back onto the bed. Zoey tried not to pay attention to her naked curves. Fuck. My naked curves. What the hell is wrong with me?
 
“I’m not doing it,” Not-Zoey said flatly. “Stop staring at me.”
 
“Sorry.” She hadn’t meant to. “I mean—you know I won’t. If you don’t want to.”
 
“And I don’t!”
 
“I know!”
 
Not-Zoey wiped a hand down her face. “Go jerk yourself off or something, if you’re going to be weird.”
 
“I’m fine. It’s just a cock.” Then, pointedly, “Your cock.” Two could play Not-Zoey’s game. “Who cares if it’s hard? You know it’s just a … biological reaction.”
 
“Stop pretending wanting to fuck yourself is normal.”
 
“It’s you wanting to do it,” Zoey sneered. “If you were in my position, you would too. We’re each other, remember?”
 
Not-Zoey paused. “Can we please focus?”
 
“Nice deflection.”
 
“Asshole.”
 
Zoey laughed, which had Not-Zoey doing so, too. At least the brief confrontation, and tension, had broken. 
 
“Well,” Not-Zoey said. “Not much in here. And we can’t leave.”
 
They looked around the room, then sat on the bed.
 
“Guess we’re waiting,” Zoey said.
 
 
 
2.14 ❤ Rosalie, Rising Up to the Challenge
 
Rosalie drowsily drifted to consciousness, and the first thing she was met with on opening her eyes was her own face.
 
For a moment, the sight didn’t register. Her brain blanked out. Had a mirror been placed into bed with her, leaned over so that when she blinked awake, it was the first thing she’d see? But no, that didn’t make sense. The position Rosalie was laying down with didn’t match the mirror.
 
She jerked up in bed, and the mirror-image didn’t follow.
 
“Mmm?” Not-Rosalie said, before scrambling up. “What? Shit. What happened?”
 
Rosalie had been trained for the bizarre situations that a shard could thrust on a person since birth. Her brain faltered only for that brief, confusing moment of just-waking-up haze before it had grinded back to full capacity. She analyzed her situation with a Wayfarer’s critical eye—and calm.
 
‘What? Shit. What happened?’ Those weren’t the instinctive words that would burst from Rosalie. Too crude. Too uncomposed. 
 
Rosalie looked down at herself, and the sight clicked the last piece of the puzzle.
 
“It seems,” Rosalie said to Delta-Rosalie. “That the shard has swapped our bodies.”
 
Rosalie watched herself blink in surprise, then look down at herself. 
 
“Huh,” Delta-Rosalie said.
 
A few moments passed.
 
“Huh,” she repeated. “That’s, uh. Huh.”
 
Rosalie climbed out of bed. She had a room to explore. The extra height was disorienting. Rosalie was accustomed to perfect control of her body, and the different ratios of her limbs threw her sense of proprioception into disarray. But she adapted. It wasn’t something she’d trained for, obviously, but Rosalie was a fast learner. And their bodies weren’t shockingly dissimilar. They were both lean, muscled, and Delta only a few inches taller. Mostly, it was Delta’s chest that threw Rosalie for a loop. She wasn’t used to having so much up top. Where did she hide these things? In her leather armor, Delta had seemed only moderately busty. Naked, she might have more up top than even Zoey.
 
And Zoey—that was why Rosalie was moving straight to business. As Rosalie had had a sinking suspicion would happen, Zoey hadn’t spawned in with them. It figured she’d be stuck with this infuriating girl. Zoey could tolerate Delta, for some reason, but Rosalie most certainly could not; why had Rosalie ended up with her, and not the other way around? 
 
Zoey better be fine. A squirming, anxious feeling in her stomach contradicted that hope. Rosalie had dragged Zoey along into a second-advancement shard, and Zoey wasn’t even suited for first-advancement ones. But Rosalie needed to progress her runes—to be working diligently toward her destiny—and so she’d forgone catching Zoey up. Doing so would take too long. 
 
Zoey knew the risks. Rosalie had made them clear. 
 
But Rosalie’s earlier talk with Delta rang in her ears: ‘she’s practically a civilian’.
 
Zoey was fine.
 
“Why are you still lying there?” Rosalie snapped.
 
“Getting used to being in a different body,” Delta said lazily. “Maker, girl. You’re like, zero percent fat. So why is your ass so big?” Delta was craned around, looking at her—Rosalie's own?—ass.
 
Rosalie couldn’t even begin to start on how to deal with that. So she chose not to. “Zoey’s not here. Get up and help me.”
 
Delta blinked at Rosalie. “Eh, she’s probably eaten by monsters already. Looks like it’s me and you.”
 
Oddly, the absurd statement alleviated Rosalie’s fear. Shards were brutal, but not unfair. If Zoey stayed put and waited for them to arrive, then she’d be fine. 
 
But it was Zoey. Could she trust that? Zoey had promised to, and she showed general good sense to the practical dangers of a shard, but knowing Zoey, all the shard would have to do was waggle a slime-girl’s ass her way and Zoey would go sprinting off after it. 
 
She’s such a fucking pervert, Rosalie seethed, completely irrationally; Zoey had hardly done anything wrong. 
 
Not that she cared what Zoey did with her cock; it was how sex-obsessed she was that irritated her. Even against her own better judgment. Her mind flicked to that dressing-room girl. Gods, Rosalie had been so mortified. Her, a d’Celestin, kicked out of a clothing store because her partner had been caught fucking the store attendant.
 
I’m going to kill her. 
 
Rosalie didn’t even know why she was getting mad. Again, Zoey hadn’t done anything.
 
It wasn’t her concern over Zoey’s well-being fueling her irritation. Why would she be concerned?
 
“Stop ogling my body and get moving,” Rosalie growled.
 
“I’m surprised you’re so chill with us both being naked,” Delta said, ignoring her completely.
 
“Nudity was the entirety of our first shard. I’ve moved past it.” Plus, Rosalie was only looking at her own naked body. Which was weird, but less embarrassing than seeing Delta’s, or Zoey’s. Hence, why Rosalie wasn’t looking down at herself. Or rather, Delta’s body. There was a lot to ogle down there, and she caught glimpses of it in her peripheral vision, but she didn’t have to pay attention to it if she didn’t want to.
 
“Alright,” Delta said, finally shuffling out of bed. “Our inventories are gone, too. Besides this.” She pulled out and waggled the metal buttplug she’d been supposed to wear, to match Zoey’s, then vanished it back into her inventory. “That happened last time?”
 
“Seems like shards Zoey delves follow a trend,” Rosalie said. Which was to say, utterly perverted, and an endless headache. “The good news is that the difficulty is adjusted.” They might not have armor or weapons, but the monsters would be weaker in exchange.
 
“You still have your rings on,” Delta commented, playing with Rosalie’s body’s nipple rings. “Or, I guess, I do.”
 
“Stop touching me.”
 
Delta paused, then turned an incredulous look her way. “Are you serious?”
 
“Yes.”
 
Delta stopped fiddling.
 
Rosalie turned back forward. “Anyway, welcome to Zoey’s perverted shards. The traps will try to molest you, so be on the watch out.”
 
“Shit. Really? Now there’s something I can’t wait for.”
 
Rosalie gave her an irritated look, but Delta only grinned. It was an unseemly expression to see on Rosalie’s own face. Everything about the girl moving around in Rosalie's body was unseemly. Perhaps that said something about Delta herself. Rosalie, ever the diplomat, said nothing about her observation. 
 
“What?” Delta asked. “I’m halfway serious. Sounds fun to try out. Maybe I ought to get caught on purpose.”
 
“You and Zoey are a good fit,” Rosalie said. “It’s a shame you don’t seem to care about her wellbeing.”
 
“She’s fine,” Delta said, rolling her eyes. “If she sits still, we’ll go find her. If she doesn’t, she deserves to die for being a moron.”
 
Rosalie didn’t disagree, but she did bristle at the callous appraisal.
 
Delta waved her hand dismissively. “Alright, alright. Let’s get a move on.”
 
###
 
“Shit,” Delta said. “You weren’t kidding.”
 
Rosalie stared at the contraption in front of her. “This is more … on the nose … than the last one.”
 
“Last was first-advancement you said. So it makes sense a second advancement would be, uh, more direct.”
 
Still. The vines had been an understated trap; a subtle addition to the environment that wanted to have its way with their bodies—and even when captured, had only groped at Rosalie’s chest and stuffed her mouth full of aphrodisiac. No ‘real’ penetration had been involved.
 
This?
 
She and Delta stared down at the stone dildo protruding from the floor. It laid in front of a thick door. Spanning off to the right was an alternate path; Rosalie could infer what the shard was implying. In the same manner as the slime boss, they were offered two options. Either advance the perverted way—which would be significantly easier—or face the perils of the shard in its full wrath, but in the way Rosalie knew better.
 
The first would be easier. Zoey had been able to defeat the boss herself, playing by the shard’s preferred methods. Had Rosalie … assisted her … in the lewd method of fighting that perverted slime, then it’d have been a given they’d won. 
 
Rosalie needed to come to terms with this. She’d chosen to partner with Zoey, and so—in order to face the perverted obstacles they were sure to see many of—Rosalie had to engage on proper terms. 
 
And sure, she might be a d’Celestin, and riding herself on a stone dildo to advance faster could be seen as degrading … unbefitting of someone her status … but she could spin the logic around. A d’Celestin did whatever she needed to. All that mattered was advancement.
 
“It wants us to fuck it, right?” Delta asked.
 
“That much is obvious,” Rosalie snapped.
 
Delta paused. “Sounds like you need it more than me,” she said dryly. “Maybe an orgasm will do something for your nerves.”
 
“I—excuse me?”
 
“Just saying,” Delta said. “I get you’re worried about your girlfriend, but chill the fuck out. Stress is how you make mistakes. Clear your head. Aren’t you supposed to be old blood?”
 
The last question was more effective than Delta probably intended it to be. It dunked ice water across Rosalie’s body. Old blood. Rosalie wasn’t acting like it. She was acting like a fresh beginner, a greenhorn Wayfarer, worried sick over her teammate’s wellbeing. She breathed in and forced herself to calm. Zoey would be fine. 
 
And if she wasn’t—such was life in the Fractures. 
 
“You, or me?” Rosalie asked.
 
Delta’s eyebrows rose. Or Rosalie’s did. She was wearing her body, after all; Rosalie’s disorientation over that hadn’t faded much. It was surprisingly—or perhaps not surprisingly—discomfiting seeing her own face react in ways that weren’t her own. “We’re taking the shortcut? Kinda figured you’d go for the long way.”
 
“That would be an inefficient choice. This is the nature of the dungeon. We need to adjust to it.”
 
A quirked eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re telling yourself that, not me, blondie.”
 
“Don’t call me that.” Her attempted calm was failing to weather the annoying girl’s demeanor. “You or me? The other will handle the next.”
 
Delta shrugged. “This one looks kinda boring. So have fun.”
 
Kinda boring. As if Delta had been hoping for a raunchier shortcut. Perhaps something like those vines—the perverted girl wanted to be filled up by slimy, writhing plantlife. She and Zoey really would be a good fit.
 
She eyed the protruding stone dildo, hesitating despite her words.
 
“We don’t have to do this,” Delta said. “What’s a detour, right?”
 
Rosalie shook her head. “It’ll be inordinately difficult.”
 
“Will it?”
 
“I didn’t fight the final boss how it was intended to be, and I lost.”
 
“Against a first advancement?” Delta’s surprise was plain.
 
“Yes,” Rosalie said. “I lost against a first advancement boss when I didn’t face it how the shard preferred. It was a close thing. I would have won, if I hadn’t gone in cocky, expecting the fight to be simple. But even so. It’s better to play things the way it wants.”
 
“Huh,” Delta said. “Okay. Still. We can do things the hard way. Up to you.”
 
Rosalie huffed and spurred her feet forward.
 
She approached the stone protrusion. It was shaped smoothly, and with a slight curve. It didn’t resemble a cock in an accurate sense; and it was many times smaller than Zoey’s absurd length. But Rosalie wouldn’t have any skill to help her along. It was still a large object; she’d have to lower herself gently. And Zoey had the lubricant.
 
“Use your spit,” Delta suggested. “It’s something. It’ll start you off, until—you know.”
 
Until Rosalie’s own excitement made the stone slick. “I don’t need your advice, thank you.”
 
“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?”
 
Rosalie ignored her. “Don’t watch me.”
 
“Seriously? You just said we need to get used to this. And it’s my body. Hardly something I’m not used to seeing.”
 
She had two good points. Rosalie needed to move past her embarrassment over sex. She almost pushed the point … but swallowed her protests. 
 
Whatever. Who cared if she watched? This was the life Rosalie had chosen. Perverted shards and constant erotic stimulation. If it meant faster advancement, Rosalie would do it.
 
And a smaller, hidden part of her accepted this situation for a different reason. Maybe she wanted Delta to watch, to have her eyes crawling over her as she pleasured herself. Even if she was annoying.
 
Rosalie knelt down in front of the curved stone in front of the door, eying it. It would barely fit. It’d stretch her apart. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had something inside her, but Rosalie hadn’t been a person who had pleasured herself often. Obviously. She’d been rather focused on other matters, growing up.
 
She spat into her palm and worked the impromptu lubricant into the rounded top of the obscene phallic relic. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Fucking a stone protrusion so they could make their way through the shard faster. 
 
Why was she so excited at the thought? Not that she showed it on her face. She had a spectator. She needed to maintain the composed air she'd always cultivated; a d'Celestin would never be titillated at having to fill herself up with a stone toy. She'd treat it like the reluctant, necessary task it was. 
 
“Oh,” Delta said. “Wait.”
 
“What?” Rosalie demanded. Her cheeks were blazing.
 
“You should put your plug in.” The steel adornment appeared in her hand. “Since I’ve got the rings, now.” She tweaked her nipples. “And my body’s the one that can take it. You’ll want to start ‘building up energy’ for the boss.”
 
Rosalie looked at the item with dismay. 
 
“Need some help?” Delta asked.
 
“I can handle it myself, thank you,” she shot at her. Delta handed her the item.
 
“Use your fingers first. Then the dildo, it’s smaller. Work your way up.”
 
Rosalie stared at the thick plug in her hand.
 
Just do what needs to be done. 
 
She used her saliva to lubricate her backdoor, then, with a vague thought of, I can’t believe I’m doing this in front of her, slid a finger in. She bit down on a lewd noise. 
 
At least this wasn’t the first time she’d had something down there. Zoey’s tongue and fingers had very thoroughly explored her, already.
 
She worked her way up to two fingers, then three. Once she’d properly relaxed to the idea, Rosalie shuffled overtop the dildo. The plug was larger, so, as Delta had suggested, she’d use the dildo to stretch herself in preparation. Her knees scuffed against the rough stone floor. 
 
She gripped the thick object and aligned her lower half to it. Somewhere in front of her—in her peripheral—she sensed Delta watching. Why was Rosalie facing her? Instead of the door? It seemed like she was trying to put on a show. Obviously, it had been a thoughtless coincidence.
 
Because that was what Rosalie was.
 
Thoughtless.
 
A person prone to not considering every implication of her actions.
 
Who am I kidding? the exasperated, disregarded part of her brain said.
 
Rosalie lowered her only slightly-relaxed second hole onto the object, feeling it bump against her and rub against that sensitive opening. 
 
“Take it easy,” Delta said. “Don’t hurt yourself.” The words weren’t concerned—they were taunting.
 
“Shut up. Let me concentrate.”
 
Delta just grinned.
 
Rosalie gasped as the bulbous tip finally slipped in; it spread her tight hole open. So … so tight. She worked through the pain—and pleasure—of being widened. Rosalie knew her body wouldn’t have been able to handle it, but Delta’s was used to this; her tight backdoor spread to accommodate the large invader, and finally, with a pleasurable pressure, it popped all the way in.
 
“There you go,” Delta smirked. “Well done. Work yourself a bit, then try the plug.”
 
“I said stop talking.”
 
Rosalie gently lifted herself, then lowered, her squeezing hole sliding up and down the stone length. She did it a few times, letting her hole relax to the painful girth. It was easier than she’d thought it’d be.
 
Finally, after a minute of lewd thrusting, she let it pop out of her.
 
Time for the plug.
 
Even having prepared herself, the flare of the enormous toy felt like she was being torn apart. She whined as she pushed it through, forcing herself to keep going even when it hurt, and finally the pressure disappeared all at once, the rounded object bursting into her. Her hole wrapped around the skinny base.
 
“That didn’t seem so bad,” Delta said.
 
Rosalie could seriously do without the commentary.
 
Or maybe she liked it.
 
She lined herself up to the stone dildo, but her pussy, this time. It was just in her asshole. She hesitated; she hadn’t even considered that. Too late now, though. It still needed to be pleasured. She cleaned it off.
 
The idea shouldn’t excite her. It was so … lewd.
 
It was a close fit. Rosalie had to wiggle her hips and work in her natural lubricant to make it fit. But eventually, with a delightfully satisfying stretch, the stone dildo entered her fully; she buried herself all the way into its impressive length and girth, her ass hitting the ground. Her other filled-up hole squeezed against the plug.
 
Like with the plug, her pussy had taken the dildo easier than she’d thought she would.
 
Because this wasn't her body. Delta's pussy was more used to entry than Rosalie's. Not that she meant that in a disparaging way; it was simply a fact. Rosalie didn't consider promiscuity a bad thing. Only pervertedness. Which were two distinctly separate traits. Of which the foxgirl had both.
 
Despite her best efforts, a moan was wrenched from Rosalie's lips at having her insides stuffed full of stone and metal. 
 
"That’s an embarrassing noise,” Delta said. “Unbecoming for an old blood, don't you think?"
 
Rosalie opened her eyes to a smirking Delta. Or smirking Rosalie. Seeing her own lips curled in amusement felt vaguely ironic; like it really was Rosalie looking down on herself.
 
"Shut up,” Rosalie gasped.
 
"Nice stutter. It feels good, then? Maybe I should’ve gone first. I wonder if you would’ve been able to take it."
 
Her body, Delta meant. Because it was Delta’s body—worn by Rosalie—whose hips pumped up and down, taking in the stone's length and filling her up. More than the physical feeling of having her pussy spread open by a girthy object, it was Delta's belittling smile that had her insides squirming with pleasure. "Feels good?” Rosalie gasped out. “Hardly. I'm only doing what's necessary."
 
"I wonder, do you believe that, or is it for my sake?"
 
Was Rosalie that obvious? Delta was the second person to see through her with shameful ease. Maybe the truth of the matter was that Rosalie just wasn’t hard to see through.
 
"I'm not going to judge you for helping yourself along," Delta said. "Rub yourself, idiot. Or I'll come over and do it myself. You're making it take longer. Aren't we trying to be fast about things?"
 
Delta had provided enough of a plausible excuse for Rosalie's hand to go between her legs and start rubbing at her clit. She bounced up and down the thick object, feeling herself be spread open over and over. 
 
Imagine it's Zoey's cock. That's what you want, isn't it? To have it pressing all the way up your stomach? Further? Maker, that thing goes almost to my breasts, when it’s laid across me. 
 
Rosalie's breathing accelerated as she gyrated and thrusted against the shard's makeshift toy. In her other hole, a plug of metal jostled around. The sensation was incredible. 
 
Hurry it up. We're trying to get a move on. And Delta's watching. You shouldn't be providing any more show than is necessary. Fast is good.
 
Fast is good. Fast is good. 
 
Rosalie's hand rubbed rapidly, a radiating heat building in her stomach. Her lips opened as she panted out air. Why was it so exciting? Surely not because Delta was watching her. The other girl was unendingly annoying; Rosalie was turned off for how little she wanted to be watched by such an insufferable teammate. And the indignity. Delta had some idea of what Rosalie was, if not exactly. She knew her pedigree, in part. For someone like Rosalie to be bouncing up and down, pleasuring herself on a thick stone-cock. The shame was indescribable. Rosalie was drowning in it.
 
And drowning in something else. 
 
The lewd, whining noises escaping Rosalie’s lips became louder. She stopped paying attention to Delta. She collapsed forward into the floor, elbows supporting her, as she thrusted desperately against the stone phallus. She imagined it was Zoey’s cock thrusting into her. It felt big enough, honestly. To think her dark-haired companion was more than twice as large …
 
Her lower body spasmed, and she agonizingly kept thrusting, the pleasure building, building, building. The idea that Delta was watching only helped to bring her mind-melting euphoria higher. 
 
It wracked through her body, and she lay whining on the floor, her pussy convulsing against its invader. Behind her, the grinding noise of a door opening filled the air. Rosalie was only half aware of it. Waves of pleasure washed through her. She couldn’t think.
 
It took a moment to come back to her senses.
 
“Nice job, old blood,” Delta said, a smirk in her voice. “Your kind really does work fast.”
 
2.15 ❤ Self-Care ... Sort Of
 
“Come on,” Zoey said. “You’re saying you’re not even curious?”
 
“No. I’m not.”
 
“I know you’re lying. You’re me.”
 
“Clearly not.”
 
“It’s the same thing as masturbating.”
 
“Hardly.”
 
“Isn’t it?”
 
“Pretty sure masturbating doesn’t include cock going into a pussy,” Not-Zoey sneered. “Honestly, with how much you’ve got down there, do it to yourself!”
 
Zoey paused.
 
“Oh my god,” Not-Zoey said. “Not actually. What’s wrong with you?”
 
“I’m not! I was just.” She shrugged. “Never thought about it.” She’d considered her ability to suck on herself, but never … putting it into herself in the more traditional sense.
 
“Would it even work?” Not-Zoey asked.
 
Zoey blinked. She considered it. “It’s still a bit flexible when it’s hard,” Zoey said. “So, uh, maybe? I think it’d be easier to get it when it’s only half-hard. And then, um, when it filled up, it’d …”
 
A long silence.
 
“That’s kind of hot,” Not-Zoey said. “Try it.”
 
“I’m not trying it! What the hell? You’re supposed to be the not-perverted one.”
 
“We’re the same person, dumbass.”
 
“So you want to see me fuck myself, but not—”
 
“You fuck yourself?” Not-Zoey sneered. “This is getting old.”
 
Okay, maybe they were the same person; she was taunting Zoey in the same way Zoey would’ve taunted Not-Zoey.
 
“I’m not putting my own cock into my own pussy,” Zoey said flatly. “I’m not that perverted.”
 
“Irony? Hello?”
 
“Shut up.”
 
“Also—yet,” Not-Zoey said.
 
“Huh? What do you mean, yet?”
 
“Please. We know where all this,” she waved around, as if to indicate their lives in general, “is leading. You’re trying to fuck a clone of yourself—you think you won’t play around, at some point? I know for a fact you’ve thought of sucking yourself off.”
 
“That—that was just a thought. I never actually planned to.” She didn’t know why she was defending herself to herself; the only reason Not-Zoey knew that tidbit was because it had happened before their consciousness-splitting. And hell, it was normal to wonder what her cock would feel like in her own mouth. To most people, it just wasn’t possible; they didn’t have fourteen inches. Lost in the haze of lust, anyone would try it. And Zoey hadn’t even, yet. That made her less perverted than average. So, there. Proof.
 
“You’re not fucking me,” Not-Zoey said, as if coralling them back to topic.
 
Zoey collapsed into the bed and huffed. “Well, what else are we doing until our saviors arrive?”
 
Not-Zoey was quiet for a bit. It had been a rhetorical question, so the eventual answer surprised Zoey. 
 
“I guess … I don’t want you inside me … but we could still have some fun.”
 
Zoey blinked and sat up. Not-Zoey blushed under her questioning gaze.
 
“I’m just saying, it’s practically masturbation, isn’t it?” Not-Zoey said, contradicting her own stance from a minute earlier. “And … since we brought it up … I’ve been wondering what it tastes like. Sucking my cock isn’t as embarrassing as sucking … yours.”
 
Zoey almost pointed out how that made no sense, before realizing Not-Zoey had offered to give her a blowjob. Her cock started to swell with blood, quickly growing to full mast. “Not remotely as embarrassing,” Zoey lied in agreement. “And it gives us something to do.”
 
“Right,” Not-Zoey said. “Gotta pass the time somehow.”
 
They stared at each other, blushing. It’s me, for fuck’s sake. Why is there so much tension? 
 
Zoey shuffled against the bed until she was leaned against the backboard, pillows supporting her. “Set your own pace.”
 
Not-Zoey hesitantly crawled over to her; she’d been seated on the opposite end. My own tits shouldn’t be turning me on. But they were so perfectly shaped, and all Zoey’s monkey-brain registered was a cute girl—not herself, even if it was—shuffling across the bed toward her, naked body fully on display, with her eyes locked to Zoey’s cock.
 
Not-Zoey lined up to Zoey, situating her legs across Zoey’s own. Zoey had an excellent view of her own pussy. Her cock pulsed. I really want to know what it feels like. 
 
I’m such a pervert. 
 
Not-Zoey’s hands quested out, wrapping around Zoey’s member. It twitched in happiness.
 
Not-Zoey laughed, suddenly. “You know,” she said, “I think this is maybe a moment for self-reflection. We should talk about us.”
 
“Us?”
 
“Delta brought it up. Why don’t you use your other part? You know. What God gave you.”
 
Zoey couldn’t help but hunch forward in defensiveness, even if the person asking the question was herself. “Dunno. Just haven’t.”
 
“Let’s be honest with ourselves,” Not-Zoey said. Her hands wrapped around Zoey’s cock were highly distracting. “Is it because you like topping? And it feels more natural to top with this?” She squeezed Zoey as if to emphasize what she meant.
 
“Where’d all this confidence come from?” Zoey asked, breath growing labored at Not-Zoey’s hands. A second ago, Not-Zoey had barely been able to look at her straight. Now, she was stroking up and down and interrogating her.
 
“Dunno. Ask yourself. We’re the same person, remember?” She grinned.
 
Zoey was silent for a while. It was a heavy question; and the pleasuring of her lower half—by her own long, slim hands—made it hard to think. “I … that might be it?”
 
“I don’t think it is.”
 
Zoey sighed. “Maybe it’s part of the reason.”
 
“Is it because it’s overwhelming?” Not-Zoey suggested. “And … using both at once would make you feel weird. Different?” The words were as much admissions as anything else. Not-Zoey was speaking Zoey’s mind for her. “But we should get used to it. It could be a lot of fun.”
 
Another silence.
 
“It probably would,” Zoey sighed.
 
“You’re not weird because you have a cock now. Embrace it. You’re more than you were before, not less.”
 
“This is a little too … self-motivational for my liking.”
 
“Some corniness is in line. I’m helping us work past this.” A pause. “And speaking from the person who lost it … having a cock is awesome. I already miss it. You’re lucky you have both—the question is, why don’t you take advantage of it?”
 
“They’ve never shown interest with … ” Zoey didn’t need to finish the statement.
 
Not-Zoey gave her an unimpressed look. “Delta did, and you shot her down. Rosalie hasn’t, and that’s because she’s insightful. She probably noticed we’re weird about it.” Not-Zoey shrugged. “Or maybe she’s timid. She’s not the sort to initiate.”
 
Which was ironic, considering Rosalie’s demeanor otherwise. For being so confident and assertive, she really was such a bottom.
 
“Tell you what,” Not-Zoey said. “We can make a deal.”
 
“Deal?”
 
“If you let me do what I want to you … I’ll let you do what you want to me.”
 
Zoey digested the words, and her heart started slamming. “Meaning?”
 
“Let me play with both parts of you … and …”
 
“’I’ll get to …?”
 
“Fuck me,” Not-Zoey said, rolling her eyes. “Yes. This is a moment for personal growth. Pretty sure I’m dissolving into the ether after this is done, so what’s it matter how embarrassing it would be?”
 
They both paused. Like usual, Not-Zoey’s casual disregard of her situation was off putting.
 
“What do you say?” Not-Zoey asked.
 
Zoey bit her lip. “I …”
 
A teasing grin. “Come on. Don’t want to know what it’s like? Your own tight little pussy wrapped around your cock? The noises you make when you bully yourself to climax?” 
 
Zoey laughed. “Fuck. I see why Rosalie likes it.” The dirty talk was pretty nice. And it did a good job at working Zoey’s nerve up.
 
“Well?”
 
“Okay. I … yeah. Deal. Fine.”
 
Not-Zoey scooted an inch closer. One of the hands she’d been using to jerk Zoey went lower; the other, higher up, to her cock tip, where she rubbed up and down, jerking off only the head.
 
Not-Zoey’s digits stroked at her in a way Zoey hadn’t experienced in a long time—or what felt like a long time. Her hips squirmed at the sensation of having both sensitive spots pleasured at once. And the fucking buttplug is still in. So three sensitive spots at once. It was … a lot.
 
Not necessarily in a bad way.
 
Having this done to her by herself—a clone, but still—made it easier. And having talked it out, too. Not-Zoey’s fingers played between Zoey’s lower lips even as her cock pulsed in pleasure from her other hand’s jerking motions. 
 
“Ready?” Not-Zoey asked.
 
“Guess so.”
 
Not-Zoey pressed her middle two fingers forward, and she sank into Zoey’s slick insides. Zoey sucked a breath in. It was hardly an alien sensation, like the first time Zoey had played with her cock. But both at once … was definitely new.
 
“Wow,” Zoey said. “That’s, um.”
 
“Seems fun,” Not-Zoey said, grinning up at her. Both hands worked diligently, one curling and thrusting, the other gripping hard and jerking up and down. “Once you get used to it, seems like you’re in for some serious fun. Do you think they cum at the same time? Or separate?”
 
“Feels, um, feels like separate.” The two coaxing of her erogenous zones were happening at different speeds. Her cock was reaching climax faster. “Slow down up top, if we’re trying to sync them.”
 
Not-Zoey listened, working more diligently at her bottom than on Zoey’s length. Zoey closed her eyes and let herself be pleasured, throwing her head back into the pillows. Unsurprisingly, the idea it was herself thrusting her fingers and curling them around inside Zoey’s insides aided her in the growing heat. The more-familiar—or less?—climax started to build. Fuck. It feels so good. Why was I afraid of this? 
 
“Make sure we get it right,” Not-Zoey murmured. “I want to see you melt. What’s your status?”
 
“Y-You can start going up top, again.”
 
Not-Zoey worked away. Zoey was briefly appreciative of her—her own?—skills. She’d really picked up a thing or two with how to work fingers. No wonder she’d had Rosalie in a blushing, incoherent mess. The things Not-Zoey’s fingers were doing inside Zoey’s pussy was totally unfair. 
 
“Here it comes,” Zoey breathed. “Oh, fuck.” Her lower body was wiggling side-to-side of its own accord. “Lower, first. Then—then top is ready.”
 
Not-Zoey listened. Only when Zoey’s pussy started to spasm did she finally finish off Zoey’s cock.
 
Two simultaneous orgasms crashed through her, melting Zoey’s brain. She lost herself to the sensation. She whined and gasped as her body shook, then, with a thrusting-up of her hips, she emptied herself into the air. Not-Zoey’s stroking hands worked out thick ropes of Zoey’s baby batter. Her lower body spasmed too, clenching against still-curling fingers. Not-Zoey held eye contact with Zoey through the whole twitching, shaking mess. Why are we such a whore for that? Eye contact made things so much better.
 
Zoey collapsed in a sweaty mess against the pillows. She twitched with the aftershocks of such an intense double-crescendo.
 
Not-Zoey’s fingers slid from inside her. She raised them to her mouth and tasted the juice clinging to her digits, then sighed in pleasure. Zoey’s cock twitched as the display.
 
“See? Fun.” 
 
“Little … more than fun …” Zoey breathed.
 
Not-Zoey cuddled into Zoey. Zoey wrapped her arms around her, snuggling in too. They basked in each other for a few minutes.
 
“This feels oddly metaphorical,” Zoey laughed. 
 
By the snort Not-Zoey released, she assumed she’d had the same thought.
 
“Damn,” Not-Zoey said. “Now it’s your turn.”
 
“Now it’s my turn,” Zoey mumbled happily. “Just give me a second. Let her recharge. I want to enjoy this.”
 
2.16 Into the Dungeon
 
Zoey was lining her cock up to Not-Zoey’s entrance when the bedroom door burst open. 
 
Both her and Not-Zoey’s head pivoted to their arrivals—Delta and Rosalie—and Zoey stayed frozen for a long, suspended moment. Rosalie and Delta stared, speechless.
 
“I, uh, can explain,” Zoey said.
 
Delta looked at Zoey, cock laid out across Zoey’s clone, just about to thrust in, and said, horrified, “Oh my gods. You can’t be serious.”
 
Rosalie, on her part, burst out laughing.
 
It was two highly uncharacteristic reactions. Zoey’s face flushed even as Not-Zoey scrambled from underneath her, pulling the blankets up to cover herself.
 
Zoey sat back down, cock still hard, and more mortified than she might have ever been in her life. Why did they have to walk in now? Before she’d even got to feel what Not-Zoey’s—her own—insides were like … all the shame of being caught, but none of the payoff. The worst possible time. Fate conspired against her.
 
“Honestly, you go, dude,” Rosalie said. “I’d have done the same.”
 
“The shard swapped our bodies,” Delta said flatly. “I’m Rosalie. She’s Delta.”
 
Zoey absorbed the announcement. It explained their reactions. And seeing how body-play (a term Zoey invented on the spot) was clearly the theme of this shard, it made sense.
 
“The shard cloned me,” Zoey said. 
 
“We’ve noticed,” Rosalie in Delta’s body hissed. “Now stop trying to fuck yourself and stand up. It’s time to get moving.”
 
“It was her idea,” Not-Zoey said. 
 
Rosalie’s glare pivoted. “And you! What do we even do with you? One was enough.”
 
“Think she’s a trap?” Delta in Rosalie’s body asked. “Good thing we got here in time. Bet you slip inside, she eats you with her pussy, or some shit.”
 
Zoey paused, glancing at Not-Zoey, both their eyebrows raised. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”
 
“Well, why else?”
 
“Who knows anything about this shard,” Rosalie growled. “Stand up! We’re moving.” She seemed exceedingly flustered for having caught Zoey. Which made sense. Also, it was super weird seeing Rosalie’s embarrassed reactions on Delta, who had previously been so unruffled when it came to sex. And the other way around, Delta’s irreverent reactions on Rosalie’s normally controlled face.
 
Zoey—despite all the shenanigans—briefly appreciated Delta’s naked body. Like she had expected, Zoey wasn’t the only one who had her inventory confiscated; both Rosalie and Delta had too. Delta’s curves were even more generous than she’d expected, and she’d expected a lot—she’d noted how tightly her leather armor had clung, and leather armor had a tendency to conceal. Fuck me. Delta’s tits were …
 
Well, she had a nice pair, without being crude about things.
 
“Ogle me more, will you?” Rosalie seethed.
 
Shit. That’s Rosalie in there. Don’t forget.
 
“Just coming to terms with the, uh, situation,” Zoey lied.
 
“Meant nothing by it,” Not-Zoey added.
 
They glanced at each other, then laughed.
 
Of course she was staring, too. She’s me.
 
Zoey and Not-Zoey shuffled out of bed. Not-Zoey reluctantly released the bed sheets covering her. Zoey took note of Rosalie staring at Not-Zoey distinctly cock-lacking crotch (which, what a phrase), before tearing her eyes away. Just as surprised as I was. She wondered which way Rosalie preferred her. She definitely seemed to like Zoey’s extra equipment, but would she have liked Zoey more, without? 
 
Stop being insecure, she scolded herself. Even if Rosalie’s eyes did seem to be gravitating to Not-Zoey. It’s just the novelty.
 
“To think we were rushing here, and … and you were doing this,” Rosalie fumed. “I was … I was …”
 
“She was worried sick,” Delta finished, smirking. “It was kind of cute.”
 
Rosalie glared at Delta, then Zoey, then stalked from the room.
 
Zoey felt like an asshole, even if she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d stayed in the spawn-room exactly as instructed. What did the fact she’d been about to have fun with her clone have to do with anything? 
 
“Man, I wish I was in your position,” Delta said. “I’d be so balls-deep inside myself, right now. Sure you two don’t want to finish what you started? And can I watch?”
 
“No,” Not-Zoey said. “I shouldn’t—I can’t—the moment’s passed.” She blushed as she jogged forward to catch up with Rosalie.
 
Delta watched with raised eyebrows. Zoey took note of how her eyes latched on Not-Zoey’s ass.
 
“She’s kind of a prude,” Zoey sighed. “It took a lot of convincing to even get to that point.”
 
“So you’re only perverted when you have a cock?” Delta asked amusedly. “What’s up with that?”
 
“No, just—” Zoey raised her hands in a ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “Dunno. Guess I wouldn’t want to take this thing inside me, either.”
 
“She seemed pretty ready for it.”
 
“It’s complicated.”
 
Delta rolled her eyes. “C’mon. Better catch up.”
 
They followed after.
 
###
 
“So we’ve got a party of four, now,” Delta said. “How’s that change things? Zoey-Two, are you bonded to us, like Zoey is? Can you Bolster?”
 
“Should I try?”
 
“Yeah. Knowing is worth wasting a bit of mana.” A second later, after Not-Zoey had done as instructed, Delta said, “Oh, yeah. You’re definitely linked up.” She flexed her hands back and forth. “Wow. That’s intense. Not a small boost, is it?”
 
“It’s quite significant,” Rosalie said shortly. Her mood hadn’t improved, and Zoey wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it—what to say or do—or what she’d even done wrong in the first place. 
 
“So we’ve got one each,” Delta said to Rosalie. “Which Zoey do you want?” 
 
Rosalie’s eyes flicked between them. Rather than answering, she said, “I’m still not sure what to make of this.”
 
“Join the club,” Not-Zoey said. Both Zoey and Delta nodded; it was obviously a strange situation to be in.
 
“Can we even trust you?” Rosalie asked Not-Zoey.
 
“Am I infiltrating the group?” Not-Zoey asked sarcastically. “Shit, does it matter how I answer?”
 
“We can trust her,” Zoey said.
 
“Your opinion doesn’t count for anything,” Not-Zoey snapped, making Zoey blink. “Or should I say, our opinion? We trust people too easily.”
 
“Huh,” Delta said. “So she’s the smart Zoey.”
 
“Hey,” Zoey protested.
 
Rosalie rubbed her temples. “We’ll trust her until given reason otherwise. Them. Keep an eye on both, we don’t know who is who. How can we know for certain the dungeon isn’t trying to trick us—perhaps Zoey Two is Zoey Prime.”
 
“Zoey Prime is so much cooler of a name,” Not-Zoey complained. “Yet I get ‘Zoey-Two’? So not fair.”
 
“My head hurts enough,” Delta said. “No more name shit. Who’s pairing with which Zoey? We have two noobies to protect, now, not one.”
 
Rosalie frowned. Zoey could guess why. Her initial threat appraisal of the dungeon had been with a single useless member to guard. Now, there were two, and the dynamics had changed. And though Zoey—herself, Zoey-Prime—was probably the ‘real’ Zoey, she suspected Rosalie didn’t want to take the risk. It could be either of them; from her and Delta’s perspective, as she had said, the shard could be trying to fool them.
 
Hell, it could be neither of them. Or Delta and Rosalie could be fake. Seriously, who knew?
 
“You need to stay focused on dealing damage,” Rosalie said, coming to a decision. “I’ll guard both. The plan hasn’t changed.”
 
“You sure?”
 
“It’s not objectively a downside. Her reactions are slow, but her spells,” she paused, “spell is potent enough, and versatile.”
 
Spell. Zoey hadn’t ever learned a second. With how fast Rosalie had set out, their day had been packed. Having some time between the shard to become better acquainted with her spell casting abilities would have been nice. But Rosalie had goals, self-set quotas to meet. 
 
There were so many things Zoey wanted to do—alchemy, spellcasting, and even explore the city and meet people, explore the culture of an alien world. Zoey was definitely dedicated to sticking by Rosalie’s side, but she wished they had more room to breathe.
 
“An extra party member’s always useful,” Delta agreed. “Not like the shard will adjust its difficulty because of her.”
 
Glad to know I’m not literally a negative, then, Zoey thought dryly. 
 
###
 
As Zoey had learned to expect from the first shard she and Rosalie had cleared, progression wasn’t all lewdness. She, Not-Zoey, Rosalie, and Delta trekked through the shard—this one had much more of a ‘dungeon’ feel than the old cathedral’s hallways—fighting off monsters.
 
They were faster, and more dangerous, than the first shard’s monsters. As expected. The first shard had been first advancement, and this one, second. The gaps between advancements were supposedly pretty large, and grew steeper with every iteration. 
 
After all, to go from merely empowered—but all things considered, not far from mundane—to a person who, borrowing that evocative phrase Delta had used, could ‘carve through a city’ at ninth advancement like Enzo d’Celestin, meant that each gap came with a hefty increase in power. 
 
Getting meaningful use out of her ice spikes turned out to be a fruitless endeavor. She’d struggled to weave them through in a first advancement shard, and now, having moved to a second advancement without practice, Zoey landed maybe one in six—and flung less of the spells to begin with, because she only shot them when she saw a reasonable opening … which happened far less frequently, with how fast the things were moving.
 
She had Pressure Point, at least, which allowed her to identify the weak areas of the various monsters they ran into, and call them out to her teammates. So she provided passive benefits, even if she couldn’t contribute to the fight as much as she wanted.
 
The monsters were strange, much odder than the first shard’s. Fitting with the theme—suspected theme, rather—the creatures were vaguely designed after ‘reflections’. They crawled from mirrors, gangly, shadow-like creatures who—though the opportunity to study faces was rare—had features just close enough to their own that Zoey could recognize Rosalie, or Delta, or herself in their unsettling visages as they clawed forward to attack them.
 
Also like the first shard, Zoey liked the perverted parts much better than cutting through shadow-images of themselves part. 
 
The fights were quick, violent, and, truthfully, not overly threatening. Delta’s addition—and having two Zoeys to Bolster her party members—meant they made short work of most encounters. Zoey took the opportunity to improve her reactions, combat skills, and intuition for how shards worked. She would prefer to be a meaningful contributor to her party as soon as possible.
 
She might have to bring the topic up to Rosalie, truth told. A break between the next shard, an opportunity to practice, would go a long way. She was in a bit of a conundrum when it came to that. She knew Rosalie wouldn’t want to. But especially if they advanced to even more difficult shards, Zoey wouldn’t be able to do anything—reduced from ‘very little’, like she was now.
 
Eventually, they worked through the hallways and to the next ‘point of interest’. 
 
The next obstacle.
 
“Holy shit,” Delta said, summing up everyone’s thoughts. “You’re kidding, right?”
 
2.17 ❤❤ Delta’s Biggest Day Yet 
 
A/N: Please be advised, this chapter contains fetish content. For those not interested in reading certain material, here's the tags: [spoiler][Extreme Insertions/Distension][/spoiler]
 
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Delta said.
 
“There’s—I can’t—is this a joke?” Rosalie all but shrilled.
 
Or ‘I all but shrilled’? Delta thought. She glanced Rosalie’s way, and woah, it was, like usual, weird, seeing her own nose wrinkled in disgust, her own cheeks blazing at the sight laid in front of them. 
 
Even Delta would admit her cheeks were coloring a bit. The last trap—the one Rosalie had so enthusiastically thrown herself on, despite her flimsy pretenses—had been downright vanilla. A dildo inlaid into the floor? She couldn’t imagine something less risqué.
 
And while this trap wasn’t wholly different—it was still a dildo, and the intent of ‘pleasure me to progress’ was still obvious enough—it was a particular adjective that changed everything.
 
‘Big’.
 
Nah, that didn’t do it justice.
 
‘Giant’.
 
Let’s try one more time. 
 
‘Gargantuan’.
 
The protrusion—not stone, this time, but some kind of white, slimy, translucent gel material—was at least two feet tall. No, that wasn’t a joke. It would literally reach up to her chest if it went inside her. 
 
And sitting on a pedestal to the right, a vial of blue liquid.
 
[Potion of Stretchy Insides]: Allows impossible insertions. Don’t think too hard about anatomy.
 
“Good god,” Zoey said. “It can’t—really? It expects us to …?”
 
It said something that even Delta’s perverted, amnesia-ridden teammate was at a loss for words for this challenge.
 
“I know I said that when it was my turn, I wanted something a little more daring,” Delta grinned, “but I didn’t think the shard would take the request so seriously.”
 
“Your turn?” Zoey-Two asked.
 
Delta glanced her way. Right, she thought, a smile sneaking across her lips. They don’t know, yet. “Rosalie took the first obstacle,” she said casually.
 
Two Zoey’s heads pivoted to Rosalie, who blushed, then desperately pretended she’d had no such reaction.
 
“She did, did she?” Zoey asked, grinning at her.
 
“I engaged with the shard how it intended,” she said, sticking her chin up in the air. “It’s called being a professional.”
 
Gods, she’s so funny. Delta might not be friends with the stick-up-her-ass old blood, but being around her was hilarious.
 
Delta bet she knew why she acted like she did. Old blood like her, she’d been crammed up in training ranges her entire life—and protecting her reputation. Especially this one. She had the air of royalty about her. And royalty for Wayfarers meant one thing—high-advancement parents. Real high. Prominent officers in a Highguild.
 
And I got to see her bouncing up and down a dildo, just twenty minutes ago. Delta knew how to hide her arousal—funny enough, having a high sex drive meant she could mask it, had learned how to—and the sight of Rosalie pleasuring herself had definitely done something for her. For a brief moment, Delta had appreciated the annoying blonde. She really knows how to make some cute noises.
 
Her thoughts were wandering. She had a rather ‘big’ task to come to terms with.
 
Delta walked up to the comically sized dick. She ran a hand against the rubbery, see-through white material. It had come pre-lubricated, and it glistened in the light, the wall torches flickering in the background. She withdrew her hand and rubbed her fingers together, watching the sticky material cling between her digits.
 
Maker. The size of it. It would literally go into my chest.
 
‘Don’t think too hard about anatomy’. The Scribe must’ve thought Herself hilarious, drafting up the potion’s item description. Who knew the gods had a sense of humor?
 
Delta’s heart rate picked up, staring at the object and imagining it filling her up. ‘Filling her up’. Literally, this time, not just a loose application of the phrase. It would stuff her so comically silly her stomach would be bulging. She’d be wrapped around it like …
 
She paused. Like a giant condom-person. The idea almost had Delta laughing. Well, that’s a gross piece of imagery, if I’ve ever imagined one.
 
And kind of hot, even if it’s weird.
 
Nobody’d ever accused Delta of being squeamish. Or vanilla.
 
Though this … it was a bit outside of even her preferences, or comfort-level, she’d admit.
 
Not that it’d stop her. Delta lived for new experiences. She couldn’t be happier with this arrangement, however much she might be the tiniest bit hesitant. Because how couldn’t she be hesitant? Look at the damn thing.
 
“You don’t have to—” Zoey started.
 
“Oh, fuck off,” Delta said instantly. “If I didn’t want to, I’d tell you. Don’t baby me. I’m not yours to protect.”
 
Zoey laughed, which brought a quirk to Delta’s lips. “Right,” Zoey said. “My bad.”
 
Not everyone liked her blunt nature; Delta knew that a hundred times over. That Zoey not only didn’t mind, but seemed to enjoy it, was kind of nice. Because she couldn’t help herself. Words had always barreled from her mouth without stopping by a checkpoint station, no matter how hard she tried. It had gotten her in a lot of trouble over the years. And lost her friends, a few times. She hoped Zoey wasn’t added to that list.
 
Delta walked forward, scooped up the potion, and downed it, letting her impulsive nature guide her. Don’t think too hard. I’ll just psyche myself out. 
 
“I’m jealous,” Delta said amusedly. “You three are about to get such a show.” She didn’t think too hard about what she was doing as she sat down behind the giant dildo and scooted up to it. The thing pressed around her thighs, almost hard to fit between her legs. Its girth was as absurd as its height. 
 
She tried wrapping both hands around and failed. The attempt wasn’t even close. It was thicker than her hands were tall, even.
 
“A show,” Zoey said. “Yeah. That’s, uh, accurate.”
 
Delta briefly noted how Zoey’s cock was at attention—because obviously, considering the circumstances. Funny enough, she noted that in comparison to this monster, Zoey’s own giant cock suddenly seemed a lot more palatable.
 
Allows impossible insertions, Delta thought, looking at the thing that would be stirring up her insides in the short future. No joke. 
 
“Even with the potion, this thing might kill me.” Her apprehension was growing, now that she had scooted up to the dildo. Its cold bulk pressed into her, and exactly as she’d predicted, the tip of it reached all the way up between her breasts, above her sternum. It’ll be bumping my heart around. Seriously, what the hell? Where would all her organs go? 
 
Don’t worry about the anatomy. Delta’s mouth opened as she began to pant. Fuck me, why is that so hot? Maybe she was more into this idea than she’d thought. Apprehensive as hell, sure. But she was excited to find out what it felt like.
 
She stood. She had only sat down and scooted forward to get a sense of what she was in for. Maybe she shouldn’t have.
 
“Okay. Well. This ought to be fun.”
 
She lined herself up. She barely had to bend her knees before the dildo’s enormous cock head was rubbing against her pussy. The object barely managed to squeeze between her thighs. She was struck for the tenth time about the insanity of this. If it barely fit between her legs, how would it fit inside?
 
Magic. A potion. But still.
 
Before she started to lower herself—and begin her should-be impossible task—she glanced up at her spectators.
 
Her lips curled in amusement. All three of them, even Rosalie, had wide eyes, and were leaned forward in anticipation. Rosalie’s cheeks were flushed, and she seemed incredulous as much as she was aroused. Zoey—both of them—on the other hand, had a look of fascination, and something predatory. She’s as excited as me. She wants to see me wrapped around this thing.
 
Well. Delta guessed she’d indulge that wish.
 
She breathed in, bracing herself, then lowered down. 
 
The enormous toy pressed into her pussy, and for a brief moment, she thought this really would be impossible, despite the potion’s claimed effect. Because she couldn’t even get in a position to start spreading herself open; the side of the object, scaled up to such enormous size, meant she was practically pressing into a flat object.
 
But after some finagling, some wiggling of her hips, she found the position that finally let it sink in.
 
The first tiny portion, at least. The thinner, tapering part of the cock head. Even that much was … a lot. The sensation was indescribable. The potion masked the pain—and allowed the insertion in the first place—but it did nothing to mask the feeling of being spread apart by an object the girth of her head. 
 
Delta’s pussy opened up, accepting its invader. Delta was leaning forward a bit—she was standing, because of its size—so she could look down and watch it happen. The sight was … incredibly erotic, and especially because it was Rosalie’s tight pussy this violation was happening to, not Delta’s.
 
A moan wrenched from her lips as she was torn in two—or that was it felt like—but Delta kept lowering herself. Her insides were stuffed completely full, more than full, by the enormous cock. 
 
It filled her up, inch by incredible inch, and just kept going, kept invading her insides as she sank lower. She placed a hand on her lower stomach and felt the skin bulge and expand—felt the cock head fill her out—as she went lower.
 
Her hand followed the toy up her stomach as it squeezed into her insides. It’s in my stomach. Her normally flat, toned tummy was distended in a clear outline of an enormous cock. Her belly button was pushed out by it. Delta paused, only halfway down, and rubbed her hand against the massive protrusion. I can feel the bumps of the cock head. She traced it in fascination.
 
“How’s it feel?” Zoey asked.
 
Delta blinked and looked up; she’d almost forgotten she was being watched. The feeling of her entire body wrapping around a giant dildo was … pretty attention-consuming.
 
“Amazing,” Delta murmured. “I can’t even put it into words. Come feel.”
 
Zoey didn’t need to be convinced, as Delta hadn’t expected she would. She approached and got down on her knees, and her hand replaced Delta’s own. She rubbed around on Delta’s distended stomach, feeling the outlines of the toy. The friction of Zoey’s hand rubbing it around inside her was incredible. Delta felt like she was melting with ecstasy. Her pussy squeezed and squirmed against the toy. 
 
“Keep going.” Zoey’s eyes were dark with lust. Delta could see pre-cum had started dripping from her cock. She’s really enjoying the show.
 
Delta obliged. Zoey’s hand followed the bulge up her stomach … up her rib cage … then between Delta’s breasts as she engulfed the toy in its entirety, her ass hitting the base of the flared toy. She looked down at her body, where a cylindrical pillar had invaded her all the way through. I can’t believe this. This is insane. And she’d never felt anything like it. She wanted more, somehow. For it to go literally all the way through, so it bulged into her throat and out her mouth. Not possible, she hazily thought. But this shouldn’t be, so imagine if it was.
 
Zoey’s hand rubbed circles around the toy, massaging the protrusion in Delta’s chest. “I … literally can’t describe how hot this is. Do you like it?”
 
“M-More than like it.” Delta couldn’t think. Her mind was hot sludge. Her entire body pulsed with desire—the need to have this thing moving around inside her. “Let’s see how riding this bad boy works.”
 
The trip up was a long one, and the feeling of the giant invader vacating her insides was almost as pleasurable as it was going in. A lewd noise tore from her lips, one she didn’t think she’d ever made before. Then back down—and watched again as her body wrapped around the toy a second time.
 
“That’s … that’s nice,” she panted. “Fuck, that’s nice.”
 
“I’m so jealous, right now,” Zoey said.
 
“Gotta be faster, next time.”
 
Zoey smirked.
 
“Give me a show,” Delta said. “It’s only fair, considering the one you have.” Her eyes flicked to Rosalie. “Come take care of Zoey. Both of them. They need a top-off, anyway.” Then, knowing Rosalie—knowing she’d need a prompt, “Let’s be efficient about this … break, yeah?”
 
Rosalie wavered, then uncrossed her arms. Her eyes were glazed over, and her chest was heaving up and down in excitement. Zoey was the one showing blatant interest, but Rosalie … Rosalie was turned on by this too. Who wouldn’t be?
 
“I suppose that’s a reasonable request,” she murmured.
 
 
 
2.18 ❤❤ Team Bonding
 
 
 
Tags: [Extreme insertions, distension. Cum inflation.]
 
 
 
Zoey couldn’t believe how turned on she was. Her cock was practically twitching with need, dripping precum in a steady stream. 
 
She watched Delta lift herself up off the ground, her stomach—Rosalie’s stomach—flattening out to the hard, toned surface it usually was, then back down, distending her body out as the giant toy stuffed into her. Seeing such a lewd, panting expression on Rosalie’s face was driving Zoey wild. Even in the throes of passion Rosalie tried to keep some form of lock on her expressions, but Delta, not at all, and it was Delta wearing her body. She panted heavily, eyes fluttering with pleasure, not masking how much fun she was having in the slightest.
 
“I’m assuming you want to join in?” Zoey asked Not-Zoey. She’d been hovering to the side, clearly feeling like an outsider. Zoey sympathized with that; it was obvious Rosalie and Delta were doubtful of her, even if they had verbally acknowledged either of them, or neither, could be the ‘impostor’.
 
“Is that fine?”
 
Zoey looked to Rosalie, who hesitated. Zoey could read what it meant; like usual, not wanting to admit to anything.
 
“She’s fine with it,” Zoey smirked. “Two of us taking care of her? It’s a fantasy.”
 
“Hmph,” Rosalie said. 
 
“Get over here.” Zoey was still sitting on her knees, next to Delta as she continued to fill herself up. The whines and moans were highly distracting.
 
Zoey scooted away, setting up further away from Delta, and in plain view. Delta had asked them to put on a show, and as much fun as playing with Rosalie was, playing with Rosalie while getting to watch Delta’s stomach bulge in and out as she impaled herself would be … even better.
 
Rosalie wandered over and crouched down next to Zoey. Zoey pulled her onto her lap—she squeaked in surprise, somehow never prepared for how Zoey became less gentle when things got going—and Zoey forcefully guided her into sitting in her lap, turned around and facing Delta. 
 
“What’s it like, seeing your body do that?” Zoey murmured into her ear. Her cock throbbed against Rosalie’s thighs—it was sticking out, between her legs, and Rosalie’s wetness had already started to coat it. She was, unsurprisingly, dripping. 
 
“It’s obscene,” Rosalie said, panting. “I can’t believe … I can’t …”
 
“Is it getting you off?”
 
“Of course not.” Rosalie’s hips worked back and forth against Zoey’s shaft, and it seemed an idle action, something she didn’t realize she was doing. “I would never be … turned on … by something like this.”
 
“Now, now,” Zoey tutted. “What have I told you about being honest with yourself?”
 
Not-Zoey knelt down in front Rosalie. “I have a suggestion, if you want it. Where we can all have fun.”
 
Well. Zoey knew herself. Any idea of hers would be … nice. “Go for it.”
 
“Here. Move for a second, Rosie.”
 
Rosalie nodded mutely and did so, even if she seemed disappointed to not be sitting on Zoey’s lap—or more accurately, on her cock—anymore.
 
Not-Zoey shimmied up, then, moving Zoey’s cock down, she sat on Zoey’s lap so she was facing sideways. “Now join me,” she told Rosalie. “One leg under mine, the other over. Like a pretzel.”
 
Zoey watched as the two girls set themselves up. Soon enough, they were both halfway seated on Zoey’s lap, pressing their pussies into her cock. Like they were scissoring, but with Zoey between them. 
 
“Now up,” Not-Zoey prompted, and Rosalie listened. Two wet pussies slid up Zoey’s shaft, a bit awkwardly, but with Not-Zoey guiding Rosalie along, soon enough they were thrusting their hips up and down, sliding themselves against her shaft with wiggling gyrations of their pelvises.
 
Zoey sighed, leaned back, and tried to decide which sight was more erotic. Rosalie and Not-Zoey—herself—jerking her cock off with their pressed-in pussies, or Delta, watching it happen as she herself was engaged in the most obscene act Zoey had ever seen, her firm body stretched to its maximum as a pillar-sized dildo stuffed her insides.
 
“Nice suggestion,” Zoey said in a massive understatement.
 
Not-Zoey was biting her lip as she and Rosalie thrusted up and down. “You know, I’m really jealous you’re the one who got to keep it. I bet this feels amazing.”
 
“Two cute girls rubbing up and down me? Safe guess.”
 
“Rosie looks like she can’t even think.”
 
She and Zoey watched Rosalie. Despite her eager thrustings of her pelvis, she wasn’t paying attention to Zoey, or Not-Zoey; her eyes were locked on Delta, her own body being violated, as Delta rode up and down. 
 
“She can’t even hear us,” Not-Zoey said amusedly. 
 
“And she calls us the pervert.”
 
“Eh. She’s right. It’s just … all of us are.”
 
Zoey laughed.
 
For a bit, only squelching, panting, and moaning suffused the air, all four of their party being pleasured in different ways.
 
“Enjoying the sight, princess?” Delta panted out. “Stare at me more, why don’t you?”
 
It broke her trance. Rosalie’s eyes went up from Delta’s bulging tummy to meet her gaze. She wet her lips before responding. “Of course not.”
 
“Do you want to be the one here? In my place?”
 
“No.”
 
“You don’t want to have your insides all stirred up, like this?” Delta ran a hand up and down the protruding shaft in her stomach as she rode herself desperately against the giant cock.
 
“I … I …”
 
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. It’s cuter when you don’t.”
 
“Stop … stop inventing things.” Rosalie’s protests were feeble. If it had just been Zoey here, she thought that explosive honesty of hers would’ve come out by now; she was plainly horny enough for it. But against Delta, her defenses were holding—flimsy and obviously false as they were.
 
Zoey had been trying to prevent herself from moving—to let Not-Zoey and Rosalie set the pace with the sliding of their lower halves—but for no discernible reason the next eager slide of their pussies had Zoey’s hips bucking. She jostled the two women who were providing their slippery services, and it was like the dam had broken.
 
“F-Fuck. You two—you feel, you feel—” Zoey jerked spastically up and down, slamming between the tight pressure of their thighs and pussies. “I need to, god, please, I have to. You feel so good. I want to cum.”
 
Zoey wasn’t sure if her own break in composure caused it, but in front of her, Delta’s entire body started to shake as she spasmed against the enormous dildo stuffed in her. Seeing her cum only whited out Zoey’s mind further. She jerked herself up and down with as much force as she could, slapping her hips into Rosalie’s and Not-Zoey’s asses as their pussies coaxed her cock up and down, their labias spreading and dragging across its length.
 
Their own efforts picked up, too, hips jerking as they awkwardly tried to lower themselves up and down—it wasn’t the easiest position to maintain, especially with Zoey’s violent writhing and thrusting beneath them.
 
“Fuck, fuck, please, please.” Zoey spat obscenities as her stomach clenched, and the words turned to whimpering. Her thrusting continued, and the first white-hot jet of cum erupted from her cock. The diligent sliding of pussies didn’t stop. If anything, her helpful friends’ movements became frenzied as they tried to extract as much of the sticky fluid as they could.
 
Each ejection of girlcum seared from her cock. It covered all three of their bodies, the asynchronous sliding of their lower halves jerking Zoey’s cock this way and that. They didn’t stop pleasuring Zoey until she was begging them to, their lubricated sliding almost painful against her spent cock.
 
Zoey, out of the game for at least a minute while she recovered, was vaguely aware of Not-Zoey separating from their position and pushing Rosalie over. Honestly, go get her. Good for Not-Zoey.
 
Rosalie cried out as Not-Zoey stuck her head between her thighs and buried her tongue in. It was what Zoey would have done; Rosalie had been shaking, and nearly there—and she didn’t blame Not-Zoey at all for helping finish her off. Zoey wouldn’t have been able to help herself either.
 
“It’s twitching,” Delta said, cutting through Zoey’s haze—and the whines of Rosalie coming to orgasm. “It’s, um, I feel it twitching. And, and, the door hasn’t opened. I think I need to get it off?” Delta’s body was shaking from her orgasm, which hadn’t ended yet. Her words shook almost as much as her body.
 
“Get it off?” Zoey elbowed herself up. She was vaguely aware of Rosalie writhing against Not-Zoey’s tongue.
 
“I can—I can feel it. It’s about to—”
 
With how vacuum-sealed Delta’s tummy was against the enormous toy, Zoey could see the object shudder inside her.
 
Then the expected happened.
 
The oversized toy’s ejaculation was as prodigious as its size. Buckets of semen burst up its length and into Delta’s stomach, inflating it outward in a sudden jerk. Delta cried out as she was filled with hot, sticky seed. Her stomach expanded, first erasing the outline of the toy on her stomach, then outward further, so there was a slight bulge.
 
It kept going. Her stomach rounded out as hot liquid ejected into her. It came in spurts, her stomach growing in sharp increases. Delta shook and moaned as a second orgasm followed on the coattails of the first. Her belly started to droop with the weight of so much hot seed stuffing her. She looked eight months pregnant—more. 
 
Still, it sprayed into her, until she bulged with the volume. Delta shook with pleasure, and her inflated stomach sloshed with cum. 
 
Finally, it stopped. Delta sat on the floor, slumped and exhausted, the toy fully inserted. She trembled as she came down from her second orgasm.
 
“Holy shit,” she said.
 
“Holy shit,” Zoey agreed in an erotic sort of fascination. “That … doesn’t hurt?” She stared at Delta’s stomach, bulging with gallons and gallons of semen.
 
“No. The … the potion. But it feels seriously weird.” A pause, then “And hot.” She groaned. “Fuck me. That was amazing.”
 
Delta gasped as she raised herself up and the toy slid from her. Her legs shook. The toy popped from her insides, and the enormous volume of white liquid spilled from her, the stopper no longer in place. Semen gushed out in waves, coating the floor beneath her. Her belly shrank bit by bit and more and more liquid left her. Delta’s hand followed it down, pushing on herself to help it out. 
 
Eventually, she was left looking like she had started, with Rosalie’s tight abs and flat stomach.
 
“Wow,” Delta said. “That was …”
 
She couldn’t quite find the right word. Zoey couldn’t, either.
 
 
 
2.19 Loot III
 
The aftermath was, to be honest, a bit awkward. The degeneracy all four of them had indulged in had been more than they had mentally prepared for, even if no protests seemed forthcoming.
 
Once Delta had ‘gotten the toy off’, the door had slid open with a grinding of stone. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately?—rather than being an alternate path of advancement, this particular obstacle had been a ‘rewards’ challenge. 
 
Which perhaps explained why it had been so much more degenerate than the one Rosalie had needed to undergo. It hadn’t even been required to progress through the dungeon. But how were they supposed to know that? 
 
Going forward, Zoey supposed, by when the obstacle is so lewd …
 
Live and learn, she guessed.
 
And Delta hadn’t complained.
 
Fuck, Zoey wasn’t complaining either. Even Rosalie—the most likely to have been upset at the development—had seemed into it. Not that Zoey thought Rosalie would have engaged in such degeneracy herself, without prompting, but spectating? Yeah, she’d made it clear she liked it.
 
A single green-banded chest lay in front of them. 
 
“I thought you said these were rare.”
 
Rosalie gave Zoey an annoyed look. “They are. Either these past two delves with you have been astoundingly lucky, or your class—your presence—continues to give … perplexing results. Have you even seen a common chest? A copper band?” She sighed. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing about,” she waved her hand around in a distinctly irritated manner, “all this is normal.”
 
Well. A goddess did send me to save the world. Zoey supposed better loot than average was par for the course. Not that Zoey supplied that explanation.
 
“You sound upset that we’re getting lucky,” Zoey said teasingly. “And maybe it’s not even luck. We worked hard for it, didn’t we?”
 
“We?” Delta asked. “Try again.”
 
“Delta worked hard for it,” Zoey corrected.
 
“Using my body,” Rosalie muttered. “That better not cause … lasting damage.”
 
“Having your entire body wrapped around a giant sex toy? Nah, can’t see how that could be bad for your anatomy.”
 
“There was a potion,” Zoey said pointedly. “Obviously she’s fine.”
 
“Want Zoey to come check?” Delta sneered. “Make sure you’re as tight as always?”
 
Zoey paused at the implication, then cleared her throat. Rosalie did the same.
 
“The chest,” they said at the same time.
 
They glanced at each other, and Zoey smirked. Rosalie’s lips—Delta’s? This whole, body-swap thing was getting annoying—twisted in amusement too.
 
They opened the chest.
 
The first item out—
 
[Cat Ears]: Uncommon. Highly sensitive. Amplifies senses and improves reactions.
 
“Excuse me?” Rosalie said.
 
“Sensitive. Like, in that way?” Zoey asked.
 
“Mine certainly are,” Delta said. “So it’d make sense. But … why?”
 
“Why?” Rosalie sneered. “There’s no point asking that question, in these shards.”
 
“Your ears are sensitive?” Not-Zoey asked Delta.
 
“Not as much as my tail, but yeah.”
 
“They are?” Zoey asked. Almost without thinking, she stepped forward and rubbed Rosalie’s fox-ears between her thumb and fore-finger. 
 
They flattened out, and Rosalie shuddered and took a step back. Her orange-and-white tail flicked in annoyance. “Hey! At least ask. What’s wrong with you?”
 
Rosalie’s glower had stopped being intimidating a while ago. Added to the twitching ears and tail, and the blush growing on her cheeks, Zoey couldn’t help the grin that split her face.
 
“I can’t believe I didn’t know that,” Zoey said. “Oh, I’m so making good use of it.”
 
“With her, sure,” Delta said. “If it’s me in my body, don’t you dare. I don’t like it.”
 
“You don’t?”
 
“It’s too sensitive. Dunno. Too personal.”
 
“Oh,” Zoey said. She shot a hesitant look at Rosalie, in case she felt the same way—but rather than asking the unanswered question, she sniffed and turned back to the chest.
 
She totally wants me to play with them. Zoey made note of the revealing reaction, the grin returning.
 
“We equipping them?” Delta asked. “I mean, one of you two can. Hardly need a second set of ears. Dunno if they’d even fit.” She paused. “So, uh, I guess I’d get them, since I’m in Rosalie’s body, right now. Rosalie’s the one who doesn’t need more ears.”
 
“That’s fine.” Rosalie passed the cat ears to Delta, who took them. “Like I said, we hardly care about second-advancement loot. Amplified reactions are better suited on you, anyway.”
 
“Don’t care about the loot?” Zoey asked. “Speak for yourself. If it’s perverted, I definitely care about it.”
 
Delta snorted, and Rosalie huffed.
 
“You can have first dibs on the gross items,” Delta said. “I appreciate the commitment to perversion, but I’m trying to advance, yeah? So I want the practical stuff.”
 
Zoey paused, feeling briefly guilty, because she ought to be trying to advance, too, for, y’know, the sake of saving the world. But she perked up quickly, seeing how her class was based on perverted stuff. If anything, she was filling her role.
 
Nice mental gymnastics, Zoey.
 
The next item out:
 
[Cat Tail]: Uncommon. Highly sensitive. Improves balance and acrobatics.
 
“You’re kidding me,” Rosalie said flatly, holding it up. “It … it …”
 
It had a butt-plug at the end. Not quite as large as the biggest of the silver toys they’d earned in their first delve, but almost as big as the one Zoey currently had inserted into herself. Her hole clenched against the thing—she’d almost forgotten about it. I’m really getting used to it being in there. For how big it was, she really shouldn’t be.
 
Delta laughed, and she took the item as Rosalie passed it over. “That’s mine too, I guess. Pass me some lube, Zoey?”
 
“You’re going to—” Rosalie’s high-pitch response started, then she shook her head and said, “Of course you are.”
 
Zoey passed over one of the several lube-bottles she had stored in her inventory. Rosalie continued to dig.
 
Zoey was briefly torn between watching Delta coax a giant cat-tail buttplug into herself and the next item Rosalie pulled out.
 
The winner was fairly obvious. Delta winced as the toy spread her apart, sliding into her tight hole with a quick inhalation. Zoey drank in the reaction, which Delta noticed, and rolled her eyes at.
 
“Damn, blondie,” she said to Rosalie. “You’re tight down there. That actually kind of hurt.”
 
“I’m ignoring you,” Rosalie said.
 
Zoey’s attention was brought back to the item she’d drawn out. It looked like … well, a wiggling mass of plant-life?
 
[Writhing Armor]: Rare. Enjoy amplified protection at the cost, or benefit, of constant stimulation.
 
“Oh, shit,” Delta said. “Armor. Nice.”
 
Rosalie looked disdainfully at the squirming vines. “Armor?”
 
“Well. Of a sort.”
 
“This reminds me of …”
 
The first shard. “It’s a rare quality.”
 
“I know,” Rosalie said, nose wrinkled. “It probably provides significant defense, too, considering the downside, and the effectiveness of other items so far.”
 
“Downside?” Delta asked. “Constant stimulation? I think you mean upside.”
 
“It’s a distraction.”
 
“Eh, you get used to it,” Zoey said.
 
Rosalie glanced her way.
 
Zoey turned, and, looking over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, pulled her cheeks apart, showcasing the plug still in her ass. “It fades to the background,” she laughed, turning back around as Rosalie made some kind of choking noise.
 
“It’s still in there,” Delta said, nodding. “That’s good. Rosalie’s is in too, so you’ve been building up energy. Almost forgot.”
 
What? “Rosalie’s?” Zoey asked. “You have one in?”
 
Rosalie’s face turned beet-red. She stuck her chin in the air. “Delta’s the one with the nipples rings now. And her body’s the one used to … the size you’re using. So I put it in earlier.”
 
Zoey’s head spun, even if it made sense. “Turn around. Show me.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed.
 
“Zoey.” Rosalie glanced sideways at Delta.
 
“Do it. I wanna see.”
 
Rosalie wavered, but listened. She turned and pulled her cheeks apart. Sure enough, the smooth, glinting steel of a plug showed through, nestled in.
 
“She’s a practical girl, remember?” Delta teased. “Which is the same reason she’s gonna put on the armor. She’s the tank, so she has to.”
 
Delta seemed almost as delighted at this development as Zoey. Though, her enjoyment seemed to be more of the ‘I like seeing Rosalie squirm’ kind, and Zoey’s … well, Zoey’s enjoyment was obvious.
 
Rosalie cleared her throat. Though annoyed at Delta’s teasing, she didn’t contradict her words; she agreed with the point she’d made.
 
She steeled her nerves, then lifted up the mass of vines and wiggled her head in between the opening at the bottom, sliding it down her body.
 
The response by the twisting plantlife was instantaneous. They squeezed in and writhed down, equipping itself without need for Rosalie to adjust them. Two vines encircled Rosalie’s tits and squeezed them tightly, shaping and pushing them out with the strength of their grip. Another two wrapped between her thighs. Her body was quickly engulfed by green ropes—but covering nothing of interest. If anything, they accentuated Rosalie’s curves, drawing attention to her nipples and pussy with their looping, clinging designs.
 
Then, a prospecting vine crawled between her legs and wiggled itself into Rosalie with no forewarning. A gasp escaped her lips and she slapped a hand to her crotch as she bent forward in surprise—but the invader was already well and in, exploring Rosalie’s insides. 
 
Zoey thought Rosalie would pull it out, but she didn’t. She only shivered and let the armor finish settling against—and into—herself. Eventually, the writhing stopped, all of the vines having situated themselves. Rosalie stood there, donning a looping mesh of plant life. Even having ‘settled’, they moved here and there, shifting—a living organism that had taken residence across Rosalie’s body.
 
“It’s moving around inside me,” she groaned, her hips wiggling side to side. “I’m supposed to just … deal with that?”
 
“I believe in you,” Delta grinned. “Come on now, next item. Chop chop.”
 
The vine wiggled, and another gasp. But Rosalie seemed determined to handle her perverted task with stalwartness; she ignored it, and bent down to keep withdrawing objects from the green-banded chest, even as her insides squirmed around with living vines.
 
[Ink of Empowering Degradation]: Rare. Scrawl onto skin. Effects amplify with size, location, and content of markings. 
 
“Oh,” Delta said. “That’s a funny one.”
 
“It wants us to write … degrading stuff?” Zoey asked. 
 
“Is it permanent?” Rosalie frowned at the ink-bottle and quill. “Surely not.”
 
“Doubt it,” Delta said. “But long-lasting, at a guess. Let’s test it out.”
 
“Without identification?” Rosalie said disapprovingly.
 
“Sure. Live a little.”
 
“That’s risky. What if it is permanent? Better to have it identified.”
 
“Delving life is risky,” Delta said, rolling her eyes. “Besides. Only person seeing your body is me and Zoey, isn’t it? So even if it is … it’s fine. We’ll get it fixed at town. No way it’s permanent, permanent—something a mage couldn’t fix.”
 
Rosalie cleared her throat. “We don’t need it, though. We’re handling the shard fine.”
 
“Makes it easier. And, dunno, blondie, this shard hasn’t been a cakewalk. Not the hardest I’ve been through, but you should know all it takes is a single slip-up. Should be using every advantage we have.” A second later, “Plus, I’m betting any shard with Zoey in it is only going to let perverted armor and items be used. Like your vine armor. And this ink. So we need to get used to it.”
 
Rosalie frowned down at the item. It was clear she agreed with Delta’s appraisal. “But … what should we write?”
 
“We should be mean about it,” Delta said, a grin splitting her lips. “Says the content makes it a stronger effect. So I write yours, you write mine, and the Zoey’s will write each other’s.”
 
“Feel like you’re implying we’ll be rude to each other,” Not-Zoey said. It’d been a while since she’d chimed in; she’d been quiet through most of the trip. Zoey, again, felt bad about her undoubtedly feeling like an outsider. She knew herself well enough to know that was what was happening.
 
“Yeah. That’s the plan,” Delta said. “You two can dig into your insecurities, can’t you? Knowing each other, and everything. Means a stronger effect.”
 
“I get to write yours?” Rosalie asked. She was clearly pleased with the idea. Then she paused, realizing the second half. “You get to write mine.”
 
“Deal?”
 
Rosalie hesitated, then said, “Deal.”
 
Delta didn’t seem dissuaded in the slightest at Rosalie’s quick acceptance; in fact, she seemed excited that Rosalie had a particularly rude, or degrading, concept of what she wanted to write. “Remember. Size, location, and content. Pretty sure it should go above our pussy, on our face, or across our tits.” She paused. “Or ass. Those are obviously the best choices.”
 
“And make them large,” Zoey said. 
 
Rosalie crossed her arms. “Oh, I will.”
 
“Who’s going first?” Delta asked.
 
“Me,” Rosalie said immediately. She uncapped the bottle and dipped the pen into the ink.
 
2.20 Body Writing
 
“Wow,” Delta said. “You were so excited, I thought you had something good.”
 
Across Delta’s chest, in thick, bolded letters, ‘SHAMELESS WHORE’.
 
Despite Delta’s unimpressed words, Rosalie seemed highly satisfied with the insult she’d written. She admired it smugly, and, when Delta held her hand out, didn’t seem particularly put-out that it was her turn to be drawn on.
 
Zoey, for her part, agreed with Delta. Rosalie had been so excited to write the words that Zoey thought she had something creative. Then again, Rosalie was clearly pretty sheltered … by the smugness of her satisfaction, she thought she’d had a stroke of genius. It was pretty cute.
 
Delta knelt down in front of Rosalie and dipped the quill in ink. Rosalie shivered as the cold pentip pressed into the space below her belly button. In the same way Rosalie had, Delta spelled her chosen tattoo out in massive letters, covering most of the space on her pelvis. She had to pull aside the writhing vines to get the pen to her skin.
 
‘HUGE GIRL COCKS ONLY <3’, the phrase read, with an arrow pointing down at her pussy.
 
Rosalie paled as she read the words upside-down and finally deciphered them. By the widening of her eyes, Delta was the winner.
 
“You—you can’t be serious.”
 
“It looks good on you,” Delta grinned. “Let’s hope it’s not permanent.” She licked her finger and rubbed at the ink, but it had dried instantly, and didn’t smudge at Delta’s efforts.
 
“If it is, it’s your body.” Rosalie’s eyes flicked to the ‘SHAMELESS WHORE’ on her own body’s chest. She grimaced.
 
“Then I’ll wear it proudly, when we finally swap back,” Delta laughed. She got back up and handed the ink and quill to Not-Zoey.
 
“Have something good?” Zoey asked her.
 
“It didn’t say we had to be mean. Just degrading.” Not-Zoey crouched in front of Zoey. Her cock stiffened instinctively at having a face so close, but Not-Zoey ignored it, rolling her eyes and flicking it. “And that content, size, and positioning mattered. So …”
 
She worked away at etching ink into Zoey’s pelvis, the same as Delta had done to Rosalie’s. 
 
‘DELTA & ROSIE’S FAVORITE TOY’.
 
Delta laughed, and Rosalie wrinkled her nose. 
 
Zoey, on her part, grinned. “I’m not sure if I even mind it.”
 
“Hmm. I have a feeling you’re not going to be so nice to me.”
 
“I’m definitely taking a cruder approach,” Zoey agreed.
 
Not-Zoey huffed. She finished scribbling ink into the outline of the bolded letters, filling them out, then stood and handed the materials to Zoey.
 
“Turn around.”
 
“On my butt?” Not-Zoey asked, rolling her eyes. “How did I know?”
 
Zoey dipped the pen in, then worked away at scrawling out the words ‘FREE USE CUM DUMPSTER’ across Not-Zoey’s ass.
 
“Crude,” Delta said amusedly. “You weren’t kidding.”
 
“What’s it say?” Not-Zoey was trying to look over her shoulder, but obviously the angle wasn’t right. She couldn’t see.
 
“Don’t worry about it,” Zoey said, slapping her on the ass and vanishing the ink into her inventory.
 
Not-Zoey rubbed at where she’d been hit, scrunching her nose at Zoey. “You’re not going to tell me? That’s so mean.”
 
“Nothing beats imagination, anyway.” 
 
Not-Zoey huffed, crossing her arms. “To think I was nice to you.”
 
“Do any of you feel anything?” Zoey asked. She herself hadn’t felt any magical effects settle in after the lewd phrase had been written, but she doubted the artifact was lying.
 
Rosalie clenched and unclenched her hands in front of her, as if testing if it felt different. “Maybe. Some stats boosts can be hard to notice. Which is why identifying the item is best, first.” She eyed Delta to  emphasize the point.
 
“Eh, doesn’t hurt anyone,” Delta said. “Even if the effect’s small, it’s helpful. Plus, Zoey’s enjoying the sight.”
 
Her eyes might have been caught on the ‘HUGE GIRL COCKS ONLY <3’ above Rosalie’s pussy. Delta had outdone herself. 
 
She cleared her throat. “There’s still more, right?” She gestured at the chest.
 
Rosalie returned to it.
 
[Pink Fairy Dust]: A shimmering pink powder. Can be used to prepare potions that intensify, and link, dreams.
 
Zoey paused. “How much do you want to bet ‘intensify’ means …”
 
“Sex dreams?” Delta said sarcastically. “I think that’s a given.”
 
“And links,” Zoey said. “So whoever takes it together, somehow shares the dream?” Or just one guess at what the reagent could create. There was some variance, typically, in what could be coaxed out of any given ingredient.
 
“Sounds fun,” Delta said. “There’s all kinds of freaky stuff I’d do in a dream, but not in real life.”
 
Zoey paused.
 
“And no, I’m not specifying,” Delta said.
 
The looting of an alchemy reagent sparked an idea.
 
“Hey. Sabina asked me to be on the look-out for reagents, and that there’s plenty more to gather from a shard than what comes out of a chest.”
 
“Okay?”
 
“You know that trap? The,” she cleared her throat, “excessive fluid?”
 
“That filled me up?” Delta’s eyebrows raised. “You think it’ll make a potion ingredient?”
 
“Maybe it’ll replicate the stretchiness?”
 
Delta paused. “Hell, worth bringing back just on the off chance.” She frowned. “We don’t have any containers, though.”
 
“We can improvise. We’ll probably get some useless potions.” Most chests provided their fair share of junk. Or not junk, but generic items, health potions, stamina potions, and the like. Zoey suspected that for the average adventurer, they’d be useful. But seeing how she’d wandered into a party of two extremely competent partners … and less combat-focused shards … the ‘typical items’ were less useful than they should be.
 
They continued to empty out items. The ‘regular’ pieces of armor that came out were distinctly unenticing, now that the shards had proven themselves as having a habit of erasing ‘normal’ equipment and loot from their inventory. Before, Zoey had equipped some of it—the stuff that seemed useless to her class, like the spell-casting gloves. Now, though—seeing how items bound themselves to the user—she didn’t, since it would be better to sell and buy items useful to their efforts in the future.
 
Only the lewd items held persistent value. The rest was either temporary use only, or money-making equipment. Or, in this particular case, glass vials to store portions of the buckets of fake-cum that had burst from the toy Delta had pleasured herself on. Zoey emptied out several vials of the green, yellow, and red liquids, then scooped up the sticky white substance from the thick pools that still sat on the ground, outside the loot room.
 
“It was so much,” Zoey laughed, again, looking down at the mess that had been left behind. She’d almost forgotten the sheer quantity that had been inside Delta. If Zoey had thought she had an impressive output … the toy had set a new standard.
 
“Maybe that’s the potion effect it’ll make,” Delta said. “Not stretchiness, but something that’ll let you,” she gestured around at the lake of cum.
 
Zoey paused, then shrugged. “Honestly, both sound fun.”
 
“Pervert.”
 
“Guilty as charged.” Zoey felt less need to defend herself with every instance the insult was leveraged at her. Maybe that was a bad thing. Then again, she was coming to terms with the fact it was entirely true.
 
“Shall we continue?” Rosalie asked dryly. “Or do you need to gather more lewd potion ingredients?”
 
Zoey looked around at the room, then said, “Actually, I should take some chunks of the toy itself. You never know.” The gel-like material was tickling at her alchemist’s intuition—it might make some sort of potion, too.
 
###
 
Progression through the shard ambled on.
 
Rosalie had dispatched the first shard’s monsters with ease. This second shard—still with ease, but the effort required was more visible, even to Zoey’s untrained eyes. 
 
Like before, she enjoyed the sight of the two naked—or mostly naked, considering Rosalie’s new writhing armor set—women dip, weave, and strike with fluid violence. Delta especially was interesting; she moved even faster than Rosalie, with even greater harshness. She’d described herself as a striker, a purely DPS-focused role, and while Rosalie had slightly more composure—some hard-to-describe quality that showcased her unequaled aptitude—Delta’s movements were still the more rapid, and violent.
 
Rosalie, as discussed, spent most of her attention focused on Zoey. The monsters no longer came in ones, as they had the first shard. Neither did they focus mindlessly on whoever engaged it first. Rosalie needed to allocate significant effort in ensuring Zoey went uncontested in their brief, brutal brawls with the shard’s spawned enemies. 
 
But they managed. More than managed. They progressed forward steadily and without problem. Delta did catch a few stray attacks—which she downed some of the health potions they’d collected to wipe away—and the sight of blood, especially on a friend, did remove some of the lackadaisical attitude Zoey had previously been feeling. But they never came close to real danger. Scrapes, bruises, minor injuries. Things easily wiped away by the health potions they’d earned—and continued to earn—as they cleared each room and hallway.
 
Almost before she knew it, they had arrived at an elegant stone arch doorway that had the distinct feeling of ‘boss fight’. Several lewd trials had blocked their advancement, but none remotely as degenerate as the one Delta had undergone. 
 
It was a smaller shard than typical, according to Rosalie, and about as long the one she and Rosalie had completed earlier. Zoey wasn’t sure whether that was indicative of their future, or coincidence. Two was a small sample size. And while the fact both were lewd seemed safe to draw assumptions from, the other aspects, maybe not as much.
 
Either way, they’d arrived to the boss chamber.
 
“What do you think’s in there?” Not-Zoey asked.
 
Unlike with Mel, there were no indicators; no signs warning ‘beware the slime’ and hinting at what the final encounter would be. The tall brown doors and arched stone weren’t especially revealing either.
 
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Zoey replied. The theme of the dungeon did seem to be body-play of some sort; both Delta and Rosalie’s swapped appearances and the presence of Not-Zoey suggested such.  So the boss would likely be the same?
 
As a party, they stared at the doorway. 
 
“It better not be too gross,” Rosalie muttered. “Let’s activate our items, then get going.”
 
And I should drink one of those anti-virility potions. Zoey didn’t have a clue what would be happening for this boss, but it didn’t take a leap of deduction to assume … well. That the potion would be needed.
 
2.21 The Not-So-Shocking Reveal
 
Zoey, Not-Zoey, Rosalie, and Delta walked into the boss room.
 
A breathtaking chamber spread out before them. Arched pillars with carved marble decorated a circular arena surrounded by columns that reached high into the domed ceiling. At the center was a bed, complete with silk sheets and a thick mattress. A large mirror hung on one wall, reflecting the scene. 
 
"Any guesses what the bed's for?" Delta asked dryly. 
 
At each corner of the walls sat massive statues depicting ... them? The statues were nude women, with her, Delta's, and Rosalie's visages plainly etched into the stone. They stood in various sensual poses. Rosalie's statue cupped her breasts, while Delta's held her hands behind her back, leaned forward with a smirk. Zoey's statue, on the other hand, had her hands on her hips, chest thrust out, and looking almost arrogantly confident. 
 
The stone had an otherworldly luster to it, almost glowing under the lights inside the domed chamber. It made Zoey shiver—the otherworldliness, the elegance, and the fact it was their own faces on the statues. 
 
"Well," Not-Zoey sighed, "I guess it's time for the big reveal."
 
"You're the boss," Rosalie said. "I'm shocked."
 
"Absolutely floored," Delta said.
 
“Huh?” Zoey said. “Wait, what?”
 
"I guess fooling one of you’s not so bad," Not-Zoey said.
 
"Doesn't count," Delta said. "She's new to this."
 
"Wait—wait," Zoey said. "No, that can't be right."
 
"Don't be upset," Not-Zoey said, turning to her, and she seemed genuinely distressed. "Our talk wasn't fake. Everything I said, I meant, and I am you—just ... not entirely."
 
"Your talk?" Delta asked. 
 
"We did some self-reflecting together," Not-Zoey said. Concerned green eyes flicked to Zoey, and she insisted, "and it was every bit real. I'm glad we could have it."
 
"You're—you’re the boss?” Zoey’s head spun. “What are you?”
 
"A reflection," Not-Zoey said. "For a lack of a better term.” She waved a hand in front of her face, and in a chilling display of what she meant, Not-Zoey's face morphed into ... Not-Rosalie. Her body shrunk, appropriating Rosalie's diminutive but powerful frame, Zoey's generous curves melting into Rosalie's smaller, just-as-enticing ones. "I'm hollow. I take in other people. There’s really not much of me," she admitted. "Whoever I’m wearing, takes up most of who I am. So I was you. It wasn’t a lie." The words came in Rosalie's crisply enunciated voice, now, not Zoey's.
 
"But ... you knew ..."
 
"Our circumstances?" Not-Rosalie asked. Her lips quirked. "I did. The memories come with the face." She turned to Rosalie. "Which, let me tell you, is always interesting. Everyone’s secrets, poured out for me to see."
 
Rosalie stiffened at the implication, eyes widening.
 
Not-Rosalie laughed. "The best part is,” she said tauntingly, “I bet you think you're the one with bigger things to hide.”
 
Which was a statement that drew two pairs of eyes—Rosalie's and Delta's—to Zoey.
 
Zoey didn't have a response. For multiple reasons. The first being the obvious—how to respond to an accusation like that. 'Yeah, I'm from another world, guys.' 
 
The second reason, that she was still reeling from how Not-Zoey (Not-Rosalie?) was the shard's boss monster. Her interactions with Not-Zoey had been so ... genuine. Regardless that both Rosalie and Delta had alluded to not trusting Not-Zoey—and Zoey herself for that matter—immediately upon seeing the two of them. Still. She felt ... betrayed. Silly as she felt to admit it. Of course something weird was going on with Not-Zoey.
 
Not-Zoey's personality, perhaps expectedly considering who—or what—she was, had shifted as soon as she changed skins. Rosalie's confident demeanor now draped across her shoulders, and she smirked antagonistically at her fox-eared counterpart: Rosalie, in Delta's body. 
 
"Some honesty would go a long way, you know. Why hide? At least Zoey has good reasons for it. Better than yours, at least."
 
"I don't know what you're talking about." Purple eyes—Delta's, but Rosalie's—flicked between Zoey and Not-Rosalie. 
 
Zoey crossed her arms. "She doesn't have to share anything she doesn't want to."
 
"And our gallant hero rises up," Not-Rosalie said, rolling her eyes and turning back to Zoey. "You two are lucky I'm keeping your confidence. There's a lot of really interesting conversations I could force out, knowing what I know." She turned to Delta. "I wonder, is it three for three?"
 
Delta stiffened as Not-Rosalie's features shifted. An orange tail sprouted from her tailbone, and Rosalie's blonde hair shifted to orange, a pair of ears popping out from her head. 
 
Not-Delta's head tilted. 
 
Her nose wrinkled.
 
"Wow," Not-Delta said. "How boring.”
 
“Yeah, fuck you too,” Delta said dryly. “Not all of us can be secret royalty.”
 
Not-Delta laughed. “Fair enough.” Dismissively, she turned away, facing Zoey, long orange tail swishing in amusement.
 
"How's your particular style of 'fighting' going to work?" Zoey asked. She asked as much out of genuine curiosity as to steer them away from the sensitive topics Not-Delta had chosen to play with—Rosalie’s and Zoey’s secrets.
 
"Hm," Not-Delta said, tapping her lip as if considering the question. With her adoption of Delta’s body, she’d taken a playful, irreverent demeanor. "Let's start with some good old fashioned fun first. It can't all be fucking and frolicking, can it?" Her lips tugged down, her eyes locking with Zoey’s. "Though, I'm sorry about this next part—but your team’s weak point is pretty obvious."
 
Ah, Zoey thought. Rosalie had said the bosses would be smarter.
 
###
 
The reflection—the body-shifter—fought with all three of their styles, abilities, and tendencies. Her body morphed between Delta's, Rosalie's, and least frequently Zoey's, as appropriate to the situation. She fought with just as much deadliness—and intensity—as any of them. 
 
Rosalie was hard-pressed to keep Zoey protected from her onslaught. Rosalie was, after all, defending Zoey from herself. The reflection's brutal elegance in combat matched perfectly with Rosalie's own, and worse, exceeded it; the reflection-monster was faster, stronger, and just as skilled as whoever's body she inhabited. With her teammate's natural prowess, it was a distinctly more threatening situation than most tier two shards would present. A counter, so to say, specifically to them: whose unusual talents should have meant they were safe in such a low-rank shard.
 
Only the fact it was a three-on-one meant Zoey stayed protected. And even then, not perfectly. It was the first time Zoey had taken actual hits during either shards; the reflection's dagger—summoned from nowhere, a sliver of plate-glass that morphed with as much fluid ease as the creature did—caught Zoey in several places, her thighs, arm, stomach, scratching red lines that dripped rivulets of blood down her body. 
 
Zoey's heart slammed in her chest as her party squared off against the shard's final encounter, desperately trying to keep her attention and failing, the reflection's attention focused only on Zoey—the 'weak link'. However many times she'd acknowledged that these shards could be dangerous ... the sting of glass opening up her skin had hammered the fact in with fatal clarity no amount of mental acknowledgment could have managed.
 
If things go wrong ... this could be the end. 
 
But things didn't go wrong. The reflection's assault was vicious and focused, but her teammates—though, admittedly, not Zoey, a quarter as much—rose up to the challenge. Again, these two girls weren’t beginners in the slightest; they responded to the threat almost as if they'd been expecting it. Rosalie and Delta moved as a unit, as if they'd prepared specifically for the body-shifter. Even through Zoey's panic, she was impressed; their coordination was seamless, despite having known each other less than a day. 
 
The reflection was driven off by their efforts. Unlike Mel—the first boss—her so-called 'healthiness' was harder to discern, but by her flagging stamina and the injuries accruing across her body, persisting even after body-shifts, Zoey could tell she was being worn down.
 
"Okay, okay," Not-Rosalie finally laughed, peeling back from the brawl and swaying unsteadily on her feet. "Like I said, some old-fashioned fun to start. But let's not finish too quickly. To the main course."
 
She swiped her hand to the left, and Zoey was suddenly falling.
 
###
 
She landed hard onto the giant, plush bed that sat at the center of the room, bouncing with the impact before steadying herself on her hands and knees. 
 
What? They'd been fighting on the outskirts of the chamber-arena, dancing around the perimeter as they—or more accurately, Rosalie and Delta—fought against the creature. How had Zoey been teleported to the center of the room? And where were her teammates?
 
"Go ahead," Not-Zoey said, making Zoey jump. "Heal up." She grinned. "Good thing you didn't empty out all the health potions to scoop up dungeon-trap cum."
 
Zoey stared warily at Not-Zoey, but she didn't seem about to attack. And whatever had happened, it seemed the first—the only?—attack phase of the fight had ended. She checked herself over, running her hands and eyes across her body. The fall hadn't hurt, not seriously, however long-lasting and rapidly accelerating it had felt. The plush bed had cushioned the impact. 
 
And while she was still bleeding from the wounds she'd gathered during the fight—blood dripping down from several glancing blows, the most Rosalie had allowed past her guard—she was, all things considered, not in bad shape. Not pristine ... but not in any dire state, either. 
 
She did as told and downed a health potion, summoned from her inventory, eying Not-Zoey as she did. Though not her first time drinking a potion—she'd relied on the stamina ones heavily during their long travels—it was Zoey's first time drinking a health one. The liquid burned as it went down, but it did its job, healing her minor injuries, the glancing blows inflicted by the reflection's morphing glass weapons. Her insides tingled as the potion worked its magic.
 
Not-Zoey watched her drink, grinning. "Cool," she said. "Now, there's something we were so rudely interrupted from finishing, isn’t there? I just hope you don't mind the spectators."
 
"Spectators?" Zoey's eyes followed the direction of Not-Zoey's smirk. There, up in the rafters of the enormous boss-room arena, paced her two teammates. Rosalie banged her fist on an invisible barrier. She was a bit too far for Zoey to make out an expression, but her body-language radiated displeasure. "Ah." Then, the first part of what Not-Zoey said sunk in. "Rudely interrupted?"
 
The smirk grew. Not-Zoey fell back into the bed, then rolled over, showcasing her exposed ass. With the flurry of violence, the fact everyone was nude had been erased from Zoey's awareness—far from the most important thing to be thinking about. But with Not-Zoey’s shapely ass so on display, she was, suddenly, aware again.
 
Not-Zoey tapped her ass, which jiggled. Thick black letters, 'FREE USE CUM DUMPSTER', stood starkly out against her pale flesh from their body-writing escapades earlier. "You know, I still don't know what you wrote there," Not-Zoey said, "but I have the feeling it's about to be a true statement.”
 
Despite this creature's thorough efforts at killing—or at least hurting—her a second ago, Zoey's cock stiffened, engorging itself. The sight of Not-Zoey's ass presented so eagerly in front of her was too much to fight against.
 
Not that she wanted to fight against this. This phase of the bossfight was the part Zoey might actually be able to help, like against Mel. The part of the encounter she wouldn’t be wholly useless.
 
And Zoey had made a promise to herself that she'd be getting into her own insides before the shard was over.
 
It looked like the opportunity had finally arrived.
 
2.22 ❤ Go F* Yourself
 
"You know," Zoey said, "it’s weird being propositioned to by someone trying to kill me two minutes ago."
 
"Then take your anger out on me." Not-Zoey waggled her ass, still turned over on her stomach and looking back at Zoey with a smirk. "I might not be as durable as Mel when it comes to this, but I think I can put up a good fight."
 
"Aren't you a second-advancement boss? Shouldn't you be more durable?"
 
"If fucking was all I did, maybe. Not trying to spoil the surprise too much ... but you might want to wear me down for phase three."
 
"Phase three." By the sounds of it, more of phase one. Combat. More of her trying to kill Zoey. Which was quite the thing to hang over Zoey’s head while wiggling her ass around invitingly. Fuck it. "You know what? Sure. Wear you down. I can go for some of that.”
 
Not-Zoey grinned, and a glint appeared in her eyes. "Ready to find out what your own pussy feels like?"
 
Which succeeded in making Zoey’s heart skip a beat, despite the circumstances. Where had Not-Zoey’s timidity gone?
 
Zoey crawled across the bedsheets, the plush material indenting as she moved. She perched herself overtop Not-Zoey. 
 
Despite having shifted bodies several times, the thick black ink from their body-writing event was as visible as ever. ‘FREE USE CUM DUMPSTER’, Not-Zoey’s ass read.
 
Fuck. Her cock twitched in excitement.
 
Zoey guided it between two soft cheeks, rubbing it up and down Not-Zoey’s ass, between bolded letters. Soon to be true. She guided it down, rubbing her cockhead against slick folds, lubricating herself in preparation.
 
My folds, Zoey hazily corrected herself. Rubbing my cockhead against my folds.
 
This was her pussy she’d be thrusting into. Even if it was guided by a consciousness that wasn’t hers, it was still her own body. Every biological detail, perfectly duplicated. And maybe not her mind exactly, but something close—just, merged with another’s consciousness. For most meaningful uses of the word, Not-Zoey was her. Her memories, her personality.
 
However intense the fight had been a few minutes prior, Zoey's brain quickly grew addled by lust. She slid her cock up and down, rubbing against agonizingly soft flesh—her own flesh—mentally bracing herself for what she was about to do.
 
“Hurry up, won’t you?” Not-Zoey breathed. She sounded as tantalized by the idea as Zoey. 
 
She lined her cockhead up to Not-Zoey's opening. Even just sliding, the feeling was incredible. Warm, inviting, wet. Not-Zoey rubbed back, arching her back, and encouraging Zoey to thrust in. 
 
"Ready?" Zoey asked, her voice grown husky.
 
"For that thing? Probably never." 
 
Zoey pushed forward, pressing the head of her cock into Not-Zoey's entrance. She breathed in as she pushed past tight resistance, sinking inside Not-Zoey's sex. 
 
I’m inside myself. 
 
Zoey’s entire body burned with the idea. Not-Zoey’s warm, tight pressure enveloped her member, spreading through her shaft, making her whole body tingle with pleasure. The feeling was electric, amplified a hundred times over by the mental stimulation of knowing it was her own pussy she’d just pushed into.
 
Zoey's breath caught as she thrusted again. Then again, and again, picking up speed. A needy, foreign force took over Zoey’s hips. She slapped in, harder, faster, deeper with every passing second.
 
"Oh god," Not-Zoey groaned, pressing her face into the bedsheets as Zoey filled her up. 
 
Zoey's hips finally hit Not-Zoey's ass, her back-and-forth efforts finally driving all the way into Not-Zoey's pussy. Like usual, she’d needed to ease in. But now she held still for a moment, savoring the sensation of having another woman's pussy—that was also her own—wrapped around her cock. 
 
It was a feeling, Zoey realized, she would never tire of. Being inside another girl made her feel ... powerful. She'd always been a person not afraid to take control in bed, but this, the tight pressure of wet, squirming pussy-walls around her cock ... it gave her an almost primal sense of control, something heady and intoxicating.
 
The fact it was her own pussy she'd entered? Her own tight walls pleasuring her cock? It took the sensation to eleven.
 
Zoey growled, leaning forward and breathing hot air into Not-Zoey's ear. She lifted her hips then slammed them back forward. Flesh slapped against flesh, and waves of pleasure ran up and down her spine, shooting bolts of lightning through her nerves. She needed more.
 
"Faster," Not-Zoey groaned, apparently agreeing. "You call this ... a fucking?"
 
Zoey picked up speed. Her hips slammed back and forth as she pistoned in and out of the girl beneath her. Slaps echoed around the room from the vigor of Zoey's thrusts. The sheets thumped and fluttered under their bodies, tossed about by the forceful impact, each more powerful than the last, sinking their bodies into the material then back up. The bedframe creaked as they bounced. Her cock slid in and out of tight, coaxing walls. 
 
Zoey hooked her two middle fingers into Not-Zoey's mouth and pulled her back. Not-Zoey licked at Zoey's fingers even as she whined incoherent, lewd noises.
 
Fuck. This is so good. A second ago, Not-Zoey had been trying to kill her. Now, Zoey was giving it everything she had to slam her cock into her. Talk about a swap-up. 
 
Either way, Zoey took out some of her frustration on her partner. Not-Zoey’d been the one to suggest it in the first place.
 
Not-Zoey's back arched as Zoey rammed her cock with growing intensity. Not-Zoey’s moans and gasps turned to loud, desperate pleas for more. She was starting to shake. Zoey's efforts were working. Her fourteen inch girlcock had turned the  woman into a puddle of begging and growing ecstasy with a speed even Zoey hadn’t expected.
 
Zoey grabbed a handful of Not-Zoey's black hair and forced her head back. "Do you like it? My thick cock filling you up? Tell me you like it."
 
Not-Zoey moaned in response, and Zoey roughly yanked her head side-to-side. She felt she could be forgiven the roughness, seeing how Not-Zoey had been trying to kill her.
 
And she’d suspected Not-Zoey would like it. The pained moan wasn’t all pain, and Not-Zoey panted with fluttering eyes, basking in the sharpening-of-sensations her yanked-on hair had brought.
 
She was Zoey. Zoey didn’t mind when things got rough, either.
 
"Answer me,” Zoey growled into her ear.
 
"I … I love it. I want your cum inside me," Not-Zoey groaned. "Make me yours. Fill me up with your seed. Please.” Her body, and pussy, spasmed beneath her as the first of many-to-come orgasms wracked her body. Zoey picked up speed, the slapping of flesh intensifying, and her own orgasm building with equally unexpected speed.
 
"Say it again," Zoey snarled, shoving Not-Zoey's face into the sheets and rubbing it into the fabric. Not-Zoey cried and shuddered as her climax coursed through her. “Tell me what you want."
 
"I said,” the muffled, gasping response came. “I want—I want to be full of your, your—" She couldn’t get the words out, her orgasms erasing her ability to speak. But it was enough for Zoey.
 
Zoey slammed one last time into Not-Zoey and let go. She erupted, shooting load after load of sticky cum deep into her copy-cat. A torrential flood poured from her cock. She felt every muscle in her body tense, helping squeeze every drop out. The heat grew in her core until it overwhelmed her with its ecstasy. It coursed and coursed, matching each shudder and clench of her cock buried into Not-Zoey's insides. Not-Zoey’s spasming pussy helped milk Zoey. Zoey’s mind drifted away, overcome by a sea of intense bliss.
 
When she finally came down, Zoey collapsed forward onto Not-Zoey's back. Zoey's sweaty body pressed into hers. They panted as they withdrew from their respective orgasms. Zoey's exhausted muscles relaxed, softening as the explosive high left her.
 
Maybe she was getting used to the exhausting effect of this new sort of climax, but Zoey barely needed to rally. She hadn't done a quarter of what she wanted to Not-Zoey—this face-shifting creature who'd a few minutes ago been trying to hurt her. She didn't hold any real grudges, she guessed—somewhat of a lie—but she took satisfaction in dominating a person who'd moment before been so thoroughly trouncing her.
 
And it was Zoey’s job to ‘wear her down’. This, at least, she could contribute to the fight.
 
Zoey pushed herself back up, pulling her cock from Not-Zoey's insides. Cum poured out and ran into the sheets, gushing from a hole that had been stuffed to bursting with Zoey’s cock a second before. She moved her cock up, higher, nudging into Not-Zoey's other entrance. Zoey didn't know if she'd ever have a chance to fuck herself again, so she intended to make good use of the opportunity.
 
"Wait, you’re—?" Not-Zoey started, pushing herself up and trying to turn to face her.
 
But Zoey shoved herself in before she could.
 
Not-Zoey's tight asshole wrapped around her shaft as she sank into it. Warm, inviting flesh coaxed every inch of her thick length. Zoey groaned in pleasure.
 
"Fuck," Not-Zoey cried, collapsing back into the bed. "Fuck! Too big!" Her tight hole squeezed in surprise at her sudden violation, only aiding in the gratifying sensation.
 
Zoey pumped in and out of Not-Zoey's ass, not letting her adjust, and reveling in the feeling of stretching Not-Zoey’s asshole out. 
 
Not-Zoey's ass bucked against Zoey's thrusts, her protests gone in an instant, needing desperately to force more meat inside herself. Every jerk had Zoey burying all the way in. 
 
Zoey shuffled up so she was sitting mostly upright, and she gripped Not-Zoey's ass cheeks as she gyrated her hips, pulling back then slamming forward.
 
Then, because of what Zoey intended to do after this, she pulled out the dark-red bottle of cleaning agent. She squeezed the liquid out onto her cock and worked it into Not-Zoey’s hole, squishing it in with her cock, delighting in the squelching sounds. It tingled around her member as it performed its magical effect.
 
"Yes, please. Fuck my ass. Fuck me." Not-Zoey clawed at the bedsheets with desperate, frenzied efforts as Zoey pounded away, pumping her less-used hole full of cock. It had loosened with surprising speed, not that it had much choice, wrapped around such a thick girlcock. "It's so good. Your cock is so, mmm, deep in me!"
 
"You love getting fucked by it, don't you?"
 
"Yes," Not-Zoey cried. "Your monster cock is so fucking good. Keep going. Please. Fuck your fat girlcock in my ass. Make me yours."
 
Zoey had always loved the over-the-top dirty talk that came from a properly-fucked partner, and the haze of lust. Her face—her body—was on fire. Not-Zoey kept spewing the obscenities, the lewd words amplifying the pleasurable burning in her cock, her core, her entire being. 
 
"You feel so good around me," Zoey growled as she picked up speed, working herself faster and faster. "I’m close. I’m going to blow another load inside your slutty little ass. You want that?"
 
"Yes! I do! My ass needs your cum! Shoot it into me!"
 
"Then take it, you little slut. You fucking … cum dumpster." She grabbed a handful of Not-Zoey's hair and shoved her head into the sheets. Her cries grew muffled, and Zoey's climax arrived. A geyser of thick white seed poured from her cock as her body spasmed. Not-Zoey's insides clenched around the gushing shaft, milking every last drop from Zoey as their orgasms synchronized.
 
The burning euphoria was even higher than the first time. Her vision flashed white. Every nerve ending was on fire—it was overwhelming, pleasurable agony. Her thighs quivered as if electrified. She moaned obscenely, body shaking as she emptied into Not-Zoey’s ass.
 
Beneath her, Not-Zoey underwent the same crucible. She bucked against Zoey's thrusts, unable to resist the overload of pleasure provided by Zoey's cock deep in her tight asshole. She gripped the sheets, squirming underneath Zoey's weight, hips bucking back and forth in a desperate effort to get more cock inside her, to keep Zoey's cock squirming around.
 
Finally, after what seemed like forever, both women fell into the sheets, panting. Zoey slumped forward atop Not-Zoey, chest heaving up and down with exertion. Sweat trickled between their bodies. Not-Zoey's ass, and Zoey's thighs and crotch, were completely coated by their combined juices. More Zoey's than Not-Zoey's. The viscous white liquid dripped down onto the sheets, pooling beneath them, dampening the fabric which had grown squishy with so much seed.
 
Their breathing came heavy and ragged for a solid minute.
 
"One more hole left," Zoey finally said, sitting and flipping Not-Zoey over. She pulled Not-Zoey up and guided her mouth to her cock.
 
"You just had that thing in my—"
 
Zoey's cum-covered cock, a minute prior violating Not-Zoey's asshole, sank into the soft wet flesh of her mouth. Zoey had, at least, worked the cleaning agent in while fucking her.
 
Despite the protest, Not-Zoey's tongue explored eagerly, cleaning up the cum off Zoey's sticky member and caressing her cock with the powerful, exploring muscle. She sucked hungrily at it—like it was her last chance to taste it. Which, Zoey supposed, it was. She drooled, dribbling saliva all across her breasts and stomach as she slurped away at Zoey's cock.
 
"Eager, aren't you?" Zoey groaned.
 
Not-Zoey moaned around her cock. The words were hard to make out with so much blockage, but it might've been 'it tastes so good'. She wiggled her head further down, swallowing more of the girlcock with sloppy effort. Zoey was quickly enveloped by the tight walls of Not-Zoey's throat. Not-Zoey choked on her impressive size, but wasn’t discouraged.
 
Zoey hips worked with Not-Zoey, forcing cock deeper into her throat with every second. “Swallow it, bitch,” Zoey groaned, hands sinking into Not-Zoey’s hair. My own hair. It was silky and soft. 
 
For a brief, impossible second she’d forgotten who this was. Or, whose body. Bright green eyes stared up at Zoey, and she stared as a mirror image of herself sucked desperately at her cock, wiggling her head to get down further.
 
She pounded against Not-Zoey's face, the realization reinvigorating her efforts, her lust, and she drove herself into Not-Zoey's open throat. Not-Zoey's eyes rolled back as her neck distended, taking the cock that had so recently fucked her ass. "Every inch. Swallow every inch of my giant cock, you slut. You want me to cum? Then swallow every fucking inch of my cock!”
 
Not-Zoey choked under Zoey's onslaught, but tried desperately to comply. She gagged on her thick meat while Zoey slammed into her.
 
"Yes," Zoey hissed through gritted teeth, "you love being choked by dick, don’t you? Fuck, it's stretching you out. Feel yourself."
 
Not-Zoey listened, hand going to her throat, feeling Zoey's shaft violate the tight hole with every thrust. She made some kind of gurgling noise as she tried to reply, but mostly all she succeeded in doing was having saliva drip from her lips, which already coated her chin and dripped down to her thighs.
 
"Here it comes. Here's what you need. Ready for another load?" Zoey couldn't make sense out of the choked reply, but she understood the sentiment by how desperately Not-Zoey met her thrusts. Her stomach clenched, the pressure building. "Take it all. Take it. Take it!"
 
The last syllable was punctuated by a spasm of ecstasy that ripped through Zoey's body like a thunderbolt. She buried Not-Zoey's nose into her crotch and let go. The warm bliss coursing through her cock exploded into a series of intense pulses, and she shot thick strings into Not-Zoey's stomach.
 
Her cock clenched and squirted, sending bursts of girlcum spraying deep into Not-Zoey's throat. More and more, until the entirety of Zoey's length had emptied itself within her, coating every inch of the girl's stomach and throat with the thick white substance.
 
Finally, when there was no more left, Zoey fell backward, dizzy. Not-Zoey's mouth separated with a pop, and she coughed and gagged, sucking in air. She spat it out, trying to get rid of the excess saliva and girlcum from her invaded airways. 
 
"Ugh." She collapsed onto the bed next to Zoey. "So good." She panted as her breathing slowed back to normal.
 
"Mm," Zoey murmured nonsensically. Three orgasms back-to-back-to-back had taken its toll. Her stamina had improved massively, but it was still limited. Every nerve ending burned, her head felt fuzzy, her muscles weak. She didn't think she'd ever cum this much, not even with Mel.
 
Not-Zoey patted Zoey's shoulder. She was exhausted, too. Zoey's efforts hadn't gone to waste. "I'm taking a breather. Have some fun with your girlfriends."
 
A wave of her hand, and Not-Zoey vanished, the pressure on the bed next to her snapping up to adjust for the disappearance. A half-second later, Zoey’s vision went black—like it had twenty minutes prior—and she was falling, again.
 
2.23 ❤ Swapping Around
 
Zoey crashed down onto the bed—exactly where she'd been before—accompanied by two other girls. Again, Zoey scrambled to orient herself, to push away the nausea that had appeared with her sudden teleportation.
 
For a brief moment, she thought the two girls who'd bounced onto the bed were Not-Zoey and Delta. But the enormous package tucked between the dark-haired figure's legs had Zoey's brain running circles in confusion. Not-Zoey didn't have a cock. Shouldn't, at least. Did that mean—? But no, more likely that ...
 
She paused. Something felt odd about her own body.
 
Zoey looked down and saw toned muscles, a generous chest. Not unusual—but not hers. A tress of orange hair rested on her shoulder, which she scooped up and rubbed between her fingers. Silky. And not hers. Delta's. She became aware of a tail tucked beneath her, and she leaned forward and took it in her hands, stroking the fluffy body part. She winced. 
 
Huh. It is sensitive, like she said.
 
"Okay," Zoey-Delta said, still playing with her tail. "So, who's who, this time?" She was exhausted, but practicalities needed to be addressed. The burst of adrenaline that had come with being teleported, at least, wiped some of it away.
 
Someone-Zoey stared incredulously down at her cock. By the opening and closing mouth—the floundering—Zoey could take a guess who'd landed in her own body. But the words confirmed it. "You have got to be kidding me," Rosalie-Zoey hissed. "I have—I have—" Her hand hovered at her crotch as if she intended to grab the impressive member, but she stopped.
 
"Man," Delta-Rosalie said. "You two changed, and I didn't? Why do I keep getting the short stick? I'm the one who wanted a cock."
 
Rosalie-Zoey shot a disgusted look at Delta, then turned to Zoey. The expression somehow, and unfairly, screamed, 'this is your fault'. "Unbelievable," she said. "And did you have to be so ... enthusiastic about all that?"
 
"Who can blame her?" Delta said. "If I had a body like that, I'd want to fuck it, too."
 
"And you got your ... fluid ... everywhere," Rosalie said, nose wrinkling as she pressed a finger into cum-soaked sheets. She rubbed her pointer finger and thumb together, and when she separated them, white goo bridged her digits. "The bed is drenched. You're disgusting."
 
"Where did she go?" Zoey asked. Despite having changed bodies, she was still fatigued. Rosalie, on the other hand, didn't seem exhausted at all; their statuses had followed over between their body-changes.
 
"Take a stamina potion," Delta said. "Gods, I'm tired just looking at you."
 
Right. Zoey didn't know how many times she would forget about the magical conveniences afforded her before it became instinct to fall back on things like stamina potions. 
 
The contents of the murky-yellow vial emptied into her throat, tingling as it went down. The effects were immediate. The soreness and fatigue from such a thorough fucking session faded away, and soon she was wide awake and ready for more. Reinvigorated. I know I've thought it a hundred times before, but magic. Pretty cool stuff.
 
"Where'd she go?" Zoey repeated. "Why is it just us three, now?"
 
"And why the body-swap?" Delta asked. 
 
A voice came from high in the rafters—three heads pivoted to their spectator. She was wearing Delta's body, this time, not Zoey's. "Like I said, taking a breather, sweetheart. This is your chance to swap back before we duke it out. The fight for all the marbles."
 
"Swap back?" Rosalie-Zoey asked. "What does that mean?"
 
Zoey paused. The explanation came intuitively—or at least, she had strong suspicions. "She's implying if we fuck each other, we'll swap bodies each time."
 
"Winner winner," Not-Delta's voice came from the distance. "She's a quick one."
 
Rosalie-Zoey looked vaguely horrified at the revelation. "But that means—"
 
"This so isn't fair," Delta whined. "You have a cock and you get to use it?"
 
"But—but—" Rosalie failed to come to terms with the situation. Wide eyes stared at her cock, then at Zoey-Delta and Delta-Rosalie.
 
"What's the ordering, then?" Zoey asked. "Assuming we're trying to get back to our normal bodies."
 
"Well," Delta said. "Depends if Princess is okay with fucking me or not, I suppose."
 
"Absolutely not."
 
"Then Zoey has to put in some work," Delta said, not offended at Rosalie's effusive denial. "Has to be an intermediary." She frowned. Her finger moved around between the three of them as she ran some calculations—Rosalie was doing the same, her eyebrows furrowed. How did they get back to their bodies in the quickest way possible, but without Rosalie and Delta fucking each other?
 
"Two moves," Rosalie said. "You and Zoey, then me and Zoey."
 
"Yeah," Delta said, "but we can also do it in four moves."
 
"Why would—"
 
"Because I want a turn with the cock, okay? It's not fair!"
 
Rosalie stared at Delta with open incredulity. Delta turned to Zoey, and with pleading eyes, said, "Come on. Let's take the long way. I want a turn in your body."
 
Zoey laughed, amused at the request, and Delta's straightforwardness. "What would the ordering be?" Zoey's head hurt trying to figure out what order they needed to fuck in to accommodate everyone.
 
"It'd be you and blondie, then you and me, then you and blondie, and me and you, again."
 
Rosalie nodded slowly as she ran swaps in her head. Zoey, honestly, lost the thread. "It would work," Rosalie said, "but it's twice as much effort. We're in a boss fight, if you've forgotten."
 
"It's up to Zoey." Delta pleaded with wide, hopeful eyes, which was devastatingly effective, considering she was in Rosalie's body and wearing a pair of cat ears. They even flatted down, like they were real and not an armor attachment.
 
"If she wants my cock, she can have it," Zoey laughed. "That's my general policy, isn't it?"
 
"Yes!"
 
"You just want this to last longer," Rosalie said to Zoey with vague disdain. "You're letting the boss recover, you realize?"
 
"Then we better get a move on," Zoey said, a smile creeping across her lips. She shuffled over on all fours, the cum-sticky bed dirtying her hands and knees, and Rosalie's eyes widened, blanching as she realized what was about to happen.
 
"N-Now," Rosalie-Zoey started, shuffling back at Zoey's advance, then tipping over as Zoey pushed her by her shoulders. Rosalie's cock stiffed, quickly engorging, as Zoey climbed atop her. It pressed against Zoey's stomach as she straddled her lap. "Wait. Wait. Zoey, give me a second."
 
Something about the tone of voice gave Zoey pause—halted her in her tracks, regardless of how excited she was. "You okay?"
 
"It feels ... weird," Rosalie said, staring down between their bodies, at the gigantic cock that was swelling up against Zoey's stomach. Her hips wiggled. "So, um, intense."
 
Zoey smirked. "Maybe you can sympathize with me, finally. Hard to keep a straight head with that thing, isn't it?"
 
Rosalie panted as she watched her cock finish filling out. A lusty haze had fallen over her eyes. Was that how Zoey looked, when things got going? Her cock was—as Ephy had alluded to—a lot needier than most. More sensitive, too. 
 
Zoey's hand went to Rosalie's cock, and Rosalie made one of the cutest noises she'd ever heard. A squeak, or something close. Zoey squeezed, and the noise repeated itself, Rosalie's hips bucking forward and jostling Zoey atop her.
 
Zoey briefly took a moment to be disoriented at her own situation—the fox ears on her head, the tail sprouting from just above her ass, and most importantly, the fact she had a cock in her hands, which distinctly wasn't something Zoey'd ever done before—but the excitement and lust in Rosalie's eyes overruled her hesitancy. 
 
"Just let me know if its too much," Zoey murmured, stroking up and down Rosalie's huge girlcock. It pulsed in her hand, radiating heat.
 
"How, how's it work?" Rosalie panted. "Do I have to ... inside?"
 
Zoey paused. She wasn't sure.
 
Not-Delta's voice came down from the rafters, "Synchronized! That's all that matters. So you better hold off, blondie!"
 
That wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world for Rosalie. If Zoey wanted to be nice, she'd get herself close to orgasm before they started, and let Rosalie take control. That way, Rosalie wouldn’t have to resist the pleasure too much. 
 
But Zoey wasn't feeling particularly nice. The opposite. She wanted to make Rosalie squirm. To understand just how ... inconvenient, and overwhelming, this member of Zoey’s—that was now hers—was.
 
"It's so weird, with you in her body," Rosalie murmured. Her eyes scoured Zoey's—Delta's?—tits, stomach, and neatly shaved pussy, which she had a great view of as Zoey jerked her off with both hands.
 
"Is it doing something for you?" Zoey grinned. "Do Delta's hands feel good, going up and down your giant cock? How about that we're being watched by her? Is that why you're making so many cute noises?" Like usual, the heat of the situation had put a boldness into Zoey that didn’t normally exist.
 
"O-Of course not."
 
"Maybe her mouth can extract a confession." Zoey squeezed the base of Rosalie's cock. Without thinking better of what she was doing, she leaned forward and took Rosalie in her mouth.
 
My own cock, she realized. 
 
This musky taste was her own, the pulsing-hot warmth and the salty taste of pre-cum. It hadn’t crossed her mind—she’d wanted to tease Rosalie by using Delta’s mouth to extract honesty from her. But she’d just taken her own cock into her mouth.
 
Zoey stroked her tongue at the slit on top of her shaft, and pushed down onto that warm girth. Rosalie made more adorable squeaks—the same kind she'd been making—and almost as much as the idea Zoey had her own cock in her mouth—not literally, but close enough—it was Rosalie's noises that had Zoey's mind melting. 
 
She's so cute, I want to die. Zoey would do whatever she could to have Rosalie bucking and whining beneath her. However degenerate this shard was, Zoey found herself thankful she'd been put in this situation: with Rosalie's cock stuffing her mouth.
 
Time to make her squirm.
 
2.24 ❤ Rosalie's Turn
 
Zoey worked her mouth along the hot tip of Rosalie's cock head, running her tongue across its edges and caressing the pulsing member. Both her hands wrapped around its base, stabilizing it for her sloppy efforts. 
 
Fourteen inches had seemed much smaller when between Zoey’s legs instead of someone else’s. One of the reasons Zoey had eagerly gotten to work on Rosalie—besides the obvious of wanting to make her feel good—was to garner some sympathy for how overwhelming having a cock could be. Especially Zoey’s. 
 
But it seemed Zoey was gaining perspective too. Because this thing was so fucking big.
 
How the hell did Rosalie make it seem easy? Getting it down? Zoey’s skills should still work, so it wouldn't be an impossible task … but not an easy one. 
 
It didn’t need to be easy. With Rosalie’s whines and moans as a reward for every movement of Zoey’s tongue and bob of her head, Zoey was highly incentivized to get this unwieldy object deeper into her mouth. 
 
Rosalie’s hands wrapped into Zoey’s hair. "You like it, don't you?" Rosalie said. "My cock in your mouth?" 
 
She stuttered over the words.
 
Zoey paused her coaxing tongue-stroking, then pulled back, saliva bridging from her mouth to Rosalie's cock. A grin split Zoey’s lips.
 
"Was that ... are you trying to ... dirty talk? Take charge?"
 
Rosalie's face colored with amusing speed. She cleared her throat. "I just—I thought that—since, you know, I have it now ... ?"
 
Zoey's smile grew. She shuffled forward until she'd pressed herself a few inches from Rosalie's burning face. She pushed back an errant lock of black hair.
 
"Cute. You're cute. But let me clear something up." Zoey squeezed Rosalie’s cock, extracting a moan and a wiggle of Rosalie's hips. "You're my plaything, not the other way around. Doesn’t matter what you have between your legs. Understand?"
 
Rosalie panted hot air into her face. Zoey squeezed again, harder, this time.
 
"Understand?"
 
"Y-Yes." 
 
"Good. Now sit back and enjoy Delta’s mouth."
 
Zoey paused before her lips wrapped around Rosalie's cock again. "But dirty talk is nice,” she clarified. “Just remember your place." Her head, and mouth, sank back down. 
 
She stroked with her tongue and sucked, teasing Rosalie's cockhead. The two girls eased back into Zoey’s playful coaxing of her sensitive part.
 
"Deeper?" Rosalie asked. "Please?"
 
Zoey smiled around Rosalie’s cock. Well, since she asked so nicely. Bracing herself, she opened her throat and pushed herself down. She choked at first. Because … of course. Her gag reflex protested, but she persevered—she had a mission, and she would see it through. 
 
Four or five inches down, the thick meat cramming into her throat was too much; she wasn’t experienced at this, even if she had a skill helping her along. Her throat spasmed, and she gagged, pulling back and coughing.
 
"Help me out, won’t you?" Zoey said, once she’d stabilized. "Get me down."
 
Rosalie didn't need to be told twice. Zoey's lips wrapped back around her cock, and when Zoey got her throat opened up again, Rosalie took her request deadly serious. She shoved, and not gently. With Rosalie’s empowered strength, all fourteen inches of cock slipped past Zoey's constricting esophagus with a surprised gasp-slash-choke-slash-moan. Girlmeat slid further and further, easily down past her sternum, approaching her stomach. The sensation was insane—incredible—and the noises Rosalie made at the tight pleasuring of her cock, even more so.
 
Zoey planted a kiss on Rosalie's crotch, her nose pressed fully into her pelvis. Huh. When it’s fast, it’s not so bad. She’d been shoved down with so much speed her gag reflex hadn’t had time to protest. 
 
"Aren't we supposed to ... synchronize?" Rosalie whined.
 
Zoey couldn’t respond, obviously. 
 
Delta did in her place. "I don't think Zoey's letting you off with just one,” she said amusedly. “This one’s a freebie, I’m taking it.”
 
Zoey had almost forgotten about Delta. She was so focused on Rosalie and her reactions she’d forgot the circumstances they were in. Forgot the entire world, honestly—and that this was her own cock in her mouth.
 
Zoey spared a glance at Delta. She was leaned back into the pillows, enjoying the show. She stroked slowly, playfully, at her lower lips, not embarrassed in the slightest for doing so. She worked at a pace that said she was having fun, but not allowing herself to get too worked up. Saving herself for her turn.
 
Zoey refocused on her goal. She pulled her head back, feeling fourteen inches squirm and slide around in her tight, gripping throat. Her oxygen supply was quickly depleting, but she didn't care. She could hold off for a while longer. Rosalie’s pleasure mattered more.
 
Rosalie started bucking, and Zoey grabbed onto her hips to steady herself. A giant rod of girlmeat violated her throat in a way Zoey had never experienced. It approached painful, but her lust overruled any real discomfort. It was the best thing ever.
 
"Your throat feels so good," Rosalie groaned. "I—I can feel something ... something building.
 
‘Already?’ Zoey would have teased.
 
“Already?” Delta asked.
 
The bucking picked up speed. Harder, faster, Rosalie sank her fourteen inches into Zoey’s constrictive throat, pleasuring herself.
 
“I can’t … I can’t stop myself." Faster still. Her hips moved with abandon, and her eyes glazed over. "Fuck! Fuck me! Zoey!"
 
Rosalie slammed Zoey’s head back down into her pelvis with one last, rough, desperate push. Zoey watched her stomach spasm, and felt—inside her tight throat—Rosalie’s cock twitch and swell. 
 
Fuck. Here it comes.
 
Rosalie groaned, then squeezed out thick jets of hot white girlcum. It burst into Zoey’s throat, or more accurately, directly into her stomach, spraying hot material fourteen inches down her esophagus. 
 
Rosalie had mentioned how she could 'feel it sloshing around', and as Zoey's stomach quickly filled up with Rosalie's semen, Zoey understood exactly what she meant. Rosalie was borrowing Zoey’s body, after all, and so her output was as impressive as Zoey’s.
 
S-So much. Rosalie filled Zoey up with hot, sticky girl batter. Fuck. It’s still going.
 
Finally, she extracted herself from Rosalie's dick, savoring the way her throat closed as the giant invader slipped up and out. Her vision blackened at the edges, and the first breath of air as she surfaced was orgasmic.
 
She sucked in oxygen as she hacked out cum. Rosalie's seed shot out of her nose in the violent fit, which she wiped away. 
 
The salty, musky taste was overpowering ... especially knowing it was her own—her body's—as much as it was Rosalie's. That’s my own cum I’m tasting. Zoey was dizzy, and not entirely from the lack of air.
 
Rosalie, for her part, had collapsed into the bed, the intensity of her orgasm having exhausted her completely. 
 
Her cock hadn’t started to soften, and Zoey didn’t plan to let it. She re-seized it and started stroking.
 
"Sorry, Rosie. No breaks. We're on a schedule, remember?"
 
"You're—you're a wicked woman," Rosalie whined. "That was … I can't even describe it ..."
 
"That was just the appetizer," Zoey teased. "Are you ready for the main course?" 
 
Rosalie’s eyes widened as she understood what Zoey was implying. Zoey shuffled overtop Rosalie, not giving her time to digest the news. She rubbed her pussy into the thick shaft—my own shaft—as she straddled Rosalie. The sensation was ... intense. Having her throat so violently used had worked her up … and even more so, the noises Rosalie had been making.
 
Zoey stared down, briefly hesitant, at the tool she was rubbing herself against. That’s going in me? She had used strap-ons before, and they were fun enough. But fourteen inches of actual cock inside her? Under normal circumstances it wouldn't be appealing, but seeing how it was Rosalie's cock ... well, Zoey's insides squirmed with excitement as much as they did apprehension.
 
She lifted up her hips, settling Rosalie's cockhead to her entrance. She gave it a few rubs, shivering as the sensation of the pulsing heat rubbing into her, splitting her lower lips apart. There's no way it'll fit. But her skill should take care of that. It's going to feel so weird.
 
“Are you ready?” Zoey murmured. 
 
To think Rosalie would be fucking Zoey’s pussy before Zoey had gotten to do so to Rosalie’s … Zoey would call it unfair, but she wasn’t remotely displeased with the arrangement. Plus, Zoey wasn’t a virgin, like she suspected Rosalie was. Zoey hadn’t ever had a real cock inside her, but she’d had plenty of straps.
 
“R-Ready,” Rosalie said, wide-eyed, staring down at her cock, lined up to Zoey’s entrance. 
 
"Remember," Zoey said. "No cumming until I do. I even let you finish once, so it'd be embarrassing if you can't outlast me." 
 
The throat-job had been fun, but she hadn’t been able to talk. This position, she could. Being able to tease Rosalie … Zoey suspected she was going to enjoy this method of pleasuring Rosalie much, much more. 
 
Zoey's heart pounded in anticipation. She was so happy she was the one who got to provide this to Rosalie—her first time stuffing her thick cock into a warm, inviting pussy.
 
"It’s so … so intense," Rosalie gasped. Her head visibly swam as Zoey continued to stroke her cockhead against her pussy. 
 
Delta’s pussy? 
 
Delta’s pussy. She wondered what that was doing to Rosalie. Sure, it was Zoey in Delta’s body, but having her cock lined to to Delta’s entrance … about to thrust in and lose her cock-virginity to the fox-eared girl she had an obviously rivalry with. 
 
That was sure to cause some … confusing thoughts in the future.
 
Maybe it’ll open them up to each other. 
 
By the way Rosalie’s eyes crawled across Zoey’s body, she certainly appreciate Delta’s curves.
 
Zoey grinned, then lowered herself.
 
Rosalie’s cock penetrated her. 
 
She’s in. Oh my god, she’s in me. 
 
Zoey groaned as her tight hole was filled up. The pressure was overwhelming, immediately; it stretched her open in such an incredible way. Zoey’s head fell back and her eyes closed, a moan wrenching from her lips—mirrored by Rosalie. She sank down and down, her insides filling up with Rosalie's deliciously hot girlcock. 
 
It was all too much. She felt like there wasn't enough room for everything, but ...
 
"You're so ... so big," Zoey groaned. "Fuck me."
 
"Now—now you know how I feel," Rosalie panted.
 
Zoey's hips moved of their own accord. She bounced up and down, working further onto the enormous pillar with every lewd thrust. Rosalie's cock worked its way up and up, cramming every inch of her gripping walls with pulsing girlcock, quickly stuffing into her stomach. 
 
She couldn't have been halfway down before she felt Rosalie bottom out—felt a hot cockhead bumping into her cervix—but rather than hurting, like with her old girlfriends' straps, it felt incredible, even better than the euphoric pleasure from before. Guess that explains why no one minds. And Rosalie's cock kept going, anyway; her insides stretched out to accommodate her, and the stretch—the feeling of being split in two, the pressure against her cervix—erased Zoey's thoughts.
 
Zoey's ass hit Rosalie's thighs. Rosalie cried out, hands going to Zoey's hips and starting to buck. She shivered in delight as Rosalie's cock slid in and out of her, aided by Zoey's own bouncing.
 
"Do you like it?" Zoey panted. "Do you like Delta’s pussy? Being squeezed and pleasured by such an annoying girl?
 
“Hey,” Delta said, amused, in the background.
 
Zoey couldn’t help but play into the body-swap. It made this so much hotter … as if having Rosalie inside her hadn’t already been mind-melting, the bizarre dynamics of everyone being in different bodies added a second steaming layer of eroticism to situation.
 
Rosalie never would have responded with a ‘yes’ under normal circumstances, but Zoey’s pussy wrapped around her cock coaxed out that beautiful honesty of hers.
 
"G-Gods … yes, Delta’s pussy is so—so—"
 
"So what?"
 
"Tight," Rosalie groaned. Her hips picked up speed, slamming into Zoey with desperate fervency. "She’s so fucking tight! It's squeezing me so hard! Delta feels so good around my cock!"
 
Loud slaps of flesh echoed in the room, punctuating each of their moans. Delta didn’t respond, and Zoey was too lost in the heat for her to look over, see what her reaction at … this particular thing they’d focused on … was.
 
Rosalie and Zoey drifted in a haze of hot ecstasy, moans growing louder and the slapping of their lower bodies quickened. Zoey cared for nothing but the sensation of having Rosalie’s dick slamming into her, and the noises Rosalie was making, the sensations coming with it. Hot girlcock pumped into her, stretching her open and rubbing against her most sensitive spots.
 
"You better not be close," Zoey panted. "You come when I tell you to. Understand?"
 
Rosalie was lost, shoving herself into and out of Zoey, so Zoey forced her hips to still, denying Rosalie's building pleasure. 
 
"I said, do you understand?"
 
"Z-Zoey, please—I need to—"
 
"Not until I'm closer."
 
Rosalie groaned. "O-Okay. But how do I—"
 
"Figure it out." Zoey started grinding her hips again, using Rosalie's cock to stir her insides. "But no cumming until I say."
 
Their pace picked back up. For all Zoey's commanding of Rosalie, she wasn’t faring much better herself. She held off the inevitable desperately, the burning climax growing as Rosalie pounded into her tight depths. 
 
It was hard. Rosalie's cock was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt. Zoey's breath quickened as their efforts intensified, slaps of flesh getting faster and faster. The orgasm boiled just beneath her skin. The pressure built higher and higher.
 
"Z-Zoey, I can't, I can't—"
 
Zoey collapsed forward, pressing her chest into Rosalie's. She wanted to tease Rosalie longer … but she couldn’t hold off, either. She panted into her ear, "Okay. Go ahead. Fill me up."
 
Rosalie's hands went to Zoey's ass, and her hips bucked with wild abandon. Hot girlmeat slid through her pussy with unmatched vigor. Rosalie made whining, incoherent noises directly into Zoey's ear. Zoey listened to them, floating away into a hot ether of ecstasy, even as she started to shake, the pressure reaching a climax.
 
Rosalie's whole body tensed and shuddered, and she cried out, her pumping coming to a sudden stop. A brief moment of burning anticipation, then the first spurt of hot batter burst into Zoey's insides with enough force she could feel the increase in pressure, the splatter of hot liquid into her womb. 
 
Rosalie’s cumming inside me. 
 
"Don’t stop," Zoey groaned. "Keep going."
 
Rosalie forced her hips to keep pistoning, for her dick to keep pleasuring Zoey's insides, despite the instinct to freeze as she emptied herself. Her spasming dick shot thick ropes of girlcum deep inside Zoey, filling her full, coating her as they grinded their lower halves against each other.
 
"Z-Zoey!"
 
"Keep going, keep going," Zoey's gasps filled the air as euphoria wracked her. "You're doing so good—so—good—more, please, more."
 
Rosalie continued squirting into her. Zoey's vision turned white. Her mind was consumed by heat, pleasure. The slapping sound became less rhythmic and started sounding like squelching; Rosalie's cum coated between them, forced out of her pussy with the sheer quantity she was expelling. Every nerve ending in Zoey's body was electrified. Her body spasmed and twitched.
 
The climax washed over them, and finally Rosalie's pumping stopped.
 
Zoey rolled off Rosalie, exhausted, and her vision went white. 
 
When the brief unconsciousness had passed, she was back in her own body, and a thoroughly cum-filled Rosalie-Delta laid next to her.
 
2.25 ❤❤ Delta, The Shameless
 
 
 
[A/N: Fetish content tags: [Autofellatio] ]
 
 
 
"Wow." Zoey felt tingly all over from how intense her orgasm had been. Her insides were still sorely satisfied from being stuffed full of cock—regardless that she was back in her own body. Like the previous swap, her internal sensations and status had carried over.
 
"Wow, indeed," Delta said amusedly. "You two had fun, didn’t you?”
 
Zoey cleared her throat, remembering the things she’d said to Rosalie—playing off the fact it was Delta’s body she’d been using to fuck Rosalie.
 
Delta didn’t seem to mind. She continued without even mentioning it. “I almost feel bad. You've got like three more left, minimum. Will that thing even still work?"
 
It's a gift from the goddess of eroticism. So yeah, probably. Every day that passed, Zoey was finding herself able to go longer and harder than before; Mel's thorough, many-orgasm session had done especially well to condition her. And the stamina potion had helped, too.
 
"Gimme like, a minute," Zoey said. "Fuck, that was good, Rosie." She patted Rosalie’s stomach—which was Delta’s stomach, now—to emphasize the statement.
 
Rosalie made some incoherent mumbling next to her that, presumably, meant she agreed. Zoey's first orgasm with a cock had been pretty intense, too, so she sympathized with Rosalie's brief inability to function.
 
Delta crawled over on all fours onto Zoey's lap. She straddled up to Zoey, rubbing Zoey’s only half-softened cock against her dripping wet sex.
 
"Hold on," Zoey said, elbowing up. “Starting already? I said give me a second.”
 
"I'm not going, don't worry," Delta said. "Just acquainting myself." Her hand rubbed up and down Zoey's length, quickly bringing the insatiable thing back to life.
 
"We should—um. Let's only use our hands and mouths?"
 
Delta paused her stroking. "Huh?"
 
Zoey glanced sideways, at a still half-way disabled Rosalie. Then back to Delta. 
 
"I, um." Her voice dropped to a low whisper, trying to let only Delta hear her. "Me and Rosalie haven't ... and I kind of want to ..."
 
Delta picked up what she was saying without Zoey spelling it out. Again, for all she was reckless and spoke without thinking, she had a good intuition for people.
 
Her eyebrows did go up, though. Delta had made several allusions to the fact she thought the two of them were sleeping together ... and while they were, they hadn't actually gone all the way, yet. 
 
Hence Zoey’s request. Even if it was Delta in Rosalie's body, Zoey wanted her first time being inside Rosalie—inside in the most traditional sense—to be … y’know, with Rosalie actually in her own body.
 
"Sure," Delta said. "But when I'm in your body, I want to go inside. I only get a cock once. That's fine?"
 
Zoey paused. “I’ll just have to go with Rosalie again, then me and you can do it with our own bodies, but swapped.”
 
"You're gonna make me fuck myself?" Delta asked amusedly. "Actually—you know, that sounds pretty awesome. So that works with me."
 
Rosalie tuned in, having recovered from her brief post-orgasm fugue. "Pardon? What’s happening?"
 
"Zoey wants your virginity," Delta replied breezily. "She doesn't want me in her body, fucking your pussy, or fucking yours, right now—even if everything's swapped up. So we’re working out the logistics."
 
Can’t she be the smallest bit tactful? 
 
Zoey sputtered, not having a clue how to explain the situation—and so did Rosalie, blushing.
 
But, Zoey noted, Rosalie didn't protest the reasoning.
 
She was spared from needing to address it, at least, by Delta moving things along, apparently becoming impatient. Or maybe purposefully sparing them. Delta shuffled around, spinning a hundred eighty degrees, so her back was faced to Zoey. She shuffled down her body, and Delta's pussy (Rosalie’s) was suddenly in her face. A second later, a warm mouth wrapped around her cock.
 
Huh. Pretty easy way to sync things up. Good choice.
 
Zoey pulled Delta's lower body in and sank her tongue into Delta's depths. A moan ripped across Zoey's cock, extracted from Delta by Zoey's skilled tongue. 
 
Delta's efforts were skilled, too. Wet, sucking sounds bounced around the room as she swallowed Zoey's length and worked her mouth up and down. 
 
Delta’s efforts weren't to her own satisfaction, though, because Delta grabbed hold of both of Zoey's thighs, using them for leverage to push herself further down. It was Zoey's turn to moan into Delta—which she apparently liked, based on how her hips squirmed back and forth, dragging her wet heat across Zoey's mouth.
 
Several wet, desperate minutes later, and some brief coordination, Zoey's hips were bucking in and out of Delta's throat as she vigilantly curled her tongue into Delta's pussy. They shook against each other as they came at the same time. While not as explosive as her encounter with Rosalie, it still had Zoey's vision whiting out—then, a few moments later, she woke up with her own cock crammed in her throat.
 
***
 
Delta watched Zoey—Rosalie? Gods, keeping things straight was getting kind of hilarious—roll off her body, choking as more than a foot of girlmeat slid from her throat.
 
The sensation—a tight throat sliding up and off Delta's cock—was a pretty auspicious start to her first experience with a cock.
 
My cock. Shit, that thing’s mine, now.
 
I'm seriously going to have to make it up to her. Zoey hadn't needed to fit in Delta's request, especially considering they were ostensibly in the middle of a boss fight, but she had, even against her girlfriend's protests. And sure, Delta had all but begged, because she really wanted to know what this thing was like, but it was still a favor. And Delta preferred to see favors repaid—to see the balance book settled.
 
While Zoey went about coughing—a common theme Delta was finding out to taking this absurd monster into one's throat—she inspected the impressive addition to her biology. 
 
There was plenty to ogle on Zoey's body—more to ogle than to not—but Delta had eyes for one thing. The thick, veiny, towering slab of meat alight with nerve endings. It throbbed at full mast, not remotely put-out by its previous five or six emptyings. Then again, maybe that was because of Delta's own arousal. Even looking down at the thing attached between her legs had Delta's heart galloping. Of course it wasn’t softening.
 
She reached down and wrapped her hand around it. It twitched at the attention, and she gasped as it pulsed in her hands. Her head swam. 
 
This is so awesome. 
 
How the hell had Zoey gotten so lucky to have this thing permanently? Delta only got it briefly ... for this shard, and probably never again. 
 
That so wasn't fair. 
 
She gave the thing a good pumping, and her hips bucked into her hand—the animal reaction had come entirely from how pleasurable the stroke had been.
 
"Damn," Delta said, wincing. "This thing's sensitive." Some of Zoey's behavior was starting to make sense. Delta was pretty used to keeping her libido in check—or at least working around it—but this thing was driving her thoughts wild. Though, some of that certainly had to do with how excited she was to use it. To feel Zoey's tight pussy clamped down on—
 
She cleared her throat. Down, girl. Zoey still had to swap with Rosalie—to get Delta's body—before Delta got to have any real fun. She shouldn’t let herself get too worked up before then.
 
'Fun'. The fun being, of course, Delta fucking herself. That was going to be ... pretty awesome. Maybe some people would be put off by the oddness, but Delta, certainly not. It was a double-win: she both got to experience the sensation of having a cock, and she got to feel out what her own insides felt, wrapped around it.
 
A triple-win, actually. She got to fuck Zoey, too. Delta had a pretty casual relationship with sex, but that didn’t mean the idea of a first-time with a girl as hot as Zoey didn’t do anything for her.
 
They can't get this done with fast enough.
 
"Get it going, lovebirds," Delta said, gesturing at Rosalie—telling Zoey to hurry up. "Daylight's burning."
 
Zoey and Rosalie shared a look, then a blush, which Delta found kind of hilarious. The earlier reveal—that Zoey hadn't actually been inside Rosalie—had caught her off guard. Sure, Zoey had claimed such, but Delta honestly hadn’t believed her. But by the request—Zoey wanting to save Rosalie’s first time for herself—Delta did, now.
 
By how the two acted, she'd have figured they'd been all over each other. And they definitely had to some degree, just not in that way, apparently.
 
And now that she thought about it, they hadn't even kissed, not with Delta around. For all their attraction to each other was obvious to her, it seemed like they were still in the fumbling-about stages. It was pretty cute, if Delta were being honest. 
 
Delta propped herself up against the headboard of the bed and watched Zoey get to work on the haughty old blood. Like usual, watching the stiff woman melt under intimacy was enjoyable to watch. 
 
Though, how couldn’t Rosalie come apart under Zoey’s efforts? As Delta had just experienced, Zoey knew what she was doing. That tongue had done wicked things to her. She could hardly blame Rosalie.
 
While she enjoyed the show, Delta acquainted herself to the thing between her legs.
 
Okay, girl. Let's see what you're made of. She'd given it a few strokes already, but she hadn't explored it remotely to the lengths she wanted to.
 
First, she tried to get a sense of how big it was. Massive was the obvious descriptor—but exactly how big? She lined a hand up, placing the base of her palm into her crotch. Her middle finger reached almost exactly the halfway point. Moving her hand up again, she confirmed: about two Zoey hand lengths. And Zoey was pretty tall, so—Maker, a huge fucking cock. 
 
I could totally reach it with my mouth. And seeing how she only had this one opportunity...
 
Delta glanced sideways at Rosalie and Zoey. The two were rather occupied, with both their faces stuffed between each other's legs, in a similar position Delta and Zoey had been in a second ago.
 
And what would Delta care if they watched this horribly degenerate thing she was about to do, anyway? She shrugged. Fuck it. I'm sure Zoey's done it, too.
 
She shuffled herself into a better position, then, gripping her own thighs, helped push her lower half closer to her face.
 
A giant cock pressed into her lips. Pre-cum leaked from it, coating her with the slippery stuff. Delta's heart slammed in her chest, and her face blazed. I'm really going to do this? Despite her previous quick decision, she hesitated. 
 
Fuck it.
 
Delta let her lips part, and she pushed her head forward. Her mouth wrapped around a radiating heat, filling up with throbbing cock—her own cock. 
 
I have my own cock in my mouth. 
 
She sucked and ran a tongue around it, pleasuring herself with wet, sloppy kisses. She groaned at the sensation, and the groan—the vibrating noise pressed against her sensitive head—thrilled through her. 
 
I have my own fucking cock in my mouth.
 
Best day ever.
 
The vestiges of her hesitation fell away. Delta gripped her own ass and pressed herself down, getting her cock deeper into her mouth, until it was pressing against the back of her throat. She sucked and bobbed, shooting electricity along the shaft as she worked it over. It felt too good. Delta couldn't help herself; she needed more. She opened wide and shoved herself down, taking it inside her throat. She choked as it stretched her neck muscles out of place, distending her open.
 
This is ... so fucking awesome, she internally moaned. My throat feels so good. Her throat. Her own throat. She bobbed and thrusted with the aid of her hands shoving her lower body into her face. It was an awkward position, and undoubtedly degenerate if someone were to look at her, but she didn't care. The slippery pleasuring of her throat was erasing her thoughts. She drowned in pleasure. Fuck. I'm going to cum into my own mouth. The realization only had Delta bucking her hips faster and faster, the need coursing through her so intensely she thought she might melt.
 
Her climax surged through her, arriving all at once. She groaned, but continued to thrust her cock into and out of her throat, bringing herself to a burning crescendo. Her cock clenched, and a hot spurt of girl jizz ejected into her. 
 
She felt the heat streak down her throat, and she swallowed it down, the taste of her own essence filling her mouth. Her orgasm wracked through her violently. Her stomach and cock clenched and unclenched as she filled herself with her own cum, stuffing her tummy with hot seed. 
 
More ... fuck, give me more. She only wished she could get further down. Delta was flexible, but she couldn't bury herself all the way. Still, it was enough. Delta's eager tongue and throat pleasured her own cock until she'd emptied herself.
 
Her cock slid from her throat, and she collapsed back into the pillows, panting.
 
2.26 ❤ Delta's Turn
 
 
 
Hilariously, Zoey and Rosalie hadn’t noticed what Delta had just done. When Delta returned from cloud-nine from having stuffed about a bucket of her own cum down her throat, Zoey and Rosalie were just finishing up. They came to climax together, and, a short moment later, she saw the two girls collapse—then stir to consciousness, the body-swap taking place.
 
They have no idea I just face-fucked myself. It was amusing for a reason she couldn't fully place. And the smallest bit relieving. Delta wasn't a shameful person, but something like that ... well, she'd own it if she had to, but the teasing from Zoey would’ve been brutal.
 
"Took you long enough," Delta said.
 
"Hnnn," Zoey complained. "I can't believe I have to go two more times."
 
"You're complaining about too many orgasms?" Delta put a hand to her chest in mock-offense. "We're only good for a few, are we?"
 
Zoey eyed her. "I'm tired, okay?"
 
"Hm. Then sit back and enjoy yourself. I'll do all the work." Delta didn't want Zoey taking charge, anyway. If she had a cock, she wanted to be the active participant. While having someone ride her sounded amazing, the idea of pinning Zoey down and fucking her into oblivion sounded a hundred times better.
 
Zoey considered the offer. "You know ... that doesn't sound half bad."
 
Delta crawled toward her, grinning. 
 
Zoey blanched. "Hey. Give me a second, won't you?"
 
"Nope," Delta said. "Been waiting long enough." She pushed the other girl down. Zoey's orange hair splayed out, and she adjusted the tail trapped underneath her. 
 
The movement was awkward enough it made it clear she hadn't accustomed herself to her biological changes. For that matter, Delta hadn't either, even if she'd been wearing Rosalie's human body before she had Zoey's. Human ears were weird. And not having a tail. Keeping her balance had been ten times harder than normal.
 
Delta split Zoey's legs open with her hands, baring Zoey's pussy—my pussy?—to the air. Zoey blushed, her knees closing instinctively, before slowly opening up again at Delta's insistence. Earlier, Zoey had said Not-Zoey—back when she'd still been wearing their personalities accurately—had become far more timid when she'd lost her cock, and the change of the dynamic. It seemed the same was true here. 
 
She’s a switch, Delta thought amusedly. Zoey could—and indeed, apparently liked—filling both roles, submissive or dominant. When it came to the blonde girl, Zoey naturally filled the role of a top. But now that Delta was taking charge, she meekly fell into the other role. And it didn’t even seem like an act, but her natural reactions.
 
Delta was a bit the same way. She could fill either role. Definitely preferred topping, though.
 
She lined her cock up and tapped it against Zoey's sensitive area, her entire body thrilling with the idea it was her own pussy that Delta was slapping her cock into. It made loud, lewd claps with every impact—Zoey's cock had a lot of weight to it. 
 
"Fuck, this is going to be so amazing," Delta murmured. Tell her two days ago that she'd be fucking herself, in someone else's body, with a giant cock, and she'd understandably have laughed. Shards could be weird, but this went beyond weird.
 
To her benefit.
 
She lined her cockhead up to Zoey's entrance. Zoey panted in anticipation, and the needy, excited look had Delta's next words springing to her lips. "Now, now, naughty girl. Don't look so excited that you’re about to be fucked by your own cock.”
 
"Says the girl about to fuck her own pussy," Zoey shot back. "Hurry up. Put it in."
 
Delta didn't need to be told twice. She pressed forward, letting her cock spread Zoey's pussy lips apart. Zoey moaned as she was filled up, stretching to accommodate Delta's size. 
 
"Fuck." Delta was burying herself into her own pussy. That tight, clamping feeling, the wet heat she was enveloped by. Her own. She couldn't help herself; her better sense erased at the pleasure. She leaned forward, then slammed her hips into Zoey, burying herself in one smooth, harsh movement. 
 
"F-Fuck," Zoey cried out, her insides crammed full by fourteen inches in less than a second. She writhed under Delta, groaning. "A-Asshole!"
 
Delta pinned Zoey's arms down. She briefly considered apologizing, but she was lost to the sensation, the heat of the moment. And Zoey, despite her complaining, didn't seem actually upset. Sure, it might've hurt a bit ... but Zoey's panting and squirming didn't suggest she wanted Delta to stop.
 
Delta pulled back and slammed her entire length inside of her own tight pussy a second time, then a third, and a fourth. Her hips smashed into the other girl over and over in a brutal rhythm. Delta wasn't taking it slow and easy. Not gentle. The bed creaked with Delta's powerful thrusts. 
 
"I said I wanted to fuck you," Delta said, and it was half a growl. She didn't know what was coming over her, but it was powerful and intoxicating. This thing between her legs hadn't changed her, but it'd drawn something out she hadn't known was there. She wanted to punish the cute girl beneath her—have her crying out and begging for more. "I only get this thing once, so I'm making good use of it." Her hips pumped back and forth to emphasize her point, slapping her lower half into Zoey with violent, harsh impacts.
 
Zoey's tits bounced with the motion, and Delta admired the sight—even if it was her own body jiggling underneath the lewd thrusts, Delta’s own tits bouncing. I have a nice pair, she thought amusedly, somewhere behind the haze of lust. Is that narcissistic?
 
Zoey's whining amplified as Delta worked up speed, pounding away. The feeling of having a tight pussy squeezing around her cock ... she loved it so much. She despaired, briefly, that she could only experience this sensation once. 
 
"Fuck," Zoey panted. "You feel—you feel so good inside me." Her eyes were glazing over with pleasure. Delta wasn't the only one losing herself to the perversion of the moment. Delta fucking herself—and Zoey fucking herself too, in a way. And receiving, not giving, like she had with Not-Zoey. This girl really had gotten to explore every variation of this shard. If only Delta could've been so lucky.
 
But those thoughts were in the back of her head. The primal part was focused on the squirming, busty orange-haired girl she was pumping her cock into. Delta's chest swelled with a dominating satisfaction at seeing it. Her cock—her cock had this girl squirming, addled with lust. 
 
"That's right," she grunted out through clenched teeth. She was close to getting off, but she fought against the feeling. She wanted to drag this out, and she absolutely refused for it to be over so fast. She'd punish Zoey much, much more thoroughly than this before she allowed herself to cum. "My little slut is going to milk my cock dry, isn't she?" Zoey had made it clear how much she liked dirty talk, and Delta was happy to provide. She'd be a liar if she said she didn't like it, too.
 
"Yes," Zoey groaned. "She will. She'll milk you as best she can. Use her pussy however you want."
 
Delta growled and gripped Zoey’s hips, hammering forward with renewed vigor. As her lewd words suggested, Zoey's pussy milked and squeezed against her length with almost disorienting strength; like Zoey had some magical force aiding the coaxing motions her lower half was able to provide. Or were pussies just this tight? And massaging? Delta’s first time, and everything. Fuck. Why does she feel so good? How am I supposed to last?
 
Zoey cried out and grabbed onto the bed sheets as Delta slapped herself into her. It took all of her self-control not to lose herself in the sensations of her cock—her cock—in the other girl's tight pussy. She was only a half-step away from cumming.
 
"C-Close," Zoey cried. "I'm close. I'm, I'm—"
 
Delta pumped harder, faster, shaking the entire bed with her violent motions.
 
Zoey finally started to writhe beneath her, and Delta, unfortunately, couldn't help herself. She let go too. So fast … it’s not fair … 
 
The sudden release sent a flood of pleasure coursing through her body, triggering an explosion of orgasmic energy that wracked through her. The force of it made her bite down on her lip, and she almost drew blood as whines escaped her clenched jaw. It felt almost too good to believe. Like a sensation that couldn't, or shouldn't, exist.
 
Zoey trembled beneath her as Delta pumped torrents of hot seed inside her. Inside Zoey. Inside herself, Delta's own body. I'm breeding myself, she realized with burning-hot clarity. Myself, and Zoey, at the same time. Delta's mind washed with bliss, and as much as the ecstasy was from the sensation of being milked by Zoey's tight pussy, it was the knowledge she was cumming into her own body that had her consciousness erasing, drifting off into an ether of hot, erasing pleasure. 
 
Impregnating herself. Filling her own womb with hot white seed. Every drop—she wanted every drop in there. Her cock convulsed with her desire. She pumped so much into Zoey Delta almost couldn't believe it.
 
The euphoria faded slowly. With one last pulse, and a finishing slap of lower body against lower body, Delta finished, having emptied every drop out. She fell sideways, into the sheets, abruptly dizzy.
 
Like had happened before, her vision went white—
 
And she woke up in her own body, her pussy crammed full of Zoey's seed. It flowed out of her, Zoey having fallen back into the bedsheets too.
 
Delta came to her senses slowly. She pushed herself up. Zoey’s cum pooled in the bed beneath her. Zoey's cock, used by all three of them at this point, had seriously drenched the thing. Truth told, it was getting a bit gross how covered the bed, sheets, and everything else was. The sheets were squishy.
 
"Well," Zoey said, staring up at the ceiling. "Did it meet expectations?"
 
"I'm so fucking jealous," she answered, still coming down from her euphoria. "It's so, so not fair." Delta wanted a cock ... she wanted one so badly she actually felt like throwing a tantrum. Instead, she settled for pouting. Why couldn’t I last longer? Delta had thought she had good control over herself. It’d just been way too sensitive.
 
"We're all back in our bodies," Rosalie said. Her cheeks were red; she'd spectated plenty of that ... event. "Get up. I have a feeling we're not going to be given a grace period." She was looking up into the rafters of the arena-like room, where Delta realized their spectator—Not-Zoey, Not-Delta, whatever that creature was—had vanished.
 
She's probably right. Delta groaned as she forced her head to stop swimming. She'd been fucked so thoroughly it was hard to think, and her muscles were sore ... something not easy to accomplish as a second-advancement Wayfarer. Cum still pumped out of her pussy. Why did Zoey have to cum so much? 
 
Though Delta supposed that was her fault, as much as Zoey's. My own cum, pumping out of me. That had been the thrilling thought that had Delta emptying herself so thoroughly.
 
"It would be highly rude," Delta announced to the air, "to attack us right now. Have some sympathy, won't you?"
 
A chuckle appeared from nowhere, echoing through the room, and setting the hairs on Delta's neck prickling.
 
I'm guessing that's a no.
 
"Time for the final phase," Rosalie muttered.
 
 
 
2.27 Loot IV
 
 
 
Even if Not-Zoey (the reflection? Zoey needed a better name for the creature, seeing how she shifted forms constantly) gave it her best effort to kill the three of them, and Zoey in specific, with her being the weak link, Zoey was glad they didn’t need to do the same—only defeat her.
 
The fight was a blur. Even more so than the first phase, the second—or third, depending on perspective—showcased just how thoroughly Zoey was outclassed by her two teammates. And by the shard boss herself. 
 
But Rosalie and Delta pulled through. It happened in a way that didn’t make complete sense to Zoey, to be honest. One moment the reflection was looking worn down but otherwise as fluid and violent as ever, and the next she collapsed forward, plate-glass daggers skittering across the ground.
 
“Ah, shit,” Not-Delta said. “Okay, okay. You got me.”
 
Zoey’s heart pounded in her chest, the abrupt stop disorienting her. Her teammates didn’t need a second to gather themselves. They weren’t … well, amateurs, like Zoey. A tough fight might get their blood pumping, but it didn’t leave them shaking and disoriented. 
 
Then again, to the smallest possible defense on Zoey’s part, they hadn’t been the boss’s chosen target.
 
Not-Delta lay on the ground, chest heaving up and down as she stared at the ceiling. Zoey supposed it could be a ruse—that she wasn’t actually out for the count—but she doubted it. Not so much on her own intuition, but by the way Delta and Rosalie approached, taking the surrender at face value. If they thought the defeat real, enough to approach while holding their weapons aside, then it must be. 
 
Rosalie frowned down at the creature, leaning against her spear. 
 
“I know it’s your job,” Delta said, “but going only for Zoey was kind of a bitch move.”
 
Not-Delta huffed. “I knew what I was in for, with you two. Had to try to win, didn’t I?”
 
“The loot,” Rosalie said, apparently not caring to follow that conversation down its obvious path. “Where’s it hidden?”
 
“Underneath the bed.”
 
With one more disdainful look, she turned and headed that way. 
 
“Should we kill her to be safe?” Delta called.
 
Zoey’s skin prickled, even if she had learned from Mel that boss monsters respawned when killed—reformed from whatever enigmatic energy fueled shards, formed their magical loot, and all its other perplexing functions.
 
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Zoey said.
 
Delta glanced at her, then to Rosalie—who shrugged, an apparent ‘no’. Delta’s daggers vanished into her inventory. She’d used a bow for the start of the fight—her natural choice of weapon—but with how tightly the reflection was keeping to Zoey, she had figured a melee weapon smarter.
 
“I can barely lift my head up.” The reflection chuckled, then shrugged. “Not that I can prove it. Just go loot and head out—the exit’s down there, too.”
 
Delta hesitated, then did so. Zoey followed after.
 
“And sorry for tricking you, Zoey,” the reflection called out. “Part of the game, you know?”
 
Zoey paused, glancing over her shoulder. To say she had mixed feelings on the creature was understating it. 
 
She said nothing, continuing forward.
 
Rosalie had shifted the bed out of the way, revealing a trapdoor. She leaned forward and gripped the handle, then, with a heave, and flexing of her muscles, ripped the huge metal slab up and tossed it to the side. It impacted the ground with a heavy clang—the kind of noise an anvil would make when being tossed aside.
 
Sometimes Zoey forgot just how strong Rosalie was. Her class was half attack oriented, and half defense—a brawler, so to say. So while she wasn’t the strongest a person could be for her advancement, she still had some serious oomph in her movements when she needed to bring it to bear.
 
Rosalie spared a look for them, something hard to read, then shuffled down the ladder.
 
“She’s on edge,” Delta said. 
 
“I was thinking the same thing.”
 
“It’s ‘cause of you.”
 
Zoey grimaced. “I know.”
 
Delta patted her on the back sympathetically, then clambered down the trapdoor after Rosalie.
 
Delta meant, of course, the danger Zoey had been in. Rosalie had been hard-pressed to fend off the reflection’s assault, and the cuts and bruises Zoey had accrued proved it. Any of those, she knew, could have been much worse than glancing blows. Zoey didn’t have the supernatural strength Rosalie did; if she took a direct hit from the reflection, it would’ve been … well, as fatal as a knife into the gut of any normal person. Maybe slightly less, considering they had health potions. But not easily brushed.
 
Zoey knew rationally she shouldn’t be ashamed at her incompetence, but she was. Hardly her fault. She was some girl from twenty-first century Earth. Swordsmanship, footwork, and spellcasting hadn’t been in her highschool curriculum. So of course she was incompetent.
 
And Rosalie wasn’t on edge because Zoey was proving herself a poor teammate—though true, despite the powerful advantages she offered—but because she’d been shown that setting a brutal pace might get Zoey killed. And for all Rosalie had made allusions to ‘doing whatever needed to be done’, Zoey … didn’t think that would extend to repeatedly placing Zoey into life-threatening situations. Because that would end one way. And however determined for success Rosalie was, she wouldn’t get Zoey killed.
 
Had her time delving with Rosalie come to an end, because of this shard? And what it had proven? Or at least what it had highlighted? She was sure Rosalie had recognized the threat in some rational sense. In the same way Zoey had.
 
She followed her two teammates down the trap door.
 
At least she had something to distract herself with. Zoey’s troubled thoughts faded, focusing instead on the chests laid across the room.
 
The descent down the trapdoor had led into a tight warehouse-like room, with none of the majesty and breath-taking design of the arena up above. Like usual, a swirling black portal was tucked away at the back, between the four chests.
 
Four chests—all with a blue band around them. Zoey’s eyebrows briefly shot up, before remembering what three of them were.
 
“Holy shit,” Delta said.
 
“It’s our inventories,” Zoey clarified. This was Delta’s first time down in a shard, so her surprise was justified. “Though, only three of them.” 
 
One of the ‘superior’ rated chests, with a band of sapphire wrapping the dilapidated wood, would have actual loot. Presumably, some of the best they’d found yet.
 
And considering what loot looked like for her party, Zoey was intensely interested. Enough to wipe away her earlier concerns over what her future with Rosalie looked like—and Delta, for that matter—now that Zoey had showcased her ineptitude, and the risk of pushing through dangerous shards.
 
That, and because there wasn’t much point worrying. She continued to be an expert at ignoring the looming future.
 
“A superior chest,” Rosalie said. She sounded almost affronted, rather than pleased. “For such a short shard. This is all so … ridiculous.”
 
“That’s one way to put it,” Delta said, clicking open the first of the chests. She pulled out a pair of white spellcasting gloves, paused, then waggled it at Zoey. “This one’s yours.”
 
With a short effort, the three of them found their respective chests and went about emptying the contents into their inventories. The last chest would come after, once they’d taken care of the prerequisite chore.
 
That done, they turned their attention to the real loot.
 
[Linking Plate]: Rare. Allows spatial transmission between self and linked entity.
 
Huh?
 
Zoey wasn’t the only one to not understand, immediately.
 
“What’s a ‘linked entity’?” Delta asked.
 
“I’m assuming it’s referencing an item that’ll come after.” Rosalie, like usual, had the best idea of what was going on, even more so than Delta. She frowned down at the smooth, hand-sized white circle. It was utterly nondescript. 
 
Rosalie’s guess demonstrated itself as correct when she pulled out the second item.
 
[Panties of Spatial Shifting]: Rare. When worn, genitals are spatially transmitted to the attuned Linking Plate.
 
Zoey didn’t know how many bizarre items it would take before she started being able to take their descriptions in stride, but not this one.
 
“Spatially transmitted?” Zoey asked. “Like … ?”
 
“Panties that teleport cocks?” Delta asked, equally bemused.
 
“Genitals,” Rosalie corrected. “I presume it would work with ours, too.” She paused, then wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. “And also … of course we get something like this. But I can’t imagine what in the world it would be used for.”
 
“I can imagine a dozen things,” Delta said, grinning. “And I bet Zoey can, too.”
 
Zoey coughed. She could. More than a dozen, honestly, and each one more exciting than the last. It didn’t matter that she’d just been through a literal crucible of sex with her teammates … the kind of degeneracy that could be accomplished with this item had Zoey’s heart rate picking up.
 
“Try them on,” Delta said. “I wanna see.”
 
“Without identifying the item?” Rosalie asked.
 
“Oh, come on. We’ve been through this.”
 
“It’s good practice. And now that the shard’s over, you don’t have an excuse.”
 
“Sure. But, counter point: I want to see it now, not later.”
 
Zoey stifled a laugh, which Rosalie glared at.
 
Rosalie passed over the pink fabric. “Whatever. Do what you want. If there’s unforeseen side effects, it’s on you two.”
 
Well, Zoey didn’t think Rosalie would have handed them over if she thought there was a threat of serious harm, so Zoey was willing to take a small risk to sate her curiosity. She leaned closer to Delta’s view on this than she did Rosalie’s. 
 
She inspected the item first. They were small, soft, and pale pink. Inside was a shimmering black portal, much the same as found in chests, or doorways into and out of shards.  
 
She hadn’t worn panties in a while. Or … actually only a few days, but a few days which had felt like an eternity. Zoey’d gotten mostly used to cramming her junk into loose-fitting boxers and pants out of sheer necessity.
 
“You know, this solves that problem,” Zoey said in realization. “That’s convenient.”
 
“Problem?”
 
Er, she’d skipped a step. “Having to wear boxers and loose-fitting pants. To avoid—you know. Being seen.”
 
“Shit,” Delta said, laughing. “We found you a panties of holding, didn’t we? You can just store it in a backpack, or at home. That’s awesome.” Her eyebrows raised. “Or with one of us. Who gets to be the Keeper of the Dick, Zoey?”
 
That was … colorful phrasing. Zoey shook her head in amusement, and Rosalie, predictably, flushed.
 
“Princess will, I know,” Delta sighed dramatically. “She’d fight me if I tried to be.”
 
“Why can’t I be the keeper of my own dick?” Zoey asked.
 
“Uh, hello? Boring?” She waved for Zoey to hurry up. “Put them on.”
 
Zoey slipped her legs into the fabric, then tugged them up. She guided her cock—with a brief hesitance—into the murky black portal. 
 
They popped out of the white plate-glass Rosalie was holding. Rosalie startled the smallest amount, despite having expected it.
 
Zoey situated the panties so they were comfortable, then patted her crotch, as amazed by the sudden lack of protrusion as she was the spatial teleportation.
 
“Holy fuck,” Delta said. “That’s so awesome.”
 
Rosalie was holding the plate-glass away from her body, as if disgusted—though Zoey knew it was more incredulity than anything. Her cock drooped over the side, soft from their thorough adventures earlier. 
 
Delta stepped forward and flicked it. Gently—but enough to surprise her. Zoey’s hands shot to her crotch and she stepped back.
 
“Ow.” It hadn’t hurt, but it was a default response. “Woah. That’s weird.” Her hands had shot between her legs, but where she should’ve felt the press of her hands guarding her cock from further flicks, she only felt pressure on her thighs, where her hands brushed. Because—well, her cock wasn’t between her legs, anymore.
 
Rosalie held Zoey’s cock away from Delta, at least. 
 
“See,” Zoey said. “This is why she’s the Keeper of the Dick. She’s taking good care of it.”
 
“Oh, I bet she will be,” Delta sneered.
 
“You two are ridiculous.” Rosalie huffed, then held the object out to Zoey. “Take it. It’s yours.”
 
Zoey accepted her cock. She turned the object in her hands, inspecting her member from angles normally impossible for her.
 
Seriously … so weird.
 
“You could use it as a dildo,” Delta said.
 
Zoey’d been trying not to think of that, to little success. “What happens if I put it in my inventory?”
 
Both Rosalie and Delta paused.
 
Delta tilted her head. “Huh, I wonder.”
 
“Don’t try it,” Rosalie said.
 
“No intentions.” When it came to experimenting with strange magical artifacts, she would stick with the option that didn’t have the potential of suddenly vaporizing her cock. 
 
As, you know. Most people would.
 
“Aw, but now I’m curious,” Delta said.
 
“We can have an artificer inspect it,” Rosalie said. “If they say it’s safe, then she can.”
 
Zoey agreed with that appraisal. She’d been willing to take the small risk of testing the item in the way it was intended, but questionable behavior, like putting it into her inventory while active, she would hold off on.
 
She paid attention back to the object in her hand. She wiggled it side to side, seeing—and feeling—her cock flop around. It felt weird. Her cock shouldn’t be flopping, and bumping against glass-like material, when Zoey was standing still. 
 
“Here, let me see it,” Delta said, holding her hand out.
 
Zoey hesitated. 
 
What was the worst that could happen?
 
2.28 Exit
 
 
 
“Imagine this,” Delta said, placing the linking plate to her pelvis. She wiggled her hips side to side, making Zoey’s cock flop around. “I’ll wear it, and fuck you. It’ll be like good old times.”
 
“Good old times?” Zoey asked. “That happened fifteen minutes ago.”
 
“I know.” Delta pouted. “I miss having it already. Seriously, it’s so unfair. But come on.” She gave another wiggle of her hips. “This isn’t doing anything for you?”
 
By the fact it was starting to swell, Zoey’s body answered for her.
 
“You pervert,” Delta said approvingly. “It totally does. Hey, how about—can I borrow it for a night out? Take it around town, on lease?” 
 
That was … an idea and a half. 
 
Zoey could just be out and about, taking care of errands, while Delta was using her cock to fuck other girls? Something about the idea had Zoey going wild. She’d never had an exhibitionist kink, but Delta’s suggestion … did some things for her.
 
As the now fully erect member indicated.
 
“Give that thing to me,” Rosalie huffed. She snatched Zoey’s cock away from Delta’s pelvis. “Stop playing with it.”
 
Zoey gasped at the tugging of her sensitive skin. Rosalie had grabbed it by the shaft, and just because it was weirdly disembodied didn’t mean the sensation had gone anywhere.
 
The two girls spared a glance for Zoey, noting her reaction, and the way she’d tensed up, but quickly returned to their annoyance with each other.
 
Rosalie jabbed at Delta’s direction with it. “It’s not a toy.”
 
“Uh, hello?” Delta pointed at Zoey’s crotch. “Yes, it is.”
 
Zoey looked down. Right. She’d almost forgotten. In thick, bolded ink, the words ‘DELTA & ROSIE’S FAVORITE TOY’ were written on her pelvis. For that matter, everyone’s body-writing remained. Except since Delta and Rosalie were back in their respective bodies, it was Rosalie with the ‘SHAMELESS WHORE’ across her tits, and Delta with the ‘HUGE GIRL COCKS ONLY <3’ above her pussy.
 
Rosalie colored, looking at the words on Zoey’s pelvis that amusingly contradicted her claim of, ‘it’s not a toy’. She turned back to Delta and huffed. “Treat it with respect.”
 
Says you? Zoey thought amusedly. Rosalie was the one waving it around. “Can you, um, hold it by the plate, at least?” Rosalie’s tight grip around her already-stimulated cock wasn’t doing great things for Zoey’s composure. 
 
Another spared glance, then a flush, and Rosalie adjusted the cock in her hands, so she was gripping the glass instead of Zoey’s shaft.
 
“Can we please focus?” Rosalie demanded. She eyed Zoey’s cock. “What am I … what am I even supposed to do with this? It’s more convenient to have it between your legs.”
 
“You’re just trying to get her out of her panties, again,” Delta mocked. “You miss your eye candy.”
 
“You can keep working through the chest,” Zoey told Rosalie, not knowing whether to be exasperated or amused by this whole debacle. “And give it back, please?”
 
“Will you two stop playing with it?” Rosalie asked.
 
“It’s my cock.” Zoey held her hand out.
 
Rosalie eyed her, but returned the item. She could hardly refuse.
 
‘The item’? Zoey thought.
 
Her cock.
 
Rosalie was right that it was more convenient, though. Having it between her legs was easier. In this form, it was an item she had to carry around, and which she couldn’t put into her inventory. Not until they confirmed doing so was safe.
 
Still. It was pretty neat. And the possibilities … so many of them her head spun. Though, that would need to wait for later.
 
How was Zoey excited for more fun, after the absolute crucible she’d been through? The thing between her legs really was insatiable.
 
She slipped the panties off, then vanished it into her inventory. Her cock returned to being between her legs. Which, let Zoey note, wasn’t a sentence she’d ever thought she’d make inside her head. 
 
She intended to use the artifact daily, but for right this moment, it was better set aside.
 
“Boo,” Delta said. “I would’ve carried it around for you. It’s so cool.”
 
Yeah, I’m sure that would’ve ended well.
 
Further discussion was cut off by Rosalie’s withdrawal of the next item.
 
[Mirror of Deep Echoes]: Rare. Once a day, swap physical form with the target on the opposite side of the mirror.
 
“Oh my gods, yes.” A smile had split across Delta’s face so fast it was comical, and she bounced on the heels of her feet, doing some things to her chest which Zoey tried not to focus on. “That means I can have a cock again!” She paused, glancing at Zoey. “Right?” A step forward. “You’ll let me, won’t you?”
 
“You can borrow my body,” Zoey said, putting her hands up appeasingly. “I don’t know how often, but sure.”
 
Delta scooped Zoey up in a hug, which, again, they were all still naked. Zoey’s briefly softening cock sprung back up, which Delta ignored. 
 
“You’re the best,” Delta laughed. “Seriously. I can’t believe there’s a way I can have fun with it again. Best shard ever.”
 
Zoey returned the hug, patting her on the back. Man. She’s really happy about this. Delta must have had a lot of fun using her cock.
 
Which, uh, had been pretty obvious. And Zoey had had a lot of fun with her using it, too.
 
“Target,” Rosalie said. “It doesn’t specify what kind. Would it work with stranger entities, too?”
 
“What, like a dungeon monster?” Delta asked, letting Zoey go. “I know you’re a freak under that hoity-toity princess shit, but isn’t getting railed by a shard monster going a little far? Even if it’s Zoey in there?”
 
Rosalie’s eyes widened in incredulity. She couldn’t even get the statement out, simply sputtering. “You—I don’t—are you implying I would—you disgusting woman.”
 
“I mean, I’d try it,” Delta said, flashing a grin at Zoey.
 
Zoey cleared her throat. She guessed she wasn’t wholly against the idea, but it would depend on the so-called monster. Some would be palatable, she guessed. Like … shit, she didn’t know. A tentacle monster? Definitely a slime, like Mel. That’d be a fun body to pilot for a bit. But some, or even most monsters, she guessed, not so much her thing. 
 
“Let’s shelve that topic,” Zoey suggested. “What’s next?”
 
“And where’s all the practical stuff, anyway?” Delta asked.
 
“Comes after.” Usually, at least. For some reason, the lewd items tended to be frontloaded in the chest, before tapering off into the more ‘normal’ items. 
 
The next thing out was oddly familiar.
 
[Stud of Oral Ecstasy]: Uncommon. Transforms the user's mouth into an erogenous zone. 
 
“Huh?” Delta said. “What’s that mean?”
 
Rosalie disdainfully dropped the silver jewelry into Zoey’s hand. Zoey turned it over, inspecting the item. It wasn’t too different from the tongue stud Zoey had put to great use on Rosalie—the one that let her give magically enhanced head. 
 
“Erogenous zone,” Zoey said. “So, like, sensitive? In that way?”
 
“A mouth-pussy?” Delta said amusedly. “Literally? But why?”
 
Zoey shrugged. “Maybe it gives a buff when you get off with it? Not all of the lewd items have practical side effects.” Like the cock-ring that had gone unfortunately unused in their short stay at Treyhull. Though, now that she thought about it, a cock-ring that denied orgasms could have been useful in today’s events, seeing how syncing climaxes up had been part of the game. Not crucial, but useful. 
 
She wished she had a chance to try it out just for fun, though. Or rather, Rosalie try it out on her. Their schedule really was too packed. There were a lot of things she’d like to get to, but which Rosalie’s quick pace had meant they couldn’t.
 
Like usual, the chest included a potential brewing ingredient.
 
[Twinrose]: An unidentified alchemy reagent. Two red flowers entwine into each other, preserved but delicate.
 
Zoey paused. It was the first time she’d ran into a reagent that didn’t offer even a hint of what it might create.
 
“What’s it say?”
 
“Unidentified,” Zoey said with a shrug. “Probably’ll have to ask Sabina about it.”
 
“Sabina?” Delta asked.
 
“Our alchemy contact,” Zoey said. “She’ll be giving me lessons once we get back.”
 
“Ah.”
 
They worked through the chest, item by item. Like normal, the best items had been first. She received a few more alchemy reagents, which were sure to be fun to tease out their uses with Sabina. And while they didn’t receive any more fascinating pieces of equipment like the Panties of Spatial Shifting, or the mirror that let them swap bodies, they received a smattering of loot that could, presumably, be wielded on future delves.
 
Which Rosalie didn’t seem pleased by, and Delta highly amused. As seemed to be the recurring reaction.
 
Namely: a pair of black thigh-highs, another pair of panties that were more air than lace, and an intricately designed metal bra that distinctly didn’t cover up the most important parts of what it should. 
 
Rosalie had her vine armor—which she had unequipped as soon as it had become unnecessary—but most of the armor could fit underneath it, if she deemed it worthwhile. But they would be having the pieces identified, especially now that the shard had been completed. No reason to bind them now, when they might not even be worth keeping. Though difficult, finding buyers for equipment as odd as what they had wouldn’t be impossible. 
 
“We’ll handle the divvying out when we get back to Treyhull and have it appraised,” Rosalie said.
 
Delta nodded in agreement.
 
The chest emptied, they were ostensibly done with the shard. The three of them walked to the swirling black portal and stared at it.
 
There was an understated air of … not tension, but … uncertainty coming from Rosalie. Zoey knew what it was from—exactly what Zoey had been worrying herself over. Zoey’s position in the party, especially if these two wanted to keep working to higher and higher shards. She could imagine the questions running in Rosalie’s head: was Zoey’s class, the ability she provided to evolve their runes faster, worth putting her in danger? Was it valuable enough to team up with her? 
 
Zoey would like to believe she and Rosalie had something, and that Rosalie’s decisions wouldn’t be made purely out of practicality. But that might be the exact reason she would decide this adventure of theirs would be their last. Zoey’s safety might come higher, even if she decided Zoey’s class was worth the liability from a selfish standpoint.
 
Delta caught the mood, side-eying them both. Though she’d joined the dynamic in no small way, whatever Zoey and Rosalie had, Delta hadn’t quite developed the same with either of them. Zoey had a fondness for the fox-girl—maybe even more than a fondness—but Zoey’s crush on Rosalie was much more pronounced. And by Rosalie’s reactions—if not her words—maybe that was returned.
 
The departure from their first shard had been hopeful, with Zoey entering the black portal with a bounce to her step. 
 
The second shard’s exit was muted, and the smallest bit heavy. 
 

Author's Note:

That completes Arc Two. Just as a heads up, but this story is kept most up to date at:

https://www.scribblehub.com/series/580870/this-ascent-to-divinity-is-lewder-than-expected/

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