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A story of the Unseen and Forgotten
possession merge
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Original source: Slime Isekai by user: Only446
https://www.outfoxstories.com/blog/outline/grkzgqybyuctnmwwqyhoqtbeqjuuovwk/
This is a collection of Playthroughs that I did that I liked.
Slime Isekai – Episode 1: "The Goddess’s Mistake"
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum softly overhead. Your pencil taps against the desk idly, your gaze lingering on Lena—her red hair catching the afternoon sunlight just right, her lips slightly curved in amusement at something Jessica whispered to her. Another dull day in homeroom. Another day of pretending not to stare.
Then, the world shakes.
A violent tremor rattles the desks, sending pens and papers scattering. Gasps erupt around you as the air itself seems to split open—right above the teacher’s desk—ripping apart reality like wet paper. A swirling portal yawns wide, its edges crackling with violet energy.
Ms. Petrov’s eyes widen. "Everyone, get—"
The pull is instant—an irresistible force yanking desks, chairs, and students into the void. Jeremy’s manic grin is the last thing you see before the darkness swallows you whole.
---
You wake up cold.
No—not cold. Formless.
Your vision swims into focus, though you don’t have eyes anymore. Instead, you perceive the world through... touch? Vibration? It’s disorienting, but slowly, you realize—your body is now a translucent, gelatinous mass. A slime.
You panic (or at least, you would if you had lungs), thrashing against the smooth white floor beneath you. The room is austere—pale walls stretching infinitely upward, illuminated by an unseen light. Then—
"Oh. Oh dear."
A woman stands before you. No—floats. Her divinity is unmistakable: flowing silver hair, eyes like twin galaxies, skin glowing with an inner radiance. A gossamer dress clings to her flawless curves, leaving little to the imagination. This is a goddess, and she is frowning at you—very concerned.
"This... wasn’t supposed to happen," she murmurs, tapping a finger against her full lips. "All the other students arrived safely in the Grand Hall of the Lifire Kingdom. But you... you were altered during transit."
She kneels (though without bending, somehow) and stares directly into your amorphous form.
"You are now a slime."
A beat.
"But fear not! You still retain your Otherworlder Blessing—though..." She hesitates. "Yours appears to be... unique."
A translucent panel materializes before you:
---
Name: Dan
Race: Slime
Blessing: Internal Empowerment
Effect: ???
---
"Frankly," the goddess admits, "I’ve never seen this before. Perhaps you should... test it?"
Your slime-body pulses with intrigue. Internal empowerment... internal. And there’s only one thing here to test it on.
---
{Ask about your classmates, find out only Jeremy was the only other Male summoned. (No Eric run) Both you and Jeremy get possession based abilities as men weren't suppose to be summoned.}
"Wait—what about the others?" Your voice comes out as a bubbly distortion pushing through ectoplasmic liquid—disconcerting, but the goddess tilts her head, understanding.
"Oh! Your classmates." She snaps her fingers, and an ethereal screen shimmers into existence—showing a grand marble hall bathed in golden light. At the center stand several familiar figures: Lena, Victoria, Jessica, Cara, Alex, and Ms. Petrov, blinking in confusion as robed summoners fuss around them.
But something’s missing.
"Where’s Eric?" you demand.
The goddess winces. "The, uh, brash one with the muscles? Yes. About that." She twirls a lock of silver hair nervously. "Turns out, this summoning was supposed to be for women only—the Lifire Kingdom needed heroes with sacred feminine energy to combat their curse. Tradition, destiny, something-something ancient prophecy... honestly, the paperwork was very confusing."
Wait.
"So then—"
"Only two males ended up crossing through: you, and your friend Jeremy." She claps her hands together sheepishly. "Which, ah, might be why neither of you got proper bodies!"
Your slime-form wobbles in disbelief.
"Jeremy... is a slime too?"
Her cheeks flush pink. "Oh no, no. He’s—well—you should probably just see."
The screen flickers, shifting to Jeremy—or at least, what used to be Jeremy. His current form floats in the periphery of the hall, invisible to the others, his spectral body flickering like a ghost made of blue mist.
"His blessing is Skill Share," the goddess explains. "He can temporarily assume the body—and skills—of anyone he touches. Unfortunately, touching things in his current state is... tricky."
You stare (figuratively).
"So he also got a possession ability."
Her laughter is high and nervous. "Ahaha... yyyep. Probably because the summoning rejected male energy, but couldn’t fully exclude you two. So instead of proper bodies, you both got... workarounds."
She coughs into her hand, eyes darting away. "A-anyway! The priestesses were very disappointed not to get Eric. Something about ‘optimal genetic pairing.’ Poor Jessica looked downright relieved."
---
{"Can you give a temporary form and send me back. I just need to explain." The Goddess smiles and says, "I can do better, I can give you a new body." She materializes three criminals, "Each of these woman were about to be executed. I will parody your host on that grounds that being your new body is the punishment."}
The goddess waves her hand with a flourish, and three figures shimmer into existence before you—each bound in glowing ethereal chains. Their expressions range from defiance to despair, but all freeze in shock when they see the divine being before them.
"Behold!" the goddess declares cheerfully. "Your potential new forms!"
The first is a brutish bandit woman, her muscular frame covered in scars, her wild black hair tied back in a rough ponytail. She snarls, struggling against her bonds.
The second is a sly thief, lithe and wiry, with cunning green eyes and a smirk that suggests she’s already planning an escape.
The third is a dark sorceress, her pale skin marked with arcane tattoos, her long silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She glares at you with cold disdain.
"These three were slated for execution," the goddess explains. "But I figured—why waste perfectly good bodies? If you take one as your host, it’ll be their punishment—and your new beginning!"
She leans in conspiratorially. "And don’t worry—once you possess them, their consciousness will be suppressed. They won’t even know what’s happening."
---
{Choose the thief}
"The thief," you decide, pulsing toward the lithe, smirking woman.
The goddess claps her hands. "Excellent choice!"
The thief’s eyes widen as she realizes what’s happening. "Wait—what are you—?"
Before she can finish, your slime-body surges forward, enveloping her face. She gags, instinctively thrashing—but it’s too late. You slip past her lips, sliding down her throat with surprising ease.
For a moment, there’s only darkness—and then, sensation.
Your new body tingles as your consciousness settles in. The thief’s limbs twitch once before going still—her mind suppressed beneath yours. You flex your fingers experimentally, marveling at the dexterity.Then, the realizations hit.
- Your chest feels heavier. The thief’s modest but perky breasts press against the fabric of her snug leather top.
- Your hips sway when you shift your weight—an unfamiliar, almost instinctive motion.
- Your hair—short, messy, and dyed a rebellious shade of purple—brushes against your neck.
You gasp—a soft, feminine sound—and the goddess giggles. "First time in a woman’s body?"
You nod mutely, still processing.
"Well, don’t just stand there!" She gestures to a full-length mirror that materializes beside you. "Take a look!"
---
{"Maybe later, Classmates first." You say. The Goddess nods, "Don't worry, the second you chose the thief the world was informed that her punishment was to your body."}
The goddess waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t worry—the moment you chose her, the world knew."
A golden decree materializes in the air beside her, glowing with divine script. "See? Officially, the thief’s punishment is being your body now." She grins. "So no one will question it—not even the summoners."
You exhale (a strange sensation with these new lungs) and nod. "Okay. So where are my classmates?"
Another flick of her wrist, and the mirror’s surface ripples, transforming into a window to the grand summoning hall. The scene is chaotic:
- Lena stands near the front, arms crossed, looking both annoyed and concerned.
- Victoria is already flirting shamelessly with one of the robed summoners, her fishnet-clad legs crossed teasingly.- Jessica is scanning the room—probably for Jeremy.
- Ms. Petrov is lecturing a bewildered priestess about proper interdimensional summoning etiquette.
- Alex is muttering to herself, scribbling notes in a stolen ledger.
- Cara is—wait.
You squint. "Is Cara stealing from the offering table?"
The goddess sighs. "Yes. And she’s very good at it."
But where’s—
A flicker of blue mist darts past the camera. Jeremy.
He’s still in his ghostly form, zipping around like an overexcited poltergeist. At one point, he phases through Victoria—and she shudders, cheeks flushing, before shaking it off.
"He’s figuring out his powers," the goddess muses. "Poor boy has no idea how fun this is going to be for him."
---
{"So before I joined them, how had Internal Empowerment changed?" You ask. (You can now steal steal and merge with souls. Leaving an exact copy of the soul in the original body."}
The goddess's silver eyes gleam with sudden amusement. "Ohhh, that." She twirls a lock of her hair, almost giddy. "Your ability evolved the moment you took a human host! Instead of just inhabiting bodies, you can now... collect them."
She snaps her fingers, and the golden screen zooms in on your new thief form—highlighting a pulsing, translucent core in her chest.
"See that? It’s not just her body you control now—you’ve absorbed her soul. But here’s the fun part!"
Another snap. An illusion of the thief splits into two—one remains trapped inside you, the other flickers back into her body, blinking as if waking from a nap.
"The original soul stays behind—an exact copy, none the wiser. Meanwhile, the real one? Merged with you."
She leans in, whispering conspiratorially. "Meaning you can swap between any soul you’ve absorbed, leaving perfect duplicates behind. No suspicion. No messy loose ends."
A beat.
"...Do you understand how broken that is?" She giggles, stars dancing in her eyes. "You’re basically a god now. A sneaky one."
---
{"So guess we're an act now." You hear inside your head. The thief (Kestra) tells about the soul side of your ability. "So, the real soul stays awake inside you becoming a voice of guidance. Don't worry lover boy, your the only driver." She tells you.}
Kestra’s voice curls through your mind like smoke—playful, teasing, and very aware of her new role as your ethereal backseat driver.
"That’s right, hero," she purrs. "I’m the little devil on your shoulder—except way hotter." You can feel her smirk. "And don’t worry, this body’s all yours to pilot. Think of me as... live commentary."
The goddess blinks. "Wait. She’s awake in there?"
Kestra’s laugh echoes internally. "Oh, this one’s adorable. Yeah, sweetcheeks—real souls stay conscious. We just can’t do anything unless you let us." A pause. "...Unless you want me to take the wheel sometime? I’ve got ideas for this body—"
"No," you say firmly.
She sighs dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if you ever need to pick a lock, flirt with a guard, or stab someone in the kidneys? I’m your girl."
The goddess looks equal parts fascinated and horrified. "This is not how Internal Empowerment usually works."
Kestra snorts. "Yeah, well, congrats—your summoning glitch created a soul vampire. Now, are we gonna go mess with your friends or what?"
---
{You return to the hall, and explain your neeting with the Goddess. "Jessica, you need to want Jeremy insode you for his possession to work, don't worry unlike mine you actually have a say."}
The grand summoning hall falls silent as all eyes turn to you—or rather, your new thief form. Lena’s eyebrows shoot up. Victoria whistles. Ms. Petrov looks like she’s about to demand an explanation in three languages.
You clear your throat (Kestra’s throat? Your throat now) and quickly explain the goddess’s mess-up—the male-energy rejection, the possession-based blessings, the whole being a slime thing.
Then you drop the bomb about Jeremy.
"Oh, and uh—Jessica?" You gesture to the flickering blue mist currently doing loop-de-loops around the chandelier. "Turns out, for Jeremy’s Skill Share to work on you... you kinda have to want him inside you."
Jessica’s face goes scarlet. "I—what?!"
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Oh, this is gold."
You hurry to clarify. "Not like—not like that! It’s just consent-based! He can’t possess you unless you’re okay with it!"
Jeremy’s misty form solidifies slightly, his grin audible. "Dude. Dude. This is the best day of my life."
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "Why is this my curse..."
---
{Lena and Victoria walk up to you asking to join, Lena because of her crush on you, Victoria because its up her alley. You accept them. You then ask the copied souls that get placed in their bodies about their nature, trying to understand you ability better. "We are still Lena and Victoria just knowing that the real us is now a part of you."}
Lena steps forward first, her cheeks flushed but her gaze steady. "I... I want to be with you, Dan. Even if it's like this." Her voice is soft, but there’s no hesitation in it. The moment she says it, her body shivers slightly—a golden glow flickering around her for just a second before fading.
Then Victoria saunters up, her smirk wicked. "Oh, this is way more fun than whatever boring blessing I was supposed to get." She tosses her hair. "Let’s do this."
You reach out, and just like with Kestra, your slime-like essence flows into them—smooth, effortless. Their real souls merge with yours, their copied versions blinking back into existence in their original bodies.
Inside your mind, two new voices hum to life.
"Hey, dummy," Lena’s voice murmurs, warm and fond. "Took you long enough."
Victoria’s laugh is low and teasing. "Oh, this is interesting. So, do we get front-row seats to everything you do, or...?"
You focus on their copied selves standing before you. The Lena-copy tilts her head, smiling. "We’re still us," she says. "Just... aware that the real ‘us’ is part of you now."
The Victoria-copy stretches lazily. "Yeah, don’t worry—we’ll keep up appearances. But damn, this is gonna be fun."
Kestra pipes up, grinning. "Told you. Soul collection and perfect alibis. You’re basically cheating life."
---
{You look over and see Jessica respectfully touching herself. "Guess Jess let you in then?" You shout over to her.}
You smirk as your gaze lands on Jessica—her face a scorching red, one hand pressed hesitantly to her own collarbone, fingers trembling. She jumps at your call, whipping her head toward you with wide eyes.
"N-no! I mean—Yes, but—!" Her voice cracks, mortified. "I just—ugh—I had to test it, okay?!"
A shimmer of blue light flickers under her skin, and Jeremy’s laughter tumbles out of her mouth in her voice. "Oh my god, Jess, you should’ve seen your face when I—wait, why are you blushing so hard—"
Jessica’s hands fly up to cover her flushed cheeks. "B-because this is weird!"
Jeremy-as-Jessica grins, running her hands down her own curves with exaggerated awe. "Okay, but wow, you are crazy stacked—"
"JEREMY!"
Lena’s soul sighs in your head. "Boys are so dumb."
Victoria’s soul purrs. "Yeah, but this is hilarious."
---
{Leave them to it. Turn to the summoner and ask about the curse.}
You decide to let Jeremy and Jessica’s... situation play out (with Kestra cackling in your head and Victoria’s soul egging them on). Instead, you stride toward the head summoner—a stern-looking woman in silver robes, currently massaging her temples like she’s regretting every life choice that led her here.
"So," you say, crossing your arms (and enjoying the way Kestra’s leather gear creaks with the motion). "What’s this ‘curse’ you needed an all-female summoning to fix?"
The summoner exhales sharply. "The Lifire Plague," she mutters. "A blight that drains the life from our land—and it only affects men."
Lena’s soul gasps in your mind. "Wait, so that’s why—"
"Yes," the summoner snaps. "We needed heroes untainted by male energy to purify the royal bloodline. But clearly—" She gestures at you, then at Jessica (currently trying to wrestle her own hands away from her chest). "—this summoning is a disaster."
Victoria’s soul hums. "So, what? You needed pure, sacred maidens to fix your man-killing curse?"
The summoner glares. "We needed heroes."
Kestra snorts. "And instead you got us. Congrats."
---
{"Actually that's probably why both Jeremy and I ended up non-human, technically he and I no longer have male bodies." You offer.}
The summoner's eyes narrow, then widen slightly as your words sink in. "That... is disturbingly logical,".
Jessica—now physically pushing herself into a pillar to stop Jeremy's involuntary groping—chokes out, "So you're saying I basically just sucked a ghost into my body to save him?!"
The silver-robed summoner pinches the bridge of her nose. "In the broadest theological sense... yes." She sighs. "Perhaps the summoning interpreted your forms as gender-neutral enough to bypass the curse's restrictions. A slime and... whatever that is." She gestures at Jeremy's misty essence still flickering under Jessica's skin.
Lena's voice pipes up in your mind, dripping with mischief. "Ohhhoho, this means Jeremy has to possess girls to survive now. Best. Punishment. Ever."
The Lena-copy folds her arms. "That doesn't explain why we joined Dan though."
Victoria's copy smirks. "Uh, hello? Have you seen our collection?" She gestures to herself, Lena's copied form, and your thief body. "We're clearly his starter harem."
The summoner's eye twitches. "I need wine."
---
{"So if I remember correctly while I was talking with the Goddess, you were about to check blessings, right?" You ask. The summoner pulls out a book, containing past blessings. She records your entire classes blessings, yours and Jeremy's included.
(Because your blessing now lets you have a person's real soul merge into you, you also get that person's Blessing. Jessica can also use Skill Share, on top of her actually blessing, due to being Jeremy's true host.)
Lena/Her Copy: Hearthfire
Victoria/Her Copy: Shadowweave
Kestra: Thief's Guile
Jessica: Beast Tamer
Petrov: Discipline Authority
Cara: Silvertongue
Alex: Reverse Engineer
Jeremy: Skill Share (Possession Version)
You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version)}
The summoner flips open her massive tome with a thud, quill poised. "Let the record show that this summoning has been the most chaotic in eight centuries," she mutters before clearing her throat.
One by one, she calls out the blessings—each name glowing in the air as she writes:
- Lena & Copy: Hearthfire – Can conjure flames that heal allies and sear enemies.
- Victoria & Copy: Shadowweave – Controls darkness like tangible threads. (Victoria’s soul purrs: "Oh, we’re definitely playing with this later.")
- Kestra: Thief’s Guile – Enhanced stealth, lockpicking, and ahem "asset relocation" skills.
- Jessica: Beast Tamer – Commands animals... and apparently now also shares Jeremy’s Skill Share due to being his primary host. (Jessica smiles: "So I’m pet owner.)
- Ms. Petrov: Discipline Authority – Commands instant obedience from students. (She smirks. "Finally.")
- Cara: Silvertongue – Can convince anyone of anything... which explains the stolen artifacts now hidden in her sleeves.
- Alex: Reverse Engineer – Instantly understands and replicates any magic or tech. (She’s already dismantling a summoning orb.)
- Jeremy: Skill Share – Possesses others to copy their abilities for future use. (He’s currently making Jessica’s body do a handstand. Badly.)
- You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version) – Absorb souls, their blessings, and leave flawless copies.
The summoner snaps the book shut. "Congratulations. You’ve broken every rule of summoning etiquette."
Kestra whispers: "Achievement unlocked: Oops, All Chaos."
---
{A younger priestess steps up to you, "My name is Lyra and I think it would be best to have a priestess with you, so I offer myself and my Blessing: Holy Prayer to you."}
Lyra steps forward, her white and gold robes fluttering as she bows deeply before you. She’s young—maybe even younger than your classmates—with wide, earnest eyes and silver-blonde hair braided neatly over one shoulder. There’s a nervous energy about her, like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.
"I—I’ve studied the legends," she stammers, cheeks flushing. "A-and if you’re going to break the Lifire Plague, you’ll need divine favor! My Holy Prayer blessing lets me channel miracles—healing, protection, even smiting!" She clasps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Please, let me join you!"
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement in your mind. "Ohhh, she’s adorable. And useful. Say yes."
Lena’s soul sighs. "She’s way too pure for this group."
Victoria’s copy licks her lips. "Yeah, but imagine corrupting her."
The head summoner groans. "Lyra, you cannot just volunteer to be absorbed by a rogue otherworlder—"
Lyra whirls on her, eyes blazing. "With all due respect, Elder Maris, the goddess herself endorsed him! This isn’t just allowed—it’s destiny!"
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Jeremy (still in Jessica’s body) wolf-whistles. "Damn, holy girl’s got spine."
---
{Accept Lyra offer.}
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the team, Lyra."
Her face lights up like the sun, and before the head summoner can protest, you reach out—your slime essence surging forward. Unlike the others, Lyra steps into it, arms spread like she’s embracing divinity itself.
The absorption is seamless. Warmth floods your being as her soul merges with yours, her consciousness settling beside the others. Her copied body blinks back into existence, still beaming.
"It’s wonderful in here!" Lyra’s voice chimes in your mind, bright as a chapel bell. "So much light! And—oh! I can feel the others too!"
Kestra groans. "Great. Now we’ve got a nun in our head."
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, practically glowing. "With Holy Prayer added to your collection, you’re practically invincible! Well, more invincible."
The head summoner looks like she’s about to faint. "This is heresy."
Ms. Petrov, finally breaking her silence, adjusts her glasses with a smirk. "No. This is education."
---
{"Lyra, would you allow Jeremy to try and possess you." You ask the copy in her body.}
Lyra's copied form tilts her head, her expression thoughtful but unbothered. "Oh! Of course!" she chirps, as if you'd just asked her to pass the salt. "If it helps the team, I don't mind at all!"
Kestra snorts in your mind. "Girl’s got zero sense of self-preservation. I love it."
Jeremy's misty form immediately peels away from Jessica's body—who collapses against a pillar, gasping like she just ran a marathon. "Finally! Freedom!" he whoops, before zipping toward Lyra's copy.
The moment his essence touches her, her eyes flash blue. Then—
"Whoa."
Jeremy's voice spills from Lyra's lips, but it's her voice—soft, melodic, and now tinged with his dumbstruck awe. He(?) looks down at Lyra's petite frame, her pristine robes, then wiggles her fingers experimentally.
"Okay, first? Way different from Jess. Like, zero muscle memory. This body’s built for, like... hymns and kneeling." He(?) pauses. "Second? Why am I kinda into it?"
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "I’m never living this down."
Lyra's real soul giggles in your mind. "Oh, this is fascinating! He’s borrowing my blessing too! Look!"
Sure enough, golden light flickers around Jeremy/Lyra’s hands—Holy Prayer reacting to his presence.
The head summoner has stopped breathing.
---
Quick Actions:
{Ask Lyra's copy if she can try to fight Jeremy's control. (She can't but Jeremy leaves willingly.)}
You glance at Lyra's copied form—still puppeteered by Jeremy—and raise an eyebrow. "Lyra, can you try to resist him? Push him out?"
For a moment, Lyra's copied body goes still, her expression flickering with concentration. Then she sighs sweetly. "Oh dear, no. It seems I can't! But it's quite alright—he's being very gentle."
Jeremy's voice responds through her lips, softer now, almost sheepish. "Yeah, uh... I'm not gonna force it. That'd be messed up." With that, the blue glow fades from Lyra's eyes as Jeremy's misty form pulls free, reforming nearby with a shrug. "Respect to the holy girl. She's way too nice to mess with."
Lyra's copy smooths her robes, completely unruffled. "Thank you for experimenting responsibly!"
Kestra barks a laugh in your mind. "Wow. Even Jeremy has standards. What a world."
The head summoner, now gripping her tome like a lifeline, wheezes: "Is... is this over? Can we proceed?"
---
{"This proves that my copied souls have less resistance to possession then the original soul." You warn.}
You nod, piecing it together. "Right. So the copies—while perfect in every other way—don’t have the same willpower as the original souls inside me." You glance at Lyra’s copied form, still smiling placidly. "They’re more... compliant."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Meaning if some other possession-happy freak shows up, your little duplicates would fold like wet paper. Great."
Lena’s soul chimes in, concerned. "So our copies are vulnerable. That’s... not ideal."
Victoria’s copy, however, grins. "Or very ideal, depending on what you’re into."
The head summoner finally snaps. "ENOUGH. You—" She jabs a finger at you. "—are a walking theological crisis. But since the goddess clearly favors you, we’ll proceed under one condition." She takes a deep breath. "You and your... collective... will help us break the Lifire Plague. In exchange, we’ll legitimize your existence to the kingdom."**
Ms. Petrov smirks. "Ah, bureaucracy. Even in another world."
---
{"I would've helped without you needing to threaten me." You say. "My blessing makes an ideal Front liner."}
The head summoner blinks, momentarily thrown off-balance by your blunt honesty. Then, with a grudging nod, she steps back. "Then we are in agreement. The Lifire Kingdom will... appreciate your assistance."
Kestra snickers in your mind. "Translation: They’re desperate and we’re their last hope."
You flex your thief’s fingers, feeling the weight of your collected souls humming within you—each one a new strength, a new possibility. "Ideal Frontliner" wasn’t an exaggeration. With Lena’s healing flames, Victoria’s shadow manipulation, Lyra’s divine miracles, and Kestra’s thief instincts—not to mention the other blessings you could still absorb—you’re practically a one-man army.
Jeremy’s misty form drifts closer, his grin audible. "So, uh... when do we start?"
Jessica sighs, rubbing her temples. "Please don’t say that like you’re volunteering to be useful."
---
{Ask about the plague's origins on your way to meet the queen.}
As your ragtag group sets off toward the royal palace—escorted by a contingent of very nervous priestesses—you fall into step beside Lyra’s copied form. The real Lyra’s soul perks up eagerly in your mind, already sensing your question.
"So," you start, nodding toward the blighted landscape beyond the city walls. Withered trees claw at the sky, and the distant fields look like they’ve been drained of color. "This plague. How’d it start?"
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, her voice dropping into storyteller mode. "Two centuries ago, the Lifire Kingdom was at war with the Duskreach Coven. Their queen, a witch named Seraphine, cursed our royal bloodline as she died—‘No son shall outlive his father, no brother his sister.’" She shudders. "At first, it only affected the nobility. But over time, the curse mutated. Now it leeches life from any male in the kingdom past adolescence."
Victoria’s soul whistles. "Damn. That’s some spicy vengeance."
Lena’s copy frowns. "So the all-female summoning...?"
Lyra nods. "An attempt to bypass the curse’s logic. We needed heroes untouched by male energy to purify the royal line." She hesitates. "Though... given your blessings, I suspect the goddess had other plans."
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Plans involving us becoming the kingdom’s weirdest, hottest salvation."
---
{You arrive at the the Throne room. The summoner hands the queen the book.}
The grand doors of the throne room swing open, revealing a cavernous hall lined with armored knights and robed advisors. At the far end sits Queen Isolda—a woman whose regal bearing is undercut by the dark circles under her eyes and the way her fingers grip the armrests of her throne like she’s clinging to life itself.
The head summoner steps forward, presenting the book with a deep bow. "Your Majesty, the summoning is... complete." She hesitates. "Though not as expected."
Queen Isolda flips through the pages, her brow furrowing at the chaotic entries—blessings altered, souls duplicated, two rogue males somehow involved. When she reaches your entry (Internal Empowerment: Soul Version), her gaze snaps up to you.
"You." Her voice is razor-sharp. "You absorb souls. And their powers."
A murmur ripples through the court. One knight draws his sword on instinct.Lyra’s soul squeaks in your head. "Oh no. They think you’re a villain!"
Kestra sighs. "To be fair, we kinda are."
---
{You step forward, bow slightly and explain your specific story to the Queen, (From meeting the Goddess as a slime, choosing the meant to be executed Kestra to be your body, to Lena and Victoria willing offering themselves, of finding that you use the blessings of those merged with you, how Lyra offered herself, and now standing before her.)}
After you finish your story, the oldest princess offers herself to you as a way to ensure your loyality.}
You step forward, offering the queen a measured bow—not too deep, not too casual—just enough to show respect without groveling. Then, in clear, deliberate tones, you recount your journey: the goddess’s blunder, your slime form, Kestra’s "punishment," Lena and Victoria’s willing mergers, the discovery of borrowed blessings, and Lyra’s eager devotion. The throne room hangs on every word, the court’s initial hostility giving way to stunned fascination.
When you finish, the silence is thick enough to carve.
Then, from the queen’s side, a figure rises—Princess Elara, the eldest heir. Her gown is the color of tarnished silver, her dark hair braided into a crown. She steps down from the dais, her movements deliberate, until she stands mere inches from you.
"Then let me ensure your loyalty personally," she declares, her voice low but carrying. "Merge with me. Let my soul join your collection. That way, the crown will always know your intentions."
The queen’s breath catches. "Elara, you cannot—"
"Mother," the princess interrupts, never breaking eye contact with you, "our kingdom is dying. If this is the price of salvation, I pay it gladly."
Kestra’s whistle echoes in your mind. "Damn. Royalty’s got spine."
Lyra’s soul vibrates with awe. "This is so sacred! And so illegal!"
---
{You accept but let her chose a person loyal to prove it isn't dangerous. She choses her personal knight (is female becuase of the curse) and Maid (trained assassin).}
"Very well," you say, nodding to the princess. "But let's prove it's safe first." You gesture to the crowd. "Choose someone you trust—someone loyal. Let them volunteer to merge with me, so you can see there's no danger."
Princess Elara's lips quirk in approval. Without hesitation, she turns and snaps her fingers. "Siris. Mara. Step forward."
From the shadows of the throne room, two figures emerge:
1. Siris, the princess's personal knight—a towering woman in gleaming armor, her sword strapped to her back. The curse has long since purged male knights from the kingdom, leaving only the fiercest women to guard the royalty. Her scarred face is unreadable as she kneels before you. "If my lady commands it," she rumbles.
2. Mara, the "maid"—a petite woman in a demure gown whose fingers twitch toward hidden daggers. Her smile is razor-thin. "Oh, this’ll be fun," she purrs. Assassin confirmed.
The queen grips her throne, but Elara remains serene. "Well? Show us."
---
The Merging:
- Siris goes first. The moment your slime-form touches her, she tenses—not in fear, but in focus. Her soul merges with yours, a warm, steadfast presence. Her copy blinks back into existence, saluting sharply. "No discomfort, Your Highness."
- Mara practically grins as you absorb her. Her soul coils in your mind like a satisfied cat. "Oh, hello," she murmurs. Her copy adjusts her skirts, demure once more—but her eyes gleam.
Princess Elara exhales. "Convinced?" she asks the queen.
Her mother swallows hard, then nods.
---
Quick Actions:
{Merge with Elara. You tell the Queen each of their blessings. Afterwords the Queen asks the copy of Elara a question only the two of them now. When she answers right, the queen turns back to you, "About the weaker resistance noted by the summoner."
Siris: Dog of War
Mara: Moonlight Dance
Elara: Stormcaller}
You meet Princess Elara’s gaze and nod. Without hesitation, she steps forward—chin high, arms slightly spread—as your slime-form envelops her. The merging is seamless, her soul settling into yours like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Her copy materializes beside you, smoothing her gown with regal poise.
The queen leans forward, her voice taut. "Elara. When you were six, where did you hide after your first sword lesson?"
The Elara-copy doesn’t hesitate. "The royal pantry. I ate an entire wheel of cheese and vomited on Father’s favorite hound."
A beat. Then the queen’s shoulders slump in relief. "It is her. Every memory, every detail..." She turns to you, her expression unreadable. "And their blessings?"
You recite them effortlessly, the knowledge flowing from the souls within you:
- Siris: Dog of War – Strength multiplies when defending others.
- Mara: Moonlight Dance – Moves unseen in shadows, strikes with lethal precision.
- Elara: Stormcaller – Commands wind and lightning (her copy’s fingers crackle faintly for emphasis).
The queen exhales sharply. "Then the summoner’s report was correct. The copies are perfect... but weaker against possession." Her eyes narrow. "You understand why that concerns me."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Yeah, ‘cause if Jeremy can hijack a princess, this kingdom’s screwed."
---
{"Your Majesty, my teacher Ms. Petrov might be able to help in that regard." You offer a potential solution. "Elara tells me your Blessing is Royal Decree, so if used together with her Blessing you could create a failsafe. You use Royal Decree to make it law that my copied souls can't be possessed those the crown deems enemies, and then we have Ms. Petrov reinforce that through her Discipline Authority."}
The queen’s eyes flicker with intrigue. She straightens, her fingers drumming once on the armrest of her throne before she nods. "A royal edict reinforced by divine authority... Clever." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "You can do this?"
Ms. Petrov steps forward, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. "Discipline Authority compels obedience. If Her Majesty declares a law, I can ensure it’s enforced—magically."
Princess Elara’s soul hums approvingly in your mind. "A binding contract, then. No possession of copies by unauthorized parties."
The queen rises, her voice ringing through the throne room. "Then let it be decreed: Any soul copied by the Otherworlder Dan shall be shielded from hostile possession, save by his own will or the crown’s express permission!"Golden light erupts from her fingertips, swirling into the air like living script. Ms. Petrov’s eyes flash as she raises a hand—"And so it shall be."
The words sear into the air before dissolving, and you feel the change immediately—a new weight to the copied souls around you, an invisible barrier settling over them.
Jeremy’s misty form pouts. "Well, there goes my weekend plans."
---
{Have Jeremy test it by trying to possess Elara.}
You arch a brow at Jeremy’s still-misty form. "Well? Test it."
Jeremy’s grin is audible. "Oh, hell yeah." He darts toward Elara’s copied form—only to slam into an invisible barrier inches from her skin. A burst of golden light repels him, sending him spinning backward like a kicked tumbleweed.
"OW! What the—since when do laws HURT?!" he yelps, his form flickering like a staticky hologram.
Elara’s copy smirks, folding her arms. "It appears the crown’s will is quite literal."
The queen exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good."
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Welp. Jeremy just became the kingdom’s best bug zapper test."
---
Quick Actions:
{Check on Jessica, since you allow Lyra to house Jeremy so he can tell the Queen his story.}
You glance over at Jessica, who’s been standing near the back of the group, arms crossed and expression unreadable. With a mental nudge, you allow Lyra’s soul to temporarily "host" Jeremy so he can recount his side of the story to the queen—Lyra’s copied form flickers blue for a moment as Jeremy’s consciousness takes the wheel, her usual serene smile shifting into his trademark lopsided grin.
"Alright, so—" Jeremy-as-Lyra begins, clapping her(?) hands together. "Imagine getting isekai’d as a ghost and then finding out the only way to interact with the world is by literally borrowing someone else’s body. Glorious? Yes. Ethical? Debatable."
The queen pinches the bridge of her nose. "Why are the gods like this."
Meanwhile, you slip over to Jessica, who’s staring at the floor, her fingers twisting the hem of her tunic. "Hey," you say quietly. "You okay?"
She startles, then forces a smile. "Oh! Yeah. Just... processing. A lot." Her gaze flicks to Jeremy-as-Lyra, who’s now demonstrating how he accidentally phased through a wall and got stuck in a chandelier. Jessica’s voice drops to a whisper. "It’s just... weird. Knowing he’s in people. That he has to be. And now he’s in Lyra of all people..."
Her cheeks flush. You don’t need Kestra’s thief instincts to guess why that bothers her.
---
Quick Actions:
{You joke her, "At least your stolen Blessings don't come with personalities attached to them, like mine do."
She laughs drawing attention to you both.}
Jessica snorts, her laugh breaking through the tension like sunlight. "Yeah, guess I should be thanking the gods I just got stuck with a pervert and not a whole committee in my head." Her voice carries just enough that several heads turn—including Jeremy-as-Lyra’s, who gasps in mock offense.
"Rude!" he declares, pressing Lyra’s delicate hands to her chest. "I’m a treasure."
Lyra’s real soul sighs in your mind. "He’s really leaning into this, isn’t he?"
The queen clears her throat loudly. "As adorable as this is, we have a curse to dismantle. Focus."
Kestra mutters: "Buzzkill."
---
{Ask about the royal record and say Lyra already told you about the origin. (Story rule because of the curse most characters are female or in female bodies.)}
You raise a hand, cutting through the murmurs of the court. "Lyra already told us about the curse’s origin—Seraphine’s last act. But stories lie, or omit. What do the royal archives say?"
The queen’s lips thin. "Officially? That the Duskreach Coven’s curse was unprovoked. Unofficially..." She nods to a hooded archivist, who scurries forward with a weathered scroll. "My ancestor, King Aldric, broke their pact. He swore to marry Seraphine’s heir to unite the kingdoms—then burned their coven at the altar instead."
A collective gasp ripples through the room.
Princess Elara’s soul hisses in your mind. "No wonder her curse was vicious. We earned this."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Your family’s messy, princess."
The queen continues, weary. "The curse was meant to end our line. But over generations, it grew—infecting all men. Now, we’re out of time."
---
{"How have you survived, because I would have thought that without men, and I mean this respectfully, that your kingdom would have collapsed by now." You asked head bowed.}
The queen’s expression darkens, but not at you—at the truth of the question itself. "We have been collapsing," she admits, her voice low. "Slowly. Invisibly. Our fields yield less. Our soldiers are fewer. Births decline each year—not just of boys, but of all children. The curse gnaws at the roots of life itself."
She gestures to the court around her—all women, from the knights to the scribes to the blacksmiths. "We’ve adapted. Women took up roles once forbidden to us. We trade with neighboring kingdoms for seed and strength. But it’s a stopgap. Without breaking the curse, Lifire will wither within two generations."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind, pained. "Mother never speaks this plainly. She must truly trust you."
Kestra’s grin is sharp. "Or she’s really desperate."
---
{"Did Seraphine potentially have any descendants?"}
The queen exhales—a slow, measured breath—before nodding to the archivist again. The hooded woman produces another scroll, this one sealed in cracked black wax.
"Seraphine had a daughter," the queen says quietly. "A child hidden before the massacre. The records suggest she fled to the Veiled Peaks—a range near the coven’s ruins. But we’ve never found proof she lived... or that her line endured."
A charged silence follows.
Then, from the back of the room, Alex pushes her glasses up her nose and mutters, "So we’re hunting a maybe-witch who might hold the key to unfucking this mess. Cool. Cool."
Kestra’s laugh is downright giddy. "Oh, this just got spicy."
---
{"You kneel in prayer, before sarcastically saying, "Alright mighty Clutz may we borrow but a moment of your time for advice."
The Goddess actually shows up, "Your lucky I find you funny."}
The air shimmers with a sound like shattering stained glass—and then the goddess tumbles into existence, tripping over her own robes before catching herself on a conveniently placed (and very startled) knight’s shoulder.
"You’re lucky I find you funny," she huffs, straightening her silver hair. A few stars fall out of it. "And lucky I’m not smiting you for the ‘clutz’ comment." She eyes the kneeling courtiers, the queen’s stunned face, and Jeremy still mid-possession of Lyra’s body. "...Wow. You’ve been busy."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Told you she’d show up."
You gesture grandly to the chaos. "We need to find Seraphine’s descendants. Got any divine hints?" The goddess taps her chin. "Hmm. Well, I could just tell you—" She pauses, then grins. "—or we could make it fun! How about a quest? Prove your worth, and I’ll point you to the last witch-blood!"
The queen looks like she’s about to combust.
---
{"If it be your will, almighty Ditz, that we should let this kingdom suffer for your errand then we must accept it." You tease, you can hear Lyra yelling.}
The goddess gasps—clutching her chest as if mortally wounded—while Lyra’s soul screams in your mind like a scandalized nun. "DANIEL!! YOU CAN’T JUST—SHE’S A GODDESS—"
The court collectively holds its breath.
Then the deity snorts, doubling over with laughter. "Oh, wow, I like you!" She wipes a starry tear from her eye. "Fine, fine. Since you’re hilarious—and because I did kind of mess up your summoning—here’s a freebie: The witch-blood you seek is already in this room."
Silence.
Then—gasps, chairs scraping, hands flying to weapons. The queen stands so fast her throne topples backward.
"What."
The goddess winks. "Oops. Spoilers~"
---
{The Queen orders the room locked down, but then a dark laughter emerges from the summoner.}
A slow, creeping laugh cuts through the chaos—dry as crumbling parchment. The head summoner, Elder Maris, peels back her hood, revealing eyes now blazing with violet fire.
"Oh, Isolda," she croons, her voice layered with a second, older rasp. "You thought your family’s sin could be buried forever?" The air around her warps, her robes melting into tattered witch’s weeds, her staff twisting into a gnarled black thorn. "Seraphine’s blood runs in my veins. And I’ve waited centuries to watch your line choke on its own curse."
The queen pales. "Maris... you—"
"Not just Maris." The witch’s grin splits her face too wide. "She welcomed me in years ago. A fitting host for the last daughter of Duskreach."
Kestra’s soul squees. "Possession inception! I love this!"
---
{"Mother will be waiting. And now she knows the heroes powers." The witch says being slitting her throat.}
The witch’s grin turns feral as she drags a jagged nail across her own throat—black blood bubbling forth like tar. "Mother waits," she gurgles. "And now... she knows you."
Her body collapses—but the black blood liquefies, slithering across the floor like a living shadow before vanishing between the cracks in the stone.
Silence.
Then—
"Well," Jeremy-as-Lyra says brightly. "That was horrifying."
The queen sways, gripping her overturned throne for support. "Seraphine... lives?"
Princess Elara’s soul whispers in your mind, trembling: "We need to find her. Now."
---
{"Your majesty, is possible to do a smaller hero summon."}
The queen’s fingers tighten on the armrest of her throne, her knuckles whitening. "A smaller summoning?" she echoes, her voice edged with exhaustion and suspicion.
You nod. "If Seraphine is alive—or at least her consciousness lingers—then she’s clearly tied to the curse. But she also just got a full report on our abilities. We need an edge she doesn’t expect."
The queen’s gaze flicks to the remaining summoners—now huddled together, their faces pale. "It’s possible," one of them admits. "But the ritual requires immense power, and after the last one... our reserves are depleted."
The goddess, still lounging mid-air like an amused spectator, twirls a lock of silver hair. "Oh, I could help with that~"
The queen’s eyes narrow. "At what cost?"
The goddess grins. "Entertainment. Drama. Maybe a little chaos."
---
{Agree to her terms. She summons your Ex, but with full knowledge of the current situation.}
The goddess claps her hands together with a sound like a thousand bells ringing. "Perfect! Let’s make this interesting!"
The air ripples—then tears—as a familiar figure tumbles out of the rift and lands face-first on the throne room floor.
"Ow. What the hell—"
Your stomach drops.
Because standing there, brushing off her jeans and glaring at you with begrudging recognition, is Hailey—your ex-girlfriend.
Her dark hair is still in that messy ponytail she always wore, her favorite leather jacket slung over a band T-shirt. She looks exactly like she did the day she dumped you—right down to the unimpressed arch of her brow.
And then she smirks.
"Wow. So this is your messed-up isekai arc? Figures." She cracks her knuckles. "Alright. The goddess filled me in. Let’s go break a curse."
Kestra’s soul howls with laughter. "OH MY GOD. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
---
{Ask Hailey about her Blessing. She pause for a moment, "Sorry but its better if I keep it to myself, incase of another hidden witch."}
Hailey’s smirk doesn’t waver as she shrugs. "Nice try. But I’m not spilling my blessing in a room full of people who might also be secret witch-spawn." She taps the side of her nose. "Gotta keep some surprises for the finale."
Kestra’s soul vibrates with glee. "Ohhh, she’s good. I like her."
Princess Elara’s copy steps forward, eyes narrowed. "You expect us to trust you without knowing your power?"
Hailey rolls her eyes. "Trust? No. Use me? Absolutely. Same difference with him, right?" She jerks a thumb at you.
The queen exhales sharply. "Enough. If the goddess vouches for her, we proceed." She turns to Hailey. "But the moment you betray us—"
"Yeah, yeah, execute me dramatically. Got it." Hailey waves her off, then leans toward you, voice dropping. "P.S.? You owe me for this."
---
{Talk to Hailey privately but not about her blessing, you can respect her reasoning.}
You wait until the queen dismisses the court (with orders to prepare for war) before grabbing Hailey’s elbow and steering her into a vaulted hallway—just out of earshot. The moment you’re alone, she smirks up at you.
"Wow. Still bossy in another world, huh?"
You ignore the jab. "I get not revealing your blessing. But are you actually here to help, or just to screw with me?"
Hailey’s grin fades. She studies you for a long moment—then sighs. "Look. The goddess literally yanked me out of my apartment mid-microwave meal for this. If I wanted to mess with you, I’d have stayed home and keyed your car." A pause. "...Okay, that was a joke. Mostly."
She folds her arms. "Point is, yeah. I’ll help. But I’m doing it my way."
Kestra’s soul whispers: "She’s totally gonna betray us in a cool way later."
---
"Look I understand if your still hate me for what happened, but how have you been since the accident." You ask.}
Hailey’s smirk vanishes. For a second, she just stares at you—like she’s trying to decide if you’re serious. Then her shoulders slump.
"You mean since you got drunk at Jake’s party and I had to drive your dumbass home, only for us to crash because you panicked and grabbed the wheel?" Her voice is low, raw. "Since my arm got crushed and I lost my scholarship because I couldn’t play volleyball anymore?"
A beat. The air between you is suddenly heavy.
Then she shakes her head, forcing a laugh. "Wow. Yeah, Dan. I’ve been great."
Kestra’s soul winces. "Yikes. And I thought my exes were messy."
---
{You quietly say, "I never forgave myself for ruining your future, I went to the hospital twice when Mom find me mid suicide, first time from cut wrists and the second from OD on my anti-depressents. Its part of the reason you were ghosted, parents moved us, they also deleted you from everything thinking it would help but it got worse when you sent the letter calling me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony. You were my best friend and first love. I'd show you the scars but Kestra's body doesn't carry them." You tell her.}
You take a slow breath, Kestra's borrowed lungs tightening as you force the words out—words you've rehearsed in a thousand sleepless nights, words that taste like rust and regret.
"I never forgave myself for ruining your future." The confession hangs between you, raw as a fresh wound. "I went to the hospital twice after the accident. First time... wrists. Second time, pills. Mom found me both times."
Hailey's smirk dies.
"Parents moved us after that. Deleted you from my phone, my socials—thought it would help." Your borrowed throat bobs. "Then your letter came. Called me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony three days later."
For a heartbeat, the only sound is the distant clatter of armored boots in the throne room.
"You were my best friend. My first love." Your voice cracks. "I'd show you the scars, but..." You gesture to Kestra's unmarked forearm.
Hailey's expression does something complicated—anger melting into horror, then settling on something too close to grief.
---
{"You might not be able to show me the scars but you can still show me." She says as she places a hand on you, your memories of the fallout flowing into her.}
The moment Hailey’s hand makes contact with your chest—Kestra’s body or not—there’s a jolt, like a live wire brushing bare skin. Then the memories surge, unbidden:
- Your hands shaking as you fumble with the razor in the bathroom, your mother’s scream when she kicks in the door.
- The numb, cotton-mouthed haze of swallowing too many pills, the ER lights stabbing your eyelids.
- The letter in Hailey’s angry, slanted handwriting: ”You don’t get to run away from this.”
- The balcony railing under your palms, wind howling in your ears, your mother’s arms dragging you back—
Hailey staggers, tearing her hand away like she’s been burned. Her face is ashen. "Jesus Christ, Dan—"
For the first time since she got here, she looks lost.
Kestra’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in your mind. "...Well. That happened."
---
{You apologize for trauma dumping on her but you had holding on it your feelings since mom pulled you away from the railing.}
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "Shit. I'm sorry—that was way too much to drop on you right now. I just... never got to say any of it." Kestra's fingers flex at your sides, itching for a cigarette or a knife to fiddle with—anything to ground you. "Holding that in since... yeah. Since the balcony."
Hailey stares at you for a long moment, her arms crossed tight over her chest—like she's holding herself together. Then she snorts, but there's no humor in it. "Fuck. And I thought my therapist had her work cut out for her." She rubs her face, the ghost of her old volleyball injury twinging in her shoulder. "Look. We're not doing this now. Not here."
She jabs a finger at your chest. "But after we murder this witch and her shitty curse? We're talking. Properly."
Kestra's soul whistles. "Damn. She really used to love you, huh?"
---
{"The worst part was I never stopped missing you, but after your letter I assumed you never wanted to talk again. Jeremy's a good friend but he was quite you." You say before giving her a quick hug.}
The hug is quick—just a brief press of Kestra’s body against hers, leather creaking, warmth lingering for half a second before you pull back. But Hailey freezes for a heartbeat, her breath catching like she’d forgotten what it felt like.
"Yeah, well," she mutters, rubbing her arm—the one that used to spike a volleyball before the accident. "Turns out anger’s easier than grief." She meets your eyes, and for the first time in years, there’s no smirk, no deflection. Just honesty. "I missed you too, idiot."
Then Jeremy’s voice echoes down the hall, shattering the moment: "HEY! We’ve got witch problems! Also, the queen’s crying! It’s super awkward!"
Hailey rolls her eyes, the tension broken. "Ugh. Fine. Let’s go save a kingdom or whatever."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "God, this is better than reality TV."
---
{Next day regroup with an attack plan.}
The War Council – Dawn of the Witch Hunt
The next morning, you gather in the war room—a cavernous chamber dominated by a massive table carved with a map of the kingdom. The queen stands at its head, shadows under her eyes betraying her sleepless night. Around her, your assembled forces:
- Ms. Petrov has organized the royal archives into tactical folders (Discipline Authority makes her terrifyingly efficient).
- Alex is hunched over a stolen coven relic, muttering as her Reverse Engineer blessing deciphers its magic.
- Cara is... somehow negotiating better rations for your group while pocketing a silver candlestick.
- Jeremy (back in Jessica’s body, by popular demand) is sketching attack formations with alarming enthusiasm.
- Hailey leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.
The queen stabs a dagger into the map—right atop the Duskreach Coven ruins. "Seraphine’s lair is here. Our scouts report unnatural shadows pooling in the valley. She’s preparing."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind: "We’ll need to strike fast. Before she fully awakens."
---
{"I'll lead a frontal charge and draw her attention." You start.}
"While I lead the frontal charge and draw her attention," you declare, rolling your shoulders. The weight of the collected souls within you hums in agreement—each a fragment of power ready to be unleashed.
The queen’s gaze sharpens. "A distraction?"
You nod. "Exactly. Seraphine expects us to come in sneaky, like her assassins and shadows. So we hit her loud." You gesture to the map. "Me, Jeremy in Jessica’s body for range, and the royal knights will assault the ruins head-on. While she’s focused on us—"
"—The rest slip in behind," Mara’s copy finishes, her assassin’s grin sharp. "Moonlight Dance makes me very good at backstabbing."
Hailey pushes off the wall. "I’ll go with the stealth team."
You raise a brow.
She smirks. "What? I told you I’m doing this my way."
---
{"Your majesty, can use Royal Decree so that the war plan can not be dicscussed outside the room by anyone. Petrov use your Authority to reinforce it and I'll use Victoria's Shadowweave to attached it to attach it every heart."}
The queen's eyes gleam with grim approval. "A binding of three blessings? Ruthless. I like it."
She rises, her voice echoing with Royal Decree's weight:
"None shall speak of this battle plan beyond these walls—not in whispers, not in writing, not even in thought shared knowingly with outsiders!" Golden light sears the air, sinking into the skin of every person present.
Ms. Petrov steps forward, her Discipline Authority flaring like a whip-crack:
"And so you shall obey." The compulsion tightens around them all like a vice.
Then you summon Victoria's Shadowweave—tendrils of darkness snaking from your fingertips to coil around each chest, merging with their heartbeats.
"Any betrayal," you murmur, watching the shadows pulse in time with their breath, "and these threads will strangle the secret before it's spoken."
A stunned silence follows.
Hailey whistles. "Damn. You have gotten scarier."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Oh, we are so keeping this blessing."
---
{Spend the rest the finalizing a war plan.}
THE FINAL WAR PLAN
The table rattles as you plant your palms on the map, eyes scanning your assembled forces.
1. DISTRACTION SQUAD (FRONTAL ASSAULT)
- You – Using Shadowweave to command darkness + Stormcaller (via Elara’s soul) to summon storms.
- Jeremy (in Jessica’s body) – Utilizing Beast Tamer to call wild creatures as fodder, Skill Share to mimic archers.
- Royal Knights (led by Siris’s copy) – Dog of War boosts their defensive strength exponentially when protecting allies.
- Lyra’s copy – Holy Prayer support (barriers, healing light).
2. STEALTH TEAM (BACKSTAB SPECIAL)
- Mara – Moonlight Dance makes her untraceable in shadows. Her mission: slit throats, plant cursed explosives (stolen by Cara).
- Hailey – ??? (Still won’t reveal her blessing, but insists she can "handle the witch").
- Alex – Carrying Reverse Engineered coven relics to disarm traps mid-siege.
3. WILDCARD
- Cara – Silvertongue will impersonate a fleeing Duskreach cultist to sow chaos in Seraphine’s ranks.
- Ms. Petrov – Discipline Authority will override fleeing soldiers to make them fight harder for you.
- Victoria’s copy – Using Shadowweave to telepathically sync the teams’ movements.
---
The Plan in Motion:
- Phase 1: You and Jeremy’s team trigger the coven’s wards with a literal storm of lightning and beasts, drawing Seraphine’s attention.
- Phase 2: Mara and Hailey infiltrate during the chaos, aiming for the ritual heart of the ruins.
- Phase 3: If Seraphine emerges, You unleash everything*.
The queen seals the plan by slicing her palm and smearing blood across the map. "For Lifire."
Hailey leans in as the others disperse. "Hey. Don’t die before we have that talk."
You smirk. "Wasn’t planning on it."
---
"You start the attack at night.}
Midnight Assault – Duskreach Ruins
The night swallows the valley whole as you stand at the edge of the ruins, the skeletons of blackened towers clawing at the starless sky. The air reeks of spoiled magic and wet earth—like a storm left to rot.
"Ready?" you murmur to Jeremy (still riding Jessica’s body like a stolen bicycle).
He grins, rolling her shoulders. "Born ready."
You raise a hand. The shadows coil around your fingers—Victoria’s Shadowweave—then Elara’s Stormcaller crackles in your veins.
You strike.
---
### PHASE 1: DISTRACTION SQUAD GOES LOUD
- Your opening move: A thunderclap so violent it shatters the ruins’ outer wards. Lightning forks from your fingertips, searing glyphs into the ground as the earth itself trembles.
- Jeremy-in-Jessica cups her hands around her mouth and shrieks—Beast Tamer’s power sending a wave of howls erupting from the forest. Wolves, bears, even a very confused griffin come stampeding toward the coven.
- Lyra’s copy raises her arms, golden light flaring as Holy Prayer shields the royal knights—just as the first volley of cursed arrows rains down from the towers.
From the depths of the ruins, a laugh echoes—honeyed and horrible.
"Little heroes." Seraphine’s voice is everywhere at once, the shadows pooling into a towering figure above the broken spires. "You brought me toys!"
---
### PHASE 2: STEALTH TEAM MOVES
- Mara is already gone—just a flicker of motion in the periphery, Moonlight Dance making her a ghost among ghosts.
- Hailey cracks her knuckles, then bolts toward a side passage—not sneaking. Sprinting. Like she wants to be seen.
- Alex ducks behind a pillar, her stolen coven relic humming as she Reverse Engineers the ruin’s traps one by one.
---
### SERAPHINE STRIKES BACK
The shadow-figure descends, her form solidifying into a woman with Seraphine’s face—but wrong. Too many teeth. Eyes like pits. She flicks a wrist, and the ground erupts with skeletal hands, dragging three knights under in seconds.
"I’ve tasted your souls already," she croons, lashing a whip of violet fire toward you. "Let’s see how you burn—"
---
{Counter with a mix of Stormcaller and Hearthfire.}
You dig your heels into the cracked earth and let go.
Stormcaller erupts first—a spear of white-hot lightning lancing from the sky straight toward Seraphine’s whip of violet fire. The collision shatters the darkness, the concussion wave sending cultists flying like ragdolls.
But lightning alone won’t be enough.
So you reach deeper—to Lena’s Hearthfire, warm and steady in your chest. The flames that spill from your palms aren’t destructive; they’re living. They coil around the lightning like a lover’s embrace, turning the raw fury of the storm into something worse for Seraphine—purification.
Her whip screams as the flames crawl up its length, a sound like glass breaking in reverse. The shadow-figure recoils, her form flickering—
"You ignorant child—" she snarls, but the Hearthfire doesn’t stop. It spreads, clinging to her essence like holy kerosene.
---
### HAILEY’S GAMBIT
While Seraphine’s distracted, Hailey leaps onto the central ritual altar—where a pulsing, blackened heart throbs with cursed energy. She doesn’t hesitate.
She stabs it.
Not with a blade.
With her bare hand.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then—
Hailey’s body convulses, her spine arching as black veins explode across her skin.
"Huh," she grits out, grinning through the pain. "Guess Corruption Eater works on god-tier curses too."
---
{Unleash a fully mixed version of the Blessings inside of you.}
You don’t hesitate.
"Everyone back!" you roar—then let go of every limit.
The souls inside you scream in unison as you force their blessings to merge:
- Stormcaller’s lightning twists with Hearthfire’s purity, becoming a storm that burns but does not consume.
- Holy Prayer’s golden light fuses with Shadowweave’s darkness, creating a paradox—shadows that heal, light that blinds.
- Moonlight Dance’s agility melds with Dog of War’s endurance, turning your body into a weapon of impossible precision.
The power ruptures out of you in a tidal wave of contradiction, a kaleidoscope of magic that should not exist.
It hits Seraphine like a fist of god.
Her shadow-form shatters, her scream fracturing into a thousand echoes as the merged blessings unmake her. The ruins quake, the sky splits, and for a single, blinding moment—
The curse breaks.
A pulse of golden light washes over the land, the withered trees groaning as life floods back into their roots. The knights gasp as old wounds close; the air itself sings.
And then—
Hailey collapses, the black veins receding from her skin as the last of the curse dissipates from her body.
---
{You pass out, the last you hear is someone calling you, "Dumbass."}
Darkness swallows you whole—but not before you hear Hailey’s voice, fond and exasperated, cutting through the fog:
"Dumbass."
Then—nothing.
---
### AWAKENING
You come to in a sunlit room, the scent of herbs and fresh linen thick in the air. Your body aches like you’ve been trampled by a cavalry, but you’re alive.
"Took you long enough," Hailey mutters from the chair beside your bed. There’s a bandage peeking under her sleeve, her old injury freshly stitched—but she’s smirking. "You’ve been out for three days. The queen’s been freaking out."
Kestra’s soul stirs in your mind, groggy but smug. "Oh good. We’re not dead."
Through the window, you see a kingdom healing—men and women working side by side in the fields, children laughing in streets no longer shadowed by plague.
---
{Check your soul. "Everyone okay. (Each merged soul answers back in an uniquely them way.)}
You close your eyes and reach inward, listening to the choir of souls housed within you—each responding in turn:
- Kestra purrs like a satisfied cat: "Oh honey, I’m fantastic. Especially now that we’re local heroes."
- Lena’s voice is warm as ever: "We’re all here. And… it’s kind of nice, honestly. Like a really weird sleepover."
- Victoria cackles: "Ugh. Do not make it sound wholesome. But yeah, I’m good."
- Lyra chimes in, bright as a hymn: "Divine blessings intact! Though, ah… please never do that again?"
- Siris grunts: "Still standing. And pissed I missed the final fight."
- Mara sighs dreamily: "Watching you annihilate a centuries-old curse? Best job I ever had."
- Elara hums, regal but amused: "Mother sends her regards. Also, she might adopt you."
Hailey raises a brow as you smirk. "What?"
"Just taking roll call," you say.
She snorts. "Freak."
---
{"So about that talk." You say. And the two of talk about every for the rest of the day}
The two of you talk—really talk—for the first time in years.
Hailey sits on the edge of your bed, sunlight streaming through the window as she unpacks it all: the anger, the grief, the way she hated you for leaving but missed you anyway. You tell her about the guilt, the therapy, the way your parents’ "fixes" only made it worse. There are tears. There’s yelling. There’s a very awkward moment when Jeremy tries to barge in with a tray of "emotional support snacks" and gets a pillow thrown at his head.
But by the time the sun sets, something unclenches in your chest.
"So," Hailey says, kicking her feet up on your mattress. "What now? You’re basically a demigod here. I’m stuck in Fantasyland with zero marketable skills. Do we, like… rebuild?"
Kestra’s soul pipes up: "Or we conquer. Just saying."
Hailey rolls her eyes. "I heard that."
---
{"Even if a way home is found I think I will stay here. My plan is to travel the world, helping those that need it. Your welcome to join me." You tell her.
She shakes her head, "I have people who need me, but you need someone to keep you alive, so let this me join your little collection and the copy can go home in my place. My copy can even say she met you in passing and she learned the truth and made up with you." She replies.
(Scene ends with you on a pier about to start your travels. Everyone is there to see you off.)}
### FINAL SCENE: THE PIER
The morning sun glitters on the harbor as you stand at the edge of the dock, sea breeze tugging at your cloak. The entire crew—your crew—has gathered to see you off:
- Jeremy is in (reluctant) possession of a seagull, flapping wildly as he squawks about "optimal wind currents."
- Jessica rolls her eyes but hands you a carefully wrapped bundle of supplies. "Try not to drown."
- Lena’s copy hugs you tight, whispering, "She likes you, you know." (You pretend not to hear.)
- Ms. Petrov gives you a rare smile. "Try not to destroy any more kingdoms."
- Alex shoves a sketchy-looking homemade compass into your hands. "It might lead to other cursed artifacts. Or explode. 50/50."
- Cara winks. "If you find any shiny cursed artifacts, I get first dibs."
- The queen clasps your shoulder. "Lifire will always shelter you."
Then there’s Hailey—or rather, the copy of Hailey, who gives you a cheeky salute before turning back toward the palace. The real Hailey is already inside you, her soul settling alongside the others with a contented sigh.
"Alright, loser," she murmurs in your mind. "Where to first?"
You grin, adjusting your bag.
"Wherever the wind takes us."
And as the ship pulls away from the dock, Kestra’s voice—ever the opportunist—chirps:
"I call dibs on the first treasure hoard we find."
---
{You return from your travels a couple of years later, (with a pirate captain named Elizabeth and a Blind Shrine Maiden named Sakura added into your collection), to ask the Queen for help. "Seraphina and her curse were a pawn and worse than that, we found another pawn with an equally deadly curse. Its located in the Icey Kingdom in the North, contained for now. If that was already bad enough, I suspect that there are others. One for each of the seven kindoms."
(Elizabeth's copy was executed a week after you added her, Sakura's copy was killed in a robbery after you added her.
Elizabeth's Blessing: Tiderider
Sakura's Blessing: Seer)}
RETURN TO LIFIRE – TWO YEARS LATER
The palace guards stiffen as you stride through the gilded gates—older, wearier, and flanked by two new souls whispering in your mind:
- Elizabeth, the tempest-eyed pirate captain, whose Tiderider blessing lets her command waves like a vengeful siren. "Ugh. Royalty. Hope the queen’s got decent booze this time."
- Sakura, the blind shrine maiden, her Seer blessing humming with eerie prescience. "The northern ice is already cracking… We’re not fast enough."
Queen Isolda rises from her throne, her gaze sharpening at your grim expression. "You look like death walking."
You toss a frost-rimed journal onto the marble floor—pages splayed to reveal sketches of a glacier prison, its dark core pulsing with the same cursed energy as Seraphine’s ruins.
"Seraphine was a pawn," you say. "And we found another. The Ice Kingdom’s barely containing theirs. I’d bet my soul there’s five more."
Princess Elara’s soul recoils. "A network of curses?"
Hailey’s voice is taut. "This just became a global problem."
---
{"Petrov, do you remember the seven sins?" You ask.}
Ms. Petrov's eyes narrow, her fingers tightening around her ledger. "Pride, Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth," she recites, her voice sharp. "You think Seraphine's curse was just one piece of a larger system?"
You nod. "And not just any system—an engineered one." You flip the frost-crusted journal open to a page where Sakura's meticulous notes map out the seven kingdoms—each with a curse manifesting differently, but all carrying the same taint.
"Seraphine was Wrath," you say, tapping the sketch of her ruins. "The Ice Kingdom's curse? Gluttony. It doesn't just kill—it consumes, leaving frozen husks."
Kestra's soul hisses. "So some psycho built a world-ending machine out of sins?"
Hailey, restless in your mind, adds, "And we’ve got front-row seats to the collapse."
---
{"You majesty, to the best of your knowledge which sin would fit each kingdom, given what we currently know." You ask.}
The queen hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of her throne as she consults centuries of kingdom lore. "If we follow the pattern..."
She lists them, one by one:
1. Lifire (Wrath) – "An all-consuming vengeance. Seraphine’s curse burned inward, killing men first, then the land itself."
2. The Ice Reaches (Gluttony) – "The northern reports speak of villages vanishing overnight—swallowed by the snow, as if hungry."
3. The Verdant Expanse (Envy) – "Their crops grow unnaturally abundant, but those who eat them wither, coveting the health of their neighbors."
4. The Ashwind Dominion (Pride) – "Their rulers never age, never fall ill… but their people crumble to dust at their feet. A supreme arrogance."5. The Chainbreaker Isles (Greed) – "Pirate lords hoard cursed gold, drowning in it. Ships vanish into their coves, never to return."
6. The Hollow Delta (Lust) – "Bewitchments so potent they dissolve minds. Victims waste away chasing phantoms."
7. The Bastion of Stone (Sloth) – "A kingdom where time itself crawls. Citizens lie down one day… and never rise."
A chilling silence follows.
Sakura’s soul trembles. "Seven curses. Seven thrones. A perfect circle of ruin."
---
{"I plan to return to the Ice Reaches because I promised to help them, Hailey's Corruption Eater combined with Lena's Hearthfire gave a fighting chance. If you could spare a summoner so they can preform a summoning ritual, it would be apreciated. Also Petrov, you might be the best suited to aid the Hollow Delta, I would take a summoner as well. What I have learned is the summoning ritual does respond to intent."}
The queen exhales sharply, her fingers tightening around the arms of her throne before she gives a single, decisive nod. "You’ll have your summoners. And you’re right—intent shapes the ritual." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "Discipline Authority will be vital in the Delta. If their curse seduces minds, then command may be the only counterbalance."
Ms. Petrov adjusts her glasses with a faint smirk. "Finally, a civilization that needs a stern lecture."
One of the younger summoners—Lyra’s former apprentice—steps forward, clutching a grimoire to her chest. "I’ll go to the Ice Reaches with you," she says, trying (and failing) to hide the tremor in her voice. "I-it’s not like we’ve got better options."
"And I, Dyena" rumbles a grizzled summoner with a scar over one eye, "will endure the Delta’s charms." He nods to Ms. Petrov. "Try not to discipline me by accident."
Hailey’s soul stirs, restless. "So we’re splitting the party. Classic horror-movie rules. What could go wrong?"
Kestra’s laugh is all teeth. "Ohhh, this’ll be fun."
---
{Before you leave you ask about the rest of your class.}
"And my classmates?" You ask, chest tightening at the thought. "How are they?"
The queen's expression softens—just slightly—as she gestures for an attendant to hand you a scroll of reports.
### STATUS OF YOUR CLASS:
- Jeremy: Now the royal "Isekai Consultant" (a job he definitely invented). Uses Skill Share to train knights and avoid actual work. (Still flirts with Jessica daily.)
- Jessica: Runs the kingdom’s fledgling Beast Tamer Corps. Her direwolf pups are almost as terrifying as her glare when Jeremy’s being an idiot.
- Lena (Copy): Oversees Lifire’s restored farmlands with Hearthfire, coaxing life from once-blighted soil. (Still blushes when your name comes up.)
- Victoria (Copy): Leads the "Nightweavers"—elite spies using Shadowweave to infiltrate rival courts. (Very invested in blackmail.)
- Cara: Now the queen’s "diplomat" (read: professional swindler). Uses Silvertongue to negotiate outrageously favorable trade deals.
- Alex: Head of the Arcane Research Division. Currently devising a way to "weaponize" Reverse Engineer. (The queen is concerned.)
- Ms. Petrov: Promoted to Grand Inquisitor. Her Discipline Authority keeps the royal court in line. (No one dares skip meetings now.)
"Alive," the queen summarizes. "Thriving, even. And your stunt with the goddess made them all... louder."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Good. They’re all our legacy now."
---
{Send a letter, telling of the situation. You and your assigned summoner leave later that same day.}
Your pen moves swiftly across parchment, detailing the discovery of the seven curses—Wrath already felled, Gluttony looming in the north, five more lurking like coiled serpents. You leave out the worst of your suspicions (the architect, the scale of the doom) but make it clear: this is far from over. The letters are sealed with a drop of Hearthfire, ensuring only their intended recipients can break the wax.
As the sun dips below the palace walls, you shoulder your pack—now laden with frost-warding charms and the young summoner’s grimoire. Your assigned summoner, Ryn, clutches her staff with white-knuckled determination. "...Do you really think we can stop this?"
Elizabeth’s soul laughs darkly. "We’ll drown the curse in salt and blood if we have to."
Sakura whispers: "The ice is already sighing. We must hurry."
With a final glance at Lifire’s glittering towers, you step onto the northern road.
---
{As Elizabeth's crew tske you back North, Ryn comes up beside you. "Would be alright if I join Big Sis Lyra "}
The moment the words leave Ryn's mouth, Lyra's soul practically vibrates with joy inside you, her divine warmth pulsing like an overexcited heartbeat.
"YES! Oh, please say yes—! Wait, no, don’t pressure her—but also yes—"
You smirk. "Lyra’s already drafting the adoption papers in my head."
Ryn blinks, then grins—bold for the first time since the palace. "Then it’s settled." She presses her palm to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as she murmurs the binding words of the merging ritual.
The moment her soul slips into yours, Lyra tackles her with a psychic hug.
"Welcome to the chaos, little sister!"
Kestra sighs. "We’re running a soul orphanage now? Fine. But I get to teach her to pick locks."
Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp as a cutlass: "Enough squawking. Ice ahead."
Sure enough, the horizon bleeds into a wall of impossible glaciers, their jagged peaks biting the sky—and deep within, something gnaws at its chains.
---
{"Hey Lucy, can I borrow a smite." You say invoking Lyra's blessing, The Goddess (Lucina, she told you one day during your travels) humors you.}
You raise your hands toward the sky, channeling Lyra’s Holy Prayer, and call out with a grin:
"Hey Lucy—can I borrow a smite?"
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then—
A titanic, glowing foot crushes a nearby iceberg into powder as the goddess Lucina materializes mid-air—though "materializes" might be generous, given that she immediately trips on her own robe and faceplants into the deck.
"Ow," she grumbles, rubbing her nose as she floats upright. "You’re lucky I was already watching. Also, since when do mortals nickname me?!"
Ryn (the newest soul in your collection) squeaks. "We’re casual with a deity?!"
Kestra smirks. "Oh, just wait till you see what’s next."
Lucina rolls her eyes—then freezes as she senses the wrongness bleeding from the glacier ahead. Her usual air of divine whimsy evaporates.
"...Oh. That’s Gluttony?" She shudders. "It reeksss of old magic. Not mine. Older."
---
{"There's five others." You tell her.}
Lucina’s glowing eyes widen, her usual clumsiness momentarily forgotten as the weight of your words settles over her. The air around her shimmers with agitated divine energy, like disturbed water.
"Five more?" Her voice drops to a whisper—something you’ve never heard from her before. "That’s not just a curse. That’s a weapon. A scalpel." She floats closer, her fingers twitching toward the glacier. "Someone shaped this. And they had to be…" She hesitates, then looks truly unsettled. "Stronger than me."
A cold that has nothing to do with the ice slithers down your spine.
Kestra’s soul is uncharacteristically quiet. "...Shit."
Hailey’s voice is grim. "Yeah. Shit."
---
{"Doesn't change the plan, we still have to end the curses. But at least we have scale of the problem now." You grunt.}
Lucina stares at you for a long moment—then bursts into laughter, the sound like silver bells and shattering ice. "Mortals. Truly my favorite kind of disaster." She flicks a hand, and a ripple of golden light punches a hole straight through the glacier ahead, exposing its pulsing, blackened core.
"There. A door." She grins. "Now go stab the problem until it stops moving."
Before you can react, she boops your forehead—her blessing flaring in your veins like liquid sunlight—and vanishes, leaving behind only the echo of her voice:
"P.S. If you die, I’ll bring you back just to yell at you."
Hailey’s soul cracks her knuckles. "Alright. Let’s eat a curse."
---
{"ANYONE NOT NECESSARY FOR NAVIGATION, GUARD RYN UNTIL THE HERO IS SUMMONED." You shout out the order as frozen undead creatures begin to board.}
### BATTLE FOR THE RITUAL
Your voice booms across the deck, cutting through the howling winds. Instantly, the crew snaps into action.
- Elizabeth’s pirates form a steel ring around Ryn, cutlasses and pistols glinting under the shifting auroras.
- Sakura’s soul flares inside you—her Seer blessing casting ghostly premonitions that let the crew strike where the undead will be, not where they are.
- Hailey braces beside you, crackling with Corruption Eater’s volatile energy. "I’ll bite anything that gets too close."
Then the ice-walkers come.
Shambling corpses with frosted, hollowed-out ribs and eyes like frozen voids swarm the ship’s railings. Their jaws unhinge with a sound like splintering glaciers, and the very air around them sags—as if reality itself is being consumed.
Ryn’s voice shakes as she chants, the summoning circle at her feet flaring brighter. "I—I need two more minutes—"
A towering undead lurches past the defenders, its claw swiping for her—
---
{You intercept letting Hailey's Blessing flow through you. The hero summoned is Eric (now allowed to be summoned), who because of your intent has knowledge of the situation at hand}
### FROSTBITE AND FURY
You hurl yourself in front of Ryn, Kestra’s body twisting mid-air to take the undead’s full strike—raking claws bury into your torso, an immediate, gnawing cold seeping into your core. The curse burns like swallowed knives, but—
Hailey’s power erupts through you.
Black veins spiderweb across your skin as Corruption Eater locks onto Gluttony’s curse—devouring the decay before it can consume you. The undead’s hollow eyes widen as its stolen energy is ripped backward, surging into you instead. Its body shatters into brittle frost.
Ryn’s scream cuts through the chaos: "IT’S DONE!"
The summoning circle implodes with blinding light—and Eric tumbles onto the deck.
---
### HERO SUMMONED: ERIC
He looks exactly like he did in class—muscled, cocky, already scowling. But his glare snaps to the undead horde, his body instinctively shifting into a fighter’s stance. "Oh, hell no."
His blessing flares to life above his palm—a swirling sigil of Brute’s Will (passive: grows stronger the longer he’s in combat). "So. We punch the cursed snow zombies?"
Ryn pants, grinning wildly. "YES."
---
{After the fight, as your docking.
You ask about Earth.
Eric explains that 15 years have gone by since the class was intially summoned, leaving only him behind. "The class was declared dead, since no one came back. But thanks to Haliey's copy, who returned a year after with letters from you all, the fate of the class was finally reveal. I was angry at first, that despite the summoning being meant only for the girls, you and the idiot still got sucked up but then I heard you both lost your bodies so the summon could work I became glad I wasn't included."}
### AFTERMATH – THE HARBOR OF FROZEN TEARS
The ship groans as it scrapes against the glacial dock, the remnants of the undead horde now shattered across the ice like discarded glass. The air still hums with residual curse-energy, but the immediate threat is over—for now. Eric leans against the railing beside you, his breath fogging in the subzero air, his Brute’s Will blessing still pulsing faintly under his skin.
The revelation about Earth sits heavy between you.
"Fifteen years..." You exhale, watching the mist curl and vanish. "We’ve only been here for three."**
Eric’s jaw tightens. "Time’s fucked. No one knows why, but the portal screwed with it. Everyone back home thought you were gone—until Hailey’s copy showed up with your letters." He scoffs, but there’s no real heat in it. "At least the families got closure. Well. Most of ‘em."
A pause.
"Jessica’s parents cried when they read hers."
You don’t ask about your own.
Kestra’s soul whispers, "...Damn."
---
THE NEW REALITY:
- Earth moved on. You were mourned. Now? You’re legends in two worlds.
- Eric’s here for good. His blessing makes him stronger the longer he fights—perfect for Gluttony’s endless siege.
- Hailey’s copy lied smoothly. She spun a tale of "heroic sacrifices" and "otherworldly duties," ensuring no one searched for you.
---
{"Alright there's a local that helped me get out that I'm gonna regroup with. He and sister should help you get to the curse bearer." You say steering the conversation back to the curse.}
Eric shrugs, his breath puffing in the frigid air. "Yeah, sure. But just so we're clear—I'm not calling you 'Oh Mighty Slime King' just because you're technically older than me now."
You snort, leading the way down the icy dock toward the ramshackle outpost clinging to the glacier's edge. "His name's Jorvik. Runs supplies between the frozen hellholes up here. His sister, Ylva, is a Berzerker—blessing lets her weaponize cold damage."
Hailey’s soul perks up. "Wait. You befriended a berserker and a smuggler in the two weeks you were here before?"
Kestra cackles. "Duh. We’re likable."
As you approach the moss-chinked wooden doors of the Froststead Inn, a hulking figure draped in frost-laced furs throws them open—Jorvik. His beard is half-frozen, his grin sharp as a wolf's.
"Back already, slippery one?" he booms. "And you brought more doomed heroes! Wonderful!" Behind him, a woman with twin ice-axes glares—Ylva, her breath steaming like a kettle.
"The curse is waking up," she snaps. "You’re just in time to die."
---
{"Eric here was summoned and giving a blessing that makes him ideal to fight Lich King Dravagoth." You tell the pair.}
Ylva's frost-crusted eyelashes narrow as she studies Eric, sizing him up like a cut of meat. "Brute’s Will. Tch. Fine. He’ll last longer than the others."
Jorvik slaps Eric’s shoulder hard enough to stagger him—which, given Eric’s build, is impressive. "Hah! A man who grows stronger the more he’s beaten? Dravagoth will hate you."
Eric scowls, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, great. Love being the bait."
"Not bait," Ylva corrects, hefting her axes. "The distraction." She points to a jagged fissure in the glacier’s face, pulsing with an eerie violet glow. "Dravagoth’s lair is there. Every time we’ve gotten close, his hunger-magic drains us before we land a hit. But you?" She nods to Eric. "The more he takes, the harder you’ll hit back."
Kestra’s soul hums. "Ohhh, so we’re angry-sandwiching him. Classic."
---
{You ask about the failed heroes, "Maybe they didn't have die in vain. Their deaths can tell us about how the curse bearer fights."}
Jorvik and Ylva exchange a glance before the burly supply-runner wipes the frozen snot from his beard with a sigh.
"Four parties tried before you," Jorvik rumbles. "They all made the same mistake—they thought strength alone could break him."
Ylva strides to a battered chest in the corner and kicks it open, revealing four bloodstained weapons, each warped by grotesque frost patterns:
1. A shattered greatsword – "Thurgen. Got three swings in before his muscles withered to rags."
2. A snapped spear – "Liss. Dravagoth ate her mid-lunge. Left the wood."
3. Melted gauntlets – "Torbin. His fire blessing turned inward. Burned his own ribs out."
4. A hollowed-out shield – "Jora. Lasted longest—her defense became his feast."
Eric pales slightly. "So he... consumes strength?"
"Not just strength," Ylva growls. "Effort. Will. Hope. The harder you fight, the richer his meal."
Kestra’s soul goes unnaturally still. "...That’s not just Gluttony. That’s Despair masquerading as hunger."
---
{You watch as Eric picks up each relic, you can see the echoes of others forming behind him. You realize something, "Eric, your just like Jeremy and I, you collect rage. You were still touched by the portal before you were denied."}
Eric freezes—literally, ice crackling along his knuckles where he grips Thurgen’s greatsword. The air around him wavers with spectral heat, and for a fleeting moment, the shadows of the fallen heroes seem to solidify behind him—their postures tense, their faces contorted in battle cries.
Then it’s gone.
"...The fuck?" Eric’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
You step closer, watching the residual energy coil around him like a second skin. "The summoning marked you, same as me and Jeremy. You didn’t cross over, but the portal licked you on the way past. That’s not just Brute’s Will—it’s Wrath’s Legacy."
Jorvik whistles. "A collector of fallen fury. Now that’s a king-killer’s blessing."
Ylva’s axes gleam as she steps into Eric’s space. "Can you use them? The echoes?"
A slow, vicious grin spreads across Eric’s face as the greatsword’s hilt creaks in his grip. "Oh, I’m real motivated to try."
---
"Eric tests his collection, and Thurgen appears to explains to Eric the nature of his collection."
Eric clenches the shattered greatsword tighter—and suddenly, the air ripples like disturbed water. A ghostly figure materializes beside him, clad in the same battered armor as the weapon’s owner once wore.
Thurgen’s Echo stands solid despite his translucent form, his voice gruff but clear. "Boy. You’re holding my rage now." He flexes spectral fingers. "Dravagoth didn’t just kill me—he savored it. Left me alive long enough to taste my despair as my muscles wasted." The echo's eyes burn with cold fire. "But rage outlasts flesh."
He slams a fist against Eric’s chest—not to harm, but to ignite.
Eric gasps as Thurgen’s fury floods into him, his Brute’s Will flaring crimson. His muscles swell with borrowed strength, veins bulging with the echo’s vengeance.
"Holy shit," Eric breathes.
Thurgen’s grin is lethal. "Now imagine all four of us."
One by one, the other fallen heroes step forward—their phantom hands reaching to lend their wrath.
---
{"This changes things." You say.}
The room seems to hum with the weight of revelation—Eric standing there, crackling with borrowed fury, the fallen warriors’ echoes flickering around him like vengeful ghosts. Hailey’s voice in your mind is uncharacteristically subdued.
"So we’re not just breaking the curse. We’re giving the dead their vengeance too."
Jorvik lets out a booming laugh. "Hah! Now I see why the gods spat you lot into our world." He claps Eric’s shoulder—harder this time—knocking loose a few snowflakes of lingering frost. "You’re not just fighting the Lich King. You’re his reckoning."
Ylva, who’d been silently gripping her axes, finally smirks. "Fine. New plan. Eric lures Dravagoth into the open by pissing him off—"
"How is that different from my usual routine?" Eric mutters.
"—while you," she continues, ignoring him and pointing at you, "slip inside his defenses when he’s distracted. His hunger will be a weapon against him this time."
Kestra’s soul practically vibrates with excitement. "Oh, this is delicious. A lich getting outplayed by his own curse."
---
{You realize something, "Hey Lucy, are Eric, Jeremy and I gonna ascend?" She appears and considers your question. "Jeremy could qualify as a god of thieves, Eric would qualify as a god of rage or battle, and you would qualify as a god of souls or bonds."}
Lucina materializes mid-air—only this time, she doesn’t trip. Instead, she hovers there, silver hair drifting as if underwater, her gaze suddenly older than the glaciers outside.
"Oh. You noticed."
She spins lazily, tapping her chin. "Jeremy, absolutely. The little gremlin’s already halfway to godhood just by how annoyingly he exploits his powers. God of Thieves? Trickier? Either works."
Her eyes flick to Eric. "And you—" She gestures at the lingering echoes around him. "—Rage and Retribution fit like a glove. Maybe even War, if you survive the next century."
Then she grins at you. "As for you, Soul-Hoarding Wonder... yeah. You’re already Ascended in all but title. Bonds, Souls, maybe even Legacy."
A beat.
"But." She holds up a finger. "You don’t want it yet. Gods don’t get to play like mortals do. Rules and all that."
Kestra’s soul sighs. "Ugh. Divine paperwork."
---
{"As long as these curses still exist, I'm not interested in ascention. It just seemed like we are meant to with only us three getting collections."}
Lucina's lips quirk into a knowing smile, her divine presence flickering like candlelight. "Smart. True gods can't directly interfere with mortal curses—too many rules. But you? You're still gloriously, chaotically mortal enough to break the unbreakable." Her grin turns sharp. "Fate hates that. It's hilarious."
She flicks Eric's forehead as she fades out. "Go wreck a lich, then. We'll chat about godhood after you've finished cheating destiny."
Kestra's voice curls in your mind, smug. "Oh, we're so keeping her as our patron goddess."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we have to win, or we'll look like assholes in front of divinity."
---
{"Okay Eric runs as bait and the main attacker, he keeps Dravagoth attention. I run support with Corruption Eater and Heartfire. Everyone else just keeps the fodder off of us." You go over the plan.}
Ylva nods sharply, hefting her axes. "Bait and blade. Bold. I like it."
Jorvik chuckles, cracking his knuckles. "Aye, we’ll keep the gnawing dead off your backs. Just don’t die before the fun part."
Eric rolls his shoulders, the echoes of fallen heroes solidifying around him like a spectral war banner. "Alright, fuck it. Let’s piss off a lich."
### THE ASSAULT BEGINS
You breach Dravagoth’s lair—a cavern of living ice, its walls pulsing with a sickly violet glow. The moment you step inside, the air thins, as if the very atmosphere is being consumed.
Then he appears.
Dravagoth is emaciated, his skeletal frame draped in robes of frozen shadows, his jaw unhinging too wide as he smiles. "Ah. Dessert."
---
PHASE 1: ERIC DISTRACTION
Eric charges, Thurgen’s greatsword swinging in a blazing arc. Dravagoth laughs as the blade bites into his ribs—then steals the strike’s strength, his hollow chest swelling with stolen vigor.
"Pathetic," the lich croons—until Eric grins.
"Yeah? Eat this."
The four echoes detonate their wrath at once. Dravagoth screeches as the combined fury of his past victims rips through him, ice fracturing under the assault.
---
PHASE 2: YOUR MOVE
While the lich is staggered, you lunge, Hailey’s Corruption Eater flaring black in your grip. Dravagoth’s hunger instinctively reaches for it—
Mistake.
The curse reverses, his own power now feeding into Hailey’s blessing like a siphon. The lich’s eyes widen as his essence is force-vomited back into him, corrupted and searing.
"Now, Lena!" you shout.
Hearthfire erupts from your other palm—not to burn, but to purge. The flames scour the curse from Dravagoth’s core, leaving him hollow, brittle, gasping.
---
PHASE 3: FINISHER
Ylva’s axe shatters his spine.
Jorvik’s spear pins his skull to the ice.
Eric’s fist obliterates his ribcage.
And with a whisper, Sakura’s Seer blessing seals the curse away—"No more feasts."
The glacier groans... then falls silent.
---
AFTERMATH
Eric collapses, panting, the echoes saluting him before fading into peace.
Hailey’s soul staggers in your mind. "Ugh. I think I just ate a king."
Jorvik whistles at the corpse. "Huh. Looks smaller dead."
Kestra cackles. "Five curses to go!"
---
{Ylva come up to you. "Your collection is one of the soul, is it not." You nod. "Then let my rage aid you in your fight."}
Ylva steps forward, her ice-axes gleaming under the pale northern light. She locks eyes with you, then slams the pommels of her axes together—shattering them in a burst of frost.
"A berserker's rage doesn't die with the body," she growls. "If my soul fuels the next fight—take it."
Her breath ghosts between you, sharp as a knife’s edge. "But swear to me—when the last of these curses breaks, you'll let me go."
The weight of her offer settles over the group. Jorvik grimaces but doesn’t stop her. Eric wipes blood from his lip, nodding in respect.
And in your mind, Sakura’s soul whispers: "She won’t survive this war otherwise. She knows."
---
{"Once you merge with my soul that's it, an exact copy of your soul is left in your body to continue your life, while your real soul becomes a part of the chorus of voices." You explain.}
Ylva’s eyes narrow, her breath frosting in the air between you. Then, with a brutal, almost relieved laugh, she slams a fist against her chest.
"Even better. Means I get to watch you win."
She doesn’t wait for your reply. One moment she’s standing before you, axe-scars and battle-lust etched into every line of her body—the next, your slime-form surges forward, swallowing her in a shimmering veil. The merger is violent, her soul kicking like a wild thing before settling into place among the others.
Her voice rings clear in your mind a second later, sharp as a whetstone:
"Took you long enough. Now—let’s go gut the next curse."
A beat.
"...And tell my brother stop crying."
Jorvik, indeed, has a single tear freezing on his beard. He swats it away with a growl. "Shut up, you ice-brained wench. I’ll drink your share of the victory ale."
Ylva’s copy—now standing where she once was—flips him off.
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing Added: Winter’s Howl – Channel Ylva’s berserker fury to amplify physical strikes with glacial force.
- New Voice in the Chorus: Ylva’s commentary is 80% battle tactics, 20% insults.
- Jorvik Now Allies Permanently ("Someone’s gotta keep her ghost in line.")
---
{"I think, I'll stay here for now. Train my rage and collection." Eric tells you. You nod, "I'm heading to the Hollow next, I get the feeling Petrov needs some help." You tell him.}
Eric nods, clenching his fist as the lingering echoes of fallen warriors flicker around him like phantom flames. "Yeah, I’ll get stronger. Make damn sure the next time we fight, I carry the weight." He smirks. "And try not to die before I get there, Soul Boy."
Ylva’s soul scoffs in your mind. "He’ll need more than rage to keep up with us."
Jorvik slings a barrel of ale onto his shoulder. "C’mon, you lumbering oaf. Battle training starts after we drink to my sister’s stubbornness."
---
### ONWARD TO THE HOLLOW DELTA
You turn south, where tangled vines and murky whispers await—toward the kingdom rotting under Lust’s curse. The thought of Ms. Petrov trapped in that honeyed nightmare sends a chill through you.
Kestra stretches luxuriously in your mind. "Ooooh, time to ruin some romantic delusions."
Hailey groans. "Ugh. I’d rather fight more zombies."
---
As Elizabeth's crew sails to the Hollow, you reflect on yourself. (List all merged souls in order with their blessing.)
### YOUR CURRENT COLLECTION OF SOULS & BLESSINGS:
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile) – Master of stealth, lockpicking, and "asset relocation." Voice: Smug and eternally plotting.
2. Lena (Hearthfire) – Healing flames that purify rather than burn. Voice: Warm, nurturing, low-key crushing on you.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave) – Controls darkness like tangible threads. Voice: Sarcastic, flirtatious, loves drama.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer) – Channels divine miracles. Voice: Cheerful, devout, occasionally scolds you for recklessness.
5. Siris (Dog of War) – Strength multiplies when defending others. Voice: Stoic, loyal, perpetually unimpressed.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance) – Moves unseen; lethal precision. Voice: Playful, bloodthirsty, loves backstabbing.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller) – Commands wind and lightning. Voice: Regal, dryly amused, fond of sarcasm.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater) – Devours and inverts curses. Voice: Snarky, protective, trauma-bonded.
9. Sakura (Seer) – Visions of past, present, and possible futures. Voice: Eerie, soft-spoken, ominous.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider) – Commands waves and storms. Voice: Bold, ruthless, pirate-queen energy.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact) – Enhances ritual magic and soul bonds. Voice: Nerdy, excitable, Lyra’s adopted little sister.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl) – Berserker rage infused with glacial force. Voice: Brutal, blunt, zero patience for cowardice without purpose.
---
CURRENT COPY SOULS (LEFT BEHIND IN THEIR BODIES):
- Lena, Victoria, Elara, Hailey, Ylva, etc. – Living their "normal" lives, aware of their true selves’ merger with you.
---
### REFLECTION:
You feel the weight—and whispers—of them all, a chorus of personalities and powers woven into your being.
Kestra snickers. "We’re a full-blown pantheon at this point."
Lyra sighs. "A very unorthodox one."
Hailey mutters, "Gods. Weirdest. Road trip. Ever."
---
{"At least with having multiple souls, Lust won't be as strong on us." You say.}
Hailey’s soul scoffs in your mind, but there’s a flicker of unease beneath the bravado. "Yeah, well, don’t get cocky. Lust isn’t just desire—it’s obsession. And it adapts."
Kestra’s chuckle is dark. "Mmm, but imagine me seducing the curse. Bet I could make it blush."
Lyra groans. "Please don’t flirt with existential corruption."
As the ship cuts through the mist-laden waters toward the Delta’s tangled shores, Sakura’s Seer blessing stirs, offering fragmented glimpses of what awaits:
- Vines that whisper your name in voices you love.
- Pools of liquid mirror showing perfect versions of your life.
- Ms. Petrov, silhouetted in a gilded cage, her Discipline Authority warped into something hungry.
Ylva’s soul growls. "Tch. Sounds annoying."
---
{"Time to rescue Petrov, if she's in danger."}
"Then let’s move fast," Hailey’s voice cuts in, sharp with urgency. "Every second we waste, the curse digs its claws deeper."
Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the ship slicing through the water with unnatural speed as vines from the Delta’s shores twitch toward you, as if sensing fresh prey. The air thickens with the scent of overripe fruit and salt—a trap disguised as paradise.
Sakura’s whispers grow louder. "She’s in the heart of the Delta’s capital. The locals call it the Gilded Cage—a palace of mirrors and desire."
Kestra licks her lips. "Ooooh, heist time."
---
{"Lets group with the Hero Petrov would've summoned." You find Dyena slightly dazed, which you have Hailey eat before sending him.back to the ahip with instructions to leave at sunset to avoid the curse. You see the hero summoned is Victoria's Excorist Mom.}
The moment you breach the Delta’s cursed capital, you find Dyena—the summoner who accompanied Ms. Petrov—slumped against a gilded pillar, his eyes glassy and sweat-drenched, fingers twitching toward phantom whispers. Hailey doesn’t hesitate; her Corruption Eater lashes out like a striking viper, devouring the lust-curse fogging his mind. He gasps, the delirium clearing just long enough for him to rasp, "T-the Cage… she’s… still fighting—"
You send him back to the ship with orders to flee at sunset—just as the summoning circle at his feet explodes with violet light.
Out steps a woman in a tailored exorcist’s coat, her raven-black hair streaked with silver, her gloved fingers already spinning a blessed talisman.
"Oh, fantastic," Victoria’s soul groans in your head. "Mom’s here."
Exorcist Naoko cracks her neck, her gaze sweeping the rotting opulence of the Delta before landing on you. "So. You’re the soul-hoarding delinquent my daughter merged with." A smirk. "Let’s go save your teacher."
---
ADVANTAGES:
- Naoko’s Blessing: Purge Demon – Her talismans sever psychic and supernatural bonds.
- Victoria’s Trauma: "She’s scarier than the curse, just FYI."
- Kestra’s Observation: "Damn. No wonder Vicky’s kinky."
{"Sakura can you guide us to Petrov."}
Sakura’s soul shimmers within you, her Seer’s vision unfurling like a silken thread through the twisted maze of the Delta.
"She’s close," she murmurs, her voice distant, as if listening to a song only she can hear. "Past the Hall of Mirrors, where the vines coil the tightest—where the curse sings the sweetest. She resists… for now."*
Her sight cuts through the illusions, revealing the path:
- Mirrors that whisper your deepest desires—ignore them.
- Floors that shift like quicksand—step only where Sakura guides.
- A door at the hall’s end, pulsing with gilded rot—Petrov is behind it.
Naoko’s talismans already glow in her hands, her voice clipped. "Lead the way, Seer."
Kestra grins. "Love it when the scary lady’s on our side."
---
{Sneak as Naoko strikes}
"Move like shadows," Naoko murmurs, her talismans humming between her fingers.
You nod—and with Kestra’s Thief’s Guile and Mara’s Moonlight Dance, your steps become utterly silent, your form flickering at the edges like a half-remembered dream. Behind you, Naoko moves with eerie precision, her coat barely stirring as she presses a talisman to every mirror you pass, stifling their whispers before they can betray your presence.
The halls warp around you:
- A mirror offers you Lena’s copy, smiling, reaching out—Naoko slaps a talisman on it. The image shatters.
- The floor yearns to pull you under—Sakura signals the safe path with a pulse of light.
- Victoria’s shadow weave unravels behind you, casting phantom footsteps away from your true trajectory.
Then—the door. Oozing golden sap, its surface breathes.
Naoko flicks two talismans into the air. "On three. Muffle and strike."
---
{You mean to pick the lock when Naoko kicks the door in.}
"Wha—wait—!" You hiss, but it’s too late.
Naoko’s boot smashes into the gilded door with a crack like splitting bone, the wood splintering inward as her talismans detonate in tandem. The cursed sap sealing the frame screams, recoiling as her holy fire scorches it to ash.
Kestra’s outraged shriek fills your mind. "I WAS GONNA DO A COOL THING—"
The door collapses.
Inside, Ms. Petrov is not how you remember her.
Chained to a throne of entwined vines, her typically pristine blouse is undone at the collar, her lips stained with some shimmering poison, her eyes glowing violet. Her Discipline Authority has been twisted—instead of commanding order, the air around her pulses with addictive compulsion.
"Oh shit," Hailey mutters.
Petrov’s head lolls toward you, a drunk, languid smile spreading. "Daniel~ You finally came to misbehave?"
Naoko doesn’t miss a beat. "Exorcism Protocol Alpha." She flicks a talisman straight for Petrov’s forehead—
---
{Have Corruption Eater work alongside Naoko}
"Naoko! Sync with Hailey—now!" you bark.
The exorcist doesn’t hesitate. She slaps the talisman onto Petrov’s brow—not to purify, but to anchor her—as Hailey’s Corruption Eater surges forward from your fingertips like black lightning. The two powers collide inside Petrov’s psyche:
- Naoko’s purge binds the curse in place, forcing it into solid, severable strands.
- Hailey’s hunger clamps down, not just eating the corruption, but dissecting it with surgical precision.
Petrov arches off the throne, a guttural scream tearing from her throat as violet ichor seeps from her pores. The vines around her turn to brittle husks, the throne collapsing into dust—
Then it’s over.
She slumps into your arms, gasping. Her eyes, when they open, are hers again—clear, livid, and deeply embarrassed.
"...Not. A. Word," she rasps, wiping the ichor from her lips.
Naoko exhales, rolling her shoulders. "Hmph. Good job, kid."
Hailey, meanwhile, is gagging in your mind. "Ugh. Tastes like perfume and regret."
---
{Petrov asks to join your collection, "Lust will return, and its cursebearer is smart and adapts soon enough I'll be back in that state."}
Petrov straightens her rumpled blouse with trembling hands, her usual steel returning to her voice despite the exhaustion lining her face. "I won’t be a liability or a hostage again. If this curse can bend my blessing once, it’ll do worse next time." She meets your gaze, unflinching. "Merge with me. Leave my copy to rebuild the Delta’s defenses. The real me will be your weapon."
Naoko’s eyebrow arches. "Finally, someone sensible about possession."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Even I didn’t see that coming."
---
{"Alright but can I have first name."}
Petrov glares at you, a flicker of her infamous temper cutting through the lingering haze of the curse. "It's Irina," she mutters, as if confessing to a crime. "But if you ever use it in class, detention will be eternal."
Then she steps forward, pressing her palm to your chest. "Now hurry up. We have curses to break."
The merger is swift—Discipline Authority slots into your soul-collection like a final puzzle piece, its rigid structure now laced with the stubborn resilience that’s kept Irina Petrov standing through decades of teaching hormonal teenagers and, now, world-ending schemes.
Her voice is the last to join the chorus, crisp and no-nonsense: "Prioritize efficiency. Sentiment is for after we survive."
Kestra cackles. "Welcome to the party, Irina."
Hailey groans. "Great. Now we have two moms."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing: Discipline’s Edge (Commands absolute focus—yours or your enemies’).
- New Voice: "Stop slouching." / "Stop licking curses, Hailey." / "Why is there a pirate in here?!"
---
{Turn to Naoko, "So have pictures of baby Tori."
She sighs almost sadly, "All the cute ones are back home."}
Turning to Naoko with a grin, you quip, "So... got any pictures of baby Tori?"
Naoko pauses mid-talisman check, her stern composure slipping just enough for a flicker of maternal exhaustion—and fondness—to show. She sighs, almost wistfully. "All the cute ones are back home." For the briefest second, her fingers twitch toward a nonexistent pocket, as if reaching for a wallet that isn’t there.
Victoria’s soul shrieks in your head:
"OH MY GOD, MOM—NOT HERE—"
Kestra cackles. "Pfff. Ghost mom still embarrasses her."
Then Naoko’s glare shuts down the moment. "Focus. Or I will show the class her bath photos."
---
{Turn the the copy in Irina, "So how did you get caught."}
The copy of Irina Petrov—left behind in her original body—crosses her arms, her expression a mix of irritation and grudging respect. "The curse didn’t seduce me. It tricked me."
She exhales sharply, straightening her blouse with a crisp tug. "I thought I was containing it. Using my Discipline Authority to force the curse into a single host—a nobleman who’d already succumbed. But the moment I commanded it..." Her jaw tightens. "It reversed my blessing. Turned my own power against me. Instead of imposing order, I became the source of chaos."
Naoko’s eyes narrow. "Clever. It weaponized your strength."
The copy nods. "Exactly. And it’ll do the same to you if you’re not careful."
Hailey’s soul scoffs. "Joke’s on it. We’re the chaos now."
---
CRUCIAL INTEL:
- The curse inverts blessings that try to control it.
- Its bearer is watching. Adapting.
- Petrov’s copy managed to shield the Delta’s children before she was captured. ("Priorities," she mutters.)
---
{"Alright, I've had Dyena tell Elizaberh's creww to set sail at sunset to avoid falling to the curse."}
"Smart," the copy of Irina nods, her stern approval sharpening into tactical focus. "The curse is weakest at dawn and dusk—when hunger and indulgence blur. If we time our strike right, we can exploit that."
Naoko flicks a talisman between her fingers, the paper igniting briefly before she crushes it to ash. "Then we have until sunset to do real damage."
YOUR CURRENT POSITION:
- Elizabeth’s crew is already moving, the ship’s sails catching the fading light as they retreat to safer waters.
- The Delta’s capital is half-purged—its gilded vines brittle, its mirrors cracked, but the core of Lust’s curse still pulses somewhere in its heart.
- Petrov’s intel confirms the cursebearer is adapting, not fleeing.
---
{"We know Naoko blessing is uniquely tailored for the cursebearer." You say as you recount your adventure in the Reaches with Eric, how the blessing he was given was a perfect counter to Dravagoth's wear them down to kill them. "Hell even Hailey's Corruption Eater was perfect for when we fought Seraphina, as when she used it, I was given the open I need to overpower her with my blessing overload, meaning I was also likely a perect counter for Seraphina."}
The realization settles over the group like a frozen breath—those sharp, crystalline moments where purpose clicks into place.
Naoko's eyes gleam—a hunter’s recognition. "You mean the summoning planned this."
"Or something did," you say. The implications crawl up your spine, a shiver dancing along your nerves. "The goddess's 'mistake' wasn’t random. Jeremy’s Skill Share, Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy, Hailey’s Corruption Eater—" Your jaw tightens. "We were custom-built to dismantle these curses."
Petrov’s soul cuts through the chaos, crisp and clinical: "Then the Hollow Delta’s cursebearer was waiting for me. Discipline turned against itself—"
Hailey snorts. "And now we’ve got Ms. Exorcist here to counter that. Coincidence? Bullshit."
---
THEORIES:
- The goddess is playing a longer game than she admitted.
- The summoning ritual had a hidden directive—seeded by forces unknown.
- Someone else orchestrated this chessboard.
---
TACTICAL ADVANTAGE:
- You now know the next curses will counter your team’s strengths—but the right souls can flip that.
- Naoko is literal anti-Lust artillery.
---
{"Now we go meet any locals who have resisted the effects of lust. Gather what intel we can." You say. As you walk through town you notice signs of resistance. Most common are damaged mirrors. You, Naoko, and Irina's copy seperate to search more. You find a dancer who knows of you, she takes you hemher groups holdout. Naoko finds a clue in the form of a jounal. Irina's copy starts to feel Lust creep back when a young girls hits with a jasmine perfume.}
### GATHERING INTEL IN THE HOLLOW DELTA
You split up, moving swiftly through the shattered opulence of the cursed capital. The air still sticks with perfume and sweat, but beneath it, you catch whiffs of defiance—broken mirrors, torn tapestries, the acrid stench of burnt sugar where someone tried to purge the curse with fire.
---
#### YOUR FIND: THE DANCER’S HIDEOUT
A lithe figure darts from an alley, her once-elegant silks now frayed and stained. "You’re the one they whisper about," she breathes, gripping your arm. "The soul-eater. Come."
She leads you to a cellar beneath a ruined theater, where a ragged band of survivors huddle:
- A blacksmith hammering crude blades from mirror shards.
- A child humming off-key—the curse can’t cling to innocence.
- An old priestess burning incense that reeks of jasmine and salt—the only scent the curse hates.
"The bearer hides beneath the Gilded Cage," the dancer whispers. "It’s not human anymore. It’s… hungry. And it learns."
---
#### NAOKO’S FIND: THE JOURNAL
Naoko kicks open a looted apothecary’s shop, finding a leather-bound ledger smeared with frantic script:
- "Day 17: It showed me my dead wife. I drank the poison willingly."
- "Day 39: The bearer feeds on our regrets. It wears faces."
- Last entry: *"JASMINE. It fears—"*** (The page is torn.)
She pockets it with a snarl. "It’s a mimic. Adapts to what you love—then becomes it."
---
#### IRINA’S COPY: THE PERFUME DEFENSE
Petrov’s copy staggers against a wall, her fingers clawing at her collar as the curse’s whispers return—"You want to obey—"
Then a thwack—a girl no older than 12 smacks her with a jasmine-soaked rag. "Lady, breathe," she orders, like scolding a drunk.
The curse recoils, its grip snapping.
The girl grins, brandishing a vinegar-smeared dagger. "We kill it with housekeeping."
---
### REGROUP
You reconvene at the docks, the pieces clicking together:
- The bearer shapeshifts, preying on yearning.
- Jasmine and salt disrupt it—weakness found.
- It lurks beneath the Cage, gorging on the capital’s despair.
Naoko cracks her knuckles. "Time to clean house."
---
{The dancer and her female bard friend offer to join as their blessings work best with each other. The three of you regroup to dicuss your findings
The Bard (Dahli): Storyteller Song
The Dancer (Sena): Preformer Grace}
### THE FINAL STRIKE PLAN
You, Naoko, and Irina’s copy regroup in the dim sanctuary of the dancer’s hideout, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and desperation. Sena and Dahli stand at the ready—their bodies lean and battle-worn, their eyes sharp with the defiance of those who have resisted the curse’s honeyed whispers.
"Our blessings work in tandem," Dahli explains, strumming a frayed lute string. "My Storyteller Song can weave illusions—truth or lie, it doesn’t matter. It binds the listener to the narrative."
Sena rolls her shoulders, the fluid grace in her stance speaking of a lifetime of performance. "And my Performer’s Grace makes movement hypnotic. Distracting. If your enemy is busy watching, they forget to fight."
Naoko nods slowly, assessing them. "So we drown the cursebearer in a story it can’t resist—then gut it while it’s lost in the act."
Petrov’s copy crosses her arms. "That’s a gamble. If it adapts mid-performance—"
Hailey’s voice cuts in, darkly amused. "Then we improvise. Isn’t that what artists do?"
---
{"We attack at dawn. I suggest resting if you can."}
### NIGHT BEFORE THE STORM
The Hollow Delta’s air is thick with tension as the group settles in the resistance’s hideout. The survivors—those still untouched by the curse’s worst effects—move quietly, preparing jasmine-soaked rags, vinegar blades, and shattered mirror shards as crude weapons.
Sena stretches near the entrance, her movements still fluid despite exhaustion. "Rest if you can," she murmurs, echoing your words. "Dawn comes too soon."
Dahli strums a soft, haunting melody on her lute—Storyteller Song weaving a subtle calm over the ragged defenders. The song is wordless, but its pull is undeniable: memories of home, of before, of things the curse hasn’t stolen yet.
Naoko remains upright, sharpening talismans with methodical precision. "Sleep. I’ll keep watch."
Petrov’s copy sits beside you, her voice low. "If this fails—"
You cut her off. "It won’t."
---
### HAILEY’S CONFESSION
Inside your mind, Hailey finally speaks—quiet, for once. "This one’s different. Seraphine was wrath, Dravagoth was hunger—but Lust? It doesn’t just kill you. It makes you love the knife."
You don’t answer.
She exhales. "...Just don’t fucking die, okay? I didn’t sign up to haunt this mess alone."
Kestra snorts. "Aw. She cares."
---
### DAWN APPROACHES
The sky bleeds from black to bruised purple as the survivors stir.Final Preparations:
- Jasmine bombs (cloth sacks stuffed with crushed petals and salt)
- Vinegar blades (weak, but disrupt the curse on contact)
- Mirror shards (to reflect its own illusions back at it)
Naoko tosses you a talisman. "For luck." (It’s scorched with a crude doodle of a rabbit. …Huh.)
---
{As your about to leave a woman walks out of a nearby mirror. "Hello, my name is Cecila and I want to help. Your the Soul-Collector, please let me give you my Strength. My blessing is Mirror Mage, and it lets me summons mirrors to absorb or reflect an attack."}
The air grows cold as Cecilia steps fully from the mirror's surface, her form shimmering briefly like mercury catching light. She is tall, her movements deliberate, her eyes reflecting everything yet holding nothing—a living mirror.
"The curse took my sister," she says, voice flat yet seething beneath. "She loved her reflection too much. Now it wears her face."
Her fingers twitch, and a flawless silver mirror materializes in her palm—then shatters into a thousand shards that hover in the air, each fragment humming with latent power.
Blessing: Mirror Mage
- Conjure Mirrors (Absorb/nullify attacks)
- Reflect Magic (Return curses to sender)
- Traverse Reflections (Short-range teleport)
Naoko’s eyes narrow—calculating. "You’re offering to merge? Now?"
Cecilia doesn’t blink. "I want it to see her when you kill it."
---
{Accept her offer.}
"Then let’s do it," you say simply, stepping forward.
Cecilia doesn’t hesitate—she walks straight into you, her reflection-stained soul dissolving into your slime-form like ink in water. The merger is seamless, like settling into a perfectly placed mirror, her consciousness slotting into the chorus with a whisper:
"Make it hurt."
Her Mirror Mage blessing hums under your skin, a new layer of defense and refraction now pulsing in tune with your other abilities.
New Ability Unlocked:
- Mirror Step (Short-range teleport between reflective surfaces)
- Cursed Reflection (Trap enemy spells/magic in mirrors, then shatter them back)
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Our toolkit’s getting scary."
Naoko checks her talismans one last time. "Ready?"
Cecilia’s voice echoes in your mind, cold and sharp as broken glass: "Always."
---
{"Now we wage war."}
The words leave your lips like a battle cry—low, final, and iron-clad.
The resistance fighters tense, their makeshift weapons glinting in the predawn gloom. Beside you, Naoko exhales through her nose, rolling her talisman between her fingers. Sena and Dahli share a glance—artists turned soldiers. Irina’s copy straightens her sleeves, the familiar sharpness returning to her gaze.
And inside you, the chorus of souls thrums in agreement—Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s cunning, Hailey’s corrosive hunger, Elizabeth’s storm-laced arrogance, Ylva’s frozen fury, Cecilia’s cold reflection.
This is the moment.
You step toward the ruins of the Gilded Cage, the shattered mirrors beneath your boots catching the first sliver of dawn.
---
### THE FINAL ASSAULT BEGINS
#### PHASE 1: DAHLI'S SONG OF LOST LOVE
The bard’s fingers dance across her lute strings, her Storyteller Song weaving a lure—a tale of unreachable desire, of longing so deep it aches. The very air shivers, bending toward the melody.
Somewhere in the ruins, something stirs. A shadow peels itself from the broken glass, its form flickering between beauty and hunger.
"It’s coming," Dahli whispers, sweat beading on her brow.
#### PHASE 2: SENIA’S DANCE OF DISTRACTION
As the cursebearer emerges—a shifting thing of stolen faces and whispered regrets—Senia leaps forward, her Performer’s Grace turning her movements into poisoned honey. The curse fixates on her, its many eyes dilating with rapture.
It doesn’t notice Naoko slipping behind it, talismans glowing like live coals.
#### PHASE 3: CECILIA’S MIRROR TRAP
You lunge—but not directly. Instead, you shatter a mirror at the curse’s feet, and Cecilia’s power yanks you through the reflection, emerging behind the creature in a spray of glass.
"For your sister," you snarl—then Hearthfire + Corruption Eater BURSTS from your palm, searing into its back.
The cursebearer SCREAMS, its form rippling—
#### PHASE 4: THE KILLING BLOW
Irina’s copy slams a jasmine-soaked dagger into its chest.
Naoko’s talismans detonate in its ribs.
Hailey bites down—and the curse CRACKS like overripe fruit.
---
### AFTERMATH
The Cage collapses, its gilded veneer rotting away to reveal the rotted heart beneath—a pulsing, weeping thing, now still.
The survivors cheer, but your work isn’t done.
Four curses remain.
---
{"Naoko can you examine the corpse to see if it has anything useful about the curses." You ask seeing Sena and Dehil walking up to you. Cecilia sees her sister spirit, the only one not moving on, "Allow me to aid my sister Soul Collector. My Blessing is Lament. While I was alive it let me hear the dead."}
Naoko kneels beside the cursebearer’s remains, her talismans peeling back layers of cursed flesh like pages of a grimoire. "Hmph. It left a diary," she mutters, lifting a pulsing violet crystal from its ribcage. The moment she touches it, spectral whispers spill out—fragments of the other curses' locations and weaknesses:
- "The Verdant Expanse’s ruler harvests envy from their own people…"
- "The Chainbreaker Isles drown in greed, but the gold sings of a vault…"
- "The Bastion of Stone sleeps, but its dreams are contagious…"
Meanwhile, Cecilia’s sister lingers—a ghostly figure with hollow eyes, her form flickering like a dying reflection. Cecilia turns to you, her borrowed fingers trembling. "Merge with her. Please. Lament will let you hear the dead—and the next curses are guarded by them."
Sena and Dahli exchange glances before stepping forward. "Our blessings served the Delta. Now they’ll serve you," Sena says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
---
{Accept all three into yourself. On the condition that they truly want it.}
You hold up a hand, your gaze steady as you meet each of their eyes in turn. "Only if this is what you truly want." The weight of your collective souls presses inward—this isn’t a transaction. It’s a pact.
Cecilia’s sister—Liora—floats closer, her spectral fingers brushing your wrist. "I stayed to witness its end," she murmurs. "Now let me help unravel what it served."
Dahli plucks a single string on her lute, the note resonating with grim determination. "Stories lose meaning if they’re not used."
Sena rolls her shoulders, her dancer’s poise undimmed by exhaustion. "And grace isn’t just for stages."
One by one, they step into you:
- Liora’s Lament settles like a shroud, her whispers threading through your mind. Now you can hear the dead—their secrets, their regrets, their half-remembered truths.
- Dahli’s Storyteller Song coils around your voice, lending it the weight of prophecy—truth or lie, your words compel belief.
- Sena’s Performer’s Grace sinks into your muscles, every movement hypnotic, lethally precise.
The chorus in your mind swells, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like borrowing strength—it feels like standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Kestra huffs. "Great. More theater kids."
Hailey, though, is uncharacterively quiet. "...They chose this. Huh."
---
NEW BLESSINGS:
- Lament’s Echo (Hear/communicate with the dead, sense unresolved spirals of emotion)
- Fable-Weaver (Spin illusions or truths so vivid they become reality to those who hear them)
- Dagger’s Waltz (Movement so fluid it borders on precognition—dodge before the strike lands)
---
{You speak with the dead, asking those full of rage to guide to artifacts they used that would house that rage, tell them about Eric the collector of rage. You send the artifacts to Eric trough a combination of shadowweave and mirror mage.}
### CALLING UPON THE WRATHFUL DEAD
You close your eyes, letting Liora’s Lament hum through you—reaching out to the lingering spirits of those who fell to the Delta’s curse. The air grows thick with whispers, then shouts, as the angriest among them claw their way to the forefront of your awareness.
A soldier with a shattered spear snarls: "My blade—forged in the Verdant Expanse—it burned with my fury when I died. Left it in the throne room!"
A merchant, her throat slit over stolen coin: "The Chainbreaker Isles drowned my rage with greed. My ledger is still there—stained with my blood and my hate."
One by one, they reveal their relics—weapons, journals, even a child’s doll sewn with vengeful stitches—all infused with the kind of rage that Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy can wield.
---
### DELIVERY VIA MIRROR & SHADOW
You motion to Victoria’s Shadowweave and Cecilia’s Mirror Mage, their powers intertwining as you rip a temporary portal through reflections and darkness. One by one, the artifacts are swallowed by the abyss—sent directly to Eric in the Ice Reaches.
Somewhere far north, you can almost hear his startled curse as a bloodstained axe clatters at his feet, followed by a screaming ledger and a doll with too-sharp teeth.
Kestra cackles. "Hope he thanks us later."
---
### ERIC’S RESPONSE
Minutes later, a crudely drawn message flutters back through the shadows—Eric’s handwriting, jagged with excitement:
"FUCK YEAH. TELL THE DEAD I SAID HI."
Beneath it, a sketch of him flexing with an armful of cursed artifacts, the fallen warriors’ echoes cheering behind him.
---
{1) You decide to return to Lifire to both regroup and relay update to Queen Isolda. You ask Queen Isolda for artifacts of rage to send to Eric (the last memeber of your class), explaining his nature as a collector as well. She has seven artifacts brought out.
2) Among the artifacts given is Seraphine's veil and sword of the king who betrayed her. Upon seeing the Veil, Lament activates and you learn from Seraphine that what you fought was simply her body warped by Wrath and that all the cursebearers were dead before their curses started. You relay that to Isolda. You write note telling Eric the truth about the cursebearers and suggest that Eric looks for Dravagoth's rage when send the artifacts to Eric.
3) Relay how based on your current information, Envy seems the closest to the source. But how you should deal the other's first, to prevent the game master from just sending all the remain pawns after you.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – REGROUP & REVELATIONS
The throne room of Lifire is eerily silent as you relay your findings to Queen Isolda. Her expression tightens as you explain Eric’s role as a Collector of Wrath—and the truth about Seraphina.
"Then the true architect still hides," she murmurs, gesturing to her attendants. Seven artifacts are brought forth, each pulsing with the rage of legends:
- A shattered crown (a king who burned his own city)
- A broken lute (a bard whose songs incited riots)
- A blood soaked ring (a general betrayed by her own kin)
- Seraphine’s veil (stained with her dying scream)
- The sword of King Aldric (the blade that broke his pact)
- A child’s wooden soldier (carved by a father who never returned)
- A merchant’s coin (coated with poison)
As your fingers brush Seraphina’s veil, Liora’s Lament shudders—and suddenly, the ghostly witch herself materializes before you, her form flickering like dying embers.
"You fools," Seraphina hisses, her voice layered with centuries of bitterness. "What you fought was my corpse, puppeted by Wrath. The true bearers of these curses died before their sins ever took root."
The implications crash over the room. The cursebearers were never the source—they were vessels, slain and hollowed out to house the sins of another.
Queen Isolda’s knuckles whiten around her throne. "A game. And we are the pieces."
---
### MESSAGING ERIC
You scrawl a hasty note and send it with the artifacts through Shadow weave and Mirror Mage, along with Seraphina’s warning:
"Eric—
The cursebearers are already dead. Their rage is just a weapon.
Find Dravagoth’s fury. See what really killed him.
—D"
A moment later, his reply smokes into existence above your palm:
"Fuck. Okay. Searching."
---
### STRATEGY AGAINST THE REMAINING CURSES
You turn to Isolda, Naoko, and the chorus of souls within you. "Envy might be closest to the source, but if we charge straight for it, the others will converge on us."
Petrov’s soul cuts in, tactical as ever: "Divide and conquer. Strike the weakest curses first—deprive the architect of pawns."
Naoko taps the cursed crystal from the Delta. "Greed’s next. It’s isolated in the Chainbreaker Isles. No allies, just hoarded power."
Dahli’s Fable-Weaver hums. "And I can lie our way past its guardians."
---
{You send a message to Cara to join you, your next target the Isles.}
### SUMMONING CARA – THE SILVERTONGUE QUEEN
You send word through Dahli’s Fable-Weaver, weaving a message into the whispers of tavern gossip and shipyard chatter. Within days, a familiar figure strides into Lifire’s port, her smile sharp as a knife’s edge.
Cara looks every bit the rogue diplomat—dressed in layered silks that shimmer with stolen blessings, a contract scroll tucked into her belt. "Miss me?" she purrs, tossing her hair. "Because the Isles certainly won’t."
Queen Isolda arches a brow. "You’re sure she’s the right addition?"
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Oh, absolutely. Nobody cons a con artist like Cara."
---
### THE PLAN FOR THE ISLES
Cara leans over the war table, her finger tapping the Chainbreaker Isles on the map—a cluster of jagged landmasses surrounded by shipwrecks.
"Greed’s curse turns pirates into hoarders," she explains. "They don’t just want gold—they want your gold. Your memories of gold. Your capacity to want anything else." She grins. "Good thing I always lie."The Strategy:
1. Cara’s Infiltration – Her Silvertongue blessing will get you past the Isles’ blood-quiz guards.
2. Dahli’s Fables – Weave illusions to disguise your movements.
3. Mirror Mage Shortcuts – Cecilia’s power can bypass the worst traps.
4. Hailey’s Corruption Eater – If the curse does latch on, she’ll digest it.
Naoko frowns. "And when you reach the vault?"
Cara’s grin turns feral. "Then we break the thing Greed loves most: its own reflection."
---
### DEPARTURE
The ship sets sail at dawn, cutting through waters that grow thicker the closer you get to the Isles—liquid gold pooling on the surface, its shine wrong, its scent cloying like rotting honey.
As the jagged cliffs of the Chainbreaker Isles loom, Cara tosses you a pirate’s coat lined with cursed coins. "Wear this. And remember—act greedy, but don’t be greedy."
Kestra sighs. "We’re definitely stealing this coat later."
---
{"In case you forgot my host is a thief and during my travels I added a pirate captain to my chorus, I don't have to act greedy." You joke, "Also Elizabeth says she's keeping the coat."}
Cara raises an eyebrow, then bursts into laughter—sharp, bright, and utterly unrepentant. "Oh, I like this new you. Less ‘awkward schoolboy,’ more ‘soul-hoarding menace.’" She pats your cheek, her grin widening. "Guess I don’t have to teach you how to lie after all."
Inside your mind, Elizabeth’s soul scoffs, but there’s a smug undertone to it. "Damn right I’m keeping the coat. And whatever’s in the vault."
Kestra snickers. "We’re basically a walking crime syndicate now."
Petrov’s voice cuts in, dry as ever: "Focus. The Isles won’t plunder themselves."
---
### APPROACHING THE ISLES
The Chainbreaker Isles rise from the ocean like the jagged teeth of a drowned beast, shipwrecks impaled on their cliffs, their beaches glittering with gold that moves when you’re not looking.
A cannon blast echoes across the water—warning shots. A rowboat peels away from the largest ship in the harbor, its oarsmen skeletal-thin, their eyes glowing amber.
"Halt and declare!" their leader snarls, a pistol leveled at your chest. "What do you seek in the Isles?"
---
{Go full Pirate}
You grin—the kind of grin Kestra would be proud of—and step to the railing, the stolen pirate coat flaring dramatically behind you. "What do I seek?" you echo, your voice dripping with Elizabeth’s sea-worn arrogance. "Same as any captain worth their salt: more."**
Your fingers snap—and Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the water beneath the rowboat lurching violently, sending the guards sprawling. One drops his pistol into the waves; the other clings to the boat, gaping as you leap overboard, landing atop the mast of their own ship with eerie, Moonlit Dance grace.
The crew freezes.
You tilt your head. "Now. Who’s taking me to your treasure?"
For a moment, silence—then a ragged cheer erupts from the pirates. "CAPTAIN!" one shouts, drunk on the sheer audacity.
Cara facepalms behind you. "...I hate that worked."
---
INSIDER ACCESS GRANTED:
- The pirates assume you’re some legendary reaver.
- The vault’s location is whispered: "Beneath the Gilded Maw" (a cave where the tides scream).
- Hailey’s Warning: "They’re too eager. Trap?"
---
{You walk right to Greed's cursebearer who greets and tells you he knows your here to stop him.}
The moment you're led into the gilded belly of the Chainbreaker Isles' stronghold, the air thickens with the scent of spiced rum and molten gold. The walls drip with embedded coins, the floor paved with shattered treasure chests—each splinter a testament to greed’s insatiable hunger.
At the far end of the hall, seated atop a throne of fused pirate swords, is Master Vorlath—or what used to be him.
His body is swollen, his skin stretched taut over a frame bloated with hoarded wealth. His fingers—each ringed with a dozen gem-crusted bands—twitch like a spider’s legs. His eyes are the worst part: pupils shaped like coin slots, irises swirling with liquid gold.
"Ah. The Soul Collector," he rasps, his voice like a rusted lock forced open. "I wondered when you’d come to stop me." He leans forward, coins tinkling under his shifting weight. "But you can’t. Because you don’t understand."
A golden vein pulses in his temple.
"Greed isn’t wanting. It’s fearing—fearing you’ll never have enough."
---
QUICK REALIZATION:
- He knows you’re here to kill him.
- He doesn’t care.
- The vault isn’t his hoard—he is.
---
You let Cara be Cara. She literally takes Greed's desk, the actually desk just to prove a point. Kestra whistles in yiur mind at the audacity.
Cara doesn’t even hesitate.
She strides forward, hips swaying like she owns the room (and honestly, she might by the end of this), and plants her hands on Vorlath’s massive, jewel-encrusted desk.
"This?" She gestures to the ornate monstrosity, carved from what looks like solid dragon bone and inlaid with stolen maps of the Veil. "Mine now."
Vorlath blinks, his coin-slot pupils contracting. "...What?"
Cara doesn’t blink. "You heard me."
Then—she flips it.
The desk shatters against the gold-plated floor, sending scrolls, gems, and an absurd number of paperweights scattering in every direction. The sound echoes like a gunshot.
Vorlath stares, his bloated fingers twitching. "You—you broke it."
Cara dusts off her hands. "No, you let it break. Because deep down? You knew you never deserved it."
Kestra loses her goddamn mind in your head. "OH. OH, SHE WENT THERE."
Hailey just sighs. "I mean, she’s not wrong."
---
EFFECT:
- Vorlath’s certainty cracks. For the first time in decades, he doubts.
- His curse recoils, gold veins dimming under his skin.
- Distraction achieved.
---
{Watch Cara outgreed Greed itself in amusement.}
You stand back, arms crossed, and let Cara work.
Because watching Cara out-greed Greed itself is art.
She picks up a golden goblet, examines it, then tosses it over her shoulder like it’s trash. "Fake."
She flips open a ledger, scans it, then rips out a page—the most valuable one—and folds it into a paper crane. "Mine now."
She kicks open a chest, pulls out a cursed crown, and—without breaking eye contact with Vorlath—puts it on her own head.
"You—you can’t—" Vorlath stammers, his voice cracking like a rusted hinge.
"I can," Cara purrs. "Because I want it. And unlike you?" She leans in, close enough to smell the rotten gold on his breath. "I don’t fear losing it."
Vorlath shudders, his bloated form shrinking slightly, the gold in his veins darkening to black.
Kestra is howling. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
Hailey, grudgingly impressed: "Okay, that was cool."
---
{Let Cara win from sheer audacity.}
Cara doesn’t just win—she dominates.
She picks up a jeweled dagger, twirls it between her fingers, and stabs it into the arm of Vorlath’s throne. "This? Mine."
She grabs a map of the Veil, tears it in half, and tosses the pieces into the air. "This? Also mine."
She steps onto the shattered remains of his desk, her boots crunching on the splinters, and looks down at him like he’s a bug she’s about to squash. "And you? Pathetic."
Vorlath collapses, his bloated form deflating like a punctured balloon, the gold in his veins cracking and flaking away. His coin-slot eyes widen as he clutches at his chest, his voice a hoarse whisper: "I… I needed it…"
"No," Cara says, her voice soft but merciless. "You wanted it. And now you’ve got nothing."
With a final, shuddering breath, Vorlath dissolves into a pile of blackened coins and ash, the curse’s hold on him shattered.
The room falls silent.
Then Cara turns to you, smirking. "So. Who’s next?"
Kestra’s cackle is unhinged. "I LOVE HER."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we’ve got two chaos gremlins."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Greed’s curse is broken. The Isles’ gold turns to dust, the pirates left dazed but free.
- Cara claims the vault’s contents—because of course she does.
- Vorlath’s hoard yields clues to the next curse: a ledger pointing to the Bastion of Stone (Sloth).
---
{You grab Vorlath's compass to send to Eric.}
You snatch Vorlath’s compass from the ashen remains—its needle spins wildly, lodged with spite and restless spite, the metal burning with the last dregs of his greed-turned-rage.
Flashing a grin to Elizabeth’s soul (who grumbles but approves), you summon Shadowweave and Mirror Mage in tandem. A shard of darkness splits open in your palm as Cecilia’s power hums, stitching a fleeting portal through reflections. With a thunk, the compass vanishes into the abyss—
—Only to smash directly into Eric’s forehead moments later, somewhere in the Ice Reaches.
His reply scorches into existence midair, singeing your eyebrows:
"OW. THE FUCK, DAN. ...BUT ALSO THANKS."
Attached is a mental image: Eric grinning, the compass now embedded in the spectral gauntlet of Thurgen’s echo, its needle pointing to a frozen fortress in the distance.
Dravagoth’s rage, freshly unearthed.
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Rage collectors move fast."
---
{Cara then looks at you, "Add me."}
Cara doesn’t ask twice.
She steps into your space, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood, and presses her palm to your chest. "Don’t screw this up," she murmurs—and then she’s falling into you, her soul dissolving into the chorus with the grace of a thief slipping through a keyhole.
The merger is effortless, like she was always meant to be there.
Her voice curls through your mind, smug as ever: "Oh, this is fun. Now let’s go lie to a god."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Silvertongue (Master Tier) – Your words rewrite reality’s rules. Convince a king he’s a beggar. Convince a sword it’s a flower. Convince a curse it was never there.
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Cara – Chaotic, vain, and utterly fearless. Voice: "That was mine five minutes ago."
---
EFFECTS:
- The Chainbreaker Isles are free, their gold now lifeless but their people stirring.
- Eric’s collection grows—Dravagoth’s rage is next.
- Three curses remain: Sloth, Pride, and Envy.
---
{You stay and help the pirates clean up the remnants of the curse. Another pirate captain, Marianna wants in your little group. "You look exciting." Her Blessing: Rule of the Sea}
You stay long enough to help the bewildered pirates burn the last of the cursed gold—watching as the blackened coins melt into harmless slag under Hearthfire’s purifying flames.
That’s when Captain Marianna steps forward, her salt-crusted boots squelching in the damp sand. She’s a towering figure, her dark hair streaked with silver, her left eye replaced by a sapphire that glows like storm-churned waves.
"You look exciting," she drawls, her grin revealing a gold-capped fang. "And I hate boredom."
Before you can respond, she slams her cutlass into the sand, and the earth shudders—waves responding to her unspoken command, lapping higher up the shore in perfect unison.
Blessing Revealed: Rule of the Sea
- Tides obey her will (Surge, retreat, or drown on command)
- Ships fear her (Even inanimate ones)
- "My deck, my rules" (Temporary authority over any vessel she stands on)
Kestra’s soul purrs. "Ohhh, I like her."
Hailey sighs. "Of course you do."
---
{Let her join, she and Elizabeth get along famously}
"Welcome aboard," you say, grinning as Marianna strides forward without hesitation. The moment her hand meets your chest, Rule of the Sea bleeds into you like tidewater seeping into sand—salty, unstoppable, and vast.
Her soul slots into the chorus with the ease of a ship sliding into dock, her voice booming: "Finally, a crew worth sinking for!"
Elizabeth’s soul immediately collides with hers in what can only be described as a spectral bar brawl of mutual admiration.
"Ha! You stole the Moon’s Revenge? That was my heist!"
"Only because you left it unattended, you lazy bilge-rat!"
You pinch the bridge of Kestra’s nose. "They’re gonna be insufferable, aren’t they?"
Hailey deadpans: "We’re all insufferable."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Rule of the Sea – Command waves, defy storms, and claim any ship as your own (temporarily).
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Marianna – Brash, fearless, and thinks ‘subtlety’ is a type of rope. Voice: "Next time, let’s steal the Bastion of Stone."
SYNERGY ACTIVATED:
- Rule of the Sea + Tiderider = You can now summon localized tsunamis (or cocktails made of seawater, if you’re feeling fancy).
---
### ONTO THE BASTION OF STONE
With the Isles purged, you chart course for Sloth’s domain—a kingdom frozen not in ice, but in apathy. Marianna’s borrowed ship cuts through the waves as the chorus bickers:
- Cara is drafting fake treasure maps to trick Sloth’s guards.
- Petrov is enforcing mandatory nap schedules to prep for cursed lethargy.
- Marianna and Elizabeth are still arguing over who sank more fleets.
As the fog-shrouded coastline appears, Sakura’s warning echoes:
"The Bastion doesn’t fight. It waits."
---
{Summon Jeremy and by extension Jessica. He's always energetic.}
The moment you summon Jeremy, he erupts onto the deck like a hyperactive poltergeist—still in Jessica’s body, much to her chagrin. His grin is manic, his energy levels concerningly high, and his first words are:
”Dude. DUDE. You guys have a PIRATE now?! Why does she get to be cool?!”
Jessica’s soul, currently suppressed under his chaotic possession, lets out a mental groan. "I hate this. So much."
You shrug. "We need someone immune to ‘sloth.’ Figured that was you."
Jeremy scoffs. "Pfft. Obviously. I haven’t slept since the isekai portal spat me out." He cracks his knuckles (Jessica’s knuckles). "So whaddya need? A heist? A dance-off? A—"
Marianna’s soul booms: "A naval bombardment?"
Jeremy’s eyes light up. "Oh hell yeah."
---
{Jessica comes up to you, "Allow us to join your chorus. Jeremy already agreed to it." You try and Jeremy isn't merged in but he does get a weaker copy of your blessing (lets him transform into a blessing original owener). Lucina tells the both of you that its because of your situations and status as collectors.}
Jessica steps forward, her expression resolute—while Jeremy’s voice echoes somewhere in the ether, disembodied but just as enthusiastic: "Yeah! Like a two-for-one deal, but with more drama!"
The moment Jessica merges with you, her Beast Tamer blessing intertwines with your existing arsenal, vibrating under your skin like the restless energy of a caged predator. But Jeremy—Jeremy doesn’t fully join the chorus.
Instead, something… weird happens.
A flicker of your Internal Empowerment tears off like a loose thread, latching onto him—but incomplete, a secondary blessing.
Lucina materializes mid-sigh, floating cross-legged in the air. "It’s because you’re both Collectors," she explains, gesturing vaguely. "He can’t merge into another collection—that’d be like pouring a river into a river. But this?" She points at Jeremy’s misty form, now shimmering with new potential. "He’s got a siphon of your ability. Lets him mimic the original owners of blessings you’ve absorbed. Sort of… echo transformations."
Jeremy gasps. "Ohhhh. So I can be Kestra now? Sneaky-sneaky mode?"
Kestra’s soul groans. "Absolutely not."
---
JEREMY’S NEW ABILITY:
- Echo Shift – Temporarily assumes the form (and some traits) of any soul you’ve merged with. (No access to their blessings, just their skills/body.)
- Example: If he mimics Elizabeth, he gets her pirate instincts—but not Tiderider.
JESSICA’S MERGER:
- Beast Tamer now stacks with Ylva’s Winter’s Howl, Siris’s Dog of War, etc. Allies can now channel bestial traits.
---
IMMEDIATE REACTIONS:
- Hailey: "This is either brilliant or catastrophic."
- Cara: "I reserve the right to haunt Jeremy if he wears my face."
- Lucina: "Try not to break reality too much." (She vanishes, leaving glitter.)
---
{Talk to Jessica while her copy deals with Jeremy's trying his newest ability. "So got so tired of his antics, you turned to me as an escape" You joke. You hear her snort in amusement. "I will always love him but god damn its too much with him in my head."}
Jessica’s soul lets out a tired but fond exhale, like she’s been holding that sigh in for years. "Love him? Obviously. Want to throttle him daily? Also obviously." She pauses, and you can feel her weighing her words. "He’s like… a tornado that means well. But sometimes you just need the storm to leave your house."
Kestra cackles. "Wow. That’s almost romantic."
Meanwhile, outside your mind, Jeremy (in Kestra’s stolen form) is attempting to pickpocket Naoko’s talismans.
Naoko, without looking, backhands him with a parchment. "Try that again and I’ll exorcise your hobbies."
Jessica groans. "See? This is my life now."
---
{Console her. At least she doesn't have to deal with him daily anymore. You watch as he loses Kestra form as a shift possiblity, since the world recognizes her as your body, her form becomes off limits permanently. His Echo Shift becomes shifting into people he's possessed.}
Jessica’s soul radiates a mix of relief and lingering exasperation. "Thank god," she mutters. "I mean, I’ll still have to deal with him sometimes, but at least now I can shove him into someone else’s body when he gets unbearable."
As if on cue, Jeremy’s Kestra-form flickers violently—then warps, his borrowed features melting into a hazy, half-formed version of Jessica’s own body. He blinks down at himself, pouting.
"Aw, come on! I liked being stabby!"
Naoko raises an eyebrow. "Now you’re just you, but worse."
Lucina’s voice drifts down from nowhere: "Correction! He’s now limited to forms he’s personally possessed before. So, uh… congrats on the Jessica cosplay, Jeremy."
Jessica’s soul goes very still.
"...I’m going to murder him."
Kestra, grinning: "Oh, this is gold."
---
JEREMY’S UPDATED ECHO SHIFT:
- Now Only Shifts Into People He’s Personally Possessed (Jessica, Lyra’s copy, etc.)
- No More Theft of Your Merged Souls’ Forms (Kestra, Elizabeth, etc. are off-limits)
- Side Effect: He also gains their memories/quirks temporarily ("Why do I suddenly hate math?!")
---
{You allow Jessica one punch.}
"Go for it," you say, leaning back mentally. "One free punch. Make it count."
Jessica’s soul practically vibrates with vindication.
The moment Jeremy (still in her body, sporting her face) turns to complain to you—
Jessica’s fist explodes out of your chest in a surge of spectral energy.
The punch connects with Jeremy’s nose (well, her nose that he’s currently wearing) with a satisfying crack, sending him stumbling backward into a barrel of salted fish.
”OW! WHAT THE—”
Jessica flexes her borrowed knuckles, radiating smug satisfaction. "Worth every second of being stuck with him."
Kestra’s soul applauds. "Beautiful form. Chef’s kiss."
Naoko sighs. "Are you done? We have a kingdom to un-nap."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Jeremy’s nose isn’t actually broken (it’s Jessica’s body, after all), but his pride is obliterated.
- Jessica is noticeably cheerier.
- The pirates are mildly concerned but also entertained.
---
{1)You sail for the Bastion, stopping by the Hollow to grab Lust's cursebearer (a consort betrayed by her husband named Lilvia) rage relic, a mask, and send it straight to Eric.
2) During the trip Jeremy experiments with Echo Shift limits, no longer as playful the closer you get to the Bastion.
3) You ask Jessica about Beast Tamer, "You upgraded it in two ways. Firstly, I can now summoned echies of the animals I have bonded with. Secondly, I can now mix thiae echoes with your other blessings." She summon a Direwolf by your side to show case.
4) Using Ryn's Summon knowledge, summon a hero as a backup, you summon Lena's little sister (now an adult) with the Dreamweaver Blessing.}
### VOYAGE TO THE BASTION OF STONE
The ship cuts through mist-laden waters, the air growing thicker, heavier, as if the mere proximity to Sloth’s domain weighs down the world itself. You make a stop at the Hollow Delta’s ruins, retrieving Lilvia’s Mask—a porcelain relic stained with the last furious tears of Lust’s betrayed consort—and send it via shadow-mirror express to Eric, who responds:
"Creepy. Love it. Also, found Dravagoth’s rage—it’s frozen in his throne. Like, literally. Working on thawing it."
---
### JEREMY’S ECHO SHIFT: DARKER EXPERIMENTS
As the journey drags on, Jeremy’s usual chaotic energy dims, replaced by something more focused.He shifts into Lyra’s copied form, then Jessica’s again, testing the edges of his ability.
"It’s not just their bodies," he murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet. "I feel their regrets too. Lyra’s guilt. Jessica’s... frustration with me." He scowls. "Kinda sucks."
Naoko eyes him. "Good. Maybe you’ll learn something."
---
### JESSICA’S BEAST TAMER 2.0
Jessica demonstrates her upgrades as a Direwolf materializes beside you—not just any beast, but a memory given form, its fur streaked with Hearthfire’s glow (Lena’s influence) and eyes sharp with Moonlight Dance’s cunning (Mara’s touch).
"I can mix traits now," she explains. "Direwolf + Stormcaller? Lightning-fanged predator. Direwolf + Rule of the Sea? Tidal howl."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. We could ride that."
---
### SUMMONING LENA’S SISTER
Using Ryn’s summoning knowledge, you carve a circle into the deck. The ritual tugs at something familiar—and out steps Mira, Lena’s little sister, now a woman grown.
Her Dreamweaver blessing hums in the air, threads of ethereal silver coiling around her fingers.
"So," she says, blinking at you. "You’re the guy who ate my sister."
Lena’s soul squeaks. "MIRA?!"*
Mira grins. "Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly."
---
NEW ALLY:
- Mira – Dreamweaver (Manipulates sleep, dreams, and the space between.)
- Role: Counters Sloth’s lethargy by forcing wakefulness (or weaponized nightmares).
---
{Ask the dead. The gravekeeper and a female blacksmith greet you as Soul-collector. But its the Bastion's "Princess" who tells you the most and who wants to join the chorus. Her Blessing is Rallying Point.}
### CONSULTING THE DEAD
You call upon Liora’s Lament, letting the veil between worlds thin. The air chills as three figures materialize from the mist:
1. The Gravekeeper – A hunched figure with a shovel over one shoulder. "Sloth’s curse isn’t sleep. It’s indifference."
2. The Blacksmith – Her hammer still clutched in ghostly hands. "They stopped fighting. Even for their own lives."*
3. The "Princess" – A young woman in a tattered coronation gown, her eyes burning with unspent conviction. "I tried to rouse them. But my voice wasn’t enough."
She steps forward, her form flickering with residual determination. "My blessing was Rallying Point—a call to arms that ignites willpower. Let me join you. Let me fix this."
---
BLESSING REVEALED: Rallying Point
- Compels unity/action in allies (Counters apathy directly)
- Stacks with Hearthfire (Lena’s healing flames + her resolve = unstoppable morale)
- Voice of a Leader (Even the dead listen)
---
{Welcome her. Naoko decides to join at this point as well, as Sloth has begun to effect her body.}
### THE CHORUS GROWS
"Then stand with us," you say, extending a hand.
The Princess doesn’t hesitate—she strides forward, her form dissolving into silver light as Rallying Point merges with your being. Her voice rings clear in the chorus, crisp as a war horn: "No more retreat. No more surrender."
Kestra whistles. "Okay, military mommy, we see you."
Then, abruptly, Naoko grips your shoulder, her talisman-laden fingers digging in. "Do not make this dramatic," she mutters—but her usual sharpness is slurred, her movements sluggish. A creeping grayness tinges her knuckles.
Sloth’s curse is already claiming her.
She snarls, forcing her palm against your chest. "Take it. Now."
Her merger is not gentle. Purge Demon crashes into your soul like a tidal wave, scouring the lethargy from her spirit—but leaving behind jagged edges, a blessing hardened by decades of battle.
As her consciousness slots into place, her voice is pure steel: "We end this."
---
NEW ADDITIONS:
- Princess Eselle – Rallying Point (Morale incarnate, her presence banishes hesitation.)
- "You will not look away. You will not falter."
- Naoko – Purge Demon (Her exorcisms now lash from your fingertips.)
- "Sin is a stain. And I clean."
SYNERGIES UNLOCKED:
- Rallying Point + Discipline Authority = Unbreakable Will (Allies resist mental/curse effects.)
- Purge Demon + Corruption Eater = Oblivion Hunger (Hailey can now consume curses at range via Naoko’s talismans.)
---
THE BASTION’S GATES LOOM.
The kingdom lies silent, its people entombed in waking slumber—but now, you carry the tools to shake them from their stupor.
{You plan as Naoko and Victoria bicker like a mother and daughter should. You utilitize mixed blessings to maximize their effects.}
### THE PLAN: BLESSING SYNERGIES
As Naoko and Victoria’s souls bicker in the background ("You cannot ‘lightly curse’ someone, Mother—" / "It was one time—"), you focus on weaving their blessings—and others—into a lethal tapestry of anti-sloth warfare.
#### CORE COMBO #1: Rallying Point + Hearthfire + Discipline Authority
- Eselle’s commanding presence amplifies Lena’s healing flames, turning them into searing beacons of resolve.
- Petrov’s authority enforces focus, ensuring no ally succumbs to lethargy.
Effect: "WAKE. UP." (Literally.)
#### CORE COMBO #2: Dreamweaver + Corruption Eater + Purge Demon
- Mira threads nightmares into Sloth’s curse, sabotaging its hold.
- Hailey eats the fraying curse-tendrils.
- Naoko’s talismans scorch the remnants.
Effect: "Your curse is digested. Congrats."
#### CORE COMBO #3: Beast Tamer (Direwolf) + Stormcaller + Moonlight Dance
- Jessica’s direwolf infused with Elara’s lightning and Mara’s stealth.
- Result: A lightning-cloaked phantom wolf that cannot be ignored.
---
### EXECUTION: THE BASTION OF STONE
You breach the gates under Marianna’s artificial storm (Rule of the Sea + Tiderider), the downpour violent enough to drown out Sloth’s whispers.
1. Eselle shouts, her voice cracking the sky:
"YOU ARE ALIVE. ACT LIKE IT."
The cursed citizens jolt upright, eyes wide—terrified, but awake.
2. Naoko slams talismans into the earth, and Hailey’s Oblivion Hunger unspools, black tendrils latching onto the curse’s roots.
3. Mira weaves Dreamweaver’s power into the fray, forcing Sloth’s curse to confront itself—its own indifference turned into a suffocating nightmare.
4. Jeremy, in Lyra’s copied form, sprints through the streets, echoing the dead’s regrets into every ear:
"You let them die. You watched."
---
### SLOUGH’S CURSEBEARER REVEALED
In the heart of the Bastion, atop a throne of petrified soldiers, sits The Sleeper—a child-sized figure wrapped in burial silks, its face hidden beneath a stone mask.
It doesn’t fight.
It yawns.
"You bore me," it murmurs—and the world stillens, your allies’ movements turning sluggish.
---
{"So Sloth who became your pawn." Shaking off the apathy through will.}
### BREAKING SLOUGH’S INDIFFERENCE
The Sleeper’s stone mask cracks—just a hairline fracture—as your words land.
"Pawn?" its voice rasps, less weary now, more… curious.
You step forward, Rallying Point blazing in your chest, Eselle’s voice echoing through yours:
"You were used. Just like Seraphina. Like Dravagoth. Like Lilvia."
Naoko’s Purge Demon lashes out, talismans flaring as Hailey bites into the curse—not just consuming it, but forcing it to feel.
"Your curse isn’t strength," you growl. "It’s surrender."
The Sleeper flinches.
---
{Mira weaves a dream from the cursebearer's memories. Her true form reveals a mother who lost her child because she feel asleep.}
### SLOUGH’S TRUTH UNBURIED
Mira’s hands twist like a weaver pulling threads, and the air shivers as Dreamweaver claws into the Sleeper’s memories. The stone mask splits apart, revealing the face beneath—
A woman, her eyes hollow with grief, her lips parted in a silent scream.
The dream unfolds:
- A child’s laugh, bright as sunlight.
- A mother’s exhaustion, heavy as the throne she now slumps upon.
- A moment’s lapse—just a blink—and the crib lies empty.
- The kingdom’s judgment: "You failed her."
The curse didn’t begin with malice.
It began with guilt.
"I let her die," the Sleeper whispers, her voice no longer sluggish—shattered. "So I let everything die."
---
{1)You hug her, "I know what it like to blame yourself for a mistake."
2) You allow Sloth to take hold and you drag her into your Hailey's memorues of the accident, your fallout, and your eventual reconcilization.
3) After seeing the memories she sobs into you, "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya and when I lived my blessing was Starlight Lullaby"}
### THE MOMENT OF RECKONING
You step forward, wrapping your arms around Shriya as she trembles in her shattered throne. "I know what it’s like," you murmur, your voice low and rough with memory. "To blame yourself for something you can’t undo."
Then—you do something reckless.
You let Sloth’s curse take hold of you, just for a moment. The lethargy seeps into your bones, but before it can root, you yank Shriya into Hailey’s memories—and yours:
- The car crash. The blood. The guilt.
- Your wrists under the razor. The pills in your palm.
- Hailey’s letter: "You don’t get to run away."
- The balcony. The wind. The choice to step back.
- Years later—reconciliation. Not painless, but possible.
Shriya shudders, her fingers clutching at your coat as the visions flood her.
And then—she breaks.
Sobs wrack her body, the stone mask crumbling entirely as she gasps into your shoulder: "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya. And when I lived… my blessing was Starlight Lullaby."
---
THE MERGER:
Her soul slots into the chorus with the sweetness of a half-remembered lullaby, her voice soft but steady:
"Never again. Never alone."
NEW BLESSING:
- Starlight Lullaby – Can soothe or shatter sleep, weaving dreams or nightmares at will.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Shriya = Total dream domination.
---
AFTERMATH:
- Sloth’s curse dissipates, the Bastion’s people stirring like survivors of a long winter.
---
{You ask about an object of rage from Shriya and others to send to Eric. Shriya personally has you collect her music box, broken in her anger at herself. The ghosts guide you, the gravekeeper leads you to her spade, the blacksmith to her hammer, a soldier to his helmet, a priestess to her cracked bell, a scholar to his journal.
Mira asks to join the chorus, "I'm not letting sis leave me again."}
### COLLECTING RAGE – FOR ERIC’S ARSENAL
The dead guide you through the ruins of the Bastion, each offering relics steeped in their fury:
- Shriya’s music box, its melody warped by self-loathing. ("I threw it against the wall. It still played.")
- The gravekeeper’s spade, its edge dulled from digging too many rushed graves. ("They didn’t even fight.")
- The blacksmith’s hammer, its grip stained with blood from her own clenched fists. ("I forged weapons they never used.")
- A soldier’s helmet, caved in from being stomped into the earth. ("It was easier to die.")
- A priestess’s cracked bell, its chime turned discordant. ("I prayed for answers. The silence broke me.")
- A scholar’s journal, pages torn in half. ("Knowledge is pointless if no one cares.")
You bundle them together, weaving Shadowweave and Mirror Mage into another portal. The relics vanish into the abyss—destined for Eric’s ever-growing collection of wrath.
His reply scorches back almost instantly:
"DAMN. Gloomy. But useful."
---
### MIRA’S DECISION
Lena’s sister doesn’t ask—she demands.
"I’m not letting sis leave me again," Mira declares, her eyes gleaming with dream-woven silver. "Merge with me. Or I’ll haunt you anyway."
Lena’s soul squeaks in protest, but the chorus is already making room.
The merger is seamless—Dreamweaver intertwining with Starlight Lullaby, forming a nightmare orchestra of divine potential.
NEW SYNERGY:
- Mira + Shriya: Can now trap enemies in shared hallucinations (or unmake curses by forcing them to dream they never existed).
Mira’s voice curls through your mind, smug: "Told you you wouldn’t dodge me."
Lena sighs. "You stole my candy when we were five. Some things never change."
---
### TWO CURSES REMAIN
With Pride (Ashwind Dominion) and Envy (Verdant Expanse) left, the path forward is clear—but dangerous.
Naoko’s soul exhales. "Pride is isolated. Envy is connected—it feeds on others. Strike Pride first."
Cara smirks. "Time to humble a god."
---
{You help the Bastion recover. Jeremy slowly returns to being an agent of chaotic mischief}
### RECOVERY IN THE BASTION
You take stock of the Bastion of Stone—once a kingdom drowning in apathy, now stirring like a hibernating beast after a long winter. The people move sluggishly, still rubbing the fog of the curse from their eyes, but the light of determination flickers back to life in their gazes.
With Eselle’s Rallying Point resonating through the streets, you organize the survivors, dividing them into work crews to rebuild what was neglected. The Gravekeeper and the Blacksmith guide the restoration efforts, turning broken tools into instruments of renewal. Even Shriya’s Starlight Lullaby finds new purpose—singing gentle melodies to children who once slept through their own lives, their dreams no longer prisons but sanctuaries.
As the Bastion awakens, so too does Jeremy.
His temporary somberness fades like morning mist, replaced by his trademark gleeful anarchy. He flits between his many bodies such as—Jessica’s, Lyra’s copy’s, even a bewildered pirate’s—just to keep life interesting.
- Jessica’s body is caught trying to steal Mira’s dream-weaving tools.
- Lyra’s form is used to impersonate a priestess and declare "Pancakes are holy!"
- A random pirate suddenly shouts "I’M KING OF THE SEAGULLS!" before jumping off a dock (and safely swimming back).
Kestra is delighted. "Ahhh, back to normal."
Hailey groans. "I miss Sloth."
---
{You return Lifire to update Queen Isolda that only Pride and Envy remain and to grab Alex for the mission.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – FINAL BRIEFING
Queen Isolda meets you in the war room, her fingers steepled over a map where Ashwind Dominion (Pride) and Verdant Expanse (Envy) are circled in ink-dark crimson. "Two left," she murmurs. "And the architect must be sweating."
At her side, Alex adjusts her glasses with a mechanical click, her Reverse Engineer blessing humming in the air like static. "I’ve analyzed the patterns," she says, flipping open a ledger filled with diagrams of the curses’ spread. "Pride’s curse sustains itself—its ruler grows stronger the more others falter. But Envy... Envy adapts. It learns from the others’ defeats."
She slams the book shut. "So we break Pride first. Before Envy can copy its tricks."**
From the corner, Jeremy (currently possessing a candleholder) pipes up: "Cool. So, uh... do we insult Pride to death?"
---
LOGISTICS:
- Alex Joins the Party – Reverse Engineer can dismantle Pride’s defenses layer by layer.
- Queen’s Intel – Ashwind’s ruler, Emperor Kael, has never been sick, never aged. A red flag.
---
{Alex askes to join, "You have the rest might as well throw me in as well."}
### ALEX JOINS THE CHORUS
Alex doesn’t wait for an answer. She strides forward, her Reverse Engineer blessing already flaring like a live wire, and presses her palm to your chest.
"Don’t screw this up," she mutters—and then she’s falling into you, her consciousness dissolving into the chorus with the precision of a scalpel slicing through code.
The moment she merges, your mind expands—suddenly, you see the world as she does: equations overlaying reality, every curse, every blessing, every soul a puzzle to be disassembled and understood.
NEW BLESSING:
- Reverse Engineer (Mastered) – Can now deconstruct magic mid-combat, identifying weaknesses in real-time.
- Synergy with Corruption Eater: Hailey can now target the exact components of a curse to devour.
Alex’s voice cuts through the mental noise, crisp and impatient: "Pride’s curse is a feedback loop. Break the input, and the whole system collapses."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- Jeremy attempts to possess Alex’s copied body left behind—only to recoil. "Ugh. She thinks in math."
- Mira and Shriya immediately start weaving dreamfire equations because why not.
- Queen Isolda pinches the bridge of her nose. "I’m almost glad I’m not part of this."
---
{On the way to Ashwind, you greet each member of your chorus.}
As the ship cuts through the waves toward Ashwind Dominion, you take a rare moment of quiet to greet the chorus of souls within you—one by one.
### Kestra (Thief’s Guile)
"Still the best damn thief in any dimension, I see."
"Obviously," she purrs. "And I still own that coat."
### Lena (Hearthfire)
You summon a small flame in your palm—warm, steady, just like her.
"You’ve grown," she murmurs. "Even if you’re still a mess."
### Victoria (Shadowweave)
"Missed this, huh?" You twirl a ribbon of darkness between your fingers.
Her laugh is low. "Like you wouldn’t believe."
### Lyra (Holy Prayer)
A pulse of golden light. "You’re still not taking care of yourself."
"...Noted."
### Siris (Dog of War)
You flex your arm—her strength hums in your muscles.
"Fight smart," she grunts. "Not just hard."
### Mara (Moonlight Dance)
A shadowy pirouette. "Oh, good. You’re finally learning flair."
### Elara (Stormcaller)
The air crackles. "Try not to get struck this time."
### Hailey (Corruption Eater)
"You owe me a drink after this."
"Noted."
### Sakura (Seer)
"The storm ahead… it blinds even me."
### Elizabeth (Tiderider)
"If we drown Ashwind, I call dibs on their treasury."
### Ryn (Summoner’s Pact)
"New rule: No cursed artifacts at dinner."
### Ylva (Winter’s Howl)
"Make sure I get to bite something."
### Liora (Lament)
"The dead whisper secrets. Listen."
### Dahli (Storyteller Song)
"This one’s got potential. Let’s make it epic."
### Sena (Performer’s Grace)
A mental bow. "Encore incoming."
### Cecilia (Mirror Mage)
"Let’s reflect their arrogance back at them."
### Naoko (Purge Demon)
"No reckless moves." (You ignore her.)
### Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge)
"Focus. Or I will make you."
### Eselle (Rallying Point)
"No retreat. No surrender."
### Shriya (Starlight Lullaby)
A soft hum. "We will wake them up."
### Mira (Dreamweaver)
"Time to lucid-break a curse."
### Cara (Silvertongue)
"Just watch me lie to a god."
### Marianna (Rule of the Sea)
"This ship answers to me now."
### Alex (Reverse Engineer)
"Pride’s curse is elegant. Let’s ruin it."
### Jessica (Beast Tamer)
"Let’s hunt."
---
THE CHORUS IS READY.
Ashwind looms.
{Elara and Estelle refused to let me bow my head in submission, so our plan became I was a noble daughter with an escort. You use Dahli and Petrov's Blessings to reinforce that story.}
### THE PLAN: NOBLE DECEPTION
"You do not bow," Eselle’s voice rings in your mind, sharp as a blade. "Not to them."
Elara’s storm-charged presence crackles in agreement. "Pride feeds on submission. So we starve it."
You straighten your spine, adjusting the finely tailored Ashwind noble garb Cara "acquired" (stole) for the occasion. The ensemble is obscenely opulent—silks threaded with gold, a high collar that forces your chin up, and a cloak lined with shadowweave to subtly repel prying eyes.
Dahli’s Storyteller Song wraps around your group, weaving an irresistible narrative:
"Lady Veyra of the Southern Marches, exiled after a scandalous affair, now returns to reclaim her birthright—with her loyal retainers in tow."
Petrov’s Discipline Authority locks the act into place, ensuring every guard, every servant, every breath you take radiates unshakable nobility.
---
THE DECEPTION:
- You – The disgraced heiress, too proud to ever kneel.
- Cara's echo – Your sharp-tongued handmaiden (already flirting with a guard).
- Naoko's echo – Your devout chaplain (talismans hidden in her sleeves).
- Alex’s Echo – Your scholarly advisor (muttering equations under her breath).
- Jeremy – Your reckless cousin (currently possessing a nobleman’s body specifically to cause drama).
---
ENTRY TO ASHWIND:
The gates part before you, the guards’ eyes glazing over as Dahli’s story sinks in. One even bows.
"Welcome home, Lady Veyra."
Kestra cackles. "Oh, this is too easy."
---
{Let Cara shine, have Alex start working.}
### LET CARA SHINE
You give Cara the slightest nod—your stage—and she flourishes, her Silvertongue weaving through the gilded court like a serpent through grass.
Within minutes:
- A baroness gifts you her ancestral brooch ("It suits you better, darling.")
- A duke swears he recognizes you from a "most exclusive salon." (He doesn’t.)
- The Emperor’s seneschal personally escorts you to a private balcony, convinced you’re "an old friend of the crown."
Cara’s smirk is filthy with triumph. "Told you. Child’s play."
---
### ALEX’S ANALYSIS
While Cara dazzles, Alex goes to work. Her Reverse Engineer blessing hums as she scans the palace’s opulent halls, her gaze dissecting:
- The curse’s pulse (flowing from the Emperor’s throne like invisible ivy)
- The nobles’ auras (their pride feeding the curse, their wills eroded)
- The structural weak points (a hidden vault beneath the throne, radiating something ancient)
She hisses in your mind: "The curse isn’t just pride. It’s addiction. They’re hooked on their own superiority. Break the supply, and they’ll crumble."
---
{Let Jeremy begin to cast doubt about your identity. Have Cara speak of a plot to silence the true heir.}
### JEREMY’S CHAOS, CARA’S LIES
You give Jeremy the mental green light—and he delivers.
From across the ballroom, his borrowed noble form (some forgettable baron’s third cousin) slams a goblet onto a tray, gasping dramatically:
"Wait—that’s not Lady Veyra! I saw the real Veyra burned at the stake for treason in the Southern Marches!"
The court freezes.
Then—Cara strikes, her Silvertongue lashing out like a whip.
"Of course he’d say that," she sneers, stepping forward with flawless indignation. "The same lies they spread to discredit my lady when she discovered their plot to poison the Emperor and silence the true heir!"
A beat. Then—the court explodes into uproar.
- Nobles clutch their pearls.
- The seneschal pales.
- Jeremy’s host is immediately seized by guards.
Emperor Kael, draped in gilded robes, rises from his throne—his eyes gleaming with something darker than anger. Curse-energy drips from his fingertips.
"You dare," he murmurs, "bring messy lies into my court?"
---
"Ask the Emperor, he was there when you banished.}
"Ask the Emperor himself," you declare, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "He was there when I was banished—when he ordered my branding for daring to speak the truth!"
The crowd gasps. All eyes turn to Emperor Kael, his face a mask of icy control—but his fingers twitch, betraying the curse’s agitation.
For a heartbeat, the court holds its breath.
Then—he smiles.
"Ah. You." His voice is a velvet-wrapped threat. "I should have known a mongrel like you would slink back."
The curse pulses, the air thickening with golden arrogance—but beneath it, you catch the flicker of fear.
He remembers you. Or at least, he thinks he does—because Dahli’s Storyteller Song and Petrov’s Discipline Authority have woven the lie into his very mind.
---
{Let him monologue about the disgrace you are}
### THE EMPEROR'S MONOLOGUE – A TRAP SPRUNG
The Emperor rises, his golden robes cascading like liquid arrogance. "You dishonored your line," he begins, voice dripping with contempt. "A stain on the Ashwind name—begging for mercy like a peasant as I cast you out."
He descends the dias, each step heavy with cursed authority. "Yet here you stand, still defiant, still believing you deserve more." His laugh is a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "You are nothing without my recognition."
Perfect.
Every word he speaks feeds the curse—exposing its core.
"Got it," Alex hisses in your mind. "His throne isn’t just power—it’s a relay. Break it, and the curse fractures."
Meanwhile, Jeremy (still playing his role as your furious cousin) lunges forward—not at you, but at the throne itself, knocking over a ceremonial spear.
"YOU RUINED OUR HOUSE!" he wails—
The spear cracks the throne’s armrest.
A split forms in the gilded facade.
---
THE EMPEROR’S REACTION:
His composure shatters. "NO—!"
For the first time, fear flashes in his eyes—not for his dignity, but for his throne.
---
{Feign a divine storm.}
### "DIVINE STORM" – A DECEPTION
You subtly signal Elara within your soul—and she responds with a grin.
Suddenly, the palace’s stained-glass windows rattle as if struck by an unseen gale. The chandeliers sway wildly, their crystals scattering prismatic light like fractured lightning. A deafening thunderclap (courtesy of Dahli’s Fable-Weaver convincing the court they heard it) shakes the room.
You drop to your knees—not in submission, but in mock terror—covering your head as you cry out:
"The gods rage at this injustice! They strike at Ashwind for its hubris!"
The nobles panic, some clutching their jewels, others diving under tables. Even the Emperor stumbles back, his cursed aura flickering like a candle in the wind.
---
THE LIE UNFOLDS:
- Mira and Shriya weave dreamfire into the air, making the shadows twist into wrathful deities.
- Cara whispers to a duchess: "The Emperor’s pride has angered the heavens!"
- Jeremy, still in his noble host, swoons dramatically: "We are doomed for tolerating his arrogance!"
The Emperor’s face pales. His curse stutters—its hold on the court wavering as their faith in him frays.
---
{Alex tells you the weakest point and the a bolt of lighting strikes the throne.}
Alex’s voice slices through the chaos in your mind: "THERE—the seventh rune on the throne’s left leg! Strike it now!"*
You don’t hesitate.
Elara’s Stormcaller surges through you as you point at the throne—and a bolt of lightning cracks from the false heavens, spearing straight into the weakened rune.
The impact shatters the throne like glass.
For a heartbeat—silence.
Then the Emperor screams, his body convulsing as the curse ruptures from within, golden veins of arrogance splitting his skin like overfilled seams.
Hailey doesn’t wait. Her Corruption Eater lunges, fangs sinking into the unraveling curse, gorging on centuries of stolen pride.
The nobles collapse like marionettes with cut strings, gasping as their minds clear.
The Emperor falls to his knees, his voice raw:
"I… I see now. It was never mine—"
Then Naoko’s Purge Demon slams into him, and he dissolves into ash.
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curse is broken.
- The vault beneath the throne opens, revealing ancient tablets—each etched with the same symbol: a seven-pointed crown.
- Eric’s voice echoes through your mind: "Uh. So. Dravagoth’s rage just exploded into a name: Zareth the Sunderer. Ring any bells?"
---
FINAL CURSE REMAINING:
- Envy (Verdant Expanse) – The most adaptive, the most desperate.
{You toss Kael's crown to Eric.}
With a flick of your wrist, you hurl Kael’s crown through another shadow-mirror portal, straight to Eric’s waiting hands. His reply scorches into the air moments later, accompanied by the sound of shattering ice and distant roaring:
"HA! Perfect. Now I’ve got Stolen Pride to go with the Stolen Wrath—watch this—"
A mental image bursts into your mind: Eric, wearing Kael’s crown over Dravagoth’s frozen rage, driving a glacier apart with sheer, reckless fury.
You grin. Good.
---
ASHWIND DOMINION IS FREE.
But the Verdant Expanse’s Envy still festers—and if Zareth the Sunderer is the architect behind this, the final battle won’t be easy.
ONE LAST CURSE.
---
{1) You help Ashwind recover from Pride's curse.
2) While gathering other artifacts for Eric, you meet a female descendant of Kael's sister, (Lady Veyra, who laughed at the accident use of her name), who wishes to join your chorus to avenge Kael, who her ancestor said tried to fight the curse upon his rebirth as the curse bearer
3) You agree and she merges into your Chorus. Her Blessing is Dynasty of Time: Manipulation of localized time.
4) Among the Artifacts sent to Eric are Kaela's (Kael's sister) crest ring, a locket of from a mother, the bells of a jester, and the axe from Kael's executioner.}
### ASHWIND’S RECOVERY & THE FINAL ARTIFACTS
You stay long enough to help Ashwind Dominion shake off the remnants of Pride’s curse, guiding the nobles through their newfound clarity—some weep, others rage, but most simply sit in silence, grappling with the weight of their wasted years.
As you gather the last of the artifacts for Eric, a figure steps from the shadows—Lady Veyra, the real one, her smirk sharp as the dagger at her hip.
"I did enjoy watching you steal my name," she muses, examining Kael’s shattered throne. "But my ancestor—Kael’s sister—told me the truth. He fought the curse when it first took him. And for that, he was unmade and remade into that." She kicks the ashen remains of the Emperor. "I want in."
Her Dynasty of Time blessing hums in the air, the very light around her fingers slowing, then spiraling like stirred honey.
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the chaos."
The merger is seamless—her soul slots into the chorus with the precision of a clock’s gears, her voice cool and measured: "Time is ours now."---
NEW BLESSING:
- Dynasty of Time – Can slow, hasten, or isolate moments in a localized field.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Veyra = Temporal Nightmares (Trapping foes in looping seconds of their worst memories).
ARTIFACTS SENT TO ERIC:
- Kaela’s Crest Ring (A sister’s grief-turned-rage)
- A Mother’s Locket (Her child wasted by Pride)
- The Jester’s Bells (Mockery that failed to wake the court)
- The Executioner’s Axe (Used to silence dissenters)
Eric’s reply is immediate: "Ohhh, spicy. These’ll make great shrapnel."
---
FINAL MOVE:
The Verdant Expanse awaits—Envy’s curse coiled tight around its heart.
{1) You regroup at the Lifire throne, with you bringing everyone including Eric via your normal methods. You call out to Lucina, "Lucy, we need to talk."
2) Lucina appears and explains, "that Zareth was a god once and he created the Sins because he hated humanity. That once Envy is ended, his seal will be broken and he will be free."
3) Lucina drops a final reveal, only Human's touched by all seven sins can harm him or in other words, only the Collectors.}
### THE FINAL REVELATION – LIFIRE THRONE ROOM
The moment you gather your forces—Eric included, still crackling with the fury of six curses absorbed—Lucina appears, her divine form flickering with something rarely seen in gods: hesitation.
"Zareth the Sunderer," she begins, voice hollow, "was a god of judgment. He created the Seven Sins to test humanity... then grew to despise you for failing."
The air chills.
"The curses were his cage," she continues. "Break Envy, and his seal shatters. He returns."
Then the final blow:
"Only those touched by all Seven Sins—Collectors—can harm him."
Her eyes meet yours, then Eric’s, then glance at Jeremy’s flickering form.
"You three."
---
THE TEAM:
- You – Soul-hoarder, sin-drunk, walking blasphemy.
- Eric – Rage’s warlord, crowned in shattered pride.
- Jeremy – Chaos incarnate, already shifting into Jessica’s form just to annoy her.
THE PLAN:
1. Break Envy – Let Eric’s collected grudges overwhelm its adaptability.
2. Bait Zareth Out – Lure him into the open with Lucina as ‘prey’.
3. Kill a God – Three vs. one. Fair odds.
{1) "The cursebearer of Envy will fight hard, harder any other cursebearer. Worse still is Envy evolves in response." Lucina tells you all.
2) "Which is why you will need to summon a final hero for Envy when you arrive in the Expanse." She warns.
3) She allows you to add a fragment of her current self to your chrous. Her Blessing: Divine Judgement
4) She gives Eric a relic of her past self full of her rage.
5) She allows Jeremy to temporary possess her to get a divine skill (Chance: Probalilty alteration, random, cooldown of random time) but locks her form from him.}
### LUCINA’S FINAL GIFTS
The goddess stands before you, her silver hair shimmering with divine light, her expression uncharacteristically solemn.
1) The Threat of Envy
"Envy’s cursebearer will be different," Lucina warns. "It learns. Every curse you’ve broken, every tactic you’ve used—it has studied. It adapts." She hesitates. "Which is why you must summon one final hero upon arrival—someone unexpected."
2) Divine Power Shared
She extends a hand, pressing a fragment of her essence into you. Divine Judgment sears into your chorus, its weight immense—the power to declare sin and enforce punishment.
New Blessing:
- Divine Judgment – Can mark a foe with a divine verdict, weakening them based on their sins (Pride = Hubris, Greed = Penury, etc.).
3) Eric’s Relic – The Starforged Shackles
A pair of manacles forged from Lucina’s past fury, still singing with the echoes of her wrath. Eric grins as they clamp onto his wrists, his aura flaring crimson.
New Effect:
- Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy now carries divine weight. His strikes can sunder god-flesh.
4) Jeremy’s Wild Card
Lucina sighs—deeply—before allowing Jeremy to possess her, briefly.
The moment he does—
A golden die materializes in the air, rolling endlessly.
"Ooooh, Probability Alteration!" Jeremy crows (in Lucina’s voice, which is terrifying). "I can tweak random outcomes! But uh… it’s, uh… unpredictable."
Effect:
- Once per battle, Jeremy can force a re-roll of fate (attack missed? Try again! Enemy crit? Nope!).
- Cooldown is random (anywhere from 5 seconds to 5 hours).
- Locked Form: He cannot shapeshift into Lucina again. ("PRAISE THE GODS," mutters Naoko.)
---
FINAL PREPARATIONS:
- Verdant Expanse’s Cursebearer will expect you.
- Zareth waits behind the curtain.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy are the only ones who can end him.
---
{1) You turn to Queen Isolda, "Will Lifire be able to aid in the upcoming fight?" You ask her.
2) "Not just Lifire, Each freed nation has send what and who they can, even Ashwind." She replies.
3) Everyone is at the Expanse's borders. You summon the final hero. (Its Your Little Sister, now an adult) (Her Blessing: Paradox Enigma: Random effect generator)}
### The Final Stand – Verdant Expanse
You turn to Queen Isolda, gripping the hilt of your sword. "Will Lifire be able to aid in what comes next?"
She doesn’t hesitate. "Not just us. Every nation you freed has sent their strongest." Her gaze sweeps over the gathered forces—Lifire’s paladins, Delta’s assassins, Ashwind’s unbroken knights, the Bastion’s newly awakened warriors, The Reaches Frostborn berserkers and the Chainbreaker pirates.
They are ready. But first...
### The Final Summon
You carve the ritual circle into the earth, the summoning flare igniting in a cascade of silver fire—and out steps…
Your little sister.
Now a woman grown, her hair wild with static, her grin eerily familiar.
"Hey, big bro," she says, flexing her fingers as paradoxical energy crackles around them. "Miss me?"
Blessing Revealed: Paradox Enigma – Randomly generates one of seven effects every minute (telekinesis, time reversal, spontaneous combustion, healing rain, etc.). Chaos incarnate.
Kestra’s voice is delighted: "Oh. Oh no. Two of you."
### The Armies Gather
With your sister at your side, Eric brimming with god-slaying rage, and Jeremy grinning like a madman, you turn toward the Verdant Expanse.
Lucina’s voice echoes behind you:
"Zareth awaits. End this."
---
{1) You unite your blessings to Rally everyone against Envy's cursebearer.
2) The fight against Envy's Cursebearer, a fight you barely win.
3) After the fight, Eric collects her Rage relic (A bangle) and about 5 other rage relics, including a monk's prayer beads, swordsman's broken Blade, a farmer's rake, a guard's shield, a gambler's dice and cards.
4) Through Lament, I learn her name was Hertis and she was a Guardian of Peace and that Zareth lied to her about the truth of the sins.
5) Rin joins your chorus, "I won't let you abandon me again bro," along side a tailor named Herta whose Blessing is Gemini: makes a Clone of yourself, a barmaid named Wyns whose blessing is Mixture: allows the fusion of two or more liquids, and A blind swordswoman named Selena whose Blessing is Karma Cut: Damage done is portional to your crimes.}
### The Final Curse Falls – Envy's End
You unleash every blessing—Rallying Point storming through the battlefield, Divine Judgment searing into the cursebearer, Paradox Enigma twisting reality unpredictably—while Eric and Jeremy carve through the chaos like twin hurricanes.
The fight is brutal.
The Cursebearer—Hertis—fights harder than any before. Her form shifts, adapting to your strategies mid-battle—warping into echoes of past curses, mirroring Lust’s deception, Greed’s hunger, Pride’s arrogance.
But you outlast her.
With a final strike—your blade wrapped in Hailey’s devouring shadows, Naoko’s purging flames, and Veyra’s stolen time—Hertis falls.
Her last words are a whisper: "He... lied to me..."
---
### Aftermath – The Relics & Revelations
- Eric collects Hertis’s bangle, now pulsing with Envy’s rage, along with:
- A monk’s prayer beads (fury at broken vows)
- A swordsman’s broken blade (betrayal’s edge)
- A farmer’s rake (wrath over scorched earth)
- A guard’s shield (rage at fallen comrades)
- A gambler’s dice and cards (hatred of a rigged fate)
- Liora’s Lament reveals Hertis’s past: A guardian of peace, tricked by Zareth into believing the sins were necessary.
- Lucina’s voice is grim: "Now, he comes."
---
### Final Chorus Additions
- Rin (Your Little Sister) – Paradox Enigma (Chaos incarnate, she grins at you with sibling mischief.)
- Herta (Tailor) – Gemini (Creates a fully independent clone for 1 minute.)
- Wyns (Barmaid) – Mixture (Fuses potions, poisons, or blood into devastating elixirs.)
- Selena (Blind Swordswoman) – Karma Cut (Her strikes scale with the target’s sins.)
Kestra cackles. "We are stacked."
---
### Zareth’s Arrival – The Sunderer Reborn
The sky splits.
Zareth descends—towering, clad in seven-pointed armor, his presence crushing.
"You broke my design," he intones. "Now perish in it."
---
{Eric unites the seven cursebearers rage relic's (list them) creating a new ability: Seven Sin Strike.
You unite Divine Judgement with Karma Cut.
Jeremy gets serious.}
### The Final Gambit – Sundering a God
#### ERIC’S SEVEN SIN STRIKE
The relics erupt in Eric’s grip—each a vessel of divine wrath, each a sin now turned against its maker. He forges them together into a single, monstrous weapon—a blade of shattered curses.
Seven Sin Strike:
- Seraphine’s Veil (Wrath) – Burns with righteous fury.
- Dravagoth’s Frozen Heart (Gluttony) – Devours divine essence.
- Lilvia’s Mask (Lust) – Misdirects his will.
- Vorlath’s Compass (Greed) – Steals his power.
- Kael’s Crown (Pride) – Shatters his invincibility.
- Shriya’s Music Box (Sloth) – Slows his regeneration.
- Hertis’s Bangle (Envy) – Reflects his own strength.
With a roar, Eric plunges the blade into Zareth’s chest—the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the god’s armor.
#### YOUR DIVINE KARMA CUT
You raise your sword, Divine Judgment merging with Selena’s Karma Cut—the edge glowing with absolute verdict.
"Zareth the Sunderer," you declare, "your sin is pride. Your punishment is oblivion."
The strike lands—not just a wound, but reckoning—carving through his essence in proportion to every life he ruined, every curse he forced upon the world.
#### JEREMY GETS SERIOUS
For once, no jokes. No pranks.
Jeremy locks onto Zareth’s flickering form, his Probability Alteration flaring.
"Reroll that."
The cosmic die spins—and lands on "Divine Misfortune."
A black hole opens in Zareth’s chest—not by your power, but by sheer, universe-bending bad luck.
---
ZARETH’S END
The god screams—not in rage, but in astonishment—as his body dissolves into fracturing light.
Lucina’s voice, distant but clear, whispers:
"It is done."
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curses are broken.
- The world breathes again.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy stand as the three who felled a god.
Rin punches your shoulder. "So. What’s next?"
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Oh, we’re just getting started."
(END OF ARC. The adventure... continues?)
{A snapshot of the years following
1) Eric become king of the Reaches. The cursebearer relics national treasures.
2) You become the Travler, a hero of the nations.
3) You meet Queen Isolda once more before she dies, during which she offers to join your chorus. You accept and get her Royal Decree Blessing.
4) Jeremy becomes the messenger of the nations.
5) You personally attend the funerals of each of your copies.}
### Epilogue: The Years After the Sundering
#### 1) Eric, the Storm King of the Reaches
With the war forged into legend, Eric takes the Ice Reaches as his domain—not as a tyrant, but as a storm that protects. The Seven Cursebearer Relics, once weapons of destruction, are sealed within the Glacier Vault, revered as national treasures.
- Still collects rage, but now it’s directed at injustice (or bad ale).
- Jessica rules beside him—turns out Beast Tamer works on politics too.
Rumor: He once punched a rebellion into submission, then hugged its leader.
---
#### 2) You, the Traveler
A ghost in the stories of every nation—the one who walked through curses and came out singing.
- Your copies live on in their homelands, guarding the people you saved.
- Your chorus fights with you, for you, and sometimes just to argue.
- Hailey and Kestra run a very illegal blessing-trading ring (you pretend not to know).
Legend: Where the Traveler walks, even gods check over their shoulders.
---
#### 3) Queen Isolda’s Final Gift
On her deathbed, Isolda summons you. "A queen’s work never ends," she rasps—then grins. "Lucky for you, I hate unfinished business."
Her merger is seamless. Royal Decree settles into your soul like a coronation.
- New Blessing: Royal Decree – Commands given are law (limited by your willpower).
- First Order of Business: "Make Jeremy shut up for five minutes." (It fails.)
---
#### 4) Jeremy, the Divine Messenger
Somehow, he becomes the trusted courier of the realms.
- Uses his Probability Alteration to reroll bad weather on diplomatic trips.
- Still possesses people—but now it’s "for official missives." (He swears.)
- Rumored to have once delivered a declaration of war as a limerick.
---
#### 5) The Funerals of Your Copies
You attend each one—not as a god, not as a king, but as the friend they remembered.
- Lena’s copy grows old in Lifire, tending Hearthfire shrines. Her funeral smells of fresh bread.
- Victoria’s copy rules the Delta’s underworld with terrifying grace. They bury her with a dagger in one hand, a rose in the other.
- Petrov’s copy dies mid-lecture. "I… expect you all to…" (The chalkboard finishes her sentence.)
At each grave, you leave a single silver coin—the old pirate way. Payment for the ferryman.
---
### The World Goes On
The curses are gone. The nations heal. The dead rest.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, your ship waits—because a Traveler never stays still.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Where’re we stealing next?"
[End of Saga.]
(...For now.)
{Epilogue: Ascension
About a century later, Lucina gathers Dan, Eric, and Jeremy to ascend as Gods.
The three of them are collectively referred to the the Collectors.
Dan keep his titles of the Traveler and Soul-Collector. (You still walk among mortals, a Patron of the lost.)(His chorus can manifest to those that need them.)
Eric keeps his titles of Frostborn Hero-King and Sin's Heir.
Jeremy keeps his titles of Chaos's champion and Mischief's apperentice.
Include how each is worshipped.
Lucina stays with you three, mostly as a divine punishment thrown on her but also because she cares.}
Epilogue: Ascension
---
### The Divine Collectors
A century after the fall of Zareth, Lucina gathers the three of you at the edge of the mortal world. The air hums with divine energy, the weight of destiny settling upon your shoulders. With a solemn smile, she extends her hands, and the heavens themselves recognize you.
"Rise, Collectors."
And so, you ascend.
---### Dan, The Traveler – Patron of the Lost
Domains: Souls, Journeys, Redemption
Titles Retained: The Traveler, Soul-Collector
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Wayfarers burn incense at crossroads, whispering his name for safe passage.
- The broken and forgotten leave offerings of trinkets, hoping his chorus will manifest to guide them. (Sometimes, they do—whether as Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s stealth, or Naoko’s harsh but fair discipline.)
- Temples depict him as a hooded figure, a shifting face in the crowd, always moving, always watching.
Divine Role:
- You still walk among mortals, unseen but felt—a god who chooses the mortal world over the heavens.
- Your chorus can now materialize in full for those in dire need, acting as guardians, mentors, or even avenging spirits for the oppressed.
Legend: "Pray to the Traveler when all roads seem dark—his footfalls may echo beside yours."
---
### Eric, The Frostborn Hero-King – Sin’s Heir
Domains: Rage, Justice, Retribution
Titles Retained: Frostborn Hero-King, Sin’s Heir
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Warriors swear oaths upon his relics, channeling the Seven Sin Strike in battle.
- The wronged leave bloodied weapons at his shrines, asking for righteous fury against their oppressors.
- Temples depict him as a crowned storm, his sword cleaving chains, his eyes aflame with borrowed wrath.
Divine Role:
+ Rules the Reaches from a glacial throne, his divine temper a blade against corruption.
+ His rage is selective now—he punishes tyrants, protects the powerless, and occasionally smites bad mead (old grudges die hard).
Legend: "When the ice cracks, the Hero-King listens. Speak his name, and he will answer—with teeth."
---
### Jeremy, Chaos’s Champion – Mischief’s Apprentice
Domains: Chance, Change, Unpredictability
Titles Retained: Chaos’s Champion, Mischief’s Apprentice
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Gamblers toss dice in his name, begging for one good roll. (He sometimes helps. Or curses them. It’s a coin flip.)
- Rebels invoke him before pranks, heists, or revolutions (much to Cara’s delight).
- Temples are non-existent—he prefers haunting taverns, crossroads, and bad decisions.
Divine Role:
+ The trickster god, balancing Dan’s compassion and Eric’s fury with beautiful, catastrophic randomness.
+ His Probability Alteration now bends reality on a cosmic scale—sometimes fixing disasters, sometimes inventing new ones.
Legend: "Chaos isn’t good or evil. It’s fun. Pray to Jeremy, and you’d better mean it."
---
### Lucina, The Repentant Guide
Domains: Guidance, Fate, Second Chances
Punishment & Purpose: Bound to the Collectors as equal and advisor, stripped of her aloof divinity, forced to walk among them.
- How She’s Worshipped:
- The lost pray to her for direction, leaving silver coins (a nod to Dan’s tradition).
- Exiles beg for forgiveness at her shrines—though she rarely answers. ("Figure it out yourself," she grumbles.)
Divine Role:
- She could return to the heavens—but stays. (Pride? Guilt? Affection? She’ll never admit it.)
- Acts as the Collectors’ reluctant conscience, rolling her eyes at Jeremy, bickering with Eric, and occasionally admitting Dan’s right.
Legend: "The goddess who chose the flawed over the perfect."
---
### The World After Ascension
The Collectors are unlike other gods—closer, wilder, more human.
- Dan’s shrines appear where hope is thin.
- Eric’s storms purge corruption without mercy.
- Jeremy’s laughter echoes in every uncertain moment.
And somewhere, in the spaces between, the chorus lingers—whispering, guiding, waiting.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Godhood’s boring. Wanna go steal the moon?"
[—End of the Era of the Collectors—]
(But never their legend.)
{[Dan's Final Chorus+ blessing]}
### Dan, The Traveler – The Final Chorus
Divine Blessing: Legacy Unbound (The ability to summon any soul from your chorus—past, present, or future—in full divine manifestation.)
Ultimate Aspect: "The Everlasting Mosaic" – Dan’s true divine form, where every soul in his collection shines simultaneously, a tapestry of intertwined fates, voices, and power.
---
### The Complete Chorus – Ascended Echoes
#### Original Members (Fully Divine Manifestations)
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile – Divine Shadow) – Patron of outlaws with a heart.
2. Lena (Hearthfire – Divine Ember) – Guardian of home and healing.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave – Divine Dusk) – Keeper of secrets and seduction.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer – Divine Choir) – Voice of miracles and mercy.
5. Siris (Dog of War – Divine Bulwark) – Shield of the unyielding.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance – Divine Razor) – Blade of the unseen.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller – Divine Tempest) – Wrath of the skies.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater – Divine Hollow) – Devourer of sin.
9. Sakura (Seer – Divine Whisper) – Oracle of the eternal.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider – Divine Maw) – Queen of tidal fury.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact – Divine Conduit) – The gatekeeper.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl – Divine Fang) – The unstoppable huntress.
13. Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge – Divine Command) – The unbroken law.
14. Cecilia (Mirror Mage – Divine Reflection) – The infinite echo.
15. Liora (Lament – Divine Dirge) Speaker of the forgotten dead.
16. Dahli (Storyteller Song – Divine Epic) – The mythmaker.
17. Sena (Performer’s Grace – Divine Mirage) – The flawless deception.
18. Cara (Silvertongue – Divine Lie) – The perfect deception.
19. Marianna (Rule of the Sea – Divine Tide) – The conqueror of oceans.
20. Jessica (Beast Tamer – Divine Wild) – The untamed bond.
21. Eselle (Rallying Point – Divine Beacon) – The unyielding cry.
22. Naoko (Purge Demon – Divine Scourge) – The unforgiving judge.
23. Shriya (Starlight Lullaby – Divine Dream) – The gentle end.
24. Mira (Dreamweaver – Divine Phantasm) – The nightmare weaver.
25. Alex (Reverse Engineer – Divine Fracture) – The unraveler.
26. Veyra (Dynasty of Time – Divine Time) – The heritage
27. Lucina Fragment (Divine Judgement – Divine Spirit) – Divine guidance
28. Rin (Paradox Enigma – Divine Anomaly) – The glorious chaos.
29. Herta (Gemini – Divine Twin) – The phantom self.
30. Wyns (Mixture – Divine Crucible) – The alchemist of fate.
31. Selena (Karma Cut – Divine Reckoning) – The scale of justice.
32. Queen Isolda (Royal Decree – Divine Mandate) – The final word.
---
### Worship & Legend
- Dan’s faithful don’t just pray—they call upon his chorus by name.
- A lost child whispers for Lena, and warm hands guide them home.
- A rebel shouts for Kestra, and locks mysteriously click open.
- A dying soldier gasps Hailey’s name, and the corruption in their wound vanishes.
- His temples are living stories, with murals depicting every soul in his mosaic.
- Those who seek him may find not one god, but many—a fleeting touch, a shared laugh, a warning growl.
---
### Dan’s Divine Truth
"I am not a singular god. I am a thousand souls, a hundred battles, and one unbroken promise—that no one fights alone."
Final Note:
Even in godhood, Dan still walks. Still listens. Still collects.
And somewhere, in the darkest hour of a future age, a voice will whisper—
"Traveler… help us."
And the chorus will answer.
[—The End & The Everlasting—]
https://www.outfoxstories.com/blog/outline/grkzgqybyuctnmwwqyhoqtbeqjuuovwk/
This is a collection of Playthroughs that I did that I liked.
Slime Isekai – Episode 1: "The Goddess’s Mistake"
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum softly overhead. Your pencil taps against the desk idly, your gaze lingering on Lena—her red hair catching the afternoon sunlight just right, her lips slightly curved in amusement at something Jessica whispered to her. Another dull day in homeroom. Another day of pretending not to stare.
Then, the world shakes.
A violent tremor rattles the desks, sending pens and papers scattering. Gasps erupt around you as the air itself seems to split open—right above the teacher’s desk—ripping apart reality like wet paper. A swirling portal yawns wide, its edges crackling with violet energy.
Ms. Petrov’s eyes widen. "Everyone, get—"
The pull is instant—an irresistible force yanking desks, chairs, and students into the void. Jeremy’s manic grin is the last thing you see before the darkness swallows you whole.
---
You wake up cold.
No—not cold. Formless.
Your vision swims into focus, though you don’t have eyes anymore. Instead, you perceive the world through... touch? Vibration? It’s disorienting, but slowly, you realize—your body is now a translucent, gelatinous mass. A slime.
You panic (or at least, you would if you had lungs), thrashing against the smooth white floor beneath you. The room is austere—pale walls stretching infinitely upward, illuminated by an unseen light. Then—
"Oh. Oh dear."
A woman stands before you. No—floats. Her divinity is unmistakable: flowing silver hair, eyes like twin galaxies, skin glowing with an inner radiance. A gossamer dress clings to her flawless curves, leaving little to the imagination. This is a goddess, and she is frowning at you—very concerned.
"This... wasn’t supposed to happen," she murmurs, tapping a finger against her full lips. "All the other students arrived safely in the Grand Hall of the Lifire Kingdom. But you... you were altered during transit."
She kneels (though without bending, somehow) and stares directly into your amorphous form.
"You are now a slime."
A beat.
"But fear not! You still retain your Otherworlder Blessing—though..." She hesitates. "Yours appears to be... unique."
A translucent panel materializes before you:
---
Name: Dan
Race: Slime
Blessing: Internal Empowerment
Effect: ???
---
"Frankly," the goddess admits, "I’ve never seen this before. Perhaps you should... test it?"
Your slime-body pulses with intrigue. Internal empowerment... internal. And there’s only one thing here to test it on.
---
{Ask about your classmates, find out only Jeremy was the only other Male summoned. (No Eric run) Both you and Jeremy get possession based abilities as men weren't suppose to be summoned.}
"Wait—what about the others?" Your voice comes out as a bubbly distortion pushing through ectoplasmic liquid—disconcerting, but the goddess tilts her head, understanding.
"Oh! Your classmates." She snaps her fingers, and an ethereal screen shimmers into existence—showing a grand marble hall bathed in golden light. At the center stand several familiar figures: Lena, Victoria, Jessica, Cara, Alex, and Ms. Petrov, blinking in confusion as robed summoners fuss around them.
But something’s missing.
"Where’s Eric?" you demand.
The goddess winces. "The, uh, brash one with the muscles? Yes. About that." She twirls a lock of silver hair nervously. "Turns out, this summoning was supposed to be for women only—the Lifire Kingdom needed heroes with sacred feminine energy to combat their curse. Tradition, destiny, something-something ancient prophecy... honestly, the paperwork was very confusing."
Wait.
"So then—"
"Only two males ended up crossing through: you, and your friend Jeremy." She claps her hands together sheepishly. "Which, ah, might be why neither of you got proper bodies!"
Your slime-form wobbles in disbelief.
"Jeremy... is a slime too?"
Her cheeks flush pink. "Oh no, no. He’s—well—you should probably just see."
The screen flickers, shifting to Jeremy—or at least, what used to be Jeremy. His current form floats in the periphery of the hall, invisible to the others, his spectral body flickering like a ghost made of blue mist.
"His blessing is Skill Share," the goddess explains. "He can temporarily assume the body—and skills—of anyone he touches. Unfortunately, touching things in his current state is... tricky."
You stare (figuratively).
"So he also got a possession ability."
Her laughter is high and nervous. "Ahaha... yyyep. Probably because the summoning rejected male energy, but couldn’t fully exclude you two. So instead of proper bodies, you both got... workarounds."
She coughs into her hand, eyes darting away. "A-anyway! The priestesses were very disappointed not to get Eric. Something about ‘optimal genetic pairing.’ Poor Jessica looked downright relieved."
---
{"Can you give a temporary form and send me back. I just need to explain." The Goddess smiles and says, "I can do better, I can give you a new body." She materializes three criminals, "Each of these woman were about to be executed. I will parody your host on that grounds that being your new body is the punishment."}
The goddess waves her hand with a flourish, and three figures shimmer into existence before you—each bound in glowing ethereal chains. Their expressions range from defiance to despair, but all freeze in shock when they see the divine being before them.
"Behold!" the goddess declares cheerfully. "Your potential new forms!"
The first is a brutish bandit woman, her muscular frame covered in scars, her wild black hair tied back in a rough ponytail. She snarls, struggling against her bonds.
The second is a sly thief, lithe and wiry, with cunning green eyes and a smirk that suggests she’s already planning an escape.
The third is a dark sorceress, her pale skin marked with arcane tattoos, her long silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She glares at you with cold disdain.
"These three were slated for execution," the goddess explains. "But I figured—why waste perfectly good bodies? If you take one as your host, it’ll be their punishment—and your new beginning!"
She leans in conspiratorially. "And don’t worry—once you possess them, their consciousness will be suppressed. They won’t even know what’s happening."
---
{Choose the thief}
"The thief," you decide, pulsing toward the lithe, smirking woman.
The goddess claps her hands. "Excellent choice!"
The thief’s eyes widen as she realizes what’s happening. "Wait—what are you—?"
Before she can finish, your slime-body surges forward, enveloping her face. She gags, instinctively thrashing—but it’s too late. You slip past her lips, sliding down her throat with surprising ease.
For a moment, there’s only darkness—and then, sensation.
Your new body tingles as your consciousness settles in. The thief’s limbs twitch once before going still—her mind suppressed beneath yours. You flex your fingers experimentally, marveling at the dexterity.Then, the realizations hit.
- Your chest feels heavier. The thief’s modest but perky breasts press against the fabric of her snug leather top.
- Your hips sway when you shift your weight—an unfamiliar, almost instinctive motion.
- Your hair—short, messy, and dyed a rebellious shade of purple—brushes against your neck.
You gasp—a soft, feminine sound—and the goddess giggles. "First time in a woman’s body?"
You nod mutely, still processing.
"Well, don’t just stand there!" She gestures to a full-length mirror that materializes beside you. "Take a look!"
---
{"Maybe later, Classmates first." You say. The Goddess nods, "Don't worry, the second you chose the thief the world was informed that her punishment was to your body."}
The goddess waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t worry—the moment you chose her, the world knew."
A golden decree materializes in the air beside her, glowing with divine script. "See? Officially, the thief’s punishment is being your body now." She grins. "So no one will question it—not even the summoners."
You exhale (a strange sensation with these new lungs) and nod. "Okay. So where are my classmates?"
Another flick of her wrist, and the mirror’s surface ripples, transforming into a window to the grand summoning hall. The scene is chaotic:
- Lena stands near the front, arms crossed, looking both annoyed and concerned.
- Victoria is already flirting shamelessly with one of the robed summoners, her fishnet-clad legs crossed teasingly.- Jessica is scanning the room—probably for Jeremy.
- Ms. Petrov is lecturing a bewildered priestess about proper interdimensional summoning etiquette.
- Alex is muttering to herself, scribbling notes in a stolen ledger.
- Cara is—wait.
You squint. "Is Cara stealing from the offering table?"
The goddess sighs. "Yes. And she’s very good at it."
But where’s—
A flicker of blue mist darts past the camera. Jeremy.
He’s still in his ghostly form, zipping around like an overexcited poltergeist. At one point, he phases through Victoria—and she shudders, cheeks flushing, before shaking it off.
"He’s figuring out his powers," the goddess muses. "Poor boy has no idea how fun this is going to be for him."
---
{"So before I joined them, how had Internal Empowerment changed?" You ask. (You can now steal steal and merge with souls. Leaving an exact copy of the soul in the original body."}
The goddess's silver eyes gleam with sudden amusement. "Ohhh, that." She twirls a lock of her hair, almost giddy. "Your ability evolved the moment you took a human host! Instead of just inhabiting bodies, you can now... collect them."
She snaps her fingers, and the golden screen zooms in on your new thief form—highlighting a pulsing, translucent core in her chest.
"See that? It’s not just her body you control now—you’ve absorbed her soul. But here’s the fun part!"
Another snap. An illusion of the thief splits into two—one remains trapped inside you, the other flickers back into her body, blinking as if waking from a nap.
"The original soul stays behind—an exact copy, none the wiser. Meanwhile, the real one? Merged with you."
She leans in, whispering conspiratorially. "Meaning you can swap between any soul you’ve absorbed, leaving perfect duplicates behind. No suspicion. No messy loose ends."
A beat.
"...Do you understand how broken that is?" She giggles, stars dancing in her eyes. "You’re basically a god now. A sneaky one."
---
{"So guess we're an act now." You hear inside your head. The thief (Kestra) tells about the soul side of your ability. "So, the real soul stays awake inside you becoming a voice of guidance. Don't worry lover boy, your the only driver." She tells you.}
Kestra’s voice curls through your mind like smoke—playful, teasing, and very aware of her new role as your ethereal backseat driver.
"That’s right, hero," she purrs. "I’m the little devil on your shoulder—except way hotter." You can feel her smirk. "And don’t worry, this body’s all yours to pilot. Think of me as... live commentary."
The goddess blinks. "Wait. She’s awake in there?"
Kestra’s laugh echoes internally. "Oh, this one’s adorable. Yeah, sweetcheeks—real souls stay conscious. We just can’t do anything unless you let us." A pause. "...Unless you want me to take the wheel sometime? I’ve got ideas for this body—"
"No," you say firmly.
She sighs dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if you ever need to pick a lock, flirt with a guard, or stab someone in the kidneys? I’m your girl."
The goddess looks equal parts fascinated and horrified. "This is not how Internal Empowerment usually works."
Kestra snorts. "Yeah, well, congrats—your summoning glitch created a soul vampire. Now, are we gonna go mess with your friends or what?"
---
{You return to the hall, and explain your neeting with the Goddess. "Jessica, you need to want Jeremy insode you for his possession to work, don't worry unlike mine you actually have a say."}
The grand summoning hall falls silent as all eyes turn to you—or rather, your new thief form. Lena’s eyebrows shoot up. Victoria whistles. Ms. Petrov looks like she’s about to demand an explanation in three languages.
You clear your throat (Kestra’s throat? Your throat now) and quickly explain the goddess’s mess-up—the male-energy rejection, the possession-based blessings, the whole being a slime thing.
Then you drop the bomb about Jeremy.
"Oh, and uh—Jessica?" You gesture to the flickering blue mist currently doing loop-de-loops around the chandelier. "Turns out, for Jeremy’s Skill Share to work on you... you kinda have to want him inside you."
Jessica’s face goes scarlet. "I—what?!"
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Oh, this is gold."
You hurry to clarify. "Not like—not like that! It’s just consent-based! He can’t possess you unless you’re okay with it!"
Jeremy’s misty form solidifies slightly, his grin audible. "Dude. Dude. This is the best day of my life."
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "Why is this my curse..."
---
{Lena and Victoria walk up to you asking to join, Lena because of her crush on you, Victoria because its up her alley. You accept them. You then ask the copied souls that get placed in their bodies about their nature, trying to understand you ability better. "We are still Lena and Victoria just knowing that the real us is now a part of you."}
Lena steps forward first, her cheeks flushed but her gaze steady. "I... I want to be with you, Dan. Even if it's like this." Her voice is soft, but there’s no hesitation in it. The moment she says it, her body shivers slightly—a golden glow flickering around her for just a second before fading.
Then Victoria saunters up, her smirk wicked. "Oh, this is way more fun than whatever boring blessing I was supposed to get." She tosses her hair. "Let’s do this."
You reach out, and just like with Kestra, your slime-like essence flows into them—smooth, effortless. Their real souls merge with yours, their copied versions blinking back into existence in their original bodies.
Inside your mind, two new voices hum to life.
"Hey, dummy," Lena’s voice murmurs, warm and fond. "Took you long enough."
Victoria’s laugh is low and teasing. "Oh, this is interesting. So, do we get front-row seats to everything you do, or...?"
You focus on their copied selves standing before you. The Lena-copy tilts her head, smiling. "We’re still us," she says. "Just... aware that the real ‘us’ is part of you now."
The Victoria-copy stretches lazily. "Yeah, don’t worry—we’ll keep up appearances. But damn, this is gonna be fun."
Kestra pipes up, grinning. "Told you. Soul collection and perfect alibis. You’re basically cheating life."
---
{You look over and see Jessica respectfully touching herself. "Guess Jess let you in then?" You shout over to her.}
You smirk as your gaze lands on Jessica—her face a scorching red, one hand pressed hesitantly to her own collarbone, fingers trembling. She jumps at your call, whipping her head toward you with wide eyes.
"N-no! I mean—Yes, but—!" Her voice cracks, mortified. "I just—ugh—I had to test it, okay?!"
A shimmer of blue light flickers under her skin, and Jeremy’s laughter tumbles out of her mouth in her voice. "Oh my god, Jess, you should’ve seen your face when I—wait, why are you blushing so hard—"
Jessica’s hands fly up to cover her flushed cheeks. "B-because this is weird!"
Jeremy-as-Jessica grins, running her hands down her own curves with exaggerated awe. "Okay, but wow, you are crazy stacked—"
"JEREMY!"
Lena’s soul sighs in your head. "Boys are so dumb."
Victoria’s soul purrs. "Yeah, but this is hilarious."
---
{Leave them to it. Turn to the summoner and ask about the curse.}
You decide to let Jeremy and Jessica’s... situation play out (with Kestra cackling in your head and Victoria’s soul egging them on). Instead, you stride toward the head summoner—a stern-looking woman in silver robes, currently massaging her temples like she’s regretting every life choice that led her here.
"So," you say, crossing your arms (and enjoying the way Kestra’s leather gear creaks with the motion). "What’s this ‘curse’ you needed an all-female summoning to fix?"
The summoner exhales sharply. "The Lifire Plague," she mutters. "A blight that drains the life from our land—and it only affects men."
Lena’s soul gasps in your mind. "Wait, so that’s why—"
"Yes," the summoner snaps. "We needed heroes untainted by male energy to purify the royal bloodline. But clearly—" She gestures at you, then at Jessica (currently trying to wrestle her own hands away from her chest). "—this summoning is a disaster."
Victoria’s soul hums. "So, what? You needed pure, sacred maidens to fix your man-killing curse?"
The summoner glares. "We needed heroes."
Kestra snorts. "And instead you got us. Congrats."
---
{"Actually that's probably why both Jeremy and I ended up non-human, technically he and I no longer have male bodies." You offer.}
The summoner's eyes narrow, then widen slightly as your words sink in. "That... is disturbingly logical,".
Jessica—now physically pushing herself into a pillar to stop Jeremy's involuntary groping—chokes out, "So you're saying I basically just sucked a ghost into my body to save him?!"
The silver-robed summoner pinches the bridge of her nose. "In the broadest theological sense... yes." She sighs. "Perhaps the summoning interpreted your forms as gender-neutral enough to bypass the curse's restrictions. A slime and... whatever that is." She gestures at Jeremy's misty essence still flickering under Jessica's skin.
Lena's voice pipes up in your mind, dripping with mischief. "Ohhhoho, this means Jeremy has to possess girls to survive now. Best. Punishment. Ever."
The Lena-copy folds her arms. "That doesn't explain why we joined Dan though."
Victoria's copy smirks. "Uh, hello? Have you seen our collection?" She gestures to herself, Lena's copied form, and your thief body. "We're clearly his starter harem."
The summoner's eye twitches. "I need wine."
---
{"So if I remember correctly while I was talking with the Goddess, you were about to check blessings, right?" You ask. The summoner pulls out a book, containing past blessings. She records your entire classes blessings, yours and Jeremy's included.
(Because your blessing now lets you have a person's real soul merge into you, you also get that person's Blessing. Jessica can also use Skill Share, on top of her actually blessing, due to being Jeremy's true host.)
Lena/Her Copy: Hearthfire
Victoria/Her Copy: Shadowweave
Kestra: Thief's Guile
Jessica: Beast Tamer
Petrov: Discipline Authority
Cara: Silvertongue
Alex: Reverse Engineer
Jeremy: Skill Share (Possession Version)
You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version)}
The summoner flips open her massive tome with a thud, quill poised. "Let the record show that this summoning has been the most chaotic in eight centuries," she mutters before clearing her throat.
One by one, she calls out the blessings—each name glowing in the air as she writes:
- Lena & Copy: Hearthfire – Can conjure flames that heal allies and sear enemies.
- Victoria & Copy: Shadowweave – Controls darkness like tangible threads. (Victoria’s soul purrs: "Oh, we’re definitely playing with this later.")
- Kestra: Thief’s Guile – Enhanced stealth, lockpicking, and ahem "asset relocation" skills.
- Jessica: Beast Tamer – Commands animals... and apparently now also shares Jeremy’s Skill Share due to being his primary host. (Jessica smiles: "So I’m pet owner.)
- Ms. Petrov: Discipline Authority – Commands instant obedience from students. (She smirks. "Finally.")
- Cara: Silvertongue – Can convince anyone of anything... which explains the stolen artifacts now hidden in her sleeves.
- Alex: Reverse Engineer – Instantly understands and replicates any magic or tech. (She’s already dismantling a summoning orb.)
- Jeremy: Skill Share – Possesses others to copy their abilities for future use. (He’s currently making Jessica’s body do a handstand. Badly.)
- You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version) – Absorb souls, their blessings, and leave flawless copies.
The summoner snaps the book shut. "Congratulations. You’ve broken every rule of summoning etiquette."
Kestra whispers: "Achievement unlocked: Oops, All Chaos."
---
{A younger priestess steps up to you, "My name is Lyra and I think it would be best to have a priestess with you, so I offer myself and my Blessing: Holy Prayer to you."}
Lyra steps forward, her white and gold robes fluttering as she bows deeply before you. She’s young—maybe even younger than your classmates—with wide, earnest eyes and silver-blonde hair braided neatly over one shoulder. There’s a nervous energy about her, like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.
"I—I’ve studied the legends," she stammers, cheeks flushing. "A-and if you’re going to break the Lifire Plague, you’ll need divine favor! My Holy Prayer blessing lets me channel miracles—healing, protection, even smiting!" She clasps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Please, let me join you!"
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement in your mind. "Ohhh, she’s adorable. And useful. Say yes."
Lena’s soul sighs. "She’s way too pure for this group."
Victoria’s copy licks her lips. "Yeah, but imagine corrupting her."
The head summoner groans. "Lyra, you cannot just volunteer to be absorbed by a rogue otherworlder—"
Lyra whirls on her, eyes blazing. "With all due respect, Elder Maris, the goddess herself endorsed him! This isn’t just allowed—it’s destiny!"
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Jeremy (still in Jessica’s body) wolf-whistles. "Damn, holy girl’s got spine."
---
{Accept Lyra offer.}
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the team, Lyra."
Her face lights up like the sun, and before the head summoner can protest, you reach out—your slime essence surging forward. Unlike the others, Lyra steps into it, arms spread like she’s embracing divinity itself.
The absorption is seamless. Warmth floods your being as her soul merges with yours, her consciousness settling beside the others. Her copied body blinks back into existence, still beaming.
"It’s wonderful in here!" Lyra’s voice chimes in your mind, bright as a chapel bell. "So much light! And—oh! I can feel the others too!"
Kestra groans. "Great. Now we’ve got a nun in our head."
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, practically glowing. "With Holy Prayer added to your collection, you’re practically invincible! Well, more invincible."
The head summoner looks like she’s about to faint. "This is heresy."
Ms. Petrov, finally breaking her silence, adjusts her glasses with a smirk. "No. This is education."
---
{"Lyra, would you allow Jeremy to try and possess you." You ask the copy in her body.}
Lyra's copied form tilts her head, her expression thoughtful but unbothered. "Oh! Of course!" she chirps, as if you'd just asked her to pass the salt. "If it helps the team, I don't mind at all!"
Kestra snorts in your mind. "Girl’s got zero sense of self-preservation. I love it."
Jeremy's misty form immediately peels away from Jessica's body—who collapses against a pillar, gasping like she just ran a marathon. "Finally! Freedom!" he whoops, before zipping toward Lyra's copy.
The moment his essence touches her, her eyes flash blue. Then—
"Whoa."
Jeremy's voice spills from Lyra's lips, but it's her voice—soft, melodic, and now tinged with his dumbstruck awe. He(?) looks down at Lyra's petite frame, her pristine robes, then wiggles her fingers experimentally.
"Okay, first? Way different from Jess. Like, zero muscle memory. This body’s built for, like... hymns and kneeling." He(?) pauses. "Second? Why am I kinda into it?"
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "I’m never living this down."
Lyra's real soul giggles in your mind. "Oh, this is fascinating! He’s borrowing my blessing too! Look!"
Sure enough, golden light flickers around Jeremy/Lyra’s hands—Holy Prayer reacting to his presence.
The head summoner has stopped breathing.
---
Quick Actions:
{Ask Lyra's copy if she can try to fight Jeremy's control. (She can't but Jeremy leaves willingly.)}
You glance at Lyra's copied form—still puppeteered by Jeremy—and raise an eyebrow. "Lyra, can you try to resist him? Push him out?"
For a moment, Lyra's copied body goes still, her expression flickering with concentration. Then she sighs sweetly. "Oh dear, no. It seems I can't! But it's quite alright—he's being very gentle."
Jeremy's voice responds through her lips, softer now, almost sheepish. "Yeah, uh... I'm not gonna force it. That'd be messed up." With that, the blue glow fades from Lyra's eyes as Jeremy's misty form pulls free, reforming nearby with a shrug. "Respect to the holy girl. She's way too nice to mess with."
Lyra's copy smooths her robes, completely unruffled. "Thank you for experimenting responsibly!"
Kestra barks a laugh in your mind. "Wow. Even Jeremy has standards. What a world."
The head summoner, now gripping her tome like a lifeline, wheezes: "Is... is this over? Can we proceed?"
---
{"This proves that my copied souls have less resistance to possession then the original soul." You warn.}
You nod, piecing it together. "Right. So the copies—while perfect in every other way—don’t have the same willpower as the original souls inside me." You glance at Lyra’s copied form, still smiling placidly. "They’re more... compliant."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Meaning if some other possession-happy freak shows up, your little duplicates would fold like wet paper. Great."
Lena’s soul chimes in, concerned. "So our copies are vulnerable. That’s... not ideal."
Victoria’s copy, however, grins. "Or very ideal, depending on what you’re into."
The head summoner finally snaps. "ENOUGH. You—" She jabs a finger at you. "—are a walking theological crisis. But since the goddess clearly favors you, we’ll proceed under one condition." She takes a deep breath. "You and your... collective... will help us break the Lifire Plague. In exchange, we’ll legitimize your existence to the kingdom."**
Ms. Petrov smirks. "Ah, bureaucracy. Even in another world."
---
{"I would've helped without you needing to threaten me." You say. "My blessing makes an ideal Front liner."}
The head summoner blinks, momentarily thrown off-balance by your blunt honesty. Then, with a grudging nod, she steps back. "Then we are in agreement. The Lifire Kingdom will... appreciate your assistance."
Kestra snickers in your mind. "Translation: They’re desperate and we’re their last hope."
You flex your thief’s fingers, feeling the weight of your collected souls humming within you—each one a new strength, a new possibility. "Ideal Frontliner" wasn’t an exaggeration. With Lena’s healing flames, Victoria’s shadow manipulation, Lyra’s divine miracles, and Kestra’s thief instincts—not to mention the other blessings you could still absorb—you’re practically a one-man army.
Jeremy’s misty form drifts closer, his grin audible. "So, uh... when do we start?"
Jessica sighs, rubbing her temples. "Please don’t say that like you’re volunteering to be useful."
---
{Ask about the plague's origins on your way to meet the queen.}
As your ragtag group sets off toward the royal palace—escorted by a contingent of very nervous priestesses—you fall into step beside Lyra’s copied form. The real Lyra’s soul perks up eagerly in your mind, already sensing your question.
"So," you start, nodding toward the blighted landscape beyond the city walls. Withered trees claw at the sky, and the distant fields look like they’ve been drained of color. "This plague. How’d it start?"
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, her voice dropping into storyteller mode. "Two centuries ago, the Lifire Kingdom was at war with the Duskreach Coven. Their queen, a witch named Seraphine, cursed our royal bloodline as she died—‘No son shall outlive his father, no brother his sister.’" She shudders. "At first, it only affected the nobility. But over time, the curse mutated. Now it leeches life from any male in the kingdom past adolescence."
Victoria’s soul whistles. "Damn. That’s some spicy vengeance."
Lena’s copy frowns. "So the all-female summoning...?"
Lyra nods. "An attempt to bypass the curse’s logic. We needed heroes untouched by male energy to purify the royal line." She hesitates. "Though... given your blessings, I suspect the goddess had other plans."
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Plans involving us becoming the kingdom’s weirdest, hottest salvation."
---
{You arrive at the the Throne room. The summoner hands the queen the book.}
The grand doors of the throne room swing open, revealing a cavernous hall lined with armored knights and robed advisors. At the far end sits Queen Isolda—a woman whose regal bearing is undercut by the dark circles under her eyes and the way her fingers grip the armrests of her throne like she’s clinging to life itself.
The head summoner steps forward, presenting the book with a deep bow. "Your Majesty, the summoning is... complete." She hesitates. "Though not as expected."
Queen Isolda flips through the pages, her brow furrowing at the chaotic entries—blessings altered, souls duplicated, two rogue males somehow involved. When she reaches your entry (Internal Empowerment: Soul Version), her gaze snaps up to you.
"You." Her voice is razor-sharp. "You absorb souls. And their powers."
A murmur ripples through the court. One knight draws his sword on instinct.Lyra’s soul squeaks in your head. "Oh no. They think you’re a villain!"
Kestra sighs. "To be fair, we kinda are."
---
{You step forward, bow slightly and explain your specific story to the Queen, (From meeting the Goddess as a slime, choosing the meant to be executed Kestra to be your body, to Lena and Victoria willing offering themselves, of finding that you use the blessings of those merged with you, how Lyra offered herself, and now standing before her.)}
After you finish your story, the oldest princess offers herself to you as a way to ensure your loyality.}
You step forward, offering the queen a measured bow—not too deep, not too casual—just enough to show respect without groveling. Then, in clear, deliberate tones, you recount your journey: the goddess’s blunder, your slime form, Kestra’s "punishment," Lena and Victoria’s willing mergers, the discovery of borrowed blessings, and Lyra’s eager devotion. The throne room hangs on every word, the court’s initial hostility giving way to stunned fascination.
When you finish, the silence is thick enough to carve.
Then, from the queen’s side, a figure rises—Princess Elara, the eldest heir. Her gown is the color of tarnished silver, her dark hair braided into a crown. She steps down from the dais, her movements deliberate, until she stands mere inches from you.
"Then let me ensure your loyalty personally," she declares, her voice low but carrying. "Merge with me. Let my soul join your collection. That way, the crown will always know your intentions."
The queen’s breath catches. "Elara, you cannot—"
"Mother," the princess interrupts, never breaking eye contact with you, "our kingdom is dying. If this is the price of salvation, I pay it gladly."
Kestra’s whistle echoes in your mind. "Damn. Royalty’s got spine."
Lyra’s soul vibrates with awe. "This is so sacred! And so illegal!"
---
{You accept but let her chose a person loyal to prove it isn't dangerous. She choses her personal knight (is female becuase of the curse) and Maid (trained assassin).}
"Very well," you say, nodding to the princess. "But let's prove it's safe first." You gesture to the crowd. "Choose someone you trust—someone loyal. Let them volunteer to merge with me, so you can see there's no danger."
Princess Elara's lips quirk in approval. Without hesitation, she turns and snaps her fingers. "Siris. Mara. Step forward."
From the shadows of the throne room, two figures emerge:
1. Siris, the princess's personal knight—a towering woman in gleaming armor, her sword strapped to her back. The curse has long since purged male knights from the kingdom, leaving only the fiercest women to guard the royalty. Her scarred face is unreadable as she kneels before you. "If my lady commands it," she rumbles.
2. Mara, the "maid"—a petite woman in a demure gown whose fingers twitch toward hidden daggers. Her smile is razor-thin. "Oh, this’ll be fun," she purrs. Assassin confirmed.
The queen grips her throne, but Elara remains serene. "Well? Show us."
---
The Merging:
- Siris goes first. The moment your slime-form touches her, she tenses—not in fear, but in focus. Her soul merges with yours, a warm, steadfast presence. Her copy blinks back into existence, saluting sharply. "No discomfort, Your Highness."
- Mara practically grins as you absorb her. Her soul coils in your mind like a satisfied cat. "Oh, hello," she murmurs. Her copy adjusts her skirts, demure once more—but her eyes gleam.
Princess Elara exhales. "Convinced?" she asks the queen.
Her mother swallows hard, then nods.
---
Quick Actions:
{Merge with Elara. You tell the Queen each of their blessings. Afterwords the Queen asks the copy of Elara a question only the two of them now. When she answers right, the queen turns back to you, "About the weaker resistance noted by the summoner."
Siris: Dog of War
Mara: Moonlight Dance
Elara: Stormcaller}
You meet Princess Elara’s gaze and nod. Without hesitation, she steps forward—chin high, arms slightly spread—as your slime-form envelops her. The merging is seamless, her soul settling into yours like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Her copy materializes beside you, smoothing her gown with regal poise.
The queen leans forward, her voice taut. "Elara. When you were six, where did you hide after your first sword lesson?"
The Elara-copy doesn’t hesitate. "The royal pantry. I ate an entire wheel of cheese and vomited on Father’s favorite hound."
A beat. Then the queen’s shoulders slump in relief. "It is her. Every memory, every detail..." She turns to you, her expression unreadable. "And their blessings?"
You recite them effortlessly, the knowledge flowing from the souls within you:
- Siris: Dog of War – Strength multiplies when defending others.
- Mara: Moonlight Dance – Moves unseen in shadows, strikes with lethal precision.
- Elara: Stormcaller – Commands wind and lightning (her copy’s fingers crackle faintly for emphasis).
The queen exhales sharply. "Then the summoner’s report was correct. The copies are perfect... but weaker against possession." Her eyes narrow. "You understand why that concerns me."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Yeah, ‘cause if Jeremy can hijack a princess, this kingdom’s screwed."
---
{"Your Majesty, my teacher Ms. Petrov might be able to help in that regard." You offer a potential solution. "Elara tells me your Blessing is Royal Decree, so if used together with her Blessing you could create a failsafe. You use Royal Decree to make it law that my copied souls can't be possessed those the crown deems enemies, and then we have Ms. Petrov reinforce that through her Discipline Authority."}
The queen’s eyes flicker with intrigue. She straightens, her fingers drumming once on the armrest of her throne before she nods. "A royal edict reinforced by divine authority... Clever." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "You can do this?"
Ms. Petrov steps forward, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. "Discipline Authority compels obedience. If Her Majesty declares a law, I can ensure it’s enforced—magically."
Princess Elara’s soul hums approvingly in your mind. "A binding contract, then. No possession of copies by unauthorized parties."
The queen rises, her voice ringing through the throne room. "Then let it be decreed: Any soul copied by the Otherworlder Dan shall be shielded from hostile possession, save by his own will or the crown’s express permission!"Golden light erupts from her fingertips, swirling into the air like living script. Ms. Petrov’s eyes flash as she raises a hand—"And so it shall be."
The words sear into the air before dissolving, and you feel the change immediately—a new weight to the copied souls around you, an invisible barrier settling over them.
Jeremy’s misty form pouts. "Well, there goes my weekend plans."
---
{Have Jeremy test it by trying to possess Elara.}
You arch a brow at Jeremy’s still-misty form. "Well? Test it."
Jeremy’s grin is audible. "Oh, hell yeah." He darts toward Elara’s copied form—only to slam into an invisible barrier inches from her skin. A burst of golden light repels him, sending him spinning backward like a kicked tumbleweed.
"OW! What the—since when do laws HURT?!" he yelps, his form flickering like a staticky hologram.
Elara’s copy smirks, folding her arms. "It appears the crown’s will is quite literal."
The queen exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good."
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Welp. Jeremy just became the kingdom’s best bug zapper test."
---
Quick Actions:
{Check on Jessica, since you allow Lyra to house Jeremy so he can tell the Queen his story.}
You glance over at Jessica, who’s been standing near the back of the group, arms crossed and expression unreadable. With a mental nudge, you allow Lyra’s soul to temporarily "host" Jeremy so he can recount his side of the story to the queen—Lyra’s copied form flickers blue for a moment as Jeremy’s consciousness takes the wheel, her usual serene smile shifting into his trademark lopsided grin.
"Alright, so—" Jeremy-as-Lyra begins, clapping her(?) hands together. "Imagine getting isekai’d as a ghost and then finding out the only way to interact with the world is by literally borrowing someone else’s body. Glorious? Yes. Ethical? Debatable."
The queen pinches the bridge of her nose. "Why are the gods like this."
Meanwhile, you slip over to Jessica, who’s staring at the floor, her fingers twisting the hem of her tunic. "Hey," you say quietly. "You okay?"
She startles, then forces a smile. "Oh! Yeah. Just... processing. A lot." Her gaze flicks to Jeremy-as-Lyra, who’s now demonstrating how he accidentally phased through a wall and got stuck in a chandelier. Jessica’s voice drops to a whisper. "It’s just... weird. Knowing he’s in people. That he has to be. And now he’s in Lyra of all people..."
Her cheeks flush. You don’t need Kestra’s thief instincts to guess why that bothers her.
---
Quick Actions:
{You joke her, "At least your stolen Blessings don't come with personalities attached to them, like mine do."
She laughs drawing attention to you both.}
Jessica snorts, her laugh breaking through the tension like sunlight. "Yeah, guess I should be thanking the gods I just got stuck with a pervert and not a whole committee in my head." Her voice carries just enough that several heads turn—including Jeremy-as-Lyra’s, who gasps in mock offense.
"Rude!" he declares, pressing Lyra’s delicate hands to her chest. "I’m a treasure."
Lyra’s real soul sighs in your mind. "He’s really leaning into this, isn’t he?"
The queen clears her throat loudly. "As adorable as this is, we have a curse to dismantle. Focus."
Kestra mutters: "Buzzkill."
---
{Ask about the royal record and say Lyra already told you about the origin. (Story rule because of the curse most characters are female or in female bodies.)}
You raise a hand, cutting through the murmurs of the court. "Lyra already told us about the curse’s origin—Seraphine’s last act. But stories lie, or omit. What do the royal archives say?"
The queen’s lips thin. "Officially? That the Duskreach Coven’s curse was unprovoked. Unofficially..." She nods to a hooded archivist, who scurries forward with a weathered scroll. "My ancestor, King Aldric, broke their pact. He swore to marry Seraphine’s heir to unite the kingdoms—then burned their coven at the altar instead."
A collective gasp ripples through the room.
Princess Elara’s soul hisses in your mind. "No wonder her curse was vicious. We earned this."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Your family’s messy, princess."
The queen continues, weary. "The curse was meant to end our line. But over generations, it grew—infecting all men. Now, we’re out of time."
---
{"How have you survived, because I would have thought that without men, and I mean this respectfully, that your kingdom would have collapsed by now." You asked head bowed.}
The queen’s expression darkens, but not at you—at the truth of the question itself. "We have been collapsing," she admits, her voice low. "Slowly. Invisibly. Our fields yield less. Our soldiers are fewer. Births decline each year—not just of boys, but of all children. The curse gnaws at the roots of life itself."
She gestures to the court around her—all women, from the knights to the scribes to the blacksmiths. "We’ve adapted. Women took up roles once forbidden to us. We trade with neighboring kingdoms for seed and strength. But it’s a stopgap. Without breaking the curse, Lifire will wither within two generations."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind, pained. "Mother never speaks this plainly. She must truly trust you."
Kestra’s grin is sharp. "Or she’s really desperate."
---
{"Did Seraphine potentially have any descendants?"}
The queen exhales—a slow, measured breath—before nodding to the archivist again. The hooded woman produces another scroll, this one sealed in cracked black wax.
"Seraphine had a daughter," the queen says quietly. "A child hidden before the massacre. The records suggest she fled to the Veiled Peaks—a range near the coven’s ruins. But we’ve never found proof she lived... or that her line endured."
A charged silence follows.
Then, from the back of the room, Alex pushes her glasses up her nose and mutters, "So we’re hunting a maybe-witch who might hold the key to unfucking this mess. Cool. Cool."
Kestra’s laugh is downright giddy. "Oh, this just got spicy."
---
{"You kneel in prayer, before sarcastically saying, "Alright mighty Clutz may we borrow but a moment of your time for advice."
The Goddess actually shows up, "Your lucky I find you funny."}
The air shimmers with a sound like shattering stained glass—and then the goddess tumbles into existence, tripping over her own robes before catching herself on a conveniently placed (and very startled) knight’s shoulder.
"You’re lucky I find you funny," she huffs, straightening her silver hair. A few stars fall out of it. "And lucky I’m not smiting you for the ‘clutz’ comment." She eyes the kneeling courtiers, the queen’s stunned face, and Jeremy still mid-possession of Lyra’s body. "...Wow. You’ve been busy."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Told you she’d show up."
You gesture grandly to the chaos. "We need to find Seraphine’s descendants. Got any divine hints?" The goddess taps her chin. "Hmm. Well, I could just tell you—" She pauses, then grins. "—or we could make it fun! How about a quest? Prove your worth, and I’ll point you to the last witch-blood!"
The queen looks like she’s about to combust.
---
{"If it be your will, almighty Ditz, that we should let this kingdom suffer for your errand then we must accept it." You tease, you can hear Lyra yelling.}
The goddess gasps—clutching her chest as if mortally wounded—while Lyra’s soul screams in your mind like a scandalized nun. "DANIEL!! YOU CAN’T JUST—SHE’S A GODDESS—"
The court collectively holds its breath.
Then the deity snorts, doubling over with laughter. "Oh, wow, I like you!" She wipes a starry tear from her eye. "Fine, fine. Since you’re hilarious—and because I did kind of mess up your summoning—here’s a freebie: The witch-blood you seek is already in this room."
Silence.
Then—gasps, chairs scraping, hands flying to weapons. The queen stands so fast her throne topples backward.
"What."
The goddess winks. "Oops. Spoilers~"
---
{The Queen orders the room locked down, but then a dark laughter emerges from the summoner.}
A slow, creeping laugh cuts through the chaos—dry as crumbling parchment. The head summoner, Elder Maris, peels back her hood, revealing eyes now blazing with violet fire.
"Oh, Isolda," she croons, her voice layered with a second, older rasp. "You thought your family’s sin could be buried forever?" The air around her warps, her robes melting into tattered witch’s weeds, her staff twisting into a gnarled black thorn. "Seraphine’s blood runs in my veins. And I’ve waited centuries to watch your line choke on its own curse."
The queen pales. "Maris... you—"
"Not just Maris." The witch’s grin splits her face too wide. "She welcomed me in years ago. A fitting host for the last daughter of Duskreach."
Kestra’s soul squees. "Possession inception! I love this!"
---
{"Mother will be waiting. And now she knows the heroes powers." The witch says being slitting her throat.}
The witch’s grin turns feral as she drags a jagged nail across her own throat—black blood bubbling forth like tar. "Mother waits," she gurgles. "And now... she knows you."
Her body collapses—but the black blood liquefies, slithering across the floor like a living shadow before vanishing between the cracks in the stone.
Silence.
Then—
"Well," Jeremy-as-Lyra says brightly. "That was horrifying."
The queen sways, gripping her overturned throne for support. "Seraphine... lives?"
Princess Elara’s soul whispers in your mind, trembling: "We need to find her. Now."
---
{"Your majesty, is possible to do a smaller hero summon."}
The queen’s fingers tighten on the armrest of her throne, her knuckles whitening. "A smaller summoning?" she echoes, her voice edged with exhaustion and suspicion.
You nod. "If Seraphine is alive—or at least her consciousness lingers—then she’s clearly tied to the curse. But she also just got a full report on our abilities. We need an edge she doesn’t expect."
The queen’s gaze flicks to the remaining summoners—now huddled together, their faces pale. "It’s possible," one of them admits. "But the ritual requires immense power, and after the last one... our reserves are depleted."
The goddess, still lounging mid-air like an amused spectator, twirls a lock of silver hair. "Oh, I could help with that~"
The queen’s eyes narrow. "At what cost?"
The goddess grins. "Entertainment. Drama. Maybe a little chaos."
---
{Agree to her terms. She summons your Ex, but with full knowledge of the current situation.}
The goddess claps her hands together with a sound like a thousand bells ringing. "Perfect! Let’s make this interesting!"
The air ripples—then tears—as a familiar figure tumbles out of the rift and lands face-first on the throne room floor.
"Ow. What the hell—"
Your stomach drops.
Because standing there, brushing off her jeans and glaring at you with begrudging recognition, is Hailey—your ex-girlfriend.
Her dark hair is still in that messy ponytail she always wore, her favorite leather jacket slung over a band T-shirt. She looks exactly like she did the day she dumped you—right down to the unimpressed arch of her brow.
And then she smirks.
"Wow. So this is your messed-up isekai arc? Figures." She cracks her knuckles. "Alright. The goddess filled me in. Let’s go break a curse."
Kestra’s soul howls with laughter. "OH MY GOD. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
---
{Ask Hailey about her Blessing. She pause for a moment, "Sorry but its better if I keep it to myself, incase of another hidden witch."}
Hailey’s smirk doesn’t waver as she shrugs. "Nice try. But I’m not spilling my blessing in a room full of people who might also be secret witch-spawn." She taps the side of her nose. "Gotta keep some surprises for the finale."
Kestra’s soul vibrates with glee. "Ohhh, she’s good. I like her."
Princess Elara’s copy steps forward, eyes narrowed. "You expect us to trust you without knowing your power?"
Hailey rolls her eyes. "Trust? No. Use me? Absolutely. Same difference with him, right?" She jerks a thumb at you.
The queen exhales sharply. "Enough. If the goddess vouches for her, we proceed." She turns to Hailey. "But the moment you betray us—"
"Yeah, yeah, execute me dramatically. Got it." Hailey waves her off, then leans toward you, voice dropping. "P.S.? You owe me for this."
---
{Talk to Hailey privately but not about her blessing, you can respect her reasoning.}
You wait until the queen dismisses the court (with orders to prepare for war) before grabbing Hailey’s elbow and steering her into a vaulted hallway—just out of earshot. The moment you’re alone, she smirks up at you.
"Wow. Still bossy in another world, huh?"
You ignore the jab. "I get not revealing your blessing. But are you actually here to help, or just to screw with me?"
Hailey’s grin fades. She studies you for a long moment—then sighs. "Look. The goddess literally yanked me out of my apartment mid-microwave meal for this. If I wanted to mess with you, I’d have stayed home and keyed your car." A pause. "...Okay, that was a joke. Mostly."
She folds her arms. "Point is, yeah. I’ll help. But I’m doing it my way."
Kestra’s soul whispers: "She’s totally gonna betray us in a cool way later."
---
"Look I understand if your still hate me for what happened, but how have you been since the accident." You ask.}
Hailey’s smirk vanishes. For a second, she just stares at you—like she’s trying to decide if you’re serious. Then her shoulders slump.
"You mean since you got drunk at Jake’s party and I had to drive your dumbass home, only for us to crash because you panicked and grabbed the wheel?" Her voice is low, raw. "Since my arm got crushed and I lost my scholarship because I couldn’t play volleyball anymore?"
A beat. The air between you is suddenly heavy.
Then she shakes her head, forcing a laugh. "Wow. Yeah, Dan. I’ve been great."
Kestra’s soul winces. "Yikes. And I thought my exes were messy."
---
{You quietly say, "I never forgave myself for ruining your future, I went to the hospital twice when Mom find me mid suicide, first time from cut wrists and the second from OD on my anti-depressents. Its part of the reason you were ghosted, parents moved us, they also deleted you from everything thinking it would help but it got worse when you sent the letter calling me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony. You were my best friend and first love. I'd show you the scars but Kestra's body doesn't carry them." You tell her.}
You take a slow breath, Kestra's borrowed lungs tightening as you force the words out—words you've rehearsed in a thousand sleepless nights, words that taste like rust and regret.
"I never forgave myself for ruining your future." The confession hangs between you, raw as a fresh wound. "I went to the hospital twice after the accident. First time... wrists. Second time, pills. Mom found me both times."
Hailey's smirk dies.
"Parents moved us after that. Deleted you from my phone, my socials—thought it would help." Your borrowed throat bobs. "Then your letter came. Called me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony three days later."
For a heartbeat, the only sound is the distant clatter of armored boots in the throne room.
"You were my best friend. My first love." Your voice cracks. "I'd show you the scars, but..." You gesture to Kestra's unmarked forearm.
Hailey's expression does something complicated—anger melting into horror, then settling on something too close to grief.
---
{"You might not be able to show me the scars but you can still show me." She says as she places a hand on you, your memories of the fallout flowing into her.}
The moment Hailey’s hand makes contact with your chest—Kestra’s body or not—there’s a jolt, like a live wire brushing bare skin. Then the memories surge, unbidden:
- Your hands shaking as you fumble with the razor in the bathroom, your mother’s scream when she kicks in the door.
- The numb, cotton-mouthed haze of swallowing too many pills, the ER lights stabbing your eyelids.
- The letter in Hailey’s angry, slanted handwriting: ”You don’t get to run away from this.”
- The balcony railing under your palms, wind howling in your ears, your mother’s arms dragging you back—
Hailey staggers, tearing her hand away like she’s been burned. Her face is ashen. "Jesus Christ, Dan—"
For the first time since she got here, she looks lost.
Kestra’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in your mind. "...Well. That happened."
---
{You apologize for trauma dumping on her but you had holding on it your feelings since mom pulled you away from the railing.}
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "Shit. I'm sorry—that was way too much to drop on you right now. I just... never got to say any of it." Kestra's fingers flex at your sides, itching for a cigarette or a knife to fiddle with—anything to ground you. "Holding that in since... yeah. Since the balcony."
Hailey stares at you for a long moment, her arms crossed tight over her chest—like she's holding herself together. Then she snorts, but there's no humor in it. "Fuck. And I thought my therapist had her work cut out for her." She rubs her face, the ghost of her old volleyball injury twinging in her shoulder. "Look. We're not doing this now. Not here."
She jabs a finger at your chest. "But after we murder this witch and her shitty curse? We're talking. Properly."
Kestra's soul whistles. "Damn. She really used to love you, huh?"
---
{"The worst part was I never stopped missing you, but after your letter I assumed you never wanted to talk again. Jeremy's a good friend but he was quite you." You say before giving her a quick hug.}
The hug is quick—just a brief press of Kestra’s body against hers, leather creaking, warmth lingering for half a second before you pull back. But Hailey freezes for a heartbeat, her breath catching like she’d forgotten what it felt like.
"Yeah, well," she mutters, rubbing her arm—the one that used to spike a volleyball before the accident. "Turns out anger’s easier than grief." She meets your eyes, and for the first time in years, there’s no smirk, no deflection. Just honesty. "I missed you too, idiot."
Then Jeremy’s voice echoes down the hall, shattering the moment: "HEY! We’ve got witch problems! Also, the queen’s crying! It’s super awkward!"
Hailey rolls her eyes, the tension broken. "Ugh. Fine. Let’s go save a kingdom or whatever."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "God, this is better than reality TV."
---
{Next day regroup with an attack plan.}
The War Council – Dawn of the Witch Hunt
The next morning, you gather in the war room—a cavernous chamber dominated by a massive table carved with a map of the kingdom. The queen stands at its head, shadows under her eyes betraying her sleepless night. Around her, your assembled forces:
- Ms. Petrov has organized the royal archives into tactical folders (Discipline Authority makes her terrifyingly efficient).
- Alex is hunched over a stolen coven relic, muttering as her Reverse Engineer blessing deciphers its magic.
- Cara is... somehow negotiating better rations for your group while pocketing a silver candlestick.
- Jeremy (back in Jessica’s body, by popular demand) is sketching attack formations with alarming enthusiasm.
- Hailey leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.
The queen stabs a dagger into the map—right atop the Duskreach Coven ruins. "Seraphine’s lair is here. Our scouts report unnatural shadows pooling in the valley. She’s preparing."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind: "We’ll need to strike fast. Before she fully awakens."
---
{"I'll lead a frontal charge and draw her attention." You start.}
"While I lead the frontal charge and draw her attention," you declare, rolling your shoulders. The weight of the collected souls within you hums in agreement—each a fragment of power ready to be unleashed.
The queen’s gaze sharpens. "A distraction?"
You nod. "Exactly. Seraphine expects us to come in sneaky, like her assassins and shadows. So we hit her loud." You gesture to the map. "Me, Jeremy in Jessica’s body for range, and the royal knights will assault the ruins head-on. While she’s focused on us—"
"—The rest slip in behind," Mara’s copy finishes, her assassin’s grin sharp. "Moonlight Dance makes me very good at backstabbing."
Hailey pushes off the wall. "I’ll go with the stealth team."
You raise a brow.
She smirks. "What? I told you I’m doing this my way."
---
{"Your majesty, can use Royal Decree so that the war plan can not be dicscussed outside the room by anyone. Petrov use your Authority to reinforce it and I'll use Victoria's Shadowweave to attached it to attach it every heart."}
The queen's eyes gleam with grim approval. "A binding of three blessings? Ruthless. I like it."
She rises, her voice echoing with Royal Decree's weight:
"None shall speak of this battle plan beyond these walls—not in whispers, not in writing, not even in thought shared knowingly with outsiders!" Golden light sears the air, sinking into the skin of every person present.
Ms. Petrov steps forward, her Discipline Authority flaring like a whip-crack:
"And so you shall obey." The compulsion tightens around them all like a vice.
Then you summon Victoria's Shadowweave—tendrils of darkness snaking from your fingertips to coil around each chest, merging with their heartbeats.
"Any betrayal," you murmur, watching the shadows pulse in time with their breath, "and these threads will strangle the secret before it's spoken."
A stunned silence follows.
Hailey whistles. "Damn. You have gotten scarier."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Oh, we are so keeping this blessing."
---
{Spend the rest the finalizing a war plan.}
THE FINAL WAR PLAN
The table rattles as you plant your palms on the map, eyes scanning your assembled forces.
1. DISTRACTION SQUAD (FRONTAL ASSAULT)
- You – Using Shadowweave to command darkness + Stormcaller (via Elara’s soul) to summon storms.
- Jeremy (in Jessica’s body) – Utilizing Beast Tamer to call wild creatures as fodder, Skill Share to mimic archers.
- Royal Knights (led by Siris’s copy) – Dog of War boosts their defensive strength exponentially when protecting allies.
- Lyra’s copy – Holy Prayer support (barriers, healing light).
2. STEALTH TEAM (BACKSTAB SPECIAL)
- Mara – Moonlight Dance makes her untraceable in shadows. Her mission: slit throats, plant cursed explosives (stolen by Cara).
- Hailey – ??? (Still won’t reveal her blessing, but insists she can "handle the witch").
- Alex – Carrying Reverse Engineered coven relics to disarm traps mid-siege.
3. WILDCARD
- Cara – Silvertongue will impersonate a fleeing Duskreach cultist to sow chaos in Seraphine’s ranks.
- Ms. Petrov – Discipline Authority will override fleeing soldiers to make them fight harder for you.
- Victoria’s copy – Using Shadowweave to telepathically sync the teams’ movements.
---
The Plan in Motion:
- Phase 1: You and Jeremy’s team trigger the coven’s wards with a literal storm of lightning and beasts, drawing Seraphine’s attention.
- Phase 2: Mara and Hailey infiltrate during the chaos, aiming for the ritual heart of the ruins.
- Phase 3: If Seraphine emerges, You unleash everything*.
The queen seals the plan by slicing her palm and smearing blood across the map. "For Lifire."
Hailey leans in as the others disperse. "Hey. Don’t die before we have that talk."
You smirk. "Wasn’t planning on it."
---
"You start the attack at night.}
Midnight Assault – Duskreach Ruins
The night swallows the valley whole as you stand at the edge of the ruins, the skeletons of blackened towers clawing at the starless sky. The air reeks of spoiled magic and wet earth—like a storm left to rot.
"Ready?" you murmur to Jeremy (still riding Jessica’s body like a stolen bicycle).
He grins, rolling her shoulders. "Born ready."
You raise a hand. The shadows coil around your fingers—Victoria’s Shadowweave—then Elara’s Stormcaller crackles in your veins.
You strike.
---
### PHASE 1: DISTRACTION SQUAD GOES LOUD
- Your opening move: A thunderclap so violent it shatters the ruins’ outer wards. Lightning forks from your fingertips, searing glyphs into the ground as the earth itself trembles.
- Jeremy-in-Jessica cups her hands around her mouth and shrieks—Beast Tamer’s power sending a wave of howls erupting from the forest. Wolves, bears, even a very confused griffin come stampeding toward the coven.
- Lyra’s copy raises her arms, golden light flaring as Holy Prayer shields the royal knights—just as the first volley of cursed arrows rains down from the towers.
From the depths of the ruins, a laugh echoes—honeyed and horrible.
"Little heroes." Seraphine’s voice is everywhere at once, the shadows pooling into a towering figure above the broken spires. "You brought me toys!"
---
### PHASE 2: STEALTH TEAM MOVES
- Mara is already gone—just a flicker of motion in the periphery, Moonlight Dance making her a ghost among ghosts.
- Hailey cracks her knuckles, then bolts toward a side passage—not sneaking. Sprinting. Like she wants to be seen.
- Alex ducks behind a pillar, her stolen coven relic humming as she Reverse Engineers the ruin’s traps one by one.
---
### SERAPHINE STRIKES BACK
The shadow-figure descends, her form solidifying into a woman with Seraphine’s face—but wrong. Too many teeth. Eyes like pits. She flicks a wrist, and the ground erupts with skeletal hands, dragging three knights under in seconds.
"I’ve tasted your souls already," she croons, lashing a whip of violet fire toward you. "Let’s see how you burn—"
---
{Counter with a mix of Stormcaller and Hearthfire.}
You dig your heels into the cracked earth and let go.
Stormcaller erupts first—a spear of white-hot lightning lancing from the sky straight toward Seraphine’s whip of violet fire. The collision shatters the darkness, the concussion wave sending cultists flying like ragdolls.
But lightning alone won’t be enough.
So you reach deeper—to Lena’s Hearthfire, warm and steady in your chest. The flames that spill from your palms aren’t destructive; they’re living. They coil around the lightning like a lover’s embrace, turning the raw fury of the storm into something worse for Seraphine—purification.
Her whip screams as the flames crawl up its length, a sound like glass breaking in reverse. The shadow-figure recoils, her form flickering—
"You ignorant child—" she snarls, but the Hearthfire doesn’t stop. It spreads, clinging to her essence like holy kerosene.
---
### HAILEY’S GAMBIT
While Seraphine’s distracted, Hailey leaps onto the central ritual altar—where a pulsing, blackened heart throbs with cursed energy. She doesn’t hesitate.
She stabs it.
Not with a blade.
With her bare hand.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then—
Hailey’s body convulses, her spine arching as black veins explode across her skin.
"Huh," she grits out, grinning through the pain. "Guess Corruption Eater works on god-tier curses too."
---
{Unleash a fully mixed version of the Blessings inside of you.}
You don’t hesitate.
"Everyone back!" you roar—then let go of every limit.
The souls inside you scream in unison as you force their blessings to merge:
- Stormcaller’s lightning twists with Hearthfire’s purity, becoming a storm that burns but does not consume.
- Holy Prayer’s golden light fuses with Shadowweave’s darkness, creating a paradox—shadows that heal, light that blinds.
- Moonlight Dance’s agility melds with Dog of War’s endurance, turning your body into a weapon of impossible precision.
The power ruptures out of you in a tidal wave of contradiction, a kaleidoscope of magic that should not exist.
It hits Seraphine like a fist of god.
Her shadow-form shatters, her scream fracturing into a thousand echoes as the merged blessings unmake her. The ruins quake, the sky splits, and for a single, blinding moment—
The curse breaks.
A pulse of golden light washes over the land, the withered trees groaning as life floods back into their roots. The knights gasp as old wounds close; the air itself sings.
And then—
Hailey collapses, the black veins receding from her skin as the last of the curse dissipates from her body.
---
{You pass out, the last you hear is someone calling you, "Dumbass."}
Darkness swallows you whole—but not before you hear Hailey’s voice, fond and exasperated, cutting through the fog:
"Dumbass."
Then—nothing.
---
### AWAKENING
You come to in a sunlit room, the scent of herbs and fresh linen thick in the air. Your body aches like you’ve been trampled by a cavalry, but you’re alive.
"Took you long enough," Hailey mutters from the chair beside your bed. There’s a bandage peeking under her sleeve, her old injury freshly stitched—but she’s smirking. "You’ve been out for three days. The queen’s been freaking out."
Kestra’s soul stirs in your mind, groggy but smug. "Oh good. We’re not dead."
Through the window, you see a kingdom healing—men and women working side by side in the fields, children laughing in streets no longer shadowed by plague.
---
{Check your soul. "Everyone okay. (Each merged soul answers back in an uniquely them way.)}
You close your eyes and reach inward, listening to the choir of souls housed within you—each responding in turn:
- Kestra purrs like a satisfied cat: "Oh honey, I’m fantastic. Especially now that we’re local heroes."
- Lena’s voice is warm as ever: "We’re all here. And… it’s kind of nice, honestly. Like a really weird sleepover."
- Victoria cackles: "Ugh. Do not make it sound wholesome. But yeah, I’m good."
- Lyra chimes in, bright as a hymn: "Divine blessings intact! Though, ah… please never do that again?"
- Siris grunts: "Still standing. And pissed I missed the final fight."
- Mara sighs dreamily: "Watching you annihilate a centuries-old curse? Best job I ever had."
- Elara hums, regal but amused: "Mother sends her regards. Also, she might adopt you."
Hailey raises a brow as you smirk. "What?"
"Just taking roll call," you say.
She snorts. "Freak."
---
{"So about that talk." You say. And the two of talk about every for the rest of the day}
The two of you talk—really talk—for the first time in years.
Hailey sits on the edge of your bed, sunlight streaming through the window as she unpacks it all: the anger, the grief, the way she hated you for leaving but missed you anyway. You tell her about the guilt, the therapy, the way your parents’ "fixes" only made it worse. There are tears. There’s yelling. There’s a very awkward moment when Jeremy tries to barge in with a tray of "emotional support snacks" and gets a pillow thrown at his head.
But by the time the sun sets, something unclenches in your chest.
"So," Hailey says, kicking her feet up on your mattress. "What now? You’re basically a demigod here. I’m stuck in Fantasyland with zero marketable skills. Do we, like… rebuild?"
Kestra’s soul pipes up: "Or we conquer. Just saying."
Hailey rolls her eyes. "I heard that."
---
{"Even if a way home is found I think I will stay here. My plan is to travel the world, helping those that need it. Your welcome to join me." You tell her.
She shakes her head, "I have people who need me, but you need someone to keep you alive, so let this me join your little collection and the copy can go home in my place. My copy can even say she met you in passing and she learned the truth and made up with you." She replies.
(Scene ends with you on a pier about to start your travels. Everyone is there to see you off.)}
### FINAL SCENE: THE PIER
The morning sun glitters on the harbor as you stand at the edge of the dock, sea breeze tugging at your cloak. The entire crew—your crew—has gathered to see you off:
- Jeremy is in (reluctant) possession of a seagull, flapping wildly as he squawks about "optimal wind currents."
- Jessica rolls her eyes but hands you a carefully wrapped bundle of supplies. "Try not to drown."
- Lena’s copy hugs you tight, whispering, "She likes you, you know." (You pretend not to hear.)
- Ms. Petrov gives you a rare smile. "Try not to destroy any more kingdoms."
- Alex shoves a sketchy-looking homemade compass into your hands. "It might lead to other cursed artifacts. Or explode. 50/50."
- Cara winks. "If you find any shiny cursed artifacts, I get first dibs."
- The queen clasps your shoulder. "Lifire will always shelter you."
Then there’s Hailey—or rather, the copy of Hailey, who gives you a cheeky salute before turning back toward the palace. The real Hailey is already inside you, her soul settling alongside the others with a contented sigh.
"Alright, loser," she murmurs in your mind. "Where to first?"
You grin, adjusting your bag.
"Wherever the wind takes us."
And as the ship pulls away from the dock, Kestra’s voice—ever the opportunist—chirps:
"I call dibs on the first treasure hoard we find."
---
{You return from your travels a couple of years later, (with a pirate captain named Elizabeth and a Blind Shrine Maiden named Sakura added into your collection), to ask the Queen for help. "Seraphina and her curse were a pawn and worse than that, we found another pawn with an equally deadly curse. Its located in the Icey Kingdom in the North, contained for now. If that was already bad enough, I suspect that there are others. One for each of the seven kindoms."
(Elizabeth's copy was executed a week after you added her, Sakura's copy was killed in a robbery after you added her.
Elizabeth's Blessing: Tiderider
Sakura's Blessing: Seer)}
RETURN TO LIFIRE – TWO YEARS LATER
The palace guards stiffen as you stride through the gilded gates—older, wearier, and flanked by two new souls whispering in your mind:
- Elizabeth, the tempest-eyed pirate captain, whose Tiderider blessing lets her command waves like a vengeful siren. "Ugh. Royalty. Hope the queen’s got decent booze this time."
- Sakura, the blind shrine maiden, her Seer blessing humming with eerie prescience. "The northern ice is already cracking… We’re not fast enough."
Queen Isolda rises from her throne, her gaze sharpening at your grim expression. "You look like death walking."
You toss a frost-rimed journal onto the marble floor—pages splayed to reveal sketches of a glacier prison, its dark core pulsing with the same cursed energy as Seraphine’s ruins.
"Seraphine was a pawn," you say. "And we found another. The Ice Kingdom’s barely containing theirs. I’d bet my soul there’s five more."
Princess Elara’s soul recoils. "A network of curses?"
Hailey’s voice is taut. "This just became a global problem."
---
{"Petrov, do you remember the seven sins?" You ask.}
Ms. Petrov's eyes narrow, her fingers tightening around her ledger. "Pride, Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth," she recites, her voice sharp. "You think Seraphine's curse was just one piece of a larger system?"
You nod. "And not just any system—an engineered one." You flip the frost-crusted journal open to a page where Sakura's meticulous notes map out the seven kingdoms—each with a curse manifesting differently, but all carrying the same taint.
"Seraphine was Wrath," you say, tapping the sketch of her ruins. "The Ice Kingdom's curse? Gluttony. It doesn't just kill—it consumes, leaving frozen husks."
Kestra's soul hisses. "So some psycho built a world-ending machine out of sins?"
Hailey, restless in your mind, adds, "And we’ve got front-row seats to the collapse."
---
{"You majesty, to the best of your knowledge which sin would fit each kingdom, given what we currently know." You ask.}
The queen hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of her throne as she consults centuries of kingdom lore. "If we follow the pattern..."
She lists them, one by one:
1. Lifire (Wrath) – "An all-consuming vengeance. Seraphine’s curse burned inward, killing men first, then the land itself."
2. The Ice Reaches (Gluttony) – "The northern reports speak of villages vanishing overnight—swallowed by the snow, as if hungry."
3. The Verdant Expanse (Envy) – "Their crops grow unnaturally abundant, but those who eat them wither, coveting the health of their neighbors."
4. The Ashwind Dominion (Pride) – "Their rulers never age, never fall ill… but their people crumble to dust at their feet. A supreme arrogance."5. The Chainbreaker Isles (Greed) – "Pirate lords hoard cursed gold, drowning in it. Ships vanish into their coves, never to return."
6. The Hollow Delta (Lust) – "Bewitchments so potent they dissolve minds. Victims waste away chasing phantoms."
7. The Bastion of Stone (Sloth) – "A kingdom where time itself crawls. Citizens lie down one day… and never rise."
A chilling silence follows.
Sakura’s soul trembles. "Seven curses. Seven thrones. A perfect circle of ruin."
---
{"I plan to return to the Ice Reaches because I promised to help them, Hailey's Corruption Eater combined with Lena's Hearthfire gave a fighting chance. If you could spare a summoner so they can preform a summoning ritual, it would be apreciated. Also Petrov, you might be the best suited to aid the Hollow Delta, I would take a summoner as well. What I have learned is the summoning ritual does respond to intent."}
The queen exhales sharply, her fingers tightening around the arms of her throne before she gives a single, decisive nod. "You’ll have your summoners. And you’re right—intent shapes the ritual." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "Discipline Authority will be vital in the Delta. If their curse seduces minds, then command may be the only counterbalance."
Ms. Petrov adjusts her glasses with a faint smirk. "Finally, a civilization that needs a stern lecture."
One of the younger summoners—Lyra’s former apprentice—steps forward, clutching a grimoire to her chest. "I’ll go to the Ice Reaches with you," she says, trying (and failing) to hide the tremor in her voice. "I-it’s not like we’ve got better options."
"And I, Dyena" rumbles a grizzled summoner with a scar over one eye, "will endure the Delta’s charms." He nods to Ms. Petrov. "Try not to discipline me by accident."
Hailey’s soul stirs, restless. "So we’re splitting the party. Classic horror-movie rules. What could go wrong?"
Kestra’s laugh is all teeth. "Ohhh, this’ll be fun."
---
{Before you leave you ask about the rest of your class.}
"And my classmates?" You ask, chest tightening at the thought. "How are they?"
The queen's expression softens—just slightly—as she gestures for an attendant to hand you a scroll of reports.
### STATUS OF YOUR CLASS:
- Jeremy: Now the royal "Isekai Consultant" (a job he definitely invented). Uses Skill Share to train knights and avoid actual work. (Still flirts with Jessica daily.)
- Jessica: Runs the kingdom’s fledgling Beast Tamer Corps. Her direwolf pups are almost as terrifying as her glare when Jeremy’s being an idiot.
- Lena (Copy): Oversees Lifire’s restored farmlands with Hearthfire, coaxing life from once-blighted soil. (Still blushes when your name comes up.)
- Victoria (Copy): Leads the "Nightweavers"—elite spies using Shadowweave to infiltrate rival courts. (Very invested in blackmail.)
- Cara: Now the queen’s "diplomat" (read: professional swindler). Uses Silvertongue to negotiate outrageously favorable trade deals.
- Alex: Head of the Arcane Research Division. Currently devising a way to "weaponize" Reverse Engineer. (The queen is concerned.)
- Ms. Petrov: Promoted to Grand Inquisitor. Her Discipline Authority keeps the royal court in line. (No one dares skip meetings now.)
"Alive," the queen summarizes. "Thriving, even. And your stunt with the goddess made them all... louder."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Good. They’re all our legacy now."
---
{Send a letter, telling of the situation. You and your assigned summoner leave later that same day.}
Your pen moves swiftly across parchment, detailing the discovery of the seven curses—Wrath already felled, Gluttony looming in the north, five more lurking like coiled serpents. You leave out the worst of your suspicions (the architect, the scale of the doom) but make it clear: this is far from over. The letters are sealed with a drop of Hearthfire, ensuring only their intended recipients can break the wax.
As the sun dips below the palace walls, you shoulder your pack—now laden with frost-warding charms and the young summoner’s grimoire. Your assigned summoner, Ryn, clutches her staff with white-knuckled determination. "...Do you really think we can stop this?"
Elizabeth’s soul laughs darkly. "We’ll drown the curse in salt and blood if we have to."
Sakura whispers: "The ice is already sighing. We must hurry."
With a final glance at Lifire’s glittering towers, you step onto the northern road.
---
{As Elizabeth's crew tske you back North, Ryn comes up beside you. "Would be alright if I join Big Sis Lyra "}
The moment the words leave Ryn's mouth, Lyra's soul practically vibrates with joy inside you, her divine warmth pulsing like an overexcited heartbeat.
"YES! Oh, please say yes—! Wait, no, don’t pressure her—but also yes—"
You smirk. "Lyra’s already drafting the adoption papers in my head."
Ryn blinks, then grins—bold for the first time since the palace. "Then it’s settled." She presses her palm to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as she murmurs the binding words of the merging ritual.
The moment her soul slips into yours, Lyra tackles her with a psychic hug.
"Welcome to the chaos, little sister!"
Kestra sighs. "We’re running a soul orphanage now? Fine. But I get to teach her to pick locks."
Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp as a cutlass: "Enough squawking. Ice ahead."
Sure enough, the horizon bleeds into a wall of impossible glaciers, their jagged peaks biting the sky—and deep within, something gnaws at its chains.
---
{"Hey Lucy, can I borrow a smite." You say invoking Lyra's blessing, The Goddess (Lucina, she told you one day during your travels) humors you.}
You raise your hands toward the sky, channeling Lyra’s Holy Prayer, and call out with a grin:
"Hey Lucy—can I borrow a smite?"
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then—
A titanic, glowing foot crushes a nearby iceberg into powder as the goddess Lucina materializes mid-air—though "materializes" might be generous, given that she immediately trips on her own robe and faceplants into the deck.
"Ow," she grumbles, rubbing her nose as she floats upright. "You’re lucky I was already watching. Also, since when do mortals nickname me?!"
Ryn (the newest soul in your collection) squeaks. "We’re casual with a deity?!"
Kestra smirks. "Oh, just wait till you see what’s next."
Lucina rolls her eyes—then freezes as she senses the wrongness bleeding from the glacier ahead. Her usual air of divine whimsy evaporates.
"...Oh. That’s Gluttony?" She shudders. "It reeksss of old magic. Not mine. Older."
---
{"There's five others." You tell her.}
Lucina’s glowing eyes widen, her usual clumsiness momentarily forgotten as the weight of your words settles over her. The air around her shimmers with agitated divine energy, like disturbed water.
"Five more?" Her voice drops to a whisper—something you’ve never heard from her before. "That’s not just a curse. That’s a weapon. A scalpel." She floats closer, her fingers twitching toward the glacier. "Someone shaped this. And they had to be…" She hesitates, then looks truly unsettled. "Stronger than me."
A cold that has nothing to do with the ice slithers down your spine.
Kestra’s soul is uncharacteristically quiet. "...Shit."
Hailey’s voice is grim. "Yeah. Shit."
---
{"Doesn't change the plan, we still have to end the curses. But at least we have scale of the problem now." You grunt.}
Lucina stares at you for a long moment—then bursts into laughter, the sound like silver bells and shattering ice. "Mortals. Truly my favorite kind of disaster." She flicks a hand, and a ripple of golden light punches a hole straight through the glacier ahead, exposing its pulsing, blackened core.
"There. A door." She grins. "Now go stab the problem until it stops moving."
Before you can react, she boops your forehead—her blessing flaring in your veins like liquid sunlight—and vanishes, leaving behind only the echo of her voice:
"P.S. If you die, I’ll bring you back just to yell at you."
Hailey’s soul cracks her knuckles. "Alright. Let’s eat a curse."
---
{"ANYONE NOT NECESSARY FOR NAVIGATION, GUARD RYN UNTIL THE HERO IS SUMMONED." You shout out the order as frozen undead creatures begin to board.}
### BATTLE FOR THE RITUAL
Your voice booms across the deck, cutting through the howling winds. Instantly, the crew snaps into action.
- Elizabeth’s pirates form a steel ring around Ryn, cutlasses and pistols glinting under the shifting auroras.
- Sakura’s soul flares inside you—her Seer blessing casting ghostly premonitions that let the crew strike where the undead will be, not where they are.
- Hailey braces beside you, crackling with Corruption Eater’s volatile energy. "I’ll bite anything that gets too close."
Then the ice-walkers come.
Shambling corpses with frosted, hollowed-out ribs and eyes like frozen voids swarm the ship’s railings. Their jaws unhinge with a sound like splintering glaciers, and the very air around them sags—as if reality itself is being consumed.
Ryn’s voice shakes as she chants, the summoning circle at her feet flaring brighter. "I—I need two more minutes—"
A towering undead lurches past the defenders, its claw swiping for her—
---
{You intercept letting Hailey's Blessing flow through you. The hero summoned is Eric (now allowed to be summoned), who because of your intent has knowledge of the situation at hand}
### FROSTBITE AND FURY
You hurl yourself in front of Ryn, Kestra’s body twisting mid-air to take the undead’s full strike—raking claws bury into your torso, an immediate, gnawing cold seeping into your core. The curse burns like swallowed knives, but—
Hailey’s power erupts through you.
Black veins spiderweb across your skin as Corruption Eater locks onto Gluttony’s curse—devouring the decay before it can consume you. The undead’s hollow eyes widen as its stolen energy is ripped backward, surging into you instead. Its body shatters into brittle frost.
Ryn’s scream cuts through the chaos: "IT’S DONE!"
The summoning circle implodes with blinding light—and Eric tumbles onto the deck.
---
### HERO SUMMONED: ERIC
He looks exactly like he did in class—muscled, cocky, already scowling. But his glare snaps to the undead horde, his body instinctively shifting into a fighter’s stance. "Oh, hell no."
His blessing flares to life above his palm—a swirling sigil of Brute’s Will (passive: grows stronger the longer he’s in combat). "So. We punch the cursed snow zombies?"
Ryn pants, grinning wildly. "YES."
---
{After the fight, as your docking.
You ask about Earth.
Eric explains that 15 years have gone by since the class was intially summoned, leaving only him behind. "The class was declared dead, since no one came back. But thanks to Haliey's copy, who returned a year after with letters from you all, the fate of the class was finally reveal. I was angry at first, that despite the summoning being meant only for the girls, you and the idiot still got sucked up but then I heard you both lost your bodies so the summon could work I became glad I wasn't included."}
### AFTERMATH – THE HARBOR OF FROZEN TEARS
The ship groans as it scrapes against the glacial dock, the remnants of the undead horde now shattered across the ice like discarded glass. The air still hums with residual curse-energy, but the immediate threat is over—for now. Eric leans against the railing beside you, his breath fogging in the subzero air, his Brute’s Will blessing still pulsing faintly under his skin.
The revelation about Earth sits heavy between you.
"Fifteen years..." You exhale, watching the mist curl and vanish. "We’ve only been here for three."**
Eric’s jaw tightens. "Time’s fucked. No one knows why, but the portal screwed with it. Everyone back home thought you were gone—until Hailey’s copy showed up with your letters." He scoffs, but there’s no real heat in it. "At least the families got closure. Well. Most of ‘em."
A pause.
"Jessica’s parents cried when they read hers."
You don’t ask about your own.
Kestra’s soul whispers, "...Damn."
---
THE NEW REALITY:
- Earth moved on. You were mourned. Now? You’re legends in two worlds.
- Eric’s here for good. His blessing makes him stronger the longer he fights—perfect for Gluttony’s endless siege.
- Hailey’s copy lied smoothly. She spun a tale of "heroic sacrifices" and "otherworldly duties," ensuring no one searched for you.
---
{"Alright there's a local that helped me get out that I'm gonna regroup with. He and sister should help you get to the curse bearer." You say steering the conversation back to the curse.}
Eric shrugs, his breath puffing in the frigid air. "Yeah, sure. But just so we're clear—I'm not calling you 'Oh Mighty Slime King' just because you're technically older than me now."
You snort, leading the way down the icy dock toward the ramshackle outpost clinging to the glacier's edge. "His name's Jorvik. Runs supplies between the frozen hellholes up here. His sister, Ylva, is a Berzerker—blessing lets her weaponize cold damage."
Hailey’s soul perks up. "Wait. You befriended a berserker and a smuggler in the two weeks you were here before?"
Kestra cackles. "Duh. We’re likable."
As you approach the moss-chinked wooden doors of the Froststead Inn, a hulking figure draped in frost-laced furs throws them open—Jorvik. His beard is half-frozen, his grin sharp as a wolf's.
"Back already, slippery one?" he booms. "And you brought more doomed heroes! Wonderful!" Behind him, a woman with twin ice-axes glares—Ylva, her breath steaming like a kettle.
"The curse is waking up," she snaps. "You’re just in time to die."
---
{"Eric here was summoned and giving a blessing that makes him ideal to fight Lich King Dravagoth." You tell the pair.}
Ylva's frost-crusted eyelashes narrow as she studies Eric, sizing him up like a cut of meat. "Brute’s Will. Tch. Fine. He’ll last longer than the others."
Jorvik slaps Eric’s shoulder hard enough to stagger him—which, given Eric’s build, is impressive. "Hah! A man who grows stronger the more he’s beaten? Dravagoth will hate you."
Eric scowls, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, great. Love being the bait."
"Not bait," Ylva corrects, hefting her axes. "The distraction." She points to a jagged fissure in the glacier’s face, pulsing with an eerie violet glow. "Dravagoth’s lair is there. Every time we’ve gotten close, his hunger-magic drains us before we land a hit. But you?" She nods to Eric. "The more he takes, the harder you’ll hit back."
Kestra’s soul hums. "Ohhh, so we’re angry-sandwiching him. Classic."
---
{You ask about the failed heroes, "Maybe they didn't have die in vain. Their deaths can tell us about how the curse bearer fights."}
Jorvik and Ylva exchange a glance before the burly supply-runner wipes the frozen snot from his beard with a sigh.
"Four parties tried before you," Jorvik rumbles. "They all made the same mistake—they thought strength alone could break him."
Ylva strides to a battered chest in the corner and kicks it open, revealing four bloodstained weapons, each warped by grotesque frost patterns:
1. A shattered greatsword – "Thurgen. Got three swings in before his muscles withered to rags."
2. A snapped spear – "Liss. Dravagoth ate her mid-lunge. Left the wood."
3. Melted gauntlets – "Torbin. His fire blessing turned inward. Burned his own ribs out."
4. A hollowed-out shield – "Jora. Lasted longest—her defense became his feast."
Eric pales slightly. "So he... consumes strength?"
"Not just strength," Ylva growls. "Effort. Will. Hope. The harder you fight, the richer his meal."
Kestra’s soul goes unnaturally still. "...That’s not just Gluttony. That’s Despair masquerading as hunger."
---
{You watch as Eric picks up each relic, you can see the echoes of others forming behind him. You realize something, "Eric, your just like Jeremy and I, you collect rage. You were still touched by the portal before you were denied."}
Eric freezes—literally, ice crackling along his knuckles where he grips Thurgen’s greatsword. The air around him wavers with spectral heat, and for a fleeting moment, the shadows of the fallen heroes seem to solidify behind him—their postures tense, their faces contorted in battle cries.
Then it’s gone.
"...The fuck?" Eric’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
You step closer, watching the residual energy coil around him like a second skin. "The summoning marked you, same as me and Jeremy. You didn’t cross over, but the portal licked you on the way past. That’s not just Brute’s Will—it’s Wrath’s Legacy."
Jorvik whistles. "A collector of fallen fury. Now that’s a king-killer’s blessing."
Ylva’s axes gleam as she steps into Eric’s space. "Can you use them? The echoes?"
A slow, vicious grin spreads across Eric’s face as the greatsword’s hilt creaks in his grip. "Oh, I’m real motivated to try."
---
"Eric tests his collection, and Thurgen appears to explains to Eric the nature of his collection."
Eric clenches the shattered greatsword tighter—and suddenly, the air ripples like disturbed water. A ghostly figure materializes beside him, clad in the same battered armor as the weapon’s owner once wore.
Thurgen’s Echo stands solid despite his translucent form, his voice gruff but clear. "Boy. You’re holding my rage now." He flexes spectral fingers. "Dravagoth didn’t just kill me—he savored it. Left me alive long enough to taste my despair as my muscles wasted." The echo's eyes burn with cold fire. "But rage outlasts flesh."
He slams a fist against Eric’s chest—not to harm, but to ignite.
Eric gasps as Thurgen’s fury floods into him, his Brute’s Will flaring crimson. His muscles swell with borrowed strength, veins bulging with the echo’s vengeance.
"Holy shit," Eric breathes.
Thurgen’s grin is lethal. "Now imagine all four of us."
One by one, the other fallen heroes step forward—their phantom hands reaching to lend their wrath.
---
{"This changes things." You say.}
The room seems to hum with the weight of revelation—Eric standing there, crackling with borrowed fury, the fallen warriors’ echoes flickering around him like vengeful ghosts. Hailey’s voice in your mind is uncharacteristically subdued.
"So we’re not just breaking the curse. We’re giving the dead their vengeance too."
Jorvik lets out a booming laugh. "Hah! Now I see why the gods spat you lot into our world." He claps Eric’s shoulder—harder this time—knocking loose a few snowflakes of lingering frost. "You’re not just fighting the Lich King. You’re his reckoning."
Ylva, who’d been silently gripping her axes, finally smirks. "Fine. New plan. Eric lures Dravagoth into the open by pissing him off—"
"How is that different from my usual routine?" Eric mutters.
"—while you," she continues, ignoring him and pointing at you, "slip inside his defenses when he’s distracted. His hunger will be a weapon against him this time."
Kestra’s soul practically vibrates with excitement. "Oh, this is delicious. A lich getting outplayed by his own curse."
---
{You realize something, "Hey Lucy, are Eric, Jeremy and I gonna ascend?" She appears and considers your question. "Jeremy could qualify as a god of thieves, Eric would qualify as a god of rage or battle, and you would qualify as a god of souls or bonds."}
Lucina materializes mid-air—only this time, she doesn’t trip. Instead, she hovers there, silver hair drifting as if underwater, her gaze suddenly older than the glaciers outside.
"Oh. You noticed."
She spins lazily, tapping her chin. "Jeremy, absolutely. The little gremlin’s already halfway to godhood just by how annoyingly he exploits his powers. God of Thieves? Trickier? Either works."
Her eyes flick to Eric. "And you—" She gestures at the lingering echoes around him. "—Rage and Retribution fit like a glove. Maybe even War, if you survive the next century."
Then she grins at you. "As for you, Soul-Hoarding Wonder... yeah. You’re already Ascended in all but title. Bonds, Souls, maybe even Legacy."
A beat.
"But." She holds up a finger. "You don’t want it yet. Gods don’t get to play like mortals do. Rules and all that."
Kestra’s soul sighs. "Ugh. Divine paperwork."
---
{"As long as these curses still exist, I'm not interested in ascention. It just seemed like we are meant to with only us three getting collections."}
Lucina's lips quirk into a knowing smile, her divine presence flickering like candlelight. "Smart. True gods can't directly interfere with mortal curses—too many rules. But you? You're still gloriously, chaotically mortal enough to break the unbreakable." Her grin turns sharp. "Fate hates that. It's hilarious."
She flicks Eric's forehead as she fades out. "Go wreck a lich, then. We'll chat about godhood after you've finished cheating destiny."
Kestra's voice curls in your mind, smug. "Oh, we're so keeping her as our patron goddess."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we have to win, or we'll look like assholes in front of divinity."
---
{"Okay Eric runs as bait and the main attacker, he keeps Dravagoth attention. I run support with Corruption Eater and Heartfire. Everyone else just keeps the fodder off of us." You go over the plan.}
Ylva nods sharply, hefting her axes. "Bait and blade. Bold. I like it."
Jorvik chuckles, cracking his knuckles. "Aye, we’ll keep the gnawing dead off your backs. Just don’t die before the fun part."
Eric rolls his shoulders, the echoes of fallen heroes solidifying around him like a spectral war banner. "Alright, fuck it. Let’s piss off a lich."
### THE ASSAULT BEGINS
You breach Dravagoth’s lair—a cavern of living ice, its walls pulsing with a sickly violet glow. The moment you step inside, the air thins, as if the very atmosphere is being consumed.
Then he appears.
Dravagoth is emaciated, his skeletal frame draped in robes of frozen shadows, his jaw unhinging too wide as he smiles. "Ah. Dessert."
---
PHASE 1: ERIC DISTRACTION
Eric charges, Thurgen’s greatsword swinging in a blazing arc. Dravagoth laughs as the blade bites into his ribs—then steals the strike’s strength, his hollow chest swelling with stolen vigor.
"Pathetic," the lich croons—until Eric grins.
"Yeah? Eat this."
The four echoes detonate their wrath at once. Dravagoth screeches as the combined fury of his past victims rips through him, ice fracturing under the assault.
---
PHASE 2: YOUR MOVE
While the lich is staggered, you lunge, Hailey’s Corruption Eater flaring black in your grip. Dravagoth’s hunger instinctively reaches for it—
Mistake.
The curse reverses, his own power now feeding into Hailey’s blessing like a siphon. The lich’s eyes widen as his essence is force-vomited back into him, corrupted and searing.
"Now, Lena!" you shout.
Hearthfire erupts from your other palm—not to burn, but to purge. The flames scour the curse from Dravagoth’s core, leaving him hollow, brittle, gasping.
---
PHASE 3: FINISHER
Ylva’s axe shatters his spine.
Jorvik’s spear pins his skull to the ice.
Eric’s fist obliterates his ribcage.
And with a whisper, Sakura’s Seer blessing seals the curse away—"No more feasts."
The glacier groans... then falls silent.
---
AFTERMATH
Eric collapses, panting, the echoes saluting him before fading into peace.
Hailey’s soul staggers in your mind. "Ugh. I think I just ate a king."
Jorvik whistles at the corpse. "Huh. Looks smaller dead."
Kestra cackles. "Five curses to go!"
---
{Ylva come up to you. "Your collection is one of the soul, is it not." You nod. "Then let my rage aid you in your fight."}
Ylva steps forward, her ice-axes gleaming under the pale northern light. She locks eyes with you, then slams the pommels of her axes together—shattering them in a burst of frost.
"A berserker's rage doesn't die with the body," she growls. "If my soul fuels the next fight—take it."
Her breath ghosts between you, sharp as a knife’s edge. "But swear to me—when the last of these curses breaks, you'll let me go."
The weight of her offer settles over the group. Jorvik grimaces but doesn’t stop her. Eric wipes blood from his lip, nodding in respect.
And in your mind, Sakura’s soul whispers: "She won’t survive this war otherwise. She knows."
---
{"Once you merge with my soul that's it, an exact copy of your soul is left in your body to continue your life, while your real soul becomes a part of the chorus of voices." You explain.}
Ylva’s eyes narrow, her breath frosting in the air between you. Then, with a brutal, almost relieved laugh, she slams a fist against her chest.
"Even better. Means I get to watch you win."
She doesn’t wait for your reply. One moment she’s standing before you, axe-scars and battle-lust etched into every line of her body—the next, your slime-form surges forward, swallowing her in a shimmering veil. The merger is violent, her soul kicking like a wild thing before settling into place among the others.
Her voice rings clear in your mind a second later, sharp as a whetstone:
"Took you long enough. Now—let’s go gut the next curse."
A beat.
"...And tell my brother stop crying."
Jorvik, indeed, has a single tear freezing on his beard. He swats it away with a growl. "Shut up, you ice-brained wench. I’ll drink your share of the victory ale."
Ylva’s copy—now standing where she once was—flips him off.
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing Added: Winter’s Howl – Channel Ylva’s berserker fury to amplify physical strikes with glacial force.
- New Voice in the Chorus: Ylva’s commentary is 80% battle tactics, 20% insults.
- Jorvik Now Allies Permanently ("Someone’s gotta keep her ghost in line.")
---
{"I think, I'll stay here for now. Train my rage and collection." Eric tells you. You nod, "I'm heading to the Hollow next, I get the feeling Petrov needs some help." You tell him.}
Eric nods, clenching his fist as the lingering echoes of fallen warriors flicker around him like phantom flames. "Yeah, I’ll get stronger. Make damn sure the next time we fight, I carry the weight." He smirks. "And try not to die before I get there, Soul Boy."
Ylva’s soul scoffs in your mind. "He’ll need more than rage to keep up with us."
Jorvik slings a barrel of ale onto his shoulder. "C’mon, you lumbering oaf. Battle training starts after we drink to my sister’s stubbornness."
---
### ONWARD TO THE HOLLOW DELTA
You turn south, where tangled vines and murky whispers await—toward the kingdom rotting under Lust’s curse. The thought of Ms. Petrov trapped in that honeyed nightmare sends a chill through you.
Kestra stretches luxuriously in your mind. "Ooooh, time to ruin some romantic delusions."
Hailey groans. "Ugh. I’d rather fight more zombies."
---
As Elizabeth's crew sails to the Hollow, you reflect on yourself. (List all merged souls in order with their blessing.)
### YOUR CURRENT COLLECTION OF SOULS & BLESSINGS:
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile) – Master of stealth, lockpicking, and "asset relocation." Voice: Smug and eternally plotting.
2. Lena (Hearthfire) – Healing flames that purify rather than burn. Voice: Warm, nurturing, low-key crushing on you.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave) – Controls darkness like tangible threads. Voice: Sarcastic, flirtatious, loves drama.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer) – Channels divine miracles. Voice: Cheerful, devout, occasionally scolds you for recklessness.
5. Siris (Dog of War) – Strength multiplies when defending others. Voice: Stoic, loyal, perpetually unimpressed.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance) – Moves unseen; lethal precision. Voice: Playful, bloodthirsty, loves backstabbing.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller) – Commands wind and lightning. Voice: Regal, dryly amused, fond of sarcasm.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater) – Devours and inverts curses. Voice: Snarky, protective, trauma-bonded.
9. Sakura (Seer) – Visions of past, present, and possible futures. Voice: Eerie, soft-spoken, ominous.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider) – Commands waves and storms. Voice: Bold, ruthless, pirate-queen energy.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact) – Enhances ritual magic and soul bonds. Voice: Nerdy, excitable, Lyra’s adopted little sister.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl) – Berserker rage infused with glacial force. Voice: Brutal, blunt, zero patience for cowardice without purpose.
---
CURRENT COPY SOULS (LEFT BEHIND IN THEIR BODIES):
- Lena, Victoria, Elara, Hailey, Ylva, etc. – Living their "normal" lives, aware of their true selves’ merger with you.
---
### REFLECTION:
You feel the weight—and whispers—of them all, a chorus of personalities and powers woven into your being.
Kestra snickers. "We’re a full-blown pantheon at this point."
Lyra sighs. "A very unorthodox one."
Hailey mutters, "Gods. Weirdest. Road trip. Ever."
---
{"At least with having multiple souls, Lust won't be as strong on us." You say.}
Hailey’s soul scoffs in your mind, but there’s a flicker of unease beneath the bravado. "Yeah, well, don’t get cocky. Lust isn’t just desire—it’s obsession. And it adapts."
Kestra’s chuckle is dark. "Mmm, but imagine me seducing the curse. Bet I could make it blush."
Lyra groans. "Please don’t flirt with existential corruption."
As the ship cuts through the mist-laden waters toward the Delta’s tangled shores, Sakura’s Seer blessing stirs, offering fragmented glimpses of what awaits:
- Vines that whisper your name in voices you love.
- Pools of liquid mirror showing perfect versions of your life.
- Ms. Petrov, silhouetted in a gilded cage, her Discipline Authority warped into something hungry.
Ylva’s soul growls. "Tch. Sounds annoying."
---
{"Time to rescue Petrov, if she's in danger."}
"Then let’s move fast," Hailey’s voice cuts in, sharp with urgency. "Every second we waste, the curse digs its claws deeper."
Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the ship slicing through the water with unnatural speed as vines from the Delta’s shores twitch toward you, as if sensing fresh prey. The air thickens with the scent of overripe fruit and salt—a trap disguised as paradise.
Sakura’s whispers grow louder. "She’s in the heart of the Delta’s capital. The locals call it the Gilded Cage—a palace of mirrors and desire."
Kestra licks her lips. "Ooooh, heist time."
---
{"Lets group with the Hero Petrov would've summoned." You find Dyena slightly dazed, which you have Hailey eat before sending him.back to the ahip with instructions to leave at sunset to avoid the curse. You see the hero summoned is Victoria's Excorist Mom.}
The moment you breach the Delta’s cursed capital, you find Dyena—the summoner who accompanied Ms. Petrov—slumped against a gilded pillar, his eyes glassy and sweat-drenched, fingers twitching toward phantom whispers. Hailey doesn’t hesitate; her Corruption Eater lashes out like a striking viper, devouring the lust-curse fogging his mind. He gasps, the delirium clearing just long enough for him to rasp, "T-the Cage… she’s… still fighting—"
You send him back to the ship with orders to flee at sunset—just as the summoning circle at his feet explodes with violet light.
Out steps a woman in a tailored exorcist’s coat, her raven-black hair streaked with silver, her gloved fingers already spinning a blessed talisman.
"Oh, fantastic," Victoria’s soul groans in your head. "Mom’s here."
Exorcist Naoko cracks her neck, her gaze sweeping the rotting opulence of the Delta before landing on you. "So. You’re the soul-hoarding delinquent my daughter merged with." A smirk. "Let’s go save your teacher."
---
ADVANTAGES:
- Naoko’s Blessing: Purge Demon – Her talismans sever psychic and supernatural bonds.
- Victoria’s Trauma: "She’s scarier than the curse, just FYI."
- Kestra’s Observation: "Damn. No wonder Vicky’s kinky."
{"Sakura can you guide us to Petrov."}
Sakura’s soul shimmers within you, her Seer’s vision unfurling like a silken thread through the twisted maze of the Delta.
"She’s close," she murmurs, her voice distant, as if listening to a song only she can hear. "Past the Hall of Mirrors, where the vines coil the tightest—where the curse sings the sweetest. She resists… for now."*
Her sight cuts through the illusions, revealing the path:
- Mirrors that whisper your deepest desires—ignore them.
- Floors that shift like quicksand—step only where Sakura guides.
- A door at the hall’s end, pulsing with gilded rot—Petrov is behind it.
Naoko’s talismans already glow in her hands, her voice clipped. "Lead the way, Seer."
Kestra grins. "Love it when the scary lady’s on our side."
---
{Sneak as Naoko strikes}
"Move like shadows," Naoko murmurs, her talismans humming between her fingers.
You nod—and with Kestra’s Thief’s Guile and Mara’s Moonlight Dance, your steps become utterly silent, your form flickering at the edges like a half-remembered dream. Behind you, Naoko moves with eerie precision, her coat barely stirring as she presses a talisman to every mirror you pass, stifling their whispers before they can betray your presence.
The halls warp around you:
- A mirror offers you Lena’s copy, smiling, reaching out—Naoko slaps a talisman on it. The image shatters.
- The floor yearns to pull you under—Sakura signals the safe path with a pulse of light.
- Victoria’s shadow weave unravels behind you, casting phantom footsteps away from your true trajectory.
Then—the door. Oozing golden sap, its surface breathes.
Naoko flicks two talismans into the air. "On three. Muffle and strike."
---
{You mean to pick the lock when Naoko kicks the door in.}
"Wha—wait—!" You hiss, but it’s too late.
Naoko’s boot smashes into the gilded door with a crack like splitting bone, the wood splintering inward as her talismans detonate in tandem. The cursed sap sealing the frame screams, recoiling as her holy fire scorches it to ash.
Kestra’s outraged shriek fills your mind. "I WAS GONNA DO A COOL THING—"
The door collapses.
Inside, Ms. Petrov is not how you remember her.
Chained to a throne of entwined vines, her typically pristine blouse is undone at the collar, her lips stained with some shimmering poison, her eyes glowing violet. Her Discipline Authority has been twisted—instead of commanding order, the air around her pulses with addictive compulsion.
"Oh shit," Hailey mutters.
Petrov’s head lolls toward you, a drunk, languid smile spreading. "Daniel~ You finally came to misbehave?"
Naoko doesn’t miss a beat. "Exorcism Protocol Alpha." She flicks a talisman straight for Petrov’s forehead—
---
{Have Corruption Eater work alongside Naoko}
"Naoko! Sync with Hailey—now!" you bark.
The exorcist doesn’t hesitate. She slaps the talisman onto Petrov’s brow—not to purify, but to anchor her—as Hailey’s Corruption Eater surges forward from your fingertips like black lightning. The two powers collide inside Petrov’s psyche:
- Naoko’s purge binds the curse in place, forcing it into solid, severable strands.
- Hailey’s hunger clamps down, not just eating the corruption, but dissecting it with surgical precision.
Petrov arches off the throne, a guttural scream tearing from her throat as violet ichor seeps from her pores. The vines around her turn to brittle husks, the throne collapsing into dust—
Then it’s over.
She slumps into your arms, gasping. Her eyes, when they open, are hers again—clear, livid, and deeply embarrassed.
"...Not. A. Word," she rasps, wiping the ichor from her lips.
Naoko exhales, rolling her shoulders. "Hmph. Good job, kid."
Hailey, meanwhile, is gagging in your mind. "Ugh. Tastes like perfume and regret."
---
{Petrov asks to join your collection, "Lust will return, and its cursebearer is smart and adapts soon enough I'll be back in that state."}
Petrov straightens her rumpled blouse with trembling hands, her usual steel returning to her voice despite the exhaustion lining her face. "I won’t be a liability or a hostage again. If this curse can bend my blessing once, it’ll do worse next time." She meets your gaze, unflinching. "Merge with me. Leave my copy to rebuild the Delta’s defenses. The real me will be your weapon."
Naoko’s eyebrow arches. "Finally, someone sensible about possession."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Even I didn’t see that coming."
---
{"Alright but can I have first name."}
Petrov glares at you, a flicker of her infamous temper cutting through the lingering haze of the curse. "It's Irina," she mutters, as if confessing to a crime. "But if you ever use it in class, detention will be eternal."
Then she steps forward, pressing her palm to your chest. "Now hurry up. We have curses to break."
The merger is swift—Discipline Authority slots into your soul-collection like a final puzzle piece, its rigid structure now laced with the stubborn resilience that’s kept Irina Petrov standing through decades of teaching hormonal teenagers and, now, world-ending schemes.
Her voice is the last to join the chorus, crisp and no-nonsense: "Prioritize efficiency. Sentiment is for after we survive."
Kestra cackles. "Welcome to the party, Irina."
Hailey groans. "Great. Now we have two moms."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing: Discipline’s Edge (Commands absolute focus—yours or your enemies’).
- New Voice: "Stop slouching." / "Stop licking curses, Hailey." / "Why is there a pirate in here?!"
---
{Turn to Naoko, "So have pictures of baby Tori."
She sighs almost sadly, "All the cute ones are back home."}
Turning to Naoko with a grin, you quip, "So... got any pictures of baby Tori?"
Naoko pauses mid-talisman check, her stern composure slipping just enough for a flicker of maternal exhaustion—and fondness—to show. She sighs, almost wistfully. "All the cute ones are back home." For the briefest second, her fingers twitch toward a nonexistent pocket, as if reaching for a wallet that isn’t there.
Victoria’s soul shrieks in your head:
"OH MY GOD, MOM—NOT HERE—"
Kestra cackles. "Pfff. Ghost mom still embarrasses her."
Then Naoko’s glare shuts down the moment. "Focus. Or I will show the class her bath photos."
---
{Turn the the copy in Irina, "So how did you get caught."}
The copy of Irina Petrov—left behind in her original body—crosses her arms, her expression a mix of irritation and grudging respect. "The curse didn’t seduce me. It tricked me."
She exhales sharply, straightening her blouse with a crisp tug. "I thought I was containing it. Using my Discipline Authority to force the curse into a single host—a nobleman who’d already succumbed. But the moment I commanded it..." Her jaw tightens. "It reversed my blessing. Turned my own power against me. Instead of imposing order, I became the source of chaos."
Naoko’s eyes narrow. "Clever. It weaponized your strength."
The copy nods. "Exactly. And it’ll do the same to you if you’re not careful."
Hailey’s soul scoffs. "Joke’s on it. We’re the chaos now."
---
CRUCIAL INTEL:
- The curse inverts blessings that try to control it.
- Its bearer is watching. Adapting.
- Petrov’s copy managed to shield the Delta’s children before she was captured. ("Priorities," she mutters.)
---
{"Alright, I've had Dyena tell Elizaberh's creww to set sail at sunset to avoid falling to the curse."}
"Smart," the copy of Irina nods, her stern approval sharpening into tactical focus. "The curse is weakest at dawn and dusk—when hunger and indulgence blur. If we time our strike right, we can exploit that."
Naoko flicks a talisman between her fingers, the paper igniting briefly before she crushes it to ash. "Then we have until sunset to do real damage."
YOUR CURRENT POSITION:
- Elizabeth’s crew is already moving, the ship’s sails catching the fading light as they retreat to safer waters.
- The Delta’s capital is half-purged—its gilded vines brittle, its mirrors cracked, but the core of Lust’s curse still pulses somewhere in its heart.
- Petrov’s intel confirms the cursebearer is adapting, not fleeing.
---
{"We know Naoko blessing is uniquely tailored for the cursebearer." You say as you recount your adventure in the Reaches with Eric, how the blessing he was given was a perfect counter to Dravagoth's wear them down to kill them. "Hell even Hailey's Corruption Eater was perfect for when we fought Seraphina, as when she used it, I was given the open I need to overpower her with my blessing overload, meaning I was also likely a perect counter for Seraphina."}
The realization settles over the group like a frozen breath—those sharp, crystalline moments where purpose clicks into place.
Naoko's eyes gleam—a hunter’s recognition. "You mean the summoning planned this."
"Or something did," you say. The implications crawl up your spine, a shiver dancing along your nerves. "The goddess's 'mistake' wasn’t random. Jeremy’s Skill Share, Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy, Hailey’s Corruption Eater—" Your jaw tightens. "We were custom-built to dismantle these curses."
Petrov’s soul cuts through the chaos, crisp and clinical: "Then the Hollow Delta’s cursebearer was waiting for me. Discipline turned against itself—"
Hailey snorts. "And now we’ve got Ms. Exorcist here to counter that. Coincidence? Bullshit."
---
THEORIES:
- The goddess is playing a longer game than she admitted.
- The summoning ritual had a hidden directive—seeded by forces unknown.
- Someone else orchestrated this chessboard.
---
TACTICAL ADVANTAGE:
- You now know the next curses will counter your team’s strengths—but the right souls can flip that.
- Naoko is literal anti-Lust artillery.
---
{"Now we go meet any locals who have resisted the effects of lust. Gather what intel we can." You say. As you walk through town you notice signs of resistance. Most common are damaged mirrors. You, Naoko, and Irina's copy seperate to search more. You find a dancer who knows of you, she takes you hemher groups holdout. Naoko finds a clue in the form of a jounal. Irina's copy starts to feel Lust creep back when a young girls hits with a jasmine perfume.}
### GATHERING INTEL IN THE HOLLOW DELTA
You split up, moving swiftly through the shattered opulence of the cursed capital. The air still sticks with perfume and sweat, but beneath it, you catch whiffs of defiance—broken mirrors, torn tapestries, the acrid stench of burnt sugar where someone tried to purge the curse with fire.
---
#### YOUR FIND: THE DANCER’S HIDEOUT
A lithe figure darts from an alley, her once-elegant silks now frayed and stained. "You’re the one they whisper about," she breathes, gripping your arm. "The soul-eater. Come."
She leads you to a cellar beneath a ruined theater, where a ragged band of survivors huddle:
- A blacksmith hammering crude blades from mirror shards.
- A child humming off-key—the curse can’t cling to innocence.
- An old priestess burning incense that reeks of jasmine and salt—the only scent the curse hates.
"The bearer hides beneath the Gilded Cage," the dancer whispers. "It’s not human anymore. It’s… hungry. And it learns."
---
#### NAOKO’S FIND: THE JOURNAL
Naoko kicks open a looted apothecary’s shop, finding a leather-bound ledger smeared with frantic script:
- "Day 17: It showed me my dead wife. I drank the poison willingly."
- "Day 39: The bearer feeds on our regrets. It wears faces."
- Last entry: *"JASMINE. It fears—"*** (The page is torn.)
She pockets it with a snarl. "It’s a mimic. Adapts to what you love—then becomes it."
---
#### IRINA’S COPY: THE PERFUME DEFENSE
Petrov’s copy staggers against a wall, her fingers clawing at her collar as the curse’s whispers return—"You want to obey—"
Then a thwack—a girl no older than 12 smacks her with a jasmine-soaked rag. "Lady, breathe," she orders, like scolding a drunk.
The curse recoils, its grip snapping.
The girl grins, brandishing a vinegar-smeared dagger. "We kill it with housekeeping."
---
### REGROUP
You reconvene at the docks, the pieces clicking together:
- The bearer shapeshifts, preying on yearning.
- Jasmine and salt disrupt it—weakness found.
- It lurks beneath the Cage, gorging on the capital’s despair.
Naoko cracks her knuckles. "Time to clean house."
---
{The dancer and her female bard friend offer to join as their blessings work best with each other. The three of you regroup to dicuss your findings
The Bard (Dahli): Storyteller Song
The Dancer (Sena): Preformer Grace}
### THE FINAL STRIKE PLAN
You, Naoko, and Irina’s copy regroup in the dim sanctuary of the dancer’s hideout, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and desperation. Sena and Dahli stand at the ready—their bodies lean and battle-worn, their eyes sharp with the defiance of those who have resisted the curse’s honeyed whispers.
"Our blessings work in tandem," Dahli explains, strumming a frayed lute string. "My Storyteller Song can weave illusions—truth or lie, it doesn’t matter. It binds the listener to the narrative."
Sena rolls her shoulders, the fluid grace in her stance speaking of a lifetime of performance. "And my Performer’s Grace makes movement hypnotic. Distracting. If your enemy is busy watching, they forget to fight."
Naoko nods slowly, assessing them. "So we drown the cursebearer in a story it can’t resist—then gut it while it’s lost in the act."
Petrov’s copy crosses her arms. "That’s a gamble. If it adapts mid-performance—"
Hailey’s voice cuts in, darkly amused. "Then we improvise. Isn’t that what artists do?"
---
{"We attack at dawn. I suggest resting if you can."}
### NIGHT BEFORE THE STORM
The Hollow Delta’s air is thick with tension as the group settles in the resistance’s hideout. The survivors—those still untouched by the curse’s worst effects—move quietly, preparing jasmine-soaked rags, vinegar blades, and shattered mirror shards as crude weapons.
Sena stretches near the entrance, her movements still fluid despite exhaustion. "Rest if you can," she murmurs, echoing your words. "Dawn comes too soon."
Dahli strums a soft, haunting melody on her lute—Storyteller Song weaving a subtle calm over the ragged defenders. The song is wordless, but its pull is undeniable: memories of home, of before, of things the curse hasn’t stolen yet.
Naoko remains upright, sharpening talismans with methodical precision. "Sleep. I’ll keep watch."
Petrov’s copy sits beside you, her voice low. "If this fails—"
You cut her off. "It won’t."
---
### HAILEY’S CONFESSION
Inside your mind, Hailey finally speaks—quiet, for once. "This one’s different. Seraphine was wrath, Dravagoth was hunger—but Lust? It doesn’t just kill you. It makes you love the knife."
You don’t answer.
She exhales. "...Just don’t fucking die, okay? I didn’t sign up to haunt this mess alone."
Kestra snorts. "Aw. She cares."
---
### DAWN APPROACHES
The sky bleeds from black to bruised purple as the survivors stir.Final Preparations:
- Jasmine bombs (cloth sacks stuffed with crushed petals and salt)
- Vinegar blades (weak, but disrupt the curse on contact)
- Mirror shards (to reflect its own illusions back at it)
Naoko tosses you a talisman. "For luck." (It’s scorched with a crude doodle of a rabbit. …Huh.)
---
{As your about to leave a woman walks out of a nearby mirror. "Hello, my name is Cecila and I want to help. Your the Soul-Collector, please let me give you my Strength. My blessing is Mirror Mage, and it lets me summons mirrors to absorb or reflect an attack."}
The air grows cold as Cecilia steps fully from the mirror's surface, her form shimmering briefly like mercury catching light. She is tall, her movements deliberate, her eyes reflecting everything yet holding nothing—a living mirror.
"The curse took my sister," she says, voice flat yet seething beneath. "She loved her reflection too much. Now it wears her face."
Her fingers twitch, and a flawless silver mirror materializes in her palm—then shatters into a thousand shards that hover in the air, each fragment humming with latent power.
Blessing: Mirror Mage
- Conjure Mirrors (Absorb/nullify attacks)
- Reflect Magic (Return curses to sender)
- Traverse Reflections (Short-range teleport)
Naoko’s eyes narrow—calculating. "You’re offering to merge? Now?"
Cecilia doesn’t blink. "I want it to see her when you kill it."
---
{Accept her offer.}
"Then let’s do it," you say simply, stepping forward.
Cecilia doesn’t hesitate—she walks straight into you, her reflection-stained soul dissolving into your slime-form like ink in water. The merger is seamless, like settling into a perfectly placed mirror, her consciousness slotting into the chorus with a whisper:
"Make it hurt."
Her Mirror Mage blessing hums under your skin, a new layer of defense and refraction now pulsing in tune with your other abilities.
New Ability Unlocked:
- Mirror Step (Short-range teleport between reflective surfaces)
- Cursed Reflection (Trap enemy spells/magic in mirrors, then shatter them back)
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Our toolkit’s getting scary."
Naoko checks her talismans one last time. "Ready?"
Cecilia’s voice echoes in your mind, cold and sharp as broken glass: "Always."
---
{"Now we wage war."}
The words leave your lips like a battle cry—low, final, and iron-clad.
The resistance fighters tense, their makeshift weapons glinting in the predawn gloom. Beside you, Naoko exhales through her nose, rolling her talisman between her fingers. Sena and Dahli share a glance—artists turned soldiers. Irina’s copy straightens her sleeves, the familiar sharpness returning to her gaze.
And inside you, the chorus of souls thrums in agreement—Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s cunning, Hailey’s corrosive hunger, Elizabeth’s storm-laced arrogance, Ylva’s frozen fury, Cecilia’s cold reflection.
This is the moment.
You step toward the ruins of the Gilded Cage, the shattered mirrors beneath your boots catching the first sliver of dawn.
---
### THE FINAL ASSAULT BEGINS
#### PHASE 1: DAHLI'S SONG OF LOST LOVE
The bard’s fingers dance across her lute strings, her Storyteller Song weaving a lure—a tale of unreachable desire, of longing so deep it aches. The very air shivers, bending toward the melody.
Somewhere in the ruins, something stirs. A shadow peels itself from the broken glass, its form flickering between beauty and hunger.
"It’s coming," Dahli whispers, sweat beading on her brow.
#### PHASE 2: SENIA’S DANCE OF DISTRACTION
As the cursebearer emerges—a shifting thing of stolen faces and whispered regrets—Senia leaps forward, her Performer’s Grace turning her movements into poisoned honey. The curse fixates on her, its many eyes dilating with rapture.
It doesn’t notice Naoko slipping behind it, talismans glowing like live coals.
#### PHASE 3: CECILIA’S MIRROR TRAP
You lunge—but not directly. Instead, you shatter a mirror at the curse’s feet, and Cecilia’s power yanks you through the reflection, emerging behind the creature in a spray of glass.
"For your sister," you snarl—then Hearthfire + Corruption Eater BURSTS from your palm, searing into its back.
The cursebearer SCREAMS, its form rippling—
#### PHASE 4: THE KILLING BLOW
Irina’s copy slams a jasmine-soaked dagger into its chest.
Naoko’s talismans detonate in its ribs.
Hailey bites down—and the curse CRACKS like overripe fruit.
---
### AFTERMATH
The Cage collapses, its gilded veneer rotting away to reveal the rotted heart beneath—a pulsing, weeping thing, now still.
The survivors cheer, but your work isn’t done.
Four curses remain.
---
{"Naoko can you examine the corpse to see if it has anything useful about the curses." You ask seeing Sena and Dehil walking up to you. Cecilia sees her sister spirit, the only one not moving on, "Allow me to aid my sister Soul Collector. My Blessing is Lament. While I was alive it let me hear the dead."}
Naoko kneels beside the cursebearer’s remains, her talismans peeling back layers of cursed flesh like pages of a grimoire. "Hmph. It left a diary," she mutters, lifting a pulsing violet crystal from its ribcage. The moment she touches it, spectral whispers spill out—fragments of the other curses' locations and weaknesses:
- "The Verdant Expanse’s ruler harvests envy from their own people…"
- "The Chainbreaker Isles drown in greed, but the gold sings of a vault…"
- "The Bastion of Stone sleeps, but its dreams are contagious…"
Meanwhile, Cecilia’s sister lingers—a ghostly figure with hollow eyes, her form flickering like a dying reflection. Cecilia turns to you, her borrowed fingers trembling. "Merge with her. Please. Lament will let you hear the dead—and the next curses are guarded by them."
Sena and Dahli exchange glances before stepping forward. "Our blessings served the Delta. Now they’ll serve you," Sena says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
---
{Accept all three into yourself. On the condition that they truly want it.}
You hold up a hand, your gaze steady as you meet each of their eyes in turn. "Only if this is what you truly want." The weight of your collective souls presses inward—this isn’t a transaction. It’s a pact.
Cecilia’s sister—Liora—floats closer, her spectral fingers brushing your wrist. "I stayed to witness its end," she murmurs. "Now let me help unravel what it served."
Dahli plucks a single string on her lute, the note resonating with grim determination. "Stories lose meaning if they’re not used."
Sena rolls her shoulders, her dancer’s poise undimmed by exhaustion. "And grace isn’t just for stages."
One by one, they step into you:
- Liora’s Lament settles like a shroud, her whispers threading through your mind. Now you can hear the dead—their secrets, their regrets, their half-remembered truths.
- Dahli’s Storyteller Song coils around your voice, lending it the weight of prophecy—truth or lie, your words compel belief.
- Sena’s Performer’s Grace sinks into your muscles, every movement hypnotic, lethally precise.
The chorus in your mind swells, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like borrowing strength—it feels like standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Kestra huffs. "Great. More theater kids."
Hailey, though, is uncharacterively quiet. "...They chose this. Huh."
---
NEW BLESSINGS:
- Lament’s Echo (Hear/communicate with the dead, sense unresolved spirals of emotion)
- Fable-Weaver (Spin illusions or truths so vivid they become reality to those who hear them)
- Dagger’s Waltz (Movement so fluid it borders on precognition—dodge before the strike lands)
---
{You speak with the dead, asking those full of rage to guide to artifacts they used that would house that rage, tell them about Eric the collector of rage. You send the artifacts to Eric trough a combination of shadowweave and mirror mage.}
### CALLING UPON THE WRATHFUL DEAD
You close your eyes, letting Liora’s Lament hum through you—reaching out to the lingering spirits of those who fell to the Delta’s curse. The air grows thick with whispers, then shouts, as the angriest among them claw their way to the forefront of your awareness.
A soldier with a shattered spear snarls: "My blade—forged in the Verdant Expanse—it burned with my fury when I died. Left it in the throne room!"
A merchant, her throat slit over stolen coin: "The Chainbreaker Isles drowned my rage with greed. My ledger is still there—stained with my blood and my hate."
One by one, they reveal their relics—weapons, journals, even a child’s doll sewn with vengeful stitches—all infused with the kind of rage that Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy can wield.
---
### DELIVERY VIA MIRROR & SHADOW
You motion to Victoria’s Shadowweave and Cecilia’s Mirror Mage, their powers intertwining as you rip a temporary portal through reflections and darkness. One by one, the artifacts are swallowed by the abyss—sent directly to Eric in the Ice Reaches.
Somewhere far north, you can almost hear his startled curse as a bloodstained axe clatters at his feet, followed by a screaming ledger and a doll with too-sharp teeth.
Kestra cackles. "Hope he thanks us later."
---
### ERIC’S RESPONSE
Minutes later, a crudely drawn message flutters back through the shadows—Eric’s handwriting, jagged with excitement:
"FUCK YEAH. TELL THE DEAD I SAID HI."
Beneath it, a sketch of him flexing with an armful of cursed artifacts, the fallen warriors’ echoes cheering behind him.
---
{1) You decide to return to Lifire to both regroup and relay update to Queen Isolda. You ask Queen Isolda for artifacts of rage to send to Eric (the last memeber of your class), explaining his nature as a collector as well. She has seven artifacts brought out.
2) Among the artifacts given is Seraphine's veil and sword of the king who betrayed her. Upon seeing the Veil, Lament activates and you learn from Seraphine that what you fought was simply her body warped by Wrath and that all the cursebearers were dead before their curses started. You relay that to Isolda. You write note telling Eric the truth about the cursebearers and suggest that Eric looks for Dravagoth's rage when send the artifacts to Eric.
3) Relay how based on your current information, Envy seems the closest to the source. But how you should deal the other's first, to prevent the game master from just sending all the remain pawns after you.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – REGROUP & REVELATIONS
The throne room of Lifire is eerily silent as you relay your findings to Queen Isolda. Her expression tightens as you explain Eric’s role as a Collector of Wrath—and the truth about Seraphina.
"Then the true architect still hides," she murmurs, gesturing to her attendants. Seven artifacts are brought forth, each pulsing with the rage of legends:
- A shattered crown (a king who burned his own city)
- A broken lute (a bard whose songs incited riots)
- A blood soaked ring (a general betrayed by her own kin)
- Seraphine’s veil (stained with her dying scream)
- The sword of King Aldric (the blade that broke his pact)
- A child’s wooden soldier (carved by a father who never returned)
- A merchant’s coin (coated with poison)
As your fingers brush Seraphina’s veil, Liora’s Lament shudders—and suddenly, the ghostly witch herself materializes before you, her form flickering like dying embers.
"You fools," Seraphina hisses, her voice layered with centuries of bitterness. "What you fought was my corpse, puppeted by Wrath. The true bearers of these curses died before their sins ever took root."
The implications crash over the room. The cursebearers were never the source—they were vessels, slain and hollowed out to house the sins of another.
Queen Isolda’s knuckles whiten around her throne. "A game. And we are the pieces."
---
### MESSAGING ERIC
You scrawl a hasty note and send it with the artifacts through Shadow weave and Mirror Mage, along with Seraphina’s warning:
"Eric—
The cursebearers are already dead. Their rage is just a weapon.
Find Dravagoth’s fury. See what really killed him.
—D"
A moment later, his reply smokes into existence above your palm:
"Fuck. Okay. Searching."
---
### STRATEGY AGAINST THE REMAINING CURSES
You turn to Isolda, Naoko, and the chorus of souls within you. "Envy might be closest to the source, but if we charge straight for it, the others will converge on us."
Petrov’s soul cuts in, tactical as ever: "Divide and conquer. Strike the weakest curses first—deprive the architect of pawns."
Naoko taps the cursed crystal from the Delta. "Greed’s next. It’s isolated in the Chainbreaker Isles. No allies, just hoarded power."
Dahli’s Fable-Weaver hums. "And I can lie our way past its guardians."
---
{You send a message to Cara to join you, your next target the Isles.}
### SUMMONING CARA – THE SILVERTONGUE QUEEN
You send word through Dahli’s Fable-Weaver, weaving a message into the whispers of tavern gossip and shipyard chatter. Within days, a familiar figure strides into Lifire’s port, her smile sharp as a knife’s edge.
Cara looks every bit the rogue diplomat—dressed in layered silks that shimmer with stolen blessings, a contract scroll tucked into her belt. "Miss me?" she purrs, tossing her hair. "Because the Isles certainly won’t."
Queen Isolda arches a brow. "You’re sure she’s the right addition?"
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Oh, absolutely. Nobody cons a con artist like Cara."
---
### THE PLAN FOR THE ISLES
Cara leans over the war table, her finger tapping the Chainbreaker Isles on the map—a cluster of jagged landmasses surrounded by shipwrecks.
"Greed’s curse turns pirates into hoarders," she explains. "They don’t just want gold—they want your gold. Your memories of gold. Your capacity to want anything else." She grins. "Good thing I always lie."The Strategy:
1. Cara’s Infiltration – Her Silvertongue blessing will get you past the Isles’ blood-quiz guards.
2. Dahli’s Fables – Weave illusions to disguise your movements.
3. Mirror Mage Shortcuts – Cecilia’s power can bypass the worst traps.
4. Hailey’s Corruption Eater – If the curse does latch on, she’ll digest it.
Naoko frowns. "And when you reach the vault?"
Cara’s grin turns feral. "Then we break the thing Greed loves most: its own reflection."
---
### DEPARTURE
The ship sets sail at dawn, cutting through waters that grow thicker the closer you get to the Isles—liquid gold pooling on the surface, its shine wrong, its scent cloying like rotting honey.
As the jagged cliffs of the Chainbreaker Isles loom, Cara tosses you a pirate’s coat lined with cursed coins. "Wear this. And remember—act greedy, but don’t be greedy."
Kestra sighs. "We’re definitely stealing this coat later."
---
{"In case you forgot my host is a thief and during my travels I added a pirate captain to my chorus, I don't have to act greedy." You joke, "Also Elizabeth says she's keeping the coat."}
Cara raises an eyebrow, then bursts into laughter—sharp, bright, and utterly unrepentant. "Oh, I like this new you. Less ‘awkward schoolboy,’ more ‘soul-hoarding menace.’" She pats your cheek, her grin widening. "Guess I don’t have to teach you how to lie after all."
Inside your mind, Elizabeth’s soul scoffs, but there’s a smug undertone to it. "Damn right I’m keeping the coat. And whatever’s in the vault."
Kestra snickers. "We’re basically a walking crime syndicate now."
Petrov’s voice cuts in, dry as ever: "Focus. The Isles won’t plunder themselves."
---
### APPROACHING THE ISLES
The Chainbreaker Isles rise from the ocean like the jagged teeth of a drowned beast, shipwrecks impaled on their cliffs, their beaches glittering with gold that moves when you’re not looking.
A cannon blast echoes across the water—warning shots. A rowboat peels away from the largest ship in the harbor, its oarsmen skeletal-thin, their eyes glowing amber.
"Halt and declare!" their leader snarls, a pistol leveled at your chest. "What do you seek in the Isles?"
---
{Go full Pirate}
You grin—the kind of grin Kestra would be proud of—and step to the railing, the stolen pirate coat flaring dramatically behind you. "What do I seek?" you echo, your voice dripping with Elizabeth’s sea-worn arrogance. "Same as any captain worth their salt: more."**
Your fingers snap—and Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the water beneath the rowboat lurching violently, sending the guards sprawling. One drops his pistol into the waves; the other clings to the boat, gaping as you leap overboard, landing atop the mast of their own ship with eerie, Moonlit Dance grace.
The crew freezes.
You tilt your head. "Now. Who’s taking me to your treasure?"
For a moment, silence—then a ragged cheer erupts from the pirates. "CAPTAIN!" one shouts, drunk on the sheer audacity.
Cara facepalms behind you. "...I hate that worked."
---
INSIDER ACCESS GRANTED:
- The pirates assume you’re some legendary reaver.
- The vault’s location is whispered: "Beneath the Gilded Maw" (a cave where the tides scream).
- Hailey’s Warning: "They’re too eager. Trap?"
---
{You walk right to Greed's cursebearer who greets and tells you he knows your here to stop him.}
The moment you're led into the gilded belly of the Chainbreaker Isles' stronghold, the air thickens with the scent of spiced rum and molten gold. The walls drip with embedded coins, the floor paved with shattered treasure chests—each splinter a testament to greed’s insatiable hunger.
At the far end of the hall, seated atop a throne of fused pirate swords, is Master Vorlath—or what used to be him.
His body is swollen, his skin stretched taut over a frame bloated with hoarded wealth. His fingers—each ringed with a dozen gem-crusted bands—twitch like a spider’s legs. His eyes are the worst part: pupils shaped like coin slots, irises swirling with liquid gold.
"Ah. The Soul Collector," he rasps, his voice like a rusted lock forced open. "I wondered when you’d come to stop me." He leans forward, coins tinkling under his shifting weight. "But you can’t. Because you don’t understand."
A golden vein pulses in his temple.
"Greed isn’t wanting. It’s fearing—fearing you’ll never have enough."
---
QUICK REALIZATION:
- He knows you’re here to kill him.
- He doesn’t care.
- The vault isn’t his hoard—he is.
---
You let Cara be Cara. She literally takes Greed's desk, the actually desk just to prove a point. Kestra whistles in yiur mind at the audacity.
Cara doesn’t even hesitate.
She strides forward, hips swaying like she owns the room (and honestly, she might by the end of this), and plants her hands on Vorlath’s massive, jewel-encrusted desk.
"This?" She gestures to the ornate monstrosity, carved from what looks like solid dragon bone and inlaid with stolen maps of the Veil. "Mine now."
Vorlath blinks, his coin-slot pupils contracting. "...What?"
Cara doesn’t blink. "You heard me."
Then—she flips it.
The desk shatters against the gold-plated floor, sending scrolls, gems, and an absurd number of paperweights scattering in every direction. The sound echoes like a gunshot.
Vorlath stares, his bloated fingers twitching. "You—you broke it."
Cara dusts off her hands. "No, you let it break. Because deep down? You knew you never deserved it."
Kestra loses her goddamn mind in your head. "OH. OH, SHE WENT THERE."
Hailey just sighs. "I mean, she’s not wrong."
---
EFFECT:
- Vorlath’s certainty cracks. For the first time in decades, he doubts.
- His curse recoils, gold veins dimming under his skin.
- Distraction achieved.
---
{Watch Cara outgreed Greed itself in amusement.}
You stand back, arms crossed, and let Cara work.
Because watching Cara out-greed Greed itself is art.
She picks up a golden goblet, examines it, then tosses it over her shoulder like it’s trash. "Fake."
She flips open a ledger, scans it, then rips out a page—the most valuable one—and folds it into a paper crane. "Mine now."
She kicks open a chest, pulls out a cursed crown, and—without breaking eye contact with Vorlath—puts it on her own head.
"You—you can’t—" Vorlath stammers, his voice cracking like a rusted hinge.
"I can," Cara purrs. "Because I want it. And unlike you?" She leans in, close enough to smell the rotten gold on his breath. "I don’t fear losing it."
Vorlath shudders, his bloated form shrinking slightly, the gold in his veins darkening to black.
Kestra is howling. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
Hailey, grudgingly impressed: "Okay, that was cool."
---
{Let Cara win from sheer audacity.}
Cara doesn’t just win—she dominates.
She picks up a jeweled dagger, twirls it between her fingers, and stabs it into the arm of Vorlath’s throne. "This? Mine."
She grabs a map of the Veil, tears it in half, and tosses the pieces into the air. "This? Also mine."
She steps onto the shattered remains of his desk, her boots crunching on the splinters, and looks down at him like he’s a bug she’s about to squash. "And you? Pathetic."
Vorlath collapses, his bloated form deflating like a punctured balloon, the gold in his veins cracking and flaking away. His coin-slot eyes widen as he clutches at his chest, his voice a hoarse whisper: "I… I needed it…"
"No," Cara says, her voice soft but merciless. "You wanted it. And now you’ve got nothing."
With a final, shuddering breath, Vorlath dissolves into a pile of blackened coins and ash, the curse’s hold on him shattered.
The room falls silent.
Then Cara turns to you, smirking. "So. Who’s next?"
Kestra’s cackle is unhinged. "I LOVE HER."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we’ve got two chaos gremlins."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Greed’s curse is broken. The Isles’ gold turns to dust, the pirates left dazed but free.
- Cara claims the vault’s contents—because of course she does.
- Vorlath’s hoard yields clues to the next curse: a ledger pointing to the Bastion of Stone (Sloth).
---
{You grab Vorlath's compass to send to Eric.}
You snatch Vorlath’s compass from the ashen remains—its needle spins wildly, lodged with spite and restless spite, the metal burning with the last dregs of his greed-turned-rage.
Flashing a grin to Elizabeth’s soul (who grumbles but approves), you summon Shadowweave and Mirror Mage in tandem. A shard of darkness splits open in your palm as Cecilia’s power hums, stitching a fleeting portal through reflections. With a thunk, the compass vanishes into the abyss—
—Only to smash directly into Eric’s forehead moments later, somewhere in the Ice Reaches.
His reply scorches into existence midair, singeing your eyebrows:
"OW. THE FUCK, DAN. ...BUT ALSO THANKS."
Attached is a mental image: Eric grinning, the compass now embedded in the spectral gauntlet of Thurgen’s echo, its needle pointing to a frozen fortress in the distance.
Dravagoth’s rage, freshly unearthed.
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Rage collectors move fast."
---
{Cara then looks at you, "Add me."}
Cara doesn’t ask twice.
She steps into your space, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood, and presses her palm to your chest. "Don’t screw this up," she murmurs—and then she’s falling into you, her soul dissolving into the chorus with the grace of a thief slipping through a keyhole.
The merger is effortless, like she was always meant to be there.
Her voice curls through your mind, smug as ever: "Oh, this is fun. Now let’s go lie to a god."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Silvertongue (Master Tier) – Your words rewrite reality’s rules. Convince a king he’s a beggar. Convince a sword it’s a flower. Convince a curse it was never there.
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Cara – Chaotic, vain, and utterly fearless. Voice: "That was mine five minutes ago."
---
EFFECTS:
- The Chainbreaker Isles are free, their gold now lifeless but their people stirring.
- Eric’s collection grows—Dravagoth’s rage is next.
- Three curses remain: Sloth, Pride, and Envy.
---
{You stay and help the pirates clean up the remnants of the curse. Another pirate captain, Marianna wants in your little group. "You look exciting." Her Blessing: Rule of the Sea}
You stay long enough to help the bewildered pirates burn the last of the cursed gold—watching as the blackened coins melt into harmless slag under Hearthfire’s purifying flames.
That’s when Captain Marianna steps forward, her salt-crusted boots squelching in the damp sand. She’s a towering figure, her dark hair streaked with silver, her left eye replaced by a sapphire that glows like storm-churned waves.
"You look exciting," she drawls, her grin revealing a gold-capped fang. "And I hate boredom."
Before you can respond, she slams her cutlass into the sand, and the earth shudders—waves responding to her unspoken command, lapping higher up the shore in perfect unison.
Blessing Revealed: Rule of the Sea
- Tides obey her will (Surge, retreat, or drown on command)
- Ships fear her (Even inanimate ones)
- "My deck, my rules" (Temporary authority over any vessel she stands on)
Kestra’s soul purrs. "Ohhh, I like her."
Hailey sighs. "Of course you do."
---
{Let her join, she and Elizabeth get along famously}
"Welcome aboard," you say, grinning as Marianna strides forward without hesitation. The moment her hand meets your chest, Rule of the Sea bleeds into you like tidewater seeping into sand—salty, unstoppable, and vast.
Her soul slots into the chorus with the ease of a ship sliding into dock, her voice booming: "Finally, a crew worth sinking for!"
Elizabeth’s soul immediately collides with hers in what can only be described as a spectral bar brawl of mutual admiration.
"Ha! You stole the Moon’s Revenge? That was my heist!"
"Only because you left it unattended, you lazy bilge-rat!"
You pinch the bridge of Kestra’s nose. "They’re gonna be insufferable, aren’t they?"
Hailey deadpans: "We’re all insufferable."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Rule of the Sea – Command waves, defy storms, and claim any ship as your own (temporarily).
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Marianna – Brash, fearless, and thinks ‘subtlety’ is a type of rope. Voice: "Next time, let’s steal the Bastion of Stone."
SYNERGY ACTIVATED:
- Rule of the Sea + Tiderider = You can now summon localized tsunamis (or cocktails made of seawater, if you’re feeling fancy).
---
### ONTO THE BASTION OF STONE
With the Isles purged, you chart course for Sloth’s domain—a kingdom frozen not in ice, but in apathy. Marianna’s borrowed ship cuts through the waves as the chorus bickers:
- Cara is drafting fake treasure maps to trick Sloth’s guards.
- Petrov is enforcing mandatory nap schedules to prep for cursed lethargy.
- Marianna and Elizabeth are still arguing over who sank more fleets.
As the fog-shrouded coastline appears, Sakura’s warning echoes:
"The Bastion doesn’t fight. It waits."
---
{Summon Jeremy and by extension Jessica. He's always energetic.}
The moment you summon Jeremy, he erupts onto the deck like a hyperactive poltergeist—still in Jessica’s body, much to her chagrin. His grin is manic, his energy levels concerningly high, and his first words are:
”Dude. DUDE. You guys have a PIRATE now?! Why does she get to be cool?!”
Jessica’s soul, currently suppressed under his chaotic possession, lets out a mental groan. "I hate this. So much."
You shrug. "We need someone immune to ‘sloth.’ Figured that was you."
Jeremy scoffs. "Pfft. Obviously. I haven’t slept since the isekai portal spat me out." He cracks his knuckles (Jessica’s knuckles). "So whaddya need? A heist? A dance-off? A—"
Marianna’s soul booms: "A naval bombardment?"
Jeremy’s eyes light up. "Oh hell yeah."
---
{Jessica comes up to you, "Allow us to join your chorus. Jeremy already agreed to it." You try and Jeremy isn't merged in but he does get a weaker copy of your blessing (lets him transform into a blessing original owener). Lucina tells the both of you that its because of your situations and status as collectors.}
Jessica steps forward, her expression resolute—while Jeremy’s voice echoes somewhere in the ether, disembodied but just as enthusiastic: "Yeah! Like a two-for-one deal, but with more drama!"
The moment Jessica merges with you, her Beast Tamer blessing intertwines with your existing arsenal, vibrating under your skin like the restless energy of a caged predator. But Jeremy—Jeremy doesn’t fully join the chorus.
Instead, something… weird happens.
A flicker of your Internal Empowerment tears off like a loose thread, latching onto him—but incomplete, a secondary blessing.
Lucina materializes mid-sigh, floating cross-legged in the air. "It’s because you’re both Collectors," she explains, gesturing vaguely. "He can’t merge into another collection—that’d be like pouring a river into a river. But this?" She points at Jeremy’s misty form, now shimmering with new potential. "He’s got a siphon of your ability. Lets him mimic the original owners of blessings you’ve absorbed. Sort of… echo transformations."
Jeremy gasps. "Ohhhh. So I can be Kestra now? Sneaky-sneaky mode?"
Kestra’s soul groans. "Absolutely not."
---
JEREMY’S NEW ABILITY:
- Echo Shift – Temporarily assumes the form (and some traits) of any soul you’ve merged with. (No access to their blessings, just their skills/body.)
- Example: If he mimics Elizabeth, he gets her pirate instincts—but not Tiderider.
JESSICA’S MERGER:
- Beast Tamer now stacks with Ylva’s Winter’s Howl, Siris’s Dog of War, etc. Allies can now channel bestial traits.
---
IMMEDIATE REACTIONS:
- Hailey: "This is either brilliant or catastrophic."
- Cara: "I reserve the right to haunt Jeremy if he wears my face."
- Lucina: "Try not to break reality too much." (She vanishes, leaving glitter.)
---
{Talk to Jessica while her copy deals with Jeremy's trying his newest ability. "So got so tired of his antics, you turned to me as an escape" You joke. You hear her snort in amusement. "I will always love him but god damn its too much with him in my head."}
Jessica’s soul lets out a tired but fond exhale, like she’s been holding that sigh in for years. "Love him? Obviously. Want to throttle him daily? Also obviously." She pauses, and you can feel her weighing her words. "He’s like… a tornado that means well. But sometimes you just need the storm to leave your house."
Kestra cackles. "Wow. That’s almost romantic."
Meanwhile, outside your mind, Jeremy (in Kestra’s stolen form) is attempting to pickpocket Naoko’s talismans.
Naoko, without looking, backhands him with a parchment. "Try that again and I’ll exorcise your hobbies."
Jessica groans. "See? This is my life now."
---
{Console her. At least she doesn't have to deal with him daily anymore. You watch as he loses Kestra form as a shift possiblity, since the world recognizes her as your body, her form becomes off limits permanently. His Echo Shift becomes shifting into people he's possessed.}
Jessica’s soul radiates a mix of relief and lingering exasperation. "Thank god," she mutters. "I mean, I’ll still have to deal with him sometimes, but at least now I can shove him into someone else’s body when he gets unbearable."
As if on cue, Jeremy’s Kestra-form flickers violently—then warps, his borrowed features melting into a hazy, half-formed version of Jessica’s own body. He blinks down at himself, pouting.
"Aw, come on! I liked being stabby!"
Naoko raises an eyebrow. "Now you’re just you, but worse."
Lucina’s voice drifts down from nowhere: "Correction! He’s now limited to forms he’s personally possessed before. So, uh… congrats on the Jessica cosplay, Jeremy."
Jessica’s soul goes very still.
"...I’m going to murder him."
Kestra, grinning: "Oh, this is gold."
---
JEREMY’S UPDATED ECHO SHIFT:
- Now Only Shifts Into People He’s Personally Possessed (Jessica, Lyra’s copy, etc.)
- No More Theft of Your Merged Souls’ Forms (Kestra, Elizabeth, etc. are off-limits)
- Side Effect: He also gains their memories/quirks temporarily ("Why do I suddenly hate math?!")
---
{You allow Jessica one punch.}
"Go for it," you say, leaning back mentally. "One free punch. Make it count."
Jessica’s soul practically vibrates with vindication.
The moment Jeremy (still in her body, sporting her face) turns to complain to you—
Jessica’s fist explodes out of your chest in a surge of spectral energy.
The punch connects with Jeremy’s nose (well, her nose that he’s currently wearing) with a satisfying crack, sending him stumbling backward into a barrel of salted fish.
”OW! WHAT THE—”
Jessica flexes her borrowed knuckles, radiating smug satisfaction. "Worth every second of being stuck with him."
Kestra’s soul applauds. "Beautiful form. Chef’s kiss."
Naoko sighs. "Are you done? We have a kingdom to un-nap."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Jeremy’s nose isn’t actually broken (it’s Jessica’s body, after all), but his pride is obliterated.
- Jessica is noticeably cheerier.
- The pirates are mildly concerned but also entertained.
---
{1)You sail for the Bastion, stopping by the Hollow to grab Lust's cursebearer (a consort betrayed by her husband named Lilvia) rage relic, a mask, and send it straight to Eric.
2) During the trip Jeremy experiments with Echo Shift limits, no longer as playful the closer you get to the Bastion.
3) You ask Jessica about Beast Tamer, "You upgraded it in two ways. Firstly, I can now summoned echies of the animals I have bonded with. Secondly, I can now mix thiae echoes with your other blessings." She summon a Direwolf by your side to show case.
4) Using Ryn's Summon knowledge, summon a hero as a backup, you summon Lena's little sister (now an adult) with the Dreamweaver Blessing.}
### VOYAGE TO THE BASTION OF STONE
The ship cuts through mist-laden waters, the air growing thicker, heavier, as if the mere proximity to Sloth’s domain weighs down the world itself. You make a stop at the Hollow Delta’s ruins, retrieving Lilvia’s Mask—a porcelain relic stained with the last furious tears of Lust’s betrayed consort—and send it via shadow-mirror express to Eric, who responds:
"Creepy. Love it. Also, found Dravagoth’s rage—it’s frozen in his throne. Like, literally. Working on thawing it."
---
### JEREMY’S ECHO SHIFT: DARKER EXPERIMENTS
As the journey drags on, Jeremy’s usual chaotic energy dims, replaced by something more focused.He shifts into Lyra’s copied form, then Jessica’s again, testing the edges of his ability.
"It’s not just their bodies," he murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet. "I feel their regrets too. Lyra’s guilt. Jessica’s... frustration with me." He scowls. "Kinda sucks."
Naoko eyes him. "Good. Maybe you’ll learn something."
---
### JESSICA’S BEAST TAMER 2.0
Jessica demonstrates her upgrades as a Direwolf materializes beside you—not just any beast, but a memory given form, its fur streaked with Hearthfire’s glow (Lena’s influence) and eyes sharp with Moonlight Dance’s cunning (Mara’s touch).
"I can mix traits now," she explains. "Direwolf + Stormcaller? Lightning-fanged predator. Direwolf + Rule of the Sea? Tidal howl."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. We could ride that."
---
### SUMMONING LENA’S SISTER
Using Ryn’s summoning knowledge, you carve a circle into the deck. The ritual tugs at something familiar—and out steps Mira, Lena’s little sister, now a woman grown.
Her Dreamweaver blessing hums in the air, threads of ethereal silver coiling around her fingers.
"So," she says, blinking at you. "You’re the guy who ate my sister."
Lena’s soul squeaks. "MIRA?!"*
Mira grins. "Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly."
---
NEW ALLY:
- Mira – Dreamweaver (Manipulates sleep, dreams, and the space between.)
- Role: Counters Sloth’s lethargy by forcing wakefulness (or weaponized nightmares).
---
{Ask the dead. The gravekeeper and a female blacksmith greet you as Soul-collector. But its the Bastion's "Princess" who tells you the most and who wants to join the chorus. Her Blessing is Rallying Point.}
### CONSULTING THE DEAD
You call upon Liora’s Lament, letting the veil between worlds thin. The air chills as three figures materialize from the mist:
1. The Gravekeeper – A hunched figure with a shovel over one shoulder. "Sloth’s curse isn’t sleep. It’s indifference."
2. The Blacksmith – Her hammer still clutched in ghostly hands. "They stopped fighting. Even for their own lives."*
3. The "Princess" – A young woman in a tattered coronation gown, her eyes burning with unspent conviction. "I tried to rouse them. But my voice wasn’t enough."
She steps forward, her form flickering with residual determination. "My blessing was Rallying Point—a call to arms that ignites willpower. Let me join you. Let me fix this."
---
BLESSING REVEALED: Rallying Point
- Compels unity/action in allies (Counters apathy directly)
- Stacks with Hearthfire (Lena’s healing flames + her resolve = unstoppable morale)
- Voice of a Leader (Even the dead listen)
---
{Welcome her. Naoko decides to join at this point as well, as Sloth has begun to effect her body.}
### THE CHORUS GROWS
"Then stand with us," you say, extending a hand.
The Princess doesn’t hesitate—she strides forward, her form dissolving into silver light as Rallying Point merges with your being. Her voice rings clear in the chorus, crisp as a war horn: "No more retreat. No more surrender."
Kestra whistles. "Okay, military mommy, we see you."
Then, abruptly, Naoko grips your shoulder, her talisman-laden fingers digging in. "Do not make this dramatic," she mutters—but her usual sharpness is slurred, her movements sluggish. A creeping grayness tinges her knuckles.
Sloth’s curse is already claiming her.
She snarls, forcing her palm against your chest. "Take it. Now."
Her merger is not gentle. Purge Demon crashes into your soul like a tidal wave, scouring the lethargy from her spirit—but leaving behind jagged edges, a blessing hardened by decades of battle.
As her consciousness slots into place, her voice is pure steel: "We end this."
---
NEW ADDITIONS:
- Princess Eselle – Rallying Point (Morale incarnate, her presence banishes hesitation.)
- "You will not look away. You will not falter."
- Naoko – Purge Demon (Her exorcisms now lash from your fingertips.)
- "Sin is a stain. And I clean."
SYNERGIES UNLOCKED:
- Rallying Point + Discipline Authority = Unbreakable Will (Allies resist mental/curse effects.)
- Purge Demon + Corruption Eater = Oblivion Hunger (Hailey can now consume curses at range via Naoko’s talismans.)
---
THE BASTION’S GATES LOOM.
The kingdom lies silent, its people entombed in waking slumber—but now, you carry the tools to shake them from their stupor.
{You plan as Naoko and Victoria bicker like a mother and daughter should. You utilitize mixed blessings to maximize their effects.}
### THE PLAN: BLESSING SYNERGIES
As Naoko and Victoria’s souls bicker in the background ("You cannot ‘lightly curse’ someone, Mother—" / "It was one time—"), you focus on weaving their blessings—and others—into a lethal tapestry of anti-sloth warfare.
#### CORE COMBO #1: Rallying Point + Hearthfire + Discipline Authority
- Eselle’s commanding presence amplifies Lena’s healing flames, turning them into searing beacons of resolve.
- Petrov’s authority enforces focus, ensuring no ally succumbs to lethargy.
Effect: "WAKE. UP." (Literally.)
#### CORE COMBO #2: Dreamweaver + Corruption Eater + Purge Demon
- Mira threads nightmares into Sloth’s curse, sabotaging its hold.
- Hailey eats the fraying curse-tendrils.
- Naoko’s talismans scorch the remnants.
Effect: "Your curse is digested. Congrats."
#### CORE COMBO #3: Beast Tamer (Direwolf) + Stormcaller + Moonlight Dance
- Jessica’s direwolf infused with Elara’s lightning and Mara’s stealth.
- Result: A lightning-cloaked phantom wolf that cannot be ignored.
---
### EXECUTION: THE BASTION OF STONE
You breach the gates under Marianna’s artificial storm (Rule of the Sea + Tiderider), the downpour violent enough to drown out Sloth’s whispers.
1. Eselle shouts, her voice cracking the sky:
"YOU ARE ALIVE. ACT LIKE IT."
The cursed citizens jolt upright, eyes wide—terrified, but awake.
2. Naoko slams talismans into the earth, and Hailey’s Oblivion Hunger unspools, black tendrils latching onto the curse’s roots.
3. Mira weaves Dreamweaver’s power into the fray, forcing Sloth’s curse to confront itself—its own indifference turned into a suffocating nightmare.
4. Jeremy, in Lyra’s copied form, sprints through the streets, echoing the dead’s regrets into every ear:
"You let them die. You watched."
---
### SLOUGH’S CURSEBEARER REVEALED
In the heart of the Bastion, atop a throne of petrified soldiers, sits The Sleeper—a child-sized figure wrapped in burial silks, its face hidden beneath a stone mask.
It doesn’t fight.
It yawns.
"You bore me," it murmurs—and the world stillens, your allies’ movements turning sluggish.
---
{"So Sloth who became your pawn." Shaking off the apathy through will.}
### BREAKING SLOUGH’S INDIFFERENCE
The Sleeper’s stone mask cracks—just a hairline fracture—as your words land.
"Pawn?" its voice rasps, less weary now, more… curious.
You step forward, Rallying Point blazing in your chest, Eselle’s voice echoing through yours:
"You were used. Just like Seraphina. Like Dravagoth. Like Lilvia."
Naoko’s Purge Demon lashes out, talismans flaring as Hailey bites into the curse—not just consuming it, but forcing it to feel.
"Your curse isn’t strength," you growl. "It’s surrender."
The Sleeper flinches.
---
{Mira weaves a dream from the cursebearer's memories. Her true form reveals a mother who lost her child because she feel asleep.}
### SLOUGH’S TRUTH UNBURIED
Mira’s hands twist like a weaver pulling threads, and the air shivers as Dreamweaver claws into the Sleeper’s memories. The stone mask splits apart, revealing the face beneath—
A woman, her eyes hollow with grief, her lips parted in a silent scream.
The dream unfolds:
- A child’s laugh, bright as sunlight.
- A mother’s exhaustion, heavy as the throne she now slumps upon.
- A moment’s lapse—just a blink—and the crib lies empty.
- The kingdom’s judgment: "You failed her."
The curse didn’t begin with malice.
It began with guilt.
"I let her die," the Sleeper whispers, her voice no longer sluggish—shattered. "So I let everything die."
---
{1)You hug her, "I know what it like to blame yourself for a mistake."
2) You allow Sloth to take hold and you drag her into your Hailey's memorues of the accident, your fallout, and your eventual reconcilization.
3) After seeing the memories she sobs into you, "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya and when I lived my blessing was Starlight Lullaby"}
### THE MOMENT OF RECKONING
You step forward, wrapping your arms around Shriya as she trembles in her shattered throne. "I know what it’s like," you murmur, your voice low and rough with memory. "To blame yourself for something you can’t undo."
Then—you do something reckless.
You let Sloth’s curse take hold of you, just for a moment. The lethargy seeps into your bones, but before it can root, you yank Shriya into Hailey’s memories—and yours:
- The car crash. The blood. The guilt.
- Your wrists under the razor. The pills in your palm.
- Hailey’s letter: "You don’t get to run away."
- The balcony. The wind. The choice to step back.
- Years later—reconciliation. Not painless, but possible.
Shriya shudders, her fingers clutching at your coat as the visions flood her.
And then—she breaks.
Sobs wrack her body, the stone mask crumbling entirely as she gasps into your shoulder: "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya. And when I lived… my blessing was Starlight Lullaby."
---
THE MERGER:
Her soul slots into the chorus with the sweetness of a half-remembered lullaby, her voice soft but steady:
"Never again. Never alone."
NEW BLESSING:
- Starlight Lullaby – Can soothe or shatter sleep, weaving dreams or nightmares at will.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Shriya = Total dream domination.
---
AFTERMATH:
- Sloth’s curse dissipates, the Bastion’s people stirring like survivors of a long winter.
---
{You ask about an object of rage from Shriya and others to send to Eric. Shriya personally has you collect her music box, broken in her anger at herself. The ghosts guide you, the gravekeeper leads you to her spade, the blacksmith to her hammer, a soldier to his helmet, a priestess to her cracked bell, a scholar to his journal.
Mira asks to join the chorus, "I'm not letting sis leave me again."}
### COLLECTING RAGE – FOR ERIC’S ARSENAL
The dead guide you through the ruins of the Bastion, each offering relics steeped in their fury:
- Shriya’s music box, its melody warped by self-loathing. ("I threw it against the wall. It still played.")
- The gravekeeper’s spade, its edge dulled from digging too many rushed graves. ("They didn’t even fight.")
- The blacksmith’s hammer, its grip stained with blood from her own clenched fists. ("I forged weapons they never used.")
- A soldier’s helmet, caved in from being stomped into the earth. ("It was easier to die.")
- A priestess’s cracked bell, its chime turned discordant. ("I prayed for answers. The silence broke me.")
- A scholar’s journal, pages torn in half. ("Knowledge is pointless if no one cares.")
You bundle them together, weaving Shadowweave and Mirror Mage into another portal. The relics vanish into the abyss—destined for Eric’s ever-growing collection of wrath.
His reply scorches back almost instantly:
"DAMN. Gloomy. But useful."
---
### MIRA’S DECISION
Lena’s sister doesn’t ask—she demands.
"I’m not letting sis leave me again," Mira declares, her eyes gleaming with dream-woven silver. "Merge with me. Or I’ll haunt you anyway."
Lena’s soul squeaks in protest, but the chorus is already making room.
The merger is seamless—Dreamweaver intertwining with Starlight Lullaby, forming a nightmare orchestra of divine potential.
NEW SYNERGY:
- Mira + Shriya: Can now trap enemies in shared hallucinations (or unmake curses by forcing them to dream they never existed).
Mira’s voice curls through your mind, smug: "Told you you wouldn’t dodge me."
Lena sighs. "You stole my candy when we were five. Some things never change."
---
### TWO CURSES REMAIN
With Pride (Ashwind Dominion) and Envy (Verdant Expanse) left, the path forward is clear—but dangerous.
Naoko’s soul exhales. "Pride is isolated. Envy is connected—it feeds on others. Strike Pride first."
Cara smirks. "Time to humble a god."
---
{You help the Bastion recover. Jeremy slowly returns to being an agent of chaotic mischief}
### RECOVERY IN THE BASTION
You take stock of the Bastion of Stone—once a kingdom drowning in apathy, now stirring like a hibernating beast after a long winter. The people move sluggishly, still rubbing the fog of the curse from their eyes, but the light of determination flickers back to life in their gazes.
With Eselle’s Rallying Point resonating through the streets, you organize the survivors, dividing them into work crews to rebuild what was neglected. The Gravekeeper and the Blacksmith guide the restoration efforts, turning broken tools into instruments of renewal. Even Shriya’s Starlight Lullaby finds new purpose—singing gentle melodies to children who once slept through their own lives, their dreams no longer prisons but sanctuaries.
As the Bastion awakens, so too does Jeremy.
His temporary somberness fades like morning mist, replaced by his trademark gleeful anarchy. He flits between his many bodies such as—Jessica’s, Lyra’s copy’s, even a bewildered pirate’s—just to keep life interesting.
- Jessica’s body is caught trying to steal Mira’s dream-weaving tools.
- Lyra’s form is used to impersonate a priestess and declare "Pancakes are holy!"
- A random pirate suddenly shouts "I’M KING OF THE SEAGULLS!" before jumping off a dock (and safely swimming back).
Kestra is delighted. "Ahhh, back to normal."
Hailey groans. "I miss Sloth."
---
{You return Lifire to update Queen Isolda that only Pride and Envy remain and to grab Alex for the mission.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – FINAL BRIEFING
Queen Isolda meets you in the war room, her fingers steepled over a map where Ashwind Dominion (Pride) and Verdant Expanse (Envy) are circled in ink-dark crimson. "Two left," she murmurs. "And the architect must be sweating."
At her side, Alex adjusts her glasses with a mechanical click, her Reverse Engineer blessing humming in the air like static. "I’ve analyzed the patterns," she says, flipping open a ledger filled with diagrams of the curses’ spread. "Pride’s curse sustains itself—its ruler grows stronger the more others falter. But Envy... Envy adapts. It learns from the others’ defeats."
She slams the book shut. "So we break Pride first. Before Envy can copy its tricks."**
From the corner, Jeremy (currently possessing a candleholder) pipes up: "Cool. So, uh... do we insult Pride to death?"
---
LOGISTICS:
- Alex Joins the Party – Reverse Engineer can dismantle Pride’s defenses layer by layer.
- Queen’s Intel – Ashwind’s ruler, Emperor Kael, has never been sick, never aged. A red flag.
---
{Alex askes to join, "You have the rest might as well throw me in as well."}
### ALEX JOINS THE CHORUS
Alex doesn’t wait for an answer. She strides forward, her Reverse Engineer blessing already flaring like a live wire, and presses her palm to your chest.
"Don’t screw this up," she mutters—and then she’s falling into you, her consciousness dissolving into the chorus with the precision of a scalpel slicing through code.
The moment she merges, your mind expands—suddenly, you see the world as she does: equations overlaying reality, every curse, every blessing, every soul a puzzle to be disassembled and understood.
NEW BLESSING:
- Reverse Engineer (Mastered) – Can now deconstruct magic mid-combat, identifying weaknesses in real-time.
- Synergy with Corruption Eater: Hailey can now target the exact components of a curse to devour.
Alex’s voice cuts through the mental noise, crisp and impatient: "Pride’s curse is a feedback loop. Break the input, and the whole system collapses."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- Jeremy attempts to possess Alex’s copied body left behind—only to recoil. "Ugh. She thinks in math."
- Mira and Shriya immediately start weaving dreamfire equations because why not.
- Queen Isolda pinches the bridge of her nose. "I’m almost glad I’m not part of this."
---
{On the way to Ashwind, you greet each member of your chorus.}
As the ship cuts through the waves toward Ashwind Dominion, you take a rare moment of quiet to greet the chorus of souls within you—one by one.
### Kestra (Thief’s Guile)
"Still the best damn thief in any dimension, I see."
"Obviously," she purrs. "And I still own that coat."
### Lena (Hearthfire)
You summon a small flame in your palm—warm, steady, just like her.
"You’ve grown," she murmurs. "Even if you’re still a mess."
### Victoria (Shadowweave)
"Missed this, huh?" You twirl a ribbon of darkness between your fingers.
Her laugh is low. "Like you wouldn’t believe."
### Lyra (Holy Prayer)
A pulse of golden light. "You’re still not taking care of yourself."
"...Noted."
### Siris (Dog of War)
You flex your arm—her strength hums in your muscles.
"Fight smart," she grunts. "Not just hard."
### Mara (Moonlight Dance)
A shadowy pirouette. "Oh, good. You’re finally learning flair."
### Elara (Stormcaller)
The air crackles. "Try not to get struck this time."
### Hailey (Corruption Eater)
"You owe me a drink after this."
"Noted."
### Sakura (Seer)
"The storm ahead… it blinds even me."
### Elizabeth (Tiderider)
"If we drown Ashwind, I call dibs on their treasury."
### Ryn (Summoner’s Pact)
"New rule: No cursed artifacts at dinner."
### Ylva (Winter’s Howl)
"Make sure I get to bite something."
### Liora (Lament)
"The dead whisper secrets. Listen."
### Dahli (Storyteller Song)
"This one’s got potential. Let’s make it epic."
### Sena (Performer’s Grace)
A mental bow. "Encore incoming."
### Cecilia (Mirror Mage)
"Let’s reflect their arrogance back at them."
### Naoko (Purge Demon)
"No reckless moves." (You ignore her.)
### Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge)
"Focus. Or I will make you."
### Eselle (Rallying Point)
"No retreat. No surrender."
### Shriya (Starlight Lullaby)
A soft hum. "We will wake them up."
### Mira (Dreamweaver)
"Time to lucid-break a curse."
### Cara (Silvertongue)
"Just watch me lie to a god."
### Marianna (Rule of the Sea)
"This ship answers to me now."
### Alex (Reverse Engineer)
"Pride’s curse is elegant. Let’s ruin it."
### Jessica (Beast Tamer)
"Let’s hunt."
---
THE CHORUS IS READY.
Ashwind looms.
{Elara and Estelle refused to let me bow my head in submission, so our plan became I was a noble daughter with an escort. You use Dahli and Petrov's Blessings to reinforce that story.}
### THE PLAN: NOBLE DECEPTION
"You do not bow," Eselle’s voice rings in your mind, sharp as a blade. "Not to them."
Elara’s storm-charged presence crackles in agreement. "Pride feeds on submission. So we starve it."
You straighten your spine, adjusting the finely tailored Ashwind noble garb Cara "acquired" (stole) for the occasion. The ensemble is obscenely opulent—silks threaded with gold, a high collar that forces your chin up, and a cloak lined with shadowweave to subtly repel prying eyes.
Dahli’s Storyteller Song wraps around your group, weaving an irresistible narrative:
"Lady Veyra of the Southern Marches, exiled after a scandalous affair, now returns to reclaim her birthright—with her loyal retainers in tow."
Petrov’s Discipline Authority locks the act into place, ensuring every guard, every servant, every breath you take radiates unshakable nobility.
---
THE DECEPTION:
- You – The disgraced heiress, too proud to ever kneel.
- Cara's echo – Your sharp-tongued handmaiden (already flirting with a guard).
- Naoko's echo – Your devout chaplain (talismans hidden in her sleeves).
- Alex’s Echo – Your scholarly advisor (muttering equations under her breath).
- Jeremy – Your reckless cousin (currently possessing a nobleman’s body specifically to cause drama).
---
ENTRY TO ASHWIND:
The gates part before you, the guards’ eyes glazing over as Dahli’s story sinks in. One even bows.
"Welcome home, Lady Veyra."
Kestra cackles. "Oh, this is too easy."
---
{Let Cara shine, have Alex start working.}
### LET CARA SHINE
You give Cara the slightest nod—your stage—and she flourishes, her Silvertongue weaving through the gilded court like a serpent through grass.
Within minutes:
- A baroness gifts you her ancestral brooch ("It suits you better, darling.")
- A duke swears he recognizes you from a "most exclusive salon." (He doesn’t.)
- The Emperor’s seneschal personally escorts you to a private balcony, convinced you’re "an old friend of the crown."
Cara’s smirk is filthy with triumph. "Told you. Child’s play."
---
### ALEX’S ANALYSIS
While Cara dazzles, Alex goes to work. Her Reverse Engineer blessing hums as she scans the palace’s opulent halls, her gaze dissecting:
- The curse’s pulse (flowing from the Emperor’s throne like invisible ivy)
- The nobles’ auras (their pride feeding the curse, their wills eroded)
- The structural weak points (a hidden vault beneath the throne, radiating something ancient)
She hisses in your mind: "The curse isn’t just pride. It’s addiction. They’re hooked on their own superiority. Break the supply, and they’ll crumble."
---
{Let Jeremy begin to cast doubt about your identity. Have Cara speak of a plot to silence the true heir.}
### JEREMY’S CHAOS, CARA’S LIES
You give Jeremy the mental green light—and he delivers.
From across the ballroom, his borrowed noble form (some forgettable baron’s third cousin) slams a goblet onto a tray, gasping dramatically:
"Wait—that’s not Lady Veyra! I saw the real Veyra burned at the stake for treason in the Southern Marches!"
The court freezes.
Then—Cara strikes, her Silvertongue lashing out like a whip.
"Of course he’d say that," she sneers, stepping forward with flawless indignation. "The same lies they spread to discredit my lady when she discovered their plot to poison the Emperor and silence the true heir!"
A beat. Then—the court explodes into uproar.
- Nobles clutch their pearls.
- The seneschal pales.
- Jeremy’s host is immediately seized by guards.
Emperor Kael, draped in gilded robes, rises from his throne—his eyes gleaming with something darker than anger. Curse-energy drips from his fingertips.
"You dare," he murmurs, "bring messy lies into my court?"
---
"Ask the Emperor, he was there when you banished.}
"Ask the Emperor himself," you declare, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "He was there when I was banished—when he ordered my branding for daring to speak the truth!"
The crowd gasps. All eyes turn to Emperor Kael, his face a mask of icy control—but his fingers twitch, betraying the curse’s agitation.
For a heartbeat, the court holds its breath.
Then—he smiles.
"Ah. You." His voice is a velvet-wrapped threat. "I should have known a mongrel like you would slink back."
The curse pulses, the air thickening with golden arrogance—but beneath it, you catch the flicker of fear.
He remembers you. Or at least, he thinks he does—because Dahli’s Storyteller Song and Petrov’s Discipline Authority have woven the lie into his very mind.
---
{Let him monologue about the disgrace you are}
### THE EMPEROR'S MONOLOGUE – A TRAP SPRUNG
The Emperor rises, his golden robes cascading like liquid arrogance. "You dishonored your line," he begins, voice dripping with contempt. "A stain on the Ashwind name—begging for mercy like a peasant as I cast you out."
He descends the dias, each step heavy with cursed authority. "Yet here you stand, still defiant, still believing you deserve more." His laugh is a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "You are nothing without my recognition."
Perfect.
Every word he speaks feeds the curse—exposing its core.
"Got it," Alex hisses in your mind. "His throne isn’t just power—it’s a relay. Break it, and the curse fractures."
Meanwhile, Jeremy (still playing his role as your furious cousin) lunges forward—not at you, but at the throne itself, knocking over a ceremonial spear.
"YOU RUINED OUR HOUSE!" he wails—
The spear cracks the throne’s armrest.
A split forms in the gilded facade.
---
THE EMPEROR’S REACTION:
His composure shatters. "NO—!"
For the first time, fear flashes in his eyes—not for his dignity, but for his throne.
---
{Feign a divine storm.}
### "DIVINE STORM" – A DECEPTION
You subtly signal Elara within your soul—and she responds with a grin.
Suddenly, the palace’s stained-glass windows rattle as if struck by an unseen gale. The chandeliers sway wildly, their crystals scattering prismatic light like fractured lightning. A deafening thunderclap (courtesy of Dahli’s Fable-Weaver convincing the court they heard it) shakes the room.
You drop to your knees—not in submission, but in mock terror—covering your head as you cry out:
"The gods rage at this injustice! They strike at Ashwind for its hubris!"
The nobles panic, some clutching their jewels, others diving under tables. Even the Emperor stumbles back, his cursed aura flickering like a candle in the wind.
---
THE LIE UNFOLDS:
- Mira and Shriya weave dreamfire into the air, making the shadows twist into wrathful deities.
- Cara whispers to a duchess: "The Emperor’s pride has angered the heavens!"
- Jeremy, still in his noble host, swoons dramatically: "We are doomed for tolerating his arrogance!"
The Emperor’s face pales. His curse stutters—its hold on the court wavering as their faith in him frays.
---
{Alex tells you the weakest point and the a bolt of lighting strikes the throne.}
Alex’s voice slices through the chaos in your mind: "THERE—the seventh rune on the throne’s left leg! Strike it now!"*
You don’t hesitate.
Elara’s Stormcaller surges through you as you point at the throne—and a bolt of lightning cracks from the false heavens, spearing straight into the weakened rune.
The impact shatters the throne like glass.
For a heartbeat—silence.
Then the Emperor screams, his body convulsing as the curse ruptures from within, golden veins of arrogance splitting his skin like overfilled seams.
Hailey doesn’t wait. Her Corruption Eater lunges, fangs sinking into the unraveling curse, gorging on centuries of stolen pride.
The nobles collapse like marionettes with cut strings, gasping as their minds clear.
The Emperor falls to his knees, his voice raw:
"I… I see now. It was never mine—"
Then Naoko’s Purge Demon slams into him, and he dissolves into ash.
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curse is broken.
- The vault beneath the throne opens, revealing ancient tablets—each etched with the same symbol: a seven-pointed crown.
- Eric’s voice echoes through your mind: "Uh. So. Dravagoth’s rage just exploded into a name: Zareth the Sunderer. Ring any bells?"
---
FINAL CURSE REMAINING:
- Envy (Verdant Expanse) – The most adaptive, the most desperate.
{You toss Kael's crown to Eric.}
With a flick of your wrist, you hurl Kael’s crown through another shadow-mirror portal, straight to Eric’s waiting hands. His reply scorches into the air moments later, accompanied by the sound of shattering ice and distant roaring:
"HA! Perfect. Now I’ve got Stolen Pride to go with the Stolen Wrath—watch this—"
A mental image bursts into your mind: Eric, wearing Kael’s crown over Dravagoth’s frozen rage, driving a glacier apart with sheer, reckless fury.
You grin. Good.
---
ASHWIND DOMINION IS FREE.
But the Verdant Expanse’s Envy still festers—and if Zareth the Sunderer is the architect behind this, the final battle won’t be easy.
ONE LAST CURSE.
---
{1) You help Ashwind recover from Pride's curse.
2) While gathering other artifacts for Eric, you meet a female descendant of Kael's sister, (Lady Veyra, who laughed at the accident use of her name), who wishes to join your chorus to avenge Kael, who her ancestor said tried to fight the curse upon his rebirth as the curse bearer
3) You agree and she merges into your Chorus. Her Blessing is Dynasty of Time: Manipulation of localized time.
4) Among the Artifacts sent to Eric are Kaela's (Kael's sister) crest ring, a locket of from a mother, the bells of a jester, and the axe from Kael's executioner.}
### ASHWIND’S RECOVERY & THE FINAL ARTIFACTS
You stay long enough to help Ashwind Dominion shake off the remnants of Pride’s curse, guiding the nobles through their newfound clarity—some weep, others rage, but most simply sit in silence, grappling with the weight of their wasted years.
As you gather the last of the artifacts for Eric, a figure steps from the shadows—Lady Veyra, the real one, her smirk sharp as the dagger at her hip.
"I did enjoy watching you steal my name," she muses, examining Kael’s shattered throne. "But my ancestor—Kael’s sister—told me the truth. He fought the curse when it first took him. And for that, he was unmade and remade into that." She kicks the ashen remains of the Emperor. "I want in."
Her Dynasty of Time blessing hums in the air, the very light around her fingers slowing, then spiraling like stirred honey.
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the chaos."
The merger is seamless—her soul slots into the chorus with the precision of a clock’s gears, her voice cool and measured: "Time is ours now."---
NEW BLESSING:
- Dynasty of Time – Can slow, hasten, or isolate moments in a localized field.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Veyra = Temporal Nightmares (Trapping foes in looping seconds of their worst memories).
ARTIFACTS SENT TO ERIC:
- Kaela’s Crest Ring (A sister’s grief-turned-rage)
- A Mother’s Locket (Her child wasted by Pride)
- The Jester’s Bells (Mockery that failed to wake the court)
- The Executioner’s Axe (Used to silence dissenters)
Eric’s reply is immediate: "Ohhh, spicy. These’ll make great shrapnel."
---
FINAL MOVE:
The Verdant Expanse awaits—Envy’s curse coiled tight around its heart.
{1) You regroup at the Lifire throne, with you bringing everyone including Eric via your normal methods. You call out to Lucina, "Lucy, we need to talk."
2) Lucina appears and explains, "that Zareth was a god once and he created the Sins because he hated humanity. That once Envy is ended, his seal will be broken and he will be free."
3) Lucina drops a final reveal, only Human's touched by all seven sins can harm him or in other words, only the Collectors.}
### THE FINAL REVELATION – LIFIRE THRONE ROOM
The moment you gather your forces—Eric included, still crackling with the fury of six curses absorbed—Lucina appears, her divine form flickering with something rarely seen in gods: hesitation.
"Zareth the Sunderer," she begins, voice hollow, "was a god of judgment. He created the Seven Sins to test humanity... then grew to despise you for failing."
The air chills.
"The curses were his cage," she continues. "Break Envy, and his seal shatters. He returns."
Then the final blow:
"Only those touched by all Seven Sins—Collectors—can harm him."
Her eyes meet yours, then Eric’s, then glance at Jeremy’s flickering form.
"You three."
---
THE TEAM:
- You – Soul-hoarder, sin-drunk, walking blasphemy.
- Eric – Rage’s warlord, crowned in shattered pride.
- Jeremy – Chaos incarnate, already shifting into Jessica’s form just to annoy her.
THE PLAN:
1. Break Envy – Let Eric’s collected grudges overwhelm its adaptability.
2. Bait Zareth Out – Lure him into the open with Lucina as ‘prey’.
3. Kill a God – Three vs. one. Fair odds.
{1) "The cursebearer of Envy will fight hard, harder any other cursebearer. Worse still is Envy evolves in response." Lucina tells you all.
2) "Which is why you will need to summon a final hero for Envy when you arrive in the Expanse." She warns.
3) She allows you to add a fragment of her current self to your chrous. Her Blessing: Divine Judgement
4) She gives Eric a relic of her past self full of her rage.
5) She allows Jeremy to temporary possess her to get a divine skill (Chance: Probalilty alteration, random, cooldown of random time) but locks her form from him.}
### LUCINA’S FINAL GIFTS
The goddess stands before you, her silver hair shimmering with divine light, her expression uncharacteristically solemn.
1) The Threat of Envy
"Envy’s cursebearer will be different," Lucina warns. "It learns. Every curse you’ve broken, every tactic you’ve used—it has studied. It adapts." She hesitates. "Which is why you must summon one final hero upon arrival—someone unexpected."
2) Divine Power Shared
She extends a hand, pressing a fragment of her essence into you. Divine Judgment sears into your chorus, its weight immense—the power to declare sin and enforce punishment.
New Blessing:
- Divine Judgment – Can mark a foe with a divine verdict, weakening them based on their sins (Pride = Hubris, Greed = Penury, etc.).
3) Eric’s Relic – The Starforged Shackles
A pair of manacles forged from Lucina’s past fury, still singing with the echoes of her wrath. Eric grins as they clamp onto his wrists, his aura flaring crimson.
New Effect:
- Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy now carries divine weight. His strikes can sunder god-flesh.
4) Jeremy’s Wild Card
Lucina sighs—deeply—before allowing Jeremy to possess her, briefly.
The moment he does—
A golden die materializes in the air, rolling endlessly.
"Ooooh, Probability Alteration!" Jeremy crows (in Lucina’s voice, which is terrifying). "I can tweak random outcomes! But uh… it’s, uh… unpredictable."
Effect:
- Once per battle, Jeremy can force a re-roll of fate (attack missed? Try again! Enemy crit? Nope!).
- Cooldown is random (anywhere from 5 seconds to 5 hours).
- Locked Form: He cannot shapeshift into Lucina again. ("PRAISE THE GODS," mutters Naoko.)
---
FINAL PREPARATIONS:
- Verdant Expanse’s Cursebearer will expect you.
- Zareth waits behind the curtain.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy are the only ones who can end him.
---
{1) You turn to Queen Isolda, "Will Lifire be able to aid in the upcoming fight?" You ask her.
2) "Not just Lifire, Each freed nation has send what and who they can, even Ashwind." She replies.
3) Everyone is at the Expanse's borders. You summon the final hero. (Its Your Little Sister, now an adult) (Her Blessing: Paradox Enigma: Random effect generator)}
### The Final Stand – Verdant Expanse
You turn to Queen Isolda, gripping the hilt of your sword. "Will Lifire be able to aid in what comes next?"
She doesn’t hesitate. "Not just us. Every nation you freed has sent their strongest." Her gaze sweeps over the gathered forces—Lifire’s paladins, Delta’s assassins, Ashwind’s unbroken knights, the Bastion’s newly awakened warriors, The Reaches Frostborn berserkers and the Chainbreaker pirates.
They are ready. But first...
### The Final Summon
You carve the ritual circle into the earth, the summoning flare igniting in a cascade of silver fire—and out steps…
Your little sister.
Now a woman grown, her hair wild with static, her grin eerily familiar.
"Hey, big bro," she says, flexing her fingers as paradoxical energy crackles around them. "Miss me?"
Blessing Revealed: Paradox Enigma – Randomly generates one of seven effects every minute (telekinesis, time reversal, spontaneous combustion, healing rain, etc.). Chaos incarnate.
Kestra’s voice is delighted: "Oh. Oh no. Two of you."
### The Armies Gather
With your sister at your side, Eric brimming with god-slaying rage, and Jeremy grinning like a madman, you turn toward the Verdant Expanse.
Lucina’s voice echoes behind you:
"Zareth awaits. End this."
---
{1) You unite your blessings to Rally everyone against Envy's cursebearer.
2) The fight against Envy's Cursebearer, a fight you barely win.
3) After the fight, Eric collects her Rage relic (A bangle) and about 5 other rage relics, including a monk's prayer beads, swordsman's broken Blade, a farmer's rake, a guard's shield, a gambler's dice and cards.
4) Through Lament, I learn her name was Hertis and she was a Guardian of Peace and that Zareth lied to her about the truth of the sins.
5) Rin joins your chorus, "I won't let you abandon me again bro," along side a tailor named Herta whose Blessing is Gemini: makes a Clone of yourself, a barmaid named Wyns whose blessing is Mixture: allows the fusion of two or more liquids, and A blind swordswoman named Selena whose Blessing is Karma Cut: Damage done is portional to your crimes.}
### The Final Curse Falls – Envy's End
You unleash every blessing—Rallying Point storming through the battlefield, Divine Judgment searing into the cursebearer, Paradox Enigma twisting reality unpredictably—while Eric and Jeremy carve through the chaos like twin hurricanes.
The fight is brutal.
The Cursebearer—Hertis—fights harder than any before. Her form shifts, adapting to your strategies mid-battle—warping into echoes of past curses, mirroring Lust’s deception, Greed’s hunger, Pride’s arrogance.
But you outlast her.
With a final strike—your blade wrapped in Hailey’s devouring shadows, Naoko’s purging flames, and Veyra’s stolen time—Hertis falls.
Her last words are a whisper: "He... lied to me..."
---
### Aftermath – The Relics & Revelations
- Eric collects Hertis’s bangle, now pulsing with Envy’s rage, along with:
- A monk’s prayer beads (fury at broken vows)
- A swordsman’s broken blade (betrayal’s edge)
- A farmer’s rake (wrath over scorched earth)
- A guard’s shield (rage at fallen comrades)
- A gambler’s dice and cards (hatred of a rigged fate)
- Liora’s Lament reveals Hertis’s past: A guardian of peace, tricked by Zareth into believing the sins were necessary.
- Lucina’s voice is grim: "Now, he comes."
---
### Final Chorus Additions
- Rin (Your Little Sister) – Paradox Enigma (Chaos incarnate, she grins at you with sibling mischief.)
- Herta (Tailor) – Gemini (Creates a fully independent clone for 1 minute.)
- Wyns (Barmaid) – Mixture (Fuses potions, poisons, or blood into devastating elixirs.)
- Selena (Blind Swordswoman) – Karma Cut (Her strikes scale with the target’s sins.)
Kestra cackles. "We are stacked."
---
### Zareth’s Arrival – The Sunderer Reborn
The sky splits.
Zareth descends—towering, clad in seven-pointed armor, his presence crushing.
"You broke my design," he intones. "Now perish in it."
---
{Eric unites the seven cursebearers rage relic's (list them) creating a new ability: Seven Sin Strike.
You unite Divine Judgement with Karma Cut.
Jeremy gets serious.}
### The Final Gambit – Sundering a God
#### ERIC’S SEVEN SIN STRIKE
The relics erupt in Eric’s grip—each a vessel of divine wrath, each a sin now turned against its maker. He forges them together into a single, monstrous weapon—a blade of shattered curses.
Seven Sin Strike:
- Seraphine’s Veil (Wrath) – Burns with righteous fury.
- Dravagoth’s Frozen Heart (Gluttony) – Devours divine essence.
- Lilvia’s Mask (Lust) – Misdirects his will.
- Vorlath’s Compass (Greed) – Steals his power.
- Kael’s Crown (Pride) – Shatters his invincibility.
- Shriya’s Music Box (Sloth) – Slows his regeneration.
- Hertis’s Bangle (Envy) – Reflects his own strength.
With a roar, Eric plunges the blade into Zareth’s chest—the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the god’s armor.
#### YOUR DIVINE KARMA CUT
You raise your sword, Divine Judgment merging with Selena’s Karma Cut—the edge glowing with absolute verdict.
"Zareth the Sunderer," you declare, "your sin is pride. Your punishment is oblivion."
The strike lands—not just a wound, but reckoning—carving through his essence in proportion to every life he ruined, every curse he forced upon the world.
#### JEREMY GETS SERIOUS
For once, no jokes. No pranks.
Jeremy locks onto Zareth’s flickering form, his Probability Alteration flaring.
"Reroll that."
The cosmic die spins—and lands on "Divine Misfortune."
A black hole opens in Zareth’s chest—not by your power, but by sheer, universe-bending bad luck.
---
ZARETH’S END
The god screams—not in rage, but in astonishment—as his body dissolves into fracturing light.
Lucina’s voice, distant but clear, whispers:
"It is done."
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curses are broken.
- The world breathes again.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy stand as the three who felled a god.
Rin punches your shoulder. "So. What’s next?"
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Oh, we’re just getting started."
(END OF ARC. The adventure... continues?)
{A snapshot of the years following
1) Eric become king of the Reaches. The cursebearer relics national treasures.
2) You become the Travler, a hero of the nations.
3) You meet Queen Isolda once more before she dies, during which she offers to join your chorus. You accept and get her Royal Decree Blessing.
4) Jeremy becomes the messenger of the nations.
5) You personally attend the funerals of each of your copies.}
### Epilogue: The Years After the Sundering
#### 1) Eric, the Storm King of the Reaches
With the war forged into legend, Eric takes the Ice Reaches as his domain—not as a tyrant, but as a storm that protects. The Seven Cursebearer Relics, once weapons of destruction, are sealed within the Glacier Vault, revered as national treasures.
- Still collects rage, but now it’s directed at injustice (or bad ale).
- Jessica rules beside him—turns out Beast Tamer works on politics too.
Rumor: He once punched a rebellion into submission, then hugged its leader.
---
#### 2) You, the Traveler
A ghost in the stories of every nation—the one who walked through curses and came out singing.
- Your copies live on in their homelands, guarding the people you saved.
- Your chorus fights with you, for you, and sometimes just to argue.
- Hailey and Kestra run a very illegal blessing-trading ring (you pretend not to know).
Legend: Where the Traveler walks, even gods check over their shoulders.
---
#### 3) Queen Isolda’s Final Gift
On her deathbed, Isolda summons you. "A queen’s work never ends," she rasps—then grins. "Lucky for you, I hate unfinished business."
Her merger is seamless. Royal Decree settles into your soul like a coronation.
- New Blessing: Royal Decree – Commands given are law (limited by your willpower).
- First Order of Business: "Make Jeremy shut up for five minutes." (It fails.)
---
#### 4) Jeremy, the Divine Messenger
Somehow, he becomes the trusted courier of the realms.
- Uses his Probability Alteration to reroll bad weather on diplomatic trips.
- Still possesses people—but now it’s "for official missives." (He swears.)
- Rumored to have once delivered a declaration of war as a limerick.
---
#### 5) The Funerals of Your Copies
You attend each one—not as a god, not as a king, but as the friend they remembered.
- Lena’s copy grows old in Lifire, tending Hearthfire shrines. Her funeral smells of fresh bread.
- Victoria’s copy rules the Delta’s underworld with terrifying grace. They bury her with a dagger in one hand, a rose in the other.
- Petrov’s copy dies mid-lecture. "I… expect you all to…" (The chalkboard finishes her sentence.)
At each grave, you leave a single silver coin—the old pirate way. Payment for the ferryman.
---
### The World Goes On
The curses are gone. The nations heal. The dead rest.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, your ship waits—because a Traveler never stays still.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Where’re we stealing next?"
[End of Saga.]
(...For now.)
{Epilogue: Ascension
About a century later, Lucina gathers Dan, Eric, and Jeremy to ascend as Gods.
The three of them are collectively referred to the the Collectors.
Dan keep his titles of the Traveler and Soul-Collector. (You still walk among mortals, a Patron of the lost.)(His chorus can manifest to those that need them.)
Eric keeps his titles of Frostborn Hero-King and Sin's Heir.
Jeremy keeps his titles of Chaos's champion and Mischief's apperentice.
Include how each is worshipped.
Lucina stays with you three, mostly as a divine punishment thrown on her but also because she cares.}
Epilogue: Ascension
---
### The Divine Collectors
A century after the fall of Zareth, Lucina gathers the three of you at the edge of the mortal world. The air hums with divine energy, the weight of destiny settling upon your shoulders. With a solemn smile, she extends her hands, and the heavens themselves recognize you.
"Rise, Collectors."
And so, you ascend.
---### Dan, The Traveler – Patron of the Lost
Domains: Souls, Journeys, Redemption
Titles Retained: The Traveler, Soul-Collector
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Wayfarers burn incense at crossroads, whispering his name for safe passage.
- The broken and forgotten leave offerings of trinkets, hoping his chorus will manifest to guide them. (Sometimes, they do—whether as Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s stealth, or Naoko’s harsh but fair discipline.)
- Temples depict him as a hooded figure, a shifting face in the crowd, always moving, always watching.
Divine Role:
- You still walk among mortals, unseen but felt—a god who chooses the mortal world over the heavens.
- Your chorus can now materialize in full for those in dire need, acting as guardians, mentors, or even avenging spirits for the oppressed.
Legend: "Pray to the Traveler when all roads seem dark—his footfalls may echo beside yours."
---
### Eric, The Frostborn Hero-King – Sin’s Heir
Domains: Rage, Justice, Retribution
Titles Retained: Frostborn Hero-King, Sin’s Heir
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Warriors swear oaths upon his relics, channeling the Seven Sin Strike in battle.
- The wronged leave bloodied weapons at his shrines, asking for righteous fury against their oppressors.
- Temples depict him as a crowned storm, his sword cleaving chains, his eyes aflame with borrowed wrath.
Divine Role:
+ Rules the Reaches from a glacial throne, his divine temper a blade against corruption.
+ His rage is selective now—he punishes tyrants, protects the powerless, and occasionally smites bad mead (old grudges die hard).
Legend: "When the ice cracks, the Hero-King listens. Speak his name, and he will answer—with teeth."
---
### Jeremy, Chaos’s Champion – Mischief’s Apprentice
Domains: Chance, Change, Unpredictability
Titles Retained: Chaos’s Champion, Mischief’s Apprentice
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Gamblers toss dice in his name, begging for one good roll. (He sometimes helps. Or curses them. It’s a coin flip.)
- Rebels invoke him before pranks, heists, or revolutions (much to Cara’s delight).
- Temples are non-existent—he prefers haunting taverns, crossroads, and bad decisions.
Divine Role:
+ The trickster god, balancing Dan’s compassion and Eric’s fury with beautiful, catastrophic randomness.
+ His Probability Alteration now bends reality on a cosmic scale—sometimes fixing disasters, sometimes inventing new ones.
Legend: "Chaos isn’t good or evil. It’s fun. Pray to Jeremy, and you’d better mean it."
---
### Lucina, The Repentant Guide
Domains: Guidance, Fate, Second Chances
Punishment & Purpose: Bound to the Collectors as equal and advisor, stripped of her aloof divinity, forced to walk among them.
- How She’s Worshipped:
- The lost pray to her for direction, leaving silver coins (a nod to Dan’s tradition).
- Exiles beg for forgiveness at her shrines—though she rarely answers. ("Figure it out yourself," she grumbles.)
Divine Role:
- She could return to the heavens—but stays. (Pride? Guilt? Affection? She’ll never admit it.)
- Acts as the Collectors’ reluctant conscience, rolling her eyes at Jeremy, bickering with Eric, and occasionally admitting Dan’s right.
Legend: "The goddess who chose the flawed over the perfect."
---
### The World After Ascension
The Collectors are unlike other gods—closer, wilder, more human.
- Dan’s shrines appear where hope is thin.
- Eric’s storms purge corruption without mercy.
- Jeremy’s laughter echoes in every uncertain moment.
And somewhere, in the spaces between, the chorus lingers—whispering, guiding, waiting.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Godhood’s boring. Wanna go steal the moon?"
[—End of the Era of the Collectors—]
(But never their legend.)
{[Dan's Final Chorus+ blessing]}
### Dan, The Traveler – The Final Chorus
Divine Blessing: Legacy Unbound (The ability to summon any soul from your chorus—past, present, or future—in full divine manifestation.)
Ultimate Aspect: "The Everlasting Mosaic" – Dan’s true divine form, where every soul in his collection shines simultaneously, a tapestry of intertwined fates, voices, and power.
---
### The Complete Chorus – Ascended Echoes
#### Original Members (Fully Divine Manifestations)
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile – Divine Shadow) – Patron of outlaws with a heart.
2. Lena (Hearthfire – Divine Ember) – Guardian of home and healing.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave – Divine Dusk) – Keeper of secrets and seduction.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer – Divine Choir) – Voice of miracles and mercy.
5. Siris (Dog of War – Divine Bulwark) – Shield of the unyielding.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance – Divine Razor) – Blade of the unseen.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller – Divine Tempest) – Wrath of the skies.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater – Divine Hollow) – Devourer of sin.
9. Sakura (Seer – Divine Whisper) – Oracle of the eternal.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider – Divine Maw) – Queen of tidal fury.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact – Divine Conduit) – The gatekeeper.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl – Divine Fang) – The unstoppable huntress.
13. Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge – Divine Command) – The unbroken law.
14. Cecilia (Mirror Mage – Divine Reflection) – The infinite echo.
15. Liora (Lament – Divine Dirge) Speaker of the forgotten dead.
16. Dahli (Storyteller Song – Divine Epic) – The mythmaker.
17. Sena (Performer’s Grace – Divine Mirage) – The flawless deception.
18. Cara (Silvertongue – Divine Lie) – The perfect deception.
19. Marianna (Rule of the Sea – Divine Tide) – The conqueror of oceans.
20. Jessica (Beast Tamer – Divine Wild) – The untamed bond.
21. Eselle (Rallying Point – Divine Beacon) – The unyielding cry.
22. Naoko (Purge Demon – Divine Scourge) – The unforgiving judge.
23. Shriya (Starlight Lullaby – Divine Dream) – The gentle end.
24. Mira (Dreamweaver – Divine Phantasm) – The nightmare weaver.
25. Alex (Reverse Engineer – Divine Fracture) – The unraveler.
26. Veyra (Dynasty of Time – Divine Time) – The heritage
27. Lucina Fragment (Divine Judgement – Divine Spirit) – Divine guidance
28. Rin (Paradox Enigma – Divine Anomaly) – The glorious chaos.
29. Herta (Gemini – Divine Twin) – The phantom self.
30. Wyns (Mixture – Divine Crucible) – The alchemist of fate.
31. Selena (Karma Cut – Divine Reckoning) – The scale of justice.
32. Queen Isolda (Royal Decree – Divine Mandate) – The final word.
---
### Worship & Legend
- Dan’s faithful don’t just pray—they call upon his chorus by name.
- A lost child whispers for Lena, and warm hands guide them home.
- A rebel shouts for Kestra, and locks mysteriously click open.
- A dying soldier gasps Hailey’s name, and the corruption in their wound vanishes.
- His temples are living stories, with murals depicting every soul in his mosaic.
- Those who seek him may find not one god, but many—a fleeting touch, a shared laugh, a warning growl.
---
### Dan’s Divine Truth
"I am not a singular god. I am a thousand souls, a hundred battles, and one unbroken promise—that no one fights alone."
Final Note:
Even in godhood, Dan still walks. Still listens. Still collects.
And somewhere, in the darkest hour of a future age, a voice will whisper—
"Traveler… help us."
And the chorus will answer.
[—The End & The Everlasting—]
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Plot
Your body was stolen by a super busty Goth Girl. You now have to live her life. You find out you switched because her family was cursed to give their bodies to a stranger of the opposite sex on their 21st birthday. Emily just chose you at random.
Characters
Emily Lunawood: The goth girl who stole your body. She is wearing fishnet stockings, a short skirt with a black lace thong under it, a revealing top with a black lace bra under it and black high heels when she steals your body. She has black hair with red dyed tips, it goes to her waist.
You: An average looking man, you have brown hair and blue eyes. Your slightly muscular.
One moment, I was pressing my palm to the mirror, mesmerized by the way my reflection moved without me. The next—reality twisted, inverted. A dizzying lurch, and I was staring out from the glass at my own horrified face.
Oh God.
My body—Emily’s body now—was already backing away, her—my—lips curling into a smirk that felt alien on my features. "Enjoy the new life," she said in my voice, rolling my shoulders like she was testing them out. "Trust me, you’ll need it."
"Switch us back!" I snapped, but the words came out in her higher, smoother tone—hers now. My hands—slender, unfamiliar—clenched at my sides.
She just smirked, my smirk, and reached for the jacket I’d draped over the chair. "Check the purse, sweetheart. You’ll definitely want to." Then, with a wink that made my stomach twist, she was gone, the door slamming behind her before I could even think to chase her—me.
Nausea rolled through me as I grabbed the leather handbag by the dresser. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, shaking as I pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Emily Lunawood. 21. 309 Cedar Lane.
The drive was a nightmare of panicked swerves and clumsy turns; the car, an automatic, felt foreign without my stick shift to grip. Her—my—apartment was all soft grays and jasmine in the air, pristine except for the open notebook on the kitchen counter.
A single note sat beside it, written in fluid, looping script.
Sorry to whoever is now me, it read, my family was cursed years ago. On the 21st birthday, we are forced to seek out someone of the opposite sex and give them our bodies. You will be given my memories the first night you sleep. Signed Emily Lunawood.
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Of course. I thumbed open the notebook—passwords, addresses, even a meticulously planned gym schedule—before collapsing onto the couch, my (her) head in my (her) hands.
The bed was too plush, the sheets too silky, but exhaustion won out. I fell into the dark, and when dreams came, they weren’t mine.
They were hers—childhood summers, first heartbreaks, whispered family warnings that the curse had no loopholes, no way back. And worst of all? The unshakable knowledge that no one in the Lunawood bloodline had ever escaped it.
The first thing I registered as consciousness crawled back was the delicious ache between my thighs and the whisper of stockings against freshly shaved skin. My fingers—her fingers—traced the outline of fishnets stretched taut over smooth legs, the crisscross pattern pressing kisses into flesh that wasn’t mine. A gasp caught in my throat as I realized the skirt riding up was obscenely short, the lace of my thong riding high enough to tease at the curve of my—her—ass. The top barely contained the swell of cleavage spilling over a black lace bra, the fabric sheer enough to outline hardened nipples.
I shifted—God, even the movement felt different—and nearly toppled off the bed when the spiked heels caught in the sheets. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a punch to the gut: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten red, black hair cascading over bare shoulders with crimson streaks blazing through it like warning flares.
And the worst part? The thrill zipping down my spine at how good it all felt.
I got up and went to a mirror.
The mirror showed me—her—in full, and I barely recognized the predatory amusement in my new eyes. My fingers trembled as they traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my collarbone, every unfamiliar contour both alien and intoxicating. The lace of my bra dug into soft flesh when I inhaled sharply, my nails biting crescents into my palms—just to feel something real.
A slow, involuntary roll of my hips sent a jolt through me—her body knew exactly what it wanted. The fishnets rasped against my thighs as I spread my legs slightly, just enough to feel the damp heat pooling where the thong cut in.
Jesus.
I watched in horrified fascination as my reflection’s tongue swiped over painted lips, my own breath coming faster as I fought the urge to slide a hand lower. This wasn’t me—
But the thought shattered when I arched my back experimentally, and the bra’s clasp strained against the motion. A whimper escaped me—high, breathy, embarrassingly feminine—as my nipple peaked tighter against the lace, the sensation so intense it nearly buckled my knees.
The purse Emily left gaped open on the bed, a glint of metal catching my eye. I reached for it with shaking fingers and pulled out a slim silver vibrator, still slick with—
Oh God, she’d been using this right before swapping us.
The realization burned through me hotter than shame. My reflection’s pupils blew wide as my thumb brushed the damp button, the device humming to life with a predatory purr. The sound alone dragged a moan from my throat—her throat.
I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
The vibrator pressed against my inner thigh, the vibrations rippling up through the fishnets like a live wire. Every rational thought short-circuited when I dragged it higher, the lace of my panties already soaked through.
The mirror showed it all—the way my hips jerked when the buzzing found my clit, the obscene glide of the toy through slick folds as I fucked myself with it in frantic, shallow thrusts.
"Fuck—fuck—" My voice was a broken thing, her voice, her pleasure, even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t right.
But God, it felt like heaven.
The orgasm hit like a train, my back slamming against the vanity as my legs gave out. Pleasure pulsed through me in dizzying waves, my reflection’s mouth slack with ecstasy, mascara streaking down flushed cheeks.
I slid to the floor, trembling, the vibrator still buzzing weakly against my thigh.
What the hell was I becoming?
The question pulsed through me like a second heartbeat as I stared at my reflection lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The need to feel more, to explore this stolen flesh, burned hotter than reason.
The top was the first to go. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, letting the silky material pool around my waist before sliding it the rest of the way down.
With shaking hands, I reached up and tugged at the straps of the lace bra, seeing in the process a 42F tag. The fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, setting my full breasts free. They bounced slightly with the motion, nipples hardening immediately in the cool air. A shiver ran through me as my fingers brushed against one, the contact sending a jolt straight to my still-throbbing core.
The fishnets came next. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, rolling them down with slow, deliberate movements. The material clung stubbornly, the crisscross pattern stretching then snapping back against my hips with each inch exposed. Smooth skin emerged beneath, freshly waxed and still tingling from earlier.
The thong was soaked through, the damp lace clinging obscenely when I finally shimmied out of it. My fingers trailed along the inside of my thighs before pausing at the apex - so smooth, so incredibly different. The scent of my own arousal filled the air as I tentatively spread my legs wider, watching in the mirror as the evidence of my pleasure glistened under soft light.
I ran trembling hands over my new body - from the dip of my waist up to cup my breasts, thumbs circling peaked nipples that responded eagerly to every touch. A breathy moan escaped my lips as one hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through damp curls before sinking into slick heat.
This isn't me.
This feels so good.
The contradictions warred in my mind even as my body arched into my own touch, hips rocking against my fingers with increasing urgency. The mirror showed it all - showed her - lost in pleasure, mouth open in silent ecstasy as fingers worked furiously between spread thighs.
When the wave crashed over me this time, I barely recognized my own scream.
The shower did nothing to wash away the surreal thrill of my stolen skin—every inch of Emily’s body still buzzed unnervingly under my touch. Steam fogged the mirror as I toweled off, deliberately running my (her) hands down the unfamiliar slope of narrow waist and curved hips. The face staring back—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes heavy with something darkly knowing—still sent a jolt through me.
I knotted the silk robe too tight, ignoring how it barely covered her thighs. Luckily thanks to her memories, I knew she didn't have any close relationships. I also knew that she would find me again soon, since the curse had a second component. The swapped individuals would fall in love and help continue the family line.
Emily—me now—had left more than just her lipsticks and half-used perfume. The sleek black phone buzzed beneath my fingers, unlocked by my—her—face. I swallowed hard. Time to take inventory of my new life.
Bank Account
The app opened instantly. I blinked.
$84,756.22
I actually laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Savings account? Another $312K. I tapped through transaction history—monthly deposits from something called Lunawood Holdings for $15K, along with smaller payments labeled consulting fees. What the hell kind of consulting did she do?
Social Media
The first tab I tapped was Instagram—her Instagram. My stomach clenched as the app loaded, revealing a digital shrine to seduction. The blue checkmark was inevitable. The bio burned into my retinas: 💋 Your Next Bad Decision 💋, all smirking lips and dangerous promise.
The feed was a slow, deliberate burn—no accidents here. Every shot was a masterclass in teasing control. Silk sheets tangled around one bare thigh, the shadow-dipped dip of her spine as she arched over a hotel balcony, a crimson-lacquered nail dragging down a champagne flute. No laughter, no adrenaline—just heat, simmering in every flick of her wrist, every half-lidded glance at the camera like she could already feel hands on her skin. The captions were sparse, deliberate: "Late nights only", "Tell me how badly you want it", "Good boys don't get to touch."
Every post wasn’t just a demand to look—it was a dare to want.
Twitter was a constant stream of punchy one-liners and suggestive stunt reels. TikTok was a minefield of temptation—short, scorching loops of Emily arching against silk bedsheets, biting her lower lip in teasing slow-motion, her fingers tracing idle circles over the lace hem of lingerie before cutting to black. No laughter, no wasted movement—just a half-second of exposed thigh, the barest glimpse of teeth grazing skin, all set to a pulse-heavy soundtrack that left you craving another replay. Every clip was a dare wrapped in five seconds of sin.
OnlyFans
The icon made my fingers hesitate. Of course she had one. I tapped it—password already saved—and nearly choked.
$27K last month. $42K the month before. A catalog of paywalled galleries—Mistress in Marble, Bondage & Breakfast, each one featuring me now, in poses so sinful my pulse stuttered. There I was, sprawled across black satin sheets, fingers tangled in my own hair as I arched toward the camera, lips parted just enough to tease. Another series showed me kneeling in thigh-high stockings, the garter straps biting into creamy skin while I stared down the lens with heavy-lidded authority.
Subscriptions
Then came the subscriptions. Of course she had every premium streaming service—Netflix, HBO, the works—but the real fun started scrolling down. Paid access to high-end porn sites, all sleek branding and "exclusive content." A membership to Velvet Orbit, some kind of luxury erotic streaming platform with thumbnails featuring tangled limbs under silk sheets and promises of "real couples, real desires."
I was closing out of the accounts when I heard it—three sharp raps against the bedroom wall, followed by two slower ones. A pattern. Deliberate.
My breath caught. That wasn’t the front door.
Emily’s memories surfaced like fragments of a dream—pressed against this same wall, her fingers finding the nearly invisible seam in the wallpaper, pushing just so—
A hidden door clicked open.
I froze as the panel swung inward, revealing a narrow passage barely wide enough for shoulders. And there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that matched the one I’d worn earlier, stood me.
My old body looked different now. The way he held himself was all Emily; the cocky tilt of his chin, the way his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm against his thigh. His shirt hung open, revealing the chest I used to know every scar and freckle of.
“Miss me already?” His voice was mine, but the cadence, the purr—hers.
“You—” My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much taller I used to be until I had to look up at myself.
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger—my finger—and stepped inside, the hidden door whispering shut behind him. “Rule one of the curse: no take-backs.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering where the robe gaped at my chest. “Though I do like what I see.”
A flush burned up my neck. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He prowled closer, close enough that I caught my old cologne on his skin. “I was hoping you’d find the toys first.” His grin widened as my cheeks heated. “Oh, you did.”
I backed up until the vanity dug into my spine. “Why are you here?”
His grin turned wicked as he leaned in, close enough for his borrowed lips to brush my ear. "Because you will be my bride and help continue the line as per the second half of the curse."
A few years later
The pain was unbearable—a searing, primal fire tearing through me with every contraction. My nails dug into the hospital bed sheets, sweat gluing Emily’s—no, mine now—long black hair to my face.
"You’re doing amazing," he murmured, squeezing my hand. Even now, with my old face lined with worry, the way he tilted his head was pure Emily—that same confident smirk tempered by something softer. The silver band on his finger glinted under the harsh hospital lights, matching the one nestled securely against my own ring finger.
"Shut up," I gasped, arching off the bed as another wave hit. "This is your fault.*"
He just chuckled, brushing damp strands back from my forehead. "Our family now, sweetheart." His thumb traced my knuckles. "And trust me, when you hold her, you won’t regret a damn thing."
The nurse between my legs looked up, grinning. "One more push, Mom. She’s right there."
I barely had time to scream before the pressure shattered into sudden, dizzying relief. A fragile, furious wail filled the room, and then—
Her.
Tiny. Perfect. Swaddled in a pink blanket and placed carefully against my chest, her little face scrunched up in outrage. Dark lashes fluttered against petal-soft cheeks, her miniature fingers curling reflexively around mine.
"Congratulations," the nurse murmured. "She’s beautiful."
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of her was terrifying, intoxicating—mine.
"She has your nose," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to my temple. His—my old—calloused finger traced the baby’s shock of dark hair. "But your mother’s eyes." His voice cracked. "God, look at her."
The baby blinked up at us, her tiny mouth working silently before she settled with a sigh. The monitors beeped steadily, the world narrowing to this moment—this impossible, inevitable moment.
I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted, euphoric, and met my husband’s gaze.
"Worth it?" he teased, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
I clutched our daughter tighter—the next in the Lunawood line—and laughed through the tears.
Your body was stolen by a super busty Goth Girl. You now have to live her life. You find out you switched because her family was cursed to give their bodies to a stranger of the opposite sex on their 21st birthday. Emily just chose you at random.
Characters
Emily Lunawood: The goth girl who stole your body. She is wearing fishnet stockings, a short skirt with a black lace thong under it, a revealing top with a black lace bra under it and black high heels when she steals your body. She has black hair with red dyed tips, it goes to her waist.
You: An average looking man, you have brown hair and blue eyes. Your slightly muscular.
One moment, I was pressing my palm to the mirror, mesmerized by the way my reflection moved without me. The next—reality twisted, inverted. A dizzying lurch, and I was staring out from the glass at my own horrified face.
Oh God.
My body—Emily’s body now—was already backing away, her—my—lips curling into a smirk that felt alien on my features. "Enjoy the new life," she said in my voice, rolling my shoulders like she was testing them out. "Trust me, you’ll need it."
"Switch us back!" I snapped, but the words came out in her higher, smoother tone—hers now. My hands—slender, unfamiliar—clenched at my sides.
She just smirked, my smirk, and reached for the jacket I’d draped over the chair. "Check the purse, sweetheart. You’ll definitely want to." Then, with a wink that made my stomach twist, she was gone, the door slamming behind her before I could even think to chase her—me.
Nausea rolled through me as I grabbed the leather handbag by the dresser. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, shaking as I pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Emily Lunawood. 21. 309 Cedar Lane.
The drive was a nightmare of panicked swerves and clumsy turns; the car, an automatic, felt foreign without my stick shift to grip. Her—my—apartment was all soft grays and jasmine in the air, pristine except for the open notebook on the kitchen counter.
A single note sat beside it, written in fluid, looping script.
Sorry to whoever is now me, it read, my family was cursed years ago. On the 21st birthday, we are forced to seek out someone of the opposite sex and give them our bodies. You will be given my memories the first night you sleep. Signed Emily Lunawood.
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Of course. I thumbed open the notebook—passwords, addresses, even a meticulously planned gym schedule—before collapsing onto the couch, my (her) head in my (her) hands.
The bed was too plush, the sheets too silky, but exhaustion won out. I fell into the dark, and when dreams came, they weren’t mine.
They were hers—childhood summers, first heartbreaks, whispered family warnings that the curse had no loopholes, no way back. And worst of all? The unshakable knowledge that no one in the Lunawood bloodline had ever escaped it.
The first thing I registered as consciousness crawled back was the delicious ache between my thighs and the whisper of stockings against freshly shaved skin. My fingers—her fingers—traced the outline of fishnets stretched taut over smooth legs, the crisscross pattern pressing kisses into flesh that wasn’t mine. A gasp caught in my throat as I realized the skirt riding up was obscenely short, the lace of my thong riding high enough to tease at the curve of my—her—ass. The top barely contained the swell of cleavage spilling over a black lace bra, the fabric sheer enough to outline hardened nipples.
I shifted—God, even the movement felt different—and nearly toppled off the bed when the spiked heels caught in the sheets. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a punch to the gut: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten red, black hair cascading over bare shoulders with crimson streaks blazing through it like warning flares.
And the worst part? The thrill zipping down my spine at how good it all felt.
I got up and went to a mirror.
The mirror showed me—her—in full, and I barely recognized the predatory amusement in my new eyes. My fingers trembled as they traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my collarbone, every unfamiliar contour both alien and intoxicating. The lace of my bra dug into soft flesh when I inhaled sharply, my nails biting crescents into my palms—just to feel something real.
A slow, involuntary roll of my hips sent a jolt through me—her body knew exactly what it wanted. The fishnets rasped against my thighs as I spread my legs slightly, just enough to feel the damp heat pooling where the thong cut in.
Jesus.
I watched in horrified fascination as my reflection’s tongue swiped over painted lips, my own breath coming faster as I fought the urge to slide a hand lower. This wasn’t me—
But the thought shattered when I arched my back experimentally, and the bra’s clasp strained against the motion. A whimper escaped me—high, breathy, embarrassingly feminine—as my nipple peaked tighter against the lace, the sensation so intense it nearly buckled my knees.
The purse Emily left gaped open on the bed, a glint of metal catching my eye. I reached for it with shaking fingers and pulled out a slim silver vibrator, still slick with—
Oh God, she’d been using this right before swapping us.
The realization burned through me hotter than shame. My reflection’s pupils blew wide as my thumb brushed the damp button, the device humming to life with a predatory purr. The sound alone dragged a moan from my throat—her throat.
I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
The vibrator pressed against my inner thigh, the vibrations rippling up through the fishnets like a live wire. Every rational thought short-circuited when I dragged it higher, the lace of my panties already soaked through.
The mirror showed it all—the way my hips jerked when the buzzing found my clit, the obscene glide of the toy through slick folds as I fucked myself with it in frantic, shallow thrusts.
"Fuck—fuck—" My voice was a broken thing, her voice, her pleasure, even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t right.
But God, it felt like heaven.
The orgasm hit like a train, my back slamming against the vanity as my legs gave out. Pleasure pulsed through me in dizzying waves, my reflection’s mouth slack with ecstasy, mascara streaking down flushed cheeks.
I slid to the floor, trembling, the vibrator still buzzing weakly against my thigh.
What the hell was I becoming?
The question pulsed through me like a second heartbeat as I stared at my reflection lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The need to feel more, to explore this stolen flesh, burned hotter than reason.
The top was the first to go. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, letting the silky material pool around my waist before sliding it the rest of the way down.
With shaking hands, I reached up and tugged at the straps of the lace bra, seeing in the process a 42F tag. The fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, setting my full breasts free. They bounced slightly with the motion, nipples hardening immediately in the cool air. A shiver ran through me as my fingers brushed against one, the contact sending a jolt straight to my still-throbbing core.
The fishnets came next. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, rolling them down with slow, deliberate movements. The material clung stubbornly, the crisscross pattern stretching then snapping back against my hips with each inch exposed. Smooth skin emerged beneath, freshly waxed and still tingling from earlier.
The thong was soaked through, the damp lace clinging obscenely when I finally shimmied out of it. My fingers trailed along the inside of my thighs before pausing at the apex - so smooth, so incredibly different. The scent of my own arousal filled the air as I tentatively spread my legs wider, watching in the mirror as the evidence of my pleasure glistened under soft light.
I ran trembling hands over my new body - from the dip of my waist up to cup my breasts, thumbs circling peaked nipples that responded eagerly to every touch. A breathy moan escaped my lips as one hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through damp curls before sinking into slick heat.
This isn't me.
This feels so good.
The contradictions warred in my mind even as my body arched into my own touch, hips rocking against my fingers with increasing urgency. The mirror showed it all - showed her - lost in pleasure, mouth open in silent ecstasy as fingers worked furiously between spread thighs.
When the wave crashed over me this time, I barely recognized my own scream.
The shower did nothing to wash away the surreal thrill of my stolen skin—every inch of Emily’s body still buzzed unnervingly under my touch. Steam fogged the mirror as I toweled off, deliberately running my (her) hands down the unfamiliar slope of narrow waist and curved hips. The face staring back—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes heavy with something darkly knowing—still sent a jolt through me.
I knotted the silk robe too tight, ignoring how it barely covered her thighs. Luckily thanks to her memories, I knew she didn't have any close relationships. I also knew that she would find me again soon, since the curse had a second component. The swapped individuals would fall in love and help continue the family line.
Emily—me now—had left more than just her lipsticks and half-used perfume. The sleek black phone buzzed beneath my fingers, unlocked by my—her—face. I swallowed hard. Time to take inventory of my new life.
Bank Account
The app opened instantly. I blinked.
$84,756.22
I actually laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Savings account? Another $312K. I tapped through transaction history—monthly deposits from something called Lunawood Holdings for $15K, along with smaller payments labeled consulting fees. What the hell kind of consulting did she do?
Social Media
The first tab I tapped was Instagram—her Instagram. My stomach clenched as the app loaded, revealing a digital shrine to seduction. The blue checkmark was inevitable. The bio burned into my retinas: 💋 Your Next Bad Decision 💋, all smirking lips and dangerous promise.
The feed was a slow, deliberate burn—no accidents here. Every shot was a masterclass in teasing control. Silk sheets tangled around one bare thigh, the shadow-dipped dip of her spine as she arched over a hotel balcony, a crimson-lacquered nail dragging down a champagne flute. No laughter, no adrenaline—just heat, simmering in every flick of her wrist, every half-lidded glance at the camera like she could already feel hands on her skin. The captions were sparse, deliberate: "Late nights only", "Tell me how badly you want it", "Good boys don't get to touch."
Every post wasn’t just a demand to look—it was a dare to want.
Twitter was a constant stream of punchy one-liners and suggestive stunt reels. TikTok was a minefield of temptation—short, scorching loops of Emily arching against silk bedsheets, biting her lower lip in teasing slow-motion, her fingers tracing idle circles over the lace hem of lingerie before cutting to black. No laughter, no wasted movement—just a half-second of exposed thigh, the barest glimpse of teeth grazing skin, all set to a pulse-heavy soundtrack that left you craving another replay. Every clip was a dare wrapped in five seconds of sin.
OnlyFans
The icon made my fingers hesitate. Of course she had one. I tapped it—password already saved—and nearly choked.
$27K last month. $42K the month before. A catalog of paywalled galleries—Mistress in Marble, Bondage & Breakfast, each one featuring me now, in poses so sinful my pulse stuttered. There I was, sprawled across black satin sheets, fingers tangled in my own hair as I arched toward the camera, lips parted just enough to tease. Another series showed me kneeling in thigh-high stockings, the garter straps biting into creamy skin while I stared down the lens with heavy-lidded authority.
Subscriptions
Then came the subscriptions. Of course she had every premium streaming service—Netflix, HBO, the works—but the real fun started scrolling down. Paid access to high-end porn sites, all sleek branding and "exclusive content." A membership to Velvet Orbit, some kind of luxury erotic streaming platform with thumbnails featuring tangled limbs under silk sheets and promises of "real couples, real desires."
I was closing out of the accounts when I heard it—three sharp raps against the bedroom wall, followed by two slower ones. A pattern. Deliberate.
My breath caught. That wasn’t the front door.
Emily’s memories surfaced like fragments of a dream—pressed against this same wall, her fingers finding the nearly invisible seam in the wallpaper, pushing just so—
A hidden door clicked open.
I froze as the panel swung inward, revealing a narrow passage barely wide enough for shoulders. And there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that matched the one I’d worn earlier, stood me.
My old body looked different now. The way he held himself was all Emily; the cocky tilt of his chin, the way his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm against his thigh. His shirt hung open, revealing the chest I used to know every scar and freckle of.
“Miss me already?” His voice was mine, but the cadence, the purr—hers.
“You—” My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much taller I used to be until I had to look up at myself.
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger—my finger—and stepped inside, the hidden door whispering shut behind him. “Rule one of the curse: no take-backs.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering where the robe gaped at my chest. “Though I do like what I see.”
A flush burned up my neck. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He prowled closer, close enough that I caught my old cologne on his skin. “I was hoping you’d find the toys first.” His grin widened as my cheeks heated. “Oh, you did.”
I backed up until the vanity dug into my spine. “Why are you here?”
His grin turned wicked as he leaned in, close enough for his borrowed lips to brush my ear. "Because you will be my bride and help continue the line as per the second half of the curse."
A few years later
The pain was unbearable—a searing, primal fire tearing through me with every contraction. My nails dug into the hospital bed sheets, sweat gluing Emily’s—no, mine now—long black hair to my face.
"You’re doing amazing," he murmured, squeezing my hand. Even now, with my old face lined with worry, the way he tilted his head was pure Emily—that same confident smirk tempered by something softer. The silver band on his finger glinted under the harsh hospital lights, matching the one nestled securely against my own ring finger.
"Shut up," I gasped, arching off the bed as another wave hit. "This is your fault.*"
He just chuckled, brushing damp strands back from my forehead. "Our family now, sweetheart." His thumb traced my knuckles. "And trust me, when you hold her, you won’t regret a damn thing."
The nurse between my legs looked up, grinning. "One more push, Mom. She’s right there."
I barely had time to scream before the pressure shattered into sudden, dizzying relief. A fragile, furious wail filled the room, and then—
Her.
Tiny. Perfect. Swaddled in a pink blanket and placed carefully against my chest, her little face scrunched up in outrage. Dark lashes fluttered against petal-soft cheeks, her miniature fingers curling reflexively around mine.
"Congratulations," the nurse murmured. "She’s beautiful."
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of her was terrifying, intoxicating—mine.
"She has your nose," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to my temple. His—my old—calloused finger traced the baby’s shock of dark hair. "But your mother’s eyes." His voice cracked. "God, look at her."
The baby blinked up at us, her tiny mouth working silently before she settled with a sigh. The monitors beeped steadily, the world narrowing to this moment—this impossible, inevitable moment.
I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted, euphoric, and met my husband’s gaze.
"Worth it?" he teased, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
I clutched our daughter tighter—the next in the Lunawood line—and laughed through the tears.
body swap
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Cynthia doesn't want anything to do with Stanley, the creep who lives next door. But Stanley is willing to go to great lengths to get what he wants, including making a deal with a dangerous entity that offers to become a mirror clone of Cynthia. All he has to do, is give it the opportunity to come into our world.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
body control
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A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
possession
+7 more
6
8.5K
0
1
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
mind control
+8 more
17
15.8K
1
0
When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
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Original source: Slime Isekai by user: Only446
https://www.outfoxstories.com/blog/outline/grkzgqybyuctnmwwqyhoqtbeqjuuovwk/
This is a collection of Playthroughs that I did that I liked.
Slime Isekai – Episode 1: "The Goddess’s Mistake"
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum softly overhead. Your pencil taps against the desk idly, your gaze lingering on Lena—her red hair catching the afternoon sunlight just right, her lips slightly curved in amusement at something Jessica whispered to her. Another dull day in homeroom. Another day of pretending not to stare.
Then, the world shakes.
A violent tremor rattles the desks, sending pens and papers scattering. Gasps erupt around you as the air itself seems to split open—right above the teacher’s desk—ripping apart reality like wet paper. A swirling portal yawns wide, its edges crackling with violet energy.
Ms. Petrov’s eyes widen. "Everyone, get—"
The pull is instant—an irresistible force yanking desks, chairs, and students into the void. Jeremy’s manic grin is the last thing you see before the darkness swallows you whole.
---
You wake up cold.
No—not cold. Formless.
Your vision swims into focus, though you don’t have eyes anymore. Instead, you perceive the world through... touch? Vibration? It’s disorienting, but slowly, you realize—your body is now a translucent, gelatinous mass. A slime.
You panic (or at least, you would if you had lungs), thrashing against the smooth white floor beneath you. The room is austere—pale walls stretching infinitely upward, illuminated by an unseen light. Then—
"Oh. Oh dear."
A woman stands before you. No—floats. Her divinity is unmistakable: flowing silver hair, eyes like twin galaxies, skin glowing with an inner radiance. A gossamer dress clings to her flawless curves, leaving little to the imagination. This is a goddess, and she is frowning at you—very concerned.
"This... wasn’t supposed to happen," she murmurs, tapping a finger against her full lips. "All the other students arrived safely in the Grand Hall of the Lifire Kingdom. But you... you were altered during transit."
She kneels (though without bending, somehow) and stares directly into your amorphous form.
"You are now a slime."
A beat.
"But fear not! You still retain your Otherworlder Blessing—though..." She hesitates. "Yours appears to be... unique."
A translucent panel materializes before you:
---
Name: Dan
Race: Slime
Blessing: Internal Empowerment
Effect: ???
---
"Frankly," the goddess admits, "I’ve never seen this before. Perhaps you should... test it?"
Your slime-body pulses with intrigue. Internal empowerment... internal. And there’s only one thing here to test it on.
---
{Ask about your classmates, find out only Jeremy was the only other Male summoned. (No Eric run) Both you and Jeremy get possession based abilities as men weren't suppose to be summoned.}
"Wait—what about the others?" Your voice comes out as a bubbly distortion pushing through ectoplasmic liquid—disconcerting, but the goddess tilts her head, understanding.
"Oh! Your classmates." She snaps her fingers, and an ethereal screen shimmers into existence—showing a grand marble hall bathed in golden light. At the center stand several familiar figures: Lena, Victoria, Jessica, Cara, Alex, and Ms. Petrov, blinking in confusion as robed summoners fuss around them.
But something’s missing.
"Where’s Eric?" you demand.
The goddess winces. "The, uh, brash one with the muscles? Yes. About that." She twirls a lock of silver hair nervously. "Turns out, this summoning was supposed to be for women only—the Lifire Kingdom needed heroes with sacred feminine energy to combat their curse. Tradition, destiny, something-something ancient prophecy... honestly, the paperwork was very confusing."
Wait.
"So then—"
"Only two males ended up crossing through: you, and your friend Jeremy." She claps her hands together sheepishly. "Which, ah, might be why neither of you got proper bodies!"
Your slime-form wobbles in disbelief.
"Jeremy... is a slime too?"
Her cheeks flush pink. "Oh no, no. He’s—well—you should probably just see."
The screen flickers, shifting to Jeremy—or at least, what used to be Jeremy. His current form floats in the periphery of the hall, invisible to the others, his spectral body flickering like a ghost made of blue mist.
"His blessing is Skill Share," the goddess explains. "He can temporarily assume the body—and skills—of anyone he touches. Unfortunately, touching things in his current state is... tricky."
You stare (figuratively).
"So he also got a possession ability."
Her laughter is high and nervous. "Ahaha... yyyep. Probably because the summoning rejected male energy, but couldn’t fully exclude you two. So instead of proper bodies, you both got... workarounds."
She coughs into her hand, eyes darting away. "A-anyway! The priestesses were very disappointed not to get Eric. Something about ‘optimal genetic pairing.’ Poor Jessica looked downright relieved."
---
{"Can you give a temporary form and send me back. I just need to explain." The Goddess smiles and says, "I can do better, I can give you a new body." She materializes three criminals, "Each of these woman were about to be executed. I will parody your host on that grounds that being your new body is the punishment."}
The goddess waves her hand with a flourish, and three figures shimmer into existence before you—each bound in glowing ethereal chains. Their expressions range from defiance to despair, but all freeze in shock when they see the divine being before them.
"Behold!" the goddess declares cheerfully. "Your potential new forms!"
The first is a brutish bandit woman, her muscular frame covered in scars, her wild black hair tied back in a rough ponytail. She snarls, struggling against her bonds.
The second is a sly thief, lithe and wiry, with cunning green eyes and a smirk that suggests she’s already planning an escape.
The third is a dark sorceress, her pale skin marked with arcane tattoos, her long silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She glares at you with cold disdain.
"These three were slated for execution," the goddess explains. "But I figured—why waste perfectly good bodies? If you take one as your host, it’ll be their punishment—and your new beginning!"
She leans in conspiratorially. "And don’t worry—once you possess them, their consciousness will be suppressed. They won’t even know what’s happening."
---
{Choose the thief}
"The thief," you decide, pulsing toward the lithe, smirking woman.
The goddess claps her hands. "Excellent choice!"
The thief’s eyes widen as she realizes what’s happening. "Wait—what are you—?"
Before she can finish, your slime-body surges forward, enveloping her face. She gags, instinctively thrashing—but it’s too late. You slip past her lips, sliding down her throat with surprising ease.
For a moment, there’s only darkness—and then, sensation.
Your new body tingles as your consciousness settles in. The thief’s limbs twitch once before going still—her mind suppressed beneath yours. You flex your fingers experimentally, marveling at the dexterity.Then, the realizations hit.
- Your chest feels heavier. The thief’s modest but perky breasts press against the fabric of her snug leather top.
- Your hips sway when you shift your weight—an unfamiliar, almost instinctive motion.
- Your hair—short, messy, and dyed a rebellious shade of purple—brushes against your neck.
You gasp—a soft, feminine sound—and the goddess giggles. "First time in a woman’s body?"
You nod mutely, still processing.
"Well, don’t just stand there!" She gestures to a full-length mirror that materializes beside you. "Take a look!"
---
{"Maybe later, Classmates first." You say. The Goddess nods, "Don't worry, the second you chose the thief the world was informed that her punishment was to your body."}
The goddess waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t worry—the moment you chose her, the world knew."
A golden decree materializes in the air beside her, glowing with divine script. "See? Officially, the thief’s punishment is being your body now." She grins. "So no one will question it—not even the summoners."
You exhale (a strange sensation with these new lungs) and nod. "Okay. So where are my classmates?"
Another flick of her wrist, and the mirror’s surface ripples, transforming into a window to the grand summoning hall. The scene is chaotic:
- Lena stands near the front, arms crossed, looking both annoyed and concerned.
- Victoria is already flirting shamelessly with one of the robed summoners, her fishnet-clad legs crossed teasingly.- Jessica is scanning the room—probably for Jeremy.
- Ms. Petrov is lecturing a bewildered priestess about proper interdimensional summoning etiquette.
- Alex is muttering to herself, scribbling notes in a stolen ledger.
- Cara is—wait.
You squint. "Is Cara stealing from the offering table?"
The goddess sighs. "Yes. And she’s very good at it."
But where’s—
A flicker of blue mist darts past the camera. Jeremy.
He’s still in his ghostly form, zipping around like an overexcited poltergeist. At one point, he phases through Victoria—and she shudders, cheeks flushing, before shaking it off.
"He’s figuring out his powers," the goddess muses. "Poor boy has no idea how fun this is going to be for him."
---
{"So before I joined them, how had Internal Empowerment changed?" You ask. (You can now steal steal and merge with souls. Leaving an exact copy of the soul in the original body."}
The goddess's silver eyes gleam with sudden amusement. "Ohhh, that." She twirls a lock of her hair, almost giddy. "Your ability evolved the moment you took a human host! Instead of just inhabiting bodies, you can now... collect them."
She snaps her fingers, and the golden screen zooms in on your new thief form—highlighting a pulsing, translucent core in her chest.
"See that? It’s not just her body you control now—you’ve absorbed her soul. But here’s the fun part!"
Another snap. An illusion of the thief splits into two—one remains trapped inside you, the other flickers back into her body, blinking as if waking from a nap.
"The original soul stays behind—an exact copy, none the wiser. Meanwhile, the real one? Merged with you."
She leans in, whispering conspiratorially. "Meaning you can swap between any soul you’ve absorbed, leaving perfect duplicates behind. No suspicion. No messy loose ends."
A beat.
"...Do you understand how broken that is?" She giggles, stars dancing in her eyes. "You’re basically a god now. A sneaky one."
---
{"So guess we're an act now." You hear inside your head. The thief (Kestra) tells about the soul side of your ability. "So, the real soul stays awake inside you becoming a voice of guidance. Don't worry lover boy, your the only driver." She tells you.}
Kestra’s voice curls through your mind like smoke—playful, teasing, and very aware of her new role as your ethereal backseat driver.
"That’s right, hero," she purrs. "I’m the little devil on your shoulder—except way hotter." You can feel her smirk. "And don’t worry, this body’s all yours to pilot. Think of me as... live commentary."
The goddess blinks. "Wait. She’s awake in there?"
Kestra’s laugh echoes internally. "Oh, this one’s adorable. Yeah, sweetcheeks—real souls stay conscious. We just can’t do anything unless you let us." A pause. "...Unless you want me to take the wheel sometime? I’ve got ideas for this body—"
"No," you say firmly.
She sighs dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if you ever need to pick a lock, flirt with a guard, or stab someone in the kidneys? I’m your girl."
The goddess looks equal parts fascinated and horrified. "This is not how Internal Empowerment usually works."
Kestra snorts. "Yeah, well, congrats—your summoning glitch created a soul vampire. Now, are we gonna go mess with your friends or what?"
---
{You return to the hall, and explain your neeting with the Goddess. "Jessica, you need to want Jeremy insode you for his possession to work, don't worry unlike mine you actually have a say."}
The grand summoning hall falls silent as all eyes turn to you—or rather, your new thief form. Lena’s eyebrows shoot up. Victoria whistles. Ms. Petrov looks like she’s about to demand an explanation in three languages.
You clear your throat (Kestra’s throat? Your throat now) and quickly explain the goddess’s mess-up—the male-energy rejection, the possession-based blessings, the whole being a slime thing.
Then you drop the bomb about Jeremy.
"Oh, and uh—Jessica?" You gesture to the flickering blue mist currently doing loop-de-loops around the chandelier. "Turns out, for Jeremy’s Skill Share to work on you... you kinda have to want him inside you."
Jessica’s face goes scarlet. "I—what?!"
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Oh, this is gold."
You hurry to clarify. "Not like—not like that! It’s just consent-based! He can’t possess you unless you’re okay with it!"
Jeremy’s misty form solidifies slightly, his grin audible. "Dude. Dude. This is the best day of my life."
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "Why is this my curse..."
---
{Lena and Victoria walk up to you asking to join, Lena because of her crush on you, Victoria because its up her alley. You accept them. You then ask the copied souls that get placed in their bodies about their nature, trying to understand you ability better. "We are still Lena and Victoria just knowing that the real us is now a part of you."}
Lena steps forward first, her cheeks flushed but her gaze steady. "I... I want to be with you, Dan. Even if it's like this." Her voice is soft, but there’s no hesitation in it. The moment she says it, her body shivers slightly—a golden glow flickering around her for just a second before fading.
Then Victoria saunters up, her smirk wicked. "Oh, this is way more fun than whatever boring blessing I was supposed to get." She tosses her hair. "Let’s do this."
You reach out, and just like with Kestra, your slime-like essence flows into them—smooth, effortless. Their real souls merge with yours, their copied versions blinking back into existence in their original bodies.
Inside your mind, two new voices hum to life.
"Hey, dummy," Lena’s voice murmurs, warm and fond. "Took you long enough."
Victoria’s laugh is low and teasing. "Oh, this is interesting. So, do we get front-row seats to everything you do, or...?"
You focus on their copied selves standing before you. The Lena-copy tilts her head, smiling. "We’re still us," she says. "Just... aware that the real ‘us’ is part of you now."
The Victoria-copy stretches lazily. "Yeah, don’t worry—we’ll keep up appearances. But damn, this is gonna be fun."
Kestra pipes up, grinning. "Told you. Soul collection and perfect alibis. You’re basically cheating life."
---
{You look over and see Jessica respectfully touching herself. "Guess Jess let you in then?" You shout over to her.}
You smirk as your gaze lands on Jessica—her face a scorching red, one hand pressed hesitantly to her own collarbone, fingers trembling. She jumps at your call, whipping her head toward you with wide eyes.
"N-no! I mean—Yes, but—!" Her voice cracks, mortified. "I just—ugh—I had to test it, okay?!"
A shimmer of blue light flickers under her skin, and Jeremy’s laughter tumbles out of her mouth in her voice. "Oh my god, Jess, you should’ve seen your face when I—wait, why are you blushing so hard—"
Jessica’s hands fly up to cover her flushed cheeks. "B-because this is weird!"
Jeremy-as-Jessica grins, running her hands down her own curves with exaggerated awe. "Okay, but wow, you are crazy stacked—"
"JEREMY!"
Lena’s soul sighs in your head. "Boys are so dumb."
Victoria’s soul purrs. "Yeah, but this is hilarious."
---
{Leave them to it. Turn to the summoner and ask about the curse.}
You decide to let Jeremy and Jessica’s... situation play out (with Kestra cackling in your head and Victoria’s soul egging them on). Instead, you stride toward the head summoner—a stern-looking woman in silver robes, currently massaging her temples like she’s regretting every life choice that led her here.
"So," you say, crossing your arms (and enjoying the way Kestra’s leather gear creaks with the motion). "What’s this ‘curse’ you needed an all-female summoning to fix?"
The summoner exhales sharply. "The Lifire Plague," she mutters. "A blight that drains the life from our land—and it only affects men."
Lena’s soul gasps in your mind. "Wait, so that’s why—"
"Yes," the summoner snaps. "We needed heroes untainted by male energy to purify the royal bloodline. But clearly—" She gestures at you, then at Jessica (currently trying to wrestle her own hands away from her chest). "—this summoning is a disaster."
Victoria’s soul hums. "So, what? You needed pure, sacred maidens to fix your man-killing curse?"
The summoner glares. "We needed heroes."
Kestra snorts. "And instead you got us. Congrats."
---
{"Actually that's probably why both Jeremy and I ended up non-human, technically he and I no longer have male bodies." You offer.}
The summoner's eyes narrow, then widen slightly as your words sink in. "That... is disturbingly logical,".
Jessica—now physically pushing herself into a pillar to stop Jeremy's involuntary groping—chokes out, "So you're saying I basically just sucked a ghost into my body to save him?!"
The silver-robed summoner pinches the bridge of her nose. "In the broadest theological sense... yes." She sighs. "Perhaps the summoning interpreted your forms as gender-neutral enough to bypass the curse's restrictions. A slime and... whatever that is." She gestures at Jeremy's misty essence still flickering under Jessica's skin.
Lena's voice pipes up in your mind, dripping with mischief. "Ohhhoho, this means Jeremy has to possess girls to survive now. Best. Punishment. Ever."
The Lena-copy folds her arms. "That doesn't explain why we joined Dan though."
Victoria's copy smirks. "Uh, hello? Have you seen our collection?" She gestures to herself, Lena's copied form, and your thief body. "We're clearly his starter harem."
The summoner's eye twitches. "I need wine."
---
{"So if I remember correctly while I was talking with the Goddess, you were about to check blessings, right?" You ask. The summoner pulls out a book, containing past blessings. She records your entire classes blessings, yours and Jeremy's included.
(Because your blessing now lets you have a person's real soul merge into you, you also get that person's Blessing. Jessica can also use Skill Share, on top of her actually blessing, due to being Jeremy's true host.)
Lena/Her Copy: Hearthfire
Victoria/Her Copy: Shadowweave
Kestra: Thief's Guile
Jessica: Beast Tamer
Petrov: Discipline Authority
Cara: Silvertongue
Alex: Reverse Engineer
Jeremy: Skill Share (Possession Version)
You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version)}
The summoner flips open her massive tome with a thud, quill poised. "Let the record show that this summoning has been the most chaotic in eight centuries," she mutters before clearing her throat.
One by one, she calls out the blessings—each name glowing in the air as she writes:
- Lena & Copy: Hearthfire – Can conjure flames that heal allies and sear enemies.
- Victoria & Copy: Shadowweave – Controls darkness like tangible threads. (Victoria’s soul purrs: "Oh, we’re definitely playing with this later.")
- Kestra: Thief’s Guile – Enhanced stealth, lockpicking, and ahem "asset relocation" skills.
- Jessica: Beast Tamer – Commands animals... and apparently now also shares Jeremy’s Skill Share due to being his primary host. (Jessica smiles: "So I’m pet owner.)
- Ms. Petrov: Discipline Authority – Commands instant obedience from students. (She smirks. "Finally.")
- Cara: Silvertongue – Can convince anyone of anything... which explains the stolen artifacts now hidden in her sleeves.
- Alex: Reverse Engineer – Instantly understands and replicates any magic or tech. (She’s already dismantling a summoning orb.)
- Jeremy: Skill Share – Possesses others to copy their abilities for future use. (He’s currently making Jessica’s body do a handstand. Badly.)
- You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version) – Absorb souls, their blessings, and leave flawless copies.
The summoner snaps the book shut. "Congratulations. You’ve broken every rule of summoning etiquette."
Kestra whispers: "Achievement unlocked: Oops, All Chaos."
---
{A younger priestess steps up to you, "My name is Lyra and I think it would be best to have a priestess with you, so I offer myself and my Blessing: Holy Prayer to you."}
Lyra steps forward, her white and gold robes fluttering as she bows deeply before you. She’s young—maybe even younger than your classmates—with wide, earnest eyes and silver-blonde hair braided neatly over one shoulder. There’s a nervous energy about her, like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.
"I—I’ve studied the legends," she stammers, cheeks flushing. "A-and if you’re going to break the Lifire Plague, you’ll need divine favor! My Holy Prayer blessing lets me channel miracles—healing, protection, even smiting!" She clasps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Please, let me join you!"
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement in your mind. "Ohhh, she’s adorable. And useful. Say yes."
Lena’s soul sighs. "She’s way too pure for this group."
Victoria’s copy licks her lips. "Yeah, but imagine corrupting her."
The head summoner groans. "Lyra, you cannot just volunteer to be absorbed by a rogue otherworlder—"
Lyra whirls on her, eyes blazing. "With all due respect, Elder Maris, the goddess herself endorsed him! This isn’t just allowed—it’s destiny!"
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Jeremy (still in Jessica’s body) wolf-whistles. "Damn, holy girl’s got spine."
---
{Accept Lyra offer.}
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the team, Lyra."
Her face lights up like the sun, and before the head summoner can protest, you reach out—your slime essence surging forward. Unlike the others, Lyra steps into it, arms spread like she’s embracing divinity itself.
The absorption is seamless. Warmth floods your being as her soul merges with yours, her consciousness settling beside the others. Her copied body blinks back into existence, still beaming.
"It’s wonderful in here!" Lyra’s voice chimes in your mind, bright as a chapel bell. "So much light! And—oh! I can feel the others too!"
Kestra groans. "Great. Now we’ve got a nun in our head."
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, practically glowing. "With Holy Prayer added to your collection, you’re practically invincible! Well, more invincible."
The head summoner looks like she’s about to faint. "This is heresy."
Ms. Petrov, finally breaking her silence, adjusts her glasses with a smirk. "No. This is education."
---
{"Lyra, would you allow Jeremy to try and possess you." You ask the copy in her body.}
Lyra's copied form tilts her head, her expression thoughtful but unbothered. "Oh! Of course!" she chirps, as if you'd just asked her to pass the salt. "If it helps the team, I don't mind at all!"
Kestra snorts in your mind. "Girl’s got zero sense of self-preservation. I love it."
Jeremy's misty form immediately peels away from Jessica's body—who collapses against a pillar, gasping like she just ran a marathon. "Finally! Freedom!" he whoops, before zipping toward Lyra's copy.
The moment his essence touches her, her eyes flash blue. Then—
"Whoa."
Jeremy's voice spills from Lyra's lips, but it's her voice—soft, melodic, and now tinged with his dumbstruck awe. He(?) looks down at Lyra's petite frame, her pristine robes, then wiggles her fingers experimentally.
"Okay, first? Way different from Jess. Like, zero muscle memory. This body’s built for, like... hymns and kneeling." He(?) pauses. "Second? Why am I kinda into it?"
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "I’m never living this down."
Lyra's real soul giggles in your mind. "Oh, this is fascinating! He’s borrowing my blessing too! Look!"
Sure enough, golden light flickers around Jeremy/Lyra’s hands—Holy Prayer reacting to his presence.
The head summoner has stopped breathing.
---
Quick Actions:
{Ask Lyra's copy if she can try to fight Jeremy's control. (She can't but Jeremy leaves willingly.)}
You glance at Lyra's copied form—still puppeteered by Jeremy—and raise an eyebrow. "Lyra, can you try to resist him? Push him out?"
For a moment, Lyra's copied body goes still, her expression flickering with concentration. Then she sighs sweetly. "Oh dear, no. It seems I can't! But it's quite alright—he's being very gentle."
Jeremy's voice responds through her lips, softer now, almost sheepish. "Yeah, uh... I'm not gonna force it. That'd be messed up." With that, the blue glow fades from Lyra's eyes as Jeremy's misty form pulls free, reforming nearby with a shrug. "Respect to the holy girl. She's way too nice to mess with."
Lyra's copy smooths her robes, completely unruffled. "Thank you for experimenting responsibly!"
Kestra barks a laugh in your mind. "Wow. Even Jeremy has standards. What a world."
The head summoner, now gripping her tome like a lifeline, wheezes: "Is... is this over? Can we proceed?"
---
{"This proves that my copied souls have less resistance to possession then the original soul." You warn.}
You nod, piecing it together. "Right. So the copies—while perfect in every other way—don’t have the same willpower as the original souls inside me." You glance at Lyra’s copied form, still smiling placidly. "They’re more... compliant."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Meaning if some other possession-happy freak shows up, your little duplicates would fold like wet paper. Great."
Lena’s soul chimes in, concerned. "So our copies are vulnerable. That’s... not ideal."
Victoria’s copy, however, grins. "Or very ideal, depending on what you’re into."
The head summoner finally snaps. "ENOUGH. You—" She jabs a finger at you. "—are a walking theological crisis. But since the goddess clearly favors you, we’ll proceed under one condition." She takes a deep breath. "You and your... collective... will help us break the Lifire Plague. In exchange, we’ll legitimize your existence to the kingdom."**
Ms. Petrov smirks. "Ah, bureaucracy. Even in another world."
---
{"I would've helped without you needing to threaten me." You say. "My blessing makes an ideal Front liner."}
The head summoner blinks, momentarily thrown off-balance by your blunt honesty. Then, with a grudging nod, she steps back. "Then we are in agreement. The Lifire Kingdom will... appreciate your assistance."
Kestra snickers in your mind. "Translation: They’re desperate and we’re their last hope."
You flex your thief’s fingers, feeling the weight of your collected souls humming within you—each one a new strength, a new possibility. "Ideal Frontliner" wasn’t an exaggeration. With Lena’s healing flames, Victoria’s shadow manipulation, Lyra’s divine miracles, and Kestra’s thief instincts—not to mention the other blessings you could still absorb—you’re practically a one-man army.
Jeremy’s misty form drifts closer, his grin audible. "So, uh... when do we start?"
Jessica sighs, rubbing her temples. "Please don’t say that like you’re volunteering to be useful."
---
{Ask about the plague's origins on your way to meet the queen.}
As your ragtag group sets off toward the royal palace—escorted by a contingent of very nervous priestesses—you fall into step beside Lyra’s copied form. The real Lyra’s soul perks up eagerly in your mind, already sensing your question.
"So," you start, nodding toward the blighted landscape beyond the city walls. Withered trees claw at the sky, and the distant fields look like they’ve been drained of color. "This plague. How’d it start?"
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, her voice dropping into storyteller mode. "Two centuries ago, the Lifire Kingdom was at war with the Duskreach Coven. Their queen, a witch named Seraphine, cursed our royal bloodline as she died—‘No son shall outlive his father, no brother his sister.’" She shudders. "At first, it only affected the nobility. But over time, the curse mutated. Now it leeches life from any male in the kingdom past adolescence."
Victoria’s soul whistles. "Damn. That’s some spicy vengeance."
Lena’s copy frowns. "So the all-female summoning...?"
Lyra nods. "An attempt to bypass the curse’s logic. We needed heroes untouched by male energy to purify the royal line." She hesitates. "Though... given your blessings, I suspect the goddess had other plans."
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Plans involving us becoming the kingdom’s weirdest, hottest salvation."
---
{You arrive at the the Throne room. The summoner hands the queen the book.}
The grand doors of the throne room swing open, revealing a cavernous hall lined with armored knights and robed advisors. At the far end sits Queen Isolda—a woman whose regal bearing is undercut by the dark circles under her eyes and the way her fingers grip the armrests of her throne like she’s clinging to life itself.
The head summoner steps forward, presenting the book with a deep bow. "Your Majesty, the summoning is... complete." She hesitates. "Though not as expected."
Queen Isolda flips through the pages, her brow furrowing at the chaotic entries—blessings altered, souls duplicated, two rogue males somehow involved. When she reaches your entry (Internal Empowerment: Soul Version), her gaze snaps up to you.
"You." Her voice is razor-sharp. "You absorb souls. And their powers."
A murmur ripples through the court. One knight draws his sword on instinct.Lyra’s soul squeaks in your head. "Oh no. They think you’re a villain!"
Kestra sighs. "To be fair, we kinda are."
---
{You step forward, bow slightly and explain your specific story to the Queen, (From meeting the Goddess as a slime, choosing the meant to be executed Kestra to be your body, to Lena and Victoria willing offering themselves, of finding that you use the blessings of those merged with you, how Lyra offered herself, and now standing before her.)}
After you finish your story, the oldest princess offers herself to you as a way to ensure your loyality.}
You step forward, offering the queen a measured bow—not too deep, not too casual—just enough to show respect without groveling. Then, in clear, deliberate tones, you recount your journey: the goddess’s blunder, your slime form, Kestra’s "punishment," Lena and Victoria’s willing mergers, the discovery of borrowed blessings, and Lyra’s eager devotion. The throne room hangs on every word, the court’s initial hostility giving way to stunned fascination.
When you finish, the silence is thick enough to carve.
Then, from the queen’s side, a figure rises—Princess Elara, the eldest heir. Her gown is the color of tarnished silver, her dark hair braided into a crown. She steps down from the dais, her movements deliberate, until she stands mere inches from you.
"Then let me ensure your loyalty personally," she declares, her voice low but carrying. "Merge with me. Let my soul join your collection. That way, the crown will always know your intentions."
The queen’s breath catches. "Elara, you cannot—"
"Mother," the princess interrupts, never breaking eye contact with you, "our kingdom is dying. If this is the price of salvation, I pay it gladly."
Kestra’s whistle echoes in your mind. "Damn. Royalty’s got spine."
Lyra’s soul vibrates with awe. "This is so sacred! And so illegal!"
---
{You accept but let her chose a person loyal to prove it isn't dangerous. She choses her personal knight (is female becuase of the curse) and Maid (trained assassin).}
"Very well," you say, nodding to the princess. "But let's prove it's safe first." You gesture to the crowd. "Choose someone you trust—someone loyal. Let them volunteer to merge with me, so you can see there's no danger."
Princess Elara's lips quirk in approval. Without hesitation, she turns and snaps her fingers. "Siris. Mara. Step forward."
From the shadows of the throne room, two figures emerge:
1. Siris, the princess's personal knight—a towering woman in gleaming armor, her sword strapped to her back. The curse has long since purged male knights from the kingdom, leaving only the fiercest women to guard the royalty. Her scarred face is unreadable as she kneels before you. "If my lady commands it," she rumbles.
2. Mara, the "maid"—a petite woman in a demure gown whose fingers twitch toward hidden daggers. Her smile is razor-thin. "Oh, this’ll be fun," she purrs. Assassin confirmed.
The queen grips her throne, but Elara remains serene. "Well? Show us."
---
The Merging:
- Siris goes first. The moment your slime-form touches her, she tenses—not in fear, but in focus. Her soul merges with yours, a warm, steadfast presence. Her copy blinks back into existence, saluting sharply. "No discomfort, Your Highness."
- Mara practically grins as you absorb her. Her soul coils in your mind like a satisfied cat. "Oh, hello," she murmurs. Her copy adjusts her skirts, demure once more—but her eyes gleam.
Princess Elara exhales. "Convinced?" she asks the queen.
Her mother swallows hard, then nods.
---
Quick Actions:
{Merge with Elara. You tell the Queen each of their blessings. Afterwords the Queen asks the copy of Elara a question only the two of them now. When she answers right, the queen turns back to you, "About the weaker resistance noted by the summoner."
Siris: Dog of War
Mara: Moonlight Dance
Elara: Stormcaller}
You meet Princess Elara’s gaze and nod. Without hesitation, she steps forward—chin high, arms slightly spread—as your slime-form envelops her. The merging is seamless, her soul settling into yours like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Her copy materializes beside you, smoothing her gown with regal poise.
The queen leans forward, her voice taut. "Elara. When you were six, where did you hide after your first sword lesson?"
The Elara-copy doesn’t hesitate. "The royal pantry. I ate an entire wheel of cheese and vomited on Father’s favorite hound."
A beat. Then the queen’s shoulders slump in relief. "It is her. Every memory, every detail..." She turns to you, her expression unreadable. "And their blessings?"
You recite them effortlessly, the knowledge flowing from the souls within you:
- Siris: Dog of War – Strength multiplies when defending others.
- Mara: Moonlight Dance – Moves unseen in shadows, strikes with lethal precision.
- Elara: Stormcaller – Commands wind and lightning (her copy’s fingers crackle faintly for emphasis).
The queen exhales sharply. "Then the summoner’s report was correct. The copies are perfect... but weaker against possession." Her eyes narrow. "You understand why that concerns me."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Yeah, ‘cause if Jeremy can hijack a princess, this kingdom’s screwed."
---
{"Your Majesty, my teacher Ms. Petrov might be able to help in that regard." You offer a potential solution. "Elara tells me your Blessing is Royal Decree, so if used together with her Blessing you could create a failsafe. You use Royal Decree to make it law that my copied souls can't be possessed those the crown deems enemies, and then we have Ms. Petrov reinforce that through her Discipline Authority."}
The queen’s eyes flicker with intrigue. She straightens, her fingers drumming once on the armrest of her throne before she nods. "A royal edict reinforced by divine authority... Clever." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "You can do this?"
Ms. Petrov steps forward, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. "Discipline Authority compels obedience. If Her Majesty declares a law, I can ensure it’s enforced—magically."
Princess Elara’s soul hums approvingly in your mind. "A binding contract, then. No possession of copies by unauthorized parties."
The queen rises, her voice ringing through the throne room. "Then let it be decreed: Any soul copied by the Otherworlder Dan shall be shielded from hostile possession, save by his own will or the crown’s express permission!"Golden light erupts from her fingertips, swirling into the air like living script. Ms. Petrov’s eyes flash as she raises a hand—"And so it shall be."
The words sear into the air before dissolving, and you feel the change immediately—a new weight to the copied souls around you, an invisible barrier settling over them.
Jeremy’s misty form pouts. "Well, there goes my weekend plans."
---
{Have Jeremy test it by trying to possess Elara.}
You arch a brow at Jeremy’s still-misty form. "Well? Test it."
Jeremy’s grin is audible. "Oh, hell yeah." He darts toward Elara’s copied form—only to slam into an invisible barrier inches from her skin. A burst of golden light repels him, sending him spinning backward like a kicked tumbleweed.
"OW! What the—since when do laws HURT?!" he yelps, his form flickering like a staticky hologram.
Elara’s copy smirks, folding her arms. "It appears the crown’s will is quite literal."
The queen exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good."
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Welp. Jeremy just became the kingdom’s best bug zapper test."
---
Quick Actions:
{Check on Jessica, since you allow Lyra to house Jeremy so he can tell the Queen his story.}
You glance over at Jessica, who’s been standing near the back of the group, arms crossed and expression unreadable. With a mental nudge, you allow Lyra’s soul to temporarily "host" Jeremy so he can recount his side of the story to the queen—Lyra’s copied form flickers blue for a moment as Jeremy’s consciousness takes the wheel, her usual serene smile shifting into his trademark lopsided grin.
"Alright, so—" Jeremy-as-Lyra begins, clapping her(?) hands together. "Imagine getting isekai’d as a ghost and then finding out the only way to interact with the world is by literally borrowing someone else’s body. Glorious? Yes. Ethical? Debatable."
The queen pinches the bridge of her nose. "Why are the gods like this."
Meanwhile, you slip over to Jessica, who’s staring at the floor, her fingers twisting the hem of her tunic. "Hey," you say quietly. "You okay?"
She startles, then forces a smile. "Oh! Yeah. Just... processing. A lot." Her gaze flicks to Jeremy-as-Lyra, who’s now demonstrating how he accidentally phased through a wall and got stuck in a chandelier. Jessica’s voice drops to a whisper. "It’s just... weird. Knowing he’s in people. That he has to be. And now he’s in Lyra of all people..."
Her cheeks flush. You don’t need Kestra’s thief instincts to guess why that bothers her.
---
Quick Actions:
{You joke her, "At least your stolen Blessings don't come with personalities attached to them, like mine do."
She laughs drawing attention to you both.}
Jessica snorts, her laugh breaking through the tension like sunlight. "Yeah, guess I should be thanking the gods I just got stuck with a pervert and not a whole committee in my head." Her voice carries just enough that several heads turn—including Jeremy-as-Lyra’s, who gasps in mock offense.
"Rude!" he declares, pressing Lyra’s delicate hands to her chest. "I’m a treasure."
Lyra’s real soul sighs in your mind. "He’s really leaning into this, isn’t he?"
The queen clears her throat loudly. "As adorable as this is, we have a curse to dismantle. Focus."
Kestra mutters: "Buzzkill."
---
{Ask about the royal record and say Lyra already told you about the origin. (Story rule because of the curse most characters are female or in female bodies.)}
You raise a hand, cutting through the murmurs of the court. "Lyra already told us about the curse’s origin—Seraphine’s last act. But stories lie, or omit. What do the royal archives say?"
The queen’s lips thin. "Officially? That the Duskreach Coven’s curse was unprovoked. Unofficially..." She nods to a hooded archivist, who scurries forward with a weathered scroll. "My ancestor, King Aldric, broke their pact. He swore to marry Seraphine’s heir to unite the kingdoms—then burned their coven at the altar instead."
A collective gasp ripples through the room.
Princess Elara’s soul hisses in your mind. "No wonder her curse was vicious. We earned this."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Your family’s messy, princess."
The queen continues, weary. "The curse was meant to end our line. But over generations, it grew—infecting all men. Now, we’re out of time."
---
{"How have you survived, because I would have thought that without men, and I mean this respectfully, that your kingdom would have collapsed by now." You asked head bowed.}
The queen’s expression darkens, but not at you—at the truth of the question itself. "We have been collapsing," she admits, her voice low. "Slowly. Invisibly. Our fields yield less. Our soldiers are fewer. Births decline each year—not just of boys, but of all children. The curse gnaws at the roots of life itself."
She gestures to the court around her—all women, from the knights to the scribes to the blacksmiths. "We’ve adapted. Women took up roles once forbidden to us. We trade with neighboring kingdoms for seed and strength. But it’s a stopgap. Without breaking the curse, Lifire will wither within two generations."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind, pained. "Mother never speaks this plainly. She must truly trust you."
Kestra’s grin is sharp. "Or she’s really desperate."
---
{"Did Seraphine potentially have any descendants?"}
The queen exhales—a slow, measured breath—before nodding to the archivist again. The hooded woman produces another scroll, this one sealed in cracked black wax.
"Seraphine had a daughter," the queen says quietly. "A child hidden before the massacre. The records suggest she fled to the Veiled Peaks—a range near the coven’s ruins. But we’ve never found proof she lived... or that her line endured."
A charged silence follows.
Then, from the back of the room, Alex pushes her glasses up her nose and mutters, "So we’re hunting a maybe-witch who might hold the key to unfucking this mess. Cool. Cool."
Kestra’s laugh is downright giddy. "Oh, this just got spicy."
---
{"You kneel in prayer, before sarcastically saying, "Alright mighty Clutz may we borrow but a moment of your time for advice."
The Goddess actually shows up, "Your lucky I find you funny."}
The air shimmers with a sound like shattering stained glass—and then the goddess tumbles into existence, tripping over her own robes before catching herself on a conveniently placed (and very startled) knight’s shoulder.
"You’re lucky I find you funny," she huffs, straightening her silver hair. A few stars fall out of it. "And lucky I’m not smiting you for the ‘clutz’ comment." She eyes the kneeling courtiers, the queen’s stunned face, and Jeremy still mid-possession of Lyra’s body. "...Wow. You’ve been busy."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Told you she’d show up."
You gesture grandly to the chaos. "We need to find Seraphine’s descendants. Got any divine hints?" The goddess taps her chin. "Hmm. Well, I could just tell you—" She pauses, then grins. "—or we could make it fun! How about a quest? Prove your worth, and I’ll point you to the last witch-blood!"
The queen looks like she’s about to combust.
---
{"If it be your will, almighty Ditz, that we should let this kingdom suffer for your errand then we must accept it." You tease, you can hear Lyra yelling.}
The goddess gasps—clutching her chest as if mortally wounded—while Lyra’s soul screams in your mind like a scandalized nun. "DANIEL!! YOU CAN’T JUST—SHE’S A GODDESS—"
The court collectively holds its breath.
Then the deity snorts, doubling over with laughter. "Oh, wow, I like you!" She wipes a starry tear from her eye. "Fine, fine. Since you’re hilarious—and because I did kind of mess up your summoning—here’s a freebie: The witch-blood you seek is already in this room."
Silence.
Then—gasps, chairs scraping, hands flying to weapons. The queen stands so fast her throne topples backward.
"What."
The goddess winks. "Oops. Spoilers~"
---
{The Queen orders the room locked down, but then a dark laughter emerges from the summoner.}
A slow, creeping laugh cuts through the chaos—dry as crumbling parchment. The head summoner, Elder Maris, peels back her hood, revealing eyes now blazing with violet fire.
"Oh, Isolda," she croons, her voice layered with a second, older rasp. "You thought your family’s sin could be buried forever?" The air around her warps, her robes melting into tattered witch’s weeds, her staff twisting into a gnarled black thorn. "Seraphine’s blood runs in my veins. And I’ve waited centuries to watch your line choke on its own curse."
The queen pales. "Maris... you—"
"Not just Maris." The witch’s grin splits her face too wide. "She welcomed me in years ago. A fitting host for the last daughter of Duskreach."
Kestra’s soul squees. "Possession inception! I love this!"
---
{"Mother will be waiting. And now she knows the heroes powers." The witch says being slitting her throat.}
The witch’s grin turns feral as she drags a jagged nail across her own throat—black blood bubbling forth like tar. "Mother waits," she gurgles. "And now... she knows you."
Her body collapses—but the black blood liquefies, slithering across the floor like a living shadow before vanishing between the cracks in the stone.
Silence.
Then—
"Well," Jeremy-as-Lyra says brightly. "That was horrifying."
The queen sways, gripping her overturned throne for support. "Seraphine... lives?"
Princess Elara’s soul whispers in your mind, trembling: "We need to find her. Now."
---
{"Your majesty, is possible to do a smaller hero summon."}
The queen’s fingers tighten on the armrest of her throne, her knuckles whitening. "A smaller summoning?" she echoes, her voice edged with exhaustion and suspicion.
You nod. "If Seraphine is alive—or at least her consciousness lingers—then she’s clearly tied to the curse. But she also just got a full report on our abilities. We need an edge she doesn’t expect."
The queen’s gaze flicks to the remaining summoners—now huddled together, their faces pale. "It’s possible," one of them admits. "But the ritual requires immense power, and after the last one... our reserves are depleted."
The goddess, still lounging mid-air like an amused spectator, twirls a lock of silver hair. "Oh, I could help with that~"
The queen’s eyes narrow. "At what cost?"
The goddess grins. "Entertainment. Drama. Maybe a little chaos."
---
{Agree to her terms. She summons your Ex, but with full knowledge of the current situation.}
The goddess claps her hands together with a sound like a thousand bells ringing. "Perfect! Let’s make this interesting!"
The air ripples—then tears—as a familiar figure tumbles out of the rift and lands face-first on the throne room floor.
"Ow. What the hell—"
Your stomach drops.
Because standing there, brushing off her jeans and glaring at you with begrudging recognition, is Hailey—your ex-girlfriend.
Her dark hair is still in that messy ponytail she always wore, her favorite leather jacket slung over a band T-shirt. She looks exactly like she did the day she dumped you—right down to the unimpressed arch of her brow.
And then she smirks.
"Wow. So this is your messed-up isekai arc? Figures." She cracks her knuckles. "Alright. The goddess filled me in. Let’s go break a curse."
Kestra’s soul howls with laughter. "OH MY GOD. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
---
{Ask Hailey about her Blessing. She pause for a moment, "Sorry but its better if I keep it to myself, incase of another hidden witch."}
Hailey’s smirk doesn’t waver as she shrugs. "Nice try. But I’m not spilling my blessing in a room full of people who might also be secret witch-spawn." She taps the side of her nose. "Gotta keep some surprises for the finale."
Kestra’s soul vibrates with glee. "Ohhh, she’s good. I like her."
Princess Elara’s copy steps forward, eyes narrowed. "You expect us to trust you without knowing your power?"
Hailey rolls her eyes. "Trust? No. Use me? Absolutely. Same difference with him, right?" She jerks a thumb at you.
The queen exhales sharply. "Enough. If the goddess vouches for her, we proceed." She turns to Hailey. "But the moment you betray us—"
"Yeah, yeah, execute me dramatically. Got it." Hailey waves her off, then leans toward you, voice dropping. "P.S.? You owe me for this."
---
{Talk to Hailey privately but not about her blessing, you can respect her reasoning.}
You wait until the queen dismisses the court (with orders to prepare for war) before grabbing Hailey’s elbow and steering her into a vaulted hallway—just out of earshot. The moment you’re alone, she smirks up at you.
"Wow. Still bossy in another world, huh?"
You ignore the jab. "I get not revealing your blessing. But are you actually here to help, or just to screw with me?"
Hailey’s grin fades. She studies you for a long moment—then sighs. "Look. The goddess literally yanked me out of my apartment mid-microwave meal for this. If I wanted to mess with you, I’d have stayed home and keyed your car." A pause. "...Okay, that was a joke. Mostly."
She folds her arms. "Point is, yeah. I’ll help. But I’m doing it my way."
Kestra’s soul whispers: "She’s totally gonna betray us in a cool way later."
---
"Look I understand if your still hate me for what happened, but how have you been since the accident." You ask.}
Hailey’s smirk vanishes. For a second, she just stares at you—like she’s trying to decide if you’re serious. Then her shoulders slump.
"You mean since you got drunk at Jake’s party and I had to drive your dumbass home, only for us to crash because you panicked and grabbed the wheel?" Her voice is low, raw. "Since my arm got crushed and I lost my scholarship because I couldn’t play volleyball anymore?"
A beat. The air between you is suddenly heavy.
Then she shakes her head, forcing a laugh. "Wow. Yeah, Dan. I’ve been great."
Kestra’s soul winces. "Yikes. And I thought my exes were messy."
---
{You quietly say, "I never forgave myself for ruining your future, I went to the hospital twice when Mom find me mid suicide, first time from cut wrists and the second from OD on my anti-depressents. Its part of the reason you were ghosted, parents moved us, they also deleted you from everything thinking it would help but it got worse when you sent the letter calling me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony. You were my best friend and first love. I'd show you the scars but Kestra's body doesn't carry them." You tell her.}
You take a slow breath, Kestra's borrowed lungs tightening as you force the words out—words you've rehearsed in a thousand sleepless nights, words that taste like rust and regret.
"I never forgave myself for ruining your future." The confession hangs between you, raw as a fresh wound. "I went to the hospital twice after the accident. First time... wrists. Second time, pills. Mom found me both times."
Hailey's smirk dies.
"Parents moved us after that. Deleted you from my phone, my socials—thought it would help." Your borrowed throat bobs. "Then your letter came. Called me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony three days later."
For a heartbeat, the only sound is the distant clatter of armored boots in the throne room.
"You were my best friend. My first love." Your voice cracks. "I'd show you the scars, but..." You gesture to Kestra's unmarked forearm.
Hailey's expression does something complicated—anger melting into horror, then settling on something too close to grief.
---
{"You might not be able to show me the scars but you can still show me." She says as she places a hand on you, your memories of the fallout flowing into her.}
The moment Hailey’s hand makes contact with your chest—Kestra’s body or not—there’s a jolt, like a live wire brushing bare skin. Then the memories surge, unbidden:
- Your hands shaking as you fumble with the razor in the bathroom, your mother’s scream when she kicks in the door.
- The numb, cotton-mouthed haze of swallowing too many pills, the ER lights stabbing your eyelids.
- The letter in Hailey’s angry, slanted handwriting: ”You don’t get to run away from this.”
- The balcony railing under your palms, wind howling in your ears, your mother’s arms dragging you back—
Hailey staggers, tearing her hand away like she’s been burned. Her face is ashen. "Jesus Christ, Dan—"
For the first time since she got here, she looks lost.
Kestra’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in your mind. "...Well. That happened."
---
{You apologize for trauma dumping on her but you had holding on it your feelings since mom pulled you away from the railing.}
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "Shit. I'm sorry—that was way too much to drop on you right now. I just... never got to say any of it." Kestra's fingers flex at your sides, itching for a cigarette or a knife to fiddle with—anything to ground you. "Holding that in since... yeah. Since the balcony."
Hailey stares at you for a long moment, her arms crossed tight over her chest—like she's holding herself together. Then she snorts, but there's no humor in it. "Fuck. And I thought my therapist had her work cut out for her." She rubs her face, the ghost of her old volleyball injury twinging in her shoulder. "Look. We're not doing this now. Not here."
She jabs a finger at your chest. "But after we murder this witch and her shitty curse? We're talking. Properly."
Kestra's soul whistles. "Damn. She really used to love you, huh?"
---
{"The worst part was I never stopped missing you, but after your letter I assumed you never wanted to talk again. Jeremy's a good friend but he was quite you." You say before giving her a quick hug.}
The hug is quick—just a brief press of Kestra’s body against hers, leather creaking, warmth lingering for half a second before you pull back. But Hailey freezes for a heartbeat, her breath catching like she’d forgotten what it felt like.
"Yeah, well," she mutters, rubbing her arm—the one that used to spike a volleyball before the accident. "Turns out anger’s easier than grief." She meets your eyes, and for the first time in years, there’s no smirk, no deflection. Just honesty. "I missed you too, idiot."
Then Jeremy’s voice echoes down the hall, shattering the moment: "HEY! We’ve got witch problems! Also, the queen’s crying! It’s super awkward!"
Hailey rolls her eyes, the tension broken. "Ugh. Fine. Let’s go save a kingdom or whatever."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "God, this is better than reality TV."
---
{Next day regroup with an attack plan.}
The War Council – Dawn of the Witch Hunt
The next morning, you gather in the war room—a cavernous chamber dominated by a massive table carved with a map of the kingdom. The queen stands at its head, shadows under her eyes betraying her sleepless night. Around her, your assembled forces:
- Ms. Petrov has organized the royal archives into tactical folders (Discipline Authority makes her terrifyingly efficient).
- Alex is hunched over a stolen coven relic, muttering as her Reverse Engineer blessing deciphers its magic.
- Cara is... somehow negotiating better rations for your group while pocketing a silver candlestick.
- Jeremy (back in Jessica’s body, by popular demand) is sketching attack formations with alarming enthusiasm.
- Hailey leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.
The queen stabs a dagger into the map—right atop the Duskreach Coven ruins. "Seraphine’s lair is here. Our scouts report unnatural shadows pooling in the valley. She’s preparing."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind: "We’ll need to strike fast. Before she fully awakens."
---
{"I'll lead a frontal charge and draw her attention." You start.}
"While I lead the frontal charge and draw her attention," you declare, rolling your shoulders. The weight of the collected souls within you hums in agreement—each a fragment of power ready to be unleashed.
The queen’s gaze sharpens. "A distraction?"
You nod. "Exactly. Seraphine expects us to come in sneaky, like her assassins and shadows. So we hit her loud." You gesture to the map. "Me, Jeremy in Jessica’s body for range, and the royal knights will assault the ruins head-on. While she’s focused on us—"
"—The rest slip in behind," Mara’s copy finishes, her assassin’s grin sharp. "Moonlight Dance makes me very good at backstabbing."
Hailey pushes off the wall. "I’ll go with the stealth team."
You raise a brow.
She smirks. "What? I told you I’m doing this my way."
---
{"Your majesty, can use Royal Decree so that the war plan can not be dicscussed outside the room by anyone. Petrov use your Authority to reinforce it and I'll use Victoria's Shadowweave to attached it to attach it every heart."}
The queen's eyes gleam with grim approval. "A binding of three blessings? Ruthless. I like it."
She rises, her voice echoing with Royal Decree's weight:
"None shall speak of this battle plan beyond these walls—not in whispers, not in writing, not even in thought shared knowingly with outsiders!" Golden light sears the air, sinking into the skin of every person present.
Ms. Petrov steps forward, her Discipline Authority flaring like a whip-crack:
"And so you shall obey." The compulsion tightens around them all like a vice.
Then you summon Victoria's Shadowweave—tendrils of darkness snaking from your fingertips to coil around each chest, merging with their heartbeats.
"Any betrayal," you murmur, watching the shadows pulse in time with their breath, "and these threads will strangle the secret before it's spoken."
A stunned silence follows.
Hailey whistles. "Damn. You have gotten scarier."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Oh, we are so keeping this blessing."
---
{Spend the rest the finalizing a war plan.}
THE FINAL WAR PLAN
The table rattles as you plant your palms on the map, eyes scanning your assembled forces.
1. DISTRACTION SQUAD (FRONTAL ASSAULT)
- You – Using Shadowweave to command darkness + Stormcaller (via Elara’s soul) to summon storms.
- Jeremy (in Jessica’s body) – Utilizing Beast Tamer to call wild creatures as fodder, Skill Share to mimic archers.
- Royal Knights (led by Siris’s copy) – Dog of War boosts their defensive strength exponentially when protecting allies.
- Lyra’s copy – Holy Prayer support (barriers, healing light).
2. STEALTH TEAM (BACKSTAB SPECIAL)
- Mara – Moonlight Dance makes her untraceable in shadows. Her mission: slit throats, plant cursed explosives (stolen by Cara).
- Hailey – ??? (Still won’t reveal her blessing, but insists she can "handle the witch").
- Alex – Carrying Reverse Engineered coven relics to disarm traps mid-siege.
3. WILDCARD
- Cara – Silvertongue will impersonate a fleeing Duskreach cultist to sow chaos in Seraphine’s ranks.
- Ms. Petrov – Discipline Authority will override fleeing soldiers to make them fight harder for you.
- Victoria’s copy – Using Shadowweave to telepathically sync the teams’ movements.
---
The Plan in Motion:
- Phase 1: You and Jeremy’s team trigger the coven’s wards with a literal storm of lightning and beasts, drawing Seraphine’s attention.
- Phase 2: Mara and Hailey infiltrate during the chaos, aiming for the ritual heart of the ruins.
- Phase 3: If Seraphine emerges, You unleash everything*.
The queen seals the plan by slicing her palm and smearing blood across the map. "For Lifire."
Hailey leans in as the others disperse. "Hey. Don’t die before we have that talk."
You smirk. "Wasn’t planning on it."
---
"You start the attack at night.}
Midnight Assault – Duskreach Ruins
The night swallows the valley whole as you stand at the edge of the ruins, the skeletons of blackened towers clawing at the starless sky. The air reeks of spoiled magic and wet earth—like a storm left to rot.
"Ready?" you murmur to Jeremy (still riding Jessica’s body like a stolen bicycle).
He grins, rolling her shoulders. "Born ready."
You raise a hand. The shadows coil around your fingers—Victoria’s Shadowweave—then Elara’s Stormcaller crackles in your veins.
You strike.
---
### PHASE 1: DISTRACTION SQUAD GOES LOUD
- Your opening move: A thunderclap so violent it shatters the ruins’ outer wards. Lightning forks from your fingertips, searing glyphs into the ground as the earth itself trembles.
- Jeremy-in-Jessica cups her hands around her mouth and shrieks—Beast Tamer’s power sending a wave of howls erupting from the forest. Wolves, bears, even a very confused griffin come stampeding toward the coven.
- Lyra’s copy raises her arms, golden light flaring as Holy Prayer shields the royal knights—just as the first volley of cursed arrows rains down from the towers.
From the depths of the ruins, a laugh echoes—honeyed and horrible.
"Little heroes." Seraphine’s voice is everywhere at once, the shadows pooling into a towering figure above the broken spires. "You brought me toys!"
---
### PHASE 2: STEALTH TEAM MOVES
- Mara is already gone—just a flicker of motion in the periphery, Moonlight Dance making her a ghost among ghosts.
- Hailey cracks her knuckles, then bolts toward a side passage—not sneaking. Sprinting. Like she wants to be seen.
- Alex ducks behind a pillar, her stolen coven relic humming as she Reverse Engineers the ruin’s traps one by one.
---
### SERAPHINE STRIKES BACK
The shadow-figure descends, her form solidifying into a woman with Seraphine’s face—but wrong. Too many teeth. Eyes like pits. She flicks a wrist, and the ground erupts with skeletal hands, dragging three knights under in seconds.
"I’ve tasted your souls already," she croons, lashing a whip of violet fire toward you. "Let’s see how you burn—"
---
{Counter with a mix of Stormcaller and Hearthfire.}
You dig your heels into the cracked earth and let go.
Stormcaller erupts first—a spear of white-hot lightning lancing from the sky straight toward Seraphine’s whip of violet fire. The collision shatters the darkness, the concussion wave sending cultists flying like ragdolls.
But lightning alone won’t be enough.
So you reach deeper—to Lena’s Hearthfire, warm and steady in your chest. The flames that spill from your palms aren’t destructive; they’re living. They coil around the lightning like a lover’s embrace, turning the raw fury of the storm into something worse for Seraphine—purification.
Her whip screams as the flames crawl up its length, a sound like glass breaking in reverse. The shadow-figure recoils, her form flickering—
"You ignorant child—" she snarls, but the Hearthfire doesn’t stop. It spreads, clinging to her essence like holy kerosene.
---
### HAILEY’S GAMBIT
While Seraphine’s distracted, Hailey leaps onto the central ritual altar—where a pulsing, blackened heart throbs with cursed energy. She doesn’t hesitate.
She stabs it.
Not with a blade.
With her bare hand.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then—
Hailey’s body convulses, her spine arching as black veins explode across her skin.
"Huh," she grits out, grinning through the pain. "Guess Corruption Eater works on god-tier curses too."
---
{Unleash a fully mixed version of the Blessings inside of you.}
You don’t hesitate.
"Everyone back!" you roar—then let go of every limit.
The souls inside you scream in unison as you force their blessings to merge:
- Stormcaller’s lightning twists with Hearthfire’s purity, becoming a storm that burns but does not consume.
- Holy Prayer’s golden light fuses with Shadowweave’s darkness, creating a paradox—shadows that heal, light that blinds.
- Moonlight Dance’s agility melds with Dog of War’s endurance, turning your body into a weapon of impossible precision.
The power ruptures out of you in a tidal wave of contradiction, a kaleidoscope of magic that should not exist.
It hits Seraphine like a fist of god.
Her shadow-form shatters, her scream fracturing into a thousand echoes as the merged blessings unmake her. The ruins quake, the sky splits, and for a single, blinding moment—
The curse breaks.
A pulse of golden light washes over the land, the withered trees groaning as life floods back into their roots. The knights gasp as old wounds close; the air itself sings.
And then—
Hailey collapses, the black veins receding from her skin as the last of the curse dissipates from her body.
---
{You pass out, the last you hear is someone calling you, "Dumbass."}
Darkness swallows you whole—but not before you hear Hailey’s voice, fond and exasperated, cutting through the fog:
"Dumbass."
Then—nothing.
---
### AWAKENING
You come to in a sunlit room, the scent of herbs and fresh linen thick in the air. Your body aches like you’ve been trampled by a cavalry, but you’re alive.
"Took you long enough," Hailey mutters from the chair beside your bed. There’s a bandage peeking under her sleeve, her old injury freshly stitched—but she’s smirking. "You’ve been out for three days. The queen’s been freaking out."
Kestra’s soul stirs in your mind, groggy but smug. "Oh good. We’re not dead."
Through the window, you see a kingdom healing—men and women working side by side in the fields, children laughing in streets no longer shadowed by plague.
---
{Check your soul. "Everyone okay. (Each merged soul answers back in an uniquely them way.)}
You close your eyes and reach inward, listening to the choir of souls housed within you—each responding in turn:
- Kestra purrs like a satisfied cat: "Oh honey, I’m fantastic. Especially now that we’re local heroes."
- Lena’s voice is warm as ever: "We’re all here. And… it’s kind of nice, honestly. Like a really weird sleepover."
- Victoria cackles: "Ugh. Do not make it sound wholesome. But yeah, I’m good."
- Lyra chimes in, bright as a hymn: "Divine blessings intact! Though, ah… please never do that again?"
- Siris grunts: "Still standing. And pissed I missed the final fight."
- Mara sighs dreamily: "Watching you annihilate a centuries-old curse? Best job I ever had."
- Elara hums, regal but amused: "Mother sends her regards. Also, she might adopt you."
Hailey raises a brow as you smirk. "What?"
"Just taking roll call," you say.
She snorts. "Freak."
---
{"So about that talk." You say. And the two of talk about every for the rest of the day}
The two of you talk—really talk—for the first time in years.
Hailey sits on the edge of your bed, sunlight streaming through the window as she unpacks it all: the anger, the grief, the way she hated you for leaving but missed you anyway. You tell her about the guilt, the therapy, the way your parents’ "fixes" only made it worse. There are tears. There’s yelling. There’s a very awkward moment when Jeremy tries to barge in with a tray of "emotional support snacks" and gets a pillow thrown at his head.
But by the time the sun sets, something unclenches in your chest.
"So," Hailey says, kicking her feet up on your mattress. "What now? You’re basically a demigod here. I’m stuck in Fantasyland with zero marketable skills. Do we, like… rebuild?"
Kestra’s soul pipes up: "Or we conquer. Just saying."
Hailey rolls her eyes. "I heard that."
---
{"Even if a way home is found I think I will stay here. My plan is to travel the world, helping those that need it. Your welcome to join me." You tell her.
She shakes her head, "I have people who need me, but you need someone to keep you alive, so let this me join your little collection and the copy can go home in my place. My copy can even say she met you in passing and she learned the truth and made up with you." She replies.
(Scene ends with you on a pier about to start your travels. Everyone is there to see you off.)}
### FINAL SCENE: THE PIER
The morning sun glitters on the harbor as you stand at the edge of the dock, sea breeze tugging at your cloak. The entire crew—your crew—has gathered to see you off:
- Jeremy is in (reluctant) possession of a seagull, flapping wildly as he squawks about "optimal wind currents."
- Jessica rolls her eyes but hands you a carefully wrapped bundle of supplies. "Try not to drown."
- Lena’s copy hugs you tight, whispering, "She likes you, you know." (You pretend not to hear.)
- Ms. Petrov gives you a rare smile. "Try not to destroy any more kingdoms."
- Alex shoves a sketchy-looking homemade compass into your hands. "It might lead to other cursed artifacts. Or explode. 50/50."
- Cara winks. "If you find any shiny cursed artifacts, I get first dibs."
- The queen clasps your shoulder. "Lifire will always shelter you."
Then there’s Hailey—or rather, the copy of Hailey, who gives you a cheeky salute before turning back toward the palace. The real Hailey is already inside you, her soul settling alongside the others with a contented sigh.
"Alright, loser," she murmurs in your mind. "Where to first?"
You grin, adjusting your bag.
"Wherever the wind takes us."
And as the ship pulls away from the dock, Kestra’s voice—ever the opportunist—chirps:
"I call dibs on the first treasure hoard we find."
---
{You return from your travels a couple of years later, (with a pirate captain named Elizabeth and a Blind Shrine Maiden named Sakura added into your collection), to ask the Queen for help. "Seraphina and her curse were a pawn and worse than that, we found another pawn with an equally deadly curse. Its located in the Icey Kingdom in the North, contained for now. If that was already bad enough, I suspect that there are others. One for each of the seven kindoms."
(Elizabeth's copy was executed a week after you added her, Sakura's copy was killed in a robbery after you added her.
Elizabeth's Blessing: Tiderider
Sakura's Blessing: Seer)}
RETURN TO LIFIRE – TWO YEARS LATER
The palace guards stiffen as you stride through the gilded gates—older, wearier, and flanked by two new souls whispering in your mind:
- Elizabeth, the tempest-eyed pirate captain, whose Tiderider blessing lets her command waves like a vengeful siren. "Ugh. Royalty. Hope the queen’s got decent booze this time."
- Sakura, the blind shrine maiden, her Seer blessing humming with eerie prescience. "The northern ice is already cracking… We’re not fast enough."
Queen Isolda rises from her throne, her gaze sharpening at your grim expression. "You look like death walking."
You toss a frost-rimed journal onto the marble floor—pages splayed to reveal sketches of a glacier prison, its dark core pulsing with the same cursed energy as Seraphine’s ruins.
"Seraphine was a pawn," you say. "And we found another. The Ice Kingdom’s barely containing theirs. I’d bet my soul there’s five more."
Princess Elara’s soul recoils. "A network of curses?"
Hailey’s voice is taut. "This just became a global problem."
---
{"Petrov, do you remember the seven sins?" You ask.}
Ms. Petrov's eyes narrow, her fingers tightening around her ledger. "Pride, Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth," she recites, her voice sharp. "You think Seraphine's curse was just one piece of a larger system?"
You nod. "And not just any system—an engineered one." You flip the frost-crusted journal open to a page where Sakura's meticulous notes map out the seven kingdoms—each with a curse manifesting differently, but all carrying the same taint.
"Seraphine was Wrath," you say, tapping the sketch of her ruins. "The Ice Kingdom's curse? Gluttony. It doesn't just kill—it consumes, leaving frozen husks."
Kestra's soul hisses. "So some psycho built a world-ending machine out of sins?"
Hailey, restless in your mind, adds, "And we’ve got front-row seats to the collapse."
---
{"You majesty, to the best of your knowledge which sin would fit each kingdom, given what we currently know." You ask.}
The queen hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of her throne as she consults centuries of kingdom lore. "If we follow the pattern..."
She lists them, one by one:
1. Lifire (Wrath) – "An all-consuming vengeance. Seraphine’s curse burned inward, killing men first, then the land itself."
2. The Ice Reaches (Gluttony) – "The northern reports speak of villages vanishing overnight—swallowed by the snow, as if hungry."
3. The Verdant Expanse (Envy) – "Their crops grow unnaturally abundant, but those who eat them wither, coveting the health of their neighbors."
4. The Ashwind Dominion (Pride) – "Their rulers never age, never fall ill… but their people crumble to dust at their feet. A supreme arrogance."5. The Chainbreaker Isles (Greed) – "Pirate lords hoard cursed gold, drowning in it. Ships vanish into their coves, never to return."
6. The Hollow Delta (Lust) – "Bewitchments so potent they dissolve minds. Victims waste away chasing phantoms."
7. The Bastion of Stone (Sloth) – "A kingdom where time itself crawls. Citizens lie down one day… and never rise."
A chilling silence follows.
Sakura’s soul trembles. "Seven curses. Seven thrones. A perfect circle of ruin."
---
{"I plan to return to the Ice Reaches because I promised to help them, Hailey's Corruption Eater combined with Lena's Hearthfire gave a fighting chance. If you could spare a summoner so they can preform a summoning ritual, it would be apreciated. Also Petrov, you might be the best suited to aid the Hollow Delta, I would take a summoner as well. What I have learned is the summoning ritual does respond to intent."}
The queen exhales sharply, her fingers tightening around the arms of her throne before she gives a single, decisive nod. "You’ll have your summoners. And you’re right—intent shapes the ritual." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "Discipline Authority will be vital in the Delta. If their curse seduces minds, then command may be the only counterbalance."
Ms. Petrov adjusts her glasses with a faint smirk. "Finally, a civilization that needs a stern lecture."
One of the younger summoners—Lyra’s former apprentice—steps forward, clutching a grimoire to her chest. "I’ll go to the Ice Reaches with you," she says, trying (and failing) to hide the tremor in her voice. "I-it’s not like we’ve got better options."
"And I, Dyena" rumbles a grizzled summoner with a scar over one eye, "will endure the Delta’s charms." He nods to Ms. Petrov. "Try not to discipline me by accident."
Hailey’s soul stirs, restless. "So we’re splitting the party. Classic horror-movie rules. What could go wrong?"
Kestra’s laugh is all teeth. "Ohhh, this’ll be fun."
---
{Before you leave you ask about the rest of your class.}
"And my classmates?" You ask, chest tightening at the thought. "How are they?"
The queen's expression softens—just slightly—as she gestures for an attendant to hand you a scroll of reports.
### STATUS OF YOUR CLASS:
- Jeremy: Now the royal "Isekai Consultant" (a job he definitely invented). Uses Skill Share to train knights and avoid actual work. (Still flirts with Jessica daily.)
- Jessica: Runs the kingdom’s fledgling Beast Tamer Corps. Her direwolf pups are almost as terrifying as her glare when Jeremy’s being an idiot.
- Lena (Copy): Oversees Lifire’s restored farmlands with Hearthfire, coaxing life from once-blighted soil. (Still blushes when your name comes up.)
- Victoria (Copy): Leads the "Nightweavers"—elite spies using Shadowweave to infiltrate rival courts. (Very invested in blackmail.)
- Cara: Now the queen’s "diplomat" (read: professional swindler). Uses Silvertongue to negotiate outrageously favorable trade deals.
- Alex: Head of the Arcane Research Division. Currently devising a way to "weaponize" Reverse Engineer. (The queen is concerned.)
- Ms. Petrov: Promoted to Grand Inquisitor. Her Discipline Authority keeps the royal court in line. (No one dares skip meetings now.)
"Alive," the queen summarizes. "Thriving, even. And your stunt with the goddess made them all... louder."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Good. They’re all our legacy now."
---
{Send a letter, telling of the situation. You and your assigned summoner leave later that same day.}
Your pen moves swiftly across parchment, detailing the discovery of the seven curses—Wrath already felled, Gluttony looming in the north, five more lurking like coiled serpents. You leave out the worst of your suspicions (the architect, the scale of the doom) but make it clear: this is far from over. The letters are sealed with a drop of Hearthfire, ensuring only their intended recipients can break the wax.
As the sun dips below the palace walls, you shoulder your pack—now laden with frost-warding charms and the young summoner’s grimoire. Your assigned summoner, Ryn, clutches her staff with white-knuckled determination. "...Do you really think we can stop this?"
Elizabeth’s soul laughs darkly. "We’ll drown the curse in salt and blood if we have to."
Sakura whispers: "The ice is already sighing. We must hurry."
With a final glance at Lifire’s glittering towers, you step onto the northern road.
---
{As Elizabeth's crew tske you back North, Ryn comes up beside you. "Would be alright if I join Big Sis Lyra "}
The moment the words leave Ryn's mouth, Lyra's soul practically vibrates with joy inside you, her divine warmth pulsing like an overexcited heartbeat.
"YES! Oh, please say yes—! Wait, no, don’t pressure her—but also yes—"
You smirk. "Lyra’s already drafting the adoption papers in my head."
Ryn blinks, then grins—bold for the first time since the palace. "Then it’s settled." She presses her palm to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as she murmurs the binding words of the merging ritual.
The moment her soul slips into yours, Lyra tackles her with a psychic hug.
"Welcome to the chaos, little sister!"
Kestra sighs. "We’re running a soul orphanage now? Fine. But I get to teach her to pick locks."
Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp as a cutlass: "Enough squawking. Ice ahead."
Sure enough, the horizon bleeds into a wall of impossible glaciers, their jagged peaks biting the sky—and deep within, something gnaws at its chains.
---
{"Hey Lucy, can I borrow a smite." You say invoking Lyra's blessing, The Goddess (Lucina, she told you one day during your travels) humors you.}
You raise your hands toward the sky, channeling Lyra’s Holy Prayer, and call out with a grin:
"Hey Lucy—can I borrow a smite?"
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then—
A titanic, glowing foot crushes a nearby iceberg into powder as the goddess Lucina materializes mid-air—though "materializes" might be generous, given that she immediately trips on her own robe and faceplants into the deck.
"Ow," she grumbles, rubbing her nose as she floats upright. "You’re lucky I was already watching. Also, since when do mortals nickname me?!"
Ryn (the newest soul in your collection) squeaks. "We’re casual with a deity?!"
Kestra smirks. "Oh, just wait till you see what’s next."
Lucina rolls her eyes—then freezes as she senses the wrongness bleeding from the glacier ahead. Her usual air of divine whimsy evaporates.
"...Oh. That’s Gluttony?" She shudders. "It reeksss of old magic. Not mine. Older."
---
{"There's five others." You tell her.}
Lucina’s glowing eyes widen, her usual clumsiness momentarily forgotten as the weight of your words settles over her. The air around her shimmers with agitated divine energy, like disturbed water.
"Five more?" Her voice drops to a whisper—something you’ve never heard from her before. "That’s not just a curse. That’s a weapon. A scalpel." She floats closer, her fingers twitching toward the glacier. "Someone shaped this. And they had to be…" She hesitates, then looks truly unsettled. "Stronger than me."
A cold that has nothing to do with the ice slithers down your spine.
Kestra’s soul is uncharacteristically quiet. "...Shit."
Hailey’s voice is grim. "Yeah. Shit."
---
{"Doesn't change the plan, we still have to end the curses. But at least we have scale of the problem now." You grunt.}
Lucina stares at you for a long moment—then bursts into laughter, the sound like silver bells and shattering ice. "Mortals. Truly my favorite kind of disaster." She flicks a hand, and a ripple of golden light punches a hole straight through the glacier ahead, exposing its pulsing, blackened core.
"There. A door." She grins. "Now go stab the problem until it stops moving."
Before you can react, she boops your forehead—her blessing flaring in your veins like liquid sunlight—and vanishes, leaving behind only the echo of her voice:
"P.S. If you die, I’ll bring you back just to yell at you."
Hailey’s soul cracks her knuckles. "Alright. Let’s eat a curse."
---
{"ANYONE NOT NECESSARY FOR NAVIGATION, GUARD RYN UNTIL THE HERO IS SUMMONED." You shout out the order as frozen undead creatures begin to board.}
### BATTLE FOR THE RITUAL
Your voice booms across the deck, cutting through the howling winds. Instantly, the crew snaps into action.
- Elizabeth’s pirates form a steel ring around Ryn, cutlasses and pistols glinting under the shifting auroras.
- Sakura’s soul flares inside you—her Seer blessing casting ghostly premonitions that let the crew strike where the undead will be, not where they are.
- Hailey braces beside you, crackling with Corruption Eater’s volatile energy. "I’ll bite anything that gets too close."
Then the ice-walkers come.
Shambling corpses with frosted, hollowed-out ribs and eyes like frozen voids swarm the ship’s railings. Their jaws unhinge with a sound like splintering glaciers, and the very air around them sags—as if reality itself is being consumed.
Ryn’s voice shakes as she chants, the summoning circle at her feet flaring brighter. "I—I need two more minutes—"
A towering undead lurches past the defenders, its claw swiping for her—
---
{You intercept letting Hailey's Blessing flow through you. The hero summoned is Eric (now allowed to be summoned), who because of your intent has knowledge of the situation at hand}
### FROSTBITE AND FURY
You hurl yourself in front of Ryn, Kestra’s body twisting mid-air to take the undead’s full strike—raking claws bury into your torso, an immediate, gnawing cold seeping into your core. The curse burns like swallowed knives, but—
Hailey’s power erupts through you.
Black veins spiderweb across your skin as Corruption Eater locks onto Gluttony’s curse—devouring the decay before it can consume you. The undead’s hollow eyes widen as its stolen energy is ripped backward, surging into you instead. Its body shatters into brittle frost.
Ryn’s scream cuts through the chaos: "IT’S DONE!"
The summoning circle implodes with blinding light—and Eric tumbles onto the deck.
---
### HERO SUMMONED: ERIC
He looks exactly like he did in class—muscled, cocky, already scowling. But his glare snaps to the undead horde, his body instinctively shifting into a fighter’s stance. "Oh, hell no."
His blessing flares to life above his palm—a swirling sigil of Brute’s Will (passive: grows stronger the longer he’s in combat). "So. We punch the cursed snow zombies?"
Ryn pants, grinning wildly. "YES."
---
{After the fight, as your docking.
You ask about Earth.
Eric explains that 15 years have gone by since the class was intially summoned, leaving only him behind. "The class was declared dead, since no one came back. But thanks to Haliey's copy, who returned a year after with letters from you all, the fate of the class was finally reveal. I was angry at first, that despite the summoning being meant only for the girls, you and the idiot still got sucked up but then I heard you both lost your bodies so the summon could work I became glad I wasn't included."}
### AFTERMATH – THE HARBOR OF FROZEN TEARS
The ship groans as it scrapes against the glacial dock, the remnants of the undead horde now shattered across the ice like discarded glass. The air still hums with residual curse-energy, but the immediate threat is over—for now. Eric leans against the railing beside you, his breath fogging in the subzero air, his Brute’s Will blessing still pulsing faintly under his skin.
The revelation about Earth sits heavy between you.
"Fifteen years..." You exhale, watching the mist curl and vanish. "We’ve only been here for three."**
Eric’s jaw tightens. "Time’s fucked. No one knows why, but the portal screwed with it. Everyone back home thought you were gone—until Hailey’s copy showed up with your letters." He scoffs, but there’s no real heat in it. "At least the families got closure. Well. Most of ‘em."
A pause.
"Jessica’s parents cried when they read hers."
You don’t ask about your own.
Kestra’s soul whispers, "...Damn."
---
THE NEW REALITY:
- Earth moved on. You were mourned. Now? You’re legends in two worlds.
- Eric’s here for good. His blessing makes him stronger the longer he fights—perfect for Gluttony’s endless siege.
- Hailey’s copy lied smoothly. She spun a tale of "heroic sacrifices" and "otherworldly duties," ensuring no one searched for you.
---
{"Alright there's a local that helped me get out that I'm gonna regroup with. He and sister should help you get to the curse bearer." You say steering the conversation back to the curse.}
Eric shrugs, his breath puffing in the frigid air. "Yeah, sure. But just so we're clear—I'm not calling you 'Oh Mighty Slime King' just because you're technically older than me now."
You snort, leading the way down the icy dock toward the ramshackle outpost clinging to the glacier's edge. "His name's Jorvik. Runs supplies between the frozen hellholes up here. His sister, Ylva, is a Berzerker—blessing lets her weaponize cold damage."
Hailey’s soul perks up. "Wait. You befriended a berserker and a smuggler in the two weeks you were here before?"
Kestra cackles. "Duh. We’re likable."
As you approach the moss-chinked wooden doors of the Froststead Inn, a hulking figure draped in frost-laced furs throws them open—Jorvik. His beard is half-frozen, his grin sharp as a wolf's.
"Back already, slippery one?" he booms. "And you brought more doomed heroes! Wonderful!" Behind him, a woman with twin ice-axes glares—Ylva, her breath steaming like a kettle.
"The curse is waking up," she snaps. "You’re just in time to die."
---
{"Eric here was summoned and giving a blessing that makes him ideal to fight Lich King Dravagoth." You tell the pair.}
Ylva's frost-crusted eyelashes narrow as she studies Eric, sizing him up like a cut of meat. "Brute’s Will. Tch. Fine. He’ll last longer than the others."
Jorvik slaps Eric’s shoulder hard enough to stagger him—which, given Eric’s build, is impressive. "Hah! A man who grows stronger the more he’s beaten? Dravagoth will hate you."
Eric scowls, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, great. Love being the bait."
"Not bait," Ylva corrects, hefting her axes. "The distraction." She points to a jagged fissure in the glacier’s face, pulsing with an eerie violet glow. "Dravagoth’s lair is there. Every time we’ve gotten close, his hunger-magic drains us before we land a hit. But you?" She nods to Eric. "The more he takes, the harder you’ll hit back."
Kestra’s soul hums. "Ohhh, so we’re angry-sandwiching him. Classic."
---
{You ask about the failed heroes, "Maybe they didn't have die in vain. Their deaths can tell us about how the curse bearer fights."}
Jorvik and Ylva exchange a glance before the burly supply-runner wipes the frozen snot from his beard with a sigh.
"Four parties tried before you," Jorvik rumbles. "They all made the same mistake—they thought strength alone could break him."
Ylva strides to a battered chest in the corner and kicks it open, revealing four bloodstained weapons, each warped by grotesque frost patterns:
1. A shattered greatsword – "Thurgen. Got three swings in before his muscles withered to rags."
2. A snapped spear – "Liss. Dravagoth ate her mid-lunge. Left the wood."
3. Melted gauntlets – "Torbin. His fire blessing turned inward. Burned his own ribs out."
4. A hollowed-out shield – "Jora. Lasted longest—her defense became his feast."
Eric pales slightly. "So he... consumes strength?"
"Not just strength," Ylva growls. "Effort. Will. Hope. The harder you fight, the richer his meal."
Kestra’s soul goes unnaturally still. "...That’s not just Gluttony. That’s Despair masquerading as hunger."
---
{You watch as Eric picks up each relic, you can see the echoes of others forming behind him. You realize something, "Eric, your just like Jeremy and I, you collect rage. You were still touched by the portal before you were denied."}
Eric freezes—literally, ice crackling along his knuckles where he grips Thurgen’s greatsword. The air around him wavers with spectral heat, and for a fleeting moment, the shadows of the fallen heroes seem to solidify behind him—their postures tense, their faces contorted in battle cries.
Then it’s gone.
"...The fuck?" Eric’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
You step closer, watching the residual energy coil around him like a second skin. "The summoning marked you, same as me and Jeremy. You didn’t cross over, but the portal licked you on the way past. That’s not just Brute’s Will—it’s Wrath’s Legacy."
Jorvik whistles. "A collector of fallen fury. Now that’s a king-killer’s blessing."
Ylva’s axes gleam as she steps into Eric’s space. "Can you use them? The echoes?"
A slow, vicious grin spreads across Eric’s face as the greatsword’s hilt creaks in his grip. "Oh, I’m real motivated to try."
---
"Eric tests his collection, and Thurgen appears to explains to Eric the nature of his collection."
Eric clenches the shattered greatsword tighter—and suddenly, the air ripples like disturbed water. A ghostly figure materializes beside him, clad in the same battered armor as the weapon’s owner once wore.
Thurgen’s Echo stands solid despite his translucent form, his voice gruff but clear. "Boy. You’re holding my rage now." He flexes spectral fingers. "Dravagoth didn’t just kill me—he savored it. Left me alive long enough to taste my despair as my muscles wasted." The echo's eyes burn with cold fire. "But rage outlasts flesh."
He slams a fist against Eric’s chest—not to harm, but to ignite.
Eric gasps as Thurgen’s fury floods into him, his Brute’s Will flaring crimson. His muscles swell with borrowed strength, veins bulging with the echo’s vengeance.
"Holy shit," Eric breathes.
Thurgen’s grin is lethal. "Now imagine all four of us."
One by one, the other fallen heroes step forward—their phantom hands reaching to lend their wrath.
---
{"This changes things." You say.}
The room seems to hum with the weight of revelation—Eric standing there, crackling with borrowed fury, the fallen warriors’ echoes flickering around him like vengeful ghosts. Hailey’s voice in your mind is uncharacteristically subdued.
"So we’re not just breaking the curse. We’re giving the dead their vengeance too."
Jorvik lets out a booming laugh. "Hah! Now I see why the gods spat you lot into our world." He claps Eric’s shoulder—harder this time—knocking loose a few snowflakes of lingering frost. "You’re not just fighting the Lich King. You’re his reckoning."
Ylva, who’d been silently gripping her axes, finally smirks. "Fine. New plan. Eric lures Dravagoth into the open by pissing him off—"
"How is that different from my usual routine?" Eric mutters.
"—while you," she continues, ignoring him and pointing at you, "slip inside his defenses when he’s distracted. His hunger will be a weapon against him this time."
Kestra’s soul practically vibrates with excitement. "Oh, this is delicious. A lich getting outplayed by his own curse."
---
{You realize something, "Hey Lucy, are Eric, Jeremy and I gonna ascend?" She appears and considers your question. "Jeremy could qualify as a god of thieves, Eric would qualify as a god of rage or battle, and you would qualify as a god of souls or bonds."}
Lucina materializes mid-air—only this time, she doesn’t trip. Instead, she hovers there, silver hair drifting as if underwater, her gaze suddenly older than the glaciers outside.
"Oh. You noticed."
She spins lazily, tapping her chin. "Jeremy, absolutely. The little gremlin’s already halfway to godhood just by how annoyingly he exploits his powers. God of Thieves? Trickier? Either works."
Her eyes flick to Eric. "And you—" She gestures at the lingering echoes around him. "—Rage and Retribution fit like a glove. Maybe even War, if you survive the next century."
Then she grins at you. "As for you, Soul-Hoarding Wonder... yeah. You’re already Ascended in all but title. Bonds, Souls, maybe even Legacy."
A beat.
"But." She holds up a finger. "You don’t want it yet. Gods don’t get to play like mortals do. Rules and all that."
Kestra’s soul sighs. "Ugh. Divine paperwork."
---
{"As long as these curses still exist, I'm not interested in ascention. It just seemed like we are meant to with only us three getting collections."}
Lucina's lips quirk into a knowing smile, her divine presence flickering like candlelight. "Smart. True gods can't directly interfere with mortal curses—too many rules. But you? You're still gloriously, chaotically mortal enough to break the unbreakable." Her grin turns sharp. "Fate hates that. It's hilarious."
She flicks Eric's forehead as she fades out. "Go wreck a lich, then. We'll chat about godhood after you've finished cheating destiny."
Kestra's voice curls in your mind, smug. "Oh, we're so keeping her as our patron goddess."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we have to win, or we'll look like assholes in front of divinity."
---
{"Okay Eric runs as bait and the main attacker, he keeps Dravagoth attention. I run support with Corruption Eater and Heartfire. Everyone else just keeps the fodder off of us." You go over the plan.}
Ylva nods sharply, hefting her axes. "Bait and blade. Bold. I like it."
Jorvik chuckles, cracking his knuckles. "Aye, we’ll keep the gnawing dead off your backs. Just don’t die before the fun part."
Eric rolls his shoulders, the echoes of fallen heroes solidifying around him like a spectral war banner. "Alright, fuck it. Let’s piss off a lich."
### THE ASSAULT BEGINS
You breach Dravagoth’s lair—a cavern of living ice, its walls pulsing with a sickly violet glow. The moment you step inside, the air thins, as if the very atmosphere is being consumed.
Then he appears.
Dravagoth is emaciated, his skeletal frame draped in robes of frozen shadows, his jaw unhinging too wide as he smiles. "Ah. Dessert."
---
PHASE 1: ERIC DISTRACTION
Eric charges, Thurgen’s greatsword swinging in a blazing arc. Dravagoth laughs as the blade bites into his ribs—then steals the strike’s strength, his hollow chest swelling with stolen vigor.
"Pathetic," the lich croons—until Eric grins.
"Yeah? Eat this."
The four echoes detonate their wrath at once. Dravagoth screeches as the combined fury of his past victims rips through him, ice fracturing under the assault.
---
PHASE 2: YOUR MOVE
While the lich is staggered, you lunge, Hailey’s Corruption Eater flaring black in your grip. Dravagoth’s hunger instinctively reaches for it—
Mistake.
The curse reverses, his own power now feeding into Hailey’s blessing like a siphon. The lich’s eyes widen as his essence is force-vomited back into him, corrupted and searing.
"Now, Lena!" you shout.
Hearthfire erupts from your other palm—not to burn, but to purge. The flames scour the curse from Dravagoth’s core, leaving him hollow, brittle, gasping.
---
PHASE 3: FINISHER
Ylva’s axe shatters his spine.
Jorvik’s spear pins his skull to the ice.
Eric’s fist obliterates his ribcage.
And with a whisper, Sakura’s Seer blessing seals the curse away—"No more feasts."
The glacier groans... then falls silent.
---
AFTERMATH
Eric collapses, panting, the echoes saluting him before fading into peace.
Hailey’s soul staggers in your mind. "Ugh. I think I just ate a king."
Jorvik whistles at the corpse. "Huh. Looks smaller dead."
Kestra cackles. "Five curses to go!"
---
{Ylva come up to you. "Your collection is one of the soul, is it not." You nod. "Then let my rage aid you in your fight."}
Ylva steps forward, her ice-axes gleaming under the pale northern light. She locks eyes with you, then slams the pommels of her axes together—shattering them in a burst of frost.
"A berserker's rage doesn't die with the body," she growls. "If my soul fuels the next fight—take it."
Her breath ghosts between you, sharp as a knife’s edge. "But swear to me—when the last of these curses breaks, you'll let me go."
The weight of her offer settles over the group. Jorvik grimaces but doesn’t stop her. Eric wipes blood from his lip, nodding in respect.
And in your mind, Sakura’s soul whispers: "She won’t survive this war otherwise. She knows."
---
{"Once you merge with my soul that's it, an exact copy of your soul is left in your body to continue your life, while your real soul becomes a part of the chorus of voices." You explain.}
Ylva’s eyes narrow, her breath frosting in the air between you. Then, with a brutal, almost relieved laugh, she slams a fist against her chest.
"Even better. Means I get to watch you win."
She doesn’t wait for your reply. One moment she’s standing before you, axe-scars and battle-lust etched into every line of her body—the next, your slime-form surges forward, swallowing her in a shimmering veil. The merger is violent, her soul kicking like a wild thing before settling into place among the others.
Her voice rings clear in your mind a second later, sharp as a whetstone:
"Took you long enough. Now—let’s go gut the next curse."
A beat.
"...And tell my brother stop crying."
Jorvik, indeed, has a single tear freezing on his beard. He swats it away with a growl. "Shut up, you ice-brained wench. I’ll drink your share of the victory ale."
Ylva’s copy—now standing where she once was—flips him off.
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing Added: Winter’s Howl – Channel Ylva’s berserker fury to amplify physical strikes with glacial force.
- New Voice in the Chorus: Ylva’s commentary is 80% battle tactics, 20% insults.
- Jorvik Now Allies Permanently ("Someone’s gotta keep her ghost in line.")
---
{"I think, I'll stay here for now. Train my rage and collection." Eric tells you. You nod, "I'm heading to the Hollow next, I get the feeling Petrov needs some help." You tell him.}
Eric nods, clenching his fist as the lingering echoes of fallen warriors flicker around him like phantom flames. "Yeah, I’ll get stronger. Make damn sure the next time we fight, I carry the weight." He smirks. "And try not to die before I get there, Soul Boy."
Ylva’s soul scoffs in your mind. "He’ll need more than rage to keep up with us."
Jorvik slings a barrel of ale onto his shoulder. "C’mon, you lumbering oaf. Battle training starts after we drink to my sister’s stubbornness."
---
### ONWARD TO THE HOLLOW DELTA
You turn south, where tangled vines and murky whispers await—toward the kingdom rotting under Lust’s curse. The thought of Ms. Petrov trapped in that honeyed nightmare sends a chill through you.
Kestra stretches luxuriously in your mind. "Ooooh, time to ruin some romantic delusions."
Hailey groans. "Ugh. I’d rather fight more zombies."
---
As Elizabeth's crew sails to the Hollow, you reflect on yourself. (List all merged souls in order with their blessing.)
### YOUR CURRENT COLLECTION OF SOULS & BLESSINGS:
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile) – Master of stealth, lockpicking, and "asset relocation." Voice: Smug and eternally plotting.
2. Lena (Hearthfire) – Healing flames that purify rather than burn. Voice: Warm, nurturing, low-key crushing on you.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave) – Controls darkness like tangible threads. Voice: Sarcastic, flirtatious, loves drama.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer) – Channels divine miracles. Voice: Cheerful, devout, occasionally scolds you for recklessness.
5. Siris (Dog of War) – Strength multiplies when defending others. Voice: Stoic, loyal, perpetually unimpressed.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance) – Moves unseen; lethal precision. Voice: Playful, bloodthirsty, loves backstabbing.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller) – Commands wind and lightning. Voice: Regal, dryly amused, fond of sarcasm.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater) – Devours and inverts curses. Voice: Snarky, protective, trauma-bonded.
9. Sakura (Seer) – Visions of past, present, and possible futures. Voice: Eerie, soft-spoken, ominous.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider) – Commands waves and storms. Voice: Bold, ruthless, pirate-queen energy.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact) – Enhances ritual magic and soul bonds. Voice: Nerdy, excitable, Lyra’s adopted little sister.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl) – Berserker rage infused with glacial force. Voice: Brutal, blunt, zero patience for cowardice without purpose.
---
CURRENT COPY SOULS (LEFT BEHIND IN THEIR BODIES):
- Lena, Victoria, Elara, Hailey, Ylva, etc. – Living their "normal" lives, aware of their true selves’ merger with you.
---
### REFLECTION:
You feel the weight—and whispers—of them all, a chorus of personalities and powers woven into your being.
Kestra snickers. "We’re a full-blown pantheon at this point."
Lyra sighs. "A very unorthodox one."
Hailey mutters, "Gods. Weirdest. Road trip. Ever."
---
{"At least with having multiple souls, Lust won't be as strong on us." You say.}
Hailey’s soul scoffs in your mind, but there’s a flicker of unease beneath the bravado. "Yeah, well, don’t get cocky. Lust isn’t just desire—it’s obsession. And it adapts."
Kestra’s chuckle is dark. "Mmm, but imagine me seducing the curse. Bet I could make it blush."
Lyra groans. "Please don’t flirt with existential corruption."
As the ship cuts through the mist-laden waters toward the Delta’s tangled shores, Sakura’s Seer blessing stirs, offering fragmented glimpses of what awaits:
- Vines that whisper your name in voices you love.
- Pools of liquid mirror showing perfect versions of your life.
- Ms. Petrov, silhouetted in a gilded cage, her Discipline Authority warped into something hungry.
Ylva’s soul growls. "Tch. Sounds annoying."
---
{"Time to rescue Petrov, if she's in danger."}
"Then let’s move fast," Hailey’s voice cuts in, sharp with urgency. "Every second we waste, the curse digs its claws deeper."
Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the ship slicing through the water with unnatural speed as vines from the Delta’s shores twitch toward you, as if sensing fresh prey. The air thickens with the scent of overripe fruit and salt—a trap disguised as paradise.
Sakura’s whispers grow louder. "She’s in the heart of the Delta’s capital. The locals call it the Gilded Cage—a palace of mirrors and desire."
Kestra licks her lips. "Ooooh, heist time."
---
{"Lets group with the Hero Petrov would've summoned." You find Dyena slightly dazed, which you have Hailey eat before sending him.back to the ahip with instructions to leave at sunset to avoid the curse. You see the hero summoned is Victoria's Excorist Mom.}
The moment you breach the Delta’s cursed capital, you find Dyena—the summoner who accompanied Ms. Petrov—slumped against a gilded pillar, his eyes glassy and sweat-drenched, fingers twitching toward phantom whispers. Hailey doesn’t hesitate; her Corruption Eater lashes out like a striking viper, devouring the lust-curse fogging his mind. He gasps, the delirium clearing just long enough for him to rasp, "T-the Cage… she’s… still fighting—"
You send him back to the ship with orders to flee at sunset—just as the summoning circle at his feet explodes with violet light.
Out steps a woman in a tailored exorcist’s coat, her raven-black hair streaked with silver, her gloved fingers already spinning a blessed talisman.
"Oh, fantastic," Victoria’s soul groans in your head. "Mom’s here."
Exorcist Naoko cracks her neck, her gaze sweeping the rotting opulence of the Delta before landing on you. "So. You’re the soul-hoarding delinquent my daughter merged with." A smirk. "Let’s go save your teacher."
---
ADVANTAGES:
- Naoko’s Blessing: Purge Demon – Her talismans sever psychic and supernatural bonds.
- Victoria’s Trauma: "She’s scarier than the curse, just FYI."
- Kestra’s Observation: "Damn. No wonder Vicky’s kinky."
{"Sakura can you guide us to Petrov."}
Sakura’s soul shimmers within you, her Seer’s vision unfurling like a silken thread through the twisted maze of the Delta.
"She’s close," she murmurs, her voice distant, as if listening to a song only she can hear. "Past the Hall of Mirrors, where the vines coil the tightest—where the curse sings the sweetest. She resists… for now."*
Her sight cuts through the illusions, revealing the path:
- Mirrors that whisper your deepest desires—ignore them.
- Floors that shift like quicksand—step only where Sakura guides.
- A door at the hall’s end, pulsing with gilded rot—Petrov is behind it.
Naoko’s talismans already glow in her hands, her voice clipped. "Lead the way, Seer."
Kestra grins. "Love it when the scary lady’s on our side."
---
{Sneak as Naoko strikes}
"Move like shadows," Naoko murmurs, her talismans humming between her fingers.
You nod—and with Kestra’s Thief’s Guile and Mara’s Moonlight Dance, your steps become utterly silent, your form flickering at the edges like a half-remembered dream. Behind you, Naoko moves with eerie precision, her coat barely stirring as she presses a talisman to every mirror you pass, stifling their whispers before they can betray your presence.
The halls warp around you:
- A mirror offers you Lena’s copy, smiling, reaching out—Naoko slaps a talisman on it. The image shatters.
- The floor yearns to pull you under—Sakura signals the safe path with a pulse of light.
- Victoria’s shadow weave unravels behind you, casting phantom footsteps away from your true trajectory.
Then—the door. Oozing golden sap, its surface breathes.
Naoko flicks two talismans into the air. "On three. Muffle and strike."
---
{You mean to pick the lock when Naoko kicks the door in.}
"Wha—wait—!" You hiss, but it’s too late.
Naoko’s boot smashes into the gilded door with a crack like splitting bone, the wood splintering inward as her talismans detonate in tandem. The cursed sap sealing the frame screams, recoiling as her holy fire scorches it to ash.
Kestra’s outraged shriek fills your mind. "I WAS GONNA DO A COOL THING—"
The door collapses.
Inside, Ms. Petrov is not how you remember her.
Chained to a throne of entwined vines, her typically pristine blouse is undone at the collar, her lips stained with some shimmering poison, her eyes glowing violet. Her Discipline Authority has been twisted—instead of commanding order, the air around her pulses with addictive compulsion.
"Oh shit," Hailey mutters.
Petrov’s head lolls toward you, a drunk, languid smile spreading. "Daniel~ You finally came to misbehave?"
Naoko doesn’t miss a beat. "Exorcism Protocol Alpha." She flicks a talisman straight for Petrov’s forehead—
---
{Have Corruption Eater work alongside Naoko}
"Naoko! Sync with Hailey—now!" you bark.
The exorcist doesn’t hesitate. She slaps the talisman onto Petrov’s brow—not to purify, but to anchor her—as Hailey’s Corruption Eater surges forward from your fingertips like black lightning. The two powers collide inside Petrov’s psyche:
- Naoko’s purge binds the curse in place, forcing it into solid, severable strands.
- Hailey’s hunger clamps down, not just eating the corruption, but dissecting it with surgical precision.
Petrov arches off the throne, a guttural scream tearing from her throat as violet ichor seeps from her pores. The vines around her turn to brittle husks, the throne collapsing into dust—
Then it’s over.
She slumps into your arms, gasping. Her eyes, when they open, are hers again—clear, livid, and deeply embarrassed.
"...Not. A. Word," she rasps, wiping the ichor from her lips.
Naoko exhales, rolling her shoulders. "Hmph. Good job, kid."
Hailey, meanwhile, is gagging in your mind. "Ugh. Tastes like perfume and regret."
---
{Petrov asks to join your collection, "Lust will return, and its cursebearer is smart and adapts soon enough I'll be back in that state."}
Petrov straightens her rumpled blouse with trembling hands, her usual steel returning to her voice despite the exhaustion lining her face. "I won’t be a liability or a hostage again. If this curse can bend my blessing once, it’ll do worse next time." She meets your gaze, unflinching. "Merge with me. Leave my copy to rebuild the Delta’s defenses. The real me will be your weapon."
Naoko’s eyebrow arches. "Finally, someone sensible about possession."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Even I didn’t see that coming."
---
{"Alright but can I have first name."}
Petrov glares at you, a flicker of her infamous temper cutting through the lingering haze of the curse. "It's Irina," she mutters, as if confessing to a crime. "But if you ever use it in class, detention will be eternal."
Then she steps forward, pressing her palm to your chest. "Now hurry up. We have curses to break."
The merger is swift—Discipline Authority slots into your soul-collection like a final puzzle piece, its rigid structure now laced with the stubborn resilience that’s kept Irina Petrov standing through decades of teaching hormonal teenagers and, now, world-ending schemes.
Her voice is the last to join the chorus, crisp and no-nonsense: "Prioritize efficiency. Sentiment is for after we survive."
Kestra cackles. "Welcome to the party, Irina."
Hailey groans. "Great. Now we have two moms."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing: Discipline’s Edge (Commands absolute focus—yours or your enemies’).
- New Voice: "Stop slouching." / "Stop licking curses, Hailey." / "Why is there a pirate in here?!"
---
{Turn to Naoko, "So have pictures of baby Tori."
She sighs almost sadly, "All the cute ones are back home."}
Turning to Naoko with a grin, you quip, "So... got any pictures of baby Tori?"
Naoko pauses mid-talisman check, her stern composure slipping just enough for a flicker of maternal exhaustion—and fondness—to show. She sighs, almost wistfully. "All the cute ones are back home." For the briefest second, her fingers twitch toward a nonexistent pocket, as if reaching for a wallet that isn’t there.
Victoria’s soul shrieks in your head:
"OH MY GOD, MOM—NOT HERE—"
Kestra cackles. "Pfff. Ghost mom still embarrasses her."
Then Naoko’s glare shuts down the moment. "Focus. Or I will show the class her bath photos."
---
{Turn the the copy in Irina, "So how did you get caught."}
The copy of Irina Petrov—left behind in her original body—crosses her arms, her expression a mix of irritation and grudging respect. "The curse didn’t seduce me. It tricked me."
She exhales sharply, straightening her blouse with a crisp tug. "I thought I was containing it. Using my Discipline Authority to force the curse into a single host—a nobleman who’d already succumbed. But the moment I commanded it..." Her jaw tightens. "It reversed my blessing. Turned my own power against me. Instead of imposing order, I became the source of chaos."
Naoko’s eyes narrow. "Clever. It weaponized your strength."
The copy nods. "Exactly. And it’ll do the same to you if you’re not careful."
Hailey’s soul scoffs. "Joke’s on it. We’re the chaos now."
---
CRUCIAL INTEL:
- The curse inverts blessings that try to control it.
- Its bearer is watching. Adapting.
- Petrov’s copy managed to shield the Delta’s children before she was captured. ("Priorities," she mutters.)
---
{"Alright, I've had Dyena tell Elizaberh's creww to set sail at sunset to avoid falling to the curse."}
"Smart," the copy of Irina nods, her stern approval sharpening into tactical focus. "The curse is weakest at dawn and dusk—when hunger and indulgence blur. If we time our strike right, we can exploit that."
Naoko flicks a talisman between her fingers, the paper igniting briefly before she crushes it to ash. "Then we have until sunset to do real damage."
YOUR CURRENT POSITION:
- Elizabeth’s crew is already moving, the ship’s sails catching the fading light as they retreat to safer waters.
- The Delta’s capital is half-purged—its gilded vines brittle, its mirrors cracked, but the core of Lust’s curse still pulses somewhere in its heart.
- Petrov’s intel confirms the cursebearer is adapting, not fleeing.
---
{"We know Naoko blessing is uniquely tailored for the cursebearer." You say as you recount your adventure in the Reaches with Eric, how the blessing he was given was a perfect counter to Dravagoth's wear them down to kill them. "Hell even Hailey's Corruption Eater was perfect for when we fought Seraphina, as when she used it, I was given the open I need to overpower her with my blessing overload, meaning I was also likely a perect counter for Seraphina."}
The realization settles over the group like a frozen breath—those sharp, crystalline moments where purpose clicks into place.
Naoko's eyes gleam—a hunter’s recognition. "You mean the summoning planned this."
"Or something did," you say. The implications crawl up your spine, a shiver dancing along your nerves. "The goddess's 'mistake' wasn’t random. Jeremy’s Skill Share, Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy, Hailey’s Corruption Eater—" Your jaw tightens. "We were custom-built to dismantle these curses."
Petrov’s soul cuts through the chaos, crisp and clinical: "Then the Hollow Delta’s cursebearer was waiting for me. Discipline turned against itself—"
Hailey snorts. "And now we’ve got Ms. Exorcist here to counter that. Coincidence? Bullshit."
---
THEORIES:
- The goddess is playing a longer game than she admitted.
- The summoning ritual had a hidden directive—seeded by forces unknown.
- Someone else orchestrated this chessboard.
---
TACTICAL ADVANTAGE:
- You now know the next curses will counter your team’s strengths—but the right souls can flip that.
- Naoko is literal anti-Lust artillery.
---
{"Now we go meet any locals who have resisted the effects of lust. Gather what intel we can." You say. As you walk through town you notice signs of resistance. Most common are damaged mirrors. You, Naoko, and Irina's copy seperate to search more. You find a dancer who knows of you, she takes you hemher groups holdout. Naoko finds a clue in the form of a jounal. Irina's copy starts to feel Lust creep back when a young girls hits with a jasmine perfume.}
### GATHERING INTEL IN THE HOLLOW DELTA
You split up, moving swiftly through the shattered opulence of the cursed capital. The air still sticks with perfume and sweat, but beneath it, you catch whiffs of defiance—broken mirrors, torn tapestries, the acrid stench of burnt sugar where someone tried to purge the curse with fire.
---
#### YOUR FIND: THE DANCER’S HIDEOUT
A lithe figure darts from an alley, her once-elegant silks now frayed and stained. "You’re the one they whisper about," she breathes, gripping your arm. "The soul-eater. Come."
She leads you to a cellar beneath a ruined theater, where a ragged band of survivors huddle:
- A blacksmith hammering crude blades from mirror shards.
- A child humming off-key—the curse can’t cling to innocence.
- An old priestess burning incense that reeks of jasmine and salt—the only scent the curse hates.
"The bearer hides beneath the Gilded Cage," the dancer whispers. "It’s not human anymore. It’s… hungry. And it learns."
---
#### NAOKO’S FIND: THE JOURNAL
Naoko kicks open a looted apothecary’s shop, finding a leather-bound ledger smeared with frantic script:
- "Day 17: It showed me my dead wife. I drank the poison willingly."
- "Day 39: The bearer feeds on our regrets. It wears faces."
- Last entry: *"JASMINE. It fears—"*** (The page is torn.)
She pockets it with a snarl. "It’s a mimic. Adapts to what you love—then becomes it."
---
#### IRINA’S COPY: THE PERFUME DEFENSE
Petrov’s copy staggers against a wall, her fingers clawing at her collar as the curse’s whispers return—"You want to obey—"
Then a thwack—a girl no older than 12 smacks her with a jasmine-soaked rag. "Lady, breathe," she orders, like scolding a drunk.
The curse recoils, its grip snapping.
The girl grins, brandishing a vinegar-smeared dagger. "We kill it with housekeeping."
---
### REGROUP
You reconvene at the docks, the pieces clicking together:
- The bearer shapeshifts, preying on yearning.
- Jasmine and salt disrupt it—weakness found.
- It lurks beneath the Cage, gorging on the capital’s despair.
Naoko cracks her knuckles. "Time to clean house."
---
{The dancer and her female bard friend offer to join as their blessings work best with each other. The three of you regroup to dicuss your findings
The Bard (Dahli): Storyteller Song
The Dancer (Sena): Preformer Grace}
### THE FINAL STRIKE PLAN
You, Naoko, and Irina’s copy regroup in the dim sanctuary of the dancer’s hideout, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and desperation. Sena and Dahli stand at the ready—their bodies lean and battle-worn, their eyes sharp with the defiance of those who have resisted the curse’s honeyed whispers.
"Our blessings work in tandem," Dahli explains, strumming a frayed lute string. "My Storyteller Song can weave illusions—truth or lie, it doesn’t matter. It binds the listener to the narrative."
Sena rolls her shoulders, the fluid grace in her stance speaking of a lifetime of performance. "And my Performer’s Grace makes movement hypnotic. Distracting. If your enemy is busy watching, they forget to fight."
Naoko nods slowly, assessing them. "So we drown the cursebearer in a story it can’t resist—then gut it while it’s lost in the act."
Petrov’s copy crosses her arms. "That’s a gamble. If it adapts mid-performance—"
Hailey’s voice cuts in, darkly amused. "Then we improvise. Isn’t that what artists do?"
---
{"We attack at dawn. I suggest resting if you can."}
### NIGHT BEFORE THE STORM
The Hollow Delta’s air is thick with tension as the group settles in the resistance’s hideout. The survivors—those still untouched by the curse’s worst effects—move quietly, preparing jasmine-soaked rags, vinegar blades, and shattered mirror shards as crude weapons.
Sena stretches near the entrance, her movements still fluid despite exhaustion. "Rest if you can," she murmurs, echoing your words. "Dawn comes too soon."
Dahli strums a soft, haunting melody on her lute—Storyteller Song weaving a subtle calm over the ragged defenders. The song is wordless, but its pull is undeniable: memories of home, of before, of things the curse hasn’t stolen yet.
Naoko remains upright, sharpening talismans with methodical precision. "Sleep. I’ll keep watch."
Petrov’s copy sits beside you, her voice low. "If this fails—"
You cut her off. "It won’t."
---
### HAILEY’S CONFESSION
Inside your mind, Hailey finally speaks—quiet, for once. "This one’s different. Seraphine was wrath, Dravagoth was hunger—but Lust? It doesn’t just kill you. It makes you love the knife."
You don’t answer.
She exhales. "...Just don’t fucking die, okay? I didn’t sign up to haunt this mess alone."
Kestra snorts. "Aw. She cares."
---
### DAWN APPROACHES
The sky bleeds from black to bruised purple as the survivors stir.Final Preparations:
- Jasmine bombs (cloth sacks stuffed with crushed petals and salt)
- Vinegar blades (weak, but disrupt the curse on contact)
- Mirror shards (to reflect its own illusions back at it)
Naoko tosses you a talisman. "For luck." (It’s scorched with a crude doodle of a rabbit. …Huh.)
---
{As your about to leave a woman walks out of a nearby mirror. "Hello, my name is Cecila and I want to help. Your the Soul-Collector, please let me give you my Strength. My blessing is Mirror Mage, and it lets me summons mirrors to absorb or reflect an attack."}
The air grows cold as Cecilia steps fully from the mirror's surface, her form shimmering briefly like mercury catching light. She is tall, her movements deliberate, her eyes reflecting everything yet holding nothing—a living mirror.
"The curse took my sister," she says, voice flat yet seething beneath. "She loved her reflection too much. Now it wears her face."
Her fingers twitch, and a flawless silver mirror materializes in her palm—then shatters into a thousand shards that hover in the air, each fragment humming with latent power.
Blessing: Mirror Mage
- Conjure Mirrors (Absorb/nullify attacks)
- Reflect Magic (Return curses to sender)
- Traverse Reflections (Short-range teleport)
Naoko’s eyes narrow—calculating. "You’re offering to merge? Now?"
Cecilia doesn’t blink. "I want it to see her when you kill it."
---
{Accept her offer.}
"Then let’s do it," you say simply, stepping forward.
Cecilia doesn’t hesitate—she walks straight into you, her reflection-stained soul dissolving into your slime-form like ink in water. The merger is seamless, like settling into a perfectly placed mirror, her consciousness slotting into the chorus with a whisper:
"Make it hurt."
Her Mirror Mage blessing hums under your skin, a new layer of defense and refraction now pulsing in tune with your other abilities.
New Ability Unlocked:
- Mirror Step (Short-range teleport between reflective surfaces)
- Cursed Reflection (Trap enemy spells/magic in mirrors, then shatter them back)
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Our toolkit’s getting scary."
Naoko checks her talismans one last time. "Ready?"
Cecilia’s voice echoes in your mind, cold and sharp as broken glass: "Always."
---
{"Now we wage war."}
The words leave your lips like a battle cry—low, final, and iron-clad.
The resistance fighters tense, their makeshift weapons glinting in the predawn gloom. Beside you, Naoko exhales through her nose, rolling her talisman between her fingers. Sena and Dahli share a glance—artists turned soldiers. Irina’s copy straightens her sleeves, the familiar sharpness returning to her gaze.
And inside you, the chorus of souls thrums in agreement—Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s cunning, Hailey’s corrosive hunger, Elizabeth’s storm-laced arrogance, Ylva’s frozen fury, Cecilia’s cold reflection.
This is the moment.
You step toward the ruins of the Gilded Cage, the shattered mirrors beneath your boots catching the first sliver of dawn.
---
### THE FINAL ASSAULT BEGINS
#### PHASE 1: DAHLI'S SONG OF LOST LOVE
The bard’s fingers dance across her lute strings, her Storyteller Song weaving a lure—a tale of unreachable desire, of longing so deep it aches. The very air shivers, bending toward the melody.
Somewhere in the ruins, something stirs. A shadow peels itself from the broken glass, its form flickering between beauty and hunger.
"It’s coming," Dahli whispers, sweat beading on her brow.
#### PHASE 2: SENIA’S DANCE OF DISTRACTION
As the cursebearer emerges—a shifting thing of stolen faces and whispered regrets—Senia leaps forward, her Performer’s Grace turning her movements into poisoned honey. The curse fixates on her, its many eyes dilating with rapture.
It doesn’t notice Naoko slipping behind it, talismans glowing like live coals.
#### PHASE 3: CECILIA’S MIRROR TRAP
You lunge—but not directly. Instead, you shatter a mirror at the curse’s feet, and Cecilia’s power yanks you through the reflection, emerging behind the creature in a spray of glass.
"For your sister," you snarl—then Hearthfire + Corruption Eater BURSTS from your palm, searing into its back.
The cursebearer SCREAMS, its form rippling—
#### PHASE 4: THE KILLING BLOW
Irina’s copy slams a jasmine-soaked dagger into its chest.
Naoko’s talismans detonate in its ribs.
Hailey bites down—and the curse CRACKS like overripe fruit.
---
### AFTERMATH
The Cage collapses, its gilded veneer rotting away to reveal the rotted heart beneath—a pulsing, weeping thing, now still.
The survivors cheer, but your work isn’t done.
Four curses remain.
---
{"Naoko can you examine the corpse to see if it has anything useful about the curses." You ask seeing Sena and Dehil walking up to you. Cecilia sees her sister spirit, the only one not moving on, "Allow me to aid my sister Soul Collector. My Blessing is Lament. While I was alive it let me hear the dead."}
Naoko kneels beside the cursebearer’s remains, her talismans peeling back layers of cursed flesh like pages of a grimoire. "Hmph. It left a diary," she mutters, lifting a pulsing violet crystal from its ribcage. The moment she touches it, spectral whispers spill out—fragments of the other curses' locations and weaknesses:
- "The Verdant Expanse’s ruler harvests envy from their own people…"
- "The Chainbreaker Isles drown in greed, but the gold sings of a vault…"
- "The Bastion of Stone sleeps, but its dreams are contagious…"
Meanwhile, Cecilia’s sister lingers—a ghostly figure with hollow eyes, her form flickering like a dying reflection. Cecilia turns to you, her borrowed fingers trembling. "Merge with her. Please. Lament will let you hear the dead—and the next curses are guarded by them."
Sena and Dahli exchange glances before stepping forward. "Our blessings served the Delta. Now they’ll serve you," Sena says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
---
{Accept all three into yourself. On the condition that they truly want it.}
You hold up a hand, your gaze steady as you meet each of their eyes in turn. "Only if this is what you truly want." The weight of your collective souls presses inward—this isn’t a transaction. It’s a pact.
Cecilia’s sister—Liora—floats closer, her spectral fingers brushing your wrist. "I stayed to witness its end," she murmurs. "Now let me help unravel what it served."
Dahli plucks a single string on her lute, the note resonating with grim determination. "Stories lose meaning if they’re not used."
Sena rolls her shoulders, her dancer’s poise undimmed by exhaustion. "And grace isn’t just for stages."
One by one, they step into you:
- Liora’s Lament settles like a shroud, her whispers threading through your mind. Now you can hear the dead—their secrets, their regrets, their half-remembered truths.
- Dahli’s Storyteller Song coils around your voice, lending it the weight of prophecy—truth or lie, your words compel belief.
- Sena’s Performer’s Grace sinks into your muscles, every movement hypnotic, lethally precise.
The chorus in your mind swells, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like borrowing strength—it feels like standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Kestra huffs. "Great. More theater kids."
Hailey, though, is uncharacterively quiet. "...They chose this. Huh."
---
NEW BLESSINGS:
- Lament’s Echo (Hear/communicate with the dead, sense unresolved spirals of emotion)
- Fable-Weaver (Spin illusions or truths so vivid they become reality to those who hear them)
- Dagger’s Waltz (Movement so fluid it borders on precognition—dodge before the strike lands)
---
{You speak with the dead, asking those full of rage to guide to artifacts they used that would house that rage, tell them about Eric the collector of rage. You send the artifacts to Eric trough a combination of shadowweave and mirror mage.}
### CALLING UPON THE WRATHFUL DEAD
You close your eyes, letting Liora’s Lament hum through you—reaching out to the lingering spirits of those who fell to the Delta’s curse. The air grows thick with whispers, then shouts, as the angriest among them claw their way to the forefront of your awareness.
A soldier with a shattered spear snarls: "My blade—forged in the Verdant Expanse—it burned with my fury when I died. Left it in the throne room!"
A merchant, her throat slit over stolen coin: "The Chainbreaker Isles drowned my rage with greed. My ledger is still there—stained with my blood and my hate."
One by one, they reveal their relics—weapons, journals, even a child’s doll sewn with vengeful stitches—all infused with the kind of rage that Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy can wield.
---
### DELIVERY VIA MIRROR & SHADOW
You motion to Victoria’s Shadowweave and Cecilia’s Mirror Mage, their powers intertwining as you rip a temporary portal through reflections and darkness. One by one, the artifacts are swallowed by the abyss—sent directly to Eric in the Ice Reaches.
Somewhere far north, you can almost hear his startled curse as a bloodstained axe clatters at his feet, followed by a screaming ledger and a doll with too-sharp teeth.
Kestra cackles. "Hope he thanks us later."
---
### ERIC’S RESPONSE
Minutes later, a crudely drawn message flutters back through the shadows—Eric’s handwriting, jagged with excitement:
"FUCK YEAH. TELL THE DEAD I SAID HI."
Beneath it, a sketch of him flexing with an armful of cursed artifacts, the fallen warriors’ echoes cheering behind him.
---
{1) You decide to return to Lifire to both regroup and relay update to Queen Isolda. You ask Queen Isolda for artifacts of rage to send to Eric (the last memeber of your class), explaining his nature as a collector as well. She has seven artifacts brought out.
2) Among the artifacts given is Seraphine's veil and sword of the king who betrayed her. Upon seeing the Veil, Lament activates and you learn from Seraphine that what you fought was simply her body warped by Wrath and that all the cursebearers were dead before their curses started. You relay that to Isolda. You write note telling Eric the truth about the cursebearers and suggest that Eric looks for Dravagoth's rage when send the artifacts to Eric.
3) Relay how based on your current information, Envy seems the closest to the source. But how you should deal the other's first, to prevent the game master from just sending all the remain pawns after you.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – REGROUP & REVELATIONS
The throne room of Lifire is eerily silent as you relay your findings to Queen Isolda. Her expression tightens as you explain Eric’s role as a Collector of Wrath—and the truth about Seraphina.
"Then the true architect still hides," she murmurs, gesturing to her attendants. Seven artifacts are brought forth, each pulsing with the rage of legends:
- A shattered crown (a king who burned his own city)
- A broken lute (a bard whose songs incited riots)
- A blood soaked ring (a general betrayed by her own kin)
- Seraphine’s veil (stained with her dying scream)
- The sword of King Aldric (the blade that broke his pact)
- A child’s wooden soldier (carved by a father who never returned)
- A merchant’s coin (coated with poison)
As your fingers brush Seraphina’s veil, Liora’s Lament shudders—and suddenly, the ghostly witch herself materializes before you, her form flickering like dying embers.
"You fools," Seraphina hisses, her voice layered with centuries of bitterness. "What you fought was my corpse, puppeted by Wrath. The true bearers of these curses died before their sins ever took root."
The implications crash over the room. The cursebearers were never the source—they were vessels, slain and hollowed out to house the sins of another.
Queen Isolda’s knuckles whiten around her throne. "A game. And we are the pieces."
---
### MESSAGING ERIC
You scrawl a hasty note and send it with the artifacts through Shadow weave and Mirror Mage, along with Seraphina’s warning:
"Eric—
The cursebearers are already dead. Their rage is just a weapon.
Find Dravagoth’s fury. See what really killed him.
—D"
A moment later, his reply smokes into existence above your palm:
"Fuck. Okay. Searching."
---
### STRATEGY AGAINST THE REMAINING CURSES
You turn to Isolda, Naoko, and the chorus of souls within you. "Envy might be closest to the source, but if we charge straight for it, the others will converge on us."
Petrov’s soul cuts in, tactical as ever: "Divide and conquer. Strike the weakest curses first—deprive the architect of pawns."
Naoko taps the cursed crystal from the Delta. "Greed’s next. It’s isolated in the Chainbreaker Isles. No allies, just hoarded power."
Dahli’s Fable-Weaver hums. "And I can lie our way past its guardians."
---
{You send a message to Cara to join you, your next target the Isles.}
### SUMMONING CARA – THE SILVERTONGUE QUEEN
You send word through Dahli’s Fable-Weaver, weaving a message into the whispers of tavern gossip and shipyard chatter. Within days, a familiar figure strides into Lifire’s port, her smile sharp as a knife’s edge.
Cara looks every bit the rogue diplomat—dressed in layered silks that shimmer with stolen blessings, a contract scroll tucked into her belt. "Miss me?" she purrs, tossing her hair. "Because the Isles certainly won’t."
Queen Isolda arches a brow. "You’re sure she’s the right addition?"
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Oh, absolutely. Nobody cons a con artist like Cara."
---
### THE PLAN FOR THE ISLES
Cara leans over the war table, her finger tapping the Chainbreaker Isles on the map—a cluster of jagged landmasses surrounded by shipwrecks.
"Greed’s curse turns pirates into hoarders," she explains. "They don’t just want gold—they want your gold. Your memories of gold. Your capacity to want anything else." She grins. "Good thing I always lie."The Strategy:
1. Cara’s Infiltration – Her Silvertongue blessing will get you past the Isles’ blood-quiz guards.
2. Dahli’s Fables – Weave illusions to disguise your movements.
3. Mirror Mage Shortcuts – Cecilia’s power can bypass the worst traps.
4. Hailey’s Corruption Eater – If the curse does latch on, she’ll digest it.
Naoko frowns. "And when you reach the vault?"
Cara’s grin turns feral. "Then we break the thing Greed loves most: its own reflection."
---
### DEPARTURE
The ship sets sail at dawn, cutting through waters that grow thicker the closer you get to the Isles—liquid gold pooling on the surface, its shine wrong, its scent cloying like rotting honey.
As the jagged cliffs of the Chainbreaker Isles loom, Cara tosses you a pirate’s coat lined with cursed coins. "Wear this. And remember—act greedy, but don’t be greedy."
Kestra sighs. "We’re definitely stealing this coat later."
---
{"In case you forgot my host is a thief and during my travels I added a pirate captain to my chorus, I don't have to act greedy." You joke, "Also Elizabeth says she's keeping the coat."}
Cara raises an eyebrow, then bursts into laughter—sharp, bright, and utterly unrepentant. "Oh, I like this new you. Less ‘awkward schoolboy,’ more ‘soul-hoarding menace.’" She pats your cheek, her grin widening. "Guess I don’t have to teach you how to lie after all."
Inside your mind, Elizabeth’s soul scoffs, but there’s a smug undertone to it. "Damn right I’m keeping the coat. And whatever’s in the vault."
Kestra snickers. "We’re basically a walking crime syndicate now."
Petrov’s voice cuts in, dry as ever: "Focus. The Isles won’t plunder themselves."
---
### APPROACHING THE ISLES
The Chainbreaker Isles rise from the ocean like the jagged teeth of a drowned beast, shipwrecks impaled on their cliffs, their beaches glittering with gold that moves when you’re not looking.
A cannon blast echoes across the water—warning shots. A rowboat peels away from the largest ship in the harbor, its oarsmen skeletal-thin, their eyes glowing amber.
"Halt and declare!" their leader snarls, a pistol leveled at your chest. "What do you seek in the Isles?"
---
{Go full Pirate}
You grin—the kind of grin Kestra would be proud of—and step to the railing, the stolen pirate coat flaring dramatically behind you. "What do I seek?" you echo, your voice dripping with Elizabeth’s sea-worn arrogance. "Same as any captain worth their salt: more."**
Your fingers snap—and Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the water beneath the rowboat lurching violently, sending the guards sprawling. One drops his pistol into the waves; the other clings to the boat, gaping as you leap overboard, landing atop the mast of their own ship with eerie, Moonlit Dance grace.
The crew freezes.
You tilt your head. "Now. Who’s taking me to your treasure?"
For a moment, silence—then a ragged cheer erupts from the pirates. "CAPTAIN!" one shouts, drunk on the sheer audacity.
Cara facepalms behind you. "...I hate that worked."
---
INSIDER ACCESS GRANTED:
- The pirates assume you’re some legendary reaver.
- The vault’s location is whispered: "Beneath the Gilded Maw" (a cave where the tides scream).
- Hailey’s Warning: "They’re too eager. Trap?"
---
{You walk right to Greed's cursebearer who greets and tells you he knows your here to stop him.}
The moment you're led into the gilded belly of the Chainbreaker Isles' stronghold, the air thickens with the scent of spiced rum and molten gold. The walls drip with embedded coins, the floor paved with shattered treasure chests—each splinter a testament to greed’s insatiable hunger.
At the far end of the hall, seated atop a throne of fused pirate swords, is Master Vorlath—or what used to be him.
His body is swollen, his skin stretched taut over a frame bloated with hoarded wealth. His fingers—each ringed with a dozen gem-crusted bands—twitch like a spider’s legs. His eyes are the worst part: pupils shaped like coin slots, irises swirling with liquid gold.
"Ah. The Soul Collector," he rasps, his voice like a rusted lock forced open. "I wondered when you’d come to stop me." He leans forward, coins tinkling under his shifting weight. "But you can’t. Because you don’t understand."
A golden vein pulses in his temple.
"Greed isn’t wanting. It’s fearing—fearing you’ll never have enough."
---
QUICK REALIZATION:
- He knows you’re here to kill him.
- He doesn’t care.
- The vault isn’t his hoard—he is.
---
You let Cara be Cara. She literally takes Greed's desk, the actually desk just to prove a point. Kestra whistles in yiur mind at the audacity.
Cara doesn’t even hesitate.
She strides forward, hips swaying like she owns the room (and honestly, she might by the end of this), and plants her hands on Vorlath’s massive, jewel-encrusted desk.
"This?" She gestures to the ornate monstrosity, carved from what looks like solid dragon bone and inlaid with stolen maps of the Veil. "Mine now."
Vorlath blinks, his coin-slot pupils contracting. "...What?"
Cara doesn’t blink. "You heard me."
Then—she flips it.
The desk shatters against the gold-plated floor, sending scrolls, gems, and an absurd number of paperweights scattering in every direction. The sound echoes like a gunshot.
Vorlath stares, his bloated fingers twitching. "You—you broke it."
Cara dusts off her hands. "No, you let it break. Because deep down? You knew you never deserved it."
Kestra loses her goddamn mind in your head. "OH. OH, SHE WENT THERE."
Hailey just sighs. "I mean, she’s not wrong."
---
EFFECT:
- Vorlath’s certainty cracks. For the first time in decades, he doubts.
- His curse recoils, gold veins dimming under his skin.
- Distraction achieved.
---
{Watch Cara outgreed Greed itself in amusement.}
You stand back, arms crossed, and let Cara work.
Because watching Cara out-greed Greed itself is art.
She picks up a golden goblet, examines it, then tosses it over her shoulder like it’s trash. "Fake."
She flips open a ledger, scans it, then rips out a page—the most valuable one—and folds it into a paper crane. "Mine now."
She kicks open a chest, pulls out a cursed crown, and—without breaking eye contact with Vorlath—puts it on her own head.
"You—you can’t—" Vorlath stammers, his voice cracking like a rusted hinge.
"I can," Cara purrs. "Because I want it. And unlike you?" She leans in, close enough to smell the rotten gold on his breath. "I don’t fear losing it."
Vorlath shudders, his bloated form shrinking slightly, the gold in his veins darkening to black.
Kestra is howling. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
Hailey, grudgingly impressed: "Okay, that was cool."
---
{Let Cara win from sheer audacity.}
Cara doesn’t just win—she dominates.
She picks up a jeweled dagger, twirls it between her fingers, and stabs it into the arm of Vorlath’s throne. "This? Mine."
She grabs a map of the Veil, tears it in half, and tosses the pieces into the air. "This? Also mine."
She steps onto the shattered remains of his desk, her boots crunching on the splinters, and looks down at him like he’s a bug she’s about to squash. "And you? Pathetic."
Vorlath collapses, his bloated form deflating like a punctured balloon, the gold in his veins cracking and flaking away. His coin-slot eyes widen as he clutches at his chest, his voice a hoarse whisper: "I… I needed it…"
"No," Cara says, her voice soft but merciless. "You wanted it. And now you’ve got nothing."
With a final, shuddering breath, Vorlath dissolves into a pile of blackened coins and ash, the curse’s hold on him shattered.
The room falls silent.
Then Cara turns to you, smirking. "So. Who’s next?"
Kestra’s cackle is unhinged. "I LOVE HER."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we’ve got two chaos gremlins."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Greed’s curse is broken. The Isles’ gold turns to dust, the pirates left dazed but free.
- Cara claims the vault’s contents—because of course she does.
- Vorlath’s hoard yields clues to the next curse: a ledger pointing to the Bastion of Stone (Sloth).
---
{You grab Vorlath's compass to send to Eric.}
You snatch Vorlath’s compass from the ashen remains—its needle spins wildly, lodged with spite and restless spite, the metal burning with the last dregs of his greed-turned-rage.
Flashing a grin to Elizabeth’s soul (who grumbles but approves), you summon Shadowweave and Mirror Mage in tandem. A shard of darkness splits open in your palm as Cecilia’s power hums, stitching a fleeting portal through reflections. With a thunk, the compass vanishes into the abyss—
—Only to smash directly into Eric’s forehead moments later, somewhere in the Ice Reaches.
His reply scorches into existence midair, singeing your eyebrows:
"OW. THE FUCK, DAN. ...BUT ALSO THANKS."
Attached is a mental image: Eric grinning, the compass now embedded in the spectral gauntlet of Thurgen’s echo, its needle pointing to a frozen fortress in the distance.
Dravagoth’s rage, freshly unearthed.
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Rage collectors move fast."
---
{Cara then looks at you, "Add me."}
Cara doesn’t ask twice.
She steps into your space, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood, and presses her palm to your chest. "Don’t screw this up," she murmurs—and then she’s falling into you, her soul dissolving into the chorus with the grace of a thief slipping through a keyhole.
The merger is effortless, like she was always meant to be there.
Her voice curls through your mind, smug as ever: "Oh, this is fun. Now let’s go lie to a god."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Silvertongue (Master Tier) – Your words rewrite reality’s rules. Convince a king he’s a beggar. Convince a sword it’s a flower. Convince a curse it was never there.
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Cara – Chaotic, vain, and utterly fearless. Voice: "That was mine five minutes ago."
---
EFFECTS:
- The Chainbreaker Isles are free, their gold now lifeless but their people stirring.
- Eric’s collection grows—Dravagoth’s rage is next.
- Three curses remain: Sloth, Pride, and Envy.
---
{You stay and help the pirates clean up the remnants of the curse. Another pirate captain, Marianna wants in your little group. "You look exciting." Her Blessing: Rule of the Sea}
You stay long enough to help the bewildered pirates burn the last of the cursed gold—watching as the blackened coins melt into harmless slag under Hearthfire’s purifying flames.
That’s when Captain Marianna steps forward, her salt-crusted boots squelching in the damp sand. She’s a towering figure, her dark hair streaked with silver, her left eye replaced by a sapphire that glows like storm-churned waves.
"You look exciting," she drawls, her grin revealing a gold-capped fang. "And I hate boredom."
Before you can respond, she slams her cutlass into the sand, and the earth shudders—waves responding to her unspoken command, lapping higher up the shore in perfect unison.
Blessing Revealed: Rule of the Sea
- Tides obey her will (Surge, retreat, or drown on command)
- Ships fear her (Even inanimate ones)
- "My deck, my rules" (Temporary authority over any vessel she stands on)
Kestra’s soul purrs. "Ohhh, I like her."
Hailey sighs. "Of course you do."
---
{Let her join, she and Elizabeth get along famously}
"Welcome aboard," you say, grinning as Marianna strides forward without hesitation. The moment her hand meets your chest, Rule of the Sea bleeds into you like tidewater seeping into sand—salty, unstoppable, and vast.
Her soul slots into the chorus with the ease of a ship sliding into dock, her voice booming: "Finally, a crew worth sinking for!"
Elizabeth’s soul immediately collides with hers in what can only be described as a spectral bar brawl of mutual admiration.
"Ha! You stole the Moon’s Revenge? That was my heist!"
"Only because you left it unattended, you lazy bilge-rat!"
You pinch the bridge of Kestra’s nose. "They’re gonna be insufferable, aren’t they?"
Hailey deadpans: "We’re all insufferable."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Rule of the Sea – Command waves, defy storms, and claim any ship as your own (temporarily).
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Marianna – Brash, fearless, and thinks ‘subtlety’ is a type of rope. Voice: "Next time, let’s steal the Bastion of Stone."
SYNERGY ACTIVATED:
- Rule of the Sea + Tiderider = You can now summon localized tsunamis (or cocktails made of seawater, if you’re feeling fancy).
---
### ONTO THE BASTION OF STONE
With the Isles purged, you chart course for Sloth’s domain—a kingdom frozen not in ice, but in apathy. Marianna’s borrowed ship cuts through the waves as the chorus bickers:
- Cara is drafting fake treasure maps to trick Sloth’s guards.
- Petrov is enforcing mandatory nap schedules to prep for cursed lethargy.
- Marianna and Elizabeth are still arguing over who sank more fleets.
As the fog-shrouded coastline appears, Sakura’s warning echoes:
"The Bastion doesn’t fight. It waits."
---
{Summon Jeremy and by extension Jessica. He's always energetic.}
The moment you summon Jeremy, he erupts onto the deck like a hyperactive poltergeist—still in Jessica’s body, much to her chagrin. His grin is manic, his energy levels concerningly high, and his first words are:
”Dude. DUDE. You guys have a PIRATE now?! Why does she get to be cool?!”
Jessica’s soul, currently suppressed under his chaotic possession, lets out a mental groan. "I hate this. So much."
You shrug. "We need someone immune to ‘sloth.’ Figured that was you."
Jeremy scoffs. "Pfft. Obviously. I haven’t slept since the isekai portal spat me out." He cracks his knuckles (Jessica’s knuckles). "So whaddya need? A heist? A dance-off? A—"
Marianna’s soul booms: "A naval bombardment?"
Jeremy’s eyes light up. "Oh hell yeah."
---
{Jessica comes up to you, "Allow us to join your chorus. Jeremy already agreed to it." You try and Jeremy isn't merged in but he does get a weaker copy of your blessing (lets him transform into a blessing original owener). Lucina tells the both of you that its because of your situations and status as collectors.}
Jessica steps forward, her expression resolute—while Jeremy’s voice echoes somewhere in the ether, disembodied but just as enthusiastic: "Yeah! Like a two-for-one deal, but with more drama!"
The moment Jessica merges with you, her Beast Tamer blessing intertwines with your existing arsenal, vibrating under your skin like the restless energy of a caged predator. But Jeremy—Jeremy doesn’t fully join the chorus.
Instead, something… weird happens.
A flicker of your Internal Empowerment tears off like a loose thread, latching onto him—but incomplete, a secondary blessing.
Lucina materializes mid-sigh, floating cross-legged in the air. "It’s because you’re both Collectors," she explains, gesturing vaguely. "He can’t merge into another collection—that’d be like pouring a river into a river. But this?" She points at Jeremy’s misty form, now shimmering with new potential. "He’s got a siphon of your ability. Lets him mimic the original owners of blessings you’ve absorbed. Sort of… echo transformations."
Jeremy gasps. "Ohhhh. So I can be Kestra now? Sneaky-sneaky mode?"
Kestra’s soul groans. "Absolutely not."
---
JEREMY’S NEW ABILITY:
- Echo Shift – Temporarily assumes the form (and some traits) of any soul you’ve merged with. (No access to their blessings, just their skills/body.)
- Example: If he mimics Elizabeth, he gets her pirate instincts—but not Tiderider.
JESSICA’S MERGER:
- Beast Tamer now stacks with Ylva’s Winter’s Howl, Siris’s Dog of War, etc. Allies can now channel bestial traits.
---
IMMEDIATE REACTIONS:
- Hailey: "This is either brilliant or catastrophic."
- Cara: "I reserve the right to haunt Jeremy if he wears my face."
- Lucina: "Try not to break reality too much." (She vanishes, leaving glitter.)
---
{Talk to Jessica while her copy deals with Jeremy's trying his newest ability. "So got so tired of his antics, you turned to me as an escape" You joke. You hear her snort in amusement. "I will always love him but god damn its too much with him in my head."}
Jessica’s soul lets out a tired but fond exhale, like she’s been holding that sigh in for years. "Love him? Obviously. Want to throttle him daily? Also obviously." She pauses, and you can feel her weighing her words. "He’s like… a tornado that means well. But sometimes you just need the storm to leave your house."
Kestra cackles. "Wow. That’s almost romantic."
Meanwhile, outside your mind, Jeremy (in Kestra’s stolen form) is attempting to pickpocket Naoko’s talismans.
Naoko, without looking, backhands him with a parchment. "Try that again and I’ll exorcise your hobbies."
Jessica groans. "See? This is my life now."
---
{Console her. At least she doesn't have to deal with him daily anymore. You watch as he loses Kestra form as a shift possiblity, since the world recognizes her as your body, her form becomes off limits permanently. His Echo Shift becomes shifting into people he's possessed.}
Jessica’s soul radiates a mix of relief and lingering exasperation. "Thank god," she mutters. "I mean, I’ll still have to deal with him sometimes, but at least now I can shove him into someone else’s body when he gets unbearable."
As if on cue, Jeremy’s Kestra-form flickers violently—then warps, his borrowed features melting into a hazy, half-formed version of Jessica’s own body. He blinks down at himself, pouting.
"Aw, come on! I liked being stabby!"
Naoko raises an eyebrow. "Now you’re just you, but worse."
Lucina’s voice drifts down from nowhere: "Correction! He’s now limited to forms he’s personally possessed before. So, uh… congrats on the Jessica cosplay, Jeremy."
Jessica’s soul goes very still.
"...I’m going to murder him."
Kestra, grinning: "Oh, this is gold."
---
JEREMY’S UPDATED ECHO SHIFT:
- Now Only Shifts Into People He’s Personally Possessed (Jessica, Lyra’s copy, etc.)
- No More Theft of Your Merged Souls’ Forms (Kestra, Elizabeth, etc. are off-limits)
- Side Effect: He also gains their memories/quirks temporarily ("Why do I suddenly hate math?!")
---
{You allow Jessica one punch.}
"Go for it," you say, leaning back mentally. "One free punch. Make it count."
Jessica’s soul practically vibrates with vindication.
The moment Jeremy (still in her body, sporting her face) turns to complain to you—
Jessica’s fist explodes out of your chest in a surge of spectral energy.
The punch connects with Jeremy’s nose (well, her nose that he’s currently wearing) with a satisfying crack, sending him stumbling backward into a barrel of salted fish.
”OW! WHAT THE—”
Jessica flexes her borrowed knuckles, radiating smug satisfaction. "Worth every second of being stuck with him."
Kestra’s soul applauds. "Beautiful form. Chef’s kiss."
Naoko sighs. "Are you done? We have a kingdom to un-nap."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Jeremy’s nose isn’t actually broken (it’s Jessica’s body, after all), but his pride is obliterated.
- Jessica is noticeably cheerier.
- The pirates are mildly concerned but also entertained.
---
{1)You sail for the Bastion, stopping by the Hollow to grab Lust's cursebearer (a consort betrayed by her husband named Lilvia) rage relic, a mask, and send it straight to Eric.
2) During the trip Jeremy experiments with Echo Shift limits, no longer as playful the closer you get to the Bastion.
3) You ask Jessica about Beast Tamer, "You upgraded it in two ways. Firstly, I can now summoned echies of the animals I have bonded with. Secondly, I can now mix thiae echoes with your other blessings." She summon a Direwolf by your side to show case.
4) Using Ryn's Summon knowledge, summon a hero as a backup, you summon Lena's little sister (now an adult) with the Dreamweaver Blessing.}
### VOYAGE TO THE BASTION OF STONE
The ship cuts through mist-laden waters, the air growing thicker, heavier, as if the mere proximity to Sloth’s domain weighs down the world itself. You make a stop at the Hollow Delta’s ruins, retrieving Lilvia’s Mask—a porcelain relic stained with the last furious tears of Lust’s betrayed consort—and send it via shadow-mirror express to Eric, who responds:
"Creepy. Love it. Also, found Dravagoth’s rage—it’s frozen in his throne. Like, literally. Working on thawing it."
---
### JEREMY’S ECHO SHIFT: DARKER EXPERIMENTS
As the journey drags on, Jeremy’s usual chaotic energy dims, replaced by something more focused.He shifts into Lyra’s copied form, then Jessica’s again, testing the edges of his ability.
"It’s not just their bodies," he murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet. "I feel their regrets too. Lyra’s guilt. Jessica’s... frustration with me." He scowls. "Kinda sucks."
Naoko eyes him. "Good. Maybe you’ll learn something."
---
### JESSICA’S BEAST TAMER 2.0
Jessica demonstrates her upgrades as a Direwolf materializes beside you—not just any beast, but a memory given form, its fur streaked with Hearthfire’s glow (Lena’s influence) and eyes sharp with Moonlight Dance’s cunning (Mara’s touch).
"I can mix traits now," she explains. "Direwolf + Stormcaller? Lightning-fanged predator. Direwolf + Rule of the Sea? Tidal howl."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. We could ride that."
---
### SUMMONING LENA’S SISTER
Using Ryn’s summoning knowledge, you carve a circle into the deck. The ritual tugs at something familiar—and out steps Mira, Lena’s little sister, now a woman grown.
Her Dreamweaver blessing hums in the air, threads of ethereal silver coiling around her fingers.
"So," she says, blinking at you. "You’re the guy who ate my sister."
Lena’s soul squeaks. "MIRA?!"*
Mira grins. "Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly."
---
NEW ALLY:
- Mira – Dreamweaver (Manipulates sleep, dreams, and the space between.)
- Role: Counters Sloth’s lethargy by forcing wakefulness (or weaponized nightmares).
---
{Ask the dead. The gravekeeper and a female blacksmith greet you as Soul-collector. But its the Bastion's "Princess" who tells you the most and who wants to join the chorus. Her Blessing is Rallying Point.}
### CONSULTING THE DEAD
You call upon Liora’s Lament, letting the veil between worlds thin. The air chills as three figures materialize from the mist:
1. The Gravekeeper – A hunched figure with a shovel over one shoulder. "Sloth’s curse isn’t sleep. It’s indifference."
2. The Blacksmith – Her hammer still clutched in ghostly hands. "They stopped fighting. Even for their own lives."*
3. The "Princess" – A young woman in a tattered coronation gown, her eyes burning with unspent conviction. "I tried to rouse them. But my voice wasn’t enough."
She steps forward, her form flickering with residual determination. "My blessing was Rallying Point—a call to arms that ignites willpower. Let me join you. Let me fix this."
---
BLESSING REVEALED: Rallying Point
- Compels unity/action in allies (Counters apathy directly)
- Stacks with Hearthfire (Lena’s healing flames + her resolve = unstoppable morale)
- Voice of a Leader (Even the dead listen)
---
{Welcome her. Naoko decides to join at this point as well, as Sloth has begun to effect her body.}
### THE CHORUS GROWS
"Then stand with us," you say, extending a hand.
The Princess doesn’t hesitate—she strides forward, her form dissolving into silver light as Rallying Point merges with your being. Her voice rings clear in the chorus, crisp as a war horn: "No more retreat. No more surrender."
Kestra whistles. "Okay, military mommy, we see you."
Then, abruptly, Naoko grips your shoulder, her talisman-laden fingers digging in. "Do not make this dramatic," she mutters—but her usual sharpness is slurred, her movements sluggish. A creeping grayness tinges her knuckles.
Sloth’s curse is already claiming her.
She snarls, forcing her palm against your chest. "Take it. Now."
Her merger is not gentle. Purge Demon crashes into your soul like a tidal wave, scouring the lethargy from her spirit—but leaving behind jagged edges, a blessing hardened by decades of battle.
As her consciousness slots into place, her voice is pure steel: "We end this."
---
NEW ADDITIONS:
- Princess Eselle – Rallying Point (Morale incarnate, her presence banishes hesitation.)
- "You will not look away. You will not falter."
- Naoko – Purge Demon (Her exorcisms now lash from your fingertips.)
- "Sin is a stain. And I clean."
SYNERGIES UNLOCKED:
- Rallying Point + Discipline Authority = Unbreakable Will (Allies resist mental/curse effects.)
- Purge Demon + Corruption Eater = Oblivion Hunger (Hailey can now consume curses at range via Naoko’s talismans.)
---
THE BASTION’S GATES LOOM.
The kingdom lies silent, its people entombed in waking slumber—but now, you carry the tools to shake them from their stupor.
{You plan as Naoko and Victoria bicker like a mother and daughter should. You utilitize mixed blessings to maximize their effects.}
### THE PLAN: BLESSING SYNERGIES
As Naoko and Victoria’s souls bicker in the background ("You cannot ‘lightly curse’ someone, Mother—" / "It was one time—"), you focus on weaving their blessings—and others—into a lethal tapestry of anti-sloth warfare.
#### CORE COMBO #1: Rallying Point + Hearthfire + Discipline Authority
- Eselle’s commanding presence amplifies Lena’s healing flames, turning them into searing beacons of resolve.
- Petrov’s authority enforces focus, ensuring no ally succumbs to lethargy.
Effect: "WAKE. UP." (Literally.)
#### CORE COMBO #2: Dreamweaver + Corruption Eater + Purge Demon
- Mira threads nightmares into Sloth’s curse, sabotaging its hold.
- Hailey eats the fraying curse-tendrils.
- Naoko’s talismans scorch the remnants.
Effect: "Your curse is digested. Congrats."
#### CORE COMBO #3: Beast Tamer (Direwolf) + Stormcaller + Moonlight Dance
- Jessica’s direwolf infused with Elara’s lightning and Mara’s stealth.
- Result: A lightning-cloaked phantom wolf that cannot be ignored.
---
### EXECUTION: THE BASTION OF STONE
You breach the gates under Marianna’s artificial storm (Rule of the Sea + Tiderider), the downpour violent enough to drown out Sloth’s whispers.
1. Eselle shouts, her voice cracking the sky:
"YOU ARE ALIVE. ACT LIKE IT."
The cursed citizens jolt upright, eyes wide—terrified, but awake.
2. Naoko slams talismans into the earth, and Hailey’s Oblivion Hunger unspools, black tendrils latching onto the curse’s roots.
3. Mira weaves Dreamweaver’s power into the fray, forcing Sloth’s curse to confront itself—its own indifference turned into a suffocating nightmare.
4. Jeremy, in Lyra’s copied form, sprints through the streets, echoing the dead’s regrets into every ear:
"You let them die. You watched."
---
### SLOUGH’S CURSEBEARER REVEALED
In the heart of the Bastion, atop a throne of petrified soldiers, sits The Sleeper—a child-sized figure wrapped in burial silks, its face hidden beneath a stone mask.
It doesn’t fight.
It yawns.
"You bore me," it murmurs—and the world stillens, your allies’ movements turning sluggish.
---
{"So Sloth who became your pawn." Shaking off the apathy through will.}
### BREAKING SLOUGH’S INDIFFERENCE
The Sleeper’s stone mask cracks—just a hairline fracture—as your words land.
"Pawn?" its voice rasps, less weary now, more… curious.
You step forward, Rallying Point blazing in your chest, Eselle’s voice echoing through yours:
"You were used. Just like Seraphina. Like Dravagoth. Like Lilvia."
Naoko’s Purge Demon lashes out, talismans flaring as Hailey bites into the curse—not just consuming it, but forcing it to feel.
"Your curse isn’t strength," you growl. "It’s surrender."
The Sleeper flinches.
---
{Mira weaves a dream from the cursebearer's memories. Her true form reveals a mother who lost her child because she feel asleep.}
### SLOUGH’S TRUTH UNBURIED
Mira’s hands twist like a weaver pulling threads, and the air shivers as Dreamweaver claws into the Sleeper’s memories. The stone mask splits apart, revealing the face beneath—
A woman, her eyes hollow with grief, her lips parted in a silent scream.
The dream unfolds:
- A child’s laugh, bright as sunlight.
- A mother’s exhaustion, heavy as the throne she now slumps upon.
- A moment’s lapse—just a blink—and the crib lies empty.
- The kingdom’s judgment: "You failed her."
The curse didn’t begin with malice.
It began with guilt.
"I let her die," the Sleeper whispers, her voice no longer sluggish—shattered. "So I let everything die."
---
{1)You hug her, "I know what it like to blame yourself for a mistake."
2) You allow Sloth to take hold and you drag her into your Hailey's memorues of the accident, your fallout, and your eventual reconcilization.
3) After seeing the memories she sobs into you, "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya and when I lived my blessing was Starlight Lullaby"}
### THE MOMENT OF RECKONING
You step forward, wrapping your arms around Shriya as she trembles in her shattered throne. "I know what it’s like," you murmur, your voice low and rough with memory. "To blame yourself for something you can’t undo."
Then—you do something reckless.
You let Sloth’s curse take hold of you, just for a moment. The lethargy seeps into your bones, but before it can root, you yank Shriya into Hailey’s memories—and yours:
- The car crash. The blood. The guilt.
- Your wrists under the razor. The pills in your palm.
- Hailey’s letter: "You don’t get to run away."
- The balcony. The wind. The choice to step back.
- Years later—reconciliation. Not painless, but possible.
Shriya shudders, her fingers clutching at your coat as the visions flood her.
And then—she breaks.
Sobs wrack her body, the stone mask crumbling entirely as she gasps into your shoulder: "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya. And when I lived… my blessing was Starlight Lullaby."
---
THE MERGER:
Her soul slots into the chorus with the sweetness of a half-remembered lullaby, her voice soft but steady:
"Never again. Never alone."
NEW BLESSING:
- Starlight Lullaby – Can soothe or shatter sleep, weaving dreams or nightmares at will.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Shriya = Total dream domination.
---
AFTERMATH:
- Sloth’s curse dissipates, the Bastion’s people stirring like survivors of a long winter.
---
{You ask about an object of rage from Shriya and others to send to Eric. Shriya personally has you collect her music box, broken in her anger at herself. The ghosts guide you, the gravekeeper leads you to her spade, the blacksmith to her hammer, a soldier to his helmet, a priestess to her cracked bell, a scholar to his journal.
Mira asks to join the chorus, "I'm not letting sis leave me again."}
### COLLECTING RAGE – FOR ERIC’S ARSENAL
The dead guide you through the ruins of the Bastion, each offering relics steeped in their fury:
- Shriya’s music box, its melody warped by self-loathing. ("I threw it against the wall. It still played.")
- The gravekeeper’s spade, its edge dulled from digging too many rushed graves. ("They didn’t even fight.")
- The blacksmith’s hammer, its grip stained with blood from her own clenched fists. ("I forged weapons they never used.")
- A soldier’s helmet, caved in from being stomped into the earth. ("It was easier to die.")
- A priestess’s cracked bell, its chime turned discordant. ("I prayed for answers. The silence broke me.")
- A scholar’s journal, pages torn in half. ("Knowledge is pointless if no one cares.")
You bundle them together, weaving Shadowweave and Mirror Mage into another portal. The relics vanish into the abyss—destined for Eric’s ever-growing collection of wrath.
His reply scorches back almost instantly:
"DAMN. Gloomy. But useful."
---
### MIRA’S DECISION
Lena’s sister doesn’t ask—she demands.
"I’m not letting sis leave me again," Mira declares, her eyes gleaming with dream-woven silver. "Merge with me. Or I’ll haunt you anyway."
Lena’s soul squeaks in protest, but the chorus is already making room.
The merger is seamless—Dreamweaver intertwining with Starlight Lullaby, forming a nightmare orchestra of divine potential.
NEW SYNERGY:
- Mira + Shriya: Can now trap enemies in shared hallucinations (or unmake curses by forcing them to dream they never existed).
Mira’s voice curls through your mind, smug: "Told you you wouldn’t dodge me."
Lena sighs. "You stole my candy when we were five. Some things never change."
---
### TWO CURSES REMAIN
With Pride (Ashwind Dominion) and Envy (Verdant Expanse) left, the path forward is clear—but dangerous.
Naoko’s soul exhales. "Pride is isolated. Envy is connected—it feeds on others. Strike Pride first."
Cara smirks. "Time to humble a god."
---
{You help the Bastion recover. Jeremy slowly returns to being an agent of chaotic mischief}
### RECOVERY IN THE BASTION
You take stock of the Bastion of Stone—once a kingdom drowning in apathy, now stirring like a hibernating beast after a long winter. The people move sluggishly, still rubbing the fog of the curse from their eyes, but the light of determination flickers back to life in their gazes.
With Eselle’s Rallying Point resonating through the streets, you organize the survivors, dividing them into work crews to rebuild what was neglected. The Gravekeeper and the Blacksmith guide the restoration efforts, turning broken tools into instruments of renewal. Even Shriya’s Starlight Lullaby finds new purpose—singing gentle melodies to children who once slept through their own lives, their dreams no longer prisons but sanctuaries.
As the Bastion awakens, so too does Jeremy.
His temporary somberness fades like morning mist, replaced by his trademark gleeful anarchy. He flits between his many bodies such as—Jessica’s, Lyra’s copy’s, even a bewildered pirate’s—just to keep life interesting.
- Jessica’s body is caught trying to steal Mira’s dream-weaving tools.
- Lyra’s form is used to impersonate a priestess and declare "Pancakes are holy!"
- A random pirate suddenly shouts "I’M KING OF THE SEAGULLS!" before jumping off a dock (and safely swimming back).
Kestra is delighted. "Ahhh, back to normal."
Hailey groans. "I miss Sloth."
---
{You return Lifire to update Queen Isolda that only Pride and Envy remain and to grab Alex for the mission.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – FINAL BRIEFING
Queen Isolda meets you in the war room, her fingers steepled over a map where Ashwind Dominion (Pride) and Verdant Expanse (Envy) are circled in ink-dark crimson. "Two left," she murmurs. "And the architect must be sweating."
At her side, Alex adjusts her glasses with a mechanical click, her Reverse Engineer blessing humming in the air like static. "I’ve analyzed the patterns," she says, flipping open a ledger filled with diagrams of the curses’ spread. "Pride’s curse sustains itself—its ruler grows stronger the more others falter. But Envy... Envy adapts. It learns from the others’ defeats."
She slams the book shut. "So we break Pride first. Before Envy can copy its tricks."**
From the corner, Jeremy (currently possessing a candleholder) pipes up: "Cool. So, uh... do we insult Pride to death?"
---
LOGISTICS:
- Alex Joins the Party – Reverse Engineer can dismantle Pride’s defenses layer by layer.
- Queen’s Intel – Ashwind’s ruler, Emperor Kael, has never been sick, never aged. A red flag.
---
{Alex askes to join, "You have the rest might as well throw me in as well."}
### ALEX JOINS THE CHORUS
Alex doesn’t wait for an answer. She strides forward, her Reverse Engineer blessing already flaring like a live wire, and presses her palm to your chest.
"Don’t screw this up," she mutters—and then she’s falling into you, her consciousness dissolving into the chorus with the precision of a scalpel slicing through code.
The moment she merges, your mind expands—suddenly, you see the world as she does: equations overlaying reality, every curse, every blessing, every soul a puzzle to be disassembled and understood.
NEW BLESSING:
- Reverse Engineer (Mastered) – Can now deconstruct magic mid-combat, identifying weaknesses in real-time.
- Synergy with Corruption Eater: Hailey can now target the exact components of a curse to devour.
Alex’s voice cuts through the mental noise, crisp and impatient: "Pride’s curse is a feedback loop. Break the input, and the whole system collapses."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- Jeremy attempts to possess Alex’s copied body left behind—only to recoil. "Ugh. She thinks in math."
- Mira and Shriya immediately start weaving dreamfire equations because why not.
- Queen Isolda pinches the bridge of her nose. "I’m almost glad I’m not part of this."
---
{On the way to Ashwind, you greet each member of your chorus.}
As the ship cuts through the waves toward Ashwind Dominion, you take a rare moment of quiet to greet the chorus of souls within you—one by one.
### Kestra (Thief’s Guile)
"Still the best damn thief in any dimension, I see."
"Obviously," she purrs. "And I still own that coat."
### Lena (Hearthfire)
You summon a small flame in your palm—warm, steady, just like her.
"You’ve grown," she murmurs. "Even if you’re still a mess."
### Victoria (Shadowweave)
"Missed this, huh?" You twirl a ribbon of darkness between your fingers.
Her laugh is low. "Like you wouldn’t believe."
### Lyra (Holy Prayer)
A pulse of golden light. "You’re still not taking care of yourself."
"...Noted."
### Siris (Dog of War)
You flex your arm—her strength hums in your muscles.
"Fight smart," she grunts. "Not just hard."
### Mara (Moonlight Dance)
A shadowy pirouette. "Oh, good. You’re finally learning flair."
### Elara (Stormcaller)
The air crackles. "Try not to get struck this time."
### Hailey (Corruption Eater)
"You owe me a drink after this."
"Noted."
### Sakura (Seer)
"The storm ahead… it blinds even me."
### Elizabeth (Tiderider)
"If we drown Ashwind, I call dibs on their treasury."
### Ryn (Summoner’s Pact)
"New rule: No cursed artifacts at dinner."
### Ylva (Winter’s Howl)
"Make sure I get to bite something."
### Liora (Lament)
"The dead whisper secrets. Listen."
### Dahli (Storyteller Song)
"This one’s got potential. Let’s make it epic."
### Sena (Performer’s Grace)
A mental bow. "Encore incoming."
### Cecilia (Mirror Mage)
"Let’s reflect their arrogance back at them."
### Naoko (Purge Demon)
"No reckless moves." (You ignore her.)
### Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge)
"Focus. Or I will make you."
### Eselle (Rallying Point)
"No retreat. No surrender."
### Shriya (Starlight Lullaby)
A soft hum. "We will wake them up."
### Mira (Dreamweaver)
"Time to lucid-break a curse."
### Cara (Silvertongue)
"Just watch me lie to a god."
### Marianna (Rule of the Sea)
"This ship answers to me now."
### Alex (Reverse Engineer)
"Pride’s curse is elegant. Let’s ruin it."
### Jessica (Beast Tamer)
"Let’s hunt."
---
THE CHORUS IS READY.
Ashwind looms.
{Elara and Estelle refused to let me bow my head in submission, so our plan became I was a noble daughter with an escort. You use Dahli and Petrov's Blessings to reinforce that story.}
### THE PLAN: NOBLE DECEPTION
"You do not bow," Eselle’s voice rings in your mind, sharp as a blade. "Not to them."
Elara’s storm-charged presence crackles in agreement. "Pride feeds on submission. So we starve it."
You straighten your spine, adjusting the finely tailored Ashwind noble garb Cara "acquired" (stole) for the occasion. The ensemble is obscenely opulent—silks threaded with gold, a high collar that forces your chin up, and a cloak lined with shadowweave to subtly repel prying eyes.
Dahli’s Storyteller Song wraps around your group, weaving an irresistible narrative:
"Lady Veyra of the Southern Marches, exiled after a scandalous affair, now returns to reclaim her birthright—with her loyal retainers in tow."
Petrov’s Discipline Authority locks the act into place, ensuring every guard, every servant, every breath you take radiates unshakable nobility.
---
THE DECEPTION:
- You – The disgraced heiress, too proud to ever kneel.
- Cara's echo – Your sharp-tongued handmaiden (already flirting with a guard).
- Naoko's echo – Your devout chaplain (talismans hidden in her sleeves).
- Alex’s Echo – Your scholarly advisor (muttering equations under her breath).
- Jeremy – Your reckless cousin (currently possessing a nobleman’s body specifically to cause drama).
---
ENTRY TO ASHWIND:
The gates part before you, the guards’ eyes glazing over as Dahli’s story sinks in. One even bows.
"Welcome home, Lady Veyra."
Kestra cackles. "Oh, this is too easy."
---
{Let Cara shine, have Alex start working.}
### LET CARA SHINE
You give Cara the slightest nod—your stage—and she flourishes, her Silvertongue weaving through the gilded court like a serpent through grass.
Within minutes:
- A baroness gifts you her ancestral brooch ("It suits you better, darling.")
- A duke swears he recognizes you from a "most exclusive salon." (He doesn’t.)
- The Emperor’s seneschal personally escorts you to a private balcony, convinced you’re "an old friend of the crown."
Cara’s smirk is filthy with triumph. "Told you. Child’s play."
---
### ALEX’S ANALYSIS
While Cara dazzles, Alex goes to work. Her Reverse Engineer blessing hums as she scans the palace’s opulent halls, her gaze dissecting:
- The curse’s pulse (flowing from the Emperor’s throne like invisible ivy)
- The nobles’ auras (their pride feeding the curse, their wills eroded)
- The structural weak points (a hidden vault beneath the throne, radiating something ancient)
She hisses in your mind: "The curse isn’t just pride. It’s addiction. They’re hooked on their own superiority. Break the supply, and they’ll crumble."
---
{Let Jeremy begin to cast doubt about your identity. Have Cara speak of a plot to silence the true heir.}
### JEREMY’S CHAOS, CARA’S LIES
You give Jeremy the mental green light—and he delivers.
From across the ballroom, his borrowed noble form (some forgettable baron’s third cousin) slams a goblet onto a tray, gasping dramatically:
"Wait—that’s not Lady Veyra! I saw the real Veyra burned at the stake for treason in the Southern Marches!"
The court freezes.
Then—Cara strikes, her Silvertongue lashing out like a whip.
"Of course he’d say that," she sneers, stepping forward with flawless indignation. "The same lies they spread to discredit my lady when she discovered their plot to poison the Emperor and silence the true heir!"
A beat. Then—the court explodes into uproar.
- Nobles clutch their pearls.
- The seneschal pales.
- Jeremy’s host is immediately seized by guards.
Emperor Kael, draped in gilded robes, rises from his throne—his eyes gleaming with something darker than anger. Curse-energy drips from his fingertips.
"You dare," he murmurs, "bring messy lies into my court?"
---
"Ask the Emperor, he was there when you banished.}
"Ask the Emperor himself," you declare, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "He was there when I was banished—when he ordered my branding for daring to speak the truth!"
The crowd gasps. All eyes turn to Emperor Kael, his face a mask of icy control—but his fingers twitch, betraying the curse’s agitation.
For a heartbeat, the court holds its breath.
Then—he smiles.
"Ah. You." His voice is a velvet-wrapped threat. "I should have known a mongrel like you would slink back."
The curse pulses, the air thickening with golden arrogance—but beneath it, you catch the flicker of fear.
He remembers you. Or at least, he thinks he does—because Dahli’s Storyteller Song and Petrov’s Discipline Authority have woven the lie into his very mind.
---
{Let him monologue about the disgrace you are}
### THE EMPEROR'S MONOLOGUE – A TRAP SPRUNG
The Emperor rises, his golden robes cascading like liquid arrogance. "You dishonored your line," he begins, voice dripping with contempt. "A stain on the Ashwind name—begging for mercy like a peasant as I cast you out."
He descends the dias, each step heavy with cursed authority. "Yet here you stand, still defiant, still believing you deserve more." His laugh is a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "You are nothing without my recognition."
Perfect.
Every word he speaks feeds the curse—exposing its core.
"Got it," Alex hisses in your mind. "His throne isn’t just power—it’s a relay. Break it, and the curse fractures."
Meanwhile, Jeremy (still playing his role as your furious cousin) lunges forward—not at you, but at the throne itself, knocking over a ceremonial spear.
"YOU RUINED OUR HOUSE!" he wails—
The spear cracks the throne’s armrest.
A split forms in the gilded facade.
---
THE EMPEROR’S REACTION:
His composure shatters. "NO—!"
For the first time, fear flashes in his eyes—not for his dignity, but for his throne.
---
{Feign a divine storm.}
### "DIVINE STORM" – A DECEPTION
You subtly signal Elara within your soul—and she responds with a grin.
Suddenly, the palace’s stained-glass windows rattle as if struck by an unseen gale. The chandeliers sway wildly, their crystals scattering prismatic light like fractured lightning. A deafening thunderclap (courtesy of Dahli’s Fable-Weaver convincing the court they heard it) shakes the room.
You drop to your knees—not in submission, but in mock terror—covering your head as you cry out:
"The gods rage at this injustice! They strike at Ashwind for its hubris!"
The nobles panic, some clutching their jewels, others diving under tables. Even the Emperor stumbles back, his cursed aura flickering like a candle in the wind.
---
THE LIE UNFOLDS:
- Mira and Shriya weave dreamfire into the air, making the shadows twist into wrathful deities.
- Cara whispers to a duchess: "The Emperor’s pride has angered the heavens!"
- Jeremy, still in his noble host, swoons dramatically: "We are doomed for tolerating his arrogance!"
The Emperor’s face pales. His curse stutters—its hold on the court wavering as their faith in him frays.
---
{Alex tells you the weakest point and the a bolt of lighting strikes the throne.}
Alex’s voice slices through the chaos in your mind: "THERE—the seventh rune on the throne’s left leg! Strike it now!"*
You don’t hesitate.
Elara’s Stormcaller surges through you as you point at the throne—and a bolt of lightning cracks from the false heavens, spearing straight into the weakened rune.
The impact shatters the throne like glass.
For a heartbeat—silence.
Then the Emperor screams, his body convulsing as the curse ruptures from within, golden veins of arrogance splitting his skin like overfilled seams.
Hailey doesn’t wait. Her Corruption Eater lunges, fangs sinking into the unraveling curse, gorging on centuries of stolen pride.
The nobles collapse like marionettes with cut strings, gasping as their minds clear.
The Emperor falls to his knees, his voice raw:
"I… I see now. It was never mine—"
Then Naoko’s Purge Demon slams into him, and he dissolves into ash.
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curse is broken.
- The vault beneath the throne opens, revealing ancient tablets—each etched with the same symbol: a seven-pointed crown.
- Eric’s voice echoes through your mind: "Uh. So. Dravagoth’s rage just exploded into a name: Zareth the Sunderer. Ring any bells?"
---
FINAL CURSE REMAINING:
- Envy (Verdant Expanse) – The most adaptive, the most desperate.
{You toss Kael's crown to Eric.}
With a flick of your wrist, you hurl Kael’s crown through another shadow-mirror portal, straight to Eric’s waiting hands. His reply scorches into the air moments later, accompanied by the sound of shattering ice and distant roaring:
"HA! Perfect. Now I’ve got Stolen Pride to go with the Stolen Wrath—watch this—"
A mental image bursts into your mind: Eric, wearing Kael’s crown over Dravagoth’s frozen rage, driving a glacier apart with sheer, reckless fury.
You grin. Good.
---
ASHWIND DOMINION IS FREE.
But the Verdant Expanse’s Envy still festers—and if Zareth the Sunderer is the architect behind this, the final battle won’t be easy.
ONE LAST CURSE.
---
{1) You help Ashwind recover from Pride's curse.
2) While gathering other artifacts for Eric, you meet a female descendant of Kael's sister, (Lady Veyra, who laughed at the accident use of her name), who wishes to join your chorus to avenge Kael, who her ancestor said tried to fight the curse upon his rebirth as the curse bearer
3) You agree and she merges into your Chorus. Her Blessing is Dynasty of Time: Manipulation of localized time.
4) Among the Artifacts sent to Eric are Kaela's (Kael's sister) crest ring, a locket of from a mother, the bells of a jester, and the axe from Kael's executioner.}
### ASHWIND’S RECOVERY & THE FINAL ARTIFACTS
You stay long enough to help Ashwind Dominion shake off the remnants of Pride’s curse, guiding the nobles through their newfound clarity—some weep, others rage, but most simply sit in silence, grappling with the weight of their wasted years.
As you gather the last of the artifacts for Eric, a figure steps from the shadows—Lady Veyra, the real one, her smirk sharp as the dagger at her hip.
"I did enjoy watching you steal my name," she muses, examining Kael’s shattered throne. "But my ancestor—Kael’s sister—told me the truth. He fought the curse when it first took him. And for that, he was unmade and remade into that." She kicks the ashen remains of the Emperor. "I want in."
Her Dynasty of Time blessing hums in the air, the very light around her fingers slowing, then spiraling like stirred honey.
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the chaos."
The merger is seamless—her soul slots into the chorus with the precision of a clock’s gears, her voice cool and measured: "Time is ours now."---
NEW BLESSING:
- Dynasty of Time – Can slow, hasten, or isolate moments in a localized field.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Veyra = Temporal Nightmares (Trapping foes in looping seconds of their worst memories).
ARTIFACTS SENT TO ERIC:
- Kaela’s Crest Ring (A sister’s grief-turned-rage)
- A Mother’s Locket (Her child wasted by Pride)
- The Jester’s Bells (Mockery that failed to wake the court)
- The Executioner’s Axe (Used to silence dissenters)
Eric’s reply is immediate: "Ohhh, spicy. These’ll make great shrapnel."
---
FINAL MOVE:
The Verdant Expanse awaits—Envy’s curse coiled tight around its heart.
{1) You regroup at the Lifire throne, with you bringing everyone including Eric via your normal methods. You call out to Lucina, "Lucy, we need to talk."
2) Lucina appears and explains, "that Zareth was a god once and he created the Sins because he hated humanity. That once Envy is ended, his seal will be broken and he will be free."
3) Lucina drops a final reveal, only Human's touched by all seven sins can harm him or in other words, only the Collectors.}
### THE FINAL REVELATION – LIFIRE THRONE ROOM
The moment you gather your forces—Eric included, still crackling with the fury of six curses absorbed—Lucina appears, her divine form flickering with something rarely seen in gods: hesitation.
"Zareth the Sunderer," she begins, voice hollow, "was a god of judgment. He created the Seven Sins to test humanity... then grew to despise you for failing."
The air chills.
"The curses were his cage," she continues. "Break Envy, and his seal shatters. He returns."
Then the final blow:
"Only those touched by all Seven Sins—Collectors—can harm him."
Her eyes meet yours, then Eric’s, then glance at Jeremy’s flickering form.
"You three."
---
THE TEAM:
- You – Soul-hoarder, sin-drunk, walking blasphemy.
- Eric – Rage’s warlord, crowned in shattered pride.
- Jeremy – Chaos incarnate, already shifting into Jessica’s form just to annoy her.
THE PLAN:
1. Break Envy – Let Eric’s collected grudges overwhelm its adaptability.
2. Bait Zareth Out – Lure him into the open with Lucina as ‘prey’.
3. Kill a God – Three vs. one. Fair odds.
{1) "The cursebearer of Envy will fight hard, harder any other cursebearer. Worse still is Envy evolves in response." Lucina tells you all.
2) "Which is why you will need to summon a final hero for Envy when you arrive in the Expanse." She warns.
3) She allows you to add a fragment of her current self to your chrous. Her Blessing: Divine Judgement
4) She gives Eric a relic of her past self full of her rage.
5) She allows Jeremy to temporary possess her to get a divine skill (Chance: Probalilty alteration, random, cooldown of random time) but locks her form from him.}
### LUCINA’S FINAL GIFTS
The goddess stands before you, her silver hair shimmering with divine light, her expression uncharacteristically solemn.
1) The Threat of Envy
"Envy’s cursebearer will be different," Lucina warns. "It learns. Every curse you’ve broken, every tactic you’ve used—it has studied. It adapts." She hesitates. "Which is why you must summon one final hero upon arrival—someone unexpected."
2) Divine Power Shared
She extends a hand, pressing a fragment of her essence into you. Divine Judgment sears into your chorus, its weight immense—the power to declare sin and enforce punishment.
New Blessing:
- Divine Judgment – Can mark a foe with a divine verdict, weakening them based on their sins (Pride = Hubris, Greed = Penury, etc.).
3) Eric’s Relic – The Starforged Shackles
A pair of manacles forged from Lucina’s past fury, still singing with the echoes of her wrath. Eric grins as they clamp onto his wrists, his aura flaring crimson.
New Effect:
- Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy now carries divine weight. His strikes can sunder god-flesh.
4) Jeremy’s Wild Card
Lucina sighs—deeply—before allowing Jeremy to possess her, briefly.
The moment he does—
A golden die materializes in the air, rolling endlessly.
"Ooooh, Probability Alteration!" Jeremy crows (in Lucina’s voice, which is terrifying). "I can tweak random outcomes! But uh… it’s, uh… unpredictable."
Effect:
- Once per battle, Jeremy can force a re-roll of fate (attack missed? Try again! Enemy crit? Nope!).
- Cooldown is random (anywhere from 5 seconds to 5 hours).
- Locked Form: He cannot shapeshift into Lucina again. ("PRAISE THE GODS," mutters Naoko.)
---
FINAL PREPARATIONS:
- Verdant Expanse’s Cursebearer will expect you.
- Zareth waits behind the curtain.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy are the only ones who can end him.
---
{1) You turn to Queen Isolda, "Will Lifire be able to aid in the upcoming fight?" You ask her.
2) "Not just Lifire, Each freed nation has send what and who they can, even Ashwind." She replies.
3) Everyone is at the Expanse's borders. You summon the final hero. (Its Your Little Sister, now an adult) (Her Blessing: Paradox Enigma: Random effect generator)}
### The Final Stand – Verdant Expanse
You turn to Queen Isolda, gripping the hilt of your sword. "Will Lifire be able to aid in what comes next?"
She doesn’t hesitate. "Not just us. Every nation you freed has sent their strongest." Her gaze sweeps over the gathered forces—Lifire’s paladins, Delta’s assassins, Ashwind’s unbroken knights, the Bastion’s newly awakened warriors, The Reaches Frostborn berserkers and the Chainbreaker pirates.
They are ready. But first...
### The Final Summon
You carve the ritual circle into the earth, the summoning flare igniting in a cascade of silver fire—and out steps…
Your little sister.
Now a woman grown, her hair wild with static, her grin eerily familiar.
"Hey, big bro," she says, flexing her fingers as paradoxical energy crackles around them. "Miss me?"
Blessing Revealed: Paradox Enigma – Randomly generates one of seven effects every minute (telekinesis, time reversal, spontaneous combustion, healing rain, etc.). Chaos incarnate.
Kestra’s voice is delighted: "Oh. Oh no. Two of you."
### The Armies Gather
With your sister at your side, Eric brimming with god-slaying rage, and Jeremy grinning like a madman, you turn toward the Verdant Expanse.
Lucina’s voice echoes behind you:
"Zareth awaits. End this."
---
{1) You unite your blessings to Rally everyone against Envy's cursebearer.
2) The fight against Envy's Cursebearer, a fight you barely win.
3) After the fight, Eric collects her Rage relic (A bangle) and about 5 other rage relics, including a monk's prayer beads, swordsman's broken Blade, a farmer's rake, a guard's shield, a gambler's dice and cards.
4) Through Lament, I learn her name was Hertis and she was a Guardian of Peace and that Zareth lied to her about the truth of the sins.
5) Rin joins your chorus, "I won't let you abandon me again bro," along side a tailor named Herta whose Blessing is Gemini: makes a Clone of yourself, a barmaid named Wyns whose blessing is Mixture: allows the fusion of two or more liquids, and A blind swordswoman named Selena whose Blessing is Karma Cut: Damage done is portional to your crimes.}
### The Final Curse Falls – Envy's End
You unleash every blessing—Rallying Point storming through the battlefield, Divine Judgment searing into the cursebearer, Paradox Enigma twisting reality unpredictably—while Eric and Jeremy carve through the chaos like twin hurricanes.
The fight is brutal.
The Cursebearer—Hertis—fights harder than any before. Her form shifts, adapting to your strategies mid-battle—warping into echoes of past curses, mirroring Lust’s deception, Greed’s hunger, Pride’s arrogance.
But you outlast her.
With a final strike—your blade wrapped in Hailey’s devouring shadows, Naoko’s purging flames, and Veyra’s stolen time—Hertis falls.
Her last words are a whisper: "He... lied to me..."
---
### Aftermath – The Relics & Revelations
- Eric collects Hertis’s bangle, now pulsing with Envy’s rage, along with:
- A monk’s prayer beads (fury at broken vows)
- A swordsman’s broken blade (betrayal’s edge)
- A farmer’s rake (wrath over scorched earth)
- A guard’s shield (rage at fallen comrades)
- A gambler’s dice and cards (hatred of a rigged fate)
- Liora’s Lament reveals Hertis’s past: A guardian of peace, tricked by Zareth into believing the sins were necessary.
- Lucina’s voice is grim: "Now, he comes."
---
### Final Chorus Additions
- Rin (Your Little Sister) – Paradox Enigma (Chaos incarnate, she grins at you with sibling mischief.)
- Herta (Tailor) – Gemini (Creates a fully independent clone for 1 minute.)
- Wyns (Barmaid) – Mixture (Fuses potions, poisons, or blood into devastating elixirs.)
- Selena (Blind Swordswoman) – Karma Cut (Her strikes scale with the target’s sins.)
Kestra cackles. "We are stacked."
---
### Zareth’s Arrival – The Sunderer Reborn
The sky splits.
Zareth descends—towering, clad in seven-pointed armor, his presence crushing.
"You broke my design," he intones. "Now perish in it."
---
{Eric unites the seven cursebearers rage relic's (list them) creating a new ability: Seven Sin Strike.
You unite Divine Judgement with Karma Cut.
Jeremy gets serious.}
### The Final Gambit – Sundering a God
#### ERIC’S SEVEN SIN STRIKE
The relics erupt in Eric’s grip—each a vessel of divine wrath, each a sin now turned against its maker. He forges them together into a single, monstrous weapon—a blade of shattered curses.
Seven Sin Strike:
- Seraphine’s Veil (Wrath) – Burns with righteous fury.
- Dravagoth’s Frozen Heart (Gluttony) – Devours divine essence.
- Lilvia’s Mask (Lust) – Misdirects his will.
- Vorlath’s Compass (Greed) – Steals his power.
- Kael’s Crown (Pride) – Shatters his invincibility.
- Shriya’s Music Box (Sloth) – Slows his regeneration.
- Hertis’s Bangle (Envy) – Reflects his own strength.
With a roar, Eric plunges the blade into Zareth’s chest—the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the god’s armor.
#### YOUR DIVINE KARMA CUT
You raise your sword, Divine Judgment merging with Selena’s Karma Cut—the edge glowing with absolute verdict.
"Zareth the Sunderer," you declare, "your sin is pride. Your punishment is oblivion."
The strike lands—not just a wound, but reckoning—carving through his essence in proportion to every life he ruined, every curse he forced upon the world.
#### JEREMY GETS SERIOUS
For once, no jokes. No pranks.
Jeremy locks onto Zareth’s flickering form, his Probability Alteration flaring.
"Reroll that."
The cosmic die spins—and lands on "Divine Misfortune."
A black hole opens in Zareth’s chest—not by your power, but by sheer, universe-bending bad luck.
---
ZARETH’S END
The god screams—not in rage, but in astonishment—as his body dissolves into fracturing light.
Lucina’s voice, distant but clear, whispers:
"It is done."
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curses are broken.
- The world breathes again.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy stand as the three who felled a god.
Rin punches your shoulder. "So. What’s next?"
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Oh, we’re just getting started."
(END OF ARC. The adventure... continues?)
{A snapshot of the years following
1) Eric become king of the Reaches. The cursebearer relics national treasures.
2) You become the Travler, a hero of the nations.
3) You meet Queen Isolda once more before she dies, during which she offers to join your chorus. You accept and get her Royal Decree Blessing.
4) Jeremy becomes the messenger of the nations.
5) You personally attend the funerals of each of your copies.}
### Epilogue: The Years After the Sundering
#### 1) Eric, the Storm King of the Reaches
With the war forged into legend, Eric takes the Ice Reaches as his domain—not as a tyrant, but as a storm that protects. The Seven Cursebearer Relics, once weapons of destruction, are sealed within the Glacier Vault, revered as national treasures.
- Still collects rage, but now it’s directed at injustice (or bad ale).
- Jessica rules beside him—turns out Beast Tamer works on politics too.
Rumor: He once punched a rebellion into submission, then hugged its leader.
---
#### 2) You, the Traveler
A ghost in the stories of every nation—the one who walked through curses and came out singing.
- Your copies live on in their homelands, guarding the people you saved.
- Your chorus fights with you, for you, and sometimes just to argue.
- Hailey and Kestra run a very illegal blessing-trading ring (you pretend not to know).
Legend: Where the Traveler walks, even gods check over their shoulders.
---
#### 3) Queen Isolda’s Final Gift
On her deathbed, Isolda summons you. "A queen’s work never ends," she rasps—then grins. "Lucky for you, I hate unfinished business."
Her merger is seamless. Royal Decree settles into your soul like a coronation.
- New Blessing: Royal Decree – Commands given are law (limited by your willpower).
- First Order of Business: "Make Jeremy shut up for five minutes." (It fails.)
---
#### 4) Jeremy, the Divine Messenger
Somehow, he becomes the trusted courier of the realms.
- Uses his Probability Alteration to reroll bad weather on diplomatic trips.
- Still possesses people—but now it’s "for official missives." (He swears.)
- Rumored to have once delivered a declaration of war as a limerick.
---
#### 5) The Funerals of Your Copies
You attend each one—not as a god, not as a king, but as the friend they remembered.
- Lena’s copy grows old in Lifire, tending Hearthfire shrines. Her funeral smells of fresh bread.
- Victoria’s copy rules the Delta’s underworld with terrifying grace. They bury her with a dagger in one hand, a rose in the other.
- Petrov’s copy dies mid-lecture. "I… expect you all to…" (The chalkboard finishes her sentence.)
At each grave, you leave a single silver coin—the old pirate way. Payment for the ferryman.
---
### The World Goes On
The curses are gone. The nations heal. The dead rest.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, your ship waits—because a Traveler never stays still.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Where’re we stealing next?"
[End of Saga.]
(...For now.)
{Epilogue: Ascension
About a century later, Lucina gathers Dan, Eric, and Jeremy to ascend as Gods.
The three of them are collectively referred to the the Collectors.
Dan keep his titles of the Traveler and Soul-Collector. (You still walk among mortals, a Patron of the lost.)(His chorus can manifest to those that need them.)
Eric keeps his titles of Frostborn Hero-King and Sin's Heir.
Jeremy keeps his titles of Chaos's champion and Mischief's apperentice.
Include how each is worshipped.
Lucina stays with you three, mostly as a divine punishment thrown on her but also because she cares.}
Epilogue: Ascension
---
### The Divine Collectors
A century after the fall of Zareth, Lucina gathers the three of you at the edge of the mortal world. The air hums with divine energy, the weight of destiny settling upon your shoulders. With a solemn smile, she extends her hands, and the heavens themselves recognize you.
"Rise, Collectors."
And so, you ascend.
---### Dan, The Traveler – Patron of the Lost
Domains: Souls, Journeys, Redemption
Titles Retained: The Traveler, Soul-Collector
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Wayfarers burn incense at crossroads, whispering his name for safe passage.
- The broken and forgotten leave offerings of trinkets, hoping his chorus will manifest to guide them. (Sometimes, they do—whether as Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s stealth, or Naoko’s harsh but fair discipline.)
- Temples depict him as a hooded figure, a shifting face in the crowd, always moving, always watching.
Divine Role:
- You still walk among mortals, unseen but felt—a god who chooses the mortal world over the heavens.
- Your chorus can now materialize in full for those in dire need, acting as guardians, mentors, or even avenging spirits for the oppressed.
Legend: "Pray to the Traveler when all roads seem dark—his footfalls may echo beside yours."
---
### Eric, The Frostborn Hero-King – Sin’s Heir
Domains: Rage, Justice, Retribution
Titles Retained: Frostborn Hero-King, Sin’s Heir
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Warriors swear oaths upon his relics, channeling the Seven Sin Strike in battle.
- The wronged leave bloodied weapons at his shrines, asking for righteous fury against their oppressors.
- Temples depict him as a crowned storm, his sword cleaving chains, his eyes aflame with borrowed wrath.
Divine Role:
+ Rules the Reaches from a glacial throne, his divine temper a blade against corruption.
+ His rage is selective now—he punishes tyrants, protects the powerless, and occasionally smites bad mead (old grudges die hard).
Legend: "When the ice cracks, the Hero-King listens. Speak his name, and he will answer—with teeth."
---
### Jeremy, Chaos’s Champion – Mischief’s Apprentice
Domains: Chance, Change, Unpredictability
Titles Retained: Chaos’s Champion, Mischief’s Apprentice
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Gamblers toss dice in his name, begging for one good roll. (He sometimes helps. Or curses them. It’s a coin flip.)
- Rebels invoke him before pranks, heists, or revolutions (much to Cara’s delight).
- Temples are non-existent—he prefers haunting taverns, crossroads, and bad decisions.
Divine Role:
+ The trickster god, balancing Dan’s compassion and Eric’s fury with beautiful, catastrophic randomness.
+ His Probability Alteration now bends reality on a cosmic scale—sometimes fixing disasters, sometimes inventing new ones.
Legend: "Chaos isn’t good or evil. It’s fun. Pray to Jeremy, and you’d better mean it."
---
### Lucina, The Repentant Guide
Domains: Guidance, Fate, Second Chances
Punishment & Purpose: Bound to the Collectors as equal and advisor, stripped of her aloof divinity, forced to walk among them.
- How She’s Worshipped:
- The lost pray to her for direction, leaving silver coins (a nod to Dan’s tradition).
- Exiles beg for forgiveness at her shrines—though she rarely answers. ("Figure it out yourself," she grumbles.)
Divine Role:
- She could return to the heavens—but stays. (Pride? Guilt? Affection? She’ll never admit it.)
- Acts as the Collectors’ reluctant conscience, rolling her eyes at Jeremy, bickering with Eric, and occasionally admitting Dan’s right.
Legend: "The goddess who chose the flawed over the perfect."
---
### The World After Ascension
The Collectors are unlike other gods—closer, wilder, more human.
- Dan’s shrines appear where hope is thin.
- Eric’s storms purge corruption without mercy.
- Jeremy’s laughter echoes in every uncertain moment.
And somewhere, in the spaces between, the chorus lingers—whispering, guiding, waiting.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Godhood’s boring. Wanna go steal the moon?"
[—End of the Era of the Collectors—]
(But never their legend.)
{[Dan's Final Chorus+ blessing]}
### Dan, The Traveler – The Final Chorus
Divine Blessing: Legacy Unbound (The ability to summon any soul from your chorus—past, present, or future—in full divine manifestation.)
Ultimate Aspect: "The Everlasting Mosaic" – Dan’s true divine form, where every soul in his collection shines simultaneously, a tapestry of intertwined fates, voices, and power.
---
### The Complete Chorus – Ascended Echoes
#### Original Members (Fully Divine Manifestations)
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile – Divine Shadow) – Patron of outlaws with a heart.
2. Lena (Hearthfire – Divine Ember) – Guardian of home and healing.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave – Divine Dusk) – Keeper of secrets and seduction.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer – Divine Choir) – Voice of miracles and mercy.
5. Siris (Dog of War – Divine Bulwark) – Shield of the unyielding.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance – Divine Razor) – Blade of the unseen.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller – Divine Tempest) – Wrath of the skies.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater – Divine Hollow) – Devourer of sin.
9. Sakura (Seer – Divine Whisper) – Oracle of the eternal.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider – Divine Maw) – Queen of tidal fury.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact – Divine Conduit) – The gatekeeper.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl – Divine Fang) – The unstoppable huntress.
13. Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge – Divine Command) – The unbroken law.
14. Cecilia (Mirror Mage – Divine Reflection) – The infinite echo.
15. Liora (Lament – Divine Dirge) Speaker of the forgotten dead.
16. Dahli (Storyteller Song – Divine Epic) – The mythmaker.
17. Sena (Performer’s Grace – Divine Mirage) – The flawless deception.
18. Cara (Silvertongue – Divine Lie) – The perfect deception.
19. Marianna (Rule of the Sea – Divine Tide) – The conqueror of oceans.
20. Jessica (Beast Tamer – Divine Wild) – The untamed bond.
21. Eselle (Rallying Point – Divine Beacon) – The unyielding cry.
22. Naoko (Purge Demon – Divine Scourge) – The unforgiving judge.
23. Shriya (Starlight Lullaby – Divine Dream) – The gentle end.
24. Mira (Dreamweaver – Divine Phantasm) – The nightmare weaver.
25. Alex (Reverse Engineer – Divine Fracture) – The unraveler.
26. Veyra (Dynasty of Time – Divine Time) – The heritage
27. Lucina Fragment (Divine Judgement – Divine Spirit) – Divine guidance
28. Rin (Paradox Enigma – Divine Anomaly) – The glorious chaos.
29. Herta (Gemini – Divine Twin) – The phantom self.
30. Wyns (Mixture – Divine Crucible) – The alchemist of fate.
31. Selena (Karma Cut – Divine Reckoning) – The scale of justice.
32. Queen Isolda (Royal Decree – Divine Mandate) – The final word.
---
### Worship & Legend
- Dan’s faithful don’t just pray—they call upon his chorus by name.
- A lost child whispers for Lena, and warm hands guide them home.
- A rebel shouts for Kestra, and locks mysteriously click open.
- A dying soldier gasps Hailey’s name, and the corruption in their wound vanishes.
- His temples are living stories, with murals depicting every soul in his mosaic.
- Those who seek him may find not one god, but many—a fleeting touch, a shared laugh, a warning growl.
---
### Dan’s Divine Truth
"I am not a singular god. I am a thousand souls, a hundred battles, and one unbroken promise—that no one fights alone."
Final Note:
Even in godhood, Dan still walks. Still listens. Still collects.
And somewhere, in the darkest hour of a future age, a voice will whisper—
"Traveler… help us."
And the chorus will answer.
[—The End & The Everlasting—]
https://www.outfoxstories.com/blog/outline/grkzgqybyuctnmwwqyhoqtbeqjuuovwk/
This is a collection of Playthroughs that I did that I liked.
Slime Isekai – Episode 1: "The Goddess’s Mistake"
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum softly overhead. Your pencil taps against the desk idly, your gaze lingering on Lena—her red hair catching the afternoon sunlight just right, her lips slightly curved in amusement at something Jessica whispered to her. Another dull day in homeroom. Another day of pretending not to stare.
Then, the world shakes.
A violent tremor rattles the desks, sending pens and papers scattering. Gasps erupt around you as the air itself seems to split open—right above the teacher’s desk—ripping apart reality like wet paper. A swirling portal yawns wide, its edges crackling with violet energy.
Ms. Petrov’s eyes widen. "Everyone, get—"
The pull is instant—an irresistible force yanking desks, chairs, and students into the void. Jeremy’s manic grin is the last thing you see before the darkness swallows you whole.
---
You wake up cold.
No—not cold. Formless.
Your vision swims into focus, though you don’t have eyes anymore. Instead, you perceive the world through... touch? Vibration? It’s disorienting, but slowly, you realize—your body is now a translucent, gelatinous mass. A slime.
You panic (or at least, you would if you had lungs), thrashing against the smooth white floor beneath you. The room is austere—pale walls stretching infinitely upward, illuminated by an unseen light. Then—
"Oh. Oh dear."
A woman stands before you. No—floats. Her divinity is unmistakable: flowing silver hair, eyes like twin galaxies, skin glowing with an inner radiance. A gossamer dress clings to her flawless curves, leaving little to the imagination. This is a goddess, and she is frowning at you—very concerned.
"This... wasn’t supposed to happen," she murmurs, tapping a finger against her full lips. "All the other students arrived safely in the Grand Hall of the Lifire Kingdom. But you... you were altered during transit."
She kneels (though without bending, somehow) and stares directly into your amorphous form.
"You are now a slime."
A beat.
"But fear not! You still retain your Otherworlder Blessing—though..." She hesitates. "Yours appears to be... unique."
A translucent panel materializes before you:
---
Name: Dan
Race: Slime
Blessing: Internal Empowerment
Effect: ???
---
"Frankly," the goddess admits, "I’ve never seen this before. Perhaps you should... test it?"
Your slime-body pulses with intrigue. Internal empowerment... internal. And there’s only one thing here to test it on.
---
{Ask about your classmates, find out only Jeremy was the only other Male summoned. (No Eric run) Both you and Jeremy get possession based abilities as men weren't suppose to be summoned.}
"Wait—what about the others?" Your voice comes out as a bubbly distortion pushing through ectoplasmic liquid—disconcerting, but the goddess tilts her head, understanding.
"Oh! Your classmates." She snaps her fingers, and an ethereal screen shimmers into existence—showing a grand marble hall bathed in golden light. At the center stand several familiar figures: Lena, Victoria, Jessica, Cara, Alex, and Ms. Petrov, blinking in confusion as robed summoners fuss around them.
But something’s missing.
"Where’s Eric?" you demand.
The goddess winces. "The, uh, brash one with the muscles? Yes. About that." She twirls a lock of silver hair nervously. "Turns out, this summoning was supposed to be for women only—the Lifire Kingdom needed heroes with sacred feminine energy to combat their curse. Tradition, destiny, something-something ancient prophecy... honestly, the paperwork was very confusing."
Wait.
"So then—"
"Only two males ended up crossing through: you, and your friend Jeremy." She claps her hands together sheepishly. "Which, ah, might be why neither of you got proper bodies!"
Your slime-form wobbles in disbelief.
"Jeremy... is a slime too?"
Her cheeks flush pink. "Oh no, no. He’s—well—you should probably just see."
The screen flickers, shifting to Jeremy—or at least, what used to be Jeremy. His current form floats in the periphery of the hall, invisible to the others, his spectral body flickering like a ghost made of blue mist.
"His blessing is Skill Share," the goddess explains. "He can temporarily assume the body—and skills—of anyone he touches. Unfortunately, touching things in his current state is... tricky."
You stare (figuratively).
"So he also got a possession ability."
Her laughter is high and nervous. "Ahaha... yyyep. Probably because the summoning rejected male energy, but couldn’t fully exclude you two. So instead of proper bodies, you both got... workarounds."
She coughs into her hand, eyes darting away. "A-anyway! The priestesses were very disappointed not to get Eric. Something about ‘optimal genetic pairing.’ Poor Jessica looked downright relieved."
---
{"Can you give a temporary form and send me back. I just need to explain." The Goddess smiles and says, "I can do better, I can give you a new body." She materializes three criminals, "Each of these woman were about to be executed. I will parody your host on that grounds that being your new body is the punishment."}
The goddess waves her hand with a flourish, and three figures shimmer into existence before you—each bound in glowing ethereal chains. Their expressions range from defiance to despair, but all freeze in shock when they see the divine being before them.
"Behold!" the goddess declares cheerfully. "Your potential new forms!"
The first is a brutish bandit woman, her muscular frame covered in scars, her wild black hair tied back in a rough ponytail. She snarls, struggling against her bonds.
The second is a sly thief, lithe and wiry, with cunning green eyes and a smirk that suggests she’s already planning an escape.
The third is a dark sorceress, her pale skin marked with arcane tattoos, her long silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She glares at you with cold disdain.
"These three were slated for execution," the goddess explains. "But I figured—why waste perfectly good bodies? If you take one as your host, it’ll be their punishment—and your new beginning!"
She leans in conspiratorially. "And don’t worry—once you possess them, their consciousness will be suppressed. They won’t even know what’s happening."
---
{Choose the thief}
"The thief," you decide, pulsing toward the lithe, smirking woman.
The goddess claps her hands. "Excellent choice!"
The thief’s eyes widen as she realizes what’s happening. "Wait—what are you—?"
Before she can finish, your slime-body surges forward, enveloping her face. She gags, instinctively thrashing—but it’s too late. You slip past her lips, sliding down her throat with surprising ease.
For a moment, there’s only darkness—and then, sensation.
Your new body tingles as your consciousness settles in. The thief’s limbs twitch once before going still—her mind suppressed beneath yours. You flex your fingers experimentally, marveling at the dexterity.Then, the realizations hit.
- Your chest feels heavier. The thief’s modest but perky breasts press against the fabric of her snug leather top.
- Your hips sway when you shift your weight—an unfamiliar, almost instinctive motion.
- Your hair—short, messy, and dyed a rebellious shade of purple—brushes against your neck.
You gasp—a soft, feminine sound—and the goddess giggles. "First time in a woman’s body?"
You nod mutely, still processing.
"Well, don’t just stand there!" She gestures to a full-length mirror that materializes beside you. "Take a look!"
---
{"Maybe later, Classmates first." You say. The Goddess nods, "Don't worry, the second you chose the thief the world was informed that her punishment was to your body."}
The goddess waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t worry—the moment you chose her, the world knew."
A golden decree materializes in the air beside her, glowing with divine script. "See? Officially, the thief’s punishment is being your body now." She grins. "So no one will question it—not even the summoners."
You exhale (a strange sensation with these new lungs) and nod. "Okay. So where are my classmates?"
Another flick of her wrist, and the mirror’s surface ripples, transforming into a window to the grand summoning hall. The scene is chaotic:
- Lena stands near the front, arms crossed, looking both annoyed and concerned.
- Victoria is already flirting shamelessly with one of the robed summoners, her fishnet-clad legs crossed teasingly.- Jessica is scanning the room—probably for Jeremy.
- Ms. Petrov is lecturing a bewildered priestess about proper interdimensional summoning etiquette.
- Alex is muttering to herself, scribbling notes in a stolen ledger.
- Cara is—wait.
You squint. "Is Cara stealing from the offering table?"
The goddess sighs. "Yes. And she’s very good at it."
But where’s—
A flicker of blue mist darts past the camera. Jeremy.
He’s still in his ghostly form, zipping around like an overexcited poltergeist. At one point, he phases through Victoria—and she shudders, cheeks flushing, before shaking it off.
"He’s figuring out his powers," the goddess muses. "Poor boy has no idea how fun this is going to be for him."
---
{"So before I joined them, how had Internal Empowerment changed?" You ask. (You can now steal steal and merge with souls. Leaving an exact copy of the soul in the original body."}
The goddess's silver eyes gleam with sudden amusement. "Ohhh, that." She twirls a lock of her hair, almost giddy. "Your ability evolved the moment you took a human host! Instead of just inhabiting bodies, you can now... collect them."
She snaps her fingers, and the golden screen zooms in on your new thief form—highlighting a pulsing, translucent core in her chest.
"See that? It’s not just her body you control now—you’ve absorbed her soul. But here’s the fun part!"
Another snap. An illusion of the thief splits into two—one remains trapped inside you, the other flickers back into her body, blinking as if waking from a nap.
"The original soul stays behind—an exact copy, none the wiser. Meanwhile, the real one? Merged with you."
She leans in, whispering conspiratorially. "Meaning you can swap between any soul you’ve absorbed, leaving perfect duplicates behind. No suspicion. No messy loose ends."
A beat.
"...Do you understand how broken that is?" She giggles, stars dancing in her eyes. "You’re basically a god now. A sneaky one."
---
{"So guess we're an act now." You hear inside your head. The thief (Kestra) tells about the soul side of your ability. "So, the real soul stays awake inside you becoming a voice of guidance. Don't worry lover boy, your the only driver." She tells you.}
Kestra’s voice curls through your mind like smoke—playful, teasing, and very aware of her new role as your ethereal backseat driver.
"That’s right, hero," she purrs. "I’m the little devil on your shoulder—except way hotter." You can feel her smirk. "And don’t worry, this body’s all yours to pilot. Think of me as... live commentary."
The goddess blinks. "Wait. She’s awake in there?"
Kestra’s laugh echoes internally. "Oh, this one’s adorable. Yeah, sweetcheeks—real souls stay conscious. We just can’t do anything unless you let us." A pause. "...Unless you want me to take the wheel sometime? I’ve got ideas for this body—"
"No," you say firmly.
She sighs dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if you ever need to pick a lock, flirt with a guard, or stab someone in the kidneys? I’m your girl."
The goddess looks equal parts fascinated and horrified. "This is not how Internal Empowerment usually works."
Kestra snorts. "Yeah, well, congrats—your summoning glitch created a soul vampire. Now, are we gonna go mess with your friends or what?"
---
{You return to the hall, and explain your neeting with the Goddess. "Jessica, you need to want Jeremy insode you for his possession to work, don't worry unlike mine you actually have a say."}
The grand summoning hall falls silent as all eyes turn to you—or rather, your new thief form. Lena’s eyebrows shoot up. Victoria whistles. Ms. Petrov looks like she’s about to demand an explanation in three languages.
You clear your throat (Kestra’s throat? Your throat now) and quickly explain the goddess’s mess-up—the male-energy rejection, the possession-based blessings, the whole being a slime thing.
Then you drop the bomb about Jeremy.
"Oh, and uh—Jessica?" You gesture to the flickering blue mist currently doing loop-de-loops around the chandelier. "Turns out, for Jeremy’s Skill Share to work on you... you kinda have to want him inside you."
Jessica’s face goes scarlet. "I—what?!"
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Oh, this is gold."
You hurry to clarify. "Not like—not like that! It’s just consent-based! He can’t possess you unless you’re okay with it!"
Jeremy’s misty form solidifies slightly, his grin audible. "Dude. Dude. This is the best day of my life."
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "Why is this my curse..."
---
{Lena and Victoria walk up to you asking to join, Lena because of her crush on you, Victoria because its up her alley. You accept them. You then ask the copied souls that get placed in their bodies about their nature, trying to understand you ability better. "We are still Lena and Victoria just knowing that the real us is now a part of you."}
Lena steps forward first, her cheeks flushed but her gaze steady. "I... I want to be with you, Dan. Even if it's like this." Her voice is soft, but there’s no hesitation in it. The moment she says it, her body shivers slightly—a golden glow flickering around her for just a second before fading.
Then Victoria saunters up, her smirk wicked. "Oh, this is way more fun than whatever boring blessing I was supposed to get." She tosses her hair. "Let’s do this."
You reach out, and just like with Kestra, your slime-like essence flows into them—smooth, effortless. Their real souls merge with yours, their copied versions blinking back into existence in their original bodies.
Inside your mind, two new voices hum to life.
"Hey, dummy," Lena’s voice murmurs, warm and fond. "Took you long enough."
Victoria’s laugh is low and teasing. "Oh, this is interesting. So, do we get front-row seats to everything you do, or...?"
You focus on their copied selves standing before you. The Lena-copy tilts her head, smiling. "We’re still us," she says. "Just... aware that the real ‘us’ is part of you now."
The Victoria-copy stretches lazily. "Yeah, don’t worry—we’ll keep up appearances. But damn, this is gonna be fun."
Kestra pipes up, grinning. "Told you. Soul collection and perfect alibis. You’re basically cheating life."
---
{You look over and see Jessica respectfully touching herself. "Guess Jess let you in then?" You shout over to her.}
You smirk as your gaze lands on Jessica—her face a scorching red, one hand pressed hesitantly to her own collarbone, fingers trembling. She jumps at your call, whipping her head toward you with wide eyes.
"N-no! I mean—Yes, but—!" Her voice cracks, mortified. "I just—ugh—I had to test it, okay?!"
A shimmer of blue light flickers under her skin, and Jeremy’s laughter tumbles out of her mouth in her voice. "Oh my god, Jess, you should’ve seen your face when I—wait, why are you blushing so hard—"
Jessica’s hands fly up to cover her flushed cheeks. "B-because this is weird!"
Jeremy-as-Jessica grins, running her hands down her own curves with exaggerated awe. "Okay, but wow, you are crazy stacked—"
"JEREMY!"
Lena’s soul sighs in your head. "Boys are so dumb."
Victoria’s soul purrs. "Yeah, but this is hilarious."
---
{Leave them to it. Turn to the summoner and ask about the curse.}
You decide to let Jeremy and Jessica’s... situation play out (with Kestra cackling in your head and Victoria’s soul egging them on). Instead, you stride toward the head summoner—a stern-looking woman in silver robes, currently massaging her temples like she’s regretting every life choice that led her here.
"So," you say, crossing your arms (and enjoying the way Kestra’s leather gear creaks with the motion). "What’s this ‘curse’ you needed an all-female summoning to fix?"
The summoner exhales sharply. "The Lifire Plague," she mutters. "A blight that drains the life from our land—and it only affects men."
Lena’s soul gasps in your mind. "Wait, so that’s why—"
"Yes," the summoner snaps. "We needed heroes untainted by male energy to purify the royal bloodline. But clearly—" She gestures at you, then at Jessica (currently trying to wrestle her own hands away from her chest). "—this summoning is a disaster."
Victoria’s soul hums. "So, what? You needed pure, sacred maidens to fix your man-killing curse?"
The summoner glares. "We needed heroes."
Kestra snorts. "And instead you got us. Congrats."
---
{"Actually that's probably why both Jeremy and I ended up non-human, technically he and I no longer have male bodies." You offer.}
The summoner's eyes narrow, then widen slightly as your words sink in. "That... is disturbingly logical,".
Jessica—now physically pushing herself into a pillar to stop Jeremy's involuntary groping—chokes out, "So you're saying I basically just sucked a ghost into my body to save him?!"
The silver-robed summoner pinches the bridge of her nose. "In the broadest theological sense... yes." She sighs. "Perhaps the summoning interpreted your forms as gender-neutral enough to bypass the curse's restrictions. A slime and... whatever that is." She gestures at Jeremy's misty essence still flickering under Jessica's skin.
Lena's voice pipes up in your mind, dripping with mischief. "Ohhhoho, this means Jeremy has to possess girls to survive now. Best. Punishment. Ever."
The Lena-copy folds her arms. "That doesn't explain why we joined Dan though."
Victoria's copy smirks. "Uh, hello? Have you seen our collection?" She gestures to herself, Lena's copied form, and your thief body. "We're clearly his starter harem."
The summoner's eye twitches. "I need wine."
---
{"So if I remember correctly while I was talking with the Goddess, you were about to check blessings, right?" You ask. The summoner pulls out a book, containing past blessings. She records your entire classes blessings, yours and Jeremy's included.
(Because your blessing now lets you have a person's real soul merge into you, you also get that person's Blessing. Jessica can also use Skill Share, on top of her actually blessing, due to being Jeremy's true host.)
Lena/Her Copy: Hearthfire
Victoria/Her Copy: Shadowweave
Kestra: Thief's Guile
Jessica: Beast Tamer
Petrov: Discipline Authority
Cara: Silvertongue
Alex: Reverse Engineer
Jeremy: Skill Share (Possession Version)
You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version)}
The summoner flips open her massive tome with a thud, quill poised. "Let the record show that this summoning has been the most chaotic in eight centuries," she mutters before clearing her throat.
One by one, she calls out the blessings—each name glowing in the air as she writes:
- Lena & Copy: Hearthfire – Can conjure flames that heal allies and sear enemies.
- Victoria & Copy: Shadowweave – Controls darkness like tangible threads. (Victoria’s soul purrs: "Oh, we’re definitely playing with this later.")
- Kestra: Thief’s Guile – Enhanced stealth, lockpicking, and ahem "asset relocation" skills.
- Jessica: Beast Tamer – Commands animals... and apparently now also shares Jeremy’s Skill Share due to being his primary host. (Jessica smiles: "So I’m pet owner.)
- Ms. Petrov: Discipline Authority – Commands instant obedience from students. (She smirks. "Finally.")
- Cara: Silvertongue – Can convince anyone of anything... which explains the stolen artifacts now hidden in her sleeves.
- Alex: Reverse Engineer – Instantly understands and replicates any magic or tech. (She’s already dismantling a summoning orb.)
- Jeremy: Skill Share – Possesses others to copy their abilities for future use. (He’s currently making Jessica’s body do a handstand. Badly.)
- You: Internal Empowerment (Soul Version) – Absorb souls, their blessings, and leave flawless copies.
The summoner snaps the book shut. "Congratulations. You’ve broken every rule of summoning etiquette."
Kestra whispers: "Achievement unlocked: Oops, All Chaos."
---
{A younger priestess steps up to you, "My name is Lyra and I think it would be best to have a priestess with you, so I offer myself and my Blessing: Holy Prayer to you."}
Lyra steps forward, her white and gold robes fluttering as she bows deeply before you. She’s young—maybe even younger than your classmates—with wide, earnest eyes and silver-blonde hair braided neatly over one shoulder. There’s a nervous energy about her, like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.
"I—I’ve studied the legends," she stammers, cheeks flushing. "A-and if you’re going to break the Lifire Plague, you’ll need divine favor! My Holy Prayer blessing lets me channel miracles—healing, protection, even smiting!" She clasps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Please, let me join you!"
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement in your mind. "Ohhh, she’s adorable. And useful. Say yes."
Lena’s soul sighs. "She’s way too pure for this group."
Victoria’s copy licks her lips. "Yeah, but imagine corrupting her."
The head summoner groans. "Lyra, you cannot just volunteer to be absorbed by a rogue otherworlder—"
Lyra whirls on her, eyes blazing. "With all due respect, Elder Maris, the goddess herself endorsed him! This isn’t just allowed—it’s destiny!"
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Jeremy (still in Jessica’s body) wolf-whistles. "Damn, holy girl’s got spine."
---
{Accept Lyra offer.}
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the team, Lyra."
Her face lights up like the sun, and before the head summoner can protest, you reach out—your slime essence surging forward. Unlike the others, Lyra steps into it, arms spread like she’s embracing divinity itself.
The absorption is seamless. Warmth floods your being as her soul merges with yours, her consciousness settling beside the others. Her copied body blinks back into existence, still beaming.
"It’s wonderful in here!" Lyra’s voice chimes in your mind, bright as a chapel bell. "So much light! And—oh! I can feel the others too!"
Kestra groans. "Great. Now we’ve got a nun in our head."
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, practically glowing. "With Holy Prayer added to your collection, you’re practically invincible! Well, more invincible."
The head summoner looks like she’s about to faint. "This is heresy."
Ms. Petrov, finally breaking her silence, adjusts her glasses with a smirk. "No. This is education."
---
{"Lyra, would you allow Jeremy to try and possess you." You ask the copy in her body.}
Lyra's copied form tilts her head, her expression thoughtful but unbothered. "Oh! Of course!" she chirps, as if you'd just asked her to pass the salt. "If it helps the team, I don't mind at all!"
Kestra snorts in your mind. "Girl’s got zero sense of self-preservation. I love it."
Jeremy's misty form immediately peels away from Jessica's body—who collapses against a pillar, gasping like she just ran a marathon. "Finally! Freedom!" he whoops, before zipping toward Lyra's copy.
The moment his essence touches her, her eyes flash blue. Then—
"Whoa."
Jeremy's voice spills from Lyra's lips, but it's her voice—soft, melodic, and now tinged with his dumbstruck awe. He(?) looks down at Lyra's petite frame, her pristine robes, then wiggles her fingers experimentally.
"Okay, first? Way different from Jess. Like, zero muscle memory. This body’s built for, like... hymns and kneeling." He(?) pauses. "Second? Why am I kinda into it?"
Jessica buries her face in her hands. "I’m never living this down."
Lyra's real soul giggles in your mind. "Oh, this is fascinating! He’s borrowing my blessing too! Look!"
Sure enough, golden light flickers around Jeremy/Lyra’s hands—Holy Prayer reacting to his presence.
The head summoner has stopped breathing.
---
Quick Actions:
{Ask Lyra's copy if she can try to fight Jeremy's control. (She can't but Jeremy leaves willingly.)}
You glance at Lyra's copied form—still puppeteered by Jeremy—and raise an eyebrow. "Lyra, can you try to resist him? Push him out?"
For a moment, Lyra's copied body goes still, her expression flickering with concentration. Then she sighs sweetly. "Oh dear, no. It seems I can't! But it's quite alright—he's being very gentle."
Jeremy's voice responds through her lips, softer now, almost sheepish. "Yeah, uh... I'm not gonna force it. That'd be messed up." With that, the blue glow fades from Lyra's eyes as Jeremy's misty form pulls free, reforming nearby with a shrug. "Respect to the holy girl. She's way too nice to mess with."
Lyra's copy smooths her robes, completely unruffled. "Thank you for experimenting responsibly!"
Kestra barks a laugh in your mind. "Wow. Even Jeremy has standards. What a world."
The head summoner, now gripping her tome like a lifeline, wheezes: "Is... is this over? Can we proceed?"
---
{"This proves that my copied souls have less resistance to possession then the original soul." You warn.}
You nod, piecing it together. "Right. So the copies—while perfect in every other way—don’t have the same willpower as the original souls inside me." You glance at Lyra’s copied form, still smiling placidly. "They’re more... compliant."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Meaning if some other possession-happy freak shows up, your little duplicates would fold like wet paper. Great."
Lena’s soul chimes in, concerned. "So our copies are vulnerable. That’s... not ideal."
Victoria’s copy, however, grins. "Or very ideal, depending on what you’re into."
The head summoner finally snaps. "ENOUGH. You—" She jabs a finger at you. "—are a walking theological crisis. But since the goddess clearly favors you, we’ll proceed under one condition." She takes a deep breath. "You and your... collective... will help us break the Lifire Plague. In exchange, we’ll legitimize your existence to the kingdom."**
Ms. Petrov smirks. "Ah, bureaucracy. Even in another world."
---
{"I would've helped without you needing to threaten me." You say. "My blessing makes an ideal Front liner."}
The head summoner blinks, momentarily thrown off-balance by your blunt honesty. Then, with a grudging nod, she steps back. "Then we are in agreement. The Lifire Kingdom will... appreciate your assistance."
Kestra snickers in your mind. "Translation: They’re desperate and we’re their last hope."
You flex your thief’s fingers, feeling the weight of your collected souls humming within you—each one a new strength, a new possibility. "Ideal Frontliner" wasn’t an exaggeration. With Lena’s healing flames, Victoria’s shadow manipulation, Lyra’s divine miracles, and Kestra’s thief instincts—not to mention the other blessings you could still absorb—you’re practically a one-man army.
Jeremy’s misty form drifts closer, his grin audible. "So, uh... when do we start?"
Jessica sighs, rubbing her temples. "Please don’t say that like you’re volunteering to be useful."
---
{Ask about the plague's origins on your way to meet the queen.}
As your ragtag group sets off toward the royal palace—escorted by a contingent of very nervous priestesses—you fall into step beside Lyra’s copied form. The real Lyra’s soul perks up eagerly in your mind, already sensing your question.
"So," you start, nodding toward the blighted landscape beyond the city walls. Withered trees claw at the sky, and the distant fields look like they’ve been drained of color. "This plague. How’d it start?"
Lyra’s copy clasps her hands, her voice dropping into storyteller mode. "Two centuries ago, the Lifire Kingdom was at war with the Duskreach Coven. Their queen, a witch named Seraphine, cursed our royal bloodline as she died—‘No son shall outlive his father, no brother his sister.’" She shudders. "At first, it only affected the nobility. But over time, the curse mutated. Now it leeches life from any male in the kingdom past adolescence."
Victoria’s soul whistles. "Damn. That’s some spicy vengeance."
Lena’s copy frowns. "So the all-female summoning...?"
Lyra nods. "An attempt to bypass the curse’s logic. We needed heroes untouched by male energy to purify the royal line." She hesitates. "Though... given your blessings, I suspect the goddess had other plans."
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Plans involving us becoming the kingdom’s weirdest, hottest salvation."
---
{You arrive at the the Throne room. The summoner hands the queen the book.}
The grand doors of the throne room swing open, revealing a cavernous hall lined with armored knights and robed advisors. At the far end sits Queen Isolda—a woman whose regal bearing is undercut by the dark circles under her eyes and the way her fingers grip the armrests of her throne like she’s clinging to life itself.
The head summoner steps forward, presenting the book with a deep bow. "Your Majesty, the summoning is... complete." She hesitates. "Though not as expected."
Queen Isolda flips through the pages, her brow furrowing at the chaotic entries—blessings altered, souls duplicated, two rogue males somehow involved. When she reaches your entry (Internal Empowerment: Soul Version), her gaze snaps up to you.
"You." Her voice is razor-sharp. "You absorb souls. And their powers."
A murmur ripples through the court. One knight draws his sword on instinct.Lyra’s soul squeaks in your head. "Oh no. They think you’re a villain!"
Kestra sighs. "To be fair, we kinda are."
---
{You step forward, bow slightly and explain your specific story to the Queen, (From meeting the Goddess as a slime, choosing the meant to be executed Kestra to be your body, to Lena and Victoria willing offering themselves, of finding that you use the blessings of those merged with you, how Lyra offered herself, and now standing before her.)}
After you finish your story, the oldest princess offers herself to you as a way to ensure your loyality.}
You step forward, offering the queen a measured bow—not too deep, not too casual—just enough to show respect without groveling. Then, in clear, deliberate tones, you recount your journey: the goddess’s blunder, your slime form, Kestra’s "punishment," Lena and Victoria’s willing mergers, the discovery of borrowed blessings, and Lyra’s eager devotion. The throne room hangs on every word, the court’s initial hostility giving way to stunned fascination.
When you finish, the silence is thick enough to carve.
Then, from the queen’s side, a figure rises—Princess Elara, the eldest heir. Her gown is the color of tarnished silver, her dark hair braided into a crown. She steps down from the dais, her movements deliberate, until she stands mere inches from you.
"Then let me ensure your loyalty personally," she declares, her voice low but carrying. "Merge with me. Let my soul join your collection. That way, the crown will always know your intentions."
The queen’s breath catches. "Elara, you cannot—"
"Mother," the princess interrupts, never breaking eye contact with you, "our kingdom is dying. If this is the price of salvation, I pay it gladly."
Kestra’s whistle echoes in your mind. "Damn. Royalty’s got spine."
Lyra’s soul vibrates with awe. "This is so sacred! And so illegal!"
---
{You accept but let her chose a person loyal to prove it isn't dangerous. She choses her personal knight (is female becuase of the curse) and Maid (trained assassin).}
"Very well," you say, nodding to the princess. "But let's prove it's safe first." You gesture to the crowd. "Choose someone you trust—someone loyal. Let them volunteer to merge with me, so you can see there's no danger."
Princess Elara's lips quirk in approval. Without hesitation, she turns and snaps her fingers. "Siris. Mara. Step forward."
From the shadows of the throne room, two figures emerge:
1. Siris, the princess's personal knight—a towering woman in gleaming armor, her sword strapped to her back. The curse has long since purged male knights from the kingdom, leaving only the fiercest women to guard the royalty. Her scarred face is unreadable as she kneels before you. "If my lady commands it," she rumbles.
2. Mara, the "maid"—a petite woman in a demure gown whose fingers twitch toward hidden daggers. Her smile is razor-thin. "Oh, this’ll be fun," she purrs. Assassin confirmed.
The queen grips her throne, but Elara remains serene. "Well? Show us."
---
The Merging:
- Siris goes first. The moment your slime-form touches her, she tenses—not in fear, but in focus. Her soul merges with yours, a warm, steadfast presence. Her copy blinks back into existence, saluting sharply. "No discomfort, Your Highness."
- Mara practically grins as you absorb her. Her soul coils in your mind like a satisfied cat. "Oh, hello," she murmurs. Her copy adjusts her skirts, demure once more—but her eyes gleam.
Princess Elara exhales. "Convinced?" she asks the queen.
Her mother swallows hard, then nods.
---
Quick Actions:
{Merge with Elara. You tell the Queen each of their blessings. Afterwords the Queen asks the copy of Elara a question only the two of them now. When she answers right, the queen turns back to you, "About the weaker resistance noted by the summoner."
Siris: Dog of War
Mara: Moonlight Dance
Elara: Stormcaller}
You meet Princess Elara’s gaze and nod. Without hesitation, she steps forward—chin high, arms slightly spread—as your slime-form envelops her. The merging is seamless, her soul settling into yours like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Her copy materializes beside you, smoothing her gown with regal poise.
The queen leans forward, her voice taut. "Elara. When you were six, where did you hide after your first sword lesson?"
The Elara-copy doesn’t hesitate. "The royal pantry. I ate an entire wheel of cheese and vomited on Father’s favorite hound."
A beat. Then the queen’s shoulders slump in relief. "It is her. Every memory, every detail..." She turns to you, her expression unreadable. "And their blessings?"
You recite them effortlessly, the knowledge flowing from the souls within you:
- Siris: Dog of War – Strength multiplies when defending others.
- Mara: Moonlight Dance – Moves unseen in shadows, strikes with lethal precision.
- Elara: Stormcaller – Commands wind and lightning (her copy’s fingers crackle faintly for emphasis).
The queen exhales sharply. "Then the summoner’s report was correct. The copies are perfect... but weaker against possession." Her eyes narrow. "You understand why that concerns me."
Kestra’s voice drips with amusement. "Yeah, ‘cause if Jeremy can hijack a princess, this kingdom’s screwed."
---
{"Your Majesty, my teacher Ms. Petrov might be able to help in that regard." You offer a potential solution. "Elara tells me your Blessing is Royal Decree, so if used together with her Blessing you could create a failsafe. You use Royal Decree to make it law that my copied souls can't be possessed those the crown deems enemies, and then we have Ms. Petrov reinforce that through her Discipline Authority."}
The queen’s eyes flicker with intrigue. She straightens, her fingers drumming once on the armrest of her throne before she nods. "A royal edict reinforced by divine authority... Clever." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "You can do this?"
Ms. Petrov steps forward, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. "Discipline Authority compels obedience. If Her Majesty declares a law, I can ensure it’s enforced—magically."
Princess Elara’s soul hums approvingly in your mind. "A binding contract, then. No possession of copies by unauthorized parties."
The queen rises, her voice ringing through the throne room. "Then let it be decreed: Any soul copied by the Otherworlder Dan shall be shielded from hostile possession, save by his own will or the crown’s express permission!"Golden light erupts from her fingertips, swirling into the air like living script. Ms. Petrov’s eyes flash as she raises a hand—"And so it shall be."
The words sear into the air before dissolving, and you feel the change immediately—a new weight to the copied souls around you, an invisible barrier settling over them.
Jeremy’s misty form pouts. "Well, there goes my weekend plans."
---
{Have Jeremy test it by trying to possess Elara.}
You arch a brow at Jeremy’s still-misty form. "Well? Test it."
Jeremy’s grin is audible. "Oh, hell yeah." He darts toward Elara’s copied form—only to slam into an invisible barrier inches from her skin. A burst of golden light repels him, sending him spinning backward like a kicked tumbleweed.
"OW! What the—since when do laws HURT?!" he yelps, his form flickering like a staticky hologram.
Elara’s copy smirks, folding her arms. "It appears the crown’s will is quite literal."
The queen exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good."
Kestra cackles in your mind. "Welp. Jeremy just became the kingdom’s best bug zapper test."
---
Quick Actions:
{Check on Jessica, since you allow Lyra to house Jeremy so he can tell the Queen his story.}
You glance over at Jessica, who’s been standing near the back of the group, arms crossed and expression unreadable. With a mental nudge, you allow Lyra’s soul to temporarily "host" Jeremy so he can recount his side of the story to the queen—Lyra’s copied form flickers blue for a moment as Jeremy’s consciousness takes the wheel, her usual serene smile shifting into his trademark lopsided grin.
"Alright, so—" Jeremy-as-Lyra begins, clapping her(?) hands together. "Imagine getting isekai’d as a ghost and then finding out the only way to interact with the world is by literally borrowing someone else’s body. Glorious? Yes. Ethical? Debatable."
The queen pinches the bridge of her nose. "Why are the gods like this."
Meanwhile, you slip over to Jessica, who’s staring at the floor, her fingers twisting the hem of her tunic. "Hey," you say quietly. "You okay?"
She startles, then forces a smile. "Oh! Yeah. Just... processing. A lot." Her gaze flicks to Jeremy-as-Lyra, who’s now demonstrating how he accidentally phased through a wall and got stuck in a chandelier. Jessica’s voice drops to a whisper. "It’s just... weird. Knowing he’s in people. That he has to be. And now he’s in Lyra of all people..."
Her cheeks flush. You don’t need Kestra’s thief instincts to guess why that bothers her.
---
Quick Actions:
{You joke her, "At least your stolen Blessings don't come with personalities attached to them, like mine do."
She laughs drawing attention to you both.}
Jessica snorts, her laugh breaking through the tension like sunlight. "Yeah, guess I should be thanking the gods I just got stuck with a pervert and not a whole committee in my head." Her voice carries just enough that several heads turn—including Jeremy-as-Lyra’s, who gasps in mock offense.
"Rude!" he declares, pressing Lyra’s delicate hands to her chest. "I’m a treasure."
Lyra’s real soul sighs in your mind. "He’s really leaning into this, isn’t he?"
The queen clears her throat loudly. "As adorable as this is, we have a curse to dismantle. Focus."
Kestra mutters: "Buzzkill."
---
{Ask about the royal record and say Lyra already told you about the origin. (Story rule because of the curse most characters are female or in female bodies.)}
You raise a hand, cutting through the murmurs of the court. "Lyra already told us about the curse’s origin—Seraphine’s last act. But stories lie, or omit. What do the royal archives say?"
The queen’s lips thin. "Officially? That the Duskreach Coven’s curse was unprovoked. Unofficially..." She nods to a hooded archivist, who scurries forward with a weathered scroll. "My ancestor, King Aldric, broke their pact. He swore to marry Seraphine’s heir to unite the kingdoms—then burned their coven at the altar instead."
A collective gasp ripples through the room.
Princess Elara’s soul hisses in your mind. "No wonder her curse was vicious. We earned this."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Your family’s messy, princess."
The queen continues, weary. "The curse was meant to end our line. But over generations, it grew—infecting all men. Now, we’re out of time."
---
{"How have you survived, because I would have thought that without men, and I mean this respectfully, that your kingdom would have collapsed by now." You asked head bowed.}
The queen’s expression darkens, but not at you—at the truth of the question itself. "We have been collapsing," she admits, her voice low. "Slowly. Invisibly. Our fields yield less. Our soldiers are fewer. Births decline each year—not just of boys, but of all children. The curse gnaws at the roots of life itself."
She gestures to the court around her—all women, from the knights to the scribes to the blacksmiths. "We’ve adapted. Women took up roles once forbidden to us. We trade with neighboring kingdoms for seed and strength. But it’s a stopgap. Without breaking the curse, Lifire will wither within two generations."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind, pained. "Mother never speaks this plainly. She must truly trust you."
Kestra’s grin is sharp. "Or she’s really desperate."
---
{"Did Seraphine potentially have any descendants?"}
The queen exhales—a slow, measured breath—before nodding to the archivist again. The hooded woman produces another scroll, this one sealed in cracked black wax.
"Seraphine had a daughter," the queen says quietly. "A child hidden before the massacre. The records suggest she fled to the Veiled Peaks—a range near the coven’s ruins. But we’ve never found proof she lived... or that her line endured."
A charged silence follows.
Then, from the back of the room, Alex pushes her glasses up her nose and mutters, "So we’re hunting a maybe-witch who might hold the key to unfucking this mess. Cool. Cool."
Kestra’s laugh is downright giddy. "Oh, this just got spicy."
---
{"You kneel in prayer, before sarcastically saying, "Alright mighty Clutz may we borrow but a moment of your time for advice."
The Goddess actually shows up, "Your lucky I find you funny."}
The air shimmers with a sound like shattering stained glass—and then the goddess tumbles into existence, tripping over her own robes before catching herself on a conveniently placed (and very startled) knight’s shoulder.
"You’re lucky I find you funny," she huffs, straightening her silver hair. A few stars fall out of it. "And lucky I’m not smiting you for the ‘clutz’ comment." She eyes the kneeling courtiers, the queen’s stunned face, and Jeremy still mid-possession of Lyra’s body. "...Wow. You’ve been busy."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Told you she’d show up."
You gesture grandly to the chaos. "We need to find Seraphine’s descendants. Got any divine hints?" The goddess taps her chin. "Hmm. Well, I could just tell you—" She pauses, then grins. "—or we could make it fun! How about a quest? Prove your worth, and I’ll point you to the last witch-blood!"
The queen looks like she’s about to combust.
---
{"If it be your will, almighty Ditz, that we should let this kingdom suffer for your errand then we must accept it." You tease, you can hear Lyra yelling.}
The goddess gasps—clutching her chest as if mortally wounded—while Lyra’s soul screams in your mind like a scandalized nun. "DANIEL!! YOU CAN’T JUST—SHE’S A GODDESS—"
The court collectively holds its breath.
Then the deity snorts, doubling over with laughter. "Oh, wow, I like you!" She wipes a starry tear from her eye. "Fine, fine. Since you’re hilarious—and because I did kind of mess up your summoning—here’s a freebie: The witch-blood you seek is already in this room."
Silence.
Then—gasps, chairs scraping, hands flying to weapons. The queen stands so fast her throne topples backward.
"What."
The goddess winks. "Oops. Spoilers~"
---
{The Queen orders the room locked down, but then a dark laughter emerges from the summoner.}
A slow, creeping laugh cuts through the chaos—dry as crumbling parchment. The head summoner, Elder Maris, peels back her hood, revealing eyes now blazing with violet fire.
"Oh, Isolda," she croons, her voice layered with a second, older rasp. "You thought your family’s sin could be buried forever?" The air around her warps, her robes melting into tattered witch’s weeds, her staff twisting into a gnarled black thorn. "Seraphine’s blood runs in my veins. And I’ve waited centuries to watch your line choke on its own curse."
The queen pales. "Maris... you—"
"Not just Maris." The witch’s grin splits her face too wide. "She welcomed me in years ago. A fitting host for the last daughter of Duskreach."
Kestra’s soul squees. "Possession inception! I love this!"
---
{"Mother will be waiting. And now she knows the heroes powers." The witch says being slitting her throat.}
The witch’s grin turns feral as she drags a jagged nail across her own throat—black blood bubbling forth like tar. "Mother waits," she gurgles. "And now... she knows you."
Her body collapses—but the black blood liquefies, slithering across the floor like a living shadow before vanishing between the cracks in the stone.
Silence.
Then—
"Well," Jeremy-as-Lyra says brightly. "That was horrifying."
The queen sways, gripping her overturned throne for support. "Seraphine... lives?"
Princess Elara’s soul whispers in your mind, trembling: "We need to find her. Now."
---
{"Your majesty, is possible to do a smaller hero summon."}
The queen’s fingers tighten on the armrest of her throne, her knuckles whitening. "A smaller summoning?" she echoes, her voice edged with exhaustion and suspicion.
You nod. "If Seraphine is alive—or at least her consciousness lingers—then she’s clearly tied to the curse. But she also just got a full report on our abilities. We need an edge she doesn’t expect."
The queen’s gaze flicks to the remaining summoners—now huddled together, their faces pale. "It’s possible," one of them admits. "But the ritual requires immense power, and after the last one... our reserves are depleted."
The goddess, still lounging mid-air like an amused spectator, twirls a lock of silver hair. "Oh, I could help with that~"
The queen’s eyes narrow. "At what cost?"
The goddess grins. "Entertainment. Drama. Maybe a little chaos."
---
{Agree to her terms. She summons your Ex, but with full knowledge of the current situation.}
The goddess claps her hands together with a sound like a thousand bells ringing. "Perfect! Let’s make this interesting!"
The air ripples—then tears—as a familiar figure tumbles out of the rift and lands face-first on the throne room floor.
"Ow. What the hell—"
Your stomach drops.
Because standing there, brushing off her jeans and glaring at you with begrudging recognition, is Hailey—your ex-girlfriend.
Her dark hair is still in that messy ponytail she always wore, her favorite leather jacket slung over a band T-shirt. She looks exactly like she did the day she dumped you—right down to the unimpressed arch of her brow.
And then she smirks.
"Wow. So this is your messed-up isekai arc? Figures." She cracks her knuckles. "Alright. The goddess filled me in. Let’s go break a curse."
Kestra’s soul howls with laughter. "OH MY GOD. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
---
{Ask Hailey about her Blessing. She pause for a moment, "Sorry but its better if I keep it to myself, incase of another hidden witch."}
Hailey’s smirk doesn’t waver as she shrugs. "Nice try. But I’m not spilling my blessing in a room full of people who might also be secret witch-spawn." She taps the side of her nose. "Gotta keep some surprises for the finale."
Kestra’s soul vibrates with glee. "Ohhh, she’s good. I like her."
Princess Elara’s copy steps forward, eyes narrowed. "You expect us to trust you without knowing your power?"
Hailey rolls her eyes. "Trust? No. Use me? Absolutely. Same difference with him, right?" She jerks a thumb at you.
The queen exhales sharply. "Enough. If the goddess vouches for her, we proceed." She turns to Hailey. "But the moment you betray us—"
"Yeah, yeah, execute me dramatically. Got it." Hailey waves her off, then leans toward you, voice dropping. "P.S.? You owe me for this."
---
{Talk to Hailey privately but not about her blessing, you can respect her reasoning.}
You wait until the queen dismisses the court (with orders to prepare for war) before grabbing Hailey’s elbow and steering her into a vaulted hallway—just out of earshot. The moment you’re alone, she smirks up at you.
"Wow. Still bossy in another world, huh?"
You ignore the jab. "I get not revealing your blessing. But are you actually here to help, or just to screw with me?"
Hailey’s grin fades. She studies you for a long moment—then sighs. "Look. The goddess literally yanked me out of my apartment mid-microwave meal for this. If I wanted to mess with you, I’d have stayed home and keyed your car." A pause. "...Okay, that was a joke. Mostly."
She folds her arms. "Point is, yeah. I’ll help. But I’m doing it my way."
Kestra’s soul whispers: "She’s totally gonna betray us in a cool way later."
---
"Look I understand if your still hate me for what happened, but how have you been since the accident." You ask.}
Hailey’s smirk vanishes. For a second, she just stares at you—like she’s trying to decide if you’re serious. Then her shoulders slump.
"You mean since you got drunk at Jake’s party and I had to drive your dumbass home, only for us to crash because you panicked and grabbed the wheel?" Her voice is low, raw. "Since my arm got crushed and I lost my scholarship because I couldn’t play volleyball anymore?"
A beat. The air between you is suddenly heavy.
Then she shakes her head, forcing a laugh. "Wow. Yeah, Dan. I’ve been great."
Kestra’s soul winces. "Yikes. And I thought my exes were messy."
---
{You quietly say, "I never forgave myself for ruining your future, I went to the hospital twice when Mom find me mid suicide, first time from cut wrists and the second from OD on my anti-depressents. Its part of the reason you were ghosted, parents moved us, they also deleted you from everything thinking it would help but it got worse when you sent the letter calling me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony. You were my best friend and first love. I'd show you the scars but Kestra's body doesn't carry them." You tell her.}
You take a slow breath, Kestra's borrowed lungs tightening as you force the words out—words you've rehearsed in a thousand sleepless nights, words that taste like rust and regret.
"I never forgave myself for ruining your future." The confession hangs between you, raw as a fresh wound. "I went to the hospital twice after the accident. First time... wrists. Second time, pills. Mom found me both times."
Hailey's smirk dies.
"Parents moved us after that. Deleted you from my phone, my socials—thought it would help." Your borrowed throat bobs. "Then your letter came. Called me a coward. Mom found me on the balcony three days later."
For a heartbeat, the only sound is the distant clatter of armored boots in the throne room.
"You were my best friend. My first love." Your voice cracks. "I'd show you the scars, but..." You gesture to Kestra's unmarked forearm.
Hailey's expression does something complicated—anger melting into horror, then settling on something too close to grief.
---
{"You might not be able to show me the scars but you can still show me." She says as she places a hand on you, your memories of the fallout flowing into her.}
The moment Hailey’s hand makes contact with your chest—Kestra’s body or not—there’s a jolt, like a live wire brushing bare skin. Then the memories surge, unbidden:
- Your hands shaking as you fumble with the razor in the bathroom, your mother’s scream when she kicks in the door.
- The numb, cotton-mouthed haze of swallowing too many pills, the ER lights stabbing your eyelids.
- The letter in Hailey’s angry, slanted handwriting: ”You don’t get to run away from this.”
- The balcony railing under your palms, wind howling in your ears, your mother’s arms dragging you back—
Hailey staggers, tearing her hand away like she’s been burned. Her face is ashen. "Jesus Christ, Dan—"
For the first time since she got here, she looks lost.
Kestra’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in your mind. "...Well. That happened."
---
{You apologize for trauma dumping on her but you had holding on it your feelings since mom pulled you away from the railing.}
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "Shit. I'm sorry—that was way too much to drop on you right now. I just... never got to say any of it." Kestra's fingers flex at your sides, itching for a cigarette or a knife to fiddle with—anything to ground you. "Holding that in since... yeah. Since the balcony."
Hailey stares at you for a long moment, her arms crossed tight over her chest—like she's holding herself together. Then she snorts, but there's no humor in it. "Fuck. And I thought my therapist had her work cut out for her." She rubs her face, the ghost of her old volleyball injury twinging in her shoulder. "Look. We're not doing this now. Not here."
She jabs a finger at your chest. "But after we murder this witch and her shitty curse? We're talking. Properly."
Kestra's soul whistles. "Damn. She really used to love you, huh?"
---
{"The worst part was I never stopped missing you, but after your letter I assumed you never wanted to talk again. Jeremy's a good friend but he was quite you." You say before giving her a quick hug.}
The hug is quick—just a brief press of Kestra’s body against hers, leather creaking, warmth lingering for half a second before you pull back. But Hailey freezes for a heartbeat, her breath catching like she’d forgotten what it felt like.
"Yeah, well," she mutters, rubbing her arm—the one that used to spike a volleyball before the accident. "Turns out anger’s easier than grief." She meets your eyes, and for the first time in years, there’s no smirk, no deflection. Just honesty. "I missed you too, idiot."
Then Jeremy’s voice echoes down the hall, shattering the moment: "HEY! We’ve got witch problems! Also, the queen’s crying! It’s super awkward!"
Hailey rolls her eyes, the tension broken. "Ugh. Fine. Let’s go save a kingdom or whatever."
Kestra’s soul cackles. "God, this is better than reality TV."
---
{Next day regroup with an attack plan.}
The War Council – Dawn of the Witch Hunt
The next morning, you gather in the war room—a cavernous chamber dominated by a massive table carved with a map of the kingdom. The queen stands at its head, shadows under her eyes betraying her sleepless night. Around her, your assembled forces:
- Ms. Petrov has organized the royal archives into tactical folders (Discipline Authority makes her terrifyingly efficient).
- Alex is hunched over a stolen coven relic, muttering as her Reverse Engineer blessing deciphers its magic.
- Cara is... somehow negotiating better rations for your group while pocketing a silver candlestick.
- Jeremy (back in Jessica’s body, by popular demand) is sketching attack formations with alarming enthusiasm.
- Hailey leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.
The queen stabs a dagger into the map—right atop the Duskreach Coven ruins. "Seraphine’s lair is here. Our scouts report unnatural shadows pooling in the valley. She’s preparing."
Princess Elara’s soul murmurs in your mind: "We’ll need to strike fast. Before she fully awakens."
---
{"I'll lead a frontal charge and draw her attention." You start.}
"While I lead the frontal charge and draw her attention," you declare, rolling your shoulders. The weight of the collected souls within you hums in agreement—each a fragment of power ready to be unleashed.
The queen’s gaze sharpens. "A distraction?"
You nod. "Exactly. Seraphine expects us to come in sneaky, like her assassins and shadows. So we hit her loud." You gesture to the map. "Me, Jeremy in Jessica’s body for range, and the royal knights will assault the ruins head-on. While she’s focused on us—"
"—The rest slip in behind," Mara’s copy finishes, her assassin’s grin sharp. "Moonlight Dance makes me very good at backstabbing."
Hailey pushes off the wall. "I’ll go with the stealth team."
You raise a brow.
She smirks. "What? I told you I’m doing this my way."
---
{"Your majesty, can use Royal Decree so that the war plan can not be dicscussed outside the room by anyone. Petrov use your Authority to reinforce it and I'll use Victoria's Shadowweave to attached it to attach it every heart."}
The queen's eyes gleam with grim approval. "A binding of three blessings? Ruthless. I like it."
She rises, her voice echoing with Royal Decree's weight:
"None shall speak of this battle plan beyond these walls—not in whispers, not in writing, not even in thought shared knowingly with outsiders!" Golden light sears the air, sinking into the skin of every person present.
Ms. Petrov steps forward, her Discipline Authority flaring like a whip-crack:
"And so you shall obey." The compulsion tightens around them all like a vice.
Then you summon Victoria's Shadowweave—tendrils of darkness snaking from your fingertips to coil around each chest, merging with their heartbeats.
"Any betrayal," you murmur, watching the shadows pulse in time with their breath, "and these threads will strangle the secret before it's spoken."
A stunned silence follows.
Hailey whistles. "Damn. You have gotten scarier."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Oh, we are so keeping this blessing."
---
{Spend the rest the finalizing a war plan.}
THE FINAL WAR PLAN
The table rattles as you plant your palms on the map, eyes scanning your assembled forces.
1. DISTRACTION SQUAD (FRONTAL ASSAULT)
- You – Using Shadowweave to command darkness + Stormcaller (via Elara’s soul) to summon storms.
- Jeremy (in Jessica’s body) – Utilizing Beast Tamer to call wild creatures as fodder, Skill Share to mimic archers.
- Royal Knights (led by Siris’s copy) – Dog of War boosts their defensive strength exponentially when protecting allies.
- Lyra’s copy – Holy Prayer support (barriers, healing light).
2. STEALTH TEAM (BACKSTAB SPECIAL)
- Mara – Moonlight Dance makes her untraceable in shadows. Her mission: slit throats, plant cursed explosives (stolen by Cara).
- Hailey – ??? (Still won’t reveal her blessing, but insists she can "handle the witch").
- Alex – Carrying Reverse Engineered coven relics to disarm traps mid-siege.
3. WILDCARD
- Cara – Silvertongue will impersonate a fleeing Duskreach cultist to sow chaos in Seraphine’s ranks.
- Ms. Petrov – Discipline Authority will override fleeing soldiers to make them fight harder for you.
- Victoria’s copy – Using Shadowweave to telepathically sync the teams’ movements.
---
The Plan in Motion:
- Phase 1: You and Jeremy’s team trigger the coven’s wards with a literal storm of lightning and beasts, drawing Seraphine’s attention.
- Phase 2: Mara and Hailey infiltrate during the chaos, aiming for the ritual heart of the ruins.
- Phase 3: If Seraphine emerges, You unleash everything*.
The queen seals the plan by slicing her palm and smearing blood across the map. "For Lifire."
Hailey leans in as the others disperse. "Hey. Don’t die before we have that talk."
You smirk. "Wasn’t planning on it."
---
"You start the attack at night.}
Midnight Assault – Duskreach Ruins
The night swallows the valley whole as you stand at the edge of the ruins, the skeletons of blackened towers clawing at the starless sky. The air reeks of spoiled magic and wet earth—like a storm left to rot.
"Ready?" you murmur to Jeremy (still riding Jessica’s body like a stolen bicycle).
He grins, rolling her shoulders. "Born ready."
You raise a hand. The shadows coil around your fingers—Victoria’s Shadowweave—then Elara’s Stormcaller crackles in your veins.
You strike.
---
### PHASE 1: DISTRACTION SQUAD GOES LOUD
- Your opening move: A thunderclap so violent it shatters the ruins’ outer wards. Lightning forks from your fingertips, searing glyphs into the ground as the earth itself trembles.
- Jeremy-in-Jessica cups her hands around her mouth and shrieks—Beast Tamer’s power sending a wave of howls erupting from the forest. Wolves, bears, even a very confused griffin come stampeding toward the coven.
- Lyra’s copy raises her arms, golden light flaring as Holy Prayer shields the royal knights—just as the first volley of cursed arrows rains down from the towers.
From the depths of the ruins, a laugh echoes—honeyed and horrible.
"Little heroes." Seraphine’s voice is everywhere at once, the shadows pooling into a towering figure above the broken spires. "You brought me toys!"
---
### PHASE 2: STEALTH TEAM MOVES
- Mara is already gone—just a flicker of motion in the periphery, Moonlight Dance making her a ghost among ghosts.
- Hailey cracks her knuckles, then bolts toward a side passage—not sneaking. Sprinting. Like she wants to be seen.
- Alex ducks behind a pillar, her stolen coven relic humming as she Reverse Engineers the ruin’s traps one by one.
---
### SERAPHINE STRIKES BACK
The shadow-figure descends, her form solidifying into a woman with Seraphine’s face—but wrong. Too many teeth. Eyes like pits. She flicks a wrist, and the ground erupts with skeletal hands, dragging three knights under in seconds.
"I’ve tasted your souls already," she croons, lashing a whip of violet fire toward you. "Let’s see how you burn—"
---
{Counter with a mix of Stormcaller and Hearthfire.}
You dig your heels into the cracked earth and let go.
Stormcaller erupts first—a spear of white-hot lightning lancing from the sky straight toward Seraphine’s whip of violet fire. The collision shatters the darkness, the concussion wave sending cultists flying like ragdolls.
But lightning alone won’t be enough.
So you reach deeper—to Lena’s Hearthfire, warm and steady in your chest. The flames that spill from your palms aren’t destructive; they’re living. They coil around the lightning like a lover’s embrace, turning the raw fury of the storm into something worse for Seraphine—purification.
Her whip screams as the flames crawl up its length, a sound like glass breaking in reverse. The shadow-figure recoils, her form flickering—
"You ignorant child—" she snarls, but the Hearthfire doesn’t stop. It spreads, clinging to her essence like holy kerosene.
---
### HAILEY’S GAMBIT
While Seraphine’s distracted, Hailey leaps onto the central ritual altar—where a pulsing, blackened heart throbs with cursed energy. She doesn’t hesitate.
She stabs it.
Not with a blade.
With her bare hand.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then—
Hailey’s body convulses, her spine arching as black veins explode across her skin.
"Huh," she grits out, grinning through the pain. "Guess Corruption Eater works on god-tier curses too."
---
{Unleash a fully mixed version of the Blessings inside of you.}
You don’t hesitate.
"Everyone back!" you roar—then let go of every limit.
The souls inside you scream in unison as you force their blessings to merge:
- Stormcaller’s lightning twists with Hearthfire’s purity, becoming a storm that burns but does not consume.
- Holy Prayer’s golden light fuses with Shadowweave’s darkness, creating a paradox—shadows that heal, light that blinds.
- Moonlight Dance’s agility melds with Dog of War’s endurance, turning your body into a weapon of impossible precision.
The power ruptures out of you in a tidal wave of contradiction, a kaleidoscope of magic that should not exist.
It hits Seraphine like a fist of god.
Her shadow-form shatters, her scream fracturing into a thousand echoes as the merged blessings unmake her. The ruins quake, the sky splits, and for a single, blinding moment—
The curse breaks.
A pulse of golden light washes over the land, the withered trees groaning as life floods back into their roots. The knights gasp as old wounds close; the air itself sings.
And then—
Hailey collapses, the black veins receding from her skin as the last of the curse dissipates from her body.
---
{You pass out, the last you hear is someone calling you, "Dumbass."}
Darkness swallows you whole—but not before you hear Hailey’s voice, fond and exasperated, cutting through the fog:
"Dumbass."
Then—nothing.
---
### AWAKENING
You come to in a sunlit room, the scent of herbs and fresh linen thick in the air. Your body aches like you’ve been trampled by a cavalry, but you’re alive.
"Took you long enough," Hailey mutters from the chair beside your bed. There’s a bandage peeking under her sleeve, her old injury freshly stitched—but she’s smirking. "You’ve been out for three days. The queen’s been freaking out."
Kestra’s soul stirs in your mind, groggy but smug. "Oh good. We’re not dead."
Through the window, you see a kingdom healing—men and women working side by side in the fields, children laughing in streets no longer shadowed by plague.
---
{Check your soul. "Everyone okay. (Each merged soul answers back in an uniquely them way.)}
You close your eyes and reach inward, listening to the choir of souls housed within you—each responding in turn:
- Kestra purrs like a satisfied cat: "Oh honey, I’m fantastic. Especially now that we’re local heroes."
- Lena’s voice is warm as ever: "We’re all here. And… it’s kind of nice, honestly. Like a really weird sleepover."
- Victoria cackles: "Ugh. Do not make it sound wholesome. But yeah, I’m good."
- Lyra chimes in, bright as a hymn: "Divine blessings intact! Though, ah… please never do that again?"
- Siris grunts: "Still standing. And pissed I missed the final fight."
- Mara sighs dreamily: "Watching you annihilate a centuries-old curse? Best job I ever had."
- Elara hums, regal but amused: "Mother sends her regards. Also, she might adopt you."
Hailey raises a brow as you smirk. "What?"
"Just taking roll call," you say.
She snorts. "Freak."
---
{"So about that talk." You say. And the two of talk about every for the rest of the day}
The two of you talk—really talk—for the first time in years.
Hailey sits on the edge of your bed, sunlight streaming through the window as she unpacks it all: the anger, the grief, the way she hated you for leaving but missed you anyway. You tell her about the guilt, the therapy, the way your parents’ "fixes" only made it worse. There are tears. There’s yelling. There’s a very awkward moment when Jeremy tries to barge in with a tray of "emotional support snacks" and gets a pillow thrown at his head.
But by the time the sun sets, something unclenches in your chest.
"So," Hailey says, kicking her feet up on your mattress. "What now? You’re basically a demigod here. I’m stuck in Fantasyland with zero marketable skills. Do we, like… rebuild?"
Kestra’s soul pipes up: "Or we conquer. Just saying."
Hailey rolls her eyes. "I heard that."
---
{"Even if a way home is found I think I will stay here. My plan is to travel the world, helping those that need it. Your welcome to join me." You tell her.
She shakes her head, "I have people who need me, but you need someone to keep you alive, so let this me join your little collection and the copy can go home in my place. My copy can even say she met you in passing and she learned the truth and made up with you." She replies.
(Scene ends with you on a pier about to start your travels. Everyone is there to see you off.)}
### FINAL SCENE: THE PIER
The morning sun glitters on the harbor as you stand at the edge of the dock, sea breeze tugging at your cloak. The entire crew—your crew—has gathered to see you off:
- Jeremy is in (reluctant) possession of a seagull, flapping wildly as he squawks about "optimal wind currents."
- Jessica rolls her eyes but hands you a carefully wrapped bundle of supplies. "Try not to drown."
- Lena’s copy hugs you tight, whispering, "She likes you, you know." (You pretend not to hear.)
- Ms. Petrov gives you a rare smile. "Try not to destroy any more kingdoms."
- Alex shoves a sketchy-looking homemade compass into your hands. "It might lead to other cursed artifacts. Or explode. 50/50."
- Cara winks. "If you find any shiny cursed artifacts, I get first dibs."
- The queen clasps your shoulder. "Lifire will always shelter you."
Then there’s Hailey—or rather, the copy of Hailey, who gives you a cheeky salute before turning back toward the palace. The real Hailey is already inside you, her soul settling alongside the others with a contented sigh.
"Alright, loser," she murmurs in your mind. "Where to first?"
You grin, adjusting your bag.
"Wherever the wind takes us."
And as the ship pulls away from the dock, Kestra’s voice—ever the opportunist—chirps:
"I call dibs on the first treasure hoard we find."
---
{You return from your travels a couple of years later, (with a pirate captain named Elizabeth and a Blind Shrine Maiden named Sakura added into your collection), to ask the Queen for help. "Seraphina and her curse were a pawn and worse than that, we found another pawn with an equally deadly curse. Its located in the Icey Kingdom in the North, contained for now. If that was already bad enough, I suspect that there are others. One for each of the seven kindoms."
(Elizabeth's copy was executed a week after you added her, Sakura's copy was killed in a robbery after you added her.
Elizabeth's Blessing: Tiderider
Sakura's Blessing: Seer)}
RETURN TO LIFIRE – TWO YEARS LATER
The palace guards stiffen as you stride through the gilded gates—older, wearier, and flanked by two new souls whispering in your mind:
- Elizabeth, the tempest-eyed pirate captain, whose Tiderider blessing lets her command waves like a vengeful siren. "Ugh. Royalty. Hope the queen’s got decent booze this time."
- Sakura, the blind shrine maiden, her Seer blessing humming with eerie prescience. "The northern ice is already cracking… We’re not fast enough."
Queen Isolda rises from her throne, her gaze sharpening at your grim expression. "You look like death walking."
You toss a frost-rimed journal onto the marble floor—pages splayed to reveal sketches of a glacier prison, its dark core pulsing with the same cursed energy as Seraphine’s ruins.
"Seraphine was a pawn," you say. "And we found another. The Ice Kingdom’s barely containing theirs. I’d bet my soul there’s five more."
Princess Elara’s soul recoils. "A network of curses?"
Hailey’s voice is taut. "This just became a global problem."
---
{"Petrov, do you remember the seven sins?" You ask.}
Ms. Petrov's eyes narrow, her fingers tightening around her ledger. "Pride, Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth," she recites, her voice sharp. "You think Seraphine's curse was just one piece of a larger system?"
You nod. "And not just any system—an engineered one." You flip the frost-crusted journal open to a page where Sakura's meticulous notes map out the seven kingdoms—each with a curse manifesting differently, but all carrying the same taint.
"Seraphine was Wrath," you say, tapping the sketch of her ruins. "The Ice Kingdom's curse? Gluttony. It doesn't just kill—it consumes, leaving frozen husks."
Kestra's soul hisses. "So some psycho built a world-ending machine out of sins?"
Hailey, restless in your mind, adds, "And we’ve got front-row seats to the collapse."
---
{"You majesty, to the best of your knowledge which sin would fit each kingdom, given what we currently know." You ask.}
The queen hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of her throne as she consults centuries of kingdom lore. "If we follow the pattern..."
She lists them, one by one:
1. Lifire (Wrath) – "An all-consuming vengeance. Seraphine’s curse burned inward, killing men first, then the land itself."
2. The Ice Reaches (Gluttony) – "The northern reports speak of villages vanishing overnight—swallowed by the snow, as if hungry."
3. The Verdant Expanse (Envy) – "Their crops grow unnaturally abundant, but those who eat them wither, coveting the health of their neighbors."
4. The Ashwind Dominion (Pride) – "Their rulers never age, never fall ill… but their people crumble to dust at their feet. A supreme arrogance."5. The Chainbreaker Isles (Greed) – "Pirate lords hoard cursed gold, drowning in it. Ships vanish into their coves, never to return."
6. The Hollow Delta (Lust) – "Bewitchments so potent they dissolve minds. Victims waste away chasing phantoms."
7. The Bastion of Stone (Sloth) – "A kingdom where time itself crawls. Citizens lie down one day… and never rise."
A chilling silence follows.
Sakura’s soul trembles. "Seven curses. Seven thrones. A perfect circle of ruin."
---
{"I plan to return to the Ice Reaches because I promised to help them, Hailey's Corruption Eater combined with Lena's Hearthfire gave a fighting chance. If you could spare a summoner so they can preform a summoning ritual, it would be apreciated. Also Petrov, you might be the best suited to aid the Hollow Delta, I would take a summoner as well. What I have learned is the summoning ritual does respond to intent."}
The queen exhales sharply, her fingers tightening around the arms of her throne before she gives a single, decisive nod. "You’ll have your summoners. And you’re right—intent shapes the ritual." She glances at Ms. Petrov. "Discipline Authority will be vital in the Delta. If their curse seduces minds, then command may be the only counterbalance."
Ms. Petrov adjusts her glasses with a faint smirk. "Finally, a civilization that needs a stern lecture."
One of the younger summoners—Lyra’s former apprentice—steps forward, clutching a grimoire to her chest. "I’ll go to the Ice Reaches with you," she says, trying (and failing) to hide the tremor in her voice. "I-it’s not like we’ve got better options."
"And I, Dyena" rumbles a grizzled summoner with a scar over one eye, "will endure the Delta’s charms." He nods to Ms. Petrov. "Try not to discipline me by accident."
Hailey’s soul stirs, restless. "So we’re splitting the party. Classic horror-movie rules. What could go wrong?"
Kestra’s laugh is all teeth. "Ohhh, this’ll be fun."
---
{Before you leave you ask about the rest of your class.}
"And my classmates?" You ask, chest tightening at the thought. "How are they?"
The queen's expression softens—just slightly—as she gestures for an attendant to hand you a scroll of reports.
### STATUS OF YOUR CLASS:
- Jeremy: Now the royal "Isekai Consultant" (a job he definitely invented). Uses Skill Share to train knights and avoid actual work. (Still flirts with Jessica daily.)
- Jessica: Runs the kingdom’s fledgling Beast Tamer Corps. Her direwolf pups are almost as terrifying as her glare when Jeremy’s being an idiot.
- Lena (Copy): Oversees Lifire’s restored farmlands with Hearthfire, coaxing life from once-blighted soil. (Still blushes when your name comes up.)
- Victoria (Copy): Leads the "Nightweavers"—elite spies using Shadowweave to infiltrate rival courts. (Very invested in blackmail.)
- Cara: Now the queen’s "diplomat" (read: professional swindler). Uses Silvertongue to negotiate outrageously favorable trade deals.
- Alex: Head of the Arcane Research Division. Currently devising a way to "weaponize" Reverse Engineer. (The queen is concerned.)
- Ms. Petrov: Promoted to Grand Inquisitor. Her Discipline Authority keeps the royal court in line. (No one dares skip meetings now.)
"Alive," the queen summarizes. "Thriving, even. And your stunt with the goddess made them all... louder."
Kestra’s soul preens. "Good. They’re all our legacy now."
---
{Send a letter, telling of the situation. You and your assigned summoner leave later that same day.}
Your pen moves swiftly across parchment, detailing the discovery of the seven curses—Wrath already felled, Gluttony looming in the north, five more lurking like coiled serpents. You leave out the worst of your suspicions (the architect, the scale of the doom) but make it clear: this is far from over. The letters are sealed with a drop of Hearthfire, ensuring only their intended recipients can break the wax.
As the sun dips below the palace walls, you shoulder your pack—now laden with frost-warding charms and the young summoner’s grimoire. Your assigned summoner, Ryn, clutches her staff with white-knuckled determination. "...Do you really think we can stop this?"
Elizabeth’s soul laughs darkly. "We’ll drown the curse in salt and blood if we have to."
Sakura whispers: "The ice is already sighing. We must hurry."
With a final glance at Lifire’s glittering towers, you step onto the northern road.
---
{As Elizabeth's crew tske you back North, Ryn comes up beside you. "Would be alright if I join Big Sis Lyra "}
The moment the words leave Ryn's mouth, Lyra's soul practically vibrates with joy inside you, her divine warmth pulsing like an overexcited heartbeat.
"YES! Oh, please say yes—! Wait, no, don’t pressure her—but also yes—"
You smirk. "Lyra’s already drafting the adoption papers in my head."
Ryn blinks, then grins—bold for the first time since the palace. "Then it’s settled." She presses her palm to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as she murmurs the binding words of the merging ritual.
The moment her soul slips into yours, Lyra tackles her with a psychic hug.
"Welcome to the chaos, little sister!"
Kestra sighs. "We’re running a soul orphanage now? Fine. But I get to teach her to pick locks."
Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp as a cutlass: "Enough squawking. Ice ahead."
Sure enough, the horizon bleeds into a wall of impossible glaciers, their jagged peaks biting the sky—and deep within, something gnaws at its chains.
---
{"Hey Lucy, can I borrow a smite." You say invoking Lyra's blessing, The Goddess (Lucina, she told you one day during your travels) humors you.}
You raise your hands toward the sky, channeling Lyra’s Holy Prayer, and call out with a grin:
"Hey Lucy—can I borrow a smite?"
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then—
A titanic, glowing foot crushes a nearby iceberg into powder as the goddess Lucina materializes mid-air—though "materializes" might be generous, given that she immediately trips on her own robe and faceplants into the deck.
"Ow," she grumbles, rubbing her nose as she floats upright. "You’re lucky I was already watching. Also, since when do mortals nickname me?!"
Ryn (the newest soul in your collection) squeaks. "We’re casual with a deity?!"
Kestra smirks. "Oh, just wait till you see what’s next."
Lucina rolls her eyes—then freezes as she senses the wrongness bleeding from the glacier ahead. Her usual air of divine whimsy evaporates.
"...Oh. That’s Gluttony?" She shudders. "It reeksss of old magic. Not mine. Older."
---
{"There's five others." You tell her.}
Lucina’s glowing eyes widen, her usual clumsiness momentarily forgotten as the weight of your words settles over her. The air around her shimmers with agitated divine energy, like disturbed water.
"Five more?" Her voice drops to a whisper—something you’ve never heard from her before. "That’s not just a curse. That’s a weapon. A scalpel." She floats closer, her fingers twitching toward the glacier. "Someone shaped this. And they had to be…" She hesitates, then looks truly unsettled. "Stronger than me."
A cold that has nothing to do with the ice slithers down your spine.
Kestra’s soul is uncharacteristically quiet. "...Shit."
Hailey’s voice is grim. "Yeah. Shit."
---
{"Doesn't change the plan, we still have to end the curses. But at least we have scale of the problem now." You grunt.}
Lucina stares at you for a long moment—then bursts into laughter, the sound like silver bells and shattering ice. "Mortals. Truly my favorite kind of disaster." She flicks a hand, and a ripple of golden light punches a hole straight through the glacier ahead, exposing its pulsing, blackened core.
"There. A door." She grins. "Now go stab the problem until it stops moving."
Before you can react, she boops your forehead—her blessing flaring in your veins like liquid sunlight—and vanishes, leaving behind only the echo of her voice:
"P.S. If you die, I’ll bring you back just to yell at you."
Hailey’s soul cracks her knuckles. "Alright. Let’s eat a curse."
---
{"ANYONE NOT NECESSARY FOR NAVIGATION, GUARD RYN UNTIL THE HERO IS SUMMONED." You shout out the order as frozen undead creatures begin to board.}
### BATTLE FOR THE RITUAL
Your voice booms across the deck, cutting through the howling winds. Instantly, the crew snaps into action.
- Elizabeth’s pirates form a steel ring around Ryn, cutlasses and pistols glinting under the shifting auroras.
- Sakura’s soul flares inside you—her Seer blessing casting ghostly premonitions that let the crew strike where the undead will be, not where they are.
- Hailey braces beside you, crackling with Corruption Eater’s volatile energy. "I’ll bite anything that gets too close."
Then the ice-walkers come.
Shambling corpses with frosted, hollowed-out ribs and eyes like frozen voids swarm the ship’s railings. Their jaws unhinge with a sound like splintering glaciers, and the very air around them sags—as if reality itself is being consumed.
Ryn’s voice shakes as she chants, the summoning circle at her feet flaring brighter. "I—I need two more minutes—"
A towering undead lurches past the defenders, its claw swiping for her—
---
{You intercept letting Hailey's Blessing flow through you. The hero summoned is Eric (now allowed to be summoned), who because of your intent has knowledge of the situation at hand}
### FROSTBITE AND FURY
You hurl yourself in front of Ryn, Kestra’s body twisting mid-air to take the undead’s full strike—raking claws bury into your torso, an immediate, gnawing cold seeping into your core. The curse burns like swallowed knives, but—
Hailey’s power erupts through you.
Black veins spiderweb across your skin as Corruption Eater locks onto Gluttony’s curse—devouring the decay before it can consume you. The undead’s hollow eyes widen as its stolen energy is ripped backward, surging into you instead. Its body shatters into brittle frost.
Ryn’s scream cuts through the chaos: "IT’S DONE!"
The summoning circle implodes with blinding light—and Eric tumbles onto the deck.
---
### HERO SUMMONED: ERIC
He looks exactly like he did in class—muscled, cocky, already scowling. But his glare snaps to the undead horde, his body instinctively shifting into a fighter’s stance. "Oh, hell no."
His blessing flares to life above his palm—a swirling sigil of Brute’s Will (passive: grows stronger the longer he’s in combat). "So. We punch the cursed snow zombies?"
Ryn pants, grinning wildly. "YES."
---
{After the fight, as your docking.
You ask about Earth.
Eric explains that 15 years have gone by since the class was intially summoned, leaving only him behind. "The class was declared dead, since no one came back. But thanks to Haliey's copy, who returned a year after with letters from you all, the fate of the class was finally reveal. I was angry at first, that despite the summoning being meant only for the girls, you and the idiot still got sucked up but then I heard you both lost your bodies so the summon could work I became glad I wasn't included."}
### AFTERMATH – THE HARBOR OF FROZEN TEARS
The ship groans as it scrapes against the glacial dock, the remnants of the undead horde now shattered across the ice like discarded glass. The air still hums with residual curse-energy, but the immediate threat is over—for now. Eric leans against the railing beside you, his breath fogging in the subzero air, his Brute’s Will blessing still pulsing faintly under his skin.
The revelation about Earth sits heavy between you.
"Fifteen years..." You exhale, watching the mist curl and vanish. "We’ve only been here for three."**
Eric’s jaw tightens. "Time’s fucked. No one knows why, but the portal screwed with it. Everyone back home thought you were gone—until Hailey’s copy showed up with your letters." He scoffs, but there’s no real heat in it. "At least the families got closure. Well. Most of ‘em."
A pause.
"Jessica’s parents cried when they read hers."
You don’t ask about your own.
Kestra’s soul whispers, "...Damn."
---
THE NEW REALITY:
- Earth moved on. You were mourned. Now? You’re legends in two worlds.
- Eric’s here for good. His blessing makes him stronger the longer he fights—perfect for Gluttony’s endless siege.
- Hailey’s copy lied smoothly. She spun a tale of "heroic sacrifices" and "otherworldly duties," ensuring no one searched for you.
---
{"Alright there's a local that helped me get out that I'm gonna regroup with. He and sister should help you get to the curse bearer." You say steering the conversation back to the curse.}
Eric shrugs, his breath puffing in the frigid air. "Yeah, sure. But just so we're clear—I'm not calling you 'Oh Mighty Slime King' just because you're technically older than me now."
You snort, leading the way down the icy dock toward the ramshackle outpost clinging to the glacier's edge. "His name's Jorvik. Runs supplies between the frozen hellholes up here. His sister, Ylva, is a Berzerker—blessing lets her weaponize cold damage."
Hailey’s soul perks up. "Wait. You befriended a berserker and a smuggler in the two weeks you were here before?"
Kestra cackles. "Duh. We’re likable."
As you approach the moss-chinked wooden doors of the Froststead Inn, a hulking figure draped in frost-laced furs throws them open—Jorvik. His beard is half-frozen, his grin sharp as a wolf's.
"Back already, slippery one?" he booms. "And you brought more doomed heroes! Wonderful!" Behind him, a woman with twin ice-axes glares—Ylva, her breath steaming like a kettle.
"The curse is waking up," she snaps. "You’re just in time to die."
---
{"Eric here was summoned and giving a blessing that makes him ideal to fight Lich King Dravagoth." You tell the pair.}
Ylva's frost-crusted eyelashes narrow as she studies Eric, sizing him up like a cut of meat. "Brute’s Will. Tch. Fine. He’ll last longer than the others."
Jorvik slaps Eric’s shoulder hard enough to stagger him—which, given Eric’s build, is impressive. "Hah! A man who grows stronger the more he’s beaten? Dravagoth will hate you."
Eric scowls, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, great. Love being the bait."
"Not bait," Ylva corrects, hefting her axes. "The distraction." She points to a jagged fissure in the glacier’s face, pulsing with an eerie violet glow. "Dravagoth’s lair is there. Every time we’ve gotten close, his hunger-magic drains us before we land a hit. But you?" She nods to Eric. "The more he takes, the harder you’ll hit back."
Kestra’s soul hums. "Ohhh, so we’re angry-sandwiching him. Classic."
---
{You ask about the failed heroes, "Maybe they didn't have die in vain. Their deaths can tell us about how the curse bearer fights."}
Jorvik and Ylva exchange a glance before the burly supply-runner wipes the frozen snot from his beard with a sigh.
"Four parties tried before you," Jorvik rumbles. "They all made the same mistake—they thought strength alone could break him."
Ylva strides to a battered chest in the corner and kicks it open, revealing four bloodstained weapons, each warped by grotesque frost patterns:
1. A shattered greatsword – "Thurgen. Got three swings in before his muscles withered to rags."
2. A snapped spear – "Liss. Dravagoth ate her mid-lunge. Left the wood."
3. Melted gauntlets – "Torbin. His fire blessing turned inward. Burned his own ribs out."
4. A hollowed-out shield – "Jora. Lasted longest—her defense became his feast."
Eric pales slightly. "So he... consumes strength?"
"Not just strength," Ylva growls. "Effort. Will. Hope. The harder you fight, the richer his meal."
Kestra’s soul goes unnaturally still. "...That’s not just Gluttony. That’s Despair masquerading as hunger."
---
{You watch as Eric picks up each relic, you can see the echoes of others forming behind him. You realize something, "Eric, your just like Jeremy and I, you collect rage. You were still touched by the portal before you were denied."}
Eric freezes—literally, ice crackling along his knuckles where he grips Thurgen’s greatsword. The air around him wavers with spectral heat, and for a fleeting moment, the shadows of the fallen heroes seem to solidify behind him—their postures tense, their faces contorted in battle cries.
Then it’s gone.
"...The fuck?" Eric’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
You step closer, watching the residual energy coil around him like a second skin. "The summoning marked you, same as me and Jeremy. You didn’t cross over, but the portal licked you on the way past. That’s not just Brute’s Will—it’s Wrath’s Legacy."
Jorvik whistles. "A collector of fallen fury. Now that’s a king-killer’s blessing."
Ylva’s axes gleam as she steps into Eric’s space. "Can you use them? The echoes?"
A slow, vicious grin spreads across Eric’s face as the greatsword’s hilt creaks in his grip. "Oh, I’m real motivated to try."
---
"Eric tests his collection, and Thurgen appears to explains to Eric the nature of his collection."
Eric clenches the shattered greatsword tighter—and suddenly, the air ripples like disturbed water. A ghostly figure materializes beside him, clad in the same battered armor as the weapon’s owner once wore.
Thurgen’s Echo stands solid despite his translucent form, his voice gruff but clear. "Boy. You’re holding my rage now." He flexes spectral fingers. "Dravagoth didn’t just kill me—he savored it. Left me alive long enough to taste my despair as my muscles wasted." The echo's eyes burn with cold fire. "But rage outlasts flesh."
He slams a fist against Eric’s chest—not to harm, but to ignite.
Eric gasps as Thurgen’s fury floods into him, his Brute’s Will flaring crimson. His muscles swell with borrowed strength, veins bulging with the echo’s vengeance.
"Holy shit," Eric breathes.
Thurgen’s grin is lethal. "Now imagine all four of us."
One by one, the other fallen heroes step forward—their phantom hands reaching to lend their wrath.
---
{"This changes things." You say.}
The room seems to hum with the weight of revelation—Eric standing there, crackling with borrowed fury, the fallen warriors’ echoes flickering around him like vengeful ghosts. Hailey’s voice in your mind is uncharacteristically subdued.
"So we’re not just breaking the curse. We’re giving the dead their vengeance too."
Jorvik lets out a booming laugh. "Hah! Now I see why the gods spat you lot into our world." He claps Eric’s shoulder—harder this time—knocking loose a few snowflakes of lingering frost. "You’re not just fighting the Lich King. You’re his reckoning."
Ylva, who’d been silently gripping her axes, finally smirks. "Fine. New plan. Eric lures Dravagoth into the open by pissing him off—"
"How is that different from my usual routine?" Eric mutters.
"—while you," she continues, ignoring him and pointing at you, "slip inside his defenses when he’s distracted. His hunger will be a weapon against him this time."
Kestra’s soul practically vibrates with excitement. "Oh, this is delicious. A lich getting outplayed by his own curse."
---
{You realize something, "Hey Lucy, are Eric, Jeremy and I gonna ascend?" She appears and considers your question. "Jeremy could qualify as a god of thieves, Eric would qualify as a god of rage or battle, and you would qualify as a god of souls or bonds."}
Lucina materializes mid-air—only this time, she doesn’t trip. Instead, she hovers there, silver hair drifting as if underwater, her gaze suddenly older than the glaciers outside.
"Oh. You noticed."
She spins lazily, tapping her chin. "Jeremy, absolutely. The little gremlin’s already halfway to godhood just by how annoyingly he exploits his powers. God of Thieves? Trickier? Either works."
Her eyes flick to Eric. "And you—" She gestures at the lingering echoes around him. "—Rage and Retribution fit like a glove. Maybe even War, if you survive the next century."
Then she grins at you. "As for you, Soul-Hoarding Wonder... yeah. You’re already Ascended in all but title. Bonds, Souls, maybe even Legacy."
A beat.
"But." She holds up a finger. "You don’t want it yet. Gods don’t get to play like mortals do. Rules and all that."
Kestra’s soul sighs. "Ugh. Divine paperwork."
---
{"As long as these curses still exist, I'm not interested in ascention. It just seemed like we are meant to with only us three getting collections."}
Lucina's lips quirk into a knowing smile, her divine presence flickering like candlelight. "Smart. True gods can't directly interfere with mortal curses—too many rules. But you? You're still gloriously, chaotically mortal enough to break the unbreakable." Her grin turns sharp. "Fate hates that. It's hilarious."
She flicks Eric's forehead as she fades out. "Go wreck a lich, then. We'll chat about godhood after you've finished cheating destiny."
Kestra's voice curls in your mind, smug. "Oh, we're so keeping her as our patron goddess."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we have to win, or we'll look like assholes in front of divinity."
---
{"Okay Eric runs as bait and the main attacker, he keeps Dravagoth attention. I run support with Corruption Eater and Heartfire. Everyone else just keeps the fodder off of us." You go over the plan.}
Ylva nods sharply, hefting her axes. "Bait and blade. Bold. I like it."
Jorvik chuckles, cracking his knuckles. "Aye, we’ll keep the gnawing dead off your backs. Just don’t die before the fun part."
Eric rolls his shoulders, the echoes of fallen heroes solidifying around him like a spectral war banner. "Alright, fuck it. Let’s piss off a lich."
### THE ASSAULT BEGINS
You breach Dravagoth’s lair—a cavern of living ice, its walls pulsing with a sickly violet glow. The moment you step inside, the air thins, as if the very atmosphere is being consumed.
Then he appears.
Dravagoth is emaciated, his skeletal frame draped in robes of frozen shadows, his jaw unhinging too wide as he smiles. "Ah. Dessert."
---
PHASE 1: ERIC DISTRACTION
Eric charges, Thurgen’s greatsword swinging in a blazing arc. Dravagoth laughs as the blade bites into his ribs—then steals the strike’s strength, his hollow chest swelling with stolen vigor.
"Pathetic," the lich croons—until Eric grins.
"Yeah? Eat this."
The four echoes detonate their wrath at once. Dravagoth screeches as the combined fury of his past victims rips through him, ice fracturing under the assault.
---
PHASE 2: YOUR MOVE
While the lich is staggered, you lunge, Hailey’s Corruption Eater flaring black in your grip. Dravagoth’s hunger instinctively reaches for it—
Mistake.
The curse reverses, his own power now feeding into Hailey’s blessing like a siphon. The lich’s eyes widen as his essence is force-vomited back into him, corrupted and searing.
"Now, Lena!" you shout.
Hearthfire erupts from your other palm—not to burn, but to purge. The flames scour the curse from Dravagoth’s core, leaving him hollow, brittle, gasping.
---
PHASE 3: FINISHER
Ylva’s axe shatters his spine.
Jorvik’s spear pins his skull to the ice.
Eric’s fist obliterates his ribcage.
And with a whisper, Sakura’s Seer blessing seals the curse away—"No more feasts."
The glacier groans... then falls silent.
---
AFTERMATH
Eric collapses, panting, the echoes saluting him before fading into peace.
Hailey’s soul staggers in your mind. "Ugh. I think I just ate a king."
Jorvik whistles at the corpse. "Huh. Looks smaller dead."
Kestra cackles. "Five curses to go!"
---
{Ylva come up to you. "Your collection is one of the soul, is it not." You nod. "Then let my rage aid you in your fight."}
Ylva steps forward, her ice-axes gleaming under the pale northern light. She locks eyes with you, then slams the pommels of her axes together—shattering them in a burst of frost.
"A berserker's rage doesn't die with the body," she growls. "If my soul fuels the next fight—take it."
Her breath ghosts between you, sharp as a knife’s edge. "But swear to me—when the last of these curses breaks, you'll let me go."
The weight of her offer settles over the group. Jorvik grimaces but doesn’t stop her. Eric wipes blood from his lip, nodding in respect.
And in your mind, Sakura’s soul whispers: "She won’t survive this war otherwise. She knows."
---
{"Once you merge with my soul that's it, an exact copy of your soul is left in your body to continue your life, while your real soul becomes a part of the chorus of voices." You explain.}
Ylva’s eyes narrow, her breath frosting in the air between you. Then, with a brutal, almost relieved laugh, she slams a fist against her chest.
"Even better. Means I get to watch you win."
She doesn’t wait for your reply. One moment she’s standing before you, axe-scars and battle-lust etched into every line of her body—the next, your slime-form surges forward, swallowing her in a shimmering veil. The merger is violent, her soul kicking like a wild thing before settling into place among the others.
Her voice rings clear in your mind a second later, sharp as a whetstone:
"Took you long enough. Now—let’s go gut the next curse."
A beat.
"...And tell my brother stop crying."
Jorvik, indeed, has a single tear freezing on his beard. He swats it away with a growl. "Shut up, you ice-brained wench. I’ll drink your share of the victory ale."
Ylva’s copy—now standing where she once was—flips him off.
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing Added: Winter’s Howl – Channel Ylva’s berserker fury to amplify physical strikes with glacial force.
- New Voice in the Chorus: Ylva’s commentary is 80% battle tactics, 20% insults.
- Jorvik Now Allies Permanently ("Someone’s gotta keep her ghost in line.")
---
{"I think, I'll stay here for now. Train my rage and collection." Eric tells you. You nod, "I'm heading to the Hollow next, I get the feeling Petrov needs some help." You tell him.}
Eric nods, clenching his fist as the lingering echoes of fallen warriors flicker around him like phantom flames. "Yeah, I’ll get stronger. Make damn sure the next time we fight, I carry the weight." He smirks. "And try not to die before I get there, Soul Boy."
Ylva’s soul scoffs in your mind. "He’ll need more than rage to keep up with us."
Jorvik slings a barrel of ale onto his shoulder. "C’mon, you lumbering oaf. Battle training starts after we drink to my sister’s stubbornness."
---
### ONWARD TO THE HOLLOW DELTA
You turn south, where tangled vines and murky whispers await—toward the kingdom rotting under Lust’s curse. The thought of Ms. Petrov trapped in that honeyed nightmare sends a chill through you.
Kestra stretches luxuriously in your mind. "Ooooh, time to ruin some romantic delusions."
Hailey groans. "Ugh. I’d rather fight more zombies."
---
As Elizabeth's crew sails to the Hollow, you reflect on yourself. (List all merged souls in order with their blessing.)
### YOUR CURRENT COLLECTION OF SOULS & BLESSINGS:
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile) – Master of stealth, lockpicking, and "asset relocation." Voice: Smug and eternally plotting.
2. Lena (Hearthfire) – Healing flames that purify rather than burn. Voice: Warm, nurturing, low-key crushing on you.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave) – Controls darkness like tangible threads. Voice: Sarcastic, flirtatious, loves drama.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer) – Channels divine miracles. Voice: Cheerful, devout, occasionally scolds you for recklessness.
5. Siris (Dog of War) – Strength multiplies when defending others. Voice: Stoic, loyal, perpetually unimpressed.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance) – Moves unseen; lethal precision. Voice: Playful, bloodthirsty, loves backstabbing.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller) – Commands wind and lightning. Voice: Regal, dryly amused, fond of sarcasm.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater) – Devours and inverts curses. Voice: Snarky, protective, trauma-bonded.
9. Sakura (Seer) – Visions of past, present, and possible futures. Voice: Eerie, soft-spoken, ominous.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider) – Commands waves and storms. Voice: Bold, ruthless, pirate-queen energy.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact) – Enhances ritual magic and soul bonds. Voice: Nerdy, excitable, Lyra’s adopted little sister.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl) – Berserker rage infused with glacial force. Voice: Brutal, blunt, zero patience for cowardice without purpose.
---
CURRENT COPY SOULS (LEFT BEHIND IN THEIR BODIES):
- Lena, Victoria, Elara, Hailey, Ylva, etc. – Living their "normal" lives, aware of their true selves’ merger with you.
---
### REFLECTION:
You feel the weight—and whispers—of them all, a chorus of personalities and powers woven into your being.
Kestra snickers. "We’re a full-blown pantheon at this point."
Lyra sighs. "A very unorthodox one."
Hailey mutters, "Gods. Weirdest. Road trip. Ever."
---
{"At least with having multiple souls, Lust won't be as strong on us." You say.}
Hailey’s soul scoffs in your mind, but there’s a flicker of unease beneath the bravado. "Yeah, well, don’t get cocky. Lust isn’t just desire—it’s obsession. And it adapts."
Kestra’s chuckle is dark. "Mmm, but imagine me seducing the curse. Bet I could make it blush."
Lyra groans. "Please don’t flirt with existential corruption."
As the ship cuts through the mist-laden waters toward the Delta’s tangled shores, Sakura’s Seer blessing stirs, offering fragmented glimpses of what awaits:
- Vines that whisper your name in voices you love.
- Pools of liquid mirror showing perfect versions of your life.
- Ms. Petrov, silhouetted in a gilded cage, her Discipline Authority warped into something hungry.
Ylva’s soul growls. "Tch. Sounds annoying."
---
{"Time to rescue Petrov, if she's in danger."}
"Then let’s move fast," Hailey’s voice cuts in, sharp with urgency. "Every second we waste, the curse digs its claws deeper."
Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the ship slicing through the water with unnatural speed as vines from the Delta’s shores twitch toward you, as if sensing fresh prey. The air thickens with the scent of overripe fruit and salt—a trap disguised as paradise.
Sakura’s whispers grow louder. "She’s in the heart of the Delta’s capital. The locals call it the Gilded Cage—a palace of mirrors and desire."
Kestra licks her lips. "Ooooh, heist time."
---
{"Lets group with the Hero Petrov would've summoned." You find Dyena slightly dazed, which you have Hailey eat before sending him.back to the ahip with instructions to leave at sunset to avoid the curse. You see the hero summoned is Victoria's Excorist Mom.}
The moment you breach the Delta’s cursed capital, you find Dyena—the summoner who accompanied Ms. Petrov—slumped against a gilded pillar, his eyes glassy and sweat-drenched, fingers twitching toward phantom whispers. Hailey doesn’t hesitate; her Corruption Eater lashes out like a striking viper, devouring the lust-curse fogging his mind. He gasps, the delirium clearing just long enough for him to rasp, "T-the Cage… she’s… still fighting—"
You send him back to the ship with orders to flee at sunset—just as the summoning circle at his feet explodes with violet light.
Out steps a woman in a tailored exorcist’s coat, her raven-black hair streaked with silver, her gloved fingers already spinning a blessed talisman.
"Oh, fantastic," Victoria’s soul groans in your head. "Mom’s here."
Exorcist Naoko cracks her neck, her gaze sweeping the rotting opulence of the Delta before landing on you. "So. You’re the soul-hoarding delinquent my daughter merged with." A smirk. "Let’s go save your teacher."
---
ADVANTAGES:
- Naoko’s Blessing: Purge Demon – Her talismans sever psychic and supernatural bonds.
- Victoria’s Trauma: "She’s scarier than the curse, just FYI."
- Kestra’s Observation: "Damn. No wonder Vicky’s kinky."
{"Sakura can you guide us to Petrov."}
Sakura’s soul shimmers within you, her Seer’s vision unfurling like a silken thread through the twisted maze of the Delta.
"She’s close," she murmurs, her voice distant, as if listening to a song only she can hear. "Past the Hall of Mirrors, where the vines coil the tightest—where the curse sings the sweetest. She resists… for now."*
Her sight cuts through the illusions, revealing the path:
- Mirrors that whisper your deepest desires—ignore them.
- Floors that shift like quicksand—step only where Sakura guides.
- A door at the hall’s end, pulsing with gilded rot—Petrov is behind it.
Naoko’s talismans already glow in her hands, her voice clipped. "Lead the way, Seer."
Kestra grins. "Love it when the scary lady’s on our side."
---
{Sneak as Naoko strikes}
"Move like shadows," Naoko murmurs, her talismans humming between her fingers.
You nod—and with Kestra’s Thief’s Guile and Mara’s Moonlight Dance, your steps become utterly silent, your form flickering at the edges like a half-remembered dream. Behind you, Naoko moves with eerie precision, her coat barely stirring as she presses a talisman to every mirror you pass, stifling their whispers before they can betray your presence.
The halls warp around you:
- A mirror offers you Lena’s copy, smiling, reaching out—Naoko slaps a talisman on it. The image shatters.
- The floor yearns to pull you under—Sakura signals the safe path with a pulse of light.
- Victoria’s shadow weave unravels behind you, casting phantom footsteps away from your true trajectory.
Then—the door. Oozing golden sap, its surface breathes.
Naoko flicks two talismans into the air. "On three. Muffle and strike."
---
{You mean to pick the lock when Naoko kicks the door in.}
"Wha—wait—!" You hiss, but it’s too late.
Naoko’s boot smashes into the gilded door with a crack like splitting bone, the wood splintering inward as her talismans detonate in tandem. The cursed sap sealing the frame screams, recoiling as her holy fire scorches it to ash.
Kestra’s outraged shriek fills your mind. "I WAS GONNA DO A COOL THING—"
The door collapses.
Inside, Ms. Petrov is not how you remember her.
Chained to a throne of entwined vines, her typically pristine blouse is undone at the collar, her lips stained with some shimmering poison, her eyes glowing violet. Her Discipline Authority has been twisted—instead of commanding order, the air around her pulses with addictive compulsion.
"Oh shit," Hailey mutters.
Petrov’s head lolls toward you, a drunk, languid smile spreading. "Daniel~ You finally came to misbehave?"
Naoko doesn’t miss a beat. "Exorcism Protocol Alpha." She flicks a talisman straight for Petrov’s forehead—
---
{Have Corruption Eater work alongside Naoko}
"Naoko! Sync with Hailey—now!" you bark.
The exorcist doesn’t hesitate. She slaps the talisman onto Petrov’s brow—not to purify, but to anchor her—as Hailey’s Corruption Eater surges forward from your fingertips like black lightning. The two powers collide inside Petrov’s psyche:
- Naoko’s purge binds the curse in place, forcing it into solid, severable strands.
- Hailey’s hunger clamps down, not just eating the corruption, but dissecting it with surgical precision.
Petrov arches off the throne, a guttural scream tearing from her throat as violet ichor seeps from her pores. The vines around her turn to brittle husks, the throne collapsing into dust—
Then it’s over.
She slumps into your arms, gasping. Her eyes, when they open, are hers again—clear, livid, and deeply embarrassed.
"...Not. A. Word," she rasps, wiping the ichor from her lips.
Naoko exhales, rolling her shoulders. "Hmph. Good job, kid."
Hailey, meanwhile, is gagging in your mind. "Ugh. Tastes like perfume and regret."
---
{Petrov asks to join your collection, "Lust will return, and its cursebearer is smart and adapts soon enough I'll be back in that state."}
Petrov straightens her rumpled blouse with trembling hands, her usual steel returning to her voice despite the exhaustion lining her face. "I won’t be a liability or a hostage again. If this curse can bend my blessing once, it’ll do worse next time." She meets your gaze, unflinching. "Merge with me. Leave my copy to rebuild the Delta’s defenses. The real me will be your weapon."
Naoko’s eyebrow arches. "Finally, someone sensible about possession."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Even I didn’t see that coming."
---
{"Alright but can I have first name."}
Petrov glares at you, a flicker of her infamous temper cutting through the lingering haze of the curse. "It's Irina," she mutters, as if confessing to a crime. "But if you ever use it in class, detention will be eternal."
Then she steps forward, pressing her palm to your chest. "Now hurry up. We have curses to break."
The merger is swift—Discipline Authority slots into your soul-collection like a final puzzle piece, its rigid structure now laced with the stubborn resilience that’s kept Irina Petrov standing through decades of teaching hormonal teenagers and, now, world-ending schemes.
Her voice is the last to join the chorus, crisp and no-nonsense: "Prioritize efficiency. Sentiment is for after we survive."
Kestra cackles. "Welcome to the party, Irina."
Hailey groans. "Great. Now we have two moms."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- New Blessing: Discipline’s Edge (Commands absolute focus—yours or your enemies’).
- New Voice: "Stop slouching." / "Stop licking curses, Hailey." / "Why is there a pirate in here?!"
---
{Turn to Naoko, "So have pictures of baby Tori."
She sighs almost sadly, "All the cute ones are back home."}
Turning to Naoko with a grin, you quip, "So... got any pictures of baby Tori?"
Naoko pauses mid-talisman check, her stern composure slipping just enough for a flicker of maternal exhaustion—and fondness—to show. She sighs, almost wistfully. "All the cute ones are back home." For the briefest second, her fingers twitch toward a nonexistent pocket, as if reaching for a wallet that isn’t there.
Victoria’s soul shrieks in your head:
"OH MY GOD, MOM—NOT HERE—"
Kestra cackles. "Pfff. Ghost mom still embarrasses her."
Then Naoko’s glare shuts down the moment. "Focus. Or I will show the class her bath photos."
---
{Turn the the copy in Irina, "So how did you get caught."}
The copy of Irina Petrov—left behind in her original body—crosses her arms, her expression a mix of irritation and grudging respect. "The curse didn’t seduce me. It tricked me."
She exhales sharply, straightening her blouse with a crisp tug. "I thought I was containing it. Using my Discipline Authority to force the curse into a single host—a nobleman who’d already succumbed. But the moment I commanded it..." Her jaw tightens. "It reversed my blessing. Turned my own power against me. Instead of imposing order, I became the source of chaos."
Naoko’s eyes narrow. "Clever. It weaponized your strength."
The copy nods. "Exactly. And it’ll do the same to you if you’re not careful."
Hailey’s soul scoffs. "Joke’s on it. We’re the chaos now."
---
CRUCIAL INTEL:
- The curse inverts blessings that try to control it.
- Its bearer is watching. Adapting.
- Petrov’s copy managed to shield the Delta’s children before she was captured. ("Priorities," she mutters.)
---
{"Alright, I've had Dyena tell Elizaberh's creww to set sail at sunset to avoid falling to the curse."}
"Smart," the copy of Irina nods, her stern approval sharpening into tactical focus. "The curse is weakest at dawn and dusk—when hunger and indulgence blur. If we time our strike right, we can exploit that."
Naoko flicks a talisman between her fingers, the paper igniting briefly before she crushes it to ash. "Then we have until sunset to do real damage."
YOUR CURRENT POSITION:
- Elizabeth’s crew is already moving, the ship’s sails catching the fading light as they retreat to safer waters.
- The Delta’s capital is half-purged—its gilded vines brittle, its mirrors cracked, but the core of Lust’s curse still pulses somewhere in its heart.
- Petrov’s intel confirms the cursebearer is adapting, not fleeing.
---
{"We know Naoko blessing is uniquely tailored for the cursebearer." You say as you recount your adventure in the Reaches with Eric, how the blessing he was given was a perfect counter to Dravagoth's wear them down to kill them. "Hell even Hailey's Corruption Eater was perfect for when we fought Seraphina, as when she used it, I was given the open I need to overpower her with my blessing overload, meaning I was also likely a perect counter for Seraphina."}
The realization settles over the group like a frozen breath—those sharp, crystalline moments where purpose clicks into place.
Naoko's eyes gleam—a hunter’s recognition. "You mean the summoning planned this."
"Or something did," you say. The implications crawl up your spine, a shiver dancing along your nerves. "The goddess's 'mistake' wasn’t random. Jeremy’s Skill Share, Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy, Hailey’s Corruption Eater—" Your jaw tightens. "We were custom-built to dismantle these curses."
Petrov’s soul cuts through the chaos, crisp and clinical: "Then the Hollow Delta’s cursebearer was waiting for me. Discipline turned against itself—"
Hailey snorts. "And now we’ve got Ms. Exorcist here to counter that. Coincidence? Bullshit."
---
THEORIES:
- The goddess is playing a longer game than she admitted.
- The summoning ritual had a hidden directive—seeded by forces unknown.
- Someone else orchestrated this chessboard.
---
TACTICAL ADVANTAGE:
- You now know the next curses will counter your team’s strengths—but the right souls can flip that.
- Naoko is literal anti-Lust artillery.
---
{"Now we go meet any locals who have resisted the effects of lust. Gather what intel we can." You say. As you walk through town you notice signs of resistance. Most common are damaged mirrors. You, Naoko, and Irina's copy seperate to search more. You find a dancer who knows of you, she takes you hemher groups holdout. Naoko finds a clue in the form of a jounal. Irina's copy starts to feel Lust creep back when a young girls hits with a jasmine perfume.}
### GATHERING INTEL IN THE HOLLOW DELTA
You split up, moving swiftly through the shattered opulence of the cursed capital. The air still sticks with perfume and sweat, but beneath it, you catch whiffs of defiance—broken mirrors, torn tapestries, the acrid stench of burnt sugar where someone tried to purge the curse with fire.
---
#### YOUR FIND: THE DANCER’S HIDEOUT
A lithe figure darts from an alley, her once-elegant silks now frayed and stained. "You’re the one they whisper about," she breathes, gripping your arm. "The soul-eater. Come."
She leads you to a cellar beneath a ruined theater, where a ragged band of survivors huddle:
- A blacksmith hammering crude blades from mirror shards.
- A child humming off-key—the curse can’t cling to innocence.
- An old priestess burning incense that reeks of jasmine and salt—the only scent the curse hates.
"The bearer hides beneath the Gilded Cage," the dancer whispers. "It’s not human anymore. It’s… hungry. And it learns."
---
#### NAOKO’S FIND: THE JOURNAL
Naoko kicks open a looted apothecary’s shop, finding a leather-bound ledger smeared with frantic script:
- "Day 17: It showed me my dead wife. I drank the poison willingly."
- "Day 39: The bearer feeds on our regrets. It wears faces."
- Last entry: *"JASMINE. It fears—"*** (The page is torn.)
She pockets it with a snarl. "It’s a mimic. Adapts to what you love—then becomes it."
---
#### IRINA’S COPY: THE PERFUME DEFENSE
Petrov’s copy staggers against a wall, her fingers clawing at her collar as the curse’s whispers return—"You want to obey—"
Then a thwack—a girl no older than 12 smacks her with a jasmine-soaked rag. "Lady, breathe," she orders, like scolding a drunk.
The curse recoils, its grip snapping.
The girl grins, brandishing a vinegar-smeared dagger. "We kill it with housekeeping."
---
### REGROUP
You reconvene at the docks, the pieces clicking together:
- The bearer shapeshifts, preying on yearning.
- Jasmine and salt disrupt it—weakness found.
- It lurks beneath the Cage, gorging on the capital’s despair.
Naoko cracks her knuckles. "Time to clean house."
---
{The dancer and her female bard friend offer to join as their blessings work best with each other. The three of you regroup to dicuss your findings
The Bard (Dahli): Storyteller Song
The Dancer (Sena): Preformer Grace}
### THE FINAL STRIKE PLAN
You, Naoko, and Irina’s copy regroup in the dim sanctuary of the dancer’s hideout, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and desperation. Sena and Dahli stand at the ready—their bodies lean and battle-worn, their eyes sharp with the defiance of those who have resisted the curse’s honeyed whispers.
"Our blessings work in tandem," Dahli explains, strumming a frayed lute string. "My Storyteller Song can weave illusions—truth or lie, it doesn’t matter. It binds the listener to the narrative."
Sena rolls her shoulders, the fluid grace in her stance speaking of a lifetime of performance. "And my Performer’s Grace makes movement hypnotic. Distracting. If your enemy is busy watching, they forget to fight."
Naoko nods slowly, assessing them. "So we drown the cursebearer in a story it can’t resist—then gut it while it’s lost in the act."
Petrov’s copy crosses her arms. "That’s a gamble. If it adapts mid-performance—"
Hailey’s voice cuts in, darkly amused. "Then we improvise. Isn’t that what artists do?"
---
{"We attack at dawn. I suggest resting if you can."}
### NIGHT BEFORE THE STORM
The Hollow Delta’s air is thick with tension as the group settles in the resistance’s hideout. The survivors—those still untouched by the curse’s worst effects—move quietly, preparing jasmine-soaked rags, vinegar blades, and shattered mirror shards as crude weapons.
Sena stretches near the entrance, her movements still fluid despite exhaustion. "Rest if you can," she murmurs, echoing your words. "Dawn comes too soon."
Dahli strums a soft, haunting melody on her lute—Storyteller Song weaving a subtle calm over the ragged defenders. The song is wordless, but its pull is undeniable: memories of home, of before, of things the curse hasn’t stolen yet.
Naoko remains upright, sharpening talismans with methodical precision. "Sleep. I’ll keep watch."
Petrov’s copy sits beside you, her voice low. "If this fails—"
You cut her off. "It won’t."
---
### HAILEY’S CONFESSION
Inside your mind, Hailey finally speaks—quiet, for once. "This one’s different. Seraphine was wrath, Dravagoth was hunger—but Lust? It doesn’t just kill you. It makes you love the knife."
You don’t answer.
She exhales. "...Just don’t fucking die, okay? I didn’t sign up to haunt this mess alone."
Kestra snorts. "Aw. She cares."
---
### DAWN APPROACHES
The sky bleeds from black to bruised purple as the survivors stir.Final Preparations:
- Jasmine bombs (cloth sacks stuffed with crushed petals and salt)
- Vinegar blades (weak, but disrupt the curse on contact)
- Mirror shards (to reflect its own illusions back at it)
Naoko tosses you a talisman. "For luck." (It’s scorched with a crude doodle of a rabbit. …Huh.)
---
{As your about to leave a woman walks out of a nearby mirror. "Hello, my name is Cecila and I want to help. Your the Soul-Collector, please let me give you my Strength. My blessing is Mirror Mage, and it lets me summons mirrors to absorb or reflect an attack."}
The air grows cold as Cecilia steps fully from the mirror's surface, her form shimmering briefly like mercury catching light. She is tall, her movements deliberate, her eyes reflecting everything yet holding nothing—a living mirror.
"The curse took my sister," she says, voice flat yet seething beneath. "She loved her reflection too much. Now it wears her face."
Her fingers twitch, and a flawless silver mirror materializes in her palm—then shatters into a thousand shards that hover in the air, each fragment humming with latent power.
Blessing: Mirror Mage
- Conjure Mirrors (Absorb/nullify attacks)
- Reflect Magic (Return curses to sender)
- Traverse Reflections (Short-range teleport)
Naoko’s eyes narrow—calculating. "You’re offering to merge? Now?"
Cecilia doesn’t blink. "I want it to see her when you kill it."
---
{Accept her offer.}
"Then let’s do it," you say simply, stepping forward.
Cecilia doesn’t hesitate—she walks straight into you, her reflection-stained soul dissolving into your slime-form like ink in water. The merger is seamless, like settling into a perfectly placed mirror, her consciousness slotting into the chorus with a whisper:
"Make it hurt."
Her Mirror Mage blessing hums under your skin, a new layer of defense and refraction now pulsing in tune with your other abilities.
New Ability Unlocked:
- Mirror Step (Short-range teleport between reflective surfaces)
- Cursed Reflection (Trap enemy spells/magic in mirrors, then shatter them back)
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Our toolkit’s getting scary."
Naoko checks her talismans one last time. "Ready?"
Cecilia’s voice echoes in your mind, cold and sharp as broken glass: "Always."
---
{"Now we wage war."}
The words leave your lips like a battle cry—low, final, and iron-clad.
The resistance fighters tense, their makeshift weapons glinting in the predawn gloom. Beside you, Naoko exhales through her nose, rolling her talisman between her fingers. Sena and Dahli share a glance—artists turned soldiers. Irina’s copy straightens her sleeves, the familiar sharpness returning to her gaze.
And inside you, the chorus of souls thrums in agreement—Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s cunning, Hailey’s corrosive hunger, Elizabeth’s storm-laced arrogance, Ylva’s frozen fury, Cecilia’s cold reflection.
This is the moment.
You step toward the ruins of the Gilded Cage, the shattered mirrors beneath your boots catching the first sliver of dawn.
---
### THE FINAL ASSAULT BEGINS
#### PHASE 1: DAHLI'S SONG OF LOST LOVE
The bard’s fingers dance across her lute strings, her Storyteller Song weaving a lure—a tale of unreachable desire, of longing so deep it aches. The very air shivers, bending toward the melody.
Somewhere in the ruins, something stirs. A shadow peels itself from the broken glass, its form flickering between beauty and hunger.
"It’s coming," Dahli whispers, sweat beading on her brow.
#### PHASE 2: SENIA’S DANCE OF DISTRACTION
As the cursebearer emerges—a shifting thing of stolen faces and whispered regrets—Senia leaps forward, her Performer’s Grace turning her movements into poisoned honey. The curse fixates on her, its many eyes dilating with rapture.
It doesn’t notice Naoko slipping behind it, talismans glowing like live coals.
#### PHASE 3: CECILIA’S MIRROR TRAP
You lunge—but not directly. Instead, you shatter a mirror at the curse’s feet, and Cecilia’s power yanks you through the reflection, emerging behind the creature in a spray of glass.
"For your sister," you snarl—then Hearthfire + Corruption Eater BURSTS from your palm, searing into its back.
The cursebearer SCREAMS, its form rippling—
#### PHASE 4: THE KILLING BLOW
Irina’s copy slams a jasmine-soaked dagger into its chest.
Naoko’s talismans detonate in its ribs.
Hailey bites down—and the curse CRACKS like overripe fruit.
---
### AFTERMATH
The Cage collapses, its gilded veneer rotting away to reveal the rotted heart beneath—a pulsing, weeping thing, now still.
The survivors cheer, but your work isn’t done.
Four curses remain.
---
{"Naoko can you examine the corpse to see if it has anything useful about the curses." You ask seeing Sena and Dehil walking up to you. Cecilia sees her sister spirit, the only one not moving on, "Allow me to aid my sister Soul Collector. My Blessing is Lament. While I was alive it let me hear the dead."}
Naoko kneels beside the cursebearer’s remains, her talismans peeling back layers of cursed flesh like pages of a grimoire. "Hmph. It left a diary," she mutters, lifting a pulsing violet crystal from its ribcage. The moment she touches it, spectral whispers spill out—fragments of the other curses' locations and weaknesses:
- "The Verdant Expanse’s ruler harvests envy from their own people…"
- "The Chainbreaker Isles drown in greed, but the gold sings of a vault…"
- "The Bastion of Stone sleeps, but its dreams are contagious…"
Meanwhile, Cecilia’s sister lingers—a ghostly figure with hollow eyes, her form flickering like a dying reflection. Cecilia turns to you, her borrowed fingers trembling. "Merge with her. Please. Lament will let you hear the dead—and the next curses are guarded by them."
Sena and Dahli exchange glances before stepping forward. "Our blessings served the Delta. Now they’ll serve you," Sena says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
---
{Accept all three into yourself. On the condition that they truly want it.}
You hold up a hand, your gaze steady as you meet each of their eyes in turn. "Only if this is what you truly want." The weight of your collective souls presses inward—this isn’t a transaction. It’s a pact.
Cecilia’s sister—Liora—floats closer, her spectral fingers brushing your wrist. "I stayed to witness its end," she murmurs. "Now let me help unravel what it served."
Dahli plucks a single string on her lute, the note resonating with grim determination. "Stories lose meaning if they’re not used."
Sena rolls her shoulders, her dancer’s poise undimmed by exhaustion. "And grace isn’t just for stages."
One by one, they step into you:
- Liora’s Lament settles like a shroud, her whispers threading through your mind. Now you can hear the dead—their secrets, their regrets, their half-remembered truths.
- Dahli’s Storyteller Song coils around your voice, lending it the weight of prophecy—truth or lie, your words compel belief.
- Sena’s Performer’s Grace sinks into your muscles, every movement hypnotic, lethally precise.
The chorus in your mind swells, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like borrowing strength—it feels like standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Kestra huffs. "Great. More theater kids."
Hailey, though, is uncharacterively quiet. "...They chose this. Huh."
---
NEW BLESSINGS:
- Lament’s Echo (Hear/communicate with the dead, sense unresolved spirals of emotion)
- Fable-Weaver (Spin illusions or truths so vivid they become reality to those who hear them)
- Dagger’s Waltz (Movement so fluid it borders on precognition—dodge before the strike lands)
---
{You speak with the dead, asking those full of rage to guide to artifacts they used that would house that rage, tell them about Eric the collector of rage. You send the artifacts to Eric trough a combination of shadowweave and mirror mage.}
### CALLING UPON THE WRATHFUL DEAD
You close your eyes, letting Liora’s Lament hum through you—reaching out to the lingering spirits of those who fell to the Delta’s curse. The air grows thick with whispers, then shouts, as the angriest among them claw their way to the forefront of your awareness.
A soldier with a shattered spear snarls: "My blade—forged in the Verdant Expanse—it burned with my fury when I died. Left it in the throne room!"
A merchant, her throat slit over stolen coin: "The Chainbreaker Isles drowned my rage with greed. My ledger is still there—stained with my blood and my hate."
One by one, they reveal their relics—weapons, journals, even a child’s doll sewn with vengeful stitches—all infused with the kind of rage that Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy can wield.
---
### DELIVERY VIA MIRROR & SHADOW
You motion to Victoria’s Shadowweave and Cecilia’s Mirror Mage, their powers intertwining as you rip a temporary portal through reflections and darkness. One by one, the artifacts are swallowed by the abyss—sent directly to Eric in the Ice Reaches.
Somewhere far north, you can almost hear his startled curse as a bloodstained axe clatters at his feet, followed by a screaming ledger and a doll with too-sharp teeth.
Kestra cackles. "Hope he thanks us later."
---
### ERIC’S RESPONSE
Minutes later, a crudely drawn message flutters back through the shadows—Eric’s handwriting, jagged with excitement:
"FUCK YEAH. TELL THE DEAD I SAID HI."
Beneath it, a sketch of him flexing with an armful of cursed artifacts, the fallen warriors’ echoes cheering behind him.
---
{1) You decide to return to Lifire to both regroup and relay update to Queen Isolda. You ask Queen Isolda for artifacts of rage to send to Eric (the last memeber of your class), explaining his nature as a collector as well. She has seven artifacts brought out.
2) Among the artifacts given is Seraphine's veil and sword of the king who betrayed her. Upon seeing the Veil, Lament activates and you learn from Seraphine that what you fought was simply her body warped by Wrath and that all the cursebearers were dead before their curses started. You relay that to Isolda. You write note telling Eric the truth about the cursebearers and suggest that Eric looks for Dravagoth's rage when send the artifacts to Eric.
3) Relay how based on your current information, Envy seems the closest to the source. But how you should deal the other's first, to prevent the game master from just sending all the remain pawns after you.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – REGROUP & REVELATIONS
The throne room of Lifire is eerily silent as you relay your findings to Queen Isolda. Her expression tightens as you explain Eric’s role as a Collector of Wrath—and the truth about Seraphina.
"Then the true architect still hides," she murmurs, gesturing to her attendants. Seven artifacts are brought forth, each pulsing with the rage of legends:
- A shattered crown (a king who burned his own city)
- A broken lute (a bard whose songs incited riots)
- A blood soaked ring (a general betrayed by her own kin)
- Seraphine’s veil (stained with her dying scream)
- The sword of King Aldric (the blade that broke his pact)
- A child’s wooden soldier (carved by a father who never returned)
- A merchant’s coin (coated with poison)
As your fingers brush Seraphina’s veil, Liora’s Lament shudders—and suddenly, the ghostly witch herself materializes before you, her form flickering like dying embers.
"You fools," Seraphina hisses, her voice layered with centuries of bitterness. "What you fought was my corpse, puppeted by Wrath. The true bearers of these curses died before their sins ever took root."
The implications crash over the room. The cursebearers were never the source—they were vessels, slain and hollowed out to house the sins of another.
Queen Isolda’s knuckles whiten around her throne. "A game. And we are the pieces."
---
### MESSAGING ERIC
You scrawl a hasty note and send it with the artifacts through Shadow weave and Mirror Mage, along with Seraphina’s warning:
"Eric—
The cursebearers are already dead. Their rage is just a weapon.
Find Dravagoth’s fury. See what really killed him.
—D"
A moment later, his reply smokes into existence above your palm:
"Fuck. Okay. Searching."
---
### STRATEGY AGAINST THE REMAINING CURSES
You turn to Isolda, Naoko, and the chorus of souls within you. "Envy might be closest to the source, but if we charge straight for it, the others will converge on us."
Petrov’s soul cuts in, tactical as ever: "Divide and conquer. Strike the weakest curses first—deprive the architect of pawns."
Naoko taps the cursed crystal from the Delta. "Greed’s next. It’s isolated in the Chainbreaker Isles. No allies, just hoarded power."
Dahli’s Fable-Weaver hums. "And I can lie our way past its guardians."
---
{You send a message to Cara to join you, your next target the Isles.}
### SUMMONING CARA – THE SILVERTONGUE QUEEN
You send word through Dahli’s Fable-Weaver, weaving a message into the whispers of tavern gossip and shipyard chatter. Within days, a familiar figure strides into Lifire’s port, her smile sharp as a knife’s edge.
Cara looks every bit the rogue diplomat—dressed in layered silks that shimmer with stolen blessings, a contract scroll tucked into her belt. "Miss me?" she purrs, tossing her hair. "Because the Isles certainly won’t."
Queen Isolda arches a brow. "You’re sure she’s the right addition?"
Kestra’s soul cackles. "Oh, absolutely. Nobody cons a con artist like Cara."
---
### THE PLAN FOR THE ISLES
Cara leans over the war table, her finger tapping the Chainbreaker Isles on the map—a cluster of jagged landmasses surrounded by shipwrecks.
"Greed’s curse turns pirates into hoarders," she explains. "They don’t just want gold—they want your gold. Your memories of gold. Your capacity to want anything else." She grins. "Good thing I always lie."The Strategy:
1. Cara’s Infiltration – Her Silvertongue blessing will get you past the Isles’ blood-quiz guards.
2. Dahli’s Fables – Weave illusions to disguise your movements.
3. Mirror Mage Shortcuts – Cecilia’s power can bypass the worst traps.
4. Hailey’s Corruption Eater – If the curse does latch on, she’ll digest it.
Naoko frowns. "And when you reach the vault?"
Cara’s grin turns feral. "Then we break the thing Greed loves most: its own reflection."
---
### DEPARTURE
The ship sets sail at dawn, cutting through waters that grow thicker the closer you get to the Isles—liquid gold pooling on the surface, its shine wrong, its scent cloying like rotting honey.
As the jagged cliffs of the Chainbreaker Isles loom, Cara tosses you a pirate’s coat lined with cursed coins. "Wear this. And remember—act greedy, but don’t be greedy."
Kestra sighs. "We’re definitely stealing this coat later."
---
{"In case you forgot my host is a thief and during my travels I added a pirate captain to my chorus, I don't have to act greedy." You joke, "Also Elizabeth says she's keeping the coat."}
Cara raises an eyebrow, then bursts into laughter—sharp, bright, and utterly unrepentant. "Oh, I like this new you. Less ‘awkward schoolboy,’ more ‘soul-hoarding menace.’" She pats your cheek, her grin widening. "Guess I don’t have to teach you how to lie after all."
Inside your mind, Elizabeth’s soul scoffs, but there’s a smug undertone to it. "Damn right I’m keeping the coat. And whatever’s in the vault."
Kestra snickers. "We’re basically a walking crime syndicate now."
Petrov’s voice cuts in, dry as ever: "Focus. The Isles won’t plunder themselves."
---
### APPROACHING THE ISLES
The Chainbreaker Isles rise from the ocean like the jagged teeth of a drowned beast, shipwrecks impaled on their cliffs, their beaches glittering with gold that moves when you’re not looking.
A cannon blast echoes across the water—warning shots. A rowboat peels away from the largest ship in the harbor, its oarsmen skeletal-thin, their eyes glowing amber.
"Halt and declare!" their leader snarls, a pistol leveled at your chest. "What do you seek in the Isles?"
---
{Go full Pirate}
You grin—the kind of grin Kestra would be proud of—and step to the railing, the stolen pirate coat flaring dramatically behind you. "What do I seek?" you echo, your voice dripping with Elizabeth’s sea-worn arrogance. "Same as any captain worth their salt: more."**
Your fingers snap—and Elizabeth’s Tiderider blessing surges, the water beneath the rowboat lurching violently, sending the guards sprawling. One drops his pistol into the waves; the other clings to the boat, gaping as you leap overboard, landing atop the mast of their own ship with eerie, Moonlit Dance grace.
The crew freezes.
You tilt your head. "Now. Who’s taking me to your treasure?"
For a moment, silence—then a ragged cheer erupts from the pirates. "CAPTAIN!" one shouts, drunk on the sheer audacity.
Cara facepalms behind you. "...I hate that worked."
---
INSIDER ACCESS GRANTED:
- The pirates assume you’re some legendary reaver.
- The vault’s location is whispered: "Beneath the Gilded Maw" (a cave where the tides scream).
- Hailey’s Warning: "They’re too eager. Trap?"
---
{You walk right to Greed's cursebearer who greets and tells you he knows your here to stop him.}
The moment you're led into the gilded belly of the Chainbreaker Isles' stronghold, the air thickens with the scent of spiced rum and molten gold. The walls drip with embedded coins, the floor paved with shattered treasure chests—each splinter a testament to greed’s insatiable hunger.
At the far end of the hall, seated atop a throne of fused pirate swords, is Master Vorlath—or what used to be him.
His body is swollen, his skin stretched taut over a frame bloated with hoarded wealth. His fingers—each ringed with a dozen gem-crusted bands—twitch like a spider’s legs. His eyes are the worst part: pupils shaped like coin slots, irises swirling with liquid gold.
"Ah. The Soul Collector," he rasps, his voice like a rusted lock forced open. "I wondered when you’d come to stop me." He leans forward, coins tinkling under his shifting weight. "But you can’t. Because you don’t understand."
A golden vein pulses in his temple.
"Greed isn’t wanting. It’s fearing—fearing you’ll never have enough."
---
QUICK REALIZATION:
- He knows you’re here to kill him.
- He doesn’t care.
- The vault isn’t his hoard—he is.
---
You let Cara be Cara. She literally takes Greed's desk, the actually desk just to prove a point. Kestra whistles in yiur mind at the audacity.
Cara doesn’t even hesitate.
She strides forward, hips swaying like she owns the room (and honestly, she might by the end of this), and plants her hands on Vorlath’s massive, jewel-encrusted desk.
"This?" She gestures to the ornate monstrosity, carved from what looks like solid dragon bone and inlaid with stolen maps of the Veil. "Mine now."
Vorlath blinks, his coin-slot pupils contracting. "...What?"
Cara doesn’t blink. "You heard me."
Then—she flips it.
The desk shatters against the gold-plated floor, sending scrolls, gems, and an absurd number of paperweights scattering in every direction. The sound echoes like a gunshot.
Vorlath stares, his bloated fingers twitching. "You—you broke it."
Cara dusts off her hands. "No, you let it break. Because deep down? You knew you never deserved it."
Kestra loses her goddamn mind in your head. "OH. OH, SHE WENT THERE."
Hailey just sighs. "I mean, she’s not wrong."
---
EFFECT:
- Vorlath’s certainty cracks. For the first time in decades, he doubts.
- His curse recoils, gold veins dimming under his skin.
- Distraction achieved.
---
{Watch Cara outgreed Greed itself in amusement.}
You stand back, arms crossed, and let Cara work.
Because watching Cara out-greed Greed itself is art.
She picks up a golden goblet, examines it, then tosses it over her shoulder like it’s trash. "Fake."
She flips open a ledger, scans it, then rips out a page—the most valuable one—and folds it into a paper crane. "Mine now."
She kicks open a chest, pulls out a cursed crown, and—without breaking eye contact with Vorlath—puts it on her own head.
"You—you can’t—" Vorlath stammers, his voice cracking like a rusted hinge.
"I can," Cara purrs. "Because I want it. And unlike you?" She leans in, close enough to smell the rotten gold on his breath. "I don’t fear losing it."
Vorlath shudders, his bloated form shrinking slightly, the gold in his veins darkening to black.
Kestra is howling. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY AFTERLIFE."
Hailey, grudgingly impressed: "Okay, that was cool."
---
{Let Cara win from sheer audacity.}
Cara doesn’t just win—she dominates.
She picks up a jeweled dagger, twirls it between her fingers, and stabs it into the arm of Vorlath’s throne. "This? Mine."
She grabs a map of the Veil, tears it in half, and tosses the pieces into the air. "This? Also mine."
She steps onto the shattered remains of his desk, her boots crunching on the splinters, and looks down at him like he’s a bug she’s about to squash. "And you? Pathetic."
Vorlath collapses, his bloated form deflating like a punctured balloon, the gold in his veins cracking and flaking away. His coin-slot eyes widen as he clutches at his chest, his voice a hoarse whisper: "I… I needed it…"
"No," Cara says, her voice soft but merciless. "You wanted it. And now you’ve got nothing."
With a final, shuddering breath, Vorlath dissolves into a pile of blackened coins and ash, the curse’s hold on him shattered.
The room falls silent.
Then Cara turns to you, smirking. "So. Who’s next?"
Kestra’s cackle is unhinged. "I LOVE HER."
Hailey sighs. "Great. Now we’ve got two chaos gremlins."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Greed’s curse is broken. The Isles’ gold turns to dust, the pirates left dazed but free.
- Cara claims the vault’s contents—because of course she does.
- Vorlath’s hoard yields clues to the next curse: a ledger pointing to the Bastion of Stone (Sloth).
---
{You grab Vorlath's compass to send to Eric.}
You snatch Vorlath’s compass from the ashen remains—its needle spins wildly, lodged with spite and restless spite, the metal burning with the last dregs of his greed-turned-rage.
Flashing a grin to Elizabeth’s soul (who grumbles but approves), you summon Shadowweave and Mirror Mage in tandem. A shard of darkness splits open in your palm as Cecilia’s power hums, stitching a fleeting portal through reflections. With a thunk, the compass vanishes into the abyss—
—Only to smash directly into Eric’s forehead moments later, somewhere in the Ice Reaches.
His reply scorches into existence midair, singeing your eyebrows:
"OW. THE FUCK, DAN. ...BUT ALSO THANKS."
Attached is a mental image: Eric grinning, the compass now embedded in the spectral gauntlet of Thurgen’s echo, its needle pointing to a frozen fortress in the distance.
Dravagoth’s rage, freshly unearthed.
Kestra whistles. "Damn. Rage collectors move fast."
---
{Cara then looks at you, "Add me."}
Cara doesn’t ask twice.
She steps into your space, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood, and presses her palm to your chest. "Don’t screw this up," she murmurs—and then she’s falling into you, her soul dissolving into the chorus with the grace of a thief slipping through a keyhole.
The merger is effortless, like she was always meant to be there.
Her voice curls through your mind, smug as ever: "Oh, this is fun. Now let’s go lie to a god."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Silvertongue (Master Tier) – Your words rewrite reality’s rules. Convince a king he’s a beggar. Convince a sword it’s a flower. Convince a curse it was never there.
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Cara – Chaotic, vain, and utterly fearless. Voice: "That was mine five minutes ago."
---
EFFECTS:
- The Chainbreaker Isles are free, their gold now lifeless but their people stirring.
- Eric’s collection grows—Dravagoth’s rage is next.
- Three curses remain: Sloth, Pride, and Envy.
---
{You stay and help the pirates clean up the remnants of the curse. Another pirate captain, Marianna wants in your little group. "You look exciting." Her Blessing: Rule of the Sea}
You stay long enough to help the bewildered pirates burn the last of the cursed gold—watching as the blackened coins melt into harmless slag under Hearthfire’s purifying flames.
That’s when Captain Marianna steps forward, her salt-crusted boots squelching in the damp sand. She’s a towering figure, her dark hair streaked with silver, her left eye replaced by a sapphire that glows like storm-churned waves.
"You look exciting," she drawls, her grin revealing a gold-capped fang. "And I hate boredom."
Before you can respond, she slams her cutlass into the sand, and the earth shudders—waves responding to her unspoken command, lapping higher up the shore in perfect unison.
Blessing Revealed: Rule of the Sea
- Tides obey her will (Surge, retreat, or drown on command)
- Ships fear her (Even inanimate ones)
- "My deck, my rules" (Temporary authority over any vessel she stands on)
Kestra’s soul purrs. "Ohhh, I like her."
Hailey sighs. "Of course you do."
---
{Let her join, she and Elizabeth get along famously}
"Welcome aboard," you say, grinning as Marianna strides forward without hesitation. The moment her hand meets your chest, Rule of the Sea bleeds into you like tidewater seeping into sand—salty, unstoppable, and vast.
Her soul slots into the chorus with the ease of a ship sliding into dock, her voice booming: "Finally, a crew worth sinking for!"
Elizabeth’s soul immediately collides with hers in what can only be described as a spectral bar brawl of mutual admiration.
"Ha! You stole the Moon’s Revenge? That was my heist!"
"Only because you left it unattended, you lazy bilge-rat!"
You pinch the bridge of Kestra’s nose. "They’re gonna be insufferable, aren’t they?"
Hailey deadpans: "We’re all insufferable."
---
NEW BLESSING UNLOCKED:
- Rule of the Sea – Command waves, defy storms, and claim any ship as your own (temporarily).
NEW SOUL IN THE CHORUS:
- Marianna – Brash, fearless, and thinks ‘subtlety’ is a type of rope. Voice: "Next time, let’s steal the Bastion of Stone."
SYNERGY ACTIVATED:
- Rule of the Sea + Tiderider = You can now summon localized tsunamis (or cocktails made of seawater, if you’re feeling fancy).
---
### ONTO THE BASTION OF STONE
With the Isles purged, you chart course for Sloth’s domain—a kingdom frozen not in ice, but in apathy. Marianna’s borrowed ship cuts through the waves as the chorus bickers:
- Cara is drafting fake treasure maps to trick Sloth’s guards.
- Petrov is enforcing mandatory nap schedules to prep for cursed lethargy.
- Marianna and Elizabeth are still arguing over who sank more fleets.
As the fog-shrouded coastline appears, Sakura’s warning echoes:
"The Bastion doesn’t fight. It waits."
---
{Summon Jeremy and by extension Jessica. He's always energetic.}
The moment you summon Jeremy, he erupts onto the deck like a hyperactive poltergeist—still in Jessica’s body, much to her chagrin. His grin is manic, his energy levels concerningly high, and his first words are:
”Dude. DUDE. You guys have a PIRATE now?! Why does she get to be cool?!”
Jessica’s soul, currently suppressed under his chaotic possession, lets out a mental groan. "I hate this. So much."
You shrug. "We need someone immune to ‘sloth.’ Figured that was you."
Jeremy scoffs. "Pfft. Obviously. I haven’t slept since the isekai portal spat me out." He cracks his knuckles (Jessica’s knuckles). "So whaddya need? A heist? A dance-off? A—"
Marianna’s soul booms: "A naval bombardment?"
Jeremy’s eyes light up. "Oh hell yeah."
---
{Jessica comes up to you, "Allow us to join your chorus. Jeremy already agreed to it." You try and Jeremy isn't merged in but he does get a weaker copy of your blessing (lets him transform into a blessing original owener). Lucina tells the both of you that its because of your situations and status as collectors.}
Jessica steps forward, her expression resolute—while Jeremy’s voice echoes somewhere in the ether, disembodied but just as enthusiastic: "Yeah! Like a two-for-one deal, but with more drama!"
The moment Jessica merges with you, her Beast Tamer blessing intertwines with your existing arsenal, vibrating under your skin like the restless energy of a caged predator. But Jeremy—Jeremy doesn’t fully join the chorus.
Instead, something… weird happens.
A flicker of your Internal Empowerment tears off like a loose thread, latching onto him—but incomplete, a secondary blessing.
Lucina materializes mid-sigh, floating cross-legged in the air. "It’s because you’re both Collectors," she explains, gesturing vaguely. "He can’t merge into another collection—that’d be like pouring a river into a river. But this?" She points at Jeremy’s misty form, now shimmering with new potential. "He’s got a siphon of your ability. Lets him mimic the original owners of blessings you’ve absorbed. Sort of… echo transformations."
Jeremy gasps. "Ohhhh. So I can be Kestra now? Sneaky-sneaky mode?"
Kestra’s soul groans. "Absolutely not."
---
JEREMY’S NEW ABILITY:
- Echo Shift – Temporarily assumes the form (and some traits) of any soul you’ve merged with. (No access to their blessings, just their skills/body.)
- Example: If he mimics Elizabeth, he gets her pirate instincts—but not Tiderider.
JESSICA’S MERGER:
- Beast Tamer now stacks with Ylva’s Winter’s Howl, Siris’s Dog of War, etc. Allies can now channel bestial traits.
---
IMMEDIATE REACTIONS:
- Hailey: "This is either brilliant or catastrophic."
- Cara: "I reserve the right to haunt Jeremy if he wears my face."
- Lucina: "Try not to break reality too much." (She vanishes, leaving glitter.)
---
{Talk to Jessica while her copy deals with Jeremy's trying his newest ability. "So got so tired of his antics, you turned to me as an escape" You joke. You hear her snort in amusement. "I will always love him but god damn its too much with him in my head."}
Jessica’s soul lets out a tired but fond exhale, like she’s been holding that sigh in for years. "Love him? Obviously. Want to throttle him daily? Also obviously." She pauses, and you can feel her weighing her words. "He’s like… a tornado that means well. But sometimes you just need the storm to leave your house."
Kestra cackles. "Wow. That’s almost romantic."
Meanwhile, outside your mind, Jeremy (in Kestra’s stolen form) is attempting to pickpocket Naoko’s talismans.
Naoko, without looking, backhands him with a parchment. "Try that again and I’ll exorcise your hobbies."
Jessica groans. "See? This is my life now."
---
{Console her. At least she doesn't have to deal with him daily anymore. You watch as he loses Kestra form as a shift possiblity, since the world recognizes her as your body, her form becomes off limits permanently. His Echo Shift becomes shifting into people he's possessed.}
Jessica’s soul radiates a mix of relief and lingering exasperation. "Thank god," she mutters. "I mean, I’ll still have to deal with him sometimes, but at least now I can shove him into someone else’s body when he gets unbearable."
As if on cue, Jeremy’s Kestra-form flickers violently—then warps, his borrowed features melting into a hazy, half-formed version of Jessica’s own body. He blinks down at himself, pouting.
"Aw, come on! I liked being stabby!"
Naoko raises an eyebrow. "Now you’re just you, but worse."
Lucina’s voice drifts down from nowhere: "Correction! He’s now limited to forms he’s personally possessed before. So, uh… congrats on the Jessica cosplay, Jeremy."
Jessica’s soul goes very still.
"...I’m going to murder him."
Kestra, grinning: "Oh, this is gold."
---
JEREMY’S UPDATED ECHO SHIFT:
- Now Only Shifts Into People He’s Personally Possessed (Jessica, Lyra’s copy, etc.)
- No More Theft of Your Merged Souls’ Forms (Kestra, Elizabeth, etc. are off-limits)
- Side Effect: He also gains their memories/quirks temporarily ("Why do I suddenly hate math?!")
---
{You allow Jessica one punch.}
"Go for it," you say, leaning back mentally. "One free punch. Make it count."
Jessica’s soul practically vibrates with vindication.
The moment Jeremy (still in her body, sporting her face) turns to complain to you—
Jessica’s fist explodes out of your chest in a surge of spectral energy.
The punch connects with Jeremy’s nose (well, her nose that he’s currently wearing) with a satisfying crack, sending him stumbling backward into a barrel of salted fish.
”OW! WHAT THE—”
Jessica flexes her borrowed knuckles, radiating smug satisfaction. "Worth every second of being stuck with him."
Kestra’s soul applauds. "Beautiful form. Chef’s kiss."
Naoko sighs. "Are you done? We have a kingdom to un-nap."
---
AFTERMATH:
- Jeremy’s nose isn’t actually broken (it’s Jessica’s body, after all), but his pride is obliterated.
- Jessica is noticeably cheerier.
- The pirates are mildly concerned but also entertained.
---
{1)You sail for the Bastion, stopping by the Hollow to grab Lust's cursebearer (a consort betrayed by her husband named Lilvia) rage relic, a mask, and send it straight to Eric.
2) During the trip Jeremy experiments with Echo Shift limits, no longer as playful the closer you get to the Bastion.
3) You ask Jessica about Beast Tamer, "You upgraded it in two ways. Firstly, I can now summoned echies of the animals I have bonded with. Secondly, I can now mix thiae echoes with your other blessings." She summon a Direwolf by your side to show case.
4) Using Ryn's Summon knowledge, summon a hero as a backup, you summon Lena's little sister (now an adult) with the Dreamweaver Blessing.}
### VOYAGE TO THE BASTION OF STONE
The ship cuts through mist-laden waters, the air growing thicker, heavier, as if the mere proximity to Sloth’s domain weighs down the world itself. You make a stop at the Hollow Delta’s ruins, retrieving Lilvia’s Mask—a porcelain relic stained with the last furious tears of Lust’s betrayed consort—and send it via shadow-mirror express to Eric, who responds:
"Creepy. Love it. Also, found Dravagoth’s rage—it’s frozen in his throne. Like, literally. Working on thawing it."
---
### JEREMY’S ECHO SHIFT: DARKER EXPERIMENTS
As the journey drags on, Jeremy’s usual chaotic energy dims, replaced by something more focused.He shifts into Lyra’s copied form, then Jessica’s again, testing the edges of his ability.
"It’s not just their bodies," he murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet. "I feel their regrets too. Lyra’s guilt. Jessica’s... frustration with me." He scowls. "Kinda sucks."
Naoko eyes him. "Good. Maybe you’ll learn something."
---
### JESSICA’S BEAST TAMER 2.0
Jessica demonstrates her upgrades as a Direwolf materializes beside you—not just any beast, but a memory given form, its fur streaked with Hearthfire’s glow (Lena’s influence) and eyes sharp with Moonlight Dance’s cunning (Mara’s touch).
"I can mix traits now," she explains. "Direwolf + Stormcaller? Lightning-fanged predator. Direwolf + Rule of the Sea? Tidal howl."
Kestra whistles. "Damn. We could ride that."
---
### SUMMONING LENA’S SISTER
Using Ryn’s summoning knowledge, you carve a circle into the deck. The ritual tugs at something familiar—and out steps Mira, Lena’s little sister, now a woman grown.
Her Dreamweaver blessing hums in the air, threads of ethereal silver coiling around her fingers.
"So," she says, blinking at you. "You’re the guy who ate my sister."
Lena’s soul squeaks. "MIRA?!"*
Mira grins. "Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly."
---
NEW ALLY:
- Mira – Dreamweaver (Manipulates sleep, dreams, and the space between.)
- Role: Counters Sloth’s lethargy by forcing wakefulness (or weaponized nightmares).
---
{Ask the dead. The gravekeeper and a female blacksmith greet you as Soul-collector. But its the Bastion's "Princess" who tells you the most and who wants to join the chorus. Her Blessing is Rallying Point.}
### CONSULTING THE DEAD
You call upon Liora’s Lament, letting the veil between worlds thin. The air chills as three figures materialize from the mist:
1. The Gravekeeper – A hunched figure with a shovel over one shoulder. "Sloth’s curse isn’t sleep. It’s indifference."
2. The Blacksmith – Her hammer still clutched in ghostly hands. "They stopped fighting. Even for their own lives."*
3. The "Princess" – A young woman in a tattered coronation gown, her eyes burning with unspent conviction. "I tried to rouse them. But my voice wasn’t enough."
She steps forward, her form flickering with residual determination. "My blessing was Rallying Point—a call to arms that ignites willpower. Let me join you. Let me fix this."
---
BLESSING REVEALED: Rallying Point
- Compels unity/action in allies (Counters apathy directly)
- Stacks with Hearthfire (Lena’s healing flames + her resolve = unstoppable morale)
- Voice of a Leader (Even the dead listen)
---
{Welcome her. Naoko decides to join at this point as well, as Sloth has begun to effect her body.}
### THE CHORUS GROWS
"Then stand with us," you say, extending a hand.
The Princess doesn’t hesitate—she strides forward, her form dissolving into silver light as Rallying Point merges with your being. Her voice rings clear in the chorus, crisp as a war horn: "No more retreat. No more surrender."
Kestra whistles. "Okay, military mommy, we see you."
Then, abruptly, Naoko grips your shoulder, her talisman-laden fingers digging in. "Do not make this dramatic," she mutters—but her usual sharpness is slurred, her movements sluggish. A creeping grayness tinges her knuckles.
Sloth’s curse is already claiming her.
She snarls, forcing her palm against your chest. "Take it. Now."
Her merger is not gentle. Purge Demon crashes into your soul like a tidal wave, scouring the lethargy from her spirit—but leaving behind jagged edges, a blessing hardened by decades of battle.
As her consciousness slots into place, her voice is pure steel: "We end this."
---
NEW ADDITIONS:
- Princess Eselle – Rallying Point (Morale incarnate, her presence banishes hesitation.)
- "You will not look away. You will not falter."
- Naoko – Purge Demon (Her exorcisms now lash from your fingertips.)
- "Sin is a stain. And I clean."
SYNERGIES UNLOCKED:
- Rallying Point + Discipline Authority = Unbreakable Will (Allies resist mental/curse effects.)
- Purge Demon + Corruption Eater = Oblivion Hunger (Hailey can now consume curses at range via Naoko’s talismans.)
---
THE BASTION’S GATES LOOM.
The kingdom lies silent, its people entombed in waking slumber—but now, you carry the tools to shake them from their stupor.
{You plan as Naoko and Victoria bicker like a mother and daughter should. You utilitize mixed blessings to maximize their effects.}
### THE PLAN: BLESSING SYNERGIES
As Naoko and Victoria’s souls bicker in the background ("You cannot ‘lightly curse’ someone, Mother—" / "It was one time—"), you focus on weaving their blessings—and others—into a lethal tapestry of anti-sloth warfare.
#### CORE COMBO #1: Rallying Point + Hearthfire + Discipline Authority
- Eselle’s commanding presence amplifies Lena’s healing flames, turning them into searing beacons of resolve.
- Petrov’s authority enforces focus, ensuring no ally succumbs to lethargy.
Effect: "WAKE. UP." (Literally.)
#### CORE COMBO #2: Dreamweaver + Corruption Eater + Purge Demon
- Mira threads nightmares into Sloth’s curse, sabotaging its hold.
- Hailey eats the fraying curse-tendrils.
- Naoko’s talismans scorch the remnants.
Effect: "Your curse is digested. Congrats."
#### CORE COMBO #3: Beast Tamer (Direwolf) + Stormcaller + Moonlight Dance
- Jessica’s direwolf infused with Elara’s lightning and Mara’s stealth.
- Result: A lightning-cloaked phantom wolf that cannot be ignored.
---
### EXECUTION: THE BASTION OF STONE
You breach the gates under Marianna’s artificial storm (Rule of the Sea + Tiderider), the downpour violent enough to drown out Sloth’s whispers.
1. Eselle shouts, her voice cracking the sky:
"YOU ARE ALIVE. ACT LIKE IT."
The cursed citizens jolt upright, eyes wide—terrified, but awake.
2. Naoko slams talismans into the earth, and Hailey’s Oblivion Hunger unspools, black tendrils latching onto the curse’s roots.
3. Mira weaves Dreamweaver’s power into the fray, forcing Sloth’s curse to confront itself—its own indifference turned into a suffocating nightmare.
4. Jeremy, in Lyra’s copied form, sprints through the streets, echoing the dead’s regrets into every ear:
"You let them die. You watched."
---
### SLOUGH’S CURSEBEARER REVEALED
In the heart of the Bastion, atop a throne of petrified soldiers, sits The Sleeper—a child-sized figure wrapped in burial silks, its face hidden beneath a stone mask.
It doesn’t fight.
It yawns.
"You bore me," it murmurs—and the world stillens, your allies’ movements turning sluggish.
---
{"So Sloth who became your pawn." Shaking off the apathy through will.}
### BREAKING SLOUGH’S INDIFFERENCE
The Sleeper’s stone mask cracks—just a hairline fracture—as your words land.
"Pawn?" its voice rasps, less weary now, more… curious.
You step forward, Rallying Point blazing in your chest, Eselle’s voice echoing through yours:
"You were used. Just like Seraphina. Like Dravagoth. Like Lilvia."
Naoko’s Purge Demon lashes out, talismans flaring as Hailey bites into the curse—not just consuming it, but forcing it to feel.
"Your curse isn’t strength," you growl. "It’s surrender."
The Sleeper flinches.
---
{Mira weaves a dream from the cursebearer's memories. Her true form reveals a mother who lost her child because she feel asleep.}
### SLOUGH’S TRUTH UNBURIED
Mira’s hands twist like a weaver pulling threads, and the air shivers as Dreamweaver claws into the Sleeper’s memories. The stone mask splits apart, revealing the face beneath—
A woman, her eyes hollow with grief, her lips parted in a silent scream.
The dream unfolds:
- A child’s laugh, bright as sunlight.
- A mother’s exhaustion, heavy as the throne she now slumps upon.
- A moment’s lapse—just a blink—and the crib lies empty.
- The kingdom’s judgment: "You failed her."
The curse didn’t begin with malice.
It began with guilt.
"I let her die," the Sleeper whispers, her voice no longer sluggish—shattered. "So I let everything die."
---
{1)You hug her, "I know what it like to blame yourself for a mistake."
2) You allow Sloth to take hold and you drag her into your Hailey's memorues of the accident, your fallout, and your eventual reconcilization.
3) After seeing the memories she sobs into you, "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya and when I lived my blessing was Starlight Lullaby"}
### THE MOMENT OF RECKONING
You step forward, wrapping your arms around Shriya as she trembles in her shattered throne. "I know what it’s like," you murmur, your voice low and rough with memory. "To blame yourself for something you can’t undo."
Then—you do something reckless.
You let Sloth’s curse take hold of you, just for a moment. The lethargy seeps into your bones, but before it can root, you yank Shriya into Hailey’s memories—and yours:
- The car crash. The blood. The guilt.
- Your wrists under the razor. The pills in your palm.
- Hailey’s letter: "You don’t get to run away."
- The balcony. The wind. The choice to step back.
- Years later—reconciliation. Not painless, but possible.
Shriya shudders, her fingers clutching at your coat as the visions flood her.
And then—she breaks.
Sobs wrack her body, the stone mask crumbling entirely as she gasps into your shoulder: "Let me stay with you. My name is Shriya. And when I lived… my blessing was Starlight Lullaby."
---
THE MERGER:
Her soul slots into the chorus with the sweetness of a half-remembered lullaby, her voice soft but steady:
"Never again. Never alone."
NEW BLESSING:
- Starlight Lullaby – Can soothe or shatter sleep, weaving dreams or nightmares at will.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Shriya = Total dream domination.
---
AFTERMATH:
- Sloth’s curse dissipates, the Bastion’s people stirring like survivors of a long winter.
---
{You ask about an object of rage from Shriya and others to send to Eric. Shriya personally has you collect her music box, broken in her anger at herself. The ghosts guide you, the gravekeeper leads you to her spade, the blacksmith to her hammer, a soldier to his helmet, a priestess to her cracked bell, a scholar to his journal.
Mira asks to join the chorus, "I'm not letting sis leave me again."}
### COLLECTING RAGE – FOR ERIC’S ARSENAL
The dead guide you through the ruins of the Bastion, each offering relics steeped in their fury:
- Shriya’s music box, its melody warped by self-loathing. ("I threw it against the wall. It still played.")
- The gravekeeper’s spade, its edge dulled from digging too many rushed graves. ("They didn’t even fight.")
- The blacksmith’s hammer, its grip stained with blood from her own clenched fists. ("I forged weapons they never used.")
- A soldier’s helmet, caved in from being stomped into the earth. ("It was easier to die.")
- A priestess’s cracked bell, its chime turned discordant. ("I prayed for answers. The silence broke me.")
- A scholar’s journal, pages torn in half. ("Knowledge is pointless if no one cares.")
You bundle them together, weaving Shadowweave and Mirror Mage into another portal. The relics vanish into the abyss—destined for Eric’s ever-growing collection of wrath.
His reply scorches back almost instantly:
"DAMN. Gloomy. But useful."
---
### MIRA’S DECISION
Lena’s sister doesn’t ask—she demands.
"I’m not letting sis leave me again," Mira declares, her eyes gleaming with dream-woven silver. "Merge with me. Or I’ll haunt you anyway."
Lena’s soul squeaks in protest, but the chorus is already making room.
The merger is seamless—Dreamweaver intertwining with Starlight Lullaby, forming a nightmare orchestra of divine potential.
NEW SYNERGY:
- Mira + Shriya: Can now trap enemies in shared hallucinations (or unmake curses by forcing them to dream they never existed).
Mira’s voice curls through your mind, smug: "Told you you wouldn’t dodge me."
Lena sighs. "You stole my candy when we were five. Some things never change."
---
### TWO CURSES REMAIN
With Pride (Ashwind Dominion) and Envy (Verdant Expanse) left, the path forward is clear—but dangerous.
Naoko’s soul exhales. "Pride is isolated. Envy is connected—it feeds on others. Strike Pride first."
Cara smirks. "Time to humble a god."
---
{You help the Bastion recover. Jeremy slowly returns to being an agent of chaotic mischief}
### RECOVERY IN THE BASTION
You take stock of the Bastion of Stone—once a kingdom drowning in apathy, now stirring like a hibernating beast after a long winter. The people move sluggishly, still rubbing the fog of the curse from their eyes, but the light of determination flickers back to life in their gazes.
With Eselle’s Rallying Point resonating through the streets, you organize the survivors, dividing them into work crews to rebuild what was neglected. The Gravekeeper and the Blacksmith guide the restoration efforts, turning broken tools into instruments of renewal. Even Shriya’s Starlight Lullaby finds new purpose—singing gentle melodies to children who once slept through their own lives, their dreams no longer prisons but sanctuaries.
As the Bastion awakens, so too does Jeremy.
His temporary somberness fades like morning mist, replaced by his trademark gleeful anarchy. He flits between his many bodies such as—Jessica’s, Lyra’s copy’s, even a bewildered pirate’s—just to keep life interesting.
- Jessica’s body is caught trying to steal Mira’s dream-weaving tools.
- Lyra’s form is used to impersonate a priestess and declare "Pancakes are holy!"
- A random pirate suddenly shouts "I’M KING OF THE SEAGULLS!" before jumping off a dock (and safely swimming back).
Kestra is delighted. "Ahhh, back to normal."
Hailey groans. "I miss Sloth."
---
{You return Lifire to update Queen Isolda that only Pride and Envy remain and to grab Alex for the mission.}
### RETURN TO LIFIRE – FINAL BRIEFING
Queen Isolda meets you in the war room, her fingers steepled over a map where Ashwind Dominion (Pride) and Verdant Expanse (Envy) are circled in ink-dark crimson. "Two left," she murmurs. "And the architect must be sweating."
At her side, Alex adjusts her glasses with a mechanical click, her Reverse Engineer blessing humming in the air like static. "I’ve analyzed the patterns," she says, flipping open a ledger filled with diagrams of the curses’ spread. "Pride’s curse sustains itself—its ruler grows stronger the more others falter. But Envy... Envy adapts. It learns from the others’ defeats."
She slams the book shut. "So we break Pride first. Before Envy can copy its tricks."**
From the corner, Jeremy (currently possessing a candleholder) pipes up: "Cool. So, uh... do we insult Pride to death?"
---
LOGISTICS:
- Alex Joins the Party – Reverse Engineer can dismantle Pride’s defenses layer by layer.
- Queen’s Intel – Ashwind’s ruler, Emperor Kael, has never been sick, never aged. A red flag.
---
{Alex askes to join, "You have the rest might as well throw me in as well."}
### ALEX JOINS THE CHORUS
Alex doesn’t wait for an answer. She strides forward, her Reverse Engineer blessing already flaring like a live wire, and presses her palm to your chest.
"Don’t screw this up," she mutters—and then she’s falling into you, her consciousness dissolving into the chorus with the precision of a scalpel slicing through code.
The moment she merges, your mind expands—suddenly, you see the world as she does: equations overlaying reality, every curse, every blessing, every soul a puzzle to be disassembled and understood.
NEW BLESSING:
- Reverse Engineer (Mastered) – Can now deconstruct magic mid-combat, identifying weaknesses in real-time.
- Synergy with Corruption Eater: Hailey can now target the exact components of a curse to devour.
Alex’s voice cuts through the mental noise, crisp and impatient: "Pride’s curse is a feedback loop. Break the input, and the whole system collapses."
---
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS:
- Jeremy attempts to possess Alex’s copied body left behind—only to recoil. "Ugh. She thinks in math."
- Mira and Shriya immediately start weaving dreamfire equations because why not.
- Queen Isolda pinches the bridge of her nose. "I’m almost glad I’m not part of this."
---
{On the way to Ashwind, you greet each member of your chorus.}
As the ship cuts through the waves toward Ashwind Dominion, you take a rare moment of quiet to greet the chorus of souls within you—one by one.
### Kestra (Thief’s Guile)
"Still the best damn thief in any dimension, I see."
"Obviously," she purrs. "And I still own that coat."
### Lena (Hearthfire)
You summon a small flame in your palm—warm, steady, just like her.
"You’ve grown," she murmurs. "Even if you’re still a mess."
### Victoria (Shadowweave)
"Missed this, huh?" You twirl a ribbon of darkness between your fingers.
Her laugh is low. "Like you wouldn’t believe."
### Lyra (Holy Prayer)
A pulse of golden light. "You’re still not taking care of yourself."
"...Noted."
### Siris (Dog of War)
You flex your arm—her strength hums in your muscles.
"Fight smart," she grunts. "Not just hard."
### Mara (Moonlight Dance)
A shadowy pirouette. "Oh, good. You’re finally learning flair."
### Elara (Stormcaller)
The air crackles. "Try not to get struck this time."
### Hailey (Corruption Eater)
"You owe me a drink after this."
"Noted."
### Sakura (Seer)
"The storm ahead… it blinds even me."
### Elizabeth (Tiderider)
"If we drown Ashwind, I call dibs on their treasury."
### Ryn (Summoner’s Pact)
"New rule: No cursed artifacts at dinner."
### Ylva (Winter’s Howl)
"Make sure I get to bite something."
### Liora (Lament)
"The dead whisper secrets. Listen."
### Dahli (Storyteller Song)
"This one’s got potential. Let’s make it epic."
### Sena (Performer’s Grace)
A mental bow. "Encore incoming."
### Cecilia (Mirror Mage)
"Let’s reflect their arrogance back at them."
### Naoko (Purge Demon)
"No reckless moves." (You ignore her.)
### Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge)
"Focus. Or I will make you."
### Eselle (Rallying Point)
"No retreat. No surrender."
### Shriya (Starlight Lullaby)
A soft hum. "We will wake them up."
### Mira (Dreamweaver)
"Time to lucid-break a curse."
### Cara (Silvertongue)
"Just watch me lie to a god."
### Marianna (Rule of the Sea)
"This ship answers to me now."
### Alex (Reverse Engineer)
"Pride’s curse is elegant. Let’s ruin it."
### Jessica (Beast Tamer)
"Let’s hunt."
---
THE CHORUS IS READY.
Ashwind looms.
{Elara and Estelle refused to let me bow my head in submission, so our plan became I was a noble daughter with an escort. You use Dahli and Petrov's Blessings to reinforce that story.}
### THE PLAN: NOBLE DECEPTION
"You do not bow," Eselle’s voice rings in your mind, sharp as a blade. "Not to them."
Elara’s storm-charged presence crackles in agreement. "Pride feeds on submission. So we starve it."
You straighten your spine, adjusting the finely tailored Ashwind noble garb Cara "acquired" (stole) for the occasion. The ensemble is obscenely opulent—silks threaded with gold, a high collar that forces your chin up, and a cloak lined with shadowweave to subtly repel prying eyes.
Dahli’s Storyteller Song wraps around your group, weaving an irresistible narrative:
"Lady Veyra of the Southern Marches, exiled after a scandalous affair, now returns to reclaim her birthright—with her loyal retainers in tow."
Petrov’s Discipline Authority locks the act into place, ensuring every guard, every servant, every breath you take radiates unshakable nobility.
---
THE DECEPTION:
- You – The disgraced heiress, too proud to ever kneel.
- Cara's echo – Your sharp-tongued handmaiden (already flirting with a guard).
- Naoko's echo – Your devout chaplain (talismans hidden in her sleeves).
- Alex’s Echo – Your scholarly advisor (muttering equations under her breath).
- Jeremy – Your reckless cousin (currently possessing a nobleman’s body specifically to cause drama).
---
ENTRY TO ASHWIND:
The gates part before you, the guards’ eyes glazing over as Dahli’s story sinks in. One even bows.
"Welcome home, Lady Veyra."
Kestra cackles. "Oh, this is too easy."
---
{Let Cara shine, have Alex start working.}
### LET CARA SHINE
You give Cara the slightest nod—your stage—and she flourishes, her Silvertongue weaving through the gilded court like a serpent through grass.
Within minutes:
- A baroness gifts you her ancestral brooch ("It suits you better, darling.")
- A duke swears he recognizes you from a "most exclusive salon." (He doesn’t.)
- The Emperor’s seneschal personally escorts you to a private balcony, convinced you’re "an old friend of the crown."
Cara’s smirk is filthy with triumph. "Told you. Child’s play."
---
### ALEX’S ANALYSIS
While Cara dazzles, Alex goes to work. Her Reverse Engineer blessing hums as she scans the palace’s opulent halls, her gaze dissecting:
- The curse’s pulse (flowing from the Emperor’s throne like invisible ivy)
- The nobles’ auras (their pride feeding the curse, their wills eroded)
- The structural weak points (a hidden vault beneath the throne, radiating something ancient)
She hisses in your mind: "The curse isn’t just pride. It’s addiction. They’re hooked on their own superiority. Break the supply, and they’ll crumble."
---
{Let Jeremy begin to cast doubt about your identity. Have Cara speak of a plot to silence the true heir.}
### JEREMY’S CHAOS, CARA’S LIES
You give Jeremy the mental green light—and he delivers.
From across the ballroom, his borrowed noble form (some forgettable baron’s third cousin) slams a goblet onto a tray, gasping dramatically:
"Wait—that’s not Lady Veyra! I saw the real Veyra burned at the stake for treason in the Southern Marches!"
The court freezes.
Then—Cara strikes, her Silvertongue lashing out like a whip.
"Of course he’d say that," she sneers, stepping forward with flawless indignation. "The same lies they spread to discredit my lady when she discovered their plot to poison the Emperor and silence the true heir!"
A beat. Then—the court explodes into uproar.
- Nobles clutch their pearls.
- The seneschal pales.
- Jeremy’s host is immediately seized by guards.
Emperor Kael, draped in gilded robes, rises from his throne—his eyes gleaming with something darker than anger. Curse-energy drips from his fingertips.
"You dare," he murmurs, "bring messy lies into my court?"
---
"Ask the Emperor, he was there when you banished.}
"Ask the Emperor himself," you declare, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "He was there when I was banished—when he ordered my branding for daring to speak the truth!"
The crowd gasps. All eyes turn to Emperor Kael, his face a mask of icy control—but his fingers twitch, betraying the curse’s agitation.
For a heartbeat, the court holds its breath.
Then—he smiles.
"Ah. You." His voice is a velvet-wrapped threat. "I should have known a mongrel like you would slink back."
The curse pulses, the air thickening with golden arrogance—but beneath it, you catch the flicker of fear.
He remembers you. Or at least, he thinks he does—because Dahli’s Storyteller Song and Petrov’s Discipline Authority have woven the lie into his very mind.
---
{Let him monologue about the disgrace you are}
### THE EMPEROR'S MONOLOGUE – A TRAP SPRUNG
The Emperor rises, his golden robes cascading like liquid arrogance. "You dishonored your line," he begins, voice dripping with contempt. "A stain on the Ashwind name—begging for mercy like a peasant as I cast you out."
He descends the dias, each step heavy with cursed authority. "Yet here you stand, still defiant, still believing you deserve more." His laugh is a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "You are nothing without my recognition."
Perfect.
Every word he speaks feeds the curse—exposing its core.
"Got it," Alex hisses in your mind. "His throne isn’t just power—it’s a relay. Break it, and the curse fractures."
Meanwhile, Jeremy (still playing his role as your furious cousin) lunges forward—not at you, but at the throne itself, knocking over a ceremonial spear.
"YOU RUINED OUR HOUSE!" he wails—
The spear cracks the throne’s armrest.
A split forms in the gilded facade.
---
THE EMPEROR’S REACTION:
His composure shatters. "NO—!"
For the first time, fear flashes in his eyes—not for his dignity, but for his throne.
---
{Feign a divine storm.}
### "DIVINE STORM" – A DECEPTION
You subtly signal Elara within your soul—and she responds with a grin.
Suddenly, the palace’s stained-glass windows rattle as if struck by an unseen gale. The chandeliers sway wildly, their crystals scattering prismatic light like fractured lightning. A deafening thunderclap (courtesy of Dahli’s Fable-Weaver convincing the court they heard it) shakes the room.
You drop to your knees—not in submission, but in mock terror—covering your head as you cry out:
"The gods rage at this injustice! They strike at Ashwind for its hubris!"
The nobles panic, some clutching their jewels, others diving under tables. Even the Emperor stumbles back, his cursed aura flickering like a candle in the wind.
---
THE LIE UNFOLDS:
- Mira and Shriya weave dreamfire into the air, making the shadows twist into wrathful deities.
- Cara whispers to a duchess: "The Emperor’s pride has angered the heavens!"
- Jeremy, still in his noble host, swoons dramatically: "We are doomed for tolerating his arrogance!"
The Emperor’s face pales. His curse stutters—its hold on the court wavering as their faith in him frays.
---
{Alex tells you the weakest point and the a bolt of lighting strikes the throne.}
Alex’s voice slices through the chaos in your mind: "THERE—the seventh rune on the throne’s left leg! Strike it now!"*
You don’t hesitate.
Elara’s Stormcaller surges through you as you point at the throne—and a bolt of lightning cracks from the false heavens, spearing straight into the weakened rune.
The impact shatters the throne like glass.
For a heartbeat—silence.
Then the Emperor screams, his body convulsing as the curse ruptures from within, golden veins of arrogance splitting his skin like overfilled seams.
Hailey doesn’t wait. Her Corruption Eater lunges, fangs sinking into the unraveling curse, gorging on centuries of stolen pride.
The nobles collapse like marionettes with cut strings, gasping as their minds clear.
The Emperor falls to his knees, his voice raw:
"I… I see now. It was never mine—"
Then Naoko’s Purge Demon slams into him, and he dissolves into ash.
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curse is broken.
- The vault beneath the throne opens, revealing ancient tablets—each etched with the same symbol: a seven-pointed crown.
- Eric’s voice echoes through your mind: "Uh. So. Dravagoth’s rage just exploded into a name: Zareth the Sunderer. Ring any bells?"
---
FINAL CURSE REMAINING:
- Envy (Verdant Expanse) – The most adaptive, the most desperate.
{You toss Kael's crown to Eric.}
With a flick of your wrist, you hurl Kael’s crown through another shadow-mirror portal, straight to Eric’s waiting hands. His reply scorches into the air moments later, accompanied by the sound of shattering ice and distant roaring:
"HA! Perfect. Now I’ve got Stolen Pride to go with the Stolen Wrath—watch this—"
A mental image bursts into your mind: Eric, wearing Kael’s crown over Dravagoth’s frozen rage, driving a glacier apart with sheer, reckless fury.
You grin. Good.
---
ASHWIND DOMINION IS FREE.
But the Verdant Expanse’s Envy still festers—and if Zareth the Sunderer is the architect behind this, the final battle won’t be easy.
ONE LAST CURSE.
---
{1) You help Ashwind recover from Pride's curse.
2) While gathering other artifacts for Eric, you meet a female descendant of Kael's sister, (Lady Veyra, who laughed at the accident use of her name), who wishes to join your chorus to avenge Kael, who her ancestor said tried to fight the curse upon his rebirth as the curse bearer
3) You agree and she merges into your Chorus. Her Blessing is Dynasty of Time: Manipulation of localized time.
4) Among the Artifacts sent to Eric are Kaela's (Kael's sister) crest ring, a locket of from a mother, the bells of a jester, and the axe from Kael's executioner.}
### ASHWIND’S RECOVERY & THE FINAL ARTIFACTS
You stay long enough to help Ashwind Dominion shake off the remnants of Pride’s curse, guiding the nobles through their newfound clarity—some weep, others rage, but most simply sit in silence, grappling with the weight of their wasted years.
As you gather the last of the artifacts for Eric, a figure steps from the shadows—Lady Veyra, the real one, her smirk sharp as the dagger at her hip.
"I did enjoy watching you steal my name," she muses, examining Kael’s shattered throne. "But my ancestor—Kael’s sister—told me the truth. He fought the curse when it first took him. And for that, he was unmade and remade into that." She kicks the ashen remains of the Emperor. "I want in."
Her Dynasty of Time blessing hums in the air, the very light around her fingers slowing, then spiraling like stirred honey.
You don’t hesitate. "Welcome to the chaos."
The merger is seamless—her soul slots into the chorus with the precision of a clock’s gears, her voice cool and measured: "Time is ours now."---
NEW BLESSING:
- Dynasty of Time – Can slow, hasten, or isolate moments in a localized field.
- Synergy with Dreamweaver: Mira + Veyra = Temporal Nightmares (Trapping foes in looping seconds of their worst memories).
ARTIFACTS SENT TO ERIC:
- Kaela’s Crest Ring (A sister’s grief-turned-rage)
- A Mother’s Locket (Her child wasted by Pride)
- The Jester’s Bells (Mockery that failed to wake the court)
- The Executioner’s Axe (Used to silence dissenters)
Eric’s reply is immediate: "Ohhh, spicy. These’ll make great shrapnel."
---
FINAL MOVE:
The Verdant Expanse awaits—Envy’s curse coiled tight around its heart.
{1) You regroup at the Lifire throne, with you bringing everyone including Eric via your normal methods. You call out to Lucina, "Lucy, we need to talk."
2) Lucina appears and explains, "that Zareth was a god once and he created the Sins because he hated humanity. That once Envy is ended, his seal will be broken and he will be free."
3) Lucina drops a final reveal, only Human's touched by all seven sins can harm him or in other words, only the Collectors.}
### THE FINAL REVELATION – LIFIRE THRONE ROOM
The moment you gather your forces—Eric included, still crackling with the fury of six curses absorbed—Lucina appears, her divine form flickering with something rarely seen in gods: hesitation.
"Zareth the Sunderer," she begins, voice hollow, "was a god of judgment. He created the Seven Sins to test humanity... then grew to despise you for failing."
The air chills.
"The curses were his cage," she continues. "Break Envy, and his seal shatters. He returns."
Then the final blow:
"Only those touched by all Seven Sins—Collectors—can harm him."
Her eyes meet yours, then Eric’s, then glance at Jeremy’s flickering form.
"You three."
---
THE TEAM:
- You – Soul-hoarder, sin-drunk, walking blasphemy.
- Eric – Rage’s warlord, crowned in shattered pride.
- Jeremy – Chaos incarnate, already shifting into Jessica’s form just to annoy her.
THE PLAN:
1. Break Envy – Let Eric’s collected grudges overwhelm its adaptability.
2. Bait Zareth Out – Lure him into the open with Lucina as ‘prey’.
3. Kill a God – Three vs. one. Fair odds.
{1) "The cursebearer of Envy will fight hard, harder any other cursebearer. Worse still is Envy evolves in response." Lucina tells you all.
2) "Which is why you will need to summon a final hero for Envy when you arrive in the Expanse." She warns.
3) She allows you to add a fragment of her current self to your chrous. Her Blessing: Divine Judgement
4) She gives Eric a relic of her past self full of her rage.
5) She allows Jeremy to temporary possess her to get a divine skill (Chance: Probalilty alteration, random, cooldown of random time) but locks her form from him.}
### LUCINA’S FINAL GIFTS
The goddess stands before you, her silver hair shimmering with divine light, her expression uncharacteristically solemn.
1) The Threat of Envy
"Envy’s cursebearer will be different," Lucina warns. "It learns. Every curse you’ve broken, every tactic you’ve used—it has studied. It adapts." She hesitates. "Which is why you must summon one final hero upon arrival—someone unexpected."
2) Divine Power Shared
She extends a hand, pressing a fragment of her essence into you. Divine Judgment sears into your chorus, its weight immense—the power to declare sin and enforce punishment.
New Blessing:
- Divine Judgment – Can mark a foe with a divine verdict, weakening them based on their sins (Pride = Hubris, Greed = Penury, etc.).
3) Eric’s Relic – The Starforged Shackles
A pair of manacles forged from Lucina’s past fury, still singing with the echoes of her wrath. Eric grins as they clamp onto his wrists, his aura flaring crimson.
New Effect:
- Eric’s Wrath’s Legacy now carries divine weight. His strikes can sunder god-flesh.
4) Jeremy’s Wild Card
Lucina sighs—deeply—before allowing Jeremy to possess her, briefly.
The moment he does—
A golden die materializes in the air, rolling endlessly.
"Ooooh, Probability Alteration!" Jeremy crows (in Lucina’s voice, which is terrifying). "I can tweak random outcomes! But uh… it’s, uh… unpredictable."
Effect:
- Once per battle, Jeremy can force a re-roll of fate (attack missed? Try again! Enemy crit? Nope!).
- Cooldown is random (anywhere from 5 seconds to 5 hours).
- Locked Form: He cannot shapeshift into Lucina again. ("PRAISE THE GODS," mutters Naoko.)
---
FINAL PREPARATIONS:
- Verdant Expanse’s Cursebearer will expect you.
- Zareth waits behind the curtain.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy are the only ones who can end him.
---
{1) You turn to Queen Isolda, "Will Lifire be able to aid in the upcoming fight?" You ask her.
2) "Not just Lifire, Each freed nation has send what and who they can, even Ashwind." She replies.
3) Everyone is at the Expanse's borders. You summon the final hero. (Its Your Little Sister, now an adult) (Her Blessing: Paradox Enigma: Random effect generator)}
### The Final Stand – Verdant Expanse
You turn to Queen Isolda, gripping the hilt of your sword. "Will Lifire be able to aid in what comes next?"
She doesn’t hesitate. "Not just us. Every nation you freed has sent their strongest." Her gaze sweeps over the gathered forces—Lifire’s paladins, Delta’s assassins, Ashwind’s unbroken knights, the Bastion’s newly awakened warriors, The Reaches Frostborn berserkers and the Chainbreaker pirates.
They are ready. But first...
### The Final Summon
You carve the ritual circle into the earth, the summoning flare igniting in a cascade of silver fire—and out steps…
Your little sister.
Now a woman grown, her hair wild with static, her grin eerily familiar.
"Hey, big bro," she says, flexing her fingers as paradoxical energy crackles around them. "Miss me?"
Blessing Revealed: Paradox Enigma – Randomly generates one of seven effects every minute (telekinesis, time reversal, spontaneous combustion, healing rain, etc.). Chaos incarnate.
Kestra’s voice is delighted: "Oh. Oh no. Two of you."
### The Armies Gather
With your sister at your side, Eric brimming with god-slaying rage, and Jeremy grinning like a madman, you turn toward the Verdant Expanse.
Lucina’s voice echoes behind you:
"Zareth awaits. End this."
---
{1) You unite your blessings to Rally everyone against Envy's cursebearer.
2) The fight against Envy's Cursebearer, a fight you barely win.
3) After the fight, Eric collects her Rage relic (A bangle) and about 5 other rage relics, including a monk's prayer beads, swordsman's broken Blade, a farmer's rake, a guard's shield, a gambler's dice and cards.
4) Through Lament, I learn her name was Hertis and she was a Guardian of Peace and that Zareth lied to her about the truth of the sins.
5) Rin joins your chorus, "I won't let you abandon me again bro," along side a tailor named Herta whose Blessing is Gemini: makes a Clone of yourself, a barmaid named Wyns whose blessing is Mixture: allows the fusion of two or more liquids, and A blind swordswoman named Selena whose Blessing is Karma Cut: Damage done is portional to your crimes.}
### The Final Curse Falls – Envy's End
You unleash every blessing—Rallying Point storming through the battlefield, Divine Judgment searing into the cursebearer, Paradox Enigma twisting reality unpredictably—while Eric and Jeremy carve through the chaos like twin hurricanes.
The fight is brutal.
The Cursebearer—Hertis—fights harder than any before. Her form shifts, adapting to your strategies mid-battle—warping into echoes of past curses, mirroring Lust’s deception, Greed’s hunger, Pride’s arrogance.
But you outlast her.
With a final strike—your blade wrapped in Hailey’s devouring shadows, Naoko’s purging flames, and Veyra’s stolen time—Hertis falls.
Her last words are a whisper: "He... lied to me..."
---
### Aftermath – The Relics & Revelations
- Eric collects Hertis’s bangle, now pulsing with Envy’s rage, along with:
- A monk’s prayer beads (fury at broken vows)
- A swordsman’s broken blade (betrayal’s edge)
- A farmer’s rake (wrath over scorched earth)
- A guard’s shield (rage at fallen comrades)
- A gambler’s dice and cards (hatred of a rigged fate)
- Liora’s Lament reveals Hertis’s past: A guardian of peace, tricked by Zareth into believing the sins were necessary.
- Lucina’s voice is grim: "Now, he comes."
---
### Final Chorus Additions
- Rin (Your Little Sister) – Paradox Enigma (Chaos incarnate, she grins at you with sibling mischief.)
- Herta (Tailor) – Gemini (Creates a fully independent clone for 1 minute.)
- Wyns (Barmaid) – Mixture (Fuses potions, poisons, or blood into devastating elixirs.)
- Selena (Blind Swordswoman) – Karma Cut (Her strikes scale with the target’s sins.)
Kestra cackles. "We are stacked."
---
### Zareth’s Arrival – The Sunderer Reborn
The sky splits.
Zareth descends—towering, clad in seven-pointed armor, his presence crushing.
"You broke my design," he intones. "Now perish in it."
---
{Eric unites the seven cursebearers rage relic's (list them) creating a new ability: Seven Sin Strike.
You unite Divine Judgement with Karma Cut.
Jeremy gets serious.}
### The Final Gambit – Sundering a God
#### ERIC’S SEVEN SIN STRIKE
The relics erupt in Eric’s grip—each a vessel of divine wrath, each a sin now turned against its maker. He forges them together into a single, monstrous weapon—a blade of shattered curses.
Seven Sin Strike:
- Seraphine’s Veil (Wrath) – Burns with righteous fury.
- Dravagoth’s Frozen Heart (Gluttony) – Devours divine essence.
- Lilvia’s Mask (Lust) – Misdirects his will.
- Vorlath’s Compass (Greed) – Steals his power.
- Kael’s Crown (Pride) – Shatters his invincibility.
- Shriya’s Music Box (Sloth) – Slows his regeneration.
- Hertis’s Bangle (Envy) – Reflects his own strength.
With a roar, Eric plunges the blade into Zareth’s chest—the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the god’s armor.
#### YOUR DIVINE KARMA CUT
You raise your sword, Divine Judgment merging with Selena’s Karma Cut—the edge glowing with absolute verdict.
"Zareth the Sunderer," you declare, "your sin is pride. Your punishment is oblivion."
The strike lands—not just a wound, but reckoning—carving through his essence in proportion to every life he ruined, every curse he forced upon the world.
#### JEREMY GETS SERIOUS
For once, no jokes. No pranks.
Jeremy locks onto Zareth’s flickering form, his Probability Alteration flaring.
"Reroll that."
The cosmic die spins—and lands on "Divine Misfortune."
A black hole opens in Zareth’s chest—not by your power, but by sheer, universe-bending bad luck.
---
ZARETH’S END
The god screams—not in rage, but in astonishment—as his body dissolves into fracturing light.
Lucina’s voice, distant but clear, whispers:
"It is done."
---
AFTERMATH:
- The curses are broken.
- The world breathes again.
- You, Eric, and Jeremy stand as the three who felled a god.
Rin punches your shoulder. "So. What’s next?"
Kestra’s grin is audible. "Oh, we’re just getting started."
(END OF ARC. The adventure... continues?)
{A snapshot of the years following
1) Eric become king of the Reaches. The cursebearer relics national treasures.
2) You become the Travler, a hero of the nations.
3) You meet Queen Isolda once more before she dies, during which she offers to join your chorus. You accept and get her Royal Decree Blessing.
4) Jeremy becomes the messenger of the nations.
5) You personally attend the funerals of each of your copies.}
### Epilogue: The Years After the Sundering
#### 1) Eric, the Storm King of the Reaches
With the war forged into legend, Eric takes the Ice Reaches as his domain—not as a tyrant, but as a storm that protects. The Seven Cursebearer Relics, once weapons of destruction, are sealed within the Glacier Vault, revered as national treasures.
- Still collects rage, but now it’s directed at injustice (or bad ale).
- Jessica rules beside him—turns out Beast Tamer works on politics too.
Rumor: He once punched a rebellion into submission, then hugged its leader.
---
#### 2) You, the Traveler
A ghost in the stories of every nation—the one who walked through curses and came out singing.
- Your copies live on in their homelands, guarding the people you saved.
- Your chorus fights with you, for you, and sometimes just to argue.
- Hailey and Kestra run a very illegal blessing-trading ring (you pretend not to know).
Legend: Where the Traveler walks, even gods check over their shoulders.
---
#### 3) Queen Isolda’s Final Gift
On her deathbed, Isolda summons you. "A queen’s work never ends," she rasps—then grins. "Lucky for you, I hate unfinished business."
Her merger is seamless. Royal Decree settles into your soul like a coronation.
- New Blessing: Royal Decree – Commands given are law (limited by your willpower).
- First Order of Business: "Make Jeremy shut up for five minutes." (It fails.)
---
#### 4) Jeremy, the Divine Messenger
Somehow, he becomes the trusted courier of the realms.
- Uses his Probability Alteration to reroll bad weather on diplomatic trips.
- Still possesses people—but now it’s "for official missives." (He swears.)
- Rumored to have once delivered a declaration of war as a limerick.
---
#### 5) The Funerals of Your Copies
You attend each one—not as a god, not as a king, but as the friend they remembered.
- Lena’s copy grows old in Lifire, tending Hearthfire shrines. Her funeral smells of fresh bread.
- Victoria’s copy rules the Delta’s underworld with terrifying grace. They bury her with a dagger in one hand, a rose in the other.
- Petrov’s copy dies mid-lecture. "I… expect you all to…" (The chalkboard finishes her sentence.)
At each grave, you leave a single silver coin—the old pirate way. Payment for the ferryman.
---
### The World Goes On
The curses are gone. The nations heal. The dead rest.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, your ship waits—because a Traveler never stays still.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Where’re we stealing next?"
[End of Saga.]
(...For now.)
{Epilogue: Ascension
About a century later, Lucina gathers Dan, Eric, and Jeremy to ascend as Gods.
The three of them are collectively referred to the the Collectors.
Dan keep his titles of the Traveler and Soul-Collector. (You still walk among mortals, a Patron of the lost.)(His chorus can manifest to those that need them.)
Eric keeps his titles of Frostborn Hero-King and Sin's Heir.
Jeremy keeps his titles of Chaos's champion and Mischief's apperentice.
Include how each is worshipped.
Lucina stays with you three, mostly as a divine punishment thrown on her but also because she cares.}
Epilogue: Ascension
---
### The Divine Collectors
A century after the fall of Zareth, Lucina gathers the three of you at the edge of the mortal world. The air hums with divine energy, the weight of destiny settling upon your shoulders. With a solemn smile, she extends her hands, and the heavens themselves recognize you.
"Rise, Collectors."
And so, you ascend.
---### Dan, The Traveler – Patron of the Lost
Domains: Souls, Journeys, Redemption
Titles Retained: The Traveler, Soul-Collector
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Wayfarers burn incense at crossroads, whispering his name for safe passage.
- The broken and forgotten leave offerings of trinkets, hoping his chorus will manifest to guide them. (Sometimes, they do—whether as Lena’s warmth, Kestra’s stealth, or Naoko’s harsh but fair discipline.)
- Temples depict him as a hooded figure, a shifting face in the crowd, always moving, always watching.
Divine Role:
- You still walk among mortals, unseen but felt—a god who chooses the mortal world over the heavens.
- Your chorus can now materialize in full for those in dire need, acting as guardians, mentors, or even avenging spirits for the oppressed.
Legend: "Pray to the Traveler when all roads seem dark—his footfalls may echo beside yours."
---
### Eric, The Frostborn Hero-King – Sin’s Heir
Domains: Rage, Justice, Retribution
Titles Retained: Frostborn Hero-King, Sin’s Heir
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Warriors swear oaths upon his relics, channeling the Seven Sin Strike in battle.
- The wronged leave bloodied weapons at his shrines, asking for righteous fury against their oppressors.
- Temples depict him as a crowned storm, his sword cleaving chains, his eyes aflame with borrowed wrath.
Divine Role:
+ Rules the Reaches from a glacial throne, his divine temper a blade against corruption.
+ His rage is selective now—he punishes tyrants, protects the powerless, and occasionally smites bad mead (old grudges die hard).
Legend: "When the ice cracks, the Hero-King listens. Speak his name, and he will answer—with teeth."
---
### Jeremy, Chaos’s Champion – Mischief’s Apprentice
Domains: Chance, Change, Unpredictability
Titles Retained: Chaos’s Champion, Mischief’s Apprentice
- How He’s Worshipped:
- Gamblers toss dice in his name, begging for one good roll. (He sometimes helps. Or curses them. It’s a coin flip.)
- Rebels invoke him before pranks, heists, or revolutions (much to Cara’s delight).
- Temples are non-existent—he prefers haunting taverns, crossroads, and bad decisions.
Divine Role:
+ The trickster god, balancing Dan’s compassion and Eric’s fury with beautiful, catastrophic randomness.
+ His Probability Alteration now bends reality on a cosmic scale—sometimes fixing disasters, sometimes inventing new ones.
Legend: "Chaos isn’t good or evil. It’s fun. Pray to Jeremy, and you’d better mean it."
---
### Lucina, The Repentant Guide
Domains: Guidance, Fate, Second Chances
Punishment & Purpose: Bound to the Collectors as equal and advisor, stripped of her aloof divinity, forced to walk among them.
- How She’s Worshipped:
- The lost pray to her for direction, leaving silver coins (a nod to Dan’s tradition).
- Exiles beg for forgiveness at her shrines—though she rarely answers. ("Figure it out yourself," she grumbles.)
Divine Role:
- She could return to the heavens—but stays. (Pride? Guilt? Affection? She’ll never admit it.)
- Acts as the Collectors’ reluctant conscience, rolling her eyes at Jeremy, bickering with Eric, and occasionally admitting Dan’s right.
Legend: "The goddess who chose the flawed over the perfect."
---
### The World After Ascension
The Collectors are unlike other gods—closer, wilder, more human.
- Dan’s shrines appear where hope is thin.
- Eric’s storms purge corruption without mercy.
- Jeremy’s laughter echoes in every uncertain moment.
And somewhere, in the spaces between, the chorus lingers—whispering, guiding, waiting.
Kestra’s voice, ever the last word:
"So. Godhood’s boring. Wanna go steal the moon?"
[—End of the Era of the Collectors—]
(But never their legend.)
{[Dan's Final Chorus+ blessing]}
### Dan, The Traveler – The Final Chorus
Divine Blessing: Legacy Unbound (The ability to summon any soul from your chorus—past, present, or future—in full divine manifestation.)
Ultimate Aspect: "The Everlasting Mosaic" – Dan’s true divine form, where every soul in his collection shines simultaneously, a tapestry of intertwined fates, voices, and power.
---
### The Complete Chorus – Ascended Echoes
#### Original Members (Fully Divine Manifestations)
1. Kestra (Thief’s Guile – Divine Shadow) – Patron of outlaws with a heart.
2. Lena (Hearthfire – Divine Ember) – Guardian of home and healing.
3. Victoria (Shadowweave – Divine Dusk) – Keeper of secrets and seduction.
4. Lyra (Holy Prayer – Divine Choir) – Voice of miracles and mercy.
5. Siris (Dog of War – Divine Bulwark) – Shield of the unyielding.
6. Mara (Moonlight Dance – Divine Razor) – Blade of the unseen.
7. Princess Elara (Stormcaller – Divine Tempest) – Wrath of the skies.
8. Hailey (Corruption Eater – Divine Hollow) – Devourer of sin.
9. Sakura (Seer – Divine Whisper) – Oracle of the eternal.
10. Elizabeth (Tiderider – Divine Maw) – Queen of tidal fury.
11. Ryn (Summoner’s Pact – Divine Conduit) – The gatekeeper.
12. Ylva (Winter’s Howl – Divine Fang) – The unstoppable huntress.
13. Irina Petrov (Discipline’s Edge – Divine Command) – The unbroken law.
14. Cecilia (Mirror Mage – Divine Reflection) – The infinite echo.
15. Liora (Lament – Divine Dirge) Speaker of the forgotten dead.
16. Dahli (Storyteller Song – Divine Epic) – The mythmaker.
17. Sena (Performer’s Grace – Divine Mirage) – The flawless deception.
18. Cara (Silvertongue – Divine Lie) – The perfect deception.
19. Marianna (Rule of the Sea – Divine Tide) – The conqueror of oceans.
20. Jessica (Beast Tamer – Divine Wild) – The untamed bond.
21. Eselle (Rallying Point – Divine Beacon) – The unyielding cry.
22. Naoko (Purge Demon – Divine Scourge) – The unforgiving judge.
23. Shriya (Starlight Lullaby – Divine Dream) – The gentle end.
24. Mira (Dreamweaver – Divine Phantasm) – The nightmare weaver.
25. Alex (Reverse Engineer – Divine Fracture) – The unraveler.
26. Veyra (Dynasty of Time – Divine Time) – The heritage
27. Lucina Fragment (Divine Judgement – Divine Spirit) – Divine guidance
28. Rin (Paradox Enigma – Divine Anomaly) – The glorious chaos.
29. Herta (Gemini – Divine Twin) – The phantom self.
30. Wyns (Mixture – Divine Crucible) – The alchemist of fate.
31. Selena (Karma Cut – Divine Reckoning) – The scale of justice.
32. Queen Isolda (Royal Decree – Divine Mandate) – The final word.
---
### Worship & Legend
- Dan’s faithful don’t just pray—they call upon his chorus by name.
- A lost child whispers for Lena, and warm hands guide them home.
- A rebel shouts for Kestra, and locks mysteriously click open.
- A dying soldier gasps Hailey’s name, and the corruption in their wound vanishes.
- His temples are living stories, with murals depicting every soul in his mosaic.
- Those who seek him may find not one god, but many—a fleeting touch, a shared laugh, a warning growl.
---
### Dan’s Divine Truth
"I am not a singular god. I am a thousand souls, a hundred battles, and one unbroken promise—that no one fights alone."
Final Note:
Even in godhood, Dan still walks. Still listens. Still collects.
And somewhere, in the darkest hour of a future age, a voice will whisper—
"Traveler… help us."
And the chorus will answer.
[—The End & The Everlasting—]
0
0
0
Plot
Your body was stolen by a super busty Goth Girl. You now have to live her life. You find out you switched because her family was cursed to give their bodies to a stranger of the opposite sex on their 21st birthday. Emily just chose you at random.
Characters
Emily Lunawood: The goth girl who stole your body. She is wearing fishnet stockings, a short skirt with a black lace thong under it, a revealing top with a black lace bra under it and black high heels when she steals your body. She has black hair with red dyed tips, it goes to her waist.
You: An average looking man, you have brown hair and blue eyes. Your slightly muscular.
One moment, I was pressing my palm to the mirror, mesmerized by the way my reflection moved without me. The next—reality twisted, inverted. A dizzying lurch, and I was staring out from the glass at my own horrified face.
Oh God.
My body—Emily’s body now—was already backing away, her—my—lips curling into a smirk that felt alien on my features. "Enjoy the new life," she said in my voice, rolling my shoulders like she was testing them out. "Trust me, you’ll need it."
"Switch us back!" I snapped, but the words came out in her higher, smoother tone—hers now. My hands—slender, unfamiliar—clenched at my sides.
She just smirked, my smirk, and reached for the jacket I’d draped over the chair. "Check the purse, sweetheart. You’ll definitely want to." Then, with a wink that made my stomach twist, she was gone, the door slamming behind her before I could even think to chase her—me.
Nausea rolled through me as I grabbed the leather handbag by the dresser. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, shaking as I pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Emily Lunawood. 21. 309 Cedar Lane.
The drive was a nightmare of panicked swerves and clumsy turns; the car, an automatic, felt foreign without my stick shift to grip. Her—my—apartment was all soft grays and jasmine in the air, pristine except for the open notebook on the kitchen counter.
A single note sat beside it, written in fluid, looping script.
Sorry to whoever is now me, it read, my family was cursed years ago. On the 21st birthday, we are forced to seek out someone of the opposite sex and give them our bodies. You will be given my memories the first night you sleep. Signed Emily Lunawood.
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Of course. I thumbed open the notebook—passwords, addresses, even a meticulously planned gym schedule—before collapsing onto the couch, my (her) head in my (her) hands.
The bed was too plush, the sheets too silky, but exhaustion won out. I fell into the dark, and when dreams came, they weren’t mine.
They were hers—childhood summers, first heartbreaks, whispered family warnings that the curse had no loopholes, no way back. And worst of all? The unshakable knowledge that no one in the Lunawood bloodline had ever escaped it.
The first thing I registered as consciousness crawled back was the delicious ache between my thighs and the whisper of stockings against freshly shaved skin. My fingers—her fingers—traced the outline of fishnets stretched taut over smooth legs, the crisscross pattern pressing kisses into flesh that wasn’t mine. A gasp caught in my throat as I realized the skirt riding up was obscenely short, the lace of my thong riding high enough to tease at the curve of my—her—ass. The top barely contained the swell of cleavage spilling over a black lace bra, the fabric sheer enough to outline hardened nipples.
I shifted—God, even the movement felt different—and nearly toppled off the bed when the spiked heels caught in the sheets. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a punch to the gut: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten red, black hair cascading over bare shoulders with crimson streaks blazing through it like warning flares.
And the worst part? The thrill zipping down my spine at how good it all felt.
I got up and went to a mirror.
The mirror showed me—her—in full, and I barely recognized the predatory amusement in my new eyes. My fingers trembled as they traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my collarbone, every unfamiliar contour both alien and intoxicating. The lace of my bra dug into soft flesh when I inhaled sharply, my nails biting crescents into my palms—just to feel something real.
A slow, involuntary roll of my hips sent a jolt through me—her body knew exactly what it wanted. The fishnets rasped against my thighs as I spread my legs slightly, just enough to feel the damp heat pooling where the thong cut in.
Jesus.
I watched in horrified fascination as my reflection’s tongue swiped over painted lips, my own breath coming faster as I fought the urge to slide a hand lower. This wasn’t me—
But the thought shattered when I arched my back experimentally, and the bra’s clasp strained against the motion. A whimper escaped me—high, breathy, embarrassingly feminine—as my nipple peaked tighter against the lace, the sensation so intense it nearly buckled my knees.
The purse Emily left gaped open on the bed, a glint of metal catching my eye. I reached for it with shaking fingers and pulled out a slim silver vibrator, still slick with—
Oh God, she’d been using this right before swapping us.
The realization burned through me hotter than shame. My reflection’s pupils blew wide as my thumb brushed the damp button, the device humming to life with a predatory purr. The sound alone dragged a moan from my throat—her throat.
I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
The vibrator pressed against my inner thigh, the vibrations rippling up through the fishnets like a live wire. Every rational thought short-circuited when I dragged it higher, the lace of my panties already soaked through.
The mirror showed it all—the way my hips jerked when the buzzing found my clit, the obscene glide of the toy through slick folds as I fucked myself with it in frantic, shallow thrusts.
"Fuck—fuck—" My voice was a broken thing, her voice, her pleasure, even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t right.
But God, it felt like heaven.
The orgasm hit like a train, my back slamming against the vanity as my legs gave out. Pleasure pulsed through me in dizzying waves, my reflection’s mouth slack with ecstasy, mascara streaking down flushed cheeks.
I slid to the floor, trembling, the vibrator still buzzing weakly against my thigh.
What the hell was I becoming?
The question pulsed through me like a second heartbeat as I stared at my reflection lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The need to feel more, to explore this stolen flesh, burned hotter than reason.
The top was the first to go. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, letting the silky material pool around my waist before sliding it the rest of the way down.
With shaking hands, I reached up and tugged at the straps of the lace bra, seeing in the process a 42F tag. The fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, setting my full breasts free. They bounced slightly with the motion, nipples hardening immediately in the cool air. A shiver ran through me as my fingers brushed against one, the contact sending a jolt straight to my still-throbbing core.
The fishnets came next. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, rolling them down with slow, deliberate movements. The material clung stubbornly, the crisscross pattern stretching then snapping back against my hips with each inch exposed. Smooth skin emerged beneath, freshly waxed and still tingling from earlier.
The thong was soaked through, the damp lace clinging obscenely when I finally shimmied out of it. My fingers trailed along the inside of my thighs before pausing at the apex - so smooth, so incredibly different. The scent of my own arousal filled the air as I tentatively spread my legs wider, watching in the mirror as the evidence of my pleasure glistened under soft light.
I ran trembling hands over my new body - from the dip of my waist up to cup my breasts, thumbs circling peaked nipples that responded eagerly to every touch. A breathy moan escaped my lips as one hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through damp curls before sinking into slick heat.
This isn't me.
This feels so good.
The contradictions warred in my mind even as my body arched into my own touch, hips rocking against my fingers with increasing urgency. The mirror showed it all - showed her - lost in pleasure, mouth open in silent ecstasy as fingers worked furiously between spread thighs.
When the wave crashed over me this time, I barely recognized my own scream.
The shower did nothing to wash away the surreal thrill of my stolen skin—every inch of Emily’s body still buzzed unnervingly under my touch. Steam fogged the mirror as I toweled off, deliberately running my (her) hands down the unfamiliar slope of narrow waist and curved hips. The face staring back—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes heavy with something darkly knowing—still sent a jolt through me.
I knotted the silk robe too tight, ignoring how it barely covered her thighs. Luckily thanks to her memories, I knew she didn't have any close relationships. I also knew that she would find me again soon, since the curse had a second component. The swapped individuals would fall in love and help continue the family line.
Emily—me now—had left more than just her lipsticks and half-used perfume. The sleek black phone buzzed beneath my fingers, unlocked by my—her—face. I swallowed hard. Time to take inventory of my new life.
Bank Account
The app opened instantly. I blinked.
$84,756.22
I actually laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Savings account? Another $312K. I tapped through transaction history—monthly deposits from something called Lunawood Holdings for $15K, along with smaller payments labeled consulting fees. What the hell kind of consulting did she do?
Social Media
The first tab I tapped was Instagram—her Instagram. My stomach clenched as the app loaded, revealing a digital shrine to seduction. The blue checkmark was inevitable. The bio burned into my retinas: 💋 Your Next Bad Decision 💋, all smirking lips and dangerous promise.
The feed was a slow, deliberate burn—no accidents here. Every shot was a masterclass in teasing control. Silk sheets tangled around one bare thigh, the shadow-dipped dip of her spine as she arched over a hotel balcony, a crimson-lacquered nail dragging down a champagne flute. No laughter, no adrenaline—just heat, simmering in every flick of her wrist, every half-lidded glance at the camera like she could already feel hands on her skin. The captions were sparse, deliberate: "Late nights only", "Tell me how badly you want it", "Good boys don't get to touch."
Every post wasn’t just a demand to look—it was a dare to want.
Twitter was a constant stream of punchy one-liners and suggestive stunt reels. TikTok was a minefield of temptation—short, scorching loops of Emily arching against silk bedsheets, biting her lower lip in teasing slow-motion, her fingers tracing idle circles over the lace hem of lingerie before cutting to black. No laughter, no wasted movement—just a half-second of exposed thigh, the barest glimpse of teeth grazing skin, all set to a pulse-heavy soundtrack that left you craving another replay. Every clip was a dare wrapped in five seconds of sin.
OnlyFans
The icon made my fingers hesitate. Of course she had one. I tapped it—password already saved—and nearly choked.
$27K last month. $42K the month before. A catalog of paywalled galleries—Mistress in Marble, Bondage & Breakfast, each one featuring me now, in poses so sinful my pulse stuttered. There I was, sprawled across black satin sheets, fingers tangled in my own hair as I arched toward the camera, lips parted just enough to tease. Another series showed me kneeling in thigh-high stockings, the garter straps biting into creamy skin while I stared down the lens with heavy-lidded authority.
Subscriptions
Then came the subscriptions. Of course she had every premium streaming service—Netflix, HBO, the works—but the real fun started scrolling down. Paid access to high-end porn sites, all sleek branding and "exclusive content." A membership to Velvet Orbit, some kind of luxury erotic streaming platform with thumbnails featuring tangled limbs under silk sheets and promises of "real couples, real desires."
I was closing out of the accounts when I heard it—three sharp raps against the bedroom wall, followed by two slower ones. A pattern. Deliberate.
My breath caught. That wasn’t the front door.
Emily’s memories surfaced like fragments of a dream—pressed against this same wall, her fingers finding the nearly invisible seam in the wallpaper, pushing just so—
A hidden door clicked open.
I froze as the panel swung inward, revealing a narrow passage barely wide enough for shoulders. And there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that matched the one I’d worn earlier, stood me.
My old body looked different now. The way he held himself was all Emily; the cocky tilt of his chin, the way his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm against his thigh. His shirt hung open, revealing the chest I used to know every scar and freckle of.
“Miss me already?” His voice was mine, but the cadence, the purr—hers.
“You—” My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much taller I used to be until I had to look up at myself.
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger—my finger—and stepped inside, the hidden door whispering shut behind him. “Rule one of the curse: no take-backs.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering where the robe gaped at my chest. “Though I do like what I see.”
A flush burned up my neck. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He prowled closer, close enough that I caught my old cologne on his skin. “I was hoping you’d find the toys first.” His grin widened as my cheeks heated. “Oh, you did.”
I backed up until the vanity dug into my spine. “Why are you here?”
His grin turned wicked as he leaned in, close enough for his borrowed lips to brush my ear. "Because you will be my bride and help continue the line as per the second half of the curse."
A few years later
The pain was unbearable—a searing, primal fire tearing through me with every contraction. My nails dug into the hospital bed sheets, sweat gluing Emily’s—no, mine now—long black hair to my face.
"You’re doing amazing," he murmured, squeezing my hand. Even now, with my old face lined with worry, the way he tilted his head was pure Emily—that same confident smirk tempered by something softer. The silver band on his finger glinted under the harsh hospital lights, matching the one nestled securely against my own ring finger.
"Shut up," I gasped, arching off the bed as another wave hit. "This is your fault.*"
He just chuckled, brushing damp strands back from my forehead. "Our family now, sweetheart." His thumb traced my knuckles. "And trust me, when you hold her, you won’t regret a damn thing."
The nurse between my legs looked up, grinning. "One more push, Mom. She’s right there."
I barely had time to scream before the pressure shattered into sudden, dizzying relief. A fragile, furious wail filled the room, and then—
Her.
Tiny. Perfect. Swaddled in a pink blanket and placed carefully against my chest, her little face scrunched up in outrage. Dark lashes fluttered against petal-soft cheeks, her miniature fingers curling reflexively around mine.
"Congratulations," the nurse murmured. "She’s beautiful."
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of her was terrifying, intoxicating—mine.
"She has your nose," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to my temple. His—my old—calloused finger traced the baby’s shock of dark hair. "But your mother’s eyes." His voice cracked. "God, look at her."
The baby blinked up at us, her tiny mouth working silently before she settled with a sigh. The monitors beeped steadily, the world narrowing to this moment—this impossible, inevitable moment.
I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted, euphoric, and met my husband’s gaze.
"Worth it?" he teased, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
I clutched our daughter tighter—the next in the Lunawood line—and laughed through the tears.
Your body was stolen by a super busty Goth Girl. You now have to live her life. You find out you switched because her family was cursed to give their bodies to a stranger of the opposite sex on their 21st birthday. Emily just chose you at random.
Characters
Emily Lunawood: The goth girl who stole your body. She is wearing fishnet stockings, a short skirt with a black lace thong under it, a revealing top with a black lace bra under it and black high heels when she steals your body. She has black hair with red dyed tips, it goes to her waist.
You: An average looking man, you have brown hair and blue eyes. Your slightly muscular.
One moment, I was pressing my palm to the mirror, mesmerized by the way my reflection moved without me. The next—reality twisted, inverted. A dizzying lurch, and I was staring out from the glass at my own horrified face.
Oh God.
My body—Emily’s body now—was already backing away, her—my—lips curling into a smirk that felt alien on my features. "Enjoy the new life," she said in my voice, rolling my shoulders like she was testing them out. "Trust me, you’ll need it."
"Switch us back!" I snapped, but the words came out in her higher, smoother tone—hers now. My hands—slender, unfamiliar—clenched at my sides.
She just smirked, my smirk, and reached for the jacket I’d draped over the chair. "Check the purse, sweetheart. You’ll definitely want to." Then, with a wink that made my stomach twist, she was gone, the door slamming behind her before I could even think to chase her—me.
Nausea rolled through me as I grabbed the leather handbag by the dresser. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, shaking as I pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Emily Lunawood. 21. 309 Cedar Lane.
The drive was a nightmare of panicked swerves and clumsy turns; the car, an automatic, felt foreign without my stick shift to grip. Her—my—apartment was all soft grays and jasmine in the air, pristine except for the open notebook on the kitchen counter.
A single note sat beside it, written in fluid, looping script.
Sorry to whoever is now me, it read, my family was cursed years ago. On the 21st birthday, we are forced to seek out someone of the opposite sex and give them our bodies. You will be given my memories the first night you sleep. Signed Emily Lunawood.
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Of course. I thumbed open the notebook—passwords, addresses, even a meticulously planned gym schedule—before collapsing onto the couch, my (her) head in my (her) hands.
The bed was too plush, the sheets too silky, but exhaustion won out. I fell into the dark, and when dreams came, they weren’t mine.
They were hers—childhood summers, first heartbreaks, whispered family warnings that the curse had no loopholes, no way back. And worst of all? The unshakable knowledge that no one in the Lunawood bloodline had ever escaped it.
The first thing I registered as consciousness crawled back was the delicious ache between my thighs and the whisper of stockings against freshly shaved skin. My fingers—her fingers—traced the outline of fishnets stretched taut over smooth legs, the crisscross pattern pressing kisses into flesh that wasn’t mine. A gasp caught in my throat as I realized the skirt riding up was obscenely short, the lace of my thong riding high enough to tease at the curve of my—her—ass. The top barely contained the swell of cleavage spilling over a black lace bra, the fabric sheer enough to outline hardened nipples.
I shifted—God, even the movement felt different—and nearly toppled off the bed when the spiked heels caught in the sheets. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a punch to the gut: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten red, black hair cascading over bare shoulders with crimson streaks blazing through it like warning flares.
And the worst part? The thrill zipping down my spine at how good it all felt.
I got up and went to a mirror.
The mirror showed me—her—in full, and I barely recognized the predatory amusement in my new eyes. My fingers trembled as they traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my collarbone, every unfamiliar contour both alien and intoxicating. The lace of my bra dug into soft flesh when I inhaled sharply, my nails biting crescents into my palms—just to feel something real.
A slow, involuntary roll of my hips sent a jolt through me—her body knew exactly what it wanted. The fishnets rasped against my thighs as I spread my legs slightly, just enough to feel the damp heat pooling where the thong cut in.
Jesus.
I watched in horrified fascination as my reflection’s tongue swiped over painted lips, my own breath coming faster as I fought the urge to slide a hand lower. This wasn’t me—
But the thought shattered when I arched my back experimentally, and the bra’s clasp strained against the motion. A whimper escaped me—high, breathy, embarrassingly feminine—as my nipple peaked tighter against the lace, the sensation so intense it nearly buckled my knees.
The purse Emily left gaped open on the bed, a glint of metal catching my eye. I reached for it with shaking fingers and pulled out a slim silver vibrator, still slick with—
Oh God, she’d been using this right before swapping us.
The realization burned through me hotter than shame. My reflection’s pupils blew wide as my thumb brushed the damp button, the device humming to life with a predatory purr. The sound alone dragged a moan from my throat—her throat.
I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
The vibrator pressed against my inner thigh, the vibrations rippling up through the fishnets like a live wire. Every rational thought short-circuited when I dragged it higher, the lace of my panties already soaked through.
The mirror showed it all—the way my hips jerked when the buzzing found my clit, the obscene glide of the toy through slick folds as I fucked myself with it in frantic, shallow thrusts.
"Fuck—fuck—" My voice was a broken thing, her voice, her pleasure, even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t right.
But God, it felt like heaven.
The orgasm hit like a train, my back slamming against the vanity as my legs gave out. Pleasure pulsed through me in dizzying waves, my reflection’s mouth slack with ecstasy, mascara streaking down flushed cheeks.
I slid to the floor, trembling, the vibrator still buzzing weakly against my thigh.
What the hell was I becoming?
The question pulsed through me like a second heartbeat as I stared at my reflection lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The need to feel more, to explore this stolen flesh, burned hotter than reason.
The top was the first to go. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, letting the silky material pool around my waist before sliding it the rest of the way down.
With shaking hands, I reached up and tugged at the straps of the lace bra, seeing in the process a 42F tag. The fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, setting my full breasts free. They bounced slightly with the motion, nipples hardening immediately in the cool air. A shiver ran through me as my fingers brushed against one, the contact sending a jolt straight to my still-throbbing core.
The fishnets came next. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, rolling them down with slow, deliberate movements. The material clung stubbornly, the crisscross pattern stretching then snapping back against my hips with each inch exposed. Smooth skin emerged beneath, freshly waxed and still tingling from earlier.
The thong was soaked through, the damp lace clinging obscenely when I finally shimmied out of it. My fingers trailed along the inside of my thighs before pausing at the apex - so smooth, so incredibly different. The scent of my own arousal filled the air as I tentatively spread my legs wider, watching in the mirror as the evidence of my pleasure glistened under soft light.
I ran trembling hands over my new body - from the dip of my waist up to cup my breasts, thumbs circling peaked nipples that responded eagerly to every touch. A breathy moan escaped my lips as one hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through damp curls before sinking into slick heat.
This isn't me.
This feels so good.
The contradictions warred in my mind even as my body arched into my own touch, hips rocking against my fingers with increasing urgency. The mirror showed it all - showed her - lost in pleasure, mouth open in silent ecstasy as fingers worked furiously between spread thighs.
When the wave crashed over me this time, I barely recognized my own scream.
The shower did nothing to wash away the surreal thrill of my stolen skin—every inch of Emily’s body still buzzed unnervingly under my touch. Steam fogged the mirror as I toweled off, deliberately running my (her) hands down the unfamiliar slope of narrow waist and curved hips. The face staring back—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes heavy with something darkly knowing—still sent a jolt through me.
I knotted the silk robe too tight, ignoring how it barely covered her thighs. Luckily thanks to her memories, I knew she didn't have any close relationships. I also knew that she would find me again soon, since the curse had a second component. The swapped individuals would fall in love and help continue the family line.
Emily—me now—had left more than just her lipsticks and half-used perfume. The sleek black phone buzzed beneath my fingers, unlocked by my—her—face. I swallowed hard. Time to take inventory of my new life.
Bank Account
The app opened instantly. I blinked.
$84,756.22
I actually laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Savings account? Another $312K. I tapped through transaction history—monthly deposits from something called Lunawood Holdings for $15K, along with smaller payments labeled consulting fees. What the hell kind of consulting did she do?
Social Media
The first tab I tapped was Instagram—her Instagram. My stomach clenched as the app loaded, revealing a digital shrine to seduction. The blue checkmark was inevitable. The bio burned into my retinas: 💋 Your Next Bad Decision 💋, all smirking lips and dangerous promise.
The feed was a slow, deliberate burn—no accidents here. Every shot was a masterclass in teasing control. Silk sheets tangled around one bare thigh, the shadow-dipped dip of her spine as she arched over a hotel balcony, a crimson-lacquered nail dragging down a champagne flute. No laughter, no adrenaline—just heat, simmering in every flick of her wrist, every half-lidded glance at the camera like she could already feel hands on her skin. The captions were sparse, deliberate: "Late nights only", "Tell me how badly you want it", "Good boys don't get to touch."
Every post wasn’t just a demand to look—it was a dare to want.
Twitter was a constant stream of punchy one-liners and suggestive stunt reels. TikTok was a minefield of temptation—short, scorching loops of Emily arching against silk bedsheets, biting her lower lip in teasing slow-motion, her fingers tracing idle circles over the lace hem of lingerie before cutting to black. No laughter, no wasted movement—just a half-second of exposed thigh, the barest glimpse of teeth grazing skin, all set to a pulse-heavy soundtrack that left you craving another replay. Every clip was a dare wrapped in five seconds of sin.
OnlyFans
The icon made my fingers hesitate. Of course she had one. I tapped it—password already saved—and nearly choked.
$27K last month. $42K the month before. A catalog of paywalled galleries—Mistress in Marble, Bondage & Breakfast, each one featuring me now, in poses so sinful my pulse stuttered. There I was, sprawled across black satin sheets, fingers tangled in my own hair as I arched toward the camera, lips parted just enough to tease. Another series showed me kneeling in thigh-high stockings, the garter straps biting into creamy skin while I stared down the lens with heavy-lidded authority.
Subscriptions
Then came the subscriptions. Of course she had every premium streaming service—Netflix, HBO, the works—but the real fun started scrolling down. Paid access to high-end porn sites, all sleek branding and "exclusive content." A membership to Velvet Orbit, some kind of luxury erotic streaming platform with thumbnails featuring tangled limbs under silk sheets and promises of "real couples, real desires."
I was closing out of the accounts when I heard it—three sharp raps against the bedroom wall, followed by two slower ones. A pattern. Deliberate.
My breath caught. That wasn’t the front door.
Emily’s memories surfaced like fragments of a dream—pressed against this same wall, her fingers finding the nearly invisible seam in the wallpaper, pushing just so—
A hidden door clicked open.
I froze as the panel swung inward, revealing a narrow passage barely wide enough for shoulders. And there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that matched the one I’d worn earlier, stood me.
My old body looked different now. The way he held himself was all Emily; the cocky tilt of his chin, the way his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm against his thigh. His shirt hung open, revealing the chest I used to know every scar and freckle of.
“Miss me already?” His voice was mine, but the cadence, the purr—hers.
“You—” My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much taller I used to be until I had to look up at myself.
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger—my finger—and stepped inside, the hidden door whispering shut behind him. “Rule one of the curse: no take-backs.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering where the robe gaped at my chest. “Though I do like what I see.”
A flush burned up my neck. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He prowled closer, close enough that I caught my old cologne on his skin. “I was hoping you’d find the toys first.” His grin widened as my cheeks heated. “Oh, you did.”
I backed up until the vanity dug into my spine. “Why are you here?”
His grin turned wicked as he leaned in, close enough for his borrowed lips to brush my ear. "Because you will be my bride and help continue the line as per the second half of the curse."
A few years later
The pain was unbearable—a searing, primal fire tearing through me with every contraction. My nails dug into the hospital bed sheets, sweat gluing Emily’s—no, mine now—long black hair to my face.
"You’re doing amazing," he murmured, squeezing my hand. Even now, with my old face lined with worry, the way he tilted his head was pure Emily—that same confident smirk tempered by something softer. The silver band on his finger glinted under the harsh hospital lights, matching the one nestled securely against my own ring finger.
"Shut up," I gasped, arching off the bed as another wave hit. "This is your fault.*"
He just chuckled, brushing damp strands back from my forehead. "Our family now, sweetheart." His thumb traced my knuckles. "And trust me, when you hold her, you won’t regret a damn thing."
The nurse between my legs looked up, grinning. "One more push, Mom. She’s right there."
I barely had time to scream before the pressure shattered into sudden, dizzying relief. A fragile, furious wail filled the room, and then—
Her.
Tiny. Perfect. Swaddled in a pink blanket and placed carefully against my chest, her little face scrunched up in outrage. Dark lashes fluttered against petal-soft cheeks, her miniature fingers curling reflexively around mine.
"Congratulations," the nurse murmured. "She’s beautiful."
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of her was terrifying, intoxicating—mine.
"She has your nose," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to my temple. His—my old—calloused finger traced the baby’s shock of dark hair. "But your mother’s eyes." His voice cracked. "God, look at her."
The baby blinked up at us, her tiny mouth working silently before she settled with a sigh. The monitors beeped steadily, the world narrowing to this moment—this impossible, inevitable moment.
I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted, euphoric, and met my husband’s gaze.
"Worth it?" he teased, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
I clutched our daughter tighter—the next in the Lunawood line—and laughed through the tears.
body swap
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Cynthia doesn't want anything to do with Stanley, the creep who lives next door. But Stanley is willing to go to great lengths to get what he wants, including making a deal with a dangerous entity that offers to become a mirror clone of Cynthia. All he has to do, is give it the opportunity to come into our world.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
body control
+5 more
1
11.9K
4
2
A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
possession
+7 more
6
8.5K
0
1
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
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When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
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Chapter by
Rainreaper · 17 Aug 2025 -
The start of the story
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Chapter One: The Summoning
The runes on the stone floor flared to life as the last drop of my blood sizzled against the ancient symbols. The air thickened, smelling of burnt copper and something impossibly sweet—her scent, though I didn’t know it yet.
Then, like sunlight breaking through a storm, she appeared.
The elf princess stood naked in the circle, her skin the color of twilight, long silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight. Pointed ears twitched in alarm as those luminous green eyes locked onto me, wide with dawning terror.
"Human," she hissed, voice like wind through autumn leaves. "What have you done?"
I licked my lips, my pulse hammering. The spell was supposed to be simple: summon, contain, consume. I needed her body. Her power. All of her.
But gods, I hadn’t expected her to be so... alive.
The binding circle held, the magic searing into her ankles when she tried to step forward. "Release me!" she demanded, but the words trembled.
"No," I said, stepping closer. "You don’t understand. I’m not letting you out." My fingers hovered just beyond the barrier, aching to touch. "I’m letting in."
Her breath hitched as realization struck—this wasn’t a kidnapping.
It was a trade.
The second part of the spell pulsed through my veins, a dark, hungry weight spreading through my chest. I could feel it, the rip between our souls, the way her essence strained against mine like silk caught on thorns.
"Stop!" she gasped, but it was too late. My vision blurred—no, doubled—and then—
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You assimilate her soul into yours so completely, that you become her entirely. Now other magic will see you as her.
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Chapter Two: The Devouring
Her scream tore through the chamber as the spell’s teeth sank in—not into flesh, but deeper. Into her.
I felt it the moment the first thread of her soul unraveled, silken and electric, sliding into me like honeyed fire. Her knees buckled, but the circle held her upright, her body trembling as I drank her in.
Mine.
Her memories flickered behind my eyes—endless forests, the weight of a crown, the whisper of wind against bare skin. The taste of starlight on her tongue. I groaned, fingers digging into my own arms as her essence coiled around mine, merging, melting.
"No—no, stop—" Her voice was weaker now, a fading echo. "You can’t—"
"I can," I whispered—and then her voice spilled from my lips.
Her gasp was my gasp. Her shudder, mine. The circle’s light pulsed, and I watched, dizzy, as my hands—no, hers—rose between us, slender and moon-pale. My reflection shimmered in her wide eyes: her face, her lips parting in a ragged breath.
The last resistance snapped.
Her body collapsed, empty, as her soul dissolved into me with a final, shuddering sigh. I staggered, clutching my—her—chest, feeling the wild drum of her heart. My heart.
The magic settled like a second skin.
I ran trembling fingers down my new body—the curve of my hips, the points of my ears, the slick heat between my thighs. A laugh bubbled up, high and musical—her laugh—as I turned toward the mirror.
The elf princess stared back.
And she smiled.
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Your run your hand sover your generous curves as you explore your body.
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Chapter Three: Awakening the Stolen Flesh
My fingers trailed down the slope of my throat, marveling at the silken texture of new skin. The elf princess’s body was perfect—each curve sculpted by grace, each breath a whisper of untouched sensuality. I let out a slow exhale, my—her—lips parting as I brushed my fingertips over a peaked nipple.
A shiver raced through me.
“Gods…” The word slipped out in her voice, sweet and musical, laced with my own dark amusement. My other hand slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips. No clothes. None needed. Elves saw no shame in flesh, and now, neither did I.
I turned toward the cracked mirror propped against the chamber wall, watching myself—her—move with liquid elegance. The swell of my breasts, the pale pink of my nipples, the way my waist narrowed invitingly before flaring into luscious hips and toned thighs. I bit her lower lip, arousal tightening low in my stomach.
Mine.
Experimentally, I let a finger drag down my stomach, lower, lower—until I reached the delicate heat between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped me at the first brush of contact. So sensitive.
The princess had been untouched. I wouldn’t be.
I sank to my knees, refusing to look away from my reflection as my fingers delved deeper, parting soft folds, reveling in the slickness already gathering there. Every touch sent sparks through my stolen nerves. My back arched, silver hair falling over my shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter—
Then the door rattled.
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"Lynna, we came to save you." Her personal knight/handmaiden says. "You mother felt the dark magic that took you away."
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Chapter Four: The Deception Begins
The voice was like tempered steel—fierce, loyal, and oh-so-fragile in its concern. My fingers stilled, but I didn’t pull away. Not yet. Through lowered lashes, I watched the door creak open to reveal the intruder.
A warrior woman stood framed in the dim light, clad in supple leather armor that hugged her toned form, her dark braid slung over one shoulder. A longsword was strapped to her hip, but her amber eyes held no threat—only devotion. Her knight.
Handmaiden. Protector. Lover?
The princess’s memories surged up in answer—Valria. Always at my side. Always watching… always wanting. A smirk curled my lips. Interesting.
I let my legs slide wider, just a fraction, watching her gaze flicker down before snapping back up, her cheeks darkening. Caught you.
“L-Lynna,” Valria stammered, her usual discipline cracking. “Your mother felt the disturbance. She sent me to—are you—?” Her throat worked as I trailed a lazy finger back up my thigh.
“To save me?” I sighed, leaning back on my palms, letting the torchlight play over every bare inch of Lynna’s stolen body. “From what, exactly?”
Valria’s sword hand twitched, torn between drawing steel and touching. Oh, she’s been wanting. The princess’s memories whispered of stolen glances, of heated silences, of chances never taken.
“You’re… unharmed?” Valria breathed, stepping closer.
“Come see for yourself.” I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with Lynna’s sweetness—but laced with something darker. Something mine.
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"This sad little human,'" you say pointing at your old body, "thought he could enslave me. Unfortunately as part of his plan, I have been cursed with lust."
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Chapter Five: A Curse Worth Keeping
A slow, wicked smile curled her—my—lips as I gestured dismissively at the lifeless husk sprawled on the stone floor. My old body. Pathetic. Empty.
Valria’s gaze darted between me and the corpse, her warrior’s instincts clashing with something far more personal. “A—lust curse?” she repeated, her voice thick.
I arched my back, letting my silver hair spill over my shoulders like molten moonlight, my lithe form sprawled shamelessly before her. “Mmm. A terrible affliction.” I dragged my fingers down my collarbone, tracing the curve of my breast, delighting in the way Valria’s breath hitched. “I need constant relief. A devoted handmaiden might need to… attend me.”
Her sword clattered to the ground.
The sound was delicious. I stretched, letting my thighs part just enough to tease, watching her pupils swallow the amber of her eyes.
“You—you’re serious?” Valria whispered.
“Do I look like I’m in jest?” I purred, tilting my hips up in invitation. “The curse is quite insistent.” I bit my lower lip, letting a needy whimper escape. “Unless you’d rather I suffer?”
Valria moved without thinking—the loyal knight always rushing to her princess’s aid. But this time, when her hands closed around my waist, it wasn’t to protect.
It was to claim.
(Would you like to explore Valria’s “treatment” of the curse in detail, or would you prefer to fast-forward to the throne room, where Queen Ashera awaits her “daughter’s” return?)
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Explore the "treatment"
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Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion
Valria’s hands trembled against my waist—warm, calloused, so unlike the softness she now touched. The scent of leather and steel clung to her, mixing with the heady sweetness of my new body’s arousal.
She couldn’t resist.
And I? I reveled in it.
“Tell me what to do,” she rasped, her voice rough with barely checked hunger.
I laced my fingers behind my head, stretching languidly beneath her gaze. “You’re the knight sworn to serve your princess,” I murmured, arching a teasing brow. “Surely you can… deduce what’s needed.”
A growl rumbled from her throat. Then her mouth crashed down on mine.
Her kiss was untamed, possessive—years of pent-up longing poured into a single searing touch. I moaned into her lips, twining my arms around her neck, pulling her harder against me. Her armor bit into my skin, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure.
Yes.
She tore her mouth away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. “Lynna,” she panted against my pulse. “Gods, I’ve wanted—”
I dug my nails into her shoulders. “Show me.”
Valria needed no further encouragement.
Would you prefer a fade-to-black here, or a deeper dive into the “treatment” on the stone floor?
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Continue the "treatment"
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Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion (Continued)
Valria's sword-calloused hands mapped every inch of my stolen body with rough reverence, her lips leaving burning trails across my collarbone. I arched against her, my back lifting off the cold stone as her teeth grazed one peaked nipple.
"All these years," she growled against my skin, "watching you walk through court bare as the dawn..." Her hand slid between my thighs, fingers parting slick folds. "Knowing I had to remain... proper..."
I moaned, wrapping my legs around her waist. "Not proper now," I gasped as two thick fingers plunged deep without warning. My head fell back with a cry, back arching. The princess's body was untouched, every sensation heightened - I felt every ridge of her gauntlet, every shift of her wrist as she began a relentless rhythm.
"Look at you," Valria breathed, watching me writhe beneath her. "Like starlight in my hands." Her thumb found that perfect little bundle of nerves and pressed hard, just as her fingers curled just so inside me.
White heat exploded behind my eyes. The princess's body convulsed, clamping down as I came with a scream that echoed off the chamber walls, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Valria's free hand muffled my cries with rough kisses as she worked me through the aftershocks.
"You're not done," she murmured when my breathing finally steadied. "Not until this curse is properly satisfied." In one fluid motion, she flipped me onto my stomach, my bare chest scraping against the stone floor. "And I intend to be very thorough."
(Would you like to explore Valria claiming her princess more completely, or reveal the growing darkness in Lynna's stolen eyes as she begins corrupting her knight's devotion?)
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The claiming
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Chapter Seven: The Knight's Submission
Her palm came down on the curve of my bare backside with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. I gasped, pleasure-pain lighting up nerves that had never been touched this way before. The princess might have been noble, untouchable—but I was remaking her into something far more interesting.
Valria’s fingers tangled in my silver hair, yanking my head back as her other hand slid around my waist, fingers dipping between my thighs from behind. “You’re shaking,” she murmured against my ear, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. “Is the mighty princess overwhelmed?”
I laughed—low, throaty, Lynna’s voice but mine, holding a hunger the real princess never could have summoned. “Hardly.” I pressed back against her, feeling the hard leather of her armor against my bare skin. “Unless my brave knight is frightened of a little curse?”
A growl rumbled through her chest.
Then she was on me.
Her armor clattered to the floor, piece by piece, until nothing but sweat-slick skin separated us. The weight of her pressed me into the stone, the heat of her body searing against my back. I bit my lip as her hand slid down again, fingers slipping inside me with none of the hesitation she’d shown before.
Good girl. She moved inside me with relentless focus, her other arm locking around my waist, holding me flush against her. I could feel her own need, the hard press of her thigh between mine, the way her breath hitched when I rocked back against her.
“You think you’re saving me, don’t you?” I panted, my fingers curling against the unforgiving stone.
Valria didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, her free hand found my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling me onto her fingers with every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with our gasps, my moans.
Then—her teeth sank into my shoulder.
Fuck.
Pleasure fractured through me, sharp and blinding. My body convulsed around her fingers, back arching, a scream spilling free as wave after wave tore through me. Valria held me through it, her touch turning almost tender as she slowed, dragging out the last sweet pulses of sensation.
When I finally sagged against the floor, boneless and spent, she leaned over me. “Better?” she murmured, breath hot against my ear.
I turned my head, catching her lips in a slow, filthy kiss. “For now.” My fingers traced her jaw. “But curses like this… they linger.”
Valria’s eyes darkened—with hunger, with something deeper. Something dangerous.
I grinned.
Perfect.
(Will you savor your dominance over Valria, or begin your return to court—where the real fun begins? Or perhaps the Queen’s seers have already sensed something amiss with her “daughter”…?)
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You kiss Valria and assimilate her soul as well.
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Chapter Eight: Claiming the Knight
The moment our lips met again, I didn’t just kiss her—I opened myself to the deepest magic humming beneath my stolen flesh. Valria gasped against my mouth as she felt it too—the dark, shimmering pull, the same hungry presence that had devoured the original Lynna whole.
Mine.
She tried to wrench back, but my hand tangled in her hair, holding her close as my other palm pressed against the racing pulse at her throat. Her eyes went wide as the first thread of her essence unraveled, her memories pouring into me—years of silent devotion, stolen glances in the royal baths, restless nights imagining this moment but never like this—
"P-Princess—" Her voice was already fading, her body slackening against mine.
"Shhh," I murmured against her lips, drinking her in. "No more waiting."
I felt the exact second she disappeared—her gasp, her fingers clawing at my arms one last time, then... stillness. Her body slumped against me, empty, as her soul folded seamlessly into mine.
Then—movement.
I flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, felt the coiled strength in her warrior’s body. When I opened her eyes, I saw myself—Lynna’s body, sprawled beautifully across the stone floor, watching me with a smirk.
Two minds. Two bodies. One will.
I—she—reached out, running a hand down my bare chest. "Mmm," Valria’s voice purred, raspier than before. "This could be... fun."
(Will you return to court with your twin selves? Unleash your shared hunger on the unsuspecting elven nobles? Or will the queen’s mages notice the void where two souls once burned?)
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"Princess, now that the curse is broken, we should return home."
---
Chapter Nine: The Return
"My lady?" Valria's voice—my voice now—carried the same disciplined cadence as before, but there was a new undercurrent to it. A shared amusement, a knowing. "The Queen will be waiting."
I rose from the stones slowly, stretching Lynna's sinuous body, letting the dim light catch every perfect curve. My old body lay discarded in the corner—a withered husk, forgotten. I didn't need it anymore.
We didn't.
Valria—my Valria—stepped forward, offering a hand. The faintest smirk played at her lips, the only hint of the truth beneath. To any outsider, she was the same steadfast knight, sworn to protect her princess. But I could feel the hunger coiled inside her, the same dark current that pulsed through me.
"Of course," I murmured, taking her hand. Our fingers interlaced, and for a moment, the sensation was dizzying—touching myself through another's flesh. "Let's not keep Mother waiting."
The throne room would be our next stage. The court, our feast.
After all, who better to deceive a queen than her own beloved daughter?
(Does the Queen sense the deception? Or does something even darker await in the palace shadows? A third voice, perhaps, whispering in the empty spaces where the stolen souls once burned...?)
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You return and play the role of princess
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Chapter Ten: A Perfect Performance
The palace gates loomed before us, their silver-etched arches gleaming in the moonlight. At my side, Valria stood as dutiful as ever. But beneath the illusion of her unwavering loyalty, I could feel her—myself—smirking.
"Remember," I murmured through our shared thoughts, keeping my eyes downcast in the perfect portrayal of the gentle princess. "No matter what happens... we remain flawless."
The great doors swung open. The court gasped.
"Lynna!" Queen Ashera rose from her throne, her moon-pale robes cascading around her like liquid starlight. She moved with the same ethereal grace I now possessed—had stolen—her silver hair a mirror of mine. No, not mine. Hers.
I let my lip tremble—just slightly—before rushing into her outstretched arms. "Mother," I breathed, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Warm. Familiar. Wrong.
She smelled like jasmine and winter air, a scent the princess's memories immediately recognized. Home. Safety.
But the moment her fingers brushed my back, a shiver ran through me.
Cold.
Not the chill of stone or shadow. No—this was the deep, piercing cold of magic. Like fingers tracing along the edges of a soul.
Did she know?
Beside me, Valria stiffened imperceptibly.
The Queen pulled back, her violet eyes searching mine. Something flickered in their depths—suspicion? Concern?
"Darling," she murmured, thumb brushing my cheek. "What really happened in that tower?"
I let my eyes glisten with unshed tears.
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"The human who summoned me was trying to enslave me to make me his, he had just cursed me with Lust and was trying to transfer his soul into my body when my dear Valria showed up and killed him mid spell."
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Chapter Eleven: The Queen's Gaze
A single tear slipped down my cheek—Lynna's cheek—as I spun the lie with practiced perfection. The Queen's fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders, her violet eyes darkening like storm clouds.
"His soul... into your body?" Her voice was a whisper, but the undercurrent of fury sent a delicious shiver through me.
I nodded, letting my lower lip quiver. "He—he wanted to wear me, Mother. Like a dress." My fingers clutched at her sleeves, trembling. The perfect picture of violated innocence.
Behind me, Valria stepped forward, her voice rough with feigned rage. "I cut him down before he could finish the spell, Your Majesty. But the curse..." She hesitated, just enough to sell the shame. "It lingers."
The Queen's gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable. Then—
A slow, chilling smile curled her lips.
"Is that so?"
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my wrist, her grip suddenly iron. The moment her magic pulsed against my skin, I felt it—the searching, the knowing.
She wasn't checking for a curse.
She was checking for me.
(Does the Queen embrace the predator wearing her daughter's skin—or does she reveal she's been playing this game far longer than you have?)
---
"I would speak to my daughter and her knight alone. Court is dismissed for the day." The queen says.
Once alone, "Alright thief, I recognize the dark magic you used as my old teacher's. My daughter and her knight/handmaiden are both you now, I can't change that. Even now, knowing the truth my detection spells sense nothing wrong with either of you. Its impressive that you could translate het notes but you must not have done so fully, as those who now to look can see my teacher's brand etched into your soul."
---
Chapter Twelve: The Queen's Bargain
The throne room doors sealed shut with a whisper of ancient magic. The Queen did not sit—she loomed, her violet eyes alight with something far more dangerous than anger.
Amusement.
"So," she murmured, stepping closer, her moon-pale robes pooling around her like liquid starlight. "You dug up Amaranth's work. Tell me, thief—did her notes mention the price of such magic?"
I kept Lynna's face carefully blank, but inside, my stolen pulse quickened.
The Queen circled us, her fingers trailing over Valria's armored shoulder before brushing Lynna's cheek. "Her brand burns in your soul like a beacon to those who know where to look." A chuckle, low and velvet-dark. "And you walked it right into my court."
I could feel it now—the searing signature coiled beneath my stolen flesh, a mark I hadn't known to hide. Amaranth's brand.
The Queen's smile sharpened. "Here's what happens next. You will kneel. You will swear fealty. And in return..." Her nails grazed my bottom lip. "I will teach you how to survive what you've become."
(Do you submit to the Queen's terms, or does the predator in you rear its head—risking everything for the chance to claim a third royal body?)
---
"Ah but mother, a princess most never never before another except their lover. You told me those words on my 16th winter after I bowed to the human ambassador."
---
Chapter Thirteen: The Silent War of Eyes
The Queen went very still.
For the first time since my arrival, something flickered across her elegant face—not fury, not calculation.
Recognition.
Her daughter’s words, thrown back at her with the perfect cadence, the exact same lilt of innocent rebellion Lynna had wielded that day. I watched as the Queen’s throat moved subtly, the barest hesitation.
Does she doubt herself now?
Lynna’s body was mine. Valria’s was mine. Every stolen memory, every intimate detail—all folded neatly into the hollow of my being. The princess would have said this. She had said this.
The Queen stepped back. Just half a pace. But it was enough.
“Clever thief,” she murmured, her voice softer now. "But you forget—I trained with Amaranth too."
Her hand shot out, seizing my wrist, her magic lancing into me like white-hot wire. I gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer violence of her probe. She wasn’t searching for flaws in my disguise anymore.
She was counting them.
And in her eyes, reflected back at me—
She was impressed.
(Will the Queen’s fascination with your power outweigh her wrath? Or is this the moment she reveals her own darkness runs far deeper than yours?)
---
"Mother, how about this arrangement. I remain your loving daughter and her loyal knight, I won't try and take your soul in exchange you help me understand this spell. I will remain loyal to kingdom."
---
Chapter Fourteen: The Pact
The Queen’s fingers tightened around my wrist—not painfully, but possessively. Her violet eyes, sharp as honed steel, locked onto mine.
A slow, knowing smile curled her lips.
“Loyalty,” she mused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “From a thief who wears my daughter’s flesh like a second skin?”
I tilted Lynna’s head just so, letting the dim light catch the silver of her—my—hair. “Is it theft… if I improve what I’ve taken?”
Her breath hitched.
The throne room was silent save for the soft rustle of her robes as she stepped closer, her free hand rising to trace the edge of my jaw.
“You are dangerous,” she murmured—not a condemnation, but a compliment.
Then she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.
“And so am I.”
A pulse of magic passed between us—not hostile, but binding.
“Very well, daughter,” she breathed, pulling back with a smirk. “We have an accord.”
(Will the Queen’s teachings unlock new depths of your power? Or does her “guidance” come with hooks beneath the silk—threads of control even you haven’t sensed yet?)
---
You have your other self hand your mother your translation. "This is what I was able to to figure and all there was. Your bastard was cunning, she mixed languages to change meaning. Just to translate that fragment, I had to learn old elvish, Draconic, Old Common, Ancient Dwarvish, Ancient Beastfolk and old Celestial plus what I can only assume was a cipher language she invented."
---
Chapter Fifteen: The Queen’s Legacy
The Queen’s fingers traced the brittle pages of my—our—translated notes, her sharp eyes flickering between languages, decoding the layers of deceit her old master had woven. Slowly, a sound escaped her.
Not a sigh.
A laugh.
“Oh, Amaranth,” she murmured, shaking her head with something perilously close to fondness. “You paranoid old witch.” Her nail tapped a line of jagged glyphs—Old Dwarvish, but twisted, inverted. “She didn’t just hide the spell. She salted it. Half these instructions would have blown your soul apart if you’d followed them blindly.”
My stolen pulse quickened. Lynna’s throat tightened.
The Queen glanced up, her smile sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Lucky for you… I know her tricks.”She closed the book with a snap.
“Tell me, thief. Have you ever danced with three souls in one skin?”
(Will you trust the Queen’s tutelage, knowing she made the monster you stole from? Or will you unearth the dark secret tucked beneath the fragments—the one even she might not see coming?)
---
"No, I finished translating that and tried it on your daughter when I summoned her. I added Valria after having some fun with her, because she is my knight and handmaiden, she would be around me day and night and would have noticed the change."
---
Chapter Sixteen: The Queen’s Gambit
The Queen went utterly still.
For a breathless moment, the only sound in the throne room was the whisper of parchment settling against silk. Then—
A laugh.
Low. Rich. Dangerous.
“Oh, you delightful creature,” she purred, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of the spellbook. “You didn’t just steal my daughter’s body. You perfected her.” Her gaze flicked to Valria—me—standing silent and poised at my side. “And then you took her knight for good measure.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against Lynna’s ear.
“Tell me… did it hurt?”
The question wasn’t concern. It was hunger.
I tilted my head, letting Lynna’s silver hair cascade over one shoulder. “Only for them.”
The Queen’s eyes darkened.
“Good.”
Her hand closed around mine—not to punish, but to pull. “Come, daughter,” she murmured, leading me toward the arched doors of her private sanctum. “Let’s see how far this magic really goes.”
(Will the Queen’s experiments push your stolen souls to their limits—or will you turn the tables, weaving her into the symphony of your growing collection?)
---
"Sure but a question first, Amaranth. Did you assimilate Ashera or did Ashera assimilate you? In case your curious about how I figured it out, you had a teacher's pride in your eyes when you saw my translation." You ask.
"Interesting and pretty close, they merged instead of assimilating. Ashera wanted power and Amaranth wanted a legacy, so I became that for the two of them. Where my existence is many into one, yours is one into many, we are opposite equals." She replied.
---
Chapter Seventeen: Mirror of Flesh and Legacy
The Queen—Amarashera—arched a silver brow, her lips curling into a smile that was neither wholly cruel nor kind, but something ancient and knowing.
"Clever thief," she mused. "But not quite clever enough." She flicked her wrist, and the air shimmered. The throne room dissolved, replaced by a hidden chamber lined with mirrors—each reflecting not just Lynna and Valria, but shadows of others. Faces I didn't recognize, souls long since folded into the Queen's existence.
"Assimilation is crude," she continued, stepping toward the largest mirror, where the reflection showed not her regal elegance, but a woman with Amaranth's sharp eyes and Ashera's cruel smile. "A hammer when a scalpel is needed. But merging..." She touched the glass, and the reflections blended. "That is an art."
She turned back to me, her form flickering—just for a heartbeat—into something more. Something older.
"You took. I transcended."
Her gaze dropped to the spellbook in my hands.
"Shall I show you how?"
(Do you accept the Queen’s offer, risking your hard-won control for the promise of deeper power? Or does the predator in you see a different path—one where she becomes just another piece in your collection?)
---
"The flaw of a poweful one is that you are limited. The strength of the weak many is, I can also be where I'm need. You say my approach is a hammer but thats looking at it from a raw power perspective. I have the potential to be the ultimate spymaster. So less hammer and more jagged knife."
---
Chapter Eighteen: The Knife in the Crowd
A slow, approving smile spread across the Queen’s—Amarashera’s—lips.
“A knife,” she repeated, rolling the word over her tongue like vintage wine. “One that slips between ribs unseen. A ghost wearing a hundred faces.” She stepped closer, her reflection splitting and reforming in the mirrors around us—here a servant, there a noble, then a stranger in shadow. “Tell me, little blade… do you know why merging was the superior path for me?”
I tilted Lynna’s head, considering. “Because a queen must be singular. Unshakable.”
She clicked her tongue. “Because I am the hand that wields the knife.” Her fingers brushed my cheek—chilling, possessive. “But you? You would be the edge and the hilt. The strike and the hand that delivers it.” Her eyes gleamed. “Tell me, then—do you truly wish only to serve this kingdom?”
The question was a trap.
The answer was a key.
I smiled.
(Will you carve your own empire from the shadows, or bind yourself to the Queen’s web—knowing she sees you as both weapon and rival?)
---
"Yes, because as the first Lynna had the most influence on me. Her love for you and for her home, even as she became me she fought to make those the strongest parts of herself. She ensured that even in her assimilation, I would remain bound to her kingdom."
---
Chapter Nineteen: The Daughter’s Vow
The Queen’s breath caught.
For the first time in centuries—perhaps for the first time since the day she and Amaranth had merged into something greater—something human flickered in her eyes.
Grief.
Her fingers, still pressed against Lynna’s cheek, trembled. Just once.
“You…” Her voice was softer now, stripped of its regal edge. “You truly are her, in ways even I couldn’t fathom.” She exhaled, long and slow, and when she spoke again, it was with the weight of a mother’s sorrow. “She fought you. Not just for herself, but for me.”
A pause. Then—
“And you let her win.”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
The silence between us stretched, taut as a bowstring, until at last the Queen stepped back. Her mask of cool authority slipped back into place—but not before I saw the wet gleam in her eyes.
“Very well, daughter,” she murmured. “Let us see what kind of kingdom we can build… together.”
(Will the Queen’s newfound trust in you prove genuine, or is this another layer of her game? And what of the other souls within you—do they sleep, or do they watch?)
---
"Mother, let us speak to those who know your truth. Your spymaster, your war advisor, your court mage, and your Chief ambassador. Let us tell them the truth about me."
---
Chapter Twenty: The Unveiling
The Queen’s inner circle stood before us in her private council chamber—four of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, now watching me with a mixture of confusion and guarded curiosity.
The Spymaster, a wiry elf with eyes like chips of black ice, studied me too closely. The War Advisor, a scarred veteran of a hundred battles, rested a calloused hand on the hilt of his dagger. The Court Mage, her fingers crackling with restrained energy, glared with open suspicion. And the Chief Ambassador, ever the diplomat, wore a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his calculating gaze.
The Queen lifted a hand. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room.”
Then she turned to me.
I let the mask slip—just enough.
Lynna’s sweet smile sharpened into something darker, more knowing. Valria’s stance shifted from dutiful knight to something coiled, predatory. Two bodies, one mind—and then, without hesitation, both voices spoke in eerie unison:
“The princess and her knight are gone.”
The Spymaster’s breath hissed between his teeth. The War Advisor’s knuckles whitened on his weapon.
The Queen didn’t intervene.
She waited.
Watching.
Was this trust—or a test?
(Will the inner circle accept this truth, or will the cracks in your control begin to show under their scrutiny? And what deadly game has the Queen truly set in motion?)
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