Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Okay. So. The Sadnesses were mixed up in the House, which wasn’t great, but you beat the King! Twice now! That was… good.

(Except that you’re still here…)

But it’s progress! It’s progress!

And you’re strong enough now that the Sadnesses being on the wrong floors is more of an inconvenience than anything, really. So. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

(…)

Just keep going.

For the past several loops, you’ve ignored the storage room, but with there being stronger Sadnesses on this floor now, the extra tonics would be smart to grab.

(The door is locked tight.)
     (Look at it curiously.)
     “Change.”
> “Stostorage roomoom.”
     “Openphrase123.”

You ignore the confused looks on your allies’ faces.

“What.” Odile shakes her head. No reason to bother thinking too deeply about why you know an openphrase. She knows someone could have told you, thinking that the saviors knowing how to get past any locks would be important.

Isabeau tries to meet your gaze, but you tilt your head so that your hat keeps you hidden.

“Well, let's go inside, then…” he says as you head towards the tonics and juices, handing them all to Bonnie.

[Psst…]

You jump.

“Sif?” Isabeau gives a worried look.

[Oopsie! Sorry!]

You go to the bookcase and pretend to look at titles as you listen to Loop.

(They seem to be genuinely sorry whenever they make you jump around your allies, so it must be something important.)

[It is.]

(You wonder again if they can read your mind.)

[No I can’t, we’ve been over this, but. Uh… I think there’s a key in here?]

(What?)
> “What?”

“Hmm?” Odile looks up from the book she pulled out, and your cheeks darken.

Oops! Great going idiot for saying that out loud!!!

[I think there’s a key in here.]

Yeah, you heard them the first time.

[Just… check around? The… desk, I think? Maybe?]

Odile’s eyes narrow as you slowly put the random book in your hands back and turn to search the desk.

It doesn’t take long to find the egg key.

(???)
> “That’s an egg.”
     (…)

You say this helpfully, because you’re too shocked to say anything other than your lines, even if it's in the wrong room.

Bonnie makes grabby hands. “An egg?”

This is… weird. You shake your head, and Bonnie narrows their eyes.

“Ah, so the next key should be a broken egg, right?” Isabeau smiles easily. It doesn’t get easier. How everyone’s reactions are like they’re saying everything for the first time.

(Because for them, this is the first time.)

Bonnie is still making grabby hands. Nothing bad happened before. It’s not like anything happens when they bite the keychain. Well, except that it got sticky.

(But this feels weird. Maybe don’t let the kid touch any of the keys and crests until you figure out what’s happening.)
     (Pocket the egg without a word.)
> (Bite the egg.) “Chomp.”

Ick. Bitter. You didn’t expect that, since it smells pretty sweet.

Bonnie’s eyes widen as they straighten, corner of their mouth twitching. Seems they didn’t expect you to try biting the key.

“… getting out of the egg, change also means destruction, blablabla,” Isabeau continues.

“Well, um... Yes, pretty much,” Mirabelle murmurs.

Crossing their arms, Bonnie joins their conversation, “Can't make pancakes without breaking a few eggs.”

“It’s ‘omelettes,’ Bonbon,” Isabeau corrects them.

“YOU’RE an omelette, Za!” Bonnie explodes.

Isabeau raises an eyebrow. “A terrifying rebuttal from the preteen.”

The bitter taste from the egg spreads over your tongue, leaving it feeling tingly. It feels like when you ate some berries you mistook for the edible version. Thankfully you only ate a few and just got sick for a few days, but that was… rather embarrassing, even though you were all alone going through that. You really hope you don’t get sick like that in the House. The bathroom isn’t until the third floor.

Mirabelle gets everyone’s attention. “And! And! For every change, something needs to break. Maybe changing yourself will hurt someone.”

Isabeau says cheerfully, “Maybe changing means leaving a part of yourself behind!”

Mirabelle looks calmer as she says, “It's to remind us that before changing, we must stop and think about what will be irreparably destroyed. But destruction is just a part of change, and we must accept it...”

“Yeah! It'd be awful to keep yourself from becoming a person you feel comfortable with just because it would upset someone else.” Isabeau’s still smiling, but Mirabelle looks nervous. Well, she always looks nervous, but…

Thoughtfully, Odile says, “Huh… That’s a harsher belief than I’d thought.”

Bonnie’s looking at the key again. Having gotten your dagger stolen right out from under your cloak almost twenty times, you’ve learned to notice when their fingers get sticky—metaphorically, not just literally from the candy and fruit in their pockets.

(Don’t let Bonnie snatch the key out of your hand.)
     (Just lead everyone out of the room.)
     “I already told you no.”
> (Bite the keychain again.) “Chomp, chomp.”

The bitter taste slides down your throat, feeling like a thick paste coating it. You make a disgusted face and cough into your cloak, Bonnie laughing as Odile gives you an exasperated look, even as the corner of her mouth twitches.

“It’s carved out of stone, Siffrin,” she says in the same light, almost teasing tone she uses with Bonnie when they’re the one biting the rock.

“HAHA!” Bonnie points at you, taunting.

(…)
> “Stupid blinding rock.”

Time to go. You pocket the key and swallow. And swallow. And swallow.

Your mouth still tastes bitter. The tingling travels all the way down to your stomach, and you flinch a little, expecting to feel that telltale tug.

“Oh, sorry, Sif!” Isabeau backs up a little.

(???)

You don’t think about it and consider whether to explore the other rooms or go straight to the egg door.

There’s no reason to waste any tonics fighting Nostalgie for nothing.

But…

On the way to the kitchen, you stop automatically where the tears should be.

“Siffrin?” Mirabelle asks.

You… keep walking, tense until you reach the kitchen’s door.

The tingling spreads further, but you assume it’s anxiety. It collects in your chest and hips. You’re still hungry, but the feeling isn’t exactly like that. It’s… weird. Like finding the egg key in the storage room weird.

“A Sadness?!” Mirabelle’s exclamation makes you jump.

On the other side of the stupid blinding counter is Nostalgie, floating ominously with its hands hidden as always.

“Aw, poor buddy lost its friends!” Isabeau’s hands are on his waist.

“Woah, this one feels weird,” Bonnie commented.

Taking her book out of her pocket, Odile says, “Boniface, it may look different, but it's still a Sadness like all the ones we've seen before.”

Bonnie crosses their arms. “Still feels weird.”

“I believe the preteen when it comes to the Sadness' weirdness, m'dame.” Isabeau gestures towards the Sadness.

Biting back a sigh, Odile grumbles, “Let's get the weird Sadness, then...”

The dialogue is the same, just as it was the same when they found the egg key. Just… it took place in a different room than usual.

This is… weird.

The tingling is getting even harder to ignore, but Nostalgie just noticed you all. It’s battle time.

Isabeau attacks first this time, but this Nostalgie is paper type, so his SMASH!!! skill doesn’t do much damage.

(… He doesn’t usually attack before you.)

The Drop Earring from the infirmary on floor two boosts his attack speed, but…

You feel bloated, suddenly. Your stomach is starting to cramp, and your clothes... feel tight? A little uncomfortably so? You're probably imagining it, because of the weird but oddly familiar pain.

Realization strikes, and you want to scream.

(Oh, stars, not now!!!)

Mirabelle attacks next. “Jolly Round Rondo!”

Odile send you a worried look. She knows you didn’t use Turn It Up. Like Isabeau’s Your Turn skill, you pose and snap your fingers when using that skill, to help boost the attack of whoever strikes for your turn.

(It’s just a blinding stomachache. Ignore it and fight.)
> “Knife To Meet You!”
     “Too Cleaver By Half!”
     “Make Up The Time!”
     “Turn It Up!”
     “Buy One Get One Three!”
     “Done Heal!”
     “In A While, Rockodile!”

Nostalgie curls into a ball and heals itself.

Stupid blinding Sadness.

Odile’s Scissor III finishes it off, and you notice your shirt is riding up…???

(Pull it down later.)

You take a breath in, and let it out.

“It dropped something!” Bonnie pointed, and you nearly stumble rushing around the counter…

… AND SMACK YOUR HIP AGAINST THE STUPID BLINDING CORNER AGAIN!!!!!

OW???? IT HURT EVEN MORE THIS TIME?????

“OH?” Isabeau blurts.

Odile smirks. “Siffrin. Did you really hit the counter and—"

(You clutch your sore hip, and, yep, you feel… more bloated you’ve been before, enough for your shirt to ride up partway over your belly button.)
> “YES I SAID NYA WHO CARES!”

Everyone jumps at the volume of your voice. You’re pretty sure someone would have made a comment about you being taciturn if Bonnie wasn't too distracted by the key to read that word in the dictionary.

“Woah,” Isabeau says, and you feel a little bad.

“Frin, are you...” Bonnie looks sad, and now you feel worse.

But then they suddenly smirk as they meet your eyes. “Nyan-gry?”

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Isabeau laughed loudly as Mirabelle snorted. Even Odile smiled.

… You feel a little better, but the bloated feeling and… you feel like your center of gravity is… off? Your clothes are definitely tighter than usual. You're not imagining that.

Bending down to pick up the crest is more of a hassle than it should be, and it’s Odile who helps you back up when Isabeau and Mirabelle hesitate.

“You hit that counter harder than I thought,” she commented.

Maybe you did. Your hip still hurt, but your other hip hurt too? But not like you hit it? Like it was… pushing outwards? Sometimes your hips felt like that before you stopped getting periods, but…

They… couldn’t be coming back, right? If you were going to start getting them again, it wouldn’t be now, right? Your body resets when the loops do, so…

(Ugh. Stop thinking about it. It’s fine.)

You just nod and pocket the crest. It’s possible the wall of tears moved, too, so might as well keep it on you.

It’s… warm in your pocket. Weird. It was never warm before.

Whatever.

You’re slower than usual while leading everyone towards the egg door. Only Odile comments but with a muttered, “Thank gems.” You probably weren’t meant to hear her.

“That wasn’t there before,” Isabeau comments, nodding at the row of tears in front of the stairs leading up to the dais where the gate was.

Before anyone else can say anything about it, a nearby scissors type Misère spots you, and it’s time to battle again. Bonnie stays behind you all but readies their wok, just in case.

Once again, Isabeau gets the first hit. “SMASH!!!”

Misère strikes Odile just before Mirabelle can attack it, and Bonnie rushes over to Odile with a sour tonic as you swallow back a burp.

(Ugh, that bitter taste again.)

(No time to worry about it. Just fight.)
     “Knife To Meet You!”
     “Too Cleaver By Half!”
     “Make Up The Time!”
     “Turn It Up!”
     “Buy One Get One Three!”
     “Done Heal!”
> “In A While, Rockodile!”

Misère vanishes, and you all get a bit stronger.

You breathe in, and out.

You should probably find some more to fight, so Mirabelle can learn Lovely Moving Cure as soon as possible, what with all the Sadnesses being messed up. You can equip that Memory for her, but you’d rather have her keep Memory of Butt Kicking for now. Odile didn’t K.O. during that fight with Misère, but she came close.

The fight alerted Anxiété to your presence. They fly over, and you all get ready.

Stupid, blinding exploding Sadness…

Usually, you’d evade it, but its defeat grants too much Experience for you to ignore, so after you let Odile use Examine on it, you suggest everyone guard against it.

It explodes, and all of you slide back from the shockwave. Damage is dealt, and everyone else takes a bigger hit that you do.

(Breathe in, and out.)

Bonnie throws a super sour tonic for you all to share, and you shutter and make a face when you take the first sip. Bonnie laughs at you, then laughs harder when Isabeau’s face screws up even more than yours does.

The others are now level 46. Just one more level before Mirabelle learns Lovely Moving Cure.

You want to go straight to the egg door, but your attention is drawn to the row of tears again. Even though Isabeau’s the one who noticed it earlier, he still nearly runs into it.

(You keep Isabeau from running into the life-ending tears.)

Mirabelle and Bonnie speak at the same time. “Huh?” “Hah?”

“WAH!” Isabeau jumps back from your arm, as though you burned him.

(… The… crest feels warmer…? Than before?)

And… you didn’t eat anything different this morning, and you’re sure it can’t be your period coming back, so what was with the weird and tight bloating feeling???

“Wh-what? What is it???” Isabeau startles a little as the rest of you look at him. “Is it the water? Should I... not touch the weird floating water?”

“The same weird water as before…” Odile notes, knuckle against her chin.

Bonnie bounced on the balls of their feet. “Oh, wait, I’ve heard about those! The villagers in Dormont call them Tears, and if you touch them you get frozen in time!!!”

Isabeau takes an abrupt step back. “Wait, so I almost DIED?!?”

“Maybe you should pay more attention, distracted one,” Odile says, looking annoyed.

“I'm keeping my eyes open for all threats except the ones in front of me!” Isabeau sounds calm again, speaking breezily.

In contrast, Mirabelle’s anxiety grows. “We should be more careful... We wouldn't want to touch those!”

Arms crossed and looking proud of themself, Bonnie exclaims, “Also, also! I also heard that being frozen makes you go to sleep, and gives you a super good dream!”

(…)

You grip the crest in your pocket as the others speak and Bonnie says a nice lady in Dormont told them that.

The crest is warm through your glove.

Your stomach cramps, and you do your best to hide your face. Your pants feel tight. They’re digging painfully into your hips, still tingling. Your chest still tingles, too, and you swear you can… feel your breasts? Rubbing against your biceps? They’re too small to feel them like that, though?

You resist the urge to pull up your cloak and check. You toss the crest into the tears. There’s a bright light, and they disappear. Okay, so that part’s normal at least.

Your chest suddenly aches?? The skin feels like it's stretching??? Oh, stars, your nipples are sore...!!!?? Okay, that's not normal.

(Ignore it. Keep going.)

Once it’s determined that a different key is needed for the gate, you lead your allies through the other door and past the armory, where you quickly defeat a paper type Tristesse. You’ll pick up the sharpening stone and tonic inside the armory on the way back.

Key time.

You find yourself holding up your round belly as you jog in front of the others, already starting to grow warm and winded.

“… Tired already, Siffrin?” Odile sounded more concerned than amused.

You open your mouth to answer, but Mirabelle spots the approaching Rancoeur and Amertume. Battle time.

This time, you’re slower than even Odile, and your breasts are now heavy enough that they pull down your shoulders and leave your back aching. Your chest… bounces as you move, feeling heavy and… warm. Something leaks, and your face is dark by the time Amertume is defeated, leaving Rancoeur floating just above Isabeau’s eye level.

At some point, the button on your pants popped off, and the zipper is pushed down as your belly continues… growing. You trip and hit the wall, sliding down and gasping as sweat beads down your face.

“KABOOM!!!” Isabeau roars, and Rancoeur is defeated, everyone awarded Experience as Mirabelle rushes over.

Her hands are already up, ready to heal, but you’re already catching your breath.

(You need to put her at ease.)
     (Let her use Healing Craft on you.)
     “I don’t know what happened.”
> “I’m fine, Mira.”
     “Haha, whoopsie~”

“You don’t seem fine,” Odile observes, watching you with narrowed eyes as you try your best to get up without your pants falling down around your knees.

Stars, your lower back hurts! And the pressure behind your nipples is making them painfully sore.

And your thighs are stretching the fabric. The seams are close to ripping.

You waddle more than jog to the artist’s room. You’re trying your best to act normal, but you tripping over blinding nothing earlier doesn’t help with that.

[… The key isn’t in here.]

Loop sounds like they’re… panicking? They’re out of breath and sound like they’re in pain.

You can relate. You’re still sweating, and the cramps are getting worse. And... your shirt is wet.

Oh, stars, oh stars, what if you blinding leak through your blinding cloak????

(WHAT IS HAPPENING???????!!!!!?????)

You open the drawer you always do but don’t see the key, and Loop’s words finally sink in.

(… Stars.)

[It’s… it’s in that other room. With the candles.]

They’re breathing heavily, sounding like they’re either in a lot of pain or on the verge of a panic attack.

Once again, you can relate.

You lead the others into the other dorm room, the pie smell candles making your face scrunch up and your stomach churn. Ugh, suddenly apples and cinnamon sound really gross??? You usually like it???

“Siffrin?” Mirabelle sounds worried “H-here, just sit down for a moment.”

“You are really pale,” Isabeau notes.

“What’s wrong, Frin?” Bonnie takes out the peach they gave you once time in Mirabelle’s classroom.

(Reassure them.)
     “I’m just peachy, Bonnie.”
     “I didn’t sleep good. I’ll be fine after a few minutes.”
> (Scream.)

You can’t help it. The scream rips out of your throat as pain shoots up your spine. Your legs spread automatically as something... starts... pushing... out???!!!?????

You're not sure if you take off your cloak or if someone removed it for you.

“OH, CHANGE!!!” Mirabelle covers her mouth with both hands. Her eyes are blown wide.

Everyone stands in shock at the sight of you. Your pants are below your much wider hips, your enlarged ass hanging over the beltline and pressing against the cold, cold stone under you. Your hands press either side of the massive belly you’re surprised your cloak managed to hide earlier, and your shirt has ridden over the top of it, the fabric straining against your chest. The dark fabric's wet, liquid dribbling over your belly.

It’s… colder than it should be, you think. It doesn’t feel like milk. It feels more like water but a little sticky…??? EW???

Odile starts barking orders. Mirabelle yanks Bonnie out of the room to see if the sink in the kitchen runs. They need water. And towels. Regular cloth works too.

Bonnie left behind some tonics for you. Just in case. Stars, you really look that bad, huh?

Isabeau coaches you on how to breathe. You want to laugh, but you just scream again.

“Let him take your hand,” Odile orders as she starts lighting candles. The pie-smelling one has sparkles on it, showing that there’s a key… inside? Of blinding course. “Isabeau!”

He jumps and offers you his hand. He’s halfway through spluttering that you don’t have to hold it if you don’t want to when he shuts up and goes so still, you pause to wonder if there was a tear in here you forgot about.

Honestly, with how everything else has changed, you wouldn’t be surprised.

But he’s still breathing—shallowly. He hisses when you squeeze his hand harder as your other hand presses against the floor. You see stars when you hit the back of your head against the wall. You grit your teeth to bite back a scream as Odile swears under her breath while pulling off your shoes. Your feet swelled at some point. Your ankles, too.

“How did this even happen???” Isabeau’s eyes are wide. He winces as you squeeze his hand again as pain racks through you, condensing in your pelvis.

Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars, and you thought dying to the King hurt!!!

Odile has to use your dagger to cut your pants off your legs, apologizing as she does so.

“I was going to ask you that,” she said dryly, making Isabeau bristle as his face darkened. She sighs, casting a worried and confused look your way. “However, I know for a fact they did not… look like this last night. And I’m unaware of any Craft that can hide a pregnancy until labor starts, though that makes more sense than him getting this pregnant so suddenly!”

The room smells like apples and cinnamon, vanilla, and other sweet things. The room gets hotter and hotter.

“It’s… kinda warm?” Isabeau sounds abashed for complaining when you’re in this much pain, but you’re glad it’s not just you.

Your hair is plastered to your head. You wonder where your hat is.

“It… is…” Sweat beads along Odile’s brow, making her bangs stick to her skin. She sounds troubled, gaze growing unfocused. “It’s alright to scream, Siffrin. I’ve been told it’s even helpful at such a time as this.”

Despite what she said, you try to hold in a scream, but it rips out of you, your throat growing sore. You shutter against the aftermath, hands slick inside your gloves. Isabeau and Odile pull them off you, followed by your shirt. Blech, you really are leaking. A lot.

Isabeau licks his lips, cheeks getting darker and gaze growing distant. He shakes his head as if fighting back a thought.

Odile removed her coat while you were screaming, and her shirt’s unbuttoned. Isabeau keeps pushing up the sleeve on the hand you’re holding.

Heat condenses between your legs, and your lips part for what you think is a scream, but you moan instead and cringe as mortification washes over you in a huge wave.

“M’dame…” Isabeau gestures towards something behind her but she’s busy spreading your legs and telling you to shift so that you're laying down.

You don't want to move. You want to find the nearest tear. You want a Sadness to kill you. You want one of your friends to bend you over and use you. You want to bash your head against the wall for thinking that.

Your thighs quiver. You’re pretty sure most of that wetness isn’t sweat.

(Touch me. Touch me, touch me, touch me.)

You bite your tongue to keep from begging. You scream a guttural moan as another wave of pain strikes. More of the weird liquid leaks from your tits.

Odile stares between your legs, and you wiggle as you grunt and moan, shivering as you feel something get pushed out. It hits the floor with a gentle tap. It... rolls across the floor. Stops when it hits Odile's knee.

It's... an egg...???!!!???

Blinking fast and hard, Odile tries to focus as she continues to stare. When she talks, it sounds like her tongue is sticking to the roof of her mouth. “… That’s not a baby.”

Chapter Text

There wasn’t time to freak out or wonder how in the blazars you got pregnant with EGGS???!!!?????

The next one was already pushing past your inner lips. Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars…!!!!!!

(You squeeze Isabeau’s hand.)
     (Scream.)
     “MAKE IT STOP!”
     “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING???!”
> (Moan embarrassingly.)

You can’t help it! The pain is fogging your mind somehow!

The next egg pops out, and you slump against the wall as you exhale. You’re gross, covered in sweat and leaking… whatever it is that’s coming out of your breasts, and the space between your legs just drenched in sweat and juices that you don’t like thinking about.

“J-just keep going, Siffrin.” Odile’s breathing heavily. Her voice is breathy, and her eyes are starting to glaze over.

She takes your other hand as Isabeau says, “Y-yeah, Sif. You… you’re doing great.”

The next egg is coming. Your back arches a bit, and your arms push inward, pressing your tits together and making them squirt that weird, sticky liquid????!!!! EW?????????

Even worse, some of it HITS ODILE IN THE FACE…!!!!!

(You want to die.)

… The egg… is stuck…??!!!!

Tears streak down one side of your face, and Odile curses as she looks between your legs and see what’s wrong. The weird fluid drips into her mouth as she spoke, and her pupils dilate as her cheeks grow dark. She shutters and swallows a moan.

Through clenched teeth, she tells Isabeau to close the door.

(???)

“R-right.” He pulls at his hand, but you don’t want to let go.

You grip harder as you push, screaming a high-pitched moan as Odile’s free hand prods around the edge of your pussy, tracing around the egg. Her hands are like ice against your hot skin, and you quiver, biting your bottom lip.

Apologizing, Isabeau slips away, and your free hand presses the side of your distended belly. It feels… a little bumpy. Hard. Ugh, this is so weird and gross!!!

Isabeau slams the door shut and grunts as he moves the nearest shelf to block it.

(?????)

He takes his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His hands flinch back when he starts pulling down his pants, which tent in the front.

… Really?

Oh, stars, was whatever was affecting you affecting him, too???

It had to be. That’s why he let you hold onto his hand, why Odile’s watching you like a cat ready to pounce.

“Push, Siffrin,” she says, breathless.

(You don’t want to…)
     “Just kill me instead, please.”
     “Is there anything even inside these things???”
> (Push.)

You grunt. You moan. You scream.

As you push, Isabeau gives you his hand again. He squeaks as you squeeze it, teeth grinding and eyes squeezed shut. He pushes your hair back from your clammy face. His hand is cool against your fevered skin. Feels nice.

“… m-m’dame…”

He gestures back to the door. Wait, he just blocked it, right? With that shelf? How was Mirabelle and Bonnie supposed to get in?

“I know this isn’t optimal.” Odile moves closer, kneeling so her knees force yours to stay apart.

With all your writhing and pitiful and embarrassing moaning, she doesn’t trust you not to squeeze your legs shut.

… You feel like there’s a joke that could be made about that, but it grosses you a little out to think about it.

“But,” Odile’s voice drags your thoughts back to the present and the fact that there’s still a BLINDING EGG still stuck in your vagina, “it’s our best recourse under the… escalating situation.”

Isabeau… nods. His hand is so sweaty that it almost slips right out of yours. He shifts, the tenting in his pants causing him discomfort, and you hate yourself for staring at it, for wanting to see if he can fertilize the clutch inside of you.

That’s… not how that works. Is it?

(YOU DON’T REALLY CARE??? YOU DON’T WANT TO GIVE BIRTH TO ANYTHING??? WHAT THE STARS IS WRONG WITH YOU?????)

You take a breath in, and push.

The squishy sound as the egg finally passes before hitting the floor makes you cringe. Stars, why is this so gross???

Odile’s fingers are still inside you, prodding, as if feeling for the next egg.

[WHAT IS YOUR RESEARCHER DOING?!!!???? TELL HER TO STOP????]

You gasp, back arching as her finger rub against your slick walls.

Odile’s thumb brushes your clit, and you moan, head tilting back and Isabeau grasping between his legs.

“… crab,” he whispers, sounding like his throat’s dry as sand. There’s hunger in his gaze, and all you want is for him to take a bite.

(Wait, what?)

“There it is,” Odile whispers just as you feel the next egg coming.

Oh, stars, this is going to take forever…

“Ah…!” Isabeau’s pants stain at the tip of the tent.

Odile snorts. “I knew you were a quickshot.”

“M’DAME???”

“You’re not even fully undressed!”

“SIF IS RIGHT HERE AND IN LABOR?????”

As if cued, you scream. Stars, you’d have though this would get easier, not harder???

“Just like that,” Odile encourages, the tip of her thumb circling your clit. Teasing it.

All you can smell is cinnamon and apples. Is that pie smell candle getting stronger? Some candles were crafted to do that, right?

(O-oh, you’re dizzy.)

Hot. So hot. You moan, face burning with shame as you rut against Odile’s hand.

“It’s okay, Siffrin,” she purrs, and you bite back another moan. “Whatever makes this more comfortable for you.”

“Mmhmm, more comfortable for him,” Isabeau mutters.

(???)
     “Are you okay?”
     “You can leave.” (Please don’t leave.)
    (Leave it alone.)
> “Hold me.”

(Not what you meant to say!!!)

But not the worst thing you could have said.

You want him to sit on your face, so you can bury your tongue deep as you can while he fucks your tits.

(You’re not sure how that would work, but it’s what you want.)

You hate that you think this, want this, when he so clearly doesn’t want you touching him.

(You’re disgusting.)

“That’s a good idea,” Odile says. “I don’t like that you keep hitting your head on the wall. Isabeau, help me move them and sit their upper back on your lap.”

Isabeau tenses, and your stomach twists.

(He doesn’t have to do this.)
     “I can just use a pillow.”
     “It’s fine. You don’t have to.”
     “Maybe you should go get Mira.”
> (Squeeze his hand tighter.)

“Ah!” He flinches, but you’re disgusting and don’t let go.

The next egg starts pushing into Odile’s hand.

“Ready?” she asks.

Your eyes close. Isabeau doesn’t answer, but he must have nodded, because he starts moving as Odile says how you should be moved. They don’t want to jostle you too much and hurt you. You just want to crush all these stupid blinding eggs, but Odile will probably say that’s a bad idea.

One rolls along your outer thigh as you’re shifted down away from the wall, and you let go of Isabeau’s hand to crush the stupid thing under your fist.

You feel a tug on your stomach.

(…)

You dreamed of vines wrapping around you, weaving into intricate knots to bind your arms behind your back as Isabeau fucked your throat in time with the tentacle-like vines in your cunt and ass.

You’re. Back. In the meadow. In Dormont.

(WHAT THE STARS JUST HAPPENED????!!!!)

[Uh. Come to the Favor Tree? I guess??? Maybe???]

You’ve never heard Loop this out of sorts before. That’s… that’s not good…?

At least your body is back to normal, and you’re wearing your cloak and hat again. The cramping and heat are gone, too. So is the dampness and your sweat.

You say your lines to Mirabelle and rush to the Favor Tree, almost forgetting to talk to Isabeau first.

You remember him flinching as you held his hand. You remember him hesitating when Odile told him to let your disgusting head lay on his lap. You remember him grabbing himself between his legs as whatever weird craft impregnated you messed with him, too, and it’s all your fault. It has to be. The House changed, and you're the one looping, so it must be something you did, somehow.

(Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.)
     “Isa!”
     “Isa.”
> “Hi Isa, I need to do the Favor Tree thing!”
     (Stay silent.)

Isabeau blushes. His smile is small. He doesn’t know how gross you are, how disgusting. Because everything got reset, and he’ll never know, never see, never…

“… out of your hair, see you at the Clocktower!!!” he’s saying.

… You two share a bed tonight. You almost forgot.

Maybe you should sleep on the floor.

He leaves, and your smile falls.

You hesitate.

(You don’t want to talk about this.)

But you need to. Hopefully, Loop will have answers. Or theories. More than just “variety is the spice of life.”

Loop is turned away, their arms crossed over the star on their chest.

(… Yeah, you wouldn’t want to look at you in the eye right now either…)

“So…” Loop clears their throat. “Well, uh, that… happened?”

They cross their legs tighter. You find yourself doing the same. The eggs are gone, but you don’t think you’ll forget the feel of them being pushed out of you anytime soon.

(…)
> “How’d I even loop back?”
     “Why are the keys in the wrong place?”
     “The crest felt weird.”
     “What the blinding stars even happened???”

“It happened when you crushed that egg,” Loop says, staring at the ground. “But I don’t know why that would cause you to loop…?”

They sat up straight suddenly.

“Oh.” They cringe, still not looking at you. “Ahem.”

(???)

[You got Memory of Clutch! When equipped, you can birth a clutch of nine eggs filled with time-stopping tears that can be thrown at enemies, even the King. Lowers your attack speed and raises your cooldown period.]

(UM.)
> “Won’t my allies notice I’m suddenly pregnant??? Out of nowhere???”

“Their memories will be altered so they believe you’ve been pregnant for three weeks,” Loop answers, turning and sitting as they normally did, lightly kicking their feet.

The fact that this memory will alter your allies’ memories doesn’t disturb you as much as it should.

(Three weeks?)
> “Three weeks?”

They shrug. “How long it takes…” They make a gesture with their hand in the direction of your stomach. Your cheeks burn. “Or it could just be a random number the Universe pulled out of its ass.”

Made about as much sense as anything else they just beamed into your head, and… you hate that you consider equipping it and looping straight to the King.

“I’d… wait before trying that strategy,” Loop says, and your cheeks darken even more. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but asking him questions first might be better.”

… Yeah, probably. You were planning on searching the rooms for clues. You remember passing information about the King on the first and second floors, and you still need to check that check-out list in the library and Mirabelle's bedside drawer. But then there was… all of what just happened.

(Wait…)
> “Won’t they still wonder why I’m pregnant with eggs in the first place?”

Eggs full of time-stopping tears, no less!!!

Loop… shrugged. “They haven’t asked about any equipment so far.”

… Good… point?

“But!” Their eyes closed as they held up a finger. “If they do, you can always say it’s related to the Curse! No one knows how he’s doing it, right? So something weird like this could theoretically  happen!”

They don’t sound sure.

If you ever do decide to equip this memory, you’ll probably just run straight into a tear the moment one of your allies asks—

(WAIT.)
> “NINE???!!!”

“You'll lay nine whole eggs! Correct!” Loop crosses their legs again, and their head is brighter as they tap their fingertips together in front of them. “So, if you do think you’d like to equip it, please put in a lot of thought into it first!!!”

(…)

You get the feeling Loop is hiding something, but you decide to drop it.

(Okay, so…)
     “How’d I even loop back?”
     “Why are the keys in the wrong place?”
> “The crest felt weird.”
     “What the blinding stars even happened???”

Loop finally faces you, eyes narrow. “You might need to define weird here, stardust, because a lot of what just happened is weird.”

They have a point.

(The crest…)
> “… was in the kitchen.”
     “… was warm. Like, really warm.”
     “Never mind.”

“It… was.” Loop looks away. “Warm, too. It got rid of the tears like it usually does, but those were in the wrong place too.”

You nod. You didn’t even notice they were there until Isabeau pointed it out.

You’ve been… wandering through the House on autopilot for a while.

“As… long as it still does what it’s supposed to do, it should be fine,” Loop says, but they still sound troubled. “But… maybe don’t let the others touch them. Or the keys. And… uh, maybe don’t put any of them in your mouth anymore? Those… weird feelings started after you bit the egg key.”

(… Oh...! Yeah, it did, didn’t it? Right, yeah, you’re not doing that anymore then. You shouldn’t let Bonnie touch the key either, then.)

They only try to grab it when you bring attention to the key being an egg, so you’ll… just stop doing that, like you’ve already been doing for many loops now. Easy enough.

There’s not much else to say. Besides the weirdness of the last loop and the new memory you’re trying not to think about, so you leave and kill time before having to go to the Clocktower.

You’re… not sure how you’ll look Isabeau and Odile in the eye after… that. You feel terrible. They were stuck there with you as you pushed out those blinding eggs, Odile even reaching into you to help with the process, since you’re too useless to even do that properly.

(Stop thinking about it.)

At least Mirabelle took Bonnie out of the room first.

You zone out through dinner and Mirabelle’s speech, and you shrink back when she, Isabeau, and Bonnie do a group hug. The image of Isabeau fucking your enlarged tits as that sticky liquid leaking out of you gets all over him and mixes with his cum hits your brain, and it takes all of your self-control to keep from cringing or gripping your hair.

You pretend to sleep when Isabeau whispers your name. You stay right at the edge of the bed so he doesn’t have to touch you.

The tutorial Sadnesses are normal. The room with all the tonics and the circle key are all as you remember them always being.

You flip the switch in the Death Corridor, and the big rock falls and shakes the floor as it always does.

Mirabelle jumps as she always does. “WAH!!!”

(You chuckle despite yourself.)
> “Heheh… Bonk.”

Isabeau’s smile seems frozen on his face. “??????????”

You fight Détresse and breathe.

(… You could have just looped forward. Why go through the dinner and front gate again?)

Because you needed to see. You needed to see that the rest was still the same. Same dinner, same speech, same… everything.

Until here, on the first floor. Ahead is the row of tears, blocking the gate. And… behind it… you don’t…

You don’t see the star? But it was there before the Death Corridor’s door??! Can you not loop forward to all the doors on this floor being unlocked? Is it because the keys are in new places, so you can’t just zone out when grabbing them anymore?

Is this something related to the Curse? Like Loop said, no one knows anything about the King’s powers or how he got them, and if his Curse can move the rooms around, then… maybe he has something to do with this? And probably the loops?

Well, looks like you can’t loop forward to the King, so might as well get to searching for clues.

You stop Isabeau from walking into the life-ending tears, and you zone out through the following dialogue.

You defeat Peine, Dépit, and Chagrin and lead everyone towards the egg key. The others level up after a rather annoying battle with Désespoir, and you almost forget to breathe after Tourment nearly K.O.s Odile.

(…)
     (Look at it curiously.)
     “Change.”
> “Stostorage roomoom.”
     “Openphrase123.”

You ignore your allies’ surprised responses and get the tonics and egg key. You don’t say anything about it. You don’t put it into your mouth. You slip it out of your pocket and lead the others past where the tears are supposed to be and fight Nostalgie in the kitchen.

You go to retrieve the crest, and—

(Ow, STARS.)

You hit your hip into the counter and bite your lip really hard. Why do you never remember the stupid counter!!!

Mirabelle lets out a small gasp as Isabeau says, “Oh no, Sif!”

You expect Bonnie to taunt you, but they’re oddly quiet.

Odile starts speaking at the same time to ask, “Do you still have trouble judging distance? Let us know if you'd like anyone else to take the lead...”

She doesn’t look too happy about giving you that offer.

(…)

Just keep going.

Weirdly warm crest in hand, you lead everyone out of the kitchen. No need to look in the last room, since Nostalgie was in the blinding kitchen, and there’s never anything else in that room.

Mirabelle learns Lovely Moving Cure again after you all defeat Misère—a rock type one this time—in front of the armory classroom.

This time, you go inside, so you can get that tonic and the sharpening stone.

… And, you kinda don’t want to go into that dorm room right away. Your cunt twinges with phantom pain at the thought.

The door slams behind you…?????

“SIF???” Isabeau’s panicking.

“Siffrin, are you okay!!?” Mirabelle is also panicking.

You’re suddenly aware of heat coming from the… the big metal thingy. You’re also also panicking, and it’s making it harder to remember words.

Turning, you slam your back against the door, and your allies bang on the other side, calling your name.

(HOW IS THERE FIRE BURNING WHEN IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE FROZEN IN TIME????)
     “The big metal thing is on!”
     “Since when does this door have a lock???”
> “FIRE!??”

“Remain calm!” Odile orders, but everyone else is yelling over her, so it’s hard to tell if she’s saying this to you or them.

You already have the Memory of Knifekey, so do you really need…?

You can’t loop forward. This memory has never done anything when you go through the House normally.

(… You really want that knifekey for the King fight.)

“Siffrin, stay by the door!” Odile orders, and you briefly wonder if she’s psychic, like Loop claims not to be.

[Listen to your Researcher???]

… Speaking of.

You ignore both of them and approach the… smaller metal thingy, where the sharpening stone waits on top, and the fire crawls out of the big metal thing.

… THE FIRE CRAWLS OUT OF THE BIG METAL THING???

[Since when the stars are Sadnesses made of fire???? GET OUT OF THERE????]

Loop’s never sounded scared about you being in danger in the House before??? They’ve blinding taunted you when you got yourself killed by a Sadness, what, six or seven loops ago???

[Yes, well. That was then! And this is now! Now… RUN! AWAY!??]

The sharpening stone flies out of your grip as the Sadness grasps your cloak and yanks you back. You expect to smell burning fabric, but the room only smells vaguely sweet.

You pull out your dagger, twist around and strike.

The Sadness roars. It’s drippy like most Sadnesses, almost like lava, but where any joints might normally be, there’s flares and smoke rising.

Your attack didn’t do much. Rock type. Of blinding course it is.

It knocks you down, rolling you onto your back when you try to crawl away. You slash at its arm, but the attack barely does anything.

(Try craft.)
     “Knife To Meet You!”
     “Too Cleaver By Half!”
     “Make Up The Time!”
     “Turn It Up!”
     “Buy One Get One Three!”
     “Done Heal!”
> “In A While, Rockodile!”

Your attack misses at this angle, and you scream before realizing the Sadness has pushed up your cloak and shirt and ripped your pants halfway off?????

It holds its fist against your flesh, right above your bush, some of the hair burning away.

Your allies call out your name. You keep screaming as you see only lightless and darkless stars.

Just like with Anxiété, the stupid blinding Sadness disappears after its big attack. The Experience you get from it feels like a joke. You bark out a humorless laugh when you level up and learn Rose Printed Glasses. Your good eye is wet with tears. You can barely feel the skin below your belly button.

The door flies open, and someone turns Bonnie away as what feels like Odile’s coat is draped over your pelvis.

You’re given a sour tonic just as Loop’s voice is beamed into your head.

[You found a Booster!]

… You don’t like the sound of that.

[As it’s your first and only one, it will be equipped automatically! In order to unequip it, you’ll have to find another Booster to replace it with!]

(They’ve never given that explanation before.)

[I never felt like I had to, but… you should know you’re stuck with this thing, basically indefinitely.]

(…)

[This Booster is called a Womb Tattoo!]

(You really don’t like the sound of that. And it felt more like a brand, not a tattoo.)

[Well, that’s what it’s called. I don’t get to name these. Now, listen, so I can get through this as fast as possible! The Womb Tattoo boosts your attack speed and your defense! Wow!]

(... There's a catch.)

[But…]

(Yup, there it is.)

[While it’s equipped, getting hit by attacks you’re weak to will… ugh, I really don’t want to say this…]

(?????)

[It’ll make you… cum. Orgasm.]

(…)

[And if you orgasm enough times, it’ll trigger a heat cycle that will last for the rest of the loop, and you have a 4 in 5 chance of getting pregnant while in heat. So, uh, try avoiding any rock attacks, okay? It might be a good idea to avoid seeing if a non-egg pregnancy persists through the loops.]

They sound like they're going to be sick. You can relate.

Chapter Text

None of you thought to bring extra clothes into the House, because why would you??? Your cloak falls almost to your knees, but you’d still end up flashing everyone when you held your arms up to pull out your dagger or grab things or, well, anything requiring you to use your hands. So. While you keep your legs crossed to keep from accidentally getting any… fluids (You’re not wet, you don’t think, but… just in case) on Odile’s coat, Mirabelle, Isabeau, and Bonnie search for clothes for you.

At least there’s two dorm rooms nearby. You gave them the egg key, suggesting there might be something past the egg door. Hopefully the Sadness on the other side of that door isn’t a powerful one.

Ugh, why do you have to be so useless!???

“It’s okay, Siffrin,” Odile says softly. She sits by you, her book open. “They’ll be back soon. Are you still in pain?”

You shake your head. You aren’t, no. In pain still. The raised skin below your belly button is a bit harder than the rest of your skin. It’s still warm, too, but not warm like when you were laying eggs in the candle room.

“I Examined the forge,” Odile says. “Whatever was there is gone now. It shouldn’t be coming back.”

Not this loop.

(Stars.)

Or, since the Sadness was what gave you this… womb tattoo, then does that mean the universe will just rewrite everything when you check the big… when you check the forge again?

You really hope so. You hate this, but at least it was you instead of one of your allies.

You’re not looking forward to what going through heat would be like. That’s what some animals went through instead of bleeding every month like humans, right? Did that mean you weren’t going to get your period back, even after the loops? Would any of the equipment stay after you get free?

(… Suddenly, you’re scared to find out.)

“I’m still not sure about the door, however,” Odile admits, sounding troubled. You’re still having trouble looking at her in the eye. You swear you can still feel her thumb circling your clit, teasing it as she watches you like a cat watching a mouse.

Right, the door. It slammed shut and wouldn’t open until after you were branded.

(Does it matter why? It happened anyway.)
     “The House is all weird.”
     “Does it matter?”
> (Say nothing.)

You don’t feel like talking right now.

The others return with some scratches from a recent Sadness battle, but they’re okay. Good.

Borrowing clothes from people frozen in time is weird enough. You don’t want to borrow anyone’s underwear, so you opt for one of the skirts. You can always wash it for whoever owns the skirt later, but you’re pretty sure you’ll end up looping back before you reach the King, what with the House having changed so much. IT TOOK YOU ALMOST FIFTY LOOPS TO REACH HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!

(AND THEN YOU DIED!!! IMMEDIATELY!!!)

You thought you were over that.

It’s fine. You know where the secret library is now.

All the clothes were designed for people much taller than you, but at least the skirt’s waist can be adjusted. Mirabelle helps you tie it just under your breasts, so the skirt’s hem is just over the tops of your boots.

“Feeling okay, Sif?” Isabeau asks. He doesn’t look convinced when you nod.

“They’re fine.” Odile nods her thanks when Bonnie helps her up. “Let’s get going.”

Right. They still need to get the broken egg key.

“Did any of you see a key when looking for clothes?” Odile asks. She fails to hide her annoyance when everyone shakes their heads.

“We were focusing on finding clothes for Siffrin, though,” Mirabelle says in a small voice.

“I didn’t see any in the closets or drawers,” Bonnie inputs.

You retake the lead. A rock type Tristesse reformed behind the egg door, but you help make quick work of it with your new Rose Printed Glasses skill.

The pie-smelling candle in the dorm room on the left sparkles, and when you pick it up, you see the edge of the broken egg key poking through the hard wax.

“Sif?!” Isabeau jumps when you pull out your dagger.

(Your dagger doesn’t even dent the wax.)
     "Stupid blinding candle."
> “There’s a key in this candle.”

“Really?” Odile holds out her hand, and you give her the candle. “Ah, I see.”

Bonnie hops up to the candle and sniffs it. “Smells like apples and cinnamon.”

“Pie smell?” Isabeau sniffs the candle next, ignoring Odile as she rolls her eyes.

“Pie smell,” Bonnie agrees.

Mirabelle smiles. “Pie smell…”

“And your dagger didn’t so much as scratch it…” Odile frowns. “How’d the King put this key inside here in the first place?”

(But the King didn’t…)

Or maybe he did this time? You’re not sure you like the idea of the King being behind all this, even if you don’t have any other explanations. Because if he is, then does that mean he remembers the loops? He can put more obstacles in your path to keep you from beating him again?

“Can we try lighting it?” Bonnie asks, and Odile agrees that it’s your best option.

The candles did light last loop. It could work!

“It’s pretty far down,” Isabeau notes. “Think we can burn it at both ends? Or even light another candle to hold by the key until the wax melts enough to wiggle it out?”

"Like a tooth!" Bonnie cheers.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, Isabeau.” Odile suggests he and Bonnie search the armory, in case there’s matches or a lighter there.

They leave, and Odile finds a saucer to set the pie-smelling candle on, so it won't burn while sitting directly on the desk. No need to find out the hard way if it's still flammable. If the candles can light, you guess the answer is probably "Yes."

You find a box of matches, and Odile lights the pie-smelling candle and a smaller one that smells a little like vanilla. You hold the vanilla candle against the broken egg key while Odile watches the wax, brow furrowing. You stay still, not wanting to knock anything down and start a fire. The skin under your navel itches at the thought.

The wax... isn't melting...???

But the pie smell gets stronger, and heat grows and condenses below your navel. It sinks lower, and your cunt… pulses?

"It's only melting around the wick," Odile grumbles. You barely hear her. You feel yourself getting wet, and you bite your bottom lip to stop a whimper.

Your face heats, and your other hand starts to press against your mound through the smooth fabric of your borrowed skirt.

“Oh, gems,” Odile curses. “Mirabelle, close the door. Block it with something if you can so it doesn’t open. Siffrin, you can set that candle down. This isn't working. We'll just have to wait until the candle melts down enough. You should sit. We'll be in here a while.”

Shakily, you nod, but you don't move. All you smell is apples and cinnamon. You’re dizzy. At least the smell doesn’t make you as nauseous as last time. Probably because you’re not pregnant this time. You’ve heard the hormones can do weird things to your cravings and what foods smell good to you.

“What’s going on, madame?” Mirabelle’s voice pitches high, but she follows Odile’s instructions. She’s behind you now, so you can’t see, but it sounds like she uses some books to wedge under the door. “O-oh…..”

She hums, sounding aggrieved, and you’re not having a great time either.

The candles??? That weird heat from last time was coming from the candles??? Not just you!!???

“Siffrin? Are you alright?”

You picture Odile between your legs again, knees keeping yours spread apart and hand slowly pushing into you as her thumb circles your clit.

You tease your clit through the skirt’s fabric. You’re already dripping.

Odile’s eyes are starting to grow distant, and Mirabelle gasps and whines.

“This candle was crafted to be an aphrodisiac it seems,” Odile says. “Siffrin, you appear to be more susceptible to its effects. Go lay on one of the beds. Now.”

(You’re not sure you can move.)

Odile takes the vanilla candle from you and blows it out, and Mirabelle apologizes as she takes your arm to bring you to the bed closer to the door, since the other one is covered in papers about crafting candles. Embarrassingly, your other hand remains between your legs. You lean into Mirabelle as your breath hitches, and she squeaks.

The front of your skirt is wet now. Your head is getting lighter, and you practically collapse onto the bed, bringing Mirabelle down with you. She squeaks again and says your name, moaning as you grind on her. The smooth fabric doesn’t give you the friction you need, and you quiver and whine pathetically as Mirabelle mutters something under her breath.

“Oh, gems,” Odile says across the room. You can’t tell if she’s talking about you or the candle.

Mirabelle gasps, and her hands reach under your shirt. She snatches them back, your skin suddenly ice where her hands left you.

You whine as she apologizes. Her eyes are glazed over, and she shimmies, hitching up her dress.

“I don’t know why…” Her voice is so soft as her breathing turns shallow. She moans, head tilting back as she pulls up her dress. “Siffrin… I-I d-don’t like, but…” She whines as she reaches under your cloak and unties the top of your skirt. “Pl-please…”

(She doesn't like you. You're only coworkers, allies. But the craft in the candles is making her need to be touched.)

Your belt and dagger fall to the ground, and your skirt is tossed aside as you yank down Mirabelle’s underwear. Her engorged clit peeks out from between her folds, and her back arches as you lick its tip, teasing it. You grunt when Mirabelle grasps your hair, shoving your nose into her bush as your lips grasp her clit. Her juices run down your chin, and Mirabelle squeals, body shuttering as you press your tongue to the underside of her clit and suck.

As you suck occasionally between flicking Mirabelle’s clit with your tongue, you untie her belt with one hand and shove the fingers of your other hand into your cunt.

“Gems above,” Odile grunted, sounding out of breath.

You push Mirabelle’s dress up over her small breasts. Her nipples are hard when your hand brushes over one, and she gasps.

She’s writhing under you, and you feel a perverse sense of pleasure at that.

(Disgusting. You’re disgusting. She was trying to push you away, and you pulled her down. She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want you.)

But you can’t stop.

Mirabelle’s starting to sweat. Stars, she smells good. You’ve always liked her plum-scented soap.

She lets out a high-pitched whine when you push her hands away from your head. A string of spit connects your mouth to her darkened clit. You plant your knees on either side of her wide hips and press your mound over hers as you in her arms over her head. She keens, back arching, and you shutter, failing to swallow a moan.

Slowly at first, you grind into her, your clit rubbing against hers, and Mirabelle’s breath hitches as she moans your name.

You hear Isabeau outside the door. Bonnie asks something and kicks the frozen wood.

“Keep Boniface away, Isabeau!” Odile calls out. “The candle’s crafted to act as an aphrodisiac, a rather strong one at that!”

Isabeau curses and hurries Bonnie away as they complain, too annoyed and angry to ask what aphrodisiac means.

“Siffrin—OH!” Mirabelle cries out laughter as you slowly drag your tongue up the side of her ribs, slowing down even more soon as you reach her armpit.

It’s hard to keep grinding against her while doing this, but you manage and nibble right at the edge of where dark hair grows underneath her arm. She writhes under you more, biting back a moan that ends in a tiny whimper.

“Oh, this is weird…” Her voice is tiny. “N-no, please, don’t stop—HAH!”

Her back arches as you lightly scrape your teeth along her nipple. She shutters, and she begs for you to keep going, to keep grinding faster, harder.

“I-I think I’m close…!” She screams, but you’re still teetering on the edge and grind even harder, mouth leaving her nipple as you forget everything except the rising heat of your own body and the tightening coil below your stomach.

“Oh, for gem’s sake.” Odile grunts, breath hitching. “Siffrin, you’re overstimulating her.”

“I’m-I’m—” Mirabelle screams again, nails dragging down your back. You don’t remember letting go of her arms. You don’t remember removing your cloak or shirt.

You whine, good eye stinging as your vision blurs. You… can’t… come…!

You don’t remember switching positions, but you find yourself on your back. The frozen bed isn’t comfortable, but it’s better than the floor. Your legs are spread, and you swear you can feel eggs stretching your belly as Odile’s thumb circles your clit, teasing it. Your womb tattoo heats up, but you don’t think about that as Mirabelle plants her knees on either side of your head and sits on your face without putting all her weight on you.

“Mirabelle—”

“I… I can’t st-stop, madame,” she whines, squeaking as you grasp her thighs and stick your tongue as far as it can go inside her.

You drag it around the sides of her tight hole as she drips all over you. Stars, she smells so good here too. You lick, lapping it up as Mirabelle grasps the sheets and gasps, chest heaving.

Meanwhile, Odile flutters her fingers inside you, and you whine into Mirabelle at the teasing. Odile chuckles. You gave her exactly the response she wanted.

Soon enough, though, she’s inside you, and she moves slowly at first, tpying with your clit as she finds a good angle. Your writhing causes Mirabelle to cry out more, and your nails dig into her thighs as something small and hard hits the desk with a thump.

“Finally,” Odile grumbles as she takes hold of your bony hips. “The damn key.”

She doesn’t stop, though, and Mirabelle grinds into your face, her engorged clit rubbing against your chin. She cums again with a guttural moan, and Odile curses as she cums, pulling out as some of her seed splashes over your mound and sticks to the hair. Your womb tattoo isn’t hot anymore, and, somehow, you know that you dodged a bullet. You’re not getting pregnant from this.

You decide not to question the way you know this so confidently as you make Mirabelle cum again as every muscle in your body grows tense as you beg for release.

You don’t get it, and the candle burns out. The pie smell fades almost instantly, and Mirabelle scrambles off you and gives you a bunch of tissues for your face. She apologizes over and over again, but none of this is her fault. It’s yours.

You’re still tense. You almost want to ask Odile to hit you with her Rock III, just so you can orgasm and be done with it, but you bite your tongue, get dressed, and grab the broken egg key.

[You got Memory of Pie Smell!]

Loop sounds as wound-up as you feel. They sound like they’re talking through clenched teeth, and you can’t blame them. They probably had to watch all that…

[When equipped, you can melt the wax around the key to free it instead of having to wait for it to burn all the way down!]

(It doesn’t make sense why you couldn’t do that in the first blinding place.)

[I wouldn’t think too hard about it! Just get to the gate and save your progress so you can skip this room in the future!]

That's a good idea.

You can’t look Mirabelle or Odile in the eye as you all leave the dorm room. Isabeau was waiting in the other dorm room with Bonnie. He has trouble looking at any of you, too.

… You can’t blame him.

Bonnie asks what happened. They frown but fall silent when Odile tells them she’ll explain when you all return to Dormont.

You fight a paper type Détresse and breathe. You wish it was rock type and hate yourself for wishing that.

You’re still wound-up and tense when you make the row of tears disappear and save your progress at the top of the dais.

You open the gate and get ready, but…

There’s no Calamité. Instead, on either side of the room are six statues facing each other. Cat facing cat, dog facing dog, fox facing fox, and snake facing snake. But across from the cow is a bull, and across from the pig is a boar. You notice that there's words on little plates on the pedestals the statues are on. Under one fox is Vixen, while under the other is Tod. Names? Were the statues made for people? Or maybe their pets? But then you notice that the plates under the dogs say Stud and Bitch. So... probably not names.

“Odd…” Odile raises an eyebrow. “I was expecting a Sadness.”

(Yeah. So were you.)

It didn’t matter. At least you don’t have to fight Calamité while teetering on the edge like this. You just need to lead your allies to the snack room and save your progress, so you can skip this floor entirely and get another step closer to finding out more about the King, look at the check-out lists in the library with Odile, and check Mirabelle’s bedside table.

“I don’t remember seeing these anywhere in the House…” Mirabelle says as you lead everyone into the large room.

“I believe I know what these—Don’t touch, Boniface,” Odile orders, and Bonnie quickly backs away from the dog statue, hands behind their back.

At the same time, Isabeau and Mirabelle yank their hands back from the cat statue they were petting. It's plate said Tom, same as the fox next to it. Isabeau gives Odile an awkward smile when she sideeyes him and taps her foot, and Mirabelle puts her hands behind her back and clears her throat.

"You two better hope that I'm wrong." Odile pushes Bonnie ahead of her, and you lead everyone out of the room.

(???)

You let out a breath soon as you’re all in the snack room.

“This room feels different than the others, doesn't it?” Isabeau asks .“It's missing the threatening pressure the rest of the House has.”

Odile hums, looking around. The flush is gone from her face now, and her gaze is sharp as before. “Shall we take a little break, then?”

Mirabelle’s stomach growls earlier than usual. She doesn’t object to the break, either. Instead, she asks, “Does anyone smell fish?”

“Yeah!” Isabeau sounds excited. “Bonbon, you packed fish for us?”

(?????)

“Uh, yeah?” Bonnie looks as confused as you feel. Behind them, Odile’s eyes narrow a bit as she looks at Isabeau, then Mirabelle.

She swears and pulls Bonnie towards the door to the second floor.

“Let’s go, Boniface.”

“WHAT?!” They try to wiggle out of her grip. “But I have snacks—”

“Boniface.” She grits her teeth when Bonnie flinches at her tone. “We can have snack time soon. Blame Mirabelle and Isabeau for not listening to me about the statues.”

(!!!!????)

Isabeau and Mirabelle shout at the same time. “HUH?” “WHAT?”

“Those were crafted statues,” Odile says quickly as Bonnie finally lets her guide them out of the room. “Some pleasure houses in Ka Bue had them. The effects are temporary but powerful. The pain will only last seconds. So I’ve been told.”

“So you’ve been told,” Isabeau echoes as Mirabelle starts biting her nails.

You’re too confused, tense and shocked to let her know.

At the same time Isabeau repeated her words, Odile faces you and says, "Siffrin, come with us. Vaugarde is much further along in body craftonomy compared to other countries, so it shouldn't take long. They'll be fine alone for a few minutes... or longer. Hopefully they can use up the craft quickly."

"What do you mean by that???" Did Mirabelle's voice just crack? By her shocked look as she grabs her throat, she heard it, too.

"Sif, go on," Isabeau says, voice tight as he hugs himself, like he's trying to make himself smaller. His teeth look a little sharper...? "We'll be fine."

(You can't just leave them, though!?? This is your fault!)
     (Follow Odile and Bonnie.)
     "What do you mean body craft and pleasure houses?"
     "How are they supposed to use up the craft??"
> (Say nothing and stay where you are.)

"Siffrin." Odile turns and points. "Boniface, just stay there a moment. I don't want you wandering. We don't know if there's any Sadnesses nearby."

There aren't, not this close to the snack room. That's... one good thing.

Odile meets your gaze again, but you shake your head as Isabeau starts to argue but falls to his knees as he clutches at his head. Stars, he looks like he's in so much pain... You can't just leave him! Or Mirabelle! You hope Odile's right and that the pain will pass quickly.

"Fine," she sighs. "I can't force you. Be careful, Siffirn. The craft in those statues can affect the mind as well."

You... nod, and she closes the door, sealing you in the snack room with Isabeau and Mirabelle as they hunch over in agony.

(... Stars.)

You wish you could have at least eaten first.

Chapter Text

This can’t be real. You’re still frozen in time from touching a tear and dreaming. They keys aren’t in the wrong place, you can’t still taste Mirabelle’s juices or sweat, and Isabeau’s pupils are not slitted like a cat’s.

His ears aren’t pointed and furred at the tip, and Mirabelle does not have fur growing out of the sides of her face.

“M’dame!” Isabeau called through the door. “What’s going to happen???”

Mirabelle’s in the corner, and you slowly approach her as she curls up tighter, arms around her legs. Her ears are also pointed and furry at the tips, and she keeps shifting, like sitting’s becoming uncomfortable. She took her boots off again, and her nails look longer than before. Sharper. Her feet look longer, legs bending weird and forcing her to lean forward as her toes curl.

“Thankfully, you two only touched the statue for a few seconds,” Odile says, still sounding annoyed. “So if you're lucky, you’ll just get a bit furrier and meow for a few minutes.”

“… And if we’re not?” Isabeau sounds like he doesn’t want to know the answer.

Odile said she’d seen statues like those at pleasure houses. You wonder if those types of businesses are one of the reasons body craft is illegal in Ka Bue.

(You should try to make Mirabelle feel better.)
     “You’ll be okay.”
     “Wow, this is turning into quite the CAT-astrophe, huh?”
     “Sorry for touching you before. I won’t do it again.”
> “I had a meeting with a plum today.”

Mirabelle’s eyes squeeze shut as she sucks in air through her teeth.

(She doesn’t want jokes right now, idiot.)

At the same time you tried to tell your joke, Odile said, “If you’re not, well… Have fun. And try to be gentle with Siffrin, if he hasn't run out the opposite door already. Boniface, sit over there. I’ll join you in just a second.”

(Have fun, she says…)

You should probably do what she just said and run out that other door, but you can't. You can't leave them. You're useless and disgusting, but you can't just run away.

Tears start to trickle down Mirabelle’s cheeks as she hisses through her teeth. Oh, stars, she sounds like she’s in pain…

You continue to just sit there uselessly in front of her, tense still and wet and a little bit sticky, because you can’t even clean cum off your pubes and thighs right. You’re pretty sure your hair looks worse than usual, too, between Mirabelle pulling it, Odile shoving you down onto the bed, and from all your sweat.

(You consider equipping Memory of Clutch, so you can break the first egg and loop back.)

[PLEASE DON’T!!!]

(???)

[Just. I mean. Um. Maybe… keep going? I'm sure this won't be as bad as... that. So... just see things through until you can save your progress here? You can always see how you feel after then and checking out the second floor a bit. And there’s tears there! No birthing required!]

(… Okay, yeah. It was a stupid idea anyway.)

[Oh, thank the blinding stars…]

(???????????)

… You get the impression they hadn’t meant to beam that into your head.

“Si-Si-Siffrin…!” Mirabelle mewls your name, and you hate the heat that builds between your legs.

Her voice sounds weird, and you notice her face is… pushing… out??? Like her nose and mouth are turning into a muzzle. Stiff, pale hairs—whiskers—are starting to push through her skin, and her ears are higher up on her head.

She throws off her bow, whining, and she arches forward as Isabeau cries out behind you, closer to the door.

The changes happen faster, and all you can do is sit there uselessly as Isabeau and Mirabelle pull their clothes off as body hair grows in thicker on their arms, shoulders, and backs. They mewl and yowl as the hair thickens into fur coats on their bodies.

“Sif... frin…” Mirabelle’s voice comes out like breathy hisses, and you cry out as you find yourself on your back, skirt and cloak blowing up over your face. Your hat cushions your fall but not by much.

A hot, rough, sandpapery tongue licks up the last of the cum from your thighs and pubes, and you bite your hand to keep from yelling out. You taste leather and sweat.

You’re even wetter now, trembling as Mirabelle licks deeper, her tongue much longer now and scraping your inner walls. Your back arches as you squeak, eyes squeezing shut as Isabeau hisses.

Mirabelle hisses back, and your pussy—for the first time, you cringe at your own pun—is suddenly cold as Mirabelle turns her attention to Isabeau. Both of them look human… ish… still. Just. Furrier, with cat faces, ears, and tails.

Mirabelle’s coat is longer than Isabeau’s. Dark and lightly curled. Her furred hands and an almost bow-shaped spot on her forehead are darkless.

Isabeau, though, has shorter, lighter fur, with subtle stripe patterns, like those… uh, you forget the word, but sometimes people call them “standard cats.”

They hiss at each other, getting into attacking stances, and you notice that their legs bend the other way. Instead of feet, they have paws. Their hands have sharp claws at the end, and you scramble back, pussy throbbing and breathing shallow and head light.

Something is peeking out through Isabeau’s fur just… oh. That’s… his penis. Mirabelle’s clit is also poking out through her fur, a bit longer than Isabeau’s cock right now, enough for you to see what looks like little barbs around it…???

This is weird, but you have to admit it’s not as weird as the eggs. You really wish it wasn’t any of your allies who’d ended up caught in all this… weirdness.

(That word’s starting to sound fake from using it so much.)

Isabeau and Mirabelle growl and hiss at each other, the fur running down their necks standing on end as their ears pin back flat against their skulls.

(Wuh oh!)
     (Back up and let them sort this out themselves.)
     (Run out the other door while they're distracted.)
> (Get between them.)
     “STOP!”

You realize how stupid this is the moment you jump between them. Isabeau still towers over you and Mirabelle, but Mirabelle’s snarling and extended claws look like they could put up a big fight.

… But the two of them seem to be calming down already.

You don’t know why, but you’re thankful regardless.

Isabeau shifts and bends down to sniff your hair. His muzzle pushes up your hat, making it lopsided, and you puff out your cheeks a bit in annoyance.

… This is a little cute, though.

Mirabelle nips at your cloak before reaching underneath it, and the rest of her clit fully unsheathes as she licks your breasts. Her tongue feels rough against your hard nipples, and you realize just how sore they’d become since the candle room. You bite back a moan that turns into a squeak as Isabeau licks your cheek, his tongue hitting the very edge of your mouth.

(Oh, stars.)

Suddenly, you’re on the ground again, seeing stars as Mirabelle and Isabeau rip your clothes off. They don’t tear your cloak and hat at least, but you’re very sure the rip you heard was your shirt. Mirabelle pushes your skirt up again and hisses at Isabeau as her claws dig into your hips right as she sheathes herself into you.

(!!!!!!!!!)

THAT IS SURE A SENSATION!!!

Her hands press against the floor on either side of your shoulders as she begins thrusting in and out, purring as Isabeau makes a low, growling sound. The barbs on her clit aren't hard, necessarily. Not like thorns, like you expected at first. They're flexible but still kinda stiff, and they rub against the inside of your walls, making you wetter. You get her fur there wet as she thrusts in and out, occasionally changing her angle until the little spines find that spot, and you cry out as stars surround your vision.

You writhe underneath her, pressure building and building inside of you as your toes curl inside your boots. She's dragging you closer and closer to the edge. Your stomach clenches as your struggle to take a full breath.

You claw at the floor, gasping when Mirabelle yowls, her rhythm stopping for a moment.

Opening your good eye, you see Isabeau with his hands on Mirabelle’s hips. He’s sheathed into her, and his hands move up to her chest, massaging her there as Mirabelle begins purring again.

Isabeau sets the rhythm, Mirabelle moving in and out of you in time with Isabeau’s thrusts.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and your good eye stings as your head tilts back.

(SO CLOSE, SO CLOSE, SO CLOSE…!)

Mirabelle yowls again as she cums inside of you, and Isabeau sounds like he’s laughing almost as she pulls out and pushes Isabeau away to curl up by your side. She starts purring again, licking your cheek and neck. She licks your hair like she’s bathing you as Isabeau bends down and shoves his muzzle right between your legs.

You gasp as he inhales sharply, as if huffing you like a drug. His licks are rougher than Mirabelle’s, or maybe you’ve become oversensitive after… everything so far.

But you don’t want him to stop.

(Disgusting.)

He focuses on your clit as pressure builds again. As you claw at the floor, though, he backs off and licks along your lips instead, cleaning out Mirabelle’s cum and lapping it up along with all the juices you’re leaking. His purr is deep and content as he works, and Mirabelle moves, cleaning up the rest of your face and knocking your eyepatch off in the process. She plants her hands on either side of your ribs as she crouches at the crown of your head. Some of her fur brushes your nose as she licks your collar bone and one breast, slowly working around the edge.

She nibbles at the edge of your breast, by your armpit, and your breath hitches. She sniffs there and licks just as Isabeau shoves his tongue as deep past your inner lips as he can. Both make you squirm as you try to keep from moaning.

(You pray they won’t remember this after they change back.)

Odile said the craft alters their minds, and that has to be true when they’re doing this to you, touching every part of you, tasting you like you’re some kind of delicacy.

So hopefully whatever the craft does to their brains makes it so they don’t remember what happened while they were cat-people.

You doubt your prayer will be answered.

A part of you doesn’t want it answered.

(Disgusting creature.)

Mirabelle moves your arm up and tries to bend around to lick your armpit hair. She nuzzles against your chest when you squirm. She inhales deeply and licks again, harder, just as Isabeau returns his focus to your clit.

(Oh stars oh stars oh stars)

You’re teetering right on the edge. You’re a hot coil ready to snap.

Isabeau pulls away from you, and you whine.

Then he shoves his tapered, barbed cock into you, and you scream.

Your back arches, and you’re dizzy and blind from all the building pressure as Mirabelle starts licking your hard nipples, teeth teasing and hand massaging whichever tit her tongue isn’t working on. Isabeau’s claws break your skin, but you don’t care as you cry out.

He plows into you faster and faster as the heat builds and builds. The barbs on his cock are firmer than the ones on Mirabelle's clit. They rub against your walls almost painfully, or maybe you can't tell the difference between sensations anymore. All you can tell is that it's too much but at the same time not enough.

He comes inside you, and you cry out again, this time from feeling yourself once again back up from the edge this stupid womb tattoo won’t let you reach until you’re hit with rock craft or in heat.

Isabeau heaves out each breath before he scoots down to clean you up down there. He’s not as rough as before, energy leaving him.

You still haven’t cum by the time Mirabelle and Isabeau change back and silently get dressed, and that same instinct as before tells you that this didn't get you pregnant either. 

(Small favors.)

Even if this news makes you feel hollow inside.

It takes a while for you to catch your breath and reach for your cloak. There’s no use in putting your ruined shirt back on. Mirabelle and Isabeau look at you, but you pull your hat down, not wanting to see their faces.

(You should have left with Odile and Bonnie.)

You notice something shimmering.

… It’s the star.

You force your mind blank so that you don’t curse the universe as you save your progress. If you loop forward to here, will it be in the middle of Mirabelle and Isabeau being horny cat-people, or will it be right after?

[… After. I’m… 99% sure of that.]

Loop sounds… not good.

You try to sympathize again. You know it can’t be easy watching all this, but they can always look away. It’s not like they have to feel everything you’re going through too.

[…]

(???)

“Um.”

You jump, and Mirabelle shrinks back. It takes a while for her to say she wanted to heal the cuts on your thighs and backside. Isabeau looks away, and you nod. Mirabelle doesn’t say anything else as she heals you.

Isabeau clears his throat soon as your cloak is back on. “Um… Let’s… go, then?”

“…” Mirabelle won’t look either of you in the eye. She nods.

You all eat snacks on the stone steps right before entering the second floor. You choose the cookies but barely taste them.

Odile at one point looks like she’s about to ask a question, but one hard look from Isabeau makes her shrug and return to reading instead.

You don’t talk to anyone after eating this time.

You can’t.

Bonnie’s still grumpy, but whatever explanation Odile had given keeps them from complaining.

[Oh. Uh.]

(Oh, stars, what now?!)

You must have made a face, because Mirabelle and Isabeau shrink back. Odile gives you a look as though she’s thinking I told you so.

[I’ll be quick. You got Memory of Rut! Equip this memory to your Fighter to boost his critchance by a whopping 40%! Wow!]

(… There’s a but coming…)

[… But...]

(Yep. There it is.)

[... It can only be equipped after he cums inside of you. No looping forward if you want to equip this.]

(…)

Well, you might as well equip it now, since you don't plan on doing that in future loops. Your cunt twinges a bit as you equip the memory, and you try not to cringe. Time to move on.

Tourment and a paper type Détresse are dealt with quickly. There’s no row of tears in front of this gate, and the note is where it always is on the door.

“The King is leaving notes now?” Isabeau asks.

Bonnie laughs, “He must be forgetful! What an idiot!!!”

Odile chuckles and looks down at you. “Hey, it happens. We have our own little forgetful one with us, don't we?”

You look back. Isabeau looks away first, face dark.

You lead your allies towards the library and fight a rock type Misère. You’re tense throughout the battle, but it hits Mirabelle with a rock attack instead of you, and Odile finishes it off. You take a breath, and let it out as Bonnie gives Mirabelle a sour tonic.

Odile learns Paper α V the same time Isabeau learns BREAK, BREAK!!!

The hallway to the gardening room is clear. You don’t pay it much mind as you go in to retrieve those tonics.

(You plan on making yourself as small as possible to avoid touching everyone.)

You’re gross and disgusting. They wouldn’t have touched you like that if the House hadn’t changed so much.

The door slams shut, leaving Bonnie alone on the other side.

Your allies all yell out at once. “BONIFACE!” “BONNIE!” “BONBON!”

Bonnie screams out all your names as they bang on the door. Isabeau yanks on the handle to no avail. Your heart is pounding in your ears as your head grows lighter. Fluid drips down your thighs and sticks the lips of your vulva together.

Mirabelle whimpers, and you turn to see the giant leaves trembling as bright pollen drifts off them and drifts around the room. You smell something sweet and… fresh, like a newly cut leaf.

(This can’t be good.)

“Shattered gems,” Odile curses, and Isabeau tells Bonnie to stay put, that they’ll be fine. “Mirabelle, just what is being studied at this House?!!”

“Wh-what?!” Mirabelle’s panicking again, looking from Odile to the plants around the room. She covers her nose and mouth with her hands. “N-normal stuff! I swear! Th-there’s a math class, acting class, grape-stomping class—”

“Mirabelle!”

“Eep!”

You’re getting hot again. You stumble into the closet where you found the garden shears and reach under your cloak to tweak one of your nipples as your other hand rubs between your legs, pushing your skirt into your slit. Isabeau watches you, eyes wide and face dark. His pants tent in the front, and his hands shake as he tries hard to stay still.

Odile taps her fingers as she counts. “Aphrodisiac candles. Base instinct statues. And now libido-altering fungal spores!”

Fungal spores? You turn your head. Under the big leaves are little puff-looking things. Those... weren't there before, you think. Breathing in fungi is... bad you think. But it's... getting harder to think at all. A fog is settling over your brain. You'd rather not think right now. It's easier to just follow orders. You're good at that.

The universe leads. You can only follow.

You don't know what its leading you to with this, but it's hard, wondering. You just keep rubbing between your legs, the fluid and smooth fabric of your skirt not giving you the friction you want, especially after feeling the barbs on Isabeau's cock and Mirabelle's clit. You want them to transform back and fuck you until you're nothing more than a twitching mess on the floor.

(Stars, you're terrible. Terrible, disgusting creature.)

“Eep!” Mirabelle squeaks again. She presses her thighs together. Her hand flinches back when she starts to reach between your legs.

You’re sliding down to the floor, every muscle coiled and tongue hanging out as you pant.

(Stars, you’re blinding pathetic.)

Shameless. Gross. Disgusting.

But you can’t stop. Of course you can’t stop. You haven’t been able to fight these blinding urges since they started! You’re weak! Weak and pathetic and useless!!!

“I-I think it’s one of the hypnotic species of… those plants,” Isabeau stutters. It sounds like his mouth and throat have gone completely dry. You want him to set it with your juices, to lap you up again and grip you so hard that your hips feel like they might crack under his fingers.

Odile goes to the leaves and carefully lifts one up as she squints at the fungi. She sneezes and gasps, body going suddenly tight as a wet spot appears on the front of her pants. She swears under her breath. Bright pollen fills the room, making it look like they’d been caught in a snow storm, except you only feel hotter and hotter.

(Stars, you’re burning up!)

You whine pathetically.

“Shattered gems, you’re right,” Odile grumbles. “Alright, then. We need to be careful. Orgasm strengthens the spores’ effects on your libido and mind, and while rare, it is possible for certain changes to become permanent, or close enough to it, since it can be... difficult to remove all traces of the fungus from your system. Isabeau, go keep trying to open the door.”

Isabeau turns on his heel and immediately heads for the door. Odile’s cheeks darken. She presses her thighs together, her gaze losing focus, but she blinks hard and turns to Mirabelle, who’s crossing her arms tight over her chest, hands pinned to her sides by her biceps.

“Help me and Siffrin search along the walls for another way out. It is deeply irresponsible to plant these where there’s no ventilation, so there has to be something we can use to escape.” She turns to you when Mirabelle nods and waddles to the shelf of dirt. “Siffrin, come—”

Your back arches as you scream and see stars.

Chapter Text

Wave after wave of pure sensation surges through you. You can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure. You don’t really know much of anything. Just feeling. And need. You’re not just pathetic and useless. You’re not just gross and disgusting. You’re selfish. You’re greedy. You need more. More of this. More of this feeling. More touch. More of your allies teasing your clit, drinking you in, getting so drunk on sensation that they can ignore how horrible you are and touch you, touch you, touch you.

(Odile is saying something to you.)
     (Listen.)
     (Pull your cloak back down over yourself.)
> “Touch me!”

Someone in the room swears under their breath.

“Siffrin—”

“Madame…!”

Odile takes your hand. You whine.

“This counts as touching you,” she bites out. Shame floods you as the waves ebb, leaving you feeling staticky, sweaty, hot, and gross. “Don’t—” She grinds her teeth. She’s sweating, her bangs sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Her other hand starts to hover over her groin before she yanks it back and pins it between her thigh and calf as she sits next to you. “We need to be careful when giving each other orders.”

She doesn’t want to touch you. You made her do it.

(You're terrible.)
     (Let go of her hand.)
> (Squeeze harder.)

She hisses, hand flinching.

(Do you feel no shame?)

“Th-the door isn’t opening, m’dame!” Isabeau stutters. His tongue sounds thick in his mouth. You want it inside your cunt.

“And I don’t see any vents or anything!” Mirabelle’s breathing hard between her words. “I-I-I think this was an experiment the… the cook was working on.”

“What sort of experiment?!” Odile sounds either outraged or panicked.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Mirabelle sounds like she’s hyperventilating. “Something involving body craft! I think… after we breathe in all the pollen? Or sp-spores?”

“Th-then what happens?” Isabeau asks.

Mirabelle’s quiet, probably shrugging.

“We… ride it out, then, I guess,” Odile says in a low voice, sounding almost defeated.

Mirabelle whimpers as you whine, thighs sticking as you press them together. You’re feeling all wound up again. Worse, even! You’re pretty sure it’s the womb tattoo that’s been keeping you from cumming, and you have half a mind to try tearing the raised skin off of you. You wonder if going into heat feels like this. You wonder if whatever’s in the spores making you obey orders—even misinterpreted ones—overriding the effects of your womb tattoo is doing something.

(Stop thinking.)
     (Let go of Odile’s hand.)
     (Use Memory of Clutch to use one of the eggs to freeze yourself and loop back.)
     “Can someone just knock me unconscious?”
> “…”

All you can do is lay there uselessly as you mewl and buck into your own hand while squeezing Odile’s fingers with your other hand.

This feels familiar, clutching a hand tight enough to hurt as you lay on the cold floor. You whine and pull your skirt up. You stick your fingers into your cunt, but it's hard at this angle, and you barely feel anything. You whine again.

(Pathetic.)

The room is slowly dimming. There aren’t as many spores floating around, and the leaves aren’t trembling anymore.

Mirabelle sits on the stool by her dying plant. Her legs spread, and she pushes her dress in front of her snatch. One of her knees bounces as she bites back a whine.

“How…” Isabeau gasps and slides down with his back against the door. He twinges in pain and pulls his hand away from the tent in his pants. “How exactly are we supposed to ‘ride this out’ m’dame? Because it can take… a while for the system to clear. If we had water with us, it’d be easier, but…”

“We shouldn’t leave Bonnie alone for too long,” Mirabelle says, whining as she presses her dress between her legs.

“Better than…” Odile groaned and adjusted her glasses. “Siffrin, can I have my hand back long enough to take off my coat? I’m boiling right now.”

(You don’t want to…)
     (Hold her tighter.)
     (Let go.)
> “…”

“Let go, Siffrin,” she says, and you let go and whimper.

“Sorry.” She places her hand on your shoulder, switching hands as she takes off her coat and unbuttons her shirt. You can feel her thumb teasing your clit. You can feel your belly filling, your skin getting tighter as it stretches over your clutch. “And… this is an area of botany I’m not well-acquainted with, beyond being able to identify some of the species. But it’s probably better that we’re locked in here, away from Boniface. I only hope they hid somewhere to wait for us.”

“What do you know about those… permanent effects you mentioned?” Isabeau asks carefully. His breath hitches as your back arches.

You’re not even getting close to the edge. If anything, you’re getting further. You rut against your hand, biting your lip as you whine and mewl, but there’s only the occasional spark of pleasure that twists down to your toes, but you’re not getting anywhere close to release. Your clit is starting to hurt, too…

But you can’t stop. Of course you can’t. You have no self-control. You’re terrible. Terrible, gross, and disgusting. Odile’s still touching your shoulder. Your cloak is in the way. Your gloves are in the way. You bring your hands to your mouth and pull your gloves off with your teeth. You taste yourself, and Isabeau sucks in a breath through his teeth. You don't push your legs back together. You just toss your gloves away and wiggle out of your skirt and cloak. Odile's hand rests on your knee as you toss your clothes aside. Her hand returns to your shoulder once you're wearing only your boots.

Because you ordered her to touch you, and you didn’t take it back and wouldn’t let go until she ordered you.

“Not totally permanent,” Odile corrects herself. She pets your cheek with her knuckle as she faces Isabeau. It doesn’t seem like she’s doing it on purpose. “If this is the specific strain I’m thinking of, any ‘suggestions’ can lead to physical changes, not just make you want to follow the order.”

You’re good at following. You want to follow. Please, please, please someone lead you.

“But those should be able to be undone with body craft, yeah?” Isabeau lets out a shuttering breath. “And… if the changes are faster than typical body craft like with the… the statues…”

Mirabelle presses her hands against her mouth as she makes a high-pitched noise.

Odile nods as she pushes your hair back from your face. “Then… it’s possible that doing… that will help ‘use up’ the craft in the spores we’re inhaling. We should be careful, though. Body craft can undo the physical changes, but any mental changes may be harder to even determine as having taken place, and the longer they’re left unchecked, the greater likelihood of permanence.” She gestures towards you. "Such as Siffrin suddenly asking to be touched. He was more susceptible to the candles than Mirabelle or I were, and after... er, me not choosing my wording carefully enough, it's possible they'll have a harder time fighting any changes."

You don't want to fight. You just want to follow. You want to follow, and you want your allies to lead you.

“Small changes, then,” Isabeau suggests. “Bigger ones might burn out the craft faster, but it'll risk the mental changes. Try it on me first. I’m most experienced with body craft out of all of us, so I’m used to the feel, and I’ll have an easier time Changing again later.”

Mirabelle whimpers.

“We’ll be okay, Mira,” Isabeau reassures her. He crawls over to her but pulls back from a hug when she flinches. He clears his throat. "Right. Probably not the best idea right now."

Odile’s hand catches a knot in your hair. She apologizes and scratches you just above your ear when you whine again.

"Isabeau, grow stubble," Odile orders. "Siffrin, sit up. This might be easier on you if your head isn't resting on stone."

You sit up and lean into Odile. She tenses up, but you don't care. You lean into her and shift, arms winding around her neck as you scoot up into her lap. You grind into her as she gets hard, her breath hitching as someone calls your name.

No one gives you an order, though. No one is leading you, and you're selfish and greedy. You're a horrible monster and need more, more, more...!

They need to stop you! They need to lead you! You can't stop by yourself! You can't help yourself! You can't be trusted to handle yourself! To take care of yourself!

You're too selfish. You'll just take and take and take. You need a firm hand, you need orders, you need your allies to collar you and make you heel.

Odile gasps as she cums, the damp spot in her pants growing. You lick her throat, tasting salt.

"Sif," Isabeau says firmly, and your ears tingle.

He hesitates. You lick up the sweat running down between Odile's sagging breasts.

If he wants you to stop, he needs to say it. He needs to say it!

Odile's fingers dig into your ass cheeks. She mumbles into your neck that there's hardly anything to grab or hold onto.

She can change that. She can change you. She has to want it. She has to wish for it. She has to demand it into existence. 

"Siffrin, stop moving! Please!" Mirabelle's voice is high-pitched.

You whimper but stop grinding against Odile. She's hard again and curses as you whine into the crook of her neck.

Mirabelle takes a breath. You anticipate another order, but she just exclaims, "Isabeau?!"

"Sorry, I couldn't help it..." Isabeau sounds embarrassed. 

"You lasted longer than I assumed you would," Odile jokes, breathless as she chuckles.

"Lasted longer than you," Isabeau grumbles.

"Oh, really?"

"Madame...!" Mirabelle squeaks, warning.

"O-oh, wait a moment m'dame!" Isabeau sounds like he's starting to panic. "You're not thinking straight!"

Odile's fingers dig into your flesh, and you struggle to keep from moving. You want to grind against her. You want to pull down her shirt and drink her in. You want to ride her until you're completely full of her. Mirabelle and Isabeau didn't get you pregnant. You still don't know how you know this so surely, but you know.

You want to be heavy with your allies' kids. You want to get so big that you need their help just to get around the home you share with them. You want them to stay. You want a part of them to always be inside of you.

"Oh, I'm not, aren't I~?" Odile's fingers part your outer lips, and you bite your lip to keep from moving. Mirabelle said not to move.

"Madame—"

Odile cuts her off and orders, "Siffrin, describe what you'd like Isabeau to do to you right now."

"M'DAME???"

"I want him to bury his face in my cunt," you say, and Odile laughs as Mirabelle mutters something under her breath.

Isabeau makes a sound like when water boils in a teakettle.

You keep going, lewd thoughts tumbling from your brain and out your mouth. Your filter is gone completely. "I want him to eat me out like in the snack room."

Isabeau makes that sound again.

Snickering, Odile asks, "Oh, do you want him to have a cat tongue again?"

"Yes," you say. "And I want his cock inside me. I want to feel him stretch me. I-"

Your face is burning. But you can't stop talking. You were ordered to say everything you want Isabeau to do to you. You were led. All you are capable of doing is following, and it feels good to follow. It feels good to let go.

"Sif, you don't have to..." Isabeau squeaks, but that isn't an order. He's trying to give you the handle of your own leash. You need him to wrap it around his wrist and pull.

But you only keen when you open your mouth again as Odile slips her fingers inside you as her thumb presses against your clit.

"Feels like he already did that," she teases. "Or was it Mirabelle?" She laughs. "Oh, it was both of you? Not at the same time, I hope. You'd tear our little rogue in two!"

You could take them both if they wanted you to! They just need to say it!

"Siffrin can be quite the giver from what I've witnessed," Odile drawls. "Isabeau, come over here and lay down on your back, so Siffrin can ride your face. Your tongue should change to be more like a cat's too. Just in texture, in case he wants to hear you talk when you're done."

"Siffrin!" Mirabelle moans. She's rubbing her clit, her dress hiked up over her hips.

She tugs Isabeau's sleeve, but he crawls over towards you and Odile. He lays on his back, breathing hard.

Mirabelle continues, "You don't have to listen to her! You don't have to do anything you don't want to!"

But you want to listen! You want to follow!

"Don't listen to Mirabelle," Odile whispers into your ear, and her breath hitches as you go back to grinding against her. "Use some of that energy on Isabeau. Go ahead and hover over his face, so you can do what you want."

"Sif—" Isabeau silences as you lower yourself over his nose and mouth, and he makes the teakettle sound again before gingerly licking your lower lips. His stubble rubs against your vulva and inner thighs. You resist the urge to squeeze him too hard between your legs.

Odile's still touching you. She rises up on her knees and massages your tits. "How are you feeling now, Mirabelle?"

"Mmf...!" Mirabelle trembles, looking unsteady where she sits on that stool by the shelves.

"I believe I saw tonics on the other side of those desks," Odile says. She kisses your shoulder when you squeak as she tweaks one of your nipples. "Maybe if it's a crafted water, it'll help~"

Something about her tone says otherwise, and Isabeau slaps the ground to get Mirabelle's attention. He tries to talk, but Odile pushes you lower, and you squeak again as his nose pushes between your folds.

"You're going to torture them, teasing him like that," Odile tells him. "Having a cat tongue doesn't mean you should only give him little kitten licks."

You gasp as Isabeau drags his sandpapery tongue roughly over your inner lips, and you aren't sure if he missed your clit on purpose or not. You shiver as Mirabelle says she found a super sour tonic and a sweet tonic.

"Pity." Odile sighs. "Set them on a desk. We'll grab them to give to Boniface later."

Mirabelle follows the order automatically. There's less spores. The room looks more like there's a flurry than a blizzard.

"Meanwhile... Siffrin, do you have any ideas for Mirabelle?" Odile smiles into the side of your neck. Her hands are starting to get warm against your tits. "I had always been led to believe this size was more sensitive. Maybe we can experiment, hmm? Your breasts should grow bigger everytime you cum."

"Madame!" Mirabelle scolds.

"You're right, they could end up top-heavy." Odile kisses where your jaw meets your neck. "We'll just fix that later if the need arises."

Yes, yes, she can! They all can! Mold your body however they want! They just have to wish for it! They just have to want it! They just have to say it!!!

Odile takes some skin between her teeth, and you gasp as she sucks and lets go.

"Kiss me," you tell Mirabelle, and her eyes are unfocused as she crawls over and kiss you gently on the mouth.

"The two of you do that while Mirabelle mounts Isabeau," Odile orders. "Isabeau, pull down your pants. I can already see you're hard again, and then grab Siffrin's thighs. Supposedly a gentleman, but you don't help support them. Really."

Isabeau grunts into you as Mirabelle holds her dress up and lowers herself onto him, his cock pushing into her dripping cunt. Both of you bend forward, and Isabeau gasps a deep breath as Odile chuckles, her hand on your calf. Yours and Mirabelle's lips meet, and you twitch as you lean forward in a way that makes Isabeau's scruffy chin rub over your clit. You let out a high-pitched sound into Mirabelle's mouth, and she grasps your hair as she holds you in place, her tongue pushing past your lips and finding yours. Isabeau helps hold you in place as you and Mirabelle make out, and Mirabelle shutters as Odile plays with her clit while keeping one hand on your knee.

Mirabelle moans into your mouth as she cums, and she reaches forward, groping your tits. She lightly bounces on Isabeau's cock, and your kiss breaks as Odile tells you to come up for air.

Isabeau's breathes harder as he tries to lap up your juices, and you feel the pressure building inside of your again.

"You should join us, madame," Mirabelle says, sounding out of breath and disoriented. "Siffrin? What do you think?"

(Yes, yes, yes!)

You can't say that, though. You're not the one that holds the leash. You're the one that needs to be collared and led. You can only follow.

But Odile sees where you're looking and snorts.

"Tell me how much you want it, Siffrin," she orders as she unzips her pants.

You yelp as Isabeau's rough tongue drags over your clit. Stars edge your vision. He swears into your cunt as he cums, Mirabelle gasping as she shivers at the feel.

"Please, Odile," you whine as Isabeau groans from Mirabelle continuing to ride him.

Pollen dusts your head and shoulders. It makes Odile's and Mirabelle's hair look almost darkless.

"Oh, a please," Odile laughed.

"I'll do anything," you promise, and Odile hums in thought as she steps out of her pants.

Anything. Any order, any lead.

You just want her to pull on your leash. You just want her to touch you, to keep you.

Isabeau sticks his tongue as deep into you as he can, and your breath hitches as Odile steps so her feet plant on either side of Isabeau's chest.

"Open your mouth for me," she orders, and you do so eagerly. "Cute. You're practically panting. You always reminded me of a kitten, but you're acting more like a needy puppy right now."

She touches the tip of her cock to your bottom lip, smearing pre across it.

"Mirabelle, give Isabeau a short break and eat me out," Odile orders, breath hitching as Mirabelle leaned forward and pushed her cheeks apart.

Mirabelle shoved her tongue deep into Odile's hole before running the tip of her tongue around the muscle.

"What breed, though, I wonder," Odile murmurs as she gently takes your head and pulls you forward so your nose presses into her bush. "Bright hair. Very soft. I think little samoyed ears and fluffy tail would fit you."

Your ears and the base of your spine heat up as Odile pets the top of your head, calling you a good dog.

(You're good. You're so good. She'll keep you, because you're good at listening to her and doing as she says.)

Odile gasped at yours and Mirabelle's attention. She scratched the back of your head as your ears shifted and moved, as your spine grew, narrowing and curling as long, bright fur sprouted along the new appendage.

It wags, and you allow Odile to push and pull you by your hair as she uses your mouth like a toy. She orders Mirabelle to to grab her hips and be rougher, and you gag as Odile cums down your throat.

"Are you having trouble, puppy?" Odile gasps. "Poor thing. Cum, Siffrin."

Your scream tapers into a guttural moan as Isabeau's fingers dig into your thighs. Mirabelle gasps as he cums into her again.

Fog drapes your brain, and your thoughts sink deeper as a warm ache fills your chest. The skin stretches a bit, and you drool around Odile's cock.

You're only vaguely aware of orders. You're being led, but you can't process the words.

It doesn't matter, as long as you're still obeying, and you're being called a good puppy, so you must be obeying.

You're ordered to cum, and your chest feels heavier again, tits warm and skin tingling. You swallow more of Odile and share her taste with Mirabelle as she straddles Isabeau's chest while Odile takes a turn riding his cock.

Isabeau knotted inside Odile at her command, and her cat ears Mirabelle had given her folded down as she threw her head back and moaned in pleasure.

Eventually, you all part, Odile peeling Mirabelle away to have her way with her as she orders Isabeau to make you cum without her help.

Your hands press against the wall as you pant. Isabeau thrusts in and out of your cunt, his hands overtop yours. He's warm and making you warmer. Your tail is pinned between your bodies, and the barbs on Isabeau's tapered cock rub against your inner walls. He cums into you as the hot coil below your stomach tightens. Sweat plasters your hair to your head, and your triangle-shaped ears pin back as you struggle to take a full breath. His knot begins to form, pressing hard against your walls and making you grunt and gasp as he fills you even more, painfully, but it's pain that grounds you and makes you real. It reminds you you're here and belong to him, if only he'll keep you and make you his.

Isabeau's sandpapery tongue licks your neck and shoulder and hair as he inhales your scent. You whimper, feeling yourself teeter over the edge, but even while inside you, his hands groping your grapefruit-sized breasts, and his knot stretching you to your limit, Isabeau's shy to give you any orders, even to reward you with an orgasm.

Closer to the desks, Odile has her face buried in Mirabelle's cunt, and spores no longer float through the air. Your legs tremble, and your arms are sore. You feel like you've been doing situps all day, and your head is both too light and too heavy.

Isabeau pulls you down as he collapses, his knot still connecting you to him. He cries as he apologizes to you, flinching as you lick up his tears as Odile rolls away from Mirabelle and holds her head between her hands.

"I... will ignore any of this happened if you three are willing to provide me with the same kindness," she says, words slurring.

"M-m'dame..." Isabeau pushes you down from him, and you whine. "Sif's..."

"Mirabelle, too." Odile swears. "We need to rest for a bit before rushing off to find Boniface anyway. If their minds don't clear by then, we'll... find a solution."

Isabeau looks at you with guilt as you whine, good eye burning.

[Not sure if you'll understand me stardust, but I'm not repeating myself if you don't!]

You flinch, and Isabeau pulls his hand back. You frown; you didn't notice him reaching towards you.

[You just got Memory of Domination! Equip to your Researcher, and when she attacks, the opponent will be rendered unable to heal themselves.]

[You've...!]

Loop gasps as your fingers rub against your clit. Your eyes are still on Isabeau, but he's looking away. His face is dark, and he's frowning. You whine.

[Y-you've... also! Found another Booster! Yip... pee.... Oh, stars, Fighter, please just tell him to stop... This is too blinding much already...]

They sound like didn't mean for you to hear the second half of that.

"Stop that, Siffrin," Odile orders, and you whine but keep your hand still. "Just... rest. Isabeau, I know this isn't... the best situation, but maybe hold them. Just until... your..."

Isabeau makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

"Sorry for that, by the way."

Isabeau just nods, arms twitching before he wraps his arms around you, holding you still. He rests his cheek on top of your head, between your twitching ears. He's warm.

[Thank stars for the Researcher's backbone. Now! That Booster! You've found Puppy Brain! When equipped, Your party members minus the Kid will touch and pet you. The longer you keep it equipped, the less you'll be able to think independently, but your attack speed is raised, and when ordered to do an attack by one of your party members, your critchance goes up 25%!]

You whine, but Isabeau keeps his cheek on top of your head as he waits for his knot to go away.

(He won't... look at you...)

He doesn't want you. He doesn't want to keep you. He doesn't want to make you his. He wouldn't give you orders, and now he won't even touch you.

You're a bad dog. Bad dogs don't get homes.

You feel a tug on your stomach—

< < <

“Shattered gems, you’re right,” Odile grumbles. “Alright, then. We need to be careful. Orgasm strengthens the spores’ effects on your libido and mind, and while rare, it is possible for certain changes to become permanent, or close enough to it, since it can be... difficult to remove all traces of the fungus from your system. Isabeau, go keep trying to open the door.”

You're. Back here. You don't have dog ears or a tail anymore.

How? Are you? Back here???

Your body's reset. You haven't cum yet, and you feel like a coil that's twisting tighter and tighter.

You. You try to remember what happens. Odile says something to you, and you misunderstand her.

You can't do that this time. You need to change it. You don't know why time restarted to now but you have to change it.

Isabeau turns on his heel and immediately heads for the door. Odile’s cheeks darken. She presses her thighs together, her gaze losing focus, but she blinks hard and turns to Mirabelle, who’s crossing her arms tight over her chest, hands pinned to her sides by her biceps.

“Help me and Siffrin search along the walls for another way out. It is deeply irresponsible to plant these where there’s no ventilation, so there has to be something we can use to escape.” She turns to you when Mirabelle nods and waddles to the shelf of dirt. “Siffrin, come over here and help me search.”

Oh.

You... you don't cum. You whine and get up.

You help Odile search along the walls and floor, even though you know there isn't any ventilation in this room.

The room looks like it's caught in the middle of a blizzard. You're getting dizzy. Odile suggests you all "ride it out," and you go to the corner and curl up in your cloak, rubbing your clit and sticking your fingers into your cunt as you wait for the spores to go away.

Chapter Text

You can't remember sweating this much. The temperature regulation craft in your cloak can't stop you from feeling so hot. You're a hot coil ready to snap. You're dizzy.

The door opens. No one moves for a while. This time, you've all hunkered down in separate corners of the gardening room, and everyone looks as wound up and needy as you do.

No one speaks. You need to find Bonnie.

You get up... and lead.

(You hate this.)
     (Stay where you are.)
     "Can someone else take the lead for a while?"
> (Leave the room.)

Right outside is Rancoeur and Amertume. Bonnie is nowhere in sight. You hope they were able to evade the Sadness and get into the Head Housemaiden's office. You and your allies have never gone in there separately, but the big rock is only triggered when leaving that room, so you should still be able to get that key.

You and your allies are slowed down because of the stupid blinding fungal spores. With all of you wound up, needy, and distracted, the stupid blinding Sadness is able to attack first.

You cry out and fall to your knees, stars exploding across your vision before you realize you were hit by rock craft.

Someone calls out your name, and Amertume is defeated, leaving Rancoeur hovering in the air. You're still twitching on the ground, cheek pressing against the floor and toes curling inside your boots as your spine arches despite your futile attempts to keep from showing just what's happening to you. A deep, guttural moan escapes from you, but you're too dizzy and high from the chemicals in your own brain to care. You can barely think. You exist only as want, as need, as a fire that needs to burn but keeps getting suffocated inside a box.

(Stars, you're pathetic.)

Mirabelle heals you, and you swear you can taste her on your tongue. Heat builds between your legs. Your nipples are hard and sore. They poke the underside of your cloak painfully. Your cloak as never been uncomfortable before. You even sleep in it most nights. But right now, you want to tear it off.

You don't.

Isabeau is turned away, biting into his gloved hand to keep from making noise.

(He thinks you're disgusting. He doesn't even want to look at you.)

He won't touch you unless he has to. Unless he's forced to.

He won't say it, because he doesn't actually mean it. You're just some poor, fragile thing dropped in front of him, and now he feels like he has to care for you. What kind of monster would just kick away a little, sick kitten dropped onto their porch? It doesn't matter how gross or disgusting you are. He'll help you, because he feels like he has to. Because he feels like he has no other choice, because you're so stupid and pathetic that you can't take care of yourself.

No one even reaches for you this time to help you up. Odile is even looking away too, cheeks dark and hair sticking to her face.

You smell saltwater when you turn the corner. You almost walk straight off the floor's edge hold out your arms to keep your allies from ending up int the dark water ahead of you.

"YOU'RE OKAY!" Bonnie screams from inside the Head Housemaiden's office, on the other side of... a pool? It smells like briny seawater. Something about the smell makes you think of—

And it's gone.

"THE FLOOR TURNED TO WATER WHEN I RAN INSIDE THIS ROOM!" Bonnie cries out. They sit on top of the Head Housemaiden's desk, like they're afraid the floor in there will turn into water, too. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise you at this point but you really hope not. "THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE WATER!"

"We need to get to them," Mirabelle says, sounding out of breath.

"Yeah, but how?" Isabeau asks.

The dark water rippled in the middle of the long pool, and a long, skinny... thing with bumps on the slightly lighter side of it rose out of the water.

"BONIFACE, GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR AND STAY IN A CORNER!" Odile ordered. "NOW!"

You expect Bonnie to argue, but they jump off the desk and disappear from view, doing as told. The Head Housemaiden's door closes.

(!!!!!!!!!)

"Bonnie!" Mirabelle cries out.

"We'll find a way to open it later. Everyone get ready," Odile says to the rest of you. "Once it's defeated, we should be able to safely swim across. Watch out for tentacles that don't have suckers on them."

"I believe that makes them 'tendrils,' m'dame—"

"Not now!" Odile hisses as a second tentacle rises from the water. "Just watch out for any tendrils and ensure they stay away from your orifices."

"Wh-why?" Mirabelle squeaks.

"Those secrete a fluid capable of reaching your brain. The ears and mouth are its most common choice for doing so. For those with ovaries, it can also 'infect' those in a way using a different sort of fluid it secretes, but studies are still being done to see if its capable of doing the same to sperm. We're not sure."

"F-for what...??!!!" Mirabelle's voice is a high-pitched squeak.

"That! Sounds bad!" Isabeau exclaims at the same time. "I can't see what type they are, though?"

Odile casts Examine on the tentacles. "None? Hmm. No weaknesses, but no resistance either. We have our work cut out for us." She swallows. "To answer your question, Mirabelle... to reproduce. Those infected are under a hypnosis-like trance to get pregnant or impregnate. Those with infected wombs will give birth to monsters like these."

Great. Another one of these weird things that were not in the House before that had weird powers involving sex and pregnancy.

If the King was really the one behind all this, you can't help but wonder just what the stars he's been up to before taking over the House.

Whatever. One tiny silver lining about getting hit by that rock craft earlier is that you can think a bit more clearly now.

Unfortunately, your allies are still pent-up from the gardening room, but hopefully seeing that Bonnie's okay and just on the other side of this pool will be enough to help them focus on the battle.

Time to fight.

(You're able to move faster now.)
> “Knife To Meet You!”
     “Too Cleaver By Half!”
     “Make Up The Time!”
     “Turn It Up!”
     “Buy One Get One Three!”
     “Done Heal!”
     “In A While, Rockodile!”
     "Rose Printed Glasses!"

One tentacle is knocked back from the attack, but two more tentacles rise out of the water. One is skinnier than the others but with a blunter tip, and it doesn't have suckers on it.

"Look out!" Isabeau calls out, and everyone dodges as one tentacle slams against the floor, right where Mirabelle had been standing. She stabs it with her needle sword, and you slash up at a tentacle that tries to reach for you while you're distracted.

Isabeau punches the blunt tip of the tendril, yelling, "SMASH!!!"

Odile uses Scissors III to try slicing through the tendril and cut off the tip, and you run around Mirabelle to help using your dagger. Using Too Cleaver By Half to do it might hit one of your allies, and Buy One Get One Three could also be risky.

The tendril shoots back into the water, bleeding lightless and turning the water darker.

You hear your allies cry out your name before you feel the tentacle around your ankle.

[What's happening now????!!! I can't see anything under there????]

Bubbles explode around your head. You don't feel your dagger in your hand anymore. Your hat floats towards the water's surface, and your cloak and skirt billow out around you, making you think of jellyfish.

A tentacle shoves itself into your mouth, and your eye burns as it pushes its blunt tip down your windpipe. Your eye widens, hands yanking on it, but suddenly, you're breathing again as the tendril pushes air down your windpipe and sucks back in to make you exhale.

In... out... in... out... in... out...

Your body tingles as your head grows lighter and lighter. Your eyelid flutters as your hands fall away from the tendril.

Suspended deep in the dark water, you hear and see nothing. It's just you, breathing as cool air is pushed into your lungs and pulled back out in a gentle rhythm. It's... nice. You think you could stay here forever. Feel this forever. Be this forever.

Something prods your left ear, then your right. Something warm and slippery is spilling into them. You think of sheep. Someone told you olive oil was used to keep flies away from their ears, eyes, and noses. You are a sheep being protected. Gentle touches massage your temples. There's no reason to think anymore. You just need to relax. You just need to exist. That's all. That's all you need. That's all that's needed of you. To just exist, relax, and float.

Your eyepatch floats to the surface, and your skirt is untied by more touches. The fabric sinks, but your cloak is left to billow out around you like a jellyfish.

Suckers press against your hard nipples, and more touches gently push your legs further apart. The narrow tip of a tentacle teases your clit as another pushes deep into your cunt, suckers rubbing against muscle. It pulls out a bit before pushing back in, slow, gentle. Another pokes past your ass cheeks and teases the tight rim, the area growing warm as the suckers lightly pull at your nipples, sending sparks of sensation through your chest. There's slight stinging right at the openings of your nipples, but that thought slips right out as you float, limbs feeling both oh so heavy and very, very light as they float above your torso. Your legs are spread, and tentacles twine around your thighs, their suckers leaving kiss marks along your skin.

A thought says to flex your hands, but they're limp above you, and the thought slides right back out. You don't need to move. You don't need to do anything except exist and float.

In... out... in... out... in... out...

You float in the warm, safe darkness. Teasing becomes rubbing as the tentacle plays with your clit. It presses a suction cup against it, your breath hitching as the sucker pulls back suddenly. It does this over and over, your clit engorged and filled with pressure as it grows long enough to poke past your folds.

Another tentacle joins the other inside your cunt, the two rhythmically jostling inside you as the one at your anus pushes inside, feeling along the tight walls and letting you get used to the sensation. Suckers push against the walls and come away with a wet series of pops, making your body twitch and spasm before settling as the touches and massaging continues. The tentacles around your thighs massage them and move upward to push and pull against your bony hips and flat ass. You think you feel a sting, but the thought slides right back out as you float and your hips widen. You think it's painful, but that thought slips away too as fat pads your thighs and adds plumpness to your ass.

You'd carry children so well, you know. You know it deep inside. It's an unarguable truth. You'd carry them well and know exactly where to go to birth them safely. Your children need you as a home for fourteen seasons. Three and a half years of keeping them safe before sending them into the depths and filling yourself with more seed, more children, more life, more worth. The hormones carrying your children will give you will slow down your aging significantly whenever your womb is full, so you can safely deliver your children for longer. This is what you were made for. This is what you wish for. You only need to exist, and purpose is given to you, a gift so grand you cannot conceive of turning it away. The Universe has led you here, and you follow.

The tendril inside your windpipe continues to breathe for you, and you feel the last of your thoughts slipping away as only the dark and touches existed. This is all there is. This is all there was. This is all there would ever be.

You're at peace, and you rest.

Your ears grow warm.

You're protected.

Something is injected down your esophagus. It slides down easily and pools in your stomach. Tentacles grope your heavy breasts, covering your skin with dark circles. Your clit is hard, growing longer and thicker.

A third tentacle is inside your cunt. A second is inside your ass. You're so warm.

You're safe, taken care of, and wanted.

In... out... in... out... in... out...

Your tongue feels heavy. It hangs out of your mouth around the tendril, its barbed tip hitting the cleft between your breasts. You wish to stick it down someone's throat as you ride their cock until your womb is filled with their seed.

Your clit is nearly the length of your forearm and splits, becoming three tendrils packed with nerves from base to narrow tip. The tentacle that had been toying with it when it was only a button hidden beneath your folds braids itself into your new appendages and squeezes tight. The others are still pounding you in your cunt and ass, and you feel the warmth pooling, growing hotter. Your stomach feels full. You haven't felt full in so long.

(Your ears feel warm, and you do what you need to do.)
     “Knife To Meet You!”
     “Too Cleaver By Half!”
     “Make Up The Time!”
     “Turn It Up!”
     “Buy One Get One Three!”
     “Done Heal!”
> “In A While, Rockodile!”
     "Rose Printed Glasses!"

Stars explode through your vision as you strike yourself, and you're goaded into setting a new rhythm.

You heal yourself and strike. You heal yourself and strike. You heal yourself and strike.

You cum and you cum and you cum and you cum.

You're a tight coil ready to snap. You're teetering on the edge again and again. You're hot and desperate and empty. You want to be full again.

Two tendrils join the three tentacles in your cunt, and you grunt as you're stretched to your limit. Past it. You feel like you're tearing open.

Warm. It's warm. You're being filled. You're being filled, and it's so, so, so warm...

The touches disappear, and you're left floating, mouth open and breath held.

[You...]

You're not sure whose voice that is, but they sound like they're shaking.

[You just... got Memory of Multitask. It... oh, stars...]

The speaker catches their breath. They sound like talking is taking up all their energy and concentration.

The tendrils that were once your clit rub against each other. Sparks shoot up your spine as it arches. Bubbles stream from your nose. Your toes curl. Your hands are tight fists. You're right there on the edge. So close, so close, so close...

[Hmmmm..........!!!]

Such a nice sound. You wonder if you can make them do it again.

You braid your tendrils together and shove them into your cunt, bubbles exploding around your head as you gasp. You choke, water rushing into your lungs as strong arms surround you and pull you.

[STARS!! STOP THAT!!!]

You continue to fuck yourself with your tendrils as your head breaks the water's surface.

[OH FOR THE LOVE OF—]

Loop. It's Loop. They make a growling sound before gasping and letting out a moan.

(???????)

[YOUEARNEDMEMORYOFMULTITASK] They sound like they're seething. [EQUIP IT TO USE THREE MEMORIES AT ONCE! STARS!!!!]

You equip it without thinking. You don't know what else to equip with it.

Your thoughts are sliding right out of your ears like oil.

"Oh, Change, oh Change, oh Change," Mirabelle says as you're dragged up onto the cold, stone floor.

"Oh, gems," Odile says at the same time. "Siffrin, can you understand us?"

You... nod.

Heat pulses between your legs. Your tendrils rub against that spot inside you, and you moan as you lean back suddenly, Isabeau swearing as he tries to keep his strong arms around you. You press your pelvis against his, and his smell changes. He's aroused and fearful all at once.

You need more.

"Gems," Odile curses. "Isabeau, we need to get them out of the water now. Mirabelle, help—"

She swears as you jolt forward, pain shooting across your face as your teeth smash into Isabeau's.

"Woah!" He pushes you away.

He. Pushes you away.

You're dizzy.

His hands are warm on your shoulders. "You're not in... a good frame of mind right now, Sif!"

"One way to put it," Odile grumbles.

"Let's uh! Wait!" Isabeau's voice wavers. His eyes are wide. "Until you feel better! And! We can talk about it first! To! Make sure it's something you really want!"

But this is! This is something you really want! And you feel fine! You're just empty, but he's right here and can make you full!

But he's not going to say it! You see that now!

So you need to take it! He's the one that needs you to lead! That's why he kept trying to give you your leash back!

And so you lead.

Your tits press against his soft chest as you press your mouth against his, your barbed tongue slipping inside before he can protest this time. He's warm as he slips, both of you ending up underwater as your tongue shoots down his throat, the barbs scratching the inside of his esophagus.

He's hard. His nails leave long scratches up your back, and your tendrils help your hands pull down his pants and underwear just enough to free his cock as he grunts into your kiss. He grasps your arms, and someone is grabbing your cloak and pulling on it, fabric pressing painfully against your windpipe.

Heat pools beneath your stomach. Your head is light as air. You breathe into Isabeau as two of your tendrils wrap around his cock and begin stroking it. He squeaks into your kiss, and he holds onto your upper arms, tight enough to add his bruises to the flurry of them left by those tentacles. He cries into your mouth as your third tendril inserts itself into the tip, slowly at first, prodding. You change its size so its skinnier. There's resistance, but Isabeau's shudder makes you keep going as you imagine his hands around your round belly as he takes you from behind, unable to keep his hands or mouth off of you, unable to keep his dick outside of you. You imagine keeping it warm for him throughout the night and lightly bouncing to wake him up once morning arrived.

Isabeau moans into your mouth as fewer bubbles halo the two of you, and your tendrils caress his balls as the third gently pulls out as you shift so you can turn your cunt into his sheath.

You don't get the chance as rock craft breaks through the water just as Mirabelle screams at Odile to stop.

You start to cum just as you're knocked unconscious.