Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ahh, the road. That mythical piece of ass… phalt. Vicky, why’d you make me say it like that?

“Because ass, Mx. Narrator.”

That… huh?!

“Given the type of story this is, it only makes sense.”

You make a fair point. Now, can I continue doing my job, please?

“Sure.”

Thank you. Anyway, where was I? Oh, here. Vicky was once again ready to tame it in what became only the second strangest, most wondrous journey of her life.

“Taming the road or my ass?”

Vicky…! Stop making me laugh!

“Sorry! Sorry.”

It was October once again, which for the rest of you normies meant time for scares and spooks. But for us? It was an excuse to be even sluttier than usual. And Vicky was no exception. Last time we went on a month-long endeavor with her, well… you can read that to find out for yourself.

As of right now, Vicky and Amira were on their way to a convention, driving along for a cross-country extravaganza. Vicky had everything packed neatly in her suitcase: her cosplay, her maid outfit—she had volunteered for the con’s maid café event this year—toiletries, change of clothes… other essentials. Amira packed her games and console to prep for one of the con’s many gaming tournaments to take place on Saturday, and also to have fun with her nerdy, sexy roommate.

“I mean… yeah, I find my mates hot, but I’m guessing you’re only saying that given the nature of this story?”

… Yes, Amira, that is exactly the reason. Now then, keep to yourselves.

“Fine… I need to focus on the road anyway.”

Soon enough, both were parked into a fancy motel for the night. It was Monday; they had one more night to make it to the hotel and convention center on Tuesday and be first in line for pre-registration on Wednesday. But instead of turning in for the night so they can leave the motel on time, Amira was up late, watching a movie wearing nothing but a plush, cream robe with deep teal accents and gold embroidery while Vicky lathered up in the jacuzzi bath, playing with the bubbles.

Oh, and before you ask, yes. There is only one bed. Not like either of them minded.

“Come on, Amira, you sure you don’t wanna come in? I’ll make sure the bubbles don’t douse you.” Amira just stared back at her, gesturing to her flames for hair. “I mean, the answer’s simple: don’t get under the water.” 

Amira considered it, her fiery hair a beacon against the soft lighting of the motel room. Then she turned to the television in front of her. She had no idea what was on, but the current scene had two cute gay mergirls having a scene in the bath, kissing and cuddling each other… “You know what, Vicky? Maybe just for a bit.” She stepped off the bed, dropping her robe in the process, after which she made her way over to the tub. She settled onto the rim, dipping her toes into the water, all bubbly and warm. A content sigh escaped her lips as her foot felt the jets, allowing her to let the rest of her body seat itself into the tub, across from Vicky. “This is nice…” Amira admitted, leaning back and letting the steam relax her, the jets massaging her back.

“See? What did I tell you?” Vicky smiled, grabbing a scoop full of bubbles and blowing them into Amira’s face, earning her a mock scowl in return. “A good way to unwind before the con chaos begins! And you don’t get to miss your movie.”

“True…” Amira replied, blowing some suds back into Vicky’s face. “So… two naked girls, sharing a jacuzzi together?”

“Yeah…?” Vicky used this to scoot closer to Amira, clearing the bubbles to make a path for her. As she closed the distance, the playful atmosphere in the tub shifted, a silent understanding passing between them. Amira’s gaze, previously focused on the two girls onscreen currently sucking face and, presumably fingering each other under the water, now met that of the older girl, a spark of anticipation in her fiery eyes. The bubbles seemed to fade into the water, revealing the warm, inviting water—unveiling the both of them to their naked forms beneath the surface.

A shared breath, a tentative touch of their knees, and the motel room, with its soft lighting and distant movie, seemed to fade into the background as Amira pulled Vicky in for a kiss. Vicky gleefully kissed back, pulling Amira into her lap and letting her stitched hands explore every curve of Amira’s body. Both were moaning into the kiss, the warm water caressing them both as Amira shifted herself, straddling Vicky and leaving the shorter girl beneath her.

All else seemed to fade into the background as the two girls explored each other’s mouths and bodies, the water a playful accomplice in their intimate dance—funny since fire and electricity normally don’t mix with water. Amira’s fiery hair only glowed further as she continued to kiss and grind, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the two parted lips for a moment, only for Vicky to pull her back even closer as her hands found a home on Amira’s hips. The distant sounds of the movie, now also with both girls kissing and moaning, became a faint, rhythmic echo to their own shared moans, the warmth of the jacuzzi mirroring the rising heat between them.

With a final, shared kiss that left them both breathless, Amira shifted off of Vicky’s lap, standing upright in the tub so the shorter girl could see her wet, dripping body in all its glory. A contented silence fell between them, only broken by both catching their breaths and the gentle lapping of the water. “Fuck, Vicly…!” Amira moaned, their gazes locked into each other, still heavy with desire, a question hanging in the streamy air.

“Yes…!” Vicky answered, stepping out of, and draining the tub, grabbing a towel to quickly dry herself off before tossing it to Amira to do likewise. Vicky then rushed to the bed, Amira taking off after her to resume their make-out session, inserting her fingers up Vicky’s pussy, causing her to squeal in Amira’s lips. Vicky, in return, tugged on and played with Amira’s breasts, causing her to yelp in return. “Oh yeah! I almost forgot…!” Vicky rushed to her suitcase, digging through it until she found a blue, phallic device with what looked like a little dolphin sticking out.

“Damn, Aqua. Hang on, I think I brought mine too…!” Amira began searching through her own suitcase, quickly finding something red and equally phallic, with a rabbit replacing the dolphin.

“Alright, Blaze, so…?” Vicky began, sitting back on the bed before Amira shoved her down, kissing her once more before inserting the vibrator up her pussy, causing Vicky to cry out in surprise. In return, Vicky slid her own into Amira’s pussy. Both began fucking each other with their toys, all while their lips remained locked in combat. Amira was mashing her vibrator up Vicky’s pussy like she was button mashing for her video game tournament, while Vicky’s strokes were precise, taking her time like she was stirring curry, making sure to add little bursts of love like she would for a customer’s omurice.

The motel room pulsed with an energy one can assume has inhabited the room multiple times before, but the rhythmic hum of each vibrator a counterpoint to the escalating moans of each girl into each other’s mouths. Their bodies, slick with sweat and the residue of the jacuzzi, tangled on the motel bed, a tableau of raw passion and shared pleasure. The air grew thick with their combined scent, a potent mixture of arousal and the lingering soapwater from their earlier dip.

As the intensity mounted, the lines between friendship and something more blurred, dissolving into the singular, focused pursuit of making the other climax. Each gasp, each ragged breath, each fervent kiss pushed them closer to the edge, a symphony of sensation building to a crescendo. The vibrators, once mere toys, became extensions of their intertwined desires, driving them deeper into a shared ecstasy that transcended the confines of the cheap motel room. And then just as quickly as it started, it ended, with Vicky climaxing first before Amira did the same. Panting, both collapsed onto the bed, side by side.

“Looks like I win…!” Amira sighed, licking Vicky’s juices off her vibrator.

“Shut up…!” Vicky whined, licking Amira’s off her own like ice cream.

“And here I thought sex with my closest female friend would stop being fun,” Amira laughed. “I know you have Oz while Brian and I remain single Pringles, but… we seriously need to have an orgy sometime.”

“I know…” Vicky agreed. “But Brian and Oz won’t be at the hotel until Wednesday afternoon.”

“Oh well. More time for us to fuck.”

They laid there for a while, the only sounds being the movie playing on the television in front of them. Eventually, Vicky sat up, stretching before reaching for her phone. “So, day one of the trip down,” she mused, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Amira just groaned in response, burying her face in the pillow. Vicky chuckled, placing a hand on Amira's shoulder. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a long drive tomorrow. And I, for one, plan on being first in line for pre-registration.”

Amira finally stirred, slithering her naked body under the covers. “Fine, fine. But you’re grabbing us breakfast,” she mumbled, a playful glint in her sleepy eyes. Vicky just laughed, pulling the blankets up around them. As they drifted off to sleep, the faint glow of the television illuminated the scattered clothes and the spent toys, silent witnesses to their friendship. The road to the convention stretched before them, promising more adventures, more chaos, and certainly, more opportunities for these two friends to blur the lines of their relationship.

But this story isn’t about Amira, remember? Because she turned down my offer to make this about her, just like last time. Vicky, as you can see, was more than happy to oblige. But hey, I like her. I like following her around. And I’m looking forward to seeing who she’ll fuck this month.

Chapter Text

The rest of the drive was relatively uneventful. Both checked into their hotel room at the convention center around dusk, and they had dinner—and sex—before going to bed. True to schedule, they were first in line for pre-registration, and got to catch up with Oz and Brian on the way. And now, after that preamble was over… Hmm… now what?

“I think I wanna go explore the town a little, guys,” Amira decided, stretching as the four of them left the center, badges in hand.

“I just wanna retire to our room and get some sleep…” Brian yawned.

“Yeah… and maybe get to work on that comic,” Oz added.

“Ooh~! Do one featuring the four of us!” Vicky cheered. “What genre do you think suits us?”

“I don’t know… maybe the superhero genre? But no one wants to read about how four best friends with benefits are able to get along and decide to make a team.”

“Ehh… make us reluctantly agree to fight alongside each other then?”

“Brian, that… doesn’t really sound like us at all.”

“I know, Amira, but maybe different is good?”

“Anyway,” Vicky interjected, skipping ahead of the three. “Amira and I are gonna go exploring. We had yesterday to sleep and be cooped in our hotel room.”

“Yeah, sure… should we meet up again for dinner then?” Oz asked.

“I can see that. You two rest up,” Amira answered. And thus, the four of them went their separate ways, girls from the boys, and then Amira and Vicky from each other. Vicky opted to go to a café first thing, ordering a pumpkin spice latte.

As she got her drink, she rather awkwardly stared at a girl in overalls, a flowery blue blouse, and a sunhat… with a pumpkin for a head. Vicky slowly sat her latte down, the paper cup with her name on it steaming as she contemplated the fact that she might be eating this pumpkin girl’s people. “Sorry!” she quickly apologized.

The girl blinked at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Her pumpkin head remained impassive, but Vicky could swear she saw a faint blush spread across the girl’s vine-like neck. “For… for what?” she asked, her voice surprisingly soft, with a faint, almost rural accent. She clutched a small, woven basket to her chest, as if for comfort.

Vicky realized then that this seemed completely out of place in the bustling city, like a fresh-picked gourd accidentally dropped into a fruit stand. “I just… I’m sorry,” Vicky stammered, feeling a blush creep up her own neck. “I just realized… with your head being, you know, a pumpkin, and me drinking a pumpkin spice latte. It felt a little… cannibalistic, I guess?”

The other girl tilted her head, a confused expression on her squashy face. “Cannibalistic? Oh, no, no! My people… we’re not like that. We’re grown, not... made into lattes.” She giggled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. “But it’s okay. I’m just visiting the city for the first time. Everything’s a bit… much.”

“Whatcha doing here?” Vicky asked, deciding to join her at the booth.

“Oh, my parents said I need to take more risks and explore,” she answered. “‘You spend too much time on the farm, Jacqueline.’ ‘The animals can tend to themselves, Jacqueline’. ‘We’ll make sure the human heads aren’t pecked by crows, Jacqueline.’”

“Oh… so your name is Jacqueline?” Vicky asked, completely brushing over the fact that the other girl mentioned harvesting human heads. “I mean, Mx. Narrator, we do the same thing and carve them into jack-o-lanterns. She’s entitled to do that.”

“Who are you talkin’ to…?”

“Oh. That’s the Narrator. They’ll just hush now and let the scene continue, right?”

… You don’t have to be mean about it.

“Sorry…”

Jacqueline soon found herself giggling. “You’re kinda cute,” she complimented. “Mind showing me around?”

“Aww, sure!” Vicky answered, taking her coffee and Jacqueline by the arm and out of the café. “Honestly, it’s my first time in this city too, so we can explore together!”

“Aww, nice to know that I ain’t alone,” Jacqueline smiled as the two journeyed through the large city together. The afternoon unfolded with a charming blend of urban exploration and rural innocence. Vicky pointed out skyscrapers that seemed to scrape the clouds, and Jacqueline gasped at the sheer volume of people, marveling at their speed and purpose.

Vicky quickly finished her coffee, tossing the paper cup into a recycling bin as they made their way into the park. “Finally, something I’m familiar with.” In the park, Jacqueline seemed to truly come alive, her pumpkin head swiveling to take in every rustling leaf and chirping bird. She pointed out a particularly vibrant flowerbed, explaining the different types of blooms with an expertise that clearly came from a lifetime spent cultivating. Vicky listened, enchanted, realizing there was more to this peculiar girl than just her unique appearance. And she was more than happy to indulge on her bird hyperfixation.

As the sun began to dip, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, they found a quiet bench nestled under a large oak tree. Jacqueline leaned back, a contented sigh escaping her. “This city… it ain’t so bad, really. Just a lot of noise. But the park… this is nice. It reminds me a little of home, just… bigger. And with more trees” She turned to Vicky, her pumpkin eyes soft. “Thank you for showing me around. I wouldn't have known what to do otherwise.”

“Anytime,” Vicky replied, a genuine smile gracing her lips. She found herself enjoying Jacqueline’s company far more than she’d anticipated. There was a refreshing innocence about the pumpkin-headed girl, a stark contrast to the con-goers Vicky encountered earlier that day. The city, which had felt like just another backdrop, had become a shared adventure, and Vicky felt a familiar spark of interest ignite. She wondered what else Jacqueline might have to teach her about the world, and what other, “risks,” her parents had encouraged her to take.

So it was no surprise that Vicky began to kiss her, with Jacqueline eagerly kissing her back. Huh… Jacqueline tasted like a pumpkin spice latte, making her all the more appealing. Moaning, Vicky invited Jacqueline into her lap. To her surprise, Jacqueline’s hands found themselves unbuttoning Vicky’s blouse, revealing her cleavage under her suspender dress.

“Is that what I taste like…?” Jacqueline moaned, remembering Vicky’s drink earlier.

“Maybe,” Vicky panted, easing herself into the bench, thankful that nobody was passing just yet. The two girls continued making out, Vicky undoing the snaps making up the front of Jacqueline’s overalls, letting her own cleavage breathe from her sky blue top.

A faint tremor ran through Jacqueline’s body as Vicky’s hands continued their delicious work, her pumpkin head emitting a soft, purring sound into the patchwork corpse’s lips. The initial awkwardness from earlier that afternoon had completely dissolved, replaced by a raw, undeniable current of desire that flowed between them. Vicky, emboldened by Jacqueline’s eager response, deepened the kiss, tasting more of that delightful pumpkin spice and something else… something earthy and sweet, like fresh soil and sunshine. She felt Jacqueline’s fingers brush against the sensitive skin of her stomach, sending shivers down her spine, and a low moan escaped her lips into the kiss.

The sounds of the park, once a gentle backdrop, now seemed to amplify their rising passion. A distant dog barked, a child’s laugh echoed, yet none of it mattered. Only the press of their bodies, the wet exploration of their mouths, and the gentle friction of their clothes rubbing against each other—and bringing their hands to each others’ breasts—as they shifted on the bench. Vicky imagined the curious glances of any passersby, but the thrill of being so brazen in public only intensified the moment. She felt a delicious warmth spread through her, a familiar sign that her body was eagerly responding to this unexpected, delightful stranger.

After what seemed like an eternity exploring each other’s mouths and bodies, the girls parted lips, Jacqueline panting as she sat in Vicky’s lap. They were hungry… for each other!

“I’m staying at an inn if we wanna keep going there?”

“Yeah… let’s go…!” Vicky panted, fixing Jacqueline’s overalls without even bothering to fix her own top as they practically ran to the inn Jacqueline was staying in, likely to continue, and escalate, their sexual encounter.

Chapter Text

After Vicky returned from her saucy session with Jacqueline, of course—she, her friends, Zoe, Liam, and their friends had a pre-con before party on Wednesday night. It was then she met April, Doug, Nico, and Omen in person, after only knowing the four of them from behind a screen. Zoe met Doug in California during college, April was Doug’s childhood friend, Omen had been living with Liam for the new, Coven-sponsored, Redemption Arc program, and Nico had met Liam in college during Improv Club.

The party Wednesday night was more of a, “get to know you in person for a change,” party. The ten of them were engaging in a round of Truth or Dare.

“Alright… truth!” Doug decided.

“Hmm… are you a virgin?” Omen asked. A blush appeared on Doug’s jellowy cheeks, basically confirming his answer.

“Yes…”

“Aww, don’t tease him for that,” April scolded, the clown idol crossing her arms, her balloony breasts resting on her arms. Vicky stifled a giggle at April’s maternal tone, but it died in her throat as she caught Doug’s crestfallen expression. The soft teal of his gelatin skin seemed to dim, and he fidgeted, clearly embarrassed. Vicky felt a pang of unexpected sympathy. She knew a thing or two about being judged for things out of her control, and virginity, especially at a convention like this, could feel like a glaring spotlight. Besides, a Kinktober story couldn’t possibly ignore such an opportunity, could it?

… Okay, I’ll stop breaking the fourth wall. I’m gonna try to keep from doing so for… five chapters. Yeah, that’s a reasonable goal.

Anyway, Vicky’s mind, ever the matchmaker for pleasure, immediately began to churn with possibilities. A genuine smile bloomed on her face as she looked at Doug, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Hey, no shame in that, Doug,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “Everyone’s gotta have a first time, right?” She leaned forward slightly, a silent invitation in her gaze. “And sometimes, it’s even better when you’re with someone who knows how to make it really special.”

“Ooh… Vicky, are you saying you want a dare then?” Liam asked.

“You know what? Yeah! Dare me!”

“Then I dare you to take Doug’s V-card! Right now!” Zoe dared.

“R-R-Right… right now? Like… now now?” Doug asked, sweating in a way only a human gelatin-mold could.

“I had been trapped in an iron maiden for over a century, and even I managed to fuck someone before then!” Omen declared.

“Yeah… I think you might be the only one of us who hasn’t had sex yet…” Nico muttered, digging potato chips out of their quite-literal chest.

“Now, there’s no shame in never having sex before,” Liam droned, hypocritically, as he also managed to have sex before. Vicky’s three best friends also remained silent. All four of them were virgins until rather recently, with two of them officially becoming royal concubines to two royals. Well… fuck. Doug truly was alone.

“Uhh… can we do it in private, please?” Doug asked, feeling even more embarrassed now.

“Okay, that’s fine!” Vicky conceded, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “But we’re doing it my way.” She grabbed Doug by the arm, her playful tug surprising him, and led him out of the living room of the hotel suite and into the bedroom. The excited murmurs of their friends followed them as they made their way inside. Doug, a mixture of nerves and burgeoning excitement, stumbled slightly, his gelatinous body jiggling with each step. Vicky, however, walked with a confident stride, her mind already buzzing with ideas to make this a truly unforgettable, “first time,” for the shy, jellowy man.

“So… what are we typically supposed to do…?” Doug asked. “I… I think we get naked first, right?”

“Yeah. Take your time; okay?” Vicky assured. “Or… do you wanna watch me strip first?”

Doug swallowed, a visible ripple passing through his gelatinous throat. “I… I think I’d rather watch you get naked first,” he mumbled, his eyes darting to Vicky, then quickly away. He was clearly flustered, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity in his gaze.

Vicky grinned, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Good choice,” she purred, already unbuttoning her suspender dress and removing her blouse. The fabric slid down, revealing a sheer lace bra of black and matching panties underneath. She turned slowly, giving him a full view of her ass, the playful sway of her hips an unspoken invitation. Doug’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of teal, but his eyes remained glued to her, a subtle tremor running through him. Vicky moved with a deliberate slowness, teasing him with every movement, her fingers dancing along the delicate lace before finally slipping it off, leaving her completely bare, slapping her ass as she took off her panties. She posed for a moment, a seductive smile on her lips, before gesturing to him. “Your turn,” she whispered huskily.

Doug wasn’t sure if he could perform a strip tease with such… mastery. But he was determined to try. First, he removed his Hawaiian shirt, revealing a full gut underneath. Clumsily, he tried taking off his Bermuda shorts next,the fabric bunching around his thick thighs. He hopped on one foot, then the other, pulling the shorts down slowly, revealing his pale, slightly jiggly legs and the beginnings of his large, wobbly penis, which seemed to swell and contract with his movements. He finally managed to kick them off, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. Doug then turned to face Vicky, his whole body a shimmering, nervous mess, his dick bobbing shyly. He swallowed again, his jello-like form trembling slightly. “There… there, I’m naked,” he whispered, his eyes wide and uncertain.

“Oh my… you look good enough to eat,” Vicky whispered, crawling over to him while licking her lips. “I wonder how you taste?”

A shiver, not entirely from nerves, ran through Doug as Vicky’s words, laced with promise, caressed him. Her eyes, dark and hungry, devoured him as she closed the distance between them, the soft carpet muffling her approach. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from her as she drew nearer, the air around them thick with anticipation. His jello-like form quivered, both from apprehension and a rising, undeniable excitement. He had no idea what, “tasting,” him entailed, but the way she licked her lips suggested something far more delicious than he could imagine.

And then she took his dick in her mouth, sending an electric jolt throughout his body. As his climax neared, Doug’s jello-like body became a vibrant, trembling mass, his movements growing more frantic against her mouth. A strangled sound escaped him, a mix of pleasure and disbelief, as his dick pulsed, quickly erupting into her mouth. The taste was surprisingly sweet, a fruity burst that coated her tongue. Vicky swallowed, her eyes still locked on his, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She pulled away, letting his now-spent member slide free, a faint sheen of her saliva glistening on its surface. Doug collapsed onto the bed, panting, his gelatinous form shimmering with the afterglow of his first orgasm to an actual person.

“Huh… so that’s what being blown feels like,” Doug mumbled.

“Heh… have you masturbated before?” Vicky asked, sitting back up on the bed.

“Y-Yeah. Plenty of times…” Doug answered. “So how do I taste?”

“You know that song, ‘Watermelon Sugar,’ by Hairy Styles?”

“Yeah…?”

“That. You taste like that,” Vicky answered, chuckling

“I guess so,” Doug chuckled, still a little dazed. “So… what happens now?”

“Now… you can use it on my pussy,” Vicky answered, lying down on the bed. “Just climb right on top,” she invited, beckoning him with her finger.

Doug, still slightly trembling from his recent release, shifted, a nervous smile playing on his face. He was heavier than she expected, a pleasant warmth emanating from his jiggling form as he slowly, awkwardly, moved to straddle her. His eyes, still wide and a little uncertain, searched hers for guidance. Vicky reached up, gently cupping his gelatinous cheeks, and pulled him down for a soft, reassuring kiss. His would-be lips, surprisingly firm yet yielding, tasted faintly of the sweetness she’d experienced moments before. She guided his soft, growing dick with her hand, aligning it with her slick pussy, and then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid inside her. Using his own body as a sweet lubricant.

A surprised gasp escaped Doug, his entire body stiffening for a moment before relaxing into the sensation. Vicky moaned, arching her back, feeling the delicious fullness of him filling her. He was soft, yes, but remarkably pliable, molding to her perfectly. “Just… move how it feels good, Doug,” she whispered, her voice rising with desire.

He began to move tentatively, a gentle, rhythmic rocking that slowly gained confidence. Vicky wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, encouraging his newfound rhythm. The initial shyness was replaced by a burgeoning eagerness, his gelatinous form jiggling delightfully with each thrust, a silent, joyful dance of discovery. She was tempted to bite into his skin, but she was worried about accidentally eating a chunk from him. She had decided to resign herself to letting his watermelon-y flesh smother her.

As their movements became more assured, a soft hum vibrated through Doug’s body, a sound of pure contentment that resonated against Vicky’s own excited moans. The rhythm deepened, becoming a steady pulse that echoed the beat of their intertwined desires. Vicky relished the feeling of his unique form, the way he adapted to her movements, and the intoxicating, sweet scent of watermelon sugar that surrounded them. This was more than just sex; it was a joyous exploration, a first step into a world of pleasure that she was more than happy to guide him through, transforming what began as a dare into a moment of genuine connection and shared ecstasy.

Eventually, Doug was able to climax, sending his sweet love nectar into Vicky’s undead womb. This allowed Vicky to climax around his cock, even as he was pulling out of her. He collapsed, lying on top of her in a sugary sweat. “Fuck…!” he moaned. “Crap, I just cussed!”

“It’s fine,” Vicky answered, crawling from underneath him until she was seated once again. “So… how was your first time?” she asked, giving a friendly smile his way.

“That… that was intense. My body is aching,” Doug answered honestly.

“That’s just your body having reacted to a workout like that,” Vicky said, a playful glint in her eyes as she made that comparison. “And hey, you lasted a long time for your first go-around! Most guys would’ve cum after two minutes.” She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his jello forehead. “You did great, Doug. Really great.” She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You know, I think that was a lot more fun than I expected too. And you’re surprisingly sweet.”

“I know… I taste like dessert…”

“No, I’m not talking about taste. You’re a good guy, Doug. Truly,” Vicky complimented, still with that warm smile, before planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Well, you certainly made it memorable for me.” Doug stretched, his gelatinous limbs jiggling softly. “So, are we heading back to the party, or…?”

“Yes! We have to celebrate!” Vicky cheered, quickly getting redressed. Doug followed in suit, though having trouble due to how much he was sweating. The triumphant return to the party was met with cheers and knowing glances from their friends, who wasted no time in congratulating Doug on his newfound status. Vicky, ever the life of the party, reveled in the celebratory atmosphere, her arm linked with Doug’s as they recounted—edited, of course—their adventure. The night continued with laughter, drinks, and a palpable sense of accomplishment for Doug, who, though still a bit flushed, carried himself with a new lightness, forever changed by his unforgettable first time.

Chapter Text

Thursday Morning, and opening ceremonies had wrapped up! Spooky Con had officially begun! So, what to do first? Attend the Magical Girl panel? Work on some finishing touches on your cosplay? 

“Hmm… I think I’m gonna go see what bird stuff they have in the merch hall!”

There’s a sweater with a baby chick on it at one of the tables.

“There is?!”

Yeah. Right by Calculester… I realize I’m breaking the fourth wall again after I established last chapter that I’m gonna try not to do that.

“It’s okay. It’s hard to break from an addiction.”

… am I addicted? No, I don’t think so. But I can say for certain that someone is about to get fucked.

“And that someone is me?”

Well, we know what month this is.

“True… for now, I need that baby chick sweater!”

And so, Vicky made her way to the merch hall for that sweet, sweet bird sweater. As soon as she arrived at the table, her eyes were immediately drawn to the vibrant chick sweater and made her purchase… Okay, several purchases.

Immediately afterwards, she spotted Calculester’s booth… right next to a pod-like item. Hmm? “Welcome, patron. Are you interested in a journey inward?” Calculester, a humanoid robot with a serene, glowing screen for a face, gestured to the sleek, white pod behind him. It was at that moment that Cal noticed in front of him his short, blue, electrical friend, and compadre in morality. “Ahh! Friend Vicky! I did not recognize you outside of blue.”

“Well, I’ve decided to sport pink and yellow today!” Vicky answered, showing off her cuddly purchase, and perfect for the autumn season. “What do you think?”

“I do not have the capacity to have opinions, but I can say that the sweater suits your figure and skin tone,” Cal… complimented?

“Thanks?” Vicky answered, before her gaze turned to the pod next to him, her curiosity piqued. “What’s that?” she asked.

“I am demonstrating the capabilities of our new sensory deprivation tank, designed for optimal relaxation and self-discovery. One-hour free trial available,” he answered. A sensory deprivation tank? At a con?

“Is this what you’ve been up to at CalTech?” Vicky asked.

“Indeed. Coming to California seemed to be more expedient for my research into the efficacy of neural networks in simulated environments.”

Oof… I probably shouldn’t tell him or Vicky of the Second-Darkest Timeline where Calculester turned everyone into robots…

“Tell me what?”

… Oh yeah, you can still hear me.

“Oh. Is this the Narrator friend that sits by themself at the cafeteria in high school that only you, Brian, Amira, and Oz could see? Hello, Mx. Narrator.”

…

“They said hi. So, tell me more about this tank?”

“Simple,” Calculester began, pulling from behind him a changing screen. “Just strip down your clothing behind this screen and change into your swimsuit. This tank is full of water, and I don’t think you’d want to get your new sweater wet.”

“Alright then. But what if I don’t have a swimsuit?” Vicky asked, already getting behind the screen.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to step in there in the nude,” Calculester answered.

“Of course,” Vicky giggled, already down to her underwear, knowing full well that while nobody else can see behind this screen, he sure can. After neatly folding her clothes and setting them on the chair beside her, as well as putting on her rubber bolt covers for when she took baths, she almost stepped out… almost. Not everyone at this convention is actively consenting to see her nude. “Uhh… can you move this so that it’s right next to the tank so I can go in?”

“Very well, friend Vicky,” Calculester responded, sliding the screen along to perfectly obscure Vicky from view while still leaving enough room for her to maneuver into the tank. He then turned back to his console, a faint whirring sound accompanying the subtle movements of his robotic fingers as he began to adjust the tank’s settings. “The water is maintained at a precise body temperature, allowing for complete immersion without the sensation of temperature differences. The solution is also saturated with Epsom salts, providing natural buoyancy and further eliminating the perception of gravity.”

“Cool!” Vicky shouted, shooting a thumbs up as he closed the lid. Sighing, she settled herself into the water. It was nice and warm, almost as if she were in a spa once again. And it was pitch black inside, totally eliminating sight. And so, she began to float in the water, feeling at ease.

… Until she felt a pair of robotic hands begin to massage her legs. Oh! Now she was really starting to relax. A small moan escaped her lips when a second pair began to massage her shoulders, making her feel like putty. And then both sets of hands finished before going for her ankles and wrists respectively, almost shackling her to the tank as all four of her limbs were spread, leaving her pussy vulnerable. And then she felt the jets, right on her pussy. Gasping in surprise, she began to squirm and writhe, causing the robotic appendages to shackle and restrain her further.

Just as the initial wave of pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, a sudden, unfamiliar sensation prickled her skin. It was as if the jets had subtly shifted, or perhaps something else entirely was now engaging her. A delicate, yet firm, pressure began to build around her breasts, growing with each pulse of the water, and Vicky realized with a jolt that the sensory deprivation tank was doing anything but depriving her senses. This was a direct, targeted assault on her pleasure centers, orchestrated with an almost terrifying precision. Her earlier moan deepened into a guttural growl, her body arching involuntarily as the intensity mounted, a strange mix of confusion and pure, unadulterated bliss coursing through her.

“Ahh…! Fuck…!” Vicky moaned, nearly getting water in her mouth. As if on cue, something came in to take care of that: something round and rubbery, feeling a patch of leather covering the lower half of her face, followed by the faint click of a buckle. The pressure increased, securing the object firmly in place. This would soon solve a second problem: keeping Vicky’s cute little noises down to a minimum. If any sound could escape the tank, then she was essentially muted now.

The jets pulsed against her clit and began massaging the walls of her pussy, now joined by a subtle vibration emanating from the mysterious new implement around her breasts and in her mouth, sending a dual wave of exquisite sensation through her body. Her mind, already hazy from the sensory overload due to her other senses being turned down to zero, struggled to process this new development, even as her body responded with uncontrolled shudders of pleasure.

Moaning and whining, Vicky continued to squirm in the tank. The jets almost tickled, the remnants of the stream affecting even the rest of her body now. As her pleasure continued to build, so did the subtle changes within the tank. She continued to bite down on the rubber ball, letting her squeal in it, mirroring the insistent pressure around her breasts and the relentless targeting of the jets below.

Her squirming intensified, her limbs straining against the unseen restraints, a desperate plea for release mingling with her heightened arousal. The blackness was absolute, but her internal landscape was a riot of sensations, each one pushing her closer to an unknown precipice of delight. She felt her muscles clench, her entire being focused on the escalating pleasure, a primal scream threatening to erupt despite the gag.

Finally, mercifully, her limbs were released, but they were numb enough to just float there in the water as her orgasm continued to build. Just as the wave of intense sensation threatened to overwhelm her, the feeling around her breasts intensified, now accompanied by a rhythmic pulsing that seemed to match the throb of her own escalating desire. Her body was begging for release!

And just like that… it was over. The jets stopped. The pressure left. Vicky was just… floating there in the water once more, left on the precipice of her orgasm without achieving it. Desperate, she tried to position herself so that she could make herself cum. But again, her limbs were numb, likely due to being restrained earlier.

… All of that happened within the first five minutes…! And he’s having her in here for an hour! She cannot wait that long for her body to regain feeling so she’d be able to masturbate. Her eyes still darted around in the blackness, searching for any flicker of light, any confirmation that what had just transpired was real and not some elaborate, cruel trick of the mind. The phantom sensations lingered on her skin, a ghostly echo of the pleasure and frustration that had just been unleashed.

“Fuck me…!” she thought. “Please someone come in and fuck me!” she begged in her head, since she can’t even take out the muzzle keeping her gagged. The worst part? She remained on that edge for the remainder of the hour, numb everywhere except for her hypersensitive pussy and breasts, her orgasm denied to her!

With a sudden, almost jarring hiss, the lid of the tank slowly began to rise, a narrow beam of light piercing the oppressive darkness. Vicky, disoriented and still reeling from the denied climax, squinted against the sudden illumination, her undead heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The rubber ball in her mouth was still firmly in place, and her limbs remained heavy, a testament to the hour of forced stillness and relentless teasing. She could hear the faint whirring of machinery and the distant murmur of the convention floor, a stark return to reality after her isolated ordeal.

“Hello, Friend Vicky. How did you like the tank?” she finally heard Calculester ask innocently. Her eyes took their time readjusting to the light, seeing the bright green emoticons illuminating his screen of a face. Too high from the denied orgasm to be angry, Vicky sighed, feeling the last vestiges of her frustration slowly ebb away as the fresh air hit her skin. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank him or strangle him, not like she could anyway, even if her body wasn’t comfortably numb.

“Perhaps I should wait to let your body regain feeling?” Calculester asked, tilting his head innocently, as if he was entirely unaware of what this tank did with her. Her arms, though still somewhat heavy, slowly responded to her command, allowing her to push herself up, the tank’s water rippling around her. Calculester offered a small, sterile towel, which she gratefully accepted, wrapping it around herself as he undid her gag. The soft fabric against her skin was a welcome sensation after an hour of fluid immersion. As she stepped out of the tank, the cool air of the convention hall, though still buzzing with activity, felt strangely invigorating, a stark contrast to the stifling intimacy of the pod.

… As soon as she was able to have 100% of feeling throughout her body back, she was masturbating so hard! Oh wait… the maid café… she had that later… Fuck!

Chapter Text

To say Vicky was on edge would be a massive understatement. As she dressed herself in her red maid uniform, she couldn’t help but feel the need to hump everything like a bitch in heat. But she couldn’t do that, now could she? She had a job to do, and that job included kids… for some reason.

Okay, no, personal tangent time, why the hell are we letting kids in here? This is clearly meant to be an adult space, why are kids here?!

“Apparently there’s a Make a Wish kid here whose wish is to eat lunch with Milo Belladonna, so that’s part of the reason why.”

Why here, though?! Why not go to an actual restaurant?!

“Because kids deserve cuteness too, and it’s free… ish. Now hush!”

One furry set of lion ears headband later, and Vicky was ready for the maid café. She just had to ignore her throbbing pussy all the while. Honestly, not having her panties on did make it easier. And… just for shiggles, Vicky decided to add a lion’s tale as well, sticking the other end up her ass. Now she just had to be aware of any pervy parents and other adults flipping up her skirt. April, Nico, and Zoe certainly weren’t safe from this either.

Soon enough, she noticed a familiar reaper at a table with a young imp and his two moms. They were chatting up a storm with the family, and by some miracle, didn’t have their phone out. Milo was busy with the family she was about to serve, and even though they were loud, she could tell that the parents were good people because they made sure their son was enjoying himself.

… All in all, a nice wholesome scene. But what’s it doing in a story like this?

Anyway, Vicky approached the table, notepad in hand. “Good afternoon, my Queens and, gasp! Is this your little prince right here?” she asked, waving at the little boy, who just waved back.

“Oh, you’re not gonna say hi to your friend?” Milo asked, eyes looking Vicky up and down. “In all seriousness, it’s lovely to see you again girl. Kisses~!” Cue the snooty European kiss that rich people do.

“It’s nice to see you again, Master. Now then, may we start with drinks?”

“Yes, two lattes for me and my wife,” one of the mother imps answered. “And our son, he will have…” The small imp began making weird motions with his hands.

“He says he would like a mocktail… what is a mocktail?” the other mom asked.

“Basically a cocktail without any of the alcohol, so your son should be fine to drink it,” Vicky answered. “What flavor?” The little imp look at the menu made those hand movements again. And… she started doing them too. “It’s HSL, Narrator… Ahem, Virgin Strawberry Daiquiri. Got it!”

“As for myself, since you’re clearly not serving the hard stuff, I’ll also have a latte with some adorable latte art, if you don’t mind,” Milo added, to which Vicky wrote their orders down.

“I’ll be back with your drinks, everyone. Moe moe, kyun~!” Vicky cheered, doing a cute anime dance and entertaining the table greatly before bringing the order to the back… so she could make the lattes herself. Of course, she could notice the many eyes on her, her tail from her butt plug swaying from under her skirt as she walked.

… Not even Milo was immune to watching her walk away, her hips swaying with each step.

Soon enough, drinks were delivered—with adorable latte art for all of them—and orders were taken for food. Vicky would do the same for other tables in her little quadrant before Milo’s table was ready. For the moms, omurice with their names on it—literally. For the boy, ice cream that looks like a kawaii lion smiling up at him. And for Milo, curry with rice.

“Now then, let’s say the magic words!” Vicky instructed, also signing with her hands: “Oishikuna~re!” Judging by the way the kid was applauding, he certainly was enjoying himself. “Hope your complementary meal is delicious~!”

“Thank you, Miss,” the family thanked before turning to their meal.

Milo, on the other hand, tugged on her skirt, whispering in her ear: “I’m gonna stick around after they leave. I wanna see what’s under that skirt of yours.”

Oh~?

Vicky then proceeded on with the rest of the hour working the floor, her tail swishing provocatively with every step, the phantom ache between her legs a constant reminder of the sensory deprivation tank’s cruel game earlier. Seeing as there were few kids around, she figured she should be more… flamboyant. Flirtatious. Flaunt what she’s got. The tables that were furthest away from the children wasted no time grabbing her ass and smacking it, causing her to bite her lower lip to suppress many a moan. A handful decided to yank on the tail and build a pleasure of pressure inside her ass as a result.

Each time a customer’s hand brushed against her, or a playful smack landed on her rear, or her tail butt-plug was pulled on, a jolt of frustrated desire shot through her. It was a delicate balance of maintaining her professional maid demeanor while subtly escalating the teasing, her inner whore aching for release. The hour blurred into a tantalizing dance of near-touches and suppressed moans, all building to the moment she could finally be free to seek out someone who she knew could satisfy her.

And they were still at the table after the nice imp family left. Of course, they went right back to posting on social media afterward, showing off the maid café in all its glory. Of course, their eyes would dart back to Vicky occasionally. Her body, still humming with the aftershocks of the sensory deprivation, craved release, and the prospect of a full day of teasing without satisfaction was a special kind of torture. But the glint in Milo’s eye, the knowing smirk that played on her lips, promised a different kind of reward.

“Oh, Vicky, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Milo purred to themselves, their eyes following Vicky’s every move. The polite smile they maintained for the other guests couldn’t quite hide the predatory glint in their gaze. Little did Vicky know that she was teasing Milo with her outfit, her movements, her cute demeanor, a delicious game of push and pull that had the reaper practically vibrating in their seat. Every innocent sway of Vicky’s hips, every lighthearted laugh, every flutter of her faux lion tail sent a fresh jolt of anticipation through Milo, who was already planning exactly how they were going to have their fun with Vicky in that adorable uniform later.

The second the maid café ended for day one, Vicky was ready to leave and masturbate, but Milo was waiting there at the door for her. “So, I forgot to order something earlier.”

“Yes, Master?” Vicky asked, before Milo pulled her into their embrace so that they could whisper in her ear:

“Your pussy.”

Blushing, Vicky placed her arms around their shoulders and brought their free hand right to her ass. “You can have it to go,” she purred.

Neither hesitated finding a private room at the convention center. Yes, these two were willing to have sex in the back rooms; they’re that horny. Immediately after finding themselves finally alone, they began making out. Sensing Vicky’s desires, Milo’s hand went under her skirt, beginning to finger her roughly and causing her to scream in their lips.

“Not wearing any panties~? Naughty girl…!”

Their kiss deepened, the flickering light of the private rooms casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. Milo’s fingers, slick with Vicky’s arousal, delved deeper, finding rhythms that made Vicky gasp and buck against their hand. Vicky, in turn, found herself eagerly gripping Milo’s robe, bunching the fabric in her hands as she pulled them closer, desperate for more contact. The air thickened with their combined scents, a mix of sweet perfume and raw, potent desire, as the sounds of their shared pleasure filled the otherwise silent room. Vicky’s hips instinctively bucked against Milo’s hand, her body responding with an almost primal hunger to the insistent friction, each thrust a silent plea for total surrender, until she finally gasped for air.

“Fuck me! Ahh, please fuck me!”

“Now now, you’re still in uniform, aren’t you?”

“But I’m off the clock…!” Vicky whined.

“You still gotta do what I say,” Milo teased. “And as your Master, I say you cum first…!” And with that, their fingering became harder, faster, rougher. It took less than one second for Vicky to finally achieve her orgasm, practically squirting all over the reaper on top of her. “There we go…! Good girl…!” Milo just let the girl ride out her orgasm until she exhausted herself, leaving her a panting mess in a puddle of her own liquid ecstasy. “Now then… you sure you want me to fuck you as you are now?”

“Yes…!” Vicky panted, trying to catch her breath. “Get a dick and stick it in me…!”

“‘Get a dick,’ you say?” Milo asked, grinding their trousered up hips against Vicky’s skirt as they smirked down at her. “I think I might have one on me~!” And with that, the lights finally flicker out, leaving the pair alone in the dark as Milo slid their pants down. Vicky couldn’t see shit, but she soon felt something longer than fingers enter her pussy now, feeling Milo’s slim, toned body on top of her as they fucked her.

“Ahh…! Yes…!” Vicky moaned, attempting to buck her hips up with each thrust Milo made, but since she was exhausted as all fuck, she couldn’t. Milo had to do all the work pleasuring them both. “Damnit, I need to get this washed before we go back home…!”

“I’ll—nngh!—I’ll have my people work on cleaning it. What’s it made of?”

“Sa-haa~!—atin…! Made it myself…!”

“Nice…! So useful with those hands of yours… But let’s give them a break!” Milo panted as they used their free hand to pin Vicky’s hands above her head, using it to steady themselves. Vicky was left utterly helpless, unable to fight back…

And she really didn’t want to. She just wanted to be held down and have her pussy thoroughly used and abused. She wasn't in the mood to put in any more effort today. Now, she just wanted to be taken, to be ravished, to have someone else fulfill her desires without her having to lift a finger—or a hip, for that matter. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of the sensory deprivation, leaving her with an almost insatiable ache, a longing to be filled and utterly consumed. It was a familiar craving, one that only intensified when she was bone-deep tired and craving raw, unadulterated pleasure.

It took no time at all for Vicky to reach a second orgasm, Milo themselves reaching their climax soon afterward, catching their breath as they sat on top of her, practically collapsing as a result of the sex. And so they did, using her breasts as a pillow as they just laid there, catching their breath, high off of their own euphoria.

“Fuck, that was some good sex…”

“You were so good, Master…!”

“I know,” Milo chuckled. “So were you, little lioness.”

“Rawr~!” Vicky giggled, before realizing… “I cannot move.”

“Well, I’d scoop you up and carry you, but I’m all bone-ish… also I don’t really wanna…”

“Milo!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call a friend to quite literally pick you up,” Milo assured, taking out their phone and dialing a number, one the pair knew very well. “Yeah, Val? … She’s too far in a pleasure coma to move.”

Chapter Text

I don’t know how Valerie Oberlin was able to come over so quickly and get Vicky back to her room, but she did. But she was at the con anyway, which certainly made it easier. Sighing as she saw the pair in the back rooms, likely scaring off any cryptids that may or may not be lurking in the shadows, the cat girl easily carried Vicky off, giving her favorite whore the silent treatment, even as she placed Vicky onto her bed.

And by that, I mean Valerie’s hotel room and bed.

“Damn, girl. Rough day at work?” Valerie asked, sitting down on the chair in between the two beds.

“Fuck…”

“Yeah, me too. But hey, sold a lot of shit,” Valerie chuckled. “You know… you look awfully cute in that color, dressed like that,” Valerie purred, looking Vicky over: from the cute stockings and kitten heels to the cum-soaked skirt and food-stained apron of her red maid uniform to the lion headband and tail that somehow were spared from all of that. But alas, these do need to come off. Valerie took it upon herself to strip Vicky of her uniform; Milo did promise to have it washed, after all. And with Valerie sending it off to Milo’s team, it should be back by the time this chapter wraps up. All she had left on were those ears and tail.

“Heh… the customers liked it too,” Vicky yawned, body still feeling numb from earlier. The funny thing was that she’s still in the mood. Her motor was still running even though the sun hadn’t even set yet.

“Yeah, I could tell,” Valerie purred, starting to strip herself as well. “You even took one of them to the back rooms just so they could fuck your needy little pussy~!” As soon as her own pants were down, vest and shirt off so her breasts could breathe freely, she crawled onto the bed, purring as she stared down at the undead girl, now wearing nothing but her hairband and butt plug tail.

“Ah…!” Judging by the way Vicky flinched as Valerie brushed her fingers along the outside of Vicky’s vulva, she still had some feeling down there. A small, contented sigh escaped Valerie as she took in the sight of Vicky, finally stripped bare, her light teal, patchwork skin a stark, beautiful contrast to the hotel’s pristine white sheets and the little red dress she had on earlier. The lion headband perched jauntily on Vicky’s head, and the fluffy tail, still impaled in her ass, seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly, a silent invitation.

Valerie leaned over, brushing that skunk’s tail strand of hair from Vicky’s face, her fingers tracing the delicate stitches. The lingering scent of cum and excitement still clung to Vicky’s body, a potent aphrodisiac for the cat-girl. “Looks like we have some unfinished business, little lioness,” Valerie purred, her voice a low rumble, already reaching for the lion’s tail, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Gently, she tugged, twirling the costume around her fingers as Valerie’s tongue met Vicky’s pussy yes. “You’re such a mess…!”

“Yes…! I’m a messy girl…!”

“You sure are~!” Valerie purred, giving a tantalizing lick with that sandpaper tongue of hers, causing Vicky to flinch further. “Let me clean you up, baby…!” And Valerie continued to eat Vicky out, the latter letting out little moans and whines as she was left helpless to Valerie’s whims.

… but Vicky wanted control for once, even if she can’t physically take it. What’s a girl to do?

“Fuck, get that tongue in deeper…!”

“Ooh, got demands, do we?” Valerie asked, chuckling as she didn’t stop lapping up Vicky’s juices around her pussy and thighs.

“Yes…!” Vicky answered, slowly but surely regaining feeling starting from her core. “I… I need you to keep going,” she finally admitted, her voice a little breathless as Valerie’s tongue continued its relentless assault. The sudden confession, raw and unedited, seemed to hang in the air for a moment before Valerie’s purr deepened, a knowing smile playing on her lips against Vicky’s clit.

“You just lay there, little lioness,” Valerie murmured, her words muffled by the wet friction. “Just tell me what to do, and let me take care of everything.” And with that, she continued to devour Vicky, her tongue and lips working in a masterful symphony of pleasure.

“Ahh…! Come up and kiss me…! I wanna know how I taste!”

“Hehe, yes, Ma’am,” Valerie answered, crawling so her face met Vicky’s, kissing her and giving Vicky a taste of her own juices. Valerie, not willing to be left out, decided to grind her own pussy against hers, tugging on her costume tail some more.

“Harder…!” Vicky panted.

“Harder you say?” Valerie asked, doing just that, causing Vicky to clench.

“Ahh! Yes!” she squealed. Her knees locked themselves around Valerie’s waist, her hips beginning to buck of their own accord, a silent plea for more. The cat-girl obliged, her tongue a relentless, demanding force against Vicky’s own, leaving Vicky breathless and panting. The air in the room grew thick with their combined arousal, the rhythmic sounds of their shared pleasure a symphony of mounting desire. Vicky’s nails, despite her numbness, instinctively dug into Valerie’s short hair, a desperate grip on the intensifying waves of sensation. She could feel the tremors beginning deep within her, a delicious build-up that promised an explosive release.

“Fuck me harder…! Please make me cum again…!”

“All over these sheets?”

“Yes! Yesyesyes…!”

“Heh. You got it, lady!” Valerie then got Vicky’s numb leg over her shoulder, allowing their pussies even closer contact. Just as Valerie’s relentless ministrations threatened to push Vicky over the edge, the feline purred, a sound that vibrated deep within Vicky’s core. “Almost there, little lioness. Let me give you everything I’ve got.”

“Ahh, yes…!” Vicky squealed, achieving her third orgasm of the day as Valerie continued grinding until she reached her own climax. Surely the hotel staff will wash these in the morning. They remained intertwined, a contented silence settling between them, broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing and the distant hum of the hotel. Valerie gently stroked Vicky’s hair, moving it from her sweat-drenched face.

“So… you invite me to join you at this convention and the first thing I see is you fucking my favorite whore on your bed?”

Suddenly, in the doorway, her very expensive alligator luggage standing next to her, was Vera Oberlin… and the first thing she sees is her twin sister sweating on top of their mutual classmate.

“Hey sis,” Valerie casually greeted, quickly throwing on a hotel robe like the previous scene didn’t just happen. “Did I forget to lock the door?”

“Yes. You did. You know I love you but sometimes you can be reckless,” Vera chuckled, rolling her eyes… before they fell back onto Vicky, who was just now slowly beginning to sit up. “I’ll get her back to her hotel room. No need to tell me where it is; I know. Now Vicky, get dressed.”

Before either could say that Vicky currently has no clothes to wear, someone else joined Vera at the doorframe. Based on their attire, this zombie appeared to work at the hotel. And in their hands: a freshly washed, freshly pressed maid café uniform. See? Told you it’d be done by the time the chapter wrapped up. Can’t have Vera walking Vicky back to her hotel room wearing only nothing.

“Ahh, thanks. By the way…” Valerie began. This was going to be quite the long day for the poor hotel worker. But this story isn’t about them, remember?

Chapter Text

As soon as Vicky was dressed in her uniform once more, she was walked back to her hotel room, with Vera keeping a close eye on her as one of her suitcases was used as a walker to help Vicky along. As soon as they reached the room, Vicky was escorted to her own bed. Vera quickly texted her sister that she was gonna be a while; making sure Vicky was okay, after all.

“Sure thing. Still got dinner reserved at that seafood place for us later!”

“Sounds great. Cya then.” Vera soon pocketed her phone as she saw Vicky plop down into her bed. “Rest up, dear. Sounds like you’ve had a long day.”

“Uh-huh…” Vicky sighed, immediately succumbing to slumber as she took a nap. Vera just let Vicky rest as she continued micromanaging her many businesses—legal and otherwise—from the same bed, using her phone to do so while her sister was back out in the con.

That did remind Vera, though: Hookr was one of her most successful businesses that towed the line between legality and criminality. And Vicky was one of her most popular companions. She could totally see why: friendly to just about everyone, an overall cutie, and—her most important asset—being completely adaptive and malleable… Yes I am using that word correctly because you can pound this girl 666 ways to Sunday and she’ll remain her charming self, no matter how, and how much, she’s been used.

Vera does view Vicky fondly, as an employee and as a friend. The only one who could best her intellectually; why else would she try to have her assassinated before graduation? And yet she was one of the popular people and Vicky was… well… Vicky. She was happy with her tight circle of friends before stumbling into the beds of many whom she considered a friend. She didn’t care that she was just seen as a good fuck.

Now, Vera was of two minds with this. On the one hand, Vicky really didn’t need to objectify herself the way she does, even before having her sign up to use her body for money. She needed a talk with Vicky—and Miranda, for that matter—on matters of feminism. On the other, sexual liberation is also a part of that, and arguing otherwise could easily venture into puritanical territory.

It also explained why Vicky, for all her sexual exploits, had never actually used a safeword with any of her partners; she genuinely didn’t care what happened to her body as long as it brought pleasure, whether for herself or others. She was, in Vera’s eyes, a truly fascinating anomaly, a walking, moaning testament to the boundless nature of human—err… monstrous—desire. The gorgon sighed, a soft, almost wistful sound as she closed her phone once again, her gaze drifting towards Vicky, who was still deeply asleep.

… It was time she learned a lesson in safe sex. Good thing that suitcase used to help Vicky walk to her hotel room had all the right teaching materials. Quickly, she went to work, flipping Vicky onto her stomach as she used cuffs to bind her wrists to their opposite elbows and leather straps to bind those arms to her torso, as well as place cuffs around her ankles; a spreader bar was to go between them later. She used another bar and suctioned it to the door frame of the closet, attaching a clip cord to it, tugging on it so it didn’t collapse under the weight and potentially fall on Vicky’s head. And then she repeated the process with a second cord. Both were durable; the bar is durable.

Good. She was ready. And just in time too; Vicky had woken up, groaning as she found herself still in her uniform, but once again unable to move her body. This time, it was due to these physical, leather restraints.

“Ahh, you’re awake now. Time to teach you a lesson.” Vicky turned, seeing Vera Oberlin leaning against the wall next to the closet door frame. “Now then… walk over to me.” Wordlessly, Vicky obeyed, her breasts bouncing with each step until she reached the taller gorgon. Vera then used this to connect the other end of the clip cords to the rings on each wrist cuff, keeping her arms harnessed to her back, and to finally apply that spreader bar to her ankles.

“Good… and this is part of the problem.”

“Huh?” Vicky asked.

“Sure, blind obedience is all fair and good, but this could get dangerous quickly,” Vera began. “This is why we have safe words, dear. That way you can stop a scene before it gets to a point where you’re uncomfortable.”

“I mean… I can handle anything!” Vicky bragged, smiling innocently at her boss.

“Can you?” Vera asked, going into that same suitcase and taking out a paddle with the Oberlin Corp. logo on it—not official, but personally commissioned by Vera Oberlin herself. “I want you to come up with a word—any word—and if I begin to do something you don’t like, say it.”

“Okay…” Vicky then began to ponder, trying to think of any random word that popped in her brain.

“You’re thinking too much,” Vera groaned. “Would it be easier if I came up with one for you?”

“No, I got it…! Wait, why not just no?”

“While it’s a powerful word, it might relate too much with a CNC scene. And you and I both know you’re into that,” Vera answered. “A random word—like kumquat, per se—comes right out of nowhere. Stopping the scene in its tracks and effectively telling your partner, ‘Okay. I’m done. This is too far.’ Some people go for the Traffic Light system, with green to keep going, yellow to slow it down, and red to stop the scene entirely.”

“Oh… I think I get it,” Vicky answered. “Uhh… Cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon… okay. We can work with that.” Vera then walked up to Vicky, scooting behind her so she had easy access to Vicky’s ass. Just say that when you want to stop.

“Mm-hmm,” Vicky nodded.

“Good girl…”

SMACK!

“AHH!” Vicky cried as she felt her ass being paddled, biting her lower lip as Vera used it to rub the other cheek before smacking it as well, causing Vicky to cry out again, knees bucking together. But since she was in her current position, that only caused her to lean forward, causing her ass to stick out more; more access for Vera Oberlin, who remained silent throughout the ordeal.

SMACK!

“Ahh! Thank you!” Vicky squealed instinctively. Vera’s lips curled into a predatory smirk, a stark contrast to her sister’s playful demeanor. She watched Vicky’s flinch and listened to her squeal, the sounds a sweet symphony to her ears. After resting the gap in her heel on top of the spreader bar, essentially locking it in place, the paddle descended again, a precise, calculated strike that left Vicky’s patchwork flesh reddened and stinging. Vera enjoyed the helpless tremble that ran through Vicky’s body, the way she instinctively arched against the restraints, offering more of herself to the blows. This wasn’t about anger or punishment; it was about control, about teaching Vicky that even her boundless desire had limits, and that those limits could be found, and respected, through a simple word:

“Ahh! Cinnamon!”

“… Good girl,” Vera smiled, setting the paddle down, moving past Vicky in the door frame to give her a kiss as a reward, licking up the involuntary tears along the way. “You did so good, sweetie.”

“Thank you, Mistress…!” Vicky moaned, before seeing Vera pull something else out of that suitcase. Instinctively, she opened her mouth wide, letting Vera stuff the scarf into her mouth, using another to tie it around her lips.

“Now there are times where your ability to speak has been robbed from you. You still need to get that word out,” Vera instructed, tying it tightly behind Vicky’s hair, making sure it wasn’t caught in the sheer fabric. “Now then, try pushing it out. Shouldn’t be hard; it’s just fabric through fabric.” However, that seemed to be more challenging than Vicky realized. Despite the fact that her mouth wasn’t outright covered, her tongue couldn’t quite maneuver the balled up fabric past the fabric tied around her teeth. And the little whines she made in her futile attempts only seemed to please Vera more. “Oh, alright, stop. Cinnamon.”

Huh… so safe words weren’t just for the ones in the bottom. Who knew?

“Now then, since your ass has taken enough punishment already,” Vera began, pulling down the top of Vicky’s dress to reveal her bra, unhooking the front to let her breasts practically fall out. “I say we give these two girls attention.” Vera soon went back to the suitcase, and she stayed there for a while. What was she doing? Vicky couldn’t move herself from her position to see.

Soon enough, she saw Vera come back with several things: a rope, a white candle, a lighter, and a taser. Immediately, she flipped Vicky’s skirt up and used that rope to keep it flipped up, looping it around the leather strap beneath her breasts, threading it through her pussy and in between her ass cheeks to keep it up. “Just making things more interesting. The more you move, the more this—” Vera tugs on the rope in demonstration, causing Vicky to wince. “—will dig into your pussy further. I noticed you’re not using our safe word now… I want you to try using it with your mouth all cleave-gagged like that. Understood?

“Ytth, Mtthrtth…!” Vicky answered, words not exactly clear due to her mouth not being entirely free.

“Good girl,” Vera purred, kissing her gagged lips before taking the candle and lighting it. “Oh? You thought this was for the mood? Well, yes, but it’s also for this.” Vera demonstrated by letting the hot wax drip itself on Vicky’s tits, causing her to squeal again. Once again, Vera placed her heel on the spreader bar so Vicky couldn’t kick up. But she could tell the shorter girl was loving the feeling of off-white wax decorating her tits, looking like hardened cum.

“Nothing yet?” Vera asked, to which Vicky shook her head. “You want me to keep going?” Vera was met with a nod this time. “Alright. As you wish.” Vera leaned in close, her breath warm against Vicky’s ear, a low, seductive purr rumbling in her chest as she continued to let the wax drip itself, immersing herself in the scene. “That’s right. You’re entirely at my mercy now. And we’re just getting started.”

Her fingers, long and cool, began to trace patterns on Vicky’s exposed breasts, sending shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a familiar, hungry anticipation. The scent of melting wax mingled with the lingering perfume of her own arousal, creating an intoxicating cloud around them. This was exactly what Vicky craved: to be pushed, to be teased, to surrender completely to another’s desires, even if it meant being gagged and bound. She squirmed, her body eager for the next wave of sensation, knowing that Vera, with her keen intellect and discerning touch, would deliver nothing less than exquisite pleasure.

After all, this was only further training for her job, wasn’t it?

Vicky’s thoughts were quickly interrupted by the feeling of an electric shock on her clit. Screaming loudly through her gag, being tased was nothing new to her, but she had honestly lost count of how many times her pussy had taken punishment today. And the rope digging into it certainly wasn’t helping matters, all while hot wax was still dripping all over her breasts. However, it was made perfectly clear that Vera wasn’t going to stop until she was able to muster out the word they agreed on.

Come on, Vicky…! You can do it…! I know you want this scene to continue so badly, but you have your limits.

“Cnnnmm-mnnh! Cnnnmm-mnnh, Cnnnmm-mnnh, CNNNMM-MNNH!”

And just like that, it was over. Vera stopped, set everything down so Vicky could compose herself, catch her breath, let whatever drool that wasn’t soaking her gag mix with the wax on her breasts. She just looked as Vera took out her phone, taking pictures of Vicky in her compromised state: bent over, ass reddened, breasts covered with fluids of bodily and non-bodily origins, pussy throbbing, and Vicky herself overcome with pleasure as a result. Finally, she was let down, unbound, ungagged, allowed to lie down on the floor as Vera kissed her gently.

“You did so good, baby girl,” she smiled, massaging Vicky’s wrists as she was invited into a soft kiss.

“Thank you, Mistress…” Vicky mumbled in between breaths before Vera walked her back to the bed and had her lie down once more.

“Did we learn anything today?” Vera asked, massaging her ankles.

“Uh-huh…”

“So… what did we learn today?”

“That… that even though I like to be used by others, I should have boundaries to tell people when they’re hurting me.” Vicky paused, a thoughtful frown on her face. “And that it’s okay for me to say no even if I secretly want it. It’s about trust, right? And about me having control, even when I’m being completely submissive.”

“Good girl,” Vera purred, giving Vicky another kiss as a reward. “That goes the same when you’re not on the clock too. We know how your boyfriend and girlfriend can get with you and Oz…”

“I guess I can teach him this too, huh?”

“Oh no. Oz is already an expert in safe word usage,” Vera contradicted. “This was strictly a you problem.”

“Oh…”

“I know you’re all too eager to please, and many see that as a good thing,” the gorgon continued. “But the boundaries are not meant to constrain your pleasure, but to ensure it’s always consensual and genuinely enjoyable for you, even when you're exploring the wilder side of your desires. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Vicky answered.

“It’s Vera now,” she corrected, kissing her once more. “Now then, I have to make that dinner reservation with Valerie. You rest up, okay?”

“Okay,” Vicky sighed. “In all seriousness… thanks.”

“… You’re a dear friend of mine, you know that?” Vera answered. “You, Scott, Polly… You, Vicky, are among the lucky few who get to see me at my most vulnerable.” And with that, Vera gathered all of her things and left, heading back to her own hotel room to meet with her sister, leaving Vicky alone.

“Fuck… I needed that.”

The sensual body torture?

“No… that lecture. I really do push myself past my limits.”

Yeah… One might wonder if it’s healthy.

“Ugh… Speaking of healthy, I need to eat. Gotta follow the 6-3-1 rule so I don’t get con crud when I get home.”

The… what?

“Six hours of sleep, three meals a day, and one shower… You don’t know this?”

And I’m left to think to myself about this as Vicky showered, got dressed in her everyday wear—new chick sweater included—and left to go grab dinner for herself.

Chapter Text

Day One of Spooky Con was just about to come to an end, with the last of the all ages panels wrapping up and some of the 21+ panels taking place in the hotel conference rooms. Vicky was all refreshed, reenergized, and ready to take on the night! And that began at a Sci-Fi panel where authors were talking about their current works. Among them was Nanase, author of the Kuruhara Chronicles, a space opera spanning six novels, with a seventh on the way, according to her when a fan asked.

It was Vicky. Vicky was that fan who asked. And Nanase decided to seek out that fan in particular and invite her to a bar later that night. So this is where our promiscuous protagonist finds herself now, sitting at a bar with the author of one of her favorite space epics. She could hardly focus on what the tengu was saying, she was girl-crushing so hard…!

“Hey! Nana! Babe!”

The conversation had been broken by the arrival of a plus-sized lady of storms, having parked her bike outside the bar and was already on her way to greet the author.

“Hey, honey,” Nanase greeted, kissing the woman on the lips. Wait… Vicky, you know this person!

“Oh! Hey, Susanne!” Vicky greeted. “Nice seeing you again. How’ve you been?”

“Haha! Been great!” Susanne answered, giving Vicky a big bear hug.

Nanase chuckled, a warm sound that resonated with Vicky's current infatuation. “Hey, hon,” she replied, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she turned to Susanne. “Looks like you made it just in time to crash my little meet-and-greet.” She then turned back to Vicky, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Vicky, this is Susanne, my wife. Susanne, this is Vicky, the super fan who just asked when the next Kuruhara Chronicles book is coming out.”

“Oh yeah; she and I go way back!” Susanne boasted, sitting in between the two skinnier women.

“Mm-hmm! We went to Spooky High together,” Vicky clarified. “She was a sophomore while I was a senior, so she was two years behind me. Susanne, you didn’t mention you got married!”

“Well… I didn’t,” Susanne corrected. “We’re just girlfriends but we call each other wife, y’know?”

“Eh, someday, I’ll marry my greasy biker chic,” Nanase flirted, kissing Susanne, right in front of Vicky. And then they began whispering… Oh~! I know what they’re whispering about, but I’m not telling our lead here. But as soon as they’re done whispering, I’m certain they’ll tell her soon enough.

“Tell me what?”

Oh, what perfect timing, Vicky. They just stopped whispering and kissing each other’s ears. Both turned to her, mischievous grins on their faces.

“So… we were thinking…”

“Which is always a good thing coming from you,” Nanase interrupted, giggling.

“Since I intruded on your little date… why don’t you come to our hotel room for a threesome?” Susanne suggested.

Vicky shouldn’t be surprised by now—threesomes were nothing new—but she still couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement course through her. After all, the possibilities were endless when it came to a night with a science fiction author and her girlfriend.

“Sure! I wouldn’t mind!”

“Great!” Nanase hooted, signalling the bartender. “Another lady came. Another drink?” The scylla sighed, using their tentacles to mix another drink while their hands worked on cleaning the counter. At least these girls were polite.

At least they were sober… for now.

One motorcycle ride to the hotel later—it’s a miracle how Susanne was able to balance all three of them on her bike—and all three had made their way to Susanne and Nanase’s hotel room. Of course, since they were a couple, there was only one bed. None of them wasted any time stripping down to their lovely naked selves, and Nanase and Susanne certainly wasted no time making out with each other.

… Well damn. Vicky was starting to feel left out. All she could do was watch as the established girlfriends began sucking face, occasionally parting their lips to show Susanne and Nanase’s tongues doing the tango. What was a living corpse to do…?

“I wonder…” Vicky mumbled, before bringing her palm down on her ass, wincing as she did so. That little wince seemed to get the attention of the other women in the room, even though Vicky’s ass was still sore from her session with Vera earlier.

But, judging from their intrigued expressions, they were willing to sit there and watch the show. Chuckling, Vicky slapped her ass again, earning another gasp, sifting pleasure from the pain. But after a few rounds of reddening her ass, Susanne walked up to her, placing her head in between her legs.

“Hey. Try to relax, okay?” And then Susanne began eating Vicky out, sending an electric jolt through her body. Before she could fall backwards, Nanase took her place behind her, fondling and slapping Vicky’s breasts as she began kissing her. Both women gasped into Vicky’s lips—upper and lower—their own desires flaring in response to her open display of self-pleasure. Nanase’s hands expertly worked Vicky’s breasts, her thumbs teasing her nipples to hard points, while Susanne’s tongue continued its relentless, artful assault on Vicky’s clit, occasionally darting to lick up the residual soreness from her earlier paddling.

The combination of intense oral pleasure and breast play, coupled with the lingering ache in her ass, pushed Vicky to a new level of delirium. She arched against Susanne’s face, her fingers gripping Nanase’s shoulders behind her, a silent plea for more, for everything, for the complete obliteration of her senses in a maelstrom of shared ecstasy. The bar, the convention, even the concept of time seemed to melt away, leaving only the three of them, entangled in a symphony of mounting desire and delicious friction.

Eventually, Vicky was finally allowed to lie down, with Susanne beginning to scissor her while Nanase sat on her face. Vicky moaned as she began to munch on Nanase’s clit, gnawing at it with her teeth while the two women made out on top of her, a triangle of pleasure with two tops and their bottom for the night. And whenever their mouths were free, they let their drool drip freely onto Vicky’s body, all while making sure not to crush or suffocate her. After what felt like hours, all three women were spent, both physically and sexually.

“Ahh shit…” Vicky panted, currently sandwiched between both women.

“Ooh fuck…! We should do this again sometime!” Susanne chuckled. “Maybe next time we bring a guy?”

“Maybe… did you enjoy that, dearest?”

“Yeah. How about you, Vic?”

Vicky just shot them both a thumbs up, thankfully not as numb as she did during the other four sexual encounters she had today.

Oh fuck. All of these chapters took place over the course of Day One of the convention. Shit… The pacing is too fast. And we’re still not done!

Chapter Text

Vicky, feeling oddly refreshed, was on her way back to her hotel room, having the energy to walk all the way there. Little did she know that waiting for her was quite the nasty surprise. Sitting on her bed, having dramatically turned on the light as soon as she entered the room, looking quite disappointed… was one Princess Miranda Vanderbilt.

“Hey… you made it,” Vicky greeted, walking over to her, only for Miranda to cross her arms.

Vicky, what did you do?

“Darling, sit down in my lap, please?” Miranda asked, to which Vicky nervously scooted herself, situating herself in Miranda’s lap. As soon as she did so, Miranda took a good whiff of Vicky’s neck, her hair, her lips before kissing her girlfriend gently. “Hmm… you’ve had quite the busy day.”

Oh yeah… Their arrangement from the last story: Vicky having to send the people she fucked Miranda’s way to make sure they’re good enough for her. Miranda knew of Amira, Milo, and the Oberlin twins already, but there were plenty of new scents on her…

“I… I sure did,” Vicky answered.

“I’m not mad. I just missed you,” Miranda confessed, lying down and offering a hand for Vicky to kiss, which she did. “But you know our deal. How do I know you’re getting cock and pussy from the very best? How do I know my royal consort’s royal concubine is still clean and not pregnant?”

“Uhh… I’m undead. Don’t think I can get pregnant or any STDs…”

“Well, that’s good, at least. You’ve certainly done well for yourself, though,” Miranda added, tracing Vicky’s jawline with a perfectly manicured finger. “Your reputation precedes you, my dear. And mine is intrinsically linked to yours, now, isn’t it?” She paused, her eyes narrowing playfully. “So, tell me, where did these new friends come from?”

“Hehehe… from here,” Vicky answered honestly. “Just a bunch of nerds and shit.”

“Oh yeah… you and Oz are nerds,” Miranda remembered. “To my surprise, our boyfriend Damien is as well. And yet you don’t seem to have fucked him recently.”

“No… we haven’t. He’s rooming with Oz, so they’ve been spending a lot of time together. But… hopefully, I’ll see him tomorrow night!”

“Until then… I want you, Victoria~!” Miranda cooed, letting Vicky climb on top of her.

“I want you too, my Princess~!” Vicky purred, pulling the mermaid into a make-out session. To be fair, Vicky had been at the mercy of others all day. Sure, she enjoyed it all the while, but what if—and stick with me here—what if Vicky decided to go rogue? What if she wanted to top for once?

Put this spoiled little princess in her place?

SMACK!

“OH!” Miranda shouted, feeling Vicky having slapped her ass. A faint tremor ran through Miranda’s body as Vicky’s brazen act surprised her. Her playful glare deepened into something more intense, a challenge sparkling in her eyes. Vicky, sensing the shift, only grinned, her own hand finding Miranda’s thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The air in the room crackled with a newfound tension, a delicious game of dominance and submission about to unfold. Miranda, ever the strategist, leaned closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Oh, Victoria,” she purred, her eyes never leaving Vicky’s. “It seems you’ve found a new way to entertain your princess.”

“Yeah? You like this?”

SMACK!

“OH! Ouch…!” Miranda yelped, a fresh blush rising on her cheeks as Vicky’s hand connected with her other butt cheek. The mermaid’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and burgeoning excitement dancing within them. Vicky, emboldened by the reaction, leaned closer, her breath warm against Miranda’s ear.

“That’s right, my Princess,” she purred, her voice low and husky, a stark departure from her usual sweetness. “Tonight, you’re mine.” Oh, and to her luck, Vera left some scarves behind, spotting them on the floor by the closet. Smirking, Vicky made her way to them, quickly returning to tie Miranda’s hands above her head using one of the scarves, taking a loose end to the headboard. “Time to humble you, dear. By the way, those were in my mouth…!” she whispered.

“Normally I’d be grossed out, but…these were used to gag you my dear?”

“They were~!” Vicky answered, taking the other and balling it up. “Oh yes! Safe word! Vera says those are important.”

“Safe… word…?” Oh dear. It seems Miranda was foreign to the concept of safe words either.

“Basically, a word you say when you wanna stop, that isn’t, ‘no,’ or, ‘stop.’”

“Why not, ‘no,’ or, ‘stop?’”

“Ehh… depends on the scene. Anyway, my go-to is Cinnamon. Wanna use that?” Vicky asked.

“Sure! … Though I do have to wonder how I’m going to say that if you’re going to put that in my mouth,” Miranda pointed out. Just because Vicky was able to do it, doesn’t mean everyone will. So, plan B it is: using it to blindfold the princess instead.

“There we go…!” Vicky cooed, securing it tightly but gently around Miranda’s face. “Comfy?”

“You know… these are surprisingly soft…” Miranda complimented, feeling Vicky get back on top of her.

“I know, right?” And with that, she began kissing Miranda once again, slapping the mermaid’s ass every chance she got. But then she got another idea. Vicky went to the mini fridge in the hotel, taking out one of the plastic water bottles. Still cold. Perfect! Giggling, she approached Miranda with the bottle, slowly, deliberately, dragging it along Miranda’s inner thighs, then up her torso and along her gills, letting the chill raise goosebumps on her skin.

“Feeling a little chilly, Princess? Or is that just your antici… pation building?” Vicky asked, moving it closer to Miranda’s already-blindfolded eyes, creating a subtle shift in the air temperature around her face, further heightening her senses of touch and anticipation, before bringing it to Miranda’s breasts.

“Yipe!” Miranda gasped before feeling Vicky’s tongue brush against her own. Lips never touching, she let their tongues dance the way she saw Susanne and Nanase’s did earlier. As she continued to tease Miranda with the water bottle, Vicky leaned in close, whispering playful taunts and reminders of Miranda’s helpless state.

“Oh, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you? Just imagine what else I have in store.” Each word was designed to further heighten Miranda’s arousal and her awareness of Vicky’s control, something entirely foreign to a princess such as herself. Her fingers, cool and teasing, ghosted over Miranda’s now-erect nipples, a silent promise of what was to come. Miranda gasped, her body arching involuntarily against the bed, the chill from the water bottle replaced by a rising heat that threatened to consume her.

Vicky leaned in, her voice a low murmur against Miranda’s ear, “See, Princess? You’re already wet and melting for me.” The mermaid’s blindfolded face was a mask of exquisite torment, her lips parted in a silent plea as Vicky continued her delicious assault, enjoying every tremble, every whimper, every subtle shift in Miranda’s usually regal demeanor. This was a game she was expertly winning, a true testament to her newfound power.

She had a great teacher, after all.

“Ahh…! Cinnamon!”

And just like that, Vicky stopped. Miranda didn’t want to continue. She had to respect that. Smiling, Vicky returned the bottle to the fridge before quickly making her way back to untie and unblind her girlfriend.

“Are you okay?” Vicky asked. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not used to being the one on the bottom. I’m not sure if I like being tied down like that,” Miranda answered, crossing her arms, but still looking Vicky in the eyes. Her usual imperious demeanor was softened by a flicker of vulnerability, a rare sight for the Princess. “And being… controlled like that, it just… it felt strange. I’m used to being the one in charge.” She shivered slightly, a phantom echo of the cold water bottle. “It’s not my preferred method of… entertainment, let’s say.” She offered a small, sheepish smile. “But you, Victoria, you were quite the dominant, weren’t you?”

“Yeah… I’m not sure if I liked that either,” Vicky confessed, bringing Miranda in for a kiss. “I’m sorry…”

“I mean, if someone who was meant to abduct me were to do it, I might be more open,” Miranda mused. “But you are my lover. My paramour. I almost see you as an equal.”

“Oh, I know,” Vicky replied, a playful smirk touching her lips as she leaned in and captured Miranda’s mouth in another soft, lingering kiss. “And I almost see you as… well, almost worthy of being my little submissive princess. But for now, you’re just my incredibly hot girlfriend.”

Miranda giggled, a rare, unrestrained sound that delighted Vicky. The air between them, once charged with playful power dynamics, now settled into a comfortable warmth, a silent understanding passing between them. Despite the unexpected turn of their evening, a deeper intimacy had been forged, built not just on shared pleasure, but on mutual respect and a deeper understanding of each other’s boundaries and desires.

They tried a kink and didn’t like it. That’s natural. That’s healthy. See? They’re learning! We’re learning! … And it seems the Narrator has finally given up their attempts to keep their sexual urges at bay, no longer trying to hide it from the audience, enough that they began referring to themselves in the third person.

“Wanna just watch a movie instead?” Vicky asked. “Or have a pillow fight?”

“Victoria, why would we take these things and—?” Miranda started to ask, before having a soft pillow thrown in her face. “Oh… It. Is. ON!” They giggled, a playful glint in their eyes, as the first fluffy missile sailed through the air. What started as a lighthearted exchange quickly escalated into a chaotic flurry of feathers and laughter. Pillows became shields, then weapons, as they chased each other around the room, each well-aimed strike met with shrieks and delighted protests. The elegant hotel suite was transformed into a battlefield of soft furnishings, their earlier sexual escapades temporarily forgotten in the joyous anarchy.

Eventually, panting and flushed, they collapsed onto the bed, surrounded by a snowy landscape of displaced pillows and discarded blankets. Miranda, breathless but beaming, burrowed her face into Vicky’s breasts, her earlier anxieties about control completely evaporated. Vicky, equally exhausted and content, wrapped her arms around her, pressing a soft kiss to her own hair. The remnants of the pillow fight lay scattered around them, silent witnesses to a different kind of shared intimacy, one born of laughter and uncomplicated joy. As the last giggles faded, a comfortable silence settled, and the soft rhythm of their breathing filled the room until sleep finally claimed them, a peaceful end to a day of unexpected twists and delightful discoveries.

Chapter Text

Vicky was applying the final finishing touches to the giant hammer she had brought with her to the con. Black, gold, and hot pink, much like her cosplay: an amalgamation of Astral Princess and Junko Onishima—she couldn’t decide on one or the other, so she picked elements from both. She even painted her bolts with the same metallic gold that she did with her prop and belt. After tying her hair into two pigtails with ribbons and applying the eyepatch, she was ready!

Walking from the hotel to the convention center was like a walk in the park: hardly anyone was up so there was barely any foot traffic halting her from bee-lining to the lobby to attend the day’s earliest workshops and panels. Of course, not one to break the 6-3-1 Rule, her first order of business is to grab breakfast at one of the kiosks: a simple bagel with cream cheese and some herbal tea to wash it down. Did she have to wear her cosplay while eating? No, but she wanted to.

It certainly would’ve prevented some of that cream cheese from spilling onto her skirt, leaving a white stain against the hot pink. … Shit! All that hard work defiled by a stain that can’t be wiped off or washed out with what little time she had! The harder she tried to wipe at it with a napkin, the more it spread and began looking like a dried cum stain.

“Crap…!” It seemed her carefully constructed cosplay was already falling apart, and the day had only barely begun. Vicky let out a frustrated groan, drawing a few curious glances from her fellow early risers at nearby tables eating their own breakfast. This was not how she envisioned her grand entrance for Spooky Con’s second day. She briefly considered a quick dash back to her hotel room to wash the stain out, but the thought of taking off every intricate piece she stitched and sewed made her want to weep. No, a solution had to be found here, and fast!

Just then, a pair of impeccably polished sneakers appeared beside her table. Looking up, Vicky saw a familiar figure: Sasha, always perfectly put-together, even at this ungodly hour. His apron was clearly ironed, with scissors, pin cushion, hot glue gun, and travel sewing kit perfectly organized in the pockets sitting on that apron. Sasha’s expression, usually calm and collected, seemed to hold a hint of amusement as his gaze landed on the offending stain. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Heh… Morning, Sasha. Nico’s not the only one who needs a cosplay doctor…” Vicky admitted. “Do you have anything to wash this out quickly?” she asked, referring to the short skirt of her costume.

“Hmm… I might,” Sasha answered, digging through his pockets with his six hands. “What’s it made of?”

“A cotton-polyester blend,” Vicky answered as Sasha pulled Vicky into his lap and began inspecting her skirt closely. His hands, usually so precise with fabric, brushed against her upper thigh, and she felt a sudden warmth spread through her. As if on instinct, Vicky draped her legs over his, letting herself settle into Sasha’s lap. A subtle tremor ran through her as his long, dexterous fingers ghosted over the stained material, his touch warm against her bare skin where the skirt had ridden up slightly.

Her attention, however, was quickly drawn back to Sasha as he rummaged through his apron pockets, eventually pulling out a small, unassuming spray bottle and a soft cloth. “This should do the trick,” he said, a confident smile now gracing his lips. Then, as he shifted to get a better angle, she felt it: a distinct, undeniable pressure against the inside of her knee. His erection, firm and undeniable, pressed against her, sending a jolt of surprised arousal through her already stimulated body.

What also didn’t help was that his knee bounced as he worked, and Vicky tensed with every bump. Her eyes widened, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks, even as she tried to remain impassive. He must have felt it, too, because his inspection slowed, his movements becoming more deliberate, the pressure against her deepening almost imperceptibly. Even as he took out a bottle of stain remover, he smiled, gaze still on the pink fabric at the bottom of the pleated skirt.

“That should do it…” he muttered. Sasha, seemingly oblivious or expertly feigning it, continued his work, the stain slowly but surely fading into the hot pink fabric, knee bouncing faster and causing Vicky to wrap her arms around his neck so she didn’t fall off his lap. And he quickly noticed. “S-Sorry. Force of habit from when I work on my sewing machine at home.”

“It’s fine…!” Vicky answered, blushing as she looked down. On the one hand, the stain was, indeed, gone. On the other, a new one might’ve developed… elsewhere. This wouldn’t be a problem if the skirt did not allow for panty shots… which it did. And now Vicky knew why people with pussies loved sitting on washing machines as they shook while doing their work so much.

“But… your skirt should be good as new now,” Sasha announced, admiring his handiwork as she twirled her skirt around, and feeling thankful it was something as small as a stain for once and not an entire cosplay torn to shreds. His eyes, however, lingered on Vicky’s face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them as he finally registered her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. The unspoken tension in the air was thick, a silent acknowledgment of the intimate dance they had just performed under the guise of stain removal.

“… You felt it too, huh?”

“Y-Yes… as did you?”

“Uh-huh… so what do you wanna do?” Vicky asked, biting her lower lip. Sasha just smirked at her, putting his supplies back in his pockets and bringing her to an empty room so they could start making out on one of the tables. His boner, still sheathed by his pants, began grinding against her leg, using his spider silk to bind Vicky’s hands above her head. He used two of his to keep her arms pinned, two more to hold onto her hips, and the other two to keep her face locked onto his as they got their tongues down each other’s throats until he decided to break the kiss to let them both breathe.

“W-What do you want to do with me, Sasha?” Vicky asked, her voice breathless, despite her best efforts to sound composed. Sasha’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a possessive hunger that sent a shiver of delicious apprehension down her spine. He shifted slightly, increasing the pressure of his erection against her leg, and Vicky let out a soft gasp as a wave of intense arousal washed over her. His multiple hands, usually so precise with tailoring, now roamed freely over her body, two tracing the delicate curve of her hips, another two kneading the soft flesh of her thighs, and the remaining two keeping her own hands pinned above her head.

“I think,” Sasha gasped, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “We’re just getting started on this little… alteration.” As he spoke, he undid his apron, placing it onto the table and revealing his slim figure beneath his white button-down shirt. “And this time, it’s going to be tailored precisely to your pleasure, my dear Victoria.” He then went back to making out with her, deepening the kiss, his tongue a masterful explorer within her mouth, mirroring the eager dance his erection performed against her. Vicky’s body arched instinctively, a silent plea for more, her mind already hazy with the promise of what was to come. The thought of being completely at his mercy, of letting him expertly unravel her, sent a thrill of anticipation through her, a delicious current that promised to electrify every nerve ending.

Eventually, he parted from her lips again, not giving her any time to breathe before placing the cloth in her mouth, quickly using some of his own sticky thread to seal it in place. Effortlessly, he moved her wet panties aside and flipped her now clean skirt upward, using his lowermost set of hands to unzip and unbutton his trousers, slide his briefs down, and eventually get his dick inside her pussy. She moaned, biting down onto the cloth as he pounded her into the table.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, her muffled cries turning into desperate pleas. The rhythm intensified, a primal dance of bodies connecting, each thrust a confirmation of her surrender, her pleasure mirroring his own unbridled desire. The table beneath them groaned and shook faintly with each movement, a silent testament to the raw passion unfolding on top of it, as Sasha drove into her with a relentless, exquisite force.

“Fuck your pussy feels so good…!” Sasha moaned into her neck. Vicky just nodded in response, probably trying to tell him that his dick also felt good. The familiar feeling of cock filling her, the rhythmic pounding against her insides, sent jolts of pure, unadulterated pleasure through her. Vicky bit down hard on the cloth, her eyes rolling back as her hips instinctively bucked against his, meeting each thrust with a desperate urgency. Sasha’s muffled grunts mingled with her own choked whimpers, a symphony of raw desire echoing in the small, empty room. The table beneath them became a drum, vibrating with the force of their shared passion, as Vicky’s body convulsed around his, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it.

And just like that, it was over; Vicky came around Sasha’s cock, who was emptying his sticky load inside of her, getting a few more pumps in to make sure not a single drop came out of her as he pulled out, her own cum covering his rod. “Well… I think it’s only fair you repay me the favor,” he chuckled, undoing the spider threads stitching Vicky’s lips shut, allowing her to spit the cloth out.

“Yeah… that sounds right…” Vicky answered, rolling over onto her stomach. Sasha, in return, undid the wrist bindings above her head, only to rebind them behind her back. He kept them pinned to the small of her back as she began blowing him, licking his cock and balls all the while.

“Ahh…!” Sasha moaned, gritting his teeth, using a second set of hands to steady himself against the table, bucking his hips against her face. He was considering using his third pair of hands to either hold her face in place or play with her ass. He settled for both options, using one hand of his third set to dig his fingers into her hair, using his other to tickle her chin as he eased her mouth around his cock.

Then he brought his second pair of hands to cup her ass cheeks, spreading them slightly. Vicky’s breath hitched, the gargled sounds escaping her lips a testament to the exquisite torture of being so completely used and rendered immobile. She bucked her hips instinctively, trying to meet his rhythm, but his hands held her firm, controlling the pace of her pleasure. Sasha, a master of control, watched her, a silent triumph in his eyes as he reveled in her helpless hunger… and suddenly found himself climaxing in her mouth this time. Panting, he finally let her go, turning himself around and leaning against the table, leaving Vicky to drool a mix of saliva and semen from her mouth.

“S-Sorry… lost control there for a moment…” he panted, a blush creeping onto his face in embarrassment as he undid the spider silk keeping Vicky’s hands pinned behind her back.

“I… I guess that was pretty good for an alteration,” Vicky finally managed, her voice a little hoarse, as she pushed herself up on the table, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She ran a hand through her disheveled pigtails, a faint tremor still running through her. The large, empty room, still thick with the scent of their recent passion, seemed to hum with the lingering afterglow. Sasha, still leaning against the table, offered her a small, almost shy smile, a stark contrast to his earlier hungry demeanor.

“In… indeed,” he replied, his voice still a little breathless. He reached out, gently wiping a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Perhaps a little more… tailored, next time?” His eyes twinkled with mischief, and Vicky couldn’t help but return the smile, a renewed spark of desire already kindling within her. She knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that this was far from their last session.

“We should probably head back to the floor… people might start coming in,” Vicky advised, dusting her cosplay off and inspecting the space. Good news: no noticeable mess or stains… in the room, anyway. Bad news: Vicky was left a mess. Particularly, her now disheveled hair.

“Want me to fix up your hair?” Sasha offered. “I’m no hairdresser, but I work with wigs, so…”

“I think so,” Vicky answered, taking out a brush and mouse out of her hammer—which conveniently doubled as a purse—as soon as they made their way back to the table Vicky was sitting at earlier. “My boyfriend always makes sure I have hair care packed. He normally takes care of my hair. Don’t tell him I’m seeing someone else to fix my hair”

“That’s good, at least. And don’t worry; my lips are sealed,” he chuckled. “But I can definitely get you looking presentable again.” He moved behind her, carefully untangling a knot with his fingers before applying a gentle dollop of mouse. Vicky leaned into his touch, enjoying the unexpected, tender moment after their intense encounter. Thankfully, this didn’t take too long. “And now… I need to check up on Nico. They’re entering a cosplay contest.”

“Oh? What as?” Vicky asked.

“The Joker. They’re trying their hardest to get into character…” Sasha answered.

“Ooh~! Tell them I said good luck!” she cheered. “By the way, feel free to brag to them about how good your dick is.” This caused Sasha to blush once more, thinking about the person he potentially wanted as a datemate that way. “Now… how’s my head?”

… Does he fall for the oldest sex gag in the book? And if he does, does he play coy? His gaze lingered on Vicky, a silent appreciation for her resilience and the vibrant energy she exuded even after such an intense session. “I have no complaints,” he finally said, his voice a low, knowing rumble. He watched as a mischievous glint appeared in her eye and a playful smirk touched her lips.

“Good. Still none yet.” Vicky shot a wink at him—which could be hard to tell considering she’s wearing an eyepatch—before taking her hammer and walking off. Sasha watched her go, a faint smile playing on his lips, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his eyes. He ran a hand through his own hair, a new kind of creative challenge now unfolding in his mind. He knew Vicky was always full of surprises, and he was more than eager to unravel them, one expertly tailored session at a time.

Chapter Text

Vicky’s cosplay was holding up incredibly well! A bunch of people even asked for her autograph—in character or otherwise. The rest of her morning was mostly uneventful, but then she would once again find herself in the Merch Hall, where she spotted a booth selling fanzines. Of what fandom, who cares?

Wait… did Vicky spot herself among the covers being displayed? When exactly was that picture taken of her? Sure, it wasn’t anything too scandalous—this was during the day when you needed to tuck away the NSFW merch, after all—but still, that’s Vicky, not exactly looking at the camera that apparently took this photo while she had her encounter with Jacqueline… She took it down from the rack, going through it and revealing just about all of her sexual encounters so far—even the ones from the first fic. Hell, there’s even pics of encounters that haven’t happened in this fic yet!

… Vicky, don’t look at me! I’m a voyeur, but I wasn’t taking pictures!

“…”

Okay, I was! But they were for my private collection, I swear! I didn’t upload them to the internet!

“… Hmm.” Vicky then closed the fanzine, walked over to the booth, and gently placed it down onto the table. “Ahem!” The person behind the table—a stitched up undead much like Vicky was, beret covering her face—was startled awake. She likely hadn’t gotten a sale in a while, hence why she took the nap.

“Oh, hi! Are you interested in one of my zines?” she asked, before noticing Vicky’s stern face… and immediately recognizing her from the zine she had on display. Vicky just continued to stare at her, eyes narrowed, finger tapping against the fanzine rhythmically. She didn’t say a word, just pointing a second finger at herself. “Oh… oh my… I can explain.”

“Oh you better, Missy!” Vicky exclaimed with sparks coming out of her bolts.

“I just found these pics online! And they were so… so… candid! Oh, by the way, my name is Yang Yang! HUGE fan!” she finally blurted out, her voice a desperate squeak. “I… I thought it would help with sales. I swear, I didn’t mean any harm! And I didn’t know it was you until just now!”

“And where exactly did you find them?” Vicky asked, trying to keep her composure.

“From some shady guy’s site online. I just… downloaded them.”

… Vicky, now I know that sounds bad—

“We’ll have a talk later.”

Noted.

“I’ll… I’ll take them down! All of them! And I’ll give you them for free! Please don’t be mad at me!” Yang Yang begged, bowing apologetically. Vicky’s gaze softened at that, likely feeling bad for Yang Yang’s predicament. She did say she didn’t know… So Vicky looked through the one she placed on the table again, flipping through it as her gaze went back to Yang Yang. Eventually, the hint of a smirk began to play on her lips.

“How about this,” Vicky began, offering her hand, which the Jiangshi took. “You and I make sure these stay between us… and the other people featured in this zine. And… I might let you see what’s under these clothes for yourself.”

Yang Yang just shrieked in surprise, covering her mouth with her free hand to suppress it. Without questioning it further, she nodded, closing up her table so she and Vicky could find a place to show her fellow undead female the forbidden goods.

… Am I still allowed to watch?

“… No.”

No? NO?! But… then who’s gonna narrate the part where you bed Yang Yang?!

Simple. I’ll do it myself. Consider it a break. Now then… where were we? I’ve decided to take Yang Yang under her table where—shockingly—she didn’t store extra stock. Huh… she really wasn’t expecting to sell much, did she? But that ended up not mattering as we began making out. I even went through the trouble of letting down the top half of my cosplay the show her my tits.

“Oh…! I’m actually seeing titties in person…! C-Can I take one into my mouth?”

Aww~! She’s so sweet! I feel bad for getting mad at her earlier. Anyway, the answer was yes. I began straddling her as she began sucking on my breast like a newborn babe nursing for their mother’s milk. And boy, did I get off on being milked. Of course, this is all hypothetical since my tiddies can’t produce milk anyway. I’m undead, and even if I wasn’t, I’m not pregnant.

… as far as I’m aware anyway. I’m almost certain my body is unable to sustain a fetus. Ooh! Maybe I could ask the Coven to give me a potion that lets me develop milk in my mammaries! That way I can produce my own milk. Wait, I wonder what corpse milk tastes like? Would it come out all cheesy and spoiled? … This is why I normally don’t narrate; I got distracted by my own thoughts!

But damn…! Yang Yang’s so good at getting my nipples hard…! I wanted to return the favor to her, so I slipped my hands into her shirt and began playing with her own breasts. Judging by the sound she made with my tiddy in her mouth, I think she liked it! Yang Yang’s breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping her lips as my touch ignited a fire she hadn’t known was simmering beneath her calm exterior. Her body, usually so composed, responded with an involuntary arch as my fingers kneaded and teased, sending a delicious shiver through her.

A low hum of pleasure vibrated in her throat, a counterpoint to the insistent pull at her breast. This was far beyond what she’d anticipated, a direct assault on her senses that left her utterly vulnerable and intensely aroused. She closed her eyes, letting the exquisite sensations wash over her, a silent testament to my prowess. That’s how Mx. Narrator narrates these things, right?

Eventually, we parted our lips, only a strand of saliva connecting us now. Her eyes, wide and dilated with desire, stared up at me, a silent question in their depths. I leaned down, kissing her forehead gently, enjoying the faint tremor that ran through her as I whispered, “You’re even sweeter than I imagined.” Yang Yang blushed furiously, a shy smile gracing her lips, and I knew, without a doubt, that this forbidden encounter was only just beginning.

So yeah, we swapped numbers, I paid her for the zines, and I was on my way. Gonna be giving them to friends and… maybe keep a copy for myself just in case? But still…

“Narrator, we need to talk.”

Yes?

“I’m not saying that you’re not allowed to take pics. Just ask me first, please? Also, PLEASE do not post those on the internet. I wanna be able to do that if I wanted to.”

I’m gonna be honest. I did not post those. Seriously; I have no idea how they wound up in Yang Yang’s possession.

“Hmm… I’m gonna believe you for now. But I need you to do me a favor.”

Name it.

“… No sex during the next chapter. Got it?”

… Yes, Vicky.

Chapter Text

So… following Vicky for a normal… sexless… lunch date… That’s fun. And even if it does end up becoming sexy, I’m putting on a chastity belt to keep myself from wanking it. She didn’t ask me to; this is just me trying to make up for what happened on Day 11.

Anyway, Scott’s coming over because his favorite sport has been adapted into a YA Fantasy novel, and the text is dyslexia friendly so Scott could read it easily. Good thing Vicky is here to help make it easier.

“So does the font make reading this book a little easier?” she asked, sitting on a bench with him, football fantasy book in hand.

“Oh, it does!” Scott replied, his tail wagging as he gestured to the page. “See? The letters aren’t all squished together, and there’s like, extra space between the lines. It’s way easier to read this than, like, a regular textbook.” He turned the book slightly so Vicky could see, his finger tracing a line of text. “Plus, the story’s actually pretty cool. It’s about a kicker who uses magic to win games, but then he has to deal with, like, dragons and stuff.”

“That’s so cool…!”

“Ahh… if only dragons were real…” Scott sighed, because yes, in a world of vampires, werewolves, mermaids, gorgons, and all sorts of monsters in between, this world does not have dragons. Bummer. “I wonder if there are other sports stories like this…”

“There oughta be. Some fantasy novels even make up sports with convoluted rules,” Vicky pointed out. “Like there’s this one where the point of the game is to get 999 points, but if you grab a golden bitch, you win automatically.”

“That’s weird…”

“Oh! And there’s one where the whole point is to catch a giant, magical pig while riding on flying brooms. Totally bonkers, right?” Vicky grinned, enjoying Scott’s wide-eyed enthusiasm. “It’s like authors just love to make up the craziest sports. You should definitely look for more fantasy books that have sports in them.”

Scott’s tail wagged even faster, his eyes lighting up with the prospect. “Really? That’s so cool! I’m gonna go check the merch hall right after this. Thanks, Vicky!” He closed his book, already buzzing with newfound excitement. “This is almost as fun as reading about, like, actual sports history. Dragons and magic kickers sound way more fun!” He bounced on the bench, eager to start his search, completely missing my silent sigh of contempt that the conversation had stayed entirely G-rated.

Yippee…

“You like reading about sports history?”

“Well… sometimes my tutor reads it to me because the text changes color and begins dancing around the pages,” Scott informed. “But I like hearing about how some of my favorite sports came from!”

“Well, what else do you like to read about?” Vicky asked.

“Oh! There’s this book about the names of all the stars in the sky! I wanna name a star one day…” Scott answered. “Maybe… George?”

“Maybe,” Vicky replied, a thoughtful expression on her face. “George the star sounds pretty cool, too. Especially if he’s got a whole constellation named after him. You know, like, the George constellation, and it’s shaped like a football?”

Scott’s eyes lit up even more, imagining the celestial gridiron. “Whoa! That’d be awesome! And then, like, the really bright stars could be the goalposts, and the little ones are all the players running around!” He paused, a hopeful look on his face. “You think I could make that happen? Like, actually get a star named George?”

“It’s possible. Ooh! Maybe you could have a comet named after you!”

“A comet? WAIT! Comet’s a cool name too!” Scott’s tail was thumping against the bench now. Suddenly, the thumping slowed before coming to a stop. “You… you think Polly’s a comet now?”

“I… maybe…” Vicky answered, pulling her knees to her chest. Oh yeah… I guess the End of the Road happened here. Polly… moved on. She’s become stardust once more… It’s been a while since the summer that happened, huh? The air hung heavy with the unspoken grief, a silence that felt too vast for the bustling convention hall. Scott fidgeted, his tail drooping, the usual boundless energy replaced by a quiet somberness.

Vicky reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, her touch a comforting anchor in the sudden emotional depth. She knew this feeling, the sharp pang of loss that lingered long after a loved one was gone. It wasn’t a pain that vanished with time, but one that softened, becoming a dull ache that surfaced in unexpected moments.

“She’s… she’s still here, Scott,” Vicky murmured, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe not in the way she used to be, but she’s everywhere. In the starlight, like you said. In every bit of dust that makes up the world. Polly’s a part of everything now.” She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, a silent promise to remember, to honor the memory of their friend.

“Vicky… I miss her…” Scott whimpered. “But she’s up in the stars now, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“… You think we can find Polly’s star and make it her birthday present?” Scott asked.

“You know, they offer star certificates. I think she’d love one with her name on it,” Vicky answered. “And I think she’d love one last prank from Prank Master Dogg…!”

The wolf boy, still somber but with a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, nodded slowly. "Yeah… a prank from Prank Master Dogg. That’s me! Polly would love that. She always loved pulling pranks. Because we are the Prank Masterz! With a Z!” A wistful smile touched his lips, a fleeting echo of their shared mischief. “What kind of prank do you think she’d like the most?”

Vicky paused, a mischievous glint in her own eye. “Hmm… something unexpected. Something that would make her laugh, even up there in the stars.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, a playful scheme already forming in her mind. “Maybe we could send a glitter bomb to the universe? Or perhaps rig one of those star-naming observatories to play her favorite song really loud? Imagine all the astronomers getting showered with glitter and listening to, ‘The Gambler!’” Scott’s tail gave a tentative wag, a chuckle escaping his lips as he envisioned the chaos. “Or… we could prank someone who’s watching us, and cock block them by not having sex at all. Make them think I’m mad at them for something stupid. So mad that they’ll—by their own volition—wear a chastity belt so they can’t wank off anyway.”

… Vicky, you are not!

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

“Hehehehe…! Gotcha, Narrator! Scott, say hi to the Narrator! You just helped me prank them!”

“Hi, Narrator!” Scott chimed in, a genuine smile replacing his earlier somber expression. “Thanks for helping Vicky prank you! That was really funny.”

You… bitch!

“I bet Polly’s smiling down at us, huh?” Vicky asked, shooting a sweet smile towards the taller werewolf athlete.

“Yeah… she would’ve loved that prank for sure!” Scott laughed, before being interrupted by a low grumble. Oh yeah… you two are supposed to be having lunch on this lunch date. “When’s the pizza getting here?”

“Any minute now,” Vicky answered, rubbing her stomach. “I’m starving!” The conversation flowed easily after that, shifting from potential pizza toppings to their plans for the rest of the day at Spooky Con. Scott, still buzzing from the dragon-kicker book and the successful prank, chattered excitedly about visiting the vendor hall to hunt for more fantasy sports novels.

Vicky, equally invigorated by the unexpected turn of events, found herself enjoying the simple, easy company. There was a comfort in this moment, a gentle calm after the whirlwind of her previous encounters, and a reminder that not every interaction needed to be a maelstrom of pleasure. It was enough, sometimes, to simply share a laugh with a friend, the faint scent of the convention floor mingled with the promise of hot pizza filling the air.

And I… need to find a way to get this chastity belt off before the next chapter.

Chapter Text

Vicky’s next event on her agenda for today was to attend Zoe’s Liam Prom panel, where she and Liam would talk about her web comic in detail, sharing old concept art for the many different Liams, Zoe’s inspiration for writing an entire world where everyone is her slightly paler purple friend, the works.

Then it came time for audience questions… hardly any of which had to do with the RPFF in question. But Vicky didn’t mind, as she personally found it cute seeing Liam get flustered and Zoe become a master at answering the most random of questions on the fly. Since they were her friends, she was saving her questions for later.

… which would be immediately after the panel ended. Zoe made her way down to Vicky offstage and gave her a big old hug. “There’s my favorite beta reader!” Zoe giggled. “How’d you like the panel?”

“The panel was awesome, Zoe! You and Liam were hilarious together. Especially when he got all flustered about which Liam represented his ass.” Vicky giggled, squeezing her friend’s hand. “But now that it’s just us, I have to ask… the lasagna-themed Garfield lingerie you joked about selling your fanfic for? Is that a real thing?” A playful glint entered her eyes, betraying her curiosity. She leaned in closer, a conspiratorial whisper, “Because if it is, I might need to see it in person. For… research purposes, of course.”

“Well…” Zoe began, shifting her eyes as the pair walked along. “I did get an offer to sell the web comic, and I may be using it to buy Garfield themed lingerie… Oh, but that’s only because it’s my favorite comic of all time!”

“But still… selling the rights to your comic? You sure you wanna do that for sexy undies?” Vicky asked, taking off her cosplay’s eyepatch and fiddling with it in her hands.

“I don’t know!” Zoe groaned. “On the one hand, sexy undies! On the other hand, Liam Prom is my greatest achievement in my life so far! … And I’ve been around for billions of years.”

“Well, it’s certainly a step up from eons of plagues, natural disasters, and conspiracy theories…” Vicky mentioned, to which Zoe stopped in her tracks, all three of her eyes glowing. “Your cult again?”

“Yeah… No asking me to end reality this time. They’re just checking on me to see if I’m okay,” Zoe clarified, smiling. “But they could just… call my cell phone. I love them, but…”

“They’re worried about you, is all,” Vicky finished, upon which Zoe’s eyes glowed a second time. “That one was a sacrifice request?”

“Yep,” Zoe sighed, annoyed. “And here I thought my writing Z’Gord’s obituary would work… It had everything! Like mentioning I was defeated by the Coven!”

“Which is not a lie. They did seal you into a totem, after all,” Vicky reminded. “And then Polly and Miranda got you out and the three of us took you to Homecoming.”

“Yeah… I remember that,” Zoe sighed, reminiscing before her… phone rang. Zoe quickly dug it out of her hoodie’s front pocket, using her hand to answer it. “Oh. Now they use the phone… Hi, guys!” Vicky just watched as she had a phone conversation with her guardians. By the way Zoe’s face shifted from confusion, to shock, to absolute delight… something good must’ve happened. “You better not be fucking with me!” she laughed before hanging up, grabbing Vicky by the hand, and running.

“W-Wait! Where are we going?!”

“My hotel room!” Zoe answered, having the two of them run through and across so many obstacles and crowds alike before making it out of the main stage and into the hotel, up the stairs to the room where Zoe and Liam were staying, and into the room. Sitting on Zoe’s bed was a small box, as well as a notecard.

“Well, what does it say?!” Vicky asked as Zoe picked it up with her tentacle.

“‘Hey there, Zoe. I’ve been speaking with my partners and we’ve decided to come together to get you a special something that isn’t a goat or a virgin—dead or living. What we want in return, we’ll decide when you get back home. Love you bunches! —Grandmaster.’” Zoe carefully undid the ribbon with her fingers, unsure of what waited for her inside. But considering the prompt for this chapter, I think you and I can both guess what’s in there before she does.

Good thing you’re only reading this and not seeing this for yourself: for the squee she shrieked as a result would be enough to rupture any and all eardrums in the room.

“No way! THEY DIDN’T!” Zoe cried, smiling as she took out an orange bra with black stripes, a matching bikini bottom with tail attached, and a pair of matching ears. Now, this could just be a sexy tiger costume, but Zoe checked the tags. Yep, there was Jim Davis’ signature on every single one. This was legit. An actual set of Garfield-themed lingerie. And as an extra measure, there is another set, looking like someone weaved pasta into a sexy undergarment… like lasagna. And like the other set, Jim Davis’ signature was on both tags.

“This is amazing, Zoe! I can't believe it!” Vicky exclaimed, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and genuine happiness for her friend. She reached out to gently touch the soft, striped fabric of the bra, a grin spreading across her face. “Your Cult is seriously the best for this. And your Grandmaster sending a card? That’s just too sweet.”

Zoe, still beaming, pulled the pieces of lingerie out of the box, holding them up against herself. “I know, right? I was so worried they were going to demand another sacrifice, but then… this! Thank goodness this isn’t another goat!” She twirled around, a playful skip in her step, the Garfield-themed undergarments a vibrant splash of color against her vibrant purple skin. “Now I don’t need to decide if I’m actually going to sell the webcomic! AHH! I need to change!”

Zoe wasted no time stripping down her clothing, zero shame in her body image: her curves were starting to fill in, her breasts were developing—I’m not going to ask how they knew her measurements, cup size included—but everything about Zoe’s body just screamed feminine now… quite literally with some of the mouths covering her body.

Suddenly, as Zoe was deciding on which set to wear, Vicky was feeling overdressed. “Well, I guess I can give my body a break from this cosplay anyway.” So she began to strip down as well, slipping out of the leotard dress making up her cosplay and revealing her own nerdy lingerie underneath: the bra had lace appliques, hot pink matching the cosplay itself. Sitting in between the cups was a golden eight-pointed star, similar to the ones present on each member of Astral Princess’ team. Her panties also had the lace frills and the golden star sitting on the band in front. And much like the cosplay itself, this was made by hand! Impressive for her first set of lingerie after dozens of attempts, mainly to accommodate for Vicky’s mismatched breasts.

“Ooh~! Girl, you look stellar,” Zoe purred, twirling the tail on her panties for the set she decided on.

“Heh, thank you,” Vicky cooed, climbing on top of her so the two could start making out. Vicky’s mismatched breasts were pressing against Zoe’s developing chest. The air in the room, already thick with the scent of cheap hotel sanitizer and their own rising arousal, now hummed with a playful energy. Vicky’s hands roamed over Zoe’s imperfectly perfect purple skin, enjoying the way Zoe’s mouths—the ones on her body—parted in silent moans as Vicky's fingers brushed against them. Zoe, in turn, found herself eagerly tracing the lace appliqués and the star on Vicky’s bra, a soft, contented purr vibrating in her throat, as well as using her tentacle to suckle on Vicky’s own imperfectly perfect body.

“Oh fuck…! Keep playing with me…!” Vicky moaned.

“Yeah?” Zoe asked, teasing at Vicky’s mouth with her tentacle, to which Vicky began to suck on for just a moment. “I do love a good tease, pretty girl,” Zoe purred, her tentacle then going in between Vicky’s legs before expertly circling Vicky’s clit, sending shivers of intense pleasure through the undead girl. Vicky gasped, her head falling back as a soft moan escaped her lips, her fingers tangling in Zoe’s tentacled hair as she tried to pull her closer. The taste of herself on Zoe’s tentacle, mingled with the sweet, almost clinical scent of the new Garfield lingerie, created a heady mix that threatened to push her over the edge. She bucked her hips instinctively, a silent plea for more, for the relentless friction that only Zoe seemed capable of delivering.

“Oh, Zoe… just… deeper,” Vicky managed to pant out, her voice hoarse with desire. Zoe obliged, her tentacle delving further, pushing Vicky to the brink as Zoe found her G-spot. The pleasure was almost unbearable, a delicious torment that had Vicky whimpering and writhing on top of her, her entire body alight with a desperate, all-consuming need. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum…!”

“Yeah?” Zoe teased, getting behind her and bringing her breath to Vicky’s ear. “Do it, then, bitch…!” And with that, Vicky’s breath hitched, her eyes dilating with pure, unadulterated pleasure. Zoe’s whispered command, the demanding tone, ignited something deep within her, a hunger that transcended even her eons of existence. Her tentacle, still deftly manipulating Vicky’s clit, picked up its pace, each stroke a silent promise of the release to cum.

Vicky’s body tensed, her moans growing louder as she arched against Zoe, demanding the absolute zenith of sensation. The air in the room crackled, thick with their combined arousal, a symphony of mounting desire reaching its fever pitch until Vicky cried out, practically coating Zoe’s tentacle with her cream. “Good girl…!” Zoe moaned, slowly pulling her tentacle out of Vicky’s pussy and to her mouth to clean up. Of course, it teased Vicky’s throat as well, practically fucking her face as Zoe’s hand went on to slap Vicky’s ass and tits, making them bounce. “Such a good little bitch…!”

Vicky’s fingers, still tangled in Zoe’s hair behind her, tightened their grip, urging her friend closer, a deep, guttural moan rumbling in her chest. Zoe, sensing the shift, only intensified her ministrations, her tentacle a relentless, exquisite force against Vicky’s throat, while her free hand began to massage Vicky’s inner thigh, drawing out soft whimpers of delight. The hotel room, once filled with the playful banter of friends, now throbbed with the escalating rhythm of their shared desire, each gasp and every soft cry a testament to the intoxicating power of their unexpected tryst.

Finally, Zoe pulled away, her tentacle glistening with Vicky’s pleasure, and returned it to her own mouth, licking away the evidence of their delicious encounter. “You are truly a work of art, little bitch,” Zoe purred, her three eyes sparkling with a mix of admiration and satisfied hunger. She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Vicky’s lips, tasting the remnants of their shared passion. “And this… this is just the beginning of our masterpiece.” Vicky, still breathless and trembling, could only nod, her mind already buzzing with the tantalizing possibilities of what the rest of the day might hold.

Chapter Text

When it’s time for the kids to leave, that’s when the freaky shit comes out: feet pics, tits and ass ergonomic mouse pads, dakimakuras, and even NSFW art commissions being worked on LIVE!

And then there’s Liam de Lioncourt, known world wide for his yaoi across a multitude of art forms. But occasionally, he is down for drawing some yuri. And his favorite model to use? Our protagonist, of course! And here she is, volunteering herself for his after dark exhibit in the Merch Hall. Why specifically after dark? Well…

“So I’m just blindfolded while people walk up to me and do whatever they want to my body?”

“Precisely,” the four centuries old vampire answered, to which he then received a slip of paper from the Frankensteinian girl. “Already on it with what you will and  won’t allow, I see.”

“Yep,” Vicky answered, thinking back to her earlier experience with Vera just the other day. Boundaries and safe words are important, and it’s good to see our girl starting to enforce them. And it’s a good thing Liam was looking those boundaries over: Vicky cannot be made to bring a weapon to her body, no visible cuts or bruising, no undoing stitches—because there be freaks out there who are into that—no making her soil herself—and there are definitely some sick fucks who are into that. She will allow lipstick marks, degrading words on her body, wax—seems Vera might’ve awakened something in her—will allow herself to be tied up and made to kiss whoever’s interacting with her—as well as being made to cum—tickling, pinching, zapping… seems solid. And judging by the look on Liam’s face, he seems to agree.

“I do have some hard rules myself on what people are and are not allowed to do to you. For example, you are the only one allowed to be nude. Nobody’s gonna be making you give oral or vaginal sex. No anal, no handjobs, none of that. No violating my art piece.”

Damnit…

“That’s a relief,” Vicky sighed, getting behind a changing screen and stripping out of her cosplay. Of course, Liam watched as his canvas was disrobing, revealing her light teal skin underneath the hot pink and gold costume she was wearing. He saw as Vicky contemplated keeping her hair up in pigtails or letting it down for this self-exhibition. She eventually decided to let it down, seeing as people might wanna do something with her hair anyway. Finally, she put on her blindfold, ready to be led to whatever Liam had planned for her. “Ready!”

The first thing she feels are his hands gently cupping each breast from behind, using his thumbs to caress her nipples, causing her to gasp. He was just taking in his canvas before it was time to bring it to the public. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips, even though the blindfold obscured her vision, heightening her other senses. The touch was both tender and possessive, a silent promise of the exquisite sensations to come. She could already feel a familiar warmth spreading through her core, a hungry anticipation building with each deliberate stroke of his thumbs. This was going to be a long, glorious night.

Soon enough, she was led to the location of Liam’s exhibit. She could only imagine she was being paraded around like Lady Godiva, her nude body on display for all to see. Eventually, she felt him stop her in her place, silent all the while. And for extra fun, Liam decided to place earbuds in her ears, putting on his playlist for when he needs to feel inspired. For a while, she was just standing there… until she felt a pair of hands grab at her body, one holding her arm above her head while the other took a marker and began to write… something along her side, causing her to giggle. She then felt a rope go around that wrist, being tied to something above her, so that arm was now staying up.

The next person likely saw this and decided to rectify it by doing the same to her other arm. Vicky grabbed onto both ropes keeping her wrists bound and suspended as someone else began to write—or draw—something on her stomach. Then again, it could’ve been the same person for all she knew. Then she felt someone take her face in their hands and kiss her on the lips, and once again she could feel someone writing or drawing on her body—this time, right above her ass. She then felt this person’s tongue trace her body, planting little kisses along the way before reaching right above her pussy.

Her entire body was a canvas of sensation, each brushstroke of the marker, each lingering touch, a new current of pleasure. The music in her ears, Liam’s carefully curated symphony of arousal, only intensified the experience, drowning out the murmurs of the crowd and focusing her entirely on the intimate, intricate unfolding on her skin. She felt a delicate tickle as someone, perhaps the same person who kissed her, began to draw intricate patterns just above her navel, their fingers occasionally brushing against the sensitive skin of her abdomen. Another hand, firm and surprisingly gentle, kneaded her left breast as they wrote something underneath, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

A warm, wet sensation startled her as someone else licked a path from her inner thigh all the way up to her already throbbing clit, their breath ghosting over her most sensitive flesh. Vicky whimpered, her hips instinctively tilting forward, craving more of the delicious torment. The ropes binding her wrists, once a symbol of her restraint, now felt like a conduit for the escalating pleasure, each tug sending a jolt through her. She was a living sculpture, molded by touch and desire, her body a testament to the boundless creativity of both her audience and her own insatiable hunger for sensation.

She then felt someone using that marker on her lips, likely trying to mimic lipstick—and judging from the smell, it was one of those fruit-scented markers that most of us reading this grew up with. Against that person’s judgment, they kissed her colored lips before taking her right leg and bending it, writing something on the underside of her thigh before setting it back down. Someone else gave her ass a slap, lifting her other leg up so this person could write something on the bottom of her foot, and… were they also coloring her toenails? Interesting.

The phantom sensation of markers on her skin, the warmth of breath, the light kisses, and the relentless attention from unseen hands built to a crescendo. Each new touch was a spark, igniting a deeper fire within her, a delicious unraveling that left her weak-kneed and breathless. The constant stimulation, the mystery of who was doing what and where, was a potent aphrodisiac, transforming her into a vessel of pure sensation. She was utterly at the mercy of the crowd, a willing subject in their communal masterpiece, and the thought thrilled her to her core. Her body, adorned with a kaleidoscope of illicit art, became a living testament to the boundless creativity and shared desire that pulsed through the room.

Finally, Liam’s soft voice cut through the music, a gentle hand on her shoulder as he undid the ropes keeping her arms above her head. “Alright, my little canvas,” he murmured, his voice warm with satisfaction. “That’s enough.” The music faded, and the earbuds were carefully removed. A soft rustling of clothes, hushed whispers, and the distant sound of feet shuffling seemed to signal the end of the exhibit, leaving Vicky in a state of blissful, post-sensory overload. She felt utterly used, exquisitely adored, and thoroughly, deliciously exhausted. Liam then led her away, a soft robe draped over her, the markers and kisses still a vibrant map on her skin.

But he wasn’t done just yet, oh no. He himself took a marker to her belly, writing a Shakespearean sonnet as he sat her down on a chair. He paused, his gaze lingering on her still-swollen pussy lips. Of course, he was tempted to pleasure her orally just as she did for him during their first encounter. So of course he took that opportunity. By the way Vicky gasped, it turned out the vampire was a cunning linguist in more ways than one. Finally, she was allowed to climax all over his tongue, using her hands to grip onto the chair and steady herself so she wouldn’t fall over.

“How… how was I…?” she asked, panting.

“Oh, my sweet, insatiable muse,” Liam purred, his voice a rich, velvety rumble that vibrated deep within her. He climbed up and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the damp skin just beneath her ear, sending shivers through her already sensitive body. “You were, as always, an exquisite canvas. Every gasp, every shiver, every single mark left upon your skin was a brushstroke in a masterpiece of desire.” He gently massaged her jaw, tilting her head back slightly to gaze into her dazed eyes, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “And as for your… performance, darling? Let’s just say you continue to inspire me to new and even more depraved heights.”

“Yeah… Heh, take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Vicky giggled.

“Already taken care of,” Liam whispered, planting a kiss on her lips before giving her a robe to dress herself in before she was to head back to her hotel room. “I think you’re gonna like what people wrote on you.”

“You think so?” Vicky asked, finally removing the blindfold.

“I mean, I certainly do,” Liam chuckled, giving her back her clothes in that hammer that also acts as storage. “Have a good night.”

“You too!” And with that, Vicky headed back to her hotel room, hardly anyone turning towards the girl in nothing but a hotel bathrobe as she practically waltzed from the Merch Hall to the hotel, all the way up to her room. Finally, when she was alone, she undid the robe, waiting to see what degrading sayings and drawings were left on her.

To her surprise, however, there was none of the sort. She saw that her lips and toes had been colored purple—that understands the grape smell—which was obvious already. But she also noticed comments along her body such as, “Cutie patootie,” “Soft hair,” “Beautiful voice,” tons of spots to, “Kiss here,” a few instances of, “Good girl.” … These were compliments. Little words of praise decorating her body. And instead of dicks and other vulgar images, there were little hearts, stars, smiling faces; someone even gave her freckles. … She liked it.

And then there was Liam’s poem on her stomach. She could barely read it from her position, so she opted to take a picture of her reflection and read it that way. Before she could, however, Liam shot her a text. As if he was sensing her intentions, he sent her the very picture she needed: what he wrote on her abdomen:

Ah, my sweet muse, stitched from shadow and delight,
Four hundred years I’ve traced the stars and moon,
But never found a canvas half so bright,
As your fair form beneath this hallowed room.

Each scar a story, every thread a grace,
A tapestry of life, so bravely worn.
My ancient heart, in this forgotten place,
By your fierce spirit is anew reborn.

I’ve seen empires crumble, ages fade to dust,
Yet in your eyes, a vibrant, ceaseless fire.
A timeless beauty, in whom I place my trust,
To quench this long, unyielding, deep desire.

So let them gaze, and paint upon your skin,
My muse, my canvas, where endless joys begin.

Well. Isn’t this romantic? It didn’t rhyme perfectly, but it didn’t need to be. She liked it enough. Vicky paused to herself, actually wondering if there truly is enough of her to go around. And if there isn’t, then maybe somewhere there is a universe where she is his… Oh well. Time to scrub this off and head to bed.

Hmm… perhaps Liam could design her a tattoo for when she and Oz finally decide to tie the knot…

Chapter Text

Another long day at Spooky Con is just about wrapping up. Vicky was ready to just fall asleep naked in her bed. After a long shower of washing away the art display Liam had written on her skin, Vicky stepped out of the shower, hardly paying attention as she face-planted into her pillow… which meant the sudden hands on her ass caught her off guard. Shrieking, she flipped herself over and punched her assailant in the face.

“… You know punching’s my thing, right?” Damien LaVey asked.

“Oh! Sorry!” Vicky apologized, sitting up.

“It’s fine, babe. Didn’t even nudge me.” The demon prince then kissed her, having his tongue invade her throat—a stark contrast to the relatively gentle experience with Liam earlier. “Wanted to pop in because, apparently, you were walking around in a skimpy costume all day.”

“Skimpy? Really?” Vicky asked, crossing her arms.

“And I… missed it,” Damien answered, sounding disappointed.

“I’m sorry. I could put it back on if you want!” Before Damien could say anything, Vicky got to work putting her costume back on. Damien had to admit, he might be one of the few people who gets turned on by people putting clothes on. He saw the way Vicky’s costume firmly hugged her body, how her boots tightly gripped her shins as she zipped them up, how she expertly tied up her hair back in their pigtails before tying ribbons around them. Out of everyone in his royal harem, Vicky was by far his favorite. Then again, she’s the only member of his royal harem outside of Oz. But he can’t say both were his favorites, now can he?

Oh yeah… when it’s time for him to rule the Eighth Circle of Hell as King, there’s gonna be a lot of things he can’t do. The most important of these was the fact that he could no longer pursue his true passion of cosmetology. He never cared about school more than when he was in Beauty School: he was at the top of his class! Beauty school was also the perfect excuse to finally get into drag: doing his own makeup and hair and sporting the dresses Vicky herself would design and tailor to him… he was gonna miss that as King.

“Damien, what’s wrong?” Vicky asked. Damien had hardly noticed she had finished putting back on her cosplay, he was in his own thoughts. But he did notice her face was still completely undone.

“Nothing, lemme just beat your face,” Damien chuckled, pulling Vicky into his lap so he could do her makeup. But Vicky could tell his heart wasn’t into it.

“Damien. Tell me what’s wrong.” Vicky helped Damien lie down on the bed, straddling him as he did so.

“It’s just… I’m twenty-two now, which means I’m one year closer to my dads retiring—or dying—and me becoming king,” Damien began. Vicky, in turn, began to do his make-up in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Vicky sighed, applying golden eyeshadow that matched his own golden eyes, pairing perfectly with his red skin.

“There’s gonna be all sorts of rules, rules that not even I can break because of traditional authority or some shit,” Damien continued. “Not to mention, where am I gonna find the time for my passion when I’m enacting diplomacy or waging wars or whatever kings fucking do…?”

“I wish I could give an answer for that,” Vicky lamented, moving onto applying blood-red blush to his cheeks. “Not to mention… you and Miranda are engaged, right?”

“Fuck, I forgot…!” Damien groaned. His engagement to the youngest princess of the Merkingdom was made public news during their respective winter celebrations, and while he did love her, he just knew she was better suited for ruling with an iron fist than he was. She had her architecture degree to work on, which would mean more buildings in the Eighth Circle for their future denizens to live in. She… actually would do phenomenal as Queen.

“Hmm… Damien? Do you still have your Queen of the Road getup from that road trip before college?” Vicky asked. Damien blinked, confused. Of course he had it, but why would Vicky be asking about that. “Just put it on, okay?”

Damien just went to his suitcase, already met with the chains, bullet shells, and belts that made up his drag persona. He then stripped down from his own clothes, showing off his abs to his girlfriend; and maybe he thought that was the only reason she wanted to see him change into drag, but seeing her smiling face encouraged him to keep going. He didn’t need anything to cinch his waist or pad his ass—doing this for a long time contorted his body to serve his needs—so he carefully dressed himself in the burlap tarp making up his dress, wrapping the chains and belts around it to better form to his body before taking more belts to his legs. Finally, after putting on his Vicky-made shoes, armored glove and shoulder pad, and bullet shell necklace, all he needed was his towering blond wig and chain link earrings.

The Queen of the Road was officially here! Except…

“So… why do you want me dressed up like this, Doll?”

“Do you feel confident?”

“Yes…?”

“Unstoppable?”

“Yeah…”

“Noble?”

“Yep.”

“Like you’re thriving?”

“Ye—WAIT A FUCK!” Damien laughed, recognizing what exactly Vicky’s compliments spelled out; it’s the same thing BooPaul Charles would on his drag competition reality show! Sure, the words were different, but still!

“That’s all you need to rule, Daddy,” Vicky purred, stepping up to him as the heels he wore made him tower over her even further. He just smirked down at her, taking the cosplayed nerdette in his arms.

“Fuck you’re giving me the hardest boner right now…!”

“Yeah?” Vicky teased as he pulled her up for a kiss, tackling her onto the bed so they could continue their make-out session.

Damien, still clad in drag—a true, “Queen of the Road,” even in the confines of a hotel room—smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes as Vicky lay beneath him. “Well, look at you, baby girl,” he purred, his gazing taking in her costumed form, lingering on the familiar curves and patchwork of her skin. “Ready to serve your Queen?”

“Yes, Daddy…!” Vicky squealed, eagerly parting her legs, to which Damien noticed she didn’t even bother putting her panties back on. This was his Vicky alright; tired, but still vibrant, a freak, and entirely at his mercy. She pulled him back down towards her, a mischievous glint in her own eyes. Her finger teasingly traced the outline of his exposed bicep, bringing her lips to his ear. “Besides, I seem to recall certain perks that come with a crown.” She licked his ear, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “And if memory serves, it involves the entire Eighth Circle of Hell kneeling before you.”

Damien’s smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly replaced by an intrigued glint. He had always enjoyed her spirit, but this newfound assertiveness was a delicious, unexpected twist. “Oh?” he rumbled, his hand finding her waist, pulling her flush against him. “And what might that be, baby girl?”

“That is where my influence comes in, Daddy,” Vicky countered, her voice a low growl that vibrated against his ear, sending a fresh shiver down his spine. “Because while they’ll bow to you as King, they’ll be unaware that I may or may not be influencing you on certain decisions behind the scenes. Either way, they’ll learn what happens when they displease you, and what rewards await them when they submit.” She pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his, a fierce, almost primal intensity in her eyes. “And you, my King, will have a loyal, insatiable partner by your side, ready to enforce your will and cater to your every desire outside of your eventual marriage, while still giving you the freedom to indulge in your own passions, should you find the time.”

“I like the sound of that,” Damien chuckled, pressing his boner against her inner thigh. “You’re so fucking smart, sure, but when we don’t have politics involved, you listen to me.”

“Yes, Daddy~!” Vicky cooed, letting Damien impale her with his cock, shifting inside her pussy to be exactly what she needed. “AHH! Fuck yes, Damien!” She arched her back, a guttural moan escaping her lips as Damien’s first deep thrust found its mark, a perfect fit that made her cry out his name. His dress rustled around them, the chains clinking softly as he began to move, a primal rhythm taking hold.

“Fuck, I wanna put babies in you and make you raise my bastards…!” Damien moaned. “But I’m gonna recognize every single one of ‘em just to spite my wife!” His strong hands gripped her hips, driving her down onto his cock with a relentless, possessive force, each pump sending waves of exquisite pleasure through her. 

“Yes, Daddy…!” Vicky purred, digging her fingers into his secured down wig. Vicky’s legs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling him even closer, her painted lips finding his neck and tracing burning kisses along his skin, a silent promise of all the power and adoration that awaited her King. This was a different kind of reign, one forged in passion and undeniable submission, a delicious, dangerous game they both reveled in. “Ahh fuck, cum in me…!”

“Yeah, this pussy is fucking mine…!” Damien moaned, gripping onto Vicky’s ass more possessively. “I’m not wasting a fucking drop outside of it. You are taking every—gyahh…!—last one!” His nails dug into her ass, a possessive grip that left no doubt of his claim, as he continued his relentless rhythm. Vicky gasped, her head thrashing against the pillow, the golden braids of his wig a wild halo around them. Each thrust was a hammer blow, driving her deeper into the mattress, deeper into a swirling vortex of pleasure and primal instinct. Her moans, once breathy whimpers, now became raw, guttural cries, acknowledging his dominance, feeding his hunger. This wasn’t just sex; it was a coronation, a fierce and passionate claim to his future royal whore, and Vicky, in every fiber of her being, reveled in the glorious, messy surrender, even as he hammered in his orgasm, using her own to pump his load inside of her.

“Ahh~! Thank you, Daddy!” Vicky cried, panting as he took her in his arms, sitting her out as he kissed her once more, bringing one hand to her stomach. Sure, she may be undead, but demon magic allowed two men to make a baby. Who’s to say it didn’t allow one to make a baby with a corpse?

“Fuck, I mean it, Doll…” Damien panted, breathing in her hair. “Damnit, you got me all sentimental… I wanna have kids one day too, okay? But… I don’t want them to be tied to ruling Hell like I am…” he admitted, showing that despite being reminded of the perks, it could also be a curse… one he didn’t want to place on any offspring of his.

“Wait… you really want me to be the mother of your children?” Vicky asked. “I thought that was just for the scene and—”

“Yeah. … You, Oz, Miranda… I wanna start a family with all of you.” Damien hugged Vicky tighter at that. His confession, so raw and vulnerable, struck a chord deep within Vicky, a silent understanding passing between them as she tightened her embrace. She knew, with a certainty that settled in her soul, that their journey was far from over, and that together, they would navigate whatever challenges—and desires—the future held.

“Glad to see I’m more than just a whore,” Vicky chuckled, kissing him. “The four of us need to go out on a date sometime.”

“Heh… Yeah. Fuck what the press says: if they see me blowing our boyfriend while you make out with our girlfriend, so be it!” Damien laughed.

Vicky, finding herself overwhelmed by the sudden vulnerability Damien showed her, just cradled his head in her arms. She knew that he was an asshole, but he was her asshole, and she wasn’t going to give up on him that easily. “I’ll stick with you, Damien,” she whispered, kissing him once more. “I’ll always be here for you.” Damien just squeezed her tighter, burying his face into the nape of her neck. He was so lucky to have her. “I love you, you big softie.”

“Okay, if that gets out, I’m fucking you up your ass in a bush.”

“Is that a threat, Daddy?”

“Only if you let it be,” Damien yawned. “Fuck, I need to get out of this; don’t sleep in drag, pro tip.” And with that, Damien got up and began the long process of getting out of drag. Vicky soon got out of her own costume, washing off the make-up in the sink before retiring to bed. Damien was still undressing by the time sleep welcomed Vicky, and soon enough, he joined her, embracing her as they ventured into slumber together.

Chapter Text

Vicky woke up bright and early the next morning, stretching as she sat up in bed the moment the first rays of sunlight pierced through the hotel room curtains. Of course, she noticed the sleeping form beside her, hair all sprawled out on the pillow beneath them. “Good morning, Daddy,” she purred, patting their back… only for her hand to phase through. Huh?! And then the figure turned in their slumber, revealing their face to her.  Vicky’s mind reeled, trying to grasp the impossible.

Polly… here?! Her heart throbbed with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy. She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against a warm, incorporeal form beside her. This wasn’t a dream. This couldn’t be. The scent of Polly’s familiar perfume, the soft rise and fall of her chest, it was all too real, too potent to be a mere figment of her imagination. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, half-expecting the vision to vanish, but Polly remained, a peaceful, slumbering presence. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across Vicky’s face as a single tear, not of sorrow but of pure, unadulterated happiness, tracked a path down her cheek.

A gentle whimper escaped Vicky’s lips as she reached out, her fingers phasing through Polly’s shoulder, a ghost of a touch that sent a pang through her. The impossible reality of the situation slowly dawned on her—Polly, her beloved, mischievous friend, was here. The realization twisted her gut, a bittersweet ache amidst the joy. How could this be? Was this a gift? A final goodbye? Or simply a vivid, cruel trick of her subconscious, desperate for one more moment with the star-dusted prankster after having finally moved on?

She reached out again, her hand hovering just above Polly’s spectral form, afraid to disturb the fragile illusion. The phantom warmth emanating from Polly was almost enough to convince her it was real, almost enough to make her forget the crushing weight of absence. But the fleeting nature of the touch, the way her fingers passed through, was a constant, stark reminder. Vicky's eyes brimmed with tears again, a silent, poignant deluge. This wasn’t the boisterous reunion she’d dreamed of, but it was Polly, and for this fleeting, miraculous moment, that was enough.

“Yawn… morning, Vicky,” Polly purred, waking up as she greeted her friend. “So… you might be wondering why I’m here.”

“Uhh… yes!” Vicky answered, not even questioning where Damien went.

“Yeah… me too,” Polly chuckled.

“Wait, you don’t even know?!”

“If you ask me, I think the Narrator’s trying to stir up some shit.”

P-Polly?! She can officially recognize me now?!

“Like, duh, dude. Remember when I tried taking over for you when you needed a break?” Polly reminisced. “Good times…”

Yeah, I remember… And don’t look at me; I don’t know what you’re doing here either.

“Eh… doesn’t matter anyway,” Polly yawned, brushing me off. “But I’m just gonna say… I miss you guys, y’know?”

“Aww… we missed you too,” Vicky confessed, kissing her. Her lips parted in a silent invitation, and a soft groan escaped her as their mouths finally met, a desperate, hungry kiss that tasted of longing and joy. Vicky’s fingers threaded through Polly’s ethereal hair, attempting to pull her closer, a futile effort that only intensified the ache in her chest. The phantom sensation of Polly’s undead body against her own, the ghost of a warmth that almost convinced her this wasn’t a trick, was a delicious torment. She didn’t care if this was a dream, a hallucination, or some narrative trickery; for this precious, impossible moment, Polly was here, and that was all that mattered.

Polly, sensing the depth of Vicky’s emotion, responded with an almost tangible embrace, her spectral form shimmering slightly as their kiss deepened. A soft, contented sigh vibrated through Vicky as she surrendered to the impossible reality of the moment, letting herself be consumed by the bittersweet reunion. This was a moment suspended in time, a fragile bubble of joy and sorrow, and Vicky clung to it with every fiber of her being, knowing that even if it was fleeting, the memory would be etched into her undead heart forever.

“Goddamnit, Vick…” Polly sighed. “I miss the taste of your pussy…!”

“Fuck, I wanna taste your pussy too…!” Vicky moaned, lying down and removing her blanket so Polly could climb on top of her, already going commando as Polly went for Vicky’s own already naked lower half. Vicky then took her tongue to the spirited cunt currently sitting on her face as she felt an ethereal tongue tease at her own clit.

Polly’s ghostly form suddenly solidified, becoming almost entirely real against Vicky’s eager body, a testament to the sheer force of their combined desire. Her phantom tongue, now feeling surprisingly substantial, danced and swirled around Vicky’s clit, eliciting gasps and desperate moans as Vicky devoured the spectral pussy above her. Every thrust, every lick, every desperate cry was a reaffirmation of their bond, a defiance of death and distance, as they plunged into a maelstrom of shared ecstasy, a love that transcended dimensions.

Without waiting for either to climax, Polly turned herself around, making out with her as she began to scissor the undead girl beneath her, both tasting each other and themselves on their tongues. Polly quickly parted from her lips, letting her drool pool onto Vicky’s tongue as she scissored her. Both girls’ moans echoed throughout the room, their anticipation creeping up as the sun did.

And with a final, echoing moan that intertwined with Vicky’s own, Polly shuddered, her ethereal form dissolving back into shimmering stardust, leaving Vicky gasping and spent, a phantom warmth lingering where her friend had been. The morning sun, now fully streaming through the window, illuminated the empty space beside her, a poignant reminder of the bittersweet reality. Vicky lay there for a long moment, catching her breath, a profound sense of peace mingled with the familiar ache of loss settling over her. It had been impossible, fleeting, and undeniably real in its intensity. And… judging from the fact that Damien LaVey was sleeping beside her once again, it turned out to be a dream after all. Dangit, I hate the, “It was all a dream,” trope!

Anyway, she slowly sat up, her body still humming from the impossible pleasure, still smelling the scent of Polly’s unique, rosé wine and stardust perfume. It was a dream, yes, but one so vivid and potent it felt more real than many of her waking moments. Vicky ran a hand over the space beside her, a wistful smile touching her lips. Even in absence, Polly found a way to be there, to share one last, glorious moment of shared intimacy. It was a prank, perhaps, on the very fabric of reality, and a gift that Vicky would cherish, a secret warmth tucked deep within her undead heart.

“… I need a break,” Vicky decided, getting back into bed, letting Damien spoon her as she drifted back to sleep. Wait… Vicky, you can’t take a break now. We’re in the middle of the story!

“I know, but I just dreamed or hallucinated fucking Polly right now. Can’t I just… take the next chapter off?” She sighed, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “Just one day, please? I need to recover from that… experience.”

… Fine. The Narrator, after a moment of internal debate, relented.

“Thank you…” And with that, Vicky fell back asleep. And now I’m left bored out of my skull… You know what, it’s just one day, right? What could happen?

Chapter Text

…

Damnit. I thought that chapter summary would work. Since Vicky, Brian, Amira, and Oz are the only ones who bother to interact with me on a regular basis, I was certain one of the other three would take my offer. You’re probably wondering why Vicky herself isn’t here this chapter. Well… today, she’s getting a break. She did this for a whole month last time after all, so I thought it’d be nice to at least give her a couple of break days… or at least one break day. Seventeen seems like a good number to do this on, right?

Anyway… it’s kinda hard. Also, it’s difficult to narrate stuff that has nothing to do with sex with a raging boner. So let’s see if I can find any of the other three, since they’re clearly not coming to me.

… Hello! Anyone?

“Uhh… if I talk with you, can you stop harassing the audience?”

Brian! Thank the fourth wall; I was getting so bored!

“The fuck are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be trying to follow anyone else?”

Well… you four are the most fun to hang out with. And the most fun to have sex with.

“Well… not to brag, but I am the biggest out of the four of us.”

Yeah, in more ways than one…! So…

“You wanna follow me for the day and then fuck later?”

… Please?

“Fine… I’d say to meet me in my hotel room, but you’re gonna be on my ass all day anyway, so—”

I can easily wait to materialize there, if that’s what you’re getting at.

“… You know what? Deal.”

And so, Brian went off on the rest of his day. Going to do fun con stuff, trying out a round of that tabletop game Liam is doing, seeing a screening about fighter classes, that sort of thing, all while sporting a cosplay showing off his abs and pecs.

… The fucker’s teasing me, and I can’t even jack off because I’m currently incorporeal.

“Uhh… You know I can hear ya, right?”

… I am aware.

“You’re giving me ideas now.”

D-Don’t smirk at me like that! The fact that you have a cheek missing somehow makes it hotter.

“Hehe, you wanna just fast forward to tonight in the hotel room?”

That would be nice, yes.

“Alright then. Take it away.”

Cut to later that night, in front of Brian’s hotel room. I may have followed Brian around all day, sure, but I still wanted to simply appear at his hotel door. I materialized quickly, knocking on the door of the hotel room. And there, waiting on the other side, Brian stood… in nothing but a hotel towel.

“Should have seen that coming,” the muscular zombie bemused, pulling me into the hotel room and shutting the door behind us.

Wait… where’s Oz?

“He’s on a date with Miranda. Managed to convince her to come to the con.”

That’s nice… that also explains why I couldn’t find him today, it seems. Anyway, how shall we start this shindig then?

“Uhh… I guess we start making out? Then again, I could have you blow me.”

I’m cool with that other idea. I had been kinda cockblocked before, so I kinda want to avoid the slow burn… Vicky pranked me into putting on a chastity belt while she and Scott had a lunch date.

“Wait, for real? Dang, I didn’t expect that out of Vicky.”

I didn’t either! But… damn. She left me blue-balled.

“Ahh. Too bad. Now then, mind having a seat on the bed there? Don’t want you removing that banana hammock of yours just yet.”

Will do, Sir! Wait… why am I so eager?

“I dunno… Is it because I dropped my towel and you can see my cock now? … Why don’t you describe it for our readers?”

Well, it’s a very girthy, emerald green shaft with a darker green cap, no signs of anything rotting about it, miraculously. And before you ask, no it’s not like twenty inches or something crazy big like that; this isn’t any of those highly unrealistic hentai games.

“Twenty inches? Damn… what could I even do with twenty inches?”

A whole lot of nothing, I can tell you that much. Wait… how am I supposed to narrate with that thing in my mo—

“Just let me do the talking while you do the sucking. Though to reassure you, it’s still an impressive ten inches. Being a zombie means it’s kinda more… well, rigid with girls or guys, so there is a risk of hurting anyone when I use it. But not our friendly neighborhood Narrator here. Ugh…! Damn… your throat is deep! Do you even have a gag reflex?! I guess not. Maybe being a metaphysical person helps with that? Oh wait, you can’t answer; you have my cock down your throat.

“Okay, so the Narrator is still sucking me off, doing rather well with their tongue action. Fuck, it feels good…! Gah…! I almost wanna see how well you take this cock up your ass…! Might wanna see your cock after this…! But for now… I want you to keep sucking me, Narrator, until you make me cum. And then, maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you taste yourself off my cock. How about that for a proposition, huh? You get to finally get off, and I get to enjoy watching you do it. Win-win, I’d say.

“That’s it…! Keep using your tongue and hands on my cock and balls like that…! That’s it, Narrator… keep that head bobbing… Fuck, you’re so good at this, almost like you’ve been edging yourself all day just for me. Yeah, that’s right, swallow it all down for me. Come on, you’re so close, I can feel it. Just a little more… a little more of that insatiable mouth on me… Don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare stop until I’m empty inside you. Take it all, you horny little storyteller. GAH! FUCK! I’m cumming, I’m cumming all over your tongue and down your throat, you greedy slut! Take every drop, that’s it, good Narrator. Drink it all down like the thirsty little pervert you are.”

… Well you didn’t have to be an asshole about it.

“Heh, sorry. Got too into it. You’re… you’re really good at sucking cock. Where’d you learn to do that? I ask as I lie down on my bed.”

You don’t wanna know the porn I watch.

“Noted. Now then… let’s see yours. I know Vicky’s fucked it at least once.”

Oh, this little thing? This five-dollar footlong I have in between my legs? Lemme just remove my speedo and let it out… let it breathe…!

“Five dollars? Really? You’re only five dollars?”

I-It’s a reference to a sandwich place!

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Lemme just… jack you off myself now…!”

I was in too deep now. My pride, such as it was, wouldn’t let me back down. This zombie was looking at me like I was his next meal ticket, and dammit, I was going to deliver. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if Vicky had ever truly taken a good look at this magnificent piece of undead meat before. I mean, of course she did. It was the premise of a chapter / prompt in the original story. Still, he clearly had a good idea of what he was working with, given his earlier comments.

Alright, big boy. Prepare to be amazed. You want to see it? You’re gonna get to experience it.

“That sounded a little rougher than you probably intended.”

 With a flourish that would make any burlesque dancer proud, I slipped off the speedo that makes up my only scrap of clothing. The metallic fabric fell from my legs, revealing myself in all my narratorial glory. The air in the room thickened, charged with a new kind of tension, a challenge met with an equally potent anticipation.

“Are you done jacking yourself off with that purple prose of yours? When are we gonna fuck?”

Tsk, tsk… Impatient, are we, Brian Yu?

“So what if I am? You’ve proven to me you’re a good hole to fuck. But let’s see how you handle actually fucking.”

Heh, you’ve got it. Now then, go ahead and get down on all fours for me and let me get on top…!

“Okay, go ahead then.” Brian winked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he took my outstretched hand, pulling me closer. He wasn’t subtle, and I appreciated that about him. No games, just raw, unapologetic desire. His gaze, usually so calm, held a hungry intensity that made my own core clench in anticipation. This wasn't going to be gentle, and a part of me, the part that had been denied and teased, was screaming for exactly that. The air crackled with unspoken promises, a silent agreement to shed all inhibitions and dive headfirst into the delicious chaos we were about to create. So, into his ass I go!

Ahh, shit…! You are VERY tight!

“Nngh…! Never really had anyone up my ass before…!”

So does that mean you normally top then?

“Y-Yeah…! Normally…!”

I mean… you did say you top normally and this is—unf!—certainly a different position for you. Fuck, lemme adjust my hips slightly; I need to find a rhythm that works for us both… There we go…! You’re handling me like a champ, Brian! A very, very tight champ!

“And I ain’t even Spooky Academy’s football team’s tight end…!” Brian panted, letting out another guttural groan as his fingers dug into the sheets beneath us. See? We’re exploring new territories together. Think of it as… Fuck, this is basically doggy style, isn’t it?

“I could easily stand up so you could hold onto me like a backpack.”

That works…! This way I can give you a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder, relishing the way your body trembles beneath mine.

“J-Just keep going…!” he gasped, his voice strained but eager. “Don’t stop, Narrator…! Fuck, this feels… different. Good…! Just… deep.”

I obliged, pushing deeper, finding that sweet spot that had him bucking back against me, a wild, uncontained energy now thrumming between us. The bed creaked a frantic rhythm, a counterpoint to our increasingly desperate moans. The roles were indeed reversed, and in this unexpected dance of dominance and submission, a thrilling new chapter was being written, one thrust at a time, each movement a testament to the boundless possibilities of desire, even for a perpetually horny storyteller and a surprisingly versatile zombie.

Hmm… maybe someone could get around to writing Brian’s escapades one of these days. Just saying.

And after several rounds of the two of us trying every hole on each other possible, I ended up leaving Brian be in his room after that amazing sex. Again. I mean, at this point, you’d think Vicky would be happy to sleep in, given the… events of the last three days. For all I know, she’s still asleep, dreaming of ethereal phantom pussy or shapeshifting demon dick or something equally as lewd. Honestly, I don’t blame her. After a few rounds with Brian, I’m kinda wiped out too, and I normally don’t even have a physical body to recover.

Still, there’s a story to tell, and someone has to tell it. Plus, I finally managed to get that damn chastity belt off. Turns out a metaphysical entity just needs to… will it off. Who knew? And with that newfound freedom, I was ready to face whatever absurdity Spooky Con had to offer next. After all, the show must go on, even if the protagonist is currently comatose from phantom orgasms.

Time for me to peek at her sex shenanigans once again… And she’s not where I last saw her.

Chapter Text

… Where did she go? I take my eye off her for one—out of universe—day and she turns up missing? I’m supposed to be omnipotent, all-knowing! Shit!

…

Okay, it’s been an hour and… I found her, eventually. She was in a dimly lit, surprisingly elaborate underground chamber beneath the convention center, her hands cuffed to a pipe on the ceiling. Standing over her was a pink, anthropomorphized unicorn, a triumphant, almost smug expression on his horned face, a pile of pool balls scattered haphazardly on top of the billiards table. Wait, was he using the eight ball to gag her? That’s… kinda clever, but it also must be uncomfortable.

… Don’t look at me like that, Vicky! How was I supposed to know you’d get kidnapped the one chapter I don’t keep my eye on you?!

“Now then, little girl… I think you and I both agree you bullshitted your way into winning our little game of Death Balls against me. Well guess what: Whiskey will not be defeated by the Power of Love today!” Vicky’s hands, bound tightly above her head, throbbed with a dull ache, a counterpoint to the insistent pressure of the billiard ball against her teeth. Whiskey’s triumphant grin was a blur through her rapidly narrowing vision in the ever dimming light, but the smug satisfaction in his voice was clear, echoing in the cavernous space.

“So now I have a proposition for you: you and I can either have a rematch, or you can submit your body to me,” Whiskey suggested, grabbing Vicky by the hips and causing her to blush. “Besides… you’re one of them horse girls, right? Ain’t it every horse girl’s dream to get dicked by horse cock?” Vicky’s mind, despite the discomfort, was already racing, analyzing her surroundings, searching for an escape, a weakness, anything she could exploit. This wasn’t the first time she found herself in a tight spot, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

It also wouldn’t be the first or the last time an abduction led to mind-blowing sex.

Whiskey’s grip tightened on her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her sides, sending a shiver of mingled fear and excitement through her. The eight ball in her mouth felt colder, heavier, yet oddly thrilling. Vicky felt a familiar spark ignite within her. She might be bound, gagged, and at his mercy, but her mind was already calculating the odds, weighing the pleasure against the principle. The air crackled with anticipation, the scent of stale beer and triumphant unicorn filling her senses.

… So she nodded.

“Damn, girl, you’re such a freak…!” Whiskey growled, suppressing a neigh as he tore off her clothes. Her wrists, still smarting from the cuffs, felt them dig further into her skin as she was pulled against. And thanks to the way Whiskey used tape to keep that eight ball in Vicky’s mouth, there’s no way she’s spitting that out anytime soon. Whiskey’s heavy breathing filled the dimly lit room, and she knew, with a surge of undeniable heat, that the game was far from over. After all, she now stood nude before him, her clothes in tatters beside them both.

The warmth of Whiskey’s hands lingered on her hips. Vicky, despite the precarious position, felt a familiar surge of defiant excitement. This was a battle of wills, a contest where her body might be the prize, but her spirit remained untamed. She would play his game, yes, but she would also find a way to make it her own. Her eyes, still wide and expressive even with the gag, gleamed with a mischievous fire that promised the unicorn far more than simple submission. The air thrummed with a raw, almost predatory energy, a silent challenge laid bare between the bound girl and her horned captor.

“You wanna make something of it, bitch?” Whiskey asked, the pink unicorn pinning her to the wall. “I ain’t letting you best me a second time. You and your pussy are mine tonight…!” He had almost pulled her down so hard that the pipe burst, but frankly, he wanted to take her on the very billiards table she may or may not have defeated him on. Honestly, it’d be impressive if he dragged that table all the way from that biker bar to here.

… What’s a little water, am I right?

So he yanked her before pinning her down to the table, bursting the pipe and causing the room to begin to flood. The Unicorn’s hard, muscled body pressed against hers, the friction of their skin a potent heat in the cool, basement air. Vicky could feel the rising pressure of his erection against her stomach, a thick, insistent presence that promised to fill her. His hot breath ghosted over her ear, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“You think you can just beat me at my own game, drive off with your little buddies, and not pay the price?” he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous mix of anger and primal lust. The eight ball, still firmly in her mouth, kept her silent, but her eyes, defiant and bright, promised a fight he wouldn’t soon forget. That seemed to have pissed him off further as he took his cock out and broke right in; Vicky moaned around the eight ball very loudly as the literal horse-like cock pocketed itself up her pussy.

The table shook with each thrust, the billiard balls making an echo in the room before he gripped her breasts for added leverage. His horse balls, rough against her inner thighs, were exquisite torture, each movement a pounding friction that inched her closer to the edge. Vicky’s nails clawed into the felt-like fabric of the table, body arching as she was rubbed against it, twisting with an almost desperate urgency.

With another groan that was half pain and half pure, unadulterated pleasure, Vicky felt Whiskey thrusting relentlessly into her, his powerful hips driving her body against the worn felt of the billiards table. Each impact sent jolts through her, a delicious torment that only intensified the sensations blossoming deep within her. The eight ball, still firmly in her mouth, vibrated with her choked moans, a silent testament to the raw, animalistic pleasure consuming her. The room continued to flood around them, the rising water lapping at her bare skin, adding a strange, sensual coolness to the inferno building inside her as Whiskey rode her with a fierce, primal intensity.

As far as Whiskey was concerned, Vicky was a puppet on his strings, yet in the depths of her mind, a defiant spark flickered, already plotting her sweet, inevitable revenge. The world narrowed to the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, the rising water around them a fitting backdrop to the escalating storm within her.

“Fuck…! You getting tired yet, bitch?” Whiskey neighed, bringing her face up so he could lick her cheek. Vicky only squealed in response, shaking her head afterward. “Well then it looks like I’m just getting started!” Grabbing her cuffed wrists in front of her, Whiskey continued to ravage her, aiming his rod to align with her G-spot, causing her to writhe in his clutches. Each thrust of his was a testament to his brute strength as well as her defiant resilience.

The water, now reaching Whiskey’s knees, reflected onto the ceiling thanks to the dim lights from above. Vicky, her eyes still gleaming with that mischievous fire, bucked against him, meeting his aggression with an equally fierce hunger, a silent promise that this submissive act of hers was merely just that: an act in her grand, delicious play. She was enjoying this. If he wanted to break her, well, that clearly wasn’t working.

“Okay… I’m gonna unload into you…! And trust me, I got plenty backed up for you…! So you’d better take it…!” Whiskey threatened. Vicky just gave him a cheeky glare, as if asking, “Or else what?”

“Or else… I’m sticking it up the OTHER hole and letting it fill you up back there…!” He threatened, though unsure if that is a threat or a way to get her more heated. But judging by the smirk Vicky gave him, teeth biting into the black ball, she most certainly got more heated. “Oh yeah? That’s what you want, huh?”

“Mmhmm!” Vicky nodded before she yelped, being lifted up and made to lie on her back so her legs were made to go over her shoulders. She felt him pull out of her sore pussy before shoving himself into her lower hole, making her squeal loudly as he started to thrust as hard as he did before, eyes rolling up from the sensation of his merciless actions into her ass.

Whiskey snorted in excitement as he kept her cuffed wrists pinned above her head. “Yeah… you like that, huh? You like being made into a little slut! That’s why you wanted me pissed off, yeah? It’s because you wanted me to take you right there in that bar, right?”

“Mm-hmm!” Vicky nodded. Though she might’ve just been playing along for the scene, especially since the water is at the table’s height now.

But Whiskey didn’t care. “Better finish you up before the repair guys come to check this leak…! Meanwhile, I’m gonna fucking make you leak…!” He gripped her nipples and twisted as he thrusted up her ass harder, making literal sparks come from her as she came from that. Speaking of sparks, the water has almost reached her bolts…!

Suddenly, as if by contrived convenience or a sixth sense of danger—

Brian kicks down the door, having been the last person the Narrator—aka me!—had interacted with before. Okay, so I shot him a text as to where you were.

And I’m choosing to interpret that look as, “much appreciated!”

“Ahem. Am I interrupting something?” Brian asked, letting the water flood out of the room, spotting the burst pipe and taping it up with duct tape. Then, nonchalantly, while both were confused as to being interrupted, he picked Vicky up, carrying her out of the room. “You alright?” he asked, removing the tape and ball from her mouth.

“Yeah… we were in the middle of something,” Vicky answered, standing up again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get off.” Vicky then returned to the room, likely to finish the scene with Whiskey. “Sorry for that. Where were we?”

“Oh yeah… I was taking out my frustration on your ass,” Whiskey growled, his voice a low, rumbling threat that still managed to send a shiver of excitement down Vicky’s spine. He pulled her back to him, slamming back into her ass with renewed, almost savage force. The billiards table shuddered beneath them, the remaining pool balls clattering around as the water level no longer threatened their fun. And with Vicky’s mouth free, he was able to pull her into a forceful kiss that invaded her mouth with his tongue.

Vicky’s eyes rolled back further into her head, her body a taut bowstring under his relentless assault, her mouth no longer blocked so she was able to voice her arousal. “Oh fuck yes…!” So… this was just a scene. And Vicky was more than willing to play the part of his conquered prize. With a final, guttural cry, Whiskey exploded inside her, his hot cum filling her to the brim, a triumphant roar echoing in the room in the basement now empty of water. “I think this was the most fun I’ve had being abducted in a while…”

“So… this happens regularly, then?”

“Yeah… Crap, my limbs ache,” Vicky giggled. “Brian! You can come back now!”

And so, Brian returned to the room, bathrobe in hand. Calmly, he draped it over Vicky’s shoulders while Whiskey unlocked the handcuffs. “You know, that was actually fun.”

“You’re really lucky you’re cute,” Whiskey neighed. “I’m honestly surprised you came to me with this idea.” Wait! This was YOUR idea?!

“Yeah. I figured with your metaphorical eyes off of me, I could sneak around and fuck a horse. Okay, I wasn’t planning on Whiskey being here, but—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Uhh… me?” Brian answered. “It’s a long story. But uh… I think we should get out of here so an actual plumber can fix that pipe.”

“Anyway, hit me up when you’re in town, little lady,” Whiskey invited, writing down his number on a sheet of paper and passing it to Vicky.

“Will do!” Vicky eagerly accepted, before she and Brian headed back up to the con.

“So, to make a long story short: you were never in any real danger?”

“Nope. I saw Whiskey and he demanded a rematch. I said I wanted to make the rematch interesting. Of course, one thing led to another…”

And I was worried for nothing… I mean, not that I should be. You’re more than capable of handling these people yourself.

“I know.”

It’s just that you’re not willing. That’s the main issue here.

“Come on, Bluebell. You know they’re right.”

“Oh come on, guys! Have some faith in me!” Vicky exclaimed with a pout. “You think I can’t go a day without being kidnapped?”

No. We know you can. Several, in fact. It’s just that it happens… often.

“At least you were in control of this situation. We just totally blew it out of proportion.”

“Mm-hmm!” she nod—Hey I saw that eye roll. “Also the break from you was nice. Welcome, even.”

So… break over?

“Break over.”

Phew, okay! Let’s see how the rest of the day goes!

“I’m gonna head off to Liam’s tabletop campaign. You two have fun.”

“But not too much fun.”

“Vicky… especially have too much fun. Love ya, sis.” And with that, upon arriving at the con floor, Brian took off. So… what now?

“Maybe lunch?”

Sure. That way we can chat before your next fuck date.

Chapter Text

“So wait… that incident where Oz and Miranda get gang-banged by a bunch of Merkingdom rebels, that’s canon here?”

Apparently. But it’s not happening yet in this story. But you can read that on the author’s page.

“Okay, I know we peg the fourth wall a lot, but this seems to be a little much.”

That’s fair. Also, better watch out, there’s a merfolk with a burlap sack right behind you.

“Wait, there’s—?!” And with that, Vicky yelped out as she was burlapped from behind and carried off. I tried to warn her…

Vicky’s eyes, wide with surprise and a touch of indignation, darted around the confined space of the burlap sack. Her protests were muffled, the coarse fabric scratching against her lips as she struggled against her unseen captor. She could feel the rhythmic sway of motion, the muffled thud of footsteps, and the distant, echoing sounds of the convention floor slowly fading as she was carried further and further away. Vicky had found herself once again at the mercy of forces beyond her control. A frustrated groan escaped her as she realized the predicament: kidnapped, again, and this time by someone with a clear political agenda. Her mind raced, not with fear, but with a growing irritation. This was getting ridiculous.

… But this was also getting really hot…!

Adrien—a figure shrouded in the murky political currents of the rebellion against the Merkingdom Monarchy—surveyed his captive with a calculating gaze. His mission: to sever the ties between the surface world’s most influential and the oppressive Merkingdom monarchy, starting with the very individuals who straddled both realms. Vicky, with her intimate connections to both Prince Damien of Hell and Princess Miranda, was a crucial, tantalizing piece on his chessboard. He thinks he might have Miranda on his side. Why not also bring the Princess’ Favourite? Well… her second Favourite after the shadowy boy.

Vicky, still squirming within the coarse confines of the burlap, could only guess at his intentions as he carried her off in his arms, though a familiar flutter of anticipation, unwelcome yet undeniable, stirred within her. This wasn’t a romantic abduction, not in the traditional sense, but rather a strategic play in a much larger game. Adrien merely chuckled, a low, sound that vibrated through the coarse material, making Vicky’s skin prickle with a mixture of annoyance and undeniable excitement.

Then she felt the familiar feeling of a bed beneath her, and she was released. This gave her enough time to try to get the burlap sack off her head, allowing her to catch sight of Adrien stripping down from his golden armor. Adrien’s eyes—a sickening, calculating teal—swept over Vicky’s form as his gaze caught hers, lingering on the subtle shifts of her expression, the way her chest heaved with suppressed frustration and a growing, undeniable anticipation. He moved with a languid grace, shedding his golden armor piece by piece, each clink of metal against the floor echoing in the surprisingly sparse room. Beneath the ornate facade, he was lean, muscled, his scales a dark, iridescent burgundy that seemed to absorb the dim light of his illicium, and his sharp, intelligent eyes promised a depth of cunning that went far beyond mere physical prowess.

“You’re a valuable asset, Victoria,” he finally stated, his voice a low, silken baritone that sent a shiver down her spine, completely devoid of warmth yet thick with an implicit threat and a hidden promise.

“Oh, wait wait wait…!” Vicky yelped, shrieking as he climbed on top of her. Adrien wasted no time, his predatory gaze raking over her form. He moved with swift, calculated efficiency, binding her wrists together with silken cords he produced from seemingly nowhere, then securing them to the headboard of the bed. The gesture was both an assertion of dominance and a subtle promise of control, sending a thrill through Vicky despite her initial annoyance. He then reached for a small, ornate vial, uncorking it with a sharp pop and dabbing a few drops of its iridescent liquid onto her lips. A faint, sweet, almost metallic taste blossomed in her mouth, followed by a strange, tingling numbness that began to spread. This wasn't just about political leverage; it was about pleasure, a dangerous game he was clearly well-versed in playing.

“I’m attempting to sway Princess Miranda to the side of the rebellion against her family. I figured… the more people I can convince on my side, the more likely she’ll join it as well,” Adrien explained. “But she does have good taste in concubines.”

“Thank you…?”

“And you’ll learn that sometimes, the most delicious pleasure comes from the most unexpected of sources.” He leaned in, his voice a low, possessive growl that sent a shiver through her. “So tell me, Victoria, are you ready to help me sway your princess to our side?”

“And what if I am?” Vicky asked. To be fair… Miranda’s family is on the wrong side of fascism, and there was an attempt on her life thanks to a coup in high school… Maybe this will be a good thing?

“Oh, I assure you, Victoria,” Adrien interjected, his voice a silken thread of malice. “If you are, you’ll be far more than just a mere royal concubine by the time I’m through with you. You will be an instrument. A weapon. And a very, very willing one at that.” He then pulled her into a near-kiss, his illicium casting flickering shadows across her face, his lips brushing dangerously close to her own. “And once Princess Miranda sees the lengths to which her most cherished toys will go for the rebellion, she too will understand the intoxicating power of true freedom… and the even more intoxicating power of submitting to a cause far greater than herself.”

And with that, he claimed Vicky’s mouth with his own, moaning lightly as he dominated over the undead girl.  Her body arched instinctively against the bed, a desperate, almost primal urge to escape this uncomfortable intimacy warring with a rising, insidious wave of arousal. Adrien’s mouth, a demanding force, devoured hers, his tongue a ruthless invader that left her breathless and dizzy. The sweet taste of him seemed to amplify every sensation, dulling her protests while sharpening the edges of her burgeoning desire. Her mind, usually so sharp and defiant, found itself struggling against the intoxicating blend of fear and pure, unadulterated pleasure. This wasn't just a political game; it was a deeply personal one, played on the canvas of her own rebellious body, and she was, against her will, already losing herself to the intoxicating grip of his control.

Before she knew it, she felt his personal weapon sheath itself inside of her, keeping her pinned to him as he fucked her, fueled with hatred for what Vicky represented. Like him, he saw her as once a slave to the Royal Family, completely at their mercy. But he broke free. And he was doing to Vicky what he wanted to do so badly to the youngest Vanderbilt Princess: fuck her so hard they’ll associate good dick with the Rebellion. If they want more good dick, they’ll support the Rebellion.

“Next time, you better help me with the Princess. It’ll say great things if you let me impregnate her. Or any of my men really, just keeping her legs spread wide for us to unload both our stress and our seed into her…!”

“Yes…!” Vicky moaned, though I don’t think she was actually listening to what he was saying. But it got him even more excited in his thrusts. “Fuck…! Harder…!”

“Yeah?” Adrien didn’t bother asking if she meant harder thrusts or choking her harder. Either way, he did both, the girl biting her lower lip as he continued. It turned out that little request did it for him: fucking the Princess’ Favourite as hard as he could while choking her as hard as he could got him to cum right in her pussy, quickly at that.

“You… okay?” she exhaled, looking up at him. Adrien just gave a satisfied grunt in response, smirking at her before smacking her ass. “Aaah~!”

You feeling okay, Vicky?

“Tired…”

Want me to have room service on the way while you rest?”

“That would be nice… and if I can be sneaked out, that’d be better.”

Alright. I’ll try and get someone to pick you up before Adrien returns.

“Great… I’m gonna get some sleep too…” Vicky yawned, curling up in the covers that were conspicuously draped over her.

Let her rest her weary self; she had back to back, high energy sex after all. I’ll go contact Brian, Oz, Amira or one of the supplement PC characters to get her.

Hopefully nothing too crazy happens as I close out this chapter so they can get her to her room. 

… I probably jinxed it, didn’t I?

Chapter Text

… Three chapters in a row? Vicky’s being kidnapped three chapters in a row? I STEP AWAY FOR FIVE MINUTES, AND SHE GETS KIDNAPPED?! THREE CHAPTERS IN A ROW?! Well I guess it makes sense, given the last one would have left Vicky defenseless for this round. But still, we’re only on day three of the con! Where is she now?!

“I believe she is with me, incessant, omnipresent voice.”

…Oh. Oh no. I didn’t mean for YOU to pick her up at the end of the last chapter!

“Oh yes. And, oh well. You asked for someone to pick her up from Adrien. I was available,” Omen sneered, a devious mischief in her voice.  “As you can see, I, THE UNDEFEATABLE OMEN, have captured your precious protagonist, and now I am in control of the story!”

… It doesn’t work like—

“SILENCE!”

Uuuuh… okay? So what’s your plan, then?

“Mx. Narrator, they wanna fuck me. And… it’s honestly amusing at this point. Seriously? Three in a row? Hahaha…! I’m almost tempted to say no and ruin everything!”

Almost?!

“Now then… Just do your damn job and narrate the scene! Your Overlord commands it!”

Vicky? Are you okay with this?

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m gonna use the safe word if they get too far. And besides, we’re in my hotel room.”

“Safe… word…?”

“Uhh… Mx. Narrator, mind fast forwarding past the whole, ‘me explaining what safe words are,’ bit, please?”

Okay; blah blah blah. “Cinnamon,” is being used for a third time, blah blah blah, now onto the action. And it seems that they’re engaging in pet play…! Nice.

“Now then, let’s get you to a proper place, little one…”

“Uhh… woof?”

“That’s a good puppy. Now show me how happy you are to have me in charge, little slut! Wiggle that ass for me! Like you got a tail!” Omen exclaimed, tugging on the leash to get Vicky to do what she wanted. They quite enjoyed the sight of her shaking her rump for a moment before giving it a smack, making her move towards the bed as they held her leash in her powerful grip.

“The intoxicating feeling of having someone being so subservient to me… Aaaah, I missed this feeling!” Omen grinned, a bit of smoke coming from her sharp teeth from her excitement. “Now… present yourself while I get myself ready to lay claim to your body.”

“Woof?” Vicky asked, looking back as she got her ass up in the air. The dark lord’s eyes, burning with a zealous glee, fixed on Vicky’s upturned rear, a predatory smile stretching across their face.

“Such a good little pet,” Omen purred, their voice laced with a thick, syrupy dominance that sent a shiver down Vicky’s spine. “"Now, let’s see if you can be a good girl and truly please your new Overlord.” Vicky’s mind, despite her playful responses, whirred with a dangerous blend of cunning and curiosity. She watched as Omen’s singular arm came out of their iron robe, a chain in their hand. “Do you mind placing this around your neck?”

“Oh. Sure,” Vicky answered, taking the chain and… trying to figure out how to have it around her neck since she didn’t have a collar this time. Oh well, straight-up around her neck it goes. The air in the room grew thick, heavy with anticipation, as Omen’s sharp, predatory gaze locked onto the smaller girl.

Omen’s grip on the chain tightened, a triumphant gleam in her eyes as Vicky adjusted the cold metal to her throat. “Excellent,” the dark lord purred, their voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air. “Now, little pet, let’s see how well you follow instructions when your fate truly hangs by a thread.” A wicked smile played on Omen’s lips, already envisioning the endless possibilities for this delightful new game. Yanking the chain, Vicky was brought down from her knees, face in between Omen’s legs.

Vicky looked up at their face as she brought her mouth to their pelvis, tongue coming out almost immediately.  Omen grinned as they saw Vicky starting to lick where she was motioned too, humming in approval as their lower lips were tended to. Omen’s hand, still clutching the chain, guided Vicky’s head closer, a satisfied purr rumbling in their chest as Vicky proceeded to lick at their pussy. “That’s it, little pet. Show your Overlord how hungry you are.”

Vicky, embracing the submissive role with zeal, continued her ministrations, her tongue tracing the inner creases of Omen’s folds, finding the delicate, sensitive spots that elicited soft, smoky gasps from the dark lord. The sheer novelty of the situation—being a willing, leashed participant in a former dark lord’s pet play—was a powerful intoxicant. She pushed the thought of her ridiculous string of abductions aside, focusing only on the escalating pleasure of her mistress. She felt Omen shift above her, their legs parting slightly, giving her better access, a silent command for deeper devotion.

“Good girl. You are proving quite… useful,” Omen groaned, their voice growing thick with arousal. They released the chain, letting it fall forgotten to the floor, and instead placed their hands on Vicky’s head, applying a gentle, rhythmic pressure that guided her pace. The sensation of being completely controlled, of having her entire being devoted to another’s pleasure, sent a potent wave of heat through Vicky. She knew she could use the safe word at any moment, but the thrill of this power exchange, this delicious, willing servitude, was too compelling to break. She worked Omen relentlessly, a master of the tongue, until the dark lord let out a final, shuddering cry of pure ecstasy, collapsing back onto the bed with a guttural sigh, a victorious, self-satisfied grin plastered across their face.

Eventually, Omen pulled Vicky away, bringing her back up and picking the chain up again. Without needing a word to be said, Vicky crawled along as Omen held the chain, walking Vicky around the room before bringing her up onto the bed. “Now then,” Omen began, also sitting down onto the bed. “Show your Overlord how grateful you are.” And with that, Omen pulled Vicky into a kiss, tugging onto the chain to keep the smaller girl close.

Vicky, her neck tingling from the pressure of the chain and the heat of Omen’s kiss, surrendered completely to the moment. The dark lord’s iron lips were firm and demanding, the kiss a potent mix of satisfied dominance and lingering desire. She tasted the remnants of her own devotion on Omen’s mouth, a delicious feedback loop that made her stomach clench. The dark lord pulled back slowly, their eyes—smoldering with a mixture of amusement and raw possession—never leaving hers. “You are truly a delightful little pet, Victoria,” Omen purred, running a gloved thumb along the delicate line of the chain around Vicky’s neck. “I think I shall keep you around for a bit longer. You have a few more lessons in submission to learn from your Overlord.”

Vicky merely grinned, her eyes sparkling with challenge. Despite the chains and the subservient role, she felt more invigorated than exhausted. Omen’s raw, unapologetic power was a potent aphrodisiac, and the thrill of pushing against those boundaries, even in feigned submission, was irresistible. “Whatever you say, Overlord,” Vicky whispered, her voice husky with desire, before a yank reminded her that pets can’t talk, silly. “I mean… Woof!” a promise that she was ready for whatever delightful torment came next. The chain was a leash, yes, but it was also a connection, and in Omen’s commanding presence, Vicky felt an intoxicating freedom in her servitude, a blissful, temporary escape from the chaotic demands of her life. She was a canvas for Omen’s dominance, and she intended to be the masterpiece.

“Now then, pet, I must warn you that since I’m unable to take this accursed iron maiden off my body, you’ll only be getting fingered, and trust me, they’re going to be more than enough to bring you to your climax. You will be screaming my name as I violate your body with my gloved fingers, making you writhe and beg for the relief I’ll deliver… when I’m good and ready.”

The dark lord’s voice, a smoky promise of exquisite pain and overwhelming pleasure, hung in the air, a final, delicious threat that sealed Vicky’s fate for the rest of the day. The chain gave a final, possessive tug, pulling Vicky forward as Omen's shadow enveloped her, the stage now set for the Overlord’s next lesson in absolute submission. And with a nod of confirmation, Omen pinned Vicky to the bed, tying the other end of the chain to the hotel bed’s headboard. “Do not dare try to pleasure yourself, pet. Hands above your head so I know you’re not playing with your body.” As if Vicky were entranced once more, she obeyed immediately, crossing her wrists as she brought her hands above her head before Omen began fingering her roughly.

“Ahh…!” Vicky gasped, the whimpers morphing into cries of escalating pleasure as the dark lord’s expertly wielded fingers delved deeper, finding and ruthlessly tormenting her G-spot. The rhythmic, demanding pressure, combined with the restriction of her wrists and the heavy, intoxicating weight of the chain around her neck, created an overwhelming sensory cascade. She writhed against the sheets, her back arching, every muscle taut as she struggled to contain the delicious, unbearable sensation. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears of pleasure welling at the corners as she bucked against the relentless violation, her earlier defiance completely shattered, replaced by a desperate, all-consuming need to allow this brutal, glorious conquest, and she was utterly, thrillingly undone by her Overlord's command.

The pleasure was relentless, but as Omen’s nails started to press against a nerve ending in a particularly agonizing, yet intensely arousing, manner, a sharp, cold alarm bell finally cut through Vicky’s haze of submission. Her breath hitched, the throbbing pain becoming too much, pushing her past the point of delicious torment and into genuine distress. The absolute power Omen wielded was thrilling, but her safety was paramount. “Cinnamon!” she gasped, the word ripped from her throat, cutting through the dark lord’s satisfied moans like a gunshot. The fingers immediately stilled, freezing deep inside her, the sudden cessation of movement almost as jarring as the assault itself, and for a terrifying second, Vicky wondered if her Overlord was actually listening.

“Are you alright…?” Omen asked, pulling their fingers out.

“Sorry. It’s just starting to hurt…!” Vicky whinged, the pain taking over the pleasure, finally undoing the chain around her neck. “And I was struggling to breathe, but I’m fine,” Vicky assured, sitting up and rubbing her neck where the chain had rested, a visible purple welt marring her teal skin. “Just… a little too intense. Good session, though! You're really good at that whole dominant thing, Overlord. Though being an actual overlord most definitely helped, right?” She offered a genuine, slightly wobbly smile, already bouncing back from the brink.

Honestly, I was expecting that to get worse.

Omen, however, wasn’t smiling. Their face was a mask of cold fury, but it wasn't directed at Vicky. They turned their scathing gaze towards… me?! “And you,” Omen hissed, their voice low and dangerous, smoke curling from their mouth. What did I do?! “You let your little puppet get hurt.”

“Uhh… One, I’m not their puppet, and two, that was all yo—”

“Do you think Liam de Lioncourt—that self-righteous fop and his precious redemption arc program—will stand for this? Normally I’d ignore something as boring as, ‘safe words,’ and, ‘boundaries,’ but he’d have my ass—my CLEARLY fully redeemed ass—back into eternal exile for violating the terms of my parole! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a five-star rating on Former Dark Lords Who Don’t Oppress People Anymore? This would have been a serious setback, Mx. Narrator!” Omen threw up their hands in dramatic exasperation. “I swear, I only wanted to play with the cute girl. Now Liam’s probably gonna make me write a whole five-page essay on BDSM best practices to keep my freedom! Thanks a lot!” They then gave Vicky a quick, non-sexual hug. “Sorry, pet. Maybe I’ll write that paper anyway before the next meeting. You get some rest, and try not to get kidnapped again.” With that, Omen was gone in a puff of acrid, faintly floral-scented smoke.

They… tried to pass the blame onto me… for something they did?

Vicky watched the smoke dissipate, then looked down at her still-trembling hands, a mix of relief and lingering arousal washing over her. “Well,” she sighed, picking up her clothes. “That was certainly a way to end the day.” She gave a pointed, weary look toward the ceiling. “But at least they did choose to stop after I said my safe word, and that they’re probably writing that paper anyway.”

Knowing them, they’ll count it as their good deed for the week. They have a habit of either creating or escalating situations before solving them. But… progress is progress…?

“Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I need a long, hot bath, and then a very, very gentle night.”

… With your hotel door locked, right?

“… Actually, keep it unlocked. I wanna see who wanders in after I’m done with my shower.” And with that, Vicky shut the door, likely proceeding to shower. Now, I may just be a Narrator, but that doesn’t mean I can’t… influence the story, so to speak. So maybe I can influence someone coming into her room who won’t cause her any more trouble than she’s been through so far today.

… Huh. He looks harmless.

Chapter Text

Vicky spent a good twenty minutes showering and washing the day off of her. She hardly got to enjoy Saturday’s activities at the con. Oh well. Right now, she was gonna get ready for bed and get a good night’s sleep. Unexpectedly, though, the smell of hot chocolate, pumpkin spice, and toasted marshmallows hit her nose, a pleasant smell that bridged summer and autumn together.

Vicky, wrapped only in a towel, stepped out of the bathroom, her skin still faintly flushed from the heat. She saw him immediately: a fluffy man with kind eyes and a sheepish, apologetic smile, sitting primly on the edge of her bed, wearing a brown, plaid robe that went all the way down to his ankles, a golden, “WW,” embroidered on the right breast pocket. This was the Professional Spooner that I, the Narrator, had hired for the night. The unexpected sight, combined with the utterly delightful aroma he brought with him, instantly soothed the lingering tension in her muscles. He looked less like a conniving villain—much like her last three fucks in a row—and more like a barista on a first date. “I take it Mx. Narrator sent you?” she asked, pulling the towel tighter as a genuine smile touched her lips.

“Yeah. The name’s Walter,” he introduced, setting the mug down and offering a hand for Vicky to shake. “The kind voice approached me and told me of the day you’ve had so far and hired me to make sure you don’t get nabbed in the middle of the night.”

Vicky, don’t look at me like that. O-Of course I had faith in you.

“Do you wish for me to look away while you dress in your pajamas? Or are you okay with wearing nothing at all?” Walter asked, allowing Vicky to sit next to him.

“Uhh… I can just wear a robe as well,” Vicky suggested, already feeling a playful flutter of anticipation. The tension that had coiled around her for the past three days seemed to melt away in Walter’s gentle presence. He smelled like a warm hug, and she realized, with a sudden, overwhelming wave of exhaustion, that what she craved most wasn't another wild sexual encounter, but simple, genuine comfort. “Honestly, I think I’ll be fine with just the towel for a little longer, but I promise I’ll put on the robe before we get settled in.” She crossed the room and retrieved the plush, white hotel robe, slipping her arms into the sleeves but leaving the tie undone.

Walter nodded, his kind eyes never leaving hers, and the sheepish smile softened into one of genuine warmth. “Perfectly fine, Victoria. We’re on your time. My goal is purely to make sure you have a safe and restful slumber.” He patted the bed gently. “Now, do you prefer being the big spoon or little spoon? I find that clients who prefer being the big spoon allow me to better sense if anyone is attempting to disrupt the cuddle session, and those who prefer being the little spoon just love receiving maximum warmth.”

“Little spoon it is, then,” Vicky decided, turning out the lights and getting into bed. Without hesitation, Walter joined her, keeping his robe on like she was. The smell of pumpkin spice hot cocoa hit Vicky’s nostrils once again, especially when she felt his marshmallow arms envelop her from behind. Vicky settled deeper into Walter’s embrace, the gentle rhythm of his breathing a comforting counterpoint to the distant hum of the hotel. His body heat, a soothing, even warmth, chased away the last vestiges of the day's stress and the lingering chill of Omen’s departure.

She closed her eyes, the aroma a lulling presence. For the first time in what felt like days—but most definitely days according to you readers—her mind was quiet, unburdened by political intrigue or forced submission. This wasn’t a game; it was pure, restorative rest. A soft, contented sigh escaped her as she drifted towards sleep, her hand instinctively finding his arm, a silent anchor in her peaceful descent. She briefly registered the pleasant weight of his arm around her, the fluffiness of his robe a delightful barrier, before the exhaustion finally claimed her.

Hours later, the moon was high, casting a sliver of silver light across the room. Vicky shifted in her sleep, the gentle movement pulling her towel robe slightly open. Walter, a model of professionalism even in slumber, stirred only enough to adjust his position, his breathing remaining slow and steady. Yet, the proximity of her warm, exposed skin—the contrast of his full, plush body against her slender, undead form—began to work an unconscious magic. The scent of her hair, the subtle warmth emanating from her, was an innocent but potent lure. Still deep in sleep, Vicky let out a soft, dreamy moan, instinctively pressing her exposed lower half back against the unexpected pleasure of a large, soft, flannel-clad boner. Unbeknownst to the sleeping pair, their shared, profound need for comfort was slowly, silently transforming into something far more intimate, a soft, sleepy slide into the territory of their next kink.

And soon enough, she felt his cock, having peeked out of the robe and gotten under her own, teasing her. And at that moment, she also felt a hand sneak into the robe and gently massage a breast. Vicky’s dreamy moan intensified, a low, guttural sound that was entirely involuntary. Her hand, still resting on his forearm, tightened its grip, her hips pushing back with a sleepy, seeking urgency that spoke volumes of her subconscious need. The flannel of Walter’s robe provided a delicious, rough-yet-soft friction that was rapidly becoming too much for his professional composure.

He bit his lip, a silent internal battle raging between his professional duty and the potent, sleepy invitation being offered. The line between professional comfort and primal urge blurred into non-existence as he let out a low, unintended groan, his free hand gently guiding his throbbing erection fully into the slick, warm valley of her ass. Sleepily, Walter began grinding against her, his cock having made comfort in the sleeve between Vicky’s legs. Walter’s hips began to move with a slow, sleepy insistence, his cock nudging past her towel and finding the sweet spot between her thighs, rubbing against her damp, responsive skin with a gentle, hypnotic friction. The professional spooner was now an accidental somnophiliac, and his unconscious, rhythmic grinding coaxed a new, deeper moan from the unsuspecting Vicky, the faint scent of pumpkin spice now mingling with the musk of rising arousal.

Meanwhile, his hand that stayed on Vicky’s breasts began tugging and teasing at her nipples, causing her to whine. Vicky bit her own lower lip in her sleep as she was being unconsciously fucked and groped. Soon enough, she also felt his warm, coffee-scented breath in her ear, hearing him panting as he kept at it. Still lost to the warm haze of slumber, Vicky was entirely oblivious to the fact that her night of peaceful recovery had silently, wonderfully, transformed into a private, somnolent sex session, one that was driving both her and the professional spooner to the brink of a deeply intimate, unconscious climax.

“Ahh… fuck me like you wanna put a baby in me…!”

Oh? What exactly was she dreaming about? And was the sex influencing her dream in any way? And perhaps Walter heard that demand because he began pounding her fast. Still deep in sleep, Vicky’s body tensed, her muffled cry a plea for release as she was finally thrown over the precipice of her dream, a phantom-real climax washing over her entire being, only to be mirrored a second later by a deep, shuddering groan from Walter as he too found his unknowing release inside her warm, slick pussy.

Throughout the night, this routine will continue: Walter unconsciously grabbing at either Vicky’s breasts or her ass while his hips began pumping into her pussy, Vicky either moaning out loud or in her pillow as she vocalized whatever wet dream she was having, either one or both climaxing before both rested to regain unconscious stamina before the cycle began anew. By dawn, I had honestly lost count of how many times Walter emptied his cock of marshmallow sauce into Vicky’s womb.

Vicky woke up with a start, a long, contented sigh escaping her lips. The sun was a bright, welcome glare through the curtains, and for a moment, she was utterly disoriented. She was warm, deeply rested, and felt an unfamiliar, pleasant ache deep in her core—the kind of ache that suggested a workout far more rigorous than sleep. She slowly turned over, her eyes landing on the man beside her. Walter, still in his plaid robe, was deeply asleep, his expression utterly serene, his arm having draped possessively over her waist before she sat upright. A faint, almost imperceptible white stain was visible on the flannel where his robe had fallen open.

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across her face. It wasn’t a dream. Her mind quickly put the pieces together: the exquisite, demanding pleasure, the sleepy moans, the faint, comforting scent of pumpkin spice and something else—something distinctly male and post-coital. She had spent the entire night being unknowingly, and thoroughly, adored by the kindest, most professional somnophiliac a Narrator such as myself could hire. The irony was exquisite. She carefully disentangled herself, retrieving her robe, and decided that for a professional spooner, Walter was surprisingly, delightfully, unprofessional in his sleep.

“Or maybe he’s a sleep-centric sex worker?”

… That could also be a possibility.

Vicky tied the belt of the robe, a pleasant heat still blooming in her cheeks. The morning felt soft and slow, a welcome contrast to the chaotic days that preceded it. She glanced back at Walter, his peaceful face a picture of innocent repose, and a fond, knowing smile crossed her lips. This professional spooner had, perhaps unknowingly, provided the most complete and necessary form of intimacy she’d had all con: a total surrender to comfort that ultimately led to a deeply satisfying, no-strings-attached release. It was a perfect blend of safety and sin, a loophole in her perpetual state of sexual high-alert. She tiptoed to the minibar, grabbing a bottle of water, already anticipating the quiet, wholesome day of recovery she felt she deserved, though she couldn’t shake the suspicion that I—after the last three days of escalating absurdity—would never allow a genuinely quiet day to pass by unchallenged.

Then again… There’s still ten days left in the month.

“You know what? For that, when Walter wakes up, I’m gonna have actual sex with him, and you’re not allowed to watch.”

Vicky…!

“Go on. I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

Despite my protests, I had no choice but to wait, pacing the immaterial perimeter of the hallway outside the hotel room while Vicky and Walter engaged in what she would later describe as a, “delightfully wholesome, yet deeply passionate,” round of consensual sex, an act of intentional, non-narrated intimacy designed purely to spite me. The minutes stretched into a silent, frustrating eternity, punctuated only by muffled sounds of genuine laughter and soft, contented sighs from within the room—a symphony of coital bliss that I was explicitly barred from chronicling.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Vicky, now fully dressed and glowing with a post-coital serenity I rarely saw, gave me a triumphant, unapologetic grin. “We’re done,” she announced, her voice soft but firm, radiating the undeniable confidence of a woman who had successfully asserted her boundaries against the literal forces of plot. “And yes, it was amazing. Now, let’s get some breakfast before the last con day starts.”

Chapter Text

Vicky was actually able to make it to a panel first thing. It was a last-minute, impromptu panel featuring the Villains of the Coven—AKA Joy’s exes. Axarax the Anthro-Centipede and Salomé the Storm Elemental had to fly in last minute so they could join Gerard the Necromancer as they all talked about what they loved—and did not love—about one Joy Johnson-Johjima… except for Gerard, as he kept talking about how Joy cheated on him, and how betrayed he felt as a result.

All three would later open the panel for questions from the audience. Obviously, Vicky had one for the lonesome necromancer. So… what exactly are you planning on asking him in front of an audience of dozens?

“Gerard, what are you now looking for in a lover?”

“What am I looking for, you ask?” he replied calmly, looking up with his eyes having a flash of shadowy magic. “That is quite an interesting question.”

“Ooh, yes~!” Salomé giggled. “Axarax and I have already found new partners we can be thirsty and clingy for, but not you.”

“Yeah… I say you take this person out!” Axarax suggestion, standing up and turning towards the audience. “What do you think, everyone?!”

Oh, I think this situation has escalated.

“Hold on! She was asking me if I have a type, not—”

“Sorry! Can’t hear you,” Salomé cried as Axarax escorted Gerard off stage to Vicky.

“Enjoy your one night stand! Or don’t,” they chuckled as the audience cheered the pair out of the panel room. And now, cue the awkward silence.

“… So…”

“So…”

“I still need to answer your question,” Gerard pointed out.

“I do know that you want someone who is faithful,” Vicky acknowledged. “But like, what personality should your dream partner have? Any hobbies you have in mind?”

“Well… I at minimum would appreciate someone who is either matching or close to my aesthetic. I have a reputation to maintain, and this sunshiney aura isn’t going to cut it.”

“Awwww, really?”

Oh dear gods, she’s doing the eyes.

“How are you doing… whatever that is?”

“Being cute?”

“I…!” Gerard was too flustered to continue talking, hiding his blushing face with his overly long scarf. “It’s totally harshing my dark, edgy boy vibe!”

“You gonna do something about it, tough guy~?” she asked in an extra cutesy voice. I think we all know what she’s doing, right?

“Argh! I mean… I’m known as the brooding, bitter ex. How am I supposed to keep up this image if the person I’m with is so joyful?! Not to mention bubbly, bouncy, bright-eyed… beautiful… and… uhh…”

Vicky began grinning, it becoming wider with each compliment. “So… how do you want to do this then?”

Gerald looked her over and blushed redder. “Honestly?” he began. “If we’re gonna… have sex… shouldn’t we do something romantic first? Like dinner, a movie, something like that?”

“I could show off some outfits for you if you want?” Vicky suggested, looking up at him. “I happen to really enjoy fashion, so maybe I could model some gothic attire for you?”

“… That would actually sound nice,” Gerald admitted, taking her hand in his own non-staff-weilding one. They walked over to a nearby popup shop in the merch hall with all the latest in gothic fashions, something you could call a hot topic.

“Booo! Terrible puns!”

Look I’m not here for my pun skills, I’m here to narrate you enticing the necro-hottie. Anyway, a romantic breakfast follows… at one of the food trucks. It was the only thing available at such short notice. They chatted, they bonded… but you don’t wanna hear about that. No, you wanna get them right to fucking. So let’s say… around noon-ish? Gerard brings Vicky to his hotel room and… How did he totally change the walls? How did he install a moat? No seriously how did he install a moat?!

“Did you turn your hotel room into a mock evil lair?” Vicky asked.

“… Maybe,” Gerard answered, hiding his face once more.

“That’s kinda… hot,” Vicky commented, before bringing him to the bed and beginning to strip. Revealing black lingerie with chain links between her breasts and holding her panties up.

“So, is this more your style?” she asked, teasingly pressing her breasts together.

“I…uh…yes…but…” Oh this poor fool, he’s at a loss for words. Now go for the kill!

“Why don’t you show me what’s under those robes?” she whispered, voice husky with desire. Gerard, as if a spell were cast on him, began to strip down from his dark, heavy robes. He didn’t disappoint given despite how lanky he is; he actually had some decent muscle on him. And the tats…! The ink…! “Oh, you look beautiful,” she purred, pulling him close to her.

Gerard clearly looked nervous, taken aback by the shorter girl pulling him close to her. She was pretty, sure. However, he was still feeling uncomfortable with going further than the hug. He stroked her hair as he asked, “Is it okay if we just… stay like this?”

Vicky just blinked. Normally this would be the part where she’d be ravished by this strong, intimidating man. However, judging from his expression, she could tell that this is not what he wanted. So… “Yeah, this is fine,” she answered with a smile, reassuring him that she isn’t gonna rush him into something he’s not comfortable with. “We can just cuddle on the bed. Watch a movie, listen to some music. What’s your favorite?”

“I like Our Atomic Lust.” Why am I not surprised with that answer?

“So yeah. We can listen to OAL.” And with that, Vicky turned on her phone, going through her music until she found OAL, redressing as the song—you know, that one—began to play. Well… now this isn’t sexy. “It doesn’t need to be.” But… Never mind. I’m not gonna bother arguing with you. We… did have some chapters where no sex happened after all…

Anyway, the pair just sat down and listened to some OAL for about an hour in silence. She just giggled to herself, leaning into Gerard and wrapping her arms around him. The subtle scent of grave dirt and old magic clinging to him was surprisingly comforting. This was a different kind of pleasure, a quiet intimacy that soothed a part of her she hadn’t realized was aching. Gerard, in turn, slowly relaxed into her embrace, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as the melancholic chords of OAL filled the mock evil lair.

Chapter Text

One last day in the merch hall, one last chance to look at some cute merchandise, one last chance to look at that fursuit for sale that Vicky can never affo—

“Someone bought it.”

… Well shit.

“Oh well. It was way out of my budget anyway,” Vicky sighed. “But it was so cute, though…! It was a lion costume, which makes sense since I’m a Leo—Rawr!—and lions are big cats!”

And I know how much you love pussy.

“You phrased it that way on purpose.”

Yes, and?

“Fair enough,” Vicky sighed, walking along until she bumped into a colorful fox of a character… in a fox fursuit. “Oh! Sorry!”

“Nah, it’s fine.” … How did that mouth move? “Oh, I don’t think we’ve met before. My name’s Franz Furdinand. Yours?” He held out his hand asking this, which she took and shook.

“Vicky! Nice to meet you, Franz!” Vicky responded, feeling the furry texture of his hand.  “Wow, this is very soft!”

“I’d hope so! Cost me almost half my salary!”

“Really? Where do you work?”

“Oh, I’m at MASA.”

“The Monster Aeronautics and Space Administration?!” Vicky shouted.

“Yeah. I’m a rocket scientist. Pays extremely well, when various evil billionaires are also after your talents!” Franz declared. “What are you doing over here? Are you a furry too?” Oh. Wow. Going right in with that question, he is.

“Well… no… but I do love me some lions. It’s my zodiac, and a big kitty! I’ve always felt a connection to them, but my window shopping material is gone!”

“Oooooooh, did you want that? I was the one who bought it to test out a new fursona, my bad!”

“No, no, it’s okay, it was waaaay out of my—”

“You can have it, if you want! My treat!”

… What?

“What?”

“What? I mean yeah! It’s yours!”

… There’s a catch isn’t there?

“Do I have to, like, do anything for it? Like… do I need to blow you or—?”

“Nah. No strings. No catch.”

That’s… nice to know, at least.

“You sure? Then again, I’ve basically been doing sex with random people—friends and strangers alike—all weekend long,” Vicky admitted. “So I was almost expecting this to be a similar deal.”

“Well… I don’t believe in quid pro quo…” Franz began. “But I do love sex. Again, the suit is yours, but if you just want an excuse for a one night stand, there is a Furry orgy in half an hour in my hotel room.”

“Wait… did you say orgy?”

Welp. That’s how Vicky found herself half an hour later, in a lion’s fursuit. She subconsciously adjusted herself as she watched the furries getting ready to go.

“I… have no idea how this works. Nobody’s taking their suits off!”

Is there a zipper for the lower body?

“Maybe? I don’t see any?!? What the hell am I supposed to do?!”

“VICKY! That you?” Vicky jumped as she looked to the source of the voice, which was thankfully just Franz.

“Yep, it’s me!” she answered with a chuckle. 

“I knew you’d make it! Pro tip: there’s usually a velcro flap on the bottom for easy access. Now you just holler if you need me, I gotta make sure people aren’t snorting drugs off each other’s toe beans. Trust me, they never wash out.”

… Best not to ask.

“Uh-huh,” Vicky nodded, feeling her suit around before finding the velcro flap in between her legs. Why yes, of course she was naked under there. “Now then… uhh… how do I—?”

“Oh dear! It appears a big strong lioness has me, a tiny fox cornered. Whatever shall I do?” Franz acted dramatically, shaking his tail in order to get her attention. Almost as if he was twerking in her direction…

“My, my,” Vicky purred, her lioness ears twitching playfully, if they could. “What’s a little fox like you doing in a place like this, hmm?” She took a step closer, her padded paws sinking slightly into the thick carpet, the sound muffled by the thumping bass of the music. Franz, despite his theatrical fear, let out a nervous chuckle, his bushy tail giving a quick, excited wag.

“Oh you know, just prowling around,” Franz answered as Vicky crawled on all fours, smirking under her mask… erect cock fully in sight.

“Well, usually I’d snatch up a cute little dish like you, but you caught me at a prime moment…” Vicky purred before pouncing on him. “Aww~! You look cute enough to eat…!” she teased, grinding her pussy on his cock.

“Oh no! Pwease don’t eat me! I’m just a wittle fox!”

“Then maybe the wittle fox can calm my primal hunger in another way~?”

“Awe you asking me to… go wild?”

“That depends: you want me to go wild on you?” she suggested, wiggling her ass on his free willy to entice him further. What can I say, it’s open season now. Franz would waste no time impaling this predator with his cock, grabbing her ass to keep a hold of her.

“Ooooh,” she roared enthusiastically, catching some eyes from others who decided to prowl nearby; letting Franz have the first claim on the cerulean lioness.

“Too bad that mouth doesn’t open. Even if it did, you don’t want to give blowjobs that way…!” Franz grunted. He gave an experimental tug on the tail, making her moan. “Oooh, it comes with a built-in plug huh?”

“Mmhmm…!” she growled in pleasure, looking around and seeing the other multi-hued furry costumes, cocks out and ready for their turn with this queen of beasts. This Apex Predator. This A-sex Pre—wait, NO! That came out wrong!

“Good thing you didn’t finish that; that would’ve ruined the mood.”

Noted. Puns on the brain too much. Anyway—!

“Fuck, you thinking about making a new hybrid species even though we’re biologically incompatible?” Vicky asked.

“I think we can make it work, science is incredible,” Franz teased as one of the other furries dressed as an iguana gave her ass a snack.

“Bet he could still put a litter in you, pretty kitty,” the scalie teased. “And if not? Well, the night is young; who knows how you’ll be?”

“Oooh, guess I’m the prey now?” Vicky giggled as Franz gave a harder thrust, getting closer as he bounced her harder.

“I guess so~!” Franz answered. “Don’t worry, they’ll be gentle with the new girl…!”

“Come on, Foxy! Cream the lion!” a furry in an eagle suit—a feathery?—chanted, getting the other monsters in manimal costumes to chant along.

“Aaaaaah~!” Vicky roared out, hips spasming against Franz’s as she came to monstrous applause.

Franz grunted as he filled her up and started petting her mane, “You still good for the rest of the jungle, lioness?”

“Bring it on…!” Vicky panted. “Looks like I have a long hour or so ahead of me…”

Welp. You said it, not me. Good luck.

Chapter Text

Well, after that romp on the wild side, a nice yoga lesson made a lot of sense.

“No kidding, my legs are sore! I needed a good stretch,” Vicky groaned, while wearing a cute blue and white yoga attire, her long hair up in a bun to keep it out of her eyes. Well luckily this new guy came recommended by the others—I mean, conveniently hosting a yoga class here in the community hall. And judging by the goat-face on a poster board next to the doors…

“Oh a demon? Sounds hot, no pun intended.”

I don’t believe you.

“Okay, so I just signed in, right?” Vicky looked for the sign in sheet where the yoga instructor was waiting. 

“Good afternoon. Looks like you got my last free private class,” the instructor introduced. “My name’s Bradphomet. Pronouns They/Them.”

“Vicky. Pronouns She/Her. Though I have been considering She/They for some time…”

“I say try it out! See if you like it. Here, let me use my test sentence: That’s Vicky, they’ll be taking my class! That sound right to you?”

“Hmm… kind of,” Vicky answered.

“Oh yes, my class isn’t exactly free, to be honest…” Bradphomet confessed, taking out a tablet. Wait… Vicky, that’s a demon contract. “All it’ll cost is your immortal soul.” And now the room is on fire.

“Uhh… Problem with that,” Vicky began. “I sold it to a demon already.” That put the fire out quickly as they gave a dull eyed look at her. Clearly hadn’t expected this situation to come up.

“Wait, what?! You already sold it?! To whom?!”

“Prince Damien LaVey of the Eighth Circle of Hell.”

“… Fuck. I can’t hope to compete with literal demon royalty.” They tapped their chin at this… then their eyes looked at her in the body hugging tights. “Well, I guess there’s another way to pay off my price.”

“Credit card? Phone pay?”

“Nah, I have a better idea,” they chuckled. “Since you can’t pay with your soul, perhaps you can pay with… your body.”

Show of hands, who saw this coming? Vicky, your hand doesn’t count!

“Well… wouldn’t be the wildest thing I’ve done at this con.”

“Well, should we… shake on it?” And the fire’s back.

“Unless I’m shaking your willy.” And the fire’s gone again, but at least they’re laughing this time.

“Okay, okay. I will complete the transaction after the lesson. I suppose it’s better for us to be as limber as possible.”

“Alright,” Vicky purred. “So what’s the warmup?”

“Well then,” Bradphomet began, positioning themselves behind Vicky. The demon instructor’s voice, a deep, resonant rumble, filled the now-empty community hall. “We’ll begin with a simple downward-facing dog, focusing on elongating your spine and inviting flexibility into your hamstrings.” They demonstrated, their goat-like legs bending with surprising grace, a silent invitation for Vicky to follow. Vicky took a deep breath, mimicking the pose, her muscles protesting slightly from the previous day’s exertions, but a thrill of anticipation still coursing through her.

Bradphomet then stood up, making their way to her as they positioned themselves behind her, bringing their hands to her hips and adjusting her ever so slightly. Vicky then heard the sound of tearing as they gripped her tighter.

“Yep. That’s your boner, isn’t it?”

“How’d you guess?” Bradphomet chuckled, grinding against her while still in downward dog. She wiggled against him to give him an invitation. “Now then, for this next pose, would you like any further assistance?”

“That depends…”

“On what?”

“Only if it means you’ll be pushing into my pussy while I’m still in this position,” Vicky challenged, her eyes gleaming with a familiar, playful defiance. “I’ve heard good things about demon dicks. I know demon dicks.”

“Oh yeah?” they asked, their demon eyes, dark and knowing, glinted with a mixture of amusement and raw challenge. “Perhaps you’ll hold demon dicks in a higher view than you already do,” they purred, a slow, predatory smile spreading across their lips, sliding their fingers into Vicky’s leggings and sliding them down. “Fuck, you’ve got a nice ass…!” they growled, smacking it hard and causing her to moan.

“Ahh! Thank you…!” Vicky whimpered.

Bradphomet’s calloused fingers then ghosted over her inner thigh, deliberately trailing upwards until they brushed against her pulsing core. “And now, Vicky let’s see if you can hold this pose while I guide you to a deeper understanding of true flexibility.” With a slow, deliberate motion, they pressed their erect cock against her entrance, a hot, insistent weight that promised a profound stretch indeed. Wait… they never took out their cock from their pa… those aren’t pants. Those are boxers with a slit in front for the cock to come out…

“Ooh~! Even better…!” Vicky winced as Bradphomet began fucking her pussy, having slid her panties aside to make it easier. The demonic yoga instructor then arched their back, a guttural groan escaping their lips as they filled Vicky’s pussy with their wood, each thrust a perfect rhythm that made her cry out their name. They pulsed inside her, a potent, insistent presence that left her breathless and utterly spent.

Soon enough, they stood her up, fondling her chest as they led her along. “Let’s get you a place to take a breather.”

“Yes, teacher…” Vicky panted heavily as she was taken to a cool off spot, letting the cum leak out of her as she was led ahead.

And… they locked me out of the closet. So I can’t see what she’s doing. I can definitely hear her, though. By the sounds of it, they were just about fucking her against the wall. But all things must come to an end. And with nary a hair out of place, she strolled out of that closet. I’ll have to congratulate her.

“Please leave a good Yowl review! It helps a small business like mine!”

“Oh, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you know, business is business… and the whole soul payment thing.”

“Well… I’d think the alternative payment works a lot better. You’d get repeat customers that way!”

“… You are so right.” And with that, Vicky got herself redressed, and took her leave. Hmm… the con’s closing ceremony is soon, right?

“… Shit!”

Chapter Text

Well… it’s the end. Of the con. We still got some time left in the story as a whole, but for this con we got—

“An appearance from me!” the ever bubbly—and bouncy—April First exclaimed as she appeared out of nowhere. “Oh I’ve been waiting to find out where you were, Vicky!”

“You were looking for me?” she asked.

“Yeah! The con afterparty’s coming up and I was looking for someone to fuck.”

Oh damn, she’s that forward? Makes my job easier!

“Like… just straight-up fuck?”

“Yep. Now that I don’t have my managers here, I can actually say I need to fuck someone!” the clown idol exclaimed.

“Is that just about the lack of swearing, or—?”

“They don’t let me do anything, Vicky.” April grabbed Vicky by the shoulders, bringing the pair’s faces together. “I can’t even take a shit unless they allow it! I can’t even talk about golf…!”

Oh. The horror. Not being able to talk about the world’s most boring sport. How will we ever survive without hearing her talk about Jackson Suber.

“Wait, why that one?”

Family friend. His dad used to play this one Hangman app with me when I had to go to events with my dad.

“Oh, cool.”

“Also, don’t diss golf, fuckwad!” April threatened. “Or else this chapter’s gonna be a short one where you’re locked out while we have our fun.”

How are you able to break the fourth wall now?!

“Because the Narrator decided that this story needed some action, Mx. Narrator,” April sassed. “Now then, Vicky, are we gonna fuck or not?”

“Well… Mx. Narrator, are you going to apologize?”

Oh… fine… Sorry.

“Eh… Sure. Now then, Con Afterparty time!” April sang, taking Vicky by the hand. “Oh, and the suite this party is taking place in has plenty of rooms for us.”

The hotel suite thrummed with a bass-heavy beat, a vibrant chaos of costumed attendees already lost in the revelry. April, a beacon of unbridled enthusiasm, practically dragged Vicky through the glittering throng, her infectious energy a stark contrast to Vicky’s lingering weariness. Vicky, despite herself, felt a spark of her own characteristic mischief ignite. This wasn’t just a party; it was an opportunity, a canvas for whatever delightful, debaucherous scenes awaited them in the multitude of available rooms.

And she wasn’t the only one in attendance: the entire group was there. Some decided to go together as fuck buddies, like Brian and Doug, while others were happier going with someone as regular buddies, like Oz and Nico, and others still were okay with partying solo, like Amira and Zoe… while Omen has Liam keeping an eye on them to ensure that they are having a good time don’t get in trouble.

As April darted towards an unoccupied room, Vicky’s eyes scanned the crowd, catching sight of familiar faces and a myriad of fantastical creatures. The air was thick with the scent of cheap liquor, sweat, and something vaguely magical, a potent cocktail that promised an unforgettable night of uninhibited desire. She took a deep breath, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, ready to embrace the glorious chaos of the final con after-party.

Without getting a second to take in the room, Vicky found her face smothered by April’s breasts as she was quickly stripped. Vicky would attempt to quickly strip April in turn, the pink girl clearly pent up from her strict weekend regimen.

“You. Bed. Now!” April exclaimed as the clown girl licked her lips saucily, dragging the now naked blue girl onto the bed with her as both began making out. And yeah, it’s clear she needed this. “Oh I’m gonna fuck your fucking brains out, little girl…!”

“I’d love to see you try!”

“How big do you want it? I can go any size and shape with my balloon friends!” April taunted, demonstrating by taking out a very, very long balloon. Quickly, she blew it up and began bending and twisting it as… she had it coil around and restrain Vicky. Welp. Crossing, “balloon bondage,” off the fuck-it list.

“Wasn’t expecting this on my Con BINGO card,” Vicky chuckled as April got on top of her. “What? No gag?”

“Your teeth will pop it too easily. Besides, I want you to be as fucking loud as you want!”

“Oh, I like you, April~!” Vicky purred.

“THAT’S WHAT I WANT TO HEAR!” April screamed, pressing herself against Vicky’s own body, pulling her into a heated make-out session, hands greedily going in between Vicky’s legs. Squealing into April’s lips, Vicky began to write, kicking her legs wildly as the fingering became rougher and faster.

With each eager thrust of April’s fingers, and each tease from April’s tongue to Vicky’s uvula, her body spasmed, her vocalizations morphing into a delightful symphony of unrestrained desire. The surprisingly strong balloons stretched and groaned under her frantic movements, a playful constraint that only heightened the delicious torment, pushing her further and further towards the edge of a mind-shattering climax.

And just as quickly as it started… it ended, with a loud POP! from the balloons for good measure. April leaned back, breathing heavily as she let herself and Vicky relax, finally.

You okay there, Vicky?

“Ehehehehe~~”

Ah boy, she’s pleasure drunk again. Been a while since that happened. 

“Nope. Full blown pleasure coma,” April corrected. “Umm… I’ll make sure she doesn’t get dicks drawn on her pussy if that’s okay with you.”

I would greatly appreciate that, thank you.

“No problem!”

Vicky let out another pleasure-filled giggle, her body still buzzing from April’s insatiable fucking. “Well,” she managed between breaths, “I guess I deserve a good long rest after that. Don’t let anyone draw on me, please?”

April, ever the dutiful (and now, satiated) protector, simply gave a mock salute. “You got it, girlfriend. Just try not to dream too loudly. Honk, honk~!” April confirmed, giving both of Vicky’s breasts a squeeze with each honk. That earned a chuckle from her as she let herself fall asleep.

Chapter Text

I don’t think I understand you sometimes. You fuck twenty-five people over the course of a weekend, and now the rest of this month so far has been relatively calm. Did you burn yourself out on sex? Is that even possible?

“I'm trying to not just bounce on everyone. Plus, there were people who either didn’t want to have sex or weren’t comfortable going all the way, I have to respect those wishes.”

Fair is fair, consent is important. Still, you really frontloaded the month.

“I know, I know…” Vicky sighed.

I mean… I’m sure you’ll eventually get another long string of sex acts done by Halloween. It’s still a week away, after all.

“You say that now, but I’ve learned my lesson. A girl needs her rest,” Vicky giggled, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her pajamas.

Suit yourself. So you don’t mind that Amira invited someone to the apartment, do you?

“Not at all,” Vicky yawned, curling up into bed with her cat Shelley, all while Amira and her guest were outside in the living room, the former getting her ears pierced.

“Mamimi, you know ice doesn’t work on me!”

“I’d say chill, but you are quite literally a fire girly.”

“Ugh, I got some rubbing alcohol in the bedroom. Vicky’s trying to sleep in there, so try to be quiet?”

Mamimi, with her spiky purple hair and numerous facial piercings, was already halfway through setting up a portable piercing station on Amira's coffee table. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and nervous excitement. Mamimi just quietly opened the bedroom door and, to her surprise, Vicky was still very much awake.

“Hey, Mamimi,” Vicky called out. “Whatcha up to?”

“Trying to pierce Amira’s ears,” Mamimi answered. “She said there’s some rubbing alcohol in here?”

“Yeah. In our bathroom.”

“… In your… bathroom,” Mamimi repeated with a groan, face-planting onto the bed. It was then that Vicky took notice of Mamimi’s piercings decorating her face—one on each ear, and one on her nose—and… she grew curious. 

“Can those conduct electricity like my bolts can?” she asked. By the way Mamimi sat up, her interest was certainly piqued.

“I dunno… you wanna test it?” Mamimi asked with a smirk, causing Shelley to sneak out of the room through the bedroom door. Good; she doesn’t need to see her mother get down and dirty with an oni.

“Alright,” Vicky chuckled, pulling Mamimi in for a kiss. Their mouths met, a spark igniting between them that was far more potent than any static charge. Mamimi’s many facial piercings, cool against Vicky’s lips, tingled with a nascent energy, mirroring the electric current that began to hum through Vicky’s own body. It was a kiss that promised not just pleasure, but a fascinating exploration of conductivity, a silent question passing between them: how much power could they truly generate, together? And it appears that Vicky’s tongue felt a little piercing on Mamimi’s tongue as well~!

Both soon parted, Vicky’s tongue still flicking against Mamimi’s tongue piercing. Mamimi’s hands soon made their way to Vicky’s bolts on each side of her neck, fingers tracing along the sutures and stitching keeping her head attached. Her electric blue eyes met Mamimi’s trio of red eyes, a silent invitation passing between them. The air crackled with a new kind of anticipation, not just for pleasure, but for the thrilling potential of their combined, conductive bodies. Vicky leaned in again, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, ready to explore the surprising, sensual synergy of flesh and metal.

Both soon felt that spark again, Mamimi’s hands making their way inside Vicky’s pajamas, silently inviting her to do the same. Perhaps Mamimi has… yep! One on each nipple too. Her tongue darted out, tracing the outline of a particularly ornate piercing on Mamimi’s left nipple, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shooting through them both. The air shimmered with static, the subtle scent of ozone now mingling with the sweet, metallic tang of their rising excitement, a silent testament to the unique, electrifying connection forming between the undead girl and the pierced oni.

“Hey… you got one down there too?” Vicky asked.

“Hehehe, no clit piercing, girl,” Mamimi chuckled. “However… want me to show you anyway?” Without waiting for a response, Mamimi proceeded to strip her lower garments, gently lowering Vicky’s head in between her legs. Instinctively, Vicky began licking at Mamimi’s pussy. “Ooh~! Good girl…!” The oni’s hips began to buck against Vicky’s face, a low growl rumbling in her chest as the undead girl’s tongue found the piercing-free clitoris. Not willing to let herself go unpleasured, Vicky began fingering herself in the process.

“You naughty little minx… you found my hidden treasure, didn’t you?” Mamimi purred, her fingers tangling in Vicky’s curly hair, guiding her head with a deliciously firm pressure. Vicky, not one to back down from a challenge, intensified her efforts, determined to prove that a good lick could be just as electrifying as any metal piercing. “Fuck… yes, keep going…!” Mamimi panted, her fingers making their way back to Vicky’s bolts. She continued her ministrations, the oni’s body arching with each deliberate, teasing stroke. Mamimi’s hands tightened on Vicky’s bolts, a low, pleasurable growl rumbling in her throat, the electrical current between them intensifying with every precise, determined flick of Vicky’s tongue. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re gonna make me cum…!” Mamimi gasped.

Mamimi let out a final, raw gasp, her body spasming against Vicky’s face as a powerful, electric current seemed to surge through her, culminating in a series of shuddering moans and a thick, hot gush that coated Vicky’s face and tongue. The air in the room practically vibrated with the aftermath of their shared climax, the scent of ozone now thick and sweet. Vicky, covered in the delicious evidence of Mamimi’s release, finally pulled away, her own body humming with a deeply satisfying, almost primal energy. She licked her lips, savoring the taste, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

“Well,” she purred, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “That was certainly… electrifying.”

“Boo for the pun!” Vicky laughed, before realizing her hand was still in her pajama bottoms, making it obvious what she was doing. “I’m gonna go wash this up. I’ll grab you the rubbing alcohol!” And with that, Vicky dashed out of the bathroom and into the bathroom. Amira just watched, chuckling as she rolled her eyes, putting two and two together.

“So… how good does my friend fuck?” she asked as Mamimi returned, getting her own bottoms back on.

“She’s… pleasing,” Mamimi answered. Vicky soon returned with the rubbing alcohol before quickly retiring to the bedroom, letting Amira’s and Mamimi’s prior activity resume in peace. Amira and Mamimi continued their conversation, though Mamimi’s lingering smile suggested she wouldn’t soon forget the electrifying encounter. Vicky, meanwhile, retreated back to the bedroom, the memory of the oni’s touch still tingling on her skin, ready for some well-deserved rest before whatever the next day of this chaotic month had in store.

Chapter Text

Vicky had a long day: college classes were stressful, especially when you’re double-majoring in Engineering and Fashion. Everyone else was still out, which meant that Vicky had some time to herself . She decided she was gonna do this while on her phone, scrolling on all of her socials, perhaps checking on her friends in her contacts. Hmm… Nico’s the last of the Con Family you’ve yet to fuck, I think?

“Yeah… but they’re back home.”

Still, doesn’t hurt to call them, right?

“True…” Vicky responded, selecting one of the numbers at random. Within seconds, they answered.

“Uhh… Hello there, baby.”

“Nico? Hi! What’s with the confused tone?”

“SHIT!” Nico shouted on the other line. “How did you get this number?!”

“Uhh… I have your work number listed. I thought you said you worked as a telemarketer.”

“New acting gig. At least… I thought it was…”

“Alright, what wacky situation did you get yourself into this time?” Vicky asked.

“I saw a gig on a job forum and saw that it paid more. Didn’t even have to stop working a phone. Now it’s just… Uhh…” Nico explained, trying to find the correct words. 

“Rip off the band-aid, buddy. What’s the job?”

“I’m working a sex hotline now, okay?!” Nico shouted over the phone. “I mean… I’m working a sex hotline now.”

“So you’re a sex worker now?” Vicky asked, trying to stifle a giggle.

Nico just groaned in response. “It’s my first day, okay? And you’re my first call! I’m still trying to figure out the whole, ‘sexy voice,’ thing…”

“But… you’re a cosplayer,” Vicky pointed out.

“I know, so this should be easy for me, but it’s not!” Nico lamented.

“Well, would you like some help?” Vicky asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“Ooooh! Yeah, Liam told me you have sex with a lot of people, so you could help me!”

Pfft…! They’re not wrong!

“Yeah… I do…”

“Hey. No judgement! You do what you do, I have no place to judge ya!” Nico reassured with their usual peppy tone. “So, what advice do you have for me?”

“Well, let’s start with your approach. You need to be inviting,” Vicky purred. “Make sure you know the caller knows what they’re getting into~!”

“Sounds easy enough…”

“Also, you need to prepare yourself for whatever sick kinks and fetishes they might have~! Like, for example… say they have a degradation kink.”

“Like… they get off on being insulted and shit?”

“Yeah, exactly. Look up some of the various common kinks and fetishes people have, or print out a list of ten or so. You should be able to improv from there.”

“Okay! Should I ask people what they’re into beyond that, or let them talk about it?”

“Well… Let them lead. You just follow,” Vicky advised, sitting herself up against the headboard. “Like… Hey there, cutie~! Whatcha wearin’?”

“Well… Um. Does my chest covering my junk count as clothing?” Nico asked.

“You know what? For this, let’s say no,” Vicky answered. “Anyway, Ooh~! So you’re wearing nothing at all? You are such a freak~!”

“A-Ah…! Y-You’re right…! I-I am a freak…!” Nico stammered, their voice growing breathier, a genuine flush creeping up their neck even over the phone. “Is that… Is that what you want to hear, baby? That I’m just a little freak for you?”

“Yeah~! I want to hear you say it, you slut. Tell me you’re a dirty little freak who loves to play on the phone with me~!”  Vicky’s own voice had taken on a low, husky quality, a natural instinct for seduction kicking in as she guided Nico through the paces of a phone sex fantasy. This wasn’t just a lesson; it was a performance, and both were quickly getting lost in the script.

“Okay… Yeah, I’m a dirty little freak who loves to play on the phone with random people~!”

“Ooh~! You turned on yet?”

“Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby. I am so turned on right now…” Nico answered… before pausing. “Am I doing this right?”

“Yes, you’re doing fine,” Vicky reassured. “Now then, since you’re already nude, is there any room in that chest for two?”

“Oh yeah, plenty, bitch~!” Nico answered. “Why don’t you come in and I can show you what I’m packing?”

“Ooh~! I’d love that…!” Vicky purred, reaching for her vibrator and bringing it right to her mouth. “Want me to get it wet for ya?”

“Yes, baby, make it nice and wet for me…” Nico’s voice had dropped to a low, gravelly growl, a stark contrast to their earlier nervousness. “I want to hear every little sound, every little gasp. Show me what that pretty mouth can do, you little tease.” Vicky pressed the vibrating tip against her lips, letting out a soft, drawn-out moan that vibrated through the phone, a silent promise of the delicious radio show she was about to deliver. Slowly, she began to bring its length along her tongue, teasing the back of her throat as she began to suck, allowing Nico to hear each time she made herself gag. “Yeah, atta girl…! Tell me what else you want to do with that pretty mouth, baby~!”

“Maybe I should tease your nipples with my tongue while you fuck me?” Vicky suggested, bringing her wet vibe to her pussy.

“Tell me everything, you naughty girl… what do you want me to do to you?” Nico’s voice was a low hum, a perfect blend of instruction and raw desire, utterly captivating Vicky. She could feel the heat radiating from the phone, mirroring the inferno building within her as she masturbated, each movement a silent plea for more, a desperate need for the delicious intimacy of their virtual connection.

“Ahh~! Fuck me raw…!” Vicky begged. “You’re already nude, but I’m all dressed… you gonna tear off my clothes as you fuck me?”

“Yeah, I would! Leave you fully exposed while I pound away into you! Let everyone see your tits bounce!”

“Yeah? You gonna do anything to my boobs?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be licking mine right now?”

“I can talk and lick at the same time…” Vicky giggled. “You wanna fuck me to see what else I can do?”

“Is that an open invitation?”

“Yeeeep~! For now, stay in the scene!” Vicky demanded. “Fuck…! You’re already making me cum…!” Her fingers tightened around the vibrating toy, her breath coming in ragged gasps as Nico’s imagined presence filled the room, each suggestive word a new wave of delicious torment. “Oh Goddess, Nico, I’m almost there!” she choked out, her voice raw with impending release, as her hips began to buck against the sheets, riding the artificial pleasure to a dizzying, all-consuming climax that had her seeing stars.

“Now, hold on! Wait until I cum first…!”

“Ahh…! Damnit…!” Vicky whined, forcibly holding her orgasm back.

“NOOOOOO~!" Nico screamed, their voice now a frantic, high-pitched wail as they bucked and pounded against the invisible forces of their imagination, driven to the absolute edge by Vicky’s sensual torment. “No, don’t hold back, baby! Let it all out for me…! FUCK!” And with that final, desperate plea, they too collapsed into a messy, audible climax over the phone, the sound a symphony of satisfied, albeit slightly pathetic, gasps and moans.

“Damn… you sure this was your first assignment?” Vicky asked, immediately making her way to the sink to clean her toy.

“Yeah…” Nico answered, likely nodding beyond the phone.

“Well then let me be the first to say that you have a promising career as a phone sex operator,” Vicky complimented.

“Actually, the first person was my interviewer, but thank you!” Nico laughed. “Now… Ooh, this is awkward. I’m gonna need to charge your credit card.”

“What? No friends and family discount?”

“Nope.”

Vicky… you know as well as you do that sex workers deserve a fair pay / commission. Vera pays you better than that.

“I was teasing, Mx. Narrator. Next time put that indicator in the text.”

… I was unaware you’re aware of the text now. Oh well. But yeah, Vicky pays Nico for the phone sex and both hang up. Honestly, I’m almost tempted to sneak a peek at Nico’s office…

But I won’t. I’m not that much of a pervert.

Chapter Text

Ahh, Spooky University… is college actually valuable?

“College is extremely valuable. You should value your education.”

Sure, you say that now. I don’t need a college education. I learn on the job.

“I know, but is this really the story to discuss the necessity of secondary education?”

Touché. Anyway, Vicky, backpack slung over one shoulder, navigated the bustling quad, heading towards her first class of the day: Advanced Cryptid Biology. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of freshly raked leaves and something faintly metallic, a familiar, unsettling aroma that was uniquely Spooky U. Vicky soon noticed a kitsune selling blind boxes from a cart, right next to the statue of the university’s Hydra founder. Seems like a perfectly normal sight for this school.

“Hmm…?”

“See something you like, little lady?” he asked as she approached him and his cart.

“What’s in the boxes?” Vicky asked.

“Ahh, I’m not saying,” the seller answered. “The first rule of blind boxes is that you’re not supposed to know what’s inside until you open it. Haven’t you opened one before?”

“I—”

“I know you haven’t. You didn’t visit me all weekend at the con.”

Huh? He was there?

“Spooky Con? You were there?”

“I was in the Vendor Hall selling blindboxes. I noticed you there a few times.”

“Oh… okay? And what’s your name?”

“Yi Feng. At your service,” he introduced, holding out his hand to shake. “You know what? Your first box is free.”

Well, that’s awfully generous.

“Thank you! I think I want…” Vicky’s eyes began scanning the array of opaque boxes sitting on the cart in front of her. They soon fell on a collection of green and purple boxes. “What’s that collection?”

“Horror Movie Stereos and Types. Each box comes with a horror movie archetype that plays a sound,” Yi Feng explained. “You want this?”

“Uhh… sure,” Vicky answered, picking up a random box and opening it. Inside was a girl who was relatively free of blood and blemishes, but looking entirely traumatized.

“Ooh~! You got the Final Girl! That’s incredibly rare!” Yi Feng applauded. “I don’t even think I’ve seen that one yet. Wonder what sound it plays?” Vicky simply turned the figurine around to find the button. Upon pressing it, she heard… saucy jazz? “Ooh~! That’s interesting…!”

“Hmm… I’m getting ideas already,” Vicky muttered, eyes going to Yi Feng. “How’s about you give me a little chase? Where I’ll be the Final Girl?”

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Not like either of us have class or anything,” Yi Feng chuckled. Then again… this is porn logic, so Yi Feng isn’t too far off. Chances are after the sex scene happens, only a few minutes tops will have passed by.

“Alright… let’s get started!” And with that, Vicky began to run, abandoning her bag and allowing Yi Feng to give chase… or so she thinks. She had ran all the way through the woods surrounding the college campus, with no sign of Yi Feng following her. “Was he just pulling my leg?”

I don’t know. I can’t even sense his presence from here.

A faint rustling in the bushes, then the snap of a twig, made Vicky spin around, her heart thumping not with fear, but with a surge of renewed anticipation. She narrowed her eyes, a predatory glint entering them. “Oh, you want to play hide and seek, foxy?” she purred, a slow, sensual smile spreading across her face as she deliberately ran deeper into the dense undergrowth, already planning her own delightful ambush. But to her dismay, she had already felt two hands grabbing her ankles, dragging her down to the floor. “AHH!”

“Gotcha~!” Yi Feng taunted, hiding in the leaves, dragging Vicky into a burrow, fangs showing clear as day, having morphed himself to become even more foxlike. Also naked. “Thought you could escape me, little girl?”

“I should’ve known you’d be a fox demon,” Vicky grumbled playfully, wriggling against his grip, but not truly trying to escape. Her eyes, still gleaming with that mischievous spark, met his as he forcibly stripped her down, tearing her clothes in the process. “Well, I guess a little dirt won’t hurt,” Vicky giggled, not fighting him as he dragged her further into his earthy hideaway, the scent of damp soil and musky fox fur filling her nostrils, a potent invitation to embrace her own primal instincts.

“Making sure I’m dragging you in here far enough that if you scream, no one can hear you,” Yi Feng taunted, forcing a hand over her mouth to emphasize his point. “Now then, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t scream anymore, but I’ll let you live because, well, how else are people supposed to know that I’m—OWW!”

“How am I supposed to answer with your hand over my mouth like that?”

“You just bit me!” Yi Feng shouted, before pausing. “… That was hot~!”

“Hey, if you’re into that, I’m game.”

“Only if you’re okay with me biting back…!”

“Fine by me,” Vicky growled, her eyes locked with his. A primal hunger ignited between them, a silent agreement that the rules of the chase had changed. Yi Feng’s fangs, sharp and gleaming, hovered inches from her throat, a promise of exquisite pain and even greater pleasure, even as his cock prepared to impale her vaginally.

From here, no more words were spoken: just a series of growls, grunts, and moans. If you’re looking for a chapter with substance, you’re out of luck. Not much I can describe. But I can say that claws were out, teeth were used, and small amounts of blood were spilled. A tasteful amount, I will say.

Eventually, after hair and fur have been caked in mud and specks of blood, some cum had been added into the mix, as both would reach their climax deep into the burrow. And for a while, they stayed in that position, knotted and all.

“So… how was that?” Yi Feng asked, helping Vicky out of the hole in the ground.

“Pretty good! Probably for the best that the next time we do it to not be so intense.”

“Ohh… do you want a next time?”

“That depends… will I be seeing you in class?”

“Maybe~!” Yi Feng answered, shifting back into his more humanoid form—and somehow getting dressed in the process. “And even if we don’t share any classes, I’ll be in the commons selling blind boxes every single day.”

“Well, I’ll see you around then. Oh, and—”

“Oh yeah. Your clothes. I… hope you know where to get a spare set. Bye!” And with that, the fox spirit took off. You have a spare at the dorm, right?

“I have, like, five spares. But my apartment is quite a way’s off.”

Should I invoke Deus ex Machina to spare the embarrassment?

“… You know what? Sure.”

Alright. Something wacky happens, you gain and lose a stat, and you’re safely back at the apartment you share with your three best friends. Everything’s all hunky-dory and… Wait.

“What?”

Hold on… Vicky, I have that list you gave me a while back. Why do I feel like the time you fucked Franz and what just happened with Yi Feng were backwards?

“Narrator… You’re only supposed to break the fourth wall, not demolish it!”

Hey, it just seemed weird to me! Doesn’t matter anyway, a crossed off list is a crossed off list. As long as you have fun, who cares?

“Alright, cool. Now if you excuse me, I gotta make Bio!”

Go Vicky! Don’t miss your class!