A Backdoor Pilot for Harem Incorporated

A/N: Hey Folks! Here’s something I’ve been kicking around in drafts for a bit. Fair warning if the person approving the chapter does allow it, the rules for this season are going to be a little different (constituting its own rules chapter) but is similar enough I felt it only right to put it in the original thread rather than creating its own story.

Ms. Makarovka

Like a rubber band, the witch snapped at the sitting figures around the boardroom table, powered by the room’s tension. The binder containing her copy of this season’s rules were launched across the room as a fireball, which quickly vaporized upon connecting with the wall. “No! It’s too radical a difference!” She cried. “This imbecile doesn’t understand the first thing about this show!”

Talia’s heart panged with disappointment when the witch’s accusatory finger indicated her to be the imbecile the witch had been referring to. Destiny had been a great inspiration to Talia in the design of her—now greenlit— season. To have something she had so much passion for be so despised by someone she respected so much was a very large blow. But Talia didn’t show it on her face. She had faith in this project. Besides, Destiny was likely just lashing out.

“I…” Destiny, the witch, huffed, briefly making hateful eye contact with the steely gaze of Talia. Destiny had the impression that her loathing bounced off that steel, though Talia felt it piece through her pupils and push her heart into her stomach despite her unwavering cold expression. “I will not attach my name to a project associated with this… Blitzer!”

Unlike Destiny’s other accusation of Talia not understanding the game, this one was mostly true. A blitzer was a host who, in Destiny’s description, assaulted contestants with frequent and indulgent transformations because they lack the creativity to build drama with considerate and well thought out spells. In essence, she was just using transformations more frequently to ‘Blitz’ the contestant through their transformation. Blitzers had a bad reputation for creating extremely short, contrived, and shallow seasons that served as little more than a quick afternoon binge when audiences needed a quick orgasm. It was all criticism Talia agreed with.

But Talia saw the true potential of Blitzing, by comparing it to its namesake warfare tactic. If the transformations were considerate, interesting, and mutually supported, then they had the potential of creating a beautiful, beautiful spiral.

There was a silent moment before the exit to the boardroom opened and one of the producers’ representatives spoke, gesturing for the witch to leave. “Perhaps you misunderstand,” they said. “Destiny, the producers are not assigning you to this season. In fact, they don’t have any projects lined up for you. Your ratings have long been growing less equal to your reputation.”

Destiny opened her mouth to defend herself, Talia almost did, too. But neither said anything to the representatives. They may as well be producers themselves. It was hard for Talia to see her hero feel that same pain she was feeling. “This season was greenlit to serve as a soft-launch for a new show, depending on the ratings. The production team believes this to be a gold-mine and you to be poison.”

Destiny nodded, biting her lip as a tear rolled down her cheek. Talia had to look away. “Am I here just to be insulted?” The bravado and fury was gone, leaving only shakes and hurt.

“You’re here only at the request of Ms. Makarovka.” The representative pointed to Talia. Destiny’s purple eyes flashed with uncertainty, curiosity, and—hesitantly—shame.

“Go ahead then.” Destiny sucked in a hard breath, throwing her arms up as if to signal herself as an easy target. “Rub it in, new blood.”

Talia locked eyes with Destiny and began, monotonely: “Blitzers lack restraint, smothering anything of interest or sincerity with cheap thrills and parlor tricks. Personal drama gets buried under big tits and gallons of cum or some variation nearly every time. Your seasons, even those which the board disparages, contain an emotional heart most other seasons hardly manage to even stumble on accidentally. They are moving, interesting, and cohesive. Everything Blitzed seasons have never been. But I think there is one concession you simply must give us Blitzers.”

Talia pointed to the projector screen, where a series of ratings scrolled by. “It’s very entertaining. I have thrills, I have cheap tricks and pratts and novelties. What I need is someone who understands drama to grab my leash and hold me back.”

One of the representatives cut in. “And hold you back, she will…”

“Shut up,” hissed another in a whisper. “Maybe we’ll get a Destiny season that’s actually watchable.”