Intermission: Unexpected Visits

Author's Note: This chapter is also the continuation of this one. Check it out!

Andy found himself walking. He had no memory of leaving the gazebo, just a residue of salt air and torch smoke, the faint ache in his shoulder from where Sam had punched him.

The night was cool, the kind of cool you could only get from a wind that had circled the globe before hitting this beach. Andy breathed in, hoping the cold would **** his mind to focus, but it just made the anxiety sharper, the edges brighter. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the women lined up on their stools, paint gleaming on bare skin, each of them waiting for him to choose which one deserved to remain. It felt like drowning with no rescue in sight.

He sat down in the sand, arms loose around his knees, and watched the froth surge and pull at the dark. The sea here never let you forget you were on an island: the sound had mass, a physical presence, like an oceanic heart pounding against the volcanic chest of the land. Even now, at the very end of a day engineered for spectacle, Andy couldn’t shake the sense that something else was coming. Something worse.

He tried to recall Marissa’s tricks, learned during therapy. Name the things around you: beach, moon, air, glass. Name the things inside: panic, guilt, exhaustion, a hint of horny regret. Breathe. He managed two slow breaths before he realized there was a change in the air, a pressure like before a storm. The hairs on his arms lifted. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating—the kind of micro-dream that follows you into waking after too little sleep—but the sensation grew: a thrum of energy, a staccato pop in his eardrums, a wrongness at the edge of everything.

The wave that crashed in front of him was louder, harder than the rest. It brought with it not just foam, but a sound—a ragged, wordless scream, as if someone was being ripped out of another world and slammed face-first into this one. Andy's heart stopped, then thudded double-time as a human figure staggered out of the receding water and collapsed on the sand, no more than ten yards from where he sat.

He was on his feet in an instant, shoes forgotten. The person on the sand was a woman, but not one of his harem. She was pretty, young, but her hair was dark and wild, matted to her scalp, and her clothes were in shreds. One leg was bent at a sickening angle, blood pumping from a wound where bone had torn through skin just below her knee.

Andy skidded to his knees beside her. "Fuck! Don't move," he said, already yanking his shirt over his head. The woman's face was ashen beneath salt-spray, her eyes unfocused as she tried to push herself up on trembling arms. He wrapped the fabric tight around her knee, wincing as she hissed through clenched teeth.

"No, no, no, no," she said, voice raspy and ****, swaying even as she sat. "This isn't... I didn't... fuck!"

Andy tied the makeshift bandage with shaking fingers, watching crimson bloom through cotton. "I'm not going to hurt you," he managed. "I'm... my name is Andy. We need to get you help..."

"Which season is this?" she spat, the words slurring slightly as she fought to stay conscious. Her pupils were blown wide, either from pain or something worse. "What's the number? Who's the Host?"

He gaped. “What?”

"Host," she repeated through gritted teeth, as if talking to a very slow child. "Red hair? Black? Clown face? Shark teeth? Does she look like a terrible games show host or a... I don't know, a leprechaun? Tell me now, tell me..." She was shaking so hard she couldn’t finish.

He cautiously moved a step closer, hands raised. "It's, um... Arabella. She's the Host here. Red hair, green eyes."

The woman's face tightened. She was pale, but Andy didn’t know if it was because of blood loss, or because of fear. "What kind of monster is she? Siren? Demon? A bunch of demons in a clown suit? Some kind of psychic vampire?"

"I don't actually know what she is," Andy admitted, surprised by his own honesty as much as he was by the options the woman mentioned. "But from our conversations, I think she might actually… care. At least a little bit. She seems to have her own reasons for all this."

He paused, and when she neither reacted aggressively nor fainted, he extended a hand. "Would you like to sit up? I need to take you inside, we can…"

She eyed his hand like it might explode, then took it. “I… I need to get out. I need to go… shit!” She cursed as pain shot through her leg and she winced. Up close, she looked about his age: maybe a year or two younger, but with the kind of face that gets mistaken for twenty-two until you saw the lines etched around her eyes.

He found his brain working again. “Are you… are you a contestant?”

The pained laugh she gave was more like a cough. “Not anymore.” She spat sand. “Name’s Dinah. I’m a fugitive, technically. Maybe the only one.”

He helped her upright. “A fugitive from… the Harem Hotel?”

She nodded, wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, and took in the beach like someone checking for snipers. "I was on a season. She called herself Beckie Petersen, the harpy.”

“That’s… How many Hosts are there?”

Dinah shot him a look that said ‘you sweet summer child’ with perfect clarity. “Hundreds. Thousands. Infinite, if you ask the Producers.” She spat again, then glared at the surf as if daring it to produce another threat. "I was abused. Hypnotized by that bitch Indigo who stole from me, made me into her ****, and made me hurt others too. And my Mistress—" her voice cracked, "—she changed me when I was at my worst. Made me worship her like some kind of mindless pet. I couldn't even think straight enough to hate what she'd done." She dug her nails into her palms. "Anyway, when I recovered my wits… that's when I decided to run."

Andy tried to process this. “You can run?”

She shrugged, wincing at another shot of pain. “If you’re **** enough, you can do anything.” Her eyes darted behind him, scanning the shadows for movement.

He wanted to ask a hundred questions, but Dinah’s focus was laser-tight on the sand. She tensed, all her muscles suddenly rigid, and whispered, “Shit. They’ll find me. They always do. Ms. E was right behind me.”

Andy risked a sidelong glance, half-expecting a team of security goons to rise from the dunes. But there was nothing—just the empty sweep of beach, the distant lights from the resort, and the relentless crash of the tide. He said, “You’re safe here. I think.”

Dinah laughed again, a flat, awful sound. “You ever meet a woman named Harper?”

Andy shook his head, then hesitated. “Wait. I think she wrote me a letter.”

“She’s my...” Dinah chewed on the word for a second, then spat it out like it tasted bad. "She was my Mistress. Like, in the old-school sense. Not by choice. She’s a sea elf, foam green hair, aquamarine skin, gills. If she comes, don’t try to fight. Just run."

Andy nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Dinah slumped, finally spent. She dug her heels into the sand and let herself fall back onto her elbows. She adjusted the makeshift bandage with another wince, but her movements suggested medical training. “I’m sorry,” she said, quieter now. “You probably don’t want to hear my shit. You’re just here to have a good time, right? Fuck a few girls, get turned into a god, roll credits.”

Andy snorted. "That’s not exactly the goal."

Dinah grinned faintly, teeth sharp in the moonlight. "It never is."

A silence fell. Andy looked at the sand, at the water, anywhere but her face. After a minute, Dinah broke it. “So. How many are in your harem?”

He shook his head. “Eight.”

Dinah let out a soft, almost mournful sound. "I hope you're **** than most." She gritted her teeth, then tilted her head, studying his fidgeting hands. "Why are you so wound up? You look like you're about to jump out of your skin."

"Elimination's tomorrow," Andy said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "Someone's getting eliminated, and I—I have to be the one who decides. In part. They all trust me now. They've shared things. And I’m going to be partially responsible for the elimination."

"And that bothers you," Dinah said, not a question. She sat up, arms wrapped around her knee, the injured leg stretched on the sand. "The few Masters I've seen would be all about the power trip."

"I'm trying," Andy replied, his voice cracking slightly. "To do right by them, I mean."

Dinah's expression softened despite the pain, just for a moment. "Look, if it helps... sometimes the kindest thing is letting them go before they get in too deep." She fixed her gaze on him, and this time there was no panic in her eyes. Just exhaustion, and hurt, and a wary kind of respect. "But don't ever believe you're in control. The only power you have is what you steal on the margins."

He nodded, unsure if he wanted to believe it or not.

A change in the air again—this time, a ripple of heat, as if a bonfire had been lit behind him. He turned, and there, at the edge of the beach, stood Arabella. She wore a black dress cut from negative space, her hair down, her eyes catching every reflection from the water and returning it as green fire.

Arabella didn’t walk so much as appear; one second there was just darkness, the next she was gliding across the sand. She stopped a few feet away, eyes on Dinah, and Andy saw a crack in her composure. It was microscopic, a twitch at the corner of her eye, a tic of the jaw, but it was real.

“Doctor Dinah Hornblower,” Arabella said, her voice low and careful. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Dinah flinched and braced herself on the sand as if expecting to be dragged away by the ankles. Arabella didn’t move. She regarded Dinah with a look that belonged more in a courtroom than a television set. “You crossed several seasons to get here,” she said. “That takes a certain… resourcefulness.”

Dinah bared her teeth. “I’m not staying.”

Arabella’s gaze flicked to Andy, then back. “I don’t suppose you’ll return to your Mistress voluntarily?”

Dinah spat. “Forget it.”

Arabella inclined her head, the movement almost gracious. “It would be easier if you came with me.” She approached the newcomer and knelt beside her, touching the makeshift bandage gently. “There.” Dinah’s eyes widened and she exhaled a gasp, as if releasing all the pain that had been building inside. “These things have no place on my island.”

Dinah shrugged, then clambered to her feet. She wiped the wet sand off her legs, ignoring the ragged edge of her torn shirt that threatened to flap open with every breeze. “What’s the point?” she said. “She’ll find me, or you’ll drag me. I’m not scared anymore.”

Andy looked at Arabella. There was a new tension in her, a crackle under the surface, but she wasn’t angry. If anything, she seemed… sad. She stepped backward, stopping just shy of Dinah’s arm’s length. “I will notify your Producer,” she said softly. “But you have time to say what you want to say.”

Dinah laughed, and for a second she looked more alive than before. “I just wanted to go back home. I wanted to see the ocean,” she said. “I wanted to breathe for five minutes before someone chained me again.” She turned, staring out at the water, then back at Andy. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’re a Master.”

Andy tried to respond, but Arabella raised a hand. “Stay,” she said. “Both of you.” Then she walked a short distance down the beach. She closed her eyes and lifted her head, and even at this distance Andy could hear the conversation start, low and clipped.

Dinah let out a shaky breath. “She’s probably calling Ms. E,” she said. “You ever meet her?”

Andy shook his head. Dinah nodded, like she’d expected as much. “She’s not really a person. More like a giant cat with opinions.”

Andy wanted to ask what happened to runaways, but the question stuck in his throat. Instead, he asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

Dinah turned to him, something wild in her eyes. “Don’t let them turn you into a monster,” she said. “The game wants it. They say it’s about love and sex and competition, but it’s about control. They push you, and push you, until the only way to win is to stop caring. I was a doctor before. OB/GYN. I delivered babies, and I lost a few, but I always cared. I don’t even know what’s going to happen to the other women in my season. I tried to help, and I was fucked for it. But I… I don’t want to forget them. Ever.”

Andy swallowed. “You don’t have to,” he said. “I won’t forget you, either.”

Dinah smiled, slow and tired. “Thanks, kid.” She turned back to the sea, eyes narrowed.

A gust of wind slammed into the beach, salt spray sharp as needles. It was followed by a second, more subtle shift: the sand, the air, the sky itself seemed to contract around a single point. Moonlight gathered and danced around that point, Andy looked up and saw two figures materializing at the far end of the tide line, their outlines flickering as if reality was buffering the details. But first to come into focus were a pair of knowing moonstone eyes.

The figures coalesced as if someone had used a mouse to drag and drop them onto the sand. The moonstone-eyed one was a cat—a long-furred, silver tabby with a tail like a feather duster, which walked with the slow, imperial certainty of royalty unbothered by the concept of a leash. Beside the cat stood a woman—at least, that’s what Andy’s brain registered after two failed passes. She had skin the blue of aquamarine, hair the color of a Pacific riptide, and the ears and fingers of something built for water. She wore some sort of uniform, long blue coat that felt Napoleonic, with shiny brass buttons and fringed eupaulets. A corset with a frilly linen top. A green shoulder strap under the left epaulet, with a crest he didn’t recognize. And a sword belt wrapped around her hips, complete with what appeared to be a sword, four feet long or so, held within its scabbard by an intricate knot of thread, one hand resting on its pommel. She wore tight breeches tucked into metal heeled boots that seemed lifted from an illustration in one of the books in the library. A glistening ring made of some silvery metal shone on her left hand.

Dinah saw them and immediately shrank, her chin tucking down as she hugged her torso even tighter.

The cat and the sea elf closed the gap in three efficient movements. Arabella didn’t wait for them to speak; she turned, nodded once, and said, “Ms. E. Ms. O'Connor. I appreciate the promptness.” Then, without looking at Andy or Dinah, she added, “I trust you are both familiar with the matter at hand.”

The cat seemed to smile as her eyes danced from Arabella to Andy. “Ms. Arabella, Mr. Cooper, a pleasure”

Harper folded her hands, her fingers trembling slightly as she looked at Arabella. “Thanks for letting us know,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration and hurt. “I never thought Dinah would make it to this dimension, let alone try to land by sea.”

Dinah made a rude sound and spoke bitterly. “Didn’t have a lot of options. And the ocean’s better than half the sets I ran through to get here.”

Harper’s gaze flicked over Dinah, then landed on Andy. There was a flicker of recognition. “You are Andy Cooper?”

Andy nodded. “That’s me.”

Harper stared at Andy for a second, as if searching for something beneath his skin. Then, as if remembering herself, she gave a quick, nervous half-bow. “Harper. Formerly Francis O’Connor.” She grimaced, the blue skin of her cheeks darkening to near indigo. “Long story.”

Andy started to respond, but the cat—Ms. E—intervened, trotting forward and circling Arabella with the methodical patience of a hunter. It made a full loop, then sat and wrapped its tail around its paws. The cat’s eyes were uncanny, more human than feline, with an intelligence that made Andy feel like a particularly stupid houseplant.

“Ms. Arabella, you do look tense,” said the cat, the voice coming not from its mouth but from somewhere just above it. There was a note of genuine warmth in the words. “Was Ms. Doctor Hornblower so much trouble to find?”

Arabella, caught off guard, offered a thin-lipped smile. “Not at all, Ms. E. I just didn’t expect to be hosting company at this hour.”

Ms. E gave a delicate sniff. “I suppose I should thank you for calling us,” she purred, “I reviewed your work. Unlike other Hosts, you never were one for heavy-handed measures.” She inclined her head toward Dinah. “Now. Shall we discuss the matter at hand?”

Dinah, bracing herself against the possibility of ****, made a tiny nod. Harper hovered at her side, hands twitching. For the first time, Andy noticed the webbing between Harper’s fingers and the little shimmer of gills along the sides of her neck—details that only registered because of the way she held herself.

“May I?” Ms. E asked, gesturing to the sand beside Dinah. The Hostess nodded, and the cat leapt into Dinah’s lap with a practiced confidence. Dinah tensed, but Ms. E merely settled her haunches and pressed a cold, vibrating nose to Dinah’s wrist. “You've given us quite the audacious show, Ms. Doctor Hornblower,” said the cat, voice now pitched for Dinah alone. “What possessed you to run?”

Dinah glanced at Harper, then away. "It was either that or be turned into a mindless puppet against my will."

Harper's face twitched with pain, starting to box-breathe, gills slightly flaring, but Ms. E ignored it. "Ms. O'Connor was trying to save you from yourself, you know. She still wants to save you."

Dinah's lips curled. "If she wanted to save me, she should just let me go."

Ms. E's tail flicked. "If it were only that simple, Ms. Doctor Hornblower."

Andy expected Arabella to intervene, but she held back, her attention focused on Ms. E as if waiting for a cue. He had the sense that, in this moment, neither he nor Harper nor even Dinah was the main character. Only Ms. E and Arabella mattered, and the entire universe of Harem Hotel was on pause until they reached consensus. He was surprised that Arabella could hold her own so well, after hearing how powerful Producers were.

The cat turned, giving Andy and Harper a glance. “We should speak in private,” Ms. E declared. “Come, Ms. Arabella.” Without waiting, she leapt off Dinah’s lap and padded up the beach, not looking back to see if the others would follow.

Arabella gave Andy a brief, unreadable look—almost apology, almost warning—then extended a hand to Dinah. Dinah hesitated, then took it, and the three of them disappeared into the darkness above the tideline, voices reduced to muffled vowels and clicks.

For a few moments, Andy and Harper were alone, awkward as estranged exes at a wedding table.

Harper exhaled, the tension leaving her spine all at once. She looked less like a conquering heroine and more like a woman who’d just lost the only thing she had left. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said. “This wasn’t how this date was supposed to go.”

Andy shook his head. “I don’t even know what ‘supposed to go’ means anymore.”

The blue-green woman squatted, knees to her chest. A bottle of scotch and a couple of whiskey glasses materialized in her hand; she offered a glass to Andy, then poured the whiskey into both of them.

Andy didn’t know what to say. He just waited.

After a minute or two, Harper broke the silence. "I used to teach. Community college back home. Mostly nursing students. Enough random tutoring clients to keep a roof over my head. Some archery for the militia before I aged out. Sorry, from what I gathered, my home dimension is a strange one.”

Andy stared, not sure where this was headed.

“I was stolen from my world. Same with the others. Same, I suppose, with you and your companions,” Harper continued. “It doesn't help that my season is a gimmick, a fucking joke they launched for some inter-dimensional equivalent of April Fool's Day. I'm not sure how you woke up here, but my first moments on my season's set was paralyzed naked in a box, sitting on a throne. I heard their stories and they heard the voice of Bea Arthur when I spoke. I heard the Host. Beckie Petersen. Sociopathic witch with delusions of competence and a lust for Andy Griffith in a seersucker suit."

Andy blinked. “So you were—?”

"The Master? For a while, anyways. Six women, basically all strangers. Dinah was a former student from early in my career. I honestly don't even remember when. Ugh. It hurts to think about my old life. The fading human. Sorry. We all thought we could outsmart the system. We could beat the game. Turns out the old saying is true: 'No plan a player conceives survives contact with the DM.' The cracks started early. A lot of the damage done while I was still locked up in the Suite. Couldn't have the surprise spoiled. I failed before I could truly do anything about it. And then the transformations. It's one thing to get a little touch-up, but it's quite another to have your entire self-conceptualization torn apart."

Andy felt his throat close. “That happened to Dinah?”

"It happened to all of us, to one extent or another. The game did terrible, terrible things to her. Things I tried to alleviate. Every season has its own little tweaks to the formula, things to keep the audience's attention. One of mine was I was given the ability to edit transformations, as a replacement for the Host's veto.” Harper sighed. “Both rounds, I tried to make it easier on her, to help her deal with what the audience voted for her. Both times, it wasn't enough. In exchange, the contestant gets to give me a transformation. Both times, her proposal wasn't enough. Doesn't help that Vix fucked her up so bad. I get she wasn't in her right mind that second time, but, phew boy did her proposal backfire. Dinah doesn't deserve this. None of them deserve this. She's the only contestant who's ever got this close to escaping, as far as I can tell."

Andy watched Dinah, whose silhouette was barely visible against the surf. He tried to imagine what it was like to be hunted by an entire game world and still find the will to run. “Why did her proposal backfire?” He asked.

Harper sighed. "A quick note first. The premise of the season was to test ways of reducing the feelings of helplessness in the participants in the game, very poorly thought out. So, the contestants are able to buy me transformations to make me more like what they would want in a partner. I'll just leave that there and continue."

Andy nodded, and the blue woman continued. "The first transformation happened at the opening ceremony, after I was sent away to be locked up in the Master Suite. I'll spare you the details, but she had a severe case of infertility and the game turned that into a severe case of fertility. Anyone making vaginal sexual contact with her could impregnate her, no matter how ludicrous that contact would lead to it. I assume you are aware if your contestants get a multiplier for giving up a first time sex act, right? Well, there could be one for pregnancy for you. Her initial first-date idea of having me knock her up did not sit very well with me. Let's say being stuck in one's room for a week with Harem Hotel being the only source of television can lead to one drawing some counterproductive conclusions."

Andy winced. “I can only imagine.”

“The first audience vote gave Dinah basically mind control in the form of breast milk. She was compelled to try to breastfeed anyone she felt wasn't contributing enough to the harem's cohesion and, when she gave triggers to others, would be **** to include an addiction to her milk. I hope you can see the problem with that. I tried to remove all of the compulsions, but Beckie, in her infinite cruelty, only let me replace the compelled addiction with increased enjoyment of the process. It wasn't enough. Vix took advantage of her. Fed Dinah her own milk, brainwashed her with it. And she kept making it worse. In a fucked-up sense, it was a good thing she was so greedy with it; we might not have caught on in time if Vix showed some restraint. In exchange, I was given a praise kink. Please, don't trigger it. This night is hard enough without having to deal with that. No offense, but you aren't exactly my type. Her idea was that she bought me a transformation to make me wear women's clothes and it would only progress if I would cum from compliments about wearing said clothing. If she tweaked the wording a little, it may have worked, but the whole thing became a bit of destructive resonance, as it were. Plus, due to another one of my contestants literally passing out if she senses I am wearing clothes nearby, I end up naked more often than not."

“This Vix was another contestant?” Andy asked quietly, and Harper nodded.

"Her second round vote gave her a womb for every other member of the harem, and a compulsion to keep them all as full as possible. I was able to scrub out the compulsion and replace it with just enjoying sex more when she's pregnant. That might have been enough, if Dinah hadn't basically fallen into a deep depression during the second challenge. I'll never know.”

Shaking her head, she continued. “In exchange, she tried to give me a way to safely remove members from the harem. Our new Host, a less evil mermaid than when I met her, but still pretty evil overall, named Ariel, laughed in her face. Then, Dinah asked for a transformation to make me madly fall in love with her. Again, laughed at. Third try was to, and I quote, 'Remove her fucking cat allergy then. I don’t care anymore.' Yeah, she did not think that through. Think your decisions through, Cooper. Ariel monkey pawed the request to include basically removing my sexual attraction to normal humans. So, for example, I intellectually understand that Arabella is attractive, but I don't feel it. I'm much more interested in seeing the real her under whatever glamour she has on. Dinah and an old crush that was literally added to the harem a day before were the only normal humans left at that point. Everyone else that started human changed into something more. I probably pushed that old crush into becoming an astral elf a little harder than I should have, now that I think about it.”

Harper’s eyes glanced towards the dunes where Ms. E and Arabella were discussing Dinah’s future… or lack thereof. “And then, to top it all off, the audience gave me that fucking Fudge the Roll transformation that I explicitly told them not the give me. It's partially a form of foreknowledge. I can sense when any of my companions are about to fail at something. When I feel it, I can **** them to succeed in exchange for a temporary transformation that makes them, I paraphrase, 'lose all autonomy, becoming what [she] would consider the perfect submissive **** to her Mistress.' In her despair, I felt her about to decide to end it all, a failed Wisdom save in DoD parlance. I gave in to fucking temptation to save her the quick and easy way and I've been feeling like absolute shit about it since. Certainly didn't help that her opinion about me was so degraded at that point that her idea of a perfect submissive **** was a fucking parody of a broodmare. Tonight was supposed to be a chance to try to mend that damage and she did this instead.”

Harper took a deep breath. “Despite all of that, she doesn't deserve any of the pain and suffering she went through. Her life gave her enough pain as is.”

Andy nodded, sighing. “None of them deserve it. That’s the thing. But you and I are the only ones who can do something, however hard it is, sometimes.”

Harper glanced at him. "Well said. By the way, I sent you a couple of letters. A couple gifts. About half of each came through. I thought, maybe if you heard it from someone who's suffered her way through the game, it would help. No idea if it actually did."

Andy let out a long, unsteady breath. “It helped,” he said. “But it didn’t change anything.”

Harper nodded. “That’s the point. Only way out is through. You fight for every second, you find the ones you can save, and you save them. That's all there is."

Andy’s chest hurt. “What about the ones I can’t?”

Harper’s eyes lingered on Dinah. "You bear the burden," she said, "Because if you don't, no one will."

They sat in silence, the only sound the relentless crash of the waves.

After a while, Harper said, "Your season seems a little different too. That Arabella seems to have a plan. Maybe she does. Maybe she's just better at pretending to care. But it I were you, I'd watch her closely. She gives off Lawful Neutral vibes."

Andy nodded, filing that away.

Harper stood, brushed sand from her knees, and stretched. “If you want advice: protect Katherine. She’s… important. Assuming me and mine win at the end, if I'm correctly remembering the memories of a life I have yet to live, we have an art gallery. If you can't protect Katherine, I'll make sure she is seen, cared for. She doesn't deserve what was done to her.”

Andy shook his head. “Thank you for the offer. But I made a promise to her. I will take care of her.” He glanced at the Host, Producer, and woman in the distance. “What happens to Dinah now?”

Harper looked toward the dunes. “Ms. E will probably offer her a deal. ‘Come home and I’ll go easy on you,’ perhaps.”

She glanced at Andy, something haunted in her gaze. “Remember this, Andy. When the time comes, and you are given the impossible choice, do what you have to do. Just keep in mind that you'll have to live with yourself thereafter. Try your hardest to turn this nightmare game towards the good. I hope you succeed.”

Andy wanted to ask what that meant, but Harper was already walking toward Dinah, her gait awkward but determined. Andy stopped at the periphery, uncertain if he was meant to witness the sentencing, or if he was about to be called in as a character witness.

Ms. E began without preamble. “We’ve decided Dinah will be released from Harper’s harem and transferred to Arabella’s jurisdiction, effective immediately.” The voice was precise, clipped, as if read from a legal brief. “In exchange for her escape and the trouble caused, she will receive an exit transformation, appropriate to the nature of her offenses and her service to the show.”

Harper stepped forward, fingers spread in a webby flare. “That’s not fair. She deserves—”

Ms. E’s tail lashed the air. “Don’t. You know the alternative.” She fixed Harper with a glare, and for a second the former professor shrank beneath the **** of it. “This is mercy, such as it is.”

Arabella inclined her head, expression unreadable. “It is.” She turned to Dinah. “If you agree, you’ll be re-homed, as they say, and assist me here with… certain duties. In time, you can request further review. Or appeal, if you wish.”

Dinah’s eyes darted from one face to another. “What’s the transformation?”

Ms. E looked at her, all Producer now, her voice velvet and formal.

Hyperpregnancy Erotic Relations Syndrome – Dinah once had HIS, but now she has HERS. Dinah’s fertility issues do not re-arise, but her reproductive system is now magically modified to where there is a chance that any vaginal sexual contact Dinah has with another person can result in pregnancy if all participants consent. The chances of pregnancy goes up based on the nature of the sexual act (Dinah receiving oral or fingering is less likely to get her pregnant than vaginal to vaginal/penile sexual contact). If the odds exceed 100%, pregnancy is guaranteed, and the excess odds are used to determine whether the pregnancy will result in multiple births (and how many). The baseline odds for all sexual actions increase when a sexual act that could trigger pregnancy occurs without Dinah becoming with child. Whenever Dinah becomes pregnant, an additional womb shall magically develop in her so she can get pregnant again. After giving birth, additional wombs shall magically dissipate. None of these features will have negative anatomical or physiological effects on Dinah. Dinah’s children will all be born without genetic defects, be completely human, and will not suffer any negative consequences from Dinah’s time at the Hotel.

In addition, Dinah will continue to produce milk and lactate at a constant rate as if she is nursing a newborn. This breast milk will have a special characteristic when consumed by adult females, namely, that it serves as both an aphrodisiac and a mood enhancing **** similar to catnip (both effects lasting an hour). The effectiveness of these special characteristics will dissipate over time when Dinah's milk is consumed from anywhere other that directly from the source (so, when Dinah’s bottled milk is consumed, it is less effective. Day old milk will have no special effects [also, why would you want to drink day old breast milk?]).

Dinah also becomes a cat girl, modeled after the Eurasian lynx, with the ears, fangs, claws, stubby tail, and hair color changes one would expect. She also grows two additional pairs of breasts along her abdomen. These breasts will be one cup size smaller than her primary pair and will produce milk when Dinah has recently birthed children. Milk from these additional breasts shall not contain any special characteristics.

Finally, unless Dinah is currently pregnant, she will feel an increased need to find true love. She will instantly fall in love with anyone impregnating her, but this will not count as true love until she would develop those feelings naturally (she is unaware of this fact). Unless she is pregnant, she will only be able to experience sexual pleasure when a woman she truly loves either nurses from her primary pair of breasts or impregnates her. The more children she carries, the more pleasurable sexual acts of all kinds with true love(s) will feel.

This transformation supersedes all previous transformations (Exit Transformation – Becoming Your Own Team Mom).

She waited, as if expecting Dinah to protest.

Dinah's eyes widened as she processed the full implications of the transformation. "Wait—I'll fall in love with anyone who impregnates me? That's—that's psychological manipulation! I won't be able to tell what's real anymore." Her voice cracked. "I was just trying to escape. I didn't hurt anyone." She looked desperately at Harper, then back to Ms. E. "Can't I just be... normal again? Please?"

Ms. E's tail flicked once, dismissively. "The sentence stands, Ms. Doctor Hornblower. This is merciful compared to what we could do." She leaned forward, voice dropping to a silken whisper. "Besides, we both know you've had worse. Much worse." Dinah's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," she muttered, "I've had worse."

Then she winced as she felt her ears pulling upwards, slowly reshaping themselves into furry pinnae, her nails extending into claws, her teeth quivering and growing until she could feel her fangs with her tongue. Behind her, a burst of pain as a stubby, furry tail emerged from her torn clothes. Then, with a gasp, she hunched as she felt four breasts, a little smaller than her primary set, erupt from her lower torso and belly. She looked at herself, in shock.

Harper inhaled sharply, looked like she might argue, but then her expression crumpled. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice raw. “I should have protected you.”

Dinah’s lip curled, showing her fangs. “You protected yourself. That’s all you ever cared about.”

“I cared about you,” Harper shot back. “You just hated me for it.”

“You made me adore you,” Dinah hissed. “That’s not caring. That’s programming.”

Harper's shoulders hunched, the argument mostly draining out of her. "You don't know what the transformation told me was about to happen to you. I was trying to save you."

Dinah was about to reply when Ms. E flicked her ear, a gesture that brooked no further discussion. “That’s enough. The sentence stands.” She looked at Andy, as if daring him to object. “Most exit transformations are much less pleasant. Some contestants become furniture, or livestock, or simply vanish. Dinah is lucky.”

Andy’s stomach twisted. “You turn them into... what, objects?”

Harper's eyes met his, bleak and glassy, "I watched one where a contestant was turned into a coffee table and sex toy. Her mind, trapped in wood, unable to do anything but scream out her thoughts to whoever could listen. Not that anyone from that world could."

Andy’s mouth was dry. “How… how can you do that to people?”

Ms. E shrugged. “Wasn't my doing. Would it help to know that I killed the things that did? Too late for the girl in question.”

Arabella, ever the Host, offered a sympathetic smile. “We prefer to keep the transformations… productive. Purposeful. It’s part of the narrative, you see.”

Andy wanted to scream, but the words stuck.

Ms. E turned back to Dinah. “You can begin assisting Ms. Arabella immediately.” She paused, then offered a rare, almost gentle look. “You’ll do well here, Ms. Doctor Hornblower. This is a good set.”

Dinah squared her shoulders. “Just tell me I’m not going back to the old harem.”

“You’re not,” Ms. E promised. “You’re free.”

Harper’s hands shook. “I’m sorry,” she said again, but Dinah wouldn’t look at her.

Arabella placed a hand on Dinah’s shoulder. “You’re safe,” she said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you here.”

Dinah didn’t reply, but she didn’t pull away.

Harper lingered, half-turned, her body language a mix of longing and regret. “Goodbye, Dinah,” she whispered.

“Go home, Harper,” Dinah said, voice flat. “You’ve got a season to run.”

“Ms. Arabella,” Ms. E added, “Are you sure you do not wish me to break you out of the rules that constrain you? I would do it, if you wished.” Arabella shook her head graciously, and the cat seemed to smile, satisfied.

Harper gave Andy a final, tired smile. “Good luck, Cooper,” she said. “I mean that.” Ms. E nodded once, turned, and vanished alongside Harper, the silver tail the last thing to fade into the salt air.

Andy stood on the path for what felt like hours, the chill from the ocean bleeding up through his feet and into his bones. Dinah lingered nearby, once again sitting on the sand, arms folded, head bowed. In the hush that followed, the moon slipped lower, painting the sand with shadows that looked like bones.

After a while, Dinah broke the silence. “You should get some sleep,” she said. There was no bitterness in the voice; it had been sanded down by exhaustion, made hollow and safe. Her newly grown tail lay still.

Andy shrugged. “Not sure I’ll be able to.”

Dinah turned, gave him a sideways smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You get used to it. The transformations, I mean. For the most part.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s not your fault, anyway. And you tried to help me. A lot of guys wouldn’t.”

Before he could respond, Arabella appeared at Dinah’s side, gliding noiselessly in her black dress. She touched Dinah’s arm, gentle, and said, “Another thing, before I take you to your room, Dinah.” She looked upwards.

A beam of moonlight suddenly shone around Dinah. "Oh, and one more thing, Ms. Doctor Hornblower," a melodic voice from above declared as two cats suddenly appeared, nestled between Dinah's new feline ears. One cat was a plushy, soft and pastel, that was almost immediately kicked off her head. The other cat (a somewhat startled living one) sniffed, then leaned over to bonk the doctor on the nose. Surprised and delighted, Dinah scooped up her precious Mittens with a squeal and nuzzled into her soft kitty belly.

She saw a slip of paper nestled in the cat's collar, reading: Dinah's Spa Date Quest: Find Where You Belong, with the prize text shredded to the point of being completely illegible.

The voice continued, "You never picked up your quest for your date. I had a discussion with myself and decided that you completed it. Not in the way it was intended, mind you, but you did complete it. Way to beat the system, Ms. Doctor Hornblower. For your prize, I pulled a little dimensional heist for you. One Soft Kitty from your dorm room, ready for your snuggles, should you need its magic at the moment. The rest of your things are in your room; yes, Ms. Arabella, I arranged her things just so. One Ms. Doctor Hornblower from a world that will no longer be needing her services to cover for your patients, given the knowledge to handle the dimensional differences subconsciously, and one Mittens from a few moments before you hit her with that transformation for you to smoosh your face into like you like and she sort of tolerates. Even done all of that in such a way that you won't have to worry about the Army Reapers giving the new Ms. Doctor Hornblower a visit like they would have given Mittens in a few days. Real dumb of you for giving a kitten access to your bank accounts, Ms. Doctor Hornblower. She spent sooooo much money on fresh salmon and cat toys. So, a bit of a happy ending for all, wouldn't you say? Fare thee well, Ms. Doctor Hornblower. May your path be smooth, but not so smooth as to be boring, and your heart be full, but not so full as to be inert."

Dinah looked upwards, towards the unseen source of both voice and moonlight, and whispered, eyes shining as she clung to her beloved Mittens, "Thank you, Ms. E. Farewell." The moonlight faded, and Dinah wiped tears off her face as she looked at the cat who only superficially seemed to accept being held.

Arabella smiled, carefully picking up the plushie cat and handing it to Dinah reverently. “There’s a room ready for you. Come.”

Dinah nodded, then gave Andy a salute, two fingers to the brow, then out. She looked sad, but relieved, as if a great burden had been taken from her. Perhaps, Andy wondered, there was even a spark of hope on her features. “Take care, Andy Cooper. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Arabella lingered for a moment. “Forget what happened tonight, Andy,” she said, her voice low. “Tomorrow is about your choice. Let yourself want something, for once.”

Andy watched her lead Dinah up the path and into the night, the shadows swallowing them both.

He walked the path alone, the wind at his back and the sand stinging his ankles. The world blurred around him; the night’s events layered and unfocused, like memories of someone else’s bad trip. He remembered Marissa’s smile, Norah’s painted skin, Sam’s laughter, the way Erin had looked at him before the lights went out. He remembered the women in the gazebo, their bodies painted in hope and dread.

But mostly, he remembered Harper’s warning: Try your hardest to turn this nightmare game towards the good.

He didn’t know if he could. But he knew he would, because he would not be able to live with himself, otherwise.

By the time Andy reached the elevator, the memory of his encounter with Dinah, Harper, and Ms. E was fading like a dream upon waking. He pressed the button, watched the numbers glow, felt the old ache return to his shoulder, his chest, his heart.

The doors slid open with a sigh, and Andy stepped inside, alone with his reflection and the knowledge that, by the end of the day, he would have to choose who stayed and who became memory.

As the elevator rose, he shut his eyes, bracing for whatever came next.

Author's Note: Dinah, Harper and Ms. E are characters from 4og8zzjkc's Francis O'Connor branch, accessible here. Please note there will be two links underneath. The first one, 'Preparations for Tomorrow,' continues The HH's story. The second one will take readers of 4og8zzjkc back to their branch for the aftermath of Dinah's escape. Dinah herself remains in The HH and may reappear in the future.

Glad to have helped find a home for Dinah, and good luck, 4og8zzjkc!