Discoveries

Norah sat on the rocks, legs pulled tight to her chest, arms locked around her knees in a way that was more defensive than cold. The ocean stretched in front of her, horizon a bright white knife, and the wind whipped her hair into wild tangles that no brush would ever undo. The new shape of her body felt as awkward out here as it did anywhere—hips wide enough to pin her to the rock, breasts absurdly prominent under a hoodie that wasn’t built to contain them, and her feet barely skimming the sand below.

She’d come out to be alone. Not to sulk, exactly, but because the suite, and the gardens, and even the damn library all felt full of other people’s eyes. Out here, the only audience was the gulls and the occasional shadow of an albatross arcing far overhead. Norah didn’t mind the birds; they weren’t here to judge, only to observe.

She was so deep in her own static that she didn’t hear Claire approach until the other woman’s feet crunched on the stone behind her. Norah glanced over, saw the pale halo of hair and the big glasses, and almost told her to fuck off out of habit. But Claire sat down, leaving a careful two feet between them, and didn’t say anything. She just pulled her knees up and stared out at the water, like she was waiting for a sign.

For a long minute, neither of them moved. Norah picked at the seam of her sleeve, then risked a look at Claire’s face. It was calm, patient, not a trace of judgment. Just curiosity and something like—what, concern? Norah bristled at it, but didn’t move away.

“You ever think about how none of this is real?” Norah said, breaking the silence.

Claire tilted her head, but didn’t answer.

Norah shrugged. “Like, I could just walk down to the water, keep going, and I’d hit a wall. End of the game. They’d drag me back, patch me up, and put me in a new scene, like nothing happened.”

Claire nodded, once. Then she wrote something in her battered notebook and tore out the page. She slid it over with two fingers, not looking.

Norah picked it up. The words were neat, careful:

But what if it is real?

Norah read it twice, then folded the page and set it in her lap. “It doesn’t matter, Claire. I’m not winning. I’m not even in the game, really. I’m just a speed bump for the narrative.” Her voice broke a little, and she pressed her nails into her palm, hard.

Claire uncapped her pen, wrote again. This time, she slid the notebook itself.

You think too much about losing. What about all the things you haven’t lost yet?

Norah let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah, well, I never was good at keeping things. Not even myself, apparently.” She gestured at her body, bitter smile. “You ever look in the mirror and not recognize the person looking back?”

Claire nodded.

Norah pressed her hands to her face, then dropped them. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to be my therapist.”

Claire shrugged. She pointed to her ears.

Norah sat with that for a while, the wind whipping harder. The salt stung her eyes and she blinked it away, not wanting to be seen crying, even if it was just Claire.

“I liked being angry at Cooper,” she said, voice low. “It made it easier to be here. To pretend I could win, or at least make him feel bad. But he never gave me the satisfaction.” She laughed, soft and ugly. “Now, after last night, I can’t even hate him right.”

Claire uncapped her pen, waited, then wrote:

You don’t have to hate him. You could just… be honest with him. Or with yourself.

Norah rolled her eyes. “What, and tell him I’m scared I’m just one more hole in his punch card? That even with the new body and the curse, I’m still just the same fuck-up who lost everything before it even started?”

Claire nodded, expression gentle.

Norah shook her head, eyes glassy. “I can’t. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

They watched the waves for a long time. Claire scribbled, then tore out another page.

I can tell you what he really felt last night, if you want.

Norah stared at the note, then at Claire, then back. “No games?”

Claire shook her head.

Norah hesitated, then said, “Fine. Hit me.”

Claire took a breath, as if preparing a difficult truth. She wrote:

He was nervous at first. He thought you’d hate him, or leave, or laugh at how much he cared. But when you stayed, he got happy.

Norah’s face went red. “You’re lying.”

Claire shook her head. She looked Norah in the eye, steady and unblinking.

Then Claire wrote:

Last night he woke up, and he was aroused. I think I could almost sense how hard he was. I think you made him happy.

Norah’s lips parted, but no words came. A blush, sharp and blood-red, climbed her cheeks. “Are you messing with me?” she whispered.

Claire smiled, a little, but she shook her head, once, solemn.

Norah was quiet for a long time. Then, she glanced sideways, watching Claire through her lashes. “Why do you care?”

Claire hesitated, then wrote:

Because I like him, too. And I like you.

Norah read that, looked at Claire, then let out a sigh. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

Claire said nothing, but her face went pink. She looked away, the sea wind turning her hair into a halo.

Norah smiled, really smiled, for the first time in weeks. “Shit. What a mess, huh?”

Claire nodded, tears in her eyes, but she was forcing a smile too.

The Annex reminded Marissa of the world’s worst mall: endless glass, muted lighting that never quite reached the floor, and the faint, unplaceable whiff of burnt plastic or despair. There were stores, but most were unmarked—just pale rectangles in the crystal corridor, display windows showing mannequins with bodies no real woman would ever want, even here. She marched with purpose, the heels of her shoes making no sound on the carpeted surface.

She’d come for one reason: to buy something for the night. Her work clothes wouldn’t do, not with her nipples. So she needed something else. Something that would fit both her and whatever story she - and the hotel - needed to tell tonight.

She stopped in front of a shop labeled “Bob’s.” Just that: “Bob’s,” in thick white letters on a field of black. There was nothing in the window but a single, featureless black mannequin in a suit and tie. Marissa eyed it, shrugged, and stepped inside.

The shop was dark, lined in navy carpet that sucked the color from her skin. Clothes hung on racks, sorted not by size or gender but by… theme? There was a “Serious” section, a “Risqué” section, and, at the back, a cordoned-off area with a hand-lettered sign: “Don’t. Just Don’t.”

“Good morning, Contestant Marissa,” said a voice, and she spun to see the shopkeeper, who was unmistakably Mildred—voluminous black hair, goth-goddess curves, and a black pencil skirt that ended exactly at the thinnest part of her thigh. But the name tag on her chest read, in looping script, “Bob.”

Marissa stared. “Is this… Are you Mildred?”

The woman smiled, all teeth, and shook her head. “No, honey. I’m Bob. You must have me confused with someone else.” She leaned in, confidential: “But I get that a lot.”

Marissa blinked. “Okay, Bob. I need something for dinner. With Andy. It needs to be—” She hesitated, searching for the right word.

Bob grinned wider. “Classy, but a little dangerous. Maybe just a hint of school principal? With the option to go full siren if the evening trends that way?”

Marissa was unnerved by how accurate this was. “Sure,” she said, “Let’s go with that.”

Bob led her to the “Serious” section, plucking items with inhuman speed. She smelled like vanilla and depression. “Your measurements changed last week, didn’t they? Happens to the best of us. May I?” She gestured to Marissa’s upper arm.

“Sure,” Marissa said, and Bob reached out, pinched the flesh, and nodded, satisfied.

“You’re between sizes now,” Bob said. “You’ll want something tailored.” She handed Marissa a navy sheath dress, then added a jacket with structured shoulders. “This will frame you up top, but not squeeze you. Plus, it’ll keep you from being too distracting at dinner.” Bob’s gaze flicked to Marissa’s chest, then to her face. “Unless that’s what you want.”

Marissa flushed. “I’d prefer not to be an accidental punchline.”

Bob handed her a pair of heels, then guided her to the dressing room—tiny, stark, and with a mirror so brutally honest it could have served subpoenas. Marissa wriggled into the dress, zipped the side, and took in her reflection: the cut was perfect, sharp at the waist, smoothing over hips, and just enough neckline to make it clear this wasn’t her first trip to the adult table. With the jacket, it was even better: she looked like herself, if herself had just walked off the cover of a business magazine’s “Hottest Power Brokers” edition.

She stepped out, and Bob nodded approval. “Damn, I’m good,” Bob said. “You could run a board meeting or a charity ball and nobody would dare cross you.”

Marissa tried a smile. “I think it’ll work.”

Bob handed over a bralette and matching panties, black and almost too pretty to wear under actual clothes. “These are for morale,” she said. “And for the inevitable disrobing sequence, should it come to that. No pressure.”

Marissa accepted them, feeling the blush climb her neck.

As she checked out, Bob set the box on the counter, then leaned in, lowering her voice. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing, Contestant Marissa. I get the sense you feel bad about this. Don’t.”

Marissa eyed her, caught off guard. “Why would I feel bad?”

Bob shrugged, lips quirking. “You haven’t bought something from the ‘Risqué’ section yet. Most of the previous Contestants? They'd start there.”

Marissa stared at the racks, then back at Bob. “Is there something you think I should be buying?”

Bob grinned, conspiratorial. “A little something for after. It’s tradition.”

She didn’t want to argue. “Fine. Surprise me.”

Bob selected a set of lacy bra and panties in a deep emerald hue, almost transparent in the right light, and placed it in the bag. “There. No more guilt.”

On her way out, Marissa glanced back at the counter. Bob waved, her smile equal parts kindness and predation. “Good luck tonight,” she called. “Wear the set. He’ll thank you.”

Marissa 1500 BP - 200 BP = 1300 BP

Marissa’s face burned, but as she walked the glass corridor back to her room, the feeling wasn’t just embarrassment—it was, for the first time since she’d arrived, a flicker of genuine excitement.

She wondered, briefly, if Andy would notice the difference. Then she thought about Bob, or Mildred, and the name tag, and the way everyone here seemed to know just a little more than they let on.

She decided to bring her best game, and the lacy set, to dinner.

Just in case.

Claire finished the Rulebook in her room, her bedspread a riot of colored sticky notes. She’d read it once for story, then again for structure, then a third time with a highlighter, her brain’s edges now abraded by the kind of bureaucratic nonsense that could only have been designed by a committee of actual demons. The book’s language was a parody of legalese, but every page shimmered with half-truths and retroactive amendments; half the footnotes contradicted the main text, and the “Addendum for Exceptional Circumstances” was longer than the rest of the book put together. She’d gone into it thinking she might learn how to beat the game, or at least predict the next twist, but all it had left her with was a pulsing tension between her temples and a single, glaringly stupid insight.

When she was done, she closed the gargantuan book, pressed it to her chest, and lay back on the bed for several minutes, staring at the ceiling. She would need at least three more readings to feel sure of anything. But she couldn’t get the thought out of her head: If the rules were designed to help you lose, then maybe the only way to win was to break them. Or at least, to see where they were already broken.

She dog-eared the most infuriating page, grabbed her notebook, and padded into the hallway.

The hotel’s corridors were weirdly silent at this hour, most of the other women prepping for the evening, or hiding out in their rooms, or perhaps just avoiding the impending threat of elimination by making themselves as small as possible. Claire navigated the maze with the certainty of someone who had already mapped all the possible routes in her mind, down to the frequency with which the sconces repeated their pattern of colored glass.

She found Sam in the Banquet Hall, hunched at a table with a mug of something that steamed and glowed faintly blue. Liesa sat next to her, scribbling on a napkin with a borrowed pen, her expression one of deep existential curiosity. Their heads were close together, as if they were plotting a heist or practicing secret code.

Claire lingered at the entrance, watching the pair. Over the last week, she'd come to appreciate and envy the way Sam could put people at ease—her posture loose, her eyes full of mischief, the constant fidget of her fingers spinning the mug by its handle as if daring it to spill. Liesa, by contrast, was all careful containment, her elbows tucked in, her words measured and gentle.

Claire stepped up, her own notebook hugged to her chest. She didn’t bother with a greeting. Instead, she made an exhausted face.

Sam laughed, noticing her. “Did you finish it, or did it finish you?”

Claire mimed shooting herself in the head, then flopped into the chair next to them.

Liesa glanced over, eyes crinkling with concern. “You are okay, Claire?”

Claire thought for a moment, then gave a thumbs sideways.

“Close enough,” Sam said, raising her mug. “I salute anyone who survives that monstrosity.”

Liesa blinked. “What is that?”

Sam waved a hand. “Claire found a copy of the Rulebook. Capital R. All there is to know about this game.” She looked at Claire slyly. “Looks like more than you ever wanted to know about the game.” Claire sighed, but did not dispute the statement.

Liesa tore a corner off her napkin and folded it into a tiny triangle. “Is it as bad as they say?”

Claire nodded, then opened her notebook and pointed to a block of text circled three times. She pushed it toward Sam.

Sam squinted. “Transformation upgrades: may be purchased at the Commissary. Upgrades have persistent effects, but their effects are not visible until purchased. Note: This functionality… wait, what does that say?”

Settings. Claire tapped the word she had written underneath. The fucking settings.

Sam blinked. Profanity wasn't something she expected from Claire. The girl must truly be exhausted. She looked at her, eyebrows raised. “What did you find out?”

Claire shrugged, then gestured for them to follow.

They left the Banquet Hall, cutting through the main lobby and into the sleek, polished zone where the Commissary stood like a chrome altar to capitalistic cruelty. The screen was dark, but when Claire tapped it, it lit up, instantly recognizing her.

CONTESTANT: CLAIRE FREEMAN / 1700 Bonus Points
OPTIONS:
Main Commissary Menu
Transformation Upgrades

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she selected the “Transformation Upgrades” tab, then held up her notebook to show Sam and Liesa. The menu looked exactly as they remembered: just a set of blue boxes with meaningless upgrade names and no descriptions.

Sam groaned. “Yup. Same as yesterday.”

Claire shook her head, then pointed at the very top right corner of the screen: a spot so pale blue it looked almost like empty space. She scrunched her eyes, made a squinting gesture, then pointed at it three times with her index finger.

Liesa was the first to catch on. “There is something there?”

Claire nodded, then pointed again.

Sam leaned in, frowning. “I don’t—oh, shit. There’s a little wheel. Like a settings icon. But it’s… it’s almost the same color as the background.”

Liesa smirked. “Is not accident, I think.”

“Definitely not,” Sam agreed, sounding annoyed.

Claire tapped the wheel. The screen flashed, and a small, old-school settings dialog appeared. There were some boring graphics options, a ‘colorblind’ mode… Sam could feel herself growing bored just by looking at them. But Claire pointed to two toggles at the very bottom, buried underneath the unnecessary Anti-Aliasing options. ‘Show Tooltips’, and ‘Display All Available Purchases.’ Both were toggled off by default.

Sam’s jaw dropped. “That’s...” She looked at Claire, then at the screen. “That’s insane. Why would they hide this?”

Claire shrugged, toggled both switches on, then returned to the Upgrades menu.

Now, each item had a golden circle with a question mark in the top right corner of its box. Claire tapped the circle for the ‘Bath of Feelings’ upgrade.

Upgrade (Silent Muse): Claire’s extra-sensory ability now extends to the entire Harem.

Sam whistled, and Claire tapped ‘Naked in Return’:

Upgrade (Silent Muse): Just as Claire can feel the Master’s emotions and desires, so too the Master will constantly be aware of hers now.

She went back to the main purchase menu, which now looked like a long list:

300 BP - Comprehensive Rulebook: The Harem Hotel. Includes appendices, errata, and arbitration clauses. Hard copy delivered to room.

300 BP - Key to Aphrodite’s Cave: May be used to access Aphrodite’s Cave together with the Master, for up to two hours; cannot be used if Aphrodite’s Cave is already in function.

300 BP - Aphrodisiac Lip Gloss: Gain a coating of glittering lip gloss which increases arousal whenever the Contestant kisses someone. The Contestant is not immune to the lip gloss's effects. Lasts 24 hours. Additional purchases stack.

500 BP - Libido Booster: Boost libido for one day. Additional purchases stack.

500 BP - Temporary Pet: Contestant gains temporary cute animal ears and tail for 24 hours. Species is randomly selected. Ears are cosmetic only, and tail is not prehensile. Additional purchases stack.

750 BP - Sensitivity Shift: The Contestant’s erogenous zones are reassigned randomly for 24 hours. May include neck, ears, hands, thighs, feet, or others. Areas remain clothing-sensitive and erogenous potential is amplified. Cannot be stacked.

800 BP - Erotic Bond Tape: Contestant receives a roll of tape. Tape can be used to bind someone; it feels like silk but holds like steel. Tape can only be removed by the Master, or by the binder. Tape automatically unravels just before a challenge, but otherwise lasts indefinitely. One roll is enough for six individuals.

1000 BP - Aphrodisiac Massage Oil: Bottle contains enough oil to coat two individuals. Severity of the effect varies with the amount used.

1000 BP - Wildcard: Contestant can replace one of their transformation paths with a Wildcard at the next transformation round. Path must be selected upon purchase.

1000 BP - Temporary Keycard: Grants temporary one-time access to a locked location (see list of locations). Lasts 24 hours, and access is only granted when accompanied by the Master.__

1000 BP - Undress Trigger: When a specific trigger word is spoken, the Contestant’s clothes fall away over five seconds. Lasts 24 hours, additional purchases stack. Trigger word must be selected at the time of purchase.

1500 BP - Reality Adjustment: Upon return to the real world, all previous acquaintances and public records will treat the Transformation as normal for you. (Note: Applies only to a single Transformation. May be purchased multiple times.)

1500 BP - Truth Serum: Selected Contestant will have to answer three questions truthfully and cannot deflect. Questions and target must be selected upon purchase.

1500 BP - Permanent Pet: Contestant gains permanent cute animal ears and tail. Species is randomly selected. Ears are cosmetic only, and tail is not prehensile. Additional purchases stack.

2000 BP - Release Notes: Contestant receives clues about the next challenge. May not be shared with other Contestants. Management does not guarantee understanding.

2000 BP - Adjustable Wardrobe: All clothes currently in Contestant’s wardrobe will automatically adapt to any physical transformation. Does not apply to clothes not in Contestant’s wardrobe when this effect is purchased.

2000 BP - Temporary TF: Contestant gains a copy of a single transformation from another Contestant for 24 hours. Contestant must select the target and the transformation upon purchase of this effect. Cannot be purchased more than once every 24 hours.

2000 BP - Aphrodisiac Aura: Contestant emanates an aura that gradually increases the arousal of anyone within 10’ of them over time. The aura lasts 24 hours. Arousal gained through the aura does not fade naturally, but will vanish when the 24 hours have elapsed.

2500 BP - Enhanced Truth Serum: Selected Contestant will not be able to lie or deflect questions for 24 hours. Additional purchases stack.

2500 BP - Chastity Belt: Locks a Contestant in a chastity belt for 24 hours. The belt renders the Contestant unable to orgasm and prevents genital penetration. Additional purchases stack.

2500 BP - Path Exchange: Permanently change a Transformation path and may alter personality traits, compulsions, or physical attributes. Does not remove existing transformations from the selected path. Path must be selected upon purchase.

2500 BP - Permanent Unlock: Permanently unlock access to a locked location (see list of locations). Effect applies to all Contestants, and does not require the Master’s presence.__

3000 BP - Suppression: Suppress the effects of a single transformation for 24 hours after purchase. Transformation must be selected upon purchase.

3000 BP - Private Party: Host a private party where you can invite the Master plus up to three other Contestants. All invitees must attend. No one who is not invited can join, and the party cannot be interrupted by outside forces. The party lasts 4 hours. Decorations and catering included.

3000 BP - Transformation Copy: Permanently copy a random transformation from another Contestant. The Contestant must be selected upon purchase. Purchase of this effect is final.

3000 BP - Sabotage: Secretly hinder another Contestant’s performance in the next challenge. The specific form of the sabotage is left to Management’s discretion, and it cannot automatically make the Contestant fail. Contestant must be selected at the time of purchase.

3500 BP - Dream Star: Star in an erotic dream with the Master. Master will experience the dream on the night of the purchase. Details of the dream must be determined at time of purchase. The dream must contain both the Master and the Purchaser, and may contain up to two additional Contestants.

3500 BP - Double Pleasure: Contestant and Master share tactile sensory inputs for 24 hours. Each can feel what the other feels, including touch, arousal, and emotion. Cannot be canceled once started.

4000 BP - Extra TF: Trigger an instant vote for an additional transformation for a Contestant. Contestant must be selected at the time of purchase.

4000 BP - TF Trade: Trade a transformation with another Contestant. Exchange must be mutually agreed, and cannot be ****. Contestant must be selected upon purchasing the effect.

4500 BP - Override: Let the Purchaser choose the outcome of one transformation vote in the next voting round, instead of the Audience.

4500 BP - Lock and Key: Master receives a literal key-shaped pendant. Contestant cannot remove any clothing unless the pendant is present and nearby. Effect is permanent.

5000 BP - Permanent TF: Purchase a permanent transformation from one of the three currently assigned paths. Path must be selected upon purchase, but transformation is randomly selected.

5000 BP - Persistent Whisper: Place a single persistent suggestion into another Contestant’s subconscious mind. Effect lasts until canceled by another purchase or until the suggestion is followed.

5000 BP - Permanent TF Gift: Give a random permanent transformation to another Contestant. Transformation is randomly chosen from the paths assigned to that Contestant, but not subject to Audience vote. Contestant must be selected upon purchase.

10000 BP - VP: Purchase is worth five Victory Points.

30000 BP - Elimination Immunity: Purchaser receives a Heartstone Veto. The Veto can be used to prevent one elimination.

50000 BP - Storyline Reboot: Contestant resets all her transformations and immediately triggers new votes for all of them, potentially swapping previous transformations with those that were not chosen before. Contestant can pick one transformation round in which they pick the transformation, rather than the Audience. Starting transformation cannot be changed.

1 Moongem - TF Cleansing: Removes one transformation. The effect is permanent.

Sam cursed under her breath. “I can’t believe I wasted points on a path change when I could have just gotten this info for free and upgraded my hugging transformation instead.” She punched the air, more comical than angry.

Liesa touched her arm. “Is okay, Sam. Next week, you can try again. Besides, maybe you get better upgrade next time?”

Sam made a face, then grinned. “You’re too nice, Liesa.”

Claire, watching them, smiled a little.

Liesa looked at her. “You only find this after reading the Rulebook?”

Claire nodded, then pantomimed flipping through pages, eyes wide, miming exhaustion.

Sam shook her head in disbelief. “That’s evil. Like, real-deal, corporate evil.”

Liesa said, “Is how they want it. Game is not only about winning, is about knowing how not to lose.”

Claire underlined a passage in her notebook and pushed it toward Sam. This time, the text read: Rulebook says challenges are different every season. Rules also change. Why?

Sam read it, then glanced at Liesa. “Claire thinks they keep changing the rules to make it harder.”

Liesa nodded, then said, “Maybe they do. But maybe Arabella is just bored.”

Claire pointed to the footnote at the bottom of the page, circled in red:

Up to last Season, for 100s of Seasons, elimination only triggered by negative VP totals. Direct challenge-based elimination first used in this one.

Sam let out a low whistle. “You serious? They want to cull us.”

Claire nodded.

Liesa frowned. “Dit is geen gewoon spel*. If can get eliminated just by unluck, and challenges are not even for all, is not fair.”

Sam shook her head. “Not fair at all. But now we know.”

They all stared at the screen, each woman a little paler than before.

Liesa said, “Why would Arabella do this? Make it so needlessly hard?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably because it’s more fun for her.”

Claire shook her head, then wrote in her notebook: It’s for the Audience?

She held up the words for them to see, and something cold settled on the table between them.

Liesa tapped the page, then looked at Claire. “So what do we do?”

Claire paused, thinking. Then she wrote: Play sideways.

Sam grinned. “Not sure how to do that, but you’re my hero, Claire.”

Liesa smiled, tentative. “Maybe we try to help each other. Even if only one can win.”

Sam nodded.

They sat there for a while, watching the Commissary screen, blue light flickering in their faces, taunting them with its new, unlocked possibilities.

* "This is not a fair game."