Skye Date 2, Part 3: A Honeymoon, An Invocation, An Invasion of Privacy

Skye

Harper, my love, my wife, looks so pretty with all of her hair down. I get why she braids all of it, because it’s so long, but the way it cascades down her and surrounds me, is so beautiful.

Skye is on her back, with a weird triangular pillow angling her hips up, as her love looms over her. A bottle of lube is placed on the end table, with some toys from the strange pirate ship area in a small wooden chest at the ready.

“Comfy?”

“<Yes, my love.>”

“Good.” Harper leans down and gives her a kiss, “We’re going to start nice and slow. Let’s get us lubed up first.”

Harper squirts some lube in her hands, then rubs her hands together to warm it. It’s still a little cool as the lube is rubbed around the entrance to Skye’s special place and her little love button. Harper does the same on herself. Grabbing Skye’s ankles, Harper then lifts the drows legs apart and in the air. Leaning forward, she starts to press her special place into Skye’s own.

“<My love, are you forgetting you don’t have a copulation organ? I’m not sure how this is supposed to work.>”

“So impatient. It’ll make sense in a moment. You still comfy? Am I holding your legs too tightly? Too much pressure down there?”

“<I’m just a bit confused, otherwise this is nice.>”

“Let’s get started then,” Harper answers, grinding her special place up along the drow’s. When their buttons bump into each other, Skye starts to see stars. Oooh. I get it now. Harper then grinds back down. Little bursts of pleasure **** Skye’s mind as Harper saws her special place over the farmhand’s. The rhythm is slow, too slow.

“<Faster.>”

“Stroke my hair, Skye. This is doing a lot more for you than for me.”

As Harper picks up the pace, the buttons bump harder, more frequent. Skye is already falling apart. The drow grabs a fistful of red hair, trying her best to gently stroke. Her strokes become tugs as Harper’s grunts of effort turn into moans of delight. Harper goes faster still, pressing her breasts into Skye’s face. Skye latches on a nipple, greedily sucking on it. Harper whines, “More! So close! Just need a little more!”

Harper’s sawing motion goes frantic. Skye’s whole world is electric bursts from her button, tugs of red hair, and attempts to swallow breast flesh. Skye’s close too. She hums out a prayer of fertility into Harper’s areola. Letting go of Harper’s hair with one hand, she starts to trace some fingers over the scar she gave her new wife. She then pinches Harper’s nipple. With an audible pop, she unlatches her jaw from the breast to exclaim, “<Breed me, my love. Breed me!>” The world goes white as Skye’s mind goes blank. Harper screams, then collapses on top of Skye, not that she is in a state to really understand it.

Skye: +4 VP (Brought Mistress to Orgasm [Hairgasm] x2 bonus [first time contestant participant])

Skye: +4 VP (Brought Mistress to Orgasm [Nipplegasm] x2 bonus [first time contestant participant])

Skye: +40 VP (Brought Mistress to Orgasm [C.A.T.] x4 bonus [mutually taking vaginal virginity])

When Skye comes to, Harper is smiling over her. “What was that last bit, Skye?”

Skye, realizing what she said, starts to blush. “I do want to carry our baby, love. Not now, of course, but someday. Please don’t tease me about that.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. I’ll definitely want to do genetic tests on myself and my phantom ‘copulation organ’ before we get to that point anyways. I want to understand just how extensively the PP transformations affected me. It would be a shame if the change broke something fundamental for me or for our theoretical kids.”

“Not theoretical, love, future conceived.”

“You and your future perfect tense.”

Skye gives her love, her wife, a confused look at that. Wanting to distract herself from the teasing thought, Skye pulls out her phone and freaks out, “How did I earn that many points?”

“As far as I can tell, actions I consider sex are worth a lot more than just the feminization orgasms. And they separated virginity status between all of our lower holes. We just took each other’s vaginal virginity. Ergo, a bunch of points. You want to have a round 2?”

“I don’t want the rest of our family punished for my lustful greed. Just some cuddles for tonight, my love. You’ll ignite my soul again next week.” And Harper, her sweetheart, scoops her up for the showers.

“As you wish, wife. As you wish.”

Harper is so sweet and gentle in the shower, spending most of the time taking care of her drow. Skye also washes her new wife as best she can. The extra foot of height makes helping with her hair pretty much impossible. And touching her gills with a soapy hand that one time caused her more than a little pain. Soon enough, they are both clean and dry. Harper gets her hair in a hair net to avoid the tangles like last time; she really needs it now.

Back in the bed, Skye crawls in under the weird invisible comforter and finds herself soon snuggling into the crook of Harper’s neck, again lightly touching Harper’s scar over her heart. This is so much nicer than last week. I love my wife. Harper gives her a chaste kiss on the forehead, saying “<Goodnight, my love. See you in a few hours.>”

Skye giggles. “<Goodnight, my love.>”

Tina

“Stop fussing over me, Rabbit. I’m fine.”

Tina pouts at the closed door. While she gets that the recovery room healed both Harper and Josie, Tina is still worried. It doesn’t help that the bonny bunny has annoyed her wolf-girlfriend enough to be banished to her own room for the night. She slouches her way to her bedroom.

What did Skye’s weird naked goddess say? She’s only a song away?

Tina’s not a good singer, but she’ll give it a shot. “I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter / Dancing through the fire / ‘Cause I am a champion, and you’re gonna hear me...”

Pop.

Suddenly, Tina is falling. Her bad singing turns to a screech, “...roooooaaaarrrr!” She slows as she falls, eventually hovering a couple of inches about the ground. Then the bonny bunny notices that her jammies were left in her room. “Eeep!”

“You rang, my cute little Tina?”

“Um, hi, Skye’s weird naked goddess. Never caught your name. I’m still bothered by a couple of things, sooo...”

“You wanted my guidance? I’m not one to throw my name away, but it is Eilistraee, if you wish to know it. Do you want me to answer your questions before you ask or just wait for you to ask them?”

“You can do that?”

“I can do a lot of things. I’m directly talking to you while having another dozen or so direct conversations with other worshipers, plus answering several thousand prayers, most of which are conveyed through standard chants instead of, you know, directly vocalizing what they want, right now. Kind of like what you just did. A little pitchy on your song, by the way.”

“Okay. Sorry. Not very religious back home. I assume you saw what happened this afternoon in the dungeon?”

The weird naked goddess nods.

“The way their heads went boom just got to me. I couldn’t live with myself if that happens in the real world. How could I fix it?”

“Well, you should talk to your future wife about your concern. She wants to be the shield to protect the rest of you by standing in the way of your foes. But a shield is only as good as the last smith that repaired it. My sweet little cinnamon roll of a champion will be able to repair that shield soon enough, but she needs 8 more levels before being able to bring someone back from the dead. If you want to be able to do that, there are options, but, given who you are, the best option for you is gonna be a little weird. Let’s cut a deal, you and I.”

“A deal?”

“A deal. You promise to follow some rules, I give you the power you seek.”

“You’re not gonna make me walk around naked all the time, right?”

“No. My usual rule is my priestesses need to wear as little clothes as is practical, not **** nudity for all of my worshipers. Again, my sweet little cinnamon roll got some strange ideas from her home life. Three basic rules: First, while I love how devoted you are to your craft, I expect you to be just as devoted to using the power I give you to heal and defend your future wife and the rest of her wives. No picking spells from my lent power for funsies. Ask your future wife to pick for you if you have to. Two, your cowardliness in battle is unbecoming; all of my worshipers are expected to be able to deal swift **** to protect the innocent. You need to learn how to defend yourself when the enemy gets into melee range. I’m sure your future wife is willing to help. Third, I abhor this game with all of my heart. I detest the idea of you being owned by my cousin. Reject the slavery this show tries to **** on you and turn it into something better. When the two of you are ready, I expect you to marry her. I expect all of you to marry her. Do you understand me?”

Tina nods and starts to speak, only to find her voice is gone.

“You don’t need to agree to the deal right now. Next time you earn a level, your future wife will see the option before her, above your next level of sorceress. When she asks about it, accepting the new class will be your consent to the deal. If you decide it’s not for you, it will not offend me. Take your time to think on it. Good night, my cute little Tina.”

Just as suddenly, Tina finds herself sprawled out on her bed. Trying her voice again, Tina blurts out, “Well, that’s a bunch of things to think about.” Then, tired from a long day, she immediately starts to fall asleep, fingers pumping away in her bunny hutch all the while.

Scarlet

Scarlet cannot believe that Daphne was able to talk her into this. She also can’t believe what she’s seeing. Indigo, seated on that dumb Mistress throne, surrounded by the rest of them, in states of disdainful depravity. Dinah, wearing only a too-short cow-print apron (with the top portion of it threaded through her milky breasts), leaning over for Indigo to drink on as she wills. Skye, clad only in dirt and filth, **** to lick in between the pervert’s legs. Tina (in just the hat) carefully plucking a chip or whatever from the platter and feeds it to the perverted fox-girl with her mouth. Josie (in just the collar) laying down like a dog, licking at Indigo’s feet. Daphne, somehow the most dignified of them in a giant fishbowl, gagged and wrapped up in an armbinder. Her, pole dancing in her pasties and stockings. And Harper’s severed head on that stupid fucking golden trident built into the throne.

Keep your cool, Scarlet. Keep your cool. The goal is to figure out what Indigo has been up to, not to blow up at her brazen delusions. Breathe. She mimics Harper’s old breathing technique. Breathe In. Hold It. Out. Repeat.

“Excellent, Cinnamon. Excellent. Now go change into your next costume for your next dance. This time I’m feeling PenGwen. Put on that cosplay.”

Scarlet almost snaps at hearing her stage name come out of the fox-girl’s mouth so nonchalantly. But, the fake her walks out of sight and disappears. The real Scarlet dashes to where she thinks the fake her should reappear and then walks back into view.

“Wow, Cinnamon, you got changed fast. You earned a cookie. But, you are in the wrong costume. You lost that cookie. In fact, weep as I eat that cookie in front of you! Bunny Bun-bun, cookie me!”

Fake Tina kisses a cookie into Indigo’s mouth. The pervert messily chews it up, dribbling crumbs onto fake Skye’s head. Scarlet tries to fake cry, she really does. But Indigo clearly sees the scowl.

“Wait a second, Cinnamon would totally be bawling her eyes right now, not being able to get a cookie from her precious Bunny Bun-bun. You’re not my Cinnamon. Puppy, attack!”

Josie bounds up on all fours and snaps at Scarlet’s leg. Summoning her glaive, Scarlet flips back, then cleaves the fake Josie in half.

Scarlet: +2 XP (Knocked out a Level 8 player, x0.5 penalty [dream sequence], x0.5 penalty [dreamer not aware of player’s capabilities])

Josie got to Level 8 today? Man, I’m glad I helped Skye, but it sucks that I missed out.

“Ahh, Bunny bun-bun, Elf ****, attack!”

Both fake harem-sisters actually connect with a couple of feeble punches, then Scarlet cleaves fake Skye in two. Her kick into fake Tina knocks her back, only to get a kick in return. Another swipe of the glaive and another downed false friend.

Scarlet: +2 XP (Knocked out a Level 8 player, x0.5 penalty [dream sequence], x0.5 penalty [dreamer not aware of player’s capabilities])

Scarlet: +1 XP (Knocked out a Level 5 player, x0.833 [over-leveled], x0.5 penalty [dream sequence], x0.5 penalty [dreamer not aware of player’s capabilities], all rounded down at the end)

“Vete a dormir, puta!”

Scarlet doesn’t get exactly what was supposed to happen, but Indigo starts to panic once it didn’t. A forward flip into 2 overhead kicks bloodies the fox-girl’s nose and dislocates her shoulder. Bringing her glaive to the pervert’s throat, Scarlet asks, “Surrender, I obviously have you outclassed.”

“I surrender! I surrender! Now, who are you and what did you do to my stupid, stupid Cinnamon.”

Scarlet: +0 XP (Beat a Level 1 player, x0.167 [over-leveled], x0.5 penalty [dream sequence], x0.5 penalty [sparring], all rounded down at the end)

“Um, I’m Cinnamon from the future?”

“Wow, really? What’s the future like?”

“Real shitty. Everything fell apart when we went back to the real world because Harper was dead. Because I was so dumb for so long, I don’t remember exactly how she died. Tell me, now!”

“Well, you shouldn’t remember. You weren’t there. I’m not going to tell you. You think super dumb you will be able to survive without me?”

“Did you consider that I just made a branch point by coming back to this time? I could care less if your Cinnamon dies. She’s not my past anymore. Now tell me what I want to know, now!”

“My Cinnamon, attack!”

Fake her attempts to tackle her from behind. She somersaults out of the way and fake her smacks into Indigo. A clean slice cuts fake her in two and Indigo’s shirt open.

Scarlet: +1 XP (Knocked out a Level 6 player, x0.5 penalty [dream sequence], x0.5 penalty [dreamer not aware of player’s capabilities], all rounded down at the end)

“Any other cannon fodder you want to throw my way?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you how I killed the fucking veijito. It was real easy, in fact...”