Preparing for Change

The sun had passed its apex, laying a bright white lane across the water, but the breeze off the ocean took the bite from the heat. The harem—nine women, a patchwork of skin and sun hats and borrowed towels—sat in a deliberate arc on the sand, their backs to the lodge, their faces toward the infinite blue.

They'd settled into the half-circle by silent consensus, perhaps an old mammalian instinct that there must always be a gap for a lion, or an exit if things got dire. The only break in the geometry was the figure at the very center: Arabella, regal and blood-colored in a dress that seemed to drink in the sunlight without ever growing warm.

Andy sat with his knees pulled up and his arms looped around them, like a kid at a summer camp assembly who’d realized too late the session was mandatory. He’d tried to blend with the towels and the sand, to become unnoticeable, but Arabella’s presence at the circle’s focus made that impossible. He was aware of every flick of her gaze, every pause in her sentences.

No one said a word for a good minute, maybe two. The ocean spoke for them—hushing, rushing, then nothing again.

It was Claire, of course, who noticed the Throne.

She didn’t speak, just pointed. One by one, the women followed her finger. There, at the edge of the circle, precisely where the geometry would demand it, suddenly sat the Master’s Throne, transplanted from the gazebo: white wood, brutal and lovely, incongruous as a confession booth at a wedding.

Andy hadn’t seen it before. He was sure it hadn’t been there. But when Arabella turned her head, the briefest smile quirked her lips.

“Andy,” she said, voice velvet and sharp at once. “Would you do us the honor?”

He looked at the Throne, then at the women, then back at the Throne. He stood, shaking sand from his legs, and made his way around the outside of the circle, keeping as much distance as he could.

He sat, carefully, on the Throne’s edge. It felt the same as before—dangerous, intimate, more sentient than any piece of furniture should be.

The world went silent.

Arabella turned to the group, then to Chloe, who was sitting cross-legged between Liesa and Dawn. Chloe looked as if she might evaporate. Her fingers twitched over the hem of her skirt, and she kept darting glances at the faces beside her, as if hoping to wake up from whatever fugue state had landed her here.

“Chloe,” Arabella said, “as the newest member of our family, you must be properly inducted.” She didn’t make it sound sinister, but Andy felt the hair rise on his arms.

Chloe tried for humor. “What happens if I refuse?”

Arabella tilted her head, amused. “I’m afraid it isn’t optional. But I do hope you’ll be brave.”

Chloe’s mouth pressed into a line. Then she stood, brushing sand from her knees, and squared her shoulders. “Okay,” she said, voice steady. “What’s the hazing?”

Arabella beckoned her forward. Chloe obeyed, moving with a stiffness that made Andy want to run out and shield her.

The Host reached out and touched Chloe’s cheek, just a gentle pat. “This will sting for a moment,” Arabella said, and then she smiled, soft and sympathetic. “But it will pass.”

Chloe blinked. “Wait, wha—”

Andy watched as something happened behind Chloe’s eyes. It wasn’t pain, exactly, but a flicker of confusion, then a blush so sharp it made the tips of her ears go red. Her posture changed: arms tight to her sides, her thighs pressing together so hard the muscles quivered.

She inhaled, audibly, and stared at Arabella.

“What did you do?” she said, voice roughened with something Andy couldn’t name.

"As you recall, the starting transformation is selected by a panel of judges," Arabella explained, "and for you, that choice was Praise Trigger."

• Praise Trigger: Chloe has always been a good girl, trying her best to help others in work and life. She should be rewarded for it. Now, whenever someone pays her a sincere compliment about her looks or something she did, or offers her praise for being good, clever, or obedient, she loses an item of clothing. She cannot put it back on for 24 hours. (Teacher)

Chloe’s hands flew to her cheeks. “You’re kidding.”

Arabella shook her head, regretful but unmoved. “This is the tamest of the options, I assure you. The judges thought you’d like it best.” She smiled, then, with a conspirator’s intimacy. “It will make you very popular, I suspect.”

There was a beat of silence, then Sam—who had been biting the inside of her cheek—snorted. “That’s some real kinky kindergarten teacher shit.”

Emi, who sat next to Sam, reached over and took Chloe’s hand in all six of hers. “It’s not so bad,” she whispered. “Some of the changes are fun. Or funny, at least.”

Chloe let out a strangled sound, something between a laugh and a moan, and sat down hard on the towel.

Arabella, not missing a beat, said, “Let’s demonstrate. Chloe, you are the sweetest woman I know.”

Chloe blinked, her eyes widened, and she looked at Andy. Arabella, grinning, was suddenly holding a pair of pale violet panties, dangling from one perfect finger. "Thank you for demonstrating, Chloe." Chloe looked furious and mortified, all at once

Liesa reached over and stroked Chloe’s back, soft as a lullaby. “Het zal makkelijker worden. It will get easier,” Liesa said, her accent thickening with sympathy. “We all had it hard, first day.”

Chloe managed a shaky breath. “Thanks,” she said, eyes wet. “I always wanted a superpower.”

"You have kinky ideas about superpowers." Norah grumbled.

Sam grinned. “Better than tentacles, at least.”

Emi, affronted, said, “They’re not tentacles. They’re arms.”

Andy, watching from the Throne, felt the moment settle. The women closed ranks around Chloe, not excluding him, but making it clear this was a family matter now. Arabella turned to him, her gaze softening.

“Do you see?” she mouthed, so quiet only he could hear.

He didn’t answer. He just watched as Chloe tried to laugh through her humiliation, watched the women draw her back into the circle, and wondered how he could both care and not care at the same time. That ugly knot of scar tissue throbbed.

Arabella had a style for these ceremonies—methodical, almost clinical, as if the stakes would diminish if you could just run down the list like a blood drive sign-up. But today, something in her cadence was different. A drag on the vowels, maybe; a hint of fatigue behind the mask.

“One more thing, before we start with the choices the Audience will vote on. Some of you,” she glanced at Norah and Erin, “have unlocked Achievements. Each of you has several Achievements you can obtain. These are different for each woman, but the total number for each of you is the same. Achievements are related not to specific sexual… escapades… but to significant growth in your relationship with Andy, and with each other.” She paused, then grinned. “Often, sexually.” Continuing, she looked at Norah and Erin. “Some of you already earned an Achievement, most recently Erin, who has unlocked one such Achievement last night, ‘There and Back Again’. Congratulations, Andy, Erin, by the way.”

Andy glanced at Erin, and she flushed immediately. He wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or from the arousal his gaze alone apparently now triggered. Andy felt a little guilty, but couldn’t deny the… possibilities. Arabella turned back to the other women. “You won’t know your possible Achievements until you unlock them. It is only fair. Each Achievement you unlock is worth five Victory Points. But, as befits such challenging accomplishments, there is more to them. Each Achievement you have unlocked can be used, once only, as a transformation veto. Much like mine, it will allow you to veto a transformation assigned by the Audience, and automatically receive the second more voted transformation from the selection. It is worth noting that I cannot veto the new transformation you select.”

Claire raised a hand and scribbled something quickly, passing it on to Sam. “Claire asks, ‘Do we get anything if we unlock all three Achievements?’”

Arabella grinned. “Indeed, my dear Claire. If you should unlock all three Achievements, and not use any of them to veto a transformation, you may instead use all three at once to veto your own elimination, should it come to that.”

At the statement, the women started looking at each other, murmuring. Arabella lifted her hand to silence them. “But, if you should use any Achievement to veto a transformation, you will lose the option to veto the elimination, even if you gain the missing Achievements. Weigh the choice carefully, and remember the last elimination round will come at the very end of the game.” She smiled benignly, then nodded. "Three more notes, before we move on. Ties are possible, should two transformations receive the same number of votes, you will receive both. As the Host, each round I can use two vetoes on the choices of the Audience, if I deem them unsuitable, or less dramatic than the alternative. And as is traditional for other seasons, the second most-voted option each round will carry over to the next transformation round. This can happen only once for each transformation. The third option - as well as the second most-voted, if it is a returning option - will be available for purchase at the Annex. But should there be a tie, or should the first option be vetoed, no transformation will carry over."

She let the clamor die down before she moved to Claire. “You will be first,” she said, not a question. Claire, who had spent the last few minutes writing in her notebook, nodded, closed it, and set her pen down in the sand as if she were about to take a test.

Arabella knelt beside her, sweeping her dress aside so it wouldn’t stain. “Three options have been selected for you,” she said. “Which one would you pick, if you could choose?”

Andy, still stuck on the Throne, felt all eyes swing to him, even as Claire’s never left Arabella’s face.

Arabella recited the options:

• Blush-Locked Skin: Claire often wonders what other people feel. Now she won’t have to wonder… at least for a specific emotion. Claire’s skin flushes and she feels hot and bothered anytime someone feels aroused around her—even if it’s not directed at her, and even if she doesn’t notice it consciously. (Surrender)
• Intellectual Arousal: Claire's greatest love after the Master is the written word. Now she develops a direct arousal response to deep conversation and intellectual stimulation. Debates, book discussions, or solving problems together make her physically needy and receptive — learning and intimacy merge into one irresistible craving. (Muse)
• Puuuurfectly Quiet: Claire is fascinated by mythology and folklore. She loves discovering secrets, and the cat is the symbol of secrets. Claire will now have cat ears and a tail, and also find that she makes almost no noise while walking. (Myth and Maiden)

Claire considered, hands folded. She said nothing for a long beat, then lifted three fingers. Puuuurfectly Quiet.

Arabella nodded. “Is this your final choice?”

Claire nodded again.

“Andy, do you have a preference?” Arabella asked, as if it were a courtesy, not a demand.

Andy fumbled for an answer. “If it’s what Claire wants, I support it,” he said, aware he sounded like an HR memo. But he understood. The others would mess with her mind.

Araella nodded, then she called Dawn up next. Dawn’s legs trembled as she stood, but she managed not to fall. Arabella listed her options:

• Wake Up Call: A good consierge must waste no time in helping others. No matter how tired, dirty, or overwrought Dawn is, she will now be renewed by the sun. As dawn breaks she will find herself wide awake, well groomed, and ready to face the day. (Consierge)
• Compulsive Tease: Dawn is an innocent young woman. To help her with that, she will be driven to tease those around her with flirtatious gestures—biting her lip, brushing hair behind her ear, or playful nudges—even if it’s inappropriate, and feels frustrated if she can’t. (Fun Lover)
• Kiss Me, Kiss Me As If It Were the Last Time: Like heroines in cheap romance novels, every kiss she receives leaves her head spinning and her knees weak, literally making her sway and lean into whoever kissed her, craving more. (Helpless Romantic)

Dawn chewed her lip, curiosity radiating from her like heat shimmer. “The first one. Wake Up Call. It’s straight up a good thing, isn’t it?”

Andy nodded. “I think that’s a good call.”

Arabella smiled, genuine this time. “Very good, Dawn. I admire your honesty.”

Dawn grinned and she sat quickly.

“Next,” said Arabella, “Emi Kim.”

Emi bounced up on all six hands. She looked almost excited.

Arabella smiled warmly at her and listed her options:

• Hexasutra: Emi might want to get more hands-on with Andy (get it?), but she needs some practice first. Thanks to the solicitude of the Harem Hotel, she receives perfect knowledge of several sexual techniques, including some that only someone with six arms could pull off. (Innocence)
• Sweat Dreams: Emi's always lost in her dreams. Now, she doesn't have to be alone. Emi will now have very erotic dreams when she sleeps at night, starring her bedmate, Andy, or both. (Dreamer)
• Breaking Records: Emi has always stepped aside in life and love. Now, she wants to be involved. She develops a compulsion to interrupt conversations between others, especially romantic ones. (Jealousy)

Emi giggled at the third, then looked at Andy for guidance.

He shrugged, smiling. “Pick the one that fits you best.”

She thought a moment, then said, “Hexasutra, please.” Arabella inclined her head, as if she’d expected this.

“Very good, Emi,” Arabella praised, and Emi flushed, her cheeks turning to cherries.

Next came Liesa. She stood with her back straight, eyes locked on Andy, as if daring him to judge her.

Arabella listed her options:

• Culture Shock: Liesa is still struggling with some cultural differences between America and Belgium. For instance, the fact that in America, a kiss with tongue is a friendly greeting. At least, that's what she believes now. (Exchange Student)
• Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls: As an artist herself, Liesa understands the erotic charge that comes with painting nude. Or painting nudes? Either way, the less clothing Liesa is wearing, the greater her arousal. (Artist)
• Hush: Liesa knows better than to do the talking. Now, Liesa cannot speak unless she is spoken to first. (???)

Liesa chewed the inside of her cheek. “The artist one, I think. Is less… scary.”

Arabella’s lips curved. “Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls it is.”

Andy liked it, but he simply nodded, aware of how it would look like otherwise. Liesa’s face split into a smile so wide it nearly cracked her.

Arabella didn’t pause. “Erin Delgado.”

Erin had been watching the process like it was a bad movie, arms crossed and face set. She stood, but didn’t approach Arabella—just stood in place, daring her to come closer.

The options:

• Easing a Troubled Heart: Now that Andy and Erin reconciled, they should enjoy each other's company. Andy's touch will now soothe any emotional pain Erin is feeling, and sleeping in physical contact with him will ensure a deep, restful sleep. In exchange, Erin's breasts will grow large and soft, and sleeping on them will give Andy a restful sleep with sweet dreams. (Loyal)
• Moonlit Lust: Erin always loves walks under the moon. Now, under the full moon, Erin’s body becomes hyper-sensual. Her nipples harden into sensitive points, while her clit pulses with need. Every touch sends waves of pleasure through her. (Wild Child)
• Sheer Talent: Erin looks so good in yoga gear, that she should wear it all the time! From now on, Erin can only wear skin tight fabrics, or nothing at all. (Yoga Fanatic)

Erin made a face. “These suck,” she said.

Andy agreed. “They do.”

Erin shrugged. “I’ll take the first. At least it has… benefits.” She cast a sidelong glance to Andy.

Arabella looked at Andy. “Any protest?”

He hesitated. “Nope.”

Erin grinned, wolfish.

Andy nodded, then caught Arabella’s eyes. For a split second, he thought he saw pride there.

“Sam,” Arabella called.

Sam got up, rolling her neck, then plopped down right in front of the Throne, cross-legged. “Hit me,” she said.

Arabella smiled, then listed:

• Sworn to Carry your Burdens: Transformations that require something (e.g. a connection, an order) from the Master can be delegated to Sam instead. The Master must consent to the delegation, but he can also unilaterally delegate a TF to Sam if he wishes. Sam cannot refuse. Only one such TF can be carried at any one time. The transfer lasts for 24 hours. (Emotional Anchor)
• A Friend In Need: Sam is always there to help Andy, whenever he needs her. And we mean ALWAYS. When in distress, Andy can now summon Sam to his side instantly. (Best Friend)
• Hypercaffeinated: As a barista, Sam has plenty of experience with coffee jitters. Now, Sam can now experience a short **** burst of speed, afterwards she will feel strung out and jittery until she relaxes with a nice cup of coffee. The longer she maintains the effect, the worse the withdrawal. (Blue Bean Barista)

Before Sam could answer, Emi piped up. “Weren’t you supposed to have a ‘Lesbian’ power?”

Sam laughed. “I did last week. But I changed it. Didn’t like the direction.”

Arabella smiled gently at Emi and explained, “Transformations are assigned by path or ‘theme.’ Sam traded her path for another, using her accumulated points.”

Sam nodded, thoughtful. “And ‘Emotional Anchor’ was what came out of the path roulette. I’ll take it. Yeah, the first one. ‘Sworn to Carry Your Burdens’.”

Andy looked at Arabella. “How does that work, exactly?”

The Host smiled, taking a step forward. “You could, for example, delegate Sam as your representative for the purposes of Erin’s transformation. Or, if you picked Claire’s, our pretty librarian would sense Sam’s feelings, rather than yours.” Claire blinked, then shook her head, glaring at Arabella. “Any transformation that requires input from you, Andy, is fair game. But you must consent, or you can foist it on Sam without her consent if you so choose. Either way, the delegation lasts twenty-four hours.”

Sam grinned. “I think it’ll make things more fun.”

Arabella laughed, a surprising sound Andy realized he had never heard from her. “Indeed, Sam, well said!” Then she turned to the rest of the women. “Marissa.”

The psychologist stood, folding her towel with mathematic precision before stepping forward.

“Three choices,” said Arabella:

• Attention of the Masses: As a public speaker, Marissa has had her share of wardrobe malfunctions. Now she can manufacture her own! Any time she becomes flustered or embarrassed, her hands automatically pull her top open to fully reveal her breasts. She can’t stop until someone physically covers her or orders her to stop. (Speaker)
• Blue Ribbon: With Marissa's figure she is already well on her way to being a substantial trophy, but she's missing the milk. Marissa now lactates a good gallon of milk a day with her breasts swelling even larger to contain her bounty. (Trophy)
• Mandatory Cleavage Uniform: As a medical professional, Marissa would have to ensure the comfort of her patients. Now, even her clothes will help. She can only wear uniforms or outfits that expose her cleavage fully (or underboob/sideboob), regardless of situation. (Doctor)

Marissa took her time, wincing. She looked at the group, then at Andy, then at Arabella.

“The third one,” she said. “I’d like to keep my back as intact as possible, and I don’t want to embarrass myself in public.”

Andy nodded in agreement.

Marissa inclined her head to Arabella, then returned to her seat.

“Last among the original Contestants,” said Arabella, “Norah.”

Norah had been watching the entire time, stone-faced. She didn’t move until Arabella called her again.

As Norah stood before her, Arabella explained her options.

• Orgasm of Recognition: Norah believes she is worthy of recognition. With this transformation, recognition will bring a little reward! Every time Andy—or anyone she once viewed as an authority—genuinely praises her intellect or emotional growth, a slow wave of orgasmic pleasure rises through her spine. She can't hide it, and must physically brace herself to endure it with dignity. (Pride)
• Hand-Me-Downs: The youngest often is left with the cast offs from her older siblings, now Norah will get one of the transformations that would have gone to the challenge winner instead each round, chosen by Arabella. (Youngest Daughter)
• Top Heavy: Norah is having some trouble adjusting to the balance of her new form, to help her out she will now find that she can easily move while wearing heels at least 2'' tall, but is otherwise unable to walk. (Life Balance)

Norah snorted. “Do I get to kill myself instead?”

Arabella ignored her. “You must choose, Norah.”

She considered, then said, “The last one. I’d rather not collapse into jelly in front of people, or get hideous transformations.”

Arabella nodded.

Andy felt the fatigue set in—the cumulative psychic drag of watching his harem select one change after another. Some of the women giggled, some commiserated, some sat in stony silence. But as the circle reformed, he realized something unexpected: the web of support between them had grown tighter, each woman reaching, in her way, to reassure the others.

He looked at Arabella. She smiled, tired but pleased. For a moment, he wondered if she felt the weight of all these changes, too.

Then she straightened, stood, and dusted imaginary sand from her gown. “Thank you all,” she said. “Your bravery is not unnoticed.”

Andy, from his Throne, just nodded.

The sun drifted lower, and the group began to talk again—first in small, anxious clusters, then in overlapping laughs and stories. The horror of the ritual faded, replaced by a stubborn, collective determination to get through this together.

Andy stayed in his seat, for once content to let the circle move on without him. He closed his eyes and let the voices wash over him, each one different, but all a part of the same, indomitable whole.

Arabella let the tension settle, smoothing her dress as if brushing off static. Then she turned back to Chloe, who had resumed her seat but hadn’t unclenched since the last time her name was called.

“There is one more requirement for induction,” Arabella said, voice pitched for ceremony. “You must choose a second transformation, to bring you in line with the others.”

Chloe made a sound—a little exhale, almost a whimper—then wrapped her arms around her knees. “Do I get a list, too?”

Arabella smiled, gentle but unyielding. “Of course.”

She recited the options:

• Dominant Decolletage: Good teachers hold the attention of their students. And Chloe is nothing if not a good teacher. Her cleavage always looks like it’s about to spill, but never quite does. It draws the eye even when covered modestly. Anyone trying to look away too quickly gets tongue-tied for several seconds. (Teacher)
• Compulsive Kiss Hello: Chloe has always been wildly affectionate, as the Master can attest. Now, she feels a growing, uncontrollable urge to kiss others throughout the day to greet them—friends, strangers, anyone she’s close to—even if it feels wildly inappropriate. (First Kiss)
• Idle Fingers: Chloe isn't particularly proud of her body, but perhaps she should be! Now, she begins stroking and caressing her own thighs or hips absentmindedly when standing still. She doesn’t notice unless someone points it out—then she blushes, flustered but unable to stop. (Nurturer)

Chloe’s cheeks had barely recovered from the last round. Now, she looked like she might actually combust. “All of those are awful,” she said, but not with any real venom—just the resignation of a woman who knew the joke was on her.

Dawn nudged her with a toe. “You’ll be okay. Just pick the one that feels least bad.”

Claire, from the other side, tapped the cover of her notebook, then lifted one finger on her left hand, and three on her right.

Chloe bit her lip, considering. “That one, I guess,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “The first.”

Arabella’s eyes lit. “A wise choice. The world needs more sexy teachers.”

Andy saw the way Chloe’s hands dug into her knees, white-knuckled. He tried to offer a smile, but it felt weak. “You’re tougher than you think,” he said, knowing how hollow it sounded from the safety of his throne. Or perhaps it was just because he did not really mean it, just going through the motions.

“Thank you, Chloe,” Arabella said, with affection.

As the women started nervously talking with each other, discussing the options they had been offered, Arabella raised her hand to command their attention. “Before I open voting, there is one last matter. I mentioned before how Achievements work, for all of you. However, one person’s Achievements are different. You see, Andy obtained one as well.” She held out her hand, summoning a glowing script:

Achievement Unlocked (Andy Cooper): No One Left Behind

Andy blinked. “What is this?”

The Host closed her hand, the script vanishing like a dream. “The… statistical anomaly. While extremely improbable, it was not absolutely impossible. Thus, an achievement if somehow, you succeeded in preventing an elimination by voting. One of the hardest Achievements to obtain, I should add.”

Andy blinked. “So… what does that mean? I assume it’s not Victory Points.”

Arabella shook her head. “No Victory Points, no. But it does come with… gifts.” She looked at the women, too. “Andy’s Achievements affect all of you too.” She turned back to Andy. “For your harem, each of your Achievements endows all of them with greater health, stamina, and will actually extend their lifespan - and yours, while simultaneously ensuring the lack of age-related ailments. With each Achievement Andy gains,” Arabella told the women, “You will each age slower, more gracefully, and retain your youthful beauty and allure for longer.” She paused. “Also, you will be fertile for longer. Just for reference.” Chloe looked down. Arabella turned to Andy. “Each Achievement you obtain grants you, the Master, increased physical abilities. You will find that your strength, stamina and agility have all been boosted considerably by this Achievement. You may have noticed this yesterday, during your… activities… with Erin. As a consequence, you will find that already, your refractory period has essentially been nullified.”

Dawn blinked. “Uh, what’s that?” Next to her, Emi giggled and hugged the confused young woman. Marissa leaned and whispered something into Dawn’s ear, and Dawn flushed beet red. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “Uh, that’s good, no?”

Erin looked at Andy hungrily. “Pretty good.” Andy suddenly felt like a prize cow being measured for her meats.

“I thought…” He turned to Arabella, “I thought you said there would be no Transformations for the Master. Did you lie?” That disturbed him, somehow. More than the idea of being transformed himself, because he wasn't a hypocrite, at least. But she had promised she wouldn’t lie.

Arabella shook her head. “No Transformations, no. I did not lie. These are Gifts, unambiguously beneficial to you and to your harem. And there is one more. While all Achievements grant you increased physical abilities, each Achievement also grants you one Gift. It is the Alchemy of Changes I had mentioned to you, based on your harem's composition, and on yourself. For you, four choices:

• Command: The Master’s voice must be obeyed. When Andy gives a command, the harem member to whom it is directed must obey.
• Control: The Master must have the last word. Once per round, Andy can choose to veto a transformation being assigned to a harem member; the second most-voted transformation will apply instead. Andy will know what the second most-voted transformation is, and if he uses his veto, no other vetoes (either the Host’s or the Contestant’s) can be applied.
• Console: The Master’s skills have discovered a glitch. Andy gains access to console commands. He can input these in the Commissary or in the touchscreen of the Master’s Suite, unlocking cheat codes. A list of currently known cheat codes will appear in the Master’s Suite. Additional codes can be unlocked via further Achievements, or discovered around the island.
• Connect: The Master has done remarkably well in connecting with most of his harem, but more could be done. Andy gains the ability to shift between his normal form and a female equivalent, Andi, and back, at will. As Andi, she will receive the appropriate muscle memory, and will be a woman to all intents and purposes. Andy must spend at least 24 hours each round as Andi; these hours need not be consecutive. Further Achievements may enhance Andy, Andi, or both forms.

“Of course, each of these Gifts can be further upgraded at the Commissary. Because Andy has infinite BPs, and it would otherwise not be fair, he will be limited to one Gift upgrade per week.”

Andy gaped, and Arabella smirked. “Any preference, Andy?”

He blinked. “Uh… can you give me an example of what the cheat codes can do?”

The Host smiled slyly. “There are many. You might be able to use a code to see exactly where each harem member wishes to be touched, and how; or another to temporarily change your hair and eye color. There is a code that allows you to temporarily edit conditional transformations carried by harem members, although this will not be part of your starting package. As you can see, Andy, there are plenty of options.”

Andy stared at Arabella. That sounded like an overpowered Boon if ever there was one! When she nodded to him for his answer, he said, “Not Command—even if it only worked when I intended to issue a command, it would be too much power over them. Control sounds helpful, but if you all obtain Achievements,” he said, looking at the women, “you’ll be able to veto your transformations more effectively. Console, I think.”

Sam whistled. “Connect, Andy! I want to see you with boobs!” Andy chuckled. “Yeah, no. Console, please.”

Arabella grinned. “We’ll see what the voters have to say, won’t we?” Andy started. Somehow, he had not expected this would be up to the voters. It made sense, and yet… it disturbed him a bit.

Arabella rose, turning to the circle at large. “Voting is now open to the Audience. This round will be determined by their judgment. One last thing,” Arabella added, “The runner-up transformation will carry on to the next round, and Transformations that have been vetoed, or that came in last, will be available for sale at the Annex. Good luck!”

A ripple ran through the group—some mix of dread, relief, and the exhaustion of surviving another gauntlet. The Contestants exchanged glances. Liesa and Emi held hands, Dawn leaned against Sam, Norah glowered but did not retreat. Even Erin, never one for public emotion, softened her posture, letting the walls drop for just a second.

Andy watched, protective instinct warring with helplessness. He wanted to shield all of them, but he had done all he could with the elimination vote. This burden he could not take from them.

Chloe glanced at Andy, then at the others. “How long does the voting take?” she asked.

Marissa answered, practical as always: “Half an hour, last time. You get used to it.”

“Does it hurt?” Chloe asked, then winced. “Never mind. Dumb question.”

Sam laughed. “Not as much as you’d think. But sometimes the waiting is the worst part.”

Liesa grinned. “We can distract ourselves. There are games. And the food is very good.”

Emi nodded, holding up her hands. “I can teach you origami,” she said. “It helps.”

Claire scribbled, then passed the page to Chloe: It helps to talk. Or to walk. Or to write it down.

Chloe read it, then smiled—a tiny, **** thing, but real.

As the sun dipped, the circle fragmented: some wandered to the water, some clustered in twos and threes, some sat quietly with their thoughts. Andy stood, brushing sand from his calves, and joined the edge of the nearest group—Sam, Erin, and Marissa—who had begun an informal contest to see who could skip stones the farthest.

Chloe stayed on her towel for a while, hugging her knees. Eventually, she let Emi coax her up, and the two of them walked the tideline, the six-armed woman gesturing animatedly as she explained the physics of shell skipping.

Andy watched, hands jammed in pockets.

He turned and found Arabella standing a few paces away, perfectly composed. When she notices his gaze, she gave him a look—something softer than he’d seen before. “You may not believe it, but I am not your enemy,” she said. “Nor theirs.”

Andy shrugged, not trusting himself to answer.

Arabella tilted her head, as if studying him. “You should be proud of them,” she said. “And of yourself.”

She walked away, her dress whispering in the sand.

Andy watched her go, then looked back at the group—at his strange, altered family, already learning to adjust, already making a new home out of the ruins.

Andy tried to disappear into the chaos of the waiting period, but the beach wasn’t big enough for that kind of escape. He wandered the tideline, tracing loops in the wet sand with his heel, and occasionally glanced back at the knot of Contestants, half expecting them to erupt in panic or transform into something unrecognizable when he looked away.

Instead, he found Chloe trailing him—slowly at first, then matching his pace. She walked with her arms folded, her head ducked, letting the wind do what it wanted with her hair. Inwardly, he groaned. He did not want to do this, but that nagging, cursed sense of responsibility reared its head. She was here because of him, after all. Ignoring the fact that if it had not been for her, none of them would be here at all.

When she drew parallel, she didn’t say hello, just looked at him sideways and tried for a smile.

“I haven’t seen you since…” she started, then trailed off, searching his face for the rest.

“Middle school,” Andy finished for her. “Eighth grade. Mrs. Keller’s homeroom.”

Chloe laughed, short and rueful. “God, I hated that class. She always pronounced my last name like it was a sneeze.”

“Rams-zee?” he guessed.

She nodded, lips quirking. “I thought I’d invented my own secret identity.” She kicked at a piece of driftwood, sending it spinning into the surf. “I kept tabs on you, sometimes. Facebook, LinkedIn, the usual stalker stuff.”

Andy found he wasn’t surprised. But he did not feel like encouraging the conversation, so he shrugged.

They walked a few more yards, the water rushing over their ankles and back, before she said, “After the accident, my parents pulled me out of school. Said it was for my mental health, but mostly they just wanted to forget.”

Andy nodded, remembering the way the world had closed up around him after Laura died—how every room, every street, became a minefield of memory.

“I figured you turned out better than the rest of us,” he said. He was proud that he was able to keep the acid out of his words.

Chloe shrugged. “Depends what you mean by ‘better.’ I teach kindergarten now. It’s like running a small prison, except the inmates draw you pictures and occasionally bite.”

Andy hesitated. “That’s a good gig, though. You always had the patience.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You remember that?”

He shrugged. “I remember a lot of things.”

They walked in companionable silence for a bit. Andy tried to imagine her in a classroom, corralling a mob of four-year-olds. He could see it, if he squinted.

“So what about you?” Chloe asked. “I tried to keep up with your life, but you disappeared for a while. You never post.”

Andy hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of self-censorship. “After college I started a company. Sold it just before getting here. Nothing exciting.” He left out the years of therapy, the failed relationships, the slow erosion of his ability to feel anything but guilt.

“Never married?” Chloe said.

The question stabbed at him, harder than he had expected, given who had asked it. He shook his head. “Came close, once. Didn’t work out.” He glanced at her, saw the curiosity. “Erin. We were together for a couple years.”

Chloe nodded. “She’s the tall one? I noticed the way you looked at her.”

Andy felt himself flush. “Yeah.”

Chloe smiled, but her eyes were kind. “You’re not a very good liar, Andy. You never were.”

He tried to laugh it off, but the sound died in his throat.

Chloe softened. “It’s okay, you know. You don’t have to pretend for me. I can tell you’re still… carrying it.”

Andy looked at the horizon, not trusting himself to answer.

She went on, gentle. “Laura wouldn’t want you to blame yourself forever. I know that sounds cheap, but… I don’t think she would. When she dove in, she did it to save you. She deserves the meaning of that sacrifice.”

He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth. “You don’t know why we were there. You didn’t know her the way I did.”

Chloe’s voice was firmer than he expected. “I knew her enough. And I know what it’s like to be the one left behind.”

Andy shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Chloe nodded, letting the silence stand. Then she changed the subject.

“So what happens next? With the voting and all this?” She gestured at the hotel, the towels, the circle of altered women in the distance.

Andy let out a breath. “It’s like a reality show, but you can’t go home until it’s over. At the end, we go back home, but it will be with… changes.”

Chloe considered. “And the harem thing? Is that real, or just branding?”

Andy hesitated. “It’s real. When we leave, you women will be… bonded, somehow, to me. They’ll share me. Besides that, I don't know what this 'bonding' does.”

Chloe blinked, then snorted. “That’s the most on-brand thing I’ve ever heard.”

Andy grunted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about it.”

Chloe looked back at the group. “Do they know?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They seem okay with it. Or at least, they’re pretending to be.”

Chloe shook her head, half in disbelief. “You’ve already… with them?”

He hesitated, then nodded. She raised an eyebrow. “And you’ve been here a week? You work fast, Andy.”

Chloe stopped walking. She turned to face him, her hair plastered to her cheek by the wind. “So do you expect to sleep with me, too?”

The question hit him like a slap. He opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head. “No. Not with you.”

Chloe’s relief was instantaneous—shoulders down, eyes softening. But then a flicker of something else, almost offense, crossed her face. She glanced away, then back, searching his expression for something more.

“Why not?” she said, her tone half a joke but half not.

Andy hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's complicated, Chloe. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

Chloe smiled, sad and small. “I was in love with you for two years. You never noticed.”

He didn’t know what to say. He stood there, the wind in his hair and the salt spray on his lips, and wished he could go back and do everything over.

Chloe let him off the hook. She nudged his arm with her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Honestly, it’s a relief.”

Andy nodded.

Chloe stared at the water. “I used to think if I’d been braver, maybe things would have turned out different. But I guess that’s everyone’s story.”

He wanted to tell her what her actions had led to. But the words caught in his throat.

They walked a little farther, then circled back toward the towels. Chloe was the first to break the silence.

“So what’s your wish?” she asked.

He looked at her, puzzled. “My wish?”

She grinned. “Every show has a prize, right? What do you want, at the end?”

Andy thought of the possibilities: happiness, peace, forgiveness. He shrugged. “According to Arabella, my ‘prize’ is the harem. But honestly? I just want everyone to make it out alive.”

Chloe nodded. “Not a bad wish.”

As they approached the group, Arabella’s voice carried over the sand, ringing clear and final.

“Attention, please. The voting has concluded.”

Andy watched as the women reassembled, gathering close, nervous and hopeful at once. Chloe left his side and joined the others, hesitation obvious in each step.

He stood just outside the circle, waiting for whatever would come next.

Voting for this TF Round is open until Saturday, August 23 at 11:59pm CET (5.59pm EST). Poll links for each girl and for Andy can be found immediately beneath each list of transformations, or below for easy reference. Happy voting!

Polls Closed. Thank you!