Endgame, Part 4: Blue Steel

Behind the Scenes, Some Time Ago

Phaedra is so angry she doesn’t notice that time has stopped. How dare Mother act like I am not doing my duty! My job as the Crown Princess is to just be around for whenever the old bat finally dies. Then, I assume the throne, as is my birthright. I have no duty to the lesser species we rule over. They are to serve ME! In whatever manner I see fit! And marrying that futa greenskin brute is an insult! How dare she!

It takes several minutes for Phaedra to notice that all is completely still save for a mermaid that was not there before.

“What are you doing here, you disgusting creature?!?! Shouldn’t you be fighting the saghuagins at the docks for your Crown Princess?”

The mermaid, with its revolting teeth bared, sasses, “I am no subject, slut. I am Beckie Petersen, the most popular and beautiful Host of Harem Hotel.”

Phaedra snorts, “You’re no Azure. You’re not even a Dakota.”

This Beckie creature starts to turn away. “Perhaps I should just leave you to your fate. And, to think, I was here to offer you a season of your own.”

A season of my own? “Wait, wait, wait! I spoke too quickly. Please forgive my harsh words. You wish to offer me a harem of my own?”

Beckie turns back. “Oh, interested now I see. Yes, I would like to serve as your Host for my second season. I just need you to do something for me first. A simple thing, really.”

Phaedra scoffs, “Why should I have to earn a harem that is mine by my own right?”

“Oh, you will have fun earning it, I am sure. All I am asking you to do is to beat your sister in a little contest. She was taken to be a part of another season just now. A season you were eligible to join as a contestant but was rejected by the audience. You just need to show that audience that they made a mistake, that you are more worthy than her. I am sure you can come up with something to outdo her. And, when you do, you can remake her in any way you wish.”

Phaedra gives off an especially evil grin. A chance to show my future adoring audience how much they should worship me AND a chance to show Miss Goody Two Shoes her place under my feet? “You have yourself a deal.”

“Excellent. Follow me.” Phaedra watches as a portal of inky blackness appears before her and Beckie jumps in. Phaedra follows, giddy to get started.

Phaedra Copse-Wood, Now

“Mopsie, are you masturbating to me again? You are supposed to be doing my nails!”

The hoppalong maid, clad only in a too tight chastity belt, dripping with fem-cum from being trapped in it for too long, sighs and gets to work. Phaedra smiles at her cruelty; they both know Mopsie’s work is futile, given how the princess designed this final challenge. It would be futile anyways. Why would anyone in their right mind choose Aelene over her? Phaedra yanks hard on the hoppalong’s ear to speed her up. It feels good to torment the lesser species. She hopes, once her season starts, she has enough of the lesser species in the harem so she has a variety of options to indulge in for that particular pleasure. Maybe that could be an appropriate elimination transformation for proper high elf members of the harem too. Phaedra’s wheels are turning, anticipating the delights of owning a dozen or so women to serve her as perpetual sex slaves. She nearly orders Mopsie under her skirt right then and there. Maybe after I win the first round…

Aelene

“Ms. Cottoncrotch, what is going on? Explain the challenge to me.”

Aelene’s maid nods, long past shame. “Have a seat, child, and I will do so. The two of you are to compete in a fashion show, with some special considerations. The first is that there are several rules in place to obscure your identities. The panel will be voting on each round blindly. If you break any of those rules, you automatically forfeit the round. Rounds continue until one of you concede. Make sense, Princess?”

Aelene sits in the make-up chair, frowning. She knows in her bones that she is very attractive, but how much of that is due to Ultimate Selfcest? She removed some of her scars and inflated her breasts to a delightfully large size with further transformations, but does she possess the ability to compete with Phaedra, an accomplished Insta-Thot girl and seductress in court? She is concerned.

“What are these rules?”

“First, you must have a fresh set of makeup and your hair must be freshly styled every round. Second, you are not allowed to speak during the round. Phaedra will direct the show using a headset that will project her voice from the stage. Third, you are not allowed to wear or accessorize yourself with your Knight-Commander regalia. Where is that, by the way?”

“Oh, uh,” Aelene sputters, “I forgot how to wear them properly. This is my armor now.” Aelene motions to her bikini. Ms Cottoncrotch arches an eyebrow. Aelene blushes intensely at her maid’s gaze. **** to change the subject, she adds, “Any other rules?”

“No identifying writings on your outfits. No ****. The other rules you couldn’t possibly break. First round is everyday wear. I suppose you are going in that armor?”

“Uh, yes,” Aelene mumbles, then, with a little more courage adds, “Yes, I am.”

Ms. Cottoncrotch, looking mildly disappointed in Aelene, starts to style the high elf’s hair and apply what Aelene would consider an extravagant amount of makeup (which is a bit less than her betrothed’s natural makeup look). Okay, I have to outcompete my sister, the Insta-Thot bard, in a beauty contest. It can’t be that hard, can it?

Milton McWhiskerton

Milton is incredibly excited. He is here, on an actual Harem Hotel set, and he is about to join a panel of judges for a beauty contest challenge featuring his findom mommy, Princess Phaedra! He bought so many raffle tickets for the opportunity, and he won! It cost him most of his life savings, but that is what good simps do. They make themselves destitute for the chance to have their dommy mommy acknowledge them. Will she spit on him, as he has been dreaming of for the past week? He can’t wait to find out!

Harper

Two down. Five more to go.

Harper checks the battlefield map. She is already seeing the urge to constantly have it up becoming a problem. She likes having the information at the periphery of her vision. While it’s not the worst intrusion of her companions’ privacy, it still is one, outside of things like this.

Still, she checks in with her remaining girls. Josie is wandering a dark forest, covered in blood; that checks out as her being fine. Skye is sneaking around. Again, no point in hopping in until she gets caught. Tina is fiddling with some magician’s equipment, which seems odd, but fine? Scarlet is still conversing with the screen. And Aelene looks embarrassed as she is getting pampered by a hoppalong ****.

Nothing seems like threatening at the moment. Then Harper turns off her map and notices the countdown over Aelene’s door. Time to auto-failure 2 minutes: Missing Mistress. Well, that answers where I go next, doesn’t it?

Harper finds herself at a runway, almost like a fashion show. A hoppalong in just a chastity belt, which Harper recognizes from her elf-self’s memories as Phaedra’s long abused maid Mopsie, stands behind what appears to be a check-in station. The countdown clock continues as Harper approaches.

The clock stops at 23 seconds as Mopsie (who does not seem to recognize Harper) answers, “Ah, Tyalangan, it appears you are the last judge to arrive. In the nick of time, too. Here is your judge’s lanyard. If you will take your seat with the other two judges, we can begin.”

Mopsie leads Harper to the judges booth. There, she sees two other people, only one she recognizes. The unknown one is a ratfink, a member of a low level sentient monster race that was much more threatening before the advent of the internet in her soon-to-be world. They are surprisingly satisfied hiding in sewers and masturbating to e-thots.

The other is worth addressing. While Harper has no memories of meeting her in person, she remembers her from watching the season with Glitter and Mattie. Femcock jutting erect in the air, War Marshal Reeza tries to stare Harper down. Harper takes her (literally and figuratively uncomfortable) seat in between the masturbating rat-boy and the orc war lord.

The stage is strange, with some kind of shimmering field surrounding it. A banner is held aloft, more insulting than even the ones Beckie had hung at the beginning. “1st Annual Censored for Betas Fashion Show! Losers goon to clothes, not skin!”

Harper was about to address the orc, when her adopted sister’s voice seems to come out of all directions at once, “Welcome, losers, to the beginning of my triumphant journey on Harem Hotel. It is I, Phaedra, Crown Princess of Nimlith Grove. Be sure to vote for me as I humiliate my sister! The first round begins now!”

Phaedra

Phaedra struts on stage, rolling her hips to bounce her mini-skirt and thrusting her breasts forward, only clad in a midriff revealing crop-top. She feels ecstatic. To think, millions of souls across the multiverse are fingering and/or stroking themselves to her sexy outfit. Just wait until I’ll let you see my body! She also can’t wait to watch her dour older sister nervously shuffling onto the stage in some prudish full body dress. Phaedra is going to win this thing in the first round, then dear sister gets to be one of her sex slaves.

What comes out the door is not what is expected. Aelene is showing skin, a lot of skin, much less scarred than Phaedra has seen. While not exactly strutting like she owns the runway, she’s walking with head held high. Her makeup doesn’t seem to be a source of embarrassment that Phaedra was hoping for. The knight-commander silently nods to the bratty princess, then squeezes her boobs together to make them pop.

Wait… how did Aelene’s tits get so huge? They’re bigger than mine!

Then she hears singing, coming from the judges booth, the voice beautiful and terrifying and unknown. The votes submitted. Aelene won the round 3-0. Phaedra fumes as she turns around to get ready for the next round. Something fishy just happened.

Reeza

“While the floating metal bikini was the better outfit on presumably the better body, care to tell me why I should have voted for it?” Reeza growls at the strange sea elf woman.

“I don’t believe we have met, War Marshal. Tyalangan, Crown Princess of Nimlith Grove, at your service.”

A splitting migraine hits Reeza like a berserker orc’s femcock to the face. When the pain fades, Reeza realizes that she has 2 sets of memories right now. “This is Hotel magic. Explain before I…”

The princess smirks, leaning closer, “No **** in this scenario, remember? My past before being stolen by the Hotel doesn’t matter anymore, but I am the Mistress of the season this little event will play on. I had a girl eliminated and there was an audience vote to see who and how many were to be added to replace her. Aelene, Phaedra, and you were among the options. Aelene was selected; you two were not. I watched the B-roll introductory footage after the fact; that’s why I recognized you. Make sense, so far?”

“Hotel magic is always a headache, even when I watch it. Still haven’t answered my question, Princess.”

“I saw what you desired then. To breed Phaedra and use that connection to help bring orcs into the fold of civilized society. Is that still the case?”

Reeza grunts in acknowledgment. The feeling of filling that high elven brat with orc eggs will be worth whatever headache the show here is inflicting on her.

“Then you want Aelene to win the contest. Best case scenario for both of us: Aelene wins here, then I win the last bit of this final challenge. All of mine return to Nimlith Grove, you help us defeat The Hunger, and I will honor your agreement with Kaelis. You get your breeding elf and respect with minimal effort. Worst case for me, but middling case for you: Aelene wins, but I lose. Me and mine are doomed, but you return to the scenario that was already playing out. Whether your horde is enough to break the siege is a question yet to be settled, but you might still get Phaedra. Worst case for you: Phaedra wins, regardless what I do after. I don’t know the exact thing she was promised, but it sounds like she’s expecting a season of her own. As her betrothed, do you think you’ll escape being snagged for her harem?”

That is a revolting concept. Being owned by that impudent brat. Reeza growls, “And how likely are you to win your final challenge?”

The sea elf shrugs. “I will let you read my statistics if you let me read yours.”

Reeza lets the elf perform the statistic scry. She nods, but not particularly impressed, “Level 5 Fighter. Respectable.”

When Reeza touches her thumb to the sea elf’s forehead, she is suddenly very glad that the elf decided to talk instead of fight. Reeza has never experienced a fear boner before, but she has one now.

Phaedra

“Surely, Aelene is cheating somehow!”

Phaedra is tearing apart her dressing room. After a dozen rounds, she has yet to win a single one. Sometimes Aelene wins 2-1, sometimes 3-0, but the vote always goes Aelene’s way.

“Mopsie, you pervert, my rules were perfectly crafted to make sure those beta losers can’t tell who is who. My superior sense of style should be winning the day, even if Aelene is more attractive because of the show. How is she doing it?”

Mopsie quivers nervously, “Lady Aelene has been perfectly complying with the rules. It’s just that 2 of the judges always vote Aelene’s way.”

Phaedra turns on a screen to watch the voting booth. A disgusting rat-boy, a greenskin futa brute, and one of those gross gilled elves sit. The elf and orc are talking.

“Who are those two?”

“According to the paperwork, the orc is…” Mopsie flips to the appropriate page, “War Marshal Reeza, which was supposed to be the neutral judge that should actually be biased towards you as your betrothed. The elf is…”

Mopsie pauses and clutches her head, screeching in pain. Phaedra doesn’t care about the disgusting rabbit’s pain. “The elf is…”

“Tyalangan, Crown Princess of Nimlith Grove and Aelene’s betrothed.”

It feels like Phaedra’s head is about to explode as memories rush in. Her rage rises as her thoughts coalesce around her new reality, “That bitch Aelene must have used the show to rob me of my birthright! And that imposter is using some sort of Hotel magic to cheat! It’s the only way!”

Phaedra draws what knowledge she could from her false memories of a life she rejects. Tyalangan is known as the Melancholic Sword-maiden of Nimlith Grove. Her skill with sword and spell is only surpassed by her moodiness. She’s a Level 4 bladesinger, at least in these fake memories. She was adopted into the family and betrothed to Aelene when the high elf renounced her claim to the throne because mother did not think Phaedra worthy to rule. Bitch.

Phaedra stomps onto the stage, demanding, “How are you cheating you fake heir to my throne!”

The gilled cheat speaks, “I’m not. You designed the challenge poorly. You think I cannot recognize my betrothed just based on how she carries herself on stage? Well, I can. There are no rules that say I can’t consult or advise my fellow judges. I showed our ally Reeza here that it is in both of our best interests that Aelene wins. So, she does. Are you ready to concede?”

Phaedra stammers, “I… I… I… I demand a redo! With better judges. There is no way I could lose against her!”

Phaedra pulls out her lyre, intending to fry the gross gilled elf’s brain, only for her to freeze as the room to go white. Mopsie, Aelene, and Ms. Cottoncrotch appears as well. As does a silver furred cat.

The cat speaks and Phaedra feels doomed. “Both Misses Cottoncrotch, elder and younger, I apologize for your abhorrent treatment. Here.” The cat waves a paw and they are both smiling, dressed in finery well above their station. “Both of you are being returned to the castle. In your quarters, payment awaits. I hope you consider it sufficient.” Then, with another wave, both are gone.

“Mr. McWhiskerton, all of the payments for this particular raffle have been refunded for all participants. Please spend your money more wisely next time.” A third wave of a paw, and the gross rat-boy is gone.

“Ms. Heart-Taker, I believe you have a claim on your betrothed. If I allow you to take her, do you intend on treating her right? And will you honor your pact with Nimlith Grove?”

The gross gilled elf and the futa greenskin freak exchange a nod. “Aye. I will treat Phaedra exactly as she deserves and we will march to relieve our ally.” Then, with a final wave, Phaedra finds herself sitting before the gross futa greenskin freak, sitting on a throne of tusks. The orc smiles. Phaedra screams.

Aelene

“What did you do to my sister?”

“Well, Ms. Copse-wood, your sister has been delivered to her betrothed. And, if her betrothed becomes a problem, your future wife will deal with it. For now, you have won your challenge due to your sister forfeiting by intending ****. So, once we send Ms. O’Connor back to go to her next destination, we can discuss your exit. You get to write your final change.”

Aelene doesn’t know what she wants. She feels in a good place with her lady loves. She can’t think of a particular problem with herself that needs fixing. Lady Harper offers a suggestion before she pops away. Aelene shrugs and negotiates it with the producer cat:

Toy Reflection: Aelene’s experience with her unique vorpal blade has given her insight. As an action, Aelene can now swap another non-sentient weapon she can see within 30 feet into a sex toy of her choice or back. As a bonus action, she can secrete lube from the palms of her hands to better use said toy (Mirror Knight – Exit Transformation).

Aelene sits calmly in the provided chair and prepares to watch how the others do. She hopes that they succeed. My sisters, don’t give up hope. Fight. Win.