The Rules Revelation

“Here are the rules.”

Jocelyn pointed her cane dramatically toward the stage curtains, and the massive screen behind her flickered back to life—the very same one used to humiliate Jason just minutes earlier.

“Now pay attention, gals. This is important stuff!” she chirped, giving the stage floor a sharp tap with her cane for emphasis. “And you too, Jay,” she added with a wink.

Then she froze. One hand to her cheek, eyes wide in mock realization.

“Oh! Almost forgot.”

She slowly turned to Babs. Her voice dropped an octave, dragging her name out

“Barbaraaaa~”

Gliding across the stage, Jocelyn gently pressed the tip of her cane to the center of Babs’ forehead.

The moment contact was made—

“You BITCH.”

Babs exploded to her feet, smoke pouring from her shoulders in droves.

“I don’t care what kinda freaky voodoo shit you’re pulling— I ain’t having it!” she barked, jabbing Jocelyn in the chest with a smoke-slick finger. “And as for your shitty little game, I’m out. Fuck you and goodbye.”

Jocelyn remained perfectly still the whole time, letting the insults wash over her like water over stone.

just as Babs stepped away

“Ah-ah.”

Her tone was sing-song. Taunting. She wagged her finger like a teacher catching a student cheating on a test.

Babs looks over her shoulder towards Jocelyn

“It seems you are confused Barbara,” Jocelyn points her cane forward and flicks it towards herself, as if beckoning babs.

Babs slid backward across the floor, her boots screeching against the stage as she spun 180°, skidding to a stop just inches from Jocelyn’s smirking face.

“I’m the one in charge here,” Jocelyn whispered, still smiling. She taps Babs’ visor playfully with her nails.

Babs growled, fists clenched. “Oh, you need to get that smug look wiped off your sexy-ass—”

Babs mouth snapped shut and her eyes went wide, “…what the fuck was that?” she muttered.

Jocelyn grinned wider.

“Tut tut tut, assaulting the host? No, no, no, that simply can not stand Barbara,” she said, chastising her mockingly. “Now, you have zero VP, so I could have just eliminated you… But the competition hasn’t even started, and I find being wasteful sooo distasteful. Oh! That rhymed!”

She spun her cane and leaned in conspiratorially. “So instead, I thought, let’s teach everyone a valuable lesson.”

Babs scoffed. “What the hell are you gonna do? I’m dead. You can’t hurt me.”

Jocelyn tutted, waving a finger in front of Babs’ visor.

“Oh darling, I wouldn’t dream of hurting you. That’s not how this game works.”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

“Oh, Barbara, sweet Barbara, you already received your punishment!” She wags her finger directly in front of Bab’s visor, then turns to everyone else, turning Babs to face them also.

“Ladies and Jason, this is what we call a transformation.”

CLAP. CLAP.

The lights dimmed slightly. The screen behind her lit up with glowing, ornate text.

Slip of the Tongue

Any time the contestant attempts to communicate something with the intent to insult, harm, or undermine another, they will instead voice an erotic thought. The more aggressive the original intent, the more explicit the replacement. [Punishment]

The girls collectively leaned forward slightly to read the text, a chorus of murmuring could be heard as they turned to one another in concern and confusion.

Jason squinted at the screen. Similarly confused, “That’s… that’s supposed to be a rule?”

“Oh no Jay, this is a transformation, much more fun, and this is just the tip of the transformation iceberg! There are so many more exciting things to come!”

“Pfft,” Babs snorted. “Like I’m gonna follow your rules. What are you gonna do, slap me with a bad score?”

In response, Jocelyn tapped on Babs’ visor a few times, almost like a child trying to get the attention of a fish inside.

“Don’t. Touch. Me. You’re so damn sexy.” Babs blinked, then reeled.

“Wha—what the fuck?!”

“My, my,” Jocelyn mused, tapping her chin. “Such a foul mouth. Maybe next time I’ll include general profanity in the filter. But this’ll do for now.”

“I’m not done with you—God, I wanna bend you over that stool—”

Jocelyn raised her brows. “You were saying, Barbara?”

Jason let out an involuntary chuckle, hearing that monstrous, overlapping voice blurt out dirty talk at a floating blue ghost lady…

Could this situation possibly get any weirder? He thought

Babs’ head snapped toward him. In response, he went rigid, lips zipped, eyes forward like a student caught talking in class.

Fine, Babs thought furiously. If I can’t say it, I’ll show it.

She raised her hand, fully intending to flip him off.

Instead—

She locked eyes with Jason, brought her fist to her mouth, and involuntarily mimed sucking him off even adding a couple of humiliating little slurp sounds for emphasis.

The second Babs realized what she was doing, her arm snapped back to her side like she’d touched a live wire. Smoke poured from the cracks in her body, thicker than ever.

She whirled on Jocelyn, snarling.

Jocelyn only smiled back at her, and without a word, she made a lazy little walking motion with her fingers, gesturing toward the seating area.

Babs growled low in her chest but stomped over anyway. She dropped into her seat heavily, arms crossed so tightly it looked like she was trying to crush herself.

Jocelyn floated over, gave her an exaggerated thumbs-up, and flashed a wide, toothy grin.

“Good girl!”

Babs didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t react. However smoke seeped from her in slow, furious plumes.

“Now that that’s over,” Jocelyn said brightly, clapping her hands together, “I think it’s about time we actually discuss why you’re all here.”

She tapped her cane once more. The massive screen behind her flared to life as she drifted beneath it, spotlight snapping on to her.

“You are all contestants on Harem Hotel—a multiversal reality game show!”

Fireworks exploded across the projection as confetti rained down. Jocelyn bowed extravagantly.

“There are two basic positions on this show,” she continued. “Contestants,” she gestured grandly to the girls “and the Master.” Her cane swung toward Jason.

Jason flinched.

“As contestants, your goal is very simple: win. And how do you win?” She clasped her hands together. “By accruing the most Victory Points, of course!”

A leaderboard flickered onto the screen:

1. Cassandra Byrne — 0 VP
2. Barbara Dalton — 0 VP
3. Sylvie Langford — 0 VP
4. Esmerelda Medrano — 0 VP
5. Mika Tanaka — 0 VP
6. Eleanor Whitmore — 0 VP

Cassandra stood, “I see that I am appropriately at the top already,” she said smugly.

“Actually that’s just in alphabetical order,” Jocelyn replied flatly. “Sit down.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes and sat back down

“Now,” Jocelyn continued, turning back to the group, “if you’d like to stay at the top of that list, that’s where our dear Master Jason comes in.”

She hovered over and leaned casually against his shoulder.

“You see, Jason here is your little pot o’ gold. Your honeypot. Your ticket to victory.”

She smiled sweetly. “For every pleasurable act you provide him, you’ll receive a corresponding number of Victory Points.”

Sylvie made a tiny, terrified sound.

“The more intense and intimate the act,” Jocelyn added, “the bigger the reward.”

“I-I-Intimate?” Sylvie squeaked.

Jocelyn hovered close to the pale girl. “Oh yes, my dear. A hug? A kiss?” She waved dismissively. “One or two measly points. But if you were to, say…” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “…suck him off to completion…well! That could earn you a rather hefty sum.” She nodded, pleased.

Sylvie’s glow flared violently as she sank into her dress, clutching the fabric tight around her thighs.

Jason shot to his feet. “W-Wait! That can’t be the only reason we’re here!”

“Oh, but it is, Jay,” Jocelyn purred.

She zipped through the air, appearing inches from his face, whispering directly into his ear.

“You and all these lovely girls are here for the audience’s entertainment. And what they want is to see you enjoying yourself with every last one of these treats we have provided.”

She gestured lazily toward the lineup.

Jason swallowed. “But… why? Is this really what happens after you die? You get shoved into some creepy game show?”

“Oh Jay,” Jocelyn sighed fondly. “No, no. This is very much the exception. Most souls just move on.” She paused, smiling.

“But you lot? You’re special. Never before have we had a cast with ghosts!”

She tilted her head. “Well… not an entire one at least.” She added lamely.

“Wait, so—”

“Ah-ah!” Jocelyn snapped her fingers. “No more off-topic questions. We are on a schedule.”

With a puff of smoke she reappeared at the back of the stage.

“In addition to Victory Points,” she continued, “there’s a secondary currency known as Bonus Points.” she pointed her cane up to the giant screen, another leaderboard replaced the last one.

1. Cassandra Byrne — 0 BP
2. Barbara Dalton — 0 BP
3. Sylvie Langford — 0 BP
4. Esmerelda Medrano — 0 BP
5. Mika Tanaka — 0 BP
6. Eleanor Whitmore — 0 BP

“Bonus Points can be earned in a few ways, mainly through best girl poll placement and certain tasks.” Jocelyn added

Esme crossed her arms. “And why would we want those?”

“To spend them, of course!” Jocelyn chirped. “Bonus Points can be exchanged for goods and services.”

Esme raised a brow. “Such as?”

“Helpful items, advantages in challenges, upgrades to your transformations,” Jocelyn listed. “All sorts of lovely little perks.”

“Hold on,” Mika cut in sharply. “Why would we even have transformations? After what you did to Babs, do you think we’re stupid enough to attack you?”

“Oh Mika,” Jocelyn said patiently. “That was a punishment transformation. Reserved for poor behavior. Assaulting the host, threatening the Master, things like that.” She winked.

“For the rest of you well-behaved girls, after every competition you’ll receive regular transformations. And if you perform especially well…”

She did a little shimmy.

“…reward transformations!”

Babs leaned forward. “Competitions?” she asked. “What kind?”

“Oh, all sorts,” Jocelyn shrugged. “Physical. Mental. Sexual. Anything you can imagine, I will be hosting one challenge at the end of every week and attendance is mandatory!”

She clapped as her eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh! Almost forgot! You’ll also earn VP based on your placement in challenges. But honestly?” She smirked at Jason. “That’s the boring way to do it. Pleasing your Master is far more fun.”

“Every week!” Jason stood in surprise. “Just how long is this show?”

“Seven weeks total, Seven days per week, with one date night per contestant per week plus the challenge day!”

“Date night?” Esme enquired

“Oh yes that brings me wonderfully into the next section” she gestures to the screen once more.

• Day 1 — ???
• Day 2 — ???
• Day 3 — ???
• Day 4 — ???
• Day 5 — ???
• Day 6 — ???
• Day 7 — Challenge day!

“So for each person's specified date night you are required to be in the masters suite by 6PM at the latest, you can spend your time as you please, but make sure to take advantage of your time and earn as many points as possible!” she winks at the girls and gestures towards Jason.

“Now some of the more astute observers amongst you may have realised that there are no set days yet, that is because you will get to pick your nights! Well sort of, you see as was discussed earlier, the audience has been viewing dear Jay’s little video logs — but not just any boring old videos — specifically the ones where he first encountered each of you lovely ladies.” Jocelyn drifted back and forth as she spoke, making sure to look each girl in the eye as she passed them.

“And for our first little challenge we are going to have our audience vote on their favourite encounter, whoever comes in first gets first pick, second gets second pic and so on, so you guys at home make sure to vote accordingly!”

[Click here to vote!]

“And lastly,” she said with a dramatic pause, “as a special feature for this very special season of Harem Hotel, we’re introducing a brand new kind of point—”

She flared her arms theatrically.

“Ghost Points!”

A shimmering green logo appeared behind her on the screen with a spooky little woooo~ sound effect.

“Now, Ghost Points, or GP for short, might look similar to Victory Points, and in many ways they are. You’ll earn GP in the exact same ways you earn VP: pleasing Jason, excelling in challenges, completing special tasks and so on.”

“But unlike VP, Ghost Points stack. You can earn the same actions’ worth of GP multiple times per round — though with diminishing returns.”

“So what makes GP special? Well, Ghost Points can be spent immediately at special week-by-week vendor booths for things like this!” she pointed her cane up to the screen and began reading off the list.

• Boons
• Sabotages (for your competitors)
• Transformation upgrades and perks
• Challenge bonuses
• …and more!

She held up a hand, ticking off each point with her fingers as she went

“But—” she added, raising a warning finger, “there’s a catch.”

“Anything you buy with GP only lasts for the rest of that week.”

“And at the end of each round, your Ghost Point total resets back to zero — unless stated otherwise.”

Then her eyes lit up with sudden realization.

“OH! We haven’t even discussed winning!” she gasped. “You guys should really be ashamed of yourselves — that’s, like, the most important part!”

She crossed her arms, floating in midair like a disappointed schoolteacher.

“So, basically: once you earn a total of 100 Victory Points, you’ll be officially considered a Winner!

And what does that mean?”

She spun in the air, throwing glitter from her sleeves.

“You get granted a fully living body and get to be bound to the Master for the rest of your natural life!”

Every girl in the lineup jolted upright and a collective, appalled “WHAT?!” rang through the studio.

Jason stood too, stunned.

“Wait—what about me?” he asked, gesturing to himself. “I mean, I died too, right? Am I winning by default?”

“Oh, you?” Jocelyn waved her cane dismissively. “You already got your living body love. Did it while you were still **** — stitched you right up, healed all the damage. Good as new!”

Jason blinked. “But just earlier, you told me I was a ghost. What’s with that?”

Jocelyn gave a sheepish little grin.

“Welllll... I might have been fibbing a little about that. You were technically a ghost. But only for a few minutes. Not even a conscious one yet. Just a drifting little soul blob. Adorable, really.” She wiggled her fingers like she was squishing an invisible jellyfish.

Jason slowly sat down, stunned.

He hadn't even processed that he’d died. Now he was being told he’d been revived by a magic TV show? What the hell is even happening anymore?

Meanwhile, the girls began to stir, the gravity of Jocelyn’s words finally sinking in.

“Wait—when you say ‘granted a living body,’” Mika asked, voice tight, “you mean... we can be brought back to life?”

“So I’ll be able to see my family again?” Sylvie whispered, hope flooding her features.

“I... I don’t deserve such a gift,” Eleanor murmured, staring into the floor.

“No way—so I… can return to the mortal realm and continue my arcane pursuits!” Cassandra clutched her chest triumphantly.

“I could live again…” Esme said quietly, eyes distant.

“I’ll get to ride again?!” Babs barked, slamming her fists together. “Hell yeah, I’m winning this thing.”

“So…” Mika frowned. “We’re competing... to see who gets to live again?”

“Oh, no no no,” Jocelyn assured with a musical laugh. “Anyone can reach the threshold and become a ‘Winner’. Buuut…” She floated in a loop above the stage, cane twirling in her fingers.

“There is a special bonus prize for the contestant with the highest score by the end of the show!”

A visible sigh of relief passed through the girls — except Cassandra, who leaned in with gleaming eyes.

“And what, pray tell, is the prize for the true victor of this ordeal?” she asked, smirking.

Jocelyn’s grin grew sharp and mischievous.

“Well, my dear... the grand prize is…”

The sound of dozens of deep drums began to thunder all around the stage, like a charging army.

“…One Wish. Anything your heart desires.” She raised her arms like a magician finishing her final trick. “No fine print. No monkey’s paw. A true, limitless wish. Well apart from no wishing for ****, no wishing to leave the harem, and no removing any transformations” she listed those stipulations off while counting her fingers.

“A wish?!” Esme and Mika gasped at once.

“Yup!” Jocelyn chirped.

“Could I wish for someone else to come back to life?” Mika asked, breath held.

“Absolutely.”

“Could I wish to hurt someone?” Esme asked, her expression unreadable.

“Oh, totally.”

“Could I wish to be the most powerful witch in the multiverse?” Cassandra beamed.

“You’d be the toast of every realm, sweetie.”

“Could I wish for my bike back?” Babs asked.

“Well, a bit trivial but sure.”

“Could I wish—” Sylvie started.

“ENOUGH.” Jocelyn thundered, twirling her cane so hard it made a whipcrack noise.

“You can wish for anything, girls. Except the 3 things I mentioned earlier.”

She let that hang in the air for a moment.

Everyone nodded

“Good,” Jocelyn purred. “Now that that’s cleared up…”

She floated to the center of the stage, cane pointed toward the ceiling.

“Let’s get to what you’ve all been waiting for…”

A snap of her fingers.

The stage lights flared.

“Transformations!”

Jocelyn beamed. “Although—” she raised a finger, “we do have one itsy little issue…”

She pressed her fingers together, barely apart. “You’re all completely incorporeal. And that just won’t do! How are you supposed to pleasure your Master like that?”

“Wait—what are you saying?” Mika interrupted, alarmed.

“Well I would say it, if you didn’t interrupt so much,” Jocelyn snapped sweetly, then rolled her eyes as Mika shrank a little.

She twirled her cane dramatically. “We need to provide you with bodies now, don’t we?”

“But I thought we only got our bodies back if we win?” Esme asked.

“Yes yes, I’m getting to that, patience girls,” Jocelyn muttered with mock annoyance.

Then she grinned wickedly.

“We have something in mind.”

She raised her cane high and slammed it into the stage.

A puff of smoke exploded behind the girls with a magical fwoosh. They turned to look.

“Mannequins?” Jason asked, confused.

Six pristine, featureless figures stood gleaming under the stage lights. Each was made of flawless white material, smooth and plasticine, devoid of blemish, seams, or markings. Not even a speck of dust clung to them. They stood like eerie sculptures: blank canvases waiting to be painted.

Babs snorted. “What, these are our ‘new bodies’? How are we supposed to please anything with that?”

“Oh-ho-ho, these aren’t just any old mannequins,” Jocelyn purred, sauntering toward them like a game show hostess. “These are straight from the Harem Hotel Store™! Specially made for this season’s posthumous cast!”

She gestured toward them proudly. “They’re soul-reactive vessels — they’ll bind to your spirit and morph into a version of your living body.

With a few minor upgrades, of course.”

“Upgrades?” Sylvie asked nervously.

Jocelyn grinned. “No heartbeat. No blood. No boring biologicals like digestion, periods, or waste. You’ll be functionally undead, but not in the icky zombie way. You can eat, sleep, get tired, feel pleasure, even orgasm. Everything will feel exactly like the real thing.”

“So we’ll feel alive?” Sylvie asked, voice trembling.

“Oh yes. And you’ll be able to touch, taste, kiss” she winked at Jason “and anything else you can think of to please your master!”

She clapped her hands twice. “Now then! Who wants to try one on?”

Babs was already moving before she finished the sentence. She lunged forward, reaching out, the second her finger made contact with the mannequin's shoulder she froze.

A beat passed, then her finger sank in, like it was melting through liquid plastic.

Her arm followed, stretching, warping, sucked through that single contact point like a vacuum. Her torso twisted after it, then her legs, until the last of her body was slurped into the mannequin like spaghetti down a drain.

Sylvie gasped. Mika clapped her hands to her mouth. Even Cassandra blinked, taken aback.

Esme stepped forward. “What the hell did you just do to her?”

“Oh, calm down,” Jocelyn scoffed. “She’s just trying it on. I already explained how it works. Look.” She gestured back toward the mannequin.

Esme turned and gasped.

Its pristine white body began to tremble, faintly at first, then violently. The arms twitched, joints bending with unnatural jerks, while the head rocked side to side as if something inside were struggling to get out. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the figure froze.

At the exact point where Babs had touched it, a faint patch of color emerged — a creamy tan dot blooming on its shoulder. Slowly, it began to spread. The pigment crept across the mannequin’s surface like water bleeding into paper, soaking its way across the smooth, plastic flesh with silent determination.

As the color advanced, the material itself began to change. What had once been stiff and featureless began to soften. The mannequin’s arms thickened at the wrists. Fingers unfurled from the stubs, stretching into full digits, complete with knuckles, nails, and subtle creases along the joints. Skin texture formed over the forearms and hands, slight imperfections, wrinkles at the elbows, the faint suggestion of veins.

Then the whole body began to expand.

The figure grew taller, inch by inch, its posture elongating as its shoulders broadened. Muscle began to bloom beneath the surface, firm and coiled, like cords pulled taut under the skin. Biceps swelled and thighs thickened, stretching outward with raw mass and purpose, until they looked strong enough to crack a watermelon just by walking past it..

Next, the chest.

From the mannequin’s upper torso, two small mounds swelled into existence, soft, pale, and growing fast. They pulsed with each expansion, jiggling violently each time as they surged forward into full, heavy breasts. They settled low and proud on the chest.

Then the clothing began.

From the ankles upward, blue denim materialized, wrapping the legs in tight, form-fitting jeans. The fabric clung to her powerful thighs, cinched at the waist with a black leather belt that fastened itself with a metallic click. A white tank top rolled over her torso in a ripple, hugging the swell of her breasts and leaving her toned arms bare.

As the wave reached her neck, accessories began to form, a pair of sunglasses appeared on her forehead with a flicker of light. From her scalp, strands of pale blonde hair began to sprout, shooting outward in sleek lines, bob-length at first, then lifting up and twisting into a loose, lazy bun at the back of her head.

Her facial features bloomed one by one, shallow indentations on the blank canvas became widening eye sockets, then fleshy eyelids. Eyeballs filled the void, irises a sharp electric blue. She blinked. Her nose pushed outward. Then her mouth—lips filling, parting as she took a sudden, shuddering breath.

The finer details followed fast.

Tiny goosebumps raised on her arms. Nipples crested under her tank top, prominent and reactive. Eyelashes unfurled with delicate precision. Eyebrows took shape, arching sharply. Black biker boots snapped into place over her feet.

And finally, with a shimmer, a thick black leather jacket wrapped around her torso, creaking slightly as it settled into place over her wide frame.

Then she gasped again, stumbling forward with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Gone was the monstrous overlapping voice that had haunted her ghostly form. Now, her original voice returned smooth and rich.

Jocelyn floated over, giggling. “Oh yeah, it’s been like… what, seventy years since you had to walk?” She made a show of fanning herself. “You forget how gravity feels, huh?”

Babs groaned, trying to push herself up with all the grace of a flipped motorcycle. “I swear to God, I wish I could see your tits right now.”

“Now now, Barbara,” Jocelyn tutted, waving a hand like swatting away a fly “That’s hardly appropriate.”

She turned to the crowd of stunned women. “I should probably make sure to activate the automatic muscle memory for the rest of you. Wouldn’t want the whole first week spent teaching you how to walk again like toddlers. I am sure nobody would want that.” Jocelyn turned to the camera as she finished her sentence and stared knowingly into it with a slight frown.

She hovered over Babs, who was still struggling to untangle her legs from her jacket, and leaned down with an indulgent smirk. “Hold still, you magnificent mess.”

With a light tap of her cane to Babs’ forehead, Jocelyn said sweetly, “There you go. A full sync of muscle memory for all your normal, everyday needs. You’re welcome.”

Babs stood up far more smoothly this time, brushing herself off. She shot Jocelyn a glare as hot as her previous spectral form, then turned and strutted (with only a minor wobble) to the side of the stage.

As soon as she sat, however, instinct took over.

Her hands began probing and groping her body, feeling every bit she could think of, untill she looked down and they shot straight to her chest, grabbing two full handfuls of her new (old) breasts. She gave herself a hard, curious squeeze, causing an audible moan to slip past her lips before she could stop it.

Babs froze and lifted her head, her eyes widened as she looked towards the group.

Everyone was still watching.

Played with boobs in front of master +1VP
First time bonus! +1VP
(+1GP)

“Wha—?! Stop looking at me and go get your own damn bodies!” Babs snapped, face flushing red. “Buncha fuckable bitches,” she added with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Well well well,” Jocelyn purred, practically vibrating with joy, “looks like we’ve got our first reward! Let’s give it up for our new frontrunner—Barbara Dalton!”

She burst into applause, her cane tapping rhythmically against her palm.

Nobody else clapped.

Cassandra crossed her legs and sneered. “She received points for what? Moaning like some common wench?”

Jocelyn gasped, feigning offense. “Cassandra! Such language!” she held her hand to her heart in mock offence before turning to the floating scoreboard.

With a wave of her cane, the projection changed:

1. Barbara Dalton — 2 VP
2. Cassandra Byrne — 0 VP
3. Sylvie Langford — 0 VP
4. Esmerelda Medrano — 0 VP
5. Mika Tanaka — 0 VP
6. Eleanor Whitmore — 0 VP

“Would you look at that? Two Victory Points, just like that.” Jocelyn grinned “What for? Oh, who knows~! Only Babs does. And it's up to her if she wants to share her secrets.”

Barbara crossed her arms and frowned at the others.

“But!” Jocelyn twirled mid-air and clapped her hands, “that’s a conversation for another time. For now, why don’t the rest of you cuties go try on your new bodies?” She pointed her cane toward the remaining mannequins.