Round 1 Day 1 - Sarah's Date

The castle seemed to be equal parts luxury hotel, medieval castle, and nonsense. Matt and Sarah spent the morning wandering aimlessly, trying to puzzle together some sort of idea of the layout, but the vast labyrinth defied logic. While it was still morning, every window seemed to look out on the rising sun regardless of its facing; even the same windows that had shown the sunset the previous evening. A door that opened onto a sandy beach with sunloungers and a tiki bar was right next to the door that opened out onto the top of a snowy ski slope. The gym, with all its tech-filled exercise equipment, contained a shortcut to an armoury of blunted swords.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Sarah asked eventually, as they walked down yet another liminal corridor.

They hadn’t been speaking much as they explored, only occasional comments when they found something weird or interesting, but that wasn’t too unusual. After being together for ten years they were no strangers to the comfort of each other’s silence. This silence wasn’t quite as comfortable as it used to be though. They were both fully aware that their peace was temporary, and that elsewhere in the building was a harem that neither of them really wanted.

“I don’t really know,” Matt admitted, “Some of the other seasons I read last night had secrets hidden around the hotel. I’m hoping we might find something that helps, but I have no idea what.”

“Is that why you’re so tired?” Sarah questioned, her grip on her husband’s hand loosening a little, “I thought you said you were worried, but you were up all night reading... porn?”

Matt stumbled on nothing, blushed fiercely, then quickly turned towards his wife but couldn’t make eye contact.

“It wasn’t like that,” he pleaded, “I was looking for ideas about what was going on and... I mean yes, there was some sex but there wasn’t loads of it. It wasn’t what I was looking for. I didn’t even...”

“Sorry,” Sarah mumbled, seeming very small despite her recently increased height, “l don’t have a problem with that. I don’t blame you. It’s just with everything that’s been going on...”

Matt swallowed heavily and squeezed Sarah’s hand tight even as she tried to let go of him. He stood up straight, buried the shame he was feeling and faced his wife head on.

“Sarah... you know I’ve ended up watching and reading a lot of porn, right?” he said gently, his ears burning, “My sex drive didn’t go away when yours did. I needed an outlet. It hasn’t ever made me want you any less. But that wasn't what I was doing last night.”

“What were you doing then?”

“As cheesy as it sounds, I was genuinely reading for the plot and not the sex,” Matt replied with disarming humour, then his eyes went wide as he realised something, “Oh no. I’ve read sex scenes about people we're going to meet at this wedding.”

Sarah shrank again at the reminder of the upcoming event, and swapped one uncomfortable topic for another. “Do you think that’s how it will end here? With you marrying all the others?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged awkwardly, “I don’t even know how they got to that point. That season is a long one and I haven't read that far into it yet. But I promise I won’t do anything with the others unless you’re okay with it. Not marriage, and not... any of the stuff that would come before then.”

“Even if that gets them eliminated?”

Matt closed his eyes for a moment and took a long, slow breath. He’d been grappling with the question all morning, and for a lot of the previous night as well, but just the simple act of walking and holding Sarah’s hand had brought him gently but surely to the only answer he could give. “You’re my wife, Sarah. Not any of them. I hope it won’t come to that, but if it does then you’re the one I love.”

Rather than being reassured, Sarah tensed, her breath catching in her throat and tears beginning to well up. “So I either tell you it’s okay, or it’s my fault that they all get ruined?”

“Fuck, Sarah, I didn’t mean...”

Matt scrambled for the words but couldn’t find any, so resorted to wrapping her in a desperate hug instead. Sarah accepted it limply, her face pressed into his shoulder rather than his chest since her transformation had increased her height. After far too long of getting no more response than squeezing a pillow, Matt pulled back and looked into her red, wet eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he croaked out, “I just can’t not care about you.”

She shrugged, and said nothing. Matt despaired. He was exhausted, tired from the morning's search and the night’s research, demoralised from the lack of results. He couldn't keep dragging himself around like this. He needed to rest and reset, at least a bit.

“How about we find somewhere for lunch?” he suggested, tearing his gaze away and looking about, “Maybe we can figure it out once we’ve eaten.”

“Maybe,” Sarah mumbled, but she still took Matt’s hand as they continued with their exploration.

The kitchen was extraordinary in its mundanity. The floor was tiled in a tasteful, neutral grey. The cabinets were a glossy cream, beneath a worktop of fake but luxurious wood. The bright red fridge, extra large with a built-in water dispenser in the door, was well-stocked with ingredients. A wooden bowl was filled with a colourful selection of fruit, echoed by the fresh flowers in a vase on the windowsill. Sarah had entered first, and by the time Matt stepped inside she had already begun to assemble some sandwiches out of meat and cheese and salad, between slices of fluffy white bread.

Matt set his briefcase down by the door, loosened his tie, and settled onto one of the stools by the kitchen island to watch his wife work. She knew his tastes well enough to not need to ask what he wanted, but the silence was thick enough that even the sharp taps of the knife on the cutting board couldn’t cut through it. The sandwiches were closed, plated up, and distributed. Sarah placed hers on the opposite side of the counter from Matt.

“Thanks,” he said with a stiff smile.

“You’re welcome,” Sarah replied, just as stiff but without any smile gracing her subtly made-up face. Before taking her seat she picked through the cupboards behind her for a wine glass and a bottle of merlot, pouring herself an extremely generous measure and leaving the bottle out. She didn’t pour any for Matt.

“Should you really be drinking that much at lunchtime?” he asked carefully, taking a bite of the sandwich and chewing slowly. It was pretty good, if a little dry.

“It’s not like I have any plans for the rest of the day,” she replied with a shrug, took a big gulp of the wine, then topped the glass back up again. She didn’t touch her food.

“I suppose not,” Matt sighed. He found his eyes drawn to the window above the sink. It was a gloriously sunny day outside, and there were sounds of distant laughter and happy screams, as if it was a perfectly picturesque neighbourhood beyond the gloomy confines of the kitchen. “How has work been lately?” he asked, trying his best to make conversation.

“Fine,” Sarah sighed, taking another oversized sip. She put the wineglass down, fingers drumming on the stem, and joined Matt in staring out the window. “I think we should get divorced.”

A chunk of bread tried to invade Matt’s lungs, only to be expelled by a fit of violent coughing. He doubled over his plate as he tried to regain control of his breathing, then looked up at his wife with watering eyes. “...what?” he gasped, desperate to have misheard.

“We should get a divorce,” Sarah repeated, not making eye contact, “Things haven’t been right between us for a while, and I don’t think they ever will be again. It’s not fair to either of us to keep trying to force it, and it’s not fair on the kids either.”

“Sarah... where has this come from? Is there something wrong?” he pleaded, reaching a hand across the island towards her, “If there’s anything I can do to make things better, just tell me.”

“There’s nothing left to do at this point,” she shook her head, and ignored the hand, “It’s for the best anyway. We tried, we failed. We can try again with someone else. Maybe you can find someone who isn’t repulsed by the thought of sex with you, I can hopefully find someone who’s actually around sometimes and not constantly working.”

The words struck like poisoned arrows. Fear and anger bubbled up inside Matt in equal proportion, years of pent up tension suddenly coming uncoiled. “I’m ‘constantly working’ so we can afford this life, and I think I deserve some appreciation for that,” he snapped, gesturing around them, “The house, the holidays, the kids-”

“The kids hardly ever see you!” Sarah interrupted, getting to her feet in agitation, “Don’t they deserve someone who can actually be a father to them? Don’t I deserve someone who can actually be a husband to me?”

“I am still their father,” he growled, standing as well and walking around the counter to stand face-to-face, “You don’t get to take that away from me just because you’re frigid.”

“Frigid? Trust me, that’s not the problem.” Sarah took a step closer and narrowed her eyes. “He’s not your son anyway,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Matt’s heart turned both hot and cold at the same time. The last vestiges of his self-control snapped. “Well I'm sleeping with your sister!” he roared.

Sarah’s eyes blazed with rage, and then before either of them knew what was happening she had slapped Matt clean across the face, leaving a stinging red handprint on his cheek.

• Attacked the Master: -5VP (What the fuck just happened?! x0 bonus = -0VP)

Everything went very still, and very quiet. Even the sounds of laughter from outside had completely disappeared. Sarah stared down at her hand in shock, flexing her tingling fingers.

“I don’t have a sister,” she pointed out with a trembling voice.

“No,” Matt agreed, slowly shaking his head. “We don’t have any kids,” he added, as an afterthought.

“God no,” Sarah squinted, “What the hell was that?”

• Trope Completed (The Divorce): +5VP, +5BP (First Trope! x2 bonus = +10VP, +10BP)

“One of the tropes, I guess,” he pondered, “It was like I became someone else for a while. A character. Kind of me, but kind of not.” He hesitated before continuing, but decided he’d rather ask than worry about the answer. “Was any of that real for you? Were any of those feelings yours?”

“I don’t think so,” Sarah looked down, “You’re around as much as I could ever hope for. You always come home from work on time, or early, unless you have a good reason. I’m not... repulsed by you.”

“Okay, good,” Matt started to relax a little, “It wasn’t true for me either. You’ve never made me feel unappreciated, and I never would have cheated on you.”

“I would have understood if you did.”

Matt stopped relaxing, and very quickly reversed direction. “Sarah, I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” she interrupted, briefly meeting his eyes before looking down again, “But if you did, I wouldn’t have wondered why. I know I’m not the same as I was when we got together. I know I’m not meeting your needs.”

“I don’t need sex, Sarah. What I need is for you to be happy.”

“Well I don’t think I’m meeting that need either,” she said with a sad smile.

“No, I suppose not,” he acknowledged, even though it broke his heart.

Seeking distraction, Matt looked around the room; really taking it in now rather than just assuming it was part of his life as he had during the trope scene. It wasn’t their kitchen at home, but it easily could have been in a different life. The decoration was very much to Sarah’s tastes, with the neutral base accented by pops of colour in the appliances, the fruit and the flowers. The knife block was one that he thought he might have nearly bought years ago, if he hadn’t decided to have an antique set from his grandparents cleaned and sharpened instead.

There were other details that didn’t quite make sense. The kitchen was self-contained, with no connection to any other rooms aside from the hallway they had come from. Matt was wearing a tie, which he never did by choice unless the event called for it, so he pulled it off, neatly coiled it up and pocketed it. He’d put down a briefcase by the door as he entered, which he hadn’t been carrying before he crossed the threshold. Sarah was wearing makeup, which was a rarity in her daily life. The view out of the window was of a forest rather than a suburban neighbourhood. The sandwich had been nice though, and pretty much exactly what he would have made for himself.

“We should finish eating,” he decided, “Then let’s go see how many points that earned you. I think the scoreboard was still up in the throne room.”

Scoreboard

• Sarah: 10 VP / 24 BP
• Poppy: 0 VP / 15 BP
• Grace: 0 VP / 15 BP
• April: 0 VP / 14 BP
• Eleanor: 0 VP / 14 BP
• Emma: 0 VP / 13 BP
• Max: 0 VP / 7 BP
• Chrissy: -24 VP / 4 BP

Heads craned around to try and get a better look at the phone screen as Eleanor demonstrated her new homepage, and its list of the contestants and their scores. Emma was pensively picking at her evening meal while a surprisingly relaxed Poppy leaned against her muscular arm. Max was stuffing her face, looking on with amusement at the teenager and her phone. Chrissy was maintaining her distance from everyone, especially Eleanor, and was sitting low in her seat at the far side of the table while avoiding eye contact. That left only Grace and April actually paying attention to what the heiress had expected to be her moment of glory.

“So it was just lying there in your bedside table?” Grace asked.

“Is that the only website that works?” April followed up immediately afterwards.

“Yes, and no,” Eleanor answered both at once, feeling at least a little better that she got to be important for a bit longer, “Most things are blocked, but there's a page that has my transformation on it, and there's some other stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” April cocked her head.

Eleanor’s deathly pale skin blushed a rosy red at the obvious question. “There’s some... stuff. Websites like...” she trailed off into a mumble that even April’s furry ears couldn’t pick up.

“What was that?” Grace leaned in closer, her hair shifting and parting to avoid crowding the younger girl.

“Adult websites,” she enunciated clearly and a little too loud, still blushing fiercely, “Everything else is porn.”

“...oh,” said Grace, leaning back and pressing her lips into a thin line.

April’s mouth opened to ask for more details about those sites, then closed again as she thought better of it. She’d explore those thoroughly in her own time, assuming her phone was there as well. “Sarah earned some points,” she noted instead, “I wonder if she found a trope, or if it’s for... something else.”

Poppy perked up, lifting her head from Emma’s arm to pay full attention to the conversation. Emma watched her from the corner of her eye, but kept her own head down.

“Probably a bit early for ‘something else’,” Grace commented, a little awkwardly, “That’s not a bad amount of points though. I’ll have to ask them how they found it.”

Eleanor looked at the list again, and frowned as she noticed the other score that had changed. “You bought something!” she accused her roommate.

All eyes turned to Max, who swallowed a mouthful of mashed potato and smirked. “Just some fun stuff for tomorrow. Why? You upset I went shopping without you, princess? You know what kind of things are for sale, right?”

Eleanor blushed again, scowled, and got ready to fire a return salvo at the annoying punk.

“What did you buy?” Poppy asked, interrupting before the argument could start.

Max raised a pierced eyebrow. “You’re a weird kinda lesbian,” she said, pointing at the tiny woman with her fork, “I like it. I picked up a couple of magic potions and a couple of toys. I’ll let you know after if they work as advertised.”

“Oh, great. Even the ####s are joining forces to hop on the geek’s dick now,” Chrissy grumbled from the end of the table.

“I’m not a-” Max started angrily, then bit her tongue and expelled a frustrated sigh. She jabbed her fork towards the bully in emphasis. “You’re also weird, but not in the fun way. Stop saying shit like that, and maybe the rest of us won’t laugh too hard when Matt bends you over his knee at the end of the round.”

“Fuck off,” Chrissy growled, her face contorting into a snarl even as it flushed red from the incoming exasperation of a room full of people, “Like you’re any better.”

“Never said I was, but at least I haven’t been throwing slurs around,” she pointed out, “You gonna call me a ###### next, because I’m black? At least that one’s accurate.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“Oh? Well at least you’re not racist too, you bigoted little-”

“Alright, cool it you two!” Emma loudly demanded, finally looking up from her food and slamming a hand down on the table hard enough to make everyone’s cutlery rattle, “This isn’t helping anyone, and you’ll be lucky if it’s not making things worse,” she turned towards Eleanor and continued in a quieter and marginally calmer tone, “Did they lose any points for that?”

Eleanor flinched in surprise, too wrapped up in watching the drama to expect to be involved in it again, but sat up straight and tried her best to look composed and dignified as she checked her phone.

“No, no change,” she shook her head as she skimmed the scoreboard, but before she looked away it flickered and updated, “Oh my god. Sarah’s score just went up again.”

The announcement caught the attention of the entire room, even Max and Chrissy taking a break from scowling at each other, with varying degrees of interest focused on the news.

“Another trope?” Grace backed half a step away, not sounding convinced of her own guess.

“They must be back in the master suite by now,” April suggested, her cheeks faintly colouring and her ears pricking up.

“What do you think they’re doing?” came Poppy’s quiet but curious voice. Emma glanced at her cautiously, and wrapped a large arm around her tiny shoulders.

“Scarlet said it was only the first time doing something that counted, and they’ve been together for ten years,” the catgirl bit her lip, and her tail swished back and forth behind her, “It’s probably not anything vanilla.”

“Maybe he convinced her to do something he always wanted to,” Poppy nodded slowly in agreement.

“Or maybe she seduced him into something he never wanted to ask for before.”

“Can we please not have this conversation?” Grace said stiffly, her freckled skin going pale.

“Do you think she-?”

“Poppy,” Emma interrupted in a warning tone, giving her a gentle squeeze. The small woman blinked in surprise, then looked away.

“Thank you,” Grace gave a shaky sigh of relief and a nod of acknowledgement at the tall blonde, “Whatever they’re up to is private, and not something we should be talking about over dinner.”

“Sorry,” April said guiltily, looking down at her shoes. Inside her own head though, she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was happening with her pretty roommate and her husband.