A nice seal; Suction, even.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi, folks! Shame, here! I know this message might be long, but please read.

I just saw Obsession and it gave me so much inspiration, touching on many themes built into this story. It truly did inspire me. This is a warning. It did make me realize where I’m at with this story. I’ve given the characters too much characterization to just give them a laissez faire attitude about the whole mess. But continuing down the erotic nature of the changes while also giving the characters the space to really live with and experience them just feels like torturing people in a way that’s not very comfortable for me. It’s very uncomfortable, in fact, given that it’s coming from a story I initially started writing for masturbation. It’s a degree of discomfort that feels important to bring into the story to kind of deconstruct the sort of fantasy that got us to this point. Exploring how identity and sexuality are in the modern world by using the supernatural to disrupt the order.

Some of you—most, even—did not sign up for this. I didn’t even sign up for this lol! But I don’t really know how to lighten the mood in a way that leaves the characters the space to actually have reactions and consistent characterization. I could have the game alter their opinions about it, but come on! That’s just way too juicy not to also dissect, hold a mirror up to, and examine! I feel like Harem Hotel’s classic (and admittedly tempting) “emotional dampening field” would be a real cop out for a story like this and so late, but idunno. Are people more digging the deconstructive horror twist on the classic magical sex transformation board game trope? Or does anyone have any clue of what I can do to lighten the mood without destroying the emotional heart of the story? Leave your thoughts in the comments or messages because I’m really stumped lol.

TL;DR: No it’s not. You made it this far into the story, please read the author’s note. It’s a warning.

***

“How is she?”

The wailing from inside the car served as its own answer, only fading in their ears due to the screech of a landing jet. Cars honked, each trying to muscle their way into a spot to drop off their people at the gates of the airport. “No, she was doing so well! What happened?”

“A certain little whore made a post on Facebook.”

“What!? What did she say? Why isn’t she blocked?”

“A picture of herself with cum on her face playing a board game talking about how ‘some girls don’t know how to have fun.’ Got taken down, but not fast enough.”

“Are we sure it was—“

“It was his house and it was WAY too much cum to be anybody else’s.”

“I’m going to kill that bitch!”

“Yeah.”

“And that spineless asshole.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess I’m adding another thousand to my budget for the weekend just to help her forget.” The two women were cut off by the Uber their heartbroken friend was sitting in suddenly pulling away. “Hey! Hey! No! Where is she going?!”

“Probably to kill that bitch and spineless asshole.”

“But Costa Rica!”

“We got the insurance. I’ll get us an Uber and we’ll go back to your place so we can serve as alibis.”

“But… Costa Rican dick…”

“Come on.”

“But sex on the beach while having sex on the beach…”

***

Vera had been at Pittie Stop since she was eighteen years old as a way to help pay for college. In all that time, she never missed a day, never called in sick, and never once wore a smile when talking to a customer. She was lazy and unmotivated, always did the bare minimum and nothing more and that made her the most reliable high-performer, as she would get other people to go above and beyond for her while she did the things that actually mattered. She gave her boss attitude, she declined every single request to promote her, she made almost no money.

And despite all of that, she didn’t hate her job. She’d say she did, but she didn’t.

It was her favorite thing. Her only thing, really. It was simple and she was good at it. The changes were few and far between and usually only limited to what candy or drinks went on the shelves. The people were always the same, even the fresh faces never had anything new to say she hadn’t already heard before.

That was no longer the case.

According the Talia and Vera’s biographies, Vera applied to an agency to serve as a sexual wellness attendant to pay for college and was assigned to Talia. Vera spent her time curating pornography, grooming Talia’s body, procuring toys, condoms, lube, birth control, etc. for sexual encounters. Despite never actually engaging in sex with Talia, she was responsible for learning her preferences and was intimately familiar with Talia’s body. Vera was always present during every sexual encounter Talia had since eighteen to coach partners, bring water, and ensure no boundaries were crossed.

Vera had let Hank scour her biography while she checked her bank account. The total had gone substantially up. Her pay rate had remained the same, but she was now getting paid for twelve hours of work every day, plus the overtime on a lot of days. Her notes app was filled with condom inventories, lube supply, and detailed logs of how many times Talia had sex with Hank in a day as well as the times so that she could file overtime.

The last email in her inbox was a request from a woman named Robin Canterman from Joy Share Services Inc., whose logo now replaced the gas station logo on Vera’s polo.

Vera, I know you’re going to say no. Again. But we NEED a new case manager and trainer. Your experience would be vital and we both know you’re wasting your talents on service. It’s three times what you’re making now, it’s got benefits, you can even put “Chud” on your office’s name plate for all we care at this point. Your little act isn’t fooling anyone. Take the promotion. I’ve sent over the contract.

P.S. Please do not respond to this offer with the picture of the man spreading his anus wider than should be humanly possible. It wasn’t funny the first three times.

It seemed that she was too good at this job, too. Well, if I’ve apparently gotten away with it three times already, they probably won’t fire me for the fourth. She composed a reply, consisting only of a single attachment. It seemed her past self had a similar sense of humor, as the photo she selected was filed in a folder called Work and had its file name renamed from Goatse to Counter Offer.

“What are you doing?” Talia demanded, making damn sure not to mother Vera in any way. The girl got some sick pleasure out of it. Hank probably did, too—he had severe Mommy issues—but he at least clearly experienced some shame about it. He made her feel like she wasn’t going crazy. He behaved like this was an obviously fucked up thing that they were powerless to stop instead of a slightly amusing rollercoaster.

“Answering work emails.” Vera said, hitting send on her response. Cool as ice. “Apparently.” She set her phone down, looking at Talia. “Why, did you need a dildo or something?” Vera’s mind hadn’t been altered. At least, not in the way Talia’s had been.

Vera remembered working at the gas station, she remembered her whole past there. And she had no recollection of being a sex attendant. And yet, she seemed to just instinctively know things about her job.

Hank shook his head, pointing to the pages with an open hand. “According to this, she’s a dedicated slacker who’s better at her job than she lets on. It seems that might have carried over? Vera, do you know how to do your new job?”

Vera nodded apathetically. She was thrilled that her life had changed in some way, but her enthusiasm for her job hadn’t seemed to change at all. She had no memories of performing any of the tasks, but felt confident in her ability to quickly shave Talia’s body. And if her and Hank were to go at it, again, she knew she’d have to generously lubricate Talia, who felt absolutely no arousal from straight sex. Vera was hyper aware that she was currently on the clock, and where the nearest pack of condoms and bottle of lube was.

“Ok, fine, whatever.” Talia threw her own journal onto the table. “Can we get on with the next round, please?”

“Yeah.” Hank threw the book down, leaning forward to pick up challenge cards, only to be made acutely aware of how poor of a decision that was with his new… anatomical proportions.

At first it had been so subtle. He had been more focused on the pain from Talia’s slap to notice. But after sitting, it became obvious just how much testicle it took to produce 3.9 ounces of ejaculate. Admittedly, less than he would have expected. He assumed that his balls would have at least needed to have the volume of four fluid ounces in order to store four fluid ounces. He didn’t know all that much about how his testicles worked, granted. Not that it mattered. The magic likely had some hand in things anyway.

Each was about double their previous size, crowding up his boxer briefs and making it very difficult to find a comfortable sitting position. He had decided, after initially noticing, not to mention or draw attention to it. Talia didn’t need him fondling his balls any more than she needed Vera tugging her clit. But he most certainly was going to examine them when he got a free moment in private.

However, the testicles weren’t actually responsible for most of semen’s volume. He could feel more crowding inside his body than he could inside his pants. It was a deeply uncomfortable feeling. Perhaps if he knew more about his own anatomy, he would have some idea what had actually happened to him. But until he got some time to research, he just wouldn’t know.

Hank managed to snatch up three cards and passed them around, receiving an absent-minded “Thank you, dear,” from Talia. Her motherly urges weren’t exactly like compulsions. It was more like sticking a Q-tip in her ear: She knew she shouldn’t be doing it, knew she shouldn’t have started it, but the sensation of doing it stuck with her in a way that made it impossible not to stick the swab back in her ear and twist. At least with a Q-tip it would eventually wear down and she could throw it away and forget. But now, every person she saw was a Q-tip. And once she started mothering them—or rather mommying—it became harder to pull that Q-tip out of the ear.

Vera flipped her card over, eager to see what fucked up debauchery she was going to be tasked with. She probably wouldn’t do whatever was on the card—after all, she was trying to have as different a life as possible—but it was fun to see.

Challenge: Have Hank reciprocate the blowjob you gave him. You must orgasm. Fail or refuse and replace the tens place of your next number change with the number 9 before applying the change. You have two hours.

As funny as it would be to make Hank suck her clit like a cock, from what she could gather, she’d be getting +90 to her next number change. What could the game do to her with that? Change her hourly rate? The number of sexual partners she’d had? Her age? Perhaps it would have been best to do this one. The number change had given her the big clit, but the word change had given her the really interesting alteration. She figured she’d gun for those ones more than numbers

Hank’s challenge was an immediate refusal.

Challenge: Show each other player the statistic for how many times you have masturbated thinking about them. Fail or refuse, and add 1d6 to the value of next number change. You have three minutes.

“I refuse.” He said before anyone else could try and read it over his shoulder. The card zipped through his fingers and amiably discarded itself into the slit in the board. “It wanted…” He trailed off, allowing the implication to absolve him of suspicion. Without even knowing the true number, he knew the answer was more than was appropriate for friends. Once would have been too many. And it most certainly was not so low a number.

Talia accepted his vagueness, wishing to think about any sexual relationship between her and the other two players as little as possible. Which was going to be difficult with her current card.

Get your nipples sucked by another player for forty-five minutes. Refuse or fail and receive an upgrade to one of your existing detriments. You have three hours.

“Ugh!” She threw the card face up on the table for both of the other players to read. She couldn’t ask either of them or risk going backwards on her next move. They would need to decide themselves.

“Suck my dick, Hank.” Vera laughed, turning her card around so Hank could read.

“I…I’ve never—”

“It’s easy,” Vera laughed, beginning to unbutton her loose khakis. “I’m a sex attendant, I’ll coach you through it.” She dropped her bottoms and exposed her newly swelled organ.

A clitoris looked so much like a penis at this size, Hank thought. It’s heft drooped downwards, tugged back towards herself by the labial flesh that was now stretched forwards, shrouding her opening. It was twitching with the fury and excitement of a bucking Bronco.

Talia averted her gaze, but couldn’t help occasionally peeking at the grotesque and curious alteration to the female anatomy. “Ok, so, Hank sucks you, and you are… going to suck my nipples.” She had to fight away the question mark.

“I never agreed to that.” Vera shrugged. “You’ve been a massive bitch to me.”

Talia was momentarily stunned. Hank suddenly looking to the ground, unsure of what to do. He was always uncomfortable around arguments. He could never pick a side. “Because you’ve deserved it.” Talia shot back. “Our lives are being fundamentally ruined and you’re not taking it the least bit seriously!”

Vera laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever, Chud. You can have his mouth when I’m done.” Vera turned back to Hank. “Clock’s ticking, Hank.” She leaned back on the couch, spreading her legs apart.

“Fine, I need to make some food, anyway.” Talia stood up and made her way into the kitchen as Hank began slowly lowering himself off the couch.

This was the closest he’d ever been to a vagina in real life and despite the hardening in his pants, it did fill him with dread. Hank was twenty-seven years old. Having made it to such an age with his virginity, he’d have hoped his first time would be special. According to his biography, his first time was an extremely special, romantic event with Natalie Pierce in her bedroom. But he’d never get to really have that experience. Though aroused by its sight, Hank was also afraid. He’d built up the image and symbol of any part of the female anatomy so much that to be faced with it now was so much larger an idea.

“You’re a little scared, huh?” Vera giggled. Hank blushed, ashamed, and nodded. “Don’t worry. It’s breezy, baby.” She glided her head back and forth in exaggerated ‘chillaxing.’ “Step one: open your mouth.” Hank did as instructed, though his quivering lips fluctuated the degree of his compliance.

He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want things to go this way.he regretted even receiving the blowjob in the first place. To have something so intimate brushed past for the sake of game. But these were their lives they were playing with. He didn’t have a decision. Not really.

“Step two:” Vera’s sadistic expression suddenly shifted, head tilting as she recognized a look in Hank’s face. It wasn’t a look she’d ever seen herself, but had known herself to have made at a few points in her life. Now she was on the other side of it. She’d thought it would be empowering, being on this side of it. Thought she’d have finally understood why Dale and his associates did what they did.

If anything, this made her understand her past even less. How could anyone have enjoyed this? She didn’t feel powerful. She didn’t feel vindicated having put a man on his knees knowing he couldn’t say no.

“Relax.” She covered her feelings with a laugh, pressing her foot to his shoulder and pushing him away so she could raise her khaki’s back up. “God, did you think I was serious?” She continued laughing.

“I…I…” Hank fumbled for words. He had thought she was serious because she had been.

“No, fuck this game, dude.” She scoffed, throwing the card back on the table.

“Then why did you,” he wiped the traces of tears from his eyes before Vera could notice them. The endeavor made them even more noticeable. “Say all that to Talia? She didn’t deserve any of that.” It was his fault Talia was in this game to begin with, Vera too, for that matter. But Talia didn’t deserve to have her derserved anger rubbed in her face in the most infuriating of manners.

“Because she needed to hear it.” Vera shrugged. “You, too. Just like the game of Life, the game only lasts as long as we agree to play it.”

“No, the rules say we have to reach the end.” Hank pointed to the rulebook, closed on the floor.

Vera smiled at Hank’s naïveté. Some people, in spite of everything, just don’t have it in them to quit. “Sure, dude.” She nodded, standing up. “I’m gonna head out.”

Hank leapt to his feet, putting himself between Vera and the front door, frantic to stop her making the mistake of leaving. “No!” He latched the deadbolt, as if it would make any difference to Vera’s ability to leave on this side of the door. “Vera, if you’re not here, the game will play itself for you and it will get worse. You won’t be in control.

“I’m in control.” She winked, turning around and heading through the garage door, which Talia had already slipped through minutes earlier. Hank’s car was gone.