Winning a bet (Dark, TG, solo)

Do not make bets with Eldritch Entities… because they're sore losers. Oh, sure, it paid up… and now I have all the abilities of the character I designed last night, yep. I don't stay dead, I have two types of casting, I don't age, I can freely cast all my magic, and I'm immune to the super majority of status effects. I designed my character, skipping Regeneration and Invisibility, because permanent Invisibility sucks in real life and seriously, when was the last time I got injured in real life? I come back from the dead for the surprise car crash so I don't really need to worry about that, and an occasional healing spell will do for the bumps and scrapes. And while I'm just level one now, I'm on the fast track to power, so I can pick the other stuff up after I do some hunting and level up. Yep, it paid out…

…and then some.

I look down at myself where I'm sitting… and I can't even see my knees because of the large black fleshy orbs in the way. All four of them. They're covered by a stretchy shirt, technically. The oversized colored t-shirt I stole on the way out of what is obviously no longer my apartment: The current tenants’ screaming made it clear I apparently never existed now. And… oh, the tips are getting wet? Of course. It didn't just stop at making me look like a cow. Ugh. I'm at this scuzzy dive because they didn't check my ID, which is good because I don't have any, and the pasty white white guy that no longer exists looks nothing like the ‘fresh off the boat’ ultra-dark brown skin that coined the phrase ‘black'that I now have… but hey, at least the quintuplets get me free drinks. I don't get to pick them, and they come with ugly guys trying to pick me up, but…

… I pause, and frown at the empty glasses in front of me as the barkeep starts picking them up to clean them, “Ah, barkeep, how many of these things have I had?” Stupid voice. I sound like I'm trying to seduce the guy in a bad porno, when all I want is a simple answer.

“Eight beers, six shots, two Rum and Cokes, four Long Island iced teas, and three White Russians… since I took over an hour ago, and you were already here at that time. You haven't ordered a single thing, so I can't check your tab for a proper inventory. Still, I'm making a lot off of you tonight,” the man rubs a glass with a rag, “You have the highest **** tolerance I've ever seen, ma'am. Respect,” he salutes.

And I'm not even buzzed. Why? Ah, poison immunity, baked in with the Construct Immunities package. Of course. So this isn't going to help. But then, I suppose drinking away one's sorrows never does. I sigh, “Thank you. I guess I'll be going now,” I get up.

“Let me call you a cab, ma'am,” the man reaches for a phone behind the bar.

“I'm obviously not impaired,” I wave as I walk off. I can't afford a cab anyway, and have zero idea where I'm actually going to go.

“That's not why, ma'am…” his voice trails off as I exit the business. My rump isn't quite as outrageous as my chest, but it certainly puts on quite a show… especially as all I'm wearing is a too-big t-shirt. Nudity isn't technically illegal here and it's not like it's my body he's looking at, just something I was saddled with. Doesn't bother me, I understand why it renders him speechless: I would be lost for words as well. I do reach back to bring the shirt back down, though.

When I round a corner outside to find a nice unobserved alleyway to set up an Extradimensional Room (it's a talent from the Warp sphere: It makes a portal to a small featureless room that will last as long as I'm inside it, that I can bar once inside so I'm not disturbed while I think), I frown at the drunk following me, “I don't want company,” I turn to face him.

I recognize the guy from earlier tonight - he has some claw marks on his face. Mine, from when he didn't take a no, and a slap to the face wasn't quite enough for the muscle-bound doofus to get the hint. Which means… shit. I start to cast the one offensive spell I bothered to put on my sheet: Charm Person.

“Nigger bitches don't get to mouth off!” He shouts as he hits me… and I spy the glint of some very illegal brass knuckles as he connects with my face, the cracking bone breaking my concentration as the guy hits like a truck. A status HUD comes up in my vison: Four damage. He just took off a third of my hit points. Ugh.

I glance around… cornered… ugh, wrong alley… and focus on another spell: The Warp Sphere's basic use…

…to the same effect: “I said no getting smart!” He hits me again, this time breaking a rib, I think. I whimper in pain as he takes another big chunk of my health out. Five this time. Leaves me with two.

Another hit and I'm ****… “I give up…” I whimper, holding up my hands.

“That's right, bow to your betters, bitch…” he rips the t-shirt (the only thing to my name, and that was stolen) open, and pushes me up against a wall, fumbling with his pants.

I know what's next… ugh… I start to scream, and he just hits me again for two points… down to zero health. I start to see spots… I'm still awake, technically, but… oww… I whimper again.

He mashes the giant globes in front of me and cackles, “Hah! Just a big dumb cow…” and milk fountains from the taps, “Oh, and milked too? You got a baby at home, then? Figures a black whore would, hah!”

Why is this body responding to this? I don't want to feel warm and wet…

He keeps insulting me (but fortunately(?) lays off the fists) as he sticks it in between this body's legs and brings one of the tanks up to suck, “Ooh, some sweet milk you got here, black cow.”

He soon stops speaking coherently, just grunting as he pistons back and forth, this stupid body trying to make me enjoy getting ****. After what seems like an eternity… but was only fourteen thrusts, I counted… he tenses up and I feel something warm and wet fill this body's insides.

Then the human refuse speaks again, “Ooh, yeah, you're a good digger cow… but I can't have you whining to the police, so…” he hits me again, and it's lights out.