If I Knew My Hometown Would Get Sucked Into My Tabletop Homebrew, I Wouldn’t Have Made It So Horny

Lyeria bathed alone in her corner of the Etherrealm. She lay on her back in the warm pool, her long, wild dark hair floating around her curvy body as she drifted dreamily on its surface. She was daydreaming, of course; a frivolity for mortals, but vital and important work for the literal goddess of creativity and art. It wasn’t water she basked in, but the creative vision of all the beings in the universe capable of imagination; a sea of stories and songs, paintings and poetry, and visions of worlds that did not exist, and better versions of ones that did.

And then the knocking came.

She ignored it, at first. It was a distant irritant. Then it grew louder, and more insistent. As she stirred, writers across the universe lost their trains of thought, and musicians missed their next chords.

“Ly! Open up!” a man’s voice called.

Finally, it pierced through the fog of her divine duties. She blinked into awareness of her surroundings, her dreamlike state ending. She slowly floated upright, paddling over to the stone steps as she climbed out of the pool.

“What?!” she called out in the petulant voice of a teenager.

Actually, she was a few thousand years old, though in the halls of Etherrealm, that almost did make her a teeanger. She was a tan skinned woman who would appear to most humans to be in her early twenties, with huge teardrop breasts and a curvy posterior she’d inherited from her mother, long, strong legs and a slender build from her father, and black hair that wound all the way to her calves in shimmering waves like an inkwell that had tipped over.

“Oh good. You are paying attention,” the irritating voice of her half brother, Sostus, called.

“God, what do you want?” she grumbled quietly, then more loudly announced, “Coming!”

She lifted the bar on her door. Barring herself in here wasn’t a matter of modesty, as she proved when she swung it open without so much as a thought of putting any clothes on. She simply needed privacy in order to concentrate.

“Sup?” she greeted, amused by the way Sostus recoiled when the door opened.

The god of society and rules stood before; an impeccably neat man about her own age with spectacles pressed against his alabaster face, made of a gold that matched his slick hair. He wore an immaculate dark overcoat over a vest, with culottes on his skinny legs.

“Can you please put something on?” he asked, diverting his eyes.

Lyeria smiled.

“Why?” she asked. “Mom wouldn’t?”

“Your mother is a lust and love goddess,” he said, refusing to look at her. “Which is why you act like a slut.”

She gave him a good natured eyeroll, but materialized a bathrobe around her shoulders, tying it around her slender waist. It didn’t cover much. Her long legs and cleavage were very much on display. Sosus opened his eyes and looked at her with a mix of distaste and discomfort, which Lyeria responded by beaming at him.

Though the two shared a father, Arcton, the god of crafts and building, her mother had been the goddess of love and lusts while his was that of justice and order. The results were a stodgy, disciplined god of rules and a free spirited, absent minded manifestation of creativity. Their natures clashed gloriously, and she loved to torment him.

“So… what’s up?” she asked. “I was kinda working here.”

There was something in Sostus’ eyes that she didn’t care for at all; a rare glimmer of mirth. Something was amusing to him, and she had the sinking feeling it was coming at her expense.

“You’ve been summoned by the council of elders,” he said smugly.

“Oh… shit…” Lyeria whispered.

Instantly, she replaced the bathrobe with a tight fitting, low cut dress. She needed to look as serious as she was capable of if this was the case. Sostus had become the council’s toadie, so his appearance here wasn’t surprising. But young godlings like her were only summoned before it for two reasons. Either they were being promoted, or they’d seriously fucked something up.

“Any idea what it’s about?” she asked, following him out into the hall.

“I do as I’m told. I don’t ask questions about it.”

“Did you seriously just say that?”

As they stepped out from the temple Lyeria had built for herself into the skyworld that was Etherrealm, she realized someone was waiting for them. A curvy woman with gorgeous, though messy red hair, plump lips and dazzling violet eyes. She wore a tight, gold sequinned dress.

“Uh, hey Revvi,” she said to the goddess of merriment and libations, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m getting summoned too,” Revvi said. “I’m guessing we screwed up.”

That sounded about right. Revvi was Lyeria’s friend, sometimes lover, and constant companion. Goddess of imagination and booze made for good, if dangerous bedfellows. Though it could still be any number of mistakes they’d made together that led to whatever it was they’d been caught doing, now she could at least narrow them down.

“I’m guessing you don’t know any more than I do?” Lyeria asked as the trio stepped onto a cloud.

Revvi shook her head.

“It could be that time that we…”

“Shut. Up.” Lyeria interrupted. “Whatever we’re actually in trouble for, I don’t wanna let the hall monitor here know more than he has to.”

Sostus examined the two of them over his shoulder, and shook his head.

Lyeria crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

“Bitch, you are such a catastrophe.”

Revvi only grinned.

“You’re the one who gives me all my ideas.”

Her brother opened the gates of the grand hall for them. The two goddesses exchanged a glance, clasped hands in solidarity, and headed inside.

The interior of the grand hall could take many forms, and Lyeria had seen this one before. She and Revvi stood in a pit, overlooked by nearly two dozen thrones. They were the thrones of the elder gods; the most tenured deities in all the pantheon who made up its ruling body. The sight was actually reassuring. Only three of the seats were filled, which meant it wasn’t a meeting of the full council. She felt Revvi relax as well.

But relief was soon replaced by concern again as she noted which three were present.

Arcton sat on his cast iron throne, his hard bronze face looked down at her. He had a chiseled face, coarse dark hair and a bushy beard that she knew, from lived experience, bristled like a wire brush. His huge hands grasped the throne’s arms so tightly that his knuckles turned pale. Those were the things she loved most about her father; his big, strong hands, hard and calloused, yet so gently when they would lift her to his shoulder, or brush her hair.

“Hey, Daddy,” she said with a weak smile.

It softened his chiseled face, as it always had.

“Hello, darling,” her mother spoke up.

Desiree had a radiant, alluring smile that matched her radiant, alluring everything. An impossibly beautiful woman, she had shapely hips, long, perfect legs, and enormous breasts. Her hair flowed down around her, and it apparently amused her to wear it in a golden shade today, though she changed it frequently. She was, as ever, naked, and unconcerned with modesty. Insofar as Lyeria was aware, she’d never worn so much as a scrap of clothing in all her eternal existence.

“Hey Mom.”

The third figure was both one deity, and two; a statuesque man with rippling muscles and a curvy, beautiful woman with the same. They both shared a mane of flowing, beautiful white hair.

They were, collectively, Altus. Lyeria may have been the goddess of creativity, but Altus was the deity of creation itself. Both man and woman, both one and multiple. They stared down at her impassively, with expressions utterly unreadable to a mere godling. Lyeria recalled her father telling her that even the elders could never truly know what they were thinking.

The presence of both her parents and the literal progentator of all things told her beyond a doubt who was really in trouble here. Revvi squeezed her hand again, but this time it was a mix of support and sympathy rather than solidarity.

“Do you know why we have called you?” Altus asked.

They spoke completely in sync in a voice that was both authoritative and deeply eerie.

“Well, I’m pretty imaginative,” Lyeria tried cautiously, “but I’m a bit at a loss. Not gonna pretend I’m free of sin or whatever, but specifically?”

“Do you remember a night three years ago?” her father asked. “It was the night we celebrated the Etherrealm victory on Voxallah.”

She felt Revvi moving. Lyeria turned to find her bouncing with excitement.

“That was the night we discovered ‘rum’! It’s this amazing drink from… shit, where was it from?”

“Earth.” Altus said.

“That’s right! Earth! We drank like, 40 bottles. We were sooooo drunk.”

Lyeria vaguely remembered that. It was a tradition of theirs; Revvi would find some spirit unique to a mortal world and acquire a large number of different kinds. The two of them would share it, then drunkenly observe whatever world it had come from.

What stood out to her was the archive of knowledge they’d found. It was truly amazing. This “Earth” had managed to record, in writing, every story they’d ever written, a complete history of their world and encyclopedias in a sort of library they could visit anywhere in the world. They could even talk and share news on it. She had Revvi had become fascinated by this strange library, and gone exploring on it.

Then Lyeria’s eyes went wide.

“Oh shit! The God Books.”

Altus nodded.

This she did remember, even through the drunken haze of the evening. There was one part of the library with which they’d been especially fascinated; a sort of art gallery where the mortals could describe entire worlds of their own creation. They filled it with characters, created fictional gods for them to worship and described its nations and city states. They even included descriptions of magic spells and how they could be avoided, though Lyeria couldn’t pretend to understand all of it.

As a goddess of creativity, she was no stranger to the idea of fiction. But none of the creations in this library were made in service to any sort of story. It was as if they simply used it to pretend they were gods themselves.

That’s when she remembered. Her eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck me!” she said aloud. “I made a world based on that… that library we were looking at!”

Altus nodded, the ghost of a smile touching their faces.

“She remembers her folly,” they said. “Though it wasn’t a library. What you observed was a development the earthlings created called the ‘internet’. I won’t bore you with the details, but you took the young author’s work and made it real.”

“Oh fuck me…” she groaned.

Then she stopped to think.

“But wait… why am I in trouble? We create worlds all the time!” she said. “So I may have tied it to a mortal’s creations, but I’m a creativity goddess. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“We’re not angry at you for using your abilities, child,” her mother said with a soft giggle.

“Though I would hope you are in a more rational frame of mind when you start world building in the future,” Arcton said. “Creating new realms is no matter to be taken lightly.”

“Easy, Arcton,” Altus said with a raise of their hands. “I’ve certainly created when drunk in my time.”

Lyeria found that hard to imagine, but was grateful to hear it. Still…

“So if you’re not mad that I created the world, and you’re not mad that I did it drunk… what’s the problem exactly?”

“Nothing you did, my love,” Desiree said. “It was the world, or really the basis of the world that was the problem. The actual work of the author.”

“The author’s work contained an evil empire. One that was very destructive, abusive to its people and powerful. I imagine it was there for the heroes to do battle with it,” she explained. “But once you created the world and put it into motion, well… the heroes lost. Most of the characters he’s created that oppose the empire are dead, actually.”

“Oh… well, that sucks,” Lyeria said. “I don’t like bad guys winning. I”ll have to choose my material better next time, I guess.”

“It’s in danger of falling to the Netherrealm,” Altus said.

“Oh. Shit…” Lyeria said, suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation.

“At the moment, it is still a planet under your own dominion,” Altus said. “But it’s being eyed by gods of , tyranny and war for conquest. If either of those three takes over…”

“It fucks with our power balance in the universe. Got it,” Lyeria said, trying to suppress a slowly rising panic. “Well, that’s kinda… really, super bad. What the hell do I do about it? You said yourself that most of the heroes were dead. And it’s not like I can swoop down and fight it myself.”

“It is true. But as the creator, you hold dominion of the world,” Altus said.

Her eyes widened.

“Are you saying you want me to…”

She made a ball out of her hands, then mimicked an explosion.

“We will take that step if it’s necessary,” Altus said coolly.

It sent a chill up her spine. Maybe she created the world out of a work of fiction, but she did create it. It was full of mortals now, with lives and hopes. The thought of just erasing them…

“Is there any other way?” she asked, frowning. “I don’t wanna be a mass murderer if I can help it….”

“You should have considered that before setting up a world of your own,” Arcton scolded.

Desiree only giggled, crossing her shapely legs.

“Come on, you two. Quit torturing the girl,” she said. “We have a solution and you know it.”

Arcton looked at her, annoyed.

“I was trying to teach a lesson to my daughter.”

“You can’t interfere directly with the battle, but you can oversee it,” Altus explained.

“But with what troops?” Lyeria asked, exasperation boiling over. “The heroes. Are dead.”

“Oh, you can bring them back, dear,” Desiree said with a smile. “You just need to find a source for the souls…”

At that, Lyeria understood.

*****

“How many of these assholes are there?” Tommy asked, annoyed. “We’ve been at this for like, 2 hours and so far all we’ve got are orcs and menacing looks.”

“I mean, it is the Blight Empress Lynessa’s keep,” Wendy said. “You didn’t think they’d just let us walk in, did you?”

“I know, but like… damn,” Tommy complained. “How many more of these guys are left?”

“Unless you wanna use one of your combat actions on a perception check, I would recommend dealing with the guys in front of you,” Andy, the DM, reminded him.

Tommy, who was playing a female elven ranger, considered his actions.

“Alright, alright… I’m gonna use Time Dilation Cascade to shoot the guy in front of me with my first two strikes,” he said, indicating a piece on the hand drawn map in the middle of the Shirer’s dining room table.

He rolled to hit, criticaled, and then hit again. The orc knight charging him was dead.

“And I’ll do a stabby on this guy behind me with my remaining four.”

The human wizard behind him was already damaged, and the four attacks from the hunting knife finished her off.

“And that will end La’ziel’s turn,” Tommy said smugly.

“Hell yeah, bro!” their friend, Dean, playing an orc paladin named Brugo cried.

His own turn was next, and he used it to cut down two of his assailants before casting Lay on Hands with his final action to seriously damage it. They were making good progress, but it was clear the party was in trouble. An enemy army was descending on their flank, which would act as a hammer to the Vengefort’s anvil unless they could find a way inside of it.

“Wendy, I believe it’s your turn,” Andy said, turning the party’s lone girl. “You’re the closest to the advancing army.”

Wendy nodded.

“Are they into the valley yet?”

“As you look out, you can see that their vanguard is halfway through the valley. It looks mostly mounted, so they’ll be on you in another combat round.”

“Balls. Well, in that case, I’m going to unload my readied spell,” Wendy said. “Meteor Storm.”

She indicated the places on the map it would hit. Her sorceress cast it, flattening several rows of the advancing vanguard and rendering the terrain difficult. Still, it was just a stalling action.

“We still need to get in there,” Wendy complained.

She took a deep breath and turned to Martin, playing a gnome named Ribberick.

“Ribby. It’s time.”

Andy groaned. Ribberick, the gnomish inventor whose innovation was a suit of power armor, had been the bane of his work in this campaign; an unstoppable of shenanigans that stretched the rules book to its limits. And Martin knew just where the limits were.

“I’m going to hold my action,” Wendy said, “until it’s Ribby’s turn.”

“Oh, goddamnit. What clown shoes nonsense is this?” Andy groused.

“I’m going to throw Rona,” Martin said calmly. “Toward the gate, of course.”

Andy sighed.

“Roll athletics.”

He criticaled, naturally, and was able to throw her right next to her comrades. He used his next action turn to join her and end her turn.

“And now,” Wendy said, “I’m going to cast Passwall, heightened.”

“Clever,” Andy admitted. “I didn’t think you had that one.”

“Put it in my spellbook for just this purpose!” she said with a grin.

By the end of the next round, they were inside the castle, the gate re-sealed behind them. They were officially in the final dungeon.

“As you look around, you see… nobody,” Andy narrated. “You’re in a small courtyard. It looks like a sort of holding area between the outer gate and the inner castle. Maybe the sort that traders would be kept in until they could be searched. It’s empty at the moment though. Except you hear a husky, feminine voice call out to you. ‘Who enters the Blight Queen’s keep?’”

“Yeeeaaaah, gonna do a perception check on that one,” Tommy said.

Andy rolled for him. It was more than enough. Damn him.

“Looking up and around, you can see three figures moving in the shadows. You can’t see them super clearly, but you can tell they have a large number of arms, and long, snakelike appendages. You can also tell that their torsos are feminine. Extremely attractive with long hair, large breasts, full lips…”

“Goddamnit, Andy!” Wendy cried, her hands pounding on the table.

He blinked, suddenly taken out of his narration. He looked across the dining room table at his players. Dean, and Tommy stared at Wendy as she stood up slightly from the table.

“What?” He asked, exasperated.

Wendy was his oldest friend, but she had the classic redhead’s temper. It reflected in her eyes now, which bored into him as she stared him down.

“You know ‘what,’” she said. “I’m really sick of fighting your horny ass monsters.”

Not this again.

“They’re Mariliths, Wendy,” he said. “They’re supposed to be like that.”

“Well, not really,” Martin corrected. “Mariliths are generally more a martial order of demons. Pretty sure that’s why you made a trio of them the Blight Empress’ generals.”

Andy fought back his irritation. Did he always have to be such a stickler for the fucking rules?

“Are you saying that something can’t be beautiful and martial?”

“Every female creature, or monster, or warrior, or whatever that we fight has huge tits and a pretty face,” Wendy said. “I just get sick of you sexing up everything, that’s all.”

She had a point, of course; that’s what was so annoying about it. His games had gotten more and more adult oriented as he’d steadily evolved from the enthusiastic 12 year old DM he’d started as to the veteran 18 year old world builder he was today. And this world, his own homebrew, with its sexy sorceress queen, busty heroines and titillating monsters was his crowning achievement in barely-not-erotic fantasy.

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal, man,” Dean said. “I mean, Tommy and I are even kinda leaning into it.”

Tommy winked at Dean from across the table and blew him a comical, smacking kiss. Both guys were plenty straight, but their characters, a big, strong, orcish paladin and lithe sexy elven ranger, respectively, had become in-game lovers.

“Look, we don’t need to get into it,” Andy said, hoping to rescue the situation, “We-”

His mother approached the table then, carefully balancing a tray. One bore a selection of half sandwiches and homemade cookies, the other a couple cans of each player’s soda of choice.

“How’s the on the Vengefort going?” she asked, setting them in the middle of the table. “You guys find a way inside yet?”

Andy couldn’t help but smile. Rather than being horrified or even annoyed by Andy’s tabletop obsession, his mother Dana encouraged the hobby. Not even just encouraged; she seemed actively interested, listening to her son’s rants and even, occasionally, making story suggestions and sitting in to watch them play.

“Yeah!” Wendy said, brightening. “We were kinda stuck against the wall, but I cast Wish to get us in the door.”

“Hmm… little early for that, isn’t it?” Dana asked as she distributed the drinks.

Martin blushed as she handed him a can of Code Red Mountain Dew. He tended to blush a lot around her, a habit which Andy found incredibly obnoxious. Intellectually, Martin knew his mom was pretty, but that didn’t mean he appreciated his friends gawking at her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Shirer,” he said.

“Of course! Well… don’t let me interrupt,” she said.

“You wanna join us?” Tommy asked, with an enthusiasm Andy didn’t much care for. “We were just having a content debate about your son’s homebrew. Really interesting stuff.”

Andy had no desire to let his mother in on the conversation they were just having. He stared daggers at Tommy, who responded with one of his trademark shit eating grins.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said. “I’ve gotta call my daughter. She’s in town for a concert from that big client of hers...”

“I still can’t believe your sister works with Bekks Perotta,” Tommy said. “She was like, the top popstar in the country last year.”

“She’s so fucking hot,” Dean said, then looked abashed when he saw the withering look Dana gave him, “Sorry Mrs. S.”

“A hot mess, maybe,” Wendy said as she took her drink. “Thanks, Dana.”

“Well, you k1ds have fun,” Dana responded, retreating. “When you meet the Empress, give her my regards.”

“Dude,” Tommy said, “In absolutely all seriousness, your mom is cool as hell.”

“Yeah,” Andy said admiringly. “But hey, we have Generals to fight.”

“Hot generals!” Dean agreed, earning him a glare from Wendy.

Eventually, they did defeat them, though it took the rest of the session to do it. Afterward, his four friends, really the only ones he had, made their way out. His Mom was still on a phone call with Olivia, and he let her be. He had work to do anyway.

Back in his room, he opened his computer and fired up World Anvil. Playing in his homebrew world always put him in the mood to tinker with it more. He had a new idea for a character sheet; a level 18 human summoner. Normal enough, on the surface, but he wanted him to exclusively summon divine beauties; angels and valkyrie whose connection to him grew through their physical intimacy.

Wendy hadn’t been entirely correct when she’d pointed out sexualized his homebrew world was. She, nor anyone else in his party, had any idea just how horny it was. On top of the Blight Empress, his world’s busty, gorgeous big bad who had made a hobby of reducing heroes to buxom serving wenches and petrified furniture, his world was populated to bursting with beautiful heroines and busty monsters. In a moment of clarity, he realized that he was writing out his fetishes as much as he was a fantasy world. And, rather than dialing it back, he created an entire sexy pantheon to justify it all.

Yet despite his world’s inherent carnality, he’d begun taking it more and more seriously over the years. He developed dozens of nations, filled with cities, towns, gimmicks and economies. He created lore and an ongoing story that he felt was pretty good, all things considered. He tested it out with his friends, concealing its sexy nature as much as he could. He even frequently commissioned an artist to bring some of his favorite visions to life, and had spent enough money on her that it would likely have mortified his mother.

Having designed his character, Andy paired him with one of his favorite creations; a tiefling barbarian who was half succubus, thus forcing her to sexually feed in order to keep her strength up. Satisfied with his work, he powered his computer down, and headed downstairs to check on his mother.

And that’s when he began to pass out….