These Heroines Are So High Maintenance

Virgil Knightley

Copyright © 2025 by Virgil Knightley

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Virgil Knightley through his social media.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Chapter 16

17. Chapter 17

18. Chapter 18

19. Chapter 19

20. Chapter 20

21. Links to Follow

Chapter 1

The night air had a bite to it that I hadn’t expected. Early-September in rural Wisconsin wasn’t exactly tropical, mind you, but the temp had dropped faster than usual once the sun went down.

Still, that wasn’t a complaint. At least, not really. The cold kept me alert, and alert was exactly what I needed to be when standing in a cornfield at midnight waiting for interdimensional monsters to try and kill me.

Record scratch, freeze frame. Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got myself into this mess. Well, bear with me a bit longer. I’m getting there.

So—where were we? September. Cornfield. Wisconsin. Neglected farm plot with a cozy renovated house. We were just getting to my evening ritual.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, enjoying the satisfying crunch of dried cornstalks beneath my boots. My sword rested comfortably against my shoulder. The leather grip fit my palm like it was made for me, even though I’d scavenged it off a magically animated suit of armor and only owned the damn thing for a few months.

My armor clinked softly as I moved. Yes, this was real, honest-to-god plate armor, not the cosplay stuff you’d find at conventions. We’re talking real protection designed, presumably on another world somewhere, to keep pointy monster bits from penetrating my squishy human parts.

That sounded… worse than I intended.

You could hardly blame me for being rough with words, though, since I bought fifty acres of farmland with my lottery winnings—primarily to self-isolate. Fighting extradimensional horrors definitely wasn’t part of the ol’ early retirement plan. At least no one would think to look for me here, which was the whole point of buying property in the ass-end of nowhere Wisconsin. Particularly out in Beaumont territory, a hop, skip, and a jump away from Wapa Lake.

Being suddenly rich was supposed to be awesome. Turns out it mostly meant discovering how many family members you didn’t know you had, all of whom desperately needed loans for sudden illnesses, emergency home repairs, and business ventures. Chill, laid back, low pressure dude like me just isn’t made to deal with that bullshit. So, yes, I fucked off and went no contact with most of them.

The full moon overhead lent the humble fields a sort of understated regality even given how blatantly and intentionally I let them go. I could see clear across to the tree line a hundred yards away. The stars above tonight positively crowded the sky. It was way more stars than I’d ever seen during my late shifts at W-Mart stocking shelves and enduring the existential dread that came with retail work. Behind me, about a quarter mile back, sat my farmhouse, bearing witness to my shenanigans.

I allowed myself a yawn. “Come on already,” I muttered, my breath fogging in the cool air. “There’s leftover pizza on the kitchen counter calling daddy’s name.”

As if the universe had been waiting for me to bitch a bit, the air about twenty feet in front of me began to waver like the space above hot asphalt. The distortion intensified, spreading outward until it formed a vertical tear in reality—a jagged line of pulsing purple energy that widened into an oval large enough for something big to step through.

“Finally,” I grinned, swinging my sword down into a ready position. There’s something deeply satisfying about a monster showing up right when you’re getting bored. It’s like ordering takeout and having it arrive the second your stomach growls.

The ground trembled as something massive pushed its way through the rift. First came a gnarled, moss-covered hand the size of a trash can lid, followed by a bulbous head with beady yellow eyes set deep in a craggy face. The creature had to duck and turn sideways to fit through the portal, its skin a mottled greenish-gray like that container of Thai food I’d forgotten about in the back of my fridge last month. As the monster straightened to its full height—at least nine feet tall—I got a better look at what I was facing.

“Troll,” I said, recognizing it from previous encounters. “And you’re a big boy, aren’t you?”

The troll responded with a roar that landed somewhere between a bear’s growl and a steel dumpster being dragged across a gravel driveway. It pounded its chest with fists the size of chubby toddlers in the fetal position, then charged across the field toward me, each footstep leaving small craters in the dry earth. The thing was a lot faster than it had any right to be at its size.

I stood my ground until the last possible moment, then rolled to the side. The troll’s momentum carried it past me, giving me the perfect opportunity to slash at its hamstring. I took that opportunity. My sword bit deep, drawing a spray of foul-smelling green fluid that was gross enough to momentarily make me consider the merits of death by troll rather than bleeding the thing any more.

The troll howled and spun with surprising agility for something shaped like a refrigerator fucked a bear-gorilla and had a beautiful son they were both very proud of. It swung a massive arm that I barely ducked under, close enough that I felt the wind ruffle my hair. I countered with an upward strike that opened a gash across the creature’s belly, but watching the wound begin closing almost immediately made me sigh internally.

“Regeneration,” I muttered, backing up to reassess my options. “Trolls suck butt.”

Trolls were tough customers—strong, fast for their size, and able to heal quicker than my stepmom’s hypochondriac corgi when you opened the porch door and jingled his leash. Anyway, my best bet was to go for the troll’s head or heart, assuming this thing’s anatomy was similar to the others I’d faced. Or maybe I could just keep hacking away until it ran out of whatever magical bullshit fueled its healing factor.

The troll didn’t give me much time to workshop battle strategies. It charged again, this time feinting to the left before swinging from the right—a move I hadn’t seen from a troll before. The clever son of a gun caught me off guard, and a glancing blow sent me flying through the air. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs and probably rearrange a few internal organs.

“That smarts,” I wheezed, rolling to my feet with only minor groaning. “Could’ve been worse.”

The troll lumbered toward me, its posture suggesting it thought I was wounded enough to finish off—which was exactly what I wanted it to think. I slumped slightly and let the tip of my sword dip toward the ground like I could barely hold it up. When the troll was just a few feet away, I suddenly exploded into motion, diving between the creature’s legs like a baseball player sliding into home and slashing at its groin as I passed underneath.

The troll’s agonized bellow told me I’d struck a sensitive area. Turns out that no matter what dimension you’re from, getting slashed in the junk is universally unpleasant. Before it could turn around, I was on my feet and leaping onto its back, using the creature’s own belt as a foothold. I scrambled upward as the troll thrashed like a mechanical bull in lawsuit mode, somehow managing to grip a patch of coarse hair on its shoulder with one hand while bringing my sword around with the other. I drove the blade through the back of the creature’s neck with all my strength.

The blade emerged from the front of the troll’s throat in a spray of green that would’ve made the special effects team on a horror movie begin a slow clap. The monster went rigid, then began to teeter forward like a felled tree. I yanked my sword free and jumped clear just before the troll crashed face-first into the dirt.

For several seconds, I just stood there, sword at the ready, watching for any signs of movement or healing. When the troll remained motionless, I cautiously approached and nudged it with my boot. Nothing. But I knew better than to take chances with trolls. I’d seen too many movies where the monster gets back up for one final jump scare.

“Can’t be too careful with these things,” I muttered, gripping my sword with both hands.

With a single powerful swing, I severed the troll’s head from its body. The blade cut clean through the creature’s thick neck, sending the bulbous head rolling a few feet away. Not satisfied with just that, I knelt beside the body and drove my sword into the troll’s chest, carving out a section where I estimated the heart would be. A dark, pulsating organ about the size of a football came free, already beginning to crumble at the edges.

“First rule of troll-hunting,” I said, tossing the rapidly deteriorating organ aside. “Make absolutely sure they’re dead.” I hadn’t really come up with a second rule, but it would probably have to be something like ‘don’t talk about troll-hunting, because people will think you’re nuts.’

Already, the creature’s body was beginning to decay, its greenish skin turning ashen gray. By morning, there would be nothing left but a dark stain on the ground that might be mistaken for an oil leak—something that happened with all the monsters I’d killed.

As if on cue, a glowing blue rectangle appeared in the air in front of me—a translucent window of text that only I could see, floating there like the world’s most bizarre pop-up ad:

VICTORY! All monsters have been defeated.

XP Gained! Level Up! Level 15 achieved.

You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

“Yes,” I said, feeling simultaneously ridiculous and badass for talking to an invisible window. The display changed, splitting into two sections:

ALLOCATE YOUR SKILL POINT:

Shield Proficiency I : (You gain the ability to wield shields with confidence and grace)

Journeyman Fishing I : (Enables the option to catch magical fish that, once eaten, provide temporary stat boosts)

ALLOCATE YOUR ATTRIBUTE POINT:

Strength: 17

Dexterity: 15

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 10

Charisma: 9

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered to the empty field. “Fishing? What the hell am I going to do with that?”

I poked the air where “Shield Proficiency I” was displayed, feeling like I was picking the lesser of two useless freaking evils. I didn’t even have a shield at the moment, but that could always change. The text flashed once, then vanished with a tone.

Skill acquired: Shield Proficiency I

Next, please select an attribute to increase:

“Strength,” I said without hesitation, pointing at the corresponding line. I thought about upping my lowest stat, Charisma—but when I’d boosted it and Intelligence in the past, I never felt much different. Maybe it was a gear check thing, but I didn’t have much in the way of magical gear to choose from out here, so the physical domain was always my go-to.

The moment I made my selection, a warm sensation flowed through my body. It started concentrating in my arms, then spread to my chest, and eventually filled my entire core. It wasn’t painful by any means. It was more like the pleasant endorphin-filled burn after a good workout than anything else, but compressed into a few intense seconds. When the feeling subsided, I lifted my sword with less effort than before, as if it had suddenly lost a bit of its weight.

Attribute increased: Strength (Now 18)

Congratulations on reaching Level 15!

New skill and attribute points have been allocated.

The floating blue window vanished. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the new power coursing through my muscles. I lifted my platemail up and glanced down at the bit of my abs I managed to reveal, where a six-pack that had taken shape over the past few months now looked like it had been chiseled from marble. I made a movie superhero look like a pee-pee piss-piss boy.

“Nice,” I said with a grin, letting my breastplate drop back into place. “Beats the hell out of stocking shelves at W-Mart.”

I turned toward the farmhouse, eager to get inside and check my stats more thoroughly on the larger interface I could summon at will. Plus, that pizza was calling my name. But before I’d taken three steps, another distortion appeared in the air.

I froze. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The rifts always closed after dispensing a single enemy, and they never appeared twice in the same night. It was like ordering one pizza and having two delivery guys show up. Something was definitely wrong. Also, I was way too focused on pizza.

“What the hell?” I muttered, drawing my sword again and falling into a fighting stance that I’d half-remembered from a YouTube video on medieval combat. I glanced back over my shoulder at the spot where the troll’s portal had been, confirming it had indeed closed completely before turning back to face this new threat.

The new rift had the same purple energy as before, but there was something different about it. The color seemed more vibrant, the edges more defined, like someone had cranked up the contrast on a TV. I tensed, expecting something even worse than the troll to emerge—maybe a dragon or a demon or some unholy combination of the two.

What stepped through the portal, however, was not a monster.

It was a woman.

She couldn’t have been more than five-foot-nothing, with a busty but petite physique partially covered by what I could only describe as a platemail bikini. Actual metal armor shaped into a halter top and bottoms that left her midriff, arms, and legs mostly exposed, like she walked out of a horny Skyrim mod. Despite wearing armor that protected maybe 30% of her vital organs, she moved with the confident grace of someone who knew how to handle herself in a fight.

I towered over her diminutive frame at six-foot-three, but something about her presence made her seem anything but small. It was like watching a Chihuahua that thought it was a Great Dane.

Her hair was blonde, flowing down her back in an impressively chunky braid that reached her waist and looked thicker than my arm. Two thinner braids framed her face, hanging down on either side of her high cheekbones like decorative curtains. A golden tiara with a pale blue gemstone sat atop her head, reflecting the starry sky and glittering with each little movement. Her jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and her piercing blue eyes—the color of a great summer day—scanned the battlefield and landed quickly on yours truly, right in front of her.

What really caught my attention were her ears—delicate, pointed elven ears that peeked through her blonde hair like daggers. Their tips extended a good two inches beyond where human ears would end, giving her the unmistakable look of—well, someone who didn’t belong in rural Wisconsin, that’s for damn sure.

The woman stepped fully through the portal. It sealed itself behind her with a soft whoosh, like a door closing on another world. She looked around the field with an expression of mild disappointment, as if she’d booked a five-star hotel and been shown to a two-star room, then spotted the troll’s corpse and severed head. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she looked up—way up—at me.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying a distinctly posh accent that sounded like it belonged on a BBC period drama. “You’ve done away with the beast already? Well, that’s rather convenient.”

I lowered my sword slightly but didn’t sheathe it. For all I knew, this could be some kind of sexy angler monster trap. “Uh, yeah. Not my first troll.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose like they were trying to escape her forehead. “Indeed?”

She minced daintily over to the troll’s corpse, somehow managing to avoid every puddle of goo despite wearing metal boots with heels that would’ve sent most people face-first into the dirt. She gave the body a delicate poke with her toe, then hopped back with a little “eep!” when it twitched in a post-mortem spasm.

“Ahem,” she said, smoothing her expression and fluffing her braid as if no one had witnessed her momentary lapse in dignity. “Good work. These beasts are such a nuisance. Dreadful things. Always regenerating and leaking foul-smelling fluids on one’s favorite boots.”

She turned back to me with a bright smile and a theatrical flick of her wrist.

“Saves me the trouble, at any rate. I’d have had to burn these gloves afterward. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get troll ichor out of enchanted silk? Practically impossible.”

“Saves you...? Wait, who are you? And how did you come through that portal?” I asked, still not entirely convinced she wasn’t some kind of magical assassin sent to stab me with a dagger while I was distracted by her... very distracting everything.

“Oh, where are my manners?”

The woman swept into an elegant curtsy and somehow made the movement graceful even considering her revealing armor. “I am Elysia Silverleaf of the World of Antheria, Crown Princess of the Elfhaven Kingdom, Protector of the Sacred Grove, Wielder of the Starblade, and appointed First Maiden of the Hero’s Party.”

She straightened and flipped her braid over her shoulder with a practiced motion that sent it arcing through the air like a golden whip.

“You may address me as Princess Elysia. Or ‘Your Highness,’ if you’re feeling particularly reverent.”

She looked me up and down, her head tilting back to take in my full height like she was examining a particularly interesting tree. Her eyes lingered for a moment too long on my arms and chest in a way that made me suddenly very aware that I was quite sweaty underneath all the armor.

“My word, you are a large specimen. The human men of my realm do not grow to such... imposing sizes. Do all Earth males come in your dimensions, or are you considered excessive even by your world’s standards?”

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to process the fact that I was having a conversation with an elf princess in platemail lingerie in the middle of my cornfield at midnight. This was definitely not covered in the “What To Do With Your Lottery Winnings” VHS tape they made me watch.

“Right... I’m Josh. Josh Becker.” I managed, feeling like I should bow or something but settling for an awkward nod.

“Well met, Josh Becker,” Elysia said with a nod of her own that somehow managed to seem both gracious and condescending at the same time.

Then she looked around again, her perfect brow furrowing slightly. “This... this isn’t right. Where is the Tower of Convergence supposed to be? The prophecy clearly stated it would stand at the point of the Demon King’s crossing.”

“Tower of Convergence?” I echoed, feeling like I’d walked into a movie halfway through. “There’s no tower around here. Just my farmhouse back that way.”

I gestured over my shoulder toward the dark silhouette of my home against the starry sky.

Elysia’s frown deepened, creating a tiny crease between her eyebrows that somehow managed to be adorable. “How peculiar.”

She reached into a small pouch at her hip and pulled out what looked like a crystal that would’ve cost me a month’s salary in my pre-lottery days. It glowed blue as she muttered something under her breath, her eyes closed in concentration like she was trying to remember if she’d turned off the magical stove before leaving home. The crystal flashed brightly, then dimmed again. Elysia’s eyes flew open in shock.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she gasped. “This can’t be correct.”

“What is it?” I asked, finding myself curious. It’s hard to maintain proper suspicion when faced with someone who looks like they stepped out of a fantasy art calendar.

“This here is my chrono crystal—all Antherian members of the Hero’s Party have one. It has many functions, but at the moment it should confirm my arrival coordinates in both space and time,” she explained, looking increasingly distressed as she tapped it with a long nail. “According to this, I’ve arrived approximately twenty years before Black Lazarus is due to attempt his crossing.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“What year is it in your realm’s counting?”

“2025,” I replied, wondering if I should mention that we had a pandemic a few years back, just to give her the full Earth experience.

Elysia’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Her lower lip trembled. Then, to my surprise, she dramatically clutched her heart, let out a small “Oh!” of despair, and plopped down right there in the dirt like a marionette with cut strings.

“Twenty years!” she wailed, flopping backward onto the ground with the theatrical grace of someone who expected to be caught by an invisible fainting couch. “What am I supposed to do for twenty years?”

I watched, torn between amusement and concern, as the supposedly regal princess sprawled on her back, one arm flung across her forehead.

“Twenty years,” she repeated, her voice rising and falling in a perfect princess pout that belonged in a Disney movie. “Trapped on a primitive world with no proper bath houses—do you even have bath houses? No, don’t answer that, I can tell by your expression you don’t—no elven delicacies, no magical servants...”

She ticked off each missing luxury on her delicate fingers with increasing despair. “No enchanted wardrobes that dress you automatically, no singing birds to help me with my hair, no magical pedicures, no moonlight massages, no starlight facials, no fairy dust bubble baths...”

She suddenly sat up straight, brushing dirt from her armor with little disgusted flicks, then fixed me with an imperious stare. Her moment of despair seemed instantly forgotten, like it had never happened.

“You!” she declared, pointing a finger straight at my chest with the authority of someone who’d never been told ‘no’ in her life. “You shall provide me with shelter and sustenance until it is time for me to complete my mission. I hereby appoint you my royal... what’s the term? Ah yes, butler!”

I blinked, feeling like I’d just been hit with conversational whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Elysia said, rising to her feet and brushing dirt from her armor with delicate, impatient flicks of her wrists. “I require lodging. You appear to have vanquished multiple creatures from the rifts, which means you have some modicum of skill and knowledge. Your dwelling is near the portal location so it will suffice, albeit barely. I assume you have multiple bedrooms? And servants, of course. I’ll need at least three.”

“Hold on,” I said, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. “You can’t just show up and demand to stay at my house. That’s not how things work here.”

Elysia tilted her head, looking like a monkey that’d been shown a card trick. “Why ever not? I am a princess and the First Maiden of the Hero’s Party. It is an honor for you to host me. People in my kingdom would sacrifice livestock for such a privilege.”

“That might work wherever you’re from, but this is Earth. Wisconsin, specifically. And on Earth, we don’t just take in random people who walk out of portals, princess or not.”

“Oh?” Elysia crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, the metal boot making a little clink against the hard ground. “And what would you suggest I do instead? Sleep in this field? Among the troll remains? Perhaps fashion a little tent from leaves and sticks like some kind of forest goblin?” She started pouting.

I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated. I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. What was I really going to do, leave her out here? Hand her over to Area 51? Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have the space, the money, or the time to figure her situation out. Plus, I was curious about these portals and what she might know. Double-plus, saying no to those huge puppy-dog eyes felt like kicking a kitten.

“Fine,” I sighed, already mentally rearranging my life to accommodate a spoiled interdimensional princess. “You can stay tonight. We’ll figure out something more permanent tomorrow.”

Elysia’s face lit up with a triumphant smile that outshone the moon. “Excellent! I knew you’d see reason eventually. Most beings do, given enough time in my presence.”

“But,” I added firmly, holding up one finger, “my house, my rules. Got it?”

“We shall see,” Elysia replied with a glint in her eye that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“By the way,” I said, suddenly realizing something, “how are you speaking English? You’re from another dimension or whatever, right?”

Elysia’s expression brightened like I’d just asked the most interesting question in the world. “Ah! A sensible question at last. I possess the Gift of the Golden Tongue, a blessing bestowed upon all members of the Hero’s Party.”

“The Golden Tongue?” I repeated.

“It means my tongue is blessed,” she said with a hint of pride. “I can speak any language I encounter upon first hearing it. I can also do this—”

To my astonishment, Elysia pulled a small ribbon from her pouch, placed it in her mouth, and proceeded to twist, turn, and braid it using only her tongue. After a few seconds, she pulled out a perfectly braided ribbon, holding it up like a trophy.

“Impressed?” she asked, looking rather smug.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how attractive she was and trying not to imagine other applications for that particular talent. “Do you just carry a ribbon around for that specific purpose?”

“Anyway,” she replied, changing the subject, “now, shall we proceed to your dwelling? I’m positively famished after my inter-dimensional journey. I don’t suppose you have any moonberry tarts?”

“Uh. No.”

As we walked back toward the farmhouse, I couldn’t help but notice how Elysia’s confident stride gradually gave way to a sluggish trudge the further we went.

“Is something wrong?” I asked after watching her drag her feet for several seconds. Each step was becoming more laborious than the last.

“Walking is such a tedious activity,” she complained with a performative sigh, her pace slowing to a near crawl. “In Elfhaven, I would have a mount. Or a teleportation scroll. Or servants to carry me.” She cast a sidelong glance at me that was about as subtle as a sawed off shotgun. “Sometimes three servants at once. One for each leg and one for my back. For particularly long journeys, we rotate them every hour so they don’t get tired.”

She stopped walking entirely, lifting one foot and examining her boot with a mournful expression. “I believe I’m developing a blister. Princesses don’t get blisters, Josh Becker. It’s simply not done. It’s against the natural order of things, like cats and dogs living together.”

I snorted. “Well, none of those servant-mount-scroll things here. Just good old-fashioned walking. One foot in front of the other. It’s how us primitive Earth folk get around short distances.”

“How utterly barbaric,” she muttered. Then she stopped abruptly, looking up at me with eyes that somehow grew to twice their normal size, her lower lip quivering just enough to be noticed. I had to respect it. It was like watching a masterclass in manipulation. “Perhaps you could carry me? You’re certainly large enough, and your muscles look quite capable.” She gave my bicep an experimental poke with one finger. “Yes, definitely adequate for princess transportation. You probably wouldn’t even notice my weight. I’ve been told I’m as light as a summer breeze.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You want me to carry you?”

“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” Elysia said with a delicate shrug. “I am a princess, after all. In my realm, men dueled to the death for the honor of carrying my shopping parcels.”

“Yeah, I’m not carrying you,” I said firmly. “You’ve got two perfectly good legs. They brought you this far, they can take you the rest of the way.”

Elysia’s bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout that would’ve made a toddler say “tone it down a bit, sweety.”

“Please?” she added, her voice suddenly small and sweet, with just the right quaver of vulnerability. “My royal feet are extremely delicate. They’re insured for a thousand gold crowns each. Back home, I haven’t touched bare ground since my coronation. My subjects would weep to see their princess reduced to... walking.” She whispered the last word as if it were a shameful secret.

I tried to maintain my stern expression, but there was something about her ridiculous pout combined with those absurdly effective puppy-dog eyes that broke through my defenses at last. I sighed heavily, slumping my shoulders in defeat. I was pretty sure I’d just lost the first of many, many battles.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But just this once. This is not setting a precedent.”

Elysia’s face immediately brightened. It was the most rapid recovery I’d ever witnessed, barring maybe the corgi I mentioned earlier. “Excellent!” She clapped her hands with childlike glee, then struck a regal pose with one hand extended and her chin tilted upward. “I prefer to be carried in the traditional bridal style, if you don’t mind. The Royal Elfhaven Etiquette Manual, Volume Twelve, clearly states that princesses shall be transported with one arm supporting the shoulders and one beneath the knees. It’s much more dignified than—”

Without waiting for her to finish her lecture, I bent down, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She let out an indignant squawk that escalated into a squeal loud enough to wake any neighbors I thankfully didn’t have.

“SIR JOSH! This is NOT what I meant! This is HIGHLY undignified!” she protested, smacking my back ineffectually with her tiny fists. “The Royal Elfhaven Etiquette Manual specifically prohibits princesses from being carried in any position where their posterior is higher than their tiara! This is a Class Three Etiquette Violation! Put me down this instant!”

“My house, my rules,” I replied with a smirk she couldn’t see. “Besides, I don’t have a copy of your etiquette manual. Must’ve misplaced it between ‘Books I Never Owned’ and ‘Things I Don’t Give a Shit About.’”

Elysia huffed dramatically but stopped struggling. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re carrying me at all,” she conceded with reluctance. “Though I shall have to add an addendum to the manual when I return. ‘Beware the transportation customs of Earth barbarians. They handle royalty like sacks of grain.’”

After a moment of sulking, she seemed to make herself comfortable, propping her chin on her hand as she bounced along on my shoulder. She even started swinging her feet slightly.

“So, why exactly does a human like you venture out alone to battle creatures from other realms?” she asked. “It seems an unusual hobby.”

I glanced back at her, considering how much to share. “It’s a long story.”

“We have a torturously long walk ahead of us,” Elysia countered. “And I require distraction from this dreadful exercise in dignity loss.”

I sighed. “Fair enough. It’s actually a very short walk, so here’s the short version. I won something called the lottery a few months back.”

“Lottery?”

“It’s a game of chance. I got lucky and won a lot of money. Like, a lot of money.”

Elysia’s eyes lit up. “Ah, touched by the hand of fortune! In my realm, we have the Celestial Alignment ceremony where the stars bestow wealth upon the chosen few. Some spend their entire lives hoping to be selected by the heavens.” She patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Your system seems even more arbitrary.”

“Yeah, well, my celestial blessing brought every parasite and leech out of the woodwork,” I continued. “Family I hadn’t heard from in years suddenly needed ‘loans’. Friends I didn’t even know I had appeared with bullshit investment opportunities. My own brother tried to sue me for half of it, claiming we’d had some verbal agreement.”

“How dreadful,” Elysia said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “The burdens of sudden wealth are not unlike those of royalty. Everyone wants a piece of you.”

“So I disappeared,” I explained, adjusting her weight on my shoulder as I continued walking. “Changed my number, closed my accounts, moved everything to new ones, and bought this place between Wapa Lake and Millfield. No neighbors, no drama, just peace and quiet. It’s the one place no one would look for me.”

“Until the portals began appearing,” Elysia observed.

I nodded, ducking under a low-hanging tree branch. “First one opened about three months ago. I was outside at night, enjoying the stars, when this purple tear just appeared out of nowhere. Then this skeleton in a suit of armor steps through and tries to kill me.”

“A Reanimated Grunt,” Elysia guessed. Her voice was slightly bouncy from the rhythm of my stride. She squirmed a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position on my shoulder, but surprisingly didn’t complain further about her undignified transport. “Low-level fighters, usually. The Demon King must be sending monsters one at a time, hoping they’ll take territory, rendezvous with later arrivals, and lie in wait for his appearance.”

“Whatever it was, I managed to kill it with its own sword after finding out my rifle didn’t freaking work on it. After it died, the skeleton turned to dust, but the armor and sword remained. That’s how I got this gear,” I explained, and I tapped a pouch on my hip. “I got a hunting knife from a zombie archer the next night, but I broke his bow. And after that fight, this... interface appeared, with stats, levels, and skills, at first I thought I was having a psychotic break. Too much isolation, maybe?”

She shook her head, whipping her luxurious golden mane. “Not isolation. Not psychotic what-have-yous. It’s the System,” Elysia said, suddenly sounding much more alert. Her head popped up from behind my back so fast I’m surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “It manifested for you?” She smacked my shoulder excitedly. “Put me down! Put me down this instant! This changes everything!”

I stopped and carefully lowered her to the ground. Elysia lifted her chin to look at me.

“Wait—that’s right! If you can actually see the System interface…” she began, her eyes wide enough to reflect the entire night sky. “No, I must ask this first: Are any other humans on your world able to perceive it?”

I shook my head. “Not as far as I know. I tried to show it to a delivery guy once who brought me some packages. He thought I was crazy and practically threw the boxes at me before running back to his truck.”

Elysia’s eyes widened further, which I wouldn’t have thought physically possible without some kind of magic. “Fascinating! In my realm, only those chosen by fate and bloodline for the Hero’s Party can perceive the System directly. It is the mark of one destined for greatness.”

She studied me with newfound interest, like she was seeing me for the first time.

“This means you must be destined to be the missing champion due to join my party for the battle ahead! The System has selected you as a Champion of Earthrealm! This explains everything! Why here, why now, why you of all people—it’s starting to make sense!”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, raising my hands. “All I know is that starting a few months back, every several days—lately every single night—a portal opens, something nasty comes through, and I kill it.”

“Is that all you can share?” she asked.

“No, not really. I get experience points, I level up, I get stronger—all that shit. Recently they’ve gotten bigger and tougher, so I’m leveling almost every night, whereas before it was like once every few weeks. It’s all so weird, but it’s become kind of routine. Go out, kill monster, get slightly buffer, repeat.”

“There is no mere routine about it,” Elysia insisted, walking backward in front of me so she could maintain eye contact as I resumed walking. “You have been chosen, Josh Becker! The System does not manifest for just anyone. This is destiny! Fate! The universe has selected you!”

“You know,” I said, shaking my head at her enthusiasm, “with all the weird stuff that’s been happening around Wapa Lake since Countess Beaumont’s mom, Dracula, conquered southwestern Wisconsin a decade and some change back, I figured these portals were just another symptom of whatever supernatural mess she stirred up. The whole town’s been a hotbed for strange occurrences.”

Elysia stopped in her tracks so suddenly that I almost ran into her. Her eyes widened to a comical size. “Countess... Beaumont? A vampire noble has taken control of your region?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, half-vampire technically. The way people talk about it, it sounds like the original vampire demigod, Countess Dracula, took over Wapa Lake not far from here about seventeen years ago. About a decade back, her and her husband went MIA with all kinds of rumors, but their daughter rules their castle now.”

“How strange,” she gasped, eyes widening as she took it all in.

“It’s even stranger than that,” I confessed. “Technology in this region has more or less frozen because Anya—that’s Countess Beaumont—wants Wapa Lake and the surrounding areas, including here, to be exactly as her parents left it all when they return—whenever they return.”

Elysia paused and tapped her foot as she considered it. After chewing on the inside of her cheek, she spoke up with another more than fair question. “Do your generals and rulers do nothing to stop the Countess?”

I shrugged. “The federal government mostly leaves Countess Beaumont alone as long as she doesn’t expand the territory. It’s a whole thing.”

She looked at me with a scrunched up face, like she was trying to decide whether I was bullshitting her or not.

I went on. “So when portals started opening up on my property, it wasn’t THAT shocking.”

“Most fascinating,” Elysia murmured, studying me with interest. “Your realm is more complex than our seer predicted. This Countess may be an unexpected ally... or an additional complication.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with one delicate finger. “I shall have to consult the ancient texts when I return. If I return. Twenty years is an awfully long time to be stranded...”

We reached the farmhouse right about then. The porch light cast a warm glow over the wooden steps, making the place look cozy and inviting. To me, anyway. Elysia was eyeing it like it had already wronged her somehow.

“Well,” I said, gesturing to the house with a flourish, “welcome to my home.”

Elysia wrinkled her nose. “It’s... quaint. In a primitive, rustic sort of way. I suppose it has a certain charm, like a particularly well-appointed peasant dwelling.”

I rolled my eyes as I unlocked the door. “Just wait until you try the pizza.”

I led Elysia through the back door into my kitchen. It was clean but pretty bare—functional appliances, basic dinnerware, and a pizza box on the counter with three glorious slices left inside.

Elysia immediately zeroed in on the pizza box, her nose twitching like a rabbit’s. “What is that enticing aroma?”

“It’s pizza,” I replied, starting to remove my armor. The pauldrons came off first, followed by the chest plate. “Bread with tomato sauce, cheese, and pepperoni—that’s a kind of spiced meat sliced into little coins.”

Her eyes lit up more and more as I went on. “May I sample this... pizza?”

“Help yourself,” I said, gesturing to the box. “But first, tell me more about this Black Lazarus guy. Who is he, and what does he want with Earth?”

Elysia had already flipped open the pizza box and was examining its contents intensely. She poked at a slice gingerly, then picked it up and sniffed it. Finally, she took a small, tentative bite.

The transformation was immediate and almost hilarious. Her eyes bulged with disbelief. She froze mid-chew, then quickly devoured the rest of the bite like she was afraid someone might take it away from her. “By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she exclaimed, her voice taking on an awed quality. “This is... this is extraordinary!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” I agreed, continuing to remove my armor. “So, Black Lazarus?”

Elysia took another huge bite, speaking through her mouthful in a way that completely contradicted her royal bearing. “Yes, yes, the Demon King. Mmph—is there more of this divine creation?”

“Just what’s in the box,” I said, hiding a smile as I hung my chest plate on the armor stand I’d built in the corner of the kitchen. “You were saying about the Demon King?”

Elysia swallowed her bite and reluctantly set the pizza down, though she kept glancing at it like it might grow legs and escape if she didn’t keep an eye on it. “Black Lazarus is a powerful mage with aspirations to become the Demon King in control of my realm,” she explained, switching to what I’d come to think of as her official princess business voice. “According to prophecy, he seeks to use your world as a weapon against mine, and from there, conquer all kingdoms of Antheria.” She picked up the pizza again, taking another bite. “What do you call this red sauce? It’s magnificent!”

“Tomato sauce,” I answered, amused by how severely pizza had derailed her. “So these monsters coming through the portals—”

“Are his scouts,” Elysia confirmed, licking sauce from her fingers in a way that was cuter than it was sexy. “Testing the boundaries between worlds, searching for weak points. The fact that they’ve found their way here suggests this location is important.” She held up the pizza slice with a disbelieving look on her face. “Who created this masterpiece? They must be a culinary genius!”

“It’s just delivery pizza,” I said with a chuckle. “Worst chain of the big three, too, but they’re all that deliver out here. So you’re saying my farm is going to be ground zero for some kind of interdimensional demon invasion?”

“Probably, yes,” Elysia nodded, still fixated on the pizza. “Though not for approximately twenty years, according to my chrono crystal.” She took another bite, closing her eyes in bliss. “Are there other varieties of this ‘pizza’?”

“Dozens,” I said, finally removing the last piece of my armor. I was down to my sweat-dampened t-shirt and jeans, which felt like being naked after wearing a suit of metal.

Elysia paused mid-bite as her eyes took in my newly revealed physique. For a moment, she seemed to forget about the pizza, which I took as quite the compliment given how she’d been worshipping it seconds earlier. “I see the System has been quite beneficial to your physical development,” she observed as her cheeks reddened slightly.

I felt my own face warming. “Yeah, leveling up has its perks.”

An awkward silence fell between us before Elysia cleared her throat and turned her attention to removing her own armor. “Would you assist me? The back clasps are rather difficult to reach.”

“Uh, sure,” I said, moving behind her. My large hands worked carefully to undo the complex fastenings of her armor. As each piece came off, Elysia set it aside with considerably less care than I had shown my own gear. Princess or not, she’d clearly never had to repair her own equipment. Then again, I’d never repaired mine either.

When the last piece of armor was removed, she stood in what amounted to a backless form-fitting silk undergarment on top—something between a sports bra and a halter top—and what could only be described as brief silk shorts at the bottom. The outfit revealed a lot more of her toned, pale body than I had been prepared to see.

“Much better,” she sighed, stretching like a cat. She caught me averting my eyes out of respect—and uncertainty—and smiled mischievously. “Does my form discomfort you, Josh Becker? I assure you, this is standard attire beneath feminine battle armor in my kingdom.”

“Nope, all good,” I managed, relaxing when it was clear she wouldn’t hold gawking a little against me. “Are you, uh, still hungry? There’s more food in the fridge.”

“Perhaps later,” Elysia said, moving to sit at my small kitchen table. She reached down to unbuckle her heavy combat boots, revealing delicate feet that seemed almost too small and cute to support even her tiny frame. “For now, I’d like to learn more about you, Sir Josh. Particularly how you’ve managed to survive these rifts for so long.”

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and joined her at the table. “Like I said, they started small. Just one every few days at first. I’d go out, kill whatever came through, and go back to my uneventful life. But they’ve been getting more frequent and the things coming through have been getting tougher.”

“The barriers between realms are weakening,” Elysia said with a nod. “It will continue to worsen as Black Lazarus’s power grows.”

A blue icon began flashing in the corner of my vision—something that had started happening about a month ago whenever I was in a “safe zone” as the system called it.

I focused on the icon, and a larger interface appeared before me—visible only to my eyes, I’d discovered. It showed my stats, inventory, and various other game-like elements that had become increasingly detailed as I leveled up.

PLAYER: Josh Becker

LEVEL: 15

CLASS: Undetermined

SKILLS: Weapon Proficiency: Swords III, Weapon Proficiency: Knives II Battlefield Awareness II, Armor Proficiency: Plate II, Muscular Recovery Boost I, Basic Regeneration II, Infection Resistance I, Shield Proficiency I

QUESTS: Survive the Night (Ongoing); The Princess Comes (New)

“What are you looking at?” Elysia asked, noticing my distant gaze.

“My status screen,” I replied. “It’s like... a window that shows me information about myself and my abilities. Huh. There’s a quest about you in there now.”

Her blue eyes went big. “About me? Now that is quite interesting,” Elysia said, leaning forward eagerly. “May I ask what level you’ve achieved?”

“Just hit level fifteen tonight,” I answered.

“Level fifteen!” Elysia exclaimed, looking genuinely impressed. “With no formal training or party support? Most impressive, Josh Becker! From what I’ve heard, it takes most heroes of history at least a year into an arduous quest to reach level ten.”

I shrugged limply and tried to exude a chill “no big deal” vibe, but I was pretty pleased to get her praise. I never had any real baseline to compare my progress to until that moment. “I’ve just been figuring it out as I go,” I said.

“And what class did the System assign you?” she asked.

“It says ‘Undetermined’ still,” I admitted with a sigh. “I thought by now I’d get one for sure, but I guess I don’t know how it works.”

Elysia nodded thoughtfully. “That sometimes happens with those who have natural aptitude in multiple areas. Your class will manifest once your tendencies become more defined. When that happens, you will be able to allocate Attribute Points to Class Powers.”

That sounded interesting, but there was more time for that when it was relevant. I was more interested in the scantily clad babe herself. “What about you?” I asked, arching a brow. “What’s your... class?”

“I am a Spellblade,” Elysia said with pride, grinning wide. “It combines elements of arcane magic with martial prowess. It’s a rare class, even in Elfhaven.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what that meant in practical terms, but kind of impressed nonetheless since it sounded cool. “Sounds powerful.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Though I prefer to avoid combat when possible. Such a tedious business, fighting.” She yawned delicately. “Speaking of which, I find myself rather fatigued after my inter-dimensional journey. Might I trouble you for a place to rest?”

“Sure,” I said, rising from the table. “I’ve got spare bedrooms upstairs. You can take your pick.”

I led her upstairs, pointing out the bathroom along the way. When we reached the first spare bedroom—a simple room with a queen-sized bed, dresser, and not much else—Elysia walked in and turned in a slow circle, examining it.

“This is... marginally acceptable,” she declared. “Though it could use some decorative touches and objects of convenience, such as tapestries, a footwashing tub, or even a masseuse. I suppose taking your room is out of the question, assuming it’s bigger?”

“Definitely. And…a masseuse? As in, a person? I’ll put one on the shopping list,” I said dryly. “I guess that wraps things up. Let me know if you need help figuring out the shower or toilet.”

“I don’t need to shower unless I desire it,” she said, swishing her hand. “Magic keeps my body fragrant, clean and pure. “And I saw your chamber pot when we passed it by—I can work out the mechanics, I assure you.”

“Rad. Let me get you something to sleep in and wear around the house tomorrow morning.”

I returned a few minutes later with a t-shirt and sweatpants, handing them to Elysia, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“These will have to do for now,” I said. “We can get you proper clothes soon.”

Elysia held up the t-shirt, which had the logo of a beer brand on it. “How interesting,” she said, but didn’t sound entirely disapproving. She examined the sweatpants with considerably less enthusiasm. “What are these bulky garments?”

“Sweatpants,” I explained. “They’re comfortable. For sleeping.”

Elysia wrinkled her nose. “I think not,” she said, setting them aside but keeping hold of the t-shirt. “The entirety of me could get lost in a single pantleg. This will suffice. In Elfhaven, we sleep and lounge in minimal attire to allow the body to breathe.”

“Right,” I said, trying to process that more with my ears than my dick but failing. “Whatever works for you.”

She held the t-shirt up against her body, and I couldn’t help but smirk at how hilariously massive it looked compared to her petite frame. The shirt that fit me comfortably would be practically a dress on her.

“Your garments are sized for giants,” she observed with a small laugh. “Is everything in your realm oversized, or is it just you?”

“Bit of both,” I admitted with a smile. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest.”

I turned to leave, but Elysia’s voice stopped me at the door.

“Josh,” she said. Her voice had taken on the tone of someone who was about to make a begrudging concession. I turned back to find her looking at me with genuine gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you. For the shelter and for... well, for not leaving me out there to fend for myself. It was hospitable of you, and sure evidence that you are who I believe you to be.”

For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt something inside me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was something almost magnetic about her in that moment of vulnerability.

“Don’t mention it,” I said softly. “Get some rest, Princess. Something tells me we’ve got a lot to figure out tomorrow.”

She nodded and smiled for just a moment, but quickly neutralized her expression. “Goodnight, Josh Becker.”

“Sleep tight, Princess,” I replied, closing the door behind me.

As I walked to my own bedroom, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the absurdity of it all. Several months ago, my biggest concern had been making rent and dealing with my asshole manager at W-Mart. Then I’d won the lottery, bought this remote property to escape my toxic family, and somehow ended up in the middle of an interdimensional conflict.

And now there was an elven princess from another realm sleeping in my spare bedroom, wearing nothing but my oversized t-shirt and some skimpy fantasy world undies.

“Life’s gotten weird,” I muttered to myself. I showered first and then collapsed onto my own bed seconds after toweling off and putting on my own improvised PJs. But as I drifted off to sleep, I realized something surprising: for the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to tomorrow.

Chapter 2

I woke to overzealous birds chirping outside my window like they were getting graded on their tweet volume. For a blissful moment, I just lay there enjoying the peaceful morning. My brain was still in that foggy halfway home between dreams and reality at that point, but then memories of the previous night came in like a wave.

Portal. Troll. Bonus portal. Bratty blonde elven princess in a platemail bikini.

Right. And here we are.

I sat up and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Just past eight in the morning. Not an ungodly hour, but not exactly sleeping in either, at least not for me. I stretched, feeling some looseness in my muscles from last night’s monster mash. The troll tussle. The beastie battle, if you will.

Scanning over myself, the System-enhanced healing had already taken care of most of the would-be bruises, but I could still feel the ghost of where the troll had caught me with that glancing blow.

After pulling on a fresh t-shirt and jeans, I padded down the hallway barefoot, pausing briefly outside the guest room where Elysia was sleeping. I pressed my ear against the door, hearing nothing but silence from within. Part of me thought it’d be hilarious if she was snoring like crazy, but there was none of that.

I wondered if I should wake her, but there really was no immediate need. When I gave her the tour, she’d mentioned needing eight hours of rest at minimum and it had only been about seven since we’d turned in. Best to let Sleeping Beauty claim that beauty sleep quota. I doubted the fate of multiple dimensions hinged on her getting up before nine.

Then again, the fact that it hinged on her at all was kind of alarming.

Downstairs in the kitchen, I set about making breakfast. If the princess’s reaction to delivery pizza was any indication, Earth food was going to blow her mind. I decided on pancakes—simple enough that even my bachelor pad tried and true cooking skills could handle them, but fancy enough to impress someone who’d probably never seen ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Spray’.

I mixed the batter from scratch, using a recipe I’d memorized from countless Sunday mornings as a kid with my stepmom. On a whim, I folded in some blueberries I had in the freezer. Soon, the kitchen filled with the comforting smell of cooking pancakes and freshly brewed coffee. It was actually nice. I didn’t usually pull out all the stops for myself, but I had a guest. A part of me questioned why I felt so eager to impress the pointy-eared brat, but come on—we all know why.

I’d just finished stacking the last golden-brown pancake on a plate when I heard movement upstairs. There was a slight creak of a floorboard, then what sounded suspiciously like someone stubbing their toe and cursing in a language that definitely wasn’t English.

“Elysia?” I called up. “Breakfast is ready if you want to come down.”

A muffled groan was the only response, followed by what sounded like a pillow hitting a wall with considerable force.

“Not a morning person,” I muttered to myself. “At least we have that in common.”

After a few minutes with no sign of Her Royal Highness, I decided to check on her. Maybe she’d gotten lost in the cavernous expanse of my modest three-bedroom farmhouse. I made up a plate with a stack of pancakes, drizzled with real maple syrup and topped with a pat of melting butter. I grabbed a fork, a napkin, and headed upstairs.

I hesitated for a moment in front of her door, momentarily questioning all my life decisions. But then I knocked softly. “Elysia? You awake in there?”

“Enter, my subject,” came a groggy yet imperious voice from within. So help me, I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. I pushed the door open and nearly dropped the plate at the sight that greeted me.

In about two seconds I went from eye-rolling to jaw-dropping. Elysia was sprawled across the bed carelessly. To be clear, the borrowed t-shirt had ridden up to expose her silk undergarments, her smooth pale legs, and a taut stomach that showed clear signs of defined muscle beneath creamy skin. Her perfectly golden hair was down now, tousled in a way that was way sexier than it really should be. It was an effortless look that still probably took stylists hours to achieve before a photoshoot, made all the more intriguing by her sharp ears. She was propped up on pillows with a remote control clutched in one delicate hand like a scepter. She was watching the TV that sat on the dresser opposite the bed with the volume low.

I hadn’t even considered that she’d figure out how to use the television. I’d shown her where the bathroom was last night, but nothing else.

On the screen, Bugs Bunny was outsmarting Elmer Fudd, not exactly a novel scene in TV history. The rabbit’s Brooklyn accent filled the silence between us as he delivered another perfectly timed “What’s up, Doc?”

“Good morning,” I managed, trying to keep my eyes on her face and not on the expanse of leg, crotch, and tummy currently on display. It was like actively trying not to think about a busty pink gamer-girl unicorn elf. “I brought breakfast.”

Elysia’s eyes flicked from the TV to me, then to the plate in my hands. Her expression shifted from one face to the next as she caught up to just what was going on. “Excellent. You may serve me in bed.” She gestured vaguely at the nightstand like a queen instructing a peasant. “I require sustenance after my journey.”

“Right,” I said, fighting back another eye roll that would have probably sprained my sockets. I set the plate down, but instead of leaving, I leaned against the wall to watch her reaction to the cartoon. “I see you figured out the TV.”

“Is that what you call this magical viewing window?” Elysia asked, her eyes drawn back to the screen where Bugs was now dressed as a woman, leading a confused Elmer on a wild chase. “It’s quite remarkable. What manner of scrying allows you to see these bizarre little people?”

“They’re not real people,” I explained. “They’re animated drawings—cartoons. Made for entertainment.”

Elysia’s eyes widened in awe, her lips parting slightly. “You mean someone created these beings wholecloth? For mere amusement?” She shook her head in disbelief, biting her lip as she tried to process it. “We have nothing like this in Elfhaven. Our entertainment consists primarily of musical performances, dramatic readings, games of skill and luck, and combat exhibitions.” She tilted her head. “Why does the rabbit speak? And why does the bald man not simply use his dwarven rifle effectively? What a buffoon he is!”

I chuckled. “That’s kind of the whole point. Bugs, the bunny, always outsmarting Elmer, the man with the gun—that’s the whole joke.”

“Fascinating,” Elysia murmured, genuinely entranced by the talking rabbit’s antics. After watching for another moment, she seemed to remember the food. She picked up the plate and stared at the pancakes with open curiosity, then frowned at the fork like it was some alien artifact. “I am unfamiliar with this manner of eating utensil.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s a fork. You use it to—”

Elysia cut me off by opening her mouth wide and pointing to it while eyeing me expectantly.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” I said flatly.

Elysia just kept her mouth open. Her eyes said what her open mouth couldn’t: I am absolutely serious.

With a sigh from deep enough inside me to start in my toes, I took the plate and fork from her hands. “Fine. One bite. I’m just going to show you how this works. See?”

I cut off a piece of pancake, making sure to get some syrup and butter on it, and deliberately piled it high. I wasn’t about to be her personal servant, but I also wanted her first taste of pancakes to be a good one. I shoved the heaping forkful into her open mouth, watching with mildly sadistic satisfaction as her eyes bulged slightly at the unexpectedly large amount.

For a moment, Elysia seemed to gag as she struggled to close her mouth around the massive bite. Her cheeks chipmunked comically, but then her expression changed as she began to chew. Her eyes widened with delight. She made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a squeal. It was the kind of noise you typically needed to subscribe to an OnlyFans to hear.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she exclaimed after finally swallowing. With her next squeal, her voice reached a pitch that probably had dogs in the next county perking up their ears and wincing. “What divine creation is this? The sweet amber liquid, the soft yet substantive cake, the tiny blue gems of flavor exploding in my mouth! What culinary madness is—” She cut herself off as she snatched the plate back from my hands. “Give me that!”

Any pretense of regal dining etiquette vanished faster than a cooler full of Milwaukee’s Best at a frat party. Elysia began shoveling pancakes into her mouth at an alarming rate. Syrup dripped down her chin as she alternated between laughing at the cartoon antics on the TV and making curious noises around mouthfuls of pancake that for some reason had Josh Jr. reacting in my jeans in his own mysterious ways.

“These are called pancakes,” I said, unable to keep from chuckling at her open delight. “The amber liquid is maple syrup. The blue things are blueberries.”

“Pan-cakes,” Elysia repeated through a mouthful. “Cakes of the pan. Magnificent!” She suddenly burst out laughing at something on the screen, nearly choking on her food. She pointed excitedly at the TV with her fork. “The rabbit is wearing female attire yet again! And the bald man truly cannot tell the difference! Such brazen foolishness!”

I was much more entertained by watching Elysia than the cartoon on TV. There was something bizarrely charming about watching this supposedly regal princess sitting cross-legged on my guest bed, wearing my oversized t-shirt while simultaneously devouring pancakes and laughing uncontrollably at Looney Tunes. I mean, it was probably mainly because she was so hot it was actually almost offensive, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to myself.

“I was thinking,” I said when she’d calmed down slightly, “we should probably get you some clothes of your own if you’re sticking around for a bit. Even if you move on—”

“There will be no moving on,” she cut me off in a severe tone before shoving another bite of pancake in her mouth.

I ignored that and finished my thought. “Anyway, I might be able to find an express delivery service from the city, at least for some basics. Or we could drive into town later to get you stuff ourselves, but you can’t go in dressed like this.”

“Drive?” Elysia asked, licking syrup from her fingers in a way that was far more distracting than it had any right to be, especially after seeing what she could do using her tongue with that ribbon last night.

“Yeah, in my truck,” I explained as I tried to focus on the conversation and not the finger-licking goodness. “It’s a vehicle—a machine that moves people around. Like a carriage, but without horses or whatever you got in your world. It’s powered by—you know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s like a big metal box that goes vroom.”

Elysia just shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, Sir Josh,” she said absently just before her attention was drawn back to the TV where Wile E. Coyote was now plummeting off a cliff. After the crash, she asked, “How is he still alive?”

A few minutes later, she’d demolished the entire stack of pancakes. She handed the empty plate to me, then looked at me with surprising seriousness.

“I need you to leave the room for a moment,” she announced.

“Why?” I asked, confused by the abrupt shift.

Elysia looked slightly embarrassed, and I could spot a blush creeping up her cheeks in real time. “I need to... express my appreciation for the meal in a manner that would be undignified in company.”

“You... what?”

“I need to belch,” she admitted, fluttering her eyelashes shyly. “Rather badly. And while I’m not typically concerned with human etiquette, it seems gauche to do so directly in your face in such a small room.”

I fought back a laugh and nodded, smirking to myself. “Alright. I’ll step out. Let me know when you’re done expressing your appreciation.”

I closed the door behind me and leaned against the wall in the hallway with the empty plate in hand, grinning like an idiot. A few seconds later, I heard an impressive, sustained high-pitched belch from within the room. It was immediately followed by a delicate, prim, sing-song: “You may return now, Sir Josh.”

When I re-entered the room, I froze in the doorway. My brain temporarily lost connection with the rest of my body, you see, because in the brief time I’d been gone, Elysia had removed my t-shirt and was now standing in the middle of the room wearing only her silken undergarments—the same ones she’d worn beneath her armor the night before. And she was stretching.

Not casual, reach-for-the-sky stretching, but full-on, Olympic gymnast, contortionist-level stretching. She had one leg extended straight up, her knee nearly touching her ear as her body formed an almost perfect vertical split. All this while she remained standing on one leg like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Uh,” I said eloquently. My vocabulary was reduced to caveman grunts.

“Welcome back, Sir Josh,” Elysia said casually, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation. “I always perform my morning flexibility routine after breaking my fast.”

I knew I should probably look away or at least say something, anything at all, but I found myself rooted to the spot, watching as she flowed from one impressive pose to another with ease. Her lithe, tight body moved in a supernaturally fluid way, with muscles flexing subtly beneath her pale skin.

“Is everyone in your world so... comfortable with displaying their bodies to their butler?” I finally managed to ask. “Not that I’m your butler.”

Elysia paused mid-stretch, her leg still impossibly high, suddenly seeming to realize the effect she was having. A blush crept up her cheeks and spread to the tips of her pointed ears. “Oh! I apologize. I didn’t think...” She lowered her leg, looking genuinely embarrassed. “Among the royal court, I’m accustomed to stretching like this in the presence of courtiers and eunuchs. I suppose I didn’t consider that you are...” She trailed off suddenly as her blush only got more pronounced.

“That I’m what?” I prompted, unable to help myself.

“Well, the direct opposite of a eunuch,” she said, glancing briefly but pointedly downward before meeting my eyes again.

That was an odd way to phrase things. Whether or not one was a eunuch always seemed like a binary thing to me, with the only variable being if you had one, two, or the exceedingly rare but apparently possible three nuts. “And what exactly constitutes the opposite of a eunuch?” I asked.

“I suppose it’s not so much the largeness of your—well, I mean, not that I know for a fact, but I suspect—” She stopped herself, clearing her throat. “Never mind.”

An awkward silence fell between us. Elysia decided to resume her stretching, though with noticeably more modest movements now. It didn’t matter. Even the modest stretches were hot.

“You know,” I said in an attempt to change the subject to something else, “you’ve got a really impressive physique.”

Elysia barely glanced at me as she bent forward, touching her palms flat to the floor with her legs straight, a move that would have sent me to the emergency room if I’d attempted it before monsters started showing up almost every night. “Of course you admire my beauty and grace,” she said matter-of-factly. “I am an elf of natural elegance, a well-schooled princess, and a warrior trained since childhood. Even among my kind, I am renowned for my beauty and grace. The bards of Elfhaven have composed seventeen sonnets about my lower back dimples alone.”

“I’m sure they have,” I said dryly as she turned and bent over to show them off. My penis twitched once in my pants like a trapped eagle in a burlap sack that hadn’t yet accepted its fate. But I decided to turn the tables for a moment, just to test something. “You might be pretty, but it’s kind of offset by how tiny you are.”

Elysia stopped mid-stretch, slowly straightening up to stare at me as if I’d just suggested we cook and eat her pet unicorn—which she probably had at some point, for all I knew. “Excuse me? Are you criticizing my stature?” Her voice had dropped about twenty degrees in temperature.

“Not criticizing, per se,” I said, feigning casualness while mentally kicking myself for poking the proverbial bear. “Just pointing out that where I’m from, female models tend to be on the taller side. You’re not that. I could literally seat your ass right on my shoulder, I bet.”

The look she gave me could have melted steel beams. Jesus, if they had her on board one of those planes on 9-11, there wouldn’t be so many truthers out there to this day.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. If it matters, I personally prefer shorter women. Fun-sized, more cuddly and all that.”

Elysia’s expression immediately softened, and her posture relaxed like I’d hit some kind of reset button. “Well, that’s certainly wise of you,” she said, tossing her hair back with renewed confidence. “Daintiness is the essence of femininity, after all. And just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m not imposing.” She raised her chin proudly, which would have been quite regal if she wasn’t half naked. “It is more impressive to be small and strong than to be large and strong. Anyone can be powerful with size. It takes true skill to be mighty without it.”

“Can’t fault you there,” I agreed, marveling at how quickly she could bounce back from offense to self-assurance. It was like emotional whiplash watching her moods shift. And that was more or less what I’d suspected would be the case, and what I hoped to test by bringing this topic up.

This princess was really interesting. She was charming, for sure, and beautiful, without a doubt. She wasn’t dumb, but she was spoiled, and she seemed easily manipulated, too. She really would be helpless in this world if I abandoned her. I decided then and there that I’d at least keep her around as long as she wanted me. At the moment, that sounded like it was going to be a long time since she was convinced I was supposed to be her party member or whatever, but if half of ‘till death do us part’ marriages ended in divorce, I figured party members could call it quits on a dime too.

Elysia had moved on to a new set of stretches that involved her arms more than her legs, giving me a momentary reprieve from the more distracting poses—until I realized just how much her boobs were affected by the new motion. “These ‘pan-cakes,’” she said, “did you purchase them from a local merchant? Or perhaps summon them through some Earth magic?”

“No, I made them,” I replied. “From scratch, except for the syrup and butter. The blueberries were from my freezer.”

Elysia paused, looking genuinely impressed, her eyebrows lifting toward her hairline. “You prepared them yourself? You possess culinary abilities?” She breathed it out in a disbelieving rasp.

“Yeah, I’m pretty active in the kitchen,” I said with a modest shrug, inwardly adding ‘from this day forward’ to the sentence. “I’ve been living on my own for a while after all. If you count microwaveable and canned food, I’m pretty much a master chef. Not sure how good this diet is for my long term health, though.”

“I don’t know what these ‘canned’ or ‘microwaveable’ foods are,” Elysia said, “but you need not worry about longevity and health concerns.” She straightened up from her stretch, fixing me with a serious look. “People like us with access to the System are blessed with extended lifespans and superior health. In twenty years when we face the Demon King Black Lazarus together, you will likely look only a few years older at most. My other companions and I will not age even a day since we come from longer-lived peoples to begin with.”

I blinked, processing this new information like a computer with a super-loaded task manager on 1990s RAM. Apparently, I now had a super-long lifespan. And double-apparently, it was now my job to fight Black Lazarus alongside her. There was a lot to unpack there, but I decided to make like Elsa from Frozen and let it go for now.

“Good to know,” I croaked, filing that away for later consideration. “Anyway, I should probably head back downstairs. I’ve got dishes to wash and—”

“Wait! Don’t go!” Elysia cried out with a sudden urgency that startled me. She reached out as if to physically stop me from leaving, though she was across the room.

“What’s wrong now?” I asked with an arched brow. “Is Black Lazarus hiding in my kitchen?”

“I...” Elysia seemed to be thinking rapidly, maybe searching for a reason to keep me there. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on me. “My feet! They’re terribly sore from all that walking last night.”

I raised an eyebrow high enough to disappear into my hairline. “It was a pretty short walk. And I carried you most of the way. Over my shoulder.”

“Yes, but...” She pouted dramatically, jutting out her lower lip, “Portal travel is very taxing on one’s extremities. It’s a common side effect. The magical energies compress the... foot... bones. And stretch the... toe... also bones.”

“Uh-huh,” I said skeptically, not believing a word of this bullshit. “Hey, if you don’t want to be left alone, just say so.”

She furrowed her brows. “How dare you call me out so shamelessly?!”

I chuckled. “So what do you want me to do about those royal piggies? Run you a bath to soak them?”

“No,” Elysia said with a grin. Her expression brightened now that she realized I was humoring her after all. “A foot massage would be most helpful, Sir Josh, royal butler. It’s standard medical treatment for… Post-Portal-Travel Sore Foot Syndrome.”

“Ah, the ol’ PPTSFS,” I chuckled. But I hesitated, weighing my options. On the one hand, it was a bullshit excuse to keep me around and lord over me some more—and to get my hands on her, too, which was an intriguing little choice on her part.

On the other hand, I was also starting to realize that I didn’t actually mind catering to her anyway. I’d been alone for long enough that any female company beyond hooking up with random mildly unhinged pizza delivery girls was a welcome change.

Now, Josh Becker ain’t no simp, mind you, but I had been a bit touch-starved these last few months, and to be given any kind of female attention, let alone such positive and possibly flirty attention as Elysia was giving me, was practically an irresistible siren song.

There was also something refreshing about her complete lack of shame. She wanted what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it—or make up fake medical conditions to get it. A part of me wished all my exes were like that. Fuck yes, just tell me what you want. I’m not a mind reader, so spell it out for me. Well, that’s what Elysia was apparently born to do.

“Fine,” I sighed, giving in with all the resistance of wet tissue paper. “Sit on the bed.”

Elysia practically bounced onto the mattress with impish glee, arranging herself so she was propped up against the pillows like a queen on her throne. She extended her legs toward me, wiggling her toes in anticipation.

I sat cautiously at the foot of the bed and took one of her tiny feet in my large hands. Her skin was surprisingly soft, her foot small enough that I could almost completely envelop it in my grip. I was never a feet guy, but she had a frickin’ cute pair of feet. I began to knead an arch gently, watching her reaction.

“Mmmmm,” Elysia moaned as her eyes closed in pleasure, and her head tilted back against the pillows. “Ohhhhh yes, right there.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how intimate this was—her nearly naked on the bed, moaning as I massaged her foot, while rays of sunlight leaked through the window curtains, highlighting her frankly insane body and the lustrous shine of her golden hair. I adjusted my position slightly, trying to conceal a growing problem of my own.

“Ahhhhh,” she sighed as I worked my thumb into a particularly tense spot. “By the Silver-Bark Tree, that’s divine. Your hands should be registered as magical items of exceeding rarity. That fingers alone can elicit such pleasure in a body as perfect as mine is—nyah!—remarkable.”

I had to privately smirk at that remark.

After a few minutes of this treatment, Elysia had completely abandoned any pretense of watching the TV or doing anything at all other than luxuriate in my touch. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, and there was an expression of pure ecstasy on her face that made me proud of myself. And horny. Her closed eyes also gave me the opportunity to look at her more openly, which I did. My eyes traced the graceful curve of her narrow neck, the rise and fall of her impressive chest with each breath, and the taut plane of her stomach.

“You know,” Elysia sighed dreamily with eyes still closed, “you are the best butler I’ve ever had.”

“Is that so?” I asked, my hands pausing momentarily. “I never really agreed to be called your butler, you know.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, apparently not noticing my pause. “Whatever you are, you’re amazing. You can cook, massage, fight for me while I watch regally nearby—and you’re quite soothing for the eyes, if a little overlarge.”

“Thanks... I think,” I said, resuming the massage. I almost focused on the term “overlarge” too long when I realized that she’d basically just called me hot in the middle of that statement. Nice.

Elysia opened one eye, regarding me like a spoiled cat waiting for a treat. After a moment of confusion, I realized she was waiting for me to return a compliment or something like that. I considered saying something about her beauty, but that seemed too easy. When I called her pretty earlier, she just reacted like I’d stated something obvious.

“Thanks. You’re good company,” I said instead.

Both of Elysia’s eyes shot open, and to my alarm, they began to fill with globby tears. I immediately stopped the massage, jerking my hands back out of instinct.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked in bewilderment.

Elysia sat up, drawing her knees to her chest like she was trying to make herself smaller. “No one has ever said that to me before,” she whimpered quietly as a tear spilled down her cheek.

“That you’re good company?” I asked. I was still confused and slightly panicked by the out-of-nowhere waterworks. “I find that hard to believe. You’re literally a princess. People probably fall all over themselves to hang out with you.”

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Growing up in the royal court, I had few true friends. Most other children in the castle were kept away from me because I was the princess. The few companions I was allowed were children of nobles who only wanted proximity to the throne.” Her voice grew bitter as she continued. “I heard them once, talking when they thought I couldn’t hear. They said I was terrible company—demanding, spoiled, temperamental, lazy, and selfish.”

I felt a pang of sympathy hit me right in the chest. For all her brattiness, there was something vulnerable about her in this moment that tugged at me. Never mind the fact that I was pretty sure most of the nobles’ complaints were probably based on kernels of truth, I was also equally sure that they were results of her upbringing, too. Maybe… I could fix her.

“You must have had some friends,” I said as I took her foot back and she relaxed her posture again.

She shrugged limply, cocking her head and sighing. “The only people who have enjoyed being with me my whole life were the other two members of the Hero’s Party,” she continued, sniffling slightly. “My only true friends.”

“Tell me about them,” I prompted gently, genuinely curious now.

Elysia smiled. “No need. You’ll meet them yourself one day, but they’re in my realm for now.” She looked up at me, blinking away the last of her tears. “That’s all I wish to say on the matter. You’re all I have today.”

“Fair enough,” I said, not wanting to push and risk another mood swing. I stood up, angling my body carefully just in case Josh 2: Erectile Boogaloo was still at half mast. “I should take your dish and do some washing in the kitchen.”

“Wait,” Elysia called as I reached for the empty plate. “May I ask for one more favor?”

“Sure,” I said. “Within reason.” I was expecting another request for a massage or some other service.

“I’d like to accompany you,” she said, sliding off the bed. “I’m enjoying your company too.” A shy smile flitted across her face, there and gone so quickly I almost missed it.

“Oh, of course,” I said, arching a brow. “Why would you even need to ask to follow me downstairs?”

“Well, my feet are a bit sensitive now after being rubbed so thoroughly.” She looked up at me, back to full puppy-dog eyes once again. “Could I perhaps ride on your back?”

I stared at her for a moment, taking in the absurdity of the request. An otherworldly warrior princess was asking to be carried piggyback through my house because her feet were too sensitive after a massage she’d manipulated me into giving her in the first place.

I sighed deeply enough to pretend I wasn’t stoked. “Fine.”

Elysia’s face lit up with a smile so genuine it momentarily took my breath away, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. She grabbed my t-shirt from where she’d discarded it, pulling it over her head before standing on the bed so she could more easily reach my height.

“Ready!” she announced cheerfully, bouncing on the mattress in warning.

I turned my back to her, bracing myself for impact. She hopped onto me with surprising agility. Her slender arms wrapped around my neck, and her bare legs secured themselves around my waist. Her slight weight was barely noticeable at this point given all the points I put into strength thus far.

And yeah, her very soft boobs felt pretty nice.

“Onward, noble steed!” she proclaimed regally, pointing toward the door.

“Call me a steed again and I’m dumping you on the floor,” I warned.

“No, please don’t!”

As I carried the elven princess downstairs, she rested her chin on my shoulder, and I had to laugh a little under my breath at how quickly my life had changed. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been alone in this house. Now, I was quite possibly roommates for life with Galadriel’s hotter, tinier cousin.

Life had definitely gotten weird. But weird, it turned out, was a lot better than boring.

Chapter 3

Gently, I set Elysia down in the kitchen. Her feet touched the floor with a delicate tap, then took the initiative to hop onto the barstool at the kitchen counter—all by herself. Small victories.

“So what’s next?” she asked while watching me clean up our breakfast dishes. From the stool, her legs dangled several inches off the floor.

“Well, you can’t keep wearing my t-shirt,” I said, giving her a once-over. The shirt hung on her like a circus tent, the hem reaching past her knees. “We need to get you some proper clothes, and I’m not in the mood for online shopping.”

With her legs swinging back and forth, she asked, “Can’t you order the serfs attached to your land to buy them? Surely the Champion of Earthrealm has minions for such mundane tasks.”

I shook my head. “Surfs are for beaches, Princess. I could order some online, but delivery takes time out in the boonies. Even with express shipping, it would be tomorrow at the earliest if we’re lucky. I think our best bet is to drive into town and buy you some things.”

Elysia’s eyes lit up like sapphires. “A journey to a human settlement? How fascinating!” Her expression suddenly darkened. “But what about my ears? Won’t your people be alarmed by my elven heritage? I’ve heard humans can be quite xenophobic toward fairer species.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Those pointed ears were a dead giveaway that she wasn’t from around here—or from Earth at all. True, Wapa Lake had monsters next door to Millfield, but we weren’t in Wapa Lake, nor was she the sort of thing that goes bump in the night that people knew existed around there. I leaned against the counter and considered the problem.

“Good point. We’ll need to hide your ears somehow.”

The options ran through my mind. A wig wouldn’t work. Makeup wouldn’t hide the shape. Then it hit me.

“I’ve got an idea, but first, let’s find you something to wear besides my shirt.”

I led Elysia to my bedroom closet and started rifling through clothes. “Let’s see what I’ve got that might remotely fit you.”

“I doubt anything will,” Elysia said while sprawled dramatically across my bed with her arms stretched wide. “You’re built like an ogre gladiator, while I possess the delicate proportions of elven royalty.”

“Thanks for the comparison to an ogre,” I muttered. “I was actually hoping maybe the pizza girl I hooked up with last month might have left something behind, but no luck.”

“Hmm?” she said, her voice half an octave higher than usual. “You brought another woman to this dwelling?”

I looked over at her and cocked a brow and decided to tease her. “Yeah. Guess that’ll be awkward now with you here.”

She visibly tried not to pout, clearly not loving the idea of her butler spoiling another woman in any way. It probably wasn’t based on attraction so much as her own desire for attention, but I still relished the idea of making her jealous. “Hmph. Well, that will be impossible henceforth, I regret to inform you,” she said.

I chuckled. “I don’t know. I can be pretty charming when you get a couple beers in me.”

From the drawer, I pulled the smallest t-shirt I owned and a pair of athletic shorts with a drawstring. “Try these on. They’ll be huge, but at least they’ll stay up with the drawstring.”

The clothes were taken by Elysia and, without any warning or hesitation, she pulled my t-shirt over her head in one fluid motion.

“A little warning next time,” I grunted. And then, under my breath, I added, “I can only afford to get so erect.”

“Oh, please,” Elysia said with amusement in her voice. “I simply cannot adapt to how prudish you can be at the sight of your own party member’s body. My chambermaids were much less bashful than you.”

“Well, I have one too many extra limbs to be a chambermaid by most metrics,” I said, still taking in the sights nonetheless.

Her eyes briefly flitted downward. “That indeed appears to be true,” Elysia conceded in a sultrier tone than expected as she finished dressing. “In any case, I am now decent by your standards.”

Low standards, to be sure. Elysia was engulfed in my clothes. The t-shirt hung down to her knees, with sleeves well past her elbows, halfway to her wrists. Despite being cinched as tight as possible with the drawstring, the shorts still sagged around her waist.

“How do I look?” she asked as she struck a regal pose.

Laughter that I’d tried to keep inside burst from me uncontrollably. “You look absolutely ridiculous,” I said between chuckles. “But it’ll have to do until we get you real clothes.”

Elysia tried to look offended, puffing up like an angry kitten, but couldn’t maintain it. She beamed at me in the end. “I suppose the great House of Silverleaf has endured worse indignities. Though not many.”

“Now for your ears,” I said, leading her to the bathroom. “Maybe we can style your hair to cover them.”

For the next fifteen minutes, we tried various hairstyles in the bathroom mirror, with increasingly frustrating results. Every attempt to cover her pointed ears ended up looking suspicious or failed to conceal them entirely.

“This is hopeless,” I finally declared, pushing back from another failed attempt at an ear-concealing braid. “Let me think... wait, I’ve got an idea.”

I disappeared back into my bedroom and returned with a blue baseball cap emblazoned with the Milwaukee Brewers logo. “Try this.”

Elysia looked at the cap with an expression of disgust. “Peasant headgear? I think not.”

“It’s this or we don’t go,” I said firmly, holding my ground. “You can’t exactly walk around town with elf ears on display unless you want to end up in a government lab somewhere. It’s bad enough that you’re literally uncannily good-looking in a way that no human can possibly be.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Elysia took the cap and placed it on her head reluctantly. The moment it was on, she leaned toward the mirror, adjusting it to different angles, playing with how her hair fell around it.

“Hmm,” she murmured while turning her head side to side. “It’s actually... rakishly charming.” She took a deep breath in and smiled as her nose twitched slightly. “And it carries your scent. Quite pleasant, actually. Earthy, with notes of pine and masculine exertion.”

I blinked a few times, not quite sure how to respond to that particular observation. “Glad you approve. Not sure where you’re picking up the pine hints in my BO, but the cap completely hides your ears, at least, so we should be good to go.”

“Excellent,” she said, smirking smugly as she checked herself out in the mirror.

“Before we leave,” I said as we headed back downstairs, “we need to talk about how to behave around humans.”

Elysia rolled her eyes so dramatically I was worried they might fall out of her head. “I’ve interacted with countless species across many lands, including some with tentacles where their faces should be. I’m sure I can handle your simple human customs.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, “but there are some specific things to avoid. No calling me your servant. No demands or imperious commands. No mentioning other realms, elves, or your royal status. And try to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when asking for things.”

Elysia frowned as her delicate brows knitted together. “These rules seem unnecessarily restrictive.”

“They’re not unnecessary. They’re how people behave here,” I explained as patiently as I could. “Just try to follow my lead, okay?”

“Very well,” Elysia said with a reluctant nod. “I shall endeavor to blend in with your commoners. Though it goes against my very nature to pretend I am not superior in every way.”

I demonstrated how to ask for things politely, and Elysia practiced with such exaggerated formality that I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or genuinely trying.

“Would you be so graciously inclined, if it pleases you greatly, to pass the salt, good sir?” she asked with an elaborate curtsy that would have looked more appropriate in Queen Victoria’s court.

I sighed. “Maybe a little less... like that. But it’s a start.”

After a quick use of the bathroom, after which Elysia asked many questions about indoor plumbing, we were finally ready to leave. I led her out to where my truck was parked.

Elysia circled the vehicle suspiciously, poking the tires with her finger like they might bite her and peering through the windows with her nose pressed against the glass.

“Is it alive?” she asked, jumping back when I unlocked it with my key fob, causing the lights to flash.

“No, it’s a machine,” I explained.

“Much more impressive than my royal carriages,” Elysia declared while still eyeing it with a mix of suspicion and fascination. “Though less ornate. Where are the gold filigrees and gem-encrusted handles?”

“Not really a thing on pickup trucks,” I said, opening the passenger door for her.

Elysia stood looking up at the seat, which was clearly too high for her to climb into easily. Without asking, I put my hands on her waist and lifted her up. She weighed practically nothing to my enhanced strength, and I found myself momentarily surprised at the narrowness of her waist in my large hands. My fingers practically went all the way around.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding genuinely appreciative as she settled into the seat. “Most considerate of you, Sir Josh Becker.”

I closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel. After a series of eeps and shocked gasps at the various sounds my vehicle made when starting up, she settled down. The drive to town started with Elysia discovering every feature of the truck’s interior like she was on a scavenger hunt. She pressed all the buttons, adjusted the air vents in every possible direction, and nearly jumped out of her skin when I turned on the radio.

“Music from nowhere!” she exclaimed with eyes wide enough to match those weird toy dolls from the ‘90s. “How magnificent!”

“It’s coming from speakers—those little grates there,” I explained, pointing them out. “The sound is transmitted through radio waves—um, invisible energy that carries the music through the air.”

Elysia nodded as if this made perfect sense, though I was sure she had no idea what I was talking about.

As we pulled out onto the main road, Elysia clutched the dashboard dramatically. Her knuckles turned white. “By the Silver-Bark Tree! Such speed!”

I glanced at the speedometer. “We’re still way under the speed limit.”

“I knew that,” Elysia interrupted, straightening in her seat, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was merely... testing your reaction.”

The road to town was a straight shot through cornfields and farmland, the kind of monotonous scenery that makes you question your life choices when you drive through it often enough. After about ten minutes, I pointed ahead to a collection of buildings on the horizon.

“That’s Millfield up ahead. It’s a small town, but they should have everything we need.”

Elysia suddenly looked nervous as she fidgeted with the hem of her oversized shirt. “Will they detect that I’m not human? I’ve heard some mortals have surprising powers of perception.”

“No one’s going to think you’re an elf,” I assured her. “At worst, they’ll think you’re ‘from out of town,’ which is technically true. Just try not to mention your royal lineage or other dimensions, and you’ll be fine.”

“I shall practice looking completely normal and not at all like royalty from another dimension,” Elysia declared, arranging her face into what she clearly thought was a normal expression but which looked more like someone fighting back the urge to sneeze while trying to smile.

As we approached the town limits, Elysia grew quieter with her anxiety showing in the way she chewed on her lower lip. Without warning, she reached over and grabbed my hand where it rested on the gear shift. Her small hand felt warm against mine, and I was surprised by how natural the gesture felt.

“It will be fine,” I said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before returning mine to the steering wheel. “Just follow my lead.”

Millfield’s main street was exactly what you’d expect from a small Midwestern town—a few blocks of brick storefronts, angle parking, and American flags hanging from lampposts, and that’s about it. We drove past the post office, a hardware store, a small grocery, and the town’s only restaurant, Dot’s Diner.

Elysia pressed her face against the window like an excited child on their first road trip, pointing at everything. “What are those magnificent light orbs?” she asked, indicating a traffic light.

“Traffic signals,” I explained. “They tell drivers when to stop and when to go.”

“And those flat gray paths alongside the road?”

“Sidewalks. For walking. On the side of the road.”

“Fascinating!” she exclaimed. “Your realm has such clever conveniences!”

As we cruised slowly down Main Street, I noticed several townspeople noticing us. Mrs. Peterson from the post office waved at me cautiously. The elderly men who perpetually occupied the bench outside the barber shop paused their conversation to stare. I waved awkwardly, suddenly aware of how odd we must look—me, the reclusive lottery winner who never brought anyone to town, with a tiny woman wearing oversized men’s clothes and my baseball cap.

“Why are they all staring?” Elysia whispered as she shrank back from the window.

“Small town,” I explained. “Everyone knows everyone, and they all notice newcomers. Plus, I don’t usually bring people with me, but I’m too terrified to drive you two hours to a bigger place.”

“Am I the first female you’ve brought to your village?” Elysia asked with a weirdly suspicious hiss in her voice. “You’d better say yes.”

“Kind of,” I admitted. “I usually bring them back to my place rather than take them here.” The silence immediately following that felt somehow violent.

We parked outside Mae’s Boutique, the town’s only clothing store. As before, I had to help Elysia out of the truck, my hands easily spanning her waist again as I lifted her down.

“Thank you,” she said while straightening her cap carefully. She took a deep breath, squaring her tiny shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. “I am prepared to encounter your human shopkeepers.”

The bell above the door jingled as we entered. Mae’s Boutique was a small but well-stocked store with clothing for men, women, and children. Mae Wilson, the elderly proprietor, looked up from the counter and did a double-take when she saw me.

“Well now, Josh Becker!” she exclaimed, coming around the counter with the speed of someone half her age. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d bring a lady friend to town!”

I felt myself blushing. “She’s not my—I mean, we’re not—”

“I am his new roommate,” Elysia interjected, beaming smugly at being called my “lady friend,” probably relishing how annoyed it made me.

Mae’s eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. “Roommate? Well, isn’t that modern.” She turned to Elysia with a warm smile that didn’t do much to hide her curiosity. “And what’s your name, dear?”

“I am Pri—” Elysia caught herself with her eyes widening slightly. “I am Elysia.”

“Lovely name,” Mae said. “What can I help you with today?”

“Elysia needs... well, everything,” I explained. “She’s staying with me for a while, and her luggage was lost.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Mae exclaimed. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Before I could say anything else, Elysia had wandered off, drawn to a display of colorful fabrics like a mosquito to a fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt. She stretched a pair of leggings between her hands, fascinated by their elasticity.

“Is this some form of rubber? How marvelous!” she exclaimed.

Mae watched with amusement. “She’s not from around here, is she?”

“You could say that,” I agreed, keeping my voice low. “She’s from... overseas. Very different culture.”

Elysia had moved on to feeling different fabrics, rubbing them between her fingers with great concentration. “This blend is quite remarkable,” she declared. “Superior to elven silk—” She caught herself with eyes darting to me in panic. “I mean, uh, foreign silk!”

“Let me show you our women’s section,” Mae said, leading Elysia toward the back of the store. “We should start with some basics—jeans, tops, underwear...”

To my surprise, Elysia walked right past the practical clothing and made a beeline for the sleepwear section. She immediately began selecting the skimpiest, silkiest pajama sets in sight.

“These are perfect,” she declared while holding up a lavender camisole and shorts set that left very little to the imagination.

“Don’t you want to look at some regular clothes first?” I suggested. “You know, for going out in public?”

Elysia shook her head firmly. “If I must endure a prolonged stay in this savage world, I shall do so in comfort and beauty,” she insisted. “Comfort is the highest priority for displaced roy—for people like me!”

“Royalty?” Mae asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a joke,” I said quickly. “She, uh, comes from money. Always jokes about being treated like a princess.”

“I see,” Mae said, clearly not entirely convinced. She turned to help Elysia find the right sizes. “My goodness, you’re tiny! I’m not sure I have much that will fit you properly.”

Elysia straightened proudly with her chin lifting. “Daintiness is the essence of femininity,” she declared. Pretty sure she used that line on me at least once already, and I was starting to suspect I was going to need to get used to hearing it regularly for the next twenty years.

Soon, Elysia had accumulated a pile of pajamas, nightgowns, and loungewear, all in silky fabrics and most of them more appropriate for a honeymoon than everyday wear. Mae directed her to the dressing room with an armful of items.

Not five minutes later, I heard Elysia’s voice ring out, “Josh Becker! I require your assistance immediately!”

Mae gave me a knowing wink as I reluctantly approached the dressing room. “She’s a demanding little minx, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

I knocked on the dressing room door. “What’s wrong?”

“This contraption has defeated me,” Elysia called back. “Enter and assist!”

I hesitantly pushed the door open to find Elysia standing there in just her silk undergarments, holding a twisted nightgown in her hands. She was completely unconcerned about her state of undress, as usual.

This time, she didn’t comment at first when I deliberately looked away out of habit. But she seemed to take notice when I started peeking a bit more obviously. “Honestly, you can look. If it’s you, I don’t mind.”

“Too tempting,” I pointed out. “Not the best idea, trust me.”

“I’m wearing more than I do in the royal baths,” she said matter-of-factly. “Now help me with this. The arm holes have somehow merged with the neck hole.”

I controlled my gaze as much as possible while helping untangle the nightgown. As I held it out for her to step into, my fingers accidentally brushed against the smooth skin of her naked back.

“Apologies,” I muttered.

“For what?” Elysia asked, sounding genuinely confused.

I didn’t answer, I just took internal notes about her reaction. I focused on helping her straighten the garment without any further skin contact for now. It was nearly impossible in the small space, and we ended up in several almost-compromising positions before the nightgown was properly in place.

“There,” I said, stepping back quickly. “All fixed.”

Elysia admired herself in the mirror. “Quite lovely,” she declared. “The fabric is acceptable.”

I took the opportunity to escape the dressing room. After trying on several more items, Elysia emerged with a stack of approved pajamas and nightwear. “These will do,” she announced. “Now I require appropriate undergarments.”

Before I could protest, Mae was leading us to the very limited lingerie section. “We don’t have a huge selection, but I’m sure we can find something suitable,” she said.

Elysia was enchanted by the variety available. She held up increasingly revealing items, examining them with open curiosity like a scientist studying specimens from an alien world.

“Josh Becker!” she called loudly while holding up a lacy red bra. “Would this contraption be suitable for daily wear?”

I was acutely aware of the other shoppers turning to stare. “Maybe pick something more… not that,” I suggested quietly.

Elysia moved through the selection, picking up and examining everything. She suddenly held up a pair of crotchless panties with her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Josh Becker, this garment appears defective,” she announced at full volume, drawing even more stares. “It’s missing the central portion!”

I felt my face burn as an elderly couple nearby turned to look in shock. “Those are... uh... special occasion undergarments,” I managed to say in a strained whisper.

“What occasion would necessitate a hole in one’s underwear?” Elysia asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I’ll explain later,” I hissed, taking the garment from her hand and putting it back on the rack.

Elysia continued browsing, holding up various skimpy items for inspection. “Which of these do you prefer?” she asked innocently. “Since you will be the one seeing me in them most often.”

The elderly couple nearby gasped audibly. The woman clutched her husband’s arm, and they quickly moved to another section of the store.

“We’re roommates!” I called after them desperately. “Just roommates!”

This somehow made the situation worse, as the couple hurried away with scandalized expressions.

After selecting several sets of underwear (all thankfully with the “central portion” intact), Elysia announced that she wanted to wear her new pajamas immediately.

“I can’t bear these oversized garments a moment longer,” she declared. “The cloth chafes my sensitive skin.”

I paid for a silky lavender camisole and shorts set while Elysia changed in the dressing room. When she emerged, I found myself staring a bit too long. The pajamas fit her perfectly, highlighting her petite but athletic frame. With my baseball cap still perched on her head, she looked adorably incongruous—ready for both bed and a ball game.

“Much better,” she declared while twirling in place. “These garments are worthy of my station.”

“You can’t wear pajamas in public,” I pointed out.

“Why not?” Elysia challenged. “They cover all the necessary areas.”

“It’s just not... customary,” I explained lamely.

Elysia shrugged. “How limiting! Earth customs are so restrictive!”

While Elysia was distracted by a display of fuzzy slippers, I quickly selected some practical items—jeans that seemed to be in her size, t-shirts, a light jacket, and weather-appropriate clothes. I also grabbed a sturdy leather jacket and boots that could work as makeshift armor for fighting monsters in the event that her platemail bikini getup wasn’t an option at some point.

Mae rang these up separately, leaning in to whisper, “Smart man. She’ll thank you later.”

When Elysia questioned the extra bags, I explained they were “monster-fighting fashion.”

“Just in case you want to help me in the fields someday,” I added.

She seemed doubtful, but accepted my explanation. “I suppose a warrior princess should have appropriate battle attire, even if it lacks proper ornamentation.”

By now it was early afternoon, and my stomach was growling loud enough to be heard in the next county. “How about some lunch?” I suggested. “There’s a diner across the street.”

Elysia’s eyes lit up. “More Earth food? Yes, please!” she said, actually remembering to use “please” without prompting.

We made our way to Dot’s Diner next. The diner was busy with the lunch crowd, and conversations noticeably quieted as we entered, like someone had hit the mute button on the room.

Dot, the diner owner and namesake, seated us at the bar counter with raised eyebrows. “Haven’t seen you in town for a while, Josh,” she said, handing us menus. “And I don’t believe I’ve met your friend.”

“This is Elysia,” I said. “She’s staying with me for a bit.”

“How nice,” Dot said with the smile of someone who would be spreading this gossip within minutes. “Special today is meatloaf with mashed potatoes.”

Elysia was enchanted by the laminated menus and spinning stools. “Your eating establishment has rotating seating!” she exclaimed. “How clever!”

“She’s not from around here,” I said to Dot, who nodded as if this explained everything.

After Dot left to get our drinks, I helped Elysia navigate the menu. She settled on a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, while I ordered the same.

When the food arrived, Elysia stared at it with wide eyes. She picked up the burger with both hands, studying it from all angles before taking a tentative bite.

Her eyes widened impossibly further. “By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she exclaimed loudly enough that several diners turned to look. She quickly lowered her voice. “This is magnificent! Far superior to even royal fern salads!”

She devoured the burger with surprising speed for someone so small, then moved on to the fries, dipping each one meticulously in ketchup before eating it. When she got to the milkshake, she took a long pull through the straw with her eyes closing in bliss, then abandoned the straw entirely to chug it.

When she opened her eyes, I was looking at her with amusement. “What?” she asked.

“You’ve got a...” I gestured to my own upper lip.

Elysia touched her lip, finding the milkshake mustache. Before she could reach for a napkin, I had reflexively reached across the counter, wiping it away with my thumb.

Our eyes met briefly, both looking away quickly.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of a tall man in a sheriff’s uniform. “Afternoon, Josh,” he said. “Don’t usually see you in town.”

“Sheriff Miller,” I nodded in greeting. “Just doing some shopping.”

The sheriff’s eyes moved to Elysia. “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. New in town?”

“I am Princess Elysia of—” she began.

“She’s my cousin from overseas,” I quickly interrupted. “Visiting for a while.”

Sheriff Miller looked skeptical but didn’t press for the details. “Interesting. Got some unusual reports lately if you have a minute. I hear there’s been people seeing strange purple lights in the fields near your property when they drive by at night.”

I tensed, realizing he meant the portals. “Is that right? I haven’t noticed anything.”

“Keep an eye out, would you?” the sheriff said. “Might be nothing, might be kids with fireworks or laser pens, but better safe than sorry.”

“Will do,” I agreed.

After the sheriff moved on, Elysia looked guilty. “I nearly revealed my identity,” she whispered. “This deception is challenging.”

“You did fine,” I assured her. “Just remember, you’re my cousin from overseas, visiting for a while.”

As we finished our lunch, I noticed Elysia’s energy flagging. She became increasingly slouched in her bar stool with her eyelids drooping like she’d just pulled an all-nighter.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m exhausted from all this human interaction,” she complained. “It’s terribly taxing. We should return to our dwelling immediately.”

“Sure,” I agreed with a smirk. To be honest, I found her sudden onset theatrical exhaustion oddly endearing. “Let me pay, and we’ll head back, alright?”

She yawned so big her eyes teared up as she nodded at me. “Okay.”

I realized with mild surprise that I was genuinely enjoying taking care of her. Despite her imperious demands and the trouble she caused, there was something satisfying about showing her my world.

Outside the diner, Elysia moved with exaggerated lethargy, sighing dramatically with each step. “Why must your vehicle be parked so far away?” she whined.

“It’s directly across the street,” I pointed out.

“As you know by now, Sir Josh, my royal feet weren’t designed for excessive walking,” Elysia insisted. “In my homeland, I would be carried by servants or teleported. It is reasonable to expect similar treatment here when possible, I should think.”

When we reached the truck, she looked up at me with sleepy and expectant eyes. I lifted her easily into the passenger seat. She immediately curled up with a wide yawn. “Wake me when we arrive at your dwelling,” she murmured, eyes already closing.

As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced at the sleepy elf princess beside me. Her baseball cap had tilted to one side, with a strand of blonde hair falling across her face. I found myself smiling despite myself.

What had I gotten myself into? An interdimensional princess, portals spewing monsters into my fields, an apparent destiny as a champion in some cosmic battle twenty years in the future... it was all completely fucking insane.

Even so, as Elysia’s breathing deepened into sleep with her small body curled trustingly beside me, I realized I wasn’t nearly as bothered by these developments as I probably should’ve been.

***

I pulled into the long driveway and cut the engine, replacing the truck’s rumble with silence. That alone was a rare commodity in my newly monster-infested, princess-occupied life. I glanced over at Elysia, who was still curled up in the passenger seat with her breathing deep and even. The baseball cap had shifted during her nap, exposing one pointed ear. Carefully, I reached over and adjusted it back into place, though there was no one around to see.

“Hey,” I said softly, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “We’re home.”

Elysia responded with a tiny sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Instead of waking, she curled more tightly into the seat while her face scrunched up with indignation. Even half-asleep, this woman could masterfully convey “how dare you” with nothing but her facial muscles.

“Alright, princess,” I sighed. “Have it your way.”

I got out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side. Opening the door carefully so she wouldn’t tumble out, I slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. From the seat I lifted her with unsettling ease—yes, my System-enhanced strength was improving, but elves must weigh very little, I realized.

Her body was warm against my chest as her head automatically nuzzled into my shoulder. I carried her toward the house. It felt natural to carry her like this.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured in her sleep with a small smile. “Strong, handsome champion...”

My ears burned hot. I managed to unlock and open the front door without jostling her too much, then carried her into the living room. I briefly considered taking her upstairs to her bedroom but opted instead to set her gently on the couch. She immediately curled into the cushions, still soundly asleep with one hand tucked under her cheek.

I stood watching her for a moment, struck by how different she looked without her standard imperious expression. The fierce warrior princess, the supposed champion from another realm, now looked like little more than a tiny, sleepy woman in silky pajamas and a baseball cap.

With a shake of my head, I settled into my recliner a few feet from her on the couch and picked up the remote. I turned on the TV, keeping the volume low, and switched to a local news channel. The afternoon newscaster was reporting on crop yields and weather patterns with minimal enthusiasm—normal, everyday concerns that felt surreal compared to my current reality.

“And local corn production is up three percent this year,” droned the newscaster, a middle-aged man with little in the way of charisma. “Farmers attribute this to the new irrigation methods introduced last spring...”

After about fifteen minutes of mind-numbing agricultural updates, I felt my own eyelids growing heavy. Last night’s monster fight and the afternoon’s princess-wrangling had taken more out of me than I’d realized. I made my way to the kitchen to brew some coffee while moving quietly to avoid waking Elysia.

I took my time with the French press, measuring the freshly ground beans and heating the water to the perfect temperature. The ritual was soothing, a small slice of normalcy. For a few minutes, I wasn’t a lottery winner hiding from parasitic relatives or an interdimensional monster-slayer—I was just a guy making coffee.

As I pressed the plunger down on the French press, a warm presence pushed against my back. Without a sound, Elysia had slipped into the kitchen and mashed herself against me. Her head maneuvered itself under my raised arm to tuck between my bicep and torso.

“What are you making?” she asked with her voice still scratchy from sleep. She sounded so cute just then that I almost lost it.

But my surprise won out in the end. I almost jumped at the feeling of her breasts pushed against me. “Jesus! Are you familiar with the concept of personal space?”

Elysia didn’t budge an inch while remaining firmly tucked against my side. It wasn’t that I wasn’t a fan of being sleepily embraced by the prettiest chick I’d ever met—far from it. In fact, I was normally pretty smooth around the ladies, but there was so much about this new dynamic that had me walking on eggshells.

For one thing, twenty years was a long time, and that’s how long our impromptu-made commitment to each other seemed destined to be. Also, hooking up with a pizza delivery babe at the end of her shift, ideally one you never had to see again—that was one thing. Trying not to give overly aggressive, rapey vibes to the pretty foreign elf princess who you knew precious little about was something totally different. In the end, I figured it was safer to keep my distance. If she felt my cudgel of a cock pressing into her during one of these moments, I had no idea just how badly that’d ruin things.

But she didn’t seem interested in heeding my warnings about personal space in the least. She yawned, then spoke. “Your scent is strangely soothing,” she said matter-of-factly. “I wish to remain near to you. It is my right.”

Her statement came across casually, as if admitting to being attracted to someone’s scent was a perfectly normal reason to physically cling to them.

“I’m making coffee,” I explained, continuing the pour despite my uninvited attachment. “It’s a beverage made from roasted coffee beans.”

With open interest, Elysia watched as I completed the process. “We have nothing like this in Elfhaven,” she said. “Our stimulants are primarily herbal or magical in nature.”

“Well, this is herb-adjacent at best, and definitely not magical,” I said, pouring the dark liquid into a mug. “Though some might disagree. There are different types of coffee drinks. This is just black coffee—plain and simple. Then there are lattes, which have steamed milk; café au lait, which is half coffee and half hot milk; mochas, which add chocolate; cappuccinos, which have espresso, steamed milk, and foam...”

I trailed off, realizing I was rambling, but Elysia appeared genuinely interested if a bit sleepy, still nestled under my arm.

“Would you like to try it?” I asked, offering my mug.

“Certainly,” she replied, taking the mug with both hands.

She took a small sip and immediately sprayed it across the counter as her face contorted in disgust. “This is VILE!” she exclaimed. “How can you willingly consume such bitterness? Is this some form of Earth punishment ritual?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her overdramatic reaction. “It’s an acquired taste,” I admitted. “Here, let me make you something milder.”

I prepared a café au lait, adding a generous spoonful of sugar and a drizzle of honey before handing it to her. All the while, she maintained her position tucked against my side, moving with me.

Elysia accepted the new mug cautiously. She took a tentative sip, and her eyes widened. A moan escaped her lips that was frankly obscene, causing me to shift uncomfortably.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree,” she breathed. “This is... this is... there are no words in your primitive mortal language to describe this magnificence.”

She took another sip, making that same inappropriate sound with her eyes closed. I cleared my throat.

“Why don’t you take your mug and go sit on the sofa?” I suggested. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Elysia opened her eyes all the way to glare at me. “Will you sit with me and not in that chair?” she asked, scowling in the direction of my recliner.

I raised an eyebrow. “What did my recliner ever do to you?”

“It’s an abomination,” she declared with absolute conviction. “We should throw it away. Or burn it in a heap. I am a creature of comfort and relaxation, and I enjoy being physically close to you. Therefore, obstacles to that end are unacceptable.”

I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee while shaking my head. “Again, personal space is a thing here on Earth. People don’t typically press themselves against each other without invitation.”

At this suggestion, Elysia’s eyes narrowed. She muttered something under her breath in a language I didn’t know, then made a subtle gesture with her fingers.

Instantly, the surface of my coffee erupted in blue flame, like someone had poured gasoline on it and tossed a match.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed, holding the flaming mug away from myself.

Elysia pouted cutely while batting her eyelashes. “Oh no, your beverage appears to be aflame.”

“Put it out!” I demanded.

Elysia’s pout intensified with her lower lip protruding dramatically. I sighed and tried to blow out the flames myself. It took several attempts before the fire finally extinguished, leaving my coffee smelling distinctly of sulfur.

“I guess I’d better sit next to you for now,” I conceded, setting the ruined coffee aside. “But you’re a brat, you know that? And honestly a bit childish. It’s hard to imagine you being a legendary hero or whatever you’re supposed to be.”

Rather than being offended, Elysia beamed at me with a smile bright enough to power a small city. In one fluid motion, she set her coffee on the counter and hopped onto my back, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.

“Onward, handsome steed!” she commanded, pointing toward the living room.

I rolled my eyes but found myself carrying her anyway. When we reached the sofa, she slid off my back and plopped down, patting the spot next to her invitingly.

“Sit here,” she suggested, scooting to make room. “We can watch more of your magical TV.”

I sat down next to her, and immediately she nestled against my side, fitting herself neatly under my arm like she belonged there.

This is going to cause problems sooner or later, I thought grimly. And I’m not sure what to do about it.

With great reluctance, I stretched out on the couch and reached for the remote. “Hey, have you ever seen video games?” I asked, switching inputs on the TV. I turned the console on beneath the TV stand. “I’ve got a Super Pretendo. Let me show you.”

Elysia looked suspicious at my sudden change of subject but was quickly distracted by the colorful title screen of Super Plumber Cousins that appeared on the TV.

“What manner of entertainment is this?” she asked while leaning forward with interest.

“It’s a game,” I explained, thankful for the distraction. “You control that little guy on the screen to run and jump through the level.”

I demonstrated the controls, showing her how to make the character move, jump, and collect coins. Elysia watched with cautious interest, though she seemed more interested in pressing herself against my side than in the game itself.

“Would you like to try?” I offered, holding out the controller.

She took it hesitantly with her fingers awkwardly positioned on the buttons. Her first attempt ended quickly with her character falling into a pit, which prompted a surprisingly vulgar-sounding elvish curse.

An hour later, the scene had transformed entirely. Elysia sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, hunched over the controller, utterly engrossed in the game. Her earlier desire to be physically close to me seemed abandoned, thank God, as she navigated her character through increasingly complex levels with her competitive nature fully awakened.

“Die, turtle beast!” she shouted while mashing buttons furiously. “Your shell shall adorn my royal chambers, you slut!”

My eyes bulged unexpectedly at that. “Why is the turtle a slut?”

She looked at me bashfully out of her side-eye gaze, then back at the screen as she continued to play. “No reason.” Then there was a pause. “Josh, who was that girl you brought to your home, again?”

“Huh?” I asked. “The pizza delivery girl? I don’t remember her name. Her boss doesn’t let her deliver outside Wapa Lake much anymore, though, so I haven’t heard from her in weeks.”

“Ah. That’s good. I mean—oh.”

I watched Elysia from the couch, and I found myself unable to suppress a fond smile. Her intensity was both amusing and endearing—the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the little victory dance she did when she completed a level, the creative elvish profanity when she failed. She was undeniably bratty and spoiled, but there was something genuinely endearing about her enthusiasm.

My adulative grin disappeared instantly when, after getting a game over, Elysia casually rose from the floor, restarted the game, and without a word of warning, sat directly in my lap to continue playing.

I froze as my body went rigid. She settled herself comfortably with her back to my chest, completely oblivious to the perilous situation she’d created. Worse, her perky pajama-clad bottom kept wiggling and squirming as she played. Each movement was bringing me closer to complete mortification.

Just as her movements were about to make my predicament impossible to miss, my phone rang from the kitchen. With the reflexes of a man escaping a burning building, I practically launched Elysia onto the couch beside me and bolted for the kitchen.

“Hello?” I answered breathlessly, not even checking the caller ID.

“Sorry, uh, wrong number,” said a weirdly familiar female voice before hanging up. Hmm. Where have I heard that voice before?

In any case, it came at the right time. I closed my eyes and let out a long breath of relief. Wrong number or divine intervention—I wasn’t picky.

When I turned back toward the living room, my relief evaporated. Elysia sat on the couch with the controller set aside, game paused, arms crossed over her chest, and a thunderous expression on her face.

“I am dainty and delicate and deserve to be treated as such,” she declared coldly. “The manner in which I was discarded like refuse was supremely brutish and insulting.”

This was it. The point of no return, one way or another. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for a conversation I definitely didn’t want to start. “I think we need to have a serious talk.”

Chapter 4

I took a deep breath like I was prepping for a trance, then walked back to the living room. The situation felt like negotiating with a tiny, adorable nuclear bomb. Elysia remained on the couch with arms crossed. Her expression combined Queen Elizabeth receiving underwhelming tea and a five-year-old denied ice cream. The paused video game cast a colorful glow across her face, adding to her charm in some unnamable way.

“Look,” I began from the opposite end of the couch, maintaining what I hoped was a safe distance. “We need to clear something up.”

“Indeed we do.” Elysia’s nose shot high in the air. “Your behavior was unacceptably rough. I am a delicate princess, not a sack of turnips to be tossed aside when inconvenient.”

I ran a hand through my hair. How had my life come to this—trying to have a serious conversation about accidental boners with an interdimensional elf princess in silky pajamas? “That’s... not what I want to talk about.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow arched.

“There’s something you should understand about...” I searched for words that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete creep. “About how you affect me. Physically.”

I cringed at myself. That’s a failure.

Elysia uncrossed her arms. She cocked her head once to the left, then to the right, like one of those adorably confused golden retriever puppies on social media. After a final nose crinkle, her expression softened with curiosity. “Affect you?”

“Yes. You’re... well, you’re very attractive to me,” I admitted. Dear God, was I actually doing this? The amount of cringe was overwhelming, but I’d come this far and had to see it through.

Her imperious expression returned instantly. Royal hauteur activated at full power, and the sight of the superiority on her face made me smirk in spite of my own nerves. “Of course I am,” she declared as if stating water was moist. “I am very beautiful and dainty. This is an established fact throughout seven realms and three pocket dimensions.”

I shook my head. “That’s not my point. When you sit in my lap, or nuzzle against me, or wear next to nothing around me...” I gestured at her silky lavender pajamas. “It has a physical effect on me, and it’s going to create awkwardness eventually.”

Elysia tilted her head up to look down at me over her nose, which was hilarious given how short she was. Her blue eyes watched me intently as she sucked on her bottom lip before finally deciding on her words. “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘physical effect,’” she said, though her tone hinted she might be playing dumb.

“I need to be transparent about it,” I continued. This sucked. It felt like giving a mortifying PowerPoint presentation. “I have no control over how my body responds to... to proximity with you. It’s an automatic reaction, like sneezing when there’s dust or sweating when it’s hot.”

Elysia’s expression remained puzzled. She cocked her head to the side in an infuriatingly cute way, blinking innocently. She glanced quickly left and right like she was checking for eavesdroppers in my empty living room. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Are you talking about being... horny?”

I almost choked. Hearing that word in her high-pitched, posh, accented voice jarred me. Humiliation mixed with relief that she actually understood what I was trying to explain.

“Yes.” My voice cracked embarrassingly. “That’s exactly it.”

To my surprise, Elysia rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, I know that,” she said. “Obviously.”

“You... know?” I repeated, feeling pretty fucking stupid right about then.

“Of course I know. I’m counting on it.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “But this is the sort of thing that you don’t speak of! It’s best for a maiden to just play dumb and let these things happen, yes? That’s what all the forbidden romance scrolls say.”

I blinked several times, processing this complete reversal. I’d quite possibly just interacted with an alternate dimension. Again. “Wait. So you knew what you were doing this whole time?!”

“Was it not obvious?” She looked genuinely concerned about her performance. “I suppose my innocent act was persuasive. The royal acting tutor always praised my ability to portray naivety. I convinced the entire court I didn’t know where babies came from until I was ninety-four.” She sighed. “I was so young back then.”

I blinked a few times at the age reveal, but moved on quickly. “No, you were... convincing,” I assured her. My mind raced to catch up. “Are you saying that all of this—the sitting in my lap, pressing yourself against me, changing clothes in front of me—was deliberate? You were trying to... what, seduce me?”

Elysia huffed. “Well, obviously. You are a very, very sexually attractive man, and my fated mate. Of course I’m showing off my physique for you. Of course I’m plastering myself to you like tree sap.”

“Say what now?” The floor dropped out from under me. My stomach plummeted to my ankles. “Fated mate?”

Elysia nodded matter-of-factly. “The Hero’s Party is a band of three female adventurers. We are virginal maidens, destined to find the man who completes us.” The way she emphasized ‘completes’ made my heart pound. “I knew I would find you here in Earthrealm, though not so soon. When you revealed that you had access to the System, I knew it was you without a shadow of a doubt.”

That more or less explained how excited she was to learn I possessed the System. Plus, it explained a lot of other things too. Huh.

My pulse hammered in my fists. Everything had flipped upside down. All this time, she hadn’t been oblivious to the effect she was having on me—she’d been deliberately provoking exactly that reaction. I was almost weirdly impressed.

“So you’ve been actively trying to... to seduce me?” I struggled to believe it. “Since yesterday?”

Elysia’s regal demeanor suddenly cracked, and her pale cheeks flushed pink. She looked down at her hands in her lap. “It’s indecent and inconsiderate to make a princess with her maidenhead intact admit such a thing,” she murmured. Her voice sounded small, cutesy rather than regal.

She shyly pressed her fingertips together. The gesture looked adorable, but I tried not to be distracted. After a moment, she patted the seat beside her.

“I wish to resume the ruse at once,” she declared without meeting my eyes. “I cannot bear the shame of discussing such lewd possibilities aloud.”

I opened my mouth to protest but stopped before anything came out. I’d never agreed to be her soulmate or party member or whatever this was, but looking at her—the proud princess now fidgeting nervously with her pajama hem, her pointed ears pink at the tips, her lower lip caught between her teeth—I couldn’t say it. I’d sound like an asshole. And honestly, she was criminally cute, so it was hard to be upset about being the object of her affection, even with a bizarre interdimensional destiny I didn’t sign up for attached.

With a sigh of resignation, I moved to sit beside her. Immediately, Elysia repositioned herself sideways across my lap. Her legs stretched along the couch, her back against the armrest. She picked up the controller and unpaused the game, resuming as if our entire conversation hadn’t happened.

After hesitating, I wrapped an arm loosely around her waist to keep her steady. She leaned against my chest and giggled softly.

“This pleases me,” she whispered. Her attention stayed fixed on the screen as her character leapt across platforms. “My mother, the queen, would faint dead away if she could see me now, sitting in the lap of a male like some common tavern wench.”

“Is that something tavern wenches typically do in your world?” I asked, unable to resist teasing her.

Elysia shrugged. The movement caused her to shift in a way both innocuous and torturous. “I wouldn’t know. Princesses aren’t allowed in taverns. I’ve only read about such scandalous behavior in forbidden romance scrolls that I most certainly did not hide under my phoenix feather mattress between Proper Royal Etiquette and One Thousand Ways to Brew Tea.”

I chuckled. The vibration made Elysia wiggle again as she adjusted her position. I sucked in a breath, wondering if she was doing this on purpose. Given what I’d just learned, I figured she was. The cozy, innocent princess act was exactly that: an act.

“So,” I said, trying to distract myself from her warmth against me, “this whole fated mate thing. How does that work exactly?”

“Oh no,” Elysia replied. Her attention never left the game. “We’ve resumed the ruse, remember? I’m just an innocent elven princess who happens to enjoy sitting in your lap for completely non-romantic reasons. Perhaps it improves my Super Plumber Cousin prowess. Perhaps it’s a sacred elven tradition. Who can say for certain?”

“Right,” I said dryly. “Silly me. And here I thought it might have something to do with you calling me your ‘fated mate’ about two minutes ago.”

“I said no such thing,” she declared primly. “You must have misheard. Elven maidens would never speak so boldly about matters of the heart and loins.”

“Uh-huh.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while. The only sounds came from the game and Elysia’s occasional triumphant exclamations or frustrated curses in what I assumed was elven. It felt strangely domestic, sitting with her nestled against me, her small body fitting perfectly in my lap, her blonde hair tickling my chin whenever she moved her head.

“You’re learning quickly,” I commented as she successfully navigated a particularly tricky section with what looked like cannonballs on chains trying to take a bite out of her.

“I excel at all things I attempt,” Elysia replied haughtily as her noble pride surfaced once again. Then she immediately fell into a pit, losing her last life. “CURSE YOUR LINEAGE TO THE SEVENTH GENERATION, FOUL GAME!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

I laughed. This earned me an elbow in the ribs sharp enough to qualify as a lethal weapon.

“It’s not funny,” she pouted. “This game is obviously rigged against overly refined elven reflexes. Our reaction time is too perfect for your primitive human technology to process.”

“Sure it is,” I agreed, still chuckling. “Certainly nothing to do with you trying to jump onto platforms that don’t exist.”

Elysia twisted in my lap to face me. Her expression turned indignant. “Are you mocking your princess?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I gave an exaggerated head bow. “I value my life too much. But, I mean, you’re not my princess, per se.”

She narrowed her gaze as she smirked. “On the contrary, I most certainly am yours.” The playful glint in her eyes tempted me to do something about the bratty look on her face. “And you are a terrible liar, Josh Becker. You were mocking me.”

“Because you’re terrible at this game,” I countered.

Elysia gasped in pretend outrage. Her hand flew to her chest. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’ve made it to the third level, which is undoubtedly an impressive feat for a novice.”

“Undoubtedly,” I agreed solemnly. “Truly your gaming prowess will be sung about for generations.”

She glared at me for a moment before a mischievous smile spread across her face. Without warning, she shifted in my lap, turning to face the TV properly and scooting back between my legs, her back mashing against my chest.

“Perhaps I need a more competent teacher,” she suggested. Her voice sounded innocent but her intentions clearly weren’t.

My hands automatically went to her shoulders to steady her. Her body felt warm against mine, and her hair smelled sweet, like she’d just bathed, but I didn’t think she figured the shower out yet.

“I thought we were maintaining the ruse,” I said. My voice wavered as I tried to keep up.

“Oh, we are,” Elysia assured me in a tone that sounded suspiciously saccharine. “This is merely a more effective learning posture. I can see the screen better this way, and you can guide my hands on the controller.”

“Is that so?” I asked, arching a brow skeptically.

“Absolutely.” She nodded and reached for my hands, pulling them around her to wrap my arms around her waist. “It’s a traditional elven teaching method. Completely non-romantic in nature.”

“Of course it is,” I said, not believing a word of it but not particularly motivated to argue. Having her nestled against me felt comfortable in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time—maybe ever.

I knew I should probably set her aside, establish boundaries, remind her of our conversation about the effect she had on Josh II. But the way she leaned back against me, relaxed and trusting, made it impossible to push her away.

Besides, we’d already acknowledged the attraction between us. And if I was supposedly her “fated mate” or whatever, maybe this was just how things were meant to unfold.

“Fine,” I conceded with a grunt. “But the controller’s over there.” I nodded toward where she’d dropped it on the cushion beside us.

“Oh, is it?” Elysia asked with exaggerated surprise. “How careless of me. I shall retrieve it immediately.”

To be clear, she made absolutely no move to do so. Instead, she settled more comfortably against me. Her head rested against my shoulder. I could feel her heartbeat through her back, slightly faster than normal, and wondered if she was as affected by our closeness as I was.

“We should probably get back to the game,” I suggested. My arms remained firmly around her waist, all talk, no action.

“Mmm, definitely. In a moment,” she murmured. “I’m quite comfortable. Besides, heroes need rest between quests.”

I smirked down at the back of her head, though she couldn’t see it. “What happened to the innocent princess act?”

Elysia’s laugh sounded soft and warm. “Even a princess gets tired of pretending.”

She turned her head slightly. Her cheek rested against my collarbone, her breath warm against my neck. I closed my eyes, enjoying the closeness and the simple pleasure of holding someone who wanted to be held by me.

It was strange how quickly I’d adjusted to her presence. Just two days ago, I’d been a solitary lottery winner hiding from the world, hunting monsters in my cornfield and wondering if I’d made the right choice moving to the middle of nowhere. Now I sat on my couch with an elven princess in my arms, destined to be her “champion” in some epic battle twenty years in the future—against a guy named Black Lazarus, no less.

Not sure why he had to be black.

Somehow, though, it felt right. Being with her—not the black bad guy thing. Being with Elysia, holding her—it was like finding a puzzle piece I didn’t know I was missing.

“Josh?” Elysia’s voice sounded small, lacking its standard imperious tone, almost vulnerable.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad the portal brought me to you,” she said softly. “Even if it was too early.”

I tightened my arms around her, pulling her closer. “Yeah,” I agreed. “Me too.”

We stayed like that for a while, neither speaking, neither feeling the need to. Outside, the sun was setting. Orange and pink rays leaped through the window. I could see the cornfield where I’d fought the troll just the night before, where Elysia had first appeared in my life.

Whatever this strange new reality was, I was starting to think I could get used to it.

Chapter 5

The evening was creeping in like a teenager past curfew. Elysia was still tucked in my lap, her tiny hands working the controller with an intense focus usually reserved for last minute tax filing.

“Hey,” I said, watching her little plumber guy hop across the screen, “there’s probably going to be another portal tonight. They’ve been pretty regular lately.”

Her character promptly walked straight off a cliff. She chucked the controller aside with a dramatic huff that rattled the windows.

“Must we think about such tedious things right now?” she complained, twisting around to face me. The cute look in her eyes was absolutely deadly. “I was having such a lovely time vanquishing these creatures.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, we can’t exactly ignore it. If I don’t deal with whatever comes through, it’ll either wander off the lot looking for a midnight snack or tear up my property. My insurance doesn’t cover monsters. And who knows where it’d go after that.”

She slid off my lap with bratty reluctance, then dropped to her knees in front of me. Her small hands grabbed mine, and she deployed what I was starting to recognize as her “ultimate weapon”—the dreaded and exceedingly frequently utilized puppy-dog eyes.

“Please, Josh Becker, my handsome, strapping champion,” she pleaded, her lower lip achieving Olympic-level poutiness. “Couldn’t you handle the dreadful beast yourself? Just this once? I would be ever so grateful.”

“You’re literally a warrior princess,” I reminded her, trying not to focus on how she looked kneeling there in skimpy pajamas. “Aren’t you supposed to be some legendary hero? Spellblade of the Hero’s Party?”

She responded with a series of whining noises that would’ve made a spoiled toddler nod in approval.

“Fighting is exhausting!” she moaned, shaking her head so vigorously that her huge braid whipped left and right. “I’m delicate! Refined! These hands were made for holding scepters, not swinging swords!”

I rolled my eyes. “Of all the interdimensional warrior princesses in all the worlds, I get the one with the work ethic of a retired housecat.”

Her pout intensified even more. Then, with a squeaky grunt, she launched herself back into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her forehead against mine as she stared directly in my eyes, like she was afraid I was trying to avoid the bratty face she was making.

“I’m not lazy,” she insisted, nuzzling against my cheek. “I’m extraordinarily powerful. Devastatingly mighty. I simply happen to have a stamina issue.”

“Happens to a lot of guys, too. What’s that supposed to mean for you, though?” I asked as my arms automatically circled her waist.

She sat up straight, suddenly looking smug. “Allow me to demonstrate the glory of my attributes!”

With a very superfluous flourish, she conjured a floating window—like my status screen, but with more pink, way fancier fonts, and very sparkly borders to her HUD.

PLAYER: Elysia Silverleaf

LEVEL: 35

CLASS: Spellblade

ATTRIBUTES:

Strength: 14

Dexterity: 25

Constitution: 4

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 18

Charisma: 20

My jaw dropped. “Your Constitution is FOUR? What the—How do you even function? That’s like having the cardio capacity of a chain-smoking sloth!”

“I prefer to think of myself as uniquely specialized,” she sniffed. She’d put on a smug, closed-eye smile like she was proud, but the disastrously pink cheeks told another tale entirely. “I’m designed for devastating single strikes, not prolonged engagements. Quality over quantity, as they say.”

“But you’re supposed to be some legendary hero,” I said as I continued trying to process her absurd stats. “How do you handle long fights with endurance that low?”

“That’s what party members are for, silly,” she explained with an airy wave. “They handle all the tedious parts—the running, the dodging, the sweating—while I wait for the perfect moment to deliver an elegant finishing blow.” She batted her eyelashes. “I would be ever so grateful if a big strong champion who can do all the hard work while I provide moral support from a safe distance were to step up and do his part.”

I sighed. “At least come with me and watch. If things get hairy, you can jump in with one of those devastating strikes you’re talking about.”

Her nose wrinkled like she’d just sucked a rotten lemon. “I suppose I must,” she conceded with a scrunched up nose. “But if I have to exert even the tiniest amount of effort, you’ll owe me the most thorough pampering session in the history of both our worlds.”

“Define ‘pampering,’” I said cautiously.

“Oh, the usual,” she said, her voice shifting into a tone that was equal parts demanding and sickeningly sweet. “Full body massages, a long hot bath, endless cuddles, hair brushing for no less than one hour, foot rubs, back scratches, and you’ll have to sing me lullabies until I fall asleep.”

“I don’t sing,” I said flatly.

“You do now,” she declared. “Also, breakfast in bed tomorrow. Those pancake things, drowning in that heavenly amber nectar.”

I groaned but couldn’t maintain any real irritation in the face of her enthusiasm. “Fine. But you have to actually try to help if things go sideways.”

“Marvelous!” She clapped her hands like I’d just agreed to buy her a pony. “Now, assist me with my armor, my devoted servant!”

Twenty minutes later, I was fully geared up while Elysia was still struggling with her platemail bikini, each piece apparently weighing as much as a small car based on her theatrical groaning.

“It’s so heaaavy,” she whined, flopping dramatically onto the bed. “How can I possibly be expected to dress myself in these conditions?”

“You managed just fine when you first arrived,” I pointed out.

“That was before the dimensional journey sapped my legendary strength,” she countered. “I’m practically an invalid now. Barely able to lift my own arms.”

With a sigh that could’ve moved a windmill, I knelt to help her with her armor. As I fastened her boots, I noticed her legs were actually pretty toned for someone claiming to have the endurance of wet tissue paper.

“There,” I said once the last piece clicked into place. “Ready for battle.”

She immediately held her arms out like a toddler demanding to be carried. “You can’t possibly expect me to walk all the way to the battlefield.”

“It’s a quarter mile, Elysia. You can see it from here.”

Her arms remained outstretched, unwavering as stone. Knowing resistance was futile, I scooped her up in what was becoming a very familiar bridal carry.

“You’re absolutely spoiled,” I informed her as we headed out.

“I prefer ‘deservedly cherished’,” she corrected, snuggling against my chest like she belonged there.

The walk to our monster-greeting spot was going to become routine eventually. This errand was a bit like fetching the mail, only the mail was usually huge and wanted to kill you. The weather tonight was nice at least, with a big, full moon on its third and final day of the month.

“Should be right about here,” I said, setting her down near where yesterday’s troll had made its dramatic exit.

She immediately claimed a fallen log on the edge of the field like it was a throne. “I shall observe from this strategic position,” she announced, arranging herself regally. “Providing tactical insights and moral support from a safe distance.”

“How noble of you,” I deadpanned as I drew my sword.

Right on cue, the air started doing that unsettling wavy thing that meant something unpleasant was about to make a grand entrance. The distortion widened, and purple energy crackled around its edges as it stretched into a proper portal much like the ones I’d seen before. But…

“That’s... considerably larger than usual,” I noted as my danger sense tingled in the form of goosebumps on my nape.

“Oh my,” Elysia said, sounding half-intrigued. “Something substantial approaches. I shall enjoy the show!”

The ground began to tremble, but heavy footfalls reverberated through the earth long before anything was visible. Whatever was coming had serious mass.

“Here comes trouble,” I muttered, adjusting my grip.

First came a hoof the size of a coffee table, followed by a thick, matted leg. The creature that emerged was a new one to me, and I was suddenly starting to feel nostalgic for trolls and their lovely regeneration.

Standing ten feet tall and built like a shack, the thing was part bull, part gorilla, part other thing that I had obviously never encountered before. It had matted fur covering rippling muscles, backward-bending legs, and horns that looked like they could make mincemeat out of me, even considering the armor. Smaller spikes jutted from its shoulders and spine, which didn’t do much to make the thing seem more approachable.

“Holy mother of—” I breathed, suddenly feeling like I’d brought a butter knife to a gunfight.

“A Highland Behemoth!” Elysia called out, sounding inconsiderately excited. “Quite rare! Their horns fetch a king’s ransom in alchemical circles! The royal apothecary once offered me an entire wing of his tower for just one!”

“Noted,” I grunted.

The behemoth announced its presence with a roar that I felt in my bones, then lowered its head and charged at me like a train—slow at first, but rapidly gaining speed. Unlike a train, though, it was much better at adjusting its trajectory as I made moves to get out of its way.

My enhanced reflexes barely got me to safety after several attempts to weave and get it off my path. The beast thundered past. Its momentum carried it deep into the dead cornfield, leaving a trench in its wake.

“The hamstrings!” Elysia shouted from her safe perch. “Its torso is basically armored, but the leg tendons are vulnerable!”

“See, that’s useful! Good to know!” I called back, circling to keep the massive barn I’d been meaning to repair between us. The structure was huge, but it was little more than a rundown relic from when this was a working farm.

The behemoth charged again, and this time I was ready. As it passed, I swung with everything I had at the back of its leg. My blade bit deep, drawing a spray of black blood that thankfully was more pleasant than troll blood, if only by comparison. The creature howled but stayed upright, spinning with agility it really shouldn’t have to smack me across the field.

I hit the ground like a stone, bouncing twice before skidding to a stop.

“Now that’s some fucking health reduction,” I coughed, spitting dirt. “This is gonna be a shitty night.”

“You’re doing splendidly!” Elysia cheered from somewhere off to the side. “You are very dashing! Victory shall be yours!”

“Shut up!” I shouted back, rolling away from another charge.

This time I wasn’t quite fast enough. One massive horn caught the edge of my armor, tearing through metal and scraping ribs. Another three percent gone. At this rate, I’d be monster chow before Elysia got off her perky ass to help.

Then I spotted the old dairy barn and had what alcoholics call a moment of clarity. The structure, old as it was, was built like a fortress, with massive wooden beams that had weathered decades of Wisconsin winters.

“Hey, ugly!” I shouted, backing toward the barn’s entrance. “Come and get me!”

Sure enough, the behemoth pawed the ground and gathered itself for another charge. I positioned myself in the wide doorway, waited for the perfect moment, then dove sideways at the last second.

The beast couldn’t stop. It slammed into the reinforced door frame with a loud, reverberating crash. The entire barn shuddered, and I heard the crack of massive timbers giving way. The behemoth’s horns had punched straight through, embedding deep in the ancient support beams. Perfect.

While it thrashed and roared, trying to pull free, I scrambled onto a hay bale, then leaped onto its back. My sword found the gap between its shoulder blades, sinking deep. The creature bucked like a raging bronco in the springtime of its youth, but with its head trapped in the barn’s frame, it couldn’t shake me loose.

I drew my hunting knife and went to work on its skull, searching for weak spots. The first four stabs just scraped off armored plates, but the fifth found purchase. The blade slipped between natural armor segments, and suddenly the behemoth’s legs went wobbly.

It dropped to its knees with a sound like thunder, still trapped in the barn doorway. I kept stabbing until it stopped twitching, then slid off and retrieved my sword with a wet sound I’d be hearing more of in my nightmares for sure.

For good measure, I circled around and opened its throat, turning the ground into a Jackson Pollock painting in shades of black.

“Magnificent!” Elysia cheered, practically dancing over to me. “Using this hideous old structure was inspired!”

“Thanks,” I panted, leaning on my sword and looking at the partially collapsed barn entrance. “I’ve been meaning to renovate anyway.”

The familiar blue window materialized:

VICTORY!

XP Gained! Level Up! Level 16 achieved.

You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

“Yes,” I muttered under my breath.

ALLOCATE YOUR SKILL POINT:

Lightning Reflexes : (Your attempts to dodge will be smoother, more graceful, and more likely to succeed in the heat of battle)

Journeyman Fishing I : (Enables the option to catch magical fish that, once eaten, provide temporary stat boosts)

ALLOCATE YOUR ATTRIBUTE POINT

“Lightning Reflexes,” I said immediately. After tonight’s close calls, dodging seemed smart. “And Constitution.”

Warmth rippled quickly through me as the System worked its magic. My breathing normalized almost instantly.

Elysia circled the corpse like an art critic, tapping her chin appraisingly before lifting her gaze to meet mine with a smug, bratty little smirk. “You see? This is precisely why you’re my destined champion—you can handle all the messy combat while I provide rigorous strategic guidance from afar. A match made in the stars, indeed!”

“Lucky me,” I said, sheathing my sword. “I’ll just keep risking life and limb while you critique my technique.”

“Exactly!” she agreed, either missing the sarcasm or embracing it. Then, without missing a beat, she raised her arms expectantly. “Now carry me home, brave warrior. I’m utterly exhausted from all this intense observation. Up! Up!”

I scooped her up and once again begrudgingly enjoyed how perfectly she fit in my arms. It was becoming concerningly natural.

“What about those valuable horns?” I asked.

“They’ll keep until morning,” she said, waving her elegant hand dismissively. “Behemoths are wonderfully slow to decompose. Very considerate of them, really.” She punctuated that statement with a giggle. She clearly had way too much fun watching me do all the work.

Halfway home, though, I noticed she’d gone suspiciously quiet. Her breathing had slowed, and her head nestled against my shoulder in a tell-tale way. I looked down at her, smirking despite myself. In the moonlight, she looked almost ethereally beautiful. I couldn’t decide if I was lucky to have her, or kind of cursed to be burdened with her.

Who was I kidding? Most men would kill to be in my shoes.

With that thought in my head, I carried her up to the guest room and began the now-familiar process of removing her armor. Each piece came off a bit more easily than it had the night before, and soon she was back in her pajamas. I tucked her in and suppressed an urge to kiss her forehead, feeling a bit creepy for having the impulse—but come on.

Though, as I turned to leave, her voice rang out to stop me.

“I see. So you’re abandoning me in this lonely chamber at this early hour?”

I turned back. One eye was open, watching me with a look that straddled the line between performative disgust and mischievous scheming. I didn’t think such a specific look could exist, but there it was, plain as day on her perfect face.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said in my defense.

“That was my design, yes,” she replied primly. “I wanted to see how you’d treat me in such a delicate position. Would you be gentle and sweet, or would you give into your basest urges and attempt to sample my virginal flesh?”

I shrugged. “The thought had occurred to me, but I did the first thing you mentioned.”

Then she frowned, looking around. “Oh. This is not your room. Meaning, I suppose, you intend to leave me here to sleep on my own and not even return later.”

I scratched the back of my head. “I mean, that’s what we did last night,” I muttered.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with theatrical melancholy. “How disappointing. I suppose I shall suffer here alone, cold and abandoned, fantasizing about what might have been.”

“Did you... want to share my bed?” I asked, hesitating by the door.

She flopped onto her stomach with a huff. “Not if you’re going to be so crass as to ask directly,” she mumbled into the pillow. “Where’s the spontaneity? You were supposed to carry me there, spurred on by your own urges. Asking politely is so… lame.”

“I thought asking for consent was the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Silence. Pure silence, save for her throwing the covers over her head. I shrugged and headed for the door. There was always tomorrow. I wasn’t about to try to correct the course now.

“Wait!” she squawked, sitting bolt upright. “You were actually going to leave? Just like that? Without even attempting to persuade me?”

“You literally just gave me the cold shoulder. What was I supposed to do, throw you over my shoulder like a caveman?”

Instead of answering, she furrowed her brow, held out her arms, and made grabbing motions.

“You are fucking impossible,” I muttered, but I was already walking back to scoop her up.

“Anything of value takes some effort to maintain,” she cooed as I carried her to my room. “I am of extreme value, therefore there is a bit of a learning curve, perhaps. But you’re doing well so far, all things considered.”

“If you say so,” I grumbled, but it was hard to be mad at her since, in the end, she was about as bad at playing hard-to-get and tough-to-please as I was at reading her mind in the first place.

My bedroom was dominated by my California king-sized bed, which was a luxury I allowed myself since, you know, I had hundreds of millions of dollars in the bank. I set the elfmaid down and started removing my own armor, setting it aside neatly to deal with later. When I peeled off my sweat-soaked shirt, I caught her watching me in the mirror before she quickly pretended to notice something interesting about the ceiling fan.

Down to my boxers, I turned to face her. “I should shower first,” I muttered. “I’m sweaty. And covered with monster stuff.”

The elven beauty reached lazily in my direction and snapped her fingers, then wiggled them. A second or two later, a thin, pale stream of light emanated from them in my general direction. It took me a moment to realize that she just used some elven purification magic on me or something, because the blood, at least, was gone—but not necessarily the rest of the stink.

“I still need to clean up,” I noted. “But that’s a neat trick.”

She shook her head and patted the mattress beside her. Wincing, I crawled into bed. She immediately attached herself to me like a sexy little leech.

“You smell like heroism,” she murmured against my chest. “And exertion. And slightly still like behemoth innards, but I can let that one go.”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying I reek.”

She shook her head. “It’s intoxicating. Very masculine. Makes me feel safe.” Then she pulled back and fired up her frequently weaponized eyelashes. “Though perhaps a bath wouldn’t be such a bad idea for me. I have used magic to keep myself fresh since I arrived, but a bath would be very relaxing.”

“You didn’t earn it. You sat on a log,” I protested. “That hardly warrants a full bathing ritual.”

“The chilly night air is harsh on my skin,” she countered smoothly. “Besides, you promised to pamper me if I exerted myself, and I’ll have you know that maintaining proper posture while spectating and cheering for you was very stressful.”

I smirked. “Figure the tub out for yourself.”

Her resulting pout could’ve launched a thousand ships. A moment later I found myself trudging to the bathroom, defeated by a five-foot-nothing-on-a-good-day princess with the fortitude of a soap bubble.

I filled the tub with hot water, adding bubble bath mix to it too. Yes, I had bubble bath mix. Shut up.

When I returned, Elysia was sitting up in bed, her cheeks strangely pink.

“I know I didn’t truly earn such treatment,” she admitted, suddenly shy. “But would you... help me bathe? My chambermaids used to assist me, you see, and I find I rather miss the companionship.”

Every sensible part of my brain started flashing warning signals, but they were all drowned out by Josh 2: The Dickening making executive decisions on my behalf.

“Sure,” I heard myself say a bit hoarsely. “If that’s what you want.”

Her face lit up like Christmas and her birthday had both arrived at once. In the bathroom, steam curled around us as she slowly pulled her pajama top over her head, revealing the red lingerie we’d bought earlier. My mouth went Sahara-dry as she slipped out of her shorts, then reached behind to unhook her bra with grace.

She hesitated only a heartbeat before sliding off her panties. Standing before me, she looked so perfect, so indescribably beautiful that I felt a little guilty for witnessing her nudity at all. She was petite but imposingly busty, with pale skin that shone from her sweat under the yellow bathroom lights. Her taut, athletic figure, which somehow seemed waxed to perfection from the chin down, made me so immediately turned on that I worried I might tear through the fabric of my boxers.

“What a savage beast you are after all. You’re staring so intensely,” she noted softly, but I didn’t miss the pleased tone of her voice.

“Can you blame me?” I managed, but my vocabulary beyond that was more or less reduced to caveman grunts.

She shook her head and held out her hand. “Help me in, Sir Josh? My champion?”

I took her hand and steadied her as she stepped into the tub. She sighed blissfully as she sank into the hot water, throwing back her head and stretching with the one hand that wasn’t still clinging to mine.

“Strange. You’re still dressed,” she pointed out, arching one perfect golden eyebrow.

I shed my boxers with significantly less grace than she’d shown and climbed in opposite her. The tub was spacious but not meant for two—our legs tangled naturally underwater, skin sliding against skin in ways that made coherent thought challenging. To put it bluntly, my cock was inches away from her pussy, and we were both very aware of the fact.

After several moments of silence, she reached for the shampoo. “I assume this container holds a hair-washing ointment of some sort. Would you wash my hair?”

I took the bottle and she turned, settling between my legs with natural ease. The press of her against me sent my brain into overdrive, especially when I felt my erection press into her back, going vertical to compensate for how tightly she’d pushed back into me.

I poured water over her golden hair, then worked shampoo through it, massaging her scalp the way I used to massage my stepmom’s corgi on bath day. Elysia made small sounds of contentment that shot straight through me like jolts of electricity. When my fingers accidentally brushed the tip of one pointed ear, she gasped, and her entire body went rigid.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” she breathed in a strained, airy voice. “Elven ears are... quite sensitive. Especially the tips. It’s considered rather intimate to touch them.”

I filed that very useful information away and finished rinsing her hair, deliberately avoiding her ears at first. Then, curiosity getting the better of me since she pointedly didn’t tell me not to, I traced the shell of one ear with deliberate lightness.

She gasped again, arching back against me. “Josh...” Her hand reached back, stopping at my thigh, but squeezing like she was trying to fight off the urge to reach for something else.

“Too much?” I asked, whispering in the same ear I just teased.

She shook her head and melted back against my chest. “It’s just a powerful feeling. Do as you please, but be gentle with me. I’m very… inexperienced.”

Encouraged by those words, I continued my exploration while my other hand found her waist. She felt perfect against me, like she was meant to be in my arms all along. My hand drifted up to cup one impressive breast—perfectly shaped, tipped with a pale, barely pink nipple that hardened immediately under my palm.

“Is this okay?” I murmured against her ear.

“More than okay,” she gasped, pressing into my touch. “Mmm… my champion…”

I played with her breasts, going between them every now and then, while my other hand traced increasingly bold patterns on her ears. She writhed against me, her breathing becoming ragged as little, disastrously lewd-sounding whimpers escaped her throat.

“Nyuh—Josh,” she moaned, her hips moving restlessly. “There’s this pressure building inside me. Like a fire in my core that your touch inspires but cannot quench if your hands remain where they are. Do you… know what I’m saying?”

Understanding her need, I let my hand drift lower, finding her already swollen, like her pussy had been impatiently waiting for me. The first touch of my fingers made her cry out, her body jerking like she’d been shocked.

“Still okay?” I asked, needing to be sure.

“Please,” she begged as she discarded all pretense of royal dignity. “Please, don’t stop. Whatever you do, stopping is hereby forbidden!”

I circled her sensitive bud with careful pressure while my other hand alternated between her breasts and those surprisingly sensitive ears. She moved against my hand with increasing desperation, letting soft moans fill the steamy air.

“Josh—ahhh fffff—” she gasped, her voice climbing in pitch. “Something’s happening. I feel like I’m going to—”

Her body went bow-string taut, knees locking, feet pushing her ass off the bottom of the tub and thrusting the top of her head against my neck. She shuddered violently as pleasure overtook her, crying out. The feral sound echoed off the bathroom walls as she came apart in my arms. I held her through it, drawing out every tremor until she collapsed against me, boneless and panting.

“By all the trees in Elfhaven,” she whispered with wonder in her voice. “I had no idea physical pleasure could reach such heights.”

I pressed a kiss to her temple, stupidly proud of myself. “Happy to be of service, Your Highness.”

She turned to face me. Her eyes were shining with something between gratitude and determination. “Your turn,” she declared. “I wish to practice this art of pleasure-giving.”

Seeing as how I was about as hard as a diamond, she got no complaint from me. Still, she insisted on washing my hair first, and I found that her small hands were surprisingly strong when she massaged my scalp.

Then she worked her way down my body slowly, as if memorizing every plane and angle. When she finally reached my straining erection, she wrapped her hand around it with a hungry, reverent look in her piercing blue eyes.

“It’s so beautiful,” she murmured, giving an experimental stroke. “And warm. And much larger than I anticipated. I have anatomical concerns, but if you’re my fated mate, then we are destined to navigate these matters together.”

I choked on a laugh that turned into a groan as she found a rhythm. “Good?” she asked, her eyes wide with earnest curiosity.

“Very good,” I managed through gritted teeth.

She leaned in, pressing her cheek against my chest as she gazed down at her handiwork, her breath hot against my skin. “Excellent. I want to make you feel as wonderful as you made me feel. Tell me if I do something you don’t like, and I will change immediately.”

Her hand worked steadily, varying pressure and speed as she studied my reactions with scholarly focus. I felt the familiar pressure building. Given just how turned I’d been for a while now, I was already approaching the point of no return.

“Elysia,” I warned, my voice strained.

“Yes,” she encouraged, kissing my chest, her own voice husky. “Let go for me, Josh. Give your essence to me, I beseech you.”

Those weirdly formal words pushed me over the edge. I came with a groan that made the thin walls shake. My body shuddered on and on as she stroked me through it with amazing skill for a beginner.

Afterward, we dried off in silence. Wrapped in towels, she suddenly threw her arms around me in a fierce hug.

“Thank you,” she said softly against my chest. “For the battle, for the bath, for taking care of me, for... everything you do and everything you are.”

I held her close, breathing in her scent. “You’re welcome.”

When she pulled back, her expression had turned serious. “I think I should return to the guest chamber after all,” she said with weary regret in her voice. “If I share your bed tonight, I fear I might surrender more than I’m prepared to lose.”

“I can control myself,” I told her, touching her cheek and smiling. “I won’t do anything, I promise.”

Then began the fiercest blush I’d ever seen in all my days as she quickly averted her gaze. “As it so happens, I’m not so concerned about… what you’ll do. If you catch my meaning.”

I nodded, respecting her boundaries even as every cell in my body protested. “Sounds good, Princess.”

She rose on tiptoes to kiss my cheek, her lips lingering. But after a moment, we both realized we weren’t satisfied with just that. Our arms entombed one another, and her lips found mine. I had to hunch down as she stood on tiptoes, standing on my feet no less, but we made it work and shared a first, incredible kiss in the steamy bathroom.

Afterwards, she took a moment to catch her breath, then smiled up at me sweetly. “Goodnight, my valiant champion. Dream of glorious battles and future victories.”

She padded out wrapped in her towel, leaving me standing there in a daze.

Chapter 6

Around nine AM the next day, sunlight leaked through the blinds to catch me in the act of flipping french toast. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and vanilla had gotten into a fight with bacon and somehow everyone won. I’d already whipped up a café au lait exactly how Elysia liked it—coffee cut with hot milk, some sugar, and a drizzle of honey.

My brain kept rewinding to last night’s bath-time episode. I felt like I’d won the lottery—again. Elysia was basically a supermodel who’d wandered out of a fantasy novel and decided I was her destiny-daddy. The other part of me wondered if I was speedrunning myself into disaster.

“Two days,” I muttered, sliding the last piece of french toast onto a plate. “I’ve known her for two days and I’m already...”

But I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Already what? Falling for her? Acting like her personal butler with benefits? Both seemed equally ridiculous and equally true.

I wasn’t naive enough to think this was normal. But I also couldn’t pretend the way she’d gotten under my skin wasn’t real. Her ridiculous demands, her moments of unexpected vulnerability, even her ability to masterfully pout in situations where pouting was far from necessary—it all just worked on me somehow.

“Roll with it, Becker,” I told myself, loading up the breakfast tray. “Not like the universe is giving you many options not to.”

I balanced the tray up the stairs to the guest room. The door was cracked open, so I nudged it wider with my foot.

“Breakfast is—” The words died in my throat like they’d been brutally shot to death.

Elysia was sprawled across the bed completely naked, last night’s towel on the floor in no position to cover anything. She stretched when she saw me, arms reaching above her head in a move that pushed her breasts skyward. Her pale nipples went from zero to attention instantly—at first sight of little ol’ me.

Then—because apparently my blood pressure wasn’t high enough—she spread her legs wide and raised her knees, giving me the kind of view that would make a gynecologist offer a hearty thumbs up. I had to rebalance the tray in my hands as my eyes locked onto the logical place for them to go. All this for the pretense of a morning stretch.

My jaw hung open stupidly as I took it all in, unable to muster any words. Thankfully, she wasn’t so tongue-tied.

“Good morning, Sir Josh,” she purred, making zero effort to cover anything.

“M-morning,” I croaked.

She arched a perfect eyebrow and nodded at what I carried in. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah,” I managed. “French toast, bacon, eggs, café au lait.”

She made a happy sound and finally—mercifully—sat up, patting the bed beside her. “Bring it here, please.”

I approached like the bed was a bomb that needed defusing. The moment I set the tray down, she yanked me down and kissed me like she was attempting to steal my soul through my mouth.

Well, okay then, I thought dizzily as her tongue had its fucking way with mine. Not that I was complaining. When we broke apart, my brain rebooted enough to notice something. “Your breath doesn’t stink,” I blurted, immediately wanting to punch myself.

She laughed, making her breasts do wonderful things. “Basic elven magic, not even a System blessing. No morning breath, no body odor. Instant purification.”

“Must be nice,” I said weakly. I wondered if she could use more of her cleansing magic on me, but I liked my showers, so I didn’t bother to ask for the moment.

“Enough talking,” she declared, climbing into my lap completely nude. Her ass pressed against my rapidly awakening cock as she wound her arms around my neck for Tonsil War Two.

My hands found her waist automatically, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. “Mmmm…” She moaned into my mouth, squirming in ways that would soon have me acting unwise if this kept up.

Some fragment of responsibility surfaced in my sex-addled brain. “Food’s getting cold,” I managed between kisses. After her mentioning how little she trusted her self-control before we went to bed last night, I was getting a front row view of just how fair an assessment that seemed to be.

She pouted but nodded. “I suppose sustenance is required for the day’s activities.” She adjusted in my lap, grabbing the tray. “Brush my hair while I eat? It’s all tangled from sleep.”

The request caught me off guard—but the idea of brushing her hair while she sat naked in my lap eating breakfast fired neurons in my brain I didn’t know existed.

“Sure,” I heard myself say. “Let me grab a brush.”

I lifted her nearly weightless body off my lap and retrieved a brush from the bathroom. When I returned, she’d positioned herself with the tray across her lap, scooting forward to make room behind her.

I settled against the headboard, and she nestled between my legs, her bare ass pressing against my denim-covered predicament. As I started working the brush through her golden locks, she took her first bite of french toast.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned with a sound belonging in a very different context. “Oh gods, Josh... this is... unnnngh... divine!”

I almost choked on my freaking tongue. “Glad you like it,” I managed.

Each bite produced increasingly pornographic sounds. The bacon earned a high-pitched “Ahhhh!” that dissolved into something that would’ve gotten us banned from restaurants. The eggs triggered a series of “Oh! Oh! OH!” that peaked with a throaty “Yessss!”

I was starting to suspect this was on purpose.

By the time she finished, my jeans were not feeling so comfy anymore, but I had to admit there was something deeply satisfying about taking care of her like this. Her hair felt like liquid silk, and the contented purrs she made as I worked out the tangles were almost as good as her food-gasms.

When breakfast was done, she set the tray aside and snuggled back against my chest. Was this my life now? Would I ever get anything done ever again?

“You should get dressed,” I suggested, sounding a bit more desperate than I meant to. “We can figure out plans for the day.”

She twisted to face me, looking immediately offended. “Why should I wear clothes now that you’ve already seen and touched everything? It’s insulting! Are you ashamed of my body?!” She gestured at herself dramatically. “This is art, Josh Becker! You should treasure every viewing opportunity!”

“Trust me, I agree,” I said as my eyes did another involuntary tour. “But you were the one who pumped the brakes last night. If you stay like this all day, it’ll be a matter of hours—maybe minutes—before I frankly fuck the shit out of you.”

She giggled sweetly, which was not the sound I expected. She was clearly delighted by this admission, though, so I supposed it was a win. “Very well. If my nudity threatens to overwhelm your restraint, I shall dress myself...” she paused for dramatic effect, “minimally.”

I escaped downstairs while she got “dressed,” grabbing my phone and collapsing onto the couch. A few minutes later, she descended wearing a silky pajama top that barely covered her tits and a pair of black panties so tiny that it might as well be made of thoughts and prayers. Why did I even buy those?

Not really too much of an improvement, but I decided to keep that observation to myself.

She flopped beside me, draping herself across my lap like a cat. “Rub my tummy,” she commanded, hiking up her top.

Well, hell. Here we go. I set my phone aside and complied, tracing gentle circles on her flat stomach. She made happy noises. “This is perfect,” she declared after a while. “Being pampered by my champion while we await our far off destiny.”

“Speaking of that destiny,” I said, “should we be doing anything specific while we wait for Black Lazarus? Besides the pampering schedule?”

She considered this, actually looking thoughtful. “You could meditate to gain passive XP a little each day. Oh! And we should collect the behemoth horns. Come on!”

She sat up suddenly. “We’ll meditate outside. Less distracting than being indoors with all the cushions.”

“Should you maybe put on actual clothes?” I suggested innocently. “It’s chilly today out there, you know.”

She sighed a pained sigh. “If I must...”

Twenty minutes and one wardrobe change later, we were crossing the field toward yesterday’s battlefield. Naturally, Elysia was riding me piggyback.

“Here’s good,” she announced when we reached the behemoth’s corpse, which was already starting to fade. I let her slide off my back and watched as she circled the massive carcass.

“So what’s the play here?” I asked.

“The horns are the prize,” she explained, pointing at the huge curved horns still embedded in the barn doorframe. “You’ll have to saw them off or they’ll fade with the carcass.”

“Will they even be useful here?” I asked as I examined the structural damage to my barn. “On Earth, I mean.”

“They’re used mostly for potions and enchantments in my world,” she shrugged. “But if we hang onto them, then one day the other party members might be able to make use of them.”

I cocked my head. She’d mentioned them before. She had also mentioned that she would see them again, and that the entire party was destined to face off against Black Lazarus, including me. I was just beginning to realize that that likely meant they were coming to Earth, too. That might be awkward when they realized my relationship with their friend.

But then, she also mentioned that every member of the Hero’s Party had a fated mate. Were their mates all Earth humans, then? I didn’t really get it, but I wasn’t really in a hurry to. For all I knew, they’d be showing up in twenty years, right before the fight with Black Lazarus.

…Why couldn’t he just be Evil Lazarus?

Anyway, with her guidance, I extracted both horns using a handsaw from my workshop. Each one was nearly four feet of wicked curve, and surprisingly light for their size.

“Meditation time,” she announced once we’d set the horns aside. “Let’s find a spot away from the corpse. Dead monster energy interferes with the System’s flow.”

I picked a grassy patch about thirty yards away, sitting cross-legged as instructed. Elysia knelt behind me and settled her small hands on my shoulders.

“Close your eyes, Sir Josh,” she said as she shifted her voice to something between ASMR and hypnosis. I was definitely a fan of this new register of hers. “Breathe deep. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

At first, it felt ridiculous. This was some yoga instructor new age nonsense, not actual magic, but she knew better than I did, so I played along. Wouldn’t you know it, after a few minutes, something changed. A warmth spread through my limbs like good booze, coming in with a tingling at the base of my skull.

“That’s it,” she murmured as her hands worked my shoulders. I didn’t think that part was necessary—more likely that she just had trouble keeping her hands off of me. “You’re connecting to the System’s passive field. I can sense it.”

My head got fuzzy. The sensations intensified—warmth becoming heat, tingling evolving into a pleasant buzz that resonated in my bones.

When I finally opened my eyes, a notification floated in my peripheral vision, and I whipped my head to look at it:

MEDITATION COMPLETE

XP Gained!

“Holy shit!” I jumped up. “I got XP for sitting on my ass!”

I turned to share my excitement, but Elysia was staring past me, her face suddenly pale as a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” I followed her gaze.

Twenty feet away, the air was doing that pre-portal shimmer thing again. Which… was weird.

“Impossible,” she whispered. “It’s too soon.” She looked at me for confirmation. “Right?”

“Right. It’s never come this early before.” I said as I moved protectively beside her. Neither of us were in armor or had weapons, so that added another shitty element to the whole thing.

She shook her head, eyes locked on the growing distortion. “No—wait! That’s not a monster portal. That’s a transit portal, like mine!”

The tear expanded rapidly, forming an oval big enough for a person. Purple energy crackled and surged around its edges, sure enough, identical in shape and size to the one that had delivered Elysia.

A figure emerged—definitely female, definitely not human. She had golden-brown dog ears perched on her head and a matching tail that immediately started wagging. The hair on her head was golden brown in the same way as her ears and tail, fashioned into a bob, and with a big crimson bow sitting atop her head. Her outfit was something else: a white shawl with red trim over a black midriff-baring top and a high-slit skirt, which was also white and red. A black leather collar with a golden tag completed the look.

Her tan skin and amber eyes fixated on me, and she cocked her head in confusion. The second she spotted Elysia, however, her tail went into overdrive.

“Princess Elysia!” she cried, launching herself forward. “Your Highness!”

Before I could react, she’d tackled Elysia to the ground and was licking her face a bit too enthusiastically for it to be some sexy lesbian porn shit.

“Thank the Moon Mother you’re safe!” she exclaimed between licks. “One minute you were there, then POOF, just as planned, I couldn’t believe how smoothly it went! But my chrono crystal couldn’t find you, so I thought something went wrong, so I decided to search for you myself and—”

“Portia!” Elysia laughed, half-heartedly pushing at the dog-girl. “Unhand me at once, you fretful thing! I’m quite fine, I assure you!”

The dog-girl—Portia—finally relented, helping Elysia up before turning to examine me. Her nose twitched as she literally sniffed the air.

“Josh,” Elysia said, brushing grass off her clothes, “I am honored to introduce Portia, our party healer and apparently our newest housemate. Portia, this strapping man is Josh Becker, our new party member.”

I smiled and extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Portia.”

Her eyes bulged in shock, and she recoiled like I’d pulled a gun, leaping backward with her ears flat and tail tucked. “Elysia!” she gasped with theatrical terror. “Is he... you mean… he’s the one?” For some reason, though, her tail started wagging before she even heard the answer.

Elysia sighed. “Yes, Portia. He’s the man of Earthrealm foretold by Juniper and the Seer.”

Portia’s gaze darted to me, eyes wide with exaggerated awe. “So this brutal, merciless gigolo of a man is to be my cruel and unforgiving master?”

Elysia blinked. So did I. The princess let out a sigh. “Sure,” she said flatly. “If it makes you happy, I suppose.”

“Wait, what?” I started. “I’m not—”

“I can feel his lecherous gaze undressing me!” Portia declared, though her tail had started wagging again. “Very well, Master! Pah-tooey!” she spit on the ground. “Since I have no choice, I shall submit to your cruel discipline and let you attempt to mold me into the bitch you wish for me to be.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead like she was in distress. “Oh woe is me!” She winked at me when she saw the look on my face.

“What is actually happening right now?” I muttered out of the side of my mouth in a near-monotone, unable to look away.

Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Oh, I do not look forward to the spankings, the collar-pulling, especially when he forces me to—”

“PORTIA!” Elysia snapped. “Can you contain your fantasies for literally thirty seconds, you lewd hound? We haven’t even finalized our introductions!”

Portia’s whole demeanor flipped like a lever had been pulled. With ears perked and tail wagging, she bowed deeply with a blush. “Forgive me, Princess! I was overcome by my joy.” She straightened, addressing me directly. “Sorry, Master. I am Portia Moonfang, Royal Healer of the Hero’s Party and First Cleric of the Moon Mother. I’m honored to serve!” Another wink.

I glanced at Elysia, who was looking exasperated. “Maybe we should take this inside?”

Ten minutes later, we were at my kitchen table. Portia was demolishing leftover bacon and eggs while Elysia and I nursed her coffee-adjacent abomination. I just did my best to catch up with the sudden influx of crazy bullshit.

“So you’re a healer?” I asked, trying to process this new development.

Portia nodded enthusiastically. “The finest in all of the Canid Kingdom! I can mend bones, cure poisons, even revive the recently dead!” She flexed her arm. “Plus I’m amazing with a war hammer.”

“War hammer?” I eyed her small frame skeptically. She was a few inches taller than Elysia, and a bit less petite, but she was no muscle mommy nor chungus by a long shot. Imagining her wielding a war hammer strained at my suspension of disbelief.

She grinned, showing pointed canines. “Don’t let the diminutive package fool you, Master. Though I’m sure you’ll be much stronger than me when our levels even out.” That look in her eyes was fucking trouble. I wanted very badly to ask about the weird outburst she had and why she was calling me Master all of a sudden, but I didn’t know quite how to broach it.

Suddenly she gasped, apparently determined to revisit the topic on her own. “Oh, curses! I took the last strip of bacon without permission!” She jumped up, bending over the table. “I suppose you’ll want to punish me for my greed, Master. How cruel of you! I spit in defiance! Pah-tooey!”

“Please don’t spit on my floor,” I said.

I’m not sure she heard me. I barely heard myself, because as I was saying that, the dog girl flipped up her skirt.

I choked on my coffee as my eyes locked onto the unexpected sight. Portia wore nothing under her skirt, presenting a perfectly round, firm ass and more than a peek at her puffy pussy lips. Her tan skin was lighter where underwear should have been, which implied that, for whatever reason, she chose not to bring underwear along with her today, but usually did. Two dimples above her rump marked the small of her back, but my eyes were mostly flitting between the winking of her asshole as she reached back to spread her cheeks, and the rapidly dampening slit of her cunt.

My brain blue-screened while my body had much more forceful reactions. I shifted uncomfortably, aware of my jeans mysteriously shrinking on me all of a sudden.

“Portia!” Elysia hissed, yanking the skirt down. “Cover yourself! It has been less than twenty minutes!”

“But my transgression—” Portia protested.

“Was imaginary,” Elysia finished. “Josh offered you the bacon. Be seated at once.”

Portia’s ears drooped, but she sat, shooting me hopeful looks like she thought I might set the record straight and offer her some punishment once and for all. Honestly, I was kind of considering it.

I blinked a few more times, stared down into my coffee, inwardly recited the Lord’s Prayer, and managed to restart. “So. How did you find us?”

“That would be the chrono crystals,” Elysia explained. “Each party member has one, save for you. They’re attuned for tracking across realms and time.”

“Took forever to lock onto her signature,” Portia added. “Twenty years of temporal displacement! How did that happen?!”

“Wait—So you’re stuck here too?” I asked, suddenly piecing some things together. “With us? For two whole decades?”

Portia nodded cheerfully. “Until the final battle and the appearance of the Tower of Convergence! There is no way back until then.” She leaned toward me eagerly. “I don’t suppose you have room for another houseguest, Master?”

“Plenty of room,” I assured her. It was true, but I wasn’t quite sure just what sort of dynamic we were headed toward. Elysia and I had just been getting close. A part of me thought we might be on the path to falling in love. And now we had a third wheel begging me to slap her ass every now and then? But when I looked at Elysia, for some reason this didn’t seem to register with her.

“You don’t need to call him Master, you know,” Elysia muttered.

“But I want to,” Portia pouted, rivaling Elysia’s best efforts. “We are in his home. And, as our champion, he is our leader. And Canid girls need strong male authority figures—which my life as a member of the Hero’s Party has woefully deprived me of. We yearn for the cruel hand of a brutal lord, doling out punishment and making us obedient.”

I looked to Elysia for help. She shrugged. “I suppose it is what it is. As long as you’re good, I’m sure Sir Josh here will work hard to keep you satisfied.”

“Wait,” I said as realization dawned on me, mainly because the dog girl called me ‘our champion’, but now because of what Elysia just said. “When you said I was your ‘fated mate,’ Elysia, I thought each member of your party had your own person. But that’s not right, is it?”

Elysia sipped her caffeinated beverage, looking a bit annoyed, but nodded. “No. That’s not right.”

“So I’m...”

“The fated mate for all three of us,” she confirmed with a growl. “I thought I’d have more time with you to myself, but apparently not. One champion must bind the three heroines, representing the three great kingdoms of Antheria, and lead them to defeat Black Lazarus.”

“Three?” I echoed weakly.

Portia’s tail thumped against her chair. “Juniper hasn’t arrived yet, but she will! I’m sure it won’t be too long, Master, don’t worry!”

I sat back, trying to process this. One elf princess had turned my life into chaos already, though not the bad kind. Now there was a pretty lady with dog ears and a doggy tail calling me Master with a third woman incoming. I’m not going to lie. I was happy about this development. Intimidated, but happy.

“This is a lot to take in,” I admitted, trying to hide my pervy smile.

As I reached for my mug, my elbow knocked a spoon off the table. Before I could react, Portia was on her feet.

“I distracted Master and caused an accident!” she declared, bending over to touch her toes. Up went the skirt again, sweet Baby Jesus. “Such carelessness no doubt will earn your discipline, though I loathe it so much! Pah-tooey!”

I froze, mug halfway to my mouth, as I got another eyeful of Portia’s lack of underwear.

“In the name of the Silver-Bark Tree—Portia, pull your skirt down!” Elysia commanded. “You can’t display your buttocks every time gravity occurs!”

“Oh, I wish it were that simple, Princess. But if I don’t present myself, I fear Master will rip my clothes to shreds and do far worse than a few brutal smacks on my juicy peach of a rear end,” Portia sighed as she performatively bit the nails on one of her hands and tried to sound like she was fearful of me.

I set my mug down very carefully, going halfway into shock. Elysia reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “I know this is overwhelming.”

“You’re handling it well though,” Portia added brightly as she spread her cheeks.

I blinked at her butt. “Please put that thing away for now, Portia.”

She whimpered. “Yes, Master. I mean—I won’t let this one act of mercy lead me into a false sense of security. I know when the time comes, the punishment that you dole out will be exquisite indeed—I mean, painful!”

“Alright,” I said, finally standing up. As I turned, my erection knocked a half-empty glass of water onto the floor but I just pretended it didn’t happen. The girls thankfully played along. “Guess I’d better set up another guest room.”

Portia’s tail went crazy. “I suppose I must share yours, Master, since you’ll no doubt want me at your disposal at all times.”

“Not a chance,” Elysia said firmly. “You just arrived in Earthrealm. He doesn’t even know you.”

Portia gasped, ears flattening. “The Princess is right! I’ve been too forward! My eagerness has made her jealous and exposed her intense lust for Master!” She leapt up and bent over again. “Master, you will want to punish this ill-mannered bitch, won’t you?”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, looking away while still catching an eyeful of her tan lines.

Elysia cringed and tugged the skirt down once more. “This is going to be an ongoing concern, isn’t it?”

“Only until Master establishes proper dominance,” Portia explained with her tail still wagging.

I shook my head, wondering what kind of chaos Juniper would bring when she arrived.

But as I headed up to the guest room to straighten things out for the new healer in our party, I supposed one thing was for certain: I’d probably never be bored or lonely again.

Chapter 7

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful because after introducing basic Earth concepts to the new arrival and eating a late lunch, Portia and Elysia both took a series of extremely long naps. Portia blamed her post-portal transit’s side effects for her exhaustion, but I didn’t even bother asking Elysia for an excuse. They didn’t even get up in time to help me kill the midnight monster, but to be honest, maybe that was for the best. I figured I could use the break to process everything.

The following morning I woke up to the now routine sensation of Elysia curled against me. Her long blonde hair tickled my chin like it did every morning. For about ten seconds, I enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding my tiny elf princess—before reality came crashing down on me.

Specifically, reality crashed through my kitchen. The sound of destruction downstairs made me sit up so fast I almost launched Elysia across the room.

“What was that?” she mumbled, still half-asleep and adorably grumpy about it.

“Three guesses,” I said, already pulling on a shirt. “I’ll give you a hint—she has dog ears.”

The sounds grew louder as I headed downstairs—whimpering, clattering, and what sounded like someone trying to sweep up their own dignity. I rounded the corner into my kitchen and found exactly what I expected: a fucking mess.

Portia stood in the middle of my formerly clean kitchen, wearing nothing but the oversized t-shirt I’d loaned her last night. Flour coated every surface like fresh snow. Egg shell pieces covered the counter. Something in a pan was sending up worrisome black smoke.

“Master!” she yelped when she spotted me, her tail immediately disappearing between her legs. “I attempted to prepare breakfast as tribute, but the cooking implements here are so foreign and strange! I fear I did not succeed!”

I rushed to shut off the stove before my smoke alarm could do its thing. Opening windows to clear the air, I surveyed the damage. Nothing was actually broken—just extremely messy.

“It’s fine,” I assured her. “Not everyone’s born knowing how to cook.”

Her ears flattened against her head. “I’ve failed my first attempt to serve you properly.” She immediately dropped the broom and bent over the kitchen table. “I suppose my vicious Master will want to punish me for my incompetence! Very well! I will endure the shame and the pain, but know this—I will resist in my heart! Pah-tooey!”

“Nope, nope, nope,” I said quickly, grabbing her shoulders before she could perform her signature move. “No spitting indoors, please, and no punishments needed. The thought was nice. Maybe just let me handle breakfast for now? You’ve got plenty of time to figure out how it all works.”

She straightened up, looking equal parts disappointed and relieved. “As Master commands.” But then she suddenly looked past me and pointed at the stairs in disbelief. “The Princess awakens by herself!” she suddenly announced, her whole demeanor shifting. “And so early! We must praise her!”

I turned to find Elysia in the doorway, wearing one of my shirts as a nightgown and sporting bedhead that somehow looked intentional. She surveyed my flour-bombed kitchen with one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I see the canine has redecorated,” she observed, her voice dripping with judgment.

“I’ll clean everything!” Portia volunteered eagerly.

“After breakfast,” I interrupted, already grabbing eggs that hadn’t been sacrificed to the kitchen gods. “Both of you sit. Let someone who knows what they’re doing handle this.”

As I made breakfast, my brain shifted to practical matters. “We need to get Portia some clothes,” I said, plating scrambled eggs. “But I can’t exactly parade another non-human through Millfield without raising questions.”

“Why not?” Portia asked through a mouthful of toast. “Is my appearance offensive?” Her hand went to one ear self-consciously.

“No, you’re cute as a button,” I said. “It’s just that humans aren’t used to seeing people with, uh, extra features.”

“We shall utilize your so-called online delivery services,” Elysia declared. “As you suggested we do for me initially.”

“Should’ve done that in the first place,” I admitted. “I’ll need to measure you, Portia. Make sure we get the right sizes.”

Elysia’s expression darkened instantly. “My garments would surely fit her adequately. She’s barely larger than myself.”

“She’s like five inches taller,” I pointed out. “And built a little thicker, too. Won’t take long.”

“Fine,” Elysia sighed heavily. “Though I suppose she cannot continue wearing your shirts indefinitely.” She fixed Portia with an icy look. “You understand, naturally, that Josh assists you from necessity, not desire.”

Portia nodded quickly. “Of course, Princess! Master’s actions stem from the necessity of duty alone. I know he loathes me as a wretch and wishes only for my suffering at his cruel hands.”

I watched this exchange with mounting concern. Was Elysia actually jealous? Then again, adding a dog-girl who kept flashing her ass had definitely shifted the dynamic.

After breakfast, I dug out a measuring tape from my study. “Alright, let’s get this done so we can order your stuff.”

Portia followed me to the living room with Elysia trailing behind. I unrolled the tape, suddenly realizing how awkward this was about to get.

“So, uh, I need to measure your bust, waist, and hips,” I explained, feeling Little Josh (not that little, mind you) strain like he was trying to peek out of my pajama pants for a better view of the proceedings.

“Understood!” Portia chirped. Before I could blink, she was pulling the borrowed shirt over her head.

“Wait!” I yelped, lunging forward. “Keep the shirt on! I can measure over it!”

She looked genuinely confused. “But wouldn’t skin contact provide superior accuracy?”

“It’ll be fine,” I insisted. “I just need to... get the tape under in a few spots.”

Portia nodded, looking vaguely disappointed. Honestly, if Elysia wasn’t shooting daggers with her eyes, I might have let the dog-girl have her way. I approached cautiously, starting with the safe measurement—shoulders.

“Arms out,” I instructed, moving to the danger zone.

Getting the tape around her chest meant my hands inevitably brushed the sides of her breasts. Portia inhaled sharply, and her amber-gold eyes went wide.

“Sorry,” I muttered, trying to work fast. “Thirty-four.”

“No apologies necessary, Master,” she breathed. “Your cruel, rough touch is something I must learn to bear.”

From the doorway, Elysia made a sound that reminded me of an angry cat.

The waist measurement was mercifully straightforward. “Okay, got it,” I noted, then braced myself for the final challenge.

“Last one,” I said, crouching to measure her hips. This put my face uncomfortably close to regions I was trying hard not to think about. As I wrapped the tape around, my hand accidentally grazed her backside.

Portia gasped and immediately dropped to her knees, assuming the position.

“My lewd body has made Master uncomfortable!” she declared. “No doubt my cruel overlord will demand discipline from my slutty form! How dreadful! Pah-tooey!”

I sighed deeply. Elysia stood in the doorway looking thoroughly done with everything.

“Just give her what she wants,” she suggested tiredly. “She won’t cease until you do.”

I looked between Elysia’s “get on with it” expression and Portia’s expectantly raised posterior. Against every instinct screaming “bad idea,” I gave her bottom a middling tap.

Portia made a sound between a yelp and a moan. Her whole body shuddered. When she turned to look at me, her eyes had a dazed, unfocused quality.

“Finally!” she breathed, tail wagging furiously. “Master has established dominance! My devotion shall know no bounds!”

I caught Elysia’s eye over Portia’s head. Her raised eyebrow clearly said, “You’ve created a monster.” Like this was my idea.

“Okay, got the last number,” I said weakly, finishing the measurement and helping her up. “Let’s go order clothes before this gets weirder.”

Half an hour later, I was at my laptop with Portia hovering at my shoulder. Her tail hadn’t stopped wagging since The Incident, and she kept finding excuses to stand close. I could feel her warm breath on my neck each time she leaned in.

“This dress speaks to me, Master,” she said, pointing at a black number on screen.

“Looks good,” I agreed, adding it to the cart. “Nice to have formal options.”

“Josh!” Elysia’s voice rang from the kitchen. “I require immediate assistance!”

I sighed. “Be right there.”

In the kitchen, I found Elysia on tiptoes, reaching for a mug on a shelf she could easily access if she jumped half an inch. Her golden hair cascaded down her back as she stretched. The borrowed shirt rode up her thighs.

“Could you help?” she asked sweetly. “It’s so dreadfully high.”

I grabbed the mug. “Here you go.”

“You’re so strong and capable,” she purred, letting her fingers linger on mine.

“Uh-huh.” I wasn’t born yesterday. “I need to finish Portia’s order.”

Her smile flickered. “Of course. Carry on. For now.”

Back at the laptop, Portia was browsing combat boots.

“These would withstand battle,” she mused. “And these sandals for domestic comfort.”

“Good thinking,” I agreed, adding both. “Let’s grab some basics and—”

“Josh!” Elysia again. “Catastrophe has struck!”

I rushed back to find her standing in a puddle, her shirt soaked and clinging to her body.

“The water glass betrayed me,” she explained tragically. “Now I’m drenched and require immediate wardrobe assistance.”

I knew exactly what game she was playing. “Fine. Let’s get you changed.”

Upstairs, she immediately peeled off the wet shirt and stood there naked. Her pale skin was an absolute treat for the eyes, complemented by the beauty of her lustrous golden hair. Her pointed ears peeked through the strands.

“Which garments would please you most?” she asked innocently.

I grabbed the first things I saw. “These work. Listen—I really need to finish Portia’s order.”

She took the clothes but didn’t put them on. Her frown was apocalyptic, but her voice came out softer than expected. “Are you so eager to return to her?”

The vulnerability in her words made me soften and realize how impatient I was being. Elysia was still the same spoiled, bratty Princess from the moment I met her just a few days ago—that just was who she was, and I was bound to her in some weird way, for better or worse. She might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she was my pain in the ass—with benefits. And I did find her odd ways charming, if I was honest with myself.

I thought hard about how to respond, and I decided to just be frank. I put my hands on her shoulders and smiled. “I just want to get this done. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can focus on other things. Got it?”

“Logical,” she conceded, finally dressing. “You may return. Temporarily.”

I thought I reached her, but I’d barely sat down again when her voice echoed through the house.

“Josh! Mysterious pains require immediate massage therapy!”

I counted to ten under my breath. “In a minute, Elysia!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Then the pitter-patter of bare feet came next. She appeared in the doorway, marched over, and slammed my laptop shut.

“I require pampering,” she declared, climbing into my lap. “Immediately.”

Portia backed away, flattening her ears against her golden-brown hair. The big red bow atop her head twitched with the wary waggles of her ears. “I should give you two privacy...”

“No,” I said firmly, hands on Elysia’s waist but not removing her. “Elysia, I get that you’re feeling neglected, but this is absolutely unreasonable and bratty of you. Give me a fucking break. I’m trying to help Portia, our fellow party member—your friend. All I need is ten minutes, tops.”

Elysia looked guilty. “But—”

“How about this,” Portia offered meekly, folding her hands under her chin. She was wincing as she spoke, like she expected the Princess to launch herself at her. “Perhaps let our champion finish my order—as he said, ten minutes at most. Then the rest of the day shall be all yours. Is that fair, Your Highness?”

She considered it, her pout intensifying. “Very well. But I remain here while you work.” She adjusted in my lap but didn’t move.

I internally groaned. “Alright, then.”

For almost exactly ten minutes, I finished Portia’s order with Elysia perched possessively on my lap. She played with my hair and occasionally kissed my cheek, clearly marking her territory, and I could tell from Portia’s wide eyes that the display wasn’t lost on her either. The dog-girl watched with obvious fascination.

I didn’t think that Elysia’s show was having the desired effect on her. It was like Portia was getting hungrier and more fascinated by me the more she realized her friend wanted me to herself. Not the most healthy dynamic, maybe. As it turned out, Elysia wasn’t the only brat I was stuck with, whether I liked it or not.

To be fucking clear, I liked it, red flags be damned.

With the order submitted including overnight shipping, I closed the laptop. “Done. As promised, the afternoon is yours.”

Elysia brightened immediately. She hopped off and dragged me to the couch. “Foot massage first. Then thirty minutes minimum of hair brushing. Then we shall see.”

I spent hours pampering her exactly as promised—foot rubs, hair brushing, feeding her grapes while we watched TV—and letting her feed me until I was so tired of grapes I almost threw up. Portia watched from nearby, her tail occasionally wagging so hard for hours on end that I had to wonder how many calories that burned.

After a while, Elysia dozed off, so I had my opening to get some water. When I got up and headed for the kitchen, I caught Portia looking at her reflection in the silver fridge door, practicing Elysia’s imperious pose, nose high, finger pointing at invisible servants.

“...What are you doing?” I asked.

She yelped and hit the floor. “You caught me copying the Princess! Oh, woe is me! I suppose my heartless Master will want to punish me. Very well—I am brave in the face of cruelty.”

“Nope,” I cut her off, stepping around her. “Punishment quota’s full for today.” She made doggy whimpers as I left her there. I couldn’t help but wonder just why she was mimicking the princess, though.

As I was walking back to Elysia’s sleeping form, I realized that my single swat on Portia’s butt had opened Pandora’s box. I really would have to keep spanking her every now and then, and she probably hoped I’d escalate things too. I wasn’t sure I had the heart for that, no matter how into it she was.

As dusk approached, we suited up for the nightly monster patrol. Armor on, sword ready.

“Another monster tonight?” Portia asked, watching me gear up. Her crimson bow sat slightly askew atop her head. We had explained to her by this point just what the routine was out here, and it didn’t seem to surprise her in the same way Elysia seemed to be expecting monsters when she first arrived.

“Like clockwork lately,” I confirmed.

Her eyes lit up. “I shall provide more combat support!”

With a flourish, she produced a war hammer bigger than she was. The thing was covered in glowing runes and looked like it could demolish buildings.

“Where were you hiding that?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

She winked. “A lady has her secrets, Master.”

From the couch, Elysia yawned dramatically. “I suppose I must supervise again. For morale purposes. Not participating, naturally.”

“Naturally,” I said dryly. “Shall I carry Her Highness to the battlefield?”

“Obviously,” she replied, already raising her arms. “Up.”

I scooped her up. To my surprise, Portia dropped to all fours and bounded ahead, moving with shocking speed.

“Canid locomotion,” Elysia explained, noting my expression. “Rather undignified, if you ask me, but her kind can move with remarkable efficiency.”

I blinked in wonder. “Is she carrying that war hammer in her fucking teeth?”

When we got to the field, Portia rose to stand again, gripping her hammer confidently. I deposited Elysia on a viewing stump a safe distance away from where the action would take place, then took position beside our newest party member.

“Stay sharp,” I advised her, tempted to give her a friendly pat on the back but decided not to introduce any new variable to our dynamic just before a fight. “These portals spit out everything from animated armor to hairy behemoths.”

Portia nodded, looking more serious than I’d seen her so far. Her stance widened, and her eyes narrowed, and suddenly she looked like someone who could actually wield that ridiculous hammer of hers.

The air shimmered, and the pre-portal distortion started to affect the air in front of us. The portal opened slowly, with purple energy crackling as it expanded wider and wider.

A roar emerged before we could see the source. Then a massive green hand gripped the portal’s edge, followed by a head that had clearly been beaten with the ugly stick.

The creature that emerged stood eight feet tall, with tusks like a wild boar and muscles that had their own muscles. It wore armor that looked like it was cobbled together from a scrap heap, topped with a crown made of bones and jagged metal.

“An Orc King,” Portia identified instantly. “Upper tier orc fighter. They’re resistant to blunt trauma but still vulnerable to piercing. Watch the tusks—it contains a mild toxin that causes disorientation.”

I blinked at her instant analysis, then nodded my head in approval. “You distract, I’ll flank?”

She nodded, already going on the move. The Orc King spotted her first and charged. Portia herself waited until the last second, then dodged with gymnastic talent, connecting her hammer with its knee mid-spin.

The impact was a deafening crunch. The orc stumbled but stayed upright, spinning quickly. It swung a club at her, barely missing Portia as she rolled away.

I circled behind and levied my own attack. My blade bit deep into the monster’s massive thigh. Purple blood sprayed as the creature howled, then spun fast enough to make my eyes widen and glutes clench. Its backhand caught me square and sent me airborne.

I hit the ground hard, skidding several feet. “That sucked,” I groaned.

“Josh!” That squeal was Elysia, but it was Portia who was suddenly there, hands glowing blue as she pressed them to my chest. The pain vanished like magic—because it literally was magic, probably.

“Thanks,” I wheezed as I got up.

“I have blessed you with holy restoration,” she reported, already turning back to the fight. “More healing will be available post-battle if needed, Master!”

We figured out a pattern that started working for us soon enough. I darted in for surgical strikes while Portia alternated between distraction duty and combat medic. From her stump, Elysia watched with growing agitation, fingers drumming an impatient beat.

After several minutes, the Orc King was leaking from multiple wounds and moving slowly. We had it cornered against a tree.

“One more good hit,” I panted, raising my sword for the finale. But to my surprise, the green giant let out a defiant roar as its adrenaline surged and looked like it was preparing for round two.

A blonde blur shot past me. Elysia, moving faster than I knew she even could, launched herself at the orc with hands crackling with blue energy.

“Oh, no you don’t! Die, foul creature!” she cried, slamming her palms into its chest.

The explosion sent the Orc King through the tree. It lay smoking, and there was a massive hole where its heart used to be.

Elysia landed gracefully and dusted her hands off on her platemail bikini bottoms. “There,” she announced as she turned to me expectantly, ready for my praise. “Problem solved.”

I stared at her. “That was pretty badass. I didn’t know you could do that.”

She preened visibly. “I told you I was powerful. I simply choose my moments with great care.”

“Magnificent, Princess!” Portia exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. “Such devastating magic! It’s not every day you actually contribute! We must remember to praise her more later, Master!”

The blue victory window appeared:

VICTORY! XP Gained!

Not quite there, but getting closer. Elysia stepped toward me, eyes still full of expectation. “Aren’t you going to carry me home? I’ve expended precious energy on your behalf, and I didn’t even get any XP for it since you did most of the damage.”

“Of course,” I said as I lifted her up. She immediately snuggled against my chest and shot Portia a look that clearly said “mine.”

Back home, we cleaned up and ate dinner. Exhaustion was settling in. After dishes, I announced bedtime.

“I shall accompany you,” Elysia declared as she took my hand. “Magical exertion justifies a proper rest.”

I didn’t argue, letting her lead me upstairs. She changed into one of my shirts, then climbed into bed and patted the space beside her.

A soft knock interrupted us. I opened the door to find Portia in borrowed pajamas from Elysia that were slightly too small, clutching a pillow and looking vulnerable.

“Since we’re fated mates,” she said softly, “shouldn’t I learn to share sleeping arrangements? I promise to be unobtrusive.”

From the bed, Elysia made a sound like an irritable teakettle. “The bed is insufficient for three!”

Portia’s ears drooped sadly.

I thought carefully about this. There were a lot of reasons why I should probably de-escalate the bed sharing situation. First of all, Elysia wanted to take things slower, and I did respect that, and now I was worried that her friend’s presence was putting pressure on her to escalate our relationship before she was ready. I also hoped that I might be able to fix her a bit more before we did anything more than we already had.

As for sharing the bed with her and Portia, that just sounded like an awful idea that was going to end in drama unlike anything I’d ever seen in all my days. Portia was trying to encroach in her own selfish way, Elysia was trying to possess me all to herself, and I was caught in the middle. The sensible thing to do was to send Elysia away, and Portia, and say that for the time being, it was best for everyone if we separated our sleeping arrangements. I cleared my throat. “The bed’s plenty big,” I heard myself say, defying my own thought processes entirely. “Room for everyone.”

Well, it’s the thought that counts.

Portia’s face brightened immediately, at least. She bounded past me onto the bed, claiming the opposite side from Elysia, who looked ready to do crime on her dog-eared friend.

I climbed into the middle. Both women immediately attached themselves to me. Elysia draped possessively across my chest while Portia curled against my side, pressing her insane, soft, pornographic curves into me. Josh 2: The Penis was so hard I could have probably clubbed that Orc King to death with it.

“Goodnight, Master,” Portia whispered, tail thumping contentedly.

“Goodnight, my champion,” Elysia murmured, pressing closer and kissing my neck.

“Goodnight,” I replied, facing the ceiling.

As they drifted off, I couldn’t help wondering what fresh madness tomorrow would bring with it—and what would happen when Juniper, the mysterious third member of their original party, eventually showed up.

Something told me my bed was going to need an expansion.

Chapter 8

I was having some kind of happy dream or another when something started thumping against my leg like a furry, physical alarm clock. The weak dawn light leaking through my blinds suggested it was stupid o’clock in the morning—that magical hour when only psychopaths and overachievers are awake.

The thumping continued, rhythmic and insistent. I cracked one eye open to investigate and found myself staring at Portia’s tail, which was wagging against the mattress like it was trying to generate electricity. The dog-girl was wide awake. Her amber eyes fixed on the ceiling, her face flushed with color.

“Portia?” I whispered, careful not to wake Elysia, who was snuggling me like a teddy bear on the other side. “Everything okay?”

She startled. “Master! I... I didn’t realize you were conscious.”

“Your tail’s pounding my leg,” I explained, nodding at the appendage that was still twitching heedlessly of her obvious attempts to play it cool.

“Oh!” Her ears flattened in mortification. “Deepest apologies. I was experiencing a vivid fantasy—I mean, a nightmare. A most terrible and definitely not enjoyable nightmare about my cruel Master’s harsh punishments.”

“About what?” I asked, already knowing I probably didn’t want the answer.

She swallowed hard enough that I heard it. “About... receiving discipline. From you. For various infractions.” The way she said ‘discipline’ made it clear this dream had been rated way past PG-13. “My vicious overlord forcing his will upon his helpless servant. How dreadful!” A wink completely undermined the horrified look on her face.

“Right,” I said. What do you say when your housemate admits to having horny dreams about you? “Well, it was just a dream. Back to sleep?”

Portia sat up suddenly, clutching the sheets to her chest. “But don’t you see? My tail has disturbed your sacred rest! I’ve committed the very transgression I was dreaming about! No doubt my sadistic Master will want to punish his disobedient bitch severely.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” I assured her, patting her gently on the head. “Just an accident.”

“No, no,” she insisted, her voice rising before she caught herself and dropped to a stage whisper. “I suppose I must submit to whatever cruel punishment you devise.” She glanced at Elysia’s sleeping form. “Though if you’re concerned about waking the Princess, perhaps I could perform a quiet act of servitude instead. Something that would please my harsh overlord while proving my worth and debasing me in the same breath. How dreadful that would be!” Her eyes sparkled with horny glee.

“That’s really not—” My words died instantly as Portia whipped off her pajama top in one fluid motion.

Her breasts were even fuller than Elysia’s perfect rack, round with—holy shit—small silver rings piercing each nipple. The light creeping through the curtains caught the metal as she tossed the shirt aside and reached for something on the nightstand.

She produced a thin leather leash that I was pretty sure hadn’t been there when I went to bed, and clipped it to her collar. Then she placed the handle in my hand like she was passing me the key to the city.

“Pull as you deem appropriate,” she whispered, eyes submissively downcast. “Use it to control the pace.”

“What pace?” I asked, though my subconscious was already filling in the gaps.

Instead of answering with words, Portia slowly pulled back the covers, revealing my morning wood making a tent in my boxers. With fingers that trembled slightly—from excitement, not nerves—she tugged the waistband down, freeing my cock, which sprang up like it just remembered it had somewhere important to be.

“Oh my,” she breathed, eyes widening. “This cock is even more magnificently oppressive than I imagined. I suppose my brutal master expects his lowly servant to attend to this. How very... shameful! Pah-tooey!” She actually spit right on the head of my cock, then used her hand to spread the moisture around with doting strokes that suggested the shame was anything but unwelcome.

I opened my mouth to list all the reasons this was a terrible idea—starting with “Elysia is literally right there”—but coherent thought evaporated as Portia lowered her head and ran her tongue along the underside of my cock from base to tip.

The jolt of pleasure nearly launched me into the air. My hips bucked involuntarily, and Portia smiled smugly at the fruits of her prowess. She wrapped her fingers around the base, steadying her target, then took the head into her mouth.

The wet heat of her mouth was like diving into a hot spring after a Wisconsin winter. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head with expertise that would have implied extensive practice if I didn’t already know that these girls were sexually inexperienced. I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper, desperately trying not to make sounds that would wake Elysia, but the battle was going poorly.

Portia began to bob her head, taking me deeper with each pass. The wet sounds—slurping, sucking noises that echoed off the walls—were obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom. When she pulled back for air, my cock even left her mouth with a pop.

The leash dangled forgotten in my hand until Portia paused, looking up at me expectantly. When I didn’t move, she reached up and tugged, making the message crystal clear: take control.

Against every shred of better judgment I’d ever possessed, I gave the leash an experimental pull. Portia responded immediately, sinking back down with primal enthusiasm. Her pierced nipples grazed my thighs as she took me deeper, the metal adding sensation to an already overwhelming experience.

“Gluck, gluck, gluck,” went the soundtrack of my moral downfall as she worked me over. Her throat relaxed to accommodate more of me than physics or biology should allow. She pulled back, gasping. Strings of saliva still connected her lips to my cock. Sweet Lord.

Then it happened. Terror gripped my heart as Elysia stirred beside me. She murmured something in what might have been Elvish sleepy-talk, shifting closer until her small hand landed on my chest. In the most desperate slow series of movements of my life, I pulled the covers back over my crotch—and Portia’s head.

Portia, displaying the survival instincts of a lemming, didn’t even pause. If anything, the risk of discovery spurred her to greater efforts. She deep-throated me with gusto, her nose pressing against my abdomen as she swallowed around me. The sensation was like being squeezed by a velvet vise.

Elysia’s eyes fluttered open, still unfocused with sleep. She smiled dreamily at me, apparently oblivious to the earthquake happening under the covers.

“Good morning, my handsome champion,” she murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

My heart hammered as I returned her kiss, trying to act like everything was normal and chill and I definitely wasn’t getting the blowjob of my life at the exact same time. Portia chose that moment to do something with her tongue that made me see colors that only H.P. Lovecraft could ever try describing.

Elysia mistook my sharp intake of breath for passion meant for her and deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth while her hand began wandering south. Danger. Danger. My brain went into full panic mode—we were seconds from a real bad time.

Elysia’s soft moans masked the wet sounds from below as her hand slid down my chest, over my stomach, heading for ground zero...

Contact.

Her fingers, seeking my cock, found Portia’s face instead.

Time froze. Elysia’s eyes went from sleepy to shocked faster than a light switch. She sat up like she’d been slapped, yanking the covers back to confirm her worst suspicions.

“What in the name of the Rutting Vine is THIS?!” she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Portia finally released my cock with another wet pop. She looked up at Elysia without a hint of guilt, lips swollen and glistening.

“Good morning, Princess,” she chirped. “Awake so early! I had no choice, you see. My cruel overlord demanded I service him upon awaking! What could this helpless hound do but obey? Pah-tooey!” That was another spit glob on the tip of my cock, which she worked with both hands as she winked at Elysia.

“Without consulting me?” Elysia’s voice could have frozen a flame. “I had plans to pamper him myself! And you, my lesser in rank and nobility, rise early to beat me to his pleasure?!” Her glare swiveled to me like a targeting laser. “And YOU! Just lying there like a drunken sultan while I slept beside you, blissfully unaware?”

I realized I was still holding the leash and dropped it like it was on fire. “I didn’t—she just—I was asleep and then—”

“Spare me the excuses,” Elysia cut me off. Her expression went quickly from fury to calculation, though. “I shall overlook this betrayal, but only if you provide me with equal attention.”

Before I could process what was happening, Elysia had stripped off her nightshirt. Her perfect breasts appeared, pale and delicate compared to Portia’s pierced offerings, but also her tight elven pussy. She moved with lewd grace, swinging a leg over to straddle my face.

“Fair is fair,” she declared, lowering herself until her thighs framed my head. “Service me as she services you.”

I found myself staring up at her pretty slit, hovering just above my lips. Her scent hit me—sweet like honey with undertones of something wild and floral. Despite the absolute insanity of the situation, my mouth watered.

Gift of the Golden Tongue Activated!

“Nice.” I guess that also meant I could communicate in any language. So that was neat.

At the first touch of my tongue, Elysia gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Yes,” she breathed. “Exactly like that.”

Meanwhile, Portia had returned to her mission with renewed vigor. I was caught in a feedback loop of pleasure—giving and receiving simultaneously. It was sensory overload in the best possible way.

Elysia tasted like she smelled—sweet and delicate with a floral undertone. I explored thoroughly, mapping every fold and crevice, cataloging what made her gasp versus what made her moan.

“Oof! Nngh—You’re surprisingly skilled at this,” Elysia panted, grinding against my mouth with increasing urgency.

I couldn’t exactly respond with my mouth full, but I doubled down on my efforts, focusing on the spot that made her thighs tremble.

Below, Portia was composing a symphony of wet sounds. “Master’s cock is so delicious,” she murmured between slurps. “I can’t get over the taste!”

“Less commentary, more fellatio,” Elysia commanded, reaching down to grab a fistful of Portia’s hair as she ground her sex into my lips. “If you’re going to be presumptuous enough to start without your First Maiden’s permission, at least do it devotedly.”

Portia growled—actually growled—and the vibration around my cock sent lightning up my spine. Despite the power struggle happening above me, the two women found a rhythm that worked, working in tandem.

Elysia’s movements became more urgent, her breathing ragged. “Don’t you dare stop,” she commanded. “Right there—oh! Yes, yes, YES!”

Her thighs clamped around my head as she came, flooding my mouth with sweetness. I kept going until she lifted herself off me and flopped over.

As Elysia collapsed beside me, limp and satisfied, Portia kicked into overdrive. The leash lay forgotten, but she didn’t need direction anymore. She worked me with single-minded determination, using every trick she knew, despite being somehow a virginal maiden, as Elysia described them all.

“Perhaps this is for the best. I believe our champion has earned his reward,” Elysia said, still breathless, trailing her fingers across my chest.

Portia hummed an agreement, the vibration pushing me right to the edge.

“Let go,” Elysia whispered in my ear. “Release in her needy little throat. Show us how much you appreciate your party members’ desire for you.”

That did it. I came hard, my back arching off the bed as pleasure exploded through every nerve. Portia stayed with me through it all, swallowing every drop before any of it could leak out of her mouth.

When the fireworks finally stopped, I collapsed back against the pillows, feeling like I’d run a marathon. Portia crawled up to cuddle on my right while Elysia reclaimed her spot on my left. Both looked insufferably pleased with themselves.

“Well,” I managed once I remembered how to breathe. “That was... unexpected.”

Elysia smirked. “Consider it a preview. Wait until Juniper arrives—things will get truly interesting.”

“More interesting?” I wheezed. “I’m not sure I’d survive more interesting.”

Portia nuzzled my shoulder. “The Hero’s Party will take excellent care of their champion,” she assured me. “In every possible way.”

I lay there, the sandwich-filling between two gorgeous women from another world who apparently considered me their shared property. A manly tear ran down my cheek as I reflected on the bizarre series of events that had led me here. I started from a lonely lottery winner to a monster hunter and now... whatever this was.

One thing was certain—boring had left the building.

I closed my eyes, and a grin spread across my face even though the girls had just run me ragged. Whatever chaos god of the multiverse had decided I needed three needy, high-maintenance girlfriends from another world, I had to admit—they had zero of my ill will at this point.

But as I felt both women snuggle closer, and their breathing already evening out toward sleep, I couldn’t help wondering: if this was what two of them could do, what would the third one bring?

Part of me was terrified to find out.

The rest of me couldn’t wait.

Chapter 9

The doorbell chimed just as I was finishing my second cup of coffee, making Portia’s ears shoot up like radar dishes. She dropped to all fours and galloped to the front door, skidding across the hardwood adorably.

“What is that wretched noise?!” Portia squealed as her tail went taut behind her. The dog-girl’s disgusted and appalled facial expression was one for the books.

I laughed at the sound of the doorbell. “That would be the delivery guy with the stuff you ordered.”

“My clothing has arrived?!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes before remembering herself and assuming a more human posture.

I peeked through the peephole. Yep, just a regular delivery guy, not another hottie from beyond. Small mercies. “Duck around the corner,” I warned. “Keep those ears hidden.”

Portia obediently nodded and retreated to the hallway while I signed for enough boxes to outfit a small army. The moment I closed the door, she pounced on them like a kid on Christmas morning, shredding cardboard with sharp, black nails I was just now noticing.

“These are lovely,” she declared, holding up jeans that actually looked like they’d fit her longer legs. “Though I’m uncertain how to accommodate my tail.”

From the doorway, Elysia watched with the general vibe of someone pretending not to care while obviously caring intensely. Her eyes tracked each revealed item like a cat watching a laser pointer.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said, gesturing for them to sit. “And about a bigger issue. We need to talk.”

Elysia glided to the couch, immediately claiming her throne. “What troubles plague your mind, my champion?”

“Not troubles exactly,” I clarified. “But you can’t stay hidden forever. You need to learn how to function in human society.”

Portia’s head tilted in an impossibly cute way. “But Master, I believed you preferred our concealment?”

“To a point,” I agreed. “But realistically? You’re here for twenty years. We can’t be hermits that whole time. You need to blend in and learn to interact with humans without setting off their internal alarms.”

“I perceive no difficulty,” Elysia sniffed. “My venture into your settlement was flawlessly executed.”

“You asked about crotchless panties at full volume,” I reminded her. “Half the town’s probably still talking about it.”

She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

The next hour became Integration 101. I outlined my master plan: disguise Portia’s ears with a strategically chosen beret, wrap her tail around her waist under loose clothing, and practice normal human behavior in the town bordering Millfield where no one knew us. Technically it was a sister town, still under the same Sheriff’s jurisdiction, but I never went there before, so it would be a fresh start even for me.

“Rules,” I announced, pacing like a drill sergeant. “No magic talk. No ‘Master’ or ‘Champion’ titles. No demanding the peasants bow to your royal magnificence.”

Elysia looked personally offended. “How shall I convey my station?”

“You won’t,” I said firmly. “Here you’re just Elysia, my cousin from overseas. Same for Portia.”

Elysia frowned. “Can a princess engage in sexual intercourse with her cousin in these lands?”

I blinked. “No.”

Her brow furrowed devastatingly. “Not even anal? It is the exception in Elfheim.”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted.

“Then I do not like this guise.”

I closed my eyes and massaged my temples in exasperation. “It—it doesn’t matter. We’re in public. When we’re at home—”

“Anal is on the table then,” she said, one corner of her lips bending upward into a self-satisfied little smirk. “Excellent.”

The dog-girl thankfully kept the conversation moving when it had almost derailed entirely. “I shall be a most convincing human!” Portia declared with gleeful enthusiasm. “When do we commence this deception?”

“Right now.”

An hour of wardrobe warfare later, we’d transformed two obviously non-human women into... well, two slightly suspicious but plausibly human women. Portia’s tail created a weird bulge under her blouse, but the beret successfully hid her ears. Elysia rocked my baseball cap with her sundress, looking adorable but mildly annoyed about it.

“Remember,” I said as we climbed into my truck, “you’re just regular people. No magic, no other realms, no supernatural anything.”

“Your lack of faith wounds me, Sir Josh,” Elysia huffed. “I’ve already mastered human subterfuge.”

I bit my tongue about her so-called mastery journey mostly consisting of traumatizing small-town shopkeepers. Hell, even calling me “Sir Josh” all the damn time was conspicuous, which is to say nothing of when she refers to me as her “fated mate”.

Our destination was Coffee Culture in Grantville, a town just big enough that three odd strangers might become front-page news if we fucked up badly enough. The advantage this place had over Millfield was that no one here knew us.

The barista greeted us in a monotone that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else than at work serving us.

“Welcome to Coffee Culture. What can I get started for you?”

I ordered black coffee, then turned to my companions. “What sounds good?”

Elysia squinted at the menu board in confusion. “These appellations are nonsensical. What manner of beverage is a ‘frappa-chino’?”

“It’s like a coffee milkshake,” I translated. “Sweet, cold, probably right up your alley.”

“Very well,” she declared regally. “I shall sample this ‘frappa-chino’.”

Portia bounced with excitement. “May I have the one with this cream that has been brutally ‘whipped’, Mast—Josh?” She caught herself, but not before the barista’s eyebrow made liftoff.

“Let’s see… We’ll try one caramel frappuccino, one vanilla with whipped cream, and a black coffee,” I ordered in a friendly voice that sounded a bit forced. I almost laughed at myself when I realized I was basically doing an impression of a person who had a normal life.

We claimed a window table where Portia immediately started swiveling her head to track every passerby.

“You’re being obvious,” I murmured.

“But they’re fascinating!” she whispered. “That female has purple hair! And that male has facial metal not unlike my nipple rings!”

I choked on air. “Please never say that again in public.”

Our drinks arrived, providing a welcome target for conversational refocusing. Elysia approached her frappuccino like a wine taster sampling a new vintage, swishing the cardboard mug in her hands. One sip later, and her eyes went wide.

“This is... adequate,” she pronounced, and she immediately took a much larger sip that left milk froth on her nose.

Without thinking, I reached over and wiped it away with my thumb. She leaned into my touch, practically purring, while the couple at the next table gave us knowing looks.

Portia attacked her drink next, creating an impressive whipped cream mustache. When I pointed it out, she immediately dropped to her knees beside the table.

“My slovenliness brings shame to you,” she whispered urgently. “No doubt, I require—”

“Napkin,” I interrupted, hauling her back into her chair as people started staring. “Just use a napkin like a normal person, please.”

She pouted but complied. “Human protocols are excessively restrictive. Do masters not beat their unruly bitches into submission in your world?” she whispered.

I blinked and shook my head violently like I was trying to ward off a headache. “I–uhh—no.”

Elysia crossed her arms and looked up at me with a judgy look in her eyes. “I express the same sentiment regarding needless restrictions quite often.”

“And quite loudly,” I added, winking at her.

It went well, all things considered. Despite a few near-disasters—like Portia’s beret slipping when she tried to sniff the ass of a passing service dog—we escaped the coffee shop without causing an incident. Progress.

The Single Pine Mall was our next challenge. It was a temple to American capitalism that had both women gawking like tourists, but it was also a necessary stop. The girls really needed this experience.

“It’s a palace of commerce,” Elysia breathed, craning her neck at the glass ceiling.

“The culinary options are vast!” Portia exclaimed, nose twitching at the food court aromas. “Do all humans shop in such grandeur?”

“It’s just a mall,” I explained, herding them past the fountain before Portia could investigate whether it contained fish. “Lots of different stores under one roof.”

Watching them experience modern retail was like seeing the world through fresh eyes. Elysia maintained her signature sense of superiority but couldn’t hide her fascination with window displays. Portia wanted to explore every single store, including—to my horror—the pet shop.

“These are similar to my collar!” she announced, loud enough for three salespeople to hear. “Do many humans keep companions like myself?”

The employee approached with an oddly arched brow. “Looking for something for your dog?”

“She doesn’t have a dog,” I said quickly. “Just... window shopping. For a friend. In Canada.”

Elysia chose that moment to subtly hip check a display of squeaky toys. While the employee scrambled to clean up, we dragged Portia away before she could ask any more incriminating questions about leashes.

The department store proved equally treacherous. Elysia held up a crop top with genuine confusion. “This garment fails to fulfill its purpose. If I wore it, I suspect my breasts would spill out the bottom. Is it damaged?”

“It’s supposed to be short,” I explained, aware of the soccer mom eyeing us suspiciously. “To show off your underboob and midriff. Most women would wear it with, like, a sports bra or something.”

“How peculiar,” Elysia mused. “In my opinion, such exposure should be reserved for fertility ceremonies and private company. For instance, I am happy to expose any part of my anatomy to you, Sir Josh.”

The soccer mom speed-walked away.

When Portia discovered lingerie, I knew we were doomed. She held up a black lace set that left nothing to the imagination. “Master would appreciate these on my lewd body, yes?”

Every woman in a ten-foot radius turned to stare at me. I was certain that the security cameras captured the exact moment where my soul tried to leave my body.

Returning to the food court was my salvation. Both women were entranced by the options, and watching them discover mall cuisine was genuinely heartwarming. Elysia went on and on about pizza like she was an expert on the topic when she spotted Pizza Punk in the corner, and Portia inhaled two orders of crab rangoons from China Prince Takeout.

“Your integration skills are improving,” I told them, earning Elysia’s pleased smile and a tail-thump from Portia that she quickly disguised as adjusting her shirt.

We’d almost made it to the exit when Portia froze, twitching her nose. Her ears perked up under the beret, nearly launching it into the air. I had to slam my hands down on it to keep it secure.

“That scent...” she whispered.

Elysia’s expression darkened. “I smell it too. Faint but unmistakable.”

I scanned the crowd but saw only normal shoppers. I wasn’t sure just what the girls were smelling, but I took it seriously, and my instinct was to get the hell out. “Let’s go. Now.”

We power-walked to the truck, Portia sniffing the air like a bloodhound. Once safely inside, I turned to them.

“Explain.”

“Portal transit residue,” Elysia said grimly.

“A portal opened here?” My stomach dropped. “At the mall?”

Portia shook her head. “Possibly. I don’t know. It’s strange, I didn’t expect this.”

The implications hit like a sledgehammer. Portals had always been contained to my property. If they were spreading, I had no idea what that meant.

“Perhaps the barriers grow thin,” Elysia murmured, voicing my fear. “Black Lazarus may be making an unexpected move. If we can sense it all the way out here, then it must be positively thick back on Josh’s property. We should head back, I think, and prepare for a more significant battle than usual.”

That thought haunted us all the way home. When we arrived, though, there was nothing conclusive to discover. The girls reported no strong portal residue—at least not stronger than usual, and maybe weaker. I still didn’t smell anything.

As dusk approached, we geared up for the nightly monster delivery, but somehow we knew tonight would be different. I strapped on armor while Portia produced her war hammer out of nowhere. Even Elysia seemed more alert than usual.

We took our positions in the field and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

After two hours of nothing, unease crawled down my spine like ice water.

“This has never happened, yes?” Elysia asked. “You said the portal arrives here without fail.”

“It has skipped a couple days here and there, particularly often in the beginning. Maybe we’re being given a break?” I suggested hopefully. “Maybe whatever’s causing them finally ran out of power?”

Portia’s expression killed that optimism. “The absence suggests something worse. Just what, I can’t say for certain. But… I have a bad feeling, Master.”

We retreated to the house, but I kept my sword within reach. As I set it on the kitchen counter, my phone screamed with an emergency alert that made Portia jump three feet straight up.

I read the notification, and blood drained from my face.

“What?” Elysia demanded.

“Emergency alert,” I said, throat tight. “There’s been an unusual security alert at Singe Pine Mall. They’re telling people to avoid the area.”

“Where we were today,” Portia whispered.

Elysia’s face looked even paler than usual when she added her thoughts. “So the portal residue we sensed was prophetic, not about a portal that had already opened before. But how can it happen so far away from here?”

I kept reading, and each word twisted the knife even more. “National Guard’s been deployed. There’s a... creature... loose in the area.”

The pieces clicked together one by one, and a conclusion was quickly growing in my mind. “The portal didn’t open here tonight because it opened there. Where we were.”

Elysia and Portia shared a look heavy with implication.

“The portal follows you,” Elysia said slowly. “You’re the beacon, not this land.”

“Then what does that mean for the Tower of Convergence?” Portia asked fretfully.

Elysia shook her head, frowning as she looked at me with worry. “I don’t know. But I fear this is the truth.”

That truth hit me like a punch in the sack. All this time, I’d thought I was containing the threat, protecting the world by fighting the monsters on my farm. But if the portals followed me specifically… I was the threat all along, wasn’t I?

“Then nowhere is safe for us,” Portia finished. “We cannot leave this place, or we will take trouble with us.”

Elysia nodded. “We’re stuck here until Black Lazarus arrives, I’m afraid.”

I stared at my phone as updates poured in. The authorities were scrambling, but they had no clue what they were dealing with. Regular weapons might not even work. People could die.

“We have to go back,” I said, already moving. “We have to help.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Elysia protested, catching my arm. “How will you explain your knowledge? Your abilities? Your gear?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I can’t sit here knowing I caused this.”

Portia stepped forward and spoke with a steadiness that I hadn’t seen in her before this moment. “Then we go together, Master. As a party.”

Elysia hesitated, then nodded. “The princess, the healer, and their champion. Perhaps this is a necessary step in our journey.”

I took a deep breath, trying to navigate the fog in my head. If I was a walking portal magnet, everything changed. My hermit lifestyle had been a necessity all this time. Had I been manipulated into adopting this lifestyle by outside forces? Or was it just the way things turned out? If I died now, would the portals end? Would Black Lazarus—hopefully Black not being a reference to his ethnicity—be defeated just like that?

“Let’s go,” I said, heading for the truck. “I have to do something. So much for hiding you girls. I guess it’s time for the Hero’s Party to make its public debut after all.”

As we drove toward the glow of emergency lights, I couldn’t help thinking about how quickly life had spiraled out of control. Somewhere, that god of the multiverse was laughing his ass off at me.

But it wasn’t over yet. As I glanced at Elysia’s determined face and saw Portia’s fierce eyes in the rearview mirror, I realized something: I wasn’t doing this alone anymore. Whatever threat awaited me at that mall, it had more than me to contend with. It had a Spellblade princess and a subby dog-girl Cleric, too, and they were not to be trifled with. Josh Jr. knew that lesson well enough.

Yep. The Hero’s Party was about to crash the real world’s party.

God help us all.

Chapter 10

The drive to Single Pine Mall felt like heading off to war, except we were about two hours late to the battle. Emergency lights flashed into the dark sky in alternating red and blue, creating a disco effect that meshed awkwardly with the rock music coming out of my speakers.

“Human warriors have deployed in force,” Portia observed from the backseat with her nose pressed against the window like a kid at an aquarium. “Their carriages bear colored lights atop them. Is this a display of dominance, perhaps?”

“More like a display meant to convey the gentle message of ‘get the fuck out of the way’,” I explained as I continued weaving through traffic as civilian cars pulled aside for emergency vehicles. “The lights mean they’re responding to an emergency, and anything else on the road has to let them pass.”

Elysia sat rigid in the passenger seat. Her little hand gripped the door handle with enough force to leave indentations. “Your realm’s defenders seem... scattered. Are monster incursions truly so rare that they require such external mobilization?”

“Well, we’re right next to Wapa Lake, so it’s not like this kind of thing is totally unheard of, but they’re not exactly trained for portal hopping threats,” I said. “This is probably the first time this small town has dealt with anything like—holy shit.”

We’d just crested the hill overlooking the mall parking lot, and the scene below made me gawk in shock. The place was swarming, but not with the kind of activity I’d expected. Sure, there were police cars and military vehicles, even a few news vans with satellite dishes extended…

But what really caught my attention were the skeletons.

Hundreds of them, moving with purpose through the parking lot like the world’s most macabre cleaning crew. They wore matching black uniforms with silver trim, carrying push brooms and dustpans as they swept up what appeared to be glowing purple residue. Some operated industrial cleaning equipment, power-washing the asphalt while others directed traffic with reflective vests and hardhats on.

“Are those... animated corpses?” Elysia asked, leaning forward for a better look.

“Skeleton soldiers,” I confirmed, pulling into a spot near the perimeter. “Countess Beaumont’s personal army. It didn’t occur to me that she’d get involved.”

Portia’s ears perked up so fast they nearly launched her beret. “Countess Beaumont? You have nobility of the undead in this realm?”

I killed the engine and took a deep breath. Time for a local history lesson. “Not exactly recognized nobility. More like... a really powerful neighbor who doesn’t like to be told no.”

We climbed out of the truck but kept our distance from the main activity. The cops had set up a perimeter, but they seemed more interested in keeping civilians back than interfering with the skeleton crew. I spotted Miller, the sheriff from these parts, chatting with what appeared to be a skeleton in a supervisor’s vest, complete with clipboard.

“Okay, crash course on local politics,” I said, gesturing for my companions to huddle close. “See that lake?” I pointed toward the dark expanse visible beyond the mall, where moonlight glinted off black water. “That’s Wapa Lake. Close to two decades ago, the town on the other side of it got new management.”

“Management?” Portia repeated, cocking her head like the confused pup she was.

“Vladimira Tepes, also known as Countess Dracula, moved in and basically... claimed it. Not through violence or war. She just showed up one day with enough magical power to make the sun optional, and gradually took over.”

Elysia grinned smugly. “I learned this already.”

“Most of it,” I said, beaming at her.

Portia tilted her head the other way. “The sun? She controls celestial bodies?”

“Just their local impact,” I clarified. “Wapa Lake is dark about sixteen to eighteen hours a day now. Perfect for vampires, werewolves, and whatever else goes bump in the night. The whole town became a monster sanctuary, for all intents and purposes, but it’s been peaceful for the most part. The original Countess is gone now—”

“And her daughter rules in her stead!” Elysia exclaimed, pounding her fist into the opposite palm. I smirked at how proud she was to already know this.

“And the humans simply... accepted all this?” Portia asked, understandably shocked as she watched a skeleton carefully sweep purple goo into a hazmat container.

“Not much choice. That family is basically a force of nature. The military tried to intervene once.” I gestured at the efficient cleanup operation. “Beaumont teleported a tank battalion a thousand miles away without even showing up personally. After that, they decided containment was the better option.”

“But we’re not in this Wapa Lake,” Portia observed, sniffing the air. “The darkness here is natural, not magical.”

“Right. Millfield’s technically outside her territory, separated by the lake.” I nodded toward the skeleton crew. “Usually she keeps her people and, uh, minions on her side of the bridge, but when shit spills over, I guess she handles it. It makes sense, I suppose. It helps keep goodwill with the government, maybe, and keeps trouble out of her territory.”

Elysia narrowed her eyes at a skeleton directing traffic with glow sticks. “The vampire countess aids the humans? Why?”

“Half-vampire, and yeah. Best guess as to why? She likes her privacy. If monster incidents became common outside her territory, it’d draw federal attention. Better to clean up quietly. She might even assume our monster was her mess, maybe,” I shrugged. “She’s just a kid, basically. Like, sixteen, maybe?”

“Sixteen?!” Both women chorused incredulously.

“She’s practically fresh out of the womb!” Elysia gasped.

Portia tossed her some dubious side-eye at that for a moment, but then focused back on me.

I continued my exposition. “Yep. She’s the teenage daughter of a legendary European monster hunter and the most powerful vampire and sorceress to ever live. The story is they fell in love and… moved to bumfuck Wisconsin, I guess. It sounds like a real Romeo and Juliet situation.”

They stared at me blankly.

“Star-crossed lovers?” I tried. “Forbidden romance? Two households, both alike in dignity?”

More blank stares.

“Never mind. Point is, Countess Beaumont is essentially a kid. I think her uncle, Death, still walks her to school on Fridays. I got a buddy who lives in town who tells me all the gossip.”

“Her Uncle is Death?!”

“And the family dog is a whole other complicated thing to unpack,” I sighed. “But then I’m just going by what people say.”

“Well, they seem to say a lot. Perhaps this Countess Beaumont or her mother are connected to Black Lazarus?” Portia suggested in a tone that was either hopeful or concerned.

I shook my head. “I very much doubt it. From what I hear, the Countess’s mother has been on Earth way longer than these portals have been opening by a lot—like, centuries. Plus Beaumont’s whole priority was stability for her town. Interdimensional invasions would not go well with the mission statement of keeping Wapa Lake pure and unchanged for when her parents return. She hasn’t let new technology inside Wapa Lake at all in like ten years, and what little influence she has on the surrounding area keeps old tech locked in around these parts too.”

We watched the cleanup continue for a while. The skeletons worked pretty damn efficiently in scrubbing away every trace of otherworldly residue and whatever remaining monster guts there were. Whatever had come through the portal was already gone—probably dealt with before we’d even left my property.

“Efficient,” Elysia admitted grudgingly. “Though I find it unsettling that the undead are more organized than the living.”

“Welcome to Wapa County,” I said. “Where the monsters occasionally handle civic duties and the humans just try not to think about it too much.”

A local news van pulled up nearby, and a reporter I recognized from Channel 6 hopped out, landing deftly for a chick in heels. She immediately approached the sheriff, who was still consulting with the skeleton supervisor. The sheriff waved her off, pointing toward an official-looking skeleton wearing a “PUBLIC RELATIONS” sash.

“They have a skeleton for media relations,” I muttered. “Even I just got shocked.”

“Should we not… assist?” Portia asked, watching the proceedings with obvious disappointment. “We came to battle evil, but… well, there’s nothing to do.”

“I think the evil’s been thoroughly battled,” I said. “Come on. Let’s head home before someone recognizes us.”

The drive back was quieter as both women processed what they’d seen and learned, I figured. I’d grown up in New Gotham further out east, where the weirdest thing you’d encounter was a place called 99 Cent Pizza that charged two-fifty per slice. Moving to Wapa County had been my attempt to escape attention, figuring nobody would follow me to America’s only vampire-controlled territory.

“So you fled here for safety when you won all your money,” Elysia said, apparently following my thoughts. “Believing pursuers would fear to enter a darkened kingdom.”

“Pretty much. After the lottery, every distant relative, old classmate, and random scammer came looking for me. I needed somewhere they absolutely wouldn’t follow.” I gestured at the landscape. “Can’t get much more ‘nope’ than vampire country.”

“A clever strategy,” she approved. “Using greater predators to deter lesser threats.”

When we got home, I parked the truck and we headed inside. The adrenaline of our non-adventure was wearing off rapidly, leaving us all feeling a bit deflated. Portia flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“I had hoped for glorious combat,” she pouted, ears flattening.

“Be grateful,” Elysia advised, settling into her favorite chair. “Combat has consequences. A peaceful resolution is preferable. I, for one, am glad I didn’t have to raise a finger.”

“Easy for you to say. You hate exerting yourself.”

Elysia nodded. “Correct.”

“Anyone want tea? Coffee? Something stronger?” I offered as I walked toward the kitchen.

“Tea, please,” Elysia called back. “With honey, as you’ve learned I prefer, thank you.”

“I’ll have whatever fermented beverage you possess!” Portia added hopefully.

I put the kettle on and grabbed a beer for Portia, then remembered something all of a sudden. “Hey, I need to water the plants. Haven’t done it in a few days.”

I filled my spray bottle and made the rounds, misting the various houseplants I’d inherited with the property. The previous owner had let the fields and the buildings go, but she’d been quite the gardener, and I felt obligated to keep her green babies alive out of a sense of duty.

When I returned to the living room, the conversation had shifted to backgrounds.

“...and the crystal caverns stretched for miles beneath the palace,” Elysia was saying. “I spent countless hours there as a child, hiding from my tutors.”

“Your childhood always sounds so lonely to me,” Portia observed, her tail wagging thoughtfully. “In the Packlands, pups are never alone. We sleep in great furry piles, play in groups, and learn together.”

“Privacy is valued differently among elves,” Elysia replied, a bit defensively. “Solitude allows for proper contemplation and—”

She was interrupted by the crunch of gravel outside, followed by headlights sweeping across the windows. Someone was pulling into my driveway.

Portia’s reaction was instantaneous and absolutely mortifying. She leaped from the couch and rushed to the door, barking—actually barking—at whoever was outside.

“WOOF! WOOF! Intruders approach unexpectedly! WOOF! Master, danger! WOOF WOOF!”

“Portia!” I hissed, but she was in full guard dog mode. Thankfully, Elysia grabbed the spray bottle from my hand and gave Portia three quick spritzes to the face.

The effect was immediate. Portia yelped and spun around, water dripping from her nose. Her expression shifted from fury to wounded betrayal.

“You... you sprayed me like a common house pet!”

“You were barking like one,” Elysia pointed out rather reasonably.

Portia’s response was as predictable as a clock. She dropped to all fours and pulled down her shorts, presenting her naked backside. “I have shamed myself and must be disciplined! Please, Master, correct my behavior!”

The doorbell rang.

“Later,” I promised, helping her up. “Right now, I need you to act human and make yourself scarce. Can you do that?” I said as I grabbed the beret from a hook by the door and plopped it on her head.

She nodded, though her tail was tucked in embarrassment. I straightened my shirt and opened the door.

Sheriff Miller stood on my porch, looking tired but alert. His hand rested casually near his service weapon—not threatening, just careful. I recognized the look from my brief stint working concert security in college.

“Evening, Mr. Becker,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Sheriff,” I acknowledged. “Something I can help you with?”

“Funny thing,” he started over as his eyes scanned the interior of my house. “We had an incident in town tonight, I’m sure you heard. Strange purple lights, portal opening, some kind of big, hairy creature. And wouldn’t you know it, I spotted you heading that way, all dressed up like you were going to the renaissance fair in the dead of night.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Is it illegal to cosplay now?”

“No son, it’s not. But it’s interesting timing. Especially since you were with your...” he glanced at Elysia and Portia, who were trying to look casual and failing spectacularly, “houseguests.” I looked back at them and almost snorted when I saw that Elysia was wearing a towel from underneath one of my potted plants over her head to cover her ears.

“We heard the emergency broadcast,” I said, which was technically true. “Thought we’d drive by, see if everyone was okay. The girls were curious, out-of-towners as they are. Looked like the authorities had it handled by the time we arrived.”

“Uh-huh.” Miller’s gaze shifted to Portia, whose tail was making suspicious movements under her loose shirt. “You know, when the portal opened up, there was this bright, purple light. Reminded me of some things I heard about this place recently. Didn’t I talk to you about purple lights spotted out here?”

“Did you? I don’t recall,” I said.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Mr. Becker, I’ve been sheriff around here for seven years, a cop for twenty-eight. I’ve seen a lot of strange things, especially since the Countess moved in. But portals opening up in my jurisdiction, spitting out huge monsters? That’s new. So is a group of uncommonly attractive twenty-somethings LARPing in town at one in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s a lot to unpack, Sheriff, I agree.”

“Just an observation.” He pulled out a small notebook. “Want to know what else I’ve observed? You moved here a bit before the purple lights started. You’ve got two absurdly attractive women living with you, if you don’t mind my saying, ladies, both of whom appeared out of nowhere somewhere in the last week or so. And now when something weird happens, the three of you are suited up like you’re expecting trouble.”

The silence stretched on for a while. In the background, I could hear only Portia’s nervous panting. The sheriff’s gaze went past my shoulder to squint at her when he noticed it too. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s doing breathing exercises. Is there a question in there somewhere?” I asked finally.

Miller closed his notebook. “Not yet. But there will be. Whatever’s going on, Mr. Becker, I hope you know what you’re doing. This county’s got enough supernatural problems without importing new ones.”

“Are we done here?”

“For now.” He touched his hat brim again. “You have a good night. And maybe think about what you’d like to tell me next time we chat. Because there will be a next time.”

I watched him walk back to his cruiser and felt the weight of this interrogation hanging in the air around me as heavily as summer humidity. As his taillights disappeared down the road, I did something I hadn’t done since buying this place: I went out there, closed, and locked the front gate.

“Well,” Elysia said as I came back inside, “that seemed ominous.”

“He knows,” Portia whimpered. “The ancient human lawkeeper has deduced our secrets!”

I shook my head and furrowed my brow. “First of all, he’s like forty-eight, maybe. And he suspects,” I corrected, locking the front door for good measure. “There’s a difference. But yeah, this definitely complicates things.”

I flopped onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. In the span of one day, I’d taken the girls to town, learned that I was a walking portal beacon, witnessed skeleton janitors at work, and been put on notice by local law enforcement. My quiet retirement was officially over.

“Perhaps we should relocate,” Elysia suggested. “Find somewhere even more remote. So long as I’m shuttled and carried at all intervals of the journey, I believe I can manage.”

“Nowhere’s remote enough if portals follow me,” I pointed out. “At least here, Beaumont’s crew can handle overflow if we fuck up again. Imagine if one opened in downtown Chicago or something.”

“What’s a Chicago?” Portia asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. What matters is protecting you, Master. If this lawkeeper threatens you, I shall defend—”

“We’re not attacking cops,” I said firmly. “We’re definitely not starting a war with local law enforcement or the government—which includes the Countess. We’ll figure this out ourselves, one day at a time.”

“How?” Elysia asked, batting her eyelashes, maybe accidentally, as she looked up at me.

It was a good question. I was a shelf stocker turned lottery winner turned monster slayer saddled with two gorgeous women from another world, living next door to Vampire Central, apparently serving as a magnet for interdimensional invasions. My life had gone from comfortably isolated to spectacularly, hornily weird in record time.

“One crisis at a time,” I decided. “Right now, I need a shower and about twelve hours of sleep. Tomorrow we can figure out how to deal with Sheriff Miller, portal management, and whatever else the universe throws at us.”

“A sound plan for the time being,” Elysia approved. “I always say, why rush to action today when a problem can be managed tomorrow—or much further down the line. Though perhaps we should establish a watch schedule? In case of nocturnal threats?”

I started to object outright, then realized she had a point. With the sheriff suspicious and portals apparently following me around, we couldn’t afford to be careless. Even so, it felt like overkill at this point. Things hadn’t really changed—it’s just that our understanding of them changed. There wasn’t any reason for alarm.

“I don’t think that’s needed. But if you’re staying up, keep short shifts. Wake me if anything explodes, catches fire, or shows up demanding tribute, I guess, but I’m sure we’re fine.”

“What about your promised discipline for my behavior? I know your cruelty bubbles beneath the surface of your gentle facade, Master, just waiting to punish me like the bitch I am,” Portia said hopefully, batting her eyelashes.

I sighed. “Rain check. Again.”

Her ears drooped, but she nodded. Both girls didn’t let me go without peppering me with a dozen kisses each, and Portia even attempted to go up with me when I announced I was going to take a shower, but Elysia predictably put a stop to that. Honestly, as tired as I was, I was more than okay with it.

In the shower, hot water pounded away the day’s stresses. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all just the beginning of something big, though. It was all connected somehow. Add in Juniper’s eventual arrival, and I had a perfect storm brewing, I was sure.

But as I toweled off and crawled into bed, I found myself feeling oddly calm. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was acceptance. Or maybe I was starting to enjoy the madness.

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor.

And I was the punchline.

Chapter 11

Rays of golden sunlight stabbed through my bedroom curtains right onto my face like it was personal. I cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it—not just because of the light, but because I couldn’t move. Elysia had claimed my chest as her royal pillow, leaving her golden hair spread across me like an elven shampoo commercial. Portia wrapped herself around my right side, her tail thumping against my leg. Good dreams again, probably about me, judging by the way she ground against me.

I tried to shift enough to restore blood flow to my arm and maybe divert some from my morning wood. Both women reacted like I’d committed treason. Their grips tightened, breasts pressed harder against my body, turning me into a very fuggin’-okay-with-this prisoner.

“Mmm... too early. Cease your moving at once,” Elysia mumbled against my chest, managing to sound both sleepy and bossy.

Portia burrowed deeper into my side with a dog-like whimper. Her tail’s tempo increased, definitely more awake than she pretended.

“Ladies,” I said, trying to sound cool and in control of the situation. “We need to get up eventually, you know.”

“No,” Elysia decreed simply.

The tail-thumping intensified even more.

“I can feel your tail, Portia. You’re not fooling anyone. I know you’re awake.”

She lifted her head and wiped her eyes innocently as amber orbs sparkled at me. “Master is too perceptive! And so... alert this morning.”

She was referring to Mount Joshsuvius tenting in my pants—technically it was standard morning wood I had little control over, and wasn’t worth much of a mention given how normal it was for any healthy guy. But these women either didn’t understand or didn’t care about that factoid.

Elysia stirred at her partner’s implication and raised her head to inspect me. A slow smile spread across her face, spelling the good kind of trouble.

“Indeed. Our champion seems quite... vigorous today. It looks painful—in need of relief.”

I muttered “Welp, here we go,” knowing I might as well try stopping a tide with my pinky.

Portia propped up on one elbow, letting her sleep shirt ride up scandalously. “Don’t make that face, Master, it’s our sacred duty to assist with all your needs as your fated mates.”

Elysia purred and stretched erotically, more or less tearing apart any willpower I might have had. “I loathe expending energy this early, but for this pursuit, I’ll make an exception.”

Twenty minutes and several religious moments later, I stared at the ceiling, reconsidering everything I’d ever been told about morning routines. Both women looked insufferably pleased. Elysia smiled smugly at my ceiling, fingers still gripped around my cock’s base like she was holding my hand. Portia happily lapped at my face with her tongue.

“There,” Elysia declared with way too much pride. “Now you’re properly prepared to face the day’s challenges, my precious champion.”

“Oh shit, we’ve got challenges now?” I managed with a laugh, still catching my breath. “I’m not sure I can handle anything more taxing than rolling out of bed after that.”

“You’re right! Actually, we don’t truly have to get out of bed,” Elysia suggested like it was the best idea she heard all year. “We can relax as long as we want, so long as we deal with the portal threat tonight, yes?”

My answer was the growling of my stomach, however.

Portia bounced out of bed immediately. “Master requires sustenance! I shall prepare breakfast!”

The words “breakfast” and “Portia” in the same thought triggered my survival instincts. “W-Wait—”

But she was already gone, probably heading toward my kitchen. Elysia patted my chest sympathetically. “I suppose we’d better supervise this time. We can’t have her destroying your kitchen twice in as many days, now, can we?”

Elysia left first, and I flopped back against the pillows and had one of those moments where you step outside yourself and wonder: How the hell did I get here?

But then my phone buzzed on the nightstand, dragging me back to reality. The screen lit up with what I’d been dreading: news alerts about last night’s mall incident. Basically, “mysterious disturbance” was the media’s polite way of saying that a monster from another dimension invaded small town Wisconsin and no one knows why.

I scrolled through notifications about strange lights, property damage, and officials being “unable to comment at this time.” Good. The skeleton cleanup crew had earned their nonexistent paychecks.

Then I saw it: a missed call that I quickly deduced had to be Sheriff Miller when I looked the number up. It was made at 6 AM, too. The man never slept. Well, I wasn’t going to call back. He could dial me again if it was so important.

For now, it was time to face the music—or at least the breakfast. I dragged myself from horizontal to vertical and followed the sounds of what I hoped wouldn’t be another culinary catastrophe. What I found in my kitchen was so adorable it almost hurt. Elysia was standing behind Portia, guiding her hands through the complex process of egg-cracking.

“Gently,” Elysia coached. “The shells aren’t meant to be part of the meal.”

“But they do add texture!” Portia protested with her tail wagging behind her back.

“That’s not the kind of texture we’re looking for, however.”

I leaned against the doorframe. This felt right. These women fit into my heart like puzzle pieces, even if our combined picture looked completely unhinged.

“Josh!” Portia’s whole being lit up when she spotted me. “I’m learning to make eggs!”

“I can see that. So far so good. I didn’t realize Elysia could cook.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I can’t. But I’ve watched my cooks enough to know this much.” She giggled whimsically as though conjuring up a faraway memory for the first time in ages. “When I was a little girl, barely forty years old, my father’s chefs used to have to chase me out of the kitchen.”

I joined them in the kitchen and we ended up working together. The result was a simple but very edible breakfast. Our happy little domestic bubble lasted exactly until I opened my mouth again.

“So,” I began, swishing my coffee. “We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

The temperature in the room figuratively dropped. Even Portia’s tail stopped wagging.

“The portals follow you,” Elysia stated. Not asked. Stated. She’d clearly been thinking about it, and she was as sure of it as I was now.

“Yeah. Which means wherever I go, interdimensional monsters come along.” I took a long drink, hoping the coffee would provide answers. It didn’t, of course. “Sheriff Miller is already suspicious. Those skeletons might have cleaned up the mess, but people notice when their local mall gets a surprise monster delivery.”

Portia’s ears drooped. “What does this mean for us?”

“It means we need to lay low. Stay home, and avoid public places where spontaneous portal generation might cause a scene.” I looked between them, trying to gauge their reactions. “I know it’s not ideal—”

“It’s perfect!” Portia bounced back instantly. “More time alone with Master!”

Elysia scoffed. “I think I’ve amply established that I detest leaving the comfort of our domicile if it means I won’t be carried in your arms.”

Leave it to these girls to find the silver lining in self-imposed house arrest.

I sighed, but couldn’t hide a smile. “Actually, this could work well. We can focus on training and preparing for when Juniper arrives.”

“Oh! Yes. I miss Juniper already,” Portia said, pouting as her tail sank between her legs.

“Right, about that,” I continued. “What exactly should I expect from her?”

The look they exchanged was hard to read.

“Juniper is...” Elysia paused, apparently trying to find diplomatic vocabulary. “Serious.”

“She’s a bit like you, Master,” Portia supplied.

“Okay, but what IS she?” I interrupted the adjective game. “Another elf? Dog-girl? What’s her species?”

“Oh no,” Elysia laughed in a way that didn’t reassure me at all. “Juniper is a bit complicated to describe in familiar terms to a human of Earthrealm.”

“With certain unique traits,” Portia added, giggling like she knew a secret I didn’t.

“What kind of traits?”

They did that look thing again. I was starting to hate that look thing.

“You’ll see, my champion,” Elysia said in a quiet, cautious tone somewhat unlike her. “The important thing is that she’s our party’s strategist and a master of arcane knowledge. If anyone can figure out why the portals follow you and what to do about it, it’s Juniper.”

Welp, that had to be good enough for now. “Great. So we hunker down and wait for her?”

“Yes. And hope your human sheriff doesn’t poke around and cause too much trouble in the meantime,” Portia added.

We migrated to the living room where Elysia immediately claimed the couch and started browsing streaming services. Portia fidgeted nearby, shaking with anticipation for some reason. I soon found out why.

“Master,” she said in a tone that was too cute not to make me suspicious. “Since we’re staying home today... perhaps you could fulfill your promise?”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Which promise would that be?”

The dog-girl dropped to all fours with grace. Her eyes went huge and glossy all of a sudden. “You said you would administer discipline for my failures yesterday! I’ve been dreading what cruel punishment my heartless master might devise…” Her wagging tail completely undermined her words.

As she bent over, her borrowed shorts stretched taut across her rear, showing off an ass so perfect it would make Instagram influencers privately reflect. The gods of her world had blessed her with a rump that was both athletic and tantalizingly soft-looking, with an impeccable heart shape. Her tan skin had a peach-like quality, flawless and smooth, and she wiggled it slightly from side to side as if begging for attention.

From the couch, Elysia’s eye roll looked dangerous for her sockets. “She’s been obsessing about that constantly since we rose this morning.” Her eyes narrowed as they flicked between me and Portia’s prominently displayed booty. “I fail to comprehend why my champion should waste his valuable attention on such a display when he has a willing elven princess at his disposal.”

“Did you say since this morning? How absurd!” Portia protested as she arched her back to further emphasize her assets. “I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday!”

Elysia’s expression darkened as she watched me watching Portia. She shifted her position on the couch to better display her own lithe form, crossing her legs in a way that drew attention to her delicate ankles and smooth thighs. “Are you quite finished gawking at the canine, Josh? I was rather hoping we might enjoy some quality time together of our own.” Her pointed ears twitched.

I sighed, but honestly? There was something weirdly endearing about both their dedication to claiming my attention. “I did promise Portia, and it seems like she isn’t about to let this go. Elysia, let her have this one. I’ll spoil you more later.”

The elven princess’s eyebrows raised together as she appeared to ponder what that might entail. “Very well, champion. Proceed with the discipline.”

“Yes! Thank you, Master!” She visibly shook with excitement, the weird girl.

I led her to the couch and sat down, patting my lap. “Come here.”

Portia draped herself across my thighs with the eagerness of someone receiving a gift rather than punishment, positioning her perfectly rounded ass high in the air. I gently pulled down her shorts to reveal a pair of lacy black panties that barely hid anything.

“These look good on you,” I observed, tracing the waistband with my finger.

“I ordered them along with the other clothes,” she admitted breathlessly.

From her watchful position in the armchair, Elysia made a small sound of interest despite her attempt to appear bored.

I hooked my fingers under Portia’s panties’ elastic and slowly pulled them down, revealing her bare bottom’s full glory. Her tan line-graced skin formed two perfect hemispheres with subtle dimples at the lower back framing them like nature’s own artwork. After appreciating the view, I gently massaged the exposed flesh.

Portia’s breath caught. “Aren’t you going to punish your disobedient hound, Master?”

I paused. Something in her eager tone made me need to establish clarity before proceeding. “Portia, understand this. No matter how rough I get, it doesn’t mean I’m actually upset with you. This isn’t real punishment.”

“I won’t be fooled,” she quipped with a nervous laugh. “Your apparent mercy is but a thin veil over your—”

“No,” I interrupted, making my voice gentler but firm. “Just this once, before we go down this road, I need to be sure you understand that I’m not cruel. I care about you and your happiness as long as you’re in my life. This is play, not punishment.”

My sincerity seemed to catch both women by surprise. Elysia’s eyes widened. Portia twisted to look up at me with her amber-gold eyes looking suddenly so honest and vulnerable.

“I... I understand,” she said softly, without the theatrical tone for once. “I know you’re kind. That’s part of why...” She swallowed. “Please, I need this. I need your firm hand.”

“Let’s agree on a safe word first,” I said as I playfully palmed and squeezed her nubile flesh. “If you say this word, I stop immediately. Any ideas?”

She blinked, then furrowed her brow, considering it as her tail swayed elegantly. “Hmmm. How about, ‘frappuccino’?”

“Frappuccino it is,” I grinned. I started with a light tap, barely making a sound. Portia wiggled impatiently as a result, so I delivered a real smack next, one that would sting her ass nice and good.

“Oh!” she gasped, her tail immediately starting to wag. “More, please!”

Encouraged, I established a rhythm, alternating cheeks and gradually increasing force.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree,” Elysia breathed huskily on the sofa as she watched. “This makes for more interesting viewing than I imagined.”

“Yes!” Portia cried out as a particularly solid smack landed. Her back arched, pressing her ass higher. “Oh gods, yes! Watch my shame unfold, my princess! Watch this lewd bitch writhe!”

I could feel her squirming against my lap, her body responding to each impact with increasingly intense reactions. The pinkness of her skin deepened to a rosy hue that looked striking alongside her tan complexion and the spots where tan lines appeared. I paused occasionally to massage the warmed flesh, which only made her whimper and beg for more.

“Please don’t stop,” she panted. “I’ve been so bad, I need more correction!”

From her seat on the couch, Elysia watched with clear, undisguised fascination. If she’d been jealous before, that seemed more or less forgotten at this point. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her slender fingers gripped the armrest beside her tight.

I delivered a series of rapid spanks until my palm stung almost as much as Portia’s rear must have. She writhed across my lap while her moans grew louder and more desperate. Her thighs trembled, and I noticed wetness glistening along her virginal slit.

“Oh Master!” she cried out. “I’m—I can’t—”

Her entire body tensed then shuddered violently as she climaxed with a wild wail. The intensity and suddenness of her orgasm surprised me—and so did the warm wetness suddenly soaking my pants where her pussy pressed against my thigh.

As the aftershocks subsided, Portia went limp across my lap, breathing hard. When she finally regained enough composure to realize what had happened, she twisted to look at me with wide, mortified eyes.

“Oh no! I’ve made such a mess!” she gasped, staring at the dark patch on my pants. “I’m so sorry, Master! I suppose this means I require further punishment for my lack of control. Perhaps something even more humiliating? Oh, how I fear you, but I shall defy your cruelty all the same! Pah-tooey!” That weirdly performative rebellious tone had returned once again, apparently.

“I think that’s enough punishment for one day,” I said, helping her to sit up. Her legs wobbled as she stood, and she winced slightly when her tender bottom made contact with the cushion beside me.

“That was...” Elysia began, then cleared her throat when her voice came out huskier than intended. “...educational. Perhaps I should point out my many transgressions from now on.”

After that, we settled onto the sofa for movies, with Elysia selecting some Japanese fantasy epic that turned them both into film critics all of a sudden.

“That primitive firearm is akin to the slop used by dwarves,” Elysia critiqued with authority. “As if that would kill a god of the forest!”

“Why are the weird little forest spirits so tiny?” Portia also had complained. “And mute? Every forest spirit I know talks nonstop!”

At hour two in the film, Portia stretched and made her shirt ride up, revealing her stomach and a glimpse of the underside of her breasts. For a fleeting moment, I could just barely see the bottoms of the silver rings attached to her nipples. I caught myself staring and quickly looked away, only to find Elysia watching me with narrowed eyes.

Elysia draped herself across my lap and traced her slender fingers on the back of my hand like she was writing words over and over again. Meanwhile, Portia molded herself to my other side and sandwiched my arm between her breasts. Each time Elysia’s touch grew more intimate, Portia would press herself against me in new ways or let her shirt hike up further until her bare tits pushed fully against my body. Before long, their hands wandered across me like dueling masseuses.

“Sir Josh worked very hard these last few days,” Elysia noted in a sugary voice. “I think it’s fair to say he needs a massage.”

“Oh yes!” Portia clapped. “A full body massage sounds just right for our fated mate—to thank him for his love and his discipline.”

Before I could protest, as if I fucking would, they had me shirtless on the living room floor, arranged on the blanket that had previously hung over the back of the couch. They returned with massage oils I definitely didn’t remember buying.

“Where did those even come from?”

“We added more than lacy panties to that last delivery when you weren’t looking,” Elysia giggled. “A princess of Elfhaven is always prepared.”

“Arf!” Portia agreed, failing to make words at all, maybe because of her overflowing levels of excitement.

Portia responded by spreading warm oil with surprising skill. She worked on a spot that had stored years of stress, making knots I didn’t know I had surrender immediately.

“We treat him so poorly,” Portia whimpered. “I cannot even recall the last time his seed was sucked lovingly from his body!”

I could.

But Elysia nodded sagely as she worked on my lower back. “They say it’s crucial to do so regularly.”

Man, they really knew how to rile me up. Their touches gradually shifted from therapeutic to flagrantly horny. If it started out medical enough to pass muster, it had quickly turned into something that would make a massage therapist lose her license.

“Turn over,” Elysia commanded huskily.

When I complied, I discovered they had already stripped and applied oil to each other. Their skin shone with glossy lubricant—mainly their breasts.

“Sweet Lord Pappy Johnson,” I muttered weakly at the sight.

“Now for Master’s naughty front,” Portia announced with a mischievous grin.

The oil turned everything slick as they abandoned all pretense of normal massage techniques and used their entire bodies as massage tools.

“You’re both going to be the death of me,” I groaned as they found spots I didn’t know needed finding.

Elysia teased with her blue eyes locked on mine as her mouth reached my lips. “What a way for our handsome champion to go, though.” Portia continued her dedicated exploration while I felt her silver rings drag against my skin and her hands wander lower. Both women pressed their groins into my sides and ground against me, spreading their slick feminine fluids across my body.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I muttered aloud, unable to believe the scenario playing out.

“A virginal heroine’s champion of course deserves to be thoroughly worshipped,” Elysia whispered against my lips. Her hands possessively claimed my chest while she shot a warning glance at Portia, who tried to edge into her territory with her boobs.

Portia responded by pressing her entire body against my side with new degrees of pressure. Her pussy left a damp trail along my thigh as she let out a reedy moan. “My master knows which heroine tends to his needs most lovingly,” she countered with a wink.

“Love? Please—as if a dog could love like an elf,” Elysia huffed indignantly.

“Oh? And how many times have you debased yourself to service him, princess?” Portia asked in a falsely innocent tone. “Have you even sucked his cock once?”

A dramatic blush colored her cheeks. “It hasn’t occurred yet—but I would in a heartbeat!”

“So do it,” Portia said in a devious tone I’d never heard from her.

“Pardon yourself, girl? What did you say to me?!” the Princess asked indignantly.

“Suck. his. fat. cock. Do it.” Portia grabbed my member by the base and held it firm, nodding to it without breaking her gaze on Elysia’s eyes.

Elysia bit her lip. “I’ll have you know I would love to suck his cock. It just hasn’t come up yet, and I imagined the first time might be more… private.”

“We’re party members, Your Highness,” Portia said with fake sweetness as she started stroking my shaft. “There are no people in the cosmos with a closer bond than us. Surely you aren’t too bashful to pray at the temple of our shared mate’s manhood, are you?”

“Certainly not, I assure you!” Elysia huffed. “Just watch me, then!”

I shook my head and started to offer a meek protest. “Ladies—that’s not really needed. You’ve both done enough and—”

“Shhhh, Master,” Portia said, pressing an index finger to my lips. “Let it happen.”

So I did. I watched as Princess Elysia crawled down my body and confidently placed herself between my legs. Her lips hovered over my cockhead for a few seconds, not out of hesitation, but out of a desire to drag it out for my benefit—to make me want her more. Well, it worked.

“That’s it, Your Royal Highness,” Portia said as Elysia’s lips parted over my tip. “Take him inside your mouth. This is a lesson Juniper knew you’d have to learn.”

“Sounds like I’m going to like Juniper,” I muttered.

“Mmm,” the Princess moaned as her head started bobbing, and I could tell that whatever Portia was talking about, she agreed.

Portia ground her sex into my leg as Elysia throated me. “Yes,” she groaned. “Suck his cock. In Elfhaven, you were a regal princess, but in this house, in this party, you are the fated mate and party-bride to this man. Don’t forget it, Princess. We live to fight by his side and cum by his cock. We live to serve him and be serviced in turn by him.”

Her words were clearly having an effect on the normally haughty princess, who started forcing herself deeper by the second, using her tongue more and more aggressively by the second. My hips bucked on their own, and I could no longer watch. I had to lie back and stare at the ceiling as the sensations grew too strong.

“Yes, Princess,” she went on, “Though you were a spoiled girl back home, you know things are different here. In his lap. In his arms. Our world has different rules. So suck him down. Deeper. Deeper!” She grabbed Elysia’s nape and forced me all the way down her throat till she was choking.

“Whoa!” I shouted—but Elysia held up a hand to calm me, like she knew this was a necessary step on her journey. After a moment, Portia started guiding her manually, forcing me all the way down her throat with every fresh bob.

I wasn’t going to last for much longer like this. I let out a groan. “Ladies,” I muttered. “Lights out. I’m about to blow.”

Elysia wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled herself all the way down as I blasted in her throat, choking, gagging, eyes streaming with tears the entire time as Portia massaged her scalp.

“Good princess,” she cooed as the last twitch of my cock emptied the final drop of seed into her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Elysia finally pulled herself free of my dick and opened her mouth, showing off her pearly prize, then swallowed it down. “I will not be beaten by a dog,” she said. “I am the more giving and caring lover.”

“At this moment, that seems fair to say,” I sighed with a drunken tone to my voice.

“For now,” Portia conceded as her eyebrows did the worm.

By the time they declared the massage complete, we were all thoroughly relaxed and thoroughly in need of cleaning. The living room smelled more like a porn set than a spa visit.

“Shower time,” I declared, attempting to stand on wobbling legs. “Solo shower time.”

“Not together?” Portia suggested with faux innocence. She turned and bent over to adjust a towel, presenting her perfectly round—and red—backside once more. “I suppose my cruel master should take this opportunity to force his poor servant to scrub his back against her will, and then do to her what he just did to the regal Princess! How terrible! I spit at the possibilities! Pah-tooey!”

“Haven’t you two had enough?” I asked hoarsely, too used to the unnecessary spitting to bother challenging it anymore.

“Could we ever?” Portia asked incredulously. “Our acts of service for the day are far from done! Our appetites have only just been teased awake, Master!”

Elysia stepped between us and effectively blocked my view of Portia. She squeezed me tightly and fluttered her lashes against my shoulder—butterfly kisses, I think they’re called. “I believe,” she began with a tone that brooked no argument, “that since I was the one who triggered your release, I should be the one to assist you in the shower today, Sir Josh. After all, a princess’s touch is far superior to that of a common bitch.”

That didn’t go over well.

Chapter 12

Yesterday had been bliss. After the massage and the shower, we passed out on my bed until it was almost dinner time. None of us felt like cooking, nor would I have trusted Elysia or Portia to even if they did, so I ordered pizza from the only place that delivered this far out of town—Pizza Dude.

When the doorbell rang, I opened it to find an unwelcomely familiar face. It was the delivery girl I’d hooked up with a month or so back. She was really pretty, a half-Korean, I think, who modeled her makeup on K-Pop stars and pulled it off really well, if a bit cheaply. Her long black hair was pulled into a greasy ponytail, though, and her Pizza Dude uniform was rumpled and ill-fitting for her frame. I couldn’t remember her name. Tangerine? No, that definitely didn’t sound right.

I cleared my throat and tried to remain calm. “Damn, I’m surprised your boss let you deliver out here again,” I said, reaching for my wallet. “Wasn’t there a harassment incident that had him freaked out for you?”

She shrugged, blowing a bubble with her gum. “Hey fuckface. Yeah, well, the other guy, like, called in sick or whatever, so it’s like, you know. Someone has to do it.” Her dark eyes flicked past me, narrowing as she noticed Elysia lurking in the doorway behind me. “Oh. You’ve got… someone else already, I see.”

Elysia stepped forward imperiously, wearing my ballcap with her ears thankfully tucked underneath. Her eyes took in the pizza girl with the most flagrantly hostile look imaginable, making me blanch in fear of what she was about to say. “Is this the whore who spoiled Josh’s purity before my arrival?” she asked plainly.

The pizza girl barked out a frankly brutal laugh. “Bitch, please. This asshole hasn’t been pure for a fucking while.” She handed me the pizza box, but kept her eyes locked on Elysia. “You can do better than this prick, chica. Just saying. He might be a great lay, and he might be willing to flash some cash to impress you, but he’s the type that doesn’t call back when he’s done with you. Be warned.”

“I assure you, your warning runs counter to my experience,” Elysia replied smugly, crossing her arms. “He spoils me with attention. Why, if I tried to leave him, he would chase me to the farthest reaches of the Earth.”

I blinked. “I might not go that far. I dunno.”

“Whatever,” the pizza girl muttered, rolling her eyes as she loudly chewed her gum and pocketed the cash I’d handed her. As she turned to leave, she smirked at me over her shoulder. “At least you’re still a great tipper, fuckface.” Then she winked at Elysia. “Enjoy him while he lets you, bitch. He’ll toss you out like yesterday’s trash soon enough.”

I closed the door quickly before Elysia could respond and make things worse, and only then did Portia pop her head from around the corner. That encounter made things awkward with the girls for an hour or two, but after demolishing the pizza and watching TV until midnight, we suited up for the nightly monster hunt—a land drake that put up more of a fight than I'd expected. Then, of course, we dragged ourselves to a bath and to bed.

This morning, however, I woke up with a start as my brain desperately tried to remember what oxygen felt like. Not because of some mystical paralysis or monster venom, but because I had approximately 230 pounds of interdimensional female distributed across my body. Elysia had claimed my chest as her personal pillow, golden hair splayed across me again, one pointed ear poking out from beneath the strands. Her soft breath tickled my collarbone with each exhalation.

Portia had wrapped herself around my right side. Her tail occasionally twitched against my leg as she dreamed doggy dreams that had her arms and legs twitching like she was trying to run.

The clock on my nightstand read 5:47 AM. Ungodly early by any reasonable standard, but my body had apparently decided sleep was for losers.

I tried to shift just enough to restore blood flow to my arm. Both women responded by tightening their grips simultaneously. Elysia made a small noise of protest in her sleep as she burrowed deeper into my chest.

No escape, then. At least not without waking them, which wouldn’t end well. So if I couldn’t move without triggering a chain reaction of morning activities that would leave me a dried up shell of a man, maybe I could at least use this time productively.

Meditation.

Elysia had shown me how to connect to what she called the System’s passive field—that place where XP flowed like a cosmic river of leveling goodness. I closed my eyes, trying to remember her instructions. Breathe deep. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on the energy flowing through your body.

At first, nothing happened except I got slightly light-headed from the deliberate breathing. Then, gradually, warmth began to spread through my limbs. A tingling at the base of my skull felt almost drug-induced. The sensation was stronger than last time, more immediate maybe, a bit like diving into a pool.

Time stretched out. I lost track of minutes, maybe hours, as the energy built inside me. It was like charging a battery, but the battery was me. My awareness expanded outward to encompass the weight of the women draped across me, the sound of their breathing, and the early morning birds beginning their chorus outside.

Then something shifted. It was a subtle click in my mind, I guess, for lack of a better way to describe it. The warmth intensified and rushed through me in a wave that likely would have made me gasp if I wasn’t so deep in meditation.

A notification appeared in my mind’s eye:

XP Gained! LEVEL UP! Level 17 achieved.

You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

“Yes,” I thought, careful not to actually say it out loud.

The display changed, splitting into two sections:

ALLOCATE YOUR SKILL POINT:

Return Blade (Thrown weapons return to your hand automatically)

Flame Edge (Temporarily imbue your weapon with fire damage)

ALLOCATE YOUR ATTRIBUTE POINT:

Strength: 18

Dexterity: 15

Constitution: 15

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 10

Charisma: 9

Granted both abilities seemed badass, but Return Blade was a no-brainer. I’d been thinking about ranged options for a while now, and it only got more serious when that behemoth almost made me into a human pancake. Being able to throw my sword and have it boomerang back would give me attack options beyond my ol’ faithful “charge in and try not to die terribly.”

“Return Blade,” I decided mentally.

Skill acquired: Return Blade.

You can now throw your weapon and recall it to your hand automatically. Range based on Strength and Dexterity. Damage based on Strength. Accuracy based on Dexterity.

For my attribute point, I hesitated. Strength had been my go-to lately, though I did just cheat on it with Constitution, but maybe it was time to branch out. With this new throwing ability, Dexterity made the most sense.

“Dexterity,” I chose.

Attribute increased: Dexterity (Now 16)

Congratulations on reaching Level 17! New skill and attribute points have been allocated.

The notification faded, but the warmth lingered, settling into my muscles comfortably. I felt sharper somehow. More aware of every inch of my body.

Elysia stirred against my chest. Her eyelashes fluttered against my skin. I froze, hoping she’d drift back to sleep. No such luck.

“Mmm, you’re radiating power,” she murmured, and her accent sounded thicker with sleepiness. “You’ve been meditating without me.”

“Had to do something while you two used me as a body pillow,” I whispered back, trying not to wake Portia.

Too late. One golden eye popped open, followed by the other. Portia’s tail immediately went from occasional twitch to full-on wag, thumping against my leg with enough force to potentially bruise.

“Master is awake!” she declared with way too much enthusiasm for this hour. “And he smells a little different.” She actually sniffed me with her nose pressed against my shoulder. “You’ve leveled up!”

“Guilty as charged,” I admitted. “Figured I’d multitask since I was pinned down anyway.”

“That’s my clever champion,” Elysia approved as she stretched like a cat in a sunbeam. The movement pulled the thin sheet erotically against the outline of her perfect body. “What boon did the System grant you?”

“Return Blade,” I said. “I can throw weapons and have them come back to me now.”

Portia’s eyes widened with excitement. “Oh! That’s a rare one!” She sat up. The sheet fell away to reveal she’d decided clothing was optional last night. “Can you demonstrate? Please, Master?”

“Later,” I promised, trying to keep my eyes on her face and not the rest of her. “I’d need something to throw, and all my weapons are downstairs.”

“I could fetch one for you,” she offered, already half out of bed.

I caught her wrist gently. “How about after breakfast? I’m starving.”

Elysia was also participating in the naked morning enthusiasm competition, I realized as she draped herself across my chest again. That more or less created an effective barrier between me and any potential escape routes. “Surely you’re not in such a rush,” she purred while tracing distinct patterns on my collarbone with one delicate finger. “We’ve only just awakened.”

I recognized that tone. That was the one that meant I wasn’t going anywhere for at least an hour. Although that hour would undoubtedly be enjoyable, we really did have practical matters to address.

“The sooner we start the day,” I reasoned, “the sooner we can figure out this portal situation. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can guiltlessly return to this kind of thing.” I gestured at her sexy but very short body.

Portia tilted her head, considering this logic. “He has a point, Princess.”

Elysia made a sound somewhere between a huff and a groan. “Fine. But I demand compensation for this cruel abandonment.”

“Breakfast in bed?” I offered.

Her eyes lit up. “Acceptable.”

“And belly rubs?” Portia added hopefully.

“After breakfast,” I agreed while somehow managing to extract myself from their collective grip. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and headed for the door. “Stay put. Food coming up.”

As I made my way downstairs, I heard them settling back into bed, already whispering and giggling about something. Probably plotting new ways to delay the day’s productivity. I couldn’t really blame them—what was the rush, after all? Apparently, we had twenty years before the big bad showed up.

In the kitchen, I worked the French press and pulled out waffle ingredients once the coffee was made. Real waffles today, not the frozen kind—well, sort of real. I wasn’t going to make the mix from scratch. At the very least, it would be a more deserving meal for my girls than freezer-burned toaster waffles.

I was mid-pour on the batter when my phone rang. The caller ID made my stomach drop faster than Portia’s panties at the phrase “bad dog”.

Sheriff Miller.

I debated letting it go to voicemail again, but that strategy clearly wasn’t working. Might as well face the music. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and picked it up.

“Morning, Sheriff,” I answered. I was doing my very best to sound like someone who hadn’t been indirectly responsible for a monster attack at the local mall.

“Mr. Becker.” His voice was professional but had an edge. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Sorry about that. Been busy around the house.”

“I imagine so.” Then there was a pause after that which went on longer than it should have. “You know, I think we should have a proper conversation about what happened at Single Pine.”

I measured my words carefully. “Not sure I’m following you, Sheriff.”

“Cut the crap, Becker.” His tone hardened. “I’ve got skeletons cleaning up purple goo in my jurisdiction, monsters appearing out of thin air, and you showing up like you knew exactly what was happening. So here’s my question: would you like to talk about this with me, or should I involve people with bigger badges and a lower tolerance for bullshit?”

I sighed, closing my eyes briefly. “Tell you what, Sheriff. If it becomes a problem, we’ll talk.”

“Seems like it became a problem when I had monsters walking my streets,” he countered, voice falsely calm.

“That was just a fluke,” I insisted. “Growing pains. It won’t happen again.”

“Growing pains.” He repeated the words flatly. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“Not particularly.”

Another weighted silence. I could practically hear him counting to ten.

“Mr. Becker, I’m trying to be reasonable here. Whatever’s going on, it’s affecting my town. My people. If you’ve got some kind of handle on this situation, I need to know.”

“I understand your concern,” I said, and I genuinely meant it. “But trust me when I say that incident was an anomaly. I’ve got things under control now.”

“Do you?” He didn’t sound convinced. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like the opposite of ‘under control.’”

“It’s handled,” I insisted. “Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” His tone was severe. “Because next time, I won’t be calling first.”

The line went dead. I stared at my phone for a moment, debating whether that had gone better or worse than expected. On the one hand, he hadn’t shown up with a SWAT team. On the other, he clearly wasn’t buying my “nothing to see here” routine.

I turned back to the waffles and mechanically poured batter while my mind raced. Based on everything that had happened, I was starting to form a theory. There seemed to be some kind of lag or pattern to the portal appearances. Something was locking onto my location at a specific time every day, finding an open space nearby, and that’s where the portals would open. Since I was usually at home, the field next to my house was the usual target.

But when we’d spent most of the day in town with the girls, I must have been there during that magic hour when whatever mysterious entity or process pinpoints my location and assigns a portal destination. It wasn’t immediate—there had been hours between our mall visit and the portal opening.

Of course, this was all just me making assumptions. I didn’t have actual confirmation on anything yet. I didn’t even know 100% for sure that the portals did follow me, but given recent events, it seemed pretty fucking likely.

If I was right, that meant we could potentially predict and control where portals would open by managing my location during that critical window. We just needed to figure out what that window was.

The waffle iron beeped, jolting me from my thoughts. I opened it to find a perfectly golden waffle staring back at me. At least something was going right today.

I prepared a tray with waffles, whipped cream, and blueberry syrup. Coffee black as ol’ Lazarus for me, a honey-laden café au lait for Elysia, and orange juice for Portia.

“Breakfast is ready!” I called up the stairs while balancing the tray carefully. “Do you still want breakfast in bed or—”

I heard the thunder of approaching footsteps—well, one set of thundering footsteps, which was Portia, and one set of dainty, slow steps that made walking sound painfully laborious.

They came stumbling downstairs in states of undress that would have given the sheriff a heart attack if he’d chosen that moment for a surprise visit. Portia wore one of my t-shirts and nothing else, while Elysia had wrapped herself in what appeared to be just a sheet, toga-style. Her hair was a glorious mess, too, as she hadn’t bothered to braid it or brush it since last night.

Portia made a beeline for the food with her nose twitching appreciatively at the aroma of fresh waffles. “Master has made morning delicacies!” she exclaimed, eyeing the whipped cream with particular interest.

Elysia, meanwhile, completely ignored the food. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face against my chest. Her eyes remained firmly closed as she yawned. “Too early,” she mumbled, despite it being well past 8 AM now.

“Food’s getting cold,” I prompted gently as I tried to move her toward a chair.

She made a shrill whining sound that made me chuckle. With determination, she clung even tighter to me. She was obviously more interested in using me as a vertical bed than in eating breakfast.

I watched over the elf’s head as Portia rediscovered the magic of whipped cream for the first time since her frappuccino. She swiped a finger through the fluffy white mountain topping her waffles and licked it with an expression of pure bliss, her eyes crossing as she let out a silly giggle. Then, as if remembering something, she started to pull up the hem of her t-shirt.

I knew exactly what was coming next. Without even looking directly at her, I reached over and gave her exposed bottom a hard swat. “There. Lesson learned. No touching the whipped cream with your fingers.”

The effect of the innocent spank was immediate and frankly off-putting. Portia let out a sound that definitely didn’t belong at the breakfast table, that’s for sure. Her tail wagged so hard afterward that it threatened to topple her chair as she stood beside it. “Thank you, Master,” she breathed as her eyes glazed over.

Elysia’s head jerked up, suddenly wide awake. “What just happened?” she demanded, looking between us with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing special,” I explained while gently disentangling myself from her grip. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

Portia had already recovered and was already on the culinary attack, stabbing her waffles with a fork like they wronged her in a previous life. Elysia stood there for a moment, probably deciding whether to make an issue of it, when her stomach growled loudly enough to spur her to action as well.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she sat down. “I suppose it is indeed time to sate our appetites,” she conceded, taking her seat slowly.

She took one bite of waffle and her facial expression transformed. “Magnificent,” she declared, gesturing with her fork at Portia. “You see? I told you he was an exceptional cook. The balance of sweetness and texture is sublime.”

“Thanks, but they came from a plastic bag, kinda,” I admitted, taking a seat with my own plate. “Just add water and pour into the waffle iron.”

Elysia looked genuinely offended. “You dare suggest these delicacies are... common? Mass-produced? I refuse to believe it.”

“Believe it, Princess. The real magic is in the toppings.”

She sniffed, taking another bite. “Topping me is what I expected you’d be attempting by this time of day, but alas. Well, regardless of the origins of these things, they’re exquisite.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I was grateful for the momentary peace—who knew when we’d next be interrupted by interdimensional crises or law enforcement inquiries?

“So,” I said once we’d demolished most of the waffles, “I was thinking we should train today. Test out this new ability.”

Portia’s ears perked up instantly. “Yes! Training! Honing combat skills and powers granted by the System is an excellent way to level up slowly but surely. Practicing makes meditation more effective, too.”

Elysia’s enthusiasm was considerably more understated. She made a noncommittal noise and reached for her coffee. “I suppose observing your progress would be appropriate every now and then.”

“You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to,” I assured her.

“Of course I don’t,” she agreed readily. “My power is efficiently allocated for moments requiring devastating impact, not mundane practice sessions.”

To translate, she was lazy and had no interest in exerting herself unless absolutely necessary. At least she was consistent.

After breakfast, the girls disappeared upstairs to change. I cleaned up the kitchen and grabbed my sword from where it leaned by the back door. The weight of it felt different now, somehow—maybe more balanced? Lighter? It functioned like an extension of my arm rather than just a weapon. Was that the new skill and point in Dexterity already influencing my perception?

Portia bounded down the stairs in what appeared to be an attempt to assemble a workout outfit. It was a tank top that barely contained her prodigious bust and undersized shorts she stole from Elysia. They were so short on her that they made me question whether standing near her would be safe at all for Josh: The Dick. She’d tied her hair back in a short ponytail, too, but her dog ears were still standing proud.

Elysia followed at a more sluggish pace, wearing more casual clothes that she deemed acceptable outerwear. They weren’t that. They were essentially just another set of skimpy pajamas.

I threw on a tank top and a jacket and we headed out to the open field where the portals usually appeared, far enough from the house that we wouldn’t break anything important if the training got too wild.

“First things first,” Portia announced, suddenly all business. “We need to establish a proper Adventuring Party with you in it.”

I blinked. “A what now?”

“An Adventuring Party,” she repeated. “It’s the System concept for which the Hero’s Party is named. When in a Party, our attacks won’t damage each other if an accidental friendly fire situation occurs, and we will share XP evenly, rather than having the one who dealt most of the damage take it all.”

“Sort of,” Elysia contested lightly. “Sir Josh will still claim more XP than either of us, Portia—since he is lower in level.”

“Really?” I asked. “This party system is a real thing?”

The Princess had already found a patch of grass and settled onto it like she was at a picnic. “Of course. Portia and I have an established Party with Juniper, but you aren’t in it.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity from my voice. “Seems like kind of an important detail.”

Elysia waved a dismissive hand. “I wouldn’t have thought to invite you to the Party because I was never the one who handled such administrative nonsense back in our world. That was always Juniper’s responsibility. It occurred to me once or twice, I suppose, but it seemed like such a hassle to figure out.”

“And I assumed the Princess had already added you,” Portia apologized, casting some annoyed side-eye at her friend. “I only realized that she hadn’t after last night. Let me fix that right away.”

She closed her eyes, clearly accessing some menu I couldn’t see. Her face scrunched up in concentration as she navigated whatever interface the System provided her.

“It’s not the most intuitive design,” she muttered while making little swiping motions in the air. “Ah! There we go.”

A blue notification appeared in my vision:

PARTY INVITE! Portia Moonfang has invited you to join an Adventuring Party: “The Hero’s Party” Accept? YES / NO

“Yes,” I said out loud this time.

A warm sensation spread through me, different from leveling up, but I couldn’t quite say just how. After some fiddling, I could suddenly sense Portia and Elysia’s presence on a new level, beyond mere line of sight. It was a bit like knowing where your limbs are without looking at them, if I had to put it to words.

PARTY JOINED! Congratulations! You are now a member of “The Hero’s Party”

Current Members: Elysia Silverleaf, Portia Moonfang, Juniper Bloodberry, Josh Becker

“This is... weird,” I admitted, trying to get used to the new awareness. “But cool.”

“Now you’ll see our health indicators,” Portia explained, pointing to nothing I could see so far. “And if either of us is in danger during combat, you’ll know immediately.”

Sure enough, when I focused, I could make out faint red bars floating above both women, presumably representing their remaining health. Elysia’s was full, while Portia’s showed just a tiny sliver missing.

“What happened to you?” I asked Portia, gesturing toward her bar.

She grinned sheepishly. “Stubbed my toe on a rock coming outside with you. It’ll regenerate.”

“So now that we’re an official Party,” I said, testing the weight of my sword, “let’s see what this new skill can do.”

“Yes! Show me what you gained!” Portia bounced on her toes, clearly excited to see the demonstration.

I took a deep breath and focused on the new ability I could feel within me—Return Blade. I gripped my sword, trying to visualize the motion in my mind before attempting it.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, and threw the sword like a giant, lethal frisbee.

The blade spun through the air, slicing an arc that would have been impossible without the System’s influence. It traveled about thirty yards before I instinctively reached out my hand, calling it back.

The sword responded immediately, reversing its trajectory and spinning back toward me. I caught it by the handle with surprising ease, like I’d been practicing the move for years.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, genuinely impressed with myself. “It actually worked.”

Portia was practically bursting with glee, bouncing up and down in a really distracting way. “Try again! Aim for that tree!”

I took aim at a distant oak and let the sword fly. This time it traveled even farther, striking the trunk with a solid thunk before returning to my outstretched hand like a loyal pet.

“That is so damn cool,” I laughed as I enjoyed the rush of discovering a new ability. “Think of the combat applications.”

Portia was staring at the sword with an expression I hadn’t seen before—something beyond excitement, almost... a primal need. Her eyes followed the blade as I swished it in her face. Her body tensed, ready to spring.

Then she dropped to all fours. “Throw it again,” she urged, her voice gone husky.

“Um, okay,” I grunted. Needless to say, I was slightly confused by her sudden intensity, but also curious. I hurled the sword once more, sending it in a wide arc across the field.

Before it could return, Portia launched herself after it, moving with astonishing speed on all fours. She leaped into the air at the perfect moment, catching the blade carefully between her teeth as it spun.

I froze, feeling my heart in my throat, certain I was about to witness a horrific accident. But the Party system must have been working—the sharp edge didn’t seem to affect her at all. She landed gracefully, trotting back toward me with the sword in her mouth, tail wagging proudly.

“Portia, what the hell?” I asked as she reached me, still carrying my weapon like a prize stick. “That could have been dangerous!”

She made a muffled sound around the blade, offering it to me with shining eyes. When I reached for it, however, she growled playfully and pulled back.

“Give it,” I said, as I glowered at her, trying to pull it back. “Come on, give it!”

She held out for another moment, then relinquished the sword with a happy whine. As soon as it left her mouth, her expression shifted from canine joy to mortified realization.

“Oh!” Her hands flew to her cheeks, which had turned bright red. “I don’t... I mean, I didn’t...”

“Do you want to be spanked for your rebelliousness?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean...” She took a deep breath. “It was instinctual. I saw the object flying and part of me just... reacted.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No discipline needed, honestly. It was actually kind of impressive.” I raised the sword again. “Let me practice using this ability more. I want it to feel natural.”

Her tail immediately resumed wagging at tornado speeds. “You mean...?”

“Yeah, we can play fetch for a bit. It’s actually good training for both of us.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She dropped back to all fours with her amber-gold eyes locked on my sword with laser focus.

For the next twenty minutes, we developed an unusual but effective training routine. I would throw the sword in increasingly complex patterns, practicing my control and recall, while Portia would intercept it mid-flight, sometimes bringing it back, sometimes making me chase her for it. Her speed and agility were astonishing. They were also skills that would definitely be useful in actual combat.

I was getting better with each throw, learning to curve the blade’s path and even bounce it off multiple targets before recalling it. The skill was more versatile than I’d initially thought, like a cooler, deadlier version of Captain America’s shield.

We were so engrossed in our training game that neither of us noticed Elysia had fallen asleep in her patch of grass until she suddenly sat bolt upright, blinking in confusion.

Her gaze fell on us—me with my arm extended, recalling my sword from midair where Portia had just released it after another successful catch. For a moment, she just stared, processing the scene before her.

“What,” she asked in a severe tone, “the actual hell is going on here?”

Chapter 13

Explaining that we’d fallen into an impromptu game of fetch took a bit longer than I think any of us would have anticipated. Part of that was owed to the fact that I quickly started justifying it by going into how effective it was proving as a training activity, but the real culprit for overcomplication was Portia.

“Master forced me to play with him like his personal pet,” she declared, fanning her face as fake tears started lining the corners of her eyelids. “If I didn’t do as he requested, he said he’d strip me down to nothing and use my tight little pussy to satisfy his sadistic urges, rutting me like a beast as he brutalized my decadently contoured bottom.”

Elysia raised a single questioning brow at me and scanned me from head to toe. “Is this true?”

“What in your history with her would move you to believe anything she said?” I asked genuinely.

We made our way back toward the house when it was still a bit before noon. The rush from our training session continued to course through my bloodstream while Elysia kicked her feet as I carried her and Portia bounded around us with her apparently endless battery of energy.

“Did you see the way Master moved?” she gushed, skipping circles around us as I walked. “The way he threw his blade through the air! Whoosh! And then recalled it right back to his hand! Arf! Simply magnificent! Magnificent and breedable!”

“I certainly did see,” Elysia replied from her cozy position cradled in my arms. She had dramatically collapsed after watching us train for only thirty minutes, declaring herself too exhausted to possibly walk another step with an evil look in her eye as she held her arms up to me expectantly. She continued to fire smug looks at Portia while nuzzling closer against my chest for the duration of the short trip back. “His technique already surpasses warriors I’ve seen with decades more training. Your natural talent is extraordinary, my handsome champion.”

“I’ll take it, thanks,” I said while adjusting her slight weight. My enhanced strength made carrying her practically effortless, though she constantly shifted into new positions that required me to readjust my grip. I couldn’t shake the feeling she was doing it on purpose, like she was trying to make me move to draw attention to me carrying her just to continuously gloat to a certain canine companion.

She traced a finger along my jawline. “I merely speak the truth. Even the finest warriors in my father’s guard would envy your progress.”

“The System helps him learn faster than normal humans could,” Portia added, giving her a dirty look as the princess nuzzled my chest.

Elysia scoffed. “The System chooses only those already worthy of its power. It amplifies what already exists within. A hero is a hero, and our man is a hero.” She pressed her lips near my ear. “You were already exceptional long before we arrived, my darling champion. The System merely recognizes what the rest of us can plainly see.”

“The warriors we knew weren’t as sexy either,” Portia added with a flirtatious grin that prominently displayed her canines. She darted in closer to place a wet, glancing lick on the back of my neck. It was way better than her peeing on my foot, I figured, and I was more or less at the point where I just accepted these shenanigans as normal and fine.

The house was the only thing in front of us soon enough. We left the lights on inside and the door locked—I’d kept the porch light on since before my magical girlfriends ever showed up. Lately, my worry portfolio had impressively diversified. Currently my anxieties were dominated by suspicious sheriffs and the looming threat of waking up tomorrow with yet another demihuman hotty claiming interdimensional dibs on my increasingly spoiled dong.

“Home sweet home,” I sighed as we reached the back door. “Take off your boots before we get in the kitchen, please.”

Portia bounded ahead to open the door, but Elysia made no move to get down from my arms. Once we got inside, I set her down.

“Wow, alright then,” she huffed as her feet touched the floor. “I hadn’t been informed that you hate me and my happiness.”

“Shaddup, pointy-ear Barbie,” I muttered.

She immediately undid her loose, chunky braid and removed a jacket with dramatic grunts of effort that filled the entire foyer. “This constrictive metal cage is practically fusing with my perfect, nubile skin,” she complained, struggling with a clasp. “I’m positively drowning in sweat.”

“You barely moved, and it’s September,” I pointed out while taking off my own jacket.

She flipped her long golden hair over her shoulder. “A princess exerts herself in other ways—such as by being exceedingly graceful and beautiful at all times, and knowing that her elegance is constantly being viewed and appreciated. It’s immense pressure,” she informed me with a cute little huff and puff through her nostrils punctuating the statement. “Our bodies are more refined, more responsive to atmospheric conditions. The slightest change in temperature affects us profoundly.”

“If I may translate, the princess means to say she is insufferably dramatic,” Portia whispered, already down to her own undergarments. The fact that she didn’t even wear armor and instead had a shawl, a skirt, and a shirt as her main ensemble, yet she still chose to strip, was something I thought about addressing—but her tits were too good for me to complain.

Elysia shot her a sharp glare but notably didn’t dispute the translation. Soon we were all down to our underwear. The fact that we were all so unfazed by stripping down in front of each other after such a short time was something that I was sure every other man I knew would want to fund scientific studies about.

“A bath would be heavenly right now,” I suggested, eyeing the dirt on my skin accumulated from our outdoor training session. “Nothing better than washing away the morning’s hard work, I say.”

“The tub won’t fit three of us comfortably,” Portia said with a pout that transformed her entire face. “Elysia can just use her magic.”

“I for one absolutely refuse to bathe without Sir Josh present to watch and aid me,” Elysia added while studying her nails. “The entire purpose would be lost.”

I suppressed a sigh. Their steadfast refusal to clean up without me had become an established pattern—one my inner neat freak found concerning, even while other parts of me celebrated the arrangement.

Yeah, they could and ultimately did use Elysia’s elf magic to refresh themselves as I strode toward them. Their way was effective enough in terms of smell and, er, taste—but a part of me trusted baths more than lazy waifu magic.

“Later, then,” I conceded, stretching my shoulders. “Let’s at least relax somewhere comfortable.”

We migrated to the living room where I clicked on the TV before settling onto the couch. I set the volume fairly low, as I wasn’t actually serious about watching anything at the moment. Predictably, the women immediately claimed their positions on either side of my body, arranging themselves possessively close.

Elysia curled against my left side with her head on my shoulder and one leg draped across mine, her silken, golden hair spreading over my chest. Portia nestled against my right side with her head in my lap, tail thumping against the cushions in a steady rhythm of contentment. I experimented a little—every time I gave her head a little scratch, the tail accelerated. Thump thump thump thump. She even started panting with her tongue out, and that’s about when I stopped.

A morning talk show played on screen. The hosts were discussing celebrity gossip or something inane and boring like that. Normally, around this time, I’d probably fall asleep on the couch—at least pre-Elysia-and-Portia me would.

These days things were different. Today my mind kept circling back to questions that had accumulated since these two women plopped into my life. I picked up the remote and lowered the volume even further to background-noise levels. Both girls looked up at me with wide eyes, probably hoping I’d whip my dick out or something.

“I’ve been thinking,” I began. “I know so little about where you two came from. About your world. About this whole ‘Black Lazarus’ situation. To be honest, I’m not even that curious, but I kind of feel like I should ask, you know what I mean?”

Elysia kissed my arm secretively and tried to pass it off as wiping a tickle off her nose. “What specifically would you like to know?”

“Whatever. What exactly is the ‘Hero’s Party’? Who is Black Lazarus? Why are you here, really?” I glanced between my girls, fighting back an affectionate smile. “Who are you two, beyond my fated mates?”

They exchanged one of those looks I was beginning to grow accustomed to—silent communication between people who shared history I wasn’t yet part of. I understood it. I didn’t like it, but I understood it.

“I suppose you deserve to know,” Elysia said while shifting more upright, deliberately pressing her breasts against my arm as she moved. “Particularly if you’re to be our champion.”

“And the man to fertilize our wombs someday,” Portia added with a naughty grin, earning a sharp glance from Elysia and a flick on her nose. “Ouch! It’s true!”

“Wait, what?” I sputtered, nearly choking on air.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Elysia snapped before composing herself. “First things first.”

I nodded, feeling my heart rate accelerate. “Sure. Dial it back for a second. The beginning is the best place to start,” I suggested.

The princess looked to her companion for help, but Portia was still rubbing her nose. Elysia took a deep breath, then spoke. “The Hero’s Party is the title given to blessed heroes who, in our case, must travel through time and space to stop Black Lazarus from severing our world’s link to the rest of the cosmos.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. “That sounds dumb as shit.”

“Because he’s a megalomaniacal tyrant who wishes to rule our world in isolation,” she replied with venom I’d never heard come from her beautiful lips before. “A madman convinced that disconnection equals power.”

“And he’s not cute at all,” Portia interjected, wrinkling her nose.

Elysia rolled her eyes. “True, Black Lazarus is as ugly within as without. But what you need to understand is that our world, Antheria, is what scholars call a Prime World.”

“A what now?” I asked, as Portia’s hand began wandering up my thigh with deliberate intent. I swatted it, which was a mistake, because it caused her to let out a horny moan.

“Focus, please,” I murmured to her.

“I apologize, Master,” she whimpered while putting her hand directly on my penis. “I will continue where Elysia left off, if it will make you happy. A Prime World is a crucial point in the multiverse, like a load-bearing pillar inside an ancient temple. If our world gets severed from the cosmic web, all other realms connected to it through the multiversal stack will eventually collapse, crumbling into nothingness.”

“She’s actually correct,” Elysia said, sounding genuinely surprised. She watched Portia’s hand squeeze my groin with furrowed brows for a moment, maybe deciding just how to respond. She ultimately started tracing patterns on my chest with one delicate finger.

“That’s... an enormous responsibility,” I managed, attempting to maintain focus while their hands continued their ministrations. “So what motivates this guy? Why does he have such a hard-on for multiversal destruction?”

“Because he can’t get hard-ons any other way,” Portia snickered with a grin that showed all her canines. “Much unlike my wicked Master.”

“Must you be so crude?” Elysia sighed, but her cheeks were coloring too. “Black Lazarus was once my father’s court magus, born Lazarin Vex. He was brilliant—perhaps the most talented mage in thousands of years. But brilliance without morality inevitably mutates into something deadly.”

“Also, he asked Elysia out but she rejected him,” Portia added. “She’s rejected everyone but you, Master.”

“That is NOT why he turned evil,” Elysia snapped, for some reason hugging me tighter as if that was her best defense.

“Ladies,” I interrupted, “can we stay focused? The multiverse is at stake, remember?”

“Yes, Master, but… in twenty years,” Portia pouted, batting her eyelashes at me.

Elysia cleared her throat. “As I was saying, Lazarin discovered ancient texts describing the multiverse and Antheria’s place within it. While others saw our position as a sacred responsibility, Lazarin saw nothing but vulnerability—a weakness that needed elimination.”

“He became obsessed with the idea that other realms were parasites feeding off Antheria’s power,” she continued. “He developed rituals to sever these connections, claiming it would make our world invincible and eternal. He presented it as a protective measure.”

“But that wasn’t the whole truth,” Portia added. Her ears flattened against her head, brows furrowing seriously. She closed her eyes like she was trying to remember a vital detail before continuing. In the end she just jiggled my balls in her palm a little.

“No,” Elysia agreed, seeing this and grabbing my hand. “The severance would indeed grant immense power—to whoever controlled the ritual. Lazarin didn’t want to protect our world. He wanted to rule it with a power no one could challenge. He manipulated everyone with lies of preservation while planning domination.” By the time she finished that, my hand was inside her bra, grabbing a naked elf titty. I was as confused about this development as I was aroused.

“So how did you two get involved?” I asked, gently guiding Portia’s hand back to a more neutral position and reclaiming my own hand from Elysia’s top. “I’m guessing this isn’t standard royal duty.”

A soft smile touched down on Elysia’s perfect pink lips, but it faded almost immediately. “Hardly. When Lazarin’s true intentions became clear, my father moved to stop him. But Lazarin came prepared for resistance.” Her voice faltered. “He... he killed my father and much of the royal court in one night of fire and blood. The palace burned while he laughed.”

I instinctively pulled her closer, feeling her tremble slightly against me. “I’m so sorry, Elysia.”

She nodded and pressed herself against me. “I escaped only because of my handmaiden’s sacrifice. She pushed me through a servant’s passage moments before the flames consumed her. I fled the capital, uncertain what to do next. That’s when the Prophet found me.”

“Prophet?” I asked, keeping my arm protectively around her shoulders. Meanwhile, Portia greedily grabbed my other arm and threw it around hers. This was so confusing.

“Seer Morvain,” Portia supplied as she reached out and squeezed Elysia’s hand. At least they could put aside competing for my attention long enough to console each other. The dog-girl went on. “An ancient mystic who lived in the Crystalline Caves beneath the Silverspike Mountains. She had foreseen Lazarin’s betrayal and the rise of Black Lazarus, as he now calls himself.”

“She told me I was chosen to lead the maidens of the Hero’s Party,” Elysia continued, her voice growing firmer at the memory, “to stop Black Lazarus and save the multiverse. It sounded completely absurd at first. I was a princess trained mainly in court etiquette and only basic combat, not a savior with otherworldly powers.”

“But the Seer was never wrong,” Portia added with reverence. “Not once in seven centuries had her visions failed to take shape. She instructed Elysia to find her companions by going on a quest to the other two great kingdoms of Antheria. That’s where I entered the picture.”

I looked at the dog-girl with renewed interest, taking in her features with a fresh eye. “And your story? How did our princess find you in the midst of such chaos?”

Portia’s tail thumped against the couch. “I was a healer in the Moon Mother’s temple in the Canid Kingdom. My people have long maintained alliances with elves, though rarely intermixing socially or romantically. When Elysia sought the blessing of the Moon Mother, I was chosen to accompany her.”

“Because of your healing abilities?” I asked, genuinely curious about their past.

“Perhaps,” she nodded, her ears perking up. “But I also possess my tracking skills and combat training. Moon Mother acolytes aren’t just healers—we fight too. We’re quite formidable when properly motivated. As for why me, and not some other priestess from the Canid Kingdom, I can only speculate, but the chrono crystal reacted to me, which meant it was likely that I was the fated maiden.”

“Thankfully she was also the only one willing to follow my orders without constant questioning,” Elysia added with a smirk.

“I’m a good girl,” Portia grinned. The statement somehow sounded simultaneously innocent and horny in a way that made Josh 2: Cock of the Walk stir in his gloomy cotton chamber.

“And Juniper?” I prompted, curious about the missing third member who continued to be mentioned without detail. “What’s her story?”

“We found her in the Blasted Lands,” Elysia explained, adjusting herself to get more comfortable against me. “Like Morvain, she also has the powers of farseeing and prophecy, but to a more limited degree. She wasn’t exactly a princess, but she was of higher station in her lands—educated, with recognized talent. My crystal reacted to her immediately, so it was easy to determine she was meant to join us.”

“You’ll like her,” Portia said with a mischievous glint in her eye that made me immediately tighten my glutes. “She’s... different.”

“Different how?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You’ll see,” they answered in unison.

Portia continued, “Together we trained under Seer Morvain, learning to fight together, using each other’s strengths and living with each other’s weaknesses. That’s when we received the System and received confirmation from the Heavens that we are indeed the true, fated Hero’s Party.”

“So if you had to train under Seer Morvain,” I wondered aloud, “why did I get the System without even trying?”

The two of them looked at each other briefly, then shrugged in unison. “We knew only that we would find you eventually, and that you would have the System too. We weren’t told why or how or even when,” Portia said, her tail swishing thoughtfully as her hand continued to play with my junk.

“Suffice it to say, neither of us expected to find you so easily,” Elysia added, stroking my arm with gentle motions. The way she caressed me made it clear she harbored no disappointment about that particular development, and I really was grateful for that.

“And why is it that Elysia never leveled up her Constitution?” I asked. “Since it’s so low, shouldn’t raising it be her main priority?”

Elysia frowned instantly, making me regret my question a little, but I had to know. “Maidens of the Hero’s Party aren’t like you, Sir Josh,” the princess explained. “Our skills have capped maximums. Though it is… a little low… four is my maximum for Constitution.”

Ouch. That really sucked.

Anyway, that line of questioning had reached a dead end, so I pushed forward. “And when you finally confronted Black Lazarus?” I asked, sensing we were approaching the crucial part of their tale.

Elysia’s face fell. “We failed, of course. We were destined to fail without you, but it was a necessary step in our journey that forced him out of our domain. We possessed strength, but not enough. Not yet. He’d already completed significant portions of the ritual, enough to tear open a portal to Earth. I followed him through the rift alone, while Seer Morvain and Juniper worked to reopen the portal so that Portia and Juniper could follow me using their chrono crystals to pinpoint my location.”

“If you went through the same portal as Black Lazarus, why did you get here so early?” I wondered aloud, furrowing my brow. “You said Black Lazarus won’t make his move for twenty years. Why send you here now?”

“That remains a frustrating mystery,” Elysia admitted, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her lips. “Though I suspect it involves you directly.”

“Me? What would I have to do with interdimensional timing errors?”

“You’re a portal beacon,” Portia explained, sitting up straighter with excitement causing her ears to perk forward. “Your presence clearly attracts dimensional energy, creating weak points between worlds. It’s an extraordinary phenomenon—I’ve never encountered a gift like it in all my studies.”

“Some gift,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “More like a giant ‘kick me’ sign if you ask me.”

“Perhaps,” Elysia acknowledged with a small, knowing smile. “But it led us directly to you. That peculiar quality is precisely why destiny guided us into your arms. The universe has plans for you, my champion. I suspect we were always meant to find you here, and that living the next twenty years as your bedmates and party members will make us the team we need to be in order to win.”

“Destiny, huh?” I raised an eyebrow skeptically as my penis jerked under Portia’s hand like a prize-winning bass shot with a taser. “That’s a pretty convenient explanation.”

“The threads of fate rarely weave by accident,” she replied in a solemn tone, letting her eyes flutter closed. She took in a deep breath, then let it out. “You were meant to be our final party member, our husband—the male who will help us do our part to breed the next generation of heroes.”

“I’m sorry, what now?” I nearly choked on air for the second time that evening.

Portia giggled at my reaction. Elysia, however, maintained her composure. She seemed very determined to make sure I knew that they were one hundred percent serious about that little tidbit.

“The cycle continues through the eons,” Elysia explained with matter-of-fact precision. “Each Hero’s Party produces offspring to become the rulers of their prospective territories someday. A thousand years from now, our children’s children’s children wherever and whoever they are will be called upon as we were.”

“Meaning,” Portia said, “that Elysia, Juniper, and I are extremely distant cousins, having descended from another party like this one some hundreds of years back. Seer Morvain had to vet us using the chrono crystals—this aspect is what determines our ability to unlock the System at all.”

Elysia nodded simply, pressing her cheek against my shoulder.

“So I’m... what exactly? A magically appointed sperm donor?” My voice couldn’t possibly hide the incredulity bubbling up.

Elysia’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Such a vulgar way to phrase it. You’re our champion, our mate, the one who completes our power—the one Portia, Juniper, and I were always destined to love and cherish. The... breeding aspect simply forms part of the larger purpose.”

“A very fun part,” Portia added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows that set her ears bouncing.

I tried to wrap my head around this bombshell in a conversation full of bombshells. On one hand, discovering I’d been selected by mysterious forces for reproductive purposes definitely ranked high on the “what the fuck” scale. On the other hand... looking at the two impossibly beautiful women beside me, it wasn’t exactly the worst destiny a man could have thrust upon him.

Heh heh. Thrust.

“That’s... quite the revelation,” I finally managed after gathering my thoughts.

“I hope this won’t change how you feel about us,” Portia said while shifting closer. She finally abandoned my positively turgid erection as her hand found mine. Her eyes—between amber and gold—flitted across my face, searching my expression for signs of how I felt.

“No,” I said honestly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “This is all a surprise, of course—but...” I looked between them, these impossible women who had crashed into my life like sexy little trucks, tearing apart my concept of a peaceful life and everything I thought I knew about it. “I’m too deeply involved to back out now, even if I wanted to. And I don’t, to be clear.”

Their faces brightened like I’d just promised them both a lifetime supply of chocolate-covered orgasms. I almost laughed when their shoulders visibly dropped from ear-level back to their neutral position. But Elysia’s expression shifted to something more predatory, then, and I knew I was in trouble—horny trouble.

A hunger entered the girls’ eyes that made my breath catch. Elysia purred while sliding her slender hand along my thigh, “Speaking of being in deep, I think we’ve had enough serious conversation for one morning, don’t you?”

Portia caught on immediately, and her tail began to wag with increasing severity until it became a golden-brown blur that whooshed the air throughout the room around us. “Much too serious,” she agreed in a rasp. Her fingers traced intricate patterns on my chest that sent a buzz coursing through my nerves. “We should engage in... team-building activities.”

“You two are insatiable,” I noted, though my tone made it clear this observation contained zero complaints.

“We’ve barely begun to demonstrate our appetites for your bliss,” Elysia murmured, her warm lips brushing against my ear and sending shivers down my spine. “Consider this advanced training for your role as the sire of my babies.”

“And my puppies.” That made me blink, but I was too horny to examine it too hard.

Their hands moved hungrily over me, slipping beneath what little clothing remained between them and my increasingly responsive body. The television droned long-forgotten in the background as they exchanged knowing looks that implied plans—plans clearly discussed between themselves during moments I hadn’t been present for.

“Our champion deserves a proper reward for his valor in training today,” Elysia cooed breathily as her nimble fingers worked deftly at my boxers.

“Mmm, yes,” Portia agreed. “I agree.” Her tail was going fucking crazy at this point, and her ears folded back submissively. “A hero’s reward is in order.”

Before I could formulate any coherent response, they had relieved me of my last piece of clothing. They gasped when they saw my cock spring upward, like it was the first time either of them took in the sight of it.

“Such an eager boy,” Elysia observed with a satisfied smirk, as her own undergarments joined mine on the floor. The sight of her naked body never failed to take my breath away—perfect porcelain skin, amazing busty-petite curves, and those weirdly sexy pointed ears.

The dog-girl was next. Portia shed her minimal coverings with a flourish, revealing the soft, tan physique that contrasted so beautifully with Elysia’s paler complexion. The tan lines were still present, making my mouth water as bronzed skin gave way to pale flesh, and that to pale, pink, pierced nipples. The silver rings piercing those nipples caught the light coming in through the window, drawing my gaze like magnets.

“We’ve been discussing new ways to help you feel adored,” Portia admitted as a blush pinkened her cheeks. “In considerable detail.”

“Discussing?” I managed. My voice sounded hoarser than I intended. I cleared my throat, noticing just how dry it’d gone all of a sudden. Gee. Wonder why.

“Naturally,” Elysia replied with a dainty shrug. “It is well within Portia’s submissive nature to want to dote on you—and it is within my nature to not want to let her have your pleasure all to herself.”

I watched breathlessly as Elysia positioned herself on the couch. Portia eased in behind me, her hands sliding up my back, her breasts pressing against me as she kissed a line between my shoulder blades. I felt her silver nipple rings tickle my skin.

“Now,” Elysia announced, “we demonstrate our party coordination.”

Elysia knelt on the ground before me, which already had my eyes bugging out before anything happened. Her golden hair cascaded around her shoulders, and her icy blue eyes now looked molten with lust. Portia joined her quickly enough.

“Watch,” Elysia commanded, sounding like a regal princess even on her knees.

They began with kisses along my thighs which more or less confirmed my suspicions about where this was headed—or so I thought. Their movements synchronized like they’d rehearsed this performance, but I knew that probably wasn’t the case. They were just equally eager.

Portia’s lips and tongue came in hot, sloppy, and heavy. Compare that to Elysia, who was slower, more graceful, her eyes rolled back rather than focusing on my gaze. Each teasing kiss drew closer to my cock, which was standing at full attention between them.

“I believe our champion is ready for us,” Portia giggled, sending her hot breath washing over my skin.

“Patience is a virtue he must learn,” Elysia replied. She was talking a big game, but I could see from the lust in her eyes that she was just as eager for the next step as I was.

Just when I thought they couldn’t torture me any further, they exchanged a narrow-eyed glance and shifted positions. Elysia reclined the sofa, which I didn’t even realize she knew how to do, while Portia stroked my shaft, waiting for something.

Next thing I knew, they moved to kneel on either side of me, then scooted forward until both were directly in front of my cock, facing each other.

“Do you know what we’re going to do?” Elysia asked, her voice dropping to a husky register that made my brain vibrate in my skull.

“No, but I’m extremely invested in finding out,” I confessed.

Portia giggled again. “We’re going to sandwich your cock between our wet, juicy little pussies,” she whispered. The bluntness of it caught me off-guard. “To show our adoration for you, Master.”

My cock actually twitched at her words, and both women’s eyes darkened at the sight, fixing on it with purpose.

“As she said,” Elysia confirmed, somehow maintaining her air of royal dignity while discussing the sexual double-team maneuver. “We will pleasure you between our quims so that your cock can familiarize itself with its future homes.”

“We really shouldn’t let you penetrate us until Juniper is here,” Portia explained, licking her lips and looking down at the collection of genitalia about to mingle. “But we can get very, very close.”

“Very, very close” sounded great to me. They shifted closer, their legs overlapping slightly. Elysia’s pale, perfect, bald pussy was already glistening with arousal, a sight that never failed to make my mouth water. Beside it, Portia’s was equally enticing—slightly darker in coloration, with a faint tuft of golden-brown hair, but every bit as enjoyable-looking.

With deliberate care, they pressed together, their outer lips kissing each other as they created a channel between them. Then, with agonizing slowness, they lowered this warm, wet vice onto my cock.

“Holy fucking shit,” I groaned as my length was enveloped in their combined heat. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced—two different textures, temperatures, and pressures working in perfect harmony.

“Swear if you must, darling Champion,” Elysia murmured in a breathless tone. “It’s all for you.”

“Nyah!” the dog-girl moaned at the friction. “All for my sweet, handsome—cruel, evil Master,” Portia whimpered.

They began to move together, sliding up and down my shaft in a perfectly synchronized rhythm. The visual was almost too much—my cock being swallowed between the luxurious folds of their pussies, their wetness mingling together, dripping down—soaking me. Their breasts swayed in time with their gyrating hips, and Portia’s pierced nipples in particular caught the light in a way that made my eyes go dry from staring wide-eyed.

“Does our mate approve?” Portia panted as her amber eyes went half-lidded with pleasure. Her tail was wagging so fast it was almost distracting—but nothing could really distract me from this.

“Fuck yes,” I managed, my hands gripping the couch cushions to keep from grabbing them both. “This is... incredible.”

Elysia’s composure was cracking from the bliss she also felt. Her hair had grown messy and fallen across her face, and her breathing was becoming ragged. “The friction is... quite a fair deal more effective than I anticipated,” she admitted, a tremor in her voice as their bodies slid against each other with my cock sandwiched between them.

I couldn’t help myself any longer. I reached out, one hand finding Portia’s breast, the other tangling in Elysia’s hair. I tugged gently on one of Portia’s nipple rings, causing her to let out a yelp of pleasure, while simultaneously pulling Elysia forward until our lips met in a searing kiss.

The dual stimulation seemed to inflame them further. Their pace increased, the wet sounds of their movements filling the room along with their moans and my own grunts of pleasure. I could feel them both getting closer—Portia’s tail now thrashing wildly, Elysia’s thighs trembling from all the effort.

“I’m getting there,” I warned, my hips starting to buck upward on their own.

“Don’t you dare hold back,” Elysia commanded breathlessly. “Cover us both. Show us how you feel about us.”

“Yes, please!” Portia whimpered, her body quivering. “I want to feel it, Master!”

Those words, combined with the sight and sensation of their perfect bodies pleasuring me together, sent me hurtling over the edge. My cock pulsed violently between them, shooting thick ropes of cum that painted their stomachs, breasts, and the undersides of their chins as they continued to slide against me through my orgasm.

The visual of my release decorating their bodies triggered something primal in both of them. Portia came with a howl, her entire body shaking like she’d stuck her tail in an electrical socket. Elysia followed a moment later. Her orgasm seemed more controlled but no less intense as a series of gasps and shudders made her pointed ears quiver like leaves in a breeze.

They collapsed against each other, panting and trembling, their bodies glistening with sweat and my release. I starfished against the couch, utterly spent. To say my heart was racing would be a disgusting insult to the institution of language.

They climbed on top of me, Portia immediately nuzzling against my neck while Elysia arranged herself along my other side. The smell of sweat was strong, but it was the good kind of sweat, mingling with the lingering aroma of Elysia’s post purification magic scent.

“I think,” I said once I’d recovered enough breath to speak, “that bath is looking like a better idea now.”

Elysia made a purr of approval. “Indeed. I believe we’re all sufficiently motivated for proper bathing activities now.”

“Race you to the shower!” Portia exclaimed, already springing up with inexhaustible energy. “We’ll have to take turns in the tub since it’s too small for all three of us, but I call first spot with Master!”

“You most certainly will not,” Elysia countered, somehow finding the energy to chase after her. “Royal privilege grants me priority! I am the First Maiden of this party, don’t forget!”

They disappeared upstairs, leaving me momentarily alone on the couch. I couldn’t help but stare off into space for a minute just to reflect and do a quick little gratitude ritual in my head.

The sounds of running water and playful splashing drifted down from the bathroom soon enough, along with voices begging for me to join them. I decided that despite the portals, the sheriff, and an impending multiversal crisis twenty years in the future, I wouldn’t trade this bizarre new reality for anything. Not even for double my lottery winnings, which is saying something because that would be fuck-you money squared.

Some destinies, it turned out, were worth embracing.

Quite literally.

Chapter 14

The previous day passed as usual. We bathed, ate lunch, snuggled, fooled around, snuggled some more, ordered pizza, played video games, killed a monster, and finally went to bed—snuggling.

When I finally fell asleep, I came to awareness floating in darkness with the peculiar weightless feeling that came with dreams—well, some dreams. Or so I thought at first, but there was something uncanny about this one. Something different.

The misty void felt both unreal and hyper-real, like when you’re half-awake and can’t tell if you’re dreaming or not. It was like sleep paralysis, but in an empty, floating expanse.

Then I saw her.

She emerged from the fog like a painting coming into focus—first a silhouette, then details resolving with each heartbeat. And what fucking details they were.

From the waist up, she was stunningly beautiful with dark skin and sharp, striking angular features. Physique-wise, she had a little more cushion for the pushing than both Portia and Elysia, but her tummy was flat as could be, and she only had the softest hint of love handles. Most of the weight on her upper body had to come from her boobs.

No. I misspoke. These weren’t boobs. They were tits. Massive, glorious, healthy tits that shamed even the impressive racks both my girls boasted. These things were absolutely oppressive choke-you-to-death honkin’ gazongas. They were the kind of breasts that could double as weights for a squat work out—which isn’t to say they sagged, no sir. Perky wasn’t the word, really, but they were well-formed, round, shapely to a degree that only magic could explain.

As incredulous as I felt taking in the sight of her knockers, upon which I perhaps lingered a bit too long, the rest of her was even more jarring. Thick, blood-red hair cascaded down her shoulders to the small of her back in spiralling curls. The crimson eyes that sought mine were vertically slitted in a reptilian sort of way. She had ivory ram horns emerging from her head with golden ornaments like little horn caps fixed to the tips in decoration. Her ears weren’t pointed, but they were pierced from lobe to tip at least five times each. From her back emerged a pair of black feathered wings that didn’t look nearly big enough to lift her off the ground.

Below the waist, things got even less human. Her lower body was an enormous copper and black striped serpent tail that looked powerful enough to crush a car. It was long, maybe twenty feet, and thick the whole way through.

Her eyes scanned the void methodically until locking onto mine and widening in surprise.

“You can see me, can’t you?” Her voice was sultry, thickly accented in a way that reminded me of a Russian dialect.

I tried responding, but my dream-body wouldn’t cooperate. My lips wouldn’t move, either. My vocal cords were frozen in place, like those nightmares where you try screaming but nothing comes out. Or, again, like sleep paralysis.

She understood my predicament. “Don’t waste energy trying to talk. Just listen. We don’t have much time.”

I relaxed and let my panic subside. If listening was all I needed to do, I could handle that. I’d gotten pretty good at lying on my back while crazy shit happened to me lately.

“I’ve been searching for my missing party members,” she continued as her serpentine lower body coiled beneath her. “Elysia and Portia—they’re with you, aren’t they?”

I tried to nod, but I figured she saw the confirmation more in my eyes.

“Good. I’ve been trying to reach them directly, but the connection keeps redirecting to you.” Her puzzled expression remained determined. “I believe that means you… Anyway, I can’t get through the portal yet. The link needs some work.”

She held up a parchment with a complex symbol—bat wings forming outer edges, mysterious but simple runes in an unknown language forming the center, all surrounded by a halo of small hearts.

“There’s no time to explain. If you are our Champion, then the three of you need this mark to strengthen the connection.” She opened her robe with a blush, revealing her stomach with the exact symbol tattooed around her navel. Unfortunately for her, she also revealed her ginormous fuggin’ boobs and a visible pussy that transitioned into scales in the snakey lower half. Lord God, it was the fight of my life to stay focused on the important thing she was trying to show me while my erection was busy violently tearing down the walls between the physical world and dreamland.

“The girls need the full symbol,” she went on, “but you need only the runes at the center of the mark to be marked over your heart.”

She sighed impatiently at my confused and horny look.

“I don’t know why I can only reach you when I try for the others. I know that you must be our Champion, so I hope the other two are with you. If they are, this means that in order for us to be properly, permanently bonded to you, this mark is a necessary and important step.” She studied me with her red, serpentine eyes, licking her lips with a forked tongue in a way that I didn’t think was particularly horny. “Find someone who can create permanent markings. A skinwriter.”

Tattoo artist, I mentally corrected. Hopefully that would work.

“Once all three of you have the mark, the link between us should be strong enough for me to safely cross over.” She glanced over her shoulder as if hearing something. “I’m out of time. I look forward to meeting you and seeing the girls again. When I reach out for them, they feel... different somehow. Sluttier, I guess, which is probably a good sign. Goodbye.”

The mist swirled intensely around her.

“Don’t forget the pattern,” she urged, holding up the paper once more. “Full symbol over their wombs, just the runes over your heart. Memorize them! Keep them in your mind!”

Then she dissolved back into fog like she’d never existed.

I bolted upright, heart hammering against ribs. My sudden movement sent both sleeping women tumbling—Elysia rolled sideways with an un-princess-like yelp, and Portia nearly fell off the bed.

“Is the house burning down?” Elysia demanded while scrambling upright, her golden hair adorably messed up. “Because such treatment of royalty is otherwise inexcusable!”

“Arf! Arf!” Portia had already recovered, instantly alert. “Master? What’s wrong? Is there danger?!”

“Paper,” I gasped, lunging for the nightstand drawer. “Need paper and a pen.”

“Has he gone mad?” Elysia squeaked anxiously to Portia, who just shrugged and got out of my way as I crawled off the bed and rifled through a drawer.

I found a notepad and pen, frantically sketching the symbol before it could fade from memory—bat wings, heart halo, and those strange but simple runes burning in my mind’s eye. My shaking hand still produced a passable recreation.

“I saw her,” I explained while still drawing. “Juniper, I’m pretty sure. In my dream. She spoke to me. She looked—fucking wild.”

That got their attention. Both women crowded around me, their sleepiness vanishing as they peered at my sketch.

“What did she say?” Portia asked as her tail began to sway to and fro.

“She can’t get through the portal yet,” I explained while tapping the drawing. “The connection needs strengthening. We need these marks as tattoos—you two get the full symbol over your wombs, I just need the runes over my heart.”

Elysia snatched the paper, studied it with narrowed eyes, then exchanged a look with Portia. “Yes, I recall Seer Morvain instructing us about lore related to this. These marks are reminiscent of something the last generation of heroes used to strengthen the link between party members and bolster their connection to the System—but I thought the method was lost.”

“Apparently Juniper rediscovered it,” Portia whispered with eyes dewy from awe. “How long were we separated on her end that she managed to reverse engineer this magic?”

After I finished, checked, and double-checked the drawing, I flopped back onto the bed. “So we need magical tattoos based on my dream vision. That’s the plan.”

“Going by the runes at the center, it appears to be a binding mark that creates a tether between us which cannot be broken,” Elysia explained while scrutinizing my drawing. “If Juniper says it will help her cross over, she’s likely correct.”

“So we’re really doing this? You girls are okay with tattoos over your lower abdomens?” I couldn’t hide my skepticism.

Elysia’s nose crinkled. “Defacing my perfect royal skin isn’t ideal, but if it reunites our party and binds us more securely to you...” She shrugged reluctantly.

Portia bounced with excitement. “I’ve always wanted a mark like this! It’s sexy! The Moon Mother’s highest priestesses get ritual scars that they paint over once a month on the night of the full moon, but a permanent inking seems much more practical.”

I glanced at the bedside clock—5:57 AM. Too early to take action right away, but sleep was definitely no longer an option for me with how fast my heart was racing from the odd dream visit and subsequent heart-pounding impromptu drawing session.

“Let’s talk about this over breakfast,” I suggested. “I need coffee before I can process any more weirdness.”

By 9 AM, I was researching local tattoo artists while the girls discussed their impending markings with different levels of enthusiasm.

Elysia poked her half-eaten waffle. “It should be quick, right? Just a few moments of mild discomfort?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her stomach tattoos hurt like a bitch and a half and took hours. Some truths are better learned through experience.

“I’m calling this place,” I said, showing them a well-reviewed shop called Ink Dragons. “Best ratings within fifty miles.” The girls didn’t protest, so that was that—not that they knew enough about anything around here to protest.

Val, a gruff-voiced woman, answered on the third ring. I explained our situation—minus the supernatural and sexy parts—and asked about a house call.

“We don’t typically work off-site,” she informed me. “Insurance reasons.”

“I understand,” I said, preparing my ace. “But we have mobility issues here.” I was, of course, thinking about portal drama. “I’d happily pay double your rate for the trouble.”

A pause. “Double, you say?”

“Fuck it, make it quadruple. Plus gas expenses and some leftover pizza for the road,” I added, watching Portia’s tail wag faster with each word.

“You would’ve had me with just the pizza, but hell yeah. What kind of tattoos are we talking about?”

“Three tattoos, three people, same design on the girls, a less detailed one for me. Two stomach pieces for the ladies, smaller chest piece for yours truly.”

Another pause. It took longer this time, but I figured it was because she was jotting details down. “I might be able to accommodate that. I’d need to bring quite a bit of equipment.”

“Money’s not an issue,” I assured her. “We’re only forty minutes from your shop according to Shmoogle Maps.”

After more negotiation, she agreed to come around noon. I hung up feeling simultaneously relieved and terrified. I was getting a tattoo. And two beautiful women were getting matching womb tattoos that would in some magical way connect us forever. Big steps.

Portia bounced in her seat. “It’s happening! Will it hurt? Is it like Moon Mother branding? Do we burn or do we bleed? Both? None of the above? Please say none of the above.”

“I can’t do that,” I said, watching Elysia’s face pale. “But it’s manageable pain. Think of a shallow cut that keeps happening over and over again without stopping for a couple hours straight.”

“Hours?” Elysia’s voice hit a heretofore unknown register. “You neglected to mention the time commitment!”

I smiled sympathetically. “This will bring Juniper to us. Good work takes time, Princess. But I’ll hold your hand through all of it.”

Elysia huffed, but her shoulders relaxed at the reassurance. “As First Maiden of the Hero’s Party, I shall demonstrate my fortitude—but you’d really better hold my hand, Josh Becker!”

I stood to clear breakfast dishes. “Now let’s clean up before our guest arrives. And maybe figure out how to handle all the ears and tails.”

***

The tattoo artist, Val, arrived precisely at noon. She was shorter than I’d expected, but also older and much more confident than any woman walking into a strange man’s house probably should be. Her own arms were covered in intricate sleeve tattoos, and her undercut hairstyle revealed additional artwork on her scalp.

“Nice place,” she commented, glancing around my living room. “Remote. Peaceful. I always wanted a place out in the country, but, you know. Gotta work.”

“Right. I bought it for the remoteness, so I totally agree,” I replied, helping her with the several cases of equipment she’d brought. “Privacy is worth the longer drive into town every now and then.”

Val nodded appreciatively, then turned her attention to Elysia and Portia, who were hovering nearby with very different expressions and demeanors. She must have thought they looked funny with a beret and a baseball cap on indoors.

“So, you folks all want the same design?” Val asked, setting up her workstation efficiently.

“Them, yes. Mine is similar, but without the hearts and wings,” I explained, showing her my drawing. “The ladies want the full design on their stomachs, but I just need these central runes on my chest, over my heart.”

Val examined the drawing with a neutral look. “Interesting symbols. You drew the hearts kind of shitty but I’ll clean that up for you if that’s okay. Is this your own creation?”

“It’s a... religious emblem,” Elysia improvised. “We follow the same… god.”

“Cool,” Val replied, clearly not particularly interested in the backstory. She was already transferring the design to stencil paper. “Who’s going first?”

Elysia stepped forward with the superior dignity of someone volunteering for sacrificial execution. “I shall be the first, as I am the First Maiden.”

“You’re definitely not the very first,” Val muttered as she continued redrawing the design.

The next hour went by fast for me, but I had to suspect the princess didn’t share my sentiment. Elysia lay on the tattooing bench in the center of my living room, her stomach exposed from her navel to just an inch or so above her womanhood as Val transferred the stencil onto her skin. When the needle first made contact, Elysia’s hand shot out, grabbing mine and squeezing a lot harder than I assumed she could.

“This agony is barely noticeable,” she announced through gritted teeth. “Like being tickled by a feather. A sharp, angry feather wielded by a vindictive dark and evil fairy.”

“You’re doing great,” I encouraged her, trying not to wince as her nails dug crescents into my palm. “The outline is always the worst part, so I hear.”

“You will compensate me for this suffering,” she informed me, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I expect at minimum a full day of uninterrupted pampering. Possibly two. With frappuccinos! And—and lots of kissing!”

Val worked steadily and did her best not to react like a champ. She kept her focus on the job as she brought the intricate design to life on Elysia’s pale skin. Despite her complaints, Elysia managed to stay remarkably still, only occasionally requesting brief breaks when the needle hit particularly sensitive spots.

After the better part of two hours, Val sat back, wiping away excess ink to reveal the completed tattoo—bat wings gracefully framing the simple runes, all surrounded by the delicate heart halo, centered perfectly below Elysia’s navel and just above the waistband of her panties. The fresh tattoo was red and swollen, but it was an undeniable success.

“Beautiful work,” I complimented as Val applied a thin layer of ointment and a protective covering.

“It does have a primitive elegance,” Elysia admitted, examining her new marking.

“Who’s next?” Val asked, changing her gloves and sanitizing her equipment.

Portia bounced forward before Elysia had even fully vacated the bench. “Me! I’m ready! I’m a brave pup!”

Val eyed Portia with weary disdain. “First tattoo?”

“Yes,” Portia replied. “But I am not afraid! With my master here to punish me should I step out of line, I—”

Elysia slapped the back of her head so hard the dog-girl looked like her brain reset.

“I mean—yes. I’m ready when you are.”

As Val began preparing Portia’s skin for the stencil, she paused, noticing something odd. “Is that... are you wearing a tail buttplug or something?”

Portia froze, her eyes widening. I jumped in smoothly: “We’ve got a D&D game later and she likes to dress up ahead of time to get into character.”

“And… are those animal ears beneath her weird indoor beret?” Val asked, glancing at Portia’s head.

“Part of the same costume,” I explained. “They’re, uh, actually pretty difficult to remove once attached. Spirit gum, you know? Her whole costume is animatronic, too, so it’s very lifelike and even moves.”

“That tail isn’t in my butthole,” Portia added, which was a good point of clarification until she decided to say, “My butthole must be kept ready for Master’s use at all times.”

Val, Elysia, and I winced as one. “Welp, I’m starting. Just hold still, costume parts included.”

“Of course!” Portia agreed brightly. “I shall be as motionless as a princess under normal circumstances!”

Elysia giggled. “An apt metaphor.”

Portia’s promise lasted approximately thirty seconds into the actual tattooing process. The moment the needle touched her skin, Portia’s entire body tensed, and her tail began twitching and curling.

“Ma’am, I need you to hold still,” Val reminded her, pausing her work. “Especially your midsection.”

“Sorry!” Portia exclaimed, looking genuinely contrite but failing entirely to control herself. “The pain is immense. Master, hold my hand!”

“Why does she call you Master?” Val asked with very justified concern.

“Just… don’t,” I said. “Let’s not.”

I actually had to physically hold Portia’s whole body down against the bench, earning a raised eyebrow from Val but no further comment. Throughout the session, Portia reacted to the pain in ways that were distinctly... worrisome. Rather than wincing or gritting her teeth, she clearly enjoyed the sensation, occasionally making small sounds that bordered on orgasmic.

“The pain is exquisite, Master,” she moaned in front of an increasingly distressed Val. “It makes me think of all the terrible, horrible things you’ll do to my bottom for making such a scene.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered hoarsely to the artist, my soul having more or less become one with the definition of mortification.

“Hey,” Val replied noncommittally, focusing on her work. “Whatever helps her get through it.”

Despite the challenges, Portia’s session went more quickly than Elysia’s, mainly because she never asked for breaks. In fact, when it was over, she asked if she could get another tattoo of my face on her ass, but I vetoed that right away. The last thing I wanted to see when I started banging her from behind one day was my own mug.

When the work was done and she was on her feet again, she wanted to see the result, so she bent to examine the fresh tattoo with a grin.

“It’s perfect!” she declared, beaming. “I hope it will hurt like this forever and ever!”

By this point, it was late afternoon, and Val’s hand needed a rest. We took a break for an early dinner, eating leftover pizza and then ordering even more to give everyone a chance to recover before my turn. The conversation during the meal was a minefield of potential slip-ups, with Portia nearly mentioning portals twice and Elysia at one point taking off her baseball cap. Thankfully that was easily explained by wiggling my fingers and saying “D&D” once again.

Val maintained professional detachment despite everything. “You three have an interesting dynamic,” was her only comment, delivered with the neutral tone of someone who’d seen far stranger things in her career.

As evening settled in, and I had to make a fake call to “cancel” our D&D game, it was finally my turn. I removed my shirt and lay back on the bench, the alcohol-soaked cotton ball cool against my skin as Val prepped the area over my heart. The stencil of just the runes looked so plain compared to the elaborate designs the girls had received, but I wasn’t complaining about the reduced tattoo time.

Both women hovered nearby, offering a running commentary that Val pretended not to hear.

“If you show weakness after my incredible performance, I shall be severely disappointed,” Elysia informed me, her own tattoo still visibly throbbing beneath the clear bandage, but healing pretty fast due to our System powers.

“I can heal you afterward,” Portia whispered, just quiet enough that Val might have missed it. “Just a tiny bit of magic to take the edge off.”

The needle made contact, and I realized I’d been right about chest tattoos being painful—especially directly over the sternum. Each stroke sent lines of electric fire across my nerve endings, but after fighting monsters regularly, it was manageable discomfort.

“It’s perfectly acceptable if you need to hold my hand,” Elysia offered, dangling her hand in front of my face. “I will not mock you.”

“I’m good,” I said, which got a shrill gasp out of her like I’d slapped her across the face. She ended up grabbing my hand anyway.

“Well, I’m not. I will not sacrifice this opportunity.”

“That’s not fair!” Portia squealed. “I’ll take this hand, then.”

The girls held my hands tight throughout the massage, but I was fine. Still, it did feel right to have them attached to me as I underwent the process.

There was something profoundly intimate about the experience. The three of us were being permanently marked with symbols meant to bind us together forever. Whatever happened in the future, this connection was literally under our skin now.

Val worked hard and focused well, all things considered, and my smaller design took less than an hour. When it was complete, I sat up to examine her work in a hand mirror. The runes formed a pattern over my heart, elegant and simple in its minimalist design.

“That’s all of you,” Val announced, applying the final bandage to my chest. “Quite the bonding experience, I suppose.”

I paid her generously—double the quoted price plus a substantial tip—and thanked her for making the house call.

“Take good care of those tattoos,” she instructed as she packed up her equipment. “Keep them clean, apply the ointment I left you, and no swimming for two weeks. Showers, not baths, too. And maybe...” she glanced at Portia’s barely-concealed tail, “maybe take the costumes off before I arrive if we do this again sometime.”

Once she was gone, we collectively exhaled.

“That was an ordeal,” I admitted as I collapsed onto the couch. “But we did it. Do you think you can heal these tattoos for us so that we don’t need to go through the whole recovery process, Portia?”

Portia shook her head, frowning. “Not just yet. If I heal too soon, it’s possible the ink will vanish too.”

I nodded, taking that in. “Maybe in a day or two then.”

“Okay, so… Now what?” the dog-girl asked, gingerly touching the bandage over her fresh ink. “How long until Juniper can cross over?”

“Magical bindings usually take time to settle,” Elysia explained. She winked as she tried to find a comfortable sitting position. “We should rest and see what develops.”

The evening passed quietly. All three of us moved carefully to avoid jarring our tender new markings, and it was the girls’ soreness that probably protected Cock-Josh from further assaults that night.

Taking out the midnight monster arrival was awkward with the pain, too, but it was only a skeleton with a spear—the weakest monster we’d fought since the girls arrived.

I helped both women apply fresh ointment before bed. It wasn’t until I was gently smoothing ointment over Elysia’s tattoo that something unexpected happened. The tattoo suddenly pulsed with a faint ruby glow, illuminating my fingertips from below.

Elysia jerked back, startled. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, as surprised as she was. “It’s... reacting somehow.”

We conducted some impromptu experiments over the next half hour and discovered a pattern—the girls’ tattoos responded to sexual thoughts about me. We confirmed the pattern without a doubt when Portia admitted to planning to give me a blowjob after Elysia fell asleep. When we asked her what she was thinking when it lit up, she embarrassingly narrated the imagined encounter in explicit detail. Her tattoo glowed brightly enough to be seen through the long, white T-shirt she borrowed from me as a nightie.

Elysia was not a fan. “How mortifying! Our desires for you will be broadcast for all to see?” Right that moment, her own tattoo lit up. “Oh! I can’t help it! I’m nearly always thinking something lewd about you! This is supremely unfair!”

Portia was less bothered by it. She pointed to her belly proudly as it glowed. “Master, look! I’m thinking about how terrible it would be if you bruised my tender rump with a vicious slap right now. How cruel you are!”

“Well, I guess this means the tattoo... works?” I offered, trying not to laugh at Elysia’s persistent horrified expression when her own tattoo betrayed her thoughts moments before. “At least we know there’s some kind of magic happening with it already, right? That must mean Juniper will be able to find us now.”

As we finally settled into bed that night, all three of us maneuvered under the covers carefully to avoid pressure on our fresh ink. When I started to doze off, I realized that I had no idea what to expect to happen tomorrow. It was more or less like that every day now.

And I was kind of alright with it.

Chapter 15

I woke the next morning to the uniquely unpleasant sensation of my healing tattoo sticking to the sheets. The skin around the fresh ink felt tight and hot, like a sunburn that was trying too hard. Carefully peeling myself free, I shuffled to the bathroom to reapply the ointment Val had left us.

Standing in front of the mirror, I examined her handiwork—the mystical runes now permanently etched over my heart. The skin was still red around the black lines, but the design itself looked great. I dabbed a bit of ointment onto my fingertips and gently smoothed it over the tender area.

That’s when the delayed realization hit me with all the subtlety of a school bus full of fatties.

“Holy shit,” I whispered to my reflection. “We’re about to bring a giant fucking snake woman to rural Wisconsin.”

The full implications crashed through my brain. Juniper’s issue, so far as I could tell, wasn’t that she was eccentric like the other girls—she had the lower body of an enormous serpent, ram’s horns, and black wings—and supernaturally huge jugs to boot. She put the “monster” in “monster girl”.

Thinking back to my dream meetup with her, her serpentine portion had been at least twenty feet long. Would she even fit through doorways? Where would she sleep? What if Sheriff Miller showed up for another chat and the best I could do before he barged in with a warrant was shove her behind the couch? I didn’t think that would fly.

I stumbled back to the bedroom, mind racing. Elysia and Portia were still asleep, tangled together in a pile of limbs and hair. Both their tattoos were glowing ruby red, their hips sort of idly gyrating against each other as they both appeared to be dreaming about me. Under different circumstances, I might have paused to appreciate the view or even join the smutty cuddle puddle, but I was too busy having an internal crisis about imminent monster housing logistics.

“Hey,” I said, nudging the closest shoulder, which happened to be Portia’s. “Hey, wake up. We have a problem.”

Portia’s ears twitched, and she opened one golden eye. “Yes, master? Is it an emergency?”

“It kind of is,” I noted. “I just realized—Juniper has a snake body. A giant snake body.”

Elysia groaned, pulling a pillow over her head. “Is that all? I was having the most delightful dream. To be pulled out of it so rudely, I should hope that at minimum the house would be on fire.”

“You’re not getting it,” I pressed, pacing now. “This is a land full of humans. Cheeseheads, maybe, so sure, a lot of them are on the bigger side, but we can’t exactly have a half-snake, half-woman with horns and wings hanging out in my living room. Is she supposed to stay locked in my bedroom for twenty years? It’s not like we can take her to town with us! And what if the sheriff returns and forces a search on me? Juniper is not exactly... inconspicuous. At least based on my understanding.”

Portia yawned, stretching in a way that made her shirt ride up, revealing her freshly tattooed stomach and a contentment-inducing degree of underboob. “Oh, that? Juniper can share a body with one of us temporarily if needed for public outings.”

I stopped pacing. “She can what now?”

“Share a body,” Elysia mumbled from beneath her pillow fortress. “Consciousness transference. Rather basic dimensional magic for a mage of her calibre, really. It’s not so different from how she reached you, I imagine.”

“Basic,” I repeated flatly. “Right. And you’re just mentioning this now because...?”

Portia sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “It didn’t seem relevant until now. We’ve used it before for covert missions when Juniper’s natural form would be, ahem, problematic. She usually rides along in my body since Elysia tends to take regular breaks anyway,” she added with a grimace.

Elysia’s head finally emerged from her pillow sanctuary. “Juniper is primarily a homebody in any case. She prefers solitude and research to socializing. Perhaps outfit one of the many dilapidated structures on this plot of land like a wizard’s tower and she will be content for a decade at least. When she does join gatherings, she tends to... dampen the festivities with excessive rationality.”

“Sounds like my kind of gal. There’s an empty silo behind the old barn I could have cleaned out and made into a tower,” I considered aloud.

The girls traded irritated looks. “Your kind of gal? And just what is that supposed to mean?” Elysia huffed, crossing her arms.

Portia pouted, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. “Oh, I’ve been so bad that Master doesn’t consider me his kind of female! Oh, woe is me, a swift series of brutal reckonings will soon be visited upon my perky, jiggly bottom so that he can correct me into the bitch he—”

“God, please stop,” I muttered, holding up my hands. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t be brats. I’m thinking.”

“It wounds me that you never considered how small your home is by my standards,” Elysia sighed as she grabbed a brush from the nightstand and started running it through her hair. “In my father’s castle, we had lamias and nagas larger than Juniper who complained of too much space.”

“I’m not picky,” Portia quickly inserted, seeing an opportunity, “My doghouse back in my homeland was much smaller than this home, and I prefer to be physically stuck to Master as much as possible.” She suddenly adjusted her tone once more to something more performatively forlorn. “For if I do not make my lewd body available to him, I will be—”

Her voice trailed off in the background as I started running through things in my head. I tried to imagine a giant snake-woman coiled on my living room rug like some exotic pet and felt a headache forming. The silo idea probably did need to be enacted, at least in the long term. Not to mention that my bed wasn’t big enough to support a third girl—not even one Elysia’s tiny size.

Not long after our discussion about Juniper’s impending arrival, I decided to be proactive. With the girls draped over the couch watching some reality TV show they’d become oddly fixated on, I grabbed my laptop and started researching silo conversions.

“What are you doing over there, Sir Josh?” Elysia called, her eyes not leaving the screen where someone was dramatically crying over spilled wine.

“Looking into converting that old silo behind the barn,” I replied while I scrolled through a surprisingly robust collection of “grain silo to living space” articles. “If Juniper’s going to have twenty feet of snake tail, we need to accommodate that, and you mentioned something like a tower for her.”

“Thoughtful of you,” she murmured, then gasped at something happening on TV. “And it’ll keep her out of our bed unless invited. Portia! Did you see that? She flipped the table like a drunken dwarven wench!”

Portia was sprawled across Elysia’s lap like an oversized puppy. She nodded vigorously. “I love human conflict rituals! So much yelling without any actual combat! It’s quite refreshing, really.”

I tuned them out and focused on my research. The more I looked into it, the more viable the idea seemed. The old concrete grain silo on my property was structurally sound, just neglected. With proper renovation, it could become a comfortable living space for our soon-to-arrive monster babe.

After an hour of research, I found a contractor with experience in unconventional renovations—shipping container homes, mostly. His website featured several repurposed structures, but one of them included a water tower converted to a vacation rental. Perfect.

I dialed the number, putting the phone on speaker so I could continue browsing.

“Wilkinson Renovations,” a gruff voice answered.

“Hi, I’m interested in converting an old concrete silo on my property to a living space,” I explained. “Wondering if that’s something you handle.”

The man—Mr. Wilkinson, probably—sighed. “Look, buddy, those Pinterest projects look great online, but the permit process out here is a nightmare. Most counties require—”

“I was actually hoping to keep the paperwork to a minimum, if you know what I mean,” I interrupted. “And money isn’t really an issue.”

A pause. “Sorry, but I don’t—”

“I can pay more than twice your standard rate,” I added. “And I understand cryptocurrency transactions can be discreet these days.”

The silence stretched longer this time. “Why don’t I come take a look first,” he finally said. “No commitments yet.”

“Perfect.” I gave him my address and ended the call. Pretty fucking productive for a call under two minutes.

When I looked up, both girls were watching me with raised eyebrows. “What?” I asked innocently.

“You’ve certainly accepted your fate lately,” Elysia observed with a smirk. “No more kicking and screaming about your destiny, I see?”

“I don’t recall ever kicking and screaming,” I defended myself. “Anyway, yeah, I figure it’s not likely I’ll be able to get anything started before Juniper graces us with her presence, but these days I spend way too much time on my ass, so I might as well be productive.”

“I wish Juniper would arrive so I could spend some more time on my back,” Elysia sighed forlornly as her womb tattoo pulsed crimson. It started a chain reaction when Portia saw it, or maybe heard what she said, and her design lit up as well.

“Your tattoos are doing the thing again,” I pointed out, arching a brow. “I think we might want to get you girls some cold showers or something because I’m just one man.”

Based on our previous conversations, I had a pretty good idea that Juniper’s arrival would mark some sort of sexual milestone for all of us. They’d mentioned waiting for her arrival before I could have penetrative sex with them, and though I wasn’t sure just why that was the case, I assumed there was some reasoning behind it. I was already getting my dong milked pretty frequently so it’s not like I was in a hurry to break some hymens.

Ew. That sounded gross.

“Wilkinson will be here in an hour,” I said, changing the subject. “Maybe you two should stay inside when he arrives. The fewer questions about cute beret-wearing dog-girls and elven princesses too pretty to exist, the better.”

They agreed reluctantly.

“Master is possessive of my figure. He wishes not to let other men see the lewdness of my body, lest their hearts yearn to release inside of my sweet, girly flower.” Her voice took on a dramatically dark tone after that, and she closed her eyes, hand over her heart. “Oh, but my Master is too cruel and brutal to let any other man have me. He has claimed my body for himself completely, making me dream of only him, though I loathe him so.” She peeked one eye open. “I’m not serious, Master, I like you very much.”

“Right, I know,” I replied in a monotone as I kept browsing.

Wilkinson turned out to be a hairy, well-tanned man with a salt-and-pepper beard and weathered hands. He gave me a handshake that I once would have considered firm before taking on demigod proportions myself. In fact, I specifically wore baggy clothes to hide how ripped I was.

I didn’t take him inside. Instead, I led him directly to the silo. He circled it slowly, tapping walls and examining the foundation with experienced eyes.

“Solid enough construction,” he noted approvingly. “We could patch a few spots but honestly it’s not necessary. These old concrete silos were built to last. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Something unconventional,” I explained, gesturing with my hands. “I’d need a very large cellar entrance integrated into the grass that leads to a tunnel that goes inside, and instead of stairs leading from one level to the next, I was thinking of a spiraling ramp system.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A ramp? Like for wheelchairs?”

“Something like that,” I hedged. “Accessibility is important.” I did not mention, of course, that the reason was because the woman this was being designed for had no legs.

Wilkinson pulled out a measuring tape and started taking dimensions. “Multiple floors?”

“At least four, I think. We could probably swing five. With large, open spaces.”

He jotted notes in a small pad. “Plumbing? Electrical? You considered that? Utilities and such are kind of a big deal on a secondary residence.”

“That’s the other thing,” I said, glancing toward the fields. “I’ve already got permits for solar and a rainwater collection system that I never followed through on. I’d like to finally make that happen—get this place off-grid as much as possible.”

Wilkinson nodded slowly. “Less attention from utility companies, fewer questions.”

“Exactly.”

He tucked his notepad away and fixed me with a hard stare. “Look, I’ve done a few off-books jobs for cash over the years. I don’t ask questions if you’ve got the money and can keep your mouth shut, but I’ve got my limits. So I’m just gonna ask straight out—you running something illegal here? Meth lab, maybe?”

I met his gaze steadily. “Nothing like that. We just value our privacy out here.”

His eyes flicked to the farmhouse, then back to me. “Fair enough. Soonest I could start would be next month. I’d be doing the work myself—no crew for off-books jobs. Probably best if I do the indoor work at night to lower the chance of someone poking around and seeing my truck.”

“That works,” I agreed, extending my hand. “Though… we have a regular midnight activity around these parts that we’ll have to work around. Anyway, I’ve got a rundown barn where you can park your truck, too. And take your time. It gives me time to finalize the details anyway. I’m still learning about the individual who’ll be living here and her specific needs.”

“Her,” he repeated with a knowing nod-and-smirk combo. “Got it.” He shook my hand firmly. “I’ll draw up some preliminary plans and a quote.”

After Wilkinson left, I returned to the house to find both of my girls curled up asleep on the couch. Portia was snoring softly, and her ears were twitching with her dreams. Elysia was stirring, though, grinding her knees together like she was uncomfortable—but when I saw the womb tattoo do its thing, I figured out why and left her alone.

The sight of them resting peacefully made me smile. For all their bickering, they looked adorable together—a matched set of otherworldly beauties that I was lucky to have in my life. I was lucky to have a lot of the shit currently in my life, though.

Rather than wake them, I quietly made my way upstairs. The unexpected moment of solitude was a rare gift these days, for reasons that should be obvious. I stretched out on my bed, mindful of my healing tattoo, and let my eyes drift closed. “Finally,” I groaned, feeling my muscles relax. “A minute to myself.”

The bed felt bigger without their bodies pressed against mine. Quieter without Portia’s panting and licking and Elysia’s midnight mumbling. For the first time since they arrived, I had the time and space to stretch out and get some undisturbed rest.

I expected it to be a relief, but as I inched toward REM sleep, I found myself missing their warmth, their scents, even the hypnotic way Portia’s tail started pounding the mattress whenever one of my muscles twitched. This quiet felt empty rather than peaceful.

“Weird,” I murmured to the empty room. “When did I get so used to them?”

And with that thought, I slept alone for what I hoped would be the last time in a very long while.

Chapter 16

That afternoon, Portia deemed it safe to use magic to heal our tattoo marks, so she expertly treated the affected zones. Sure enough, there was no pain, no itching, no scarring or peeling, after that and the ink looked perfect. That was the good news.

But now it was time for the nightly chore.

The day went by too fast. Even worse, the nights were cold, and they were only going to get colder as the weeks went on. Soon we’d be fighting evil monsters in snowpants and parkas over platemail, which sounded… really dumb.

But there we were, standing in the open field, weapons ready. Portia hefted her war hammer while I rolled my shoulders. My sword felt more and more like a natural extension of my arm since the Return Blade skill had unlocked a few days ago.

Elysia, naturally, had claimed a viewing stump a safe distance away. She sat upright with her hands resting primly on her knees, legs crossed at the ankles. She looked more like a dignitary attending a jousting tournament than a participant in any battle.

“Remember,” she called, “once we identify what it is, I can tell you its weaknesses!”

“Assuming you’ve seen one before,” I replied, never taking my eyes off the shimmering air where the portal was forming.

“Hmph! I am familiar with most creatures from our world,” she insisted haughtily. “My tutors were quite thorough.”

Next thing I knew, the portal ripped open, crackling like lightning. The ground beneath us rumbled as something massive pushed through the interdimensional tear. I wasn’t sure how that worked—the rumbling before anything had even laid a foot on our soil, I mean–but I appreciated the forewarning that something big was coming.

First came a wedge-shaped head, then spiked shoulders, followed by a long body covered in gray-black scales that looked like burnt tree bark. The creature was big, at least twenty-five feet long from snout to tail tip. It had no wings, but the claws on its six stocky legs looked capable of tearing through plate armor like tissue paper.

“Ashscale ground dragon!” Portia yelped, her tail instantly going stiff over her skirt. “Bad news!”

“Very bad,” Elysia confirmed, suddenly looking less comfortable on her viewing stump. “But they’re vulnerable where the plates meet their necks, however!”

The dragon instantly fixed us with glowing ember eyes. Its nostrils flared, releasing twin jets of smoke.

“Any other weaknesses?” I asked, trying to sound casual as the beast seemed to be sizing us up.

“I think they hate water,” Portia added helpfully, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“That’s not going to help us much unless you’ve been hiding a garden hose in your cleavage,” I muttered.

It charged without warning, moving with surprising speed for something so bulky. Portia and I dove in opposite directions as the beast plowed through the space we’d occupied a split second before.

“Flank it!” I called as I rolled to my feet.

The ground dragon skidded to a stop and roared a sound like waaay pitched down nails on a chalkboard. Its claws tore furrows in the earth as it slid. Next, it whipped around to face me, jaws opening to reveal rows of jagged, serrated teeth. Instead of fire, it spewed a cloud of superheated ash that billowed toward me like a burning fog.

“Dodge!” Elysia squawked, like the idea wasn’t going to occur to me.

I threw myself backward, but not before feeling the searing heat against my face. “Shit! It breathes burning ash, not fire!”

“Hence the name!” Elysia shouted from her stump. “Do try to avoid it, darling! I’d never recover if you were slain!”

“Gee, thanks!” I spat back, circling the creature warily.

Portia charged in from behind, swinging her hammer in a wicked arc. It connected with the dragon’s hindquarters with a sound like a sledgehammer slamming into concrete. Scales cracked, sure enough, but the beast seemed more irritated than injured.

The ground dragon whirled, lashing its tail out like a whip. Portia took the hit square in the chest and went flying, landing with a painful thud twenty feet away.

“Portia!” I shouted, momentarily distracted.

The dragon seized its opportunity and lunged at me with jaws agape. I barely managed to dodge in time, feeling the wind of its assault as it snapped at empty air. My sword slashed almost on its own, striking its neck but mostly glancing off the armored scales.

“The soft spots!” Elysia reminded me. “Between the plates!”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

The dragon backed me toward the tree line. Its massive body blocked any obvious escape routes. I feinted left, then darted right, but the creature anticipated each move. Its tail swept low, catching my legs and sending me sprawling.

I hit the ground hard, launching my sword from my grip. The monster loomed over me. Ash billowed from its nostrils as it prepared to deliver a punishing blast.

“Josh, catch!” Portia’s voice rang out.

I looked up to see her hammer spinning through the air toward me. I caught it by the handle, the weight almost pulling my arm from its socket, but I managed to swing it upward just as the dragon lurched forward for its own attack.

The hammer connected with the underside of its jaw, snapping its head back with a horrible roar. I scrambled to my feet and rapidly scanned the field for my missing sword.

“Return Blade!” I commanded, reaching out my hand.

Once I spotted it and could extend my hand to catch it, my sword picked itself up instantly, spinning through the air back toward me. The dragon didn’t see the blade coming, probably since it was still reeling from the hammer strike. I caught my sword and brought it down deep in the creature’s shoulder joint, right where the scales formed a natural gap.

The beast howled in agony, and muddy blood seeped from the wound. It thrashed wildly, dislodging my sword, which sent me stumbling backward. I recovered quickly.

“Again!” Portia shouted, reclaiming her hammer. “Hit it again!”

We coordinated our attacks. Portia distracted the dragon and taunted it while I searched for vulnerable points. The dragon was slowing down—the plan was working. In real time, its movements became more and more sluggish as its wounds accumulated.

“You have it on the defensive!” Elysia cheered. “Finish it swiftly!”

The ground dragon backed away, sensing its disadvantage. It reared up, preparing for a final, desperate attack. Ash and embers swirled in its throat, building to what was sure to be a devastating blast.

I met Portia’s eyes across the battlefield, and we reached a silent understanding. She nodded, then slammed her hammer into the ground with all her might. The impact created a shockwave that momentarily staggered the dragon, making it rear its head and lose control of its charged attack.

In that precious second of vulnerability, I hurled my sword with all my strength, guiding it with newfound precision. The blade spun through the air with a whistle, then struck true—piercing the exact spot where the dragon’s neck plates separated.

“Return!” I commanded.

The sword ripped back free of the dragon’s throat, severing vital connections as it returned to my hand. The creature gave a strangled cry, then collapsed in a heap. I watched, breathing hard, as its glowing eyes dimmed to dark coals.

“Guess I can add ‘dragon-slayer’ to my CV,” I quipped through staggered breaths.

“That was MAGNIFICENT!” Portia shrieked, vanishing her hammer. Before I could react, she launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Her lips found mine in a series of victory kisses, and I sensed her kick up one leg and everything.

“Mua! You were amazing! Mua! The way you called your blade back through its throat! The precision! The power! Mmmmua! The—”

“AHEM.” Elysia’s voice ripped through Portia’s enthusiasm like a chainsaw. She had gotten up from her stump and was stomping over. If I had to guess, she was not pleased with this display of affection she hadn’t initiated or been invited to.

By the time she reached us, however, her face was flushed from the exertion of moving quickly across the field. She bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“You... lewd hound... how dare you... monopolize our champion’s... victory kiss,” she wheezed, clearly having overexerted herself in her haste to intervene.

Portia, still clinging to me, stuck out her tongue. “I was here first, Princess. Besides, you really shouldn’t excite yourself too much. Your Constitution score is much too low to handle Master.”

Before Elysia could put together a response, a blue window appeared in front of me:

VICTORY!

XP Gained! Level Up! Level 18 achieved.

You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

“Yes,” I said, temporarily distracted from the brewing catfight.

Both women immediately forgot their argument, eyes wide with excitement. “You’ve leveled?” Elysia asked, her breathing still labored.

“To eighteen,” I confirmed. The display changed:

ALLOCATE YOUR ATTRIBUTE POINT:

Strength: 18

Dexterity: 16

Constitution: 15

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 10

Charisma: 9

I studied my attributes. With two people more experienced with the System in front of me, I figured now was as good a time as any to satisfy my curiosity about something. “Hey, can I ask you two something? What’s the point of Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma? I never feel smarter when I put points in Intelligence, or more likable with Charisma.”

The girls looked at each other with pitying expressions, like it was so damn tragic how little I knew about these basics. In a way I guess it was.

“They don’t work quite the way you might expect,” Elysia explained. “They unlock different abilities tied to them, particularly those with magical aspects.”

Portia nodded vigorously. “Most importantly, you need level 10 in each stat before you can be assigned your class. So if you don’t have Charisma, Intelligence, or Wisdom specifically at ten right now, I’d suggest fixing that as soon as possible.”

Elysia frowned at her friend. “Where did you hear that? I’m not familiar with such a requirement.”

Portia’s ears twitched proudly. “I used to dig holes in the garden outside Seer Morvain’s hut when she was teaching Juniper about System lore. I have excellent hearing.”

Elysia nodded with a look of recognition. “Ah, yes. Seer Morvain was very proud of her garden. She really hated you.”

“Yes, she did.”

I looked back at my stats. “Charisma’s my only sub-ten attribute. If what Portia says is true, that might be what’s holding me back from getting a class.”

“Wisdom isn’t a terrible choice either,” Elysia suggested. “It often unlocks perception-based abilities useful to your fighting style.”

“But if Portia’s right about the class requirement, Charisma makes more sense right now,” I reasoned. “Charisma it is.”

I mentally selected Charisma, feeling the attribute point lock in.

Attribute increased: Charisma (Now 10)

Before I could even check my skill options, a new notification appeared:

CLASS UNLOCKED: Cavalier

(A Cavalier is a specialized warrior whose combat prowess is enhanced through the bond with a trusted mount. Your Skill Point has been automatically allocated to your primary class ability: Bind Greater Steed.)

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “It worked! I got a class!”

Both women squealed and jumped up and down. The wholesomeness of their excitement for me doubled my elation at the moment, and I smiled at them. Also, the way they jumped made their boobs bounce, so I wanted a second to take that in.

“What is it, Master? What did you get?” Portia asked, hopping up and down. “Let me guess—Sadist! Punisher! Torturer! Rump-Smacker!”

“Cavalier,” I read. “Apparently I’m supposed to be good at mounted combat. The System just spent my skill point on something called ‘Bind Greater Steed’—some kind of summoning ritual that calls forth a permanent mount.”

Elysia clapped her hands together. “How wondrous! A noble class indeed for our handsome champion!”

“It suits you,” Portia agreed, her tail wagging frantically beneath her skirt. “Strong, reliable, protective. But it doesn’t quite capture your love of abusing me.”

Before I knew it, I found myself sandwiched between them. They’d apparently taken my class unlock as a perfect excuse for a three-way kiss. Their lips met mine from both sides, turning the awkward angle into a raunchy group display of affection. I obviously found it hot how their tongues wrestled each other’s as they battled for access to mine.

When they finally pulled back, leaving streams of saliva connecting us all, both wore similar expressions of satisfaction.

“I believe this calls for a celebration,” Elysia declared. “Perhaps that frozen dairy confection you’ve been hiding in the cold storage box?”

“You mean the ice cream in the fridge? I was saving that for an emergency because it’s a seasonal flavor—pumpkin spice,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Portia’s eyes went huge and pleading. “This is clearly an emergency, Master. You’ve achieved your class! That’s monumentally important!”

I immediately gave in. “Fine. Ice cream it is.”

Back at the house, we gathered around the kitchen table with bowls of ice cream. The girls watched me closely as I examined the new ability description. Every few seconds one of their tattoos would light up and I’d just choose to ignore it.

“So how do you summon this steed?” Elysia asked between spoonfuls. Her eyes rolled back in her head every single time, which made me chuckle under my breath.

“Let me see,” I said, closing my eyes and focusing on the new ability I could feel within me.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes to find both women staring at me expectantly.

“Maybe it doesn’t work indoors?” Portia suggested.

I checked the ability description more carefully. “Ah. It says I must be alone and in a wide open space to perform the ritual.”

Both women’s expressions immediately darkened.

“Alone?” Elysia repeated with disgust, dropping her spoon to clang jarringly against her bowl. “That’s unconscionable! Unthinkable! Alone, without you, at night, when we need you most? And what will become of us, pray tell?!”

“The System has some nerve,” Portia agreed, her ears flattening. “Trying to put space between us like a—I simply cannot think of anything or anyone who would do something so evil! Not even you, Master! Is the System trying to protect my luscious bottom from Master’s wrath. Pah-tooey! I spit at the absurdity!”

I held up my hands to calm them. “It’s probably just for the initial summoning. Bear with me, I’ll be right back.”

They let me go after a few whimpers and whines. Outside on the gravel driveway, I closed my eyes again, trying to focus on the new ability. The night air was still. The only sound I heard was some chirping crickets.

A prompt appeared in my mind:

To complete the ritual, visualize the last beast you mounted.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the phrasing. The last “beast” I’d mounted? My mind instantly went to the unhinged, clingy pizza delivery girl I’d hooked up with a while before Elysia arrived. Probably not what the System had in mind.

Focusing harder, I realized the last actual steed I’d ridden was probably a pony at the zoo when I was maybe seven years old. God, I hoped that wouldn’t be my permanent mount—some ancient, arthritic pony that couldn’t even carry my weight. Fuck that—more like undead. That was two decades ago at this point.

As I concentrated, I felt a strange energy flowing through me, centered on the tattoo over my heart. The runes pulsed with a warm sensation—like the urge to pee, but my bladder was right over my heart. That sounds weird, but that’s what it felt like, at least until it passed. Another message appeared:

Binding Complete. Your steed will find you.

“That’s it?” I said aloud, looking around the empty driveway. No magical horse appeared in a flash of light. No dragon descended from the sky. Just… nothing.

I shrugged and sighed. After waiting several more minutes, I gave up and headed back inside. The girls were already—or still—standing anxiously by the door.

“Oh, he’s back! Did it work?” Portia asked, rising to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“Sort of,” I replied. “I completed the ritual, but it just said ‘Your steed will find you.’ No actual steed showed up.”

Elysia moved toward me with her arms raised expectantly. “Perhaps it takes time. Ritual magic often does.”

I scooped her up without even thinking about it and held her small body in my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, nestling against my chest. Portia whimpered, so I lowered myself by bending at the knees and allowed her to crawl onto my back.

“Now,” Elysia declared regally, “I demand to be carried to the tub, stripped naked, and sensually bathed in a scented bubble bath. The labors of victory require proper cleansing, and my superior skin and flaxen hair deserves attention after all this excitement and exertion.”

“You—you didn’t do anything,” Portia muttered quietly from my back in utter disbelief at the princess’s shamelessness.

I sighed but still had to grin. “Alright then, let's get soapy.”

Chapter 17

I emerged from the steamy shower with a towel wrapped around my waist. My short hair was already mostly dry from a quick towel rub—one of the perks of being a typical guy.

Meanwhile, Elysia and Portia stood nude in front of the bathroom mirror performing their own little post-bath ritual. Elysia simply waved her hand in an elegant flourish, whispering something in her native tongue, and both women’s hair instantly dried, all silky and perfect like they’d just walked out of a salon.

“That never gets old,” I remarked with a chuckle at the smug little looks on their faces. “You could do that for me too, you know.”

Elysia fluffed her golden mane proudly. “Oh yes, let’s burn even more of my daily mana allotment to do the same job your three second towel rub accomplished just fine already. Don’t be silly, darling. Besides, if I expended my energy on every trivial task, how would I remain ready to save you anytime a battle has gone awry?”

I rolled my eyes behind her, making sure she saw me in the reflection. “Yeah, that happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Master could dry my hair if he wanted,” Portia suggested with a coy smile, arching her back so that her butt stuck out provocatively. “Anything to feel his strong hands on me—though I loathe his abuse so much.” It was always weird to watch her slip back into the victim fetish mid-sentence.

I sighed as I grabbed my toothbrush. “I’ll give your butt a few swats before you fall asleep, don’t worry.”

“Oh, yay! I mean—oh no!”

After brushing our teeth, we moved to the bedroom for our nightly hair-brushing ritual. It had started with Elysia demanding I brush her golden locks before bed, and soon Portia had joined in, insisting that she too required intimate attention for the sake of avoiding unfairness.

Elysia sat cross-legged on the bed, wearing silky lavender pajamas as I worked the brush through her impossibly soft tresses. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nuzzled my other hand as I placed it on her shoulder to keep the sleepy princess upright while I worked. Portia waited her turn impatiently, sprawled nearby in one of my t-shirts that hung to her mid-thigh. Her tail thumped and drool trickled a little from her lips as she watched.

The princess yawned. “Mwaaw! I’ve grown weary of my current sleepwear,” Elysia announced without preamble as I ran the brush through her hair on repeat. “Though the garments from your local shops are indeed adequate, a princess deserves variety. I wish to peruse options on your computing device until we purchase an acceptable number of outfits for me to cycle through—perhaps a mere hundred or so sets of pajamas. I desire gauzier, silkier, shinier fare than this—something worthy of my soft, sensitive skin.”

“Hmm, online shopping?” I asked, continuing the gentle strokes. “A hundred should be fine, but that’s the hard limit for now. We can make a day of it tomorrow if nothing else comes up. I’ll have to store some of them in the basement, though.”

That satisfied her, and she started sneaking little kisses as a reward to the hand resting on her shoulder as the other worked through nonexistent knots in her perfect hair.

But now Portia had perked up after the mention of shopping. “I don’t need new clothes at all. If it were entirely up to me, I’d wear nothing but my collar. My lewd bottom and breasts should be ready for Master’s punishment at all times—though I fear his cruel hand oh-so-immensely.”

“Is that right?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Literally just your collar?”

“Yes! In fact, if Elysia is buying additional attire, perhaps I should get several new collars and matching leashes,” she continued, thumping her tail excitedly against the mattress. “And a special tag with your name and address on it, declaring that my heart and body belong only to you, Master—and to please return me unto you should I ever get lost.”

“If it makes you happy,” I noted dryly.

“Oh, it would make me ever-so-happy!” Portia nodded solemnly before breaking into happy giggles.

I set the brush aside, subtly signaling that Elysia’s hair was sufficiently groomed. “Well, we can talk about all of this in the morning, ladies. It’s been a long day of excitement, dragon-slaying, and class-unlocking. Time to get some rest.”

“But Master hasn’t brushed my hair yet,” Portia whined, her floppy dog ears drooping.

“Your bob barely reaches past your chin,” I pointed out. “It’s already perfect. But I could scratch behind your ears a bit until you fall asleep.”

She huffed but didn’t argue further, and her tail more or less gave away that the compromise was sufficient. I moved to the light switch, flicking it off before navigating through the darkness back to the bed. I slid between the women, who immediately began their nightly battle for dominance over as much of my body as they could claim.

“I claimed his chest first, you opportunistic hound!” Elysia hissed, trying to drape herself across my torso.

“Arf! You had his chest last night,” Portia countered with a bark that jump-scared me as she shoved and elbowed her way into the contested territory. “It’s my turn to feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek!”

“Girls, please,” I groaned as they continued to wrestle each other. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“I clearly find fault with that statement,” Elysia sniffed, “or this wouldn’t be a recurring issue.”

I sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling. First they were making me entertain them all day, then they were demanding my attention when we showered, next they were asking me to shop for them, and now this. “Damn, these heroines are so high maintenance™.”

As Portia attempted a different approach, namely climbing directly on top of me with her bare butt and tail right in my face, a purple glow from outside caught my attention in the window. It was visible through the gap in the curtains, and the light it cast was familiar in a very specific way.

“Hold up,” I said, suddenly alert. We’d already killed a monster today, so there was only one thing this could mean. Without warning, I gathered up Portia by the back of her neck like a kitten, her limbs dangling as I held them aloft with my enhanced strength. Wrapping my other arm around Elysia, I turned us all toward the window. “Look.”

“Juniper!” Elysia exclaimed with wide blue eyes. Then she immediately frowned. “Her timing is atrocious. I was just about to sit on your face.”

I frowned. Damn. That really is bad timing, I thought.

Portia, however, reacted much more positively. “Arf! Arf! Awoooo!” She wriggled free of my grip with shocking agility, threw up the window, and literally launched herself through it, landing on all fours in the driveway below. She promptly sprinted toward the field.

“Well, that’s one way to greet a friend,” I muttered, setting Elysia down gently. “It’s cold out there. Is she going to be alright?”

Elysia scoffed, but offered me her hand. “She, like me, is not as frail with the elements as a human.”

“Shall we use the door like civilized people?”

“I suppose we must maintain some poise,” she agreed with a sigh.

We hurried downstairs, putting on robes and slippers, and walked out the back door, finding Portia already at the edge of the yard where purple portal power was crackling in the air. The portal was indeed forming, but something seemed different about it this time—the tear was struggling to widen, pulsing and contracting like it was fighting against some resistance.

“Is it supposed to do that?” I asked, keeping a cautious distance.

“No,” Elysia said with a concerned expression. “The passage must be difficult. Juniper must be expending considerable energy and focus to force it open and pass through at the same time.”

We watched as the portal finally stabilized, expanding just enough for a figure to emerge. First came those horns I remembered from my dream—ivory ram’s horns capped with gold ornaments at the tips that shone twinkling under the stars. Then her head appeared, with blood-red hair cascading in spiraling curls down to her lower back, framing her dark-skinned, sharply angular face. Multiple piercings ran up both her ears. It was her, alright.

The snake girl’s crimson, vertically slitted eyes scanned the field as she pushed the rest of her upper body through. The small black feathered wings on her back emerged next, unfurling briefly before settling against her shoulder blades. Again, I got the impression that they were much too small to be anything more than decoration.

I tried not to stare at her chest, but holy fucking shit. Juniper’s breasts were absolutely enormous—the kind of rack you called your dad to cry about. Her bodice looked like it was engaging in a heroic battle just to keep them sealed away. These weren’t just big tits—these were weapons-grade mammaries, the sort of knockers that deserved their own congressional committee. Portia and Elysia had impressive chests, sure, absolutely no complaint there. In a crowd of a hundred women in their twenties and thirties, their boobs would be better than ninety-seven of them. And yet Juniper’s whompin’ bazongas made them look like they were still in training bras by comparison.

The rest of her followed—her fuller-figured human torso with noticeable curves transitioning seamlessly into that massive serpentine lower body. As it emerged foot by foot by foot, I realized with relief that she wasn’t quite as gigantic as I’d feared. If she were human, she wouldn’t be much taller than Elysia in her human portion, actually, just with a thicker build that gave her a more imposing presence and a bit more “Yes, mommy” energy. Her snake portion was indeed lengthy—maybe twenty to twenty-five feet of copper-and-black striped coils—but the diameter wasn’t much wider than my thighs pressed together at its thickest point.

She could actually fit through any and all doorways, I realized with relief. She’d be able to navigate the house without destroying everything, though long-term, that silo renovation would definitely make more sense for her comfort. Longer-term, we may just want to add a wing to the farmhouse.

Juniper’s red, slitted eyes looked over the area and took in her surroundings before landing on her companions. Instead of acknowledging me, she slithered rapidly toward the other girls. She moved fast—her tail propelled her more quickly than I expected.

“Portia! Elysia!” she exclaimed in a voice whose maturity came not so much from age but from intellect. Her accent was still there too—something almost Slavic in nature.

She caught Portia in what looked like a bone-crushing hug, then held her at arm’s length, examining her closely from head to toe like a mother inspecting a child after her first day of school.

“I was worried sick about you,” Juniper fussed, running a hand through Portia’s hair. “I’m glad to see you’re alright. Have you been eating well? You sometimes forget to eat if the weather is too good and you spend too much time outside.”

“I’ve been eating plenty!” Portia protested, though she submitted to the inspection without resistance, which made me smile to observe.

Juniper turned to Elysia next, who stood with her chin raised high, like she was trying too hard to remind Juniper that she was someone to be respected and praised. Instead, Juniper’s eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t try to contact me even once,” she accused. “I’ve been searching for you for weeks.”

Elysia huffed indignantly. “It hasn’t been weeks here. And I am the First Maiden of the Hero’s Party. It was your responsibility to locate me, not the reverse. I expended my mana on more useful things.”

“Like making yourself smell good when you were too lazy to shower,” I inserted.

Juniper’s tail flicked with annoyance, but she didn’t look my way just yet. “Always with the spoiled attitude. I should have expected nothing less.”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she turned her attention fully to me, studying me with her red, reptilian eyes. They reminded me of a cat’s eyes too in a strange way, though I couldn’t quite say just what about them gave that impression.

She smiled at last. “And you must be Josh,” she said, her gaze moving down to my tattoo, visible where my robe had fallen open slightly. “I see the binding took. Good. Of course I knew it had since—well, I’m here.”

“Yes, I am Josh,” I grunted. “And yes, you are here. Welcome.”

She nodded at me, studied my face for a bit longer—and then a nervous look flooded her eyes, causing her to suddenly look back at the girls. Her expression was as serious as a heart attack. “Are you two still maidens?”

The question was unexpectedly direct. Both women shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

Juniper groaned. “Gods, please don’t tell me…”

“Well,” Elysia began delicately, “technically speaking, there has been no... penetration.”

“But we haven’t been as... pure as we probably should have been,” Portia added, her ears flattening against her head.

Juniper sighed heavily, her massive chest rising and falling with the action in a hypnotic display that threatened to derail my train of thought completely. She gave me another long, appraising look, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t be helped,” she conceded, in what I could only interpret as a backdoor compliment to my appearance.

I was already thinking about how sex with Juniper would work. Would her tail coil around me during the act? I’d briefly glimpsed her anatomy in the dream—that soft, human-like pussy that transitioned into scales just below—but the mechanics remained a fascinating mystery. Would the tail help with extra leverage? Push me inside? And those giant tits—they were jumbo-wumbos. Some bonkers honkers. Some huuuge—

“Josh Becker?” Juniper’s voice sliced through my inappropriate mental tangent. She extended a hand toward me. “I believe formal introductions are in order. My name is indeed Juniper, and I am the third and final Maiden of the Hero’s Party.”

I cleared my throat and shook her hand. Her grip was firm, and her palm was warmer than I expected. “Indeed. My name’s Josh Becker, and it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Welcome to my home.”

Up close, I could see intelligence behind her eyes plain as day—and maybe a patience and a degree of restraint the other two lacked. I got the distinct impression that Juniper had always been the brains behind this very questionable operation. I found myself grateful to have someone else a little more grounded around, even if it might cockblock me for a few days before we figured out the new dynamic. I imagined Juniper would be the type to take things a bit slower and more controlled, whereas the princess and Portia had the impulse control of chimpanzees on booze and crack, respectively, and all I could do was go along with their urges.

“Let’s get you inside,” I offered. “You can see where you’ll be staying. I’ve already started plans to convert an old silo into something that might be more comfortable for you long-term, but we can make do with the house for now.”

We made our way inside, and I gave her the abbreviated tour—kitchen, living room, bathroom, and finally the upstairs bedrooms. I couldn’t help but notice that, just as I feared, it seemed awkward and inconvenient for Juniper to follow us up the stairs.

After the tour was over, and we emerged back out into the hallway with its three doors, an awkward silence fell. Juniper looked between the rooms, then at us. “Which room should us girls take?”

Elysia and Portia exchanged glances, then immediately started inspecting the carpet beneath their feet.

“Uhh, yes, about that,” Elysia began hesitantly. “We’ve been sleeping in Josh’s bed. With him. Every night.”

“All three of us girls could never fit in there now,” Portia added quickly. “But maybe we can order a bigger bed from the magical land of Internet tomorrow!”

Juniper’s expression darkened. “Let me ask again, and please answer honestly. Are you still virgins? If you didn’t wait for me before losing your virginity to the champion, which should happen at the next full moon, then you will have sacrificed a significant power boost for him.”

This was the first I’d heard of this, but I decided to speak for them and hopefully set everyone at ease. “They actually were pretty good about not escalating things to that level, so don’t worry.”

Juniper nodded at me gratefully and relaxed, setting her sights back on Elysia and Portia. “As nice as Josh seems, I don’t know him yet. I am tired after hours of pulling the rift open enough so that I could go through, and I want to sleep, so I’ll sleep alone in one of his guest rooms—unless you two wish to join me?” she added hopefully.

Portia stepped forward slowly, put a hand on the snake woman’s shoulder, smiled, and then said, “No. Goodnight.”

Chapter 18

I couldn’t even remember going to bed after Juniper arrived, but apparently I did. The next morning I awoke maybe twenty minutes before dawn, so I slipped carefully out of bed to avoid disturbing the girls the best I could. Elysia had apparently won the war and managed to claim most of my chest as her pillow, but Portia had been curled into a tight ball against my side. As I threw on some sweatpants and a tank top, I chuckled as I watched her tail occasionally twitch as she dreamed. When I noticed her tattoo pulse, though, I sighed.

After escaping them, I walked downstairs to my kitchen. Something about meeting the new party member—especially one who seemed more mature than the others—made me want to make a good impression. She seemed harder to impress, maybe a bit more guarded. I wanted to help her let down her walls as soon as possible so she could fit comfortably in our dynamic in her own way, at her own pace. And what better way to a woman’s heart was there than a breakfast feast?

By the time I heard anyone stirring upstairs, I had a veritable buffet in progress: pancakes bubbling on the griddle, bacon sizzling in a cast iron pan, a mountain of hash browns crisping in another, and a tray of cinnamon rolls waiting their turn in the oven. I’d even whipped up some fresh-squeezed orange juice and set up the French press for coffee.

“My goodness,” came a sultry, accented voice from the doorway. “Whatever you’re cooking smells incredible.”

I turned to find Juniper coiled at the bottom of the stairwell, wearing one of my bathroom robes. She’d managed to slither down the stairs, and up them last night, so that was useful information, but it didn’t seem comfortable.

I quietly admired the way the robe hung over her body. She’d tied it above where her human torso met her serpentine lower half, letting the fabric drape elegantly over her massive coils. The robe was clearly struggling to contain her impressive chest, though.

“Good morning,” I greeted her with a smile. “Sleep well?”

She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. For a moment her forked tongue was briefly visible, which made my eyebrows raise with interest. “Better than expected. Your guest beds are quite comfortable, even if a large portion of my lower end dangles off the mattress.”

“Glad to hear it—not the dangling part though. How do you like your eggs?” I asked, gesturing to the spread on the counter. “I’m making a bit of everything—pancakes, bacon, hash browns, sausage links, cinnamon rolls, the works.”

Juniper slithered closer, examining the food with a sweeping gaze. “I should probably mention that I can’t eat grain,” she said. “My kind primarily subsists on meat and eggs. Anything along those lines would be perfect.”

“Not a problem. I’ll make an extra batch of sausages and bacon for you,” I promised, already reaching for more meat in the refrigerator.

“Thank you. That’s very considerate.” She settled herself at the counter, coiling her tail beneath her in a spiral that somehow functioned as a natural chair. “You’ve been remarkably accommodating considering how I arrived unannounced in the middle of the night.”

I shrugged, flipping a row of pancakes. “What’s one more strange houseguest at this point?”

That drew a little giggle from her, which made me chuckle too. “Fair point. Still, not everyone would be so calm about it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a bit of time to get used to this stuff. Hell, you’re going to have more to adapt to at this point than me.”

That triggered an important conversation. As I continued preparing breakfast, Juniper asked thoughtful questions about Earth, showing far more contextual understanding than the other two had after days of being here. I explained my background—winning the lottery, escaping unwanted attention, and ultimately landing in this remote property near Wapa Lake.

“So this Countess Beaumont,” Juniper said, “she’s essentially a half-vampire ruler who maintains autonomy from your world’s governments?”

“Essentially, yeah. Technically she just rules Wapa Lake and its immediate surroundings, but her influence extends throughout the county. She’s powerful enough that the authorities decided to just let her… do her thing, I guess.”

Juniper nodded thoughtfully. “A safe approach, I suppose—and unusually sensible for governments of such scale given the strangeness of the situation. And you… specifically chose to live near her territory?”

“It seemed like the perfect place to hide from all the people trying to find me and shake me down,” I admitted. “Nobody from my old life would think to look for me here. Plus land was cheap so close to Wapa Lake—dirt cheap—which I paid more attention to early on before I realized there was no way I’d be spending all my money.”

I added more sausages to the pan, watching them sizzle. “I mentioned it in passing before, but I’ve actually started on plans to renovate the old grain silo into a mage tower for you based on something the other girls suggested,” I said casually. “Something that might be more comfortable for you long-term. With ramps instead of stairs, larger open spaces, maybe custom furniture, that sort of thing.”

Juniper’s red eyes widened. “You’re converting a structure... for me? But you didn’t even know me yesterday.”

I shrugged. “I’ve pretty much accepted my fate at this point. I have the means to embrace it and make the best of it, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“That’s...” She seemed genuinely touched. Her eyes flashed toward the stairwell as she seemed to consider something. “That’s remarkably thoughtful.”

“Do you want me to grab you a stool or anything?” I asked, looking at her.

“A stool isn’t necessary,” she said, uncoiling and slithering closer. Her tail formed a seat beneath her again. “I can comfortably sit on my own tail, as you can see.”

I nodded. “Just trying to be polite. I didn’t know if the tail was preferable to a stool or not.”

As she settled beside me, I couldn’t help but look her over again—the ram’s horns, the small black wings, the snake tail. It was a hell of a lot to get used to, but I didn’t hate it at all. I realized I was staring and quickly averted my eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, flipping the sausages.

She sighed. “Is it about my boobs?”

“What? No!” I said, eyes widening. “I would never challenge the majesty of—I mean... I wouldn’t...” I gulped audibly. “Anyway, no, my question is... what are you, exactly?”

To my relief, she seemed amused rather than offended. “A fair question. My people are what you might call demonkin, though that term carries certain negative connotations that aren’t entirely accurate when you compare us to the fiends of other worlds using that term. On Antheria, we’re an extremely varied race, and largely friendly toward our neighbors these days.”

She gestured to her body. “Only our facial features, hair, eyes, and skin tone are strictly hereditary. My mother looked entirely different from me beyond those details—no snake aspects, no wings. My grandmother had four arms and scaled skin from head to toe, but walked on legs like yours.”

“So there’s no easy answer to my question,” I concluded. “No convenient label, anyway.”

“Not really,” she agreed. “What I can tell you is that I come from the Blasted Lands, the third kingdom of Antheria’s central continent. I was the final destined heroine to join Elysia and start the Hero’s Party, and eventually...” She looked at me, a slight blush coloring her dark cheeks that made her red eyes pop. “Eventually meet you.”

“Do all Hero’s Parties in the history of your world have a multiversal component?” I asked, genuinely curious.

She shook her head. “No, we’re actually the first. It was Seer Morvain who helped us determine the oddness of our destinies taking us outside our realm. Previous parties have all operated within Antheria alone.”

I turned the burner down and leaned against the counter. “Are there humans in your world?”

She nodded. “Yes, they exist in large numbers in Elfhaven, Elysia’s kingdom. Many of them wear prosthetic ears and makeup to appear more elven. It’s something of a status symbol there.” Her lips quirked in amusement. “The working class humans—peasants, essentially—look much like you. Just... less powerfully built and strapping.”

I chuckled. “I wasn’t always built quite this well. It mostly came after connecting to the System. My face even got more sculpted when the fat melted away and turned into muscle.”

“Were you always so absurdly tall?” Juniper asked. “I’ve never seen a human or an elf of such stature. You’re more like an orc of lower rank in height.”

“I’m a bit on the taller side, sure, but I’m not breaking any records by a long shot,” I admitted. “Six-three is tall, but not freakishly so around here. There are folks way taller. I do like to say that I’m ‘comfortably tall’. I’m about as tall as it’s convenient to be.”

The timer dinged, and I realized all the food was ready. “Breakfast time,” I announced, plating up the feast.

I speared a sausage link with a fork and held it up for Juniper to take. She misinterpreted my gesture, blinking in surprise before blushing slightly.

“Oh! I suppose, there’s no reason for me to be prudish if you insist,” she murmured, leaning forward. She brushed her crimson hair aside and opened her mouth, delicately taking the sausage from the fork, sucking it gently between her lips until it disappeared behind them. Once she bit down and chewed, her eyes rolled back in an expression of pure bliss.

“This is... exquisite,” she breathed. “What’s in it?”

I felt my ears burning at the unexpected intimacy of feeding her. In the end, it was probably a good sign that she went along with that, even if it was unintended, so I smiled once I processed what had happened. “Um, just some mass produced and cured ground pork and pork byproduct, I guess. Probably some artificial dyes and preservatives in there, I dunno. Nothing special.”

“I beg to differ,” she said, eyeing the remaining sausages hungrily. “It’s like your food culture has adapted specifically to utterly maximize the decadent potential of even an item as simple as sausage.”

“Yeah, that’s American food. We’re a proudly fat nation. Anyway,” I said, clearing my throat and handing her a full plate, “why don’t you take this and get started? I’ll go fetch the other girls.”

When I returned with two sleepy-eyed heroines trailing behind me, Juniper had already made herself comfortable at the dining table, halfway through her plate. Elysia rubbed her eyes drowsily while Portia yawned wide enough to show her sharp canines.

“I made breakfast,” I announced redundantly, as they could clearly see and smell the spread.

Both women immediately perked up adorably. Their lethargy vanished almost instantly at the sight of my cooking. Elysia rewarded me with a quick kiss on the shoulder, the highest spot she could easily reach on her tiptoes, before following Portia, who immediately scampered toward the spread of breakfast delights. I joined them all at the table.

“Josh, my darling, feed me a bite,” Elysia purred, opening her mouth expectantly as she clung to my arm.

“No, me first, Master!” Portia countered.

I sighed and speared a piece of pancake, offering it to Elysia first, then preparing another bite for Portia. Across the table, Juniper watched this display with obvious confusion.

“How did you two become so...” She gestured vaguely at the scene before her. “Smitten? So quickly? It has only been maybe a couple of weeks at most, yes? I get that Josh is attractive and nice, but… Well, I suppose it might have been hard for me to track time accurately from my side.”

“It didn’t start quite this intensely,” I explained as Portia nuzzled my neck as she chewed on her food. “But once Portia arrived, things accelerated due to the competition, I think. They’re constantly trying to one-up each other when it comes to getting attention from me.”

Juniper frowned, setting down her fork. “Portia,” she said sternly, “Elysia is the First Maiden. In party hierarchy, that should be respected. You shouldn’t try to force yourself into Josh’s heart at the expense of the First Maiden.”

Elysia looked absolutely thrilled at this support. “Thank you, Juniper! At last, someone with wisdom has arrived to set things right in this household!”

Portia gasped dramatically in a performative way that made it clear she didn’t give half a shit about their opinion. As part of this show, her ears flattened against her head and she pressed the back of her hand to her brow. “You’re right, Juniper! Master, I’ve been unforgivable!” Without warning, she stood, turned around, bent over, and lifted up the shirt she was wearing, presenting her bare bottom. “I demand immediate punishment! Though I loathe the idea so much! Pah-tooey!”

Juniper sighed heavily. “Ah, so it’s like that with her. I knew this would happen.”

I deliberately ignored Portia’s butt in my face. “Why is she like this? Seriously, what’s going on with the whole punishment routine?”

Portia refused to answer as she reluctantly straightened up and returned to her seat, realizing I wasn’t going to play along for now. Elysia merely sighed and rolled her eyes as she clung to my arm and accepted a forkful of pancakes from me.

“She’s always shown... signs of being into this sort of thing,” Juniper explained delicately. “Even during our early training days with Seer Morvain. We all slept in the same room, and she would talk in her dreams about punishment in a very… unwholesome way.”

“I think it came from Edgorn Riggs, yes? The Champion who led the Hero’s Party some three millennia ago? He famously held a rather abusive, sadistic relationship with his heroines, involving a lot of spanking and—whips.” Elysia’s face contorted with the last word, as if she’d just unlocked a morsel of knowledge she wished she’d kept hidden away in the back of her mind.

Portia’s eyes practically had hearts in them at the mention, however.

As we continued eating, trying to ignore the glowing tattoos on Portia and Elysia’s stomachs, Juniper suddenly tightened her bathrobe and asked, “When is the next full moon?”

I’d actually looked this up earlier, after her mention of it last night. “Six days from now,” I replied.

She nodded approvingly. “Perfect. That gives us time to prepare for the ritual and get accustomed to one another.”

Elysia and Portia, however, exchanged disgusted, horrified, indignant, hateful glances. “Wait,” Elysia said coldly, her voice shaking, “you mean we need to wait six more days before we can have sex with Josh?!”

“That’s heroine abuse!” Portia wailed. “And not the good kind!”

“It’s the proper protocol for the ritual,” Juniper insisted firmly. “Unless you want to sacrifice a significant power boost for our champion?”

That silenced their protests, though both women looked like someone pissed on their pancakes.

After breakfast and cleanup, we moved to the living room. I set up Super Plumber Kart 64 on the TV, figuring it would be a good distraction. All three women proved hilariously terrible at it. Juniper picked up the basic controls quickly but kept crashing into shit. Elysia kept looking for shortcuts and never used her item pickups. Portia—well she drove backwards for a whole race. Enough said.

“This is impossible!” Elysia declared after finishing second to last for the fifth time in a row. “The course is clearly designed to confuse elfmaids! This is racism at play!”

“I promise that’s not the case,” I said, not really feeling the need to elaborate.

During a break between races, Juniper turned to me. “I’m curious about your class. You mentioned you’re a Cavalier?”

“Yeah. I just unlocked it after fighting a ground dragon,” I explained. “Supposedly I’m waiting for my steed to show up. The System said it would ‘find me’ after I completed the ritual.”

Juniper nodded as if this made perfect sense. “I’m familiar with your class. The First Maiden of the last Hero’s Party was a Cavalier. The summoning process can take time. It does its best to find the soul of a living creature alike in form to one you’ve ridden before, and adapts it into something ideal—something equine that you will bond with easily and surely.”

Later that afternoon, we ventured outside to give Juniper a proper tour of the property. The road was just barely visible in the distance through some trees, which was a relief—it would be challenging to let her out during daylight hours, but for now, the risk of discovery seemed minimal.

I showed her the silo that would eventually become her tower, the barn where we stored equipment, and finally the field where the portals appeared nightly.

“This is where we face whatever comes through,” I explained, gesturing to the open space. “Same spot every night, almost without fail—give or take a few yards, anyway.”

Juniper examined the area carefully, her tail leaving subtle patterns in the grass as she moved. “The dimensional fabric is indeed thin here. I can feel it—but it seems more linked to you than to the field itself.”

“Yep, we came to that conclusion as well,” I sighed.

At her request, I showed her my stat sheet. Her eyes widened as she read through the numbers.

“Remarkable,” she breathed, her cheeks going red as her hair, burnishing her mocha-colored skin. “Such a respectable level after only a few months, and without proper training. Not to mention your base stats—they dwarf ours when you subtract the level bonus. You truly are our champion.”

As we headed back toward the house, Elysia began her whining about her feet being sore. Without even thinking, I scooped her up in my arms. She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck and began planting small kisses as a reward on my shoulder, seemingly unable to help herself despite Juniper’s watchful gaze.

Juniper observed this with a raised eyebrow. “I look forward to seeing just what it is about you, Josh, that has these two so obsessed.”

“Wish I could tell you,” I chuckled.

“I could make a list!” Portia offered. “His stomach muscles, his arm muscles, his back muscles, his eyes, his nose, his hair, his ears, his penis—”

“Definitely the penis,” Elysia nodded in agreement.

“His—his niceness—I mean cruelty, his spanking power—”

“We’ll cut the list off there,” Juniper muttered, snapping her fingers. A little golden twine made of light seemed to painlessly sew the dog-girl’s lips together. “Much better.”

Back inside, we settled in front of the TV again. Elysia took great pride in explaining the concept of shows to Juniper, despite clearly not understanding it herself.

“These tiny people live inside a world that we use the box to view, you see,” she declared with supreme confidence. “They perform at our command when Josh presses the buttons. He can make them louder or quieter, and he can change viewing portals to other realms entirely. In some realms, all they do is talk about what is going on elsewhere in this one.”

“That’s... not even remotely how it works,” I sighed.

Juniper watched with curiosity, asking insightful questions about broadcast technology that I did my best to answer, but I was no cable guy. Meanwhile, Elysia and Portia gradually succumbed to post-meal drowsiness, and it was entertaining to watch them go limp like snuggly noodles.

Elysia curled around my left arm, using all fours to hug it against her body like a koala on the world’s last eucalyptus tree. Her golden hair spilled across my shoulder as her head rested in the crook of my elbow. On my other side, Portia had stretched out with her head in my lap, her tail wagging even in sleep, rhythmically thumping against the couch cushions.

As they slept, their shirts rode up slightly, revealing their womb tattoos. Both symbols glowed ruby red, pulsing gently, almost in unison.

“They’ve been lighting up like that all morning,” Juniper remarked with a knowing smirk. “Have you deduced what it means yet?”

“Yep,” I confirmed in a low tone, careful not to wake them. “Pretty obvious after the first few times.”

She laughed softly, letting her eyebrows do a dance for me. “I bet it was.”

I watched the sleeping women with affection. “You know, I adore these two,” I admitted, “They’re truly incredibly fun, strong, and interesting women… but I can tell I’m going to be grateful to have at least one other slightly more grounded person around here.”

Juniper blushed, the color vivid against her dark skin. “I have my quirks too, you know. I just haven’t, um, let my guard down yet.”

I held back a laugh that probably would’ve been a raucous snort. “Whatever you’ve got going on, I’m absolutely positive it doesn’t match up to the unhinged chaos these two bring to every moment of every day.”

She smiled enigmatically. “Guess we’ll see.”

Chapter 19

I was in the middle of teaching Juniper the finer points of Plumber Cousin World wall jumping techniques when my phone buzzed unexpectedly. I apologized and pulled it out of my pocket, reading it with an audible groan. The screen displayed “Sheriff Miller”. My noise of complaint got alarmed looks from all three women.

“What troubles you, my precious prize?” Elysia gasped, trying out a new pet name, apparently.

Portia frowned. “He looks so distressed. Would a quick tap on my bottom bring some cheer to your cruel, handsome face, Master?”

“Maybe later,” I grunted. “It’s the sheriff again.”

“Oh? Local law enforcement?” Juniper asked.

“Yeah. He’s been suspicious since the mall incident we mentioned earlier,” I explained, staring at the buzzing phone with reluctance. “I should probably answer before he decides to make a house call.”

Elysia made a dismissive gesture. “Simply threaten to unleash your portals upon him should he show his withered face. That should suffice.”

“I’m sure that would go over great,” I muttered, then swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“Mr. Becker,” Sheriff Miller’s voice was all business right out the gate. “Got another report of strange purple lights on your property after midnight last night. Any idea what that might be about?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Maybe it was my purple porch lights, Sheriff,” I replied, making no effort to hide my sarcasm.

“You don’t have purple porch lights, Mr. Becker.”

“The fact that you know that means you’re sticking your nose too far onto my property without probable cause,” I said as my patience wore thin. “Look, that gate’s staying closed twenty-four-seven from now on, and I’ve had about enough of this harassment when there hasn’t even been a problem—unless you know something I don’t. Until you have a warrant and reasonable suspicion of an actual crime being committed, I’m done answering these calls.”

“Now wait just a minute—” Miller began, but I had already pressed the end call button.

All three women stared at me with varying expressions—Elysia looked satisfied, like I’d done exactly what she wanted me to. Juniper looked a bit anxious. Portia seemed… well her tongue was hanging out of her mouth and she was panting with a vacant look on her face while scratching her neck with her foot, so yeah.

“That may not have been wise,” Juniper noted cautiously. “Won’t he be more suspicious now?”

“Maybe, but he can’t do anything without a legal justification, and he at least knows I’ve got enough money and knowledge of my rights to sue if he tries something,” I said, already pulling up the number for Wenards Hardware & Renovations on my phone. “And I’m about to make it a lot harder for him or anyone else to spot what’s happening on our property.”

I dialed the store and waited through several rings before a bored-sounding female front desk employee around retirement age answered.

“Wenards Hardware, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I need information about chain link fencing with vinyl privacy covers. Preferably the tallest you have available.”

“You’re in luck! Our warehouse carries twelve-foot fencing with privacy slats in several colors—army green and black are very popular. You know, when other stores order tall fences, they’re typically shipping it in from warehouses we own! How much were you looking for?”

I quickly did some mental calculations based on the property line facing the road. “About three hundred feet, maybe a bit more to be safe. And I need it installed today.”

There was a pause. “Sir, three hundred feet of twelve foot fencing is a big order, and we don’t have any installation openings today. Our earliest availability would be next week Tuesday.”

“What if I tacked on an extra fifty grand?” I asked. “I’m flexible with that number, too.”

“Um... let me talk to my boss real quick.”

While on hold, I explained the situation to the girls. “If we put up a privacy fence along the road-facing part of the property, it’ll be much harder for people to see what’s happening out here at night. I’ve already got a lock on my gate—we can cover that up with the same privacy stuff as the fencing. It’s also metal chain link.”

Portia’s tail wagged enthusiastically. “Very sneaky, Master! Creating a hidden fortress to shield our midnight activities!”

“It’s also just plain practical,” I corrected her. “Plus, I should have done this ages ago anyway. Basic security for a plot like this these days.”

The voice returned to the line. “Sir? My manager says we could potentially make this happen today, but it would require significant expediting fees and hiring subcontractors, who will also want rush job pay.”

“That’s not a problem. How soon can you have a team here?”

After sorting out the details and providing payment information, I hung up the phone.

“They’ll be here in about two hours,” I announced. “Which means we need to keep you three out of sight until they’re gone.”

“I could help install the fence,” Portia volunteered. “I’ll wear my beret!”

“No,” I said firmly. “It’s best if most people out there leave with the impression that I’m living alone. Explaining one absurdly gorgeous woman might be possible, but three—including one with a twenty-foot serpent tail—would raise questions I’d rather not answer.”

A caravan of trucks arrived precisely at the promised time, unloading materials and personnel. I counted at least fifteen workers, some clearly subcontracted based on their different uniforms, just as Wenards said they’d be.

“That’s a lot of people,” I observed from a carefully positioned peephole.

“You sound unhappy,” Juniper remarked. “But isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just not used to having this many people around anymore,” I admitted before heading out to greet them.

Keeping the girls away from the windows once the workers arrived proved more challenging than I’d hoped. Portia was especially curious, repeatedly attempting to peek through the blinds until I finally blocked the living room windows with blankets and instructed Juniper to spray her with my spritzing water bottle every time she got close to one.

Elysia was more easily satisfied by the promise of a full-body massage, and Juniper seemed content to explore my bookshelves in between spritzes, showing interest in an old encyclopedia set the previous owner had left behind.

“Your world’s knowledge is fascinating,” she commented, flipping through a volume on marine biology. “So systematic—it’s amazing a society can make it this far without magic of any kind.”

Throughout the afternoon, I occasionally stepped outside to check progress, answer questions, or offer cold drinks, playing the role of a typical homeowner improving his property. The installation crew was very efficient and did good work, especially considering the rushed job I expected them to do. By late afternoon, a tall, black vinyl-slat fence stretched along the entire roadside boundary of my property, blocking the view from any passing cars or nosy neighbors.

The crew finished just as dusk was settling in. The foreman handed me a clipboard with the final paperwork, which I happily signed.

“That’s an impressive fence,” he commented, glancing back at their handiwork. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was prying without prying, slipping an implied question into the statement.

“Just value my privacy,” I answered smoothly, handing back the papers after adding a generous tip for the entire crew.

As the last truck pulled away, the girls finally emerged from the house, examining the new barrier.

“Most impressive,” Elysia declared, running her hand along the smooth vinyl. “Though it lacks the grandeur of proper castle walls. And now my feet are tired from the walk here.”

“It’s just meant to block the view, not repel an invading army,” I reminded her.

“For now,” Portia added with a wink. “Does this mean I can be naked outside, too?”

I frowned even as Josh: 2 Penis 2 Furious smiled inside my pants.

With the fence completed and the workers gone, we had about an hour before our nightly monster encounter. I suggested we use the time to properly brief Juniper on what to expect.

“So every night, basically without fail at this point, a portal opens in that field,” I explained as we walked toward our usual battle spot, which we’d already shown her. “Something comes through, we fight it, sometimes I level up, and then we go back to bed.”

“The types of monsters vary,” Portia added, bouncing along beside us. “Some nights it’s something easy like skeletons or zombies. Other nights it’s more challenging—trolls, behemoths, even ground dragons!”

“I see,” Juniper said thoughtfully, her tail making sinuous patterns in the grass as she moved. “Yes, no beast whose essence categorizes it as a flying type could make it through a grounded portal, so that checks out. And you believe these portals are somehow tracking Josh specifically?”

“They seem to follow him as devotedly as he follows me,” Elysia confirmed. “For he loves me most, you see. Anyway, we accidentally tested this theory once when we ventured to the human shopping center a bit too long. The portal that night opened there instead of here.”

“Which is why Sheriff Miller has it in for me, long story short.”

Juniper’s crimson eyes focused on me with new interest. “Fascinating. I’ve never heard of anyone with such an... attribute. It must be connected to your role as our champion, and the reason why our quest takes us here and now of all times and places in the multiverse.”

In the field, we headed to where the portals typically manifested, basically the same spot as hers the night before. The night air was cool, and stars twinkled behind and around a canvas of midnight blue clouds overhead. The new fence was easy to spot in the distance, forming a darker shadow against the tree line. I wasn’t sure if it would hide the purple light of the portal, but it would make it a hell of a lot harder for unwelcome folks to snoop around.

“I’d like to attempt whatever comes through tonight by myself,” Juniper announced after a pause. “I want to see firsthand what we’re dealing with, and I should demonstrate some of my capabilities for Josh.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, concerned. “Some of these things are pretty dangerous.”

She smiled calmly, revealing slightly pointed teeth. “I’ve faced worse, I assure you. And you can rush in if you feel your help is needed—I grant you that blessing.”

We agreed to Juniper’s proposal, with the rest of us hanging back at a safe distance. As midnight approached, the air began to distort in the previously appointed location. A wavering, heat-mirage effect preceded the purple tear in reality by several seconds.

“Here we go,” I murmured, gripping my sword hilt out of habit.

The portal ripped open with a pop and a crack, expanding into an oval large enough for something substantial to emerge. Thick, gnarled fingers gripped the edges from the other side, followed by a bulbous green head with beady eyes.

“Oh, cool, it’s just a troll,” I recognized immediately. Such a monster no longer seemed as imposing as it used to. Fond memories of my encounter with one the same night I met Elysia played through my mind.

“Perfect,” Juniper said, slithering forward as the creature fully emerged. She positioned herself between us and the troll, which stood nearly nine feet tall and roared aggressively upon spotting her.

The troll charged, but Juniper remained perfectly still. As the creature closed in on her position, she pursed her lips, cupped a hand beneath her chin, and blew—not a forceful exhale so much as blowing a kiss. A sparkling cloud of icy fog flowed from her mouth, engulfing the troll’s body.

Frost immediately formed across the troll’s green skin, icicles dangling from its chin and fingertips. Its movements slowed somewhat. Each new step moved noticeably slower than before, more of a laborious trudge.

“That should inhibit its regeneration,” Juniper explained calmly. “Cold suppresses the magical healing factor of most regenerative species. He’ll break free of the effect soon, but not before I finish him, I hope.”

She raised her hands next, fingers splayed. Bolts of arcane energy shot from her palms, striking the troll with flashes of purple light. While visibly painful to the creature, the attacks didn’t seem to cause substantial damage.

After a few more magical projectiles with similar results, Juniper glanced back at me. “This might be a good chance for you to show off, Champion. My basic magic projectiles don't seem particularly effective against its hide, and I’d prefer not to do something needlessly over-the-top, like call down a meteor.”

That’s all I needed to hear. I stepped forward, readying my sword. The frost-covered troll turned its attention to me, running toward me sluggishly as chunks of ice fell from its body.

“Return Blade!” I called, hurling my sword with all my might. The weapon spun through the air, striking the troll squarely in the chest and embedding itself deep in the creature’s body.

Rather than immediately recalling the blade, I sprinted forward and launched myself at the stunned troll. My boot connected with the sword’s pommel, driving the blade deeper until it pierced straight through the monster’s heart. The troll staggered backward as a surprised gurgle escaped its throat—along with blood.

As it collapsed, I pulled my sword free and, with one clean stroke, separated the troll’s head from its shoulders. The body twitched, and stinky green blood oozed from the stump of its neck.

I was about to cut out its heart—standard procedure to prevent regeneration—when Juniper slithered forward.

“Allow me,” she said, placing her palm flat against the troll’s chest.

Her hand began to glow red-hot. Smoke rose where it touched the monster’s rough, craggy skin. Over about fifteen seconds, she burned a hole through the creature’s hide, muscle, and ribs, finally reaching into the cavity to grasp its heart. The organ smoldered and then crumbled to ash in her grip.

“Not bad,” I said, genuinely impressed.

Juniper smiled, even gracing me with a charming blush. “You’re not so bad yourself, Champion.”

The blue post-battle notification appeared:

VICTORY! XP Gained!

Portia bounded over, clapping excitedly. “That was amazing! Master and Juniper make a formidable team!”

“Indeed,” Elysia agreed, though with slightly less enthusiasm. “Most… efficient.”

As we made our way back to the house, I noticed Elysia and Portia exchanging glances, their tattoos occasionally pulsing on their exposed midriffs. Amusingly, and confidence-boostingly, even Juniper became conscious of her tattoo after making eye contact with me at one point. I pretended I didn’t notice as she adjusted her attire to make sure it was fully covered.

Once we got inside again, the girls settled in the living room while I excused myself to the bathroom. As none of them had physically exerted themselves much during the fight—Elysia and Portia not at all—they all were predictably content to use the elf’s magical cleaning rather than proper showers. I, however, felt the need for actual hot water and soap.

I slipped into the shower quietly, enjoying the steaming water cascading over my tired muscles. The fight hadn’t been particularly strenuous, but the day’s annoyances—dealing with the sheriff, organizing the fence installation, keeping the girls hidden—had taken its toll.

I had just finished rinsing the shampoo from my hair when the bathroom door burst open.

“Master?” Portia’s voice held a note of concern. “Are you—OH! OH GODS, NO!” Her dramatic gasp was followed by the sound of uncontrollable sobbing. “You’re being naked without us! What have I done, Master?!”

“Portia, for God’s sake—” I started, but was interrupted by a second voice who seemed to share her opinion, but expressed it in a different way.

“Hmph!” Elysia stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her nose twitched, and she glowered at me like she’d just caught me cheating on her ten years into an otherwise happy marriage. “HMPH!” she repeated more forcefully, as if the first expression hadn’t adequately conveyed her disapproval. “HMPH!!!!” And yet another.

I shut off the water, reaching for a towel. “Can’t a man shower in peace in his own house?”

“No,” both women answered simultaneously.

I quickly wiped myself down and wrapped the towel around my waist and stepped out of the shower, finding not just Portia and Elysia, but also Juniper lurking in the hallway beyond, trying to look like she wasn’t interested in the commotion. Even though two out of the three girls were mad at me, I couldn’t help but smirk at how strategically they were all covering their stomachs.

“I’m going to bed,” I announced firmly, pushing past the pouting princess and the sniffling dog-girl. “Are you coming or not?”

“Hmph! Of course I’m coming. And I’ll certainly be cumming, too, as the first part of your six-part penance!” Elysia hissed incredulously. “Unbelievable!”

“Master hates us now,” Portia whimpered as she scampered behind me. “He will surely destroy my bottom in mere moments—”

“How big is your bed?” Juniper’s abrupt question cut through the dramatic overreactions of the other two. Her voice was quieter, almost shy, and next thing I knew, the chaos had stopped, and we were all focused on her.

I turned slowly to face her. The implications were huge, and I wanted to make sure I handled this right. “It’s a California King,” I said, eyes widening as I realized what she might be suggesting. “Big enough for two, kind of three—a bit crowded for four. But we could buy a bigger one at the mattress store tomorrow if... if you want.”

Juniper nodded slowly. Her crimson eyes met mine briefly before glancing away, making her red curls whip through the air. “I think that would be wise. And practical.”

Elysia’s eyes darted between us, her mouth forming a little “O” of surprise. She looked at Portia, presumably to see if the dog-girl recognized what was going on. Honestly, it was hard to tell. Portia’s tail was wagging so hard it created a breeze in the hallway, but her tongue was out as she panted and her eyes were a little… unfocused.

“Tomorrow then,” I managed, retreating toward my bedroom before the situation could escalate further. Elysia and Portia looked over their shoulders at the demonkin woman briefly, but quickly wrapped their arms around both of mine, following me inside.

“So,” Elysia muttered as she lay on the bed in an intentionally seductive pose. “It seems like things are moving along nicely with Juniper.”

I nodded. “It seems so.”

“Then tomorrow will be an interesting day, Master!” Portia declared as she crawled onto the other side of the bed. I looked down at them with a big dumb grin as they patted the spot between them and started taking off what little they had on in the way of clothing.

Tomorrow was going to be very interesting indeed.

Chapter 20

The next morning, I awoke to find an empty space beside me where Portia and Elysia had been. Faint voices drifted up from downstairs, so I didn’t need two guesses to figure out where they wandered off to. I instantly felt kind of proud of Elysia—it wasn’t like her to get up before me. Not ever.

No wait. This was suspicious.

I strained to listen, but I couldn’t make out words. I heard an animated discussion punctuated by occasional laughter here and there—nothing off, nothing intentionally veiled. I stretched, determined to enjoy the moment of unexpected “me time” before facing whatever madness the day and my beauties would bring.

When I finally made my way to the kitchen, I found a pretty standard scene—at least, on the surface. Elysia was seated on the counter, but something about her demeanor seemed... not her. Her posture was different. I couldn’t place just what it was, but it didn’t seem like her. When she turned to look at me, her piercing blue eyes had a reddish tint around the pupils.

“Good morning, Josh,” she said, but the voice that emerged was a strange blend—Elysia’s vocal tone overlaid with Juniper’s accent.

“What the fuck?” I stopped in my tracks.

Portia was munching toast nearby. She giggled, dropping crumbs from her mouth onto the floor. “We were thinking we could go to the mattress store as soon as you got up and had breakfast! Juniper will be riding along inside Elysia for our trip today! Isn’t it neat?”

“Riding along, huh,” I repeated, trying to comprehend what I was seeing. “Right. You did mention this.” I snapped my fingers as the dots started to connect on their own.

Elysia-Juniper nodded. “That’s right—Consciousness transference, as I’m told the girls informed you about the ability before. I can temporarily share a body with another party member when needed for public outings.” Her expression shifted slightly, becoming more Elysia-like. “It’s dreadfully invasive! She can see all my thoughts!” Then back to Juniper’s composure. “I cannot see all your thoughts, just surface impressions. And it’s all Josh this, Josh that—nothing surprising.”

I approached cautiously. “So, both of you are... in there? At the same time?”

“Yes,” they answered. “Though Elysia remains the primary controller of her body. I am merely a passenger who can occasionally take the reins, so to speak.”

“That’s...” I searched for the right word. “Convenient. And kind of unsettling. Please never do that to me.”

“I hope you can understand. It was either this or leave me behind entirely,” Juniper’s influence said pragmatically. “This seems the more practical option, given our mattress-acquiring mission.”

Yep. The mattress. After Juniper’s not-so-subtle hint last night, I’d promised to find a bed that could accommodate all of us—including twenty-something feet of snake tail. Not exactly a standard size at your average furniture store.

“So where’s the real Juniper?” I asked, glancing around. “Your body, I mean. Are you safe?”

“My physical body is resting in the guest room,” Juniper replied through the princess. “It remains in a meditative state while my consciousness is projected here. I can return to it at any time.”

Portia bounced excitedly. “Can we go mattress shopping now? I’ve never been to a proper bedding store!”

“Yep,” I grunted, nodding. “Let me just whip up a bit more for our breakfast than the toast falling out of your mouth, Portia, and we’ll be on our way.”

Not even an hour and a half later, we pulled into the sprawling parking lot of Slumberplex Ultra, the largest mattress store in the midwest—some say the entire USA. The gleaming glass facade promised “Sleep Solutions For Every Body” in massive letters. Well, today we were going to put that claim to the test.

The place was an absolute spectacle inside and out. Lots of glass walls, lots of fancy looking beds and covers, beds of every kind you can imagine. If we were going to find a bed that could fit us all, it’d be here.

“Remember,” I cautioned as we walked toward the entrance, “try to act normal. No barking, no royal decrees, and absolutely no mention of other dimensions or magical abilities.”

“We shall be the very picture of human normalcy,” Elysia-Juniper assured me, though the red tint in her eyes flickered as she spoke.

The moment we entered the store, Portia broke away from us, charging toward the nearest display. Before I could stop her, she had launched herself face-first onto a queen-sized mattress, sprawling across it shamelessly.

“Portia!” I hissed. “What are you doing?!”

She lifted her head and revealed a pouting face. “Surprise test, Master! Beds must be ready to be comfortable even when they’re not expecting us.” Without waiting for a response, she bounded to the next display and repeated the process, earning startled looks from other customers.

“At least don’t call me ‘Master’,” I sighed.

Elysia and Juniper—one or both of them—watched with a complicated expression. “That’s not how mattress testing works,” Juniper’s influence said sternly.

Then Elysia seemed to take over: “Though I must admit, her method has a certain elegant simplicity to it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Juniper’s voice contradicted. “It’s embarrassing and draws unnecessary attention.”

“Are you intentionally denigrating the opinion of the First Maiden?” Elysia’s haughty tone emerged.

“I’m suggesting that your standards for appropriate public behavior are questionably low,” Juniper’s voice retorted.

I watched with growing alarm as Elysia and Juniper continued this bizarre self-argument. Their expressions shifted constantly between personalities mid-sentence, making it easy to spot that something fucking stupid was happening if anyone happened to look our way. In fact, a nearby couple had stopped browsing to stare openly at the spectacle.

“Shut your mouth,” I whispered urgently. “Both of you. There’s a store associate heading this way.”

Elysia-Juniper’s face froze in mid-argument, then smoothed into a neutral expression just as a salesman approached. He was middle-aged with a practiced smile and a name tag identifying him as “Bradley.”

“Welcome to Slumberplex Ultra,” Bradley greeted us. “How can I help you find your perfect sleep solution today?”

I cut straight to the point. “I need your biggest, most comfortable bed.”

Bradley chuckled indulgently. “Well, we’ve got lots of options that might work for you. Sleep comfort is really a personalized experience, and—”

“Look, man,” I interrupted. “Let’s not treat this like it’s super subjective. I need something way bigger than a California King, and I need it to be the most comfortable mattress you’ve got. Period.”

Brad’s professional smile faltered as he studied me more carefully. His gaze shifted to Elysia’s face, then to Portia, who had returned to our side with her hair mussed from multiple intentional face-plants. Understanding took shape in his eyes.

“Oh,” he said simply. “I see.”

“Do you?” I pressed.

“Budget concerns?” he asked, shifting his tone from sales pitch to practical assessment.

“A bajillion dollars,” I replied flatly. “Assume no budget limitations whatsoever.”

Bradley nodded emphatically, his demeanor completely transformed. “Last question then.” He looked to his left, then his right, then leaned in and spoke in a husky half-whisper. “You with the FBI? You have to tell me if you’re a cop.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but Lord help me, I was along for the ride. “Fuck the man.”

Bradley beamed at me with approval and smiled. “Right this way, sir,” he said, leading us toward the back of the showroom. “I’m gonna knock your fuckin’ dick off.”

I made cautious eye contact with my girls, but we followed him past the standard displays into a curtained-off section marked “The Omega Project.” Once inside, Bradley checked to ensure no other customers had followed, then pulled a cord to close the curtains behind us.

“What I’m about to show you isn’t advertised—not here, not anywhere,” he said in a lowered voice. “This is a specialized mattress developed by Russian scientists in response to NASA’s invention of memory foam in 1966. This shit… it ain’t your grandpa’s fuckin’ memory foam, though, you got me?”

I nodded. “I got you, Bradley.” Portia and Elysia—maybe Juniper—grabbed my arm as though seeking protection.

“Technically speaking, it’s... well, let’s just say it’s more illegal than meth and murder combined, but it’s so fuckin’ rare the cops around here don’t know what they’re looking for, so we can afford to keep it for discerning clients like yourself.”

He gestured to a plain, unmarked mattress. “Make no mistake. This shit will change you. They did an experiment when it was invented. Sleeping on this baby reversed aging, cured prostate cancer in one dude, too. I think they said it increased the volume of semen in your nuts by like 584%—crazy shit. Lying on this bad boy will make your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.”

Elysia—definitely Elysia—narrowed her eyes, looking up at me and licking her lips like she wanted to say something inappropriate. Before she could decide which personality would speak, Portia blurted out:

“Master is very good at making us do that!”

Bradley’s eyes widened as he looked between the two women. “He’d fucking better be to land you two—” He caught himself. “I mean! Anyway, the material is so rare that we can match it to just about any size imaginable. It’s all pieced together per order, not mass produced.”

This sparked an idea. I pulled out my phone and quickly navigated to the blueprint of my house that I’d saved during my initial move-in. I zoomed in on the master bedroom and showed it to Brad.

“Can you just make it fill the floorspace of this room?” I asked.

Bradley examined the blueprint, measuring with his eyes. “Yessir, I can. When do you need it by?”

“Tonight.”

He laughed, then realized I wasn’t joking. “That’s... impossible. We’d need to fly in a team of Russian mattressologists, half of whom are currently locked away in Siberian gulags and only released on special assignments. There’s no way we can have it by tonight.”

I met his gaze steadily. “What amount of money will turn that frown upside down?”

Bradley hesitated, then named a figure he clearly thought would be absurd: “Three million, I guess.”

I cocked my head and sized him up. “One million.”

“Two point-five-million.”

“One-point-six,” I countered.

He groaned, then fired back. “Listen—two-point-two is as low as I can go without getting on the phone with the Kremlin.”

I extended my hand without hesitation. “Done.”

His jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly and shook my hand firmly. “I’ll, uh, make some calls.”

While Bradley stepped away to arrange for the emergency deployment of Russian mattress scientists, Portia bounced excitedly in place. “We’re getting a new bed! Master is so generous!”

Elysia-Juniper observed me with an unreadable expression. “I gather that was an exorbitant amount of money to spend on a bed,” Juniper’s influence noted. Then Elysia seemed to take over: “But entirely appropriate for accommodating royalty such as myself. If I am to be impregnated someday, it should be on a three million dollar bed. Perhaps we should have requested gold threading as well.”

“The bed is already illegal enough without adding precious metals,” I muttered, wondering if I’d lost my mind completely. Three million dollars for a mattress. But then again, what else was I going to do with lottery winnings while awaiting an interdimensional invasion?

My secret? I’d invested most of my winnings anyway and made another million every month or two. I chuckled as I thought about all the good times that would be had on this bed and decided that splurging was the right call.

Wait, what was that part about semen volume?

***

Later that evening, a nondescript black van of enormous size pulled into my driveway, with a black truck following behind it. Six men with shaved heads, thick-framed glasses, and terrifying prison tattoos emerged. They spoke in hushed Russian as they unloaded sections of what would become our new bed from the truck, and pieces of the frame from the van.

I’d sent all three women to hide in the guest bedroom, not wanting to explain Juniper’s serpentine lower half to the delivery crew most of all. From behind the closed door, I could hear Portia’s excited whispering and occasional shushing from the others.

The installation took just under three hours, during which I was not allowed to enter my bedroom. I heard power tools, cursing in Russian, and at one point what sounded suspiciously like an AK-47 going off, but the crew foreman assured me everything was proceeding exactly to plan.

Finally, the Russians packed up their mysterious tools and departed with stern warnings not to adjust internal pressure settings for at least twelve hours. One of them handed me a small remote control with Cyrillic lettering that I couldn’t read, then offered a terse bow before leaving.

Once their van disappeared down the driveway, I opened the guest room door. “Coast is clear.”

All three women—Juniper now back in her own body—almost trampled me in their rush to see the new bed. I followed down the hall, curious about what three million dollars of illegal memory foam looked like.

My bedroom had been transformed. The new mattress filled nearly the entire floor space, leaving barely enough room to walk around the edges, but I doubted we ever would. It was at least a foot deeper than a standard mattress with pristine white custom-fitted sheets.

Without hesitation, all three women leaped onto it simultaneously, landing with delighted squeals. I watched in amazement as the material perfectly absorbed their impact, cradling each of them in personalized comfort cradles.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree!” Elysia moaned, rolling around like a cat in catnip. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s even better than my mattress back in Elfhaven!”

Portia had gone completely limp, her face buried in the material. “Master,” came her muffled voice, “I think I’m in love with this bed. Please don’t be jealous. There is room in my heart for you both.”

Even Juniper seemed adorably impressed. “Wow. I—I can’t even process this,” she observed through eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “This is… an amazing discovery for a non-magical world.”

I was about to join them when the doorbell rang.

“Probably one of the Russian dudes,” I said, reluctantly turning away from the inviting mattress. “Probably left a tool or a phone or something. I’ll be right back.”

I jogged downstairs, making a mental note to make good use of the mattress with the girls the second I got back. Given the enthusiasm I was seeing, it would certainly be worth the investment.

Opening the front door, I expected to see one of the mattressologists. Instead, I found myself staring down at a vaguely familiar figure in a Pizza Dude jacket, hood pulled up in a way that charmingly framed a very pretty face.

It took me a moment to realize this was the same pizza delivery girl I’d hooked up with a while back, before Elysia arrived, and who showed up once to berate me while delivering pizza in front of both the princess and Portia. She looked somehow different. Even cuter, maybe? Definitely bustier than I remembered, as the Pizza Dude uniform strained slightly across her chest.

I frowned. Did she get implants? Was she here to show off her implants and try to get me to shack up with her or be her boyfriend or something? Adding to that impression the most was her expression. Her eyes had a manic, almost feverish gleam, and her nostrils flared a little with every breath. She looked… pissed.

Before I could speak, she shoved past me into the house, pushing me back against the wall.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” she demanded, her voice trembling with rage.

“Whoa, whoa!” I raised my hands defensively. “What are you talking about? What’s going on… you?”

She noticed that. After a second, she rolled her eyes and scoffed at me disdainfully. “Say my name, you fuck.”

“Uhh.”

“You don’t even remember my name, do you? We fuck like bunnies for a whole-ass weekend, and you can’t even remember my name? I let you, like, creampie me! Twice! God knows your fucking name is burned into my brain with how many times I ended up screaming it back then.”

I winced, reluctantly shaking my head. “I... it’s been a while, and—”

“It’s Clementine, you asshole! Clementine Kim! It’s not even, like, a forgettable name! It’s a weird fucking name, and you still forgot like a fucking dick!”

She paced the entryway like an angry panther, and I was getting more and more freaked out by the second. Now that I was really looking at her, I could see she was indeed different from how I knew her, and not just a little.

Clementine had always been really pretty. She was a half-Asian with dark black hair and the kind of K-pop-adjacent beauty that turned heads wherever you went. She was taller than most women at about five-foot-nine, which I’d always appreciated, being also on the taller side—though I’d gotten used to shorter chicks lately.

But there had also been something slightly unhinged about her—the way her nostrils would flare when she got excited or annoyed, how her lips would twitch when she was thinking. She didn’t exactly have resting bitch face, but it did teeter dangerously close at times. Combining that with her perpetually greasy hair from working at a pizza restaurant and her high-strung personality, she was probably still seen as undateable to most guys she’d ever be attracted to. Too hot to be approachable, a bit too off to be girlfriend material.

Of course none of that stopped us from hooking up that one time.

“Look, I don’t know what you think I did—” I began.

“Oh, I’ll fucking show you what you did, fuckhead,” she interrupted. She reached up and yanked down her hood.

Two tall, pointed white ears stood atop her head—not elven ears like Elysia’s, or dog ears like Portia’s, but something unmistakably equine. Horse ears. They twitched as she glared at me.

My mouth fell open, speechless. “Oh, we aren’t done yet, dickface,” she growled. As I stared, she turned to the side, revealing her profile. Her figure had definitely filled out in awesome ways, but what was clearly meant to catch my attention was the long, black horse tail extending from just above her ass. Looking down, I noticed with growing horror that where her feet should be, she instead had two glossy black hooves.

Now that I was looking for oddities, I spotted another one. Her skin had changed too—no longer her original tone, but something much paler, with a pearlescent quality that would make you call Snow White tan by comparison.

“So, fucker,” Clementine said, her eyes boring into mine, “let me ask you again—why am I a weirdly sexualized fucking pony waifu, and why is coming to your house to find you the only thing I’ve wanted to do since the other night?”

I gulped, my mind racing as the implications hit me like a burlap sack of lead balls to my skin-sack of tender, fleshy balls. Welp, I internally accepted, it looks like my steed has found me.

This is the end of Book 1. Will our hero discover the answers to her questions? Will his relationship with Juniper continue to develop? What kind of wacky antics will Josh and the girls get up to next time? Keep your eyes peeled for book 2!

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