— God fucking damn it, fucking… fucking tits! — Marek yelled, or rather Mark, a player who not long ago had looked like an angry, massive barbarian here, but now was barely trying to stay on his feet as the weight of his new breasts jerked his body forward. The sword, which just a minute ago had been light as a feather in the hands of his old adventurous body, now felt way too heavy. The blade scraped across the cobblestone, threw off a red spark, and nearly wrenched his shoulder out of its socket.
— You’ll pay for this, you old witch! — the voice of “Marek,” once so rough and frightening to everyone he spoke to, was changing right before their eyes, getting higher and higher and higher. And with that height, the very threatening edge was slipping away, now sounding more like a whine to everyone standing on the main market square, — Stop this!
The former barbarian was already squealing, which only stirred more murmuring in the crowd of onlookers. Of course, for an ordinary citizen of Rateonol, a transformation was a rare sight, especially one this vivid — with glowing light, crackling magical threads, and the way a huge man suddenly started grabbing at his newly grown breasts and tipping forward. People whispered among themselves, and someone even started taking bets on whether he’d smash face-first into the pavement along with his sword.
— Oh, how lovely it is to watch you turn into such a beauty, Marek, — a calm female laugh rang out.
The crowd parted on its own, like water before Moses, and Lilith “Silk Cobra” stepped onto the square. The dark outfit hung on her perfectly, as if it were one of her closest friends, emphasizing her status rather than hiding her curves. Her step was soft, dangerous, like that of a predator who knows the prey is already caged.
— I’ll kill you! — the “girl” shouted, and at that exact moment Lilith snapped her fingers. All the clothes instantly evaporated into a light cloud of golden dust, as if they had never existed. The crowd roared — someone whistled, someone gasped, and Marek, now standing completely naked in the middle of the market square, cut through by magical light, howled as if boiling water had been poured over him. The breasts he had been trying to hold with one hand now swung freely, smacking against his ribs, and his body lurched forward dangerously.
However, just a moment later, along with that same golden light, something warm materialized around him, tightly wrapping his new body, softly sliding over his skin and then sharply tightening, as if invisible hands were decisively dressing him against his will. Marek didn’t even have time to realize what was happening when the golden mist rushed downward and began to gather into dense strips of fabric.
Thin straps closed around his waist, tightened on his hips, lifted his breasts as if deliberately trying to emphasize their weight. The golden mist slowly dissipated — and it became clear what he had been dressed in.
— The fuck… — Marek tried to mutter, but instead of words only a dull, helpless rasp of surprise escaped her mouth.
The crowd gasped again: she was now wearing an outfit usually worn by cheap street whores from the harbor district, but with the insanely luxurious, provocatively expensive shine of the fabrics of the “Golden Lotus,” the brothel owned by Lilith.
A skirt far too short, barely covering her hips, with a huge slit. A tight, bright scarlet corset, cinched so hard that her new breasts were bulging out of it, as if they were about to spill free at any second. And around her neck stood out a wide collar-ring made of dark metal, inlaid with rubies. It glowed with a faint magical shimmer that meant nothing good for Marek — or for Mark — at all.
— Ah, I see it fits perfectly, — Lilith clapped her hands, as if she had just successfully finished fitting a mannequin, and at that moment Marek jerked, only now feeling long hair and something heavy, very heavy, swaying in both earlobes.
Marek shuddered, sharply pulling her shoulders in, a movement completely alien to her before, yet done almost instinctively.
The golden magical air was dispersing, and along with it the hum of the crowd was fading too, as if someone was slowly turning a volume knob lower and lower… until in a single moment the market square settled back into its familiar, dull everyday routine. People went about their business again, merchants argued over the price of fish, a boy kicked around a rag ball — as if there had never been any glow, crackling magic, or a hysterically screaming barbarian turning into a girl at all.
One man walking past whistled, openly appraising her legs, and when she — Marek — turned around, the same guy shamelessly winked and, chuckling, went on his way, as if he had just noticed a funny new piece of merchandise, not a living person. It was all so simple and ordinary that everything inside her froze solid.
— Don’t worry, sweetheart, — Lilith’s voice sounded right beside her, so soft that a chill ran down her spine, — for everyone around, today is just an ordinary Tuesday. No one remembers any kind of show. Isn’t that wonderful?
She giggled playfully, like some lovestruck girl who had just heard an indecent compliment and was now enjoying her own flirtation.
Lilith leaned in closer, dangerously close, so that Marek could feel her breath right against her skin.
— So then, Marein, — she purred sweetly, as if announcing the name of an expensive toy, — do you like your new look?
Mark tried to sob, to force out at least some sound — a protest, a curse… anything. But her mouth only twitched convulsively, and from her throat came nothing but a quiet, dull, shapeless rasp.
“Menu… Menu, damn it… Log out… Exit…” — Mark thought frantically, almost in panic, hoping it would work. But it didn’t; everyone knew that here, in this game, the menu didn’t respond to thoughts. That function had been disabled after players started complaining that it popped up constantly whenever they so much as thought about something non-game-related. But now Mark… Marein… was mentally smashing that invisible button so fiercely, as if she could press the very air itself through it.
“Menu. Menu! Menu, bitch, open up! Log out. Exit. Journal. Anything at all!”
Silence. Emptiness. No UI flash, no familiar chime of the system layer — nothing.
— Did you really think I’d just let your little stunts with my girls slide so easily? — Lilith drew the phrase out sweetly, almost lazily, like a cat that had already caught the mouse and was now simply playing with it, — You do understand that you’ll have to work all of this off now, right?
“Work it off?” the thought flared in Marein’s head like hysterical white fire. “No. No-no-no. Work what off? I’m a player! Fuck, this is a game! It’s just a game!”
The succubus took a slow step forward — and her heel clicked against the stone so sharply that Marein’s knees trembled.
— And that’s exactly why I couldn’t do anything truly horrible to you, — Lilith continued calmly. — After all, you’ll need to pay your debt not only to me, but to all the brothel owners in this city... though, perhaps we’ll leave Gwendi out of it, that old bitch has been thinking way too highly of herself lately.
Marein breathed heavily, hearing and at the same time not really listening to Lilith’s calm and deeply arrogant speech. The attempts to log out still wouldn’t leave her, but along with that, it was starting to hit her. The realization that she was in deep for a long time if she couldn’t call up the menu. One second in the real world stretched into an entire day here, and an automatic logout from the game session could only happen if the sensors detected readings that could put the real body in danger. Considering that Mark had already gone to the bathroom and even eaten before this, that might not happen anytime soon.
— Silent... yes, of course you’re silent, my precious. Well, forgive me, — she tilted playfully to the side, as if all her arrogance had evaporated, leaning so that her smiling face blocked Marein’s view, — just imagine how much unnecessary noise there would be if you… oh no. I don’t need that. And you especially don’t, believe me. You don’t want clients asking questions.
She smiled so softly that Marein forgot to breathe for a moment. Though the corset wouldn’t have allowed it anyway — her breasts jerked with the attempt to inhale, the straps pulling tight to the point of pain, cutting the air off somewhere between her ribs.
“Clients? Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m not doing that shit!” Marein answered silently, but with her entire posture, broadcasting the thought she wanted to scream out loud.
— Oh… — Lilith hummed, raising an eyebrow as if Marein had just done something incredibly stupid, — my girl… you have no idea how loudly you’ll be laughing at that thought yourself in a month.
She poked a finger just under Marein’s breasts, and Marein felt something warm spread through her lower belly, as if an invisible drop of fire had slipped right under her skin. The heat expanded, crawled upward toward her ribs, downward toward her crotch, rolled in a wave across her waist, making her body jerk and arch forward against her will. Her legs trembled so sharply that her heel nearly slid across the stone.
“What… what is this?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
— Paying the girls for their honest work with fake money is vile, but paying them for pleasure… with filth turned into money, seriously, Marein? — Lilith continued in a tone as if she were explaining to a child why eating sand was a bad idea. — It’s so nasty, so disgusting, so…
She leaned a little closer, her shadow falling over Marein’s face, cutting her off from the sunlight. Against the brightness of the square, this half-darkness seemed to underline every single word.
— …humiliating.
Her voice dropped lower, slower, barely vibrating.
Marein blinked. The warmth in her belly grew a little stronger, as if responding.
— Yes, yes, — Lilith lightly touched the edge of the corset with two fingers, not so much touching it as emphasizing its very existence, — you thought you were humiliating them. But all this time, you were humiliating only yourself.
Marein’s whole body jerked as if hit by an electric shock.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! Are you… are you mocking me?! I was just bored and wanted to get an achievement for fucking all the whores for free. Yeah, I made it up myself, but I thought—”
Marein’s thoughts broke off when she suddenly caught the gaze of a man standing opposite her, looking at her with open desire. Something inside began to whisper, “go over, show yourself, make him like you,” thoughts started appearing in her head, tearing and flaring like broken sparks: turn around… smile… lift your chin… bite your lip… show that you’re available… all it takes is paying… She didn’t even notice how she bit her lip as the desire kept rising.
“What?! NO! NO-NO-NO! Shut up! These aren’t my thoughts!”
Marein sharply shook her head, as if trying to fling off a spiderweb. But the thoughts didn’t vanish — on the contrary, they grew thicker, stickier, as if someone were slowly winding them around her brain. They were no longer just whispering, but insistently pushing entire images into her mind: there she is, walking up to that man standing by the spice stall, his hands rough, smelling of smoke and leather. He turns, and his gaze slides over her neck, her breasts, her hips with such blatant hunger that something inside her flutters. And instead of panic, a strange, warm wave spreads through her lower belly. She imagines his fingers digging into her hips, pulling her closer, his lips pressing to her neck…
And at that exact moment, when the image of coins clinking brightly as they fall into her palm flashed through her mind, a trickle of warmth ran down the inside of her thighs. She wasn’t just wet — it was a fast, embarrassing leak that made her instinctively squeeze her legs together. Her heels wobbled on the cobblestones.
— I see the process has started, — Lilith’s satisfied whisper sounded right by her ear. — Don’t try to resist. The harder you fight, the brighter your… new nature will flare up. It’s now woven into your very soul, sweetheart. Or into whatever is left of it after your escapades.
“No! This isn’t me! It’s a spell!” — Marein screamed desperately inside, but her body, her nervous system, were already beginning to respond with frightening readiness. The gaze of a stranger from the other side of the square, lingering on her corset, didn’t spark anger, but a sudden spasm somewhere deep inside and a new, treacherous pulse. Another image followed, this time vague and fragmented: someone else’s skin under her fingers, her own breathing, quick and broken, and the feeling of absolute power over someone willing to pay for every one of her touches…
And again — hot wetness, already more abundant, made her gasp soundlessly, and she felt goosebumps race over her skin. Her own imagination, poisoned by magic, was turning into an instrument of torture and pleasure at the same time.
— That’s right, — Lilith gently ran a finger along her bare shoulder, and Marein shuddered all over, — your new body is much smarter than the old you. It understands what it was made for. And it’s starting to… anticipate the work.
She paused, letting the words seep into a mind already clouded by rising arousal.
— Every glance, every hint of possible payment will awaken hunger in you. A hunger for attention, for touches… and for those very coins you owe me. You’ll start searching for them with your eyes in the crowd. Reading it in the way people walk, who’s generous and who’s cheap. That will become your new instinct.
Marein tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. With disgust and a strange, growing curiosity, she caught those flashes in her head, those images that made her feel hot and ashamed. Her hand reached for the collar on its own, as if trying to restrain the racing pulse pounding in her temples.
— Don’t be afraid, — Lilith smiled, and there was playful madness splashing in her eyes, — soon you really will be laughing at your old fears. After all, there’s nothing more pleasant than being desired… and well paid. Now come on, you need to meet your new girlfriends. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of common topics.
She lightly took Marein by the elbow and led her across the square. And Marein, awkwardly moving her legs in the uncomfortable shoes, feeling the dampness cooling the skin on the inside of her thigh, walked obediently, screaming inside in fading attempts, “menu, menu! help! Someone!”, which mixed with images of herself and every stranger her gaze fell on, locked in horrifyingly explicit poses. Of course, for an appropriate fee.