Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Harem of the Freaky Efreeti, Part 4 (Patreon)

There was a wink. A bit of slink. Magus stepped down from the stage, tail swaying just so with each step, body glitter sparkling in the stage lights. Somebody in the crowd let out a wolf whistle.

Magus allowed herself a pleased little smile. “Nailed it,” she purred.

The feline gish could feel the judges’ eyes following her. The voices of the interplanar panelists murmured to one another, and the catfolk’s racial bonuses to Perception were just enough to pick out the words “well-trained” and “nine point five.” Then she was backstage, out of the limelight and throwing herself into Inquisitor’s arms. 

“I’m going to wish for a vacation to the slow mouse and fresh cream demiplane!” she cried. 

The mean girls from the queue tried not to look envious. The other members of Team Bounty Hunter pounded her on the back, and Magus felt like a very pretty kitty indeed. The party hurried back to their dressing room, a veritable sea of semi-naked flesh parting before them. 

“You’re a shoo-in,” said Inquisitor, unable to keep the smile from her own lips. “Just remember to phrase your wish carefully. ‘Trip for two. All expenses paid.’ I want to see you in your element.” 

“Um, actually,” said Fighter. The busty blonde had seated herself before a lighted vanity, and seemed to be contemplating her own ludicrous figure in the looking glass. Her reflected eyes were full of sudden worry. “That was just one round. They probably decide the winner with a composite score or something. Someone else could still win, right? Don’t you think?”

Fighter’s turn on the pole had been somewhat less impressive than Magus’s. The judges had proven unwilling to accept Strength-based dance checks after the initial, near-lethal high kick. The others elected to ignore her in any case. 

Turning back to the party sword-mage, Ranger spread her hands wide in a gesture which plainly meant, Where did you learn to dance like that? 

“Well,” said Magus, “Remember the electives we took back at Miss SpineEater’s? Before we burned the place down I mean.”

“Religious studies,” said Inquisitor. 

Ranger made another eloquent gesture: Public speaking. 

“Well I took ballroom. I needed the Perform ranks for dervish dance, and it turns out that learning one kind of dance routine makes you exactly as good at every other kind of dance. Neat, huh?”

A sound of outrage erupted from the direction of the dressing mirror. Fighter had whirled in place, a delicate vanity stool protesting beneath the weight of her immense ass. “What the shit!?” she exploded. “You use a rapier, not a scimitar. Besides, you only need two ranks for dervish dance. That was not a two-rank Performance check just now.” 

“Oh. Well yeah. I like dancing. So I just kept taking Perform (dance) ranks every level.” Magus’s face grew serious, an incongruous sight atop her festishy and supremely historically-incorrect outfit. She intoned solemnly, “It’s what my character would do.” 

Ranger and Inquisitor bowed their heads in turn. Sketching a holy sign in the air, Inquisitor echoed, “It’s what my character would do.”

“Pfft,” said Fighter. “What a waste of resources!”

“Is it?” asked Magus. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” She deflated visibly, the flush of victory at last deserting her face.

“Well you’re obviously classically trained,” said Inquisitor, rounding on Fighter. Her eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits. “Which girls’ school did you say you went to again?” 

“Ummm,” said the other. “The very exclusive School for… um… People with Lady Parts. It’s on another continent. You’ve probably never heard of it.” 

“Uh-huh. And what electives did you take?” 

“Electives? I guess like, makeup and stuff. Home making. Playing support classes. You know, girl stuff.” 

Inquisitor might have said more, but just then a harried salamander with an asbestos clipboard poked her head into the room. “Places for the swimsuit contest, people. Two minutes.” 

There was a great deal of fuss about matching tops and double-sided tape at that point. Amidst this flurry of activity, Inquisitor quietly rolled her Insight, looking with suspicion upon the curvaceous blonde in Team Bounty Hunter’s midst. It occurred to her to wonder once more where Fighter had disappeared to during the Hot Springs arc. What did she hope to wish for? And come to think of it, was Fighter really a gender-neutral name? But the drow kept her own counsel. There were more pressing concerns after all. And with a final glance towards Fighter, she contemplated stuffing her own bikini top for the next round.