Ai Love Therapy Ch. 03 (Patreon)

Ai Love Therapy Chapter 03: First Date Jitters

     Ai stood in front of the brothel. Ai wished to make an informed decision, as if to say, Out of the hundreds of whorehouses in this fair city, my selection of a fine and upstanding Prostitutionary is derived entirely upon a graded system involving seventy-six criteria. Nope, Ai chose this place because it smelled nice and the clients appeared clean. Not too nice or clean: escort services two streets over employed large bouncers in front looking ready to beat her tiny and scrawny butt if she stepped any closer, yet the Come Right Inn presented that sweet spot of not too fancy nor too filthy. An upstanding small business.

     “Well, ya gonna stand here all day - again! - or ya gonna march across the street and suck a cock?” Ai asked herself. Her accent grew thicker when she Gollumed with herself.

     Ok, full disclosure, Ai was not in front of the brothel. She stood three buildings over, across the street, hiding behind a compost box wedged between an eatery and a dildo shop. The smell from the restaurant’s composter kept most of the urchins away, though Ai observed in the last couple days rummagers braved stench for food on occasion. Most times - especially come twilight - the alley remained clear of everything excepting small three-eyed rat-lizard hybrid creatures she determined were common vermin in Yrlmuh.

     Rewind. This has been a busy week since Ai dropped into the carcass fields. Backing up to her escape.

     Fleeing the cage, slavery, flying around as a six inch fairy: it did not take long for Ai to become lost in the warren of a city, blinded by shapes and creatures and magics and technologies more fantastical than any manga or video game ever created on Earth. For a hazy few hours, she kept flying and buzzing until she dropped to the ground in a small park and tried to catch her breath behind a corpse of aspen-ish trees. Maybe, Ai might have used that time to assess what to do next, but with a start her body stretched outward like pulled taffy and in moments, back to the purple skinned girl with horns she frustratingly accepted was her new body. Naked and normal sized, survival instincts kicked in and Ai got up and kept running. When she got tired, she hid and dozed, waking at every sound and keeping the panic at bay. Ai gained an education in homelessness and hunger very quickly. Between running, though, she learned about this world.

     Four days ago, Ai escaped the slave pens of Adan Payne, a telekinetic gnome notorious throughout the massive city state. She discovered his pens were only one of a dozen different slave shops in the city. And city was the incorrect term, as it defied any concept of reality. Day three, she found a crossroads near a fish market with a map of Yrlmuh; unless she read it wrong or her civics classes were inaccurate from college, the city covered a space approximately one hundred miles wide and seventy miles long, sandwiched between a canyon and a river, densely populated enough to house as many as a hundred million people. Or at least that many humans, who knew what actual population density was when dragons were part of the population? Dantk and Melody brought her in through the west gates, the salt flats beyond known as the Dump because of all the random junk getting spat out through the giant magic portal called the Maw.

     “Ya need ta stop bein’ distracted and get ta more cock sucking!”

     Ai slapped her cheeks to psych up, yet paused with a creeping confirmation she wasn’t mentally well. Ai was cognizant of her mental problems, the kind requiring decades under heavy medication. She accepted they would have eventually kill her. And maybe some of those mental problems vanished when she transported into this new world and new body, such as many anxieties. Not all of them disappeared, though. Ai never talked to herself on Earth, yet these conversations with herself kept happening.

     Ai felt her ability to discern reality slipping away.

     “I will suck cock when I decide to suck cock, not when you tell me to,” Ai responded, fixing the belt of the gray yukata she stole from a line early the first day, after the fairy inside her wore off. It should have been paired with pants or worn by someone smaller than Ai. No bending over to pick up pennies until she found some panties.

     “Besides, not like I’m going to church,” Ai told herself, moving her feet across the cobbled street towards the tall and narrow brothel with wooden architecture reminiscent of German Fachwerkhäus buildings. She passed some street girls in baladi outfits of sequined bras and open slit skirts out front of the building, likely a uniform for prostitutes in the pleasure district as she noticed similar baladis worn all around these streets. Ai ignored the glares thrown her way, keeping her head down and with as much confidence as she could gather, walked through the open double doors into the bordello’s common room.

     Simple and clean, the ceiling stretched high and the walls narrowed in a V towards the back. A few lamps with dim indirect lighting, a row of doors along each wall, plush couches done in dark colors near the entrance, with the rest of the walls decorated in tasteful swatches of swooping dark colored curtains. Ai’s favorite feature was escaping the punishing red light of the sunless sky with cool carpeting soothing burned feet.

     A matronly woman looked up from a lectern, the only person in the room, scowling at Ai. She was also over fifteen feet tall and had an elephantish head with a long trunk and molted green and yellow skin. “We don’t hire children.”

     Ai returned the scowl, squinting at the words coming out of the elephant woman’s mouth not completely matching how her lips moved. This was a common problem in this world and Ai theorized the magic behind everything sounding or reading English to her was behind it, but with a few people the translation became more disjointed. Anyway, Ai soldiered on and tried to look more like an adult. “I’m forty-one years old.”

     The polka-dotted elephant lady rolled red eyes.

     “Ok, I see how that doesn’t match up, and there is a story behind that, but will you at least accept that I am an adult?” Ai held out her hands because, at this point, the isekaied had passed desperate and swam in the waters of fatalistic hopelessness.

     For a long minute, the matron glared Ai up and down, scowl remaining in place under her trunk but eyes softening after a time. Without a word, she lumbered up and nearly touched the high ceiling, giving Ai an eyeful of the biggest boobs in existence when she leaned down closer to the tiny woman. Packed inside the curvaceous woman’s baladi top, paired with a long red skirt, this outfit added a long open red robe to give more decorum to the giant elephant, an air of refinement to the otherwise scandalous bra and skirt. 

     However, her regal mien and finer cloth didn’t distract Ai from a whole lot of tits. Seriously, if these boulders were attached to a girl five feet and eight inches tall, they would place in the P or S cup range. On a woman closer to twenty feet tall, each bazoonga diametered thirty-two inches and must have weighed over six hundred pounds. The fact her red and gold sequin bra could hold up more than half a ton of mammary made it either magical or a feat of textile engineering.

     “My eyes are up here.”

     “Sorry,” Ai immediately replied, flushing while withstanding the assessment. She kept speaking with more honesty than Ai wanted to disclose. “Hungry.”

     “Hmph, thought I smelled something on you.” The elephantine woman lumbered back around behind the lectern and sat down, reaching over to pull a cord hidden within a curtain. “I’ll give you the day to prove you are worth my time. You keep forty percent of whatever you earn, but the room and food ain’t free.” A lanky humanoid boy with elfin features came through the door. “This is Lollmel, he’ll take you to your room. It is early, so unlikely to see many Johns for a few hours. I wouldn’t hold out much hope, though: not much demand for demonics in Yrlmuh or any other city this far south.” She turned away and picked up a pen. “You have a name?”

     “Ai Love,” Ai said, her mouth suddenly dry, but fixed in a determined line.

     “Well Ai, I don’t expect you’ll last the day, but girls surprise me sometimes.” The matron wrote on parchment and waved the two off. “I’m Madame Vina and welcome to the Come Right Inn.”

     A clear dismissal, Ai followed Lollmel into a cramped hallway. “Don’t mind Madame Vina, she’s got a soft spot fer kids like us,” Lollmel said, hearing the smirk she couldn’t see in the dim light.

     “I’m forty-one,” Ai grumbled, clenching her hands and trying not to stomp.

     “Sure sure,” Lollmel said, long and pointed ears twitching wispy blond hair around his head, blocky features giving him a teenage Matt Smith appearance. “Gotta convince the Johns think you’re older or else you won’t make any money, that is the smart way to go. Only, you should try for just old enough, if you catch my drift: like twenty or something.”

     They turned left, right, then left again, coming around some steep stairs and climbing a few flights. Ai grit her teeth and tried not to bite this boy’s head off, frustrated at whatever isekai deity threw her into this mix malnourished. Give her three months and decent free weights and then no one would mistake her for a loli.

     “Anyway, you don’t have to worry,” Lollmel continued, not noticing the daggers glared in his direction. “The Church is headquartered on the other side of the city and we hardly get any Holy Questors around here. No chance of them raining fire down on us, Madame Vina wouldn’t stand for it. It isn’t like it is in the east of the city around the Monastery: we are much more forgiving people here in the west side.”

     There was a whole giant bag of questions suddenly cropping up from that monologue, but before Ai could ask any of them the elfin boy opened a door in the middle of a row of doors into a room smaller than a typical dorm. Two sets of bunk beds, two tiny wardrobes, no windows, a small desk with a dim lamp and a cracked mirror over a basin of water stacked together with three girls. Ai hesitated, but walked in.

     “I’ll come and get you when Madame Vina has a John ready, Ai,” Lollmel said with a smile and wink, closing the door and leaving Ai with three strangers.

     The room remained quiet, only the sound of Lollmel walking down the hall fading away. Ai faced the door, clenching her jaw as she worked towards the baby step of turning around. It was too fast. Everything since she fell into this world moving too fast. She didn’t know this world’s name, or if it had a name, or if it was a world. One minute a slave, the next a vagabond and now a whore. When could she pause to figure out what to do next without worrying about this unending hunger for food she wasn’t one hundred percent positive involved sex. For all Ai knew, her singular diet for fairy fluids meant biting their heads off and slurping tiny women like juice boxes was more effective than drinking other boxes…

     “Gonna stand there all day, new girl?”

     I miss being able to focus, Ai thought, taking a calming breath before facing the three other women. Girls. Definitely girls. Or young women? Or…well, clearly female, but not human women. Young women. Ai wasn’t human, though, so humanity was no longer a concern. At least in their twenties, which Ai associated with girls, but when someone was born the same time Ai attended college, it felt like they couldn’t qualify as a woman, though that was clearly disingenuous…

     “Hey! Girl! Wake up!”

     Ai yelped, jumping and hitting her back against the door, a tall and terrifying girl over six feet tall with a glowing red gem in the center of her face and no eyes or nose, eggshell white skin, more red cabochon smoothed gems bumping all along her body, looming with hands on hips. Ai stared in envy because the girl easily weighed over two hundred pounds of lithe cut muscles and almost zero body fat, like a Greek statue to the goddess of weightlifting, wearing baby blue boy shorts and bandage wraps around modest breasts.

     “Lay off, Mizi,” said a raspy voice, a green blob scooting across the floor to physically push the larger marble and carbuncle statue out of the way. “Not everyone prostitutes because of boredom.”

     Ai peered down, about to reply when she noticed the tits on wheels. There was no other description for the dark green goblinoid girl, her juggs easily two thirds of her body weight. Not the biggest of breasts - especially not after witnessing Madame Vina’s - yet on a girl only three feet tall and sitting in a wheelchair, she was pretty much a pair of fun bags with a goblin head on top. A goblin head with a spiky silver mohawk and enough tribal style tattoos on her arms, face, shoulders and especially her boobs that Ai wondered if her skin color was in fact dark green or if that was all ink. The only clothing she wore was a thick cream nursing bra, her left side open with a turgid black nipple leaking pink milk. 

     “See, you scared her,” the goblin said, shooing the larger girl away (who held her hands up in clear acquiescence) and wheeled to face Ai straight on with a serrated shark smile. “Don’t mind Mizi, she’s blunt, not mean. Good to have when you need a threesome, able to keep the rougher Johns in line. I’m Ari Nell, and the loafer over there with an icepack on her cooch is Rima Mar.”

     A full figured girl with green and orange striped skin vaguely waved from one of the beds before closing her eyes again, naked and indeed sporting a burlap sack over her crotch. The skin on her displayed odd texture, but Ai couldn’t see past the green leaves and vines the plant girl had instead of hair.

     I need to stop staring at everyone, Ai thought, shaking her head and addressing the patient Ari with the story worked out while living on the streets. “Hi, I’m Ai Love. I arrived in the city a week ago but got mugged and all my things stolen. I don’t know anyone here so I have been wandering the district and I hope I can earn enough working here to recover and find out what to do next.”

     “Well, no need to ask why you chose sucking cock as a career choice, not with those horns and that smell,” Ari said, spinning her chair so she could throw open one of the wardrobes. “Don’t think there’s any bras in here your size, but you can at least change and entice a John to leave a big tip. We have some soap and water at the basin and if you’re hungry, I have a fresh pitcher of milk ready to go. I know we don’t get a lot of young prostitutes because the Monastery is in the city, but all men are secretly perverts and I’m sure a few are into girls your age, so don’t worry about finding someone willing to plug your holes.”

     “I’m…I’m twenty-one.” Ai gave up, slumping in defeat. “My…race…makes me appear young.” She turned towards the wardrobe to keep from saying more, knowing if she asked the wrong question she might be heading back to the slave pens or worse. Nevertheless, the questions she choked down from such simple comments burned inside her.

     “Sucks to be you,” Mizi said, having flopped onto her top bunk and picked up something that looked part magazine part newspaper. “Don’t get a lot of demonics this far south: thought you all were giant horns, bat wings and brimstone. Yrlmuh is probably the worst place for someone like you needing to feed on sex, looking like a kid.”

     “So I’m figuring out,” Ai replied. Shuffling through the clothing and finding nothing, she settled with a white loop resembling a tube top, feeling the material stretch like lycra. How was there so much technology in this world? Her questions stopped when she turned to the basin and saw herself in the mirror.

     This isn’t my face, Ai thought with detachment, though it became hard to see as her eyes filled with tears. It was a silly thing, yet this was the first time seeing herself clearly since coming to this world. She didn’t even like what she looked like back on Earth: she hated herself, she was ugly and she worked out so much because it was something she could control, could change. Here, she was cute. Purple skin, clear and without blemish, large round eyes with black cornea, delicate eyebrows, cheeks a bit sunken but it gave her an exotic appearance with her fat lips and tiny button nose. Poking out from under straight purple banes going down a tall forehead, two small pointy white horns poked upward, like sharp fangs. When she opened her mouth she noticed her smile stretched inhumanly wide, all adding up to something and only vaguely someone.

     Ai was cute now, yet…

     For a moment, memory flashed then dissolved, a fleeting hand running along the side of her cheek and a soft word. Ai didn’t give it much thought, forgetting as she dashed her tears away with a handful of water, cleaning the grime of the last four days in as severe a scrubbing she could stand with the cold water and hard soap. Thankfully, her hair stayed unnaturally tangle free, chalking it up to magicalness because with all the hair she possessed now, not having to comb and wash it was a bonus. She paused for a moment in embarrassment before striping entirely and scrubbing her whole body, for the first time noticing no hair of any kind from her eyebrows downward.

     Ari silently handed a pair of white panties over, which Ai smiled her thanks for before slipping them and the tube top on. Both fit, kinda, but the panties were sized for a girl with hips (which she did not have any to speak of) and the tube top tight even with her nothing chest. Two knots in the side of the panties weren’t too fashion disaster and the tube was stretchy, so with a twirl in front of the mirror, Ai decided she presented a passable slut.

     “What now?” Ai asked, coming to terms she had roommates in a brothel in a fantasy world.

     “Anything, really,” Ari said from her chair, a partially compiled leather purse resting on boobs she skillfully sewed together from a pile of cut pieces on the bed. “Unless you are lucky or we have a busy night or you are a top earner for the house, most girls might get a John every other night. Sometimes less, sometimes more. Madame Vina’ll want to see if you are worth her time, so you’ll probably get something tonight, but most customers don’t start filtering in for another hour or two and peak time starts in another four. Until then, we do whatever.”

     “You know how to suck cock, right?” Mizi said, not looking up from her newspaper.

     “Yeah, I…” another flash of memory, then it was gone. “I know how to suck cock. Clits, too, if it comes to that.”

     This caused Mizi to tilt her paper down, fixing Ai with her red head jewel in an odd way, but then smiling and nodding.

     “Oh! Before I forget,” Ari said, setting the purse on her mams and wheeling to a small nightstand. Grabbing a porcelain jug, she handed it to Ai. “Fresh off the teat. You must be hungry, so try not to think about the taste. I’ve been experimenting with a heavy cream that cleanses salt out of the body and the taste is all wonky. Closest I can compare it to is a ham sandwich.”

     Ai looked down at the full gallon of frothy and thick pink milk, then glanced back at Ari with raised eyebrow.

     “I’m going to school as a nuake: a lactation witch.” Ari grinned her sharky whites and hefted a boob with a satisfied grunt. “Got a scholarship after the accident took my legs, only have another year before I get my license. Work here part time to supplement the scholarship.”

     Ai thought it through, then shrugged and stifled a manic giggle. Of course pink milk expressing out of the tit goblin tastes like ham sandwiches, because she went to magic mommy milker school! And after a moment of hoping this milk didn’t taste like bread, Ai tipped up and chugged.

     OMGosh! This is the BEST ham milk ever!!

     Ai was surprised over the course of the last four days that she had not starved to death. Drinking Feliacchia, it had been like eating a Vegas buffet. If she had not been so paranoid and flustered at the time, she would have put on pants just so she could unbutton them and rub her swollen tummy, femjaculate that filling. After flying around as a fairy then turning back into her purple self, she remained satisfied but no longer bursting. Four days later, she became hungry again, but it wasn’t the hunger of a starving woman: more like skipping a few meals and hungry for a meal, but wasn’t yet emaciated and desperate.

     Still, this milk plugged a hole in Ai the woman had been unaware of. Using her large mouth, she tipped further up and dumped half the contents down her gullet in a final slosh. Ai then ran her tongue along the edges, trying to get at the last drops along the cool porcelain.

     “…any girl else think Ai is freak?” Rima asked, her words broken with a thick accent that sounded Dutch to Ai’s ears.

     Ai lowered the pitcher and scanned the room, seeing three wide eyed girls (ok, two wide eyed girls, but Ai was confident Mizi’s face gem became wide-eyed-esque). “What? I was hungry. Sorry if anyone else wanted some.”

     “Nooo, you have all the yucky gobbo milk you want,” Mizi said slowly, shrugging and going back to her paper. “I love Ari to death, but most of her milks taste like fertilizer when she’s experimenting. I’m happy she’s got a new guinea pig to test out her crazy boob potions on.”

     The girls all laughed and Ai found herself joining in, directed to the top bunk opposite Mizi and over Ari, feeling like this whole new life might actually work out. 

     However, as the hours stretched into night, Ai wondered if it would work out, no Johns assigned to her while she itched her tiny boobs harder and harder every hour, the mosquito bites on her chest feeling like they had developed some kind of rash.

****************************************

     “Ai, wake up!”

     Screaming and rolling halfway off the bunk before catching herself, a mess of hair and sheets blearily squinted towards the door and spied an eager Lollmel, motioning for the purple girl to get to work. At least, that is what Ai figured he meant with his hands waving, suddenly nervous enough to short her brain but enough motivation in this body to scramble off the bed and half run and half shuffle out the door, only barely noticing Ari giving a thumbs up and a toothy smile in passing.

     “Sorry it is so late, one of the other houses put together a parade and drew the Johns in like flies to a spiderweb.” Lollmel walked fast and his longer legs forced Ai to jog and skip as they navigated through the narrow hallways. “Madame Vani didn’t want to give you this guy, but I made sure you had your chance and, well, Mr. Belicius is a solid regular and a gentleman, so he won’t treat you poorly.”

     Lollmel wasn’t saying everything, Ai figured, but following the bobbing blond locks and perpendicularly long ears of the boy proved challenging enough without ferreting out some sort of nuance. Besides, Ai needed to understand expectations. “What should I do with Mr…with the client?”

     “Whatever he wants, I guess: kinda the name of the game.” The elfin boy took Ai down half a flight and then strode into a much wider and eloquent hallway. “There is a parchment on a table near the door that lists some prices, though in the end whatever he agrees to pay and whatever you agree to do is between the two of you.”

     They stopped in front of tall and solid oak double doors. Lollmel knocked twice before trying to duck away after giving Ai an encouraging smile, but Ai grabbed his green robes and held on for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered, then let go before slapping her cheeks to psych up.

     It wasn’t a few seconds before the two doors opened and Ai went face-to-abs with a shirtless, brown furred minotaur staring down at her from the top of the nine foot doorway, his short thick horns scraping the wooden jam.

     Before Ai said anything, the minotaur’s face twisted into a scowl. “Nope,” he stated, slamming the doors with enough whoosh that Ai stumbled back from displaced air.

     Itching her chest furiously because this rash drove her nuts, Ai firmed her lips into a line and pounded on the oak while shouting. “Performance anxiety?! I have a cure for that in my pussy!”

     “I’m into women, not little girls. Come back in fifteen years.” The minotaur sounded disinterested and frustrated on the other side of the door.

     Ai heard other doors around her open but she ignored them, for the first time angry enough in this world to boil grits. She was not a little girl! “Listen here, you cud-chewing, out-to-pasture breeding stock reject: I am forty-one years old! I cum on longer and thicker dildos than that No.2 pencil hiding somewhere in your pants and not only will you say thank you, ma’am in a couple of hours after waking up from your orgasm coma, you will return tomorrow and ask for seconds after choking down a bucket of oysters!”

     Ai panted in rage, her hand digging furrows along her chest and likely to draw blood while standing in that hallway. After a minute, the adrenaline petering away, Ai felt tears realizing this was it, she just screwed up her chance. Which is when one of the two doors opened.

     “Gonna stand out there all night?” a gruff rumble asked from inside the room, though the minotaur stayed out of sight.

     Blushing hot magenta, Ai fixed her clothing and hair frantically, wiping her eyes and pasting a professional retail smile on her face before walking into the room. Her legs shook a tiny bit when she shut the door.

     Mr. Bovine lounged upon a chair made for his size in an otherwise sparse room. Sure, the bed looked gargantuan and plush, but other than a basin filled with water under a body sized mirror on one wall, the space was bare. Felt like a cheap motel room, actually, to the woman who was desperately distracting herself away from the subject at hand.

     “So, um…” Ai said, nibbling on her lip and looking down at the floor. It was wood covered by a thick gray and black speckled carpet. “Sorry about what I said.”

     “There are easier ways to get a meal,” the minotaur said with a snort, reaching to a bag next to his chair and pulling out a notepad and feather quill. “You aren’t the only succubus in town.”

     Flustered yet determined to move this along, Ai remembered the note and looked to her right. A small table with the lamp softly illuminating the room also held a worn piece of parchment folded up like a takeout menu. Picking it up, Ai read down the list written in a cramped font. She kept reading, opening to the next page. Her purple skin turned pastel when she unfolded it again, the illustrations widening her eyes and sinking her stomach.

     “I am not doing…um…” Ai set the pricing sheet down sharply and gulped, stepping forward stiffly, absently itching her chest again. “Is there anything…you…ah…?”

     The minotaur glanced up from writing his notes, giving her a glance that spoke loud and clear you aren’t my type, then went back to his notebook, scribbling away. “Girl, nothing is going to happen, tonight or any night, between us. I didn’t want you whining or crying outside my door while I try to finish this chapter.” He waved to the bed, already dismissing her entirely. “I hoped for some more research material but I’ll have to settle with my imagination. Now hush: if I can figure out what my character says next, I’ll give you some copper so Vina doesn’t conniption.”

     Ai wanted outrage to take over, but resignation was all that came while expectations flew past over her head. Climbing onto the tall bed, she sat and studied the man she thought would plow her field. A big brute, he wasn’t just tall, but broad and thick. Lots of muscle, yet keeping enough of hard fat around him displaying an older man who could take care of himself while also enjoying a good meal. He had green eyes. Dark beige fur covered all of him, but around his bull jawline and on top of his head a darker, reddish brown hair curled, giving him a bit of a mane. That same hair went down his neck, over part of his shoulders and disappeared down his back past where the chair covered it. He wore cloth charcoal trousers, ending at his thick calves before his legs transitioned into wide hooves.

     Ai noted that even as he scribbled into his book, he kept glancing up at her. And try as he might to shift his legs and keep it out of notice, when the strained bulge in his pants twitched, it was clear he came here expecting relief. The clinical voice in Ai’s head informed that he was much larger than a No.2 pencil. Oddly, his minotaur dick helped push her past anxieties.

     “What are you writing?” Ai asked, reaching to itch her chest again but forcing her hand down, trying to appear casual.

     “A serial story about a gambler that kisses objects and transforms them into women,” he muttered, scanning what he wrote while not paying much attention. “Maybe you’ve heard of it? Touch And Play by Belicius?”

     For a moment he sounded hopeful, but closed himself off when Ai shook her head. “It sounds interesting, and maybe I can help? I used to be an editor, years ago.”

     “Sure, and my last girlfriend trashed my apartment and stole all my tung because she loved my caring personality.” His forceful writing showed a higher level of frustration when diving back into his chapter.

     No need to snark, Ai thought, then tried to reason a way into convince a writer she had the chops. Which is when she smirked, hoping they didn’t have an interdimensional Bard haunting the city like Hamlet’s father.

     “The quality of mercy is not strain’d, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes. ‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, the attribute to awe and majesty, wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings. But mercy is above this sceptred sway, it is enthroned in the hearts of kings, it is an attribute to God himself. And earthly power doth then show likest God’s when mercy seasons justice. Therefore, though justice be thy plea, consider this: that, in the course of justice, none of us should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much to mitigate the justice of thy plea, which if thou follow must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.”

     “Uh…” Belicius said, his eyes widening as he dropped his quill and pad.

     “Look, I know, I didn’t write that, but hear me out,” Ai said, holding up her hands as she prepared her defense. “I’ve well read and yeah, sure, I’m a whore - at least, apprentice whore? - but maybe I can do some editing on the side.”

     “No, that isn’t what I’m…”

     Ai steam rolled onward, keeping eye contact because this might be a good opportunity for her. “Would you listen for a minute? I’m saying I have schooling and years of training here I’m offering at cost. Heck, hook me up with some of your friends, I’ll see about getting you a commission or percentage.” Ai felt excited, her whole body energized and ready to burst as she thought of jumping back into the writing game after all these years. “Until I prove to you I’m worth it, you’ll get top notch editing for the same price as a blow job.”

     “Shut up!” He shouted, jumping out of his chair and grabbing her head, pulling her hair to force her eyes down. “Your tits are growing!”

     *shhhrrrp!*

     Faced with the reality of breasts blooming past the size of two bowling balls when she wasn’t paying attention, it shouldn’t have surprised Ai the tube top exceeded max capacity and tore apart, freeing her mammaries to sproing free, the girls deciding this was the perfect time to accelerate their growth.

     Which, of course, finally getting tits being a life long dream and obsession coming true, this was the moment Ai felt the message from her pussy that whatever magical shenanigans manifested, they were arousing.

     “OOOOoooooh!” Ai moaned and pitched forward, panties soaking with squirt as she spasmed and came. Purple hands groped hot beach ball sized water balloons, but the orgasm and changed center of mass would have sent Ai flying off the bed if Belicius didn’t reach out and steady her with a firm grab. Only problem, he steadied her through grasping a hefty handful of boob around the areola and squeezed.

     Ai would take no responsibility there, the stream of milk shooting out of taut teat was an inch thick and hit him in the stomach like a mule kick. With a grunt and wheeze, he collapsed to the ground while Ai rode out having her breasts manhandled that way and lost herself inside another rising sensation of cummulation, breasts filling half the room and each the size of a small car.

     Minutes later, Lollmel quick-stepped up the hall with a concerned expression, not wanting to ruin Ai’s chance. However, other clients complained of strange noises and what they thought was destroyed furniture coming out of Ai’s room. Knocking softly, he waited but didn’t hear anything.

     “Ai? Mr. Belicius?” Quiet as possible, not wishing to disturb anyone, the elf ground his teeth nervously. Numerous other doors in the hall peeked open, curious clients and girls wanting to know how the new girl got on, because no one gossiped like a house of whores. This was a bordello, though, not as if rough play were unheard of, yet incidents had happened before so Lollmel got sent to check on the pair. “I’m opening the door now, just want to…”

     When the young elf poked his head in, the last thing he expected was ramming his face into a nipple bigger than his head. He received a splash of milk soaking him for his trouble. Violet breasts filled the room three feet from the door, and judging by the speed they crept outward, soon there wouldn’t be any room left, only boob.

     “…” 

     Lollmel had nothing, this was a first for him. A tapping on his boot distracted him from attempting to figure out how to handle this, though: looking down, the elf lad saw an arm manage to squirm out from under the titalanche. Reaching down and pulling with all he had, eventually he was able to get a soaked and sweating Belicius out from under Ai’s monstrous and growing juggs and into the hall.

     “I am so sorry, sir,” Lollmel automatically apologized, trained well by Madame Vina. “Ai is still new and we haven’t had a chance…”

     “No worries,” he said, wringing milk out of his fur and hair, soaked in so much of it, the pungent cream filling the hallway with its odor. Stopping, realizing he wasn’t getting dry, he gave up and reached into his trousers and pulled out a tung, handing the black rectangle to an astonished Lollmel. “If nothing else, I got a great idea for my next book.”

****************************************

     After waking up in a strange world for the second time that day, Irene could barely gawk at a throne room set inside a building made entirely out of interwoven trees - white aspens, not oak or something she expected, but hundreds of feet tall and thirty or fifty feet wide at the base - before the hansom faun (who expected her to become his fiancé?) summoned a servant in bright yellow livery. Before she knew it, Irene was shuffled off and found herself alone in a large bedroom built with white stone instead of trees, lavishly furnished, staring at herself in a mirror.

     At least, she thought it was herself. When she smiled, she had the same smile, even with her upper lip splitting sharply. Glasses missing, but they wouldn’t fit anymore anyway on a flatter nose jutting forward more like a snout. Didn’t need them, either, her eye color lightened to a gray almost matching the white around them. Her eyes also seemed larger. Wide jawline for a woman but sharper features all around - as if she lost fifty pounds - making her more exotic than she would call herself before. The same swirls of ridged skin acting as eyebrows the other fauns possessed appeared above her eyes, but her horns were much smaller and - dare she say it? - dainty compared to any seen in the throne room, just little black nubs hiding under familiar wavy brown hair. Needed to grow that hair out, though, because her ears jutted six inches away from her head like two fleshy pitcher plants.

     Everything else from the neck down…

     “I am about to live the rest of my life with back pain,” Irene grumbled, hefting one of her newly grown mommy milkers. Not perky by any means, these floppies felt heavy enough her traps burned in protest. She wasn’t petite before, but she was three or four cups sizes larger now - probably a J - and they were pure mammary because they had real weight to them. Moving the juggs out of the way, she was happy to see her tummy trimmed a few inches and even exposing a little bit of abs, but the frown returned when she noticed it all migrated into her hips.

     This was where it got weird. Weirder. Starting high on her hips and scooping down in a deep plunge all the way to where pubic hair normally tufted, everything down to her black hooves was covered in fur. Soft fur, she was happy to discover, felt like thick rabbit pelt, and of a brownish gold lighter than the hair on her head. Turning around, she noticed a stubby tail above her butt and wagging it around freaked her out, so Irene turned back and tried to find anything else different.

     “Aside from being a freakin' faun!” she whispered harshly enough it grated her throat, quickly slamming eyes shut hard to keep herself from bawling. All the emotions she shoved down, boiling hotter and hotter over the last…it hadn’t even been an hour. All those emotions fought to unleash a wrath and scorn this world likely never experienced, but Irene clenched her body, clenched her emotions to stuff them down and do something about it later.

     “Take me from my home, from my friends, from my family?” Irene kept her voice low, unsure who listened in the walls of a fantasy palace, but she needed to vent. “Kidnapped, about to spend the rest of my life away from everything I know and love, when this guy expects me to become his wife?! If it is the last thing, I will burn this forest castle to the ground with Mr. Hansom Furry and his court cry over no longer having a fancy tree house!”

     Spleen emptied, Irene gathered herself back up and got to business. She doubted walking out of here was an option, and if she tried they would only incarcerate her. Newly minted faun girl needed to know more about this world and she needed freedom to prepare any plans for escape or finding a way back home.

     “What would Ai do?” Irene asked, looking about the room and taking stock. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Ai would find a gun or some other weapon, kill everyone in guerrilla warfare then spend the rest of the day masturbating.” All things Irene couldn’t do, because even with anger inside to melt stone she couldn’t kill anyone, no matter how much they deserved it.

     “Ok, new plan,” Irene told herself, trotting to the massive wardrobe and throwing it open, looking through a collection of outfits straight from a fantasy cosplay convention. “How will I think my way out of here?”

     The clothing choices were not ideal. Plenty fit, the biggest surprise, most made from a material Irene reasoned as a strange hybrid of quality silk and spandex that breathed like cotton. So while nothing looked like it would fit comfortably, most everything hugged her better than anything she had ever worn. And if she were dressing herself, she could spend days in that closet. However, she remained on a mission. 

     A long cloth band bound her boobs up as tight as she could wrap it, wanting to downplay any sexy while allowing more freedom of movement if she needed to run. This was covered by a loose drape style, burnt orange knitted top that hung down to her thighs, which she tightened with a wide black belt high on her waist. Faun fashion didn’t have pants, skirts or  panties, so the tunic was the closest she found for modesty.

     “Definitely have a 90s fashion model vibe, but gotta say, looking good.” And she did. While her height was the same, her slimmer waist mixed with her shoulders and hips gave her a nice hourglass profile, and her tits were subdued to a realistic range under the tunic. A golden brown pelt flowed down her legs and appeared more sweat pants than goat creature in the dim red lighting.

     “Irene Weihen is gonna face the world like a boss,” she announced, then immediately slunk quietly to the door and slowly eased it open, furtively searching around outside.

     Maybe I can just walk out, Irene thought, making an effort to be more circumspect by plotting internally.

     “Milady, good to see you dressed and ready for the feast.”

     Irene jumped and slipped on stone tile, clopping for balance while spinning about and discovering an elderly male faun in long black robes leading two burly guards holding spears.

     The determined woman from Earth closed down her emotions immediately, seeking bland indifference. She had a plan, and with a degree in psychology she possessed the resources to wage mental warfare. Step one: Grey Rock Technique. In short and simple terms, become so boring to other people they stop asking questions or interacting entirely. Irene had other weapons to unleash on these satyrs, but Grey Rock might allow a bit of breathing room and time needed to put more complex machinations into play. So rather than replying, she stood there, staring.

     Though the older faun clearly waited for a response, he only paused for an awkward minute before motioning with a sinewy hand in the other direction, past his guards and the way he came. “Prince Jeston is waiting for you.”

     Didn’t take a case study to comprehend a strong arm intimidation tactic with the guards present. Irene walked a slow pace to give herself more time and a modicum of control, but either the palace wasn’t large or her room was close to the dining hall. It was a straight shot into more of the tree forest rooms instead of the white stone of her room; everything grander and majestic, like stepping into a fantasy forest instead of an enclosed space. Gazing up, Irene noted how the trees bent high above in arches and intertwined to create a solid canopy of leaves, shaped branches crafted into chandeliers providing reddish light upon everything.

     In the center of the room, a massive table grew out of the ground with similar Aspen wood as the walls, the center filled with enough food to feed Hogwarts. The problem, though, was the emptiness of the room. Only the Prince seated at one end and an waiting chair on his right side.

     Great, not creepy at all, Irene thought, keeping her face blank and boring while walking to her seat, hardly noticing the older faun bowing and silently leaving with his goons in tow. Just me and the Prince, alone, with neither of us wearing pants.

     “My Princess, please, have a seat.” The Prince stood and…don’t look down, keep steady eye contact…smiled while pulling out her chair and gestured to the banquet. “I wasn’t sure what you enjoy eating, so I had the kitchens put out a little of everything.”

     Irene struggled to keep from staring, her face waring with a scowl at the extravagant food or reflexively grin because the Prince owned such an infectious smile. She remained in control and sat down without a word, looking down at her plate in silence while the Prince got back in his chair.

     “Is the food to your liking?” he asked, looking over with concern. “The cooks are some of the best in Yrlmuh, trained in my home country of Aoir. If there is anything you desire, only name it.”

     I want to go home. “No,” Irene replied instead, purposefully obtuse to start her next phase of Psychology Fu. The counter punch to Grey Rock was Info Grab, and it worked by giving simple, short binary answers followed by open ended questions, keeping the other person talking. She glanced up and picked leafy greens and chicken cold cuts for her plate because she was hungry, though she filed the name Yrlmuh away for future geography lessons.

     Inside the next awkward minutes, they ate in silence. Irene tried keeping focus on her food and the plate, but when glancing surreptitiously towards the side, she noted Prince grew more and more worried. The food itself tasted ok, though lightly spiced, and except for sparse meats and fish, mostly Paleo style vegetables garnished with nuts. There were fluffy cakes and pastries calling out to her, but they were arranged further down the table and Irene wasn’t getting up for sugary indulgences…yet.

     As for a nearly-shirtless male specimen seated nearby, the entire time he clearly grew frustrated from silence. “This is all moving faster than I wanted,” the Prince mumbled, pushing his plate away. “I don’t know your name or the first thing about you. Or you me! I’m not entirely sure where you came from, other than from another world. By the Great Tree, did you have a family?”

     Irene stopped, staring at the Prince in surprise, her emotions churned from the raw honesty and concern heard in his voice. It jostled her out of the planned game, but she stuck with the plan, ignoring his question entirely except for a sarcastic grin. “How did you manage to get me here?”

     The Prince sighed, rubbing his eyes like a normal person. “It is complicated, and I don’t understand it entirely myself. A magical summoning was the process. A random but, unfortunately, one way process.”

     “Are you sure about the one way part?” Irene asked with a hitch in her voice, though she caught herself and squinched her eyes briefly to regain control.

     For a moment, the question surprised Jeston, but he wasn’t stupid and answered with gravity expected from royalty. “Yes.”

     It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but how was Irene supposed to know this end up like an isekai story Ai tried getting her to read? They brought her here, they should send her back! Anyway, Irene pushed that aside and focused on eating and keeping her face blank. “Fine. Any other details you can share about whatever?”

     “I’m realizing now there is more dire implications towards you than was explained to me,” he said with concern. For the first time, Irene also noticed his lip movements did not match the sounds coming out. It was subtle and barely noticeable, but Irene wondered how language magically operated while the Prince stood and paced around the table.

     Irene opened her mouth to respond, stopped, then closed her mouth. The prince beat her to the punch, interrupting her internal momentum.

     “Milady, I’m sorry this happened to you. I was told the ritual searched the cosmoi connected to our world of Evma - what you might think of as a nexus for metaphysicality - and select the perfect candidate for the needs of my people. In my mind and foolish assumption, that meant you free of other ties and obligations. Perhaps you desired to leave a life behind or sought adventure or I can’t even think what! Obviously, with the evidence before me, that is hubris of the highest order and I don’t have sufficient language to ask for your forgiveness.”

     Before Irene reacted by pulling away, he knelt before her and grasped her hand in both of his, pulling it against his bare chest. He felt so warm, yet she yanked her hand back violently and scraped her chair away at the sudden invasion of personal space, screaming incoherently at being touched by her kidnapper! It was too much, all of it, from the moment she arrived here, how could she expect to…to…

     For a moment they were frozen there, staring at each other, Irene through unbidden tears, but the prince held up surrender hands and backed away, moving glacially slow the whole time. He kept moving back until nearly to his seat, though he remained standing.

     “I am sorry,” he whispered, the remorse of his voice drawing Irene in despite herself. “And if there is anything, anything, I, Jeston an’Raios, third son of King Kormark an’Raios of the sovereign throne of Aoir, can possibly do or provide for you, it is yours. This I swear on the Great Tree.”

     Hyperventilating, forcing herself to regain calm, Irene decided she needed directness. “What…what do you want with me?” Blush, she ended by crossing her legs, because she didn’t want to Basic Instinct this guy again.

     He sunk a bit, a haunted visage filling turquoise eyes. “My people are dying, and you are our only hope.”

     Despite everything, all the ups and downs, that last…not even two hours at this point…this caused Irene to lose it and break into laughter. Sardonic, harsh laughter, folding her arms and processing this new tidbit. “Of course I am,” she sarcasmed, wishing she could punch something. “Transporting to another world can only mean I am the Chosen One.”