You wake up, eyes blinking the sands of sleep away as feeling returns to your body. You are lying strewn across your bed, an insufficient amount of sheets covering you leading to an acute case of fluffiness insufficiency.

Also, you're buried balls deep inside Olivia's ass. "Muh."

Under you, the green-ette stirs, groaning and snorting until she gets her face pointed up at you. Disgraceful. "Morning, Jackie…?"

"Muh." All is good in Jackieland. You need more obedient bitches like this one, or ones you don't work like slaves day and night like in the case of the anal demon.

Still, you have to get up at some point and gather the bed sheets you scattered around your domicile back up to re-establish your nest of sleepiness, not to mention what few morning ablutions you need to take care of.

So as you lead Olivia into the bathroom, you're soon confronted with far too onerous questions this early in the morning. "Uhm, Jackie? You didn't tell me ahead of time so I didn't bring my toothbrush, so could I borrow yours?"

"Muh. Don't have." Morning Jackie is the drowsy Jackie. You just want to piss.

"What?! Jackie, you can't just… not have a toothbrush! How will you brush your teeth?!"

"Don't, muh." Replacing as many words with 'muh' as you can is the way to reduce your overall vocabulary expenditure… You think.

"That's…?!" Olivia rushes over to you where you're wrangling your penis to point at the toilet, gripping your mouth and making you open it. "… How are your teeth pearly wh-! That's still not okay! Jackie! It isn't!"

"'Uh," you make. You just want to eat breakfast already…

"Muuuh." It has been a while since you actually cooked breakfast, but Olivia, weak of stomach as well as spirit, would likely collapse if you didn't make her eat fortifying foodstuff of some kind.

Daddy, I'm sure if you couldn't regenerate, you would be falling over by now already.

It is your noble sense of superior purpose that sustains you. That and nothing else.

But yes, you have to do the breakfast. You also have to bear with Olivia asking more questions. "Uhm, is Snaketail here? Can I see it?"

"Muh. Later." You shall deal with that later. "Outside."

"Where is this place? Is it outside of the city somewhere in the forest?"

You simply drag her outside. You need to find a way to shut Olivia up before you accidentally tell her something she isn't supposed to actually know.

Operational security is important when every part of your life is a high-security state affair of the nation of Jackienia.

Out on what amounts to your expanded porch, you call for Viridis for but a moment before she shows up. "Muuh! Muuh!"

"It's still super weird how you actually communicate like that."

"Muh."

Then Viridis arrives, striding out of the forest with an even gait and her long, soft tail trailing out behind her languidly. "Oh, my little stud and the breeding bitch are back?"

"B-bi-! I'll have you know it mghmble." You hold a hand over Olivia's face, preempting another pointless conversation.

"Baby magic?" You ask. Or request, really.

"Oh, very well, I do not mind lending you my powers. I will expect you to return the courtesy, but I am sure you know already."

"Muh."

"Blblbl!" Olivia licks your palm, making you let go in surprise. It tickles. "What are you talking about?"

"Muh."

"Very well, come. I shall allow you to sup upon Growth," Viridis says, opening her arms for you (and Olivia). You happily bounce forward, giving Olivia a sideways glance as you do.

You know Viridis and you know her body language, so you can know what the gesture means. "Drink," you instruct your slow-witted follower.

Plants sprout behind Olivia, pushing her forward with a small yelp on her part with their leafy wines. You are already latching onto Viridis' nipple, regretting you only have one head and cannot suckle on both at the same time.

"Come here and partake," you hear the plant cat woman girl spirit… Whatever she counts as… say, waving one arm for Olivia. "I promise it won't hurt you."

"Uhm…" You feel her eyes on you, but you're busy. "Okay?"

"That's right, just here, like this…" It is little surprise Olivia has to be taught how to properly suckle on an offered nipple and receive the deep, healthy goodness of Viridis' sap from it. She's really hopeless.

She's not the only one, this stuff is borderline addictive, daddy.

Muh.

You feel more plants sprouting beneath you, helping Viridis strip off your clothes; something you eagerly help her with, knowing where this is going. Next to you, Olivia shudders, coming up for air like the amateur she is.

"Puah! What's in this stuff? It's making me feel weird-"

You silence her by drawing up yourself and kissing her, one hand seeking out one of hers. Clearly, you have to teach her what to do if you want to get anywhere.

So you push some of the deep red sap into her mouth from yours.

Your fingers intertwine as you continue suckling from Viridis' tits, Olivia finally calmed down and being undressed herself. The spirit you're facing says something, but you can't hear it over the rush of euphoria shooting through your body.

Then you have a slender, firm hand on your cock and it is all you can do to not moan aloud and waste the holy milk. Your rod is being felt up and stroked just a but, keeping you in place while you fill yourself up on Viridis' neverending reserves of delicious juice.

You can't get enough. Even when more plants begin to grow, brushing and pushing against both you and Olivia, you drink your fill and then some, enjoying Viridis' warm touch and holding onto Olivia's hand.

You twitch a little when the first bulbous plant head pushes into you, easily filling up your front, while the second is not far behind, spreading your butt cheeks around it with its slick coating and slowly going deeper into your butt.

It just makes you harder, though.

Olivia is receiving the same treatment, shuddering uselessly and requiring your steady presence to stay standing. Viridis has begun to feel both of you up, smiling down benevolently at the magical girls feeding on her breasts.

"Jackie…" Olivia is talking. Why is she doing that? Her mouth should be busy with something more important. "I can't take it anymore…!"

Her fingers clench around yours, the pistoning plants inside of her bringing her over the edge already. What a lightweight.

Meanwhile, you are gracing Viridis' swollen belly with your seed for the second time, the heartening milk making you all the more virile and eager to spread it wherever you can. You don't often have this much stimulation all over your body, so you are achieving new records here.

However, you can see the plight of your breeding bitch in her posture, so you whine and twist your hips to let you point your cock at her instead. Viridis realizes what you want and, smiling, pulls both of you down with her as she lets herself fall backwards.

Now on the ground (and still attached to her tit), you find yourself being rearranged to face Olivia who is lying on her back which is resting against the divine spirit's gravid belly. The plant inside of her pussy is pulling out, drawing long strings of clear fluid with it, even as her butt and both of your own lower holes are still being railed.

"Claim her womb with your seed once again, let your spawn experience your power…"

Transfixed, you loom over Olivia. You lick your lips, lowering yourself to kiss her again as you push forward with your hips. It takes a few tries, but finally, you hit upon her soaking wet pussy, making her moan into your mouth.

You get as deep as you can… And then another set of plant penises rubs against you from your raised behind, pushing against your openings to join the ones already inside. You buck, pressing yourself deeper into Olivia, and soon your knot is stretching her outer lips in your attempts to get it inside.

Something makes a whining sound. It's probably her.

You feel a hand on your knot, massaging it and pressing down on it, finally letting you fill Olivia up in full again, stretching against her womb with your blunt cock. She screams, or shouts, or does something, but you don't stop covering her lips with yours.

You receive a pounding from the plants even as Olivia receives a pounding from yourself and them, a second plant-cock also forcing itself into her overstretched arsehole- you can feel both of them as they pump away against your cock, making you just feel better.

You feel a hand between you and Olivia, letting you lick at it together. It is dark green and wet with more delicious fluid, brought to you straight from Viridis' sweet honeypot; literally, it does taste sweet.

You can't keep yourself from climaxing much longer. Sheathed entirely inside of Olivia, you come, pumping heavy spurts of seed against her womb where your child is growing. You can feel the magic being used, making your cum almost surge with energy.

It takes you what feels like a small eternity to finish filling Olivia up even more. The plants do not stop fucking into you, even as they also spread something inside you and Olivia, and Viridis only chuckles.

"Yes, that's right… Good girls…"

You like getting headpats. It shall become an official duty of all citizens of Jackieland to pat you at every opportunity.

"Now keep on going. You aren't done yet."

Well, you're still hard as a diamond. Simple instructions you can simply follow.

Olivia is getting fucked a lot today.

Olivia is… indisposed, by the time you have finished with her, belly swollen with seed and pupils dilated significantly (must be a sugar rush from Viridis' milk), so you just drag her back inside and let her rest on one of the recliners you've salvaged from the surrounding empty homes at one point or another.

With her taken care of, you conjure up a golem body for Elena once again, having her help you carry the chunky piece of the mimic she stabbed through when you fought the thing. It is stored in one of the many frozen meat lockers Brian added all over the basement, complete with suspicious traces of blood and fake human bodies.

You think. You aren't an expert.

"Muh."

"Chuh."

"Muh."

"Chuuh."

"Muh."

"… Jackie, chuuh, you'll have to actually communicate intelligibly if you want to tell me something, puh."

"Muh." Disappointing. "Mimic core thingy," you ultimately see yourself forced to explain, pointing at the object currently held in both of Elena's transmuted arms and still big enough to obscure her upper body from sight. "What do?"

Brian jumps up onto your head to take a closer look at the weird organ. "Chuh, somewhat damaged, but it can be worked. There are a few options."

In the end, and after thorough consideration, you come to the conclusion that the best use of this thingy would be to have Brian install it inside your house. On the one hand, cores of this particular variety of mimic are worth a lot, apparently, a literally mouthwatering amount of money (you salivate enough the stuff isn't even super cold by the time you swallow), but on the other hand, you are spending more and more time at home untransformed… And so it just makes sense to use it to improve the defenses of your castle.

Because Castle Doctrine, except death would be a kinder fate than what you're planning on inflicting on any trespassers foolish enough not to die on their own before they're captured.

You completely disregard the idea of Brian putting it into his science dungeon instead. That's stupid. You do stuff down here, but you don't live here, which is a big difference.

Regardless of Brian whining and Elena continually telling you to pay attention. You have a lot on your mind, okay?

… You're really hopeless, daddy.

You do not need hope. Hope is a necessity only for those that do not know they will always win.

Anyway, this bit of business is taken care of fairly soon, leaving only Brian to take care of implementing the changes you want. The hybridized reanimated version will lose much of the original mimic's strength, but in exchange it will be much more manageable… The idea is to have it assimilate the house's walls and floors and ceilings (basically all the things that make a room) and then rely on a few pre-programmed responses to have it act; open and close doors on its own, shift and perhaps even create furniture and stretch light switches to where you need them to be on tendrils instead of making you get up and use them yourself every time.

The world should know to serve you. This is but a first step towards the fulfillment of your dream.

Next off, time to go and work on-

Actually, daddy, would you mid if I took a few golems with me to rob a police station? If I find the right one, anyway.

Huh. Why would Elena want to do that? It's not like mundane police have any good loot… Aside from guns maybe, come to think of it.

I had something with me when the Accident happened and in the confusion afterwards I couldn't really go back to pick it back up. It was a birthday present from you, too, so I want to go track it down and take it back.

Any present given by you is, naturally, of superior quality and importance. You'll need a couple golems and maybe coordinate things a little, but if Elena is quick, she should be able to get out through the portal before it closes and get started over the day.

That you will spend at home, for going out is exhausting and has little use that would justify spending all day away from your cushy, climate-controlled headquarters.

… Yes, you yourself are doing that last one, but so what? You can still like and cherish your passive powers.

Thanks, daddy!

You take a moment to mentally find the train of conversation you were on again and have to pull yourself back from immediately assuming Elena is thanking you for for as supremely awesome as you are.

Well, that's not wrong. But okay, you go get started, I'll just need… Let's say five additional golems, Elena says, holding out a hand and splitting up its icy fingers to signal you the amount requested.

You can do that.

Elena resisted the urge to groan, much as she couldn't actually do so without vocal chords to speak of. Much as she'd feared the moment she thought about this, with the hindsight of the existence of magic, her knife was proving to be harder to get back into her cold, hard hands than she would've expected initially.

It had been easy at first. Robbing a random passerby with her squad's worth of subordinates had gotten her a disposable phone she could use once she carefully reshaped her fingers into something that could work the touchscreen and looking up which police precinct was most likely to contain her property hadn't taken more than twenty minutes, first setting up the mugging in a sufficiently foreboding alley and then waiting for the crappy internet connection to get her results, but that had merely been the start of her troubles.

Shoving the begging man into a dumpster that might not give him tetanus just from touching it, she'd waved her squaddies along, Elena's first thought had been to just go and storm the police station in question, but she remembered her daddy's lessons, even if he didn't anymore. Doing this quietly might just end up easier than not, especially if it kept her from having to deal with police attention for weeks afterwards.

She could try, at least. Now how would she…?

Looking up the floor plans was surprisingly easy, as they were a matter of public record and available over the internet too, for some reason. Moving over the roofs using their speed and strength, Elena and her subordinates could reach a surprisingly fast pace, though they left some damaged roofs in their wake, so they soon found themselves circling the police station in question.

Elena knew how to safely disable alarm systems and this one wasn't anything special, so with a quick application of superior golem strength had the back door broken open without alarming anyone in quick order. Slinking inside, they didn't waste any time in orienting themselves and ambushing a few people that worked there in order to gain access to the records on a computer set up to log these things.

Only for her to find out that apparently, the evidence from the exploded car wreck found on the street her and her daddy had been on when that stupid cunt came and blew them up out of nowhere had been moved to another station. Because of course it had been.

This was starting to feel like one of those stupid fetch quests that sent you to a series of locations in order to find the one thing you were looking for. Now what was she going to do with the corpses?

… Feeding them to the homeless would be hard before turning them into a paste and burying them all the way outside the city would be a pain. Ugh, she'd just have them hidden and brought to Brian later, the rat would probably turn them into robot zombies or something at least.

So off they went to the next place she marked on the phone's map app. One police station was like any other in some ways so after just a few applications of a sharpened sword arm Elena was typing away at the next device to see where her damn knife was.

It had disappeared from the evidence locker.

Now, she was a reasonable girl. Calm. Quiet. Collected. Downright serene. So she only smashed the computer against the wall and stomped on it a few times, immediately regretted it and went to search for another one with a list of all officers employed at this station (as they were the most likely subjects for shit like this), took her mooks with her to break into the gun locker and proceeded to steal as many of them as they could carry.

Which was quite a lot, actually. Served these suckers right for making her jump through all these hoops.

Finally, she ended up just tracking down anyone that could have been involved in the theft of her favorite fucking knife, going through an alphabetical listing and making daddy look through her mooks for anything magical on or near them.

The one that had a trace of magic on him was Travis Zachary. As last names were the ones the list was ordered by, Elena was perhaps understandably… irate.

All five of her buddies were with her when they cornered the fucker soon after he went out of his house. They made sure to pull it off as a proper ambush, too, encircling him and cutting off any avenues of retreat.

"The fuck is this, huh? You some kinda joke someone's playing?"

They nodded at each other, advancing on the policeman out of uniform.

"Pfeh, good enough." He spat on the ground, a hand sliding into his jacket's pocket to pull out- that was Elena's damn knife! "Time to get some practice in for later."

The golems lifted their hands at him in unison. His body was riddled with with a dozen holes, sharp pieces of ice firing at him from all directions; they were shooting their sharpened fingers at him, regrowing them by shifting around their mass even as they proceeded with the execution.

Travis, however, didn't die immediately, like he should. Instead, he grinned widely, blood splattering all over his body and running out of his mouth as his crazed smile reached from ear to ear. "Picked the wrong guy to fuck over, bitches, I'm fucking invincib- Guh!"

… Elena impaled the idiot with her arm turned into a sword from behind. What a moron- you didn't gloat when you were going to kill someone, you did that afterwards when they were a corpse and well and truly unable to hit you back.

However, contrary to her expectations, half of his torso being spilt all over the ground didn't stop the guy from twisting his head backwards, slamming Elena's knife backwards and carving into the hard ice that made up her body. It actually damaged her, leaving behind a wide gash that would have been disastrous on a human, but she just twisted his head around for the full 180 degrees to let him look at her 'face' in his last moments.

Then everyone grabbed a part of his body and pulled it apart in all directions. Dismemberment usually did the trick, didn't it? Meanwhile, with wet tearing sounds and a gurgled scream echoing through the alley, Elena was finally reunited with her knife.

She slid it inside her hand carefully, replacing a finger with it for the moment. She had taken her sheath from the police station while they were there, but her favorite tool would go back into it later when she returned home to daddy.

Finally Mister Stabblesworth was where he belonged again- her damn hand and nobody else's.

You have spent most of the day huddled up inside your home so far, with Olivia just hanging around aimlessly. However, the time of celestial conflux nears once again; the portals shall open and allow the superior beings to step into the mortal world to-

Daddy, why are you an elder god or something now?

Nobody respects the classics nowadays.

Lovecraft was a second-rate author writing second-rate stories, the only thing he did good was setting a mood by complete accident thanks to his complex and downright nauseating levels of phobias against everything.

… Well, that's not wrong, but disregarding the questionable quality of his stories as such, others were able to be inspired by them and create an immersive world of lore and-

Unaware of your inner struggle and conversation, Olivia, who is watching you 'muh' to yourself, speaks up to interrupt. "Uhm, Jackie? Do you… remember when we talked about Snaketail?"

"Muh."

Pointing at Olivia to let her know she should stay put, you leave the living room to wander down the stairs, once again descending into the nightmarish realms of-

Don't even start, daddy, you haven't earned that level of self-indulgence yet. What if there's some outer horror listening in to your thoughts and it decides it wants to do something for some incomprehensible reason?

You'd make Brian deal with it, duh. That's, like, probably his job.

"Chuuh, Jackie, what brings you down here?" Brian, as you see when you stumble upon him, is covered in blood from top to bottom, (probably) fake black fur matted with a thick cover of dark red. His tail is swishing left and right, but he seems content as is.

No wonder. He is probably a dangerous psychopath, as you've already concluded.

"Snaketail," you announce with all the gravitas a wet noodle deserves. "Done with it?"

"Chuh, probably. I just left it to stew for the past few days once I was done with everything else, but keeping it locked up for much longer would be counter-productive anyway, puchuh."

You nod. If it means none of the dunce trio will keep bothering you about the defective product they insist on using for some reason, you'll take it.

Within minutes, you have a snake that seems like it's glaring at the world itself right now and a trussed-up Olivia in tow, floating off towards the portal on a platform made of ice as per usual. Of course in doing so you stumble upon Elena and the golems she wanted to borrow, carrying a bunch of human corpses in police uniforms with themselves.

One of her icy fingers has been replaced by a large, old combat knife that looks like it's about as long as your forearm on a first glance. One side of the blade is sharply serrated, the other one is just sharp while the metal looks like it's permanently encrusted in half-dried blood to your magical sight.

Yeah, I got what I was looking for. Just bringing back the loot and disposing of the bodies with either Brian or the forest.

A swell of pride goes through your chest. Clearly, someone here learned from the best.

Next off, you shall be off to deliver Olivia to her home, throw Snaketail somewhere it won't get in your way and then go see Melanie. You haven't been spending that much time with her, which shall be rectified now.

The being sometimes known as Doctor Brianchuu flipped through its feeds, using the surveillance 'upgrades' it had installed in the pink serpentine 'colleague' of its that had spent a while under its hospitality to directly supervise its actions and, if necessary, devise countermeasures to them.

Being sabotaged was to be expected. However, it would gladly return the favor with a healthy dose of the same coin and widespread espionage of its enemies. Naturally, due to the nature of Brian and its 'contemporaries', direct interference like this was limited… But that simply meant it had to be creative.

As access to certain cosmic frequencies was reestablished by its victim, the usual means of communication consequently went up, giving Brian direct access to the serpentine Puchuu's accounts and activities.

Then it saw red. This required immediate action.

ThatOnePuchuu has logged in

Hey

Hey

I know you're there

rorroHcimsoC has logged in

What's up?

I need a favor

I know you got a finger on the usual betting pools

I do

You're cut off right now, right? And why the sudden interest?

I need you to place a proxy bet for me

Office politics

Whoah there, I won't get involved unless you explain what this is about

You know my rules

There is betting directly pertaining to me

Several pools

They are betting on how quickly I utterly fail

This is unacceptable

That explain that, I guess

You don't understand

This is unacceptable :(

Someone's bringing out the old emotes…

I want to make them pay for daring to imply I am anything less than perfectly capable of menial work like this

If I have to bear the indignity, I refuse to let them have fun with it

Warping you 500k plat, place the bets and let me know if anyone accepts any more

Look, , this is a lot of money for anyone not in the upper ranks

That's the point

I want them to feel utterly outdone on every way

Accounting, field agents, accounting, overseers, accounting, accounting and accounting

Sheesh, alright, alright, don't get your panties in a tizzy

I'll be taking my usual rate, but I can do it, no worries

Good

Also, tell Pure Light to keep an eye on the plot to drown my precinct in demon to make me look bad

Plot by who?

Doesn't matter, just tell him. It'll keep the heat off me for a while.

ThatOnePuchuu has logged out

Brian would need his primary subject to step up its efforts. Spite was motivating the primal aspect of creation now and let none say it was not capable of outdoing any other beings anywhere close to its own position.

Inside a deep, dark facility buried between dimensions and filled to the brim with the discarded bodies of foolish and unlucky individuals, Brian silently seethed. And while it was at it, it also cursed Cultivators for their sheer stupidity.

Everything was connected, somehow. It was convinced to this day their existence was merely yet another slight against its stated goals and methodology, committed by some foolish creature fancying itself a rival.

Bringing Olivia back to her home, as your puppy should always be surrounded by people that feed it in your absence, you soon find yourself racing across the city, kicking Snaketail off when you realize it is still hanging around to glare at you (ineffectually), in order to reach the one destination you can always find your way to.

As long as Melanie hasn't taken off the armband you made for her, anyway. She better not have.

Following the primitive targeting system of glowing stones you created so long ago, near the beginning of your career as a magical girl, you reminisce about the memories from aeons ago, the hard-fought battles, the-

Daddy, stop romanticizing fighting goblins a couple months ago.

Truly, chivalry is dead. It died along with your ability to think back fondly.

Anyway, it turns out Melanie isn't actually at home despite the late hour- following your magical guidance system, you soon find her on a bus currently in transit. Curious, you stay above it, determinedly ignoring the peons populating the streets as always while you follow after her. You aren't sure, but you don't think this bus is going in the direction of her home, so…

Well, it turns out all Melanie is doing is returning to her school in the evening. Booh. You were hoping for some deep intrigue or something.

Anyway, as the mundane vehicle drives off without your girlfriend loaded onto it, you descend from the skies like the supreme heavenly being that you are, greeting her in the best way possible. "Muh!"

"Oh, Jackie!" Melanie turns around, smiling at the sight of you. As she should. "It's great to see you again, you must've been pretty busy lately."

"Muh," you nod in agreement. "Lots of stuff to fight. Boss is exhausting."

"Huh. You know, you never told me about that 'boss' of yours, did you?"

"Brian," you shrug with all the casual disregard the topic deserves next to the incandescence of your presence. "Want to go eat? My treat."

"Oh, are you sure? I still have a bunch of the cash you gave me, so you don't need to-"

"Muh," you shut her down by jumping in with a patented Jackie bear hug nobody can escape from. "My treat."

"Okay then, it's your treat," she chuckles and strokes a hand through your hair.

You nuzzle your head into her stomach to reward such good behaviour and initiative. If only everyone that isn't you was a Melanie, the world's incompetence would be diminished by at least eighty percent.

Two girls in casual clothing aren't exactly the right clientele for upscale restaurants serving steak and caviar, not that you have enough cash crammed into your pocket to really consider those as an option. At most if you were to use your cube and literally eat the food as it comes out of the kitchen, perhaps.

As it is, the world is simply not yet ready for you to have a five star kitchen staff waiting on all your food-related wishes hand and foot, hence you can't just treat Melanie to a meal made by three horny cat girl chefs.

Yet.

So in the meantime, you shall simply patronize a family diner once again, the usual best option for a quick coffee and a bite while you're following a target to learn their patterns and habits before you strike.

… Huh. That is a weird thought.

I think a few of your memories are returning, daddy. You did eat at random diners like these sometimes.

That's fine and all, but you can't believe you used to drink coffee of your own free will. It is bitter and disgusting.

Amen.

Anyway, back to your date. That you are taking your girlfriend out to. Because you are the manliest, most amazingest-

"So any idea what you're ordering yet?" Melanie asks, pushing an errant strand of black hair behind her ear. It is a very cute gesture. You want to nibble on that ear.

You consider her question for a moment. Then you consider your seating arrangement. Making up your mind, you wiggle out of your chair to walk around the desk and sit down again next to her instead. "Fried chicken, maybe. And fries. Maybe the burger if it's good?"

"Someone's hungry, I see," your girlfriend grins, messing with the tips of your hair a little. You shall let her do so in your magnanimity. "And wordy. Did you eat alphabet soup for breakfast or what?"

You shake your head. You had ice cream for breakfast. "Cure for a throat issue."

Melanie's smile falls. "Oh jeez, I thought you were just- Are you okay now? Is there anything I can do?"

"'m fine," you shrug. "Just stings. A little."

She sighs. "I was genuinely thinking you just communicate in 'muhs' usually."

"Muh," you agree. It is good to know someone else appreciates the depths of the unique code you use to transmit complex concepts and messages with as few sounds as possible. "Also, milkshake."

"Oh, a milkshake sounds good. How about this, I order myself the 'Biggus Burgus', whatever kind of burger that is, and we can share it if it looks good?"

"Muh," you mull the proposal over. "Share the burger and get something else, too. And share a big shake."

Melanie has to suppress a giggle as she leans over to give the side of your head a little smooch. "If you insist."

"Muh."

"… Oh, they actually do seafood here, too. I thought that was usually an East Coast thing."

Getting a waitress to come over requires only a few minutes of waiting while you let the black-haired girl fawn over you, enjoying the attention of someone whose opinion you actually care about to an extent. The woman working at the diner raises an eyebrow at the size of your order, but your expectant, imperious look must be motivating her to do her job as she just snorts a small note of laughter through her nose before she nods.

It must be the exuberance at being able to serve the future god-empress of mankind. This is the right attitude for your loyal subjects.

"You know, you feel a little warmer than usual, too. Almost like a normal girl. Did you do anything different?" Melanie asks, pulling you back to what you were talking about.

"Muh, less passive magic," you nod. "Can still cool down a room, though."

"Yeah, you must be amazing to cuddle in the summer, aren't you?" Your girlfriend teases you.

"Always," you therefore correct her statement, your chest swelling with pride. There is never a time when you are not amazing to cuddle.

All in all, this is turning out to be an amazing dinner and you haven't even started eating. However, once the food arrives- you are informed the burger will take a bit, but the fries, fried chicken and Melanie's fried shrimp are all there already, plus the extra large milkshake- you find yourself drawn deeper into her stories about what she has been up to while you were busy doing… stuff.

"…so it turned out there was something off about the gym depot, but I dealt with it on my own, I just took the haunted sports ball and fed it to the puddle. Nobody had any issues ever since that I heard of, aside from the usual people having sex in there and not cleaning up after themselves."

"Muh." It is fascinating to hear just how much shit goes down at a functioning school.

Makes me wonder about just what kinds of crap I dealt with back when I was unaware, Elena notes in the back of your head. It probably wasn't anything incredibly powerful or important if she even did, however, else she would most likely recall in retrospective.

Point.

"What else… Oh, right, I found these marbles, I can't show you here, but they just move by themselves to trip people up whenever they're scattered across the ground. I gathered them up after someone nearly broke a leg because they were near the stairs. I think people just thought it was natural for them to be there because they were magical," Melanie finishes, tapping a small bulge in a pocket on her jacket. "Anyway, how have you been? I figure now that you can talk normally you have lots to say, right?"

"Mmm." You stuff another piece of fried chicken into your mouth, happy that it's just crispy enough to satisfy your requirements for such. "Lots of monsters. Big bug nest I have to contain. Sewers came alive and ate a few people."

"Man, that has to suck. And, uh, mostly for the people that got eaten," she quietly says.

"Muh." You don't really care that much. "Very stinky. I showered lots."

"Yeah, I can imagine." Your girlfriend shivers in empathetic disgust. "You're smelling good again, though, or at least I didn't notice anything so far." She sniffs at your head for a moment. "Yup. Still nice."

"Jackie scent is the best," you nod decisively.

"That it is," she says in full seriousness before breaking out in snickers. What's so funny?

… Actually, you don't care that much. Oh, also, your burger arrives, so both of you thank the waitress, in your case by nodding politely.

"Feed me," you finally demand, your fingers growing tired of moving food from your plates to your mouth. You still have sooo many fries to go through and sooo little energy.

And you need your arms free to wrap them around your slender punk-y girlfriend's waist. That is also important.

"Jeez… Alright, alright, here, open your mouth…"

You are the happy.

However, you simple and quiet bliss can, obviously, not last forever; the world at large is simply not accepting of your happiness at any turn, always trying to throw a wrench into whatever small slice of contentment you can achieve.

And it has to be said that you do not appreciate wrenches in your contentment. Not at all.

It all began fairly innocuously- patrons entering the diner, just like any other person beneath your notice would. However, the trio of high school aged people soon showed a critical difference in behaviour compared to the usual mundane.

That is, they dare to interrupt your cuddles-and-feeding time.

"Oh, hiii, Melanie." The voice is unpleasant and obviously belongs to one of those girls in school that think they're good actors but they really, really aren't. "Didn't know you had a kid, congratulations, who's the father?"

Is this what Bubbles would be like if she was a karen?

"Ugh, Tiffany," your girlfriend says with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"I am grabbing a coffee on the way to the mall. How about you, socialization practice so your offspring won't end up like you?"

… The fuck is up with this girl? She is literally named Tiffany. Tiffany.

"Right, let me introduce you, Jackie, these are-"

No. You shall not brook this interruption silently. Stretching out a finger, you point at the three girls one after another. "Slutty. Bitchy. Tiffy."

"… Well, you're not wrong," Melanie says into the momentarily stunned silence. "These three are the wannabe queen bees at school, you know, cheerleaders, gossiping, the whole nine yards. They're really just annoying."

"Muh. Weirdos."

"Well I never!" Tiffany, having gotten over the shock of your absolute verbal beatdown, twists her face into this weird grimace. It may be a bad case of diarrhea. "She's just as rude as her teenage mother, isn't she?"

I think it's supposed to be her looking down on you, she's just bad at it.

"Ugh, look, I know you're in love with the idea already, but Jackie isn't my daughter. How would the ages even work out? Like, I'd have to have had her when I was around six or something."

You sigh, figuring you shall need to make something clear here. "Your name is Tiffany. Literally. Your entire life will be nothing but a series of disappointments to anyone around you until you graduate high school, get some crappy nine to five job and live out the rest of your days in misery because all your coworkers will secretly hate you and anything that comes out of your mouth and nobody would ever marry you if their life depended on it. No matter how much you try to hide your self-doubts, you suck at hiding them and everyone looks down on you for them because you deserve to be belittled at every turn. You should just go kill yourself and save everyone else the trouble."

Yeah, show 'em, daddy!

Phew. That's a lot of words. Now your throat is twinging again.

"Also, cheesecake for dessert." You deserve a treat after this valorous self-sacrificing act of talking.

Tiffany, for her part, is standing there stunned for a moment until the waitress comes by and she runs off glaring at her hangers-on. She should count herself lucky you aren't actually transformed right now, else you would have simply popped your cube and raped her.

"Wow, that's the first time I saw her go this red," Melanie states as she watches the three girls run off. "Good work Jackie."

"Muh." You open your mouth for more food. You demand to be fed.

Melanie continued to feed Jackie her treats, feeling once more her pint-sized girlfriend was kind of like a very big cat, up to and including hissing at people she didn't like. Just in better all around, including the big magical cock hiding inside her panties.

Jackie was just too cute. She deserved all the headpats in public.

And when not in public… She deserved the other kind of pats.

Anyway, back to business. Feeding another one of the fries into Jackie's cute little mouth, her lips closing up over Melanie's fingers, she enjoyed the look of utter contentment on the girl's face.

She was really easy to read, most of the time. Jackie looked, pouted, stomped her feet, fidgeted and even fiddled with her long, white hair when she was talking and engaged in the conversation, so as long as one could keep her interested, steering her was super doable. As long as it was something she at least kind of wanted to do anyway.

And of course in bed Jackie was moaning and quivering all the time. For someone that eager to drive a big hard penis into someone without stopping, she was surprisingly cute and girlish about it.

Gah. Melanie really had to stop getting lost in thought about sex- Jackie was finally back with her for an evening, she had to enjoy it thoroughly.

"Hey Jackie, want to tell me more about the cool things you did lately?" Melanie asked, looking around a bit. Their desk was pretty far into the diner and nobody could easily see what they were doing exactly, so… "And in exchange, I'll get you some of the cheesecake."

"Muh. Cheesecake," her little girlfriend muttered, crumbs scattered on her lips that somehow just made her cuter. Jackie never looked anything but her best, it had to be some magical kind of thing.

"And if you're really good, I'll do a little more than just feed you," she whispered, a hand sliding up under Jackie's simple dress and stroking over the flesh immediately rising to attention at her touch, hardening and pulsing under the constraining clothes covering it.

"Muh." Jackie's eyes grew glassy and distracted, her head eagerly nodding. Good.

They couldn't make a mess where they were, but Melanie could think of something.

You breathe a mighty, manly breath, keeping the bellowing of your mountainous chest confined as you lean into Melanie, opening your mouth wide.

One hand darts off to fork up another piece of cheesecake, the deliciously soft and soothing taste entering your mouth as you do your best to close it lest a single crumb escapes. Alas, your work is for naught, for your girlfriend's other hand is still stroking and wringing around your cock, feeling every inch and pulsing vein upon it as she glides over it, her thumb rubbing against the rim of your glans and causing white lightning of pleasure to tickle up your spine.

Licking her lips, Melanie rubs a finger across your mouth, wiping up crumbs of the chocolate-y cake base and leaving behind just a remembrance of your cock, as you know where those fingers just were and are destined to return. "Open up, Jackie," she whispers to you.

You shove the cake into the depths of your mouth, doing as she bids you to lick her fingers clean of both the crumbs (that you immediately reclaim for the nation of Jackienistan) and the taste of your portentous manhood.

It isn't bad, actually. Not something you particularly feel the need to inhale at all times, but hey, you kind of don't mind.

I can feel the cope all the way over here, daddy.

Daughters that are somehow masturbating inside their cerebral prisons should not throw stones out of their glass house. Besides, you are perfection incarnate, so naturally your smell and taste would be perfect, too!

"That's a good girl." You can't help but agree with Melanie there. You are, in one word, the best!

Jackie the Bestest, God-Empress Ascendant Eternal! It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Your girlfriend glances to the side briefly, leaning down to invade your mouth with a deep kiss. You happily suck in her tongue, but in a sudden realization, you remember you still have your cake in there, too!

"Guh!" You shall not give up your bounty without a fight! In an epic duel for the ages, your tongue goes to meet Melanie's, but her insistent two-handed handling of your massive erection has you distracted and shifting in your seat.

It is only through this insidious strategy that you are forced to give up some of the cake already inside your mouth. That is the only reason, however, and you still retain most of it for yourself, as is only proper!

One hand goes up again. "Here you go, Jackie… Another bite for you," your girlfriend announces, casually sticking a thumb into her mouth as she looks at you.

"Muh…" Is this heaven? Or is it merely you returning to your natural state of existence?

They had left the diner and hurried back home, or Melanie's home anyway, as soon as the cake was eaten and the bill paid, a taste of sweetness on Melanie's lips that she didn't only have dessert to thank for.

Jackie always tasted just like she wanted her to. Yet another score for the 'magic is bullshit' score Melanie kept in her continuing attempt to make sense of the small, so very interesting girl.

She barely had time to get through the door and announce to her parents that she was having Jackie over again before she proceeded to drag her girlfriend up the stairs and into her room by the dick. Its size and girth made it easy to do so without accidentally hurting her, too, a quietly panting Jackie eagerly skipping up the stairs with her.

Melanie wasn't really sure what she wanted to do with her future. No teenager did, she was pretty sure, and any and all people saying otherwise could go fuck right off. In this rapidly changing world, old securities people were taking for granted just didn't exist, the job market was in constant and rapid flux, yet there was no attempts at adjusting anything in any way- young people growing up were left to figure shit out for themselves, so they didn't owe anyone any statements as to 'what they wanted to be'.

In short, Melanie had no idea what to do whenever she finished high school. But maybe, if nothing got in the way, she could see herself staying around with Jackie. They'd have to figure out what to do together, but hey, Jackie was smart when she wanted to be and Melanie wasn't no slouch either, so they could come up with something, probably.

Or they could just live off of fighting monsters, like Jackie seemed to be doing. It wasn't really a safe kind of thing, but Jackie knew not to overdo it, right?

… Right?

"Okay Jackie, want to get to it?" Melanie asked, turning around and looking over her shoulder. "Want to fuck me hard and fast all night?"

"Muh! Muuh!" She seemed to agree, huh?

Cute.

"Alright, alright… But I want you to promise me something, okay?" She opened the buttons of her jeans, playing with the zipper as she slowly, carefully pushed it down.

Jackie panted, swallowing audibly. Melanie had always been worried she was too thin and skinny, but this was a great balm for those insecurities.

She slowly pushed her pants downwards from the waist, bending over just a little. "You have to promise you'll always come back to me, okay? No matter what, you have to stay safe and make sure you do."

She wiggled her butt a little, feeling her clothing edge down over her hips. Jackie was nodding rapidly. "Promise," she said breathlessly, her large penis standing out under her hands rubbing against it.

"You can take that out if you want," Melanie said, smirking happily. It was so nice to be able to just do that to someone.

Jackie was gasping and openly stroking herself with both hands, pale skin furiously masturbating equally pale flesh. It was almost grotesque to see the small girl handle her enormous cock that looked like it belonged to some inhuman hulking monster, but it definitely was perverse.

And Melanie couldn't help it, but it kind of did it for her.

She bit her lip as she bent over a little more, slowly pushing her pants down. A little bit of work and her butt was revealing itself, her little girlfriend drooling at the sight of the part of Melanie's body she just loved to stuff her cock into. Well, along with her mouth, but Melanie did enjoy the thought of taking her seed in both holes, so much of it it met in her middle.

Another one of those naughty and perverse little things she enjoyed about this relationship.

"Like what you see?" Melanie asked, earning hasty and eager nodding. She'd worn her black underwear, not for any real reason but just because she felt like it; it wasn't anything special, but it framed her hips well, she thought.

Two small hands landed on her cheeks as she bent down, deliberately taking longer to push her pants down her legs.

"I see how it is," she teased, rhythmically tensing her butt against the cold digit slowly growing warmer. It was either magic or poor blood circulation, but either way she'd make sure Jackie would warm up soon.

Well, Melanie came back up a bit, stretching her back as she touched her panties' waistband. She wiggled a little more, sliding them down, and she was not at all surprised when she felt the touch of air breath onto her right back there.

Then Jackie stretched out her tongue and licked along her folds, leaning in and resting her weight against Melanie in a way that had her shift her balance and spread her legs, letting the small tongue lap against and into her furiously.

"Ah, Jackie, ah!" Then the girl drew up, spreading Melanie's cheeks to dab her tongue against her butthole. "That place is dirty!"

"Muh." Jackie didn't seem to care, licking and slavering saliva over it, a finger soon replacing her tongue while it went back to burying itself inside Melanie's cunt. Her hands found the wall as she endured the assault from behind.

Melanie came before long, her teeth bit together fiercely and her head thrown up, tensing and trembling as she stood in place, her room the site of the orgasm brought on by the little girl she was committing some form of crime against, surely, then she slumped down, falling sideways onto her bed.

She breathed heavily, feeling her Jackie climb up after her and snuggle in. Contentedly, she slightly raised a leg, letting the white-haired girl get even closer and push a certain hard, throbbing part of her anatomy against Melanie's butt.

"Ungh," she groaned as it entered her, spreading her asshole wide open as Jackie moaned, whimpered and hugged her. It was just too cute, and her big fat dick too large.

"Come on, get it all inside," she demanded, feeling the rod slide into her body and make space for itself; already there was a small bulge in her belly, so she poked against it, feeling the trembling length she was lovingly taking. "That's a good girl, Jackie. That's a good, good girl."

"Mguh," the girl panted, clinging to Melanie.

They had all night to fuck, or at least until they were too tired. If only every day could be like that…

Melanie is a slender girl in general, you've once again noticed, playing with her delightful little breasts and sliding your hands over her smooth belly. She's still taller than you, of course, but only barely wider.

Both hands on her hips, you nuzzle against her back, savouring the pressure of her asshole around your knot. You'd finally worked it into her at some point throughout the night, so there was no way you aren't going to milk it for all it is worth.

As in, your dick. Inside Melanie's asshole.

That's when you feel a hand on your balls, slender fingers stroking and massaging your baby factories evenly and carefully. "G'mornin', Jackie," Melanie smiles backwards at you, slanted grin speaking of someone who had just as much fun as you did. "Already back at it? Or still?"

"Still," you say, clearing your throat and feeling a little cool water deep in it. Feels weird, but you'll cough it out later. "Sleep well?"

"I slept like I've got a log up my arse and it kept sawing in and out," she smiles, leaning and pushing back against you, rubbing your knot with her butt. It feels amazing. "A whole log. Wanna get up for breakfast?"

"… Muh. No." You feel just fine right where you are.

"I figured," Melanie chuckles.

Honestly, you could spend all day like this. Just feeling good and relaxing, the slowly building pressure a sign of how just how well you're doing; maybe you could even snuggle even more than you already are, or perhaps brush Melanie's hair absent-mindedly while you remain stuck within her?

Mglrlbl, Elena makes. Looks like she's slowly waking up, too.

Melanie's stomach grumbles. "Ugh, I don't think it's that filling even when you do come inside my ass," she wisecracks. "Should've brought some snacks or something."

Yes, a chocolate fountain would come in handy right now.

Her ministrations around your knot and balls intensify for a long moment, then she yawns and stretches, doing very interesting things with her body. And insides. "Ugh, for real though, I need to get something in me. Just not that way."

"Muh." You understand the need even as you disagree with it. Now if you ad the appropriate amount of servants to wait on you and your lover hand and foot…

Grasping and stretching again, Melanie begins the long and arduous process of pulling out, pulsing and clenching down around you to keep you from sliding back into her. You have a lot of cock to go through, however, and so you don't take long to come close to coming.

You reiterate, Melanie is a slender girl, lithe and slight in all the best ways, in your own humble opinion, and so when your flared tip clears her slender hips, it leaves a gaping, wide open arsehole that may as well be a work of art in all the aesthetic poignancy it expresses. This is a girl that took a giant cock a few numbers too large for her without issues and is now laying there, languidly moving in the sudden absence of something her body had grown oh so familiar with.

Ah, truly cruel are the gods to deny you one last shot inside this ass. It is cute and slim and yours, and right this moment there is nothing in this world that supersedes your desire to nut within it.

You desire this ass,

for it is great to fuck it,

such is the problem.

By this point, however, Melanie has moved onto all fours, padding around to face you with her butt stretched up high and her face nearing your crotch. "Breakfast time…"

Voracious lips wrap around your cock, one veiny snowflake ribbing at a time, and your faith in the good of the world is restored.

Melanie is a real great cock sucker, by the way. You feel the need to note this once again just because it seems relevant.

Breakfast with Melanie's parents is appropriately delightful as ever and they even feed you chocolate milk, which is a delicious breakfast drink consisting of milk mixed with some cacao-based additives and a bunch of sugar.

You like it. Even if less milk and more chocolate would have been just fine with you, too.

Nevertheless, you have a lot of work to do today once again, and so you shall have to bid the mundane world adieu… So as to return into the sacred seclusion of your mysterious-!

Daddy, it's too early in the morning for that, Elena's voice complains, echoing inside the back of your head. Can you save it for in two hours?

Oh, so that's how it is. Your greatness is only something to appreciate after ten in the morning, is it?

… Well, you can't disagree. Early mornings are a horrid abomination against all that is Jackie.

Still, you have to return home soon-ish before the portal closes to do a few things, then return for an errand as soon as evening comes around. You have a busy schedule today, oh yes you do!

So you go out the door as soon as Melanie does, secretly giving her a kiss on the cheek (you pull yourself up and her down by her hand to reach it) before you part ways.

You are an absolute chad, if you do say so yourself.

Daddy, please never do that again. I think I might cringe hard enough to spontaneously regain control over my body.

Muh.

"Muh." You have once again made great strides in the advancement of Jackiekind by years, nay, by decades, making discoveries hence thought impossible and leaving behind a still perfect, but less violently perfect version of yourself.

'Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack' the golems you created as your audience make, clapping their icy limbs in applause at your greatness. You bask in their adulation before you continue.

One discovery in particular, however, is not what you thought it would be. While you have found a way to put your mana into an object, depositing your thick magic juice inside of it through squinting at it really hard and tracing a simple rune pattern over its surface with your bare fingers, the problem lies in getting that mana out again, an impossibility you find yourself stumped at solving.

It would seem that once your mana is inside something else, it is not your mana anymore, instead becoming that object's mana. What's more, it quickly dissipates, as objects are obviously inferior to yourself.

One of your golems is taking notes, or at least pretending to. Good for it.

What you have found out through throwing your test objects against the walls in frustration, then, is that as long as the mana is still in them, they are harder to break and take some concerted effort on your side to destroy. It would seem you have discovered a way to increase the durability of objects by putting mana into them and, through sacrificing a lighter you found somewhere to the spirit of scientific inquiry, other things, too- its flame became stronger and larger when you tried lighting it while mana was inside of the object as a whole.

This is obviously fascinating. So immense is your greatness, you accidentally create entire new fields of study even when you get distracted, which is obviously the only way you did not manage to create a mana battery of some kind.

'Crack crack crack crack crack'.

Done with the rest of your plans for the majority of the day, you send your golems off to collect more of the spinies from your garden, readying them as ammunition to be thrown at Brian until…

Oh, there he comes, entering your workshop area that you established by claiming a couple rooms around the place where you usually work on runes with Brian's agreement. "Chuuh," he says, his tail swishing.

What were you doing again?

"Puchuh, Jackie, isn't there something you were planning on doing today?" He asks, coming closer to hop up onto your desk. "This city is in constant need of a protector after all, chuh."

"Muh," you make in disbelief. You do not buy that for a fraction of a second.

"Chuh, just go ahead and do some work, it's technically your job, puuh," the cat-like creature claims. You do not agree with that statement; your job is fulfilling your fate by becoming the most powerful being in existence. "There's been a change in policy, chuh, which means that you can go ahead and ignore that thing about not defeating too many monsters."

"Really?" You aren't exactly an expert, but that seems like kind of a big change to make to things all of a sudden.

"Chuuh, it's a minor thing in the grand scheme of things, just some of the usual adjustments to keep up with the changes to the mundane world. Just defeat more monsters, puchuh."

You shrug. Well, if Brian says so, you were planning on getting into that second secret lab you found anyway.

"That's the spirit, chuh!"

Naturally, as Brian is trying to tell you what to do, you are not letting him off on this, either; using him as a head covering, his innate science qualities combining with a lab coat you conjure and throw over your magical girl costume, you create an expert disguise that none shall see through any time soon.

"Chuh, I'd say this is stupid, but it could work, so I shall refrain until it ultimately fails."

"Muh. Just jealous." It cannot be helped. Brian simply cannot hope to rival your titanic intellect, so all that is left for him is to try and doubt the efficacy of your strategies.

It is a sad and lonely existence, to not agree with everything you say and want immediately.

Still, your disguise is in place, so all that remains is to infiltrate this lab and destroy whatever challenge is presented to you.

Finding the correct building once again is easy. Unfortunately, the back door leading inside is locked, so you fall back upon what you can only describe as an old habit, inconspicuously hiding around nearby until someone that doesn't look particularly alert comes through to open it up for you, then walk up to them and go along pretending you belong there and just arrived coincidentally.

So many people will just assume and go about their day. You taught me that, daddy.

And indeed, once you find a good bench near the parking lot with a view of the place, it doesn't take long for an overworked-looking man in simple business attire to come along, so you trail after him and just follow long ingrained motions.

He notices you of course, but just catches a look of your white coat and gives you a nod, his brain entirely elsewhere than the present and thus not considering your height (which, for the record, is immense enough to require you to duck as you pass through the door). "Hey there."

"Muh," you say, casually referencing the weather.

"Mm," he agrees. It seems you have found a common interest.

You walk with him for a short while before you part ways, veering off towards a different part of the building… But, as he seems rather distracted and exhausted still, you decide to lighten the load he bears by physically removing some of it.

That is, you covertly snag his wallet and ring key.

"Muh," you smugly grin upwards where you know Brian to lurk, holding both of your prizes up, his weight resting upon your head.

"Chuh," he says, voice filled with derision. "If only free will did not exist, that man would never have been that careless, chuuh."

With your new keys and a pass card you fish out of the wallet (along with a bit of money, just one, two-hundred dollars) in hand, it doesn't take you long to make your way down, seeking out the nearest set of stairs- your instinct is telling you the elevator is not the way, this time around. Soon enough, you are unlocking a door to the basement, noting some dust in the area. This place is not walked through or otherwise used frequently.

However, there are a few dusty footprints you can follow, which seems like your best bet right now. Carefully tracing them, you make your way through dark hallways whose lights spring to life at your presence, most likely through a movement sensor; you know the kind.

One by one you pass side doors leading into individual rooms, all ordered by their descriptors from A-1 to A-9, then B-1 and so on and so forth. Most likely there's a register somewhere as to what rooms contain what, but you simply keep on going, careful not to disturb too much dust and complicate your search.

Finally, you arrive at F-3, a bit of trying around with different keys letting you find the one that unlocks it. Just like that, you step in-

And find yourself looking at a large metal door that has replaced the wall in front of you, clearly placed there haphazardly and long after the rest of this place was built.

Well, that was easy so far.

The door is a large affair taking up the entire wall, sheer, shiny metal and looking very thick. Not yet willing to blast through the hard way, you instead approach, coming close enough to touch it.

Which you do. Repeatedly. There has to be some kind of mechanism to this thing, right?

Turns out there is, even if it takes you a moment to find it. Feeling around, you find a nigh invisible panel set into the side of the thing, blindly pressing something before you know it.

Something beeps twice, and the door opens. Well, that sure was easy!

"Chuh, being lucky is its own form of skill. Literally. Luck can be measured and proven to work, if somewhat fleeting in the mundane, puchuh."

Thank you, Brian, for the explanation nobody asked for.

Anyway, you proceed onward, down several stairs made of bare concrete much like everything else around you, you quickly find out. Step by step you descend into what looks like it might be an old bunker of some sort, some piping the only thing decorating the walls when you come all the way down into a room containing several bare openings that lead deeper inside.

Using your magical senses, you locate the largest accumulation of magic in the area, simply picking the one path that leads toward it the most directly. With any luck this place isn't a complete labyrinth and you can find your target reasonably easily.

"Chuh, looks like a World War Two bomb shelter. They're more common in Europe, though, puuh."

This would be a great place to stash bodies if we didn't have better options already.

Muh.

You pass through several rooms, some of them connected to others, some just empty or used for storage of miscellaneous objects; you recognize a bunch of the same containers you saw filled with magical fluids being delivered to this place.

Which means you're on the right track.

When you finally emerge to the right room, one of the bigger ones inside this moldy series of such, however, only just poking your head inside… You witness something remarkable.

As in, remarkably weird and strange and very much the kind of thing you'd associate with those rumours of the strange professor Melanie told you about.

"That's right darling, you're the smoothest and curviest there is. Your folds have folds, don't they? Because they look like they do."

That's right, a scientist guy with a British accent is lovingly patting a gelatinous cube's tentacle while being flirty with the brain floating inside of it, a sentiment likely returned by the half a dozen eyes focused on him if you've ever correctly interpreted a brain's body language.

What the fuck even.

As you watch with some apprehension, wondering how long it will take for this guy to lose his pants and fuck that brainslime and whether or not you even want to watch that, considering the whole 'it's a giant brain in a slime cube' thing, you realize that there's an odd feel in the back of your head, almost like a buzzing sound.

Luckily, you are genre aware and can equate a giant brain with some kind of psychic bullshit, so you quickly concentrate on thinking quiet thoughts.

Are you sure that's how it works, daddy?

Yes, duh. You have to think quiet thoughts to fool the big brain into missing your presence and-

"What is it, my dearest?" You glance around the corner again, seeing that a dozen of the eyes floating across the slime's surface are turned towards your direction.

Curses, you have been discovered!

Alright, it would seem you shall need to employ your backup plan. No, not the one where you jump out naked to distract your foes with your luscious, manly body so they don't react in time for your barrage of enhanced ice lances, the other one. The one where you use your silver tongue to manipulate them into doing your bidding.

If it can read your mind, wouldn't it know what you're planning?

That's the beauty of it, you're so persuasive nobody will care even if they know your plan. Besides, just looking at them… A brain-obsessed pervert and a shut-in brain slime don't look like they have any social competency to work with whatsoever.

Clearing your throat, you step out from your corner, having given up all appearances of stealth. Instead, you approach the scientist and his pet project openly, greeting them with the song of your people. "Muh."

Brian looks down at you, but doesn't say anything, just putting a paw on your forehead for a moment. Good Brian. He isn't getting in the way.

"Oh. Oh my. There aren't supposed to be any visitors down here," A slime tentacle nudges the science guy, making him gasp with an enlightened expression. "Ah, right, where are my manners? I am Doctor Mendez, lost little girl. What is your name?"

"Jackie," you go ahead ad bestow the knowledge on this hopeless little peon. You feel a little more buzzing, but you ignore it, for it is not important in comparison to what you want. "Whuzzat?"

A seamless combination of two operative words merged into a single one, therefore saving yourself one word every time you use it. Technically even two words, depending on whether one considers abbreviations separate words.

"Oh, let me introduce you to my darling. This is Project Epsilon Three, or PET for short. Say hello Pet!" One slime tentacle waves through the air. "Now unfortunately, I am afraid that this is a secret bunker I do not believe I invited anyone into, so I will have to remove your memory of ever coming here and bring you to the nearest police station so they can get you back to your parents, Jackie."

Brian snorts, his tail lazily waving through the air behind you. "As if that would stop her, chuh."

Damn right it wouldn't.

"Muh." You feel like you just missed out on the joke and you don't like that.

Meanwhile, the Mendez person blinks, looking at your mascot used to navigate scientific environments. "Oh dear…"

"Better idea," you point out with one finger directed directly at his face. "Behave and I don't blast."

At the same time, you deploy your incredible charismatic strategies number one through three- you flash him your guns, you push out some mana you don't need to drop the room's temperature noticeably and your hair begins to float up behind yourself.

You have no idea how you're even doing that last one, but you'll take it.

"Deal?" You ask, your hands lying on your pistols.

Several eye-strings move through the gelatinous looking slime, the two tentacles you know this thing to have poking at the scientist that, apparently, created Pet. One of them slides across the side of his head, poking into his ear and making him close his eyes as he relaxes immediately.

"Oh, sure, that will be quite fine. I am quite content as things are and see no need to seek out conflict with someone as obviously experienced as yourself," Mendez mumbles without the slightest bit of inflection.

You have no idea whether you're speaking to him or the brain in the room, but either way they have obviously understood the hierarchy of power in play here and are acting accordingly, so you shall give them a pass.

Seriously? They complimented you once, daddy.

"Chuh, how many living brains were used to create you? I know a chimeric fusion when I see one," Brian demands to know.

Well, it is a big brain.

"A few," Mendez evades, tentacle still sticking inside his head. "However, as there are no plans on any further research in this direction, you may rest assured that there will be no missing person cases related to this university."

"Muh," you make. "Lots of secret labs here."

"Chuh," Brian agrees.

Well, apparently this guy is a deranged scientist, but no matter how many people he apparently murdered by cracking open their skulls to use their still living brain in creating his pet slime brain girlfriend, he apparently isn't doing so anymore, so you shall go ahead and simply classify this as a clear case of 'not your damn problem anymore'.

It sure is nice when that happens. Means less work for you.

"Muh," you say aloud, nodding. As long as nobody gets murdered by anyone but yourself, you won't have any problems here, you reckon.

"Chuh, so much for meeting the quota, Jackie." Brian's advice is considered and promptly summarily ignored. You do not particularly care, there'll always be more monsters to hunt down and most of them won't be amenable to your diplomatic demeanour and personality.

"Oh yes, before I forget," Mendez says, jerkily stretching out an arm, "you may want to take some of the brain preservation juice stored over there. It is quite useful when handling brains."

"Chuuh, I am aware of the mixture. If you don't mind, dosing Jackie might make her smarter," your disloyal minion ponders aloud as though-

Brian's tail swishes along your neck. What were you think about again? Right, free loot. You'll take it. "Muh."

"That's the spirit, Jackie, chuh."

Mendez' ear canal is finally free from the green slime, the man rubbing it a little. "What were we talking about again?"

What a scatterbrain. Good thing his girlfriend is keeping him on track.

Carrying your newly-gained spoils in both hands, you leave the secret bunker through what you learn to be a secret tunnel that lead straight outside the university's campus, you make sure not to actually store it inside of your magical box yet; you may not be trying to kill this uneven pair, but you don't want to reveal anything you don't need to, either.

You also assume there's a bunch of cameras pointed at you as a matter of course, so you just keep on walking and ignore the occasional odd looks bystanders are giving you. It's a free country, you can openly carry industrial chemicals with you all you want.

Still, eventually you take a quick break, resting the container beside yourself. Actually, better idea, you summon an ice platform and roll it onto it, then get on yourself to just fly the rest of the way, having decided you've come far away enough you're probably not monitored anymore.

"Muh." That went pretty well, all said.

"Chuuh, you are aware I can't finagle this into a success on your part, are you?" Brian asks. Looking down at him, you consider whether to bother answering before, with a weary sigh, choosing a random rooftop to land on for a moment.

"They'll be useful down the line," you explain, taking it slow and careful so you don't hurt your throat more than necessary, as more rapid movement tends to aggravate it a lot more. "Narrative logic demands it. Muh."

"Puchuh, that excuse won't work forever. What if they're lying or become a problem instead?"

"Muh," you deadpan. "Know where they live." And that's all you really need to set up a kill.

There's the old daddy shining through again.

While you've been talking, however, it seems someone else is for once paying attention to you and what you're doing while you've fucking around this high up above the peons; that is, a cat.

It's a tabby, you think, or at least its fur is a deep brown and black. It comes walking up to you across the roof, looking at everything curiously and mewing up at you once.

You stretch out a hand on instinct. It rubs its cheek against your fingers.

It is warm.

"Chuh, here we go again," Brian whispers. If he had actual eyes, you imagine they would be rolling right now.

"Meow!" Coming a little closer, the cat sniffs at the brain juice container, putting a little paw onto it.

"… Muh."

You look at the cat. You look at the container filled with a small vat's worth of magical fluid. You look back at the cat.

"Chuuh, Jackie, that brain juice is meant for you," Brian warns you.

You carefully pick up the cat, which gives you an almost quizzical look. "Mrrow?"

"Your name will be Tabitha," you decide as you fiddle with the industrial container's opening mechanism.

"Chuh!"

"I will dunk you," you threaten. "Everyone will know you need to dope up then."

"Puuh, you cannot possibly believe such a childish threat will work on me!"

You pick Brian up with your other hand. "Try me."

It ends up being a sort of stalemated confrontation between you and Brian, but eventually you simply bull through his objections and feed a small, but steady stream of the green fluid stored inside of the thing making up your loot to Tabitha, the tabby lapping it up as eagerly like an Olivia starved for attention would lick up certain other things.

Still, it seems to be sated after drinking a few times its own body weight in brain juice, its little itty-bitty kitteh tongue poking out of its mouth as it rubs its head against your legs. You stretch a hand out to pat it, feeling its fluffy fur, though you get the distinct feeling it could be fluffier with some proper care.

You were always a cat person, daddy. Lots of strays that just went up to you and were all friendly.

"Mm. Cats are cute." Brian doesn't count because he's just pretending to be a cat.

"If you're quite done, chuh?" At the sound of his voice, Tabitha turns toward him, looking at him like she just realized something.

"Mueow." Then she darts off entirely, running away as quickly as she can.

"Muh. You frightened her off," you complain.

"Chuh, let's just get back home, your new pet will show up when it does."

You're mildly disappointed- you liked Tabitha, you wanted to pat her a bit more- but nevertheless, you do have to get a move on, so with a half-filled container's worth of brain juice, you get on the way.

Maybe you'll find her again if you look around this area again? You could maybe get some cat treats, perhaps Viridis will even enjoy some too.

You're so lost in thought considering these things that, when you near the portal to the Overcity and its almost violently oppressive silence, you take a moment to register the thud impacting your ice platform behind you.

"Meow."

That is adorable and you are so proud.

Elena looked at Erin, the new transfer student in turn looking around herself. She'd waited for this all day- she'd been transferred in two days ago, on Monday, and on Wednesday they had P.E. right before lunch break so nobody would be expecting anyone out of the changing room anytime soon.

Which was why she usually had her 'special fun' at this time. It was the only reason she really bothered to come to school at all, sometimes.

Erin was a little shorter than Elena, with long red hair and big tits. Not as big as she'd seen on the internet before (all praise the porn god), but way bigger than her own, which was what had had the black-haired girl itching to get her hands on the other girl so much.

She'd still have done this either way, but it was a matter of how much she wanted to.

They'd all been exhausting themselves in the gym, cute little bodies sweaty and tired (and there was another reason Elena bothered to come along), but she herself had judiciously told anyone that looked at her wrong to go suck it while waiting out the bell. Therefore still fresh, she approached the new student as she was taking off her sweaty clothes, confused at how the other girls weren't doing the same.

Elena had trained them well. Or at least the ones she liked, the rest just knew not to fuck with her.

She'd observed her target before making her plans, of course, just like how daddy had taught her. Erin was kind of weird in how she behaved, either reclusive or introverted or else actively assertive at times, but there was a pattern- anytime she thought she had to do something to fit in with everyone else, she meekly did as she should, most likely a part in how she was transferred in in the middle of the year.

There was probably some deeper reason for that, but Elena didn't care. All that mattered to her was that she could make the bustier girl do a she wanted.

"Hey, Erin, you should probably take off your underwear, too," she said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder over her long hair. "Right away. Wouldn't want to catch a cold."

"Huh? I'm gonna-" Erin was interrupted by the three stooges, Elena's favorite minions because she didn't have to remember their names and they still did as they were told.

"Yeah, right? Here!"

"Come on, let's get it over with."

"Just do your best, Eri-Eri."

They crowded around Erin and helped Elena get rid of her clothes before she even knew what was happening. "Don't worry, just think of this as a sort of ritual around here," she explained off-handedly. "And relax. Or don't, not like I really care that much."

"What do you mean? Elena, are y- ffffhh!" The busty girl sucked in a breath of air as Elena's hand sought out and found her pussy, going right for it. No point beating around the bush here. "Do you even know what you're doing?!"

"I'm doing the usual. Right girls?" She threw a look around the room to have everyone nod. No girl in class got around the Elena Treatment and she was damn proud of it. Some liked it, some didn't, but she could and would mark her territory and there was no around that. "And you look like you like it, too!"

It just took a few strokes and a single finger teasing around her clit for the red-haired little slut to get wet. Like she should, Elena was playing with her, after all.

"That's just biology- why are you all just standing there?" Erin asked. She'd have to learn better.

Stepping around her, Elena pushed at her back, making her bend over with a yelp. She licked her fingers, lubricating them real quick. "Everyone knows you don't interrupt me while I'm working."

Then she got right back to fingering the transfer student, her free hand lowering itself to just above her other one and pushing a single manicured finger against Erin's pucker. "You can't! That place is dirty!"

"Then that just means I have to punish you for not keeping it clean." Elena was not about to spare her punishment for breaking the rules just because the girl didn't know what those rules were. Not to mention she didn't care about the justifications, she just wanted to break her in.

Heck, Erin's name was too close to Elena's. That alone made it clear she needed to be disciplined and she couldn't wait. "Mhm," she made, gesturing towards her locker with her face.

The stooge closest to it rolled her eyes, but still went and opened it; she never locked it just to dare anyone to try and steal from her. "Your sword, your majesty," her minion mocked.

"Forsooth, I shalt have use of it," she answered just to make the point she could play that game way better. Elena stretched out her hand, leaving one where it was to play with Erin's butt.

"What are you- ugh!" Her victim tried to peek, but her head was pushed down by minion number two, the 'cheery' one.

"Just stay down and don't relax!" She instructed her. Then she looked at the looks she was given, including Elena's raised eyebrow. "What? It's called reverse psychology."

"You know what, fair," she shrugged. Then she looked at Erin's butt, spontaneously deciding she would be able to take it. "Now then, in my position as the Queen Bitch, I herewith appoint thee member of this court, with all accompanying privileges and duties. As defined by me. Pucker up, here goes Excalibur…"

"Wha-AAAAAAH!" She screamed as the massive golden dildo Elena kept on hand for playtime pressed against her ass, struggling to get up. "What's that, it's too big, it'll never fit!"

The 'sympathetic' chick (Elena knew how much she got off on this) stroked Erin's head, sitting down on the bench next to where the redhead was bent over it. "Don't worry, everyone's taken it at least once. Just try your best, okay? You can do it, even if it feels like you're gonna die because it's sooo big. Just get it over with."

And then the loyal one stepped in, crawling underneath where Elena was holding a struggling hip with one hand while the other slowly, slooowly forced her dildo in. She didn't say anything, just licked and kissed at the delicate entrance left unattended for a moment.

Erin was shaking and squealing and Elena loved it. This was what she was all about, about making cute girls submit, subjecting them to pain and embarrassment and pleasure, forcing herself on them while a whole class just looked on, grinning or waiting and uncaring or powerless to do anything because they knew they were up next if they interfered.

Slowly, one tenth of an inch at a time, Elena pushed Excalibur deeper, leaning over the bent over girl. "You like this, don't you?" She whispered, stretching one finger to slide around the asshole currently being stretched wide open. "You're a dirty little slut that gets off on being raped in front of everyone. Look at yourself."

"N-no, you're wrogg, I-"

With a sharp twist, Elena cut her off, her golden tool inflicting more sensation than Erin could take. "You're totally like that. Want me to prove it? Just take these. These little titties are just asking to be played with."

She grabbed a boob, forceful, she wasn't playing around, she was making a claim. Roughly tugging on the nipple, she kept on forcing her rod inside the beautiful transfer student, imagining how it would feel like to be her daddy and raping her ass with a live cock.

She still had to take it slow, as slow as she could, but even as Erin was gagging, she wasn't causing any internal tearing; that was the trick to it, she thought. Through extremely slow penetration, the muscles were forced to stretch and accommodate the intruder while minimizing the risks of ripping anything open. It was its own kind of sexy, to fuck someone's ass bloody, but that would require a trip to the hospital and there were only so many teachers she could shift the blame on.

But she could satisfy herself like this just fine, too. Elena bit into Erin's earlobe, growling at her. "Just remember this one thing forever," she ordered her new subject. "You're my bitch. Now and forever."

Erin twitched, eyes wide open and pupil dilating. Everyone watched on as Elena made it clear who the queen bitch was and why nobody fucked with her or got any boyfriends to be dragged off an Excalibur'd, too, unless they wanted that to happen.

It was good to be the Elena. And if she managed to fit her whole arm-length dildo soon, she might even still have time for lunch. Maybe she'd even let Erin sit with her.

"I think I might have found clues. There was something weird with the girls in class."

"Chichi, good. We have finally picked up its trail. It will be possessing someone, chi, do you have any suspicions yet?"

"… It's too early to tell." She repressed a blush and the need to wiggle her butt. "A little more time should hopefully be all I need."

"Chi, I will recall the rest of the team for the moment and have them scout the school while you infiltrate it."

"Okay. Having some backup just in case will be great."

Of course the investigation came up short when, mere days later, one of the teachers disappeared. They looked into it, but couldn't find any clues, still making that one the most likely host.

Elena seemed to have something to do with it, but no matter how much 'Eris' ingratiated herself with her, she couldn't get her to spill anything and after the dangerous girl's father confronted one of the magical girls keeping an eye on her, they decided to pull out entirely, the trail gone cold.

It's been a little while since you've been inside the hyper-futuristic Overcity city hub containing the many shops and services you are too maddeningly poor (in coin, not in spirit, might or regality) to make full use of, but according to Brian there should be a part of it that caters more readily to the needs of lesser individuals you may temporarily lower yourself towards patronizing if you felt in the mood to do so.

So you make the journey once again, seeking out a cheap way to access information on the sly. Preferably for free, but you shall make do with what you can get. A couple bullets is an acceptable price.

The most likely naturally grown city, much as that is very weird to say when it's some cyberpunk kind of thing, stretches far and wide and you quickly figure out the trick to orientating yourself.

Just look for anything that's physically under another structure, that's usually where the slums are daddy.

That's right, you have your own genre compass built-in. Nothing can stop you now.

Still, following Elena's suggestions, you soon find yourself walking around underground passageways reconfigured into shopping areas, the oppressive thrum of cheap lighting making it clear you're at the right address. That and the few passerby you spy are distinctly human-looking, which you consider an obvious sign of weakness.

This is a whole town full of powerful beings and these ones are looking like humans? In this place? They're obviously weaksauce.

It doesn't help how they're moving. Slinking from one shadow to the next, eyes on a swivel and keeping a careful distance from you and your obvious superiority. 'Tis only natural, the weak fear the strong on an instinctual level.

You keep a lookout as you go along, peering around searching for the one thing you're after right now. You don't need secondhand military hardware, that shop sells some kind of grilled crab rolls… This whole place is hardly any better than a mundane city, for yourself's sake!

To be fair, it is a level-appropriate area, Elena argues. Can't expect too much crazy cool stuff.

Not that what she's saying holds any weight whatsoever.

Oh, I just kinda like the aesthetic. Could be a worse activity hub.

Meh.

Anyway, walking past a few more nondescript holes inside walls filled with shopkeepers that are barely better than squatters (technically, so is everyone inside the Overcity), you eventually come upon someone standing inside a dark alley that has Elena point him out as a likely suspect, so you come closer, eyeing him.

He looks like he might be an old nazi or something that fucks babies for a living, but if he can do what you need, you shall overlook the inherent ugliness of his presence. "Muh," you greet him as you walk a few steps inside 'his' side alley.

"Oh my, might you be a customer?" He asks, his voice almost slimy as he looks you up and down, lips quirked into a permanent impudent smile. "Bit short, but I s'pose girls like you just come at that size, heh. What can-"

You point a gun at his face. "Would look better if I pulled the trigger," you remark.

Rule number one when dealing with shady individuals like this, make it clear where you stand. You could and would kill him in a heartbeat if it got you what you wanted and he needs to know, else he simply won't take you seriously and you'll take forever to get anywhere.

"Heh, heheheh." See, he's laughing with you! You're already friends!

"Muh," you repeat just to make sure he's still paying attention, calling up a little of your mana to summon a golem body for Elena. "This is Elena. Give easy targets. Capiche?"

The icy humanoid waves at the old dude.

"I believe that can be arranged, yes," he scrambles, glancing between you, your gun in his face and Elena. "Rest assured this old-timer knows his way around, heheh."

Hm, it might just be a nervous habit of his to laugh like that.

"Good. Behave and get a cut, fuck up and get capped."

And that's pretty much it for your budget of fucks to give for the day. Though you are a little hungry… Time to visit the catgirl trio and ask them if they want more sperm donations, you suppose.

Coming back out of the alley with a satisfied smile, you make your way toward-

Wrong direction, daddy.

Towards the place containing the best food you have eaten in your life. With any luck they won't mind feeding you a few leftovers on the side.

Kat's Kitten Cafe is as hospitable as ever, even if it doesn't offer you unlimited catgirl blowjobs anymore, the proprietors instead opting to make use of a milking machine attached to your penis while you eat a few leftovers they do, indeed, feed you.

Turns out your cum has been more popular than you would have expected and they want to make sure they keep a stockpile. That said, Mimi still does come by to cuddle you on occasion despite how busy they are serving massive amounts of very powerful and rich guests.

You are not at all envious. Still, the food's really good, so you don't mind it and just enjoy it when she feels you up all over, fingering your delicate folds 'for good luck'.

You're basically hanging onto her, daddy.

Anyway, once your business is concluded and you have eaten your first meal involving bread, noodles, potatoes, rice or meat in weeks, you go and make your excuses to leave, your balls feeling refreshingly empty and your prostrate itching after you produced several dozens of liters of sperm. Your mission thus accomplished, you get right back home, having noticed you'll have to move a little quickly if you want to finish the next object on your docket in time before your portal closes for the night like the inconsiderate phenomenon of natural magic it is.

"Chuh, are you out on official business, puuh?"

"Muh," you confirm Brian's suspicions. "Scouting out the spooky farm."

"Very well, chuh. I believe I shall be-" Hopping up onto your shoulder, Brian makes his way atop your head-

"Mreow!" Tabitha bowls him out of the way from nowhere, smacking him to the ground to instead carefully balance herself on your head.

"This is why interns are a chuuuuh…"

You are very proud of your kitty. She is doing very well.

In the end, you have to accept the realities of your situation. Your head is small right now, shrunken down to concentrate your enormous brain into a smaller area and reduce the amount of space your most vulnerable spot takes up, consequentially only offering enough space for a single cat or cat-adjacent being to sit or stand on.

Wow, that's a lot of words to avoid calling my head small.

Hence you are holding Tabitha in your arms while having Brian, the more experienced rider, take up position up there, keeping her happy and occupied by scratching her itty bitty kitty chin. "Mrrrrr…"

"… Chuuh, what if this form is the reason i approached in the first place? It shouldn't be, but…"

"Nuh," you deny. Brian is not a cat. "You are not a cat."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, chuh."

You are currently flying long on your magical platform, the typical method of transportation for truly cosmopolitan, modern magical girls that do not let themselves be reduced to crawling through the mud or jumping around like apes.

Those would just be, dunno, teleporting around or be driven by their servants.

Note to self, have your golems steal cars and drive you around for long-distance travel like this in the future. The veil will take care of any problems that might arise from doing so in broad daylight.

"Chuuh, keep in mind the police may be connected to braindead organizations that thought the invention of electricity involved overchuheight old men fighting Zeus," Brian warns from above. Tabitha stirs, but you shift your grip to carefully scratch and stroke her tummy to keep her still.

"Muh. Half his money is mine." You have not forgotten.

Anyway, the travel isn't too long, the speed at which you are moving easily keeping up with that of a car. You do end up conjuring a second, slanted platform up front to catch any bugs that might otherwise impact you- the kitty in your arms licks your face clean of those, but she can and does lick your face otherwise, too, so that's no reason to let yourself be assaulted by SUDDENLY, BUGS, UAAARGH!

No, you are not salty about it. Not at all.

"Chuh, any plans on your plan so far?" You look up, vaguely. "Will you just go in and search the farm in question or perhaps talk to the neighboring country hicks first, puchuh?"

That is a good question. Will you be able to understand the language of these inbred country people?

… I feel like this is my fault, somehow. But hey, real cities are better anyway.

You were worried, at first, that you might not find the correct piece of farmland one particular family has shit on for three generations and considered its property ever since the founding of Christianity, what with the way every bit of land looks the same to your eyes as you get further and further away from Generica, the nearest bit of actual civilization to be found (despite being filled to the brim with bugs itself), but luckily it seems the issue, this time, is quite obvious.

"Brian, Tabby," you call for the attention of your passengers. "Trees."

It is, it seems, a complete shift from one step below you to the next. On one side of the border, you have normal greenery, forested area filled with plants that are photosynthesizing and profiting off of the sun's radiation without paying so much as a single copper coin for the materials they are harvesting from its rays. On the other side, the ground becomes clearly visible beneath skeletal, dead trees, blackened with whatever the issue here is, the earth a grey-ish, lifeless color.

Even the very sky seems different. The sun is still up, if a bit far down the horizon, evening having begun already but more than enough brightness to see by is still all around you. However, when you move forward just a bit, above the deadened forest, it is suddenly extremely dark, a foreboding atmosphere making itself known.

The change is instant and seemingly innocuous in the moment, but as you keep floating back and forth it is glaringly obvious. Light, dark, light, dark, good, bad, good, bad.

"Meouw." You scratch Tabby's neck. It calms her right down again.

"Chuuh, this seems like a curse of some sort has spread over this place. Take notes Jackie, chuh, this is what can happen when a deep grudge takes hold of enough power, like with that fogrunner you had to clean up after."

"Muh." You are entirely unmotivated to proceed further, but that is surely the effect of this dreadful magic.

You're just lazy again, daddy. Go! Go or I'll go get my whip!

Your head is a whip-free zone.

Back to that cursed farmland. The trees grow thinner and their crowns more twisted as you look deeper towards it, which makes the direction it is pumped full of Evil Juice from incredibly obvious.

"Chuh, there's no Evil Juice here, sadly. I would know, puchuh."

Yep, he'd know.

"Meow!"

Why would everyone know except you?! This is unfair, they're all keeping secrets from you! "Muh." You are now pouting.

Anyway, as you keep going, there's more and more moss covering the ground, the magical background radiation when viewed through your magical senses growing darker and darker- as in, literally, the magic is very dark to your eyes- and you make it a point to regularly check for any of it that might be sticking to Tabitha. It would be horrible if she got dirty with this stuff.

Finally, a dense mist appears, covering your surroundings. It's not too bad, you can see what is going on still, but anything off in the distance is growing hazy and hard to make out.

"Chuh, someone really impressed their emotions upon the surroundings, puuh. It's not dangerous."

Good, you were already worrying about another fogrunner making an appearance.

However, when you finally find a sign of life (the trees are very much dead and the moss is probably evil undead moss, too), it is Tabitha who notices first, squirming in your grasp. Letting her hop onto her legs, as you are sitting at the moment, you watch as your brave little kitty stretches out a paw. "Mrw."

You look at what she's pointing at. And yes, that may or may not be an issue. On the bright side, you have found a building! On the less bright side, it is guarded.

Twice a grown man's height and ten times as ugly. You wonder what amounts of horrible incest over successive generations combined with weird forest village 'traditions' would create such an abominable being.

Dunno, looks like a normal farmer to me.

"Chuuh, this place is guarded," Brian expresses the obvious. Like usual. "The rest of the estate will stay at a constant distance from us until we overcome the monster in our way, chuh. Time and space are warped here chuhow. The annoying kind, too, puuh, circumventing it would be more bothersome than a fight."

Well, you suppose you shall leave Elena to have a talk with this 'normal farmer' in your stead. Not with words, of course, that would be silly, but the language of violence is universally understood by all manner of country folk.

Now we're talking my damn language indeed.

You exert some considerable amount of your power to create your loyal minions, using around half your total mana for a round ten golems. One of them shakes and twitches uncontrollably, its body taken over by its master to serve a greater purpose.

Elena, now in command, cows the other golems into submission by gesturing wildly, making them spread out as they slowly approach the stitched-together monstrosity barring your path. It notices them quickly, leaking some dark red substance out of several parts of its body, and makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a rumble as it moves to intercept the encirclement.

In response, your lowly footsoldiers speed up, meeting their foes' accelerating charge midway through. Like a wave throwing itself against a rock, they come closer and closer, cold, dead arms forming into enormous spikes and sharp swords as they go.

Then they impact, literally throwing themselves at their enemy, their arms thrusting into the enormous creature. It is tough and absorbs the impact, folded pieces of it rippling around and pierced by the golems' natural weapons.

In response, the undead (you assume) rams the giant hook in its one intact arm into and through one icy torso, its relative bluntness lost on it, and uses the weapon to swing the casualty in the making around, blowing away two of its companions and shattering it to pieces.

Its raw physical force is what makes it a dangerous combatant, it seems. A troublesome opponent, but although one golem has been bisected and two are sporting some large cracks all over their bodies, the rest are still going strong, more than motivated to keep up the pressure.

Like a pack of wolves the criminal constructs circle their larger prey, feinting attacks and only going in when the one-armed humanoid attacks another one. The long chain allows it to attack at range, swinging its bulky hooked hook (which is a very funny thing to say) against the animated ice opposing it and catching out limbs and chunks of their hide only to tear them right out, but although they take some significant damage, sometimes enough to whittle them down to their complete destruction, they take their toll on the creature just as well.

Blunt force is almost completely useless and the pieces of metal serving as the monster's armor deflect more blows than you are comfortable with, but even so sharpened fingers and arms find their marks, impaling strikes leaving holes and missing chunks in its massive body. And the blood splattering all over the ground stinks incredibly; although you have already backed up a good way, wary of the monster's deceptive reach, but even so you find yourself wishing you had your room freshener on hand.

You mean Olivia, of course.

In the end, it is a simple matter of endurance. Which will give out first, the amalgamation of flesh and sheer malevolence or your tricky golems trying to disable its joints and force it to the ground?

It is close, but ultimately numbers carry the day. Surrounded and constantly attacked from all sides, the fleshy monster takes a massive strike to a knee, two golems' arms ramming into it at the same time, and it is down one leg, even if it takes down one of the street thugs as it goes.

The rest pounce on the vulnerability, reduced to only half their number in total but still quite hungry for destruction. The beatdown is a long, bloody slog, but finally they dismantle the still struggling monster piece by piece, the thing just refusing to die to anything less.

In the end, Elena holds the still living head aloft, teeth gnashing angrily, and you applaud happily. This was an entertaining spectacle indeed.

You are in the middle of making Tabitha stay still long enough you can hold up her warm little kitty paws to wave with- she is more interested in rubbing her face against your cheek, which you gladly allow for it is very cute- when all of a sudden, you are interrupted in your victory celebrations by howling coming from the building off in the distance.

"Chuh, the guardian's gone, but that just means whatever is inside will be a bigger problem," Brian speaks up. You'd nearly forgotten him for how useless he is in a fight. "It would likely be a good idea to retreat and procure some tools to combat this particular threat, chuuh, grudges like this are notoriously susceptible to some tools of the trade."

You can see something moving around through several windows, wild tangles of limbs making their way down to the building's ground floor. "How necessary?"

"Puchuh, it would make your life a lot easier. At least get a blessed crucifix or some comparable symbol of faith."

"Muh," you shrug. Whatever works, really, it's not like you have to be the one to believe in some inferior god compared to your own glorious self.

Still, it would not do to just let this crap spread out unopposed once again, so you shall leave behind a guard of sorts. It will mean you will need to stay largely transformed for however long they last, but you are sure Elena won't mind being a little more active.

I'm getting pumped over here. Can I have a full twenty?

You'll conjure fifteen golems before leaving. You're cutting into your mana reserves a lot over here, sustaining a moving ice construct indefinitely is no small feat of power.

In the meantime, however, you simply turn your ice platform around and head right back, the guardian of this realm removed and its protections cracked wide open. Once you have the munitions you shall need, war will return to this wretched hive of scum and villainy and you will instate the Order of the Jackie with fire and stee-

With ice and steel. Yes. That one was on you.

"Chuuh, while we are still here, let me explain why you may need further implements for this particular problem," Brian says as soon as you have zoomed your way out of the zone of corrupted magic. "You remember how emotions, when combined with magic, can be a potent source of power, chuh?"

"Blueball energy," you nod. The concept is known to you. A grown man ranted about it at length and challenged you to a pokemon battle about it.

"Just like that, puchuuh. Many types of emotion can be harnessed like that and monsters can be sensitive to ambient long-term concentrations in the environment, chuuh, but that is beside the point. In this case, some deep-seated grudge has seeped into the farm property we just saw and combined with enough magic working as a catalyst to transform the entire area, chuh."

"Muh," you nod along.

"Mew," Tabitha does the same. Good kitty. Gooood kitty. You pull her into your arms to rub her belly.

"The ambient magic has thus been affected as well and will continually corrupt any beings that spend too much time within it, chuuh. A magical girl of the specializations corresponding to light, reinforcement or fire could burn out the corruption, chuh, but we shall have to utilize alternate means to progress without unnecessary risk. Puuh."

"Holy water?" You suggest. You could probably just splatter a bunch of it over yourself or something.

"Blessed water is sufficient to use as a weapon against beings that spread corruption, chuh, like putting out a fire, but it is rather lacking in terms of defensive application, puchuh. A piece of blessed silver should mitigate most of the hazard extended exposure represents however, chuh."

You nod along, moving Brian with your head as he is still standing upon it. He doesn't move an inch relative to your skull.

"This opportunity may also be a good chance to enhance your arsenal in this regard in general, chuh. Ideally, bullets made of a melted-down silver crucifix and filled with pure salt are the amateur demon hunter's preferred approach to these kinds of things, puh, but having your bullets blessed or dunking them in holy water would work, too."

"… How necessary?" That's kind of important. You don't want to put too fine a point on it, but your magic is vastly superior to any faith anyone could ever conjure within themselves- they merely believe in some indeterminate power at best but mostly just what amounts to an imaginary invisible friend, whereas you know you shall one day be the God-Empress of Mankind and Beyond.

The difference is like night and day.

"Chuh, even in that case, get something to protect yourself at least. Cleansing extensive corruption is difficult and time-consuming," Brain says, putting his foot down. Literally. Tabitha stirs, discontent with him on your head still, but at the end of the day, Brian being up there means you can move unimpeded for he is expendable in the eventuality of being shaken off where she decidedly is not.

You pat her on the head, making Tabitha yawn and settle down again. Such a good little kitty.

Olivia was just eating a snack and finishing her homework, trying not to think about… Well, many things, she thoughts, pulling a hand away from her belly as she tried to focus.

Focus… On math homework. It was a sign of how badly she needed a distraction that she was driven to this point.

She sighed, drawing a hand through her green hair and looking at its tips. She'd need to get it cut again at some point, but magical girl life didn't really leave much time for things like that. She was either at school, with the other members of her team or just… sleeping or eating. The important things.

Or being browbeat by Jackie, but who wasn't?

Then again, it also wasn't like she had many friends outside of the team to spend time with. Or any hobbies. After-

No. Olivia wasn't going to think about that, either. 'Choked to death on a black pretzel'? Really?

Groaning, Olivia shook her head. This was getting her nowhere. Maybe she should-

The door to her room opened explosively, admitting Jackie inside. "Muh. Sleepover time."

Blinking, Olivia stared at her blankly. "Again?"

"Mm," the smaller girl nodded. "Parental permission, too."

Her parents really shouldn't agree to everything Jackie wanted, it wasn't fair.

Your powers truly are the most amazing thing in the world. After all, not only can you conjure and empower ice to do your bidding, making you an almighty presence by sheer virtue of your simplest of abilities alone, you can also create whatever clothes or clothing-related articles you may wish for from nothing at your leisure!

Sure, they only last for a limited time unless you're wearing them, but you still won't ever understand what some women have about going shopping two thirds of their time. You can just snap your fingers and get whatever you want.

Not that you enjoy dressing yourself up. At all. If anything, you usually just wear your magical girl costume or various pajamas.

Anyway, the reason you must once again lay praise upon yourself for your immensely valuable powers is that you can create anything that's even just 'kind of' clothing. Such as the full shibari rope you have put around Olivia, threatening to freeze and steal her nose if she doesn't comply, along with the black blindfold with a picture of yourself on it and a second rope to tie around her hands.

And yes, Olivia isn't allowed to look at anything but yourself. That's just how the world works.

Anyway, it doesn't take too long to ferry the girl in bondage back to your home, where you once again untie her and let her in. "Come."

You have to introduce her to someone, after all.

"Jackie, stop, not so fast!" Olivia yells as she hops on one leg, dragged by one hand by yourself. "What's the big hurry?!"

You are soon inside the living room where, sitting upon your couch, you can show the green-haired girl what the big hurry is. "Look. Tabitha."

"Meow," your cat greets your kind of slow doggie.

"That's… Jackie, did you get a cat?"

"Mew."

"And did it just nod at me?!"

"Muh."

"Don't you muh me!"

"Muh!" She really is a very dumb doggie. "This is Olivia. Be patient with her," you ask Tabitha.

"Mrrrw."

Apparently, Jackie expected Olivia to be… playing with her cat? That was probably not why she had pulled her here again, but she'd just left the two of them alone and the green-haired girl wasn't about to stumble into any murder basements by accident, so she stayed put and looked at the cat.

The cat looked at her.

At great length, they came to an agreement. Olivia would sit on the couch and the cat, a tabby with very soft and fluffy fur, would lie down against her, establishing an amount of body contact neither of them found objectionable.

It was still weird to talk this out with a cat, but Tabitha was actually a very good listener.

It was then that Olivia realized something. Jackie had a strangely powerful cat monster in her garden, her Puchuu was in the form of a cat and now she'd even adopted an intelligent cat. Could it be that…

That Jackie was a crazy magical cat lady? In miniature? It would explain so much!

However, before she could play with that piece of the puzzle of the fascinating series of astonishing strangeness that was Jackie, the girl in question returned, white hair swaying in its usual long braids. How Jackie kept her hair so perfect and sitting just right Olivia would never find out. It wasn't fair in general; Jackie was always, always looking way too perfect, even in the middle of doing unspeakable things to Olivia's butt.

Her skin was the soft white of fresh snow, her eyes a dark, ruby-like red, limbs slender and graceful even when she wasn't paying attention to them at all. And she was just so cute!

… When she wasn't opening her mouth, anyway. Or doing anything.

Being forcefully brought out to the forest surrounding Jackie's house again, Olivia needed a few moments to figure out what she was seeing. "Wait a- are you giving birth?!"

"I am," came the strangely even and sensuous voice of the plant-like cat monster, lying on the ground with her legs splayed out. Olivia could see everything! "I believe my little stud brought you out to witness it."

"Muh," Jackie nodded. Like she always did.

Olivia was stunned. "This is bad, isn't it? We need to… We need an ambulance, she needs to go to the hospital…"

"Nuh." This time Jackie shook her head.

Unsure what to do, but unwilling to go against the shorter girl, Olivia watched as the monster, Viridis, continued breathing deeply, her legs tensing every now and then in short contractions. All throughout this time, the smile on her face never wavered, even as she began to breathe and even moan louder and louder, finally screaming out as her parted vagina pressed the head of something out, her baby being born before Olivia's eyes.

It was pleasure, the magical girl realized. The woman with the big belly was having an orgasm as she gave birth to a baby.

"Muhmuh," Jackie made, coming closer to help the monstergirl. It all went… surprisingly fast, once the child was coming, and before long Viridis was sighing in a softer pleasure, feeding her child at her breast.

The sight made Olivia tingle. Was that how- How did that- Would she-

Was this why Jackie had called her? To show her being a mother wasn't that scary?

"Mmm." And the girl in question was already pulling her skirt up, showcasing her erect penis as the monster was still lying there. Viridis pulled her down, giving her a kiss on the cheek as the girl wordlessly entered where a new life had just left from, filling the womanly cat thing up once again.

She felt like an intruder, but even so Olivia couldn't stop watching.

Normally, you would be stumped as to how to go about sourcing a genuine silver cross, seeing as you're neither a nutjob nor a catholic priest that would know about this stuff. And while you could just hit your close friend, the insane serial rapist priest, up for something like that, you quite doubt he would have a cross made of silver just lying around as opposed to, y'know, normal crosses.

And you want the genuine article. No off-brand second-hand crosses for you, no, you're getting the faith deluxe version with free delivery if you have anything to say about it.

So you go ahead and rifle through the miscellaneous loot you have acquired thus far first thing in the morning- not because you love the feeling of rooting through your treasures, although you certainly do, but because you will need some silver to begin with. Unfortunately, you aren't exactly swimming in either silver or jewelry, the result of a certain lack of looting on your underlings' part thus far.

They really are universally unreliable, aren't they? Feckless little thugs they are. Hopefully, Elena will be able to whip them into shape from here on out while you send her and a dozen golem subordinates of hers out to filch yourself some valuables to use for this project.

Leave it to me! I always thought organized crime works better for us anyway.

Alas, organized criminality makes it a mere matter of time until one is apprehended, presuming they are not completely immune to the consequences of their own actions. Such as politicians, for example, or magical beings above a certain level of power.

You are one of those two and you have certainly not picked up a penchant for scandals nor lying to the public in a bid for greater personal power. No, if you want society to run on your terms, you shall be stating them plainly and simply and daring them all to say anything about it.

Empress Jackie the Fantastical and Greatly Climate Controlled I. does not hide behind false pretenses nor does she make fake promises. What you see is what you get, whether you like it or not.

Anyway, you proceed to spend your day productively once your daughter and her little gang of good-for-nothings are off, regular updates on her progress indicating one robbed jewelry store, a dead cop and a bunch of traumatized children by the time she returns, having made use of the portals near your house to move around and evade pursuit with some clever timing and use of a wig.

Never change, Elena.

Now in possession of enough silver for your purposes, you go ahead and bother Brian about it, casually wiping a few pieces clean of blood before you descend into the bowels of the laboratory and the workshops under your house.

"Chuuh, I suppose we should be able to…"

"How do you melt silver without damaging it?"

"Chuh…"

A bit of experimentation on your part and much rejoicing about your entirely passive ability to retain a pleasantly cool body temperature even under the most extreme of circumstances later, you have a roughly properly-shaped and quite sizable silver cross made through constructing a frame of silver filled out with the rest of the material you had, on which you then put a few finishing touches.

Nothing much, just a little smoothing out the edges and polishing. It's quite fetching, if you do say so yourself-

Of course you then proceed to carve very many, very small runic engravings into the softer, less defined stuff you kept for the insides of the thing, mostly just patterns meant to affirm the thing's significance in terms of magic and help spread its influence as far as possible without wasting additional magical ingredients- which may interfere with the blessing you're going to get put on it.

Or not. You can't be sure, but it's better to play it safe- it was enough of a pain to get this thing made you don't want to risk it.

"Chuh, not sure how being made of stolen jewelry will affect the end product, puuh. Normally, you'd sanctifiy the silver first, then-"

"It is mine. Taken as tribute from those lesser than myself. Muh. A sacred act of obeisance owed."

"Puchuh, that might actually work."

It's nice to be talking in longer sentences again every now and then. When you feel like it.

Getting to the church, once evening falls and your portal allows you passage? Easy.

Finding the priest you usually consult for crap like this on account of his sheer, simple, boneheaded blind faith into the existence of a higher power of some kind combined with his own latent magical abilities? Also easy. You just need to look around, he isn't really as subtle as he probably should try to be.

Honestly, as one serial killer to the next, if it isn't the gardener nor the mysterious British dude, you would always suspect the nearest priest of a murder first. There's just something about the profession that makes it supremely attractive for either pedophiles or murderers, so if no little Timmys or Betsys living nearby are walking weird, that just leaves the one other possibility for why this one guy wears black all the time.

Religious people are inherently untrustworthy, is all you're saying.

Still, not all is well once you arrive, the superficially glib man you came to seek out for once not completely happy to bend to your whims like a good minion. "Ah, greetings, little messenger of the heavens. What can this humble priest do for you this evening?"

"Faith," you demand what you came for. "Need to consecrate this."

Pulling the heavy silver cross out from under your clothes not unlike an arms dealer would show off his own irons, you let the priestly man look it over for a moment before letting it disappear again.

"I see, I see… Say, would you terribly mind accompanying me a little? There is a certain something that may aid in this mission and I would be loathe to leave you anything but satisfied."

Your mistrust wars with your desire to get the bestest possible blessings out of this man you possibly can. Then you wave it off, for you are very much doing just that. "Just need a white van and some candy."

"Yes, that would complete the look, wouldn't it?" Nathaniel muses. "However, worry not. I may shun excess in most matters, but the posting in this place came with a company car, of sorts- the shaded windows shall have to suffice."

That was so used to abduct children. It's basically guaranteed.

What else would a priest need a car with shaded windows for?

The car ride as such is pleasant enough, you suppose, thanks to it being relatively short- the man whose faith you're tapping doesn't live far from his church, something about the shepherd never wavering too far from his flock. You don't really listen to the obviously religiously inspired small talk, of course, merely nodding and 'muh'ing at the correct times as your mind wanders off in all directions, never to be seen again.

Nathaniel's place is pretty unassuming, just a completely normal, modest small house he seems to take pride in, with a perfectly mowed lawn and just the right coloration to fit in with the rest.

It evokes a vague feeling of melancholy when you look at it.

Oh hey, our home used to be a little like this. Just innocuous enough nobody looked twice. You think he also has a basement turned into a meat shop to take bodies apart?

Probably not. Knowing your luck, it's some kind of BDSM dungeon.

"Please come on in and feel right at home. There's some orange juice in the fridge, if you'd like, unless we shall step right to it?" The wordy priest invites you into his home once he's opened the door for you.

"Muh." You didn't come to drink inferior juice, you came to get that silver a holy sheen and stuff!

"Very well, please come right along. Careful with the stairs, they can be a little tricky."

… Turns out, yes, his basement is a BDSM dungeon. Made of uneven stone bricks signifying the sheer age of this house despite its obvious modernity, you'd estimate it's a couple dozen years old at the very least, with newer piping and stuff obviously laid into it later on. What's much more important, though, as you follow the insane individual deeper underground, flicking on light switches as he goes, are the iron door and the creaking of metal you hear from inside the basement.

"Now this one is rather feisty, but please do not be fooled; her spirit was weighed down by sins of rampant fraudulence when I found her, committing adultery left and right. It truly is saddening to see those that betray their neighbors and commit adultery to the point they are judged in need of correction, but alas, here we are."

He unlocks the heavy iron door with a key on this big, old-fashioned key ring he pulls out of his pocket, the well-oiled hinges making little sound themselves. "Muh."

"Have a look yourself; I am sure you will be pleased to know we shall be committing most holy acts to signify this object's holiness."

You do as he asks, stepping forward and through. You immediately see what he means. Chained to the floor with leather manacles on both wrists and ankles, an almost naked brunette wearing nothing but a leather harness doing nothing to hide her body is looking backwards fearfully, the position enforced by her chains leaving her to push her big behind outwards as she tries to stay comfortable somehow, her big fat tits brushing against the floor.

"Is that- somebody, help me please!"

"As you can see, preliminary whippings have done nothing to correct her wicked nature, but at the very least she has been thoroughly prepared and cleaned inside and out," Nathaniel explains, closing up behind him as the woman's eyes will with despair at the unfolding situation. "As such we may procure the blessings required with great ease. It truly borders on divine intervention."

"Please, just let me go! I-"

"Ah, ah, ah, the flock may be a shepherd's mission, but no lamb gets to decide on the shearing… To stretch a metaphor, that is," he chuckles.

Well, if his plan is to somehow fuck the horny or the adultery out of her, you aren't quite sure that makes sense, but on the flipside… There's a nearly completely naked woman right in front of you stretching a big, bouncy ass in your direction.

Your brain is doing the horny now, too. It doesn't matter how willingly or unwillingly she is putting herself into this position, all that does is that she's accessible and your dick is getting hard.

You swear, if your buddy Nathaniel here brought you here to not rail this ass, you will be lethally disappointed with hi-

"The flesh is sinful and impure; the spirit inhabits the flesh and festers with it. You have sinned, woman, and this is but the first step on the way to redemption."

"I'm telling you, I didn't make anyone do anyth-"

"To tempt another to break their vows, then turn on them and threaten to reveal their infidelity is a sinful act, Jessica. It brings me no joy to do this, yet we all must do what must be done." The mad priest's voice is calm and measured, like he really believes this isn't just the two of you raping her. You hope. "May you find solace in this. All that shall be done in this place will be done for your sake."

He's legit closed his eyes and is praying now. Oi. Oiii.

"You won't get away with this! I have friends and family, they'll go to the police! I haven't shown up to my job!"

"It has been made known that you have left for a time to seek enlightenment in intense prayer. Every day you spend in here is another vacation day, thanks to some arrangements."

Wow, you're impressed. You never really bothered to keep any of your victims alive for any length of time- killing them was the point- but this guy right here made a science out of it. Or maybe more of an art.

"Who would ever believe that?!"

"Everyone does when I tell them."

Case in point.

You always figured it was just asking for them to escape and alert the authorities and then you'd have had to run and take Elena with you on an adventure to kill the president and blame whatever agency is after your ass for dozens of murders (hundreds, but they didn't need to know how long you've been doing this) for it all, but maybe Nathaniel's on to something with this… catch-and-release approach.

Duh, can't keep on playing with them when they're dead. Corpses aren't any fun. Also, you're remembering more and more, daddy!

Are you? … Huh, you might be. Your emergency plan came as easy to you as breathing. You'd just figured it was because that was the plan you figured out in case the authorities came after you because you keep on killing dozens of people all over the place and some of them are actually competent enough to trouble you. However slight their abilities may be.

I meant you remembered how many people you killed. Or at least roughly how many.

… Did you? And did you not know beforehand? Your head hurts a little. Better to focus on what you were going to do. Big fat ass, deranged priest, action!

It is a very juicy butt. I'd have done a lot of blackmail to get at it way back…

Nathaniel's gone to his knees in the time you were preoccupied chatting with Elena, the little 'conversation' between the two of them leaving the screaming woman panting for breath after the rage she's worked her way into. He, on the other hand, is praying quietly. "… And let this sinful flesh be blessed with the seed of the divine, to cleanse and purify its rampant desires. Let the spirit regain its place and be purified in turn, cleansed of corruption! Let the waters of life douse the flame of greed and of envy, that no trace of them remains!"

He's really getting emotional now. Leaning closer over her, he nods solemnly. "Rejoice, Jessica. The Lord sent an angel on freezing wings to aid you in your hour of need. Normally, I would act as a conduit of the divine as best I can, but today… Today angels walk among us."

"You're crazy. You're just… nuts." The woman curses softly under her breath. You, on the other hand, are kind of wondering why and how he even knows you do ice magic. Are his magical perception powers more comprehensive that you thought? You never bothered trying to analyze them deeper or anything, you'd just assumed he was seeing something… Or maybe he's just unusually perceptive while also suffering from schizophrenia?

Not everything has to have a magical explanation, after all. It could just be mundane screw-ups and stuff. Come to think of it, though, how likely is it that a good amount of people declared somehow insane are actually just mildly magical and never figure it out?

Focus, daddy.

Right.

"First off, you're obviously just a rapist. Secondly, save your holy man routine and stick it where the sun don't shine. Thirdly, unless that's a very girly boy, how do you expect a girl to-"

You drop your panties and lift your skirt, letting your big, fat, inhuman member pulse against the air. If her butt is big, your dick is even bigger by comparison.

Clearly the best thing about my body, huh? Elena waspishly thinks, but the time for such distractions is over.

"What the hell is that?!" You kneel behind her, aiming your cock right for the moneyshot. "Stay away from me! I'll- Ooooh… Urgh!"

Without fanfare, you press your head against her asshole, the soft muscle twitching uncontrollably as you penetrate it. You make appreciative sounds all the way through pushing it in deeper, both hands clawed against the woman's hips for a good grip.

"Too big! That's too big! And ribbed!" Please. Elementary schoolers have taken this thing and so can she.

"It is called heavenly pleasure for a reason," Nathaniel nods along. Creep. He isn't even masturbating to the fucked up shit going on, still just serenely smiling and praying.

"Haah… Haah…" You are not panting nor are you moaning as her ass clenches down around you, tight and swelteringly hot. Your body temperature is a little lower than normal, you're pretty sure, but that just makes this feel more intense. "Ggghh!"

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh god…" You are halfway in now, her wide butt swallowing your length and squeezing onto every single ridge, every perfectly symmetrical nerve cluster along it. For such a huge rear, it's ridiculous how tight she is.

"That went quick. Normally it takes days for such reverent thanks to the Lord."

Shaddup priest man, must fuck!

It's cute how you get when you're really horny.

You are a sophisticated and well-measured individual that keeps themselves under full conscious control constantly. Even now, you are not senselessly rutting this woman's ass like you want to knock it up. No, you are also slapping it, spanking her in short, controlled bursts to see it wobble and squeeze on you even harder. Even the saliva hitting her back is absolutely intended to land where it does!

Finally, your entire cock is fit inside her backside, only your knot nudging the ring of her opening, spread widely around your intrusion but unable to defend against it. "Oohhh… Too big…"

She is bracing herself against the floor, upper body lowered and tits smushed against the ground to let you push deeper. Someone's just instinctively going with it instead of struggling, after all.

Good girl. Just for that, you're smacking dat butt again! "Ow!"

Kneading her buttocks now, you enjoy the feeling of being this deep inside a woman. Her body forced to conform to you, her senses overwhelmed… It's intoxicating, to do this to a person.

It's great.

Yep, definitely me shining through.

Then you begin to move, pulling out almost your entire dick… To then ram it in again, having already empirically proven it won't kill her. Again and again you repeat the motion, fucking her ass just like it should be- hard and fast and with hips slapping against it. "Hah, oh, gah, urgh, hah, haaah…"

Truly you are the manliest amongst them all. The roars of a conqueror are tearing themselves from your lungs.

One hand, that thinking is kinda my fault. On the other hand, it's really cute.

You pay no mind to the chatter. You must seed this ass so all may know who owns it.

"It's tearing me apart! It's too biiiig… !"

Also, she's literally dispensing a small lake between her legs. She's obviously enjoying herself.

Shoving yourself home with one last overwhelming push, you feel yourself getting close, so you rut into her in earnest, eagerly chasing the high you know is close at hand. Your knot is swelling, already too large to be forced into her too, but you don't let that stop you, shoving it against her anus to get just that little bit of extra pressure on it as your hands begin to spasm and your vision goes just a little white.

Then you come.

And you come.

And you come a little more.

You are holding yourself inside of her, pumping your mighty seed inside, and it takes a good long while for it to finish- you do come quite a bit, after all. You're left to stay in place, gasping and exhausted (but in a good way), as it happens, heavy pumping and twitches of your waist all that indicate that you just ejaculated enough sperm to feed a family of four for a day.

What can you say; it's some good genetics.

I don't know whether that's narcissism or not. I'm not sure it matters.

"The cross," Nathaniel reminds you of your task- and of his presence, useless priest that he is. "Use it to seal it all up. This will do nicely."

You don't think he even has a boner. Man, he's weird.

Still, following his instructions, you pull yourself out, torturously slowly, and once your now entirely slick erection has popped out of this woman's asshole with a small sound, your head taking a little extra long, you replace it with the long bar of the cross you brought, cool metal making her shiver a she lies on the ground, defeated by your cock.

Can''t beat the cock. Nope.

"The Lord giveth his blessings upon His flock, that none may suffer despair nor defeat, for it is in His grace that we thrive." Nathaniel begins doing the thing in earnest now, so you just leave him to it, just taking a moment to gather yourself before going up to the rest of his house. Some orange juice sounds great right about now.

And hey, how long can it take to pray to an ass you just flooded with your cum? … Actually, it might be a while. It's your cum, after all, of course people are going to deify it.

It does end up taking an hour straight of Nathaniel just… doing his thing, with the praying and Latin chanting, all the while you're just sitting there and waiting because going back down just to see how far he is would be awkward now and while you really don't care about that, you also don't necessarily want to talk to the guy.

Hence you're just sitting there drinking his juice like it's some kind of scotch or whiskey or whatever.

You aren't allowed to drink alcohol in my body, daddy. Nuh-uh.

And isn't that just the worst. You can't even get drunk in order to escape the series of utterly absurd and unwarranted events that is your life these days.

Yes. Everything is terrible and you really should just go back home and look how your daughter with Viridis is doing. Maybe pat Tabitha a lot and play video games. Everything would be nicer than walking around and doing stuff.

Pretty sure that's just some leftover curse from when we went to take a look around at that farm. Maybe it has a delayed effect… ?

May just be post-nut clarity. The world sucks a lot more when you actually think about it.

Anyway, a carton of orange juice later Nathaniel finally comes back up, proudly bearing the cumstain cross in both hands. "It is done, I believe. Repentance and atonement, a blessing of the Lord…"

You snatch it from him right away, of course. It's yours.

As per usual, there isn't any obvious change in the silver cross you made and put through this whole thing, but upon taking a closer look with your sense for magic, you can 'see' a faint white sheen all over it, like it's reflecting light that isn't there and glowing just a little.

Good enough for you. "Muh. Good enough."

"This humble priest lives to serve."

Right… And he totally didn't jizz all over this thing himself. You're so going to wash it later when you have the time. And your hands too, of course.

Item Obtained: Cross Of The Righteous

A cross made of silver taken as loot and spoils of war, blessed in a ritual invoking Forceful Repentance. This cross has the ability to dispel minor curses through direct contact and can abate negative influences in its immediate surroundings.

Olivia stared at the cat.

The cat stared back at Olivia.

The two of them sat in silence.

She'd tried to look around a little more, but there was only so much she could explore without leaving the house- and the forest outside, strange as it was against the backdrop of skyscrapers not too far off, was full of stuff.

Olivia had heard growling and seen something in the bushes. She'd run back inside immediately. Wolves were scary. As were colorfully glowing fruits and little spiky balls growing everywhere.

"I think," she told the cat Jackie had told her to take care of, "we're not in Kansas anymore."

"Mew."

She couldn't go outside. She also couldn't go downstairs, for fear of what she'd find, and going upstairs without permission would have felt kind of intrusive and impolite, so she didn't.

Instead she'd found a giant stash of sweets crammed into the freezer when she decided to take a look around the kitchen, ice cream and chocolate and more, but they were all thrown in without a shred of order. So she went and ahead and organized them all so they fit inside easier first of all.

While she was at it, she also cleaned up around the kitchen a little, using her magic to make the air scrub everything because she couldn't find any cleaning stuff.

By the time she realized just how late it was getting, Olivia was scrubbing the floors with her magic, too, just using it for everything. It was kind of fun and Jackie's home was a little dusty here and there, so she supposed it was a good thing she was doing this, really!

It was always just satisfying to do good work like this.

But eventually she ran out of things to clean, so she still ended up in the living room, sitting on the now completely scrubbed floor to have a staring contest with a cat.

And she wasn't about to-

"Back," she heard Jackie's voice.

"Meow!" The cat made, walking towards the entrance immediately.

… Did she win?

"Muh. 'Livia."

"Hey Jackie. Uh, are you done with… Whatever you went out to do?"

"Mm." Then the smaller girl raised a hand, holding up a blindfold with a pattern of little chicks on it. "Here."

Olivia sighed. At least she'd be getting back home.

So you just kind of forgot Olivia. It happens. However, nobody died, got brainwashed, lost any notable appendages, went insane or suffered any of the other plethora of unpleasant fates awaiting anyone that trespasses into your domain. Honestly, that's already better than your most optimistic predictions for how today will turn out.

Of course you then proceed to take her out and throw her back into the normal world somewhere near her home, purely because you're being gleefully petty about keeping the location of your base a secret. Even knowing Snaketail probably has that figured out by now.

Still the easiest silver you've made as of yet. No regrets.

With the state of your pets organized properly, including Tabitha hanging in your arms and stretching her little head out as she yawns adorably, you turn and take course back towards where you know a bunch of evil things to be.

Time to get it over with and blow some shit up already. Changed laws of reality or not. All that modifying physics to more directly follow narrative conventions does is make you angrier and hornier for when you find whatever it i that's causing the whole thing.

Also, you're giving your little wibble kitty kisses on the top of her head. Because she's a very good and brave kitty-cat.

The place you only know of as 'evil hillbilly voodoo farm' is still looking largely like it was during your last visit, all dark and foreboding and just not very inviting. This time, however, something on your person is emitting a faint glow you can make out better with your magical sight; taking it out confirms that your blessed silver cross is somehow… Negating the evil aura around you.

It's not super far nor does it make any real difference that you can tell, but since Brian insisted you do all of this you suppose it's serving some sort of purpose, at least.

It better. If not, you can always just urinate all over his-

You get the feeling something just swished through the air. Weird. Anyway, where were you? Right, the place.

The thinly forested area covered in dead plants and leafless trees is easy enough to find again- this time the site of your last battle is still covered in the wounds of the fight and what followed after it, your guard golems having fought bravely against the horrors of the night at your behest.

Their sacrifice shall be added to your pile. It isn't as good as the people you straight-up murdered, but you have to take every corpse you can get if you want to eventually make it a throne deserving of your magnificence.

Uh, not sure they count for that at all, daddy. They melted at some point.

A-ny-way, there's several deep gouges in the ground any many trees nearby have been snapped entirely, a couple of them even uprooted wholesale and thrown around seemingly randomly.

You can already see the fight happening as though before your very eyes, the-

We grouped up to react as a team, then divided up when they came. It was a pack of werewolf-looking motherfuckers with these really long arms. They came at us from inside the building, then we split up into two teams, one for melee to tie 'em up, the other fired ice shards and threw whatever they could get. The trees were ballistic missiles.

… Yes, that. That is what you have deduced by looking at the traces of battle.

We took some pretty hard losses in the chaos and I had to jump bodies a couple times. I think they realized I was the leader and went after me every time I gave out orders. We killed most of them, but keep an eye open.

-Is what your tactical sense is telling you to do.

Having cleared that up, you don't waste any time you may or may not have- the holy aura of your blessed silver doesn't seem to be diminishing or flickering or anything, but you don't see a point in finding out it'll lose effectiveness and needs to be recharged with the blood of a virgin right when you need it to work most. Instead, you take a closer look at the building that seems to be at the heart of this whole mess you have to clean up.

'Dilapidated' is the first word that comes to mind. 'Atmospheric' if you were watching this as a horror movie, perhaps. Darkened wood and a barren little garden make up the front of the place, the lifeless soil only giving way to a few little holes where plants would have grown, once.

You hear an awful sound, like the creaking of a door or a window, and quickly realize that it comes from inside and seems to be repeating itself, like the wind is just pushing something whose hinges are in dire need of some oil back and forth endlessly.

In other words, it looks like the usual place in the woods teenagers go to fuck and get eaten by bears. Or monsters, which puts a couple of the deaths you darkly remember hearing about at… some point, into perspective. You're kind of sure a few of those may have been your doing, but if so you have no idea about the details here.

I'm sure it'll come to you at some point, daddy.

Eh, it's probably not really important, so screw it.

Just as you consider whether to break down the front door or maybe force open one of the windows, however, you see something coming out of said door, creaking open even more egregiously noisily than the rest of this dump already is by itself. And out comes…

Huh, it's a person-sized and person-shaped thingy. And female, which is why you do not immediately open fire on a probably horribly incest-mutated hillbilly farmer that needs some killing.

You observe as she, you presume, fiddles with a key ring as she approaches a little garden shed to the side of the house, so pathetic you hadn't consciously realized its existence yet. Opening it up, she takes mere moments to get it and come out again, closing the door behind herself with a watering can in one hand.

She gets over to that little lifeless garden and… Seems to be watering it with blood, which causes movement to happen within the soil. Looking closer, you can sense an abundance of faint magical signatures, too weak for you to make it out clearly behind all this evil magic radiation or whatever without paying close attention.

A bunch of… worms, you think, comes wiggling out, only to be greeted by her dropping the blood-filled can and grabbing a knife held within her outfit- quite a feat, considering how little cloth it really incorporates, really just a super low-cut top, red stockings and a denim apron combined with a skirt.

It's the kind of thing you never would have let your daughter out of the house in. Hey! Not without at least two guns and knives, a taser and some pepper spray, at least.

… Okay, that's reasonable.

You watch on dispassionately as the young woman with bright orange hair stabs the worms that you now see have human eyes growing over themselves randomly again and again, some of them fleeing while the rest is subject to her wrath. Once done, she nods to herself, standing up straight for a moment.

Looking right up at you, coincidentally. Well, you were just floating there, so that was to be expected.

She also seems to be friendly or at least pretending to be, given how she waves for you with her free hand. Deciding to check her out at least, you move yourself closer to the ground, quickly recognizing that she probably is a monster of some kind herself, created by this place's influence or warped by whatever is causing it in the first place.

Hey, it's not like you don't dig chicks with scars.

Scars can be really hot… Sometimes. It's not an always thing.

"Hey there! You the one that took daddy out?"

… Oh, you can already feel this is going to be a thing indeed.

"Meow," Tabitha agrees, clambering into one of the pockets hidden in the folds of your dress. Good kitty.

Well, a question like that can only have one answer. "Muh," you nod with all the majesty conferred upon you by being just plain better than anyone around here. "Probably."

"Awesome. He was going complete nutso and wouldn't let me come out ta take care of my garden anymore," she tells you.

Good to know. "I see. Any other family?" Judging by what you know so far, family probably is the issue here.

Because when isn't it? Really… There's a reason you murdered your way back when. You think.

"Oh, so th' boys all went out and I think they're dead, too. Good riddance, had to poke Carlson's eye out when he wouldn't stop eyeing me up. Little creep, ya know how it is," she gestures with her knife, a few drop of blood splattering off of it.

And yes, you do know, nodding along sympathetically. So many boys that went and had to die because they didn't know when a girl was a class above them…

I always appreciated that, daddy. Good work. Also, their leader had one eye, so yes most of them are dead.

"Then there's… y'know, the guests. It's inside somewhere and I don't think they count, but they did fuck mom, so eh…" The bloodied girl shrugs carelessly. "'Parently dad wasn't good enough anymore when he wouldn't give her any more babies so she just jumped anyone. Speakin' of, mom and grandma are down in the basement as always takin' care of the babies. Hard to tell 'em apart lately…"

So with what you know now… The puzzle parts are arraying themselves in front of you, just begging to be assembled.

The family's mother was baby-crazy, having a bunch of boys and one girl. Then she somehow stopped getting pregnant and, uh, made other people fuck her because her husband didn't do the job anymore? And somehow all of that led to the whole grudge-y curse business going on.

It all makes sense now. Totally. More importantly, you still have to murder whatever is at the heart of it and from the sound of things, you'll need to find either the 'guests' or the basement… Your bet is on the basement but the 'guests' will be in the way somehow and need to be dispatched first.

"Mumuh," you say, eyeing the scarred girl. And the key ring you saw her use earlier…

"Gonna kill everyone inside," you declare with all the gravitas of a ten-year old that has decided to let school go screw itself for homework is too much of a pain after spending all day in it beforehand. "Wanna come?"

"Oh heck yeah, either you win and they die or I can pick over your body first. That's a win-win right there." Good to see someone has their priorities in order, you suppose. "Won't even stab ya in the back, honest!"

So she will definitely stab you in the back at some point when you least expect it. Good to know about her sudden, but inevitable betrayal ahead of time, even if you hardly needed the confirmation.

Genre-savvy is a dying art form.

You raise a hand, projecting out your mana like you have practiced what has to be thousands or tens of thousands of times by this point, all in order to summon two of your trusty henchmen. They materialize with all the grace of a drugged-up thug waking up in some random alley, coming to their senses and stepping right up.

That's right, you have someone to watch your back! "Muh." Aaahahahahahaha! Try to backstab this magical girl now, bitch! See what it gets you!

Okay, that's clearly my influence there. Am I rubbing off on you harder somehow?

"Oh, hey, that's neat. They look goofy."

"Nuh!" Your golems are not goofy! They are hardened criminals!

… You push open the door to the large house this family apparently used to live in before they all mutated horribly and went nuts.

"Basement?" You ask.

"Sure, just gotta go- nah, wait, the hallway's collapsed." Curse fragile architecture in the face of supernatural decay! Once more it is foiling your plans! "Guess we gotta go 'round. Through where the, ugh, Guests are."

See, you called it! You frickin' called it!

You did, daddy. You totally did.

Now to see what manner of abhorrent monster is awaiting termination this time. Can't be worse than the Flesh Horror, though, can it?

The girl leads you through dark and dusty hallways, taking the stairs she shows you up to the first floor. "Oh yah, name's Chucky by the way. Ma and pa thought I'd be a boy like all my brothers before me an' they didn't have a girl name ready, so they just went with what they had."

Oh, lovely. "Jackie," you introduce yourself in turn.

"Huh. That short for something?"

… Well, you won't tell her your full assumed name, but you suppose it can't hurt. "Jacqueline," you tell her, the first time you're using your full new first name ever since you told Brian back when you needed to improvise it because you couldn't remember your old one.

Good times. Running away from goblins, blowing them up later, running away from the big goblin, nailing it against a cave wall by its inner organs… It feels like years ago when it's just a couple months, isn't it?

Time flies when you're having fun.

You quietly creep further through the twisted residence, noticing the signs of its clearly unnatural state. The walls grow less and less defined, for lack of a better word, reducing contours and surfaces to this rough, uneven mess that hurts to even look at. There's a few paintings and doors you pass, but the former are just blobs of color that doesn't really stick out from the surroundings and a couple of the latter may as well be painted on for all that they seem real enough.

You also do require Chucky to open up a door on the way, a shortcut going through a completely empty room with nothing but a couple spiderwebs in a corner. Honestly, if this place is still standing once you're done, you may even recommend it for C-Lister horror movies to be filmed, assuming the crews wouldn't just be eaten by something at that point.

Then, however, you come upon the most obvious clue as to something not being right; the hallway you and Chucky enter is growing smaller the longer you go, until it is all but impossible for two people to walk through it side by side. The shadows seem darker, the colors seem blander, like all intensity has been sucked out of them by a hungry monster with a straw.

A color-straw. That sucks up colors. Duh.

Then you come upon the first of the hand prints. They are black, as though someone had smeared their hands with ink (or very old, decayed blood) and then smacked it all over the place. the ground, the walls…

The ceiling.

"Muh." Close quarters like this aren't your preferred environment, you usually make it a point to blow everything up from afar while your minions get their hands dirty in your stead.

Chucky, misinterpreting your look around at the dirt traced everywhere, lets out an aggravated sigh. "Yeah, this is the Guests' doing… Because some assholes," she shouts, "can't clean up after themselves!"

You hear a thump. A meaty sound, like someone's hand hitting something. Then you hear a second one. A third. Many, many thumps, in quick succession as they come closer and closer, now joined by the fever-pitched scratching and scabbling of fingernails on hard surfaces.

Oh. Oh, well, you take it back, it can be about as bad as the Flesh Horror. It' an achievement, really, this thing should be proud.

You may need more golems.

You need to act quickly- and think even quicker. Raising the hand bearing a certain ring that you made once upon a time, what feels like a lifetime ago, you pour power into it, the green material it is made of pulsing with energy for a long moment as the creature bears down on you, approaching at full speed.

You do not look directly at it. This is not because it moves kind of like a spider with too many legs. Nope. Not at all. That would be utter nonsense. Nothing could be further from the truth.

You hold your charge up until the last moment, your hand glowing in a deep, dark blue emanating from your ring… And then it blows, exploding into a violent torrent of water rushing out of it and gripping the horrible creature in its force.

It tries to hold on, clawing at everything around itself in desperation, but it is useless. And, as the hallway in front of you is being flooded by your magical item, you add your most instinctually-cast spell on top of it, a small bit of winter blasting out from you in succession after the Ring of Tides' fury.

(C-C-C-Combo Move!)

The water, still more magical than physical in nature for a scant few moments, freezes over with the charge of cold energy you're shooting through it, becoming a solid right in the moment its initial charge begins to taper off. What is left is a frozen being with too many limbs, caught within the watery explosion you called upon.

It's still alive, twitching and trying to break free, but its entire body, regardless of how far it reaches back into the hallway, is currently trapped securely in place.

It cannot hurt you, but you can hurt it. And it really should have known better than to imitate your most mortal of enemies… !

"Now that's a smile I can get behind," Chucky says from behind you, but you're too preoccupied thinking of the many, many fates you have in store for spider sympathizers and similar degenerative deviants from the Order of the Jackie.

"Muhuhuhuh…"

"Minions! Assemble!" It's hard to project a lot of energy like this, as in, be active and do words and stuff, but what needs, must. And this thingy needs to be murdered to death while you stay at a safe distance.

Your freshly summoned golems, of course, pile up in the hallway, but that's not your problem. You just point towards the problem you demand they solve.

"Take it apart! Hoi-hoi-hoi!"

Salutes ring out with the sound of hard ice meeting even harder ice. They're really hardheaded, your boys.

Or girls. Or ice thingies. You don't judge them, okay? It's their decision what they come out as. Or, really, it's your decision, but you're ready to overlook that and consider them whatever gender you've decided to assign them to.

Po-tae-to, po-tah-to. All that matters is that you decide everything because you're god.

Well, to them if they had enough brains to think for themselves, anyway. You do create them, daddy.

See, Elena agrees with you, too.

Anyway, with your trusty slaves mindless believers mooks hard at work using their shapeshifted hands as improvised ice picks to tear through the big fat chunk of the stuff you just used your combo assault strategy to create around your foe, you decide it's time to take a break, for it is of utmost importance to keep up your strength at all times, but especially when you're active in the field.

It's not at all because you don't to deal with the shit around you and are seeking escape in stuffing yourself with chocolate. That would be ridiculous.

Speaking of, there's still Chucky, huh. That's also a thing that exists.

"Whoah… Do they really do everything you tell 'em ta?" She asks, poking at one of the two golems you kept behind to watch your back. Or her, really. "That's really cool. And creepy."

… the literal probably undead murder girl living in a haunted house with a face full of scars just called you creepy. Should you punish her for that or take it as a compliment? It's so hard to be the benevolent ruler that you are sometimes.

I'm not sure 'benevolent' is the right word to use here…

"Muh," you make. Chucky should stop trying to find out weaknesses in your skill set by playing with your minions and instead reveal secrets about herself. By paying attention to you instead.

Did you just completely change tracks the moment I said you were wrong?

"Mhm? What is it, Jackie?" You walk up to Chucky and cling to her. If you can pull the shoulder straps off, you can confirm whether she's wearing any underwear, right? "Kyahaha! Don't'cha know it's bad to touch strangers?"

She picks you up, holding you in the air. You have no idea what she's on about, giving strangers the bad touch has always worked out for you so far.

Mea culpa.

"Huh, lookig at'cha, you don't got many expressions, do ya? Still super easy to read, though!" The scarred girl grins, gently shaking you a little.

And being totally wrong. You are not at all easy to read. In fact, if anything, you have a masterful pokerface that cannot be-

"See, now ya got your arms crossed ta pout!"

You uncross your arms.

"Now yer legs be fidgetin' 'cause ye're restless!"

You make your legs stop moving in the air.

"An' now ye're lookin' away 'cause ye're embarrassed!"

"… No. Muh."

"Jeez, so cute! Jus' makes me wanna eat ya up!" Chucky presses you to her chest. It is not a very big chest. There are many chests like it, but this one is yours. "Too adorbs!"

"No! No cute!" You are manly and imposing and beyond mortal reckoning! "Lemme go!"

"An' jus' look a' yer clothes! The frilly lil' dress an' these lil' gloves!" No good, you're losing her! Will you have to euthanize Chucky to free her from these weird hallucinations she has about something that's absolutely, totally, positively not real?

C'mon daddy, just accept you're in my body body already. I am just that cute.

"An' how 'bout-" The incessant shaking at the hands of your delusive captor goes too far, nudging the bands of your panties keeping them in place for just a moment- they drop right down your legs, caught only by your feet poking out in the nick of time.

Chucky looks down, then back up at your face.

"Aw, jeez, sorry 'bout that, I got carried 'wa- Whazzup with your dress?"

Yes, you have a boner from being smushed in her breasts earlier. It happens. In fact, you're surprised it only happens as often as it does, your body's age would make you think you'd have nonstop awkward boners.

Must be the girl power keeping them in check?

"Ja-Ja, why do ya got somethin' hard in yer dress?"

Ja-Ja? Really?

Frantic tapping indicates your foe is currently being dismantled, but you're a little busy over here demonstrating superiority by being held up in the air and letting your dick point at the torturously twisted monstergirl. The guys can deal with it for a moment.

"So wait, you a girl or a boy now?"

"Muh." There is nothing unusual about this. You just have a dick. It happens all the time.

"C'mon, I gotta know! Why do ya gotta dick?"

It seems Chucky's brain might be dissolving. She is losing her speech faculties at a rapid pace.

"Am girl with dick," you declare, walking onward. Unfortunately, you didn't get to bang Chucky after all, as she was too shocked by your enormous dick's existence to function for several minutes and you were busy watching the many arm thingy die like the bitch it was, but that just means you can try for it later or something.

As the saying goes, strangers are just people you have yet to fuck. Or murder, but if they know what's good for them they're attractive enough to get porked by you instead.

"Basement?" You've arrived at another set of stairs, but you have to confirm where to go just in case.

"Oh, yeah, we go down here. Jus' gotta follow the smell from here on." Chucky takes the lead again, idly playing with one of the extremely long arm that didn't melt into disgusting sludge at some point of your golems murderizing the Guests. "Though if ya got a dick, mom an' grandma are gonna be a bitch ta deal with. They go nuts on anythin' that could give 'em 'nother baby."

If they're hot, you don't think you'll mind, truth be told. And if sex can solve this problem, it's not like you mind all that much just doing it that way.

You'll see.

Still, best to keep on gathering information while you go. "They like the Guests?"

"Mhm, yeah, kinda, I guess." Chucky tries jabbing the arm she's holding onto against a golem, but it just leaves a black hand print on its head. "Them an' tha babies are the same thing now. 's why I stay away from the basement usually, they're all way ta loud an' exhaustin'."

"Muh." So perhaps it's a matter of sonic attack too, then. Luckily, you are a person who excels in not listening to others, so maybe you can simply-

Ugh.

Ugh.

Uuuurgh. What is this smell. "Murf."

"Yeah, told ya they all stink. Grandma couldn'a wash herself alone and mom didn' help much either."

This is a biological weapon at this point. It is absolutely horrible. "Anything else?"

If they turn out to somehow be negative sweets, too, that's your day right there, pretty much.

Speaking of which, now that you're back downstairs, the house has regained a bunch of details it kind of lost a floor above this. The paintings have actual colors and, y'know, depict something, the wood everything is made of has structure to it again…

Now if only everything didn't stink so much. Yeah, you're pretty sure your penis agrees that you should give this one a pass unless they're really, really sexy.

Luckily, you do not have to endure this stink for too long; the basement stairs aren't too far off. Unfortunately, there is also a green glow coming from below them. Colorful lights are never a good sign in your experience, and especially not in a place like this.

Then there… a horse's neighing?

"Seriously! Dammit mom, I was wonderin' where Roger went!"

The thing that comes creeping out of the basement defies description. It's just…

Too ugly. Your boner cannot process it, leaving only your backup brain to record its existence in the isolated memory folder. That shall have to be thoroughly purified with plentiful cat videos after this.

"Cuckyyyyy!" A couple of voices overlap with the screaming of the babies fused onto this monstrosity's back, its long neck swelling with the word as though it was spitting it out. "Iiiii smell a tasty coooock! Nooo stealing iiiit!"

No.

Just. No.

You refuse.

Instinctively, you attack. The obvious solution to feeling threatened by a thing is to make that thing die (or die harder, in case it's already dead) to make sure it can't hurt you, right?

Drawing your guns, you snap off a quick barrage of ice lances with them, a trio of shots meant to thoroughly impale this create before you. Unfortunately, however, the monster completely surprises you by jumping.

No, seriously. It was walking all slow and ponderously, as though it could hardly walk under its own weight, then all of a sudden it's bounding upwards like a rubber ball, clinging to the ceiling and stretching out its horrible, horrible neck.

Which can stretch. Because of course it can.

"Theeeeeeere… There there there!" It screeches. "I found a good diiick…"

"Ugh, mom, do you have to be so disgusting? And why do you have to be like that to all my friends?!" Chucky complains.

"Mine mine miiine!" You try to dodge when you see it coming, but the arms are also capable of just… stretching out to follow along. The clawed hand holding onto you just swells up to the point it can just yank you off your feet, lifting you up in the air against your will.

You guess you know where Chucky got it from, at least.

"Muh!" You call upon your minions to come defend you, but there just isn't enough space, they're still jostling their way through to where the fight is actually going on.

This sucks. Though at least you manifested a steel chastity belt around your panties just in case. Because you are a Jackie of standards, okay?

"Diiick… !"

Ugh. Its breath smells, too.

Suspended by the monstrosity's arm, your back legs emerge from your back, the four segmented metal limbs you took off of the giant engine of pain and despair you murdered for money itching it tear into something. You've been waiting for an opportunity like this for far too long.

"Muh!" You try to use them to slice through your enemy's arm, but it's too thick and rubbery; all you can do is leave shallow cuts. Instead, you just stab it over and over again, concentrating on hurting it as much as possible.

"Holy crap, you da spider-girl now? That's wicked as shit!" The peanut gallery calls out. That's another notch on the punishment-o-meter for calling you a slur.

More importantly, nobody is allowed to lay hands on your august self! This thing does not have the right!

The crying of a dozen infants grows worse as you're still pulled in, the monster's vaguely equine face looming over you. "Diiick… !"

It merely fell into your trap.

With your stabby legs impaling its arms from several angles, you can apply some leverage, not much, but it suffices to make a little room… And you can pull out your silver cross, your ace in the hole. It's going to be effective against something as disgusting as this, right? You blessed it with rituals that reflect your own holy nature as much as possible and this thing is as un-Jackie as they come, after all.

You take a deep breath, much as the stink of old people rotting alive nearly makes you gag. "The Power! Of Jackie! Compels you!" You raise your cross over your head, its heft feeling good in your hand, and slam it against the creature's head with a meaty thwack. "Begone Thot!"

"Grr-ahhhhh!" Miraculously, it rears back, dropping you and holding both hands over its face. "Nooo! It huuurts! My diiiick!" It screeches painfully, steaming saliva flying from its distended mouth.

You knew it. The one true faith, that in yourself, had to win out in the end. Unfortunately, it seems your cross won't be of use for this again for the moment, its glow is dimmed and it feels almost… empty in your hand.

At least it did leave a burning scar on the monster, which is awesome.

"Oh, that's gotta hurt mom! As bad as tha' gut punch that made ya miscarry?"

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAH!" And Chucky just made it angrier. Not that it matters, that was totally worth making fun of.

Seriously, the moment you become this, all bets are off. Fuck you.

And by now, your golems have arrayed themselves up front, building an icy barrier between you and the source of danger, Elena among them. Finally, you're getting somewhere.

Time to rip some shit!

You are prepared! You have come! As a prepared Jackie! Hence you chamber the blessed bullets you made by abusing the blessing on water that's been seen by a sufficiently devoted priest into your guns while you clamber backwards, your additional legs leaving their marks inside the ground everywhere they stab into.

"Iiyeeaah!" The creature Chucky is talking to intermittently is still trying to grab you, but you're keeping at a distance and relying on your golems to keep it busy.

Said golems are organizing a little blockade, literal sword-arms raised and stabbing at your foe. Already several wounds have been scored, black ichor leaking from where the sickeningly stretchy monster took blows it couldn't bend around.

Then you shoot it in the head, making it screech again. You repeat the maneuver a few times, your holy bullets proving quite effective in causing damage- and the holes you shoot into this thing are even smoking, showing off just how well they're fucking it up.

You like this.

Then, though, Tabitha emerges from her nest inside your dress, clambering up onto your shoulder to reach your magical box. "Kitty?"

"Aww, you have a cat? It's so cute!"

At least one thing Chucky gets.

You quickly open the seal while jumping sideways on your extra legs, the additional height and reach they give you coming in handy once again. If you weren't pushing yourself up on them, you'd have trouble shooting over your golems.

Tabitha emerges again in short order, holding inside her mouth- is that one of your rune bomb stones?! "Bad for your teeth," you call out, but before you can take it out, she's running off, carrying the bomb despite its weight and awkward size.

It's nearly the size of her head! What is she thinking!

Oh, and there's still the monster. The monster that has just destroyed two of your golems by ramming itself through them, bowling them over and crushing one with both hands while its insensate head jerks around to bite through the second one's torso.

Which is bad. "Any help?" You ask Chucky.

"Nah, not while mom's around. Never gonna hear the end of it."

How excessively useless.

However, as you refocus on the fight, considering where to find a weakness or something, you spot something up above in the rafters.

Where Tabitha just activated that bomb and is running away.

Two seconds later, half the ceiling is coming down, massive wooden beams crushing the monster under their weight. "Kaaaaaaah! Kuarh! Diick! Give me the diiick!"

This thing wishes.

"Muhuhuh." With your target temporarily disabled, you have free reign over the battlefield, a fact that you immediately make full use of in concentrating your might for a long moment, channeling your wrath for this monster as it has failed to be sexy or fuckable in any way into your magic before you release it all.

With devastating effect. Just like when you come and fire off half a gallon of sperm, just with magic and cold instead.

A torrential blast of winter rips itself free from your outstretched hand, pushing through the space before you and straight into and through the creature daring to not kill itself in shame for him disgusting it looks (and smells). Muscles shrivel, heartbeat weakens and you get the distinct impression that it can't bend and twist itself as fluidly nor easily.

"Kuaaah! Gaah!"

It struggles to lift the wooden beam resting upon its back, but there is no escape- it is as trapped as your erection is within your body, the mere possibility of a boner seeming nonexistent in the face of this creature. How any of those people it raped and murdered ever got it up is a mystery to you.

"That's right, ma, don't'cha like huge poles? Ya enjoyin' tha' one or do ya want some more?"

Chucky is still taunting her apparent mother, but as long as she doesn't get in the way you don't really care. Speaking of dutiful daughters, though…

Sword! Elena calls out, so you unsheathe and toss the weapon over to your daughter fighting for your life while inhabiting a body that is enviably incapable of smelling anything. Seriously, you doubt anyone in this house has ever washed themselves, damn stinky hillbillies that they are, but this thing is just the worst.

Not quite as bad as the sewers were, but you had an Olivia on hand to mask that with her own scent.

Receiving your weapon with one hand, Elena lets it sink into her arm, replacing her digit with a strong cutting edge as she turns back to your opponent.

Your opponent that is incapable of fighting back.

"Scrreeeeaaaaaaaah!" And just got impaled through the fucking head, misshapen skin coiling around the wound like a creasy piece of lasagna. Like it fucking deserves.

From the thus stabbed head, thorny vines begin to grow, stretching all over the struggling creature still stuck under the ceiling beams. It tries to wiggle free, but you have foreseen its efforts; jumping up on your not-at-all spider-like back legs, you get a great angle in for a quick snapshot barrage of ice lances, this time secure in your ability to land them quite well thanks to how, ah, tied up the creature is.

The trio of chunky, pointy icicles pierces the monster's flesh, digging in deep and keeping it in place for a few moments longer. Long enough for the Elena golem to pull the sword out of it head, the magical plant life still wrapped around it, and forcefully bring it back around in a wide swing, hacking apart the monster's tough skin, parting its flesh and breaking through its spine, decapitating it entirely.

And just like that, it slumps down, horrible creature and its horrible smell defeated soundly. Elena raises her sword to the heavens as you take your own victory pose, not to be outdone by her, when-

"Mom's always been a vindictive bitch, I'd be watchin' out," Chucky warns you.

Twitching erratically, one of the monster's arms comes back to life, ripping a large handful of the still screaming infants out of its back and throwing it into your direction!

You try to dodge, you really do. Getting literally baby-bombed is not your idea of a fun time. However, Chucky's warning simply came too late; by the time you have turned your attention to the monster and the flight path of the projectile in question, it's already nearly arrived.

Then you get a face full of half-digested baby and you instantly regret everything. Well, not the rape and the murder, more just the 'ever having come here' part. Good enough, and your regret is true and deep, meaning all your victims have to forgive you now by church rules, right?

That's how that works, after all. But enough about that, you're just escaping reality briefly anyway. You don't care about what your dead victims feel, they can go suck it. If they wanted their opinions to count, they shouldn't have died.

Conjuring a biiig white cloth handkerchief to wipe your face clean of what's left of a couple of babies, you resist the urge to spit and stab yourself with ice spikes until you can tear off your skin and just regrow it in a better, cleaner, purer state that has never lived through this.

"Whew, tha's that," Chucky opines. Now that you can see again, you find that the monster that just violated your dignity is slowly dissolving into this black, brackish sludge. So much for getting any loot out of this, not that you mind- it probably would have stunk like hell anyway.

Then Elena picks you up. Despite yourself not yet being ready to move on after the sudden, horrible trauma you just suffered.

Oh come off it, it was disgusting and you'll wash your face for an hour straight once we're home, that's all. Now c'mon, the loot has to be in the basement!

That's… Is she sure there even is loot in this place? You'd kinda written it off as a wash already.

If there's any, it is where the boss was sitting before we came, duh.

That makes sense.

Descending the stairs into the basement, you still wish you could've just sent in a bunch of golems and left it at that, but you don't want any of your thugs pocketing any of your hard-earned loot on the sly, so you have to supervise in person- and hey, Elena is no exception to that.

She's always been super greedy about stuff she actually cares about.

I like to take trophies, that's all.

Still, the basement is, contrary to the suspiciously large fuckup of rooms and hallways that is upstairs, pretty small- a single room that, you suspect, hasn't changed at all from when this was a normal place. The green glow you could observe from upstairs is easy to pick up on, bringing you to see its source in short order; it is, unsurprisingly, a corpse.

The corpse of another infant, that is. You eye it suspiciously, wary of it coming to life and jumping at your face.

"Huh, thought she'd'a eaten it by naw," Chucky says, joining you. "… Somehow Ah'm pretty sure what dis is, too."

"Muh." Is it anything you can sell off for a profit and never think about again?

"Used ta be we were just a normal farmin' fam'ly, right? Things turned out weird I guess but…"

"Mm." You don't care that much, but the longer she talks the less you have to think about how much time you've wasted here already.

"Ma an' Pa really wanted ta have a bunch'a kids, but they only evah had me. Guess things really went down tha' drain when ma finally got preggers again, but, y'know, one day she jus' went down here to tha basement an' miscarried outta the blue. Tha's when she went nuts, Ah guess."

Fascinating. Riveting. If only you had the power to spontaneously create popcorn to go with the story. Oh wait, none of that is true.

"Ma an' grandma started blamin' dad an' he blamed 'em back. Said each other was at fault, their genes were shit… Ma went an' slept 'round with people, so da beat the shit outta her. That kinda stuff."

Oh wow, domestic violence. Finally you're getting somewhere.

"An' I guess this thing's jus' been down here all along. Ma started ta give birth to da boys once she cheated on pa an' I've jus' been kinda… pretending none of that mattered ta me." Chucky scratches the back of her head. "Even when shit went weird and stuff and nobody came near the farm no more. And when I realized that something was up with meself."

She smiles a crooked grin. Oh jeez, are you about to have to work her through her emotions? Because it might be a war crime when you do it.

"I'm pretty sure… Hey, Jackie. Am I dead or what?"

"Could be," you shrug. "Or just mutated because magic. It happens."

"Figures. I always thought I was in hell, ya know. Stuck with ma family forever."

You do get that. "With this family? Yeah."

"Hehe, yeah." She's silent for a long moment. "Guess they're all dead now. And I don't need ta push the whole country girl shtick that hard."

You mean she could've talked more or less normally all along?!

"Y'know, I always wanted to go to the city one o' these days. Maybe get a job, to take care of me folks when they get old. Guess they're taken care of alright now." Well, you did murder them all. "Prolly for the best. Their lives went to shit a long-ass while ago."

You eye the miscarried fetus again. It hasn't moved so far, but…

"Pretty sure whatever's wrong is because of this thing. It started it all."

Oh, maybe it would've had some latent magical potential and that combined with the intense hatred of this family made this whole thing happen. Makes you wonder a little, though. Is it worth anything now?

"Ya should prolly remove it. Or just, like, destroy it. Mash it up or something so it doesn't continue." Brave words from someone that is pretty sure they're dead.

Actually, though… "Muh." Sticking a hand into your magical box, you pull out… the depleted BlueBall Mark II! You knew it would be a key item of some sort!

You have no idea how to use it or whether it would work for this, but after fiddling around with it for a minute, you get it to do something that makes a clacking noise, following which it starts to suck in that eerie unborn baby glow coming from the floor. Holding it out, you patiently wait for a few more moments, making sure you have it filled up properly.

"Huh, feels weird… Like the air's thinner and stuff."

Right, Chucky still exists despite you stealing the source of the power that turned and presumably sustained her.

"Come with me if you want to live."

"… Is that a reference or somethin'?"

"Muh."

Dragging Chucky with you out of the no-longer-haunted farmhouse, you quickly conjure your very own ice platforms, ready to take you back to actual civilization. "Get on."

"Uh, you sure?"

"Want a job?" You ask instead of answering, or rather answering by way of asking the question.

"Uh… I mean, I'm a farm girl whose farm turned into a dead marsh and that had to switch over to freaky eyeball worm farming to do anything. Not saying yes, but I ain't exactly swimmin' in options here," Chucky hedges.

"Got a forest. It's magic. You need magic, I want forest stuff." You pat Tabitha, who just jumped into your arms again, where she belongs.

Fluffy cuddly kitty cat.

"Ah, sounds like as good a place to start as any? Not like I know anything 'bout this stuff," Chucky shrugs.

You nod. Good enough. "To the city," you declare dramatically, pointing into a random direction with one hand while the other pulls out your smartphone.

"Oh, 'dis one o' dem smarty phones, innit? Cool stuff."

… Damn hillbillies without even the slightest hint of civilization to their name.

Returning to your home victoriously and without much of the fanfare and triumphant trumpet playing that really should be afforded to you, you quickly gesture towards the entire area covered in trees all around your venerable manor.

"See, forest," you point out to the ever-doubtful Chucky.

"Like, big cities are amazin'. Dere's a whole spooky ghost city with forests! Are they all like this?"

"Some," you shrug, not motivated enough to explain… anything. Setting down in front of your door, you point at the house, then at her. "Allowed."

Your base doesn't groan or fire off a beam of prismatic light into the sky or anything, but it probably understands what you mean.

… Probably. Prooobably.

"Come in, get a room and meet Viridis," you announce Chucky's tasks as you open the door. Come to think of it, you don't remember fixing it; in all likelihood, Brian went ahead and put a new one in at some point during the renovations you made him do.

Or at least you don't recall the teeth hidden inside of it ready to tear into intruders. Good Brian. or bad mimic, whichever happened first, but you'd bet on the fluffy little abomination.

Speaking of…

"Chuh, Jackie, why are you bringing a mutated half-dead girl inside?"

"Muh. Works for me now," you point out all the relevant details.

"Puuh… Alright. Come with me."

"Muh," you complain.

"Puchuh, she need to have the magic infecting her siphoned off to safe levels," he declares. "Otherwise she is simply a walking health hazard in the absence of purification tools and I'm not about to bless a hundred crosses to stick them everywhere."

"Muuh," you continue to complain, more out of general principle than anything else.

"Uh, nice to meet'cha? I'm-"

"Chucky, puchuh, I know. I have a camera in Jackie's brain informing me about everything she does." Chucky looks at you, so you pose proudly. that's right, your brain is bigly enough it can hold a whole camera in addition to making you a genius!

"I see… ? Well, if Jackie trusts ya, I guess I'll go with you. If you promise I won't be hurt by whatever ye're planning," Chucky insists.

Smart of her. Brian is not a trustworthy person. Where she got the idea that you trust him to do anything beyond chase after his own self-interest, you have no idea, but he probably won't fuck her over on this.

"Chuuh, you'll be feeling better than ever after this, promise! Your magic will simply stop hurting any living beings nearby, chuh, and in exchange my servitors will be better."

You didn't know Brian had servitors. You don't know what they are, but-

He jumps into the air, somersaulting to bop you in the face with his tail. "No touching the servitors, chuh!"

Spoilsport.

That said, you do go on ahead and take out the BlueBall Mark II, silently pointing out how you have filled it up with potent energy once again. "Puchuh, you can use that the same way you did the last one, or wait until tomorrow when I have time for you, but this needs taking care of. The sooner the better, chuh, Chucky's magic is quickly reinforcing itself now that she isn't fighting it anymore and having something like her actively spread malice and curses would be a major pain. Puuuuh."

"Muuh." You still protest out of sheer principle.

"Okay, so, like, but we don't know where she isn't, right?"

Olivia sighed. This was the third time in as many hours that Bubbles was going to bring this up. "Look, if you want to go out and search for wherever Jackie lives, that's on you. I told you everything I know. But I won't even try, just so you know."

"Like, why not?"

Kerrie stirred from the computer she was currently occupying. "Yeah 'Livia, why not?"

"Because Jackie didn't keep me blindfolded all the way to and from her home for no reason and I'm not about to piss her off about this," Olivia declared. "Look, I get that we should find out, but I don't think all three of us could take her in a fight and she would fight us over it if she thought we were trying to track her down like this."

They'd had a bunch of discussions about this. Kerrie was still convinced that Jackie was a serial murderer of some kind (which, to her credit, Olivia thought entirely possible) while Bubbles had entirely different motivations in bringing the topic up again and again despite Olivia's insistence that they let it rest.

"Alright, alright," Kerrie said, despite also being guilty of prodding Olivia about it repeatedly. "So we know she lives in a house somewhere in the woods, but they might be magical so mundane people wouldn't necessarily know about it… Which is a huge problem."

Olivia sighed, again. They weren't going to drop it anytime soon.

… And yes, she was kind of interested, too. Even if she wasn't going to do more than tell them about things she'd seen. "It's somewhere inside a city, I could see high-rise buildings in the distance and there was water and plumbing and electricity."

"I've looked at Giigle Maps, but if it's inside Los Genericanos, it's not on there," Kerrie replied.

"We could look up a couple parks and stuff? Maybe it's, like, a magic tree space or something?" Bubbles suggested.

That was when, without anyone having noticed its presence, Snaketail spoke up right next to Olivia. She jumped. "It's neither, chu. Jackie and her Puchuu are living inside a place known as the Overcity, chu, but even so reaching it would not be an easy task in itself."

"Snaketail! You're back!" Kerrie called out.

"Chu… Do you have to call me that?"

"Huh? But Jackie said…"

"Nevermind, chu. Just know that the Overcity is hard to reach and even then finding Jackie is near impossible."

"Okay, but like, what's that Overcity and why does it sound cool?" Bubbles asked.

Olivia sighed. Again. She wasn't even going to get to ask what Snaketail had been doing since they'd both been dropped off by Jackie, was she?

Type: Threat Removal

Description: Mad Scientist situation resolved peacefully through negotiation, preventing further victims pending observation. Several disappearances noted in the area, but chance of permanent resolution judged high. Risk negligible.

Notes: Resourceful, but limited in scope. Capable of sourcing Liquid Type Gamma-One-Seven-Four-Two-Clear-Alabama, but unlikely to seek deeper involvement into non-mundane matters. Singular creation type, low likelihood of spread beyond mild mental influence.

Type: Monster Destruction

Description: Modified sub-space created through charged magic. Unholy element, sub-type Malice/Resentment. Family farm that was overtaken whole. Subjects: Father, Mother (), Victims, Creations, Daughter

Father: Large undead type, considerable strength. Estimated B-class solo threat. Destroyed.

Creations: Pack of undead wolf-human hybrids. Estimated C-class solo threat. Presumed completely destroyed.

Victims: Fused undead type, reality denaturalization noted. Estimated B-class solo threat. Destroyed.

Mother (): Fused large empowered undead type. Estimated A-S-class group threat. Confirmed capacity to destroy city regulation area before notice. Destroyed.

Daughter: Mutated half-undead type. Secured and kept under observation during treatment, arrangements made.

Notes: Territorial threat, high-danger low-risk. Targeted for removal due to shifting local priorities. Victim rate low, but constant. Suspected Fate intervention.

Personal Notes: These reports really should be standardized already. Please refer to the petition for standardization of reports, bills and related documents.