MMG Chapter 15: A Right Show, a private fanfic

Kerrie turned her head, getting whatever was blocking her nose out of it. She tried to wipe the back of her hand over whatever it was to move it, too, but couldn't, finding her arms held in place by something.

Pulling her eyelids up despite the grime, she looked around, sleep-drunk, to figure out exactly what was going on. Above herself was a wooden ceiling, jogging her sluggish memories as she blinked in a vain attempt to wake herself up.

Then she saw what her chest was buried under- Jackie was lying on her, sleeping, with her exposed, smooth stomach rubbing against hers; the smaller girl was in her underwear, frilly panties not managing to hide a bulge at her crotch.

To both of Kerrie's sides, Olivia and Bubbles lay, with the monkey girl known as Mirasol draped over all of them like a blanket, all asleep.

What the heck had even happened yesterday?!

They had been exploring the treehouse Mirasol had found, looking through the three floors of the camouflaged building set amidst the treetops; it was actually furnished, coming with cabinets, bedrooms, even a functioning bath and toilets.

Access was a little difficult, though, with hidden ladders you had to unroll by tugging on a rope and climb up to go over several tree branches before you got inside. This place wasn't going to be up to code anything soon, it was a massive fire hazard, for Christ's sake!

That said, Kerrie had quickly grown distracted by something. As they looked through the place and Olivia was growing more and more excited like a little kid, Jackie had seemed kind of… off.

To the point she'd gone to investigate and, being tired, exhausted, freshly traumatized by millions of bugs they'd ended up burning with fire, as was the only appropriate response to the existence of giant bugs and just overall done after the revelations about her teammates and what had to be some kind of rape between Jackie's age, lifestyle and mental disabilities, Kerrie had not reacted well.

Protectively standing in front of a drooping magical girl, cheeks taking on a small reddish tint and eyes fluttering, she'd confronted them about it. "Okay, who of you gave Jackie alcohol?! Are you planning to do anything to her while I'm not looking?!"

"Nobody gave her anything, pretty sure none of us would have had the time to," Bubbles argued.

"Yeah, normal Jackie is enough of a handful," the greenette amongst them added.

"Muuuh," Jackie yawned, clumsy hands rising to pat Kerrie's back and butt.

"… Did you give her date rape drugs?!"

"Pretty sure she's just tired," Mirasol commented from where she was lazing in the corner of the room.

"Okay, doesn't matter. I'm going to keep watch over Jackie tonight to make sure none of your creeps touch her. Jackie, sweetie, you're going to have to undress to bed, okay?"

"Muh…"

"Do you think you can make it all the way back to your house?"

"Muh…"

"You know what that sounds like?" Bubbles asked. "Sounds like Sleepover Time!"

And that was pretty much how this happened. In hindsight, calling them creeps for getting that close to a girl even younger than themselves that was not able to legitimately give informed consent to anything of the sort was perhaps a little harsh, but it was true, wasn't it?

You slowly awaken, feeling surrounded by something soft, warm and of pleasant scent. As is only appropriate for God-Empress Jackie the Great, the Ever-Virile and Mightiest of Cats.

… No, wait. That was a dream.

… Now you're disappointed nobody gave you those titles yet, you are very disappointed in reality over this. Well, except the last one, that one's just weird.

Your eyes feel a little like they're stuck together, but, with a mighty yawn, you slowly raise a hand whose back you rub over them carefully to allow yourself the wonders of sight. As you were already expecting, you find yourself in the middle of a sleeping pile of magical girls, which is still very pleasant and still how you demand to wake up every day from now on.

Oh, and there's Tabitha. She's lying curled up on your stomach, as you are lying on your back. Her eyes blink at you before she raises a paw, covering them again.

Patting the cute widdle kitty's head and back very gently, you slowly scoop her up as you sit up, realizing the one under you is Kerrie while the one whose knee is kind of digging into your thigh is Olivia. Noting the need for her punishment later in the privacy of your mind, you fight to get up, also confirming that Bubbles seems to be asleep.

You were wondering because one of her hands is buried down her pants, but she probably just subconsciously started masturbating or something. Perfectly normal magical girl behavior, you're sure.

Ugh, so what were you gonna do today again? Your sleep-addled brain is all scrambled and confuzzled, so when you stumble out of the tree house to get some fresh air, you promptly fall down the branch that you were supposed to walk on and smack into the ground.

Luckily, you are a clever cookie and land on your feet, so you just mildly twist your ankle on the soft, loamy forest soil. Your body can take quite a bit more punishment than a human one would be able to, but when you set your foot wrong, you set your foot wrong, it seems.

Meh. You regenerate the damage and shake out your head. The pain just helped you wake up, at most.

Can we please never do that again? Waking up like this sucks. Just use cold water or something instead.

You are Ice Empress Jackie. No water is colder than you are.

It's too early for magical puns. Just gimme a couple golems to go out and do some stuff.

Your talent as a comedian is being wasted with an audience this cold. Wasted, you say!

Mrglbrlebm

Alright, anyway. First stop, Brian.

"Briaaan," you call out, singing the name as much as you're addressing it. "Briaaaan…"

He must be hiding from you somehow. That or your cat imposter sensor isn't fully booted up yet due to failing breakfast input. Which you, again, choose to interpret as him hiding from you.

If you were a Brian trying to hide from an unstoppable, invincible and inescapable opponent, where would you be? Well, you yourself, being considerably smarter than him, would know doing anything of the sort would be utterly foolish, so you would either delay for as long as you could before accepting your fate or kill yourself as the only possible way out, but thankfully Brian is not you.

Which leaves only two other possibilities: He is either not inside your basement at all or around the next corner. Knowing about the narrative nature of fate and the like, you jump out, comprehensibly catching the creature imitating a stuffed toy by surprise.

"Chuuh, I heard you from where I was."

By complete surprise!

"You were calling my name."

Surpriiiise!

Anyway, your mastery of stealth techniques aside, you are actually here because you wanted Something. Because hey, what other use is Brian than giving you what you want? Hence, you stretch out an open hand.

Making a grabbing motion.

"Magical essence. Why do I not have more than I do?"

"Chuuh, production levels were unexpectedly low recently due to environmental-"

"Don't care. I know you've been skimming off the top."

"This is not the mafia, chuh."

"Where is my essence, Brian?"

"It isn't being produced, puchuh."

"… Chuh."

"Alright, fine, here!" Brian's tail swirls around, depositing two vials of off-gold, glowing liquid in your hand. "I've used the rest of my share, chuh, but you can have what's left."

Sweet, sweet victory. Its taste is almost as sweet as what you'll be cramming into your face in a bit.

"Also, money," you continue after stowing away your hard-earned prize in one of the pockets hidden on your dress. "For the bugs."

"Bit greedchuh, aren't we?"

"Bugs," you deadpan. "Buuuugs."

You must say it twice and drawn-out to emphasize their size and number.

"You brought one back home, puchuuh."

"Ice type." Your eyes find Brian's. They dare him to contradict you.

Disappointingly, he doesn't, instead stomping a paw onto the ground to make something fall down from above. Wise to his tricks, you swipe it out of the air trivially, of course.

Gained 20 Silver Coins

Nodding once you have confirmed what your mana sense is telling you, the easily reconizable blaze of power contained within the silver coins inside the pouch now in your possession, you tilt your head. "Could be more. Buuuuuugs."

"Pleasure doing business with you, chuh." Brian turns around and leaves.

Huh. It'll have to be good enough for you, you suppose. Or you'll have to chase him down later for more money.

Naturally, after your… 'business transactions' with Brian are complete, you go out to take a look at what exactly Elena is doing, or rather instructing her golem comrades to do while she wields Mister Stabblesworth and your sword like cleaving instruments. Because that is what she is doing.

Now, normally you would certainly agree with that kind of enthusiasm, after all only the rarest of your enemies will tear themselves apart of their own volition (Magic is real, so anything remains possible, okay?).

However, the fact of the matter is that you do not, in fact, applaud her for brutally slaughtering hapless peasants for fun, but instead slam the door to your domain closed and run away to the highest reaches of it, your room right under the roof, to hide under the covers.

Because she had been taking apart the terrible not-ice types instead. And the other minions were carrying swords and shields in a particular style you recall quite vividly, simply due to the fact they are body parts of the not-ice types as well.

Come on, they have natural weapons and shields! Of course we're gonna take them off and use them.

That is like, like, like wielding toxic waste as a weapon because some terrorist tried to drown you in it!

Think of it this way, we're showing off how dead we made those bugs by using their severed limbs as weapons. Have you seen how hardcore that looks?

Bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs

There there, you don't even have to touch them. They work just fine as low-level magic equipment once we modify them a bit.

… Okay, if it's free stuff, you can hardly say no to it. You'll just… Get some paint or something. Cover them in a coat of bright blue or just white so they don't remember you of-

And this is how we turn insect arm tissue into handles for the shields!

You roll around in your comfy bed to try and remove the image Elena has sent from your head. After a minute or two, Tabitha comes in and joins you, the two of you rolling in unison.

She truly is your emotional support animal.

Jangling your hard-won loot in one hand, as you just love to listen to the pleasing sound of coins scraping and hitting against one another, you make your way up again, as you do have pretty much everything you wanted now.

At least until you can come up with something else you can force Brian to give you- and it seems you shall have to do so sooner rather than later, as the traitorous fake cat has chosen to betray you!

Deftly sidestepping a mechanical arm suddenly popping out of the ceiling and trying to snatch you up with a whirring, almost painfully surging noise, your eyes narrow, already considering where to aim your ice lances to to do the most catastrophic damage. However, before you can exact your well-earned revenge, a loudspeaker nearby springs to life, relaying Brian's traitorous snake voice to you.

"Sorry about that, chuh. Something is wrong with the sensors and you have been tagged as an enemy combatant, puchuuh."

Filthy lies!

"Just stay where chuh are and I will have this fixed in maybe half an hour, puuh."

"Muh," you deny his false tongues. The Jackie shall not be stopped by something as inconsequential as his powerless, limp machine limbs! That cannot hope to measure up to your rigid, hard self, swollen body trained through rigorous exercise routines!

Well, before you fused with Elena, anyway. As you understand it, training wouldn't do anything in your current body, so there's little use in bothering.

"Chuuh, if you don't want to wait, just treat it as a combat exercise. Or an obstacle course, chuh. Chuhust don't blame me if I have to untangle you from automated processing."

"I'd like to see you try." If Brian's rebellious machinery wants a piece of you, it will choke to death on copious amounts of ice before you let him fix it! Not that anything he has built could possibly catch you to begin with! "Muh, muh, muhmumumumumuuuuuuuuuh!"

Launching into a sprint, you run back the way you came in through, in short order sliding past an electrified net of lasers, jumping straight over a pit trap, jamming your added sharp back limbs into the ceiling to navigate through suddenly pressure-sensitive tiles and swinging guillotine blades.

None of this is anywhere near enough! You are untouchable!

Finally, after only, what, an hour or two of navigating the maze under your house (randomly opening and closing pathways to force you into traps was annoying and you may have wasted some time there before you realized it only looked like there was always still a way out and summarily blasted through), you have returned upon your rightful domain, as opposed to the sewers beneath it.

Really, that dirty rat should just come up to your palace instead. One day, you shall enforce your proper royal authority to such ends, but alas, the shady creature is loathe to come crawling out of its holes.

Still, there you go, by pure coincidence dodging past the troubling trio of magical girls you did invite into your home. Kerrie, Olivia and Bubbles are talking loudly, so you take a moment to listen in on them to ascertain they are not trying to ambush you.

They are not. Bubbles, however, is suggesting they make use of your PlayStriker, as they have entered your living room. You'll leave them to it, but if you come back and find any of your save games to have been overwritten somehow, there'll be hell to pay.

Mainly in the form of you confining all three girls inside your house for a week straight for disciplinary breeding purposes.

Ugh. You don't want to deal with them right now. You'll just go up to your room and read a little. Naturally, you mean reading your grimoire and all, but really it's just an educational exercise, isn't it?

You're learning, after all. Magical spells, but you're learning.

"Muh."

"No, really, please tell us what we're here for, Jackie."

"Muuh." Kerrie somehow turned even more tiresome than usual, actually showing patience and deliberate determination literally every time she talks to you. You don't know why she does this, but as you can't properly chastise her without losing use of her as a minion, you have to weather it. For now. "Investigating a monster."

"Do you always do this? Seek out monsters this quickly one after another, I mean. We just fought those bugs yesterday and-"

"They are there, so I blast them." There. "As long as monsters exist, they exist as target practice."

Olivia stirs where she's sitting on her own ice platform, speeding along courtesy of yours truly. "It doesn't always turn out like that. When we fought that fog thing, you-"

"Muh," you stop her from talking. You also absolutely do not pout. It was embarrassing enough at the time, to try to show off your superiority only for that upjumped animated steam engine to get one over you. "Searching the woods today."

"You mean there's, like, more of those wendigo motherfuckers around?" Bubbles asks. Her eyes immediately begin searching the ground under you as best they can- you're currently flying over the treetops and all.

"No. Don't think so. Word is of a landslide that destroyed a campsite and killed everyone there. It's suspicious."

"Wait, you mean it killed all the people there?" Kerrie asks for confirmation. You nod. "And it hit a camping site that was there for a while already… Yeah, you're absolutely right, that's super suspicious. Why would it be there if landslides were an issue in the past? It'd have been moved a while ago, so something like this happening suddenly is really weird."

"Also no rain around when it happened," you add helpfully.

"Uhm… Jackie? I think I heard something big move from somewhere over there," Olivia points out.

"I didn't hear anything," Kerrie mumbles. Bubbles nods, agreeing.

"Oh, I'm, uh, using magic. I'm not very good at it, but the wind can carry sounds for me to hear so I can-"

You dock your ice platform against hers, moving in the direction she indicated. Your hands find Olivia's green bangs, flapping her hair up and down. "Bat sonar."

"It's not like that, it's more-"

"Flap flap flap." You aren't interested in her explanation, you understood well enough the first go 'round. You just want to flap her hair now.

All playing around aside, though, as you go further towards where Olivia pointed, you soon begin to hear something, too. It's a grinding, rumbling sound, like rocks decided to come alive and shoot some hardcore porn. Your magical senses also pick something out, a signature of something deep, bubbling and writhing, magic boiling up and out of control, focused around a particular area.

Everyone can hear it, now, dispelling any levity in favor of focused attention. It takes a bit, but you soon notice something unusual; the leaves of the trees around you are becoming rarer and rarer, dark earth visible below them now. It is a gradual change, unlike the one around Chuckie's old farm home.

It feel almost like life is being sucked out of the area- you can't spot any of the normal forest critters, either. Still, some moss has grown in patches here and there, so it's not like there's nothing at all to be found.

"Like, is it just me or did those trees just, like, move?"

… No, Bubbles is right. They did move. Or rather, they were moved, by something pretty big and camouflaged within this environment.

It is also glowing with magic. Literally, even without your powers, there's a visible red glow coming from within the animated chunk of twisted, warped wood coming from several trees with forest soil and maybe a couple rocks thrown in, from the looks of it.

It also seems to be prowling around, looking, searching- until it looks up, spotting your frumptious (Is that a real word?) foursome.

It screams. The sound is an assault on your senses and you have to fight back against it just to stay conscious.

Immediately, you shrug off the assault on your senses and possibly mind, not at all troubled by this measly roaring of a beast that has simply yet to understand its place beneath you.

I think your brainmeats are overheating, daddy.

You do not so much as feel a tingle!

Anyway, time to fight. This thingy is screaming at you most unpleasantly still, so it is high time you gave it a reason to shut up. Luckily, you did think to activate your ice armor spell beforehand, so you immediately skip towards waving a hand and conjuring a massive wave of frosted-over air that lays itself over the monster.

"Right… We have to… fight!" Kerrie yells out between grit teeth, just barely audible over this cacophony. Next to her, Olivia is holding her hands over her eyes, clearly heavily affected, but nodding in agreement all the same.

Bubbles, on the other hand, is already off to la-la-land, drooling absently as she just kid of… lies on her own ice platform. You'll just go ahead and move it away from here a bit, maybe she'll recover outside of whatever range this thing has.

Still, it seems your nominal 'allies' are taking a bit here. They really should pull themselves together.

It may just be you, but this screaming is getting even louder. Not about to endure it silently when you don't have to, you raise your guns, snapping off a quick couple of ice lances, the rush and displaced air behind them giving you an illusion of quiet for a moment before you find your senses again.

Which tell you the scream is still going on, actually growing more shrill by the second. Ugh.

The trio of supersonic icicles blasts in the almost centipede-like creature's direction, speeding straight at its head, but at the very last moment it moves out of the way to instead meet them with the chunks of earth on its back. They get torn off, of course, but there's still several rocks and the like lodged into it as a protective shell.

"Come on, we can do this!" Ah, right, the peanut gallery, as you have decided to call the three girls that have kind of gotten stuck to you (like chewing gum to the sole of your boot) is still there. Also, it looks like Olivia actually needs encouragement to keep going under these conditions.

Maybe you should get a dog whistle just in case you need to take her out without wasting mana in the future.

"I got this! Raaaah!" Raising her dual spears, the green-haired magical girl throws one straight at the monster, taking the other one in both hands. "Truth Seeker! True Laaaance!" A vortex of disturbed air forms, connecting both weapons to one another as she stabs the tree thing at range, propelling one spear harder through controlling her magic to push it onward.

Kerrie just holds out a had and fires a stream of fire along with it, the combination of air and fire once again igniting and blasting a surprising amount of exploding flame all over the monster.

You can hear something crack violently before they run out of steam for a moment.

Good assist there. Much wow. You can see the blackened outsides of the twisted creature, pulsing purple energy now pushing and leaking out through the cracks formed in its body.

"Grass/Earth type," you conclude finally. "Not as weak to fire as it could be."

"I don't think p*kemon references are the right reaction to this!" Kerrie cries out.

"Habububwuh," Olivia adds, eyes swimming. Good point, that.

All of a sudden, you hear a tinkling, breaking sound, like something close to your heart just shattered. Looking down, you see your little ablative amulet, meant to take blows for you, dangling under your dress.

Usually very mundane at first glance, it has a soft golden glow to itself when defending you from attacks. Such as it just had. Now, however, said bonfire in the dark is dying out, the rune-covered stone you used going dark itself and disintegrating into soot and ashes.

So many memories flash through your head. Making it as a simple backup plan in case you may ever get a scratch otherwise. Wearing it to sleep. Wearing it when awake. Playing with Tabitha by dangling it from your neck for her to paw at. Playing on your PlayStriker with it.

… Using up two full vials of magical essence to make it as durable as possible only to have it broken now.

"Muuuuuuuuuh!!!" Lifted by the wings of rage, you shoot again, thrice. Each shot is immaculately aimed. The first pierces through its back, dislodging what few pieces of rubble still remains there and pushing it down for just a moment. The second shears along its side, ramming itself through two jointed legs before rocking the entire monster when it buries itself into it and spreads its deliciously cold payload deep into it.

The third one skewers the monster's distorted head, nailing it onto the ground. Hard. It's still alive, wiggling around, but momentarily stunned.

"… That's some really good shooting," Kerrie says, hopping over onto Olivia's platform to rub her teammate's back gently with one hand, the other one still holding her sword. "I was going to try to burn through its throat to shut it up, but I guess this works, too?"

You still have one more task to complete. Tucking your guns away, you reach behind your back, grasping for the hilt of your blade.

Then you stretch your arm. You get up on your toes, but it isn't very productive to do so, either.

The exact logistics do not really matter, all told. What counts is that, after finally drawing your sword, you jump off your platform of ice, bringing it down in a mighty overhead swing and proclaiming to all your absolute might in battle. "Muuh!"

You crash down mightily indeed. Having hacked a good, long cut into the charred wood of your foe, still struggling weakly at the blow it received, you point your weapon downwards this time (and use your toes for full effect), thrusting it into the chink in your victim's body.

It is a surprisingly fleshy and wet sucking sound that comes out when you do so. Finally, the wooden monster slows, the purple energy that seems to have been driving it on dimming.

Revenge. Revenge for your two vials of magic juice.

Then you look down and realize that oh, the purple stuff seems to be getting sucked into your sword. Surely, this is an entirely normal and unthreatening development, one that cannot possibly end badly for you.

Not like you just picked this thing off the street one day and have no idea where it came from or how it really works.

Pulling out, you watch as the energy comes swirling after your blade, sliding over your hands harmlessly. See? No need to worry. It's all fine.

Your sword shift as this happens, its balance changing and moving along. The blade itself is spread, its flat sides growing wider, just as the tip is pulled wide apart, becoming more like another edge than anything else. The grip is also affected, turning into hardened roots, some of which wrap around the rest of your sword for a bit.

Finally, the metal turns jade green, an oversized executioner's blade finally resting in your hands. You thrust it into the sky, proof of your superiority once again carved into the world in word and deed.

"What even is your magical girl weapon, Jackie?" Kerrie asks, slowly patting Olivia into recovering.

"Muh." You ignore her, for you now have a bigger issue than her inane questions.

That is, how do you bring this thing home for Brian to give you money and/or wood?

In the end, you simply used your golems to drag your spoils back home. At first, you tried having them drag the tree carcass with some ropes, but sadly shibari ropes the kind of which you can conjure don't really work well for this.

Here you were looking forward to hurling abuse at them as they worked, too.

Instead, you simply had them carry the thing. They are strong and its weight is distributed enough it isn't too much of a problem, hence you till ride up on top all the way home.

Incidentally, the troubling trio of magical girls (The Peanut Gallery!) also returns to their respective homes, as they were supposed to go home a couple hours ago except in the case of Bubbles, who apparently just lives in their 'secret hideout'.

You will probably go out of your way to look down at them over how shabby it is at some point, but right now you want to just make use of what you have here.

"Chuh, you will need to produce a specific sound when using the scream, puchuh, but implanting the required parts shouldn't be muchuh trouble."

"Muh. Also taking some parts for other stuff." Some plants just grow when parts of another plant are cut off and stuck into the ground after all, so you are definitely planning to see if you can't use that somehow here. With Viridis around, you're… Pretty sure you won't wake up to find your backyard overrun by tree monsters or anything.

Then Brian jabs a needle into your head from below your chin and you black out. How does he even do that with no opposable thumbs?

A type of common nature spirit that has been twisted into reckless aggression. Typically serene and passive more than anything, this type of corruption can occur through various means and often leads to casualties as the entire terrain may rise up to strike at any beings it considers responsible for its state.

It retains the extensive hardiness of its original nature, shrugging off many attacks made against it. Its body is technically just a piece of terrain that has been animated by the spirit within it, but upon being destroyed the nature spirit disperses as well, to return only after several decades of gathering its strength. When uncorrupted, it would have no particular natural weapons beyond its large body, as its existence is by its very nature more peaceful than not, but its corruption drives it to generate a terrible psychic scream, the constant pain of its state expressed through the damage caused.

One particular specimen fought by Jackie in the Randomwoods is highly likely to have been corrupted by long-lasting environmental pollution; in all likelihood, someone has been dumping toxic chemicals or something of the like where nobody would see it, causing the change and driving it to target humans in revenge for turning it into this.

Note, larger and more powerful specimens may exist.

Intact body may sell for up to 5d10 Bronze Coins

Psychic Scream: Causes variable, escalating damage the longer it is used without interruption

Armor: 10

May use VIT for various rolls instead of STR or AGI

"Muh muh, muh muh, muh muh!" You are currently driving your ice golem minions on to perform more adequately, their enslaved selves unable to do anything more than throw you resentful looks. However, their subhuman nature alone ensures they shall never be able to truly rebel.

Incidentally, you're doing this to get them to work harder and faster, as you know better than to expect any results above substandard unless you're ensuring your slaves are sufficiently motivated. Hence you regularly poke them with a long stick made of ice to get them to pay attention. "Muh muh, muh muh, muh muh!"

The rhythm must not be interrupted as you have them transplant the gnarled pieces of wood Brian identified as still capable of growth for you. The resulting trees will be magical, not overly so but any amount of naturally magical material is a boon to your operations- and it's better to have a slowly regrowing source of Gnarlwood lumber than not, really.

On the way to the site you have decided upon as your chosen wood mine, however, you come upon a sight that is somewhat different from what you are used to. You have long since grown accustomed to the usual flora crowding your backyard due to the fact nobody can be arsed to keep it in check (except for Chucky, but she doesn't count), but this one flower growing at the foot of a mighty tree…

It's giving off a cool air, softly rose-colored petals slowly unfolding as if in reaction to your approach, droplets of dew condensed on them wobbling a little. Its stem and the middle parts of the bloom itself are pale blue, a network of the same growths spread around it immediate surroundings, and when you look closely you can see just a speck of mana that reminds you of your own within it.

It is very pretty. You want it. You want it you want it you want it.

Just gonna pluck it up and keep it somewhere nice.

You hold your eyes closed with one hand as you set the prototype to the side, having just succeeded in burning your retinas straight out of your eyeballs.

Playing with the urge to curse like a sailor, you ponder the curse of your ability to regenerate from anything short of death. On the one hand, being nigh immortal as long as you can avoid being entirely obliterated really hard is really, really good, but on the other conducting research and tests like this without the need for any safety equipment such as, say, brightness dampening goggles capable of saving your eyes from the results of your labors can be quite distressing in its own way.

You do know you could just wear goggles anyways?

Lab safety is for nerds and you refuse to be held back by such. You'd rather just suffer and overcome the pain than give in to something Brian would probably consider prudent.

So you're just hurting yourself because you're too stubborn to do otherwise.

Yes. Yes you are. Not like it matters, your eyesight is back already.

So then, the magical flash bang analogue is… Well, not perfect, it's got more flash than bang to it, but it does what it's supposed to, so you're ready to write this one up as a success. Storing the still unused one inside your magical box of holding, you eye the glowing object in the corner of your most prestigious workshop, its light slowly shifting in accordance with the mechanism inside.

Was it a waste of your talent to craft what is essentially a magical lava lamp? Probably, yes. Would you do it again if this works to let you bang that hot ICE TYPE? Totally.

Ahh, it truly is pleasant. It took a bit of searching using your magical senses, but before long you have found your newly acquired ice type's current location, a mighty tree hollowed out and frozen over with the power of the best type.

Come to think of it… You haven't really been paying attention, but some of the trees around your backyard are about twice as tall as your house, aren't they? Some of them even go beyond that, you think, but it's hard to tell looking up from the ground.

Anyway, this one is covered in a thin layer of rime and frost, an inviting opening at its base all but compelling you to step inside. Doing just that, you advance through a winding staircase until, a few floors' worth of space later, you emerge into an oddly wide, open space.

There, sitting on a little bench, your ice type awaits you. Seeing you, she smiles, closing her biggest, human pair of eyes, and spreads her legs wide.

This time her pussy is completely unprotected, out in the open for you to see, as the fluff around her shoulders twitches. "Would you like to breed?"

You drop the magical lava lamp. It can wait for later.

Divesting yourself of your panties and letting them join the intended present on the floor, you grab your cock with one hand, squeezing it tightly as though to hold back the urge to fill this ice type with your frosting until she drops. You approach her with hasty, uneven steps, pulling your dress off yourself as well just so it can't get in the way.

Now clothed only in your gloves, shoes and socks, you start to pant, realizing there's something in the air. A scent that is making your dick strain against the air in search of a hot hole to fuck, that makes you want to stop thinking and start rutting.

The ice type woman's hand is rubbing over her vulva, dipping down to stroke her lips. As you watch, spellbound, two of her fingers slide inside of her, her still spread legs more than enough of an invitation if only you could get your legs to work right.

"Come here" she whispers. "You know what you want to do, don't you? You know you want to breed me over and over and over again."

You move like what to your senses may as well be lightning. Coming to stand before her, you realize that the height she's sitting at is just right for your hips to match hers, the trembling tip of your cock just barely nudging against something very wet and very, very soft.

You can't take it any more. Grasping her thighs with both hands, you jam yourself against her, pushing into her pussy more out of luck than through aim. As your dick slides into her, you can't help but find that your assessment was indeed correct.

You penetrate her easily, but from her outer lips to the deepest part of her love tunnel, this creature is soft. There is no resistance as you go in, only for her pussy to hold onto you hard whenever you so much as think of pulling back; you fit inside her snugly, warm (but not hot) depths calling for you to fuck her as deeply as you can.

"There you go," she murmurs, legs locking over each other behind you. A hand is stroking your head and another one is patting your back, even as you're pulled in deeper and deeper. There's a sound, a drawn-out, lusty moan, and you take a bit to realize that it's coming from you. "You're gonna fuck me lots and give me lot of babies, won't you?"

Your loins were on fire before now. Now they are exploding.

You get into her balls deep, so you grit your teeth, knowing what comes next. Withdrawing yourself despite the tempting, luring pull of the pussy you're fucking, you plunge right back into the giving softness of her womb.

Again. And again. And again.

It feels more like running a marathon that building up to a rhythm, just because of how hard it is to pull out. Even so, you're soon pumping the entirety of your length into her, the power of your erection overcoming all obstacles in its path once again. At some point, you aren't sure when, your ice type bent down a little to let her breasts bounce right in front of your face, so now you're suckling on a blue, inverted nipple, making a game out of pulling it out of hiding just through suction.

You are winning. Because you always are.

"Hnn… Gaah!" You do not sound like this during sex, of course. That is just an auditory hallucination.

Hammering the deepest few inches you can, you rapidly approach your peak, head by now resting between the two badonkadoinks in front of you, and all you can think of is the urge to breed. This is a female that is constantly, overly fertile, her entire body made specifically to bear offspring at insane rates, and you absolutely must ensure that this offspring bears your superior Jackie genetics.

Anything else would be lesser, a loss for the world at large. Unbearable. You must breed the entirety of the world if that's what it takes, but your genes must be passed on to as many generations as possible.

"Haauuu…" Finally. Finally, you come, thick, heavy spurts of splooge flooding your female's womb and ensuring impregnation. You hold yourself like this for several seconds, shivering, your quivering cock and tightly drawn balls doing what they're meant for.

"That felt very good, sweetie," your mate whispers into your ear. "Would you like to keep going? I have a special treat for you, too…"

Chilled, diluted honey, mixed with a fluid whose taste you would recognize anywhere- Viridis' milk. You guzzle down the entire bottle made of hardened wax in one go, completely uncaring about the effects you know are about to hit you.

You feel like you might burst, whether with pure sexual energy or an overproduction of sperm you have no idea. And there is only one way to find out.

"Aaah… Good girl."

Kerrie was, she liked to think, not a complete idiot. Sure, she wasn't a genius by any stretch of the imagination either when she took a moment to properly evaluate herself, but she wasn't that bad, all in all.

That didn't change that the last couple of days had been the perhaps harshest test of her body and mind in her entire life so far, and she'd much prefer it stay the worst of them all- she didn't know how much more she could take, but the madness surrounding the magical girl business about anything Jackie touched was a bit much, in her own humble opinion.

She still had to go over everything that'd happened. Finding out the white-haired girl lived inside a magical forest inside a magical mirror-dimension, realizing that perhaps Jackie was neither an idiot nor actively malicious but instead possibly autistic, being taken along on a small-scale war of annihilation against possibly sentient giant insects, having her brains scrambled really, really badly by that wood-rock-earth-forest-purple-thing, taking her weekend in in retrospect just showed how many things happened that really would deserve their own consideration one by one.

Oh, also the possible murder basement of Jackie's Puchuu and the fact there were some weird, alternate-universe versions of gaming consoles and such inside her house.

It just hit different to consider just how far removed from normal humanity Jackie was. It also explained a lot about the girl's mental state, in Kerrie's opinion.

So she was looking up how autism could express itself, if her on-the-spot diagnosis had any ground to stand on at all or if the most powerful of all magical girls within Glorious Generica was, perhaps, suffering from another cognitive disab- experiencing other kinds of neurodivergence. That sounded less offensive.

This one forum on the topic she'd found was very helpful to research it all, too. BrainBlock42 was really nice and pointed her at other sites that she was also looking into.

One other thing, though, Kerrie just couldn't get out of her head. Sitting back and swiveling the computer chair inside their base around, she cleared her throat to get Bubbles to pay attention instead of sitting on the couch with a glazed-out gaze directed at the TV. "So, hey, one question."

"Shoot away, it's, like, your computer time," the blonde reminded her.

"Jackie had a dick. I wasn't hallucinating that or anything," Kerrie confirmed.

"Sure does, it's a real nice one, too. Why, thinking 'bout popping your cherry? I'd suggest you bring lube."

"Ugh." Why was Bubbles always like this? "No, I'm mentioning this because it's not normally a thing girls have."

"Teeechnically, yeah," the girl lazing so the couch confirmed, rolling herself to look at her upside down. "Though you'd be surprised how many girls out there have, like, cocks of their own, and I'm not talking about shemales or anything, that's a whole 'nother topic. Can't get the thought of lil' Jackie with a big dick outta your head?"

"… No."

"Oh. Ooooh. Gotcha. Well, y'know, if someone was interested, they should probably look up futanari hentai or something, y'know, like, just as a thought. Spelled f-u-t-a-n-a-r-i, or futa for short. Not like anyone cares, the rest of the team's already jumping Jackie's big honking do-"

"Wait. Wasn't there federal legislation that went by that name?" Kerrie asked.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, give me a second. I remember reading about it… Here we go. See?"

"Well I'll be chaste for a whole day, guess the unemployed will be taxed with futa dicks."

"I'm pretty sure that's not what this is about."

"You never know, could be we're all secretly governed by an elite of horny futas that took over the country and seek to enslave America with the power of their musky futa semen. I've seen weirder shit, I guess."

"… Please never become a conspiracy theorist."

"I'd be a sexpiraty practicalist."

"Okay, I have no idea what that would even be and I don't think I even want to know."

"Spoilsport. But that tax act was totally deliberately named, like, totally."

Elena was asleep, just like her daddy was, their now shared body webbed into a cocoon by the big titty fluffy moth milf with blue skin (and 'skin') they'd landed, still slowly fucking the much taller woman as they softly snored last she'd seen.

Daddy really knew how to pick 'em, screw anyone that said otherwise. Back when she'd been in charge of her own body, she'd had so much trouble seducing grown women, it was ridiculous… She could have any girl in her own age range within minutes, but it took days to worm her way into a woman's clothes more often than not.

But now she was asleep, so she did what she did best: She dozed off as hard as she could as the boring world around her ceased to exist.

Sleeping while sharing headspace with her daddy would never not be weird, seeing a her own mental processes were taking place mostly separate from Jackie's, as it was only adequate to call the combination and dominant personality of them both, but it wasn't bad at all, just a little unlike normal sleep. She got sleepy on her own and could be asleep while daddy was awake and vice versa, but there was only so much to see and experience with closed eyes, so she usually slept when her daddy did anyway.

Elena dreamt, too, and when she did she was the only one that could see those dreams, though she could also 'remember' daddy's dreams when she tried. Her dreams were often a lot more lucid, though only sometimes, and she was usually just along for the ride of whatever her shared brain cooked up anyway.

Tonight she was remembering all the good times. Daddy teaching her how to shoot a small gun, because she had to know how to handle one. They'd made weekend day trips out of it, first to the gun range, then eating ice cream together. His big, strong hands on her shoulders, clear voice giving her instructions on how to pump lead into a motherfucker at twenty paces, teaching her how to maintain a gun she may or may not be gifted when she became fifteen, acting spoiled and demanding to be spoon-fed strawberry ice cream…

Nnh~, it was almost like cute little dates. Her daddy was just too perfect!

Then there was the time she'd killed her first victim, though Elena could and would have spun it as self-defense. Daddy had come as soon as she'd called him, then he'd taught her how to dismantle and discreetly disappear a body; she'd been too weak to saw through the bones by herself, but he was a big, strong man, so he'd just said she could watch and learn for later.

His back was always so wide and so strong, rippling with muscles when he pushed himself. She knew he was working out regularly and it showed so much, it was ridiculous. In an awesome way.

Whenever she needed anything, daddy was there to teach her or help her when she couldn't do it herself- but it was so much more than that. He was attentive, he cared about her and listened to her when she was saying something, he could keep up with her intellect and he played along with her antics when she wanted him to.

I-it wasn't like she enjoyed the bratty combination of the two of them or anything, okay?

… Their combination. Elena's dream shifted to the thoughts she kept having, of waiting for daddy in his bed (he'd banned her from sleeping in it when she was nine, utterly heartlessly), of welcoming him home with a smile and a blush, of his strong hands taking her own, fingers intertwined as her spread legs welcomed him that extra bit, the thick, huge penis she'd been spying on showers for years for, to catch just a glance or two on whenever she could, driving into her offered maidenhood to make her core boil with desire and cover it with proof of her love for her daddy…

She would blush, and stammer, and ask daddy for kisses, too flustered and horny to do anything else, too…

But none of that ever happened. It was her one regret in life, to never have been taken by the one man that could ever possibly satisfy her, be her equal in this gray, boring world of faceless people.

It was all because of that useless, unworthy fire cunt! She'd blown them up, killed her daddy as they went off to live in a new city, escape any potential pursuit for their 'crimes'- they were just useless people that got themselves killed, raped, used and abused as a matter of course, it was just nature asserting itself in the form of the Winters family, but no!

Some people would maybe call it karma, what had happened to them. Some people could also go fuck off and choke to death on a dick.

The rat had come just in time, not that it was a coincidence. Elena hadn't believed it for a second back then and she knew even better now. However, the wish she had been offered had been just in time; daddy had died, but she could still save him!

And twist things to get to take revenge, leading to the fire girl dying to the goblins daddy had faced down and frozen solid on that first night after taking control. It wasn't quite precisely what she'd had in mind, but in many ways this suited her just fine, even if she forever would mistrust the rat and curse the fact she hadn't known magical girls could come back from the dead.

But that was alright. She could just talk daddy into killing the cunt that'd tried to take him from her again. And in the meantime, they were together.

Together.

Together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together together forever and ever and ever, immortal, two souls in one body, so close.

Closer than any little cunt daddy raped as was only natural, for the strong took from the weak however they pleased and used them for their pleasure and daddy understood it so well, didn't he? There were so many reasons he was the only man for her.

They were one now. Fused into the same being. And she was never going to give that up, for nothing in the entire world.

Daddy was hers on a level nobody else could ever claim, after all.

Jackie snored cutely, and if someone were to try and listen to her, they may think it a light tone of laughter was contained inside the high-pitched grunting sounds. Surely, she was having a good dream.

"Mmm… Muuuh…" You have something on your face. It is soft and yet just annoying enough to make you stop sleeping.

"Mrrrw."

"Muh…" It's pushing against your mouth. Almost like it's patting it. You try to turn your head away, but you can't, not really, you're caught on something and your body refuses to move.

"Meow."

Finally, you have something wet and furry right up in your face, licking your cheek. Seeing as you really can't seem to slumber peacefully any longer, you sloppily blink awake, groaning and mumbling all the while.

Though that could also be because you're currently having sex with something.

Oh, now you see why you couldn't move. There are threads covering your body, keeping it in place so the only thing you can do is to slowly, shallowly nudge your hips, presumably having fucked your new ice type just like that all night, as you recognize the sweltering heat of her pussy as soon as you pay attention again.

"Muh."

"Meow."

Communication established, Tabitha leaves your face alone, instead walking towards your discarded clothing and sticking her head into it, soon dragging your phone towards you with her teeth.

She's so cute. You want to cuddle her right away. Squash her against your belly and pat her little head.

Once your phone's closer, your cat pats onto it a few times until she can finally activate the touchscreen. It is… Pretty late in the morning.

"Muh. Just ten minutes." Your body tenses, flooding a certain womb with cum- a small belly gathered on your 'partner' overnight, now pressing against you. "Twenty."

"Meow."

"Muh."

Eventually, Tabitha's abject cuteness (and her soft little paw-paws) is sufficient to rouse you from your cocoon, getting free through no small amounts of difficulty by, ultimately, your squirming waking up your professional ice type and her licking the strands of ice-silk holding you in place to loosen them up and, finally, removing them.

All the while you have to endure your cat swiping at your face. Your efforts to counter-attack bear relatively little fruit, as your nose, despite being sculpted to absolute perfection and capable of many amazing feats, is not suited very well to stopping a playful animal. If anything, bumping your faces into each other was only the next level of playing, for her.

Still totally worth it.

Now then, taking your breakfast with Chucky's aid, as your grand chamberlain's duties encompass feeding you at times, yes, yes, you consider what errands you shall undertake on this fine morrow. Truly, your unruly subjects demand no end of magnanimous patience and thorough taxation to learn their place beneath you.

I just had a really good dream, but the tsukkomi calls for me…

Ignoring certain disembodied sleepyhead daughters, you proceed underground, intent on obtaining your due. Why, it fills you with sadness so many refuse to pay their Jackie taxes, their existence fees, the communal protection funds… But alas, the world at large will learn one day. Right now you must simply-

"Take it and go, chuh," Brian rudely says over your basement intercom (that you totally knew you had all along, by the way). A hidden trap door opens right in front of you, revealing a rising platform upon which rests a vial filled with a certain, vaguely olden-colored liquid. "Production has been slowing recently, not enough depravity to power the converter, puchuuh."

Gained Vial of Magical Essence x1

"Muh," you make, pocketing it. Then, addressing the wall, you open your mouth once again. "Can you make apps?"

"Puuh, no."

"Muh."

"No, puchuh."

"Muuuuuh."

"Puuuuuuuuuuuh."

"Magitech tracking app. To keep track of my possessions marked with sympathetic runes."

"No, chuuh."

"… Demon bindings," you say, seeking to keep your adversary unbalanced and on the defensive. "Can something like that-"

"Puchuh, no, they only work on demons because of their particular nature, both extra-dimensionally and otherwise, puh. If it's not demonic, you'd need specialized magic to magically enslave it, chuh."

"Muh. No dice?"

"No dice, chuh. Also, I am very busy, so go away."

You do so, knowing you won't get anywhere with this stingy, egotistical vizier in charge of your minor operations. He is plotting to overthrow you and take your throne, you can feel it…

You are strolling through the vagaries of the place you have decided to continue describing as the 'underhive', casually taking in the trash-strewn alleyways and the slumped, wary denizens of this place make a big detour around you wherever you go, obviously recognizing their better and unwilling to direct your attention towards themselves.

Truly, this is the best. The knowledge that not only are you better than everyone else, but everyone else then also acknowledging it. And acting accordingly.

"Muh." You have decided upon a course of action, now. You still have that list of places and names Baphomet left you with in exchange for a totally fair bribe, so you can simply approach some other victim honorable businessman to browbeat do honorable business with. That said, this will, presumably, take some time, as you will have to track and shake down several people this time around, already having enforced your exploitative exchange rates upon one of the bigger sources of coin exchanges in the area.

Time which would feel wasted if you didn't do anything else. Thus, you take a moment to summon forth the seemingly limitless well of power you can draw upon, conjuring… Thirty ice golems, yes.

Your thuggish minions shall, once again, move within their natural element- that of cyberpunk-aesthetic fantasy crime. Nodding at them, you silently order five of them to remain with you as your honor guard, whereas Elena will be organizing her own strike force made up of the rest.

They will be off to mug some random people pointed out by the informant you have chosen for business, the one that looks like a nazi that really didn't age well after World War Two. You, on the other hand, shall simply go on ahead with your original plan, shake down the wealthy cockroaches that live down here.

So many people fail to pay their Jackie tax on time…

Business had been going well, Elena reasoned. Sure, the rats scurrying around down in these low-level areas didn't exactly have that much cash to be taken, but there were enough coins to go around, when one thoroughly checked every orifice. Just blindly attacking people in broad… neon light? Out in the open, anyway, would have caused too much chaos and probably riled the angry populace up somehow in case they accidentally hit anyone connected, but that was what the suspect informant was for.

He didn't know everything, but he knew enough to be able to point out targets that wouldn't cause too much of a fuss- or that would die without much fuss being made about the bodies, whatever.

He got a bronze coin for his trouble, fresh from some poor sod's still warm body, of course. Had to implicate him somehow, may as well do it i the form of payment. By his acting, Elena couldn't tell whether he was genuinely almost in tears about being paid an actual bronze coin, as opposed to the copper they were amassing moderately and also loading off onto him or afraid she was going to squash him like an ant, but no matter what he wasn't going to be an issue.

Or if he was, well, squish squish motherfucker. Simple as that.

Now all she had to do was to have her golems track down the last wave of victims and-

"There you are, evildoer!"

Elena froze, not believing what her ice holes were telling her was happening.

"You shall face justice for your crimes!"

No, seriously, how would that even happen? Why? And who would genuinely do this?

"There is no way out but through the legendary…"

A red, blue, green and yellow costume, thick bodysuits with painted helmets and dark black visors. White gloves and boots, too.

""Color rangers! Assembled!""

The four men posed, one up front kneeling down with his arms stretched to his sides, one in the back making an 'O' with them and two to the sides mirroring each other in pointing both open hands outwards.

"Ah, je'z, this is why nobody can't do business down here…" The informant mumbled behind her.

"To protect the weak!"

"To ward off the strong!"

"The hand of the meek!"

"And to right what's wrong!"

""Color range-!""

Blue's head was hit by a sharpened chunk of ice, boring straight through his helmet. A few bloodied bits and pieces spread all over the area behind the four, now three, idiots.

"Blue! Nooo!"

"We will avenge-!"

The massacre was short. From a certain perspective, it was merciful, too.

"Muh, muh, mumuh, muh, muhmuhmuhmuh, mu-muh, muh mummumuhuh, mu-muh, muh mumuh muh mumuh…"

Nothing less than the imperial march is worthy of your current project, especially as your mood is soaring after the incredible 'deals' you scored during your little… Economical redistribution tour, driving you on to ever greater heights.

Right now you're trying to concentrate on what you're doing instead of thinking about the big fucking sack full of coins your harvest resulted in and how you will literally bury your face inside them later. Your success is limited, but it keeps you happy and progressing along all the same.

Now then… Drumrolls please, by the way… Elena's knife that you got for her on a birthday, now finally receiving its own enchantment!

You put it onto your enchantment table inside the little workshop Brian set up for you in the basement, the mostly ordinary knife now pinned inside a contraption meant to keep it in place while you do your work. And, indeed, a series of other tools is readied as well, from a little arrangement of mechanical pincers to hold things inside of magical essences to a specialized siphon meant to let you work with more volatile and fleeting substances such as distilled emotions.

Don't fuck this up, please. I really like Mister Stabblesworth.

You are now burning with the unending focus and ability inherent to yourself whenever anything significant to Elena is concerned.

There is only you, your tools and your materials. All else is irrelevant. Time to do some magical science.

You are investing, at base, the cursed energy contained inside your BlueBall Mark II, slivers of gnarlwood and runic enchantments to allow any of this to be possible (unless you vote not to add any of these components)

You may add up to three (3) magical essences to increase the magnitude of the enchantment you perform based on the base item used. You may alternative add other essences to add additional effects, but no more than three may be used.

Cursed Wounds: Wounds made by this weapon become cursed, harder to heal without cleansing or purifying magic and inflicting various debuffs against living beings

Undeath: When the wielder of this weapon dies in battle, they do not receive temporary HP but instead become an undead, gaining their full HP pool and continuing to fight. This state dispels at the end of combat, killing or destroying them.

Desperation: Once per combat, accumulated damage dice increases may be consumed to perform a ranged magical attack whose damage scales up with the amount sacrificed

Last Man's Knife Mister Stabblesworth: AGI-based. Deals 1d5 damage per unopposed success. Every time an enemy is killed, the size of damage dice increases by one until the end of combat. If the user's HP would fall below 0, they gain temporary HP until their current HP equal 1 for one round of combat once per combat. Damage caused by this weapon cannot be healed unless purified (cursed wouds). On hit, inflicts a negative status effect with a DC of 2 for every success penetrating armor, stacking up DC 16, that can be resisted through MAG or LCK; causes berserk (physically attacks random nearby creature), stun (cannot act due to great pain), madness (whispering voices and dissociating with reality) or undeath (if killed, victim temporarily resurrects as a weak undead creature under the wielder's control) for 3 turns.

Vial of Magical Essence x5-x2

BlueBall Mark II: Emptied

You are done. Wiping away imaginary sweat, you raise the weapon, rather than a tool (it always was the former, but it cannot be used as the latter anymore now, you're pretty sure) into the air inside the tongs you're using, a subtle, almost invisible mass of runes delicately carved into both sides of the blade.

The handle is still mostly the same, you just switched in some more stable gnarlwood as the core in hopes of letting it stand up to the rigors of combat. In addition to your runes, you also kind of dunked it inside a ton of magical essence and the negative emotional charge you picked up at Chucky's farm, to make sure everything works as intended.

Meaning, whoever or whatever gets stabbed by this thing is in for a bad, bad time. You'd ask Elena what she thinks of your improvements to her favorite knife, but she's been mentally salivating into your general direction for half an hour by this point, so you can estimate what she thinks well enough.

Now sadly, you don't have the time to hunt down Brian and attempt to cut off his tail using this thing to see how it performs, as the process of remaking it took a little while longer than expected- you have a plan, after all, and it wouldn't do to let one thing get in the way of another.

Specifically, you only have so much of a time window to get through your portal and look around the address Melanie gave you regarding a certain recurring weird light effect issue; seeing as you have a general time as to when it tends to happen, you need to be there and alert for whatever is going on before it.

Also, while you could just go for the other portal nearby to avoid any timing issues whatsoever these days, that's an additional minute or so of flying, so why bother?

A usual, of course, the omnipresent noise of the normal world is inundating, at first, taking a moment or two for you to get used to it. That said, you have ignored much worse, so you fly off swiftly, intent on not missing whatever show there is to be had.

You ettle in on a random rooftop above a major street, constant traffic in all directions below you. It might take up to a couple of hours, but-

You spy something bright above the street, a shining, blinding flare that begins at 'don't stare at the sun' and rows in size from there, making you close your eyes despite your better judgement. What is left a few moments later, after you've blinked the spots out of your quickly regenerating retinas, is…

Well, it's hard to describe. It's like Viridis, but instead of being green and made of plants, this catgirl's tail is made out of semi-solid, yellow-gold light. And also a crescent moon?

"Hello hello, everybody!" Boing, boing. "Who wants to see something pretty?!" Boing, boing boing.

Those are some very big honkers she has. And her ass is just as tempting as that of your cat-plant-spirit-mate.

"Magical Girl Lunar Cat-Chan is here to brighten everyone's day! Though I'm not a magical girl, tee-hee!"

Yes. That,

Clearly, whatever is going on here seems entirely harmless and well-intentioned. And if not, well, not your problem, it's just strangers down on that road.

So you just use your magical powers of always having the perfect style for any occasion to conjure yourself some sunglasses, sliding them over your face to ensure that if a spontaneous magical flashbang goes off, you can minimize the damage.

To yourself.

"You getting fired up? I hope you are!" More sparkles fire off in all directions as the cat spirit (you think you can tell) bounces in the air. "'Cause it's time for my maaagicaaal… cooonceeert!"

Her vaguely crescent-moon-shaped tail swishes around, distributing motes of light that, impossibly, stay where they are, beginning to glint and glow in different colors. In moments, the airspace above main street has been turned into a sprawling stage, a tribute to the creature now dancing on it.

"YEEEEAAAAAAAAH!" The light cat cries out, the people down below, some of which braked in the middle of the street causing traffic congestion, moving, shuffling. "YEEEAAAAH!"

They're stomping or hitting something now, building up a unified rhythm. Some are getting back into ear, driving off with renewed vigor, while the rest is almost rioting in the streets.

From car radios, you hear music streaming up, a heavy bass, guitar, it's definitely some kind of-

… Wait. You recognize that music. That's the one theme from Finale Fantastico X!

I loved that game. The story was trash, but Lulu's design is damn great. Shame they ruined her in the sequel.

"You! Know! You! Will!" The catgirl almost barks out. "You know it you know it you know you know it!"

They're completely chaotic downstairs now, beating each other to a pulp, all to the beat of the music as the spirit continues singing, that smug, self-satisfied smile still on her face.

Makes you want to poke her cheeks.

In fact, the urge to pinch and boop and scratch is getting too great. You have to do something about it. Hopping on your ice platform, you fly off the roof, approaching the improvised stage of light.

Moving too quickly for human eyes to follow, you dart right next to the bouncing cat spirit, reaching out. "Boop," you say, satisfied at how soft her cheek feels. "Muh."

"Hah! Hahahaha! I like the way you think!" The creature made of sparkles says, booping you back with her own finger. Now that she isn't singing, the music dims, the crowd below you slowing down as well.

As you have been accepted, you proceed to boop her nose once, then float a little higher so as to reach the top of her head, bending your wrist to scratch behind her ears. "Muh."

"Nyah!" She meows at you. "Hehehe, want to come play with me? We have all night to liven up!"

The tinkling spots of brightness all around you grow brighter and brighter, almost pulsing with their own light, her excitedly standing tail pointing right at you…

"Muh," you blink your eyes, dispelling the illusion. You're probably just seeing wrong.

"Oh, you're good. I like good!"

"Muh!" Clearly she recognizes greatness and knows to appreciate it! Happy, you lean against her, rubbing your face against her breasts.

They're very big and very soft. You can attest they're very wonderful and should be owned by yourself.

"Yeah, you got the right idea! Let's go have fun all night!"

"Muh," you nod. Whatever the bouncy bouncy catgirl says.

"First off, we gotta go find a new place, these guys are boring now." A swish of her tail has her stage disappear, your eyes tracking its pretty light. "C'mon c'mon c'mon, where's a good place to have fun around here?"

"Muh, shot everything already. Need to find new stuff."

"Booh! Guess we'll just have to have fun between us, won't we?" A gloved hand-paw pushes under the rim of your skirt and then your panties, feeling for your cock with rough leather (or is it part of her skin?) against soft flesh.

"Muh. Mine," you declare, holding up both her boobs, large, round globes riveting in all their bounciness.

"Oh, you wanna keep lil' ol' me all to yourself? Let's see whether you can keep up then, can't waste time with boring!"

The light shines and you abandon all pretensions as to giving a fuck about the people below yourself, the traffic slowly getting back to normal.

You are not quite sure exactly how it happened. One moment you're physically perving on the shiny cat girl, the next you are on a roof, scantily clad catgirl proving that while she does wear some clothing, the lines of darker fur concealing her nipples and privates are not, in fact, clothing.

In related news, your clothes are lying somewhere. You didn't keep track.

So there you are, naked except for your shoes and your gloves, staring at the busty spirit thing bent over an AC up on that roof. "C'mon, want a piece of this?"

She reaches backwards to give her butt a slap, giving you a cheshire grin again.

You watch her, tail lifted up to let you see everything, curvy body on full display, something wet and sticky where you can see her nether lips.

"Come and get it!"

You do not pant. To imply such would be treason.

However, you are still on her in a second, erect penis jutting into the cold night air. Her plush buttocks almost suck your hands in when you grab her hips, soft cushions that make you want to just knead and spank them for days on end.

You don't, though. Instead you line yourself up, shuddering when your head feels the dripping wet pussy you're about to fuck.

You're just as impatient a she is, so you ram yourself inside, feeling her wet, hot tunnel enveloping yourself- she's soft and tight, gripping onto your member with unexpected intensity, milking you and sucking you in; just like Viridis is capable of driving you to breed her, this one can make you just want to fuck her, hard.

So you do. You groan, dragging your hips forward as hard as you can, fucking her balls deep with no notice.

She doesn't seem to mind. If anything, she' egging you on, calling for yourself to go harder, deeper, anything she can think of.

With superhuman strength, you rock her body back and forth, ramming your cock into her pussy at a rapid pace that would leave an Olivia sore for a week. Yet, even this isn't enough; you come within minutes, your nigh infinite stamina and sheer vigor not enough to keep yourself from coming inside of the shiny cat spirit.

"Oh, that it already? You're gonna have to work harder if you want to-" You keep going even as your seed is spurting forth, leaning over the golden-yellow glow of a tail swishing in front of you. "-and that's better already, don't mind me!"

Your entire length disappears inside the hungry confines of the horny catgirl, and you soon make a discovery; any time she comes, she glow a little bit brighter. She is a shiny that gets shinier the more you fuck it.

Must. Make. More. Shiny.

You fuck her against the AC. You fuck her lying down, you fuck her even tighter asshole, you eventually find yourself lying cradled on her belly, snorting bronze coins taken from your box (you must've grabbed it at some point) straight off her tits, growing a little stronger, a little faster, every time.

The softly bouncing spirit doesn't once stop you, continually calling for you to go harder, faster, and keep going throughout. You're pretty sure your pelvis would've cracked if it wasn't for your natural regeneration, as you keep going for hours and hours, spreading your shared fluids all over the rooftop.

She has a belly bump at some point. You think. It all gets a little hazy after a while.

You're spanking a deliciously jiggly butt, fucking a tight pussy and getting high off your supply of coins when it happens; the shiny kitty is shiny enough to illuminate all surrounding streets, so grossly incandescent you'd be blinded right now without your sunglasses. She comes again, the added pressure and still enthusiastic calls to 'spank her harder' pulling you along as well, only for your legs to refuse to keep moving as you deposit your sperm deep inside of her.

"Whaaat, can't keep going?" You can, you just need a moment to convince your body of this fact. "Mhm, guess it can't be helped."

"Muh. No." You smack her butt around a few more times, buying yourself that moment you need, meaty smacking sounds ringing through the air. "Just thinking."

"Less thinking, more fucking, then!" A wide grin (like the cat that got the canary) is sent at you over her shoulder. "If you ain't dying, you can keep fucking, can't you?"

"Muh," you nod.

"Knew you'd see it my way." A surge of light goes through the shiny cat, illuminating everything- you think you can see your bones through your skin as you look down, that's how bright she is without hurting your eyes, somehow. A the light recedes again, her own lighting about half as bright as before, she reaches backwards to pull her asscheeks apart, showing you her deliciously tight asshole. "Now get back to rockin' my world, would ya?"

New strength is flooding through your limbs, your hard cock pulled out of her velvety tight vise of a pussy and rammed into her ass instead, an additional bulge becoming visible on her belly.

"Muuuuh!" The power of your manliness has been unleashed! You are now unstoppable! All shall fear the Jackie and despair!

Gained Brilliant Intensity Blessing 1

Brilliant Intensity Blessing 1: You become more energetic, finding new passion for anything that interests you. You also become more zealous towards removing things standing in the way of your passions.

Also, Fertility Blessing has been renamed into Fertile Growth Blessing

Melanie was a simple girl, she liked to think. She had her part-time work, she went to school and just hung around listening to music, the works.

She'd also ever, not once in her life, gotten into a fight. She wasn't a fighty girl, she just… never got into any situation like that.

So she was kind of caught off guard when, one evening after a long shift at the store (the owner had hurt his back moving stacks of CDs again and she helped out a little longer to organize everything and lock up), she was on her way home only to find, well…

"Now don't'cha do anythin' stupid, missy, just gimme yer wallet and back off," the bald dude in the leather jacket said, gun aimed in her general direction.

It was downright surreal. Here she was, having been involved in honest-to-god magic, magical girls, monsters and all that crap, and there an actual mugger, something that had to count as an endangered species or something, was holding her up.

"I don't actually have a wallet," she told him, subtly eyeing both ends of the alley she'd been taking as a shortcut home from her bus stop since first grade. "Can I just, like, give you a fifty and we'll let it count? That's all I got in paper money."

"Nice try, but no. Empty yer pockets and-"

She wasn't a violent person. Sure, she'd seriously thought about stabbing a certain fucking disgusting swine once or twice, but she wasn't usually going to go out and hurt someone. So it was a little weird, maybe, kind of, but the moment the attempted mugger let his guard down…

Well, she grabbed her scissors from inside her sleeve, letting them slide down along her wrist, and stepped in to snap them open and closed again, cutting straight through the man's hand, severing several fingers and leaving a now broken gun to fall to the ground.

He stared, uncomprehending, at the ruined hand. So did Melanie, the pumping, pulsing blood the only thing moving between the two of them, splattering from the missing parts of flesh, from absurdly smooth wounds cut like from one of those, uh, industrial water cutters or something, like a diamond buzzsaw's cut, all over the ground.

Only after those initial moments of shock did the man move again. "… AAAAHHHH! YOU FUCKING BI-"

Reflexively, Melanie struck out, snapping her trusty scissors through his raised intact fist, preventing it from striking at her by removing half of it, then his throat, to make him stay quiet.

Forever.

This time she dumbly looked down at the gurgling form of the failed mugger, blinking as though awakening from some sort of dream. This, uh, this was pretty bad, wasn't it? He was going to die.

Melanie turned around, resolutely leaving him. She wasn't going to do anything to connect this corpse to herself, no way, no how. He went and tried to rob her and died for the trouble, but she didn't want murder on her criminal record. Or a criminal record with her name on it, for that matter.

Just leaving it be. He was going to die, the body would be found, with any luck the magical method of death would keep any police from finding much of anything, the end.

She'd come home on autopilot, greeting her parents and going up to her room. There, she took out her phone, sending a text at Jackie.

'Hey J, wanna meet?'

You wake up, dazed and exceedingly slowly indeed, inside your natural habitat. It is cold, it contains a shiny cat and it is also filled with ice cream.

Is it, like, an ice cream factory or something? You're inside a tub of strawberry ice cream, at least, one of those big, industrial ones, half-filled after someone ate a bunch.

You burp. It smells of strawberry, so it was probably you.

"Muhgrble," you make, slowly pulling yourself to your feet. Your shoes are also missing, in fact most of your clothing is, all you have on you is your left glove right now.

Which is concerning, as you were carrying your magical box of hoarding and you aren't about to lose everything you carried inside of there.

The potential loss of your stuff fully rousing you to wakeness, as opposed to wokeness which is really completely unrelated to this issue, you only stop momentarily to shovel another few handful of ice cream into your mouth before climbing out, effortlessly jumping up and stabbing your back-folded additional metal legs into nearby metal to keep yourself stable, hanging in the air. "Muh."

"Oh, you gettin' up, little monster?" The shiny cat girl woman spirit thing calls out to you, lazily hanging over another part of the machinery. "'Bout time!"

"Where's my stuff?" You ask unhappily, annoyed you lost your box at some point last night. "Gimme."

"I don't got it, duh." She languidly scoops up some vanilla ice cream with one hand and eats it- Like a psychopath, because who else would eat vanilla ice cream?- before elaborating at your continued stare. "Oh pooh, you probably lost it when we were robbing that store. You know, the one with the things?"

"Muuuh…" This is going to be a long morning, you can tell already…

It is hard work, to do anything when your only guide is an obnoxiously blasé and at most mildly interested catgirl vaguely pointing you at the stations of the night before, but she is your best bet at just finding your possessions without needing to demolish a good part of the city until they are found the hard way, so on you go.

On your way, backtracking through several scenes of devastation you apparently caused (your memories of everything that happened are quite hazy after a point), you pick up a handful of things, most likely whatever it was you were after at the time; a plush toy in the form of a cat that reminds you of Tabitha, a keychain inside a convenience store, two ice cream cafes, one McReginald's you decided smelled nice, that kind of thing.

You do finally find your stuff in the end, after way too much effort spent and avoiding the policemen and the like cordoning off the various locations you ended up blowing up, apparently treating them like crime scenes instead of places hit by natural disasters, which is really the best way to describe yourself, when you think about it.

But hey, maybe they will come up with a funny way to explain why half of the buildings are covered in ice and snow, while the other half is largely missing more often than not. But hey, either way, your box is where it belongs again; in your possession.

The first thing you do, now that your stuff is safe and in your hands again, the natural order of things restored and all, is to grab the shiny cat's tail made of light, as you know from yesterday it's actually semi-solid and pretty sensitive for her, unless you're mistaken.

Memories are still hazy. You may or may not have been only half conscious after a point, but that's not important.

"Mhm? What'cha doing, pipsqueak?" She asks, grinning self-indulgently. "Chasing some tail again so soon?"

"Muh." Using both hands, you start to massage the glowing appendage, exerting just a bit of pressure as your palms and fingers slide down its length.

"Oh, that feels nice… Could go for some fast food while you do that, though."

"Muh. No." You look her in the eyes. "Mine now."

"Eeh, sorry, I'm not exactly the girlfriend kinda gal-"

You tug on her tail. "My tail. My property now. Chased and caught it."

"… Heh, alright, that's kinda funny."

"You come with me to my place. I have lots of cool stuff. You are cool stuff."

"Mhm…" She wiggles her hips a bit, distractingly, and the tip of her glowy tail tickles your cheek. "You drive a hard bargain, but sure, I'll take a look before I decide. Gotta be picky about my litterbox!"

"Muh." Agreement achieved. Once again, your silver tongue wins the day.

"I thought you smelled kind of familiar," is what the shiny cat says once you bring her to your home, using your usual portal and ice platforms for transportation. You did have to keep on patting and cuddling with her, but you did manage to keep her from jumping off to go do some other random thing for fun on the way.

Jackie No Jutsu: Thousand Ways To Play With Cats!

"So I see," Viridis nods. The leaf-inclined cat spirit met you as you came in through the forest's airspace, for once, being carried by the braches of the trees below you. They quickly entwined to build a platform, of sorts, so you went ahead and landed.

The two cat-spirit-hot women-things stare at each other for a long moment and you wonder whether a fight may break out, a catfight between these two being in particular being pretty bad news for you. Then, however, the air around the three of you settles down as they…

You think they kiss at first, but no, they're rubbing their faces against each other, exchanging an eskimo kiss where they slide their noses against the opposite one and all that.

It's very cute. You want to do that too. You mean, not at all, but if someone offered you wouldn't say no.

That's all there is to it. You don't want to jump in and demand attention from them at all.

That would be preposterous.

"You can stay here," Viridis finally decides once the… ritual(?) is done, stepping back.

"Wouldn't have cared 'bout your permission, but suuure," the shiny cat shrugs. "Oh yeah, if you want a name, you can just call me Moonmoon, by the way. I'm gonna go take a look around, yeah?"

With that, she jumps down to the forest floor, leaving a trail of glinting light behind herself.

If only you could be as grossly incandescent as this cat.

Reference quota, filled.

"Briaaan… Briaaan…"

The underground dungeon your basement has been turning into remains both enormous and frequently renovated by your troublesome mascot, meaning that it is a new ordeal to find him every time.

Thankfully, you are very used to wandering through dark hallways and dodging the occasional malfunctioning traps (they better be malfunctioning or else), so it is merely a matter of time before Brian contacts you via his intercom. "Chuuh, what is it?"

"Jackie tax."

"Chuh, I told you production has been slowing down, puuh," your treacherous, embezzling minister complains. "No essence today. The field needs to gather enough debauchery to distill it first and the current rate of accumulation just doesn't generate enough."

"Muuuh," you complain.

"Chuh, also, keep your schedule free for tomorrow. Narrative convention demands a significant event soon, so you should prepare."

That sounds like a boss battle. Is it a boss battle? I bet it is.

"Muuh," you continue complaining. More work is not the reason you come to Brian. You come to him to complain at him while demanding he does stuff for you.

Your expectations have yet again failed to be met by reality. You are very disappointed in it.

Well, your slow morning could only ever last so long, though it was more a 'busy, you're just taking it slow anyway' morning. Your breakfast consists of some food you found inside your box of holding, a bag of McReginald's you must've grabbed at some point last night during your whole chain of sex and wanton destruction; once again, you have proven you are the best forward thinker in the entire universe.

Sure, it's all a bit cold by now, but that's nothing a brief stint in the oven can't solve once you've poured your fries and nuggets into their respective little bowls.

You never realized, but could it be… You're actually also a kitchen wizard? Well, you could've used cooking magic to do the same thing, but that might've come out unevenly, so you still did the right thing.

You're also still chilling your sprite (why did you take sprite, you usually drink cola) by holding it in your hand.

Sprite is a very proletarian drink, Elena sniffs.

Anyways, once you've eaten and added a bar of chocolate from your stash to go, briefly chatting with Chuckie on your way out, you soon make your way out into the normal city once again, intent on picking up a certain someone.

Melanie did write she wanted to meet and you kinda feel like making it a date, seeing as you might be busy tomorrow.

"Hey Jackie." The greeting, such as it is, is unsatisfyingly watery, almost insultingly bereft of enthusiasm and spirit. You would feel insulted if it were anyone else, but as you an exceedingly patient and great girlfriend, you do not immediately demand she tries again.

Instead you greet her back on your way inside her room through her window, entering in the typical best way. "Muh."

"Okay, so don't freak out or anything, but, uh… Okay, so here's the thing, ImayhavekilledaguyandIdon'tknowwhattodo!"

You blink, head tilted. "Where's the body?"

"I just left in the alley. I didn't what what to do and I didn't want to be seen with it, so I just came home. And now I'm playing hooky. Fuck, do you think the cops will-"

"What alley, how'd they die, do you know if it's been found?"

"It's close, it was. it was a mugger of all things. Dumb son of a bitch wouldn't take no for an answer so I just used my scissors and…" Melanie makes a snapping motion with her fingers.

"Good. I'll go look into it, if it's still there we can hide the body."

Your girlfriend sits there on her bed, making a confused sniffle a though her body and her brain don't agree whether she should be crying or not. "… Thanks, Jackie. There's one more thing, though."

"Muh?"

"I… I don't feel bad about it. At all."

"Muh… ?"

"I mean, I'm kind of panicking now and all, but when I did it I just felt, like kind of cold, and now I'm worrying I might be a sociopath and if I shouldn't turn myself in or-"

"Meh." Your derisive statement has Melanie pause. "That is loser talk. You are not a loser. The sucker died because he picked the wrong fight, so screw him."

"But… What if I'm a danger to other people?"

"Better to be dangerous than endangered," you share your exceedingly enlightened opinion. "The ideal state of being is to be the biggest danger in the room."

"… Is that a thing you learned a a magical girl?"

"No, I was always a genius," you point out. Melanie gives off a snort of giggling laughter, shaking her head.

"Alright, I guess… guess I'll just follow your advice, then."

Once again Jackienism saves another soul. At this rate you'll be an official missionary in no time.

The body is… Well, it's mostly fine, as you examine it on the spot, lying in some random dirty alley, no great amount of gore in sight or anything. There's three clean cuts, the way you see it, one for each hand, disabling both quickly and efficiently before going for the throat and cutting straight through the jugular.

If you didn't know better, you'd consider Melanie as a potential professional at this whole 'cutting people apart' business. You did dabble in it yourself, after all.

Oh, have you remembered more about our past?

You have, though it was kind of a low, creeping thing. But yes, this is some good, clean work you're looking at here.

Well, relatively. Your girlfriend still cut a man apart so hard he bled out on the spot, too weak to move any appreciable distance. In other words, there's blood everywhere.

"Ugh, there's blood everywhere," she says, holding a hand over her nose protectively. The body hasn't really started to smell yet, not much anyway, but the scent of iron, of freshly-shed lifeblood, still hangs heavy in the air this close.

"Muh. It happens," you shrug. "Help me load him up."

You wave a hand to conjure up a platform of ice, dragging the dead, bald man wearing a leather jacket (it's almost like he wanted someone to shank him or something, with that getup) over towards it. You can easily lift him, but your arms are still so short his bulk is really awkward to move around.

Y-you're not short and stumpy or anything! If you released your full power, you would be a giant towering above the clouds, so much so you could simply kick over a building or two! That's how strong you are!

"Right. Uh, should we do anything about the blood? It's kind of a giant mess," Melanie asks as she helps you.

"Muh. It's half dried already, so just leave it be. Nobody will pay attention." You used to try to erase all traces even for targets you got opportunistic over in dark alleys just like this one, but you eventually just stopped. More often than not, anyone that comes along will either just dismiss it as a discolored stain or wisely keep their head down.

"Are you really sure? It's a lot of blood."

You shrug, again. "Take this." Out of your box of holding slung onto the small of your back you draw a watering can you stole borrowed from somewhere, carefully emptying a clip of magically-produced water from your water guns into it. "Just dilute and spread it. Next rain will take care of it anyways."

"Got it, thanks." You tug the body you're positioning securely one last time by the scruff of its neck, accidentally producing a dry sound like a think branch of wood being snapped, the man's head coming right off. "Uh…"

"Muh." Doesn't matter. You're chopping him up anyways.

You silently keep watch as Melanie waters the site of her (apparently) first murder. It takes a bit before she speaks again, quietly concentrating on getting as much blood spread out as she can, already through half the water you gave her.

"You seem pretty… Used to this. Have you… disposed of evidence like this before?"

"Tons of times," you nod. "It happens."

"I see."

And that's that. Now all you need to do is wait for her to satisfy her mild paranoia and carry all three of you to your home to process the body and make sure Melanie is clean. Of evidence.

… Maybe also in general, but you aren't sure whether murder makes her horny yet.

Melanie has seen your home already, though it has changed somewhat since her last visit; an inevitable consequence of both of you leading busy lives of killing stuff, of course, but at least this time the door is back in place and the furniture has been adjusted to give a nicer impression, compared to the somewhat messy affair you used to live in.

"The forest has gotten a lot bigger." And your garden has expanded all over the city block, yes. Good eye, that.

"Muh."

Getting the body inside is easy enough, simply dragging it along as your annoyance over your inability to simply stuff it into your box grows- sadly, it doesn't really fit and you didn't want to make even more of a mess by literally dismembering a body out in the street, so you ended up just taking it as it was.

Now it's inside your home, though, and you have free reign. "Briaaaan," you call out into the opened basement door, "got a dead body, you want?"

"Leave it by the kitchen, chuh, I'll take a look later," echoes up out of what is totally your serial murderer basement.

Good enough.

"So, uh…" Melanie look around awkwardly as you kick the dismembered body onto the rest of the corpse, "Anything fun you do around here?"

"Muhmuh," you nod. You have loads of fun on the regular.

As it turns out, not everyone has your awe-inspiring, mountain shattering, god-slaying, world destroying levels of sheer inner power, easily capable of casually warping reality and achieving anything you set your mind to.

Too bad for everyone else, but it really is quite inconvenient Melanie is counted amongst this number. And yes, you are serious, you could use any magic you choose to, you simply do not choose to use any magic other than the ice-centric kind.

Because ice type is best type and anyone that thinks otherwise can get an ice beam to the face. If it instantly kills most dragon legendaries, you know it has to be some kind of good.

Can't argue that one, I suppose. The meta really hasn't changed that much, but there are some better special attackers that-

Ice type best type!

Anyways, teaching Melanie what you know takes a while, the magic you can glimpse within her a dull, throbbing red with a bend to it (it makes more sense with a literal additional magic sense to interpret this stuff directly), but thanks to your amazing talent as a teacher she makes great strides regardless.

"Just go fwoosh!"

"I'm telling you, I don't know how to 'go fwoosh'!"

Great strides regardless!

Household magic does remain within the theoretical capacity she should be able to achieve, even with her meagre innate magical power, so all that remains between herself and achieving such is the correct application of what she has- a simple matter of knowledge and application thereof.

It was the same for you, even if it involved finding ways to tame the glacial rush of energy that is released every time you-

You went red in the face while trying to heat up water.

Heresy!

But yes, you go ahead and explain the principles behind the things you effortlessly learned all by yourself in the span of minutes, no, seconds, to Melanie, combined with practical demonstrations of the spells in question. Most of them are rather simple and straightforward, but you want to let your girlfriend share some of the magic of… using magic.

"Wait, is that how your hair is always so perfect?" She asks as you show off the automatic hair styling spell.

"Muh?" You tilt your head. "I never use it. I just leave my hair natural."

"But… Look at it! It even smells like iced peaches!"

"I don't smell my own hair, so I wouldn't know."

Finally, though, your punk-y girlfriend seems to be getting the hang of it, successfully cooling deliberately warmed lemonade down to acceptable drinking temperatures.

"I did it!"

"Muh muh!"

"You didn't really help much, though."

"Muauh?!"

"… Did you just meow in surprise?"

"… No."

Heresy.

Sadly, now that Melanie has rapidly mastered most of the simple household spells she seems to have lost all interest in furthering her magical learning. Ah, truly, the youth of today have turned away from the greatness of education and self-improvement, only seeking out cheap amusement in rock'n'roll and drugs and whatever young people do these days.

Probably jazz.

You know, old people nagging at younger generations has been a thing since pretty much forever. There's antique Greek philosophers who did it, their thoughts are still known to us.

Philosophy is a waste of time. Always has been. Things are simply as they are, but the whole 'discipline' is all about trying to talk around this simple fact in order to appear smarter than one is. Sure, it gave rise to ideologies and different perspectives of the world at large, but if people simply followed basic logic instead of listening to anything like that communism would never have existed, and everyone knows how that worked out.

… Question is, is that our opinion or something the plush rat implanted to fuck with us?

Around 50/50, really. The sentiment is there.

But yes, outside of the discussion taking place inside of your head, you are currently pulling your head away from Melanie, who is disregarding the chance of learning more than the basics of household magic in favor of poking you in the face.

Your cheeks are under assault! You will not stand for this! "Mu!"

"Hehe, you're just way too cute, Jackie. It's your own fault for being so adorable," your dark-haired girlfriend smiles. "I also want to do something to distract me from the corpse in the other room, so let me have this."

"Muuh…" You pout up at her. Then, the next time her outstretched finger approaches your soft, easily deformable cheek, you quickly turn your head, opening your mouth to snap at the offending appendage instead.

You nibble at her fingertip lightly, giving Melanie a triumphant look. There is no way she can keep up with you, after all, when you are serious!

She just chuckles, though, and slowly draws back. You let her, after a moment of thought.

Then the process repeats, letting you show off how superior you are to human speeds. "Fufufu, you're like a cat, aren't you Jackie?"

"Mrgh," you make around the finger you're holding in your teeth. Melanie's other hand is up to pat your head, though, and you let it, as it is not offensive to your refined sensibilities.

"… Seriously, though, it's so silky…"

You preen. Naturally, as a superior being, your looks and characteristics are holistically superior to baseline humans', too.

You continue playing with Melanie, indulging her juvenile moods with grace and dignity. By no mean do you let her play with you, however, nor do you instinctively react to attempts made to goad you into acting cat-like.

By which you mean you totally did, in fact, run outside when she started playing with that laser pointer. And, being the glorious being you are, you promptly ran headfirst into a tree.

The tree did not survive. It snapped in twain as your head bonked against it, like an inferior penis would at the mere sight of your glorious Jackienator.

You know, I really like that word for it.

"Oh my god, Jackie, are you okay?" Melanie asks as you come back inside, having been panicking for a moment or two there. "I'm so sorry!"

"Muh?" You plop down on the couch, right next to her. "'m fine. Physics do what I tell them to."

"You, uh, you hit your head really hard. And that tree kind of hit your house and-"

"Feed me." You are unconcerned; any damage is cosmetic, if that, and if not you expect Brian to redo whatever shoddy work he did when he renovated your place. "Muh."

"… You're really something else, aren't you?"

"Muh." Naturally. You are a superior level of existence, far beyond that which simple, frail human minds experience. It goes without saying that this leads to your elevated abilities, magic doesn't even play into it.

"You know, this is really nice," Melanie notes, leafing through the book 'Cursing Like A Sailor' she borrowed from Chuckie earlier, lying on your carpet right next to you. "Just two girlfriends studying stuff together. It's, y'know, a really girlfriend thing to do."

"Muh," you nod, silently bumping your hip into her side.

"Yeah, yeah you're right, we should do this kind of thing more often."

"Muh." Not what you meant, but sure, whatever.

The two of you continue to study on in silence, only broken by the sounds of your fireplace merrily crackling away. Eventually, however, even you grow bored of reading and thinking, so you roll to your side, then back again a few times, finally pushing yourself up against Melanie's body.

"Wanna watch me test a new spell and do magic enchanting?"

"Do I ever! I'd love to see anything magical you do. Or make. I really like my knicknacks I've found so far."

"Muh."

You craft and work and put effort into things, going so far as to care about appearance as well as form, using not a random stone just a little smaller than your fist (you need that much space to fit all the runes you need on it normally), but instead a piece of quartz you picked up… somewhere, probably while scavenging for valuables in the Overcity, engraved with runes glowing deeply in golden hues as you trace them out, carving into it with the instruments inside your workshop.

You can improvise just using your magic and some ice, sure, but this way the process looks a lot more impressive as well, several magnifying lenses letting you work with greater precision as the object of your work is held in the air, mystically swirling energies surrounding it.

You're really just pumping some extra power into the enchantment; that one's normal, at least, just because it's a pain to regulate the frozen oceans of your might. Who cares about some waste when you just generate more magic than you're using up anyways?

Melanie eats it all up anyways. "So cool…"

You are still best girlfriend ever, by the way. "Muh. I must concentrate. You may touch my head or back."

"If you wanted to cuddle, you could've just said so, so you know?" A hand strokes her hair while the other one strokes your back. It is soothing.

"Muh."

By the time you're all done, new handmade magical macguffin of not dying horribly tucked away under your clothing and ready to protect you from certain doom, it's already 'late', time often losing all meaning for you in the endless gloom of the Sprawl only illuminated by the light streaming out of buildings and off traffic lights or the like.

The starry sky above you at all times doesn't help there, either. If you didn't have a phone with a clock dialed to reflect the real world outside of the dimension you have made your home inside of, you'd legitimately just develop a daily rhythm entirely separate from the rest of humanity.

Because the day would just work better with a nice, round 30 hours and six extra hours of sleep for you. This oversight, of a random number of hours like twenty-four, is a personal failing of humanity and, indeed, reality at large, and you are very disappointed in both of them about it.

"Tired," you explain to Melanie, rubbing your eyes. "Sleepover?"

"Oh yeah, I sent my mom a message earlier, so she won't miss me for the rest of the day, at least. Let's do this."

"Muh," you nod, determined to prove her mother wrong in trusting her as hard as you can. "… Wanna sex?"

"Duh, thought that goes without saying," your girlfriend smiles, her blood-red eyes crinkled at you. "We gonna go all~ night, you and I."

"Good. But sex sex?" Melanie doesn't seem to understand, so you move to stand in front of her, palms out to hold her hips. "Up here."

"… Oh! You mean you want to…" She swallows, but doesn't immediately say no. You give her big kitten cat eyes. "… You know what, sure. I did pack a couple pills just in case, actually, I'll just pop one and-"

"Muh muh muh muh muh muh muh…"

You pick Melanie up and carry her off to your bed. Like a caveman and all, except you'd be a magical cavegirl, if anything.

Only some mild struggling, a quick detour to where Melanie left her bag and a glass of hot chocolate for everyone involved (including Chucky, who made them) later, you're finally entering your rooftop abode once again, noble, lordly bed still as you had left it.

"I'm about to lose my virginity on a giant pile of blankets. Couldn't be a better place, actually, now that I think about it."

"Muh. Pillows, too."

"Pillows, too. That's important."

Melanie rubs your head, once again proving she deserves a minimum of real consideration as a person, as opposed to the rest of humanity. She just gets it, you know?

"Alright, so let's do thiaaah!" You tackle your girlfriend, pushing her onto your glorious bed and tearing her clothes off. gently, of course, as human skin is soft an weak compared to your alabaster shell only vaguely related to such things, but you still do require Melanie' pants to be off. Her jeans fly off to the side in short order.

Next, you drag her panties down her legs, revealing the moist cunt underneath, Melanie being all bashful for some reason and holding her hands over her blushing face, trying to hide it. It doesn't work, of course.

"Don't be so forceful, Jackie, I'm not going anywhere… ?"

"You better not." You crawl towards her, licking your lips. "You're mine all night. You promised."

With that, you lean downwards, licking her lower lips from bottom to top, already tasting her lightly tangy fluids produce in response, before flicking your tongue over her clit, relishing the cute, helpless sounds she makes while you do whatever you want to her.

You dig your tongue into her, wiggling and writhing, giving the love tunnel you're about to jackhammer all night a good, thorough taste, preparing her for your monster cock. Literally, in many ways.

Melanie's long, slim legs are spread to your side, her calves resting on your lower back, in fact, and you can't help yourself but nibble on her thighs. They aren't massively thicc or anything, but they're an absolute joy to knead anyways.

Eventually, she shudders, trembling limbs betraying how quickly she comes. Such a cute little quick shot. That said, it's also your signal to get moving, so move you do, shifting until you're hugging her waist and your already hard cock is pointing right at her as well, having been freed midway through your best impression of a cunning linguist.

One hand on your manhood, to guide it, you look up at a still breathless Melanie. "Muh."

"M-maybe we shouldn't do this yet? I mean, I know I took it in my ass already, but you're kinda really fucking big and I'm not sure-"

"Muuuh… !" You lean forwards, hips lowly, but surely moving. Melanie's lips are spread apart by your lower head, admitting it inside into the soft, warm, downright hot pressure of her pussy, more and more of your rod inserted into her. Your balls hang heavily underneath, your own juices running over them because there's only so much space on your crotch.

"Uuuugh…" She throws her head back, clearly feeling you well enough. Then, you feel a barrier at your tip, though it is unable to do much beyond make her uncomfortable. "That's it. That's my-"

It is also entirely powerless before the might of your cock.

"Argh!" Melanie's teeth are biting down tightly, her arms pressing you to her chest. Or stomach, really, same difference. "Hurts… like a motherfucking… son of a… gay… catholic… priest!"

Note to self, don't let Melanie and that one Nathaniel guy meet.

You stay like that for a few long moments, letting her get used to the feeling of your awesomeness, its girth simply too much for a human to handle. However, when she lets her hands wander down your body, groping your butt and all, you take it as a signal to continue, and so you do, pushing deeper into her slim, tight body and appreciating how good it feels to do so.

Until, after a few minutes that are filled with whimpers and panting absolutely not coming from you, your diamond-hard prick encounter one more layer of resistance; Melanie's womb, the ultimate target, the moneyshot, the place you're meant to breed and claim as hard as you can.

"Okay, so," your girlfriend breathes forcefully, "the sane thing would be to slowly pull out and be gentle."

"Muh. We ain't sane," you point out.

Then you make her scream, nails raking across your shoulders, by pulling out and ramming yourself into her again, your entire considerable length thoroughly experiencing every inch of her no longer virginal pussy.

"It's ribbed why is it ribbed aaahh!"

Your weight is pinning Melanie down as you piston into her, mind consumed by one thing and one thing only; you will fuck your girl and you will breed her. Mark her as yours. She belongs to you.

Your balls are slapping against her with every thrust, each of which is powerful enough to split the earth and ravage the skies, your searching hands reaching up to let you grab at Melanie's breasts, which may be small but still more than fun enough to play with, driving your girlfriend deeper and deeper into ecstasy.

Finally, you feel it, a tingle deep inside of yourself. You hammer into her harder and harder, feeling the eruption approaching- your massive manhood is swelling to ever greater size, until finally, it happens.

You ram yourself all the way into Melanie again, right up against her womb. You quiver in place, hugging her tightly, as shot after shot is fired from your Jackienator Cannon, forceful expulsions of massive amounts of virile cum triggered by the second, over and over again.

Your knot itches, demanding to be used to plug her up so your seed can take, but you don't push it. Yet.

Finally, you take a moment to look down, watching the small bump made by your cock now expanded just a little, so little a to be unnoticeable, with the addition of your first load.

It looks perfect on Melanie's slight frame. You want to make her balloon out with your cum like a pregnant woman, that's what you want. And maybe that's what you'll… do… too…

"Oh hey, sleeping already?" Your dark-haired girlfriend shifts below you, adjusting her position- she also just came, she's just pretending to recover faster than yourself. "Right, you did say you were tired."

"Muuh…" You mumble to yourself, growing less and less aware.

The last thing you remember is a squeaked "Oh!" as your hips start moving again, your manly spirit undaunted even without the rest of your spirit to back it up.

Melanie smells nice. She's all sweaty now too, hehe.

The endlessly flowing desert sands of Egypt, home to many a myth and legend proliferated into modern times. Stories of animal-headed gods, some of the oldest intact references to furries, originate from this land, as well as of mummified pharaohs said to have been incarnations of said furries.

Tall stand the pyramids, massive constructions, architecture that by and large stood the test of time until now and conceals the grave-sites of these ancient god-kings, enormous landmarks to signify their importance and power in life.

At least, such is what the public knows, for not all dead lie still and unmoving in their graves… And sometimes, neither centuries nor millenia suffice to drown out the will of a being too great to find eternal rest.

Such, the Nile floods again, the mighty river also called the lifeblood of Egypt for the fertility of its banks, and the sun shines unforgiving and bright, desert sand twinkling in its light like oceans of gold. The days are growing longer and shorter at erratic times, slumbering things nearing the day of their fated revival.

The end is nigh. The end and a new beginning. Yet a new hope also nears, a biting cold wind blowing from the northern oceans and kicking off massive storm of sand scouring through the empty deserts of this ancient land…

"Chuuh!"

"Muh."

"Meow."

"Ugh… ?"

"Chuhackie, how do you feel about going to Egypt, puchuh?"

You look at Brian, who just woke you up from Melanie's blissful embrace, your body laid out on her bulging, filled-up belly and mouth on her nipples, with a flat stare. Next to the two of you, Tabitha is lying, rolled up into a sleeping kitten and only now deigning to raise her head and open her eyes.

"… Why."

"Chuh, to see the sights and expand your horizons and prove once and for all that I am the greatest Puchuu-uh in the history of history, puuh."

Melanie stirs, arms protectively laid around you. "Okay, first off, this is obviously super shady and nobody should ever trust you with anything. Secondly, get out."

You are a Jackie with priorities, so the first thing you do after you have managed to extract yourself from Melanie (a daunting prospect of itself, your knot somehow managed to inflate inside of her during the night) is to proceed straight to breakfast, carrying a sleepy Tabitha that yawns at you intermittently and pushes her paws at your neck.

Your cat is a good girl and deserves all the cuddles in the world. Thus you decide, muh.

Wake me up when we've had something to drink and the rat's gone, please.

Getting something to drink as well as some food, courtesy of Chucky who is in all honesty a way better catch than anything you ever would have expected at the time, given she actually helps around the house and has breakfast ready for you more often than not, you chow down on bacon and eggs, a similar meal shared by your girlfriend.

Freaky country bumpkins and their ability to be awake and alert before ten in the morning. It's unnatural, plain and simple.

Still eventually your brain is jogged awake enough for you to keep your eyes open and all, your ball churning to produce pleasantly, so you find yourself sitting together with Melanie and Tabitha, the former gently stroking the latter's neck with two fingers, nibbling on a bar of chocolate.

"Okay, so please go on ahead and tell us exactly what you want, why and how, leave nothing out. I've watched Puella Magica to find out more, I know exactly how this shit goes these days."

"Chuh, thank the chuhing woke PR department for that one, puuh." Brian walks in a circle twice, gathering his thoughts. "There are reports of unusual widespread magical incidents in Egypt, chuuh, so Jackie has been ordered to reinforce local magical girls in finding and resolving the root cause."

"Riiight, because that's definitely how that happened. She's been ordered, huh?" Melanie stares Brian down with narrowed eyes, making you consider her qualifications as an HR person. You, meanwhile, are patting Tabitha's head, your kitty taking her place on your lap. Menacingly.

"Chuuh, technically it's a call for volunteers, but she's been mentioned by name. You can imagine how it looks like if she doesn't go, chuh, and disappointing the higher-ups never ends well for simple employees like us, see, puchuh?"

"Hmmm…"

"If it wasn't for chuh, I'd have just packed Jackie into the next plane's luggage compartment and we'd be halfway there alrechuh, by the way. She sleeps like a stone at the best of times, puuh."

Melanie turns towards you. "Are you sure you have to do anything this thing says?"

"Muh. Still better than my old job." Technical support is draining, even in technically higher positions like your own was, once upon a time.

You consider the state of affairs laid out before yourself, from a logistical, practical and ideological background each, not to mention in the light of narrative logic. Given what you know, how is this likely to turn out?

Well, you're obviously the main character, so unless you go and deal with the issue it is all but guaranteed to grow out of proportion and get in your way at a later date anyways. It goes without saying, then, that simply doing just that is the most expedient solution, lest you become the last boss in someone else's story, the kind of looming threat that does not, in fact, murder whatever could threaten you in the future with great enthusiasm for collateral damage.

You fuck with the Jackie, you die, your family dies, your female family gets fucked, your dog dies, your cat is taken as tribute… You could go on, but the gist of it is pretty clear.

"Muh, guess I'll go," you decide, your mind made up.

"Mrrw." Tabitha rubs her head against your fingers, leaving a bit of kitty slobber.

You nod. "You can come with me."

"… Are you gonna be okay? I mean, it's Egypt! It's on a whole other continent and all!"

You bump your head against Melanie's shoulder. "'s fine."

"Chuuh, I'm glad we can all agree to be reasonable here."

You turn towards Brian. "Pay."

"You get what you loot from whatever we end up fighting, puuh."

"Muh. Pay."

"… Chuh."

Sadly, it seems freezing the oceans in the way over and simply walking towards North Africa would take too long, as would flying over on one of your super awesome, not at all insufficient ice platforms.

Hence you need to find an alternative solution, one that allows you a speedy, convenient way to get to Egypt. Unfortunately, your alternative way means you have to deal with Brian tagging along instead of just making him stay home where he belongs…

"Chuuh, just remember, you get us there and back. No funny business, if you don't hear back in a week you just do whatever."

"And when I do, my debt's paid and I won't ever have to deal with you again," the pilot says, decidedly not looking at Brian himself.

"Chuh, of course. Until you have need of certain services again, at any rate, puchuchuh."

As it happens, Brian's little clinic has been serving as more than a way to keep him busy and trick gullible people to their deaths- having reached out to various people, he's been building up a small, but useful network of contacts, some of which owe him something on account of saving their lives (or that of their loved ones, anyways).

One of these people, then, is this pilot in possession of a private plane, nothing too big, technically just a hobby kind of thing, but perfectly viable to make the move you need to in, as long as he doesn't fuck up.

To be honest, you're aware teleportation would have been too much to ask for, but couldn't you have just sneaked aboard a commercial flight and all?

"I'll do my part, then. Come aboard and don't mind the creaking, it's just something with the door. It gets stuck sometimes, but a good pull sets it right usually."

"Muh." You are carrying Tabitha on your head, so you can't nod, but you still go ahead and make your way onto the plane. "If it breaks, it's not my fault."

"So what's your deal, kid? You sign your soul away or something?"

You're currently somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean, patting Tabitha who is rolling around on your lap, one hand busy holding one of her paws at all times. Soft squishy little kitty paw pads. Oh, yeah, you probably should answer the pilot striking up small talk.

"I kill stuff for pay," you explain, not bothering to look up at him.

"Yeah, say no more," he shouts over the noise of his own machine, which incidentally also drowns out Tabitha's purring. "Believe it or not, this wouldn't be the first time I'm ferrying a killer around."

"Muh."

The flight is long, a bit boring, but hey, you manage. Mostly by playing with your cat, who is ever-demanding of your attention and gets all the scratchies she deserves. Which is, obviously, all of them.

Finally, after just a couple hours of cat-induced happiness, Brian shows up from the cargo hold, where you forced him into so as to not ruin your mood with his presence; you can stomach him, but not always for long. Annoyingly, you're pretty sure he doesn't actually mind not doing anything nor moving in the slightest for those couple hours you bought, but you have to take what you can get sometimes.

"Chuuh, we should be arriving shorty," he says, joining you behind the pilot's compartment. "How much longer?"

"About ten minutes, assuming we can get a space somewhere closeby. Welcome to Cairo, by the way."

Huh. You look out of the window, realizing only now that you can see a city below, with lots of desert off in the distance.

"Muh." Welcome to Cairo indeed. "We could just jump."