“Think we should try upgrading it?” Eliza asked Cal.
“Let’s not risk it. It might get ruined. Or worse, explode while she’s wearing it.”
“I’d have her take it off again before trying,” Eliza said. “Sheesh. I’m not dumb.”
“Better we don’t risk it.”
Eliza and Mirabelle had no such compunctions however and did risk permanent loss of their outfits by attempting to upgrade their own clothing.
Cal had protested that they should save their points for other things, but they wouldn’t be deterred.
“It’s only half of a point each,” Mirabelle said. “Besides, we deserve nicer clothing.”
Eliza nodded in agreement.
“I thought you preferred being naked?” Cal said to Eliza skeptically.
“I like both.”
While Cal enjoyed watching both of them strip naked in front of him to lay their outfits on the ground for upgrading, he liked less that what the outfits then changed into clearly would cover more when they finally put them back on.
Especially Eliza’s
That said, he had to admit they looked amazing in them.
Upon upgrading, the outfits had morphed before their eyes, reforming as though an invisible hand was pulling the threads and weaving them into not just a new configuration, but adding entirely new parts.
Mirabelle’s outfit was now no longer simple rough fabric, but much softer and more comfortable.
Not only this, the material itself was more durable, unable to be cut with flint in their testing, though her upgraded loincloth was now permanently several inches shorter from the talon-spear. They didn’t even bother testing the spider-creature’s severed limb.
Her top was more elaborate than it had been, with a spot on the back where she could secure her quiver, as well extra straps over her shoulders for supporting the added weight, and a choker that while sexy, had no clear purpose.
Cal wondered what kind of mechanism made the upgrade so adapted to her bow usage.
There were also wraps for her arms and legs, as well as two metal bands for arm and thigh which didn’t have any clear use, though inspecting them in the interface showed they could be upgraded for twenty points each.
She also wore a necklace now, made from one of the teeth of the spider-monster. This wasn’t an upgrade, but something Eliza had made for her.
“Ahh!” Mirabelle had said enthusiastically upon being presented this. “How sweet. Thank you.” Then she’d looked meaningfully at Cal.
“I get you fruit,” Cal had protested.
“Uh-huh,” she’d said, unimpressed.
“Great,” Cal had muttered. “Making me look bad.”
He’d then spent the next two hours making her a bracelet from the monster’s teeth, which she’d elected to tie to her loincloth instead of wear on her wrist.
“Don’t want anything interfering with my shots,” she’d explained with a smile.
At least she was wearing it.
Eliza’s upgraded outfit was much different from Mirabelle’s. It was a single piece instead of two and seemed more decorative than functional, perhaps because with the ability to turn into other things like fire and earth and wood, she didn’t actually need armor.
The single piece could be removed by unfastening a simple fabric hook across her chest, allowing her to strip in a matter of moments. Again, like Mirabelle’s, perfectly adapted to her. She could quickly transform without destroying it.
The fabric was thin and light enough that where it pressed tight against her body, she might as well have been naked.
Cal didn’t bother upgrading his own loincloth.
“Come on,” Mirabelle pleaded, “I want to see what you get.”
“Yeah,” Eliza agreed. “It’s only a half-point. I can do it for you.”
Imogen and Ouva remained silent, watching, while Rufus slept nearby.
“No,” Cal objected for the umpteenth time. “I’d rather save the points for something useful, like making the gates or palisade stronger. Speaking of—”
The women groaned, knowing what was coming next.
“Let’s get started on that.”
69
And get started they did, working to not only build their base back up to where it had been, but to make it even better.
They even finally got around to putting up the log he and Imogen had struggled to get up into the base what felt like forever ago.
But what they were most excited about was testing out their new ability to upgrade items.
Despite the excitement at the outcome, the interface for achieving said outcome was a constant source of frustration with how cryptic and unintuitive it was. They did manage to remake the netting and then upgrade it into a much stronger material at the cost of an eye-watering—relative to their current point total—eight points.
The new material wasn’t quite metal, but still very strong, unable to be cut by the flint or talon-spears, though the limbs from the spider-like creature were able to cut through it without much effort.
Ouva helped out as much as she could with the construction, though she showed no signs of understanding their words, and they definitely didn’t understand hers. But they still had those primitive forms of communication: gestures and body language. Things which at least appeared to be something they had in common, even if many gestures were slightly different and sometimes resulted in confusion.
In addition to helping with the construction, she also showed them how her tribe had made the soft rope they had used to tie Imogen up. The cordage they used to weave the rope was made from a mushroom Cal would have never even thought to have tried.
This was useful, because despite their new ability to upgrade things, they couldn’t waste their points. They didn’t have many left after upgrading both front and rear nets.
And with how hard the upgrade interface was to figure out, they’d had several failures—which still cost points, though only a fraction of what a success would.
Much to Imogen’s disappointment, none of these failed upgrades had yet resulted in another explosion.
After a long day of hard work, Cal went down to take a bath by himself, all the women having oddly declined to join him.
He wasn’t bothered, and was just starting to enjoy the alone-time, when he saw Eliza and Mirabelle exit out of the camp and move down the path.
“Something wrong?” he asked anxiously, getting to his feet in the water.
“No,” Eliza soothed, waving lazily at him. “Stay there, sit down. Relax.”
“Okay…” He sat, staring up at them.
They looked at each other and smiled, then back to him. “You’ve worked hard lately.”
“So have you.”
Eliza nodded. “We deserve to have some fun.”
With this, Mirabelle began stripping as Eliza flicked the fastener on her dress, causing it to instantly fall away and puddle at her feet.
She stepped out of it, then watched with great interest as Mirabelle stripped naked.
Cal watched as well.
She kept on her wrist and shin wraps—which to Cal’s eyes now looked a lot like sexy stockings—as well as her choker and the necklace Eliza had made her.
When she was done, they both turned to him, smiled, and approached.
He watched entranced as Mirabelle’s full breasts jiggled, breasts he hadn’t seen uncovered in days, and which made him want her so bad it hurt. They’d been too busy and exhausted lately to have sex, and he hadn’t thought he’d even wanted it.
Now his raging erection said otherwise.
His eyes moved down her body to her smooth sex, then flicked over to Eliza’s, her toned thighs, up to her lean abs and perky breasts.
As Eliza passed through the stream, the water ran up her body until she was transparent, her facial features and nipples slightly less so in a way that made them stand out from the rest of her.
He frowned. “What are you—”
Then she settled at
op him, feeling heavier than normal as well as slicker, though still solid, taking his erection in her hand and without a word guiding it into her utterly wet center.
His head fell back and he groaned in pleasure. “You’re so hot,” he managed.
“Thanks,” she said seductively.
“Like, literally.”
The water here wasn’t exactly cold, but it was cooler than body temperature. Eliza wasn’t cold or even cool however, but rather burning hot, and she was slicker than seemed possible, as well as incredibly tight.
It felt amazing.
Then he looked down as she began moving atop him and groaned again, able to see his cock inside her through her transparent body.
He reached for her tit while Mirabelle watched with a smile on her face, watching his cock inside of Eliza, just as entranced by the sight as he was.
Eliza leaned in and pressed her mouth hungrily to his. The sensation was strange but pleasant, her lips soft and pillowy, yet firm.
She tasted clean and sweet, exactly like the water of the stream, but so much hotter, and he could feel the protrusion of her nipples as they pressed into his chest.
Then she pulled away, moaning and rocking her hips faster, throwing her head back, watery strands of hair flying and slapping against her back.
Mirabelle settled down next to him, taking his chin and leaning in for her own kiss, her tongue pressing at his lips, which he happily opened.
Their tongues rubbed against each other as they made out, Eliza riding his cock in her water form.
Mirabelle took one of his hands, guided it to her pussy.
She was soaking wet—almost as wet as Eliza—and he eagerly and easily slid his fingers inside her.
She moaned into his mouth, and already he felt himself building toward climax.
The way Eliza was moving atop him… forward and back, side to side, in circles both small and large… good God, it felt unbelievable.
Then Mirabelle pulled away, kissing his neck and chest, before turning to Eliza. “Ready?”
Eliza was panting, her head thrown back as she fucked Cal with abandon. Now she looked at Mirabelle. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.” She bit her translucent lip. “I was about to come.”
“Good thing I stopped you,” Mirabelle said with a grin, and moved behind her.
Cal watched in amazement as Eliza pushed him all the way down to the ground, then leaned over him, giving Mirabelle access.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, watching through Eliza’s body as Mirabelle leaned in and pulled apart her ass cheeks.
She licked up and down as Eliza slowly moved on Cal’s cock, then she pressed her face into her ass, sticking her tongue in Eliza’s unfilled hole as Cal’s cock stretched her pussy.
Cal could see how close her tongue was to his cock, just a thin interior wall separating them, and could feel it as well.
Eliza moaned in ecstasy as Mirabelle tongued her asshole, Eliza’s long hair falling over Cal’s neck and chest as she lowered her head down, silky and dry despite its composition, her soft breasts with their hard nipples squishing against his chest, her heat radiating into him.
He reached around her, grabbing her ass and pulling her wider for Mirabelle, slowly increasing the speed at which he fucked her, able to see his entire cock inside of her, see Mirabelle’s full lips sealed around her asshole as she circled her tongue around inside.
Her hands now free, Mirabelle reached down and began massaging Cal’s balls and he groaned at how good it felt.
“I’m… going… to…” Eliza panted, unable to finish as an orgasm slammed through her.
She seized up against Cal, but he didn’t stop, so close to coming himself.
“Too… much,” she squeaked out. “Please… stop…”
But neither he nor Mirabelle did.
“Almost…” he gasped, watching as Mirabelle now moved her tongue even faster, alternating between this and sucking.
Then he came, watching his seed spray inside of her, and she bit hard into his shoulder, her teeth, despite being made of water, having quite the bite.
His hands clenched on her buttcheeks, squeezing and spreading them wide as he and Eliza orgasmed together.
It took several minutes to recover, and when they both finally did they found Mirabelle looking at them with a grin.
“That was…” Cal trailed off with a chuckle.
“Fun?” Mirabelle questioned.
He nodded. “Yeah. Very.”
“Good.” Her grin widened. “Because now it’s my turn.”
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the story. If you did, please leave a nice review by clicking here.
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In the meanwhile, check out my novel Curse of Magic:
1
The queen is dead.
They killed her.
They killed my wife.
Then they exiled me. For even in this time without gods, some still fear them, and superstition prevails.
Erisi, the goddess of war, love, and victory—the goddess above all others—forbade the killing of your own king, long ago, when the gods still existed.
If they ever did.
Whether they did or not, I am spared because of some ancient tenet.
I am exiled instead of killed.
But Erisi said nothing about queens.
I don’t know exactly how I came to be betrayed, but I do know why.
I am a Dark, last of my line, direct descendant of the First King and only son of Varthos, the god-king.
This, is why they exiled me: for fear of my magic, and what it could do.
There was a trial—the façade of legality—but it was a sham, fixed from the beginning.
I was jailed. In my own kingdom. Not something I ever expected to experience.
My jail was no dungeon, but the physical fact of it wasn’t what got to me. It was being confined. Being ordered around by my own guards.
I lost track of how long I was down there, of how long the trial lasted.
Slowly, those who were loyal to me disappeared.
Until none were left but those who weren’t.
That’s when the judgment came. An illegal one, for there were no laws allowing dethronement in Serekthal, my kingdom.
But that didn’t matter.
They exiled me all the same, beyond the Ancient Wall.
For this got around the tenet of the goddess, and if I died it wouldn’t be at the hands of my exilers, but at the monsters of this cursed land.
I woke here after the judgment, my head shaved, my hair burning in a pile beside me that was now just ash—cast out with nothing.
The irony was that while they feared me for my magic, it was not something I’d dared use, not since my father died. Without his prodding, his encouragement, I’d desired to stay as far removed from magic as possible.
My father had been better than I at magic—he had been the god-king—and hadn’t feared it as I did.
I was always too afraid to use it for fear of what I might become.
A Shade, like my grandfather before me.
Or a Dread, like my sister.
My passion was always being king, ruling the land, bringing peace.
And I had. I had helped create Elaria, the federation of free kingdoms and states, ending the Long War.
; Elaria, named not after a god, but a mortal woman. A princess who fought the gods for her land and her freedom.
And won.
Like we had. Like we’d freed ourselves from the bondage of our history, of our long-dead ancestors, and created something new and beautiful. We’d stopped warring for control, for supremacy over one another. I’d remade Serekthal from a kingdom that ruled all others, to one where all others could come together, and I’d given each kingdom and state the ability to govern themselves, make their own laws, while still being a part of something greater.
I’d made us from many into one.
For we were not simply a collection of allied kingdoms. We were Elaria.
And now that peace was upon us, they, the Order of Priests, thought they didn’t need me anymore.
I should have never let Orathar get so close.
I can’t say for certain he was the one who orchestrated this, my exile, but I believe it to be so.
He marked me, Orathar did. The high priest himself.
Now he was ruling in my stead, keeping Elaria united.
My regent, now the king in all but name.
And he wasn’t even there anymore, but back in his home city.
And I was here, in the woods of the cursed land: an area that stretched along the Wall for days, a dangerous forest which separated Elaria from the rest of the world, and which people never traversed, instead flying over on zeppelins or mounts.
A cursed land which in a time long ago the gods had cast out the unworthy into, then erected the Wall.
The Ancient Wall, the one that stood impassable behind me. For the mark the high priest had forced upon me banished me like those poor souls who’d angered the gods had been in the fairytales of my childhood. The mark binded with whatever magic was in that Wall—a magic which had no color, a magic I couldn't see—and prevented me from crossing it.
And now there was only one way for me to get back into my kingdom, for me to take back what was rightfully mine, and avenge what couldn’t be reclaimed.
Only one way to make all those who’d betrayed me pay.
I would go north, to the city of Este, to where the high priest kept his rest, and I would slaughter him.
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