These Heroines Are So High Maintenance ch. 14 - 17 (Patreon)

Chapter 14

The previous day passed as usual. We bathed, ate lunch, snuggled, fooled around, snuggled some more, ordered pizza, played video games, killed a monster, and finally went to bed—snuggling. 

When I finally fell asleep, I came to awareness floating in darkness with the peculiar weightless feeling that came with dreams—well, some dreams. Or so I thought at first, but there was something uncanny about this one. Something different.

The misty void felt both unreal and hyper-real, like when you’re half-awake and can’t tell if you’re dreaming or not. It was like sleep paralysis, but in an empty, floating expanse.

Then I saw her.

She emerged from the fog like a painting coming into focus—first a silhouette, then details resolving with each heartbeat. And what fucking  details they were.

From the waist up, she was stunningly beautiful with dark skin and sharp, striking angular features. Physique-wise, she had a little more cushion for the pushing than both Portia and Elysia, but her tummy was flat as could be, and she only had the softest hint of love handles. Most of the weight on her upper body had to come from her boobs.

No. I misspoke. These weren’t boobs. They were tits. Massive, glorious, healthy tits that shamed even the impressive racks both my girls boasted. These things were absolutely oppressive choke-you-to-death honkin’ gazongas. They were the kind of breasts that could double as weights for a squat work out—which isn’t to say they sagged, no sir. Perky wasn’t the word, really, but they were well-formed, round, shapely to a degree that only magic could explain.

As incredulous as I felt taking in the sight of her knockers, upon which I perhaps lingered a bit too long, the rest of her was even more jarring. Thick, blood-red hair cascaded down her shoulders to the small of her back in spiralling curls. The crimson eyes that sought mine were vertically slitted in a reptilian sort of way. She had ivory ram horns emerging from her head with golden ornaments like little horn caps fixed to the tips in decoration. Her ears weren’t pointed, but they were pierced from lobe to tip at least five times each. From her back emerged a pair of black feathered wings that didn’t look nearly big enough to lift her off the ground.

Below the waist, things got even less human. Her lower body was an enormous copper and black striped serpent tail that looked powerful enough to crush a car. It was long, maybe twenty feet, and thick the whole way through.

Her eyes scanned the void methodically until locking onto mine and widening in surprise.

“You can see me, can’t you?” Her voice was sultry, thickly accented in a way that reminded me of a Russian dialect.

I tried responding, but my dream-body wouldn’t cooperate. My lips wouldn’t move, either. My vocal cords were frozen in place, like those nightmares where you try screaming but nothing comes out. Or, again, like sleep paralysis.

She understood my predicament. “Don’t waste energy trying to talk. Just listen. We don’t have much time.”

I relaxed and let my panic subside. If listening was all I needed to do, I could handle that. I’d gotten pretty good at lying on my back while crazy shit happened to me lately.

“I’ve been searching for my missing party members,” she continued as her serpentine lower body coiled beneath her. “Elysia and Portia—they’re with you, aren’t they?”

I tried to nod, but I figured she saw the confirmation more in my eyes.

“Good. I’ve been trying to reach them directly, but the connection keeps redirecting to you.” Her puzzled expression remained determined. “I believe that means you… Anyway, I can’t get through the portal yet. The link needs some work.”

She held up a parchment with a complex symbol—bat wings forming outer edges, mysterious but simple runes in an unknown language forming the center, all surrounded by a halo of small hearts.

“There’s no time to explain. If you are our Champion, then the three of you need this mark to strengthen the connection.” She opened her robe with a blush, revealing her stomach with the exact symbol tattooed around her navel. Unfortunately for her, she also revealed her ginormous fuggin’ boobs and a visible pussy that transitioned into scales in the snakey lower half. Lord God, it was the fight of my life to stay focused on the important thing she was trying to show me while my erection was busy violently tearing down the walls between the physical world and dreamland.

“The girls need the full symbol,” she went on, “but you need only the runes at the center of the mark to be marked over your heart.”

She sighed impatiently at my confused and horny look.

“I don’t know why I can only reach you when I try for the others. I know that you must be our Champion, so I hope the other two are with you. If they are, this means that in order for us to be properly, permanently bonded to you, this mark is a necessary and important step.” She studied me with her red, serpentine eyes, licking her lips with a forked tongue in a way that I didn’t think was particularly horny. “Find someone who can create permanent markings. A skinwriter.”

Tattoo artist, I mentally corrected. Hopefully that would work.

“Once all three of you have the mark, the link between us should be strong enough for me to safely cross over.” She glanced over her shoulder as if hearing something. “I’m out of time. I look forward to meeting you and seeing the girls again. When I reach out for them, they feel... different somehow. Sluttier, I guess, which is probably a good sign. Goodbye.”

The mist swirled intensely around her.

“Don’t forget the pattern,” she urged, holding up the paper once more. “Full symbol over their wombs, just the runes over your heart. Memorize them! Keep them in your mind!”

Then she dissolved back into fog like she’d never existed.

I bolted upright, heart hammering against ribs. My sudden movement sent both sleeping women tumbling—Elysia rolled sideways with an un-princess-like yelp, and Portia nearly fell off the bed.

“Is the house burning down?” Elysia demanded while scrambling upright, her golden hair adorably messed up. “Because such treatment of royalty is otherwise inexcusable!”

“Arf! Arf!” Portia had already recovered, instantly alert. “Master? What’s wrong? Is there danger?!”

“Paper,” I gasped, lunging for the nightstand drawer. “Need paper and a pen.”

“Has he gone mad?” Elysia squeaked anxiously to Portia, who just shrugged and got out of my way as I crawled off the bed and rifled through a drawer.

I found a notepad and pen, frantically sketching the symbol before it could fade from memory—bat wings, heart halo, and those strange but simple runes burning in my mind’s eye. My shaking hand still produced a passable recreation.

“I saw her,” I explained while still drawing. “Juniper, I’m pretty sure. In my dream. She spoke to me. She looked—fucking wild.”

That got their attention. Both women crowded around me, their sleepiness vanishing as they peered at my sketch.

“What did she say?” Portia asked as her tail began to sway to and fro.

“She can’t get through the portal yet,” I explained while tapping the drawing. “The connection needs strengthening. We need these marks as tattoos—you two get the full symbol over your wombs, I just need the runes over my heart.”

Elysia snatched the paper, studied it with narrowed eyes, then exchanged a look with Portia. “Yes, I recall Seer Morvain instructing us about lore related to this. These marks are reminiscent of something the last generation of heroes used to strengthen the link between party members and bolster their connection to the System—but I thought the method was lost.”

“Apparently Juniper rediscovered it,” Portia whispered with eyes dewy from awe. “How long were we separated on her end that she managed to reverse engineer this magic?”

After I finished, checked, and double-checked the drawing, I flopped back onto the bed. “So we need magical tattoos based on my dream vision. That’s the plan.”

“Going by the runes at the center, it appears to be a binding mark that creates a tether between us which cannot be broken,” Elysia explained while scrutinizing my drawing. “If Juniper says it will help her cross over, she’s likely correct.”

“So we’re really doing this? You girls are okay with tattoos over your lower abdomens?” I couldn’t hide my skepticism.

Elysia’s nose crinkled. “Defacing my perfect royal skin isn’t ideal, but if it reunites our party and binds us more securely to you...” She shrugged reluctantly.

Portia bounced with excitement. “I’ve always wanted a mark like this! It’s sexy! The Moon Mother’s highest priestesses get ritual scars that they paint over once a month on the night of the full moon, but a permanent inking seems much more practical.”

I glanced at the bedside clock—5:37 AM. Too early to take action right away, but sleep was definitely no longer an option for me with how fast my heart was racing from the odd dream visit and subsequent heart-pounding impromptu drawing session.

“Let’s talk about this over breakfast,” I suggested. “I need coffee before I can process any more weirdness.”

By 9 AM, I was researching local tattoo artists while the girls discussed their impending markings with different levels of enthusiasm.

Elysia poked her half-eaten waffle. “It should be quick, right? Just a few moments of mild discomfort?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her stomach tattoos hurt like a bitch and a half and took hours. Some truths are better learned through experience.

“I’m calling this place,” I said, showing them a well-reviewed shop called Ink Dragons. “Best ratings within fifty miles.” The girls didn’t protest, so that was that—not that they knew enough about anything around here to protest.

Val, a gruff-voiced woman, answered on the third ring. I explained our situation—minus the supernatural and sexy parts—and asked about a house call.

“We don’t typically work off-site,” she informed me. “Insurance reasons.”

“I understand,” I said, preparing my ace. “But we have mobility issues here.” I was, of course, thinking about portal drama. “I’d happily pay double your rate for the trouble.”

A pause. “Double, you say?”

“Fuck it, make it quadruple. Plus gas expenses and some leftover pizza for the road,” I added, watching Portia’s tail wag faster with each word.

“You would’ve had me with just the pizza, but hell yeah. What kind of tattoos are we talking about?”

“Three tattoos, three people, same design on the girls, a less detailed one for me. Two stomach pieces for the ladies, smaller chest piece for yours truly.”

Another pause. It took longer this time, but I figured it was because she was jotting details down. “I might be able to accommodate that. I’d need to bring quite a bit of equipment.”

“Money’s not an issue,” I assured her. “We’re only forty minutes from your shop according to Shmoogle Maps.”

After more negotiation, she agreed to come around noon. I hung up feeling simultaneously relieved and terrified. I was getting a tattoo. And two beautiful women were getting matching womb tattoos that would in some magical way connect us forever. Big steps.

Portia bounced in her seat. “It’s happening! Will it hurt? Is it like Moon Mother branding? Do we burn or do we bleed? Both? None of the above? Please say none of the above.”

“I can’t do that,” I said, watching Elysia’s face pale. “But it’s manageable pain. Think of a shallow cut that keeps happening over and over again without stopping for a couple hours straight.”

“Hours?” Elysia’s voice hit a heretofore unknown register. “You neglected to mention the time commitment!”

I smiled sympathetically. “This will bring Juniper to us. Good work takes time, Princess. But I’ll hold your hand through all of it.”

Elysia huffed, but her shoulders relaxed at the reassurance. “As First Maiden of the Hero’s Party, I shall demonstrate my fortitude—but you’d really better hold my hand, Josh Becker!”

I stood to clear breakfast dishes. “Now let’s clean up before our guest arrives. And maybe figure out how to handle all the ears and tails.”

***

The tattoo artist, Val, arrived precisely at noon. She was shorter than I’d expected, but also older and much more confident than any woman walking into a strange man’s house probably should be. Her own arms were covered in intricate sleeve tattoos, and her undercut hairstyle revealed additional artwork on her scalp.

“Nice place,” she commented, glancing around my living room. “Remote. Peaceful. I always wanted a place out in the country, but, you know. Gotta work.”

“Right. I bought it for the remoteness, so I totally agree,” I replied, helping her with the several cases of equipment she’d brought. “Privacy is worth the longer drive into town every now and then.”

Val nodded appreciatively, then turned her attention to Elysia and Portia, who were hovering nearby with very different expressions and demeanors. She must have thought they looked funny with a beret and a baseball cap on indoors.

“So, you folks all want the same design?” Val asked, setting up her workstation efficiently.

“Them, yes. Mine is similar, but without the hearts and wings,” I explained, showing her my drawing. “The ladies want the full design on their stomachs, but I just need these central runes on my chest, over my heart.”

Val examined the drawing with a neutral look. “Interesting symbols. You drew the hearts kind of shitty but I’ll clean that up for you if that’s okay. Is this your own creation?”

“It’s a... religious emblem,” Elysia improvised. “We follow the same… god.”

“Cool,” Val replied, clearly not particularly interested in the backstory. She was already transferring the design to stencil paper. “Who’s going first?”

Elysia stepped forward with the superior dignity of someone volunteering for sacrificial execution. “I shall be the first, as I am the First Maiden.”

“You’re definitely not the very first,” Val muttered as she continued redrawing the design.

The next hour went by fast for me, but I had to suspect the princess didn’t share my sentiment. Elysia lay on the tattooing bench in the center of my living room, her stomach exposed from her navel to just an inch or so above her womanhood as Val transferred the stencil onto her skin. When the needle first made contact, Elysia’s hand shot out, grabbing mine and squeezing a lot harder than I assumed she could.

“This agony is barely noticeable,” she announced through gritted teeth. “Like being tickled by a feather. A sharp, angry feather wielded by a vindictive dark and evil fairy.”

“You’re doing great,” I encouraged her, trying not to wince as her nails dug crescents into my palm. “The outline is always the worst part, so I hear.”

“You will compensate me for this suffering,” she informed me, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I expect at minimum a full day of uninterrupted pampering. Possibly two. With frappuccinos! And—and lots of kissing!”

Val worked steadily and did her best not to react like a champ. She kept her focus on the job as she brought the intricate design to life on Elysia’s pale skin. Despite her complaints, Elysia managed to stay remarkably still, only occasionally requesting brief breaks when the needle hit particularly sensitive spots.

After the better part of two hours, Val sat back, wiping away excess ink to reveal the completed tattoo—bat wings gracefully framing the simple runes, all surrounded by the delicate heart halo, centered perfectly below Elysia’s navel and just above the waistband of her panties. The fresh tattoo was red and swollen, but it was an undeniable success.

“Beautiful work,” I complimented as Val applied a thin layer of ointment and a protective covering.

“It does have a primitive elegance,” Elysia admitted, examining her new marking.

“Who’s next?” Val asked, changing her gloves and sanitizing her equipment.

Portia bounced forward before Elysia had even fully vacated the bench. “Me! I’m ready! I’m a brave pup!”

Val eyed Portia with weary disdain. “First tattoo?”

“Yes,” Portia replied. “But I am not afraid! With my master here to punish me should I step out of line, I—”

Elysia slapped the back of her head so hard the dog-girl looked like her brain reset.

“I mean—yes. I’m ready when you are.”

As Val began preparing Portia’s skin for the stencil, she paused, noticing something odd. “Is that... are you wearing a tail buttplug or something?”

Portia froze, her eyes widening. I jumped in smoothly: “We’ve got a D&D game later and she likes to dress up ahead of time to get into character.”

“And… are those animal ears beneath her weird indoor beret?” Val asked, glancing at Portia’s head.

“Part of the same costume,” I explained. “They’re, uh, actually pretty difficult to remove once attached. Spirit gum, you know? Her whole costume is animatronic, too, so it’s very lifelike and even moves.”

“That tail isn’t in my butthole,” Portia added, which was a good point of clarification until she decided to say, “My butthole must be kept ready for Master’s use at all times.”

Val, Elysia, and I winced as one. “Welp, I’m starting. Just hold still, costume parts included.”

“Of course!” Portia agreed brightly. “I shall be as motionless as a princess under normal circumstances!”

Elysia giggled. “An apt metaphor.”

Portia’s promise lasted approximately thirty seconds into the actual tattooing process. The moment the needle touched her skin, Portia’s entire body tensed, and her tail began twitching and curling.

“Ma’am, I need you to hold still,” Val reminded her, pausing her work. “Especially your midsection.”

“Sorry!” Portia exclaimed, looking genuinely contrite but failing entirely to control herself. “The pain is immense. Master, hold my hand!”

“Why does she call you Master?” Val asked with very justified concern.

“Just… don’t,” I said. “Let’s not.”

I actually had to physically hold Portia’s whole body down against the bench, earning a raised eyebrow from Val but no further comment. Throughout the session, Portia reacted to the pain in ways that were distinctly... worrisome. Rather than wincing or gritting her teeth, she clearly enjoyed the sensation, occasionally making small sounds that bordered on orgasmic.

“The pain is exquisite, Master,” she moaned in front of an increasingly distressed Val. “It makes me think of all the terrible, horrible things you’ll do to my bottom for making such a scene.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered hoarsely to the artist, my soul having more or less become one with the definition of mortification.

“Hey,” Val replied noncommittally, focusing on her work. “Whatever helps her get through it.”

Despite the challenges, Portia’s session went more quickly than Elysia’s, mainly because she never asked for breaks. In fact, when it was over, she asked if she could get another tattoo of my face on her ass, but I vetoed that right away. The last thing I wanted to see when I started banging her from behind one day was my own mug. 

When the work was done and she was on her feet again, she wanted to see the result, so she bent to examine the fresh tattoo with a grin.

“It’s perfect!” she declared, beaming. “I hope it will hurt like this forever and ever!”

By this point, it was late afternoon, and Val’s hand needed a rest. We took a break for an early dinner, eating leftover pizza and then ordering even more to give everyone a chance to recover before my turn. The conversation during the meal was a minefield of potential slip-ups, with Portia nearly mentioning portals twice and Elysia at one point taking off her baseball cap. Thankfully that was easily explained by wiggling my fingers and saying “D&D” once again.

Val maintained professional detachment despite everything. “You three have an interesting dynamic,” was her only comment, delivered with the neutral tone of someone who’d seen far stranger things in her career. 

As evening settled in, and I had to make a fake call to “cancel” our D&D game, it was finally my turn. I removed my shirt and lay back on the bench, the alcohol-soaked cotton ball cool against my skin as Val prepped the area over my heart. The stencil of just the runes looked so plain compared to the elaborate designs the girls had received, but I wasn’t complaining about the reduced tattoo time.

Both women hovered nearby, offering a running commentary that Val pretended not to hear.

“If you show weakness after my incredible performance, I shall be severely disappointed,” Elysia informed me, her own tattoo still visibly throbbing beneath the clear bandage, but healing pretty fast due to our System powers.

“I can heal you afterward,” Portia whispered, just quiet enough that Val might have missed it. “Just a tiny bit of magic to take the edge off.”

The needle made contact, and I realized I’d been right about chest tattoos being painful—especially directly over the sternum. Each stroke sent lines of electric fire across my nerve endings, but after fighting monsters regularly, it was manageable discomfort.

“It’s perfectly acceptable if you need to hold my hand,” Elysia offered, dangling her hand in front of my face. “I will not mock you.”

“I’m good,” I said, which got a shrill gasp out of her like I’d slapped her across the face. She ended up grabbing my hand anyway.

“Well, I’m not. I will not sacrifice this opportunity.”

“That’s not fair!” Portia squealed. “I’ll take this hand, then.”

The girls held my hands tight throughout the massage, but I was fine. Still, it did feel right to have them attached to me as I underwent the process. 

There was something profoundly intimate about the experience. The three of us were being permanently marked with symbols meant to bind us together forever. Whatever happened in the future, this connection was literally under our skin now.

Val worked hard and focused well, all things considered, and my smaller design took less than an hour. When it was complete, I sat up to examine her work in a hand mirror. The runes formed a pattern over my heart, elegant and simple in its minimalist design.

“That’s all of you,” Val announced, applying the final bandage to my chest. “Quite the bonding experience, I suppose.”

I paid her generously—double the quoted price plus a substantial tip—and thanked her for making the house call.

“Take good care of those tattoos,” she instructed as she packed up her equipment. “Keep them clean, apply the ointment I left you, and no swimming for two weeks. Showers, not baths, too. And maybe...” she glanced at Portia’s barely-concealed tail, “maybe take the costumes off before I arrive if we do this again sometime.”

Once she was gone, we collectively exhaled.

“That was an ordeal,” I admitted as I collapsed onto the couch. “But we did it. Do you think you can heal these tattoos for us so that we don’t need to go through the whole recovery process, Portia?”

Portia shook her head, frowning. “Not just yet. If I heal too soon, it’s possible the ink will vanish too.”

I nodded, taking that in. “Maybe in a day or two then.”

“Okay, so… Now what?” the dog-girl asked, gingerly touching the bandage over her fresh ink. “How long until Juniper can cross over?”

“Magical bindings usually take time to settle,” Elysia explained. She winked as she tried to find a comfortable sitting position. “We should rest and see what develops.”

The evening passed quietly. All three of us moved carefully to avoid jarring our tender new markings, and it was the girls’ soreness that probably protected Cock-Josh from further assaults that night. 

Taking out the midnight monster arrival was awkward with the pain, too, but it was only a skeleton with a spear—the weakest monster we’d fought since the girls arrived. 

I helped both women apply fresh ointment before bed. It wasn’t until I was gently smoothing ointment over Elysia’s tattoo that something unexpected happened. The tattoo suddenly pulsed with a faint ruby glow, illuminating my fingertips from below.

Elysia jerked back, startled. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, as surprised as she was. “It’s... reacting somehow.”

We conducted some impromptu experiments over the next half hour and discovered a pattern—the girls’ tattoos responded to sexual thoughts about me. We confirmed the pattern without a doubt when Portia admitted to planning to give me a blowjob after Elysia fell asleep. When we asked her what she was thinking when it lit up, she embarrassingly narrated the imagined encounter in explicit detail. Her tattoo glowed brightly enough to be seen through the long, white T-shirt she borrowed from me as a nightie.

Elysia was not a fan. “How mortifying! Our desires for you will be broadcast for all to see?” Right that moment, her own tattoo lit up. “Oh! I can’t help it! I’m nearly always thinking something lewd about you! This is supremely unfair!”

Portia was less bothered by it. She pointed to her belly proudly as it glowed. “Master, look! I’m thinking about how terrible it would be if you bruised my tender rump with a vicious slap right now. How cruel you are!”

“Well, I guess this means the tattoo... works?” I offered, trying not to laugh at Elysia’s persistent horrified expression when her own tattoo betrayed her thoughts moments before. “At least we know there’s some kind of magic happening with it already, right? That must mean Juniper will be able to find us now.”

As we finally settled into bed that night, all three of us maneuvered under the covers carefully to avoid pressure on our fresh ink. When I started to doze off, I realized that I had no idea what to expect to happen tomorrow. It was more or less like that every day now.

And I was kind of alright with it.

Chapter 15

I woke the next morning to the uniquely unpleasant sensation of my healing tattoo sticking to the sheets. The skin around the fresh ink felt tight and hot, like a sunburn that was trying too hard. Carefully peeling myself free, I shuffled to the bathroom to reapply the ointment Val had left us.

Standing in front of the mirror, I examined her handiwork—the mystical runes now permanently etched over my heart. The skin was still red around the black lines, but the design itself looked great. I dabbed a bit of ointment onto my fingertips and gently smoothed it over the tender area.

That’s when the delayed realization hit me with all the subtlety of a school bus full of fatties.

“Holy shit,” I whispered to my reflection. “We’re about to bring a giant fucking snake woman to rural Wisconsin.”

The full implications crashed through my brain. Juniper’s issue, so far as I could tell, wasn’t that she was eccentric like the other girls—she had the lower body of an enormous serpent, ram’s horns, and black wings—and supernaturally huge jugs to boot. She put the “monster” in “monster girl”. 

Thinking back to my dream meetup with her, her serpentine portion had been at least twenty feet long. Would she even fit through doorways? Where would she sleep? What if Sheriff Miller showed up for another chat and the best I could do before he barged in with a warrant was shove her behind the couch? I didn’t think that would fly.

I stumbled back to the bedroom, mind racing. Elysia and Portia were still asleep, tangled together in a pile of limbs and hair. Both their tattoos were glowing ruby red, their hips sort of idly gyrating against each other as they both appeared to be dreaming about me. Under different circumstances, I might have paused to appreciate the view or even join the smutty cuddle puddle, but I was too busy having an internal crisis about imminent monster housing logistics.

“Hey,” I said, nudging the closest shoulder, which happened to be Portia’s. “Hey, wake up. We have a problem.”

Portia’s ears twitched, and she opened one golden eye. “Yes, master? Is it an emergency?”

“It kind of is,” I noted. “I just realized—Juniper has a snake body. A giant snake body.”

Elysia groaned, pulling a pillow over her head. “Is that all? I was having the most delightful dream. To be pulled out of it so rudely, I should hope that at minimum the house would be on fire.”

“You’re not getting it,” I pressed, pacing now. “This is a land full of humans. Cheeseheads, maybe, so sure, a lot of them are on the bigger side, but we can’t exactly have a half-snake, half-woman with horns and wings hanging out in my living room. Is she supposed to stay locked in my bedroom for twenty years? It’s not like we can take her to town with us! And what if the sheriff returns and forces a search on me? Juniper is not exactly... inconspicuous. At least based on my understanding.”

Portia yawned, stretching in a way that made her shirt ride up, revealing her freshly tattooed stomach and a contentment-inducing degree of underboob. “Oh, that? Juniper can share a body with one of us temporarily if needed for public outings.”

I stopped pacing. “She can what now?”

“Share a body,” Elysia mumbled from beneath her pillow fortress. “Consciousness transference. Rather basic dimensional magic for a mage of her calibre, really. It’s not so different from how she reached you, I imagine.”

“Basic,” I repeated flatly. “Right. And you’re just mentioning this now because...?”

Portia sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “It didn’t seem relevant until now. We’ve used it before for covert missions when Juniper’s natural form would be, ahem, problematic.”

“She usually rides along in my body since Elysia tends to take regular breaks anyway,” Portia added with a grimace.

Elysia’s head finally emerged from her pillow sanctuary. “Juniper is primarily a homebody in any case. She prefers solitude and research to socializing. Perhaps outfit one of the many dilapidated structures on this plot of land like a wizard’s tower and she will be content for a decade at least. When she does join gatherings, she tends to... dampen the festivities with excessive rationality.”

“Sounds like my kind of gal. There’s an empty silo  behind the old barn I could have cleaned out and made into a tower,” I considered aloud.

The girls traded irritated looks. “Your kind of gal? And just what is that supposed to mean?” Elysia huffed, crossing her arms.

Portia pouted, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. “Oh, I’ve been so bad that Master doesn’t consider me his kind of female! Oh, woe is me, a swift series of brutal reckonings will soon be visited upon my perky, jiggly bottom so that he can correct me into the bitch he—”

“God, please stop,” I muttered, holding up my hands. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t be brats. I’m thinking.”

“It wounds me that you never considered how small your home is by my standards,” Elysia sighed as she grabbed a brush from the nightstand and started running it through her hair. “In my father’s castle, we had lamias and nagas larger than Juniper who complained of too much space.”

“I’m not picky,” Portia quickly inserted, seeing an opportunity, “My doghouse back in my homeland was much smaller than this home, and I prefer to be physically stuck to Master as much as possible.” She suddenly adjusted her tone once more to something more performatively forlorn. “For if I do not make my lewd body available to him, I will be—”

Her voice trailed off in the background as I started running through things in my head. I tried to imagine a giant snake-woman coiled on my living room rug like some exotic pet and felt a headache forming. The silo idea probably did need to be enacted, at least in the long term. Not to mention that my bed wasn’t big enough to support a third girl—not even one Elysia’s tiny size.

Not long after our discussion about Juniper’s impending arrival, I decided to be proactive. With the girls draped over the couch watching some reality TV show they’d become oddly fixated on, I grabbed my laptop and started researching silo conversions.

“What are you doing over there, Sir Josh?” Elysia called, her eyes not leaving the screen where someone was dramatically crying over spilled wine.

“Looking into converting that old silo behind the barn,” I replied while I scrolled through a surprisingly robust collection of “grain silo to living space” articles. “If Juniper’s going to have twenty feet of snake tail, we need to accommodate that, and you mentioned something like a tower for her.”

“Thoughtful of you,” she murmured, then gasped at something happening on TV. “And it’ll keep her out of our bed unless invited. Portia! Did you see that? She flipped the table like a drunken dwarven wench!”

Portia who was sprawled across Elysia’s lap like an oversized puppy. She nodded vigorously. “I love human conflict rituals! So much yelling without any actual combat! It’s quite refreshing, really.”

I tuned them out and focused on my research. The more I looked into it, the more viable the idea seemed. The old concrete grain silo on my property was structurally sound, just neglected. With proper renovation, it could become a comfortable living space for our soon-to-arrive monster babe.

After an hour of research, I found a contractor with experience in unconventional renovations—shipping container homes, mostly. His website featured several repurposed structures, but one of them included a water tower converted to a vacation rental. Perfect.

I dialed the number, putting the phone on speaker so I could continue browsing.

“Wilkinson Renovations,” a gruff voice answered.

“Hi, I’m interested in converting an old concrete silo on my property to a living space,” I explained. “Wondering if that’s something you handle.”

The man—Mr. Wilkinson, probably—sighed. “Look, buddy, those Pinterest projects look great online, but the permit process out here is a nightmare. Most counties require—”

“I was actually hoping to keep the paperwork to a minimum, if you know what I mean,” I interrupted. “And money isn’t really an issue.”

A pause. “Sorry, but I don’t—”

“I can pay more than twice your standard rate,” I added. “And I understand cryptocurrency transactions can be discreet these days.”

The silence stretched longer this time. “Why don’t I come take a look first,” he finally said. “No commitments yet.”

“Perfect.” I gave him my address and ended the call. Pretty fucking productive for a call under two minutes.

When I looked up, both girls were watching me with raised eyebrows. “What?” I asked innocently.

“You’ve certainly accepted your fate lately,” Elysia observed with a smirk. “No more kicking and screaming about your destiny, I see?”

“I don’t recall ever kicking and screaming,” I defended myself. “Anyway, yeah, I figure it’s not likely I’ll be able to get anything started before Juniper graces us with her presence, but these days I spend way too much time on my ass, so I might as well be productive.”

“I wish Juniper would arrive so I could spend some more time on my back,” Elysia sighed forlornly as her womb tattoo pulsed crimson. It started a chain reaction when Portia saw it, or maybe heard what she said, and her design lit up as well.

“Your tattoos are doing the thing again,” I pointed out, arching a brow. “I think we might want to get you girls some cold showers or something because I’m just one man.”

Based on our previous conversations, I had a pretty good idea that Juniper’s arrival would mark some sort of sexual milestone for all of us. They’d mentioned waiting for her arrival before I could have penetrative sex with them, and though I wasn’t sure just why that was the case, I assumed there was some reasoning behind it. I was already getting my dong milked pretty frequently so it’s not like I was in a hurry to break some hymens.

Ew. That sounded gross.

“Wilkinson will be here in an hour,” I said, changing the subject. “Maybe you two should stay inside when he arrives. The fewer questions about cute beret-wearing dog-girls and elven princesses too pretty to exist, the better.”

They agreed reluctantly.

“Master is possessive of my figure. He wishes not to let other men see the lewdness of my body, lest their hearts yearn to release inside of my sweet, girly flower.” Her voice took on a dramatically dark tone after that, and she closed her eyes, hand over her heart. “Oh, but my Master is too cruel and brutal to let any other man have me. He has claimed my body for himself completely, making me dream of only him, though I loathe him so.” She peeked one eye open. “I’m not serious, Master, I like you very much.”

“Right, I know,” I replied in a monotone as I kept browsing.

Wilkinson turned out to be a hairy, well-tanned man with a salt-and-pepper beard and weathered hands. He gave me a handshake that I once would have considered firm before taking on demigod proportions myself. In fact, I specifically wore baggy clothes to hide how ripped I was.

I didn’t take him inside. Instead, I led him directly to the silo. He circled it slowly, tapping walls and examining the foundation with experienced eyes.

“Solid enough construction,” he noted approvingly. “We could patch a few spots but honestly it’s not necessary. These old concrete silos were built to last. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Something unconventional,” I explained, gesturing with my hands. “I’d need a very large cellar entrance integrated into the grass that leads to a tunnel that goes inside, and instead of stairs leading from one level to the next, I was thinking of a spiraling ramp system.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A ramp? Like for wheelchairs?”

“Something like that,” I hedged. “Accessibility is important.” I did not mention, of course, that the reason was because the woman this was being designed for had no legs.

Wilkinson pulled out a measuring tape and started taking dimensions. “Multiple floors?”

“At least four, I think. We could probably swing five. With large, open spaces.”

He jotted notes in a small pad. “Plumbing? Electrical? You considered that? Utilities and such are kind of a big deal on a secondary residence.”

“That’s the other thing,” I said, glancing toward the fields. “I’ve already got permits for solar and a rainwater collection system that I never followed through on. I’d like to finally make that happen—get this place off-grid as much as possible.”

Wilkinson nodded slowly. “Less attention from utility companies, fewer questions.”

“Exactly.”

He tucked his notepad away and fixed me with a hard stare. “Look, I’ve done a few off-books jobs for cash over the years. I don’t ask questions if you’ve got the money and can keep your mouth shut, but I’ve got my limits. So I’m just gonna ask straight out—you running something illegal here? Meth lab, maybe?”

I met his gaze steadily. “Nothing like that. We just value our privacy out here.”

His eyes flicked to the farmhouse, then back to me. “Fair enough. Soonest I could start would be next month. I’d be doing the work myself—no crew for off-books jobs. Probably best if I do the indoor work at night to lower the chance of someone poking around and seeing my truck.”

“That works,” I agreed, extending my hand. “Though… we have a regular midnight activity around these parts that we’ll have to work around. Anyway, I’ve got a rundown barn where you can park your truck, too. And take your time. It gives me time to finalize the details anyway. I’m still learning about the individual who’ll be living here and her specific needs.”

“Her,” he repeated with a knowing nod-and-smirk combo. “Got it.” He shook my hand firmly. “I’ll draw up some preliminary plans and a quote.”

After Wilkinson left, I returned to the house to find both of my girls curled up asleep on the couch. Portia was snoring softly, and her ears were twitching with her dreams. Elysia was stirring, though, grinding her knees together like she was uncomfortable—but when I saw the womb tattoo do its thing, I figured out why and left her alone.

The sight of them resting peacefully made me smile. For all their bickering, they looked adorable together—a matched set of otherworldly beauties that I was lucky to have in my life. I was lucky to have a lot of the shit currently in my life, though.

Rather than wake them, I quietly made my way upstairs. The unexpected moment of solitude was a rare gift these days, for reasons that should be obvious. I stretched out on my bed, mindful of my healing tattoo, and let my eyes drift closed. “Finally,” I groaned, feeling my muscles relax. “A minute to myself.”

The bed felt bigger without their bodies pressed against mine. Quieter without Portia’s panting and licking and Elysia’s midnight mumbling. For the first time since they arrived, I had the time and space to stretch out and get some undisturbed rest.

I expected it to be a relief, but as I inched toward REM sleep, I found myself missing their warmth, their scents, even the hypnotic way Portia’s tail started pounding the mattress whenever one of my muscles twitched. This quiet felt empty rather than peaceful.

“Weird,” I murmured to the empty room. “When did I get so used to them?”

And with that thought, I slept alone for what I hoped would be the last time in a very long while.

Chapter 16

That afternoon, Portia deemed it safe to use magic to heal our tattoo marks, so she expertly treated the affected zones. Sure enough, there was no pain, no itching, no scarring or peeling, after that and the ink looked perfect. That was the good news.

But now it was time for the nightly chore.

The day went by too fast. Even worse, the nights were cold, and they were only going to get colder as the weeks went on. Soon we’d be fighting evil monsters in snowpants and parkas over platemail, which sounded… really dumb.

But there we were, standing in the open field, weapons ready. Portia hefted her war hammer while I rolled my shoulders. My sword felt more and more like a natural extension of my arm since the Return Blade skill had unlocked a few days ago.

Elysia, naturally, had claimed a viewing stump a safe distance away. She sat upright with her hands resting primly on her knees, legs crossed at the ankles. She looked more like a dignitary attending a jousting tournament than a participant in any battle.

“Remember,” she called, “once we identify what it is, I can tell you its weaknesses!”

“Assuming you’ve seen one before,” I replied, never taking my eyes off the shimmering air where the portal was forming.

“Hmph! I am familiar with most creatures from our world,” she insisted haughtily. “My tutors were quite thorough.”

Next thing I knew, the portal ripped open, crackling like lightning. The ground beneath us rumbled as something massive pushed through the interdimensional tear. I wasn’t sure how that worked—the rumbling before anything had even laid a foot on our soil, I mean–but I appreciated the forewarning that something big was coming.

First came a wedge-shaped head, then spiked shoulders, followed by a long body covered in gray-black scales that looked like burnt tree bark. The creature was big, at least twenty-five feet long from snout to tail tip. It had no wings, but the claws on its six stocky legs looked capable of tearing through plate armor like tissue paper.

“Ashscale ground dragon!” Portia yelped, her tail instantly going stiff over her skirt. “Bad news!”

“Very bad,” Elysia confirmed, suddenly looking less comfortable on her viewing stump. “But they’re vulnerable where the plates meet their necks, however!”

The dragon instantly fixed us with glowing ember eyes. Its nostrils flared, releasing twin jets of smoke.

“Any other weaknesses?” I asked, trying to sound casual as the beast seemed to be sizing us up.

“I think they hate water,” Portia added helpfully, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“That’s not going to help us much unless you’ve been hiding a garden hose in your cleavage,” I muttered.

It charged without warning, moving with surprising speed for something so bulky. Portia and I dove in opposite directions as the beast plowed through the space we’d occupied a split second before.

“Flank it!” I called as I rolled to my feet.

The ground dragon skidded to a stop and roared a sound like waaay pitched down nails on a chalkboard. Its claws tore furrows in the earth as it slid. Next, it whipped around to face me, jaws opening to reveal rows of jagged, serrated teeth. Instead of fire, it spewed a cloud of superheated ash that billowed toward me like a burning fog.

“Dodge!” Elysia squawked, like the idea wasn’t going to occur to me.

I threw myself backward, but not before feeling the searing heat against my face. “Shit! It breathes burning ash, not fire!”

“Hence the name!” Elysia shouted from her stump. “Do try to avoid it, darling! I’d never recover if you were slain!”

“Gee, thanks!” I spat back, circling the creature warily.

Portia charged in from behind, swinging her hammer in a wicked arc. It connected with the dragon’s hindquarters with a sound like a sledgehammer slamming into concrete. Scales cracked, sure enough, but the beast seemed more irritated than injured.

The ground dragon whirled, lashing its tail out like a whip. Portia took the hit square in the chest and went flying, landing with a painful thud twenty feet away.

“Portia!” I shouted, momentarily distracted.

The dragon seized its opportunity and lunged at me with jaws agape. I barely managed to dodge in time, feeling the wind of its assault as it snapped at empty air. My sword slashed almost on its own, striking its neck but mostly glancing off the armored scales.

“The soft spots!” Elysia reminded me. “Between the plates!”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

The dragon backed me toward the tree line. Its massive body blocked any obvious escape routes. I feinted left, then darted right, but the creature anticipated each move. Its tail swept low, catching my legs and sending me sprawling.

I hit the ground hard, launching my sword from my grip. The monster loomed over me. Ash billowed from its nostrils as it prepared to deliver a punishing blast.

“Josh, catch!” Portia’s voice rang out.

I looked up to see her hammer spinning through the air toward me. I caught it by the handle, the weight almost pulling my arm from its socket, but I managed to swing it upward just as the dragon lurched forward for its own attack.

The hammer connected with the underside of its jaw, snapping its head back with a horrible roar. I scrambled to my feet and rapidly scanned the field for my missing sword.

“Return Blade!” I commanded, reaching out my hand.

Once I spotted it and could extend my hand to catch it, my sword picked itself up instantly, spinning through the air back toward me. The dragon didn’t see the blade coming, probably since it was still reeling from the hammer strike. I caught my sword and brought it down deep in the creature’s shoulder joint, right where the scales formed a natural gap.

The beast howled in agony, and muddy blood seeped from the wound. It thrashed wildly, dislodging my sword, which sent me stumbling backward. I recovered quickly.

“Again!” Portia shouted, reclaiming her hammer. “Hit it again!”

We coordinated our attacks. Portia distracted the dragon and taunted it while I searched for vulnerable points. The dragon was slowing down—the plan was working. In real time, its movements became more and more sluggish as its wounds accumulated.

“You have it on the defensive!” Elysia cheered. “Finish it swiftly!”

The ground dragon backed away, sensing its disadvantage. It reared up, preparing for a final, desperate attack. Ash and embers swirled in its throat, building to what was sure to be a devastating blast.

I met Portia’s eyes across the battlefield, and we reached a silent understanding. She nodded, then slammed her hammer into the ground with all her might. The impact created a shockwave that momentarily staggered the dragon, making it rear its head and lose control of its charged attack.

In that precious second of vulnerability, I hurled my sword with all my strength, guiding it with newfound precision. The blade spun through the air with a whistle, then struck true—piercing the exact spot where the dragon’s neck plates separated.

“Return!” I commanded.

The sword ripped back free of the dragon’s throat, severing vital connections as it returned to my hand. The creature gave a strangled cry, then collapsed in a heap. I watched, breathing hard, as its glowing eyes dimmed to dark coals.

“Guess I can add ‘dragon-slayer’ to my CV,” I quipped through staggered breaths.

“That was MAGNIFICENT!” Portia shrieked, vanishing her hammer. Before I could react, she launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Her lips found mine in a series of victory kisses, and I sensed her kick up one leg and everything.

“Mua! You were amazing! Mua! The way you called your blade back through its throat! The precision! The power! Mmmmua! The—”

“AHEM.” Elysia’s voice ripped through Portia’s enthusiasm like a chainsaw. She had gotten up from her stump and was stomping over. If I had to guess, she was not pleased with this display of affection she hadn’t initiated or been invited to.

By the time she reached us, however, her face was flushed from the exertion of moving quickly across the field. She bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“You... lewd hound... how dare you... monopolize our champion’s... victory kiss,” she wheezed, clearly having overexerted herself in her haste to intervene.

Portia, still clinging to me, stuck out her tongue. “I was here first, Princess. Besides, you really shouldn’t excite yourself too much. Your Constitution score is much too low to handle Master.”

Before Elysia could put together a response, a blue window appeared in front of me:

VICTORY!

XP Gained! Level Up! Level 18 achieved.

You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

“Yes,” I said, temporarily distracted from the brewing catfight.

Both women immediately forgot their argument, eyes wide with excitement. “You’ve leveled?” Elysia asked, her breathing still labored.

“To eighteen,” I confirmed. The display changed:

ALLOCATE YOUR ATTRIBUTE POINT:

• Strength: 18

• Dexterity: 16

• Constitution: 15

• Intelligence: 10

• Wisdom: 10

• Charisma: 9

I studied my attributes. With two people more experienced with the System in front of me, I figured now was as good a time as any to satisfy my curiosity about something. “Hey, can I ask you two something? What’s the point of Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma? I never feel smarter when I put points in Intelligence, or more likable with Charisma.”

The girls looked at each other with pitying expressions, like it was so damn tragic how little I knew about these basics. In a way I guess it was.

“They don’t work quite the way you might expect,” Elysia explained. “They unlock different abilities tied to them, particularly those with magical aspects.”

Portia nodded vigorously. “Most importantly, you need level 10 in each stat before you can be assigned your class. So if you don’t have Charisma, Intelligence, or Wisdom specifically at ten right now, I’d suggest fixing that as soon as possible.”

Elysia frowned at her friend. “Where did you hear that? I’m not familiar with such a requirement.”

Portia’s ears twitched proudly. “I used to dig holes in the garden outside Seer Morvain’s hut when she was teaching Juniper about System lore. I have excellent hearing.”

Elysia nodded with a look of recognition. “Ah, yes. Seer Morvain was very proud of her garden. She really hated you.”

“Yes, she did.”

I looked back at my stats. “Charisma’s my only sub-ten attribute. If what Portia says is true, that might be what’s holding me back from getting a class.”

“Wisdom isn’t a terrible choice either,” Elysia suggested. “It often unlocks perception-based abilities useful to your fighting style.”

“But if Portia’s right about the class requirement, Charisma makes more sense right now,” I reasoned. “Charisma it is.”

I mentally selected Charisma, feeling the attribute point lock in.

Attribute increased: Charisma (Now 10)

Before I could even check my skill options, a new notification appeared:

CLASS UNLOCKED: Cavalier

(A Cavalier is a specialized warrior whose combat prowess is enhanced through the bond with a trusted mount. Your Skill Point has been automatically allocated to your primary class ability: Bind Greater Steed.)

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “It worked! I got a class!”

Both women squealed and jumped up and down. The wholesomeness of their excitement for me doubled my elation at the moment, and I smiled at them. Also, the way they jumped made their boobs bounce, so I wanted a second to take that in.

“What is it, Master? What did you get?” Portia asked, hopping up and down. “Let me guess—Sadist! Punisher! Torturer! Rump-Smacker!”

“Cavalier,” I read. “Apparently I’m supposed to be good at mounted combat. The System just spent my skill point on something called ‘Bind Greater Steed’—some kind of summoning ritual that calls forth a permanent mount.”

Elysia clapped her hands together. “How wondrous! A noble class indeed for our handsome champion!”

“It suits you,” Portia agreed, her tail wagging frantically beneath her skirt. “Strong, reliable, protective. But it doesn’t quite capture your love of abusing me.”

Before I knew it, I found myself sandwiched between them. They’d apparently taken my class unlock as a perfect excuse for a three-way kiss. Their lips met mine from both sides, turning the awkward angle into a raunchy group display of affection. I obviously found it hot how their tongues wrestled each other’s as they battled for access to mine.

When they finally pulled back, leaving streams of saliva connecting us all, both wore similar expressions of satisfaction.

“I believe this calls for a celebration,” Elysia declared. “Perhaps that frozen dairy confection you’ve been hiding in the cold storage box?”

“You mean the ice cream in the fridge? I was saving that for an emergency because it’s a seasonal flavor—pumpkin spice,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Portia’s eyes went huge and pleading. “This is clearly an emergency, Master. You’ve achieved your class! That’s monumentally important!”

I immediately gave in. “Fine. Ice cream it is.”

Back at the house, we gathered around the kitchen table with bowls of ice cream. The girls watched me closely as I examined the new ability description. Every few seconds one of their tattoos would light up and I’d just choose to ignore it.

“So how do you summon this steed?” Elysia asked between spoonfuls. Her eyes rolled back in her head every single time, which made me chuckle under my breath.

“Let me see,” I said, closing my eyes and focusing on the new ability I could feel within me.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes to find both women staring at me expectantly.

“Maybe it doesn’t work indoors?” Portia suggested.

I checked the ability description more carefully. “Ah. It says I must be alone and in a wide open space to perform the ritual.”

Both women’s expressions immediately darkened.

“Alone?” Elysia repeated with disgust, dropping her spoon to clang jarringly against her bowl. “That’s unconscionable! Unthinkable! Alone, without you, at night, when we need you most? And what will become of us, pray tell?!”

“The System has some nerve,” Portia agreed, her ears flattening. “Trying to put space between us like a—I simply cannot think of anything or anyone who would do something so evil! Not even you, Master! Is the System trying to protect my luscious bottom from Master’s wrath. Pah-tooey! I spit at the absurdity!”

I held up my hands to calm them. “It’s probably just for the initial summoning. Bear with me, I’ll be right back.”

They let me go after a few whimpers and whines. Outside on the gravel driveway, I closed my eyes again, trying to focus on the new ability. The night air was still. The only sound I heard was some chirping crickets.

A prompt appeared in my mind:

To complete the ritual, visualize the last beast you mounted.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the phrasing. The last “beast” I’d mounted? My mind instantly went to the unhinged, clingy pizza delivery girl I’d hooked up with a while before Elysia arrived. Probably not what the System had in mind.

Focusing harder, I realized the last actual steed I’d ridden was probably a pony at the zoo when I was maybe seven years old. God, I hoped that wouldn’t be my permanent mount—some ancient, arthritic pony that couldn’t even carry my weight. Fuck that—more like undead. That was two decades ago at this point.

As I concentrated, I felt a strange energy flowing through me, centered on the tattoo over my heart. The runes pulsed with a warm sensation—like the urge to pee, but my bladder was right over my heart. That sounds weird, but that’s what it felt like, at least until it passed. Another message appeared:

Binding Complete. Your steed will find you.

“That’s it?” I said aloud, looking around the empty driveway. No magical horse appeared in a flash of light. No dragon descended from the sky. Just… nothing.

I shrugged and sighed. After waiting several more minutes, I gave up and headed back inside. The girls were already—or still—standing anxiously by the door.

“Oh, he’s back! Did it work?” Portia asked, rising to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“Sort of,” I replied. “I completed the ritual, but it just said ‘Your steed will find you.’ No actual steed showed up.”

Elysia moved toward me with her arms raised expectantly. “Perhaps it takes time. Ritual magic often does.”

I scooped her up without even thinking about it and held her small body in my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, nestling against my chest. Portia whimpered, so I lowered myself by bending at the knees and allowed her to crawl onto my back.

“Now,” Elysia declared regally, “I demand to be carried to the tub, stripped naked, and sensually bathed in a scented bubble bath. The labors of victory require proper cleansing, and my superior skin and flaxen hair deserves attention after all this excitement and exertion.”

“You—you didn’t do anything,” Portia muttered quietly from my back in utter disbelief at the princess’s shamelessness.

I sighed but still had to grin. “Alright then, let's get soapy.”

Chapter 17

I emerged from the steamy shower with a towel wrapped around my waist. My short hair was already mostly dry from a quick towel rub—one of the perks of being a typical guy. 

Meanwhile, Elysia and Portia stood nude in front of the bathroom mirror performing their own little post-bath ritual. Elysia simply waved her hand in an elegant flourish, whispering something in her native tongue, and both women’s hair instantly dried, all silky and perfect like they’d just walked out of a salon.

“That never gets old,” I remarked with a chuckle at the smug little looks on their faces. “You could do that for me too, you know.”

Elysia fluffed her golden mane proudly. “Oh yes, let’s burn even more of my daily mana allotment to do the same job your three second towel rub accomplished just fine already. Don’t be silly, darling. Besides, if I expended my energy on every trivial task, how would I remain ready to save you anytime a battle has gone awry?”

I rolled my eyes behind her, making sure she saw me in the reflection. “Yeah, that happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Master could dry my hair if he wanted,” Portia suggested with a coy smile, arching her back so that her butt stuck out provocatively. “Anything to feel his strong hands on me—though I loathe his abuse so much.” It was always weird to watch her slip back into the victim fetish mid-sentence.

I sighed as I grabbed my toothbrush. “I’ll give your butt a few swats before you fall asleep, don’t worry.”

“Oh, yay! I mean—oh no!”

After brushing our teeth, we moved to the bedroom for our nightly hair-brushing ritual. It had started with Elysia demanding I brush her golden locks before bed, and soon Portia had joined in, insisting that she too required intimate attention for the sake of avoiding unfairness.

Elysia sat cross-legged on the bed, wearing silky lavender pajamas as I worked the brush through her impossibly soft tresses. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nuzzled my other hand as I placed it on her shoulder to keep the sleepy princess upright while I worked. Portia waited her turn impatiently, sprawled nearby in one of my t-shirts that hung to her mid-thigh. Her tail thumped and drool trickled a little from her lips as she watched.

The princess yawned. “Mwaaw! I’ve grown weary of my current sleepwear,” Elysia announced without preamble as I ran the brush through her hair on repeat. “Though the garments from your local shops are indeed adequate, a princess deserves variety. I wish to peruse options on your computing device until we purchase an acceptable number of outfits for me to cycle through—perhaps a mere hundred or so sets of pajamas. I desire gauzier, silkier, shinier fare than this—something worthy of my soft, sensitive skin.”

“Hmm, online shopping?” I asked, continuing the gentle strokes. “A hundred should be fine, but that’s the hard limit for now. We can make a day of it tomorrow if nothing else comes up. I’ll have to store some of them in the basement, though.”

That satisfied her, and she started sneaking little kisses as a reward to the hand resting on her shoulder as the other worked through nonexistent knots in her perfect hair.

But now Portia had perked up after the mention of shopping. “I don’t need new clothes at all. If it were entirely up to me, I’d wear nothing but my collar. My lewd bottom and breasts should be ready for Master’s punishment at all times—though I fear his cruel hand oh-so-immensely.”

“Is that right?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Literally just your collar?”

“Yes! In fact, if Elysia is buying additional attire, perhaps I should get several new collars and matching leashes,” she continued, thumping her tail excitedly against the mattress. “And a special tag with your name and address on it, declaring that my heart and body belong only to you, Master—and to please return me unto you should I ever get lost.”

“If it makes you happy,” I noted dryly.

“Oh, it would make me ever-so-happy!” Portia nodded solemnly before breaking into happy giggles.

I set the brush aside, subtly signaling that Elysia’s hair was sufficiently groomed. “Well, we can talk about all of this in the morning, ladies. It’s been a long day of excitement, dragon-slaying, and class-unlocking. Time to get some rest.”

“But Master hasn’t brushed my hair yet,” Portia whined, her floppy dog ears drooping.

“Your bob barely reaches past your chin,” I pointed out. “It’s already perfect. But I could scratch behind your ears a bit until you fall asleep.”

She huffed but didn’t argue further, and her tail more or less gave away that the compromise was sufficient. I moved to the light switch, flicking it off before navigating through the darkness back to the bed. I slid between the women, who immediately began their nightly battle for dominance over as much of my body as they could claim.

“I claimed his chest first, you opportunistic hound!” Elysia hissed, trying to drape herself across my torso.

“Arf! You had his chest last night,” Portia countered with a bark that jump-scared me as she shoved and elbowed her way into the contested territory. “It’s my turn to feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek!”

“Girls, please,” I groaned as they continued to wrestle each other. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“I clearly find fault with that statement,” Elysia sniffed, “or this wouldn’t be a recurring issue.”

I sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling. First they were making me entertain them all day, then they were demanding my attention when we showered, next they were asking me to shop for them, and now this. “Damn, these heroines are so high maintenance™.”

As Portia attempted a different approach, namely climbing directly on top of me with her bare butt and tail right in my face, a purple glow from outside caught my attention in the window. It was visible through the gap in the curtains, and the light it cast was familiar in a very specific way.

“Hold up,” I said, suddenly alert. We’d already killed a monster today, so there was only one thing this could mean. Without warning, I gathered up Portia by the back of her neck like a kitten, her limbs dangling as I held them aloft with my enhanced strength. Wrapping my other arm around Elysia, I turned us all toward the window. “Look.”

“Juniper!” Elysia exclaimed with wide blue eyes. Then she immediately frowned. “Her timing is atrocious. I was just about to sit on your face.”

I frowned. Damn. That really is bad timing, I thought.

Portia, however, reacted much more positively. “Arf! Arf! Awoooo!” She wriggled free of my grip with shocking agility, threw up the window, and literally launched herself through it, landing on all fours in the driveway below. She promptly sprinted toward the field.

“Well, that’s one way to greet a friend,” I muttered, setting Elysia down gently. “It’s cold out there. Is she going to be alright?”

Elysia scoffed, but offered me her hand. “She, like me, is not as frail with the elements as a human.” 

“Shall we use the door like civilized people?”

“I suppose we must maintain some poise,” she agreed with a sigh.

We hurried downstairs, putting on robes and slippers, and walked out the back door, finding Portia already at the edge of the yard where purple portal power was crackling in the air. The portal was indeed forming, but something seemed different about it this time—the tear was struggling to widen, pulsing and contracting like it was fighting against some resistance.

“Is it supposed to do that?” I asked, keeping a cautious distance.

“No,” Elysia said with a concerned expression. “The passage must be difficult. Juniper must be expending considerable energy and focus to force it open and pass through at the same time.”

We watched as the portal finally stabilized, expanding just enough for a figure to emerge. First came those horns I remembered from my dream—ivory ram’s horns capped with gold ornaments at the tips that shone twinkling under the stars. Then her head appeared, with blood-red hair cascading in spiraling curls down to her lower back, framing her dark-skinned, sharply angular face. Multiple piercings ran up both her ears. It was her, alright.

The snake girl’s crimson, vertically slitted eyes scanned the field as she pushed the rest of her upper body through. The small black feathered wings on her back emerged next, unfurling briefly before settling against her shoulder blades. Again, I got the impression that they were much too small to be anything more than decoration.

I tried not to stare at her chest, but holy fucking shit. Juniper’s breasts were absolutely enormous—the kind of rack you called your dad to cry about. Her bodice looked like it was engaging in a heroic battle just to keep them sealed away. These weren’t just big tits—these were weapons-grade mammaries, the sort of knockers that deserved their own congressional committee. Portia and Elysia had impressive chests, sure, absolutely no complaint there. In a crowd of a hundred women in their twenties and thirties, their boobs would be better than ninety-seven of them. And yet Juniper’s whompin’ bazongas made them look like they were still in training bras by comparison.

The rest of her followed—her fuller-figured human torso with noticeable curves transitioning seamlessly into that massive serpentine lower body. As it emerged foot by foot by foot, I realized with relief that she wasn’t quite as gigantic as I’d feared. If she were human, she wouldn’t be much taller than Elysia in her human portion, actually, just with a thicker build that gave her a more imposing presence and a bit more “Yes, mommy” energy. Her snake portion was indeed lengthy—maybe twenty to twenty-five feet of copper-and-black striped coils—but the diameter wasn’t much wider than my thighs pressed together at its thickest point.

She could actually fit through any and all doorways, I realized with relief. She’d be able to navigate the house without destroying everything, though long-term, that silo renovation would definitely make more sense for her comfort. Longer-term, we may just want to add a wing to the farmhouse.

Juniper’s red, slitted eyes looked over the area and took in her surroundings before landing on her companions. Instead of acknowledging me, she slithered rapidly toward the other girls. She moved fast—her tail propelled her more quickly than I expected.

“Portia! Elysia!” she exclaimed in a voice whose maturity came not so much from age but from intellect. Her accent was still there too—something almost Slavic in nature.

She caught Portia in what looked like a bone-crushing hug, then held her at arm’s length, examining her closely from head to toe like a mother inspecting a child after her first day of school.

“I was worried sick about you,” Juniper fussed, running a hand through Portia’s hair. “I’m glad to see you’re alright. Have you been eating well? You sometimes forget to eat if the weather is too good and you spend too much time outside.”

“I’ve been eating plenty!” Portia protested, though she submitted to the inspection without resistance, which made me smile to observe.

Juniper turned to Elysia next, who stood with her chin raised high, like she was trying too hard to remind Juniper that she was someone to be respected and praised. Instead, Juniper’s eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t try to contact me even once,” she accused. “I’ve been searching for you for weeks.”

Elysia huffed indignantly. “It hasn’t been weeks here. And I am the First Maiden of the Hero’s Party. It was your responsibility to locate me, not the reverse. I expended my mana on more useful things.”

“Like making yourself smell good when you were too lazy to shower,” I inserted.

Juniper’s tail flicked with annoyance, but she didn’t look my way just yet. “Always with the spoiled attitude. I should have expected nothing less.”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she turned her attention fully to me, studying me with her red, reptilian eyes. They reminded me of a cat’s eyes too in a strange way, though I couldn’t quite say just what about them gave that impression.

She smiled at last. “And you must be Josh,” she said, her gaze moving down to my tattoo, visible where my robe had fallen open slightly. “I see the binding took. Good. Of course I knew it had since—well, I’m here.”

“Yes, I am Josh,” I grunted. “And yes, you are here. Welcome.”

She nodded at me, studied my face for a bit longer—and then a nervous look flooded her eyes, causing her to suddenly look back at the girls. Her expression was as serious as a heart attack. “Are you two still maidens?”

The question was unexpectedly direct. Both women shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

Juniper groaned. “Gods, please don’t tell me…”

“Well,” Elysia began delicately, “technically speaking, there has been no... penetration.”

“But we haven’t been as... pure as we probably should have been,” Portia added, her ears flattening against her head.

Juniper sighed heavily, her massive chest rising and falling with the action in a hypnotic display that threatened to derail my train of thought completely. She gave me another long, appraising look, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t be helped,” she conceded, in what I could only interpret as a backdoor compliment to my appearance.

I was already thinking about how sex with Juniper would work. Would her tail coil around me during the act? I’d briefly glimpsed her anatomy in the dream—that soft, human-like pussy that transitioned into scales just below—but the mechanics remained a fascinating mystery. Would the tail help with extra leverage? Push me inside? And those giant tits—they were jumbo-wumbos. Some bonkers honkers. Some huuuge—

“Josh Becker?” Juniper’s voice sliced through my inappropriate mental tangent. She extended a hand toward me. “I believe formal introductions are in order. My name is indeed Juniper, and I am the third and final Maiden of the Hero’s Party.”

I cleared my throat and shook her hand. Her grip was firm, and her palm was warmer than I expected. “Indeed. My name’s Josh Becker, and it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Welcome to my home.”

Up close, I could see intelligence behind her eyes plain as day—and maybe a patience and a degree of restraint the other two lacked. I got the distinct impression that Juniper had always been the brains behind this very questionable operation. I found myself grateful to have someone else a little more grounded around, even if it might cockblock me for a few days before we figured out the new dynamic. I imagined Juniper would be the type to take things a bit slower and more controlled, whereas the princess and Portia had the impulse control of chimpanzees on booze and crack, respectively, and all I could do was go along with their urges.

“Let’s get you inside,” I offered. “You can see where you’ll be staying. I’ve already started plans to convert an old silo into something that might be more comfortable for you long-term, but we can make do with the house for now.”

We made our way inside, and I gave her the abbreviated tour—kitchen, living room, bathroom, and finally the upstairs bedrooms. I couldn’t help but notice that, just as I feared, it seemed awkward and inconvenient for Juniper to follow us up the stairs.

After the tour was over, and we emerged back out into the hallway with its three doors, an awkward silence fell. Juniper looked between the rooms, then at us. “Which room should us girls take?”

Elysia and Portia exchanged glances, then immediately started inspecting the carpet beneath their feet.

“Uhh, yes, about that,” Elysia began hesitantly. “We’ve been sleeping in Josh’s bed. With him. Every night.”

“All three of us girls could never fit in there now,” Portia added quickly. “But maybe we can order a bigger bed from the magical land of Internet tomorrow!”

Juniper’s expression darkened. “Let me ask again, and please answer honestly. Are you still virgins? If you didn’t wait for me before losing your virginity to the champion, which should happen at the next full moon, then you will have sacrificed a significant power boost for him.”

This was the first I’d heard of this, but I decided to speak for them and hopefully set everyone at ease. “They actually were pretty good about not escalating things to that level, so don’t worry.”

Juniper nodded at me gratefully and relaxed, setting her sights back on Elysia and Portia. “As nice as Josh seems, I don’t know him yet. I am tired after hours of pulling the rift open enough so that I could go through, and I want to sleep, so I’ll sleep alone in one of his guest rooms—unless you two wish to join me?” she added hopefully.

Portia stepped forward slowly, put a hand on the snake woman’s shoulder, smiled, and then said, “No. Goodnight.”