Chapter 45 of 120

The World Wants Your Oyster – 5 [❤️]

By Dee_DubbleYew • 5,526 words • Code: NV-oxwO4s2

You are the shameful offspring of an elven noble and his goblin mistress. It didn’t matter if they loved each other, elves and goblins exist in different circles. Your father was called back to Camelot, your mother disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and you were left behind in Hacksonville.

You are the hard as nails, don’t mess around, magical thief with a vendetta, Shade. And you think pink glasses make you look dorky.

Haven has been full of surprises. The hotel you’re staying at, Hotel Pickleslut, is accommodating and staffed entirely by goblins. The locals are friendly, the food is nice, and despite the small size, there’s a lot to do.

A gang member let you know that Haven had a demon population and the glasses helped shield you from their more ‘overt influences’, whatever that meant. Pearl nodded heartily at that, which made you more curious as to what she was seeing. You were a bit nervous about staying in Haven after that, until Ron ran into someone he knew.

A kobold friend of his who was part of the group of missing people. Rumors were still going wild in Prillia about the people who were rescued from a crazy vamp, and the many who were still missing. Red, the kobold cleared up a lot of what happened. The one who rescued him, his daughter White, and all the others was the creator of the plane. He admitted Haven may have been strange, but it was also safe.

You, Sym, Ron, and Pearl have just left Haven’s Entertainment Multiplex after an opera performance organized by a troupe of locals. With the money Ron got from selling one of his enchanted daggers, you could easily afford to see the performance. Sym and Ron thought it was great. You’re not really the artsy type. You wanted to go to the movie theatre, but a local elf told you that the tech isn’t up to Prillian standards yet.

It’s not like you weren’t entertained. Pearl’s mouth was open in shock the whole time. It got you curious enough to try removing the glasses. No dice, Pearl stopped you from taking them off. Watching your friend squirm from whatever she was seeing? That was fun.

“That was incredible!” Sym gushes. “I never thought the demons would be capable of coming up with something so moving. I’m going to recommend Beowulf to Bracca, he’ll love it.”

“The wrestling scenes were well choreographed.” Ron nods.

Pearl coughs on her drink, face reddening more than usual these past few days. The three of you give her strange looks. She keeps coughing and waves away your worry. You just have to tease her. She reacted most intensely whenever the narrator was doing her solos.

“Yeah, the lady in the horned helmet hit a lot of high notes.”

Your dwarf friend’s thousand-yard stare is nearly enough to break you.

“They were not a woman.” Pearl’s absolute certainty makes you double-take.

“How do you—”

“Let’s just go!” Pearl rushes ahead. “We’re going to see the pirate den today, right?”

Sym and Ron look at each other in confusion. They are oblivious to how much the glasses censor. The pair are more enforcer and administrative types. For a skilled scammer like you, the seams in the illusion are more visible. Especially when you rely on Pearl’s reactions. It’s how you noticed the local salespeople switching out seemingly identical products. You wondered why there was some sloppy sleight of hand being done, and only with those who wore the glasses.

“She forgot to grab some passes.” You shoo the other two on their way. “Go join her, I’ll find August and get the entry permits.”

It’s very bureaucratic when it comes to the movement of traders. Not nearly as much for the citizens, though it makes sense. Walking west, you raise an eyebrow when you see another house being torn down. The locals are industrious like that, always renovating. You find August at the Prillian portal building, and he hands you some papers to fill out.

“Bored after staying here a day?”

“Nah, Pearl’s getting antsy. She keeps talking about how hot it is here, and I think she wants a break from Haven.”

“Wow, she still hasn’t…how do I put this?” The minotaur scratches his head. He looks like an adult about to break some hard truth to a kid. “It comes down to the nature of the spell. When I took it down, it was like a dam burst. If Pearl Polisher hasn’t ‘released’ herself, she won’t get better even if she leaves Haven.”

“So it’s not because of the madness-inducing visions of the demons’ true appearances?”

August laughs.

“What? That’s ridiculous. The glasses just add clothes and put an illusion over the demons. How’d you figure there are demons here, anyways?”

“One of the locals told me. It took me a while to realize a lot of animals scurrying around in the city are demonic. Not nearly as scary as my old Defense Against Demons class hyped them up to be.” Something about his words barely registered in your mind. Something about clothes? Why would they need to put clothes over demons? Unless… “Wait a sec! I haven’t seen any clothed animals…Are you telling me the people are demons?”

You thought there were only minor demons here! Like bound demonic servants like they have across the ocean. You wrack your brains to remember the D.A.D classes you spent too much time messing around in. It’s not your fault, somehow the teachers made it so boring. There’s bound minor demons…blimps? Then there’s the violent demons, the lazy demons, and the ones that make deals. That last one! You snap your fingers.

“That one lady covered in gold! She’s a greed devil, right?”

It explains so much! Like why they’re obsessed with trading and…no that’s all they’re doing. And why would it matter if they wear clothes or not? You’re on the edge of a revelation, but your brain doesn’t want to grasp the answer.

“She’s a succubus.” That term sounds familiar. Maybe if the teacher wasn’t so boring! August sighs and shakes his head. “Demons feed on the excess emotions of mortals. There’s only one alignment here. We only rely on DESIRE.”

We?

You scramble backwards.

“You’re a demon?!”

“Yeah?” August shrugs nonchalantly. “I thought it was obvious.”

He doesn’t lunge at you or anything. Now that you think about it, if he wanted to do anything to you, he could have done it anytime over the past few days. He’s not what you imagined. No spikes, no bleeding eyes, he hasn’t even offered a contract or gold. He’s just a minotaur in a button-up striped shirt and black pants. Weird, but not dangerous. You ease back into the chair.

“I’m actually the least interested in DESIRE among my kind.” August continues. “It’s why I was assigned to help you guys out…though it comes with its own set of problems.”

He points to the window behind him. You recognize the goblin hanging stealthily from the windowsill; she’s part of the group that came with you. In fact, she’s one of the three people who chose to break the spell. Her cheeks are flushed and her dilated eyes are focused entirely on August. When she realizes she’s been discovered, she yipes and runs away, a trail of clear fluids running down her legs. August rolls his eyes and continues to reorganize the pens on his desk.

“What’s her deal?”

“She’s got a lot of preconceived notions about how minotaurs behave, which I find a bit degrading. I’ve only ever met one guy who acts like that, and he was only half minotaur.”

“Soooo…if you’re a demon, what sort of cool powers do you have?” You’ve never been all that good at arcane magic, and not many goblins are willing to work rituals with halfbreeds. “Can you shoot flames out of your mouth? Punch a building in half?”

“If I’m fed enough and I practice diligently?” He twirls a pen in his hand. “Maybe eventually with the fire? Doubt I’ll ever be strong enough to topple a building. Most of our kind are less ‘power’ and more ‘subterfuge’. Disguises, emotional sensing, stuff like that.”

Emotional sensing. That’s bound to be interesting. And subterfuge? That’s right up your alley! Scams, pickpocketing, thievery, general mischief…you wonder if you can get a demon here to teach you some tricks.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re very curious?” He can sense emotions! Dang, that’s useful. “Don’t get too excited, it may not be a good thing in places like this. It’s more annoying when dealing with Prillians. We all sense DESIRE differently, but we agree that you guys are uncomfortable to be around.”

You stare at him, a silent demand for more. He avoids your gaze, aligning the pens on his desk in precise hexagonal patterns. When you keep staring at him, trying to push your curious feelings his way, he eventually relents and explains. The spell that’s on all of you is a very powerful one, suppressing DESIRE in such a way that it makes it impossible for demons to feed on it. Unless it’s removed, of course. August says it feels like a high pitched whine on the edge of his senses. Annoying, but manageable.

It’s been around for so long that the feelings bunch up behind the spell, and ferment there. Those feelings have been cooking for generations. You’re starting to understand why Pearl is so antsy. To have the spell break, now? She must be going through a lot. Especially in a place that would be designed to increase DESIRE.

You finish up with the documents and you go on your way, feeling a bit bad for how you’ve teased Pearl these past few days. You’ve had many of your questions answered, but the seed of temptation tickles your throat. What if you took off the glasses?

“Don’t try it!” August calls after you. “We put those rules in place to protect you!”

You’re nodding. A part of you hears him and urges you to listen. But there is still stuff you need to find out. Because at the end of the day, information is power.

Like why does being naked help demons get DESIRE?

You are the demon with the thang, the girl with a whirl, lord of the board. You are Quinn, and you’re lounging on your throne reading manga. Cloth, Tropo, and Latch conscripted some of the younger demons to copy the entertainment from your memories.

You could have just transferred your memories like you did for the years of television you’ve got stuffing up your memories…But hey, might as well get them to do things the hard way. Get them to really appreciate the work it takes to make that stuff.

Thanks to their efforts, you’ve filled out one whole wall of the first floor of your library. Books, comics, overpriced college textbooks that you skimmed through before exams…The citizens, as it turns out, love it. Even the demons enjoy the smutless stuff. Shoggy still has to clean the cum from the pages of the doujins, but he appreciates having a smaller workload.

The citizens had time to make their own contributions to the library. Three weeaboos convinced a few of the more artsy demons to help them make their own manga, which you are reading right now. The pacing is a bit slow, but it’s a charming look into Prillian culture.

You flip a page and look upon your audience. Several demons stare at you with lust brimming in their souls and not much else. They’re some of the criminals converted into demons. It’s creepy how they just stand there and bask in your presence. Most have nothing going on behind those eyes besides how to get their next piece of ass.

It’s a good thing you caught the extent of the demonic corruption had reached into their souls when you did. Otherwise, you’d just have a bunch of sex-addicts walking around in your carefully constructed reality.

You are not a sex-addict. You’re sex-cultured. You flip to another page with an ecchi scene of one of the heroines being forced to kiss her rival’s feet. One of the weebs clearly has a fetish. Her self-insert character is constantly getting stepped on.

The doors open and in come the last three of the turned mortals. Cockslut and Donutlove are giggling to themselves, strings of cum running down their thighs as they drag in a lipstick-covered Cherrypopper. You clap your manga shut and walk down the stairs. Your fishnet stockings dig into your skin with every step, garnering the attention of your cock-addled demons up your unbuttoned short shorts to your exposed midriff and your gray tee.

You take off your ‘COCK’ baseball cap, shaking your black locks free and grace them with a sultry smile. Their DESIRE spikes, and you take the chance to observe them. You categorize which ones have had the demonic energy consume most of their souls. The ones with only the barest scraps are Rift, Blowie, Clamchowder, Donutlove, Cherrypopper, and Thrustbust. Five succubi and two incubi. It shows on their bodies; shadowy energy leaking from the blacks of their eyes, hair matted with cum. Heck, half of them aren’t even wearing clothes.

Where’s the surprise, the performance?!

You rub your eyes. This was a major screwup. They’re ripe with demonic power, but the stuff that was once their souls are weak to manipulation. With the briefest flex of DESIRE, the seven of them collapse, jets of cum spraying from their orifices. If you’d sent the smallest pulse of holy energy they would have been incinerated. They wouldn’t last five minutes in Prillia. The demonic corruption has eaten away at their memories and personality, making them functionally useless for information. Maybe in a couple decades they can form enough of a pseudo-soul to perform complicated tasks…

You turn your attention to the last four standing. Their souls are reduced, not yet torn to shreds. They’re still capable of having opinions and wanting things outside of sex.

Peanut and Butter, the first kobold lays you’d ever had, have retained much of who they are. Their demonic energies have intermixed and swelled, but not consumed their souls. Are kobolds resistant to corruption? No, it looks as if their stores of DESIRE are less than their kin. You realize it with a snap of your fingers.

They’ve been fucking each other! They’re always together so whenever they want to go at it, they satisfy each other. Less variety, less DESIRE output, less corruption.

Then there’s Tightass. A tall human succubus with nice legs and hair she kept big and poofy. When you look at her, she feels fear and arousal in equal measure. She’s aware enough to know something is wrong with her and that you are the cause. But she can’t help but become pliable to your authority.

Finally, the goblin succubus, Cockslut. She was a feisty one before she was turned. Tried to bite your cock off. You just made it too big for her to bite down on. Once the spell fully broke, she became a massive whore for your dick, using every one of her holes to pleasure herself on you and promising to do whatever you said so long as you kept dicking her down. To be honest, you modeled your ‘goblin slut’ persona after her.

You point to the four of them and motion for them to follow you up your throne. You sit down and they look at you nervously. You give them a comforting smile as you struggle to think of a way to tell them what’s about to happen. You’d been working on a solution to undo the corruption.

It is beyond you.

The next solution is mitigation. Stopping the corruption from burning through the rest of their souls. You weren’t sure how to go about it until you watched the locals rebuild another house.

“What do you remember of your lives before me?”

Peanut and Butter look at each other in confusion. Their souls swirl with half-impressions and faded memories of pain. Before you, their lives were of servitude. They changed one master for a more benevolent one. Cockslut frowns, flashes of violence and hate sparking in her soul. Hers are clearer, but no less pleasant. Tightass has the most clear memories of her past. From one disaster to the next, a life and soul hardened by a need for survival above all else. You’d picked their souls clean of their sins, molding them into perfect little demons, and only Tightass could fill in the gaps.

Before any of them speak, you hold up your hand and point behind them. The others are masturbating, struggling to recapture the DESIRE you spiked into them. Rift, the once elegant elven accountant and assassin, has her hand stuffed up her vagina, her eyes faded with lust. Thrustbust, a respected manager, is jacking off, spurts of semen splashing in his hair and beard to join the rest of the coagulated jism. Blowie the former courier is struggling to cum, her legs shaking too much from her orgasms to position herself properly.

“They are your future if I do nothing. I need each of you to pick two of them to be your thralls.” The demons stare at their kin, then back to you. “I will strip what’s left of their souls to support your own.”

Triangles.

They’re the most stable shape. Even in magic, like the hexagon you used as a base for portal rituals. So why not use triangles to support the integrity of demon souls? Rift, Blowie, Clam, Donut, Cherry, Thrust…they could act as bases to strut up the sane ones. In doing so, they will absorb some of their features while keeping the fully corrupted as servants.

“Peanut, Butter. There’s not enough thralls for everyone, and I’m going to try something with you two last. Because of that, you two get first pick.” You clap your hands and demand the attention from the thralls. “Alrighty, cuties! Pose for your new masters!”

Rift swivels around and shows off her abused pussy throneward. She’s using one hand to caress her vagina, sucking her own juices from the other. Blowie clambers to her feet in a squat, pulling the sides of her cheeks open to show how much she can fit in her mouth. Clamchowder stretches back and jiggles her thick, cum-stained ass. Donutlove does the same, except she’s spreading her anus apart to give everyone a good look at her open asshole as she twerks. Cherrypopper stands tall and poses, showing off his defined abs as his cock spasms every few seconds. Thrustbust is still jacking off, lost to his lust.

“Keep in mind you have a chance to gain what they once had. Skills, talents, scattered memories, whatever remains of their original personality.”

Butter catches on quickly and whispers into Peanut’s ear. He rubs his chin and nods.

“We pick Rift!”

Upon hearing her name being called, Rift arcs her back up and screeches in pleasure as an orgasm shakes her body.

You smile. They chose wisely. In terms of abilities, Rift had a lot of things. Some of which you picked from her soul for your own power. Like knifework. But other stuff, like her sociability, sneakiness, her accountant abilities…They’re still there.

“Tightass, you were the next one I corrupted. Who do—”

“Thrustbust.”

The incubus is still jacking off in his own face.

“Really?”

“I can fix him.” She shrugs. “If not, dwarf dick is thick dick.”

“Then I want Cherrypopper!” Cockslut jumps up. “His dick is longer anyways.”

“Thick dick is better.” Tightass huffs.

“Maybe for a weak-ass Q-tip like you.” Cockslut snipes back.

Arcs of black electricity dance across Tightass’s arms while Cockslut’s shadowy magic envelops her limbs in sharp armor. This is the problem with the turned mortals. They feel little to no kinship to one another. Combined with the corruption, its only a matter of time until they try to hurt each other.

Your presence fills the room, quashing any argument. You come on a little strong, their DESIRE washing over you. A cock long enough for Cockslut and thick enough for Tightass rips through the top of your denim shorts. You sigh. Now you’ve got an erection brushing close to the bottom of your tits.

Worse yet, those weren’t magical shorts, but a pair that one of the newer incubi had lovingly crafted for you from scratch. The zipper’s been torn apart by your futa cock. Both succubi have their eyes trained on your twitching dick. You snap your fingers.

“Eyes up here. It’s Peanut and Butter’s turn.”

The kobold pair choose Blowie next, Tightass goes with Clamchowder, and Cockslut finishes with Donutlove. You start with Tightass, bidding her and her two thralls to kneel in front of you. Tightass is breathing heavily, eyes affixed entirely on the dick not two feet from her face.

“I’m starting now.”

“Sure.” Tightass wipes the drool from her mouth.

You focus on the three souls before you. The relatively uncorrupted soul with a shell of demonic energy, flanked by bonefires of malefic energy rampaging through the shattered remains of their souls. You pull the uncorrupted parts from the souls, careful not to rip them out. You stretch their cores out so that they’re still linked to their original bodies, slotted into the outer shell of Tightass’s being. You let go. The bulwark holds.

You inch your crotch closer to Tightass, watching her eyes dilate as the dick gently rests on her face, the glans disappearing into her afro. The DESIRE storms inside her. Her soul isn’t losing integrity. You pull away, reveling in her blazing DESIRE, her lips puckering to give it a parting kiss.

“How do you feel?”

“Clam jammed.” Tightass closes her eyes and hums. “But also…more complete?”

She turns to look at Clamchowder and Thrustbust. The last light in their eyes has faded away. They are now thralls to Tightass’s will, their entire lives and beings devoted to their new mistress. You send a spike of DESIRE into Clamchowder, his erection returning in full force.

“Wow…weird.” Tightass shakes her head. “I felt that…I could take it for myself if I wanted to.”

“Take it from someone who has multiple bodies: you have to feed them all. They may be puppets, but they still need maintenance.”

“My turn!” Cockslut tries to push Tightass out of the way. Clamchowder and Thrustbust grab her by the arms and lift her off the ground. “Hey! What gives?”

“Ooo, me likey~” Tightass licks her lips and frowns. “Wait, why am I attracted to this greenskin?”

“Ha! You took in their preferences!” Cockslut jeers. “Can’t wait to see you masturbate in public!”

Her own words register and she looks at you in confusion. Donutlove and Cherrypopper walk up beside her and she realizes what happened. In the briefest moment she approached, you’d already linked her to her thralls.

Taking on their fetishes as well. Hey, you’re a quick learner.

“Dammit, I wanted to get a whiff of Quinn’s dick!”

“Peanut, Butter, yours is more complicated. Get close.”

The succubi glare daggers at each other and move out of the way for the kobolds. They kneel in close, staring more at each other than at your dick. They hold each other’s paws and close their eyes.

Awww. The doggies really do love each other. That settles it, you’re going to start officiating marriages.

The process only involves one more person, but it’s three times as complicated. The pair have been fucking each other so much their demonic energies are already intermingled, but you switch a piece of their souls around to be sure. Then comes the adding Rift and Blowie’s parts to their souls in such a way that they all support each other in perfect balance. Like a square with connecting vertices.

When they open their eyes, they are more connected than ever before. Rift, once the traitorous assistant and assassin of the most corrupt politician in Hacksonville, reduced to a mere thrall. Kinda bummed your first elf lay ended up like this. But honestly, she didn’t have much of a personality once you extracted out all the awful bits.

“Well done all. You may continue with your activities.” Your aura calls for the attention of the two bickering succubi as they all leave. They stop in their tracks. You point at your throbbing dick. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The two of them rush back to receive your favor first. You sigh contently. It’s good to be Quinn.

You are finding it strange to be looking into your own eyes. The waiter brings another plate of gruel to your table, and both of your bodies thank him. You are Rumpelstilstskin and Rampant, just a harpy and a dwarf sharing a meal in one of the seedier bars of the Tavern.

As Rampant, you had to come here through Haven. Both of your puppet bodies being here is a risk. It’s also a show of good faith with the person you’re trying to meet. As someone who’s created a new trade route into the most heavily restricted country in the hemisphere, you need to play nice with as many people as possible.

Especially if the most powerful players are willing to take it from you. You’ve been doing some digging about Nancy’s Tavern. It moves around a lot, making it difficult to track unless you know where it is exactly. It’s the only den that has survived the countless Prillian attempts to rid the ocean of pirates for the past four centuries. There are others, of course, but they all trace their roots back to the Tavern.

This is the power base that controls the skies and seas between Prillia, its colonies, the Harpy Empire, and the minotaur lands. The way they organized themselves is difficult and full of strange rules often based on tradition and superstition. It comes down to whatever the main crime families and pirate clans are in power. At their heads are the Pirate Lords, who do whatever the hell they want. With one exception: they can’t go against Nancy.

Information on Nancy is scarce. All you know is what everyone else seems to repeat. The Tavern exists because Nancy wills it. And if anybody disagrees with that, Nancy will kick them off. Plus everyone that supports them.

You resolve not to piss off Nancy.

The Pirate Lords are more your speed. Although you’ve met the people who work for them, you’re unsure about how many of them feel about each other. Rusty used to work directly for Xernsis, one of the raider pirate lords. Buff Bill works for his rival, Zwelle. There’s also the trio of drug lords, Quincy, Crackit, and Oom. Black, the most popular pirate lord, is on good terms with everyone save for the richest of the pirate Lords, Goldwing. You’ve met the last two: Madame Baiser, matron of prostitutes. And the last one, who has the most power over you. Missy.

Rumpelstiltskin arranged a meeting with her. She walks through the doors like she owns the place (she does) and the bar quiets down. A few people even leave. Both of you wave.

When you try to peer into her soul, its like looking through muddy water. She frowns and approaches you, pulling a pouch of weird powders and tossing a fistful over your heads. It doesn’t sting as it settles over you, which is nice.

“What was that for?”

“Making sure there are no tagalongs in your shadows.” She knows her stuff! “I thought we agreed it would be one-on-one?”

She narrows her eyes, and though her soul is obfuscated, you see enough to know she isn’t afraid or paranoid. She knows what you are. And you know that she knows. But does she know that you know?

…This is why you hate politics. You just want a safe place for you and your cute little demons, but now you have to play these ridiculous games. Aren’t demons supposed to be good at this?

“Can we not do this?” You blurt out.

“Yeah, it’s annoying.” You add on.

<We both know there’s only one of me.> Your telepathic message doesn’t come as surprise to her.

“Fine.” Missy sits down and snaps her fingers. A waiter brings her a bottle of wine and hurries away. “Are you hoping for more privileges on your trade route?”

<Your real body would have been proof of your honesty.> Her telepathy is quieter. More guarded. Have you been blaring out your messages? <And your telepathy is sloppy.>

“I’m quite content with our deal.” As Rumpel, you ruffle your wings comfortably.

“I’m just happy he managed to strike a deal with you!” You smile as Rampant. “Now we can trade some truly interesting goods.”

<My real body is occupied.> You send her a snapshot. Hot lips meeting yours, the owner gliding her labia along your cock, another’s kisses trailing from your pussy up your dick…It’s gone as quick as it came and Missy blinks away the sensations. While Missy is distracted, you pull out a rectangular object and put it on the table.

Missy and a few others watch on curiously as you pull out the antennae, fiddle with the dials, and flip the switch. A crackling voice plays over the radio speakers.

“…And now, our report from our correspondents covering what is now known as the Harpy Empire’s second schism. The Royalists have struck a blow against the Justiciars in a recent attack that left them vulnerable to raids from the Liberators…”

“A recording?” Missy doesn’t look impressed. Her soul tells a different story.

“No it’s live. A radio, allowing Prillia and its colonies to communicate without magic.” Rampant pushes the radio to Missy. “We’re willing to trade these technologies, and more. Just be careful when sending transmissions, Prillia can track them.”

Missy frowns. She feels threatened.

“What do you want in exchange? A more favorable location? People?”

“What? No, I just want money.” You chuckle as Rampant.

<We both lose. I know what you want.> You send her everything you know about her. You did your research before you met up. You gathered up all the scattered bills of sale, the awfully managed bits of history, and various bits of hearsay you coaxed out of your brothel’s patrons and your plane’s visitors. It would be impossible for anyone else to pull that information together. Unless they also had a horde of minions to help them parse the data.

There are traces of ‘Missy’ and ‘Mista’ dating back centuries on the Tavern. And you’re experienced enough to know she’s about thirty years old. ‘Missy’ is the latest in a long line of powerful shamans in charge of protecting Nancy’s Tavern. In a way, you’re perfect business partners. She wants to protect Nancy’s Tavern, and you want to keep them safe from Prillian action.

“And you can keep supplying us such things?” Missy grunts.

She’s floating the idea. Mostly trying to see your reaction, but partly considering it for real. Best keep some of your more aberrant traits to yourself.

“So long as we are free to do so.”

<<That would be unwise.>> Two voices slam into her mind and she conceals a wince. <<It would be costly. It would rob you of demons willingly working with you, offering their ideas, advice, and expertise. You could expect sabotaged products and an increasingly inhospitable realm.>>

Missy grumbles and thinks about it.

“Very well.” She reaches out her hand. “Let this be a fruitful relationship.”

Both of you shake her hand and she turns away to leave.

“Wait!” She stops and Rampant hands her the radio. “A present.”

“Thank you.”

She leaves, radio in hand. You’re left wondering several things. What did Festa do? Can you keep your people well fed and happy with potential enemies on both sides of the portal? If you had sex with yourself in two different bodies, is it masturbation, porn, or something else?