Tag Archives: exposition

Part 2: Training, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 14: True Illusions

Linza arrived at the sprawling seaside estate that night, feeling more clear-headed than usual. It was good timing, too—it was time to practice her magic. She’d been eager to do so since her experiment with Wyn, but she respected how the estate did things, and she hadn’t tried again since then.

Her night with Tanyth began with a series of exercises that were exactly like some of her homework assignments at university.

Tanyth rattled off a series of items and topics, and Linza conjured a corresponding illusion as quickly as she could. With forethought, an illusion could be consciously shaped—but going this quickly, it was going to bubble up straight from her subconscious.

These illusions hovered in the air between them, usually a static miniature of whatever they represented.

The exercise started regularly enough.

“Dog.”

A dalmatian.

“Building.”

A little house.

“Castle.”

The JSMI campus.

“Queen.”

Their very monarch, wearing the outfit from her latest public appearance.

And so on. But then, it got more interesting.

“Touch.”

A finger gliding over the back of another’s hand.

“Breath.”

A figure of a woman heaving in a breath, her head tilted back, her ribcage swelling.

“Release.”

A man’s hand falling away from his shaft, covered in cum.

Now that Linza’s erotic mind had been triggered, she was sure that they could have said ‘dog’ again and she’d have conjured ‘doggy style’, and so on.

“Sex.”

This illusion was not an image, but a sound. A luxurious moan of pleasure, followed by a shuddering gasp.

Tanyth grinned. “Interesting.”

A little professor appeared between them, with their hands tented.

Tanyth chuckled. “That wasn’t a prompt, sorry. You’re doing great. We’re almost done. The next one is arousal.”

Another sound, this one of a pounding heartbeat.

“Love.”

An image of Tanyth curled against Linza’s chest, one of Linza’s hands cradling their head, the other gently stroking their shaft.

Linza’s hands snapped to her mouth.

Tanyth’s eyes went wide.

Linza released the image and it disappeared, but it was too late.

This was not at all how Linza had wanted to confess! She’d wanted to confess—never, actually. Would they scold her? Would they leave?

Words fought on Linza’s tongue. She could ignore the image, try to down-play it. But, she didn’t want to! She couldn’t… maybe if they loved… 

But neither could she double down on her confession. She would happily sweep it under the rug if it meant that things could stay the same as they were between her and Tanyth.

Before Linza could find any words, Tanyth smiled reassuringly and awkwardly patted her knee. “That kind of thing is normal. Don’t worry about it.”

They continued on with the rest of the lesson and pretended that it hadn’t happened.

But Linza learned something else very important that day.

Tanyth was a terrible liar.

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Part 2: Training, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 10: Introductions

They sat on a small table out on a deck that overhung the sea. The breeze ruffled Tanyth’s hair so that they were haloed in strands of ocean blue. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon and the sky was not yet dark.

They ordered petite glasses of wine, commiserating that they were both lightweights, and talked easily.

It felt like a date.

The best date that Linza had ever been on.

Tanyth hung on her every word, but it didn’t seem fake or contrived. 

Linza did her best to convince herself that it was just part of Tanyth’s job. They were showing her the ropes, after all. She expected a breakdown later of conversation tactics.

Maintain eye contact, smile early and often. They twirled their hair. They touched their fingertips to Linza’s wrist as she relayed one of the worse memories of her time at university.

At their touch, the memory had fallen away, her mind had gone so blank, that Tanyth had needed to remind her what she had been talking about.

They shared a chocolate cake, and then all too soon, the night was over.

Linza was relieved to find that she didn’t need to pay for the meal — and Tanyth didn’t either. Staff had an allowance of free meals and Linza would get her own once she was on the schedule. That was an extra element of compensation that she hadn’t considered — and she supposed it behooved the estate to have staff who knew the other offerings well. Did the same logic apply to ‘experiences’? She hoped so, but she was too shy to ask yet.

Linza floated through her next day at work and could not wait to return to the estate.

Even though Tanyth had been waiting for her by the central fountain, exactly where they had said, Linza almost didn’t recognize them except for their light blue hair.

They were dressed in a trim suit this time, not unlike the madame’s assistant. 

Linza realized that while the lilac robes had emphasized everything that was soft and round about Tanyth’s face, this emerald suit did the opposite and emphasized everything angular and sharp.

“Linza!” they said as she arrived. “How was your day?”

Their voice was distinctly masculine, this time. Still the same underneath, still them. Linza realized then that they had remarkable control over their intonation. She heard learned some of the basics, since the arcane language of spellcasting was tonal and required precise pronunciation. She knew just enough to appreciate how much practice they must have put into it.

When they took her hand and kissed it, their grip was stronger. Tanyth showed her a different eating area, a balcony that overlooked the central street of the estate where bards played jovial tunes.

Linza had realized that Tanyth had gotten her talking all about herself the previous day, and she was determined to return all their questions today.

Whether it was their more masculine mood or that turnabout was fair play, Tanyth was happy to answer all of Linza’s questions. They regaled her with the details of their job, some gossip of the house, a complete explanation of the wines they sipped, and so much more.

They themselves were a cleric, faithful student of the healing arts. They didn’t know any illusion magic directly, but had successfully coached other illusionists before. They had held nearly every other role at the house in their time there, but they’d cut back to just their two favorites — serving tea and classic sex — to afford them more time to train newcomers like Linza.

Linza worried for a moment that they might be decades older than her, but managed to infer that they were only about five years her senior. They’d started at the house at the same age that Linza had shipped off to university. Tanyth didn’t brag about it, but Linza picked up on the fact that they knew the madame well and lived at the estate. 

As closely as she listened to their answers, she also watched their mannerisms, which were now subtly different. Their laugh was more like the wind that moved the chimes than the tingling of them. 

When Linza accidentally said unironically that she loved sausages, they didn’t press their fingers to their lips. Instead, they smirked with knowing eyes.

Despite the day over day contrast in their appearance and mannerisms, nothing about them seem forced or fake. There was still, very distinctly, Tanyth within it all. Linza sympathized. The degree to which she related to her own gender varied day by day. Tanyth just swept a larger range.

For the next week, they simply kept meeting for dinner.

Tanyth shared about their first crush.

Linza blushingly reciprocated.

Tanyth confessed that they had been wildly nervous their first few months at the house.

Linza confided that she was grateful that Tanyth had given her such a comforting welcome.

And it was Linza who first broached the topic of what they liked when it came to sex. 

That day, Tanyth was dressed fashionably in wide-legged pants and a tight top, androgynous both in appearance and mannerisms.

“What else do you do when you’re not working or here?” they’d asked.

“I like to write.”

“What about?”

Linza didn’t even blush this time. “Well, mostly smut, nowadays.”

“Oooh, nice! Do you mind sharing what about?”

“Sure! Um… This idea originated with my friend, Wyn, but a recurring character lately has been an octopus mermaid…”

They had discussed word choice (cock or dick?) favorite themes (denial for Linza, forced orgasm for Tanyth) and preferred character types (roguish, blushing, etcetera) as easily as the weather.

“How would you describe your sexuality?” Tanyth asked.

“Well, I like both men and women,” Linza had replied.

“Just men and women?”

Linza was for a moment confused, and then understood. “Oh! No, not just men and women.” She put a finger to her lips as she thought. She hadn’t quite verbalized this before. With Wyn it had been, ‘do you like women?’ Any of her male suiters had just assumed she liked men. She was sure she could have concluded with ‘not just men and women’ and Tanyth would have understood, but she was starting to get the hang of ‘everything given’ and she took the opportunity to dig a big deeper. “And not just hominids either.”

The world did indeed include a few sapient species that were not hominids. Dragons were a common example, though they did not usually deign to even speak with humans. Merfolk were another example, though you had to travel quite far to meet any.

Linza appreciated that Tanyth permitted her this lengthy introspection. Finally, she said, “I suppose the best way to say it is that if the circumstances are right, variety is the spice of life.”

Tanyth had laughed, putting their fingertips to their mouth but with less of a blush than they sometimes did. “May I humbly offer, you might also say ‘pansexual’ and save yourself some time. But I really liked the way you explained it.”

“Oh! I think I’d heard that before. ‘Pan’ as in the root for ‘all’?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, thank you. This has been enlightening. What about you?”

“Well…” It was Tanyth’s turn to blush slightly. It was hard for them to hide, with how pale their skin was. “It’s a bit embarrassing… and ironic… but I’m mostly into guys. Masculine types, anyway.”

She had been sure that their question of whether she liked only men and women had been somewhat pointed at her. Fishing for whether she might consider someone like them. But the way that they so casually revealed that they were ‘mostly into guys’ made her second guess that.

And then, she felt a bit ashamed. How presumptuous she was being! Of course Tanyth’s charisma was a practiced part of their job, she’d been telling herself that the whole time.

There wasn’t anything special between them.

Obviously.

Then why… did she suddenly feel ill?

Linza took a deep breath and then did what she always did whenever she felt uncomfortable, uncertain, ill or in pain.

She forced a smile and pretended it hadn’t happened.

She leaned in closer towards Tanyth and propped her chin up on her hand. “Okay, so, you have to tell me who you think the cutest guys here are.”

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Part 2: Training, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 9: Tanyth

The next night, Linza opened door number thirteen with a flurry of nervous excitement.

Tanyth was waiting for her.

Linza was glad that she had done her best to avoid imagining what Tanyth would be like, because there was no way she would have done them justice.

They were pale and slender and a bit shorter than her, with light blue hair caught up in a messy ponytail.

They had pointed ears and angular features, pretty eyes and elegant hands. They wore a skirt that sat low on their hips and brushed the ground, and a criss-crossing bandeau over their flat chest, both in lilac cotton.

Their pointed ears distinguished them as half-elf, rarer than half-orcs but not unheard of in the kingdom. Though other hominids tended not to be compatible with each other, most other species seemed at least partially compatible with humans. Children of inter-species parents were not themselves fertile, despite some folks best efforts at claiming residual elf or orc or seraphim blood. Part of the reason that the ‘partial blood’ myths were hard to stamp out was because half-humans could look very different from one another and land anywhere on the spectrum from one parent to the other.

Each community was different and some were more welcoming than others, but generally half-human children had difficulty fitting in. Cultures that valued fertility tended to see the half-humans’ sterility as a sign that they were cursed or otherwise deficient.

Yet, the very same traits that lead to those difficulties — their relatively exotic features as compared to humans and their sterility — made them welcome members of brothels and pleasure houses the world over. So, half-humans tended to be over-represented in erotic contexts, and the pleasure house was no exception. 

Worries of exploitation were valid, but this particular establishment had more of a sense of ‘refuge’ than ‘circus’. It helped that the founder herself was half-orc.

The little half-elf jumped to their feet with a clap of excitement. “It’s so good to meet you!” They surged forward and wrapped Linza in a warm hug.

Her cheek tucked comfortably onto the top of their head, and they smelled like jasmine and sandalwood.

They withdrew and took Linza’s hands in their own, which were as soft as she’d imagined. “It is lovely to meet you!” Their voice was distinctly feminine.

“It’s nice to meet you too!”

Tanyth lead Linza by the hand down to the bamboo mat and patted it, and Linza sat across from them. She surveyed the room a bit sheepishly, noticing that it had been put back into its original state in her last absence. “Sorry to leave it a bit messy, I—”

“Not at all!” Tanyth said. “I told you to make yourself comfortable, and you did! Great work.”

Linza blushed. “Did you… see?”

“Oh, heavens!” Tanyth put their fingertips to their lips. “Not at all. Rule number two. Nothing taken. And in the interest of rule number one, everything given, I must say that I would happily oblige such a scenario should you desire it. But! Only if you desire it.”

Linza nodded. She was starting to understand more implicitly what the rules meant. The terms of her employment had given a crisp definition, but it was like the difference between a sketch and the model. In real life, there was more depth to it.

“I will definitely consider that,” Linza said, and she meant it.

Tanyth grinned. “Perfect!”

“What’s… next today?”

“We get to know each other,” Tanyth said.

“Like… sexually?” Linza felt like a dope as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Tanyth laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. They pressed their fingertips to their mouth again, as if Linza had said something naughty and yet delightful.

She supposed that she had.

“Everything given, I wouldn’t refuse,” they said. “But I’d truly like to get to know the rest of you first! Why don’t we go get dinner?”

Linza hesitated. She was going to have to mooch off of Wyn a couple more times that week as it was, so it didn’t feel right to spend extra on dinner out. Though, Wyn would never forgive her if she passed on such an opportunity, so Linza swallowed her pride and nodded. “That would be lovely!”

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Part 2: Training, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 7: The Assistant

Linza blushed as she handed over the rumpled sheaf of papers that was her terms of employment to the madame’s assistant.

He was a slender and feminine man and she would have thought him half-elf, but his ears weren’t pointed. His skin was dark as ink, his hair braided back from his face in intricate swirling designs. The braids, each almost as slender as a strand of hair, where gathered into a neat silver clasp at the base of his neck.

His navy coat was angular and his face was soft, with a wide button nose and full lips. The whites of his eyes were like crescent moons. 

As he extended his hand to accept the sheaf, she noticed that his skin was lighter there, like the Milky Way. 

He was the moon to the madame’s sun. 

Reflecting. 

Nothing seemed to escape his gaze or the careful thought behind them. Yet, he said little. 

Someone who could not ‘see’ would perhaps have looked right over him, but Linza was as captivated by him as by the madame. 

He had already noticed the wrinkling of the papers, the smudging of the ink. 

Linza blushed. 

He must have noticed her noticing him, because he finally spoke. “I see that you signed with more than ink.” His voice was like the night wind rustling through leaves. He had a lilting accent, as if his native tongue were song.

She had prepared a fib, but she saw that it would be as transparent as damp silk to him. Better, then, the truth. “I am… very excited to join.” 

“Your pleasure pleases.”

Linza had been blushing. Now, she flushed with arousal. She hasn’t considered they might actually like what had become of her papers!

Would all the staff here be such forbidden fruits? Such avatars of fundamental nature? 

Linza both wished that they would be and yet knew her mind would break if it were so.

She could not break eye contact with him and his face seemed to fill her whole awareness until she saw a reflection of herself in his midnight eyes, her uncertain expression like the face of the moon. 

And then it was over, and she was back in her feet, though a little dizzy. He was too much taller than her and they were at too conversational a distance for what she had felt to have really happened. 

It must have been her imagination. 

Illusionists could do that to themselves, sometimes. 

And yet, did not his full lips wane into the slightest crescent smile?

“Your application is accepted,” he said, breaking the spell. Or, completing it?

“Your training will begin this evening, if it pleases.”

“It pleases,” she squeaked. 

She expected him to notice and laugh. 

He only noticed. 

“You may follow me there, if it pleases.”

Linza just nodded, afraid of embarrassing herself further. 

He turned and she followed him. 

His navy coattails were embroidered in silver with a motif of veil-tailed fish, which she recognized. Her history lessons returned to her as they walked. To the north was a great democratic federation. The island nation controlled much of the sea and touched all the rest of it. 

In the kingdom, the merchants had only recently risen to influence. 

In the federation, the merchants had held the power all along. It had its pros and cons, of course, as did every type of rule. Apparently, the nations were flourishing and there was little room left on the islands, so many of them emigrated. 

The kingdom was a particularly favored spot because it was still relatively close to the federation and it was, as Linza’s classmate had explained, ‘so charmingly quaint’.

Now nearly every one in five folks in the city were either immigrants or their children, distinguished by their dark skin, rounded features, and lyrical accents.

The veil-tailed fish was one the motif of one of the smaller but more prosperous merchant states, though Linza had forgotten the name. She was always bad with names.

She walked right into the assistant, her face suddenly between the lapels of his coat. He smelled like oak and myrrh and the ocean in the middle of the night. 

She gasped and stumbled back.

“We have arrived,” he said.

They were standing next to a simple black door. They were in an alleyway of sorts, but on the second story, on a walkway that ran between two close buildings. There were simple black doors like this one all along the side, painted with large, white numbers. They stood next to door thirteen.

Linza had totally lost track of which way they’d come.

“Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

Yes, Linza thought.

“No,” Linza said.

He noticed. “Rule number one. Everything given.”

Linza nearly panicked. What did that mean? Was she already breaking the rules?

“Peace,” he said, smiling fully. “I only mean, tell the truth.”

Linza gulped. “I-I’ve just caught myself not remembering which way we came.”

“Wherever you are on the estate, listen for the source of music. You’ll always find the main street.”

Did he always give directions like this? Linza was grateful. She’d have totally forgotten anything more specific. This, she would remember. Did he know? Had he noticed?

“Thank you! I’ve also… totally forgotten what’s first.” Her terms of employment had been very clear about what all of the stages of her training were to be. But those were now tucked in the assistant’s coat, and no longer in her hands.

“That’s natural. Tonight, you simply meet the room.”

Right. Okay. That sounded manageable. 

He stood quietly there for a long moment.

Linza realized he was waiting for her further questions. “T-that’s everything! Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He bowed, and then he left.

Linza stood next to door thirteen and gulped. 

It felt like her first day of university all over again.

She took a deep breath, mustered her courage, and opened the door.

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Part 1: The Premise, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 4: The Interview

The madame was nothing like Linza had expected.

Linza knew a few things, going into that interview. She knew that the madame ran the estate and that she was one of the top five richest merchants in all the kingdom. 

She also had known that the madame was half-orc, but knowing and experiencing were quite different things.

They met on a private veranda that overlooked the ocean. Vines crawled up into the lattice over them, ripe grapes hanging from their branches.

The sun was warm and the ocean breeze brought a slight chill and the smell of seaweed.

The madame was a full head taller than Linza. Her skin was the cool, pale green of lichen. Her lips were full and her lower canines protruded from them. A navy silk dress clung to her every plump curve. Her black hair showed a blue sheen in the sunlight and was braided up at the crown of her head in an elaborate knot, soft strands falling down to frame her face.

As she moved to stand and shake Linza’s hand, firm muscles rippled under the softness of her skin.

Linza could not place her age. She knew that the woman must have been in her sixties, but she seemed full of youth and wisdom all at once.

A single word filled Linza’s mind as she regarded the madame. 

Radiant.

Like the afternoon sun above them, the madame emitted a calm, silent, powerful energy.

She took Linza’s hand and lead her down to a little wooden table on the veranda. Linza hand looked as a child’s in the madame’s.

She was sure she should be saying something, but she didn’t know what to say.

They sat, and the madame searched her face with warm, brown eyes. “You have a bit of the sight, don’t you?” Her voice was warm and husky, like the crackling of a fireplace.

“W-which sight?” There were several purported types of special sight in magical study, and Linza did not want to over-promise.

“Might you tell me whatever you were just thinking? And then I might tell you.”

Linza was deeply wary of magical charms.  The School of Enchantment operated under strict rules, but there were indiscretions. Every student was trained to recognize the signs.

There were none of those signs. The way her heart seemed to float on the madame’s fingertips had nothing to do with the kind of magic that Linza had learned in school.

She was compelled, by no force other than the madame’s glowing halo of kindness, to confess. “I was thinking you were as the sun. Radiant.”

The madame smiled more deeply and her eyes crinkled into sparks of joy. “I daresay you do have the sight, and the tongue of a poet to boot!”

Linza blushed. Yet again, curiosity overcame uncertainty. “What sight are you referring to?”

“I’d say it’s ‘mundane’, but only to contrast the formal magics, and not because it isn’t special. I’ve called it that for a while now. As best as I can describe it — though now I’m eager to see if you might have better words for it — it is that singular feeling when you see somebody else, and you feel that they see you right back.”

“Yes! I know exactly what you mean. My best friend and I are that way. And a couple of professors I’ve known.”

The madame nodded, looking at once giddy and elegant. “You will find that the house is home to lots of ‘seers’. It’s particularly helpful in our line of work.”

“I can imagine!”

“I am quite sure that you can,” the madame said. “To be clear, I’m playing on words a bit. I am both sure that you immediately, implicitly understood how that sight helps our work. I am also sure that you have the kind of imagination that will be a good fit for the role that you applied for.”

“Oh!” Linza was glad that she had explained. “Th-Thank you! I’m honored to be considered!”

“I must confess,” the madame continued, “That I had you here under a bit of a ruse. This is not an interview.”

Linza’s heart dropped. Had the compliment just been a way to let her down easy?

“This is a job offer,” the madame continued.

“Oh! I—” Linza was about to eagerly accept.

The madame held up a finger for her to wait, and Linza’s words dissolved.

“You cannot accept until you have heard all the terms,” the madame said. “Rule number two, ‘nothing taken’. The true purpose of this lunch is for me to explain it all to you. Rule number one, ‘everything given’.”

“Are there any other rules?”

The madame’s grin widened. “Yes, excellent question! I can tell already that we’ll have a great talk. There is only one other rule. Rule number three, ‘have fun’.”

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Part 1: The Premise, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 3: The Inquiry

Linza had first learned about the estate from her best friend, Wyn. 

When Wyn was flirting with a boy, as she often did, she liked to introduce herself as ‘Wyn, short for Olewynn, sounds like all-the-way-in, please’. She liked to make them blush.

Wyn was brazen in every sense. Bold, loud, shameless. Skin golden brown like brass. Jubilant laugh like a herald’s trumpet.

They had graduated together. Wyn’s father was a professor of invocation and so she had received a scholarship and did not share Linza’s financial woes. In fact, quite the opposite. She lived in a fashionable part of town in her own sizeable apartment, which she had inherited from her great aunt. Wyn had done little to refurnish the place and had just added her own colorful accents, so the home was a charming mix of traditional and avant garde — a fair representation of Wyn herself.

Though Wyn was well off, that was not to say she wasn’t generous. When Linza’s purse was getting light, she could always count on Wyn for a hearty meal. 

She shared the discoveries of her elbow-rubbing with Wyn over afternoon tea. The tea was an exotic spiced variety that Linza hadn’t heard of before, and it went particularly well with Wyn’s latest batch of shortbread. Wyn was an average cook but a brilliant baker, and Linza would have had plenty of reason to drop by for tea even if she hadn’t had an update for Wyn.

“I think you need a night job,” Wyn said around a mouthful of shortbread.

“A what?”

“A night job. You have a day job, so you need a night job, too.”

Linza quirked an eyebrow. Wyn had been guaranteed a job at her cousin’s foundry basically since the moment she enrolled in the School of Evocation. She wasn’t sure Wyn was in the best position to casually advise that Linza get a second job. “Like what?”

“Like tending bar or minding children.”

“Oh!” Linza chuckled. “For some reason, I thought you were going to say I should be a sex worker or something.”

Wyn’s hands slammed down on the table and spit crumbs of shortbread. “Wait, yes! That is a great idea!”

“It is? No it isn’t. What?” Linza had been audience and accomplice to some of Wyn’s bolder ideas over the years, but this definitely was towards the top. Sex work was legal and quite respectable in the kingdom. That was largely thanks to Queen Lillia the First, who had actually been a sex worker before she’d married King Albert the Third. Albert was a bit bumbling and the greatest gift he’d ever given to the people was generally putting Queen Lillia in charge of things. She had been enterprising and professional and had brought a variety of positive reforms to the kingdom.

Even so, Linza’s mother had trained into her the idea that she had to maintain modesty if she was going to be taken seriously in a traditional field like alchemy. The Navy was still especially stodgy, but so far her mother’s advice had seemed valid.

Furthermore, Linza just didn’t feel like she had the charisma for it. ‘Provocative’ and ‘sexy’ were not on the list of adjectives she’d use to describe herself.

Wyn shook her head and put up a hand for Linza to wait, then finished swallowing her shortbread and washed it down with tea. “Hm. Don’t take this the wrong way—”

That always preceded Wyn saying something inappropriate.

“—but I think you’d really be great at that estate down by the beach.”

“The big one?”

“Yeah!”

Wyn looked gleefully enthused.

Linza felt deeply suspicious. She narrowed her eyes a bit. “Why?”

“Well, remember that smut you sent me?”

Linza blushed. “I didn’t send it to you, you stole it from my binder after I told you not to read it!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Well, it was great.”

Linza crossed her arms. “Yeah, but they wouldn’t want me to write smut, they’d want me to… y’know.” She felt so childish, trailing off like that. Not being able to say ‘the word’. But this was exactly her point! She wasn’t cut out for that kind of work.

Wyn shook her head again. “No, there’s all sorts of… what did they call them, ‘experiences’? There was one that they said used phangasmal… phangasm… um…”

“‘Phantasmal force’?” It was the name of an illusion spell that had particularly strong effects on the subject. Traditionally, it was a combat spell. The modus operandi was that you summoned an illusion of great danger, like flames or a dangerous beast, and the target was so convinced of the reality that they could truly be hurt.

“Yes, exactly!” Wyn said.

“That’s not usually a nice spell…”

“Well, this one was very nice…” Wyn’s eyes unfocused.

“Wait, you went?!” Linza was not scandalized so much as surprised that Wyn hadn’t told her. Well, okay, she was a little bit scandalized.

“Of course I did!” Wyn grinned widely. “It was amazing.”

Linza had been to the estate a couple of times to buy pastries or listen to the music and watch the sun set over the ocean. Harburich was a harbor city, and the estate was built along a particularly beautiful stretch of beach.

One of the outings that she’d thought was just lunch with a friend had awkwardly turned out to be a date, and she’d had to let him down as easily as she could right then and there. She was pretty sure he’d immediately gone in for one of the ‘experiences’. She hadn’t been back after that.

Linza’s academic curiosity overrode her trained modesty. “Okay, so, how exactly did it work?”

Wyn giggled, obviously pleased that she’d managed to get Linza to bite her hook. “Okay so, you go into this room, and there’s a mat and all these candles and it just… Mm! Smells amazing. And then there’s a little screen in one of the walls, and the caster is on the other side.”

Linza tilted her head. “Like a confessional?”

“Exactly like a confessional! Except the room isn’t that small. So then, you tell them what you like and what you’re looking for. They ask some questions back. And then they start!”

“Start what?”

“Start the spell!”

“I’m still not following.”

Wyn giggled again. “Linza, you are being distinctly unimaginative right now.”

“Take pity on me, please. Can you just spell it out?”

“Spell it out?” Wyn’s eyes glittered.

Linza groaned and put her face in her hands.

Wyn laughed. “Alright, alright. So, they make an illusion. And that illusion can do things. Like be a friendly octopus mermaid. And just…” She sighed happily. “…fuck you in every hole.”

Linza’s first reaction was academic. This did indeed seem to be within the capabilities of the spell, especially if the target were willing. And, in fact, if the target knew that the spell was happening, they could end its effects at any time, simply by rejecting the illusion. By that same token, it seemed plausible for the target to choose to accept the effects and guarantee that the spell was successful.

Linza’s second reaction was visceral. Her heart fluttered. She felt even warmer. Arousal bloomed at just the idea of what Wyn had described.

“You know that spell, don’t you?” Wyn’s eager question pulled Linza out of her introspection.

Linza unfolded her arms and leaned back in to the table, fidgeting with the handle of her teacup. “I, uh, yeah.” One of the primary benefits of going to a formal school like JSMI is that it afforded students the opportunity to learn a great many spells. The natural limits on a student’s diversity of spells came down to the time required for practice and the expense of scratch paper, special ink, and replacement spellcasting focuses. Linza had learned nearly the whole library of both transmutation and illusion spells, and she need only spend some time refreshing her memory and the spell would be top-of-mind again.

Wyn looked at her expectantly.

Linza cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh, think about it.”

Wyn winked. “I can tell you’re thinking about it right now.”

“Wyn…”

“Maybe thinking about tentacles…” Wyn poked her fingers out at Linza as if to tickle her, “In all… sorts… of places…”

Linza ducked a poke to her head and jerked herself back from the table to dodge a poke at her hips. “Wyn!” She tried to sound cross but she just giggled like a school girl.

Wyn’s laughed her trumpet-like laugh and relented, slapping her knee. “Alright, alright,” she finally gasped, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “I’ll stop tormenting you.”

Linza took a sip of her tea and a moment to recollect her dignity. “So… how much do you think something like that pays?”

Wyn’s eyes brightened. “So you will do it!”

“I will inquire! I’m not doing anything yet!”

Wyn waggled her eyebrows, but did manage to report to Linza what she had spent for her quarter of an hour in the little confessional-like room.

“Really?” Linza asked. It was about as much as somebody would pay for a fancy dinner. How many of those in a night could one person turn? Well, actually, there was quite a firm limit on how many spells one could cast in a day. Linza figured she could manage three or four.

Her analytical brain ran the numbers, amassing piles of coins.

Her body ran with arousal, her blood growing hotter.

Her heart raced in circles, unsure of quite how she felt.

But, what she’d told Wyn was true.

She would inquire.

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Part 1: The Premise, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 2: The Alchemist

Linza had attended the most prestigious university on the continent, The Jorunnr Schools of Magical Inquiry. It was abbreviated JSMI and pronounced affectionately as ‘yizmy’ and derisively as ‘jizz me’.

The school was centuries old, a stalwart fortress of hand-carved stone, a city-within-a-city nestled in the heart of Harburich, the kingdom’s capital. The university’s moat and walls had once protected the invaluable libraries inside from a decades-long siege even when Harburich’s walls had fallen. Now, they protected little but the egos of the school’s snootier members.

All throughout her stay there, those ancient libraries had enchanted Linza. Not literally, of course — the School of Enchantment was actually two buildings over from the library. 

She herself had majored in the School of Transmutation. It was one of the more technical degrees available and required close study of not only of magic but also mathematics and the science of matter.

Linza was as talented as she was studious. Though she blushed whenever someone said it, even she had to admit, she was a bit of a prodigy.

Given that she completed her work more quickly than most of the other students, she could have taken the extra time to rise from third in her class to first.

Instead, she opted to take a minor in a different school entirely — Illusion.

Where alchemists learned classical mathematics, illusionists learned the fine arts.

The halls of the School of Illusion were nothing like the School of Transmutation. Instead of laboratories, there were studios. Students carried charcoals and paints, not text books and abacuses. The whole School was colorful, lively and bright. Music filled the hallway and dazzling lights filled the air. There were art shows and theatre productions and weekly storytelling feasts.

And when the School wasn’t throwing parties, the students were, so that the School’s dorms remained boisterous late into the night.

Linza was always happy, then, that she hadn’t majored in the School of Illusion. After sunset, the School of Transmutation was so quiet that you could hear quills scratching away as students labored away at their homework. She preferred it that way, so that she could sleep well and meet the next day renewed.

Those four years passed with agonizing slowness and yet all too quickly. The heavy velvet robe that was the traditional attire for graduation felt about as heavy on her shoulders as the weight of the expectations now upon her. And the conical hat with gold trim just made her feel silly. 

The dean had presented her diploma with a bow, and she had picked up the rolled parchment sheaf with a mix of apprehension and wonder. It was finally time for her to set out into the world and make a name for herself.

In the following months, Linza learned that all of the promises of swift and gainful employment that had been lavished upon her by JSMI’s admissions staff four years prior had been — as she was all to familiar with from her minor — mere illusions. 

The loans that she had taken out to pay for the degree were, however, far too real.

JSMI had been correct that alchemists were in great demand, but only alchemists ‘with at least two years of experience in a professional setting’. Laboratory after laboratory assured Linza that she should think of them again in a couple of years as they handed her a rejection letter.

She made her way further and further down her list of potential employers, increasingly convinced that JSMI had been a bit of a scam. Of course, all the rich children landed prestigious jobs right away, regardless of their actual competence. 

Linza had few connections in the capital city other than the friends she’d made at JSMI. Her father was a sewer and her mother was a scribe in the royal navy. She’d enjoyed a modest and warm upbringing. Though she’d hoped to buoy the family with her new career, she started to fear that her debts would sink them all.

Linza persisted and eventually found a laboratory that was willing to hire recent graduates. She would technically be doing alchemy, yes, but of the most menial possible variety.

Her homework at the university had seemed droll and repetitive. Compared to her new job, even that homework now seemed exciting.

She scrubbed cauldrons. Re-checked derivations. Sorted salts. Pre-measured reagents to precise weights. Calibrated scales. Polished crystals.

It paid just enough to cover her room, her food, and the minimum payment on her loan.

Though her new boss assured here that there were ample career opportunities, Linza was not so sure. Several other people in her department had worked there for five years or more and had not yet been promoted. When the laboratory had thrown a party at the local tavern, Linza had sipped diluted wine while the senior alchemists got thoroughly sloshed. She’d sidled her way into their conversation and probed for clues about their salaries.

They barely made more than she did. After twenty years!

Linza resolved that she would wait out her two years scrubbing cauldrons until she could transfer to another laboratory where the prospects were better. 

But if she was going to last those two years, she needed to find something else to do with her mind so that it did not melt of boredom and dribble out of her ears.

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Part 1: The Premise, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 1: The Estate

The pleasure house sprawled along the shoreline with all the languid elegance of a nude reclining on the beach.

By this point, it was more of an estate than a house. There were no less than a dozen buildings and the streets between were part of the experience, too.

The estate was a temple dedicated to the senses.

Genius chefs prepared the most incredible food — elevated classics as well as new inventions. Hints as to their next dish snuck out from between the kitchen doors. The earthy smell of fresh bread, the tantalizing perfume of roasting herbs and meat.

There was always a stream of music flowing through the air, harps and lutes and whole ensembles. During celebrations, the melodies were jubilant, but otherwise they trailed soft and lingering like a fingertip over a lover’s shoulder and down to their waist.

The sights were equally dazzling. There were the natural beauties, the broad expense of the ocean, the spectacle of the sun making her blazing red bed upon it, the prettiest faces in the kingdom, the curves of muscle and flesh. There were also the crafted beauties, whole dresses of traditional beadwork, brave fashions in silk, wall-side murals and stalls hawking made-to-order paintings.

Just standing in the middle of the estate was so delightful, it was hard to imagine that yet more pleasures awaited. And, indeed, there were plenty of patrons that left totally sated after having gained nothing more than a new silk robe and a little box of pastries tied with red string.

However, foods and clothes and wares were not the only thing for sale in the estate. There were also ample opportunities to indulge in what the madame called experiences.

Many were explicitly sexual. Many were not.

The madame was a firm believer that pleasure was an experience which engaged both the senses and the heart, that the emotional and aesthetic and erotic were as inseparably intertwined as young lovers, and that there was little to be gained from trying to draw a firm line of what was sex and what was not.

Was laying back on a cushioned bed in the afternoon sunshine with gentle hands feeding you ripe strawberries sexual? It depended on the person. To some, it would be deeply arousing. To others, serene. To others, comforting and even maternal. The estate never made assumptions.

There were three rules governing all experiences at the pleasure house.

1. Everything given. 

2. Nothing taken.

3. Have fun.

‘Everything given’ meant that whatever was given — consent, payment, control — had to be given enthusiastically and without reservation.

‘Nothing taken’ meant that coercion and force were firmly forbidden. It also meant ‘nothing taken for granted’ which was a way of reinforcing that clear and consistent communication was expected.

‘Have fun’ meant just that.

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Shorts

The Horny Sorority Ghost (Part II)

Continued from Part I

Eddie whizzed over the back wall of the house’s property to the basement of a neighboring building. She couldn’t remember ever moving so fast, or it ever being so easy for her to pass over the threshold. Usually, it cost a ghost a bit of energy to leave their haunt. Now, apparently she had energy to spare.

The ghost that haunted the basement was a cranky old poltergeist who Eddie called ‘Mister’ because he had forgotten his name. Mister had been haunting the area since long before the building had been constructed. As best as Eddie could tell from Mister’s fragmented rambling, Mister had fallen down a well nearly a thousand years ago and had moved as little as possible since then.

Eddie spiraled down through the cool stones and into the basement, startling Mister from his favorite hobby of staring at the walls and waiting for time to pass.

She said, “You will not believe what just happened to me!”

Mister grumbled. “Well, hello to you too, Edith.”

“I go by Eddie, now.”

“Like a little current that curls back on itself, causing a lot of fuss and never going anywhere? Fitting.”

“No! Like— well, whatever. I need you to tell me if you know of anything like this.” Eddie recounted her night’s experience.

Mister looked bored the entire time. As Eddie finished, Mister said nothing.

“Well?” she asked.

Mister scowled. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“No, I mean— what do you have to say?!”

“Hm. You’re done?”

“Yes!” Eddie was desperate for information. And getting any specific kind of information from Mister was always pulling teeth. 

“I thought you were going to tell me something I wouldn’t believe. Instead, you’ve just explained the basics of energy transfer.”

“The what of what now?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Obviously not! Mister, everything I know about being a ghost I learned from you. How could I know anything about it if you haven’t told me about it before?”

“Well, that’s a good point.”

Eddie groaned. Just because Mister was very old and knew a lot did not mean he was wise. “Can you please explain to me what this energy transfer is?”

Mister explained that when ghosts were first formed, they all started off basically the same. But then based off of what they did, how they interacted with the living world, they would accumulate certain energies. A ghost with no energy left at all would fade from existence. A ghost that collected enough of a certain type of energy would manifest. Succubi and incubi, vampires, poltergeists, many kinds of demons, sprites and spirits, all started off as ghosts.

As Mister finished his explanation, he remarked, “I’d wondered why you were taking so long deciding what kind of ghost you wanted to become.”

Eddie sputtered, her curiosity fighting with her annoyance. She calmed herself as best she could. “Mister, let me get one thing clear. You waited… one hundred and fifty years… to tell me not only that I could die again but also that there are different kinds of ghosts?”

Mister shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew.”

Eddie sighed and put her head in her hands. If she pressed Mister further, he might not tell her anything else. Better to stick with curiosity and then go yell her frustration into the night later.

“Okay so… what just happened tonight… what kind of ghost energy is that?”

Mister quirked an eyebrow at her, as if impressed by how dumb the question was. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, for I am very dumb and require your great teaching,” Eddie said, deadpan.

Mister smirked. “Succubus.”

His smirk turned a bit lecherous and Eddie was eager to change the subject. “So how did you become a poltergeist?”

“Annoy enough people and you get better at throwing objects around. Which makes it easier to cause more annoyance, and so on. Everybody hates coming down to this basement, nothing’s ever where they remember putting it. It’s delightful.”

Eddie did not think that sounded delightful at all, but she could understand the mechanism. 

“And vampires?”

“Usually start when the ghost is exposed to human blood by some other mechanism, like a nearby murder. If they develop a taste for it, they might try and cause a knife accident for another taste. Blood ghosts love the avocado trend, let me tell you. Eventually, if they get enough blood, they grow fangs and then eventually develop a fully physical form.”

Mister continued his lecture, happy to hear the sound of his own voice. Overall, Eddie found the mechanics pretty intuitive. A ghost defending a certain tree for long enough might become a nymph. Saving drowning folks might make them a river spirit. Leading hikers into danger might make them a will’o’the wisp.

And, as Eddie had just learned herself, cum made a succubus.

As Mister tried to circle back around to that with his weird smirk again, Eddie thanked him for his help and whizzed back up from the basement. She returned to her attic, floating back and forth as she pondered.

Was becoming a succubus what she wanted? Did she even really have a choice? Eddie tried to remember her first life, as if that might have some clue, but it was little more to her now than a date she counted from to see how long she’d been a ghost.

She considered the other types of ghosts. Becoming a nymph or a sprite sounded nice, but she didn’t really want to leave her house and go searching for trees or streams. That seemed dangerous, too likely to result in her running out of energy and fading out of existence. 

Becoming a vampire seemed too violent, becoming a poltergeist too mean.

It was hard to think about what she wanted to become, but it was easier to think about what she wanted to do.

She didn’t want to take anybody’s blood, or make anybody frightened or annoyed, or live out in the wilderness. What she actually wanted, she realized as soon as she let herself ask the question, was to drink all the cum in the world.

The thought made her vibrate with eager energy.

And so Eddie decided. She would become a succubus.

Over the next week, as Eddie became bolder and participated in more and more of the house’s orgasms, she became more powerful. And as she became more powerful, it became harder and harder to hide herself.

One girl caught a glimpse over her shoulder. Another caught Eddie over her and decided she must be dreaming. A boyfriend was sure he heard another voice in the room. Chelsea heard moaning in the attic when she was sure nobody else was home.

Eddie tried to behave but she simply couldn’t help herself. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be hungry, but she was sure this was it. The need gnawed at her, hollowing her out from the inside until it drove her to whisk through the house, whispering and touching and trying to goad someone into masturbating.

She could smell arousal she could not help but move towards any sound of pleasure.

Chelsea and Amber, a brunette, discussed the situation over a breakfast of toaster pastries one morning.

“You really think it’s haunted?” Amber said.

“No, of course not,” Chelsea said. “But I do think we need to check out the attic. Somebody’s probably sneaking in, and we don’t have a lock on the attic door. If it’s one of the girls, I honestly don’t give a shit, go fuck in the attic if you think it’s hot, right? But like, if it’s randos? That’s not gonna fly.”

“And the reason you haven’t already checked it out is…” Amber grinned mischievously.

“Because it might not be safe—” Chelsea started.

“Because you think it’s haunted,” Amber spoke over her.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I’ll come with you though,” Amber said. “I’d honestly much rather it be haunted than have somebody sneaking in, that’s creepy as fuck.”

“Right? If anything looks out of place, we’ll just call in to get a lock on it or something.”

What they found in the attic was quite a few things out-of-place, but not in the way they expected.

Chelsea edged forward carefully with her flashlight, cautiously poking some fresh ectoplasm with the tip of her sneaker. “What the fuck is this stuff?”

Amber wrinkled her nose, still standing on the ladder, only half of her body in the attic. “Some kind of slime mold? Gross.”

“I guess if anyone were breaking in, we’d see footprints in this stuff… but ew.”

Amber frowned. “So wouldn’t we also see if someone had been coming up here to fuck?”

Chelsea’s brow furrowed. “Yeah…” She stepped carefully around the ectoplasm, surveying the border of the attic. There were no windows, no ways in or out, no loose boards.

Eddie watched them from a shadow, quickly zipping out of the way of Chelsea’s flashlight beam. 

Previously, Eddie couldn’t have been visible at all without quite a bit of focus. Now, it was the opposite — she was only fully invisible when she was trying to be. And it was getting more and more difficult.

As Amber and Chelsea assured themselves that nobody could get in or out of the attic, they did not seem to become more comfortable.

Amber chuckled wryly. “Y’know, if I believed in ghosts… I’d say this stuff looks like ectoplasm…”

Chelsea snorted. “And if I believed in ghosts, I’d say one was creaming itself up here on the reg.”

They caught each others’ eyes and didn’t laugh.

“But I’m sure it’s just slime mold,” Amber said.

“And I’m sure it’s just a trick of the wind or the vents or something,” Chelsea said.

And then, despite the heat, both girls shivered and they left the attic as quickly as possible, slamming the trapdoor shut behind them.

Eddie flickered back into visibility in the corner. That had been close. Very close.

The mold guy came and said it wasn’t mold, but he didn’t know what it was, so he recommended they run a fan to air out the attic and to keep an eye on it.

Chelsea and Amber did so, hauling up one of the cheap oscillating fans that they’d bought for every room after being unable to figure out why it was so hot all the time.

Eddie had no idea what was going to happen, but she was very curious. She hadn’t made ectoplasm before the sorority had moved in, and she suspected it was somehow part of her gradual transformation into a succubus. She had no interest in asking Mister about this part, so all she could do was watch and find out.

The ectoplasm did dry fairly quickly, so where it wasn’t fresh, it just appeared as part of the dust that was otherwise expected in an old house like this one.

As Amber plugged in the fan, the cord just barely stretching from an outlet in the hallway to the edge of the attic floor, that dust billowed up in a massive cloud.

“Gross!” Chelsea spat, covering her face with her shirt and scurrying down the ladder.

Amber winced and dashed over to the window in the hallway, opening it. She pulled her shirt over her face too as the dust flowed down into the hallway.

The two girls grimaced and jogged down the stairs, only uncovering their faces once they were in the kitchen.

“Bleck,” Amber said. “Next time, we’re making maintenance do that part.”

“No kidding, I got a whole face full!” Chelsea frowned. “The grossest part is, it tasted sweet, like when you’re making a protein shake and you inhale some of that erythritol stuff? Ugh, it probably is some kind of weird mold.”

“If you get sick, my dad will help sue,” Amber said. 

“Appreciate it.”

“Let’s wait outside,” Amber said. “Later, we can get one of the freshmen to vacuum and put it all back together.”

“Seems fair enough to me,” Chelsea said.

But, as she and Amber reached the back door of the house, Chelsea hesitated.

Amber had no idea why, but Eddie did. Chelsea was, very abruptly, feeling incredibly aroused.

“I’ll meet you in a sec,” Chelsea said, “Gotta use the ladies room.”

“Sure.” Amber stepped outside. 

Chelsea ducked into the bathroom and before the door was even latched, her hand was down her pants. 

She propped her other hand against the door frame and leaned heavily against it, barely managing to stay standing.

Her arousal was building quickly. Eddie’s ectoplasm had this kind of effect? Even just the dust of it?

Eddie could not possibly stay invisible with this much energy vibrating through her, but Chelsea’s eyes were squeezed shut so it was as safe as it would ever be.

Chelsea fought to contain a scream of ecstasy as Eddie slipped her fingers inside. Chelsea squirted as she climaxed, once, twice, a third time.

Eddie soaked it all in, dizzy with power, certain that she was clearly visible but having a hard time forcing herself to care about it.

As Chelsea’s hand finally slowed and she sighed into the door frame, Eddie dropped into the basement with not a moment to spare before Chelsea’s eyes flicked open.

Even on the other side of the floor, Eddie was now in a similar predicament to the one she had caused Chelsea to be in.

The basement had been turned into a proper living space in the renovation, and the sorority had added a ring of couches, tables for pool and ping-pong, and a kegerator.

The room was fully open except for a row of closets on the back wall that were stuffed with holiday decorations and party supplies, and there was no bathroom.

Eddie was wary to float back upstairs, visible as she was, but she was also wary to release herself here, where the ectoplasm would be obvious.

And her capacity for problem solving was greatly limited by the intoxicating arousal.

The best that she could do was slither under one of the couches, just in the nick of time. She quivered in the shadows, unable to keep from moaning, a puddle of ectoplasm expanding underneath her.

Then there was the flick of the light switch and the basement was bathed in light.

Footsteps down the stairs. Amber’s feet, hesitating on the last step. “Jess, is that you?”

Amber leaned back and forth, trying to survey the whole room without stepping onto the floor. “I promise I won’t judge you for rubbing one out, we’ve all been there…”

Eddie remained silent.

Amber bounced on the balls of her feet. “Fuck, maybe this place is haunted…” She jumped up the stairs two at a time.

Continued in Part III

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Shorts

Professor’s Predicament (Part I)

[WP][TT] A feisty inventor who teaches engineering at a college does her best thinking nude. Unfortunately, today she accidentally sprung a device she was working on designed to "restrain" intruders. Why did it have to be during open office hours where any second… from DirtyWritingPrompts

Julia Casey allowed her students to address her in two ways and two ways only. Their options were “Professor” or “Doctor”. She had worked hard for her PhD and for her tenure track, dammit.

That was not to say that she did not enjoy teaching. She made it a point to learn all her students’ names. Students who sat quietly in the back of other classes asked questions and offered opinions in hers, and she was damn proud of that.

The main reason that she insisted on being addressed as “Professor” or “Doctor” was that otherwise, her students and even her peers tended to forget that she was brilliant. And eccentric. ‘Absent-minded Julia’ would be quickly written off. ‘Absent-minded professor’ was a statement of positive regard.

It was not that her mind was absent, strictly speaking, so much that it was in so very many places at once. When she was trying to think, really think, her mind expanded to absorb every possible idea, every present stimulus.

An unfortunate side-effect of that was that she would become acutely aware of the rub of her pants against her skin, the stray tag in her shirt, the elastic of her bra digging into her sides.

When she was trying to think, really think, Professor Casey needed to be naked.

This was one of the reasons that she’d insisted that one of the old workshops that was now too small to fit a class would become her office and workshop. It was in the basement of one of the older buildings on campus and while the lack of windows would have annoyed another professor, it was quite perfect for Julia. She could think however she pleased, whenever she needed to.

And today was a day when she needed to do quite a bit of thinking. The grant deadline was nearly upon her and she could feel it tightening its claws around her. She was onto something, she really was! But she just needed to put it in the right words, the words that would convince the committee to give her further funding. She had a working prototype and everything!

So Professor Casey paced, back and forth in the cluttered little workshop, wondering how she could possibly explain to the small-minded grant committee just how important her invention truly was.

Women were at a disadvantage when it came to personal protection, you see. Not just in the obvious ways. Tools could be used to overcome physical disadvantages — tools like firearms and pepper spray and tasers — but there was one very direct issue with these tools when used for home defense. They required that your ‘fight’ instinct be triggered.

Professor Casey knew plenty of happily violent women, but she also knew plenty of women and men who were much more likely to ‘flee’ or ‘freeze’. So, she had set out to create an autonomous home protection device. Most importantly, it needed to be non-lethal, so that it could err on the side of being over-protective.

And she had created just such a thing. It really worked! She just needed more time and a bit more money to refine the design to replace some of the more expensive and complicated parts.

As she paced, Professor Casey remembered that she’d spent a late night in the lab a couple days back and had scribbled down some ideas for the grant and crammed them in one of the back shelves. Eagerly, she hurried over towards them.

There was a soft snap, a whoosh, and then Professor Casey was on her side on the floor, the wind knocked out of her, and her limbs fully restrained.

She had forgotten that she’d left the prototype live. She’d tested it many times before, but always with the release in-hand. Now, the release was ten feet away on her desk. Or, was it in her bag? No, she’d left it on the bookshelf?

The clever bit about this invention was the detainment device. It was created from a special polymer that would become firm or limp depending on how much electrical current passed through it. It was folded into the ejector in such a way that as a pulse of electricity first activated it, it spread into a net. Then, specially timed pulses of electricity manipulated it to maximize the tangling coefficient. Once it was completely tangled around the target, the current would stay live to ensure that it was stiff and inescapable. Once de-activated, the fibers became limp and the target could extricate themselves.

It was incredibly effective. Nearly infallible.

Professor Casey struggled against the fibers, to no avail. The slight current of electricity within them raised the hairs on her arms, on the back of her neck.

She didn’t have time for this, the grant deadline was approaching! She—

Her phone dinged a reminder tone.

Wait, what was that about? She thought she was clear for the rest of the afternoon? She wiggled around so that she could see the clock over her door. It read 6am. Fuck, she’d forgotten to replace the batteries.

Julia wracked her brain. It was Tuesday afternoon, and on Tuesday afternoon, she had…

Open office hours.

And here she was, completely naked, tangled up in her own invention in the middle of the office floor.

She’d set the reminder for five minutes before office hours. Or was it ten? Or two? She didn’t usually cut it this close with her thinking time, but this grant deadline had her all out of sorts.

Her heart raced, her body preparing itself for fight or flight, though neither of those was an option.

Had she been able to crawl over to her phone, she could have used her nose to phone another faculty and request a rescue. But she couldn’t so much as wiggle. 

That was the genius thing about her invention, actually. The fibers formed a sort of perfectly molded cage from head to toe, holding her arms against her sides, her legs together. She couldn’t even bend at her hips.

And though it covered enough of her to totally restrain her, her breasts and her ass were still totally exposed.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Not in the slightest.

The worst of it was actually that her heart rate rising, the heat flushing through her body, the tingling in her fingers and toes, wasn’t really fight or flight. It was abject arousal.

One of the electrified strands lay across her nipple, subtly stimulating the area. Another wrapped under her ass, digging into the skin and muscle and pulling tight enough that it just brushed the edge of her outer labia. That contact became firmer and firmer as her labia swelled with arousal.

Julia gulped, her mouth watering.

This was another one of her eccentricities. As her friend Emily, a professor of sexual health, had explained: most people were turned off by stress. Some people were turned on by it. Julia was really turned on by it.

But she needed to get a hold of herself. What if a student walked in?!

And that very thought aroused her further, worsening her predicament.

Thank god all of her students were legal, at least.

The more aroused she became, the more difficult it was to think.

And the more difficult it was to think, the more sure she was that she was going to be found like this.

And the more sure she was that she would be found like this, the more aroused she became.

And the more aroused she became, the more her labia swelled into the electrified fiber. And it felt good. And the better it felt, the wetter she got. And the wetter she got, the more the electricity tingled through her vulva.

The same hypersensitivity that had lead her to get naked in the first place filled her senses. She was so aware of every place the fibers pressed into her, of every electric tingle, the prickle as her hairs raised, a shift of air over her naked skin.

She was breathing heavily now. Her students would find her worse than naked. They’d find her naked and so aroused.

But then, a logical thought cut through the haze and she relaxed a bit. She always locked the door when she was thinking. So, they’d just find the door locked and think she’d forgotten about office hours. That happened often enough, they wouldn’t think too much of it.

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Julia’s heart skipped, sweat beaded on her upper lip. She licked it off, liking too much the way her tongue felt against her skin.

She had locked the door, right?

The handle turned.

She had not locked the door.

“Oh fuck,” she said.

The door swung open.

Julia froze.

Continued in Part II

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