Well, there was no denying it. My soul had somehow jumped from my dying body to that of the mindless construct that had been following me around. It didn’t make sense but, given the alternative, I would rather be stuck looking like Sorel than soup, which is how my body ended up.
I tried to look at my reflection in the water, but the constant boil made it impossible for me to see myself. Instead, I got a good look at my former body cooking. After a few minutes, bits of me started to break off. I’m not squeamish as a rule, but I had to look away. Feel free to criticize after you have seen your body dissolve past the point of possible repair.
So I was stuck. Part of me wanted to laugh at the irony. This mansion of mine seemed determined to make everyone who entered it into a hot chick. It was really only a matter of time before my innie became an outie. At least I was hot, I figured. Sorel was about the most lovely creature I could imagine, and now I was her identical twin, right down to the fluffy feathery wings (which, I found, I could retract just as she could). Of course, wings were the least of the changes I was concerned about at that moment. My hands traced my new curves—my hips, my bubble ass, and those impossibly large and round breasts. Each touch made it sink in just a little more that this was going to be my body from now on. At least I didn’t feel like a construct. My flesh was warm to the touch, and I had a pulse and breath.
A voice snapped me out of my contemplation. It was Qual.
“I’ve found Quinn and the Golem! She must have pushed him into that boiling water!” The Dwarf drew his axe and leapt across the channel (landing perfectly, I realized to my embarrassment).
“Don’t be an ass, dwarf!” I shot at him. “I slipped and fell in. Now put that thing away before you hurt someone!”
Qual and the others just stood there in stunned silence. They had never heard Golem speak before, and certainly they had not expected her to speak with my diction. Naturally, they thought it was a trap. Qual took a swing at me. I tried to jump away, but his axe caught me in the thigh and I went down, bleeding.
“You fuckhead!” I shouted. “I’m Quinn! Put that thing down and listen for one fucking minute!”
This time, Qual listened. That was just as well, because I was getting faint from shock and loss of blood. Apparently, though, by body was able to repair itself, just like Sorel’s. I was pretty loopy for a few minutes, but when I came to the pain had almost gone.
Sorel was leaning over me, a look of concern on her lovely face. “You poor thing! It is you, isn’t it, Quinn? How did this happen?”
I explained about the accident that destroyed my body (by now almost completely dissolved into stock). The Amazon sisters found the story extremely amusing, and one of them (like I could tell them apart anymore!) decided to see if I carried Sorel’s curse as well as her healing gift. “Hey, Quinn! Finger fuck yourself!” she said, laughing.
I half-expected to comply, but I was relieved when I was under absolutely no compulsion to obey. Sorel, however, heard the command and immediately she started frigging herself. “You bitches!” she cried. I was pissed, too. We had pretty much agreed to stop talking dirty around Sorel, and they blew that truce wide open.
“Go fuck yourselves!” I said. Sorel was still immune to my own dirty words, so I thought that my insult was just that. The Amazon sisters, however, froze in their tracks for a second, then they started making out right in front of the rest of us. In a second, they were naked and tangling on the floor, shooting me looks of pure hatred while they made love.
“Enjoy it!” I commanded, and the looks vanished, consumed by expressions of pure ecstasy. Could it be? They way I saw it, Sorel could not resist dirty suggestions, while other people (except Sorel) could not resist mine.
“Ev, suck Aleandra’s tit,” I said. Well, I finally knew which was which. This was going to be good.
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